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About Deviant Core Member Thomas SilkMale/United States Group :iconbondagemaids: BondageMaids
Bound and ready for service!
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Deviant for 7 Years
13 Month Core Membership
Statistics 515 Deviations 3,991 Comments 434,538 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 9-13 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 8 8
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When a Life Hangs in the Balance - Chapters 9-13 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 1 2
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The GID Wantabe Reporters :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 7 9
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 4-8 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 14 10
The Puppet Master Makes a Switch by knottysilkscarf
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The Puppet Master Makes a Switch :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 39 14
The Duchess Bound and Gagged by knottysilkscarf
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The Duchess Bound and Gagged :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 43 3
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 1-3 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 13 6
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Mr. and Mrs. Jones Take a Road Trip - Chapters 3-7 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 8 4
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Angela Morris - PI - Conclusion :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 10 11
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Angela Morris - PI - Chapters 24-28 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 7 6
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Angela Morris - PI - Chapters 18-23 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 8 4
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When a Life Hangs in the Balance - Chapters 5-8 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 3 1
What To Do Now - E11 by knottysilkscarf
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What To Do Now - E11 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 55 3
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Angela Morris - PI - Chapters 15-17 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 9 2
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Angela Morris - PI - Chapters 10-14 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 6 5
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Angela Morris - PI - Chapters 6-9 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 11 3

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I'm going to add my two cents on your image (and the other one in this series). Clearly, you know what you are doing as far as the tech...

I really like this. You have told a story in one picture. The woman is clearly a high-ranking woman based on her dress and none to happ...

I really like this. It is my type of bondage tells a story and a dramatic one. Things I really like. I like the shading th...

It is always dangerous to write a I never write one when I don't like the artwork. So I really like this art. That doesn'...

#186 - I normally don't ask about characters, but a question about Susan Harris, Stacy's partner. In the current Lady Spies story, she is missing, presumed dead. She should... 

11 deviants said Be alive, but brainwashed and turn traitor.
9 deviants said What the heck do I care, I don't read your stories. Just post more pictures...
8 deviants said Be alive and escape her captor.
6 deviants said Be really dead...Stacy needed a new partner anyway. She is buried in the ocean where she belongs.
4 deviants said Be alive and traded for another spy.
3 deviants said Have her fate remain unknown forever...presumed dead.
3 deviants said Be alive, but have no idea who Stacy is...
:iconrob66: has just published one of his weekly interviews in which I was featured.  So, if you are interested in my background and other aspects of my career as a bondage producer, please read the interview.   
Interview with Thomas Silk, KnottySilkScarf
What made you and your late wife decide to create a bondage site? Were you lifestylists before creating the site?

To explain, I need to start from the very beginning.
I've had two fetishes since I was a kid. The first one was silk scarves, particularly square silk scarves that women used to wear as fashion headscarves. That fetish started, and this is a true story, in the late 1950s when I was probably in first grade. The teacher, who had to be in her 20s – perhaps early 20s – played a game with the class called Pin the Tail on the Donkey. It is where you are spun around blindfolded and then you try to pin the tail on the donkey. The teacher used her silk scarf, which she wore almost every day as a headscarf, as the blindfold. I was probably blindfolded for about 30 seconds or less. I don't know if the smell of the scarf was from her perfume or her hairspray or some combination, but it was the most erotic smell I had eve

As some of you know...I have lots of opinions.

I just realized that I hadn't written a journal in nearly a year.  So here is a summary of my views on bondage (and one about headscarves and fashion which has over 17,000 views!)  As of now, there are a total of 38 journals with my thoughts and opinions on bondage.  This is not all of my journals on topics related to bondage...there are some devoted to discussions of specific polls I have conducted, which I have not included here.  As I write write new journals on bondage, I will update this list.

Now some people have disagreed with some of my opinions expressed in my journals.  That is a good thing.  To quote Dennis Miller, These are just my opinions.  I could be wrong.

As always, all my journals are copyright Knotty Silk Scarf Productions...I have to say that even for journals because some person (without any talent apparently) stole something quite a few years ago that I had written for my website and had been on there for many years before they stole it, word for word, for his blog without giving me credit.  It is not only images and videos that pirates steal.

Forget BDSM...I'm Into FBDEIt has bothered me for sometime that Damsel in Distress (DID), Guy in Distress (GID) and Couple in Distress (CID) bondage gets lumped into BDSM as if it is some sort of subset of it.  It isn't!  Okay B is there for bondage, but by association we get lumped into everything else, which is wrong.
What does BDSM stand for?  Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism.  But what most people think of when the term BDSM is used is the infliction of pain by someone on to someone else.  This is fine when two or more consenting adults do it.  And that is a major difference with DID (or whatever your flavor of "in Distress" bondage is).  We just watch it.  Unless you are a producer or rigger or model...we just watch.  We don't participate.  Other differences...most of us don't like real pain to be involved in DID scenes.  That leaves out discipline also (except for the occasional spanking video).
Its all about gags...I was having a conversation on DA with another photographer concerning gags.  Yes, I am a gag snob.  What does that mean?  It means that a woman's bondage is not complete unless she is gagged.  
[First, a disclaimer...Whatever adventure our fantasy heriones have, we fully expect them to be rescued or overcome the bad guys and girls.  There is a universal appeal to a woman being held against her will, struggling and awaiting rescue or trying to escape.  It shows up in TV, movies and in literature all the time.  The writers, artists and photographers on DA do an excellent job illustrating various types of fantasy bondage adventures.   These are fantasies, not real life.  No one I know actually wishes such predictments on anyone in real life, unless it is part of fantasy play in a loving relationship.]
Back to gags...why are gags important?   It has been said that communication is
Robbery, Tie-ups, Mouth filling gags, and SexWhat could be better?  A great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  With models Loren Chance, who we have photographed on numerous ocassions, and Chloe Night, a wonderful new addition to our site, we produced a number of stories in both photos and video.  The afternoon was filled with these two ladies struggling in scarves, ropes and pantyhose and forcing each other to...well, you'll just have to see it on our web site.  We highly recommend both models.  All in all, it was a fun day!
For those that say bondage should not involve know...only fully-clothed women tied up and no touching.
First, let me say that many years ago I used to feel that way.  Harmony, before they started doing naked and topless bondage, actually sent a questionaire to their subscribers asking if they wanted nude and topless bondage.  I voted no and I lost...they rightfully did it anyway.  I still love images and drawings of full
Expression and EmotionOne theme you will notice in the images that I have posted is that our heroines, even though they are gagged, express their feelings.  There is communication between our helplessly bound and gagged captives and their captors (usually women).  
The one thing I hate in a TV show or movie or DID photo set or DID video is when the heroine sits there with no emotion at all.  Her gag is so good that she can't even make any noise and she is tied so well that struggling is out of the question.  And worse...her face is blank of emotion.  This happens much too often and then I see comments about how good this damsel is being tied up, just because she is tied up.  Not so good.  [Often it is less the actress that makes a good scene than the director telling her how to play the scene.]  
Being held captive is all about emotion.  The emotion can be anger, frustration, uncertainty, and yes, fear (as non-PC as th
Nancy Drew and Other BooksI've always been curious about Nancy Drew , Trixie Benton (did I get that right?) and other girl detectives.  Although now the teen age girls are involved with vampires, or just school life (sometimes solving mysteries and still getting tied up) in books, for decades (and to some extent today) being a girl detective was very mainstream.  What happened when the girl detective figured out who the bad guys were?  Well, sometimes she ended up bound and gagged.  In some cases, other characters ended up in ropes and gag.  
Now obviously we don't deal with girls or teenagers in our work (although some of the models can make themselves look like teenagers, if we wanted to).  We do have our very sexy Mandy Clue character, an older version of Nancy Drew, who gets into all sorts of sexually explicit bondage on
The actual number of stories in which the teenage girl detectives get tied up is relatively small (compared t
The 12 Stages of Storyline Fetish BondageCopyright 2011 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions
There seems to be 12 stages for everything these days. So I decided to develop the stages of storyline fetish bondage.  This is not a master/slave thing or even role playing by couples.  It certainly does not apply to a video were a woman is tied up and simply struggling.  This is storyline or plot-driven bondage involving a heroine who stumbles on or is the target of some criminal activity or who is tied up by a jealous girfriend or perhaps by the hero for her own good.  Not only does this apply to productions designed to showcase bondage, but also to most TV and movies which have bondage in them.  Whether the producers of these shows and movies intend it or not, their bondage scenes are searched for, evaluated and played over and over.  
The 12 steps are similar in many ways to the steps which would occur in real life situations.
I give a few examples for each step.  The
A Plea for Realistic Gags on TV and the MoviesCopyright 2011 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions
I finally found one of my holy grails on youtube the other day.  It was an episode of The Virginian entitled "A Slight Case of Charity."  The Virginian was a long running TV western in the 1960's (ending in 1971, I believe).  It had 249 episodes and only a couple DID scenes in all that time.  In this episode, Trampas, a popular cowhand, goes to Charity's hotel room and finds another man there.  The man punches Trampas and leaves.  Trampas gets up and finds Charity in the closet bound and gagged.  The bondage was poor.  She was tied with cloth strips at the ankles and hands, which were in front of her.  It looks like she could have easily gotten out of the ties.  She wore an OTM cloth gag, again a white strip of cloth, which she could have pulled off her mouth.  Trampas unties her feet and pulls her up.  He then unties her h
Scarves and BondageI love seeing a woman tied up with scarves.  I particularly love seeing a woman gagged with a scarf.  When I talk about scarves I am referring to silk (or silk-like) scarves.  I prefer square scarves over the oblong or long scarves.  Although any scarf of any material is generally better than no scarf.  My love of scarf bondage isn't because scarves are the most effective bondage material.  [Arguments can be made either way on the effectiveness of scarves.]  It isn't because they can be colorful, although I do like that.  It isn't because it is a softer way to bind a woman.  Suggest that to a woman who has a scarf tightly tied in her mouth and she would disagree.  Others may suggest these as the reason for scarf bondage, but these are not the primary reasons I love scarf bondage.
Scarves are (primarily) a woman's fashion accessory and the only one that is ideally suited for bondage.
Pantyhose/Nylon Stockings and BondageOne of the sexier experiences a man can have is to go out with beautiful a woman (his wife, girlfriend or just a date) all dressed up, her hair done, wearing high heels AND wearing pantyhose or stockings.  Seeing someone like this on the street is also a treat in this age of dressing down and maximizing comfort.  50 years ago it was the norm for a woman to dress up everyday (as it was for a man to wear a suit everyday).   Today, women wearing pantyhose or nylon stockings is almost (not quite) relegated only to fetish status.
There is definitely a segment of the bondage community that loves to see women tied up wearing pantyhose or stockings or tied up with pantyhose or stockings.  There is even a portion of the community that likes to see a woman fully encased in pantyhose.
Pantyhose, of course, are the logical combination of nylon stockings and panties, which eliminates the need for a garter or other way to hold up the hose.  The allure of pantyhose, as with panties, is that when they
Rope and BondageRope or cord is the best bondage material made for securing a heroine.  Now it is not the easiest to apply.  That honor goes to tape.  Rope requires skill and honestly, few people could actually secure someone with rope in real life, particularly a struggling woman, and make it look like the fetish bondage producers do.  But in terms of strength and beauty, there is nothing like rope to secure a heroine.
Certain types of rope or cord are better suited for bondage than other types.  The first characteristic to be considered is the diameter or size of the rope.  Too big and it difficult to use for bondage.  Too small and it may not be strong enough and could cut into the skin.  Also there are different qualities of rope from coarse, which might result in rope burns, to soft rope.  However, if the scene is suppose to be more gritty, coarse rope or cord, such as packaging cord, might be appropriate.  Rope comes in different colors so your heroine's bondage can be color coordinated, if desi
Tape and BondageI have said many times that I am not a fan of the use of tape in bondage.  Having said that, it is a very effective way of restraining someone.  It is perhaps the easiest way of binding someone.  If I was a real criminal today and had to bind someone, I would certainly carry duct tape even though I am not a fan of it.
Tape, like other binding materials, comes in many forms.  Some like duct tape (or duck tape) is very effective and what most people think of when they hear about tape bondage.  Certain types of packing tape is effective, as might be some types of electrical tape or medical tape.  Still some tape, like masking tape or Scotch tape, is mostly useless for bondage.  Some tape looks good, but doesn't have much stick.
My opinions on bondage materials are formed by three good are they appealing are they to look at in fetish videos and on TV/movies...and perhaps an unique test, how personal is the item.  The more personal, the more erotic for me.
Duct tape
Over the Nose GagsI once read a comment by someone that they didn't understand over the nose gags.  That surprised me.  If you have the perfect mouth gag...cloth, tape, ballgag, stuffed or any the heroine can't make a sound through her mouth, she can still make quite a bit of noise through her nose.  Try it, if you don't believe me.  Now most heroines might not think to use their noses to generate noise...and it is noise.  But, if they did, that perfect gag isn't so perfect, is it?
You mostly see over the nose gags in Japanese movies and TV shows.  The Japanese are very logical.  An OTN gag not only minimizes noise coming through the heroine's nose, it also restricts air flow...We NEVER want to put a damsel in a situation where she can not breathe,  So an over the nose gag must be of cloth or something that still allows breathing.  Still, air flow would be restricted with an OTN gag.  That results in less struggling (because she doesn't get enough air to struggle).   As I said, the Japa
Chloroform and BondageHer eyes start to get sleepy.  Her eyes flicker as the sweet smelling, sleep-inducing odor that was soaked into the folded handkerchief takes effect.  With the handkerchief covering her mouth and nose, the young beauty has no choice but to inhale the chloroform.  She is held tight in the grasp of her assailant.  Slowly her eyes close and she slumps to the floor or bed or in the arms of her attacker.  She is now at the mercy of that same assailant.   Will she simply be bound and gagged?  Put on ice, as it were.  Or will she be kidnapped?  Or does her assailant have even darker plans for her?
Drugging or chloroforming the heroine is one of the classic ways to subdue her...the others being by threat of force (with or without a weapon), physically subduing her, knocking her out cold (hitting her without really hurting unrealistic as that is) or by her voluntary submission.  Chloroforming seems to be a very popular way to subdue the heroine.  It shows up in TV and movies all the ti
Non-Adults and BondageThis is, of course, dangerous territory.  Let me be specific.  I am not talking about anything sexual.  I am talking about the use of bondage on non-adults in the course of a mainstream story.  
There are perhaps three age groups in this category: teenagers (13-adult), older children (perhaps 10-12) and young children (under 10 years old).  And for this discussion I am talking about both girls and boys.
Non-adults have been tied up and gagged in stories going back as far as my searches go, both on TV, the movies and in books.  Still there is a great sensitivity to these age groups being tied up so there is perhaps an age appropriate level of bondage.  Mel Gibson's movie "Ransom" had a young boy taped up and that was criticized for being over the top.  One of the soaps (Days of Our Lives??) had a young boy tied and a bandanna tied in his mouth and they were criticized.  These were perhaps too realistic for some people's taste, but made sense for the particular story.
Teenagers are offer
What is IT About Gags???Poll #34 shows that a gag is the most important part of tying up a woman for most (about 40%) of the people responding in the poll.  That is about the total of the next four answers combined.
So what is so important about the gag.  If you are a real criminal, there is little point in tying up a woman if a scream can bring help.  So a gag might be considered a necessity.  But we don't deal with real criminals...we don't want anyone to go through non-consensual bondage in real life.
In stories (books, TV or movies) a gag tells the audience that the captured heroine is just a pawn, usually awaiting release or rescue.  She is there to squirm and struggle (if we are lucky).  Her dialogue is not important to the story...other than to express defiance or fear (which she can do eyes anyway).  Usually, the plot, particularly if she is tied up for a long period, will include a scene where the gag is removed for a while and she is allowed to have a dialog with her captor.  Then the heroine is gag
Handkerchiefs and BondageA subject I haven't covered in my survey of bondage and bondage materials is handkerchiefs.  Unlike scarves, handkerchiefs are rarely used as binding materials because they simply are not big or long enough.  They are gagging material.
Men's handkerchiefs come in a variety of sizes and most sizes can be used both as stuffing and tied in the woman's mouth.  The large handkerchiefs easily being tied in or over a woman's mouth and the small ones are typically just barely large enough to be tied in a woman's mouth.  
For much of the 20th century (at least into the 1960's), most men carried a handkerchief at all times.  There were even companies that provided clean handkerchiefs for men as a service.  In fact, many men carried two handkerchiefs.  One in their back pocket to be used for...well, you know...and the other in the breast pocket of their suit coat for decoration.  [Unlike today where the hanky in the breast pocket might be a fake hanky for decoration only, back in the day, they we
Ballgags and BondageThose of you that have read my journals probably know that I am not a big fan of ballgags.  By ballgags, I am talking about the rubber ball with a strap or cord or scarf running through it that is tied in the mouth.    Ballgags don't have to be made of solid rubber.  A wiffle ball can also be an effective ballgag.  Of course, the ball can be made of almost anything.  [A broader view of ballgags would include a cloth gag with a large knot in it that goes in the mouth.  The knot being the 'ball.']
For those that favor ballgags, there is no better way to gag a heroine.  Secured in the mouth, there is no way to talk and apparently little noise can be made.  Although appearing very secure, ballgags can have the same issues as any gag secured IN the mouth.  How secure the ballgag is depends on how tight the gag is strapped and how big the ball is relative to the heroine's mouth and thus, how deep it goes into her mouth.  Of course, some of the security issues are addressed by adding hardware
Masks and BondageI love masks in fetish bondage.  In particular, I love masks worn by villains, male or female.  Now a mask could be anything ranging from a handkerchief, bandanna or scarf tied over the lower part of the face to ski mask or balaclava to to a nylon stocking or pantyhose over the villain's head to a Halloween mask that covers the entire face.  What makes masks so wonderful is that the heroine immediately knows that she is in trouble.  The villain has announced that he or she is a villain.  No subterfuge, no ruse...just I'm here to rob you, kidnap you or have forced intimacy (thank you Captain Kidnap for that term) and I don't want you to know who I am.
The good news for the heroine is that killers usually don't worry about wearing a mask because witnesses are not typically an issue.
Which masks do I think would be most terrifying to a heroine?  I have two favorites.  One is the nylon stocking or pantyhose over the head.  Not only is it a mask, it distorts the villain's face which would a
The Five Senses and BondageSight, touch, smell, taste and hearing...these are the five senses.  They tell us about our surroundings.  For a bound and gagged heroine, she depends on her senses to aid her in her escape attempts, to calm her natural fears and to simply understand her perilous situation.  However, each of the five senses can also be used against the heroine in one way or another.  And a couple senses can be taken away from the heroine making her even more helpless and terrified.
We often hear that gags are the ultimate form of helplessness because they take away a woman's greatest strength, her power to communicate.  But this isn't really true.  Taking away a woman's sight, a primary sense, is by far the greatest form of helplessness.
Without being able to see, the heroine probably doesn't know where she is.  She may not know what her situation is or how she is bound or how many other captives there might be.  Perhaps the most frightening aspect of being blindfolded is that the heroine probably does
Gloves and BondageOkay, gloves are not really any type of bondage material...unless you consider the rare times when a glove is stuffed in a heroine's mouth to keep her quiet.  And yet gloves are a part of fetish bondage.  They have been since the time of Irving Klaw.  And gloves are a fetish item, themselves, with web sites featuring women wearing gloves.
Now there are lots of gloves worn by both women and men.  They include work gloves, oven gloves...all sorts of gloves.  What we are talking about are gloves worn by women primarily for fashion.  There are three basic lengths of women's gloves.  These include the gloves that cover the wrist, gloves that extend up to the elbow (matinee gloves) and opera gloves that extend past the elbow.
Irving Klaw had underwear-clad beauties with ulta-high heals running around tying gagging, spanking and generally having fun with each other.  They often wore long gloves extending above the elbows or opera gloves.  Irving Klaw knew fetish.
The following is from Wikiped
Villains and BondageI know that for some folks simply seeing a beautiful woman in bondage is enough.  And it is true, bondage in itself is erotic; it can also be a work of art.  In particular, rope work is an art form.  But fetish bondage is also about emotion.  Beautiful rope work can lack emotion without motivation.  And the best motivation in TV, the movies and fetish bondage is an evil villain.   
Bondage is at its best when it is non-consensual.  I am not knocking consensual bondage.  It is what loving couples do even when they are role playing.  But for a voyeur of bondage, and that is what we are when we look at TV, the movies and bondage photos and videos, the emotion is peaked when there is a sense of danger and true sense of being helpless in a dire situation.  That is why even with more than 50 years of television, the bound and gagged heroine is still a popular theme.  And you can not have that sense of danger without a villain.
Villains come in many varieties.  There are the larger than life
Robberies and BondageThe young woman watched the three masked robbers from her vantage point on the floor as they ransacked the house.  The wall safe was open and was now empty because the young woman had been too scared and had given the robbers the combination.  It had all happened so fast when she arrived home.  The two men had bound her in what they called a hogtie.  The woman had stuffed her mouth with a foul tasting cotton handkerchief and had knotted the young woman's own silk scarf over her mouth as a bizarre fashion accessory.  The young woman's attempts to struggle had only caused her skirt to ride up exposing her satin panties and had popped the top button's on her tight fitting silk blouse exposing her bra covering her well-endowed breasts.  Just then the three robbers gathered around the young woman with evil in their eyes and smiles under the handkerchiefs that covered their faces.  "Now, what do we do with this pretty youn Kidnapping and BondageSara was nervous.  She had walked this way to the bus stop more times than she could remember, but now she wished she had driven and paid the outrageous parking fees the downtown garages charged.  She picked up the pace of her walk and the woman behind her seemed to do the same.  Sara had seen the woman a several of the stores she went to.  She was sure that it was the same woman because of the dark blue raincoat, plain white headscarf she wore tied under her chin and the dark sunglasses.  Okay, it was 1958 and a lot of women wore headscarves and sunglasses.  Sara wore them on certain occasions herself.  Still, this woman seemed to be following her.  It could all be innocent, of course.
Sara was relieved to see a car parked on her side of this deserted street with a woman bent over doing something in the backseat of the car.  She was a tall woman wearing a raincoat, a floral silk headscarf and sunglasses.  As Sara approached the car, th
Femdom and BondageFemdom - Female domination
I love strong, smart female villains (and heroines).  Of course, I like them to end up bound and gagged also, perhaps several times in a story.  But I particularly love seeing a woman tie and gag another woman and have her enjoy doing it.  
The stereotypical woman is loving, gentle, caring, trusting, perhaps more likely to be sub-servant than a man and more about resolving conflict than creating it.  A female villain has none of those traits.  She is scheming and ruthless...and yet she is all woman.   No one expects her to be evil and yet she is and she is proud of it.  And she can be just as evil as a guy.   It is this incongruity that makes this type of villain so sexy.
The heroine can step into this role also, but it is not her natural role.  She is forced into it by the situation or by what has been done to her by the villain.  She has to dominate her captor in order to escape.  Unlike the female vill
Emotion and BondageHow long had it been?  The young woman pulled on the cord keeping her in the tight hogtie.  She grunts through her gag, a combination of a man's handkerchief stuffed in her mouth and her own designer silk scarf tied tightly between her lips.  She was terrified when they accosted her and physically forced her into bondage.  She was too terrified to really resist or even think for that matter and they could see the terror on her face.  But now she was simply angry.  Who gave these assholes the right to do this to her?  And that woman tying the rope in her crotch.  What a bitch!  Still the worst thing she did was tie the young woman's own expensive scarf in her mouth.  The scarf will be ruined with lipstick marks and stretched out of shape.  That was a $200 scarf!  The young woman couldn't wait until she got her hands around that woman's throat!  
Just then the woman stood over her with a big smile under the mask that hid he
Drawings and BondageI want to say right up front that I CAN NOT draw and I wish I could.  In fact, it is one of my bucket things that I would like to learn how to do before I die.  My drawings are worse than the worst on DA.  That is why I rarely try to draw anything and I would NEVER share one of my drawings even if I thought it was sort of okay.
By drawings, I am referring to traditional art, not the 3D stuff.  However, see the end for comments on 3D.
I believe that drawings, if they are done well, can have more impact than photos and video.  But this ideal is only rarely met.  Why can drawings have such impact?  Because drawings can depict scenes that would be difficult to reproduce.  This includes locations that a typical bondage production company wouldn't have access to.  This includes bondage ties that might be impossible or difficult for a model to do.  This includes sexual acts that some models might be unwilling to do.  This includes emotion
Cleave Gags and BondageI am sure you are saying to yourself...what else can he say about gags?  To me, gags are what makes fetish bondage erotic.  I don't know why, but they just are.  Perhaps it is the looks that the heroine gives when they know they can't talk.  Perhaps it is the mmmpphhing sound that the heroine makes when gagged, which can sound very sexual.  Perhaps it is eliminating the heroine's greatest strength, her ability to communicate.  Perhaps it is the excitement and frustration of the heroine when rescue is so near if only her gag didn't prevent her from crying out.  It is probably all of these combined.  For me, gags are the most important part of bondage.  Yes, I am a gag snob.
Having enjoyed fetish bondage for more years than I prefer to think about and having produced bondage pictures and videos for about 15 years, I have studied the science of gags and gagging.  So I wanted to comment on different types of gags.  This is about cleave
The Thomas Silk 15-Minute Rule of BondageThere have been a couple of models that have told us about a 15 minute rule...if you are strictly bound and uncomfortable, the producer must release you within 15 minutes (or less) or something like that.  We have no issues with that.  Our bondage, while secure, was rarely so uncomfortable that models complain.  We often had models bound for much longer than 15 minutes.  But there is another 15 minute that I developed.  If your heroine is bound for 15 minutes and can not get free herself or get her gag off, she will never get free or get her gag off (assuming her situation stays the same)!  This is one of the Thomas Silk Rules of Bondage.
What I mean by that is if there is a flaw in the bondage, the heroine will discover it within 15 minutes of struggling or less.  If she can't find a flaw in the bondage, she will remain bound and gagged until her situation changes. Why would she be able to get free or get her gag off after hours of
Blindfolds and BondageOne of the most underrated bondage accessories is the blindfold.  By covering the eyes, a villain can remove one of the essential senses the heroine has...that sense is sight.
Almost anything that can be tied, taped, or secured over the eyes in some manner (like a hood) to blindfold the heroine.  I personally prefer a silk scarf, which will not surprise any of you.  A blindfold can be tied loosely or very tight.  It will not impact the effectiveness of the blindfold, although it might determine how long the blindfold stays in place.  The thickness of the blindfold will determine whether the heroine is in complete darkness, sees shadow or light or perhaps gets a distorted view of what is happening.
Emotionally, a blindfold has to increase the heroine's terror at her situation.  Not being able to see means that see will not know when or where she is about to be touched.  She will not know exactly where her captors are or what they are doing.  Th
Headscarves and FashionCopyright 2013 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

This is the first part of a two part discussion of headscarves.  This first part deals with headscarves and fashion, both today and in the past.  I want to clarify some misconceptions about headscarves.  Whether you like headscarves or not (and I realize a lot of men and women don't like them or think that they shouldn't like them based on today's perceptions), the one thing to remember is that a beautiful woman wearing a fashionable headscarf still looks beautiful.  A FASHION headscarf, one that is NOT worn for religious reasons, can add intrigue, femininity (in colors, patterns and feel) and be functional.  However, if a headscarf is worn badly, like any fashion accessory, it can simply look bad.  
From the sites that I run, most of you know I have an interest in scarves.  Why does a guy care about scarf fashion, specifically headscarf fashion?  Because I grew up at the height of popularity of fashion headscarves.  I have always though
Struggling and Bondage - Part 1
What a turn-on it is when a pretty woman is securely bound, gagged and struggling.  Fighting her bondage and gag even though there is little hope of getting free.  Struggling makes the difference between a boring scene and an exciting one.  There are several types of struggling and they can occur at different times during a story.
1. Capture struggling
Technically, capture struggling occurs prior to the heroine's actual bondage or as she is being bound.  Although she is not restrained with ropes or tape, she is always restrained.  Her captor(s) grab and hold her.  Typically, she is also handgagged.  So she is in bondage even before ropes or tape or other restraint is applied.  Sometimes this can be as little as the heroine being grabbed from behind and dragged away, but the good scenes are much longer.
Chloroform Struggling
There are lots of people who enjoy watching a heroine being grabbed from behin
Struggling and Bondage - Part 2
2. Struggling While Bound and Gagged
It is what a bound and gagged woman is expected to do...struggle against her bondage.  When she doesn't, when she just accepts her fate and doesn't resist, the scene that is produced is simply boring regardless of how she is tied up.  A good bondage scene may contain several different types of struggling during this period of captivity.
Testing Her Bondage
Although this type of struggling doesn't always occur, when it does it happens it happens at the beginning of captivity and it is a slow and methodical type of struggling.  The damsel is literally testing to see how well she is tied and gagged.  Often she simply can't believe that she has been made so helpless so easily.
Vivian sat on the floor of her own walk-in closet.  Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were also tied together.  A handkerchief was packed into her mouth and
Struggling and Bondage - Part 3
3. Escape Struggling or Struggling with Purpose
Isn't the damsel trying to escape anytime she is struggling?  Yes and No.  Of course, she believes that she is trying to escape by struggling, but when a damsel is bound and gagged securely and is by herself, her actual chances of escaping her bonds are reasonably small (see the journal article on my 15 minute rule).  But after a while her struggles may become focused.  She may develop a plan of escape.  That is when she is struggling with purpose or escape struggling.
Struggling to be Heard
One of my favorite types of struggling is when a rescuer is nearby, perhaps searching for the damsel  or perhaps just a bystander, and the damsel tries to alert them to her plight.  The most obvious way to do this is to try to make enough noise through her gag to be heard or to get rid of her gag altogether.
If a gag is properly selected and secured for the location and situatio
What is a Good Gag? An Effective Gag?A while back I had a poll that asked how effective the best gag could be.  I offered the following answers for a woman bound and gagged in a bedroom of a house...
1) You can be right next to the damsel and not hear her whimpers.
2) You can be right outside the door of the room she's in and not hear her mmmmppphh.
3) You can be downstairs (or upstairs) and not hear her cries for help.
4) You won't hear her cries outside the house.
Most people chose 2 or 3, and these are probably the most correct answers.  But it is complicated.  How thick are the walls?  Is the woman tied with her face buried in a thick carpet or blanket or is she tied to a chair where her moans might carry better?  Where is the rescuer relative to the damsel?   How much ambient noise is there?  Etc.
The best a gag can do (without covering her nose) is to reduce the noise the damsel can make below what she can do through her nose.  Try it, a lot of noise can be made
Well, It is Reality...Sort OfThere has been a notable change in TV bondage.  In the past, when a woman was gagged, even with a poor gag, she would remain silent or make faint gagged noises.  We all look at these scenes and cringe.  Yes, we like to see the woman nicely gagged.  That cleave gag, OTM gag or tape gag is better than nothing, but we know that if the director let her scream, it would bring down the house. 
Well, it is time to rejoice bothers and sisters.  Yes, we are approaching the promised land....well, sort of.
Now, in quite a few scenes, they are letting the woman scream through their gag.  And guess what?  The gags aren't very effective.  Sometimes they talk through their gags...real conversations.  Forget gag talk.  They just talk. And yes, tape fans...that goes for taped mouths (without stuffing) also....lots of noise.
Criminal Minds has let their women scream, but not always.  More terror, I suppose.  The Transporter
What is the Definition of Pantyhose Bondage?One of the things that has puzzled me is the definition that some people have of Pantyhose Bondage.  Their definition is that any woman who is wearing pantyhose and who is tied up (with rope, tape, but not tied up with pantyhose) is in pantyhose bondage.  As someone who has actually done REAL pantyhose bondage...a woman tied up and/or gagged with pantyhose...for well over a decade, this just irks the hell out of me.
I recently saw a drawing of a woman wearing a blouse, skirt and pantyhose, tied with rope and tape gagged...nice drawing, but it had the caption pantyhose bondage.  How is a woman tied with rope and tape gagged in pantyhose bondage?  And not rope bondage or even tape bondage?  You wouldn't call it blouse bondage or skirt bondage, would you?  It make NO sense to call it pantyhose bondage.
If I told you that a photo set was scarf bondage and the woman wasn't tied or gagged with scarves, but just was wearing a scarf as a fashion acc
The Best Bondage Photograph I Have Ever Seen
Of course I should have said the best "criminal" bondage photo I have ever seen.  This was posted a long time ago by :iconRoadster1600:.  I have no idea where they got it.  Criminal bondage is what real criminals might use to restrain someone.  It is not a the perfectly tied well-known model with yards of rope wrapped around her body with every rope perfectly placed and a big ballgag in her mouth (with a caption saying something about a robbery).  [Although that is fine for fantasies.]
This picture is no doubt posed, but could have been taken by a real robber who tied up the woman during a crime.  [Hopefully, that is not the case.]  I am guessing that it was taken in the 1960's (or perhaps 1950's).  It is unique in that the bondage is done with one long thin cord at least 12 feet long and perhaps 15 feet long.  It is tied with a half hitch knots, not the commonly used square knot.  The cord
Let's Not Let Facts Get in the Way...ChloroformJenny felt uneasy.  It was a big bedroom, not what she was used to.  She still was reeling from the unexpected news of this inheritance.  She was startled out of her thoughts by the knock at the door.  It was Maggie and Doris the long time maids for the estate, who even at this hour were wearing their maid uniforms.
"We thought you might like some hot chocolate before you retire," Maggie, who was in her 50's said with a smile.
"I appreciate that, perhaps later," Jenny said as she brushed her hair.
"Later won't do, Mistress," Maggie said, "Now we will have to do it the hard way"  
Jenny was startled by the maid's tone.  She put the brush down to look at her.  There was a gun in her hand.  Before Jenny could react, the 26-year old Doris grabbed Jenny from behind with her left hand and clamped a man's handkerchief over her mouth and nose.  The handkerchief smelled sweet.  Jenny instinctively struggled, but Doris had her in a
  • Listening to: Rolling Stones
  • Reading: Bondage Stories on DA
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knottysilkscarf's Profile Picture
Thomas Silk
United States
My profile picture is not of is what I do. I am the producer of Knotty Silk Scarf Productions ( and I specialize in bondage videos, video clips, and photo stories. I also write bondage stories. The focus is on scarf, scarf & rope and pantyhose bondage. I also promote scarf fashion for women.

If you want to chat, send me a note.


#186 - I normally don't ask about characters, but a question about Susan Harris, Stacy's partner. In the current Lady Spies story, she is missing, presumed dead. She should...
11 deviants said Be alive, but brainwashed and turn traitor.
9 deviants said What the heck do I care, I don't read your stories. Just post more pictures...
8 deviants said Be alive and escape her captor.
6 deviants said Be really dead...Stacy needed a new partner anyway. She is buried in the ocean where she belongs.
4 deviants said Be alive and traded for another spy.
3 deviants said Have her fate remain unknown forever...presumed dead.
3 deviants said Be alive, but have no idea who Stacy is...

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This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts.  If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction.  The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.  

Thomas Silk

Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

It was January, 1962 at the height of the Cold War...

Chapter 9 – Trapping a Spy

Zürich, Switzerland

Stacy watched Helen Troy carefully.  Something wasn't right.  She looked like the woman that they were supposed to pick up and perhaps the fact that she was lingering near that limo meant nothing.  But it bothered Stacy.  The other thing that bothered Stacy was that the woman was very quiet.  Some people are like that, but usually when you asked them about their home and family, they usually spill their guts or at least have more to say than a couple words.  On the other hand, if you were concerned about a slip up that might expose you, you would say as little as possible.

The picture that had been sent by fax, showed Helen Troy smiling, apparently excited about attending the conference.  The Helen Troy in the backseat of their car was very reserved and hadn't smiled once.  When asked if she was excited about the conference, she simply said, "Sure."  Now this could be due to jetlag, but something just seemed out of place.

As Helen checked into the hotel, Stacy conferred with Lori and told her of her concerns.  They devised a little test for Miss Troy.  At the desk, all Miss Troy had to do was to give her passport to the clerk.  She reached into her coat pocket, extracted it and handed it to the clerk.  Stacy realized that the young woman had yet to even look in her purse and she had had no chance to look in her suitcase.  It was a simple test.  With most attendees, this is where the two agents would have left them, but Stacy and Lori decided to accompany Miss Troy to her room.  She seemed a little nervous when they insisted on coming with her, claiming that it wasn't necessary.  The porter brought her luggage almost immediately after they arrived at her room.  The agents surveyed the room.

"Thank you, Agents Steward and Trackman.  I will be perfectly fine now," Tatiana said in perfect English, trying to be confident in her role as Helen Troy.

"One moment, Miss Troy.  Please tell me what clothes you packed in your suitcase," Stacy asked.

"Excuse me.  That is none of your business," Tatiana replied.  She was well aware that the agents were suspicious of her for some reason.

"It's a simple question, Miss Troy.  Girls traveling always know what is in their suitcase," Stacy pointed out as she opened the suitcase in such a way that Tatiana couldn't see the contents, "Did you bring headscarves?  If so how many and what colors?"

"Of course, I brought headscarves.  What girl wouldn't bring several?  But I don't remember the exact colors.  One was white.  I don't remember how many," Tatiana tried to come up with an answer.

"How may outfits?  Skirts?  Blouses?  Dresses?  What colors?"  Stacy pressed.

"Miss Stewart, I didn't pack my own bag.  My mother packed it.  Okay?"  Tatiana tried to deflect the questions.

"Okay Miss Troy, tell me what's in your purse.  Every girl knows that," Stacy demanded.

"This is ridiculous.  I have a wallet, handkerchief, keys, some tissues…" the fake Helen Troy hissed.

"Details, Miss Troy," Stacy took the woman's purse from the bed and opened it, "How many handkerchiefs?  Are they embroidered?  These are details any girl would know about what's in her purse."

"What are you accusing me of?  I will have your jobs for this?  I want to talk to the American Embassy," Tatiana hissed.

"Perhaps nothing, Miss Troy.  Our authority supersedes the embassy's in matters of security.  Several things caught our eyes.  Things that were suspicious.  We were held up in traffic by something that could have been staged.  We've never had a traffic problem like that before.  You were found near a suspicious limo when you were explicitly told to stay at the arrival gate.  Your scarf was tied on the opposite side of your neck when you were told not to change your appearance.  Now, you apparently don't know what's in your own luggage or purse," Stacy pointed out.

"And there is this," Lori Trackman pointed to a small circular object under the collar of Miss Troy's coat.  She took a piece of gum she had been chewing and placed it over what appeared to be a tiny microphone, effectively muting it.

"What is that?"  Tatiana asked incredulously, "That is not mine."  For the first time the KGB agent, who was posing as Helen Troy, looked visibly shaken.

"No?  It's a KGB short-range transmitter.  Are you a KGB agent, Miss Troy?"  Lori asked.

"That is simply insulting," Tatiana yelled, "I'm leaving and I'm going to the American Embassy to complain about you two."  Tatiana moved toward the door, but Stacy stepped in her way.  She pulled up short.  For Tatiana, she had to decide whether to try to take out these two agents or to pretend that she was innocent.  The odds were against her in a fight with these two.  They were both trained agents and they were clever.  Still, playing innocent wasn't going to work for long.  There were ways of checking to see if she was the real Helen Troy.  Tatiana's decision was made for her.

"Please, Miss Troy.  We can verify your identity in a couple of hours.  Please come and sit down," Lori requested as she held her revolver pointing toward the ceiling, but the threat was clear.  Tatiana did as she was told, sitting in a wooden chair by a writing desk.

"Now remove your clothes, down to your lingerie and your shoes," Stacy instructed.  Tatiana gave her a dirty look, but did not argue removing the skirt, blouse, shoes and the jewelry taken from the real Helen Troy.  Stacy walked over with three silk headscarves from the suitcase, handing one to Lori, who continue to hold the gun.

"I'm afraid that you will have to remained bound, Miss Troy, while we check your identity.  Please put your arms over the back of the chair," Stacy said.

"This is insane.  You both are insane," Tatiana hissed, but complied with the request, "Am I to be gagged as well like a common robbery victim?"  Stacy folded a blue and white checkered silk scarf into a triangle and spun it into a silk cord.  She pulled the woman's wrists together and expertly bound them with the scarf.  Lori put the gun down for a moment, folded the white silk scarf into a triangle and rolled it up.  She knelt to the side of the chair and pulled Helen Troy's legs toward her, crossing them.  She wove the silk scarf around and between the woman's ankles and tied it tightly to the leg of the chair.

"Thanks for reminding me about the gag, Miss Troy.  If you are a KGB agent, we would be fools not to keep you secured and quiet.  If you are not a KGB agent, you are correct, we may lose our jobs.  But we have to err on the side of caution so you will be gagged like a common robbery victim.  We can't take a chance of you attempting to communicate, if you are a KGB agent.  These handkerchiefs are from your purse so I assume they are clean.  The first one goes in your mouth so anything you tried to say will be garbled.  The second one will go over your lips to protect your beautiful scarf, the one you couldn't identify.  Now please open your mouth and don't fight this," Stacy said holding a large wadded lady's handkerchief with floral embroidery on it in front of the woman's face.

"I always wondered what it would be like to be a damsel in distress," Tatiana nervously chuckled as she opened her mouth to accept the gag.  Stacy pushed the handkerchief all the way in and poked it.  The fake Helen Troy closed her ruby red lips trapping the handkerchief inside.  A folded handkerchief, this one plain white, was put over her lips and held there until Stacy pulled the thick silk scarf tight over her mouth, knotting it at the back of her neck and then tying the ends in a bow.  The scarf was cream colored with a red boarder and pink daisies splashed over the center of the scarf.  The triangular apex of the scarf hung over the woman's chin with a daisy where her mouth should be.

Tatiana tested her bonds and her gag.  Given time, she could get out of the scarf ligatures and dislodge the scarf gag.  Of course, that assumed that she would be left alone.  These agents were too smart for that.  No, Tatiana had to count on her boss and lover to get her out of this mess.  She was confident that he would.  She was confident that Agents Steward and Trackman would soon be dead.

"I'll call the embassy and have them send over a fingerprint kit," Lori said as she went to the telephone.

Chapter 10 – A Ransom Debacle

Cairo, Egypt

"It was terrifying," Agents Doris Jenkins and Babs Wilson listened to the young Egyptian woman's harrowing story of Margaret Brown abduction.

"Neither of us had a chance.  Three veiled woman, at least I assume they were women, grabbed us in the shop, bound and gagged us.  I saw them put a niqāb over Margaret.  I guess to hide the fact that she was a prisoner.  And then I was chloroformed.  The two shopkeepers, an American tourist, and myself woke up an hour or two later and struggled helplessly, unable to move because of the bonds and the tight space.  The gags in our mouths were stifling.  We couldn't even communicate with one another.  And we had been violated by men, who I never saw.  It was most disgusting.  We weren't found until dinner time that evening when the husband of one of the shopkeepers came looking for his wife," Asim recounted her tale.  The young Egyptian woman was dressed in a skirt that extended to her ankles and the western style blouse.  Her hair was loosely wrapped in my oblong scarf that went under her chin and the ends hung down her back.

"The poor girl has been through quite a lot.  What she has told you was confirmed by the shopkeepers and the American tourist," Dr. Brown, Margaret's father stated with authority.  He looked uncomfortable in his suit and tie, both brown.  He was used to being in shorts and a short sleeve shirt, without a tie when he was at his archaeological dig site.  Even when he was back in England, Dr. Brown disliked the necessity of wearing formal clothes.  His wife sat next to him, wearing a dark brown ankle-length skirt and a light brown blouse with a brown and white checkered silk scarf knotted at her neck, with the ends falling on her left breast.  Her brunette hair was streaked with gray and was in a bun on the top of her head.

"We were at our dig site the next day when Asim cam with the ransom demand," Mrs. Brown said, "The instructions were direct.  They knew how much money we could afford and how long it would take to get it, a couple days.  The instructions were that we not involve the police, but we did.  I was supposed to make the ransom drop, along with Asim.  The police provided a policewoman, in plainclothes to go with us.  Other police were supposed to be in the area.  The instructions were to bring the ransom to the bazaar.  The time was mid day.  The bazaar was very crowded with mostly women doing shopping.  I was carrying the ransom in an oversized purse.  It had a tracking device in it."

Mrs. Brown stopped to compose herself and to take a sip of tea, which the agents took as one of the ways that the Brits used for keeping a "stiff upper lip."  She dabbed at her lips with a small cloth napkin.  Then she looked up signaling that she was ready to continue.

"A woman in a niqāb purposely bumped into Asim, pushing a note into her hand," Mrs. Brown continued.

"When she bumped into me, she said Egyptian Arabic that we were to follow the instructions precisely and to get rid of the woman officer or they would.  Any deviation from the instructions would mean Margaret's death," Asim interrupted.

"The woman police officer refused to leave us after she was told what Asim had been told.  The message on the paper was in English.  It directed us to a woman's clothing store.  This was no doubt to ensure that the male police officers could not follow.  It is frowned upon for a man to even enter this type of store," Mrs. Brown explained.

"That's certainly an inventive way to cull the herd, sort to speak," Babs said, "It sounds like the shopkeepers might be in on this."

"If they were, they paid quite a price.  Like during the kidnapping, these storekeepers were chloroformed and left bound and gagged in a tiny storage closet.  There were signs that they had been sexually assaulted by men, although we did not see any men,” Asim said, "When we arrived, the store was closed, but as we approached the skinny woman in the brightly colored veil, she had been at the kidnapping, opened the door for us.  She closed the door behind us and before I could warn the policewoman, she attacked the officer from behind stuffing a handkerchief in her mouth and covering her face with a folded cloth that must've had chloroform on it.  The police officer fought valiantly, but the veiled woman had the advantage."

"Did you scream for help?"  Doris asked.  Asim and Mrs. Brown looked at each other.  Mrs. Brown cleared her throat.

"I wish that would've been possible.  We both turned to see what was happening to the poor officer, who was walking behind us.  We didn't realize that two other women in black niqābs came out from the back of the store just as we turned.  I did open my mouth to scream and a man's handkerchief stuffed in my mouth.  I too was chloroformed and I watched the same thing happened to Asim," Mrs. Brown stated, "It was terrible.  It took a long time to put us out and we struggled.  I saw the policewoman's eyes get weird looking, like she was half asleep, before she stopped struggling and went limp.  Asim, poor dear, had this happen to her during the kidnapping.  She struggled with all her might, but the bitch holding her had the advantage of surprise, position, and strength.  A tall black woman, of African dissent I believe – unlike the others, who appeared to be Eastern European – grabbed me and force the cloth over my face after stuffing my mouth.  The only people who heard our cries of distress were in the shop.  And no one from the outside could see us.  It was the strangest feeling as I went under.  My limbs didn't respond anymore.  My vision turned black-and-white and then back to color and then back to black-and-white.  I heard the three veiled women laughing and speaking in what I thought was Russian.  They clearly enjoyed our distress."  Mrs. Brown once again had to take a moment to compose herself.  She took too long sips of tea and again daintily patted her lips with the cloth napkin, leaving small lipstick stains.  She took a deep breath and continued.

"I don't know how long we were out.  I was told it was probably a couple of hours.  When we woke up from our drugged sleep, all three of us were wearing black niqābs and nothing underneath.  Those bitches had stripped us of our clothes.  And we were tightly bound underneath, except for our hands which were secured outside the niqābs in our laps.  Our feet and bodies were secured to a bench in an alleyway a short ways from the shop.  Any attempt to struggle immediately result in discomfort.  They had threaded the cord from our hands through a hole in the niqāb between our legs so that the rope was embedded in our private area and secured to the bench behind us.  I've never heard of such a thing, but it was extremely effective," Mrs. Brown was visibly shaken and retelling her story.  She once again sipped the tea.

"How soon before you were found?"  Babs asked.

"It took a lot longer than you might think.  Of course, we had been chloroformed.  The police broke into and searched the store where the ransom drop was supposed to take place.  But their search was superficial and they didn't even find the two hapless storekeepers who were securely bound and gagged in the tiny storage closet.  The kidnappers left my purse with the transmitter several blocks away in another shop.  Finding nothing in that shop, it was from that point that they started their outdoor search.  The police search past us by several times after we woke up, but it was impossible for us to alert them to her situation.  Not only were we bound, we were effectively gagged.  I had two large handkerchiefs packed into my mouth.  Another one was tied in my mouth and a third was tied over my mouth.  A thick silk headscarf was then tied over that.  And another silk headscarf was tied over my lower face including my nose.  Not only was it difficult to make any noise, it was difficult to breathe.  What made it worse was that those scarves were strongly perfumed.  The others were gagged in a similar manner.  What noise we could make was obscured by the normal noise of the bizarre.  The niqābs we were wearing hid everything from view.  The police just thought we were three women sitting on a bench and ignored us.  It was the most frustrating thing I've ever experienced being so close to being rescued, being in plain view and being unable to attract any attention," Mrs. Brown said.

"So how do you eventually get rescued?"  Doris asked.

"It was dark and I thought that we would be there all night.  The police had left the area or at least our immediate area.  Suddenly, Asim managed to get her wrists freed and within a few minutes we were all freed.  About the same time, the husband of one of the storekeepers found his wife and her sister in the store and freed them.  I am indebted to Asim for managing to get free," Mrs. Brown related, "Of course, we lost the ransom and didn't get Margaret back.  I fear for her life."

"One of the kidnappers told me that Margaret would be returned in a few days, but they had other uses for her," Asim interjected.

"Very convenient that all the information from the kidnappers comes through you.  You were present at the kidnapping and you managed to get free when no one else could," Babs commented.

"Are you accusing Asim of collaborating with the kidnappers?" Mrs. Brown hissed indignantly, "If you are, she was sexually assaulted.  That was verified by a doctor.  And look at her wrists, she was bound as tightly as we were."  Asim showed her wrists, which still had evidence of her bondage in what could only be rope burns.

"Mrs. Brown, perhaps everything is just a coincidence.  But we are trained investigators and Asim being at the center of everything is a bit suspicious.  We will be investigating everyone involved in this case.

Chapter 11 – A Very Personal Search

Zürich, Switzerland

Tatiana, posing as conference attendee Helen Troy, sat in an uncomfortable chair in her hotel room.  Perhaps sitting wasn't the correct term.  She was bound with Helen Troy's scarves to the chair.  As a trained KGB spy, Tatiana was perfectly capable of getting free from the situation.  However, there was a problem.  That problem was that she was being closely watched by two trained counterintelligence spies.  If she tried to get free while they were watching, she would be quickly subdued and restrained in a more restrictive manner, if not killed.  Although they had their suspicions, these two agents, Miss Stacy Steward and Miss Lori Trackman, didn't know for certain that Tatiana wasn't the real Helen Troy.

Tatiana squirmed in her seat, not because she was restless, but the wooden chair was uncomfortable.  In fact, her senses were on high alert and her mind was constantly calculating the odds for various plans of action.  So far, she had decided to sit tight.  The pun made her smile under the silk scarf tightly tied over her mouth.

While she was waiting to see what developed, Tatiana was testing her bonds and her gag.  The two agents had apologize for the gag, but not the restraints.  The gag was a simple one and reasonably effective.  A large woman's handkerchief, embroidered with flowers for a feminine touch, had been stuffed in her mouth without any resistance.  Another woman's handkerchief, which was over her mouth, was folded and protected the scarf from her lipstick.  Then there was a large silk scarf, made of thick silk, which was tightly tied over her mouth.  Her tongue had explored the embroidery and the ends of the handkerchief in her mouth.  It was small enough to move around with her tongue, particularly once it became saturated with her saliva.  Still, it was reasonably effective.  It's job was to garble her talk and it worked reasonably well given its size.  Almost anything put in the mouth will improve a gag.  At KBG training, they had spent an entire day talking about how to gag somebody.  Including the best techniques to use on women and on men.  They had talked about using common clothing items such as handkerchiefs and silk scarves for those times when using what was available was necessary.  They'd also talked about using tape, sponges, hard rubber balls, bit gags, ball gags, and almost any other conceivable item. Each cadet spent a couple hours with one type of gag or another in their mouth so for Tatiana being gagged like this was almost an academic experience.

The only thing that excited her in a real way was the search that was conducted by Lori Trackman.  It was a very thorough body search, for which she did apologize for profusely, that included cavities that spies sometimes used to hide things.  A KGB spy would never apologize for anything, the fake Helen Troy mused.  Tatiana had just closed her eyes as her bra was pushed out of the way and her breasts examined.  Her hair was examined and Tatiana was relieved that the woman didn't realize that her hair was actually a wig.  But it was the exam of her her twat that pleased the KGB agent the most.  The finger examining her love canal was only in there for a moment.  Tatiana had hoped that the agent would've done a more thorough job.  When she did a body search of a woman, Tatiana would bring them to orgasm, just for the fun of it.  It's the least one can do for captive, she thought.  Even when she searched men, she would spend a long time on their manhood, enough to give them a hard on.  Lori Trackman's search was quick and professional, unfortunately.  Although these sensual parts of the search did bring a smile to Tatiana's gagged mouth.

The two agents had contacted the American Embassy, who had sent a courier with a fingerprint kit.  The courier and waited in the lobby while the two agents pulled off Tatiana's cotton gloves and had fingerprint her.  Those fingerprints would expose her as a spy, but there was nothing she could do about it.  By now, the Puppet Master knew that Tatiana was in trouble.  She had missed the contact time.  Tatiana hoped, no assumed, that the Puppet Master had a plan to rescue her.

Chapter 12 – Not a Job for an Intern

April Dancer was excited.  She had been excited ever since she got to Switzerland four months ago.  The chance to be an intern at the embassy in a foreign country was truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  And Switzerland was in a peaceful part of the world.  The people were nice and the country was wonderful.  Because of the NATO conference, the embassy was stretched thin with personnel.  Most of the time, April issued visas or filed papers and the like.  If this is been any other place besides an American Embassy, the work would've been boring.  But this evening, April had been asked to run an errand at the main hotel for the conference.  It wasn't the first time that April had been asked to deliver something to a meeting, but this was a NATO conference and they made it sound like she would be a spy.  Her supervisor even told her to wear a  black headscarf.  April had had to find someone who had one because she didn't.  Oh, she wore headscarves all the time, but she preferred bright colors, not black.  She was to look for a platinum blond in the lobby of the hotel who would be wearing a white neck scarf.  Then she was supposed to walk up to the woman and say, "Hi, I'm April.  It is sure dark outside tonight."

April half expected the woman wearing the white neck scarf to give her a weird look and walk away, but the woman replied, "Hi, I'm Stacy.  It'll become lighter when the moon rises at 10."  April wondered if the moon really rose at 10, as she had no idea.  When she had heard the correct reply, she gave the woman the box.  The woman instructed her to stay where she was and left for about 15 minutes.  When she returned, the woman called Stacy gave April an envelope and told her that it was a top priority that she get back to the embassy immediately.  April had no idea what was in the envelope, but someone at the embassy had said something about someone need needing to be fingerprinted.  The envelope was a regular sized mailing envelope, but it contained something stiff, like cardboard.

April told the woman that she was immediately going back to the embassy.  She then turned and walked out of the hotel.  The envelope was put in her purse and she proceeded to her small Volkswagen car.  She unlocked the door and sat down.  The first thing she realized was that the driver seat was pulled back as far as it would go.  Her feet wouldn't even touched the pedals and the seatback was almost in the position where she could lie down.  Her mind tried to process this.  Did someone else get into her car?  She certainly didn't leave the seat like this.  Was this one of those practical jokes that the embassy personnel liked to pull?  All that went through her mind in an instant.

The car door closed by itself or so it seemed.  A folded man's handkerchief held by a black leather glove was clamped over her face and she was pulled back.  April tried to reach the steering wheel and the car's horn, but with the seat moved back that was impossible.  Her hands flailed trying to reach the steering wheel.  She looked over and saw a woman with a big smile on her face, her attacker.  She also was wearing a black headscarf, but her reasoning was so that she would be invisible in the back of the car and it had worked.  April grabbed at the woman's hand trying to dislodge it from her face.  But she was almost lying down and the woman, who was seating in the backseat, off to the side, but above her, giving her attacker a tactical advantage.  The woman was easily keeping the young intern in place and helpless.

For the first few seconds, April didn't realize the purpose of the handkerchief over her lower face.  Obviously, it was supposed to stifle her screams, which it did with the assistance of the leather glove covered hand that had a vice grip on her lower face.  Her initial response was, of course, to scream.  When she inhaled was when April noticed the sweet odor and the wetness of the handkerchief.  But it wasn't until her body began to feel weak that she realized the ultimate purpose of the handkerchief.  It was administering some sort of sedative.  From her spy novels that she liked to read, it had to be chloroform.  In a moment, that was confirmed.

"Breathe deeply, Miss April Dancer," the feminine voice whispered, "Don't struggle, dear.  It's pointless.  The chloroform will put you to sleep anyway and we will take good care of you."  The woman was talking to her like she was a girlfriend talking about the weather.  But April did struggle, with all of her might.  Nothing good came of being chloroformed, at least in her spy novels.  But the more she struggled, the more she inhaled.  Her vision started fading in and out as she fought to keep her eyes open.  The woman was laughing and enjoying her situation.  April lost her battle with the chloroform as her eyes fluttered and closed and her body relaxed.

The Puppet Master had an erection under his skirt.  He loved this type of field work.  He was in his female persona, which she usually preferred.  It wasn't often that he got to personally chloroform someone anymore, and a beautiful woman at that.  The fact that he got to subdue this woman as a woman himself, was sexually stimulating to him.  Those at the Kremlin would think that he was being too reckless.  He had talented agents who could have done this and would have enjoyed doing it is much as he did.  Still, it was important for him to show his agents that he could do the work that they did.

The Puppet Master pulled the inert body of April Dancer into the backseat of the small car.  Stefaya opened the driver's door and got in.  She immediately started the car after finding the keys in April's purse.  She put the car in gear and left the hotel parking lot.  The Puppet Master slowly took off Aprils clothes, starting with her coat.  Stripping the woman against her will was high on his list of pleasures.  Of course, he preferred the woman to be awake at the time, to see her squirm under him, helpless to stop what he was doing.  But the inert body of a beautiful woman was still a pleasure to slowly relieve of her clothes.  Of course, the pleasure increased as each article of clothing was removed.  He would stop and smell each article of clothing, particularly the most personal items.  He roughly caressed each part of her body, as it became naked.  He explored every part of April's body.  He would fuck her, of course, but not until she was awake and could appreciate all of his many talents in such matters.

Stefaya knew enough not to interrupt or question her boss.  He was at least part man, after all.  She knew that soon she would be wearing Miss Dancer's clothes, which would be a weird experience.  The young woman would no longer have any need for them where she was going.  It would be a horrible death for the young woman, but it would be over with relatively quickly.  The real horror would be her interrogation, mostly sexual techniques would be used.  Stefaya suspected that death would be welcome after the Puppet Master got through with the young woman.

Stefaya tried to think of happy thoughts, like the sex she would have with the young woman before her demise.  Stefaya put the car into fourth gear as she moved out of the center of the city.

Chapter 13 – A Strange Turn of Events

Somewhere in Egypt

"Please kill me!  Please, Mistress!"  Margaret Brown pleaded with the woman in the niqāb.  Tears were flowing from her face.  She had been in the cell, gagged with a handkerchief tied over her mouth and chained to the wall by her leg, ever since she had been kidnapped.  Although she had not been otherwise bound, Margaret had been warned not to remove the gag.  She realized that this was just another method of controlling her and making sure that she was obedient.  The young Brit had been fed grule twice a day and had been forced to service the three women whenever they desired.  She had decided that it was better to be dead, then to led this existence.

The woman caressed her head and lifted her robe.  Margaret knew what she wanted.  This one seemed to be the leader of these women.  Other kidnapped girls had come through this jail from hell.  Most of them were local Egyptian girls.  They arrived wearing a niqāb, just like she had.  When it was removed, they were naked.  Unlike Margaret, not only were they chained by the leg, but they were kept tightly bound and gagged.  Their gags were the handkerchief tied over the mouth, but rather a rubber ball with the scarf thread through it.  A handkerchief the stuffed in each girl's mouth before the rubber ball was jammed in place and the scarf tightly tied behind her head.  Not only did those gags look terribly uncomfortable, the young women, some of them only girls, drooled uncontrollably, much to the delight of the veiled ladies.   Much of it of the time, another scarf was used to blindfold them.  They were bound on the dusty dirt floor with their hands behind their back and their bound ankles within inches of their hands.  It looked very uncomfortable.  At some point one or more of the veiled ladies would come into sexual things to them.  Margaret wouldn't watch, but she could still hear their gagged cries.  At some point, Margaret would wake up and they would be gone, only to be replaced by someone new.

Margaret had already figured out that those girls and women were being sold into some sort of sexual slavery.  She wondered if that would be her fate.  Actually, it was already her fate with these three veiled women.  She had lost hope that she would ever see her parents again, much less England.

"What is the problem, my child?" the lady in black said in the heavy Eastern European accent, "You have my permission to speak freely, this one time."  Margaret looked up at her, debating what to do.  When she had tried to ask questions before, her face had been slapped hard enough to sting, but not to mark.  Margaret had learned that disobeying orders from these three women resulted in painful punishment.  Before Margaret could speak, the gloved hand of the woman put a finger to her lips.

"You want to know what your fate is to be?  Yes?  We have received a generous ransom from your parents and you will be returned to them, eventually.  When I make a deal, I honor that deal.  The truth is that you bear a striking resemblance to an American spy by the name of Susan Harris.  It is to our advantage that the Americans believe that we have this person in custody.  We need you for our plan.  When we are finished, you will be released.  That is my promise to you," the woman in black told Margaret.

"Why should I believe you?"  Margaret said.  This was the most hopeful that she had felt in days.

"I have no reason to lie to you," the woman said and then she stuffed a man's handkerchief fully into Margaret's mouth and retied the handkerchief over her mouth.  Two strips of tape were put over her eyes, effectively blindfolding her.  Margaret wondered what was going on.  Something was different.  She heard the other two women come into the cell.  They removed her tattered clothing in a very sexual manner.  There was no point in resisting besides her hands had been retied behind her back.  She felt the metal cuff around her ankle being released.  She was marched down the hall and up a set of stairs.  Being blindfolded, her progress was slow.  Once she was upstairs, Margaret was led into a small room.  Instinctively, she knew that it was a room with a shower or bath.  Her hands were untied and then retied in front of her.  From the cold tiles on her feet, Margaret could tell that she was now in a shower stall.  She felt her wrists being pulled upward and over her head and secured there.

Margaret heard someone turning a knob.  When the cold water hit her, she cried out ineffectually through the gag.  Was this some type of torture?  Her body began to shiver, but then the water became warmer.  She started to feel the grime of all those days start to be washed away.  She then realized that someone had joined her in the shower.  Instinctively, she knew that it was a leader of these women.  The woman brushed against her and Margaret realized that she was naked also.  She felt the woman's hands on her, caressing her.  Then she felt soap, wonderful soap, being rubbed all over her body.  Margaret never thought that she would feel this good ever again.  Something was poured into her hair.  Some type of shampoo, she assumed.  The woman was under the water stream with her as she lathered up Margaret's hair.  Whether it was intended or not, Margaret realized that for her this was a sexual experience.  The woman who was in the shower with her smelled feminine.  She was a real woman.  Her touch was gentle.  Margaret was aware that her nipples were becoming hard.

The woman said nothing, but continued to caress Margaret's soapy body.  And then the woman's hand slipped down to Margaret's crotch.  Instinctively, Margaret opened her legs as wide as she could, accepting the pleasure that she instinctively knew was about to come.  And it did come.  The woman knew how to satisfy another woman.  Margaret thought she was going to faint from the feelings that were being generated in her twat.  The woman had her thumb on Margaret's clit, making a circular pattern, and was pumping her love hole with two of her fingers.  It didn't take long for Margaret to cum.  When she did, her body trembled and she almost fainted.  The fear and uncertainty melted away.

The woman steadied her and then pulled down the soaked handkerchief tied over her mouth.  The woman's fingers went into her mouth, pulling the soaked mouth stuffing out, and replacing it with her tongue, as she kissed Margaret deeply.  Margaret responded, pushing her tongue into the woman's mouth, exploring it.  She had never been with a woman before she was kidnapped.  Now she wanted to be with this woman, who had kidnapped her.  The woman continued to explore her body, particularly her erect breasts.  Their mouths remained intertwined for long time.  Then it was over.

The woman used a large soft towel to dry off Margaret and herself.  Margaret stayed silent, not daring to speak, not wanting to break the mood of the moment.  The woman fluffed her hair, drying it.  Margaret hadn't felt this good in days.  To be clean again was wonderful.  To have had a powerful orgasm was wonderful.  But she knew that she was still prisoner.  Margaret was led into what was obviously a bedroom and was told to keep her eyes closed, which she did.  The tape was peeled away from her eyes and was replaced by a soft silk scarf, which was tightly tied at the back of her head.  The ropes around her wrists were also replaced with a silk scarf.  The woman helped her into what was a very soft and comfortable bed.  One leg was secured to the foot of the bed with another silk scarf.  The woman climbed into bed with her.

Margaret knew that she could get free at any time.  She also knew that this was a test of sorts.  She wiggled down under the covers and found the woman's crotch.  The woman spread her legs and Margaret repaid the kindness that the woman had shown her.  She hoped that this kindness would be continued, but she also knew that the woman could revert back to the cruel criminal that she was.  The woman stifled a cry as she came.  Margaret managed to crawl up next to her with her face covered in cum.  The woman kissed her deeply and licked off her own cum.  Margaret quickly fell into a deep sleep, which was interrupted every few hours with a romantic interlude.  She hoped that this night would never end.  Margaret knew that she would do whatever this woman wanted.

To Be Continue...

Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 9-13
Book 9 in the series -January, 1962 - Agent Susan Harris has been missing and presumed dead for over a month.  Agents Stacy Steward and Lori Trackman are sent to a NATO conference as a protection detail where an elite KGB team might be at work.  Agents Doris Jenkens and Babs Wilson, now recovered from the explosion they were in, are sent on a mission to Egypt.

Can anyone identify the significance of the new character?  Answer: April Dancer was the lead on the Girl from UNCLE.  She was played by Stephanie Powers.  The show only lasted for 1 season in the mid-1960's.  This new character is paying homage to her and all the other female TV spies of the 1960's, although admittedly, in this story April Dancer is having a rough go at the start. 

Chapter 9 - Stacy and Lori in Switerland capture a spy...maybe.

Chapter 10 - Babs and Doris in Egypt investigate Margaret Brown's abduction and the resulting ransom delivery.

Chapter 11 - Tatiana, posing as Helen Troy, gets a very personal search.

Chapter 12 - Embassy intern, April Dancer, finds out that playing spy can be dangerous.

Chapter 13 - Margaret Brown get a different experience of captivity.

So if you want lots of bondage, sex, chloroformed women, KOs...Read Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair.

Complete details of the Lady Spies series can be found in Lady Spies - A Chronology including links to the chapters of each story.

The cover is by the amazing :iconmileshendon:  That scene is in this portion of the story.

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A Young Jacky Graham, PI, Adventure

Thomas Silk and Sarah J. Drake

Copyright 2018 - Thomas Silk (Knotty Silk Scarf Productions) and Sarah J. Drake

This story is a fetish story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts.  If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction.  The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.  

Chapter 9 – Arnold Takes Charge

A tall, balding man stepped forward, bent down and smoothed the fallen young lady's cheek, then raised her right eyelid, tight closed in a blue lined arc across smooth, fresh young skin. Beneath was an uncomprehending, rolled-up white eyeball. For the second time that evening, Jacky had been knocked out, hard. As he stood up, the man grasped Jacky's left bare foot and caressed the oddly tough sole, the dropped it, watching the foot fall, entirely unresistant to gravity, to slap inertly to the ground. The girl was out, knocked cold.

The man held his left shoe in his hand, an expensive heavy leather brand, the rigid heel of which had plainly been used to crash into the back of Jacky's vulnerable, turned and unseeing head, unknowingly impacting  upon virtually the same spot as the grievous blow she had sustained not long earlier.

"Arnold! You Oaf! Couldn't you slug her so that she wouldn't fall right on top of me? Get me out from under her- this cow weighs a ton!" Maureen complained

"Have a heart Mo! Ah just got free myself! Had to think quickly what to do with this nosy snooping young idiot! Ah thought I acted quite smartly actually, considering....OK, OK, OK" Arnold ceased his speech of self justification as Maureen started to wind up to further abuse.

Arnold had been lying in the bathroom, having been dragged in there and tied up after Marilyn had been removed from its very insecure sanctuary. As such he had been out of sight of the inquisitive and well-meaning young Scot as she snooped into the bedroom and had given her attention to the two prone and plainly-distressed women. The groggy guy had recovered himself however, and finding himself securely hogtied with unbreakable plastic zipties and gagged with a hard rubber ball taped in his mouth, he looked around for some means of escape.  Arnold was an ex-Marine and the thought of being overwhelmed by of them being a woman...made him angry.  What made him even more angry was the fact that the intruders had taken Marilyn, his meal ticket...correction, Maureen's and his meal ticket.  He couldn't start looking for Marilyn until he got free.

Arnold glanced out the bathroom door.  Maureen was still unconscious.  They must have chloroformed her, a pleasure he had somehow avoided.  And there was Cynthia hogtied by the door on her stomach.  Her dress pushed up.  She liked to wear stockings with garters.  His view at floor level left nothing to the imagination.  Her satin panties with little hearts on them and lace along the edges.  Those strong nylon covered legs...he, of course, would peel those off of her legs slowly revealing almost perfect feet with painted toes...he had glimpsed them once.  Lord, he wanted to fuck that woman.  He got very hard seeing her like that.  He preferred the women he screwed to be unconscious, then he could do what he wanted with them without hearing any complaints.  Of course, he suddenly realized that if they were awake and tied and gagged, he would have the best of both worlds, a physical reaction to his advances and no ability to complain.  If only he wasn't bound and gagged, he would poke her right now while Maureen was out cold.  Strangely, he hadn't wanted to fuck his wife in many years.  Apparently, she felt the same way.  Still she didn't want him to spread his wings and tap other vintages of wine.

There was one problem with getting horny while bound besides not being able to act on your impulses.  His manhood was trying to extend itself while he was lying on his stomach...a painful situation.  Arnold rolled onto his side and that was when he saw it.  On the back of the toilet was his small canvas bag with his bathroom supplies.  The women always got the bathroom cabinet and the sink area in hotels for all of their makeup and other girlie products.  For once, being the only man was an advantage.

All he had to do was to get to his knees.  Not an easy task when tightly hogtied.  The whole point in hogtying someone was to prevent movement.  So getting to one's knees was not suppose to be possible, but Arnold was a Marine at heart.  He rolled so that he was next to the vanity, which was next to the toilet.  He used his bound hands to elevate himself and lean part way against the vanity.  Doing so was painful.  He literally performed a little hop to bring his ankles under his butt.  He looked at the bag.  Over the next 10 minutes he inched his way towards the space between the vanity and the toilet.  It was slow going even though he was only a couple of feet away.  He could only move an inch at at time.  Arnold cursed himself because he had to stop and rest.  The exertion caused him to sweat.  

Finally, he was within striking distance of the bag.  For once Arnold was pleased that the toilet seat was down.  No chance it would go in the toilet.  He lunged at the bag causing the his wrists and ankles to scream in pain.  He only moved the bag slightly.  He tried to get closer and lunged again.  This time the bag slid to the end of the top of the toilet, almost at the tipping point.  Arnold put his shoulder into the toilet tank over and over until the bag slipped over the edge.  It made a thump as it landed between the toilet and shower.  He used the toilet seat itself as leverage and manged to navigate to the other side of the toilet with his hands positioned to grab the bag.

Arnold was able to find and secure the strap of the bag in his right hand.  He allowed himself to roll back onto the ground, a much more natural and comfortable position for someone who is hogtied.  He blindly found the zipper of the bag by feeling.  Pulling a zipper when bound isn't that easy, but with some effort, he managed to partially unzip the bag.  Arnold stuck his fingers into the bag and yelled in pain through the gag.  He had found the toenail clippers the hard way, by poking his finger into the sharp pointed end.  After he recovered. Arnold carefully extracted the toenail cutters from the bag.  The rest would be easy he figured.

Not so easy...while toenails were no match for the clippers, zipties were.  He managed to position the clippers so he got the ziptie securing his ankles to his hands between the blades.  It took a few minutes of sawing and twisting the clippers, but finally the ziptie was cut.  His legs hurt as he straightened them.   He managed to cut the other two zipties.  He sat there for a moment.  He normally didn't bring toenail cutters with him on a trip, but a couple of toes had been giving him problems.

Almost as an afterthought, Arnold slowly peeled the tape from his mouth.  Drool overflooded his lips.  He pulled the ball out of his mouth.  Damn those kidnappers were good, he thought, I could have been here for hours.

Cynthia...that babe was going to be his.  She would assume that one of the kidnappers had poked her.  He got up slowly and looked out into the main room.  Maureen was looking back at him.  His hard-on immediately began to soften.  Shit...bad luck.  It was then he heard the noise at the room door, just like he had heard before the attack...lock picks he assumed.  

Arnold hesitated to move and expose himself to further attack, not knowing if the assailants that had downed him so severely were still in the room. He locked eyes with Maureen, whose swiveled glances indicated both caution and a potential target.

He saw a tall blonde approach Maureen, clad in a baggy pink woolen jumper and pale blue jeans. Surprisingly, she had bare feet.  The woman was broad shouldered and seemed to be trying to untie Maureen, but Maureen had made it clear with her eyes that she wanted the intruder subdued- thinking fast, Arnold slipped off his left shoe and brandished it as a weapon. Stepping forward and coming up silently behind the blonde bending over Maureen, he slammed the heel of the shoe into the back of the blonde's head; after she had shrieked a cry of sudden pain, he saw her crash to the floor like a sack of potatoes!

Arnold stood before Maureen, gazing down at his still-bound partner and the limp bare soles of the downed woman lying unconscious beside her.

"Arnold, you dolt, don't just stand there looking at us! Time is short- Marilyn is gone, abducted- and we must find a substitute for the Court hearing without delay!"

"But who is...?"

"This pest is a friend Marilyn made in the convention today- another hanger-on looking for a break, I suppose! We must get rid of her-untie me, come on! Where the hell did she come from?"

"I can see what looks like a room key in her back pocket- lets look...... 305! Next door! Why did she go down so hard? I was expecting to have to hit her again! She looks pretty strong, tall, broad shouldered, fit- she went down like a ton of bricks!.."

"Please, Arnold!"

Arnold set to work freeing Maureen as she issued instructions.

"Just drag the bitch back into her room then- if she comes knocking, deny all knowledge of her! Try to see she doesn't come back for an hour or two- maybe tie her up and blame it all on that hotel raider the papers have been featuring lately! Try and make it look convincing..I have an idea where we can find a replacement for our young ward....Cynthia! Cynthia- what are you doing? We have work to do-fast!  Arnold- get on with it!"

Arnold picked up the tall blonde's limp ankles, and commenced dragging her, facedown, from the bedroom. This wasn't easy on the carpeted floor, the slack snoop's woolen jumper proved quite a lot of friction, slowly moving up to her neck until her back, and white brassiere catch, were visible, her arms stretched out behind her. Before exiting the room, Arnold dropped the girl's limp ankles and went next door to open the door of her room, then returned to pick them up again.  After checking the coast was clear, he painstakingly dragged the knocked-out young woman, facedown, through the smooth-floored corridor and into her own bedroom. Then the middle-aged man, tiring with the burden of Jacky's deadweight, closed and locked the door.

Gasping for air, Arnold reflected that he had become unfit. As a young man he had been accustomed to fights, and would have found shifting a fallen foe a straightforward task- crumbs, he had had to do so in enough bars! Using his foot, he turned the limp blonde over and was pleased with what he saw. Pretty face, blank in shoe-impacted oblivion; fairly tall, broad-shouldered but covered in clothes, except where the sweater had ridden up to reveal a nicely muscled midriff with cute bellybutton. She looked tantalisingly.... available.

BANG! A thump at the wall!
"Arnold! Move it on there- don't even think about it!"  Maureen hissed through the wall.

Of course, he did think about it. Something about the girl being barefooted made her seem somehow very vulnerable. Not to mention, the way she was laying, limbs akimbo, unconscious and unable to protect herself at all.

"Gimme a chance, Maureen!"

Bending down, Arnold grasped the slack sleuth by her armpits and with another major effort, hauled her limp body, by degrees,  onto her bed. He stood, gasping again." Jeez! I'm gonna get misself a hernia."

Chapter 10 – Marilyn Takes Another Ride

They had driven around for a long time, an hour?  More?  Marilyn  sensed that the Sun had gone down.  She also sensed that they had been driving in circles trying to confuse her.  It worked, Marilyn had no idea where they were.  The car stopped.  Marilyn panicked as the man picked up in his arms.  Were they going to kill her?  She still couldn't hear, see, move or speak although feeling was coming back to her as the sedative began to wear off.  She sensed that they were walking from the parking lot to...?  Then the man made a large step up and then down.  Marilyn felt vertigo...because the ground was moving underneath.  Where the hell were they taking her?

Then Marilyn was unceremoniously dumped.  Terror filled her.  Then she landed on what felt like a cot or bed.  The blankets were removed.  Her headscarf was also removed.  The blackout glasses were replaced with the silk headscarf, one blindfold for another.  She felt a door close.  The bed was moving, back and forth, back and forth.  She was on a boat.  Marilyn felt the vibrations of an engine.  They were moving.

Chapter 11 – Arnold Takes Advantage

Laying next to the still, limp young woman, Arnold got his breath back while sliding his fingers across the girl's smooth cheek and around her ear, pushing probing fingers into her slack mouth. He turned her flaccid head from side to side. She was dimpled, pretty, even with her face blank in oblivion. Then he realized that was just getting him breathless again. His member strained against his trousers, next to the helpless woman. He stood up. Darn it, he was going to fuck this one, Maureen or no Maureen! He leered, thinking of what a score over Maureen it would be! He'd even record another conquest, afterwards.

He felt in his back pocket- his wallet was there- and inside, a couple of little plastic pets he kept for occasions such as this.

He placed one on the table in front of the double bed, which displayed the splayed, knocked-out woman he had dragged in. He realized that he had no idea who she was, or why she was there in his room. She looked like she had been trying to help and he wasn't sure why Maureen had wanted her slugged. Looking at the still form, he reckoned he might have a little time before she came around; he could tell by the way she had gone down so heavily, though he wasn't sure why as he hadn't hit THAT hard. Looking around the room, he saw a bag by the bed. No passport in it- she must have given that to reception to keep safe- but there was a check book,  and one or two cards, including a library card.

A Miss Jacky Graham- from Cape Town, South Africa. How exotic! She would make a welcome addition to his list of conquests. And she was there, for the taking. Arnold checked quickly through Miss Jacky Graham's drawers. A young woman's collection of holiday clothes. Some literature about the PI convention. Nothing noteworthy. Ah, pluck! Something not there he had hoped for....

Standing by the bed, he grasped the senseless sleuth by the arms of her jumper and pulling them into the air, raised her upper torso from the bed, quickly pulling the baggy jersey from her body and discarding it, as her torso dropped back on the bed like a flaccid noodle. He then raised her torso up again and fiddling for a minute with an unfamiliar catch, removed her white bra, discarding this also and leaving the woman topless, her young, pert breasts standing proud despite their unconsciousness. It took a little longer to release the buckle on Jacky's jeans then drag the duck-blue trews from lifeless legs with a number of pulls. Finally another series of pulls over legs raised into the air, held under one arm at the knees, enabled Miss Graham's white panties to be dispensed with, and the pretty, sexy 25 year old lay, naked and  knocked out, upon her own double bed, a hostage to Arnold's desires. Arnold checked the young lady's right eye again, to be sure she was still out. She was, very much so.

Time was getting short! Another staccato series of bangs on the wall. Arnold halted, to pick up Jacky's left ankle, shaking it, watching the flaccid foot shaking limply on its joint, before ramming the toes into his mouth an sucking greedily at the pendant ped, tongue working over the young woman's soles, used on more than one continent, thrusting into the arch, teeth savoring the ball of her fallen foot. Dropping the limb, which bounced inertly on the bed, Arnold dropped his trousers and underpants and rapidly thrust the waiting condom upon his erect, hard penis. He had no fear of detection: but why let the nosy lass know what had been done? Picking up Jacky's legs by each knee, he pulled her horizontal body down the bed and holding her pussy skywards, thrust deep and fast into the proffered opening, noting that it was slack, half open and knocked out like its owner: he thrust in half a dozen times, savagely imposing his dick into the senseless woman, till he found enough traction to trigger his explosion, his cum slamming into the condom within her.

Spent, Arnold withdrew, removed the condom and with a few steps flushed it away: leaving Miss Graham laying half on the bed, half rolled off, legs in the air, unknowing, unconscious and used, Arnold pulled his trousers and underpants back on and decent again, returned next door to his room, shutting the door behind him.

"Where have you been and what the hell are you up to!!" Maureen chided urgently.

"Ah need some stockings to tie her up- she don't have none, Mo."

"So what have you been doing to her then?"

"Dragging her in and onto the bed. Checkin' she's not too bad hurt. Checkin' her room. She's a Miss Jacky Graham from Cape Town, South Africa. No pleckin' stockings though." Arnold could be inventive in his language, if not grammatical.

"Thank YOU, Doctor Arnold!" Maureen responded, unconvinced. There was an undoubted odor of spent cum. Faint, but she knew how Arnold smelled by now.

“Arnold, we have a problem without Marilyn! I can guess who has her, but not where! We are going to have to get thinking caps on, now!”, Maureen hissed and then turning to young agent,
"Well, Cynthia! Let's see how we can find a replacement for Marilyn for next week- any ideas?"

Cynthia consulted her ever-present filofax with its dossier of names and numbers.
"OK, I'll have to call out though- hotel rates."

"Those are mere pennies, compared to what's at stake here Cynthia- call, now, please!"
Cynthia start talking, with Maureen standing over her uncomfortably.  

Arnold started fishing around the contents of the bedroom chest of drawers. He drew out a number of pairs of Marilyn's and Maureen's hose, and something else wrapped within them.

"Ah reckon your thinkin' apparatus is a might better than mine, Mo! You do the thinkin' and I'rll do the operatin'!" Arnold hoped he would not be drawn in on the calling up of replacements.

Chapter 12 – Marilyn Pays Her Way

The boat had been at rest for sometime.  Marilyn had tried to struggle, but the zipties cut into her skin.  The tape over her lips held as if was her own skin.  Her mouth was full of her own spittle.  She feared that she might choke to death.  Marilyn sensed that the door to her cabin or room had opened.  She felt the zipties being cut, one-by-one.  Everywhere they were cut, Marilyn's nerves screamed with a tingling sensation as blood tried to reestablish contact with her extremities.  Even unbound, Marilyn could hardly move.  The putty blocking her ears was pulled out and the sound of the ocean filled Marilyn's ears.  Strong hands forced her head in an awkward position.  Female fingers slowly pealed the tape from her mouth.  A mouthful of spittle drained into what turned out to be a cup.  Fingers pulled the black ball from her mouth.  Marilyn retched and had a dry heave.  After a minute, she had her body under control.

"You may remove the blindfold, if you wish," the familiar female voice told Marilyn.

"Will I sign my death warrant if I do or is that already signed...Pearl?" Marilyn asked with a tremor in her voice.  Pearl pulled the scarf off of her eyes.

"Perhaps you are too smart for your own good, Marilyn," Pearl said as she pulled the scarf off of her face and untied the headscarf hiding her hair.  Her male counterpart kept his mask on.

"Why Pearl?  You had to kidnap me?" Marilyn hissed, "And now you'll kill me?"

"Nonsense.  We just invited you to spend the next few days with us.  Then you'll be released...unharmed...for the most part.  I have no desire to kill you, Marilyn.  I just want the inheritance that should be mine.  You miss the court date and the judge said that you forfeit the money.   We're just going to make sure that you miss that court date"  

"Somehow I have the feeling that missing a court date because I was kidnapped won't count.  Besides, it is my so-called parents that want the inheritance, not me.  I just finally thought that I should participate in the court proceedings.  Even if I win, I won't get the money," Marilyn hissed at her.

"You haven't been kidnapped, dear.  This is the beginning of your drinking, drug and sex binge.  You'll be found in a seedy motel room.  That will disqualify you, dear.  The judge made that clear.  No one will believe the kidnap story," Pearl chuckled.

"Please don't...It took me a long time to get clean.  I don't want to go through that again," Marilyn pleaded.

"We'll see...perhaps we can find a way that works for everybody.  In the meantime, you are our guest.  Right now we are out at sea so you can scream, try to escape...whatever.   Unfortunately, we need to be onshore for various reasons over the next few days.  So you will be bound, gagged, blindfolded with your ears plugged for most of the time.  If you try to escape, you will be punished," Pearl explained.

"Please none of those plastic ties and that awful ball and tape...those are awful," Marilyn pleaded.

"Will soft rope, scarves and handkerchiefs be better for you?  You will still be tightly bound and securely gagged.  It won't be pleasant, but perhaps easier to endure," Pearl suggested.

"I don't suppose my word that I will behave would suffice," Marilyn suggested.

"Sorry," Pearl replied with a smile, "But you can show your good will by servicing us"

"Servicing?" Marilyn asked.

"You know...give him a blow job and lick out my pussy.  We'll make you cum too, not to worry.  We may want more later on, but that will do now," Pearl said with a smile.

"You're kidding, right?  You're not kidding.  Go fuck yourself," Marilyn screamed as she tried to force herself past her abductors to get to the door.  The man grabbed her as Pearl pulled her hands behind her back and tied them with a length of cord.   Pearl then pushed Marilyn down to the floor. and tied her ankles.

"I prefer this type of sex to be is more this will do fine," Pearl laughed and pulled Marilyn to her knees.

"I will not do that," Marilyn hissed.

"You will or I will wrap a scarf around your neck and strangle you.  Remember...if you are dead and at the bottom of the is another way you won't make the meeting," Pearl snarled as picked up a silk headscarf and wrapped it tightly a couple of times around Marilyn's throat.  She pulled Marilyn in front of the man who undid his belt and pants exposing his hard manhood.  The scarf tightened.  She's going to kill me, Marilyn thought.

"Okay..okay," Marilyn choked out.  The scarf loosened and Marilyn felt the man's hardware thrust into her mouth.  She didn't have to do much work because he was pushing it back and forth like a piston.  It didn't long for the man to explode in her mouth, pumping.  Cum ran down her chin.  

He withdrew and Pearl stood in front of Marilyn, pantyhose pulled down to her knees.  While Marilyn had one given a blow job to a boy friend...nothing like the one that just occurred...she had never satisfied a woman.  

"Come on, Marilyn.  You know all the right do yourself all the time and don't say you don't.  Every woman does.  Just do to me with your tongue that you do to yourself with your finger or silk scarf or dildo," Pearl said as she forced Marilyn's head into her twat.  Marilyn felt the heat of Pearl's sex as she forced herself past the forest of pubic hair, with some help from Pearl's hands leading the way.   She stuck out her tongue and went up and down her slit until she found Pearl's clit.  Pearl responded.  Marilyn withdrew.  Pussy was obviously an acquired taste.

"Don't stop now. Marilyn!" Pearl encouraged.  Marilyn cringed as she went back to the scene of the crime and began painting Pearl's clit in circles.  Pearl pushed Marilyn's head down and her tongue found Pearl's love canal.  She almost retched from the flavor, but managed to control herself.  Pearl was wet with juices that filled Marilyn's mouth.  Marilyn pushed back up to Pearl's clit and worked on that some more.  The fact was that Marilyn could barely breathe.  She worked faster, alternating between her love hole and her clit.  Marilyn sensed or hoped that Pearl was close to coming.  And then Pearl cried out and staggered.  Her thighs tightened squeezing Marilyn's head between them.  Finally she loosened her grip on Marilyn, who pulled away gasping for air.  Marilyn's face was covered in cum.

"Very good, my dear...I didn't know that you had it in you...but I guess the fear of death will overcome any inhibitions," Pearl said to Marilyn and then turned to her partner, "We need to get back.  I'll take her to the toilet.  Then you bind her up real good.  Gag her so she can't make a peep, blindfold her and put putty in her ears.  Marilyn has done everything we need her to do for the present," Pearl said with a laugh.

"But Pearl...mmmmppphhh..." Marilyn started to plead when Pearl stuffed a handkerchief in her mouth.

"You don't need to talk in order to take a shit and pee..." Pearl said with a grin as she dragged her to the toilet.

Chapter 13 – Jacky Gets a Roommate

Maureen was oddly silent. Had she passed out again? Nope. She was listening behind the door as a young woman - at least, that's who it sounded like- rapped at the door!

"Hello, Room Service!"

Cynthia froze in mid conversation. Maureen hissed.

"Ignore it! She'll go away!"

The woman knocked again and called again. Then again. Cynthia continued her conversation, but in a hushed tone. The atmosphere was freezing. Time seemed to stand still. Her conversation finished, Cynthia put the receiver down and froze along with the others.

At length, the caller seemed to give up and steps could be heard down the corridor.
Then the steps seemed to stop outside of Room 305 next door.
"Hello, isn't this the room of that girl who was drunk and claimed..."

More steps. Into the room.
"Oh my goodness!"

Maureen hissed again, at Arnold this time.
"Did you leave that stupid cow's door open Arnold?"

"ummm...yes. Think so, Mo."

"You utter fool!"
They could hear someone entering the room, a gasp of surprise, and movement.

An almost-silent, hissed conversation took place.

"I'd- I'd better go and sort this , Mo." Arnold started up.

"You will not, you useless bungler! I'm going in there...- maybe..perhaps I can persuade the meddling maid that the nosy bitch is drunk!"

Maureen pushed Arnold down in his place, in more ways than one, then rose and crept out of the room. She sneaked into the hallway and edged softly into the adjoining room through the still-open entrance. She could see a young woman bending over a stilled, inert figure, half on, half off of the bed. The recent interloper was attentively ministering to the quieted form.

The young woman was tallish, about 5 feet 7, with long dark hair and - so far as Maureen could make out in the half-light in a figure looking away from her- dark brown eyes. She looked very alert, wide-eyed with excitement, but though dressed in the hotel livery of white-cuffed short sleeve knee length dark blue dress with  semi opaque tights, the camera she was toting on her shoulder looked anything but room service. She was almost silent in her stocking feet and lowered voice and clearly aware that something was wrong, badly wrong.  Trying to explain that the occupant of the room had gotten herself juiced up to the eyeballs on her own while completely naked, and without any sign of a bottle of hooch, just wasn't going to be the answer.

Looking to her right, Maureen saw just the object that she needed A large, heavy, ceramic hotel ashtray in black and brown advertising a brand of smoke she had forgotten about till now. Gathering it quietly into her right hand, Maureen edged closer to the engrossed angel
and struck with cat-like speed, admirable in one who had herself not long before been rendered insensible. crashing the heavy object over the back of the Maid's head!

WHUKKK!!!!  A determined, solid thud of china into mass of hair.


The young woman's head jacknifed backwards then forward and she dropped, insensible, forward onto the bed atop the drooped form of the already-unconscious Jacky.  She lay very still. Maureen noticed a slight smidgin of blood where the ashtray had bumped into the woman's scalp. Her assailant pulled the young woman's head upward by the hair and looked at the blanked-out expression. Good. Out. Cold.

Maureen looked at the other senseless form draped gracelessly half on and half off of the bed. What most impressed itself upon Maureen was that this girl was stark naked. Yet when Arnold had dragged her in here a few minutes ago, she had been fully clothed, barring her bare feet. Something fishy was going on in the state of Denmark.  Maureen pushed her fingers into the knocked-out young woman's pussy, but it seemed not to exhibit anything which might have been put there by a dick.  An explanation was required.

Maureen made her way back to her own room.

Arnold- another next door requiring your expertise at bondage!- and be quick about it- we have a lot of thinking to do!  Maybe you could explain first, how it is that the Graham bint comes to be naked?"

"Yes Mo. No Mo. Not slo' mo' Mo. No. I mean yes, Mo. I was looking for evidence of who she was, Mo."

"Get on with it, Arnold. We shall talk later. And remember- no fucking with the merchandise!"

Arnold got out as quick as he could. His explanation might require a little improvement.  Maureen seemed unimpressed.

Entering Room 305, Arnold now closed the door behind him and stopped to admire the newly knocked-out Maid.

Pausing only to pick up the camera the woman intruder had dropped as she fell, Arnold put down his handful of stockings brought from next door then picked up the still- unconscious Jacky Graham  by her armpits, pulling her flaccid form onto the left side of the bed. Now he rolled the other girl, also stunned senseless, to the right side of the bed, as he viewed it, then dropped her onto the bed next to the unconscious Jacky, causing the bed to rock as both inert, insensible women bounced around a little.

Panting, he paused for breath. They might be women, but two tall deadweights weighed more than enough!

Arnold had gotten pretty used to letting Maureen do all the thinking and he had in fact found that few of his attempts to assist in that direction were received enthusiastically, let alone acted upon. He realized he had become a doer, an operative, under orders to Mrs Big. Well, if he were to be treated as a stupid Heavy- fine, he could act as one too.

What was a Heavy to do with two unconscious, sexy young women? He had read enough comics to know- and read between the lines that comics couldn't show too!

Arnold felt pissed off. He was fed up being treated as a dumbass. Even though he loved Maureen- and thought she loved him- there could be a little more MUTUAL respect, he thought. And he had been left out in the cold by Maureen, who no longer seemed to need or require his affections, which burnt hot still.  So what he had done and would do here now, was just his little way of scoring off Mo. And make up for missing out on Cynthia earlier!

"Hi blonde chick! How you keeping!"
He addressed the unhearing and unresponsive Jacky. Touching her exposed pussy, he was pleased to note a little fluid, formed in response to the banging he'd given her a few minutes ago. He pulled Jacky into a sitting up position by her armpits, then, rubbing her left breast with his right hand as he did so,  kissed her slack mouth enthusiastically and let her torso drop back onto the bed like a sack, bouncing slightly.
"Say hello to your new roommate, blondie!"

Arnold pulled the tights enthusiastically from the dark-haired woman's limp legs, then pulling her limp torso upright to a sitting pose, he unzipped the dress and pulled it upwards, to remove it. That left the brunette's underwear, a blue silk bra and panties combo which he pulled away with equal relish, so that a minute later, there were two naked women laying unconscious alongside one another.. This was his lucky day!!

First things first. Dropping his trousers, Arnold donned another condom retrieved from his pants pocket, then approached the brunette. Picking up a limp foot, he posed and shook it, then sucked the toes and sole, then dropping it, climbed on top of the stupid woman- she had been stupid, getting her head creased like that- straddled her and thrust deep into her helpless, knocked-out pussy, thrusting in and out like a sewing machine, working her boobs with his hands and watching the blank face carefully in case he needed to put her lights out again. Once he had cum, he disposed of the spent condom down the toilet and surveyed his conquests- his scores, over Mo!

Arnold picked up the item he had brought with the stockings- a Polaroid camera. He took a picture of each of the unconscious young women, splayed individually on the bed.  Developing them, ensuring they showed the image he desired, he pocketed the product in each case.

Next the Heavy turned his attention to the stockings he had brought. He turned each of the knocked-out women onto their side, facing one another in the middle of the bed. The inner leg of each was pulled forward until it extended beyond the body of the other and the shin then bent downwards until the soles of the feet met, soles and balls of the feet mating with one another. The ankles and feet were tightly bound together by use of stretched stockings, the nylon biting into the unprotected flesh of each.

A similar operation was carried out on the 'outer' legs, so that each woman's legs straddled and grasped the other in a clinch and the soles and balls of each foot mated with that of the other, and like bindings were relentlessly applied.

With legs and feet secured,  Arnold lashed the wrists of each unconscious would-be investigator behind her back, again using stockings stretched until the bindings held fast.

Taking the brunette's discarded tights and stretching them  for maximum length and binding power, Arnold tightly knotted each foot to each bound and already-welted pair of wrists, linking to the binding thereon. The tights were threaded between the legs of each woman and slotted into each captured girl's pussy. At this position, Arnold added an additional knot using small pieces for stocking, so that any movement of the arms and wrists would cause a corresponding effect of each woman's pussy, the knot moving over and across each woman's currently knocked-out clit, but which upon awakening would cause considerable arousal.

Now Arnold stuffed the other woman's soiled panties into each slack, unresisting mouth, blonde panties past brunette lips and brunette panties into an open, blonde mouth.  Each mouth was then sealed with a scarf brought from Maureen's chest of drawers, pushing the scarf past slack lips and teeth to secure the panties inside the mouth, then tightly knotted around the back of each head, both sporting the marks of the blow sustained to knock them unconscious. As he knotted the scarf tight, he touched the lump on the back of the tall blonde's head. Miss Graham's lump seemed quite large and knotted and he was surprised to note a little blood. Strange- he could have sworn he hadn't hit her with anything that hard or sharp!  But she would live, he could see that- her breathing was regular, if shallow.

As a final touch, Arnold used a stocking to tie around each fair, white neck, linking them in a bind like a collar, forcing each face into close proximity, as if the two concussed, freshly-penetrated cuties had been intimate lovers. Proud of his handiwork, the fifty-something took a final Polaroid of the now intimately linked couple, another something to relish in his visits to imaginary bliss in the solitary world behind a locked toilet door.

Checking the brunette's camera, he pulled open the back, exposing the film and destroying any images on it, the tossed it carelessly onto a chair in the corner of the room. Miss Jacky Graham's room key was left on top of the table in front of the mirror.

Arnold checked his watch: 8.25 pm, or thereabouts; not bad work with two heavy dead weight bodies. Patting his pocket, he collected up the stockings remaining unused and, concealing his Polaroid within once more, left the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Maureen would no doubt have further instruction and there had already been three or four warning raps on the wall to move him along. But he had finished the job, in every satisfactory manner, from his own point of view.

To be continued...

When a Life Hangs in the Balance - Chapters 9-13
This story, a colaboration between the talented :iconsjdrake2006: and Thomas Silk, explains how Sarah's OC, now the mature PI Jacky Graham, became a PI in the first place.  Set in the late 1980's, Jacky attends a PI conference held in Santa Barbara, California.  Her parents hope the conference will convince Jacky that being a PI is a foolish career for a young woman.  Wide-eyed Jacky is ready to absorb everything the conference has to offer, to expand her life experience.  Little does she realize that she will be thrown into the middle of a kidnapping that may cost Jacky her life.

Chapter 9 - Arnold, being a former Marine, takes charge after Marilyn's kidnapping.
Chapter 10 - Marilyn not only gets a car ride, but also a boat ride.
Chapter 11 - Arnold disposes of Jacky and has fun doing it.
Chapter 12 - Marilyn is told about her situation and the kidnappers extract payment from her.
Chapter 13 - Jacky gains an unwilling roommate, who is encouraged to join her using a ceramic ashtray.

An illustration from Chapter 13 can be found here...Jacky and Tania tied up 

Previous chapters
When a Life Hangs in the Balance - Chapters 1, 2 
When a Life Hangs in the Balance - Chapters 3,4 
When a Life Hangs in the Balance - Chapters 5-8 

The magnificant cover art by Sarah J. Drake.  The cover text by Thomas Silk.

Sarah has also be posted the story on her page.

Mature Content

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This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes non-consensual sexual acts.  If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction.  The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.  

Thomas Silk

Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

October 17, 1953

"I tell you it's the only way.  We are freshman.  The only way to make the cut at the school newspaper is to break a big story.  And what could be bigger than showing that we knew how to track down these women robbers, The Headscarf Girls" Dan said with confidence.

"Perhaps you're right, but it sounds dangerous.  If we corner them, they might get desperate.  Have you thought of that?"  Stevie asked.

"Yeah, that would be exciting.  Remember we're two guys and they are two girls.  Guys always win the battle of the sexes.  Besides they've never hurt anyone in the robberies, only tied them up and gagged them.  And they've only picked on other women.  They haven't dared rob a guy yet," Dan smiled.

"Okay, but if they get caught they go to jail for a long time.  If we are wrong, we get humiliated and will never make the student newspaper," Stevie pointed out, "It really doesn't matter because we have no idea who these women are or where their hideout is.  If the police can't find them, how can we find them?"

"I already did most of the investigating.  I looked at the pattern of their crimes and figured out the general area of where their hideout should be.  They do a job and they disappear before the police can set up roadblocks.  All their jobs are within a radius of 5 miles from this section of town," Dan said as he spread out a map.  The map lots of marks on it.  And he was right all of the lady robbers crimes were within 5 miles of the Hawthorne neighborhood.

"My next step was to talk to people and to find out where two women were living together in a rented house and had moved in within the last six months.  Several people suggested the same two women," Dan said.

"Why would they stay in a rented house?"  Stevie asked.

"More privacy than an apartment.  Long-term rentals at a motel would be easy to spot," Dan replied, "Besides that has been the pattern in other cities.  At least as far as the police can figure."  He brought out three pictures.  They were black and white and not in the best focus.  They showed two women together, both wearing coats and headscarves.

"See, they fit the description.  They are the right height, right hair color, and they wear coats and headscarves," Dan smiled clearly proud at his deductions.

"Are you crazy?  Do you know how many women wear coats and headscarves every day?  And you can't tell anything from these pictures.  So what if they're both brunettes, quite a few women are," Stevie replied sarcastically.

"There is only one way to find out.  I'm going to go talk with them," Dan said with a smile, "And to get a joint byline for the story, all you have to be is my wing man.  Stay outside, just in case.”

"You are crazy.  Do you really think that they're going to admit it and give themselves up?  Most likely they are innocent.  But on the off chance that these are the Headscarf Girls, I hope you have a plan because they probably have guns and things.  This could be very dangerous," Stevie said with a worried look on his face.

"But that is where you come in.  With you outside, they wouldn't dare do anything.  I'll do the interview on the porch,  if I can where you can watch.  But if I'm invited in and I don't come out in let's say 30 minutes, you go to the police.  If anything out of the ordinary happens, you go to the police.  When I present the information that I've collected, I'll give them the opportunity to confess.  I'll know by their reaction whether they are the Headscarf Girls or not," Dale explained.

"I suppose you're right," Stevie said either an uncertain voice.

It was the next day at about 11 AM when Dan and Stevie sat outside the two-story house.  Both boys were dressed casually, with slacks and knit T-shirts.  Dan had on penny loafers and Stevie had on sneakers.  The 20-year-old young men were both on the slim side, with Dan being 5'10" tall and Stevie a couple of inches shorter and a bit stockier than Dan.  Dan had jet black hair with a crew cut.  Stevie's hair was a bit longer and a dark brown.  Stevie wore glasses.

"Their car is gone.  They must not be home," Stevie said hopefully.  Indeed the driveway next to the house was empty.  Dan had said that there car, a Buick, was always parked in the driveway.

"Only one way to find out," Dan said as he hopped out of the car, "Remember 30 minutes tops."  Stevie watched Dan jog up to the front door and ring the doorbell.  Much to his surprise and to Dan's  surprise, the door opened.  A woman, probably in her 30s, opened the door.  She was a bit on the stocky side and was perhaps a couple inches shorter in her heels than Stevie.  Dan seemed to tower over her.  The woman wore a brightly colored floral blouse and a gray skirt that extended below her knees.  She had on a gray silk headscarf, tied at the back of her neck, that covered all of her hair making it impossible to see her hair color or style.

"Yes, can I help you young man?"  The woman asked with a big smile.

"Yes ma'am, my name is Dan.   I'm with the school newspaper and am researching a story on these recent robberies that have occurred in the area.  Would you mind if I asked you a couple questions about the robberies, like whether you are concerned," Dan said with a smile.

"Of course not.  My name is Kathy.  Why don't you come in.  You will be a lot more comfortable than standing here and I just made some iced tea," Kathy said, opening the door to let Dan enter.

Stevie said, "Oh shit"under his breath.  He looked at his watch it was 11:21 AM.  Dan had said 30 minutes.  Stevie squirmed in the car.  Why had he agreed to this stupidity?  Nothing good can come of this.  But he was stuck now.  He just hoped he saw Dan within 30 minutes.

Kathy led Dan into the living room of the house.  The drapes were mostly closed, with only a small slit open to allow in some light.  Even in a bright light, the room was drab.  The furniture was probably supplied with the house when it was rented.  There was a sofa that needed to be reupholstered.  It was dark brown, but obviously had some stains on it.  In front of that was a coffee table that had seen better days.  There were two other big cushy chairs with floral patterns on them.  There was a small black and white TV on the stand against one wall.  Dan could see the dining room from the living room.  Apparently the house had a circular design where one could go from the living room to the dining room to the kitchen and back to the living room.  Kathy indicated that Dan sit on the sofa, which he did.

"Now Dan, let me get you some iced tea and I'll be happy to answer all your questions," Kathy said and then left the living room.  She returned a few minutes later two tall glasses of iced tea.  Dan took the glass and took a sip.  It was quite good so he took another sip.

"So how can I help you, Dan?"  Kathy asked with a broad smile.

"Have you heard of the Headscarf Girls?"  Dan said staring at the woman, hoping to see a reaction.

"Of course.  Isn't that a couple of women who go around robbing stores run by women?  I believe they leave them all tied up and gagged.  The only description of them is that they wear headscarves.  Isn't that correct," the woman seemed all excited.

"That's correct.  Have you been following the newspaper accounts?"  Dan said and then took a deep drink of iced tea.

"Of course.  It's all very exciting.  Two women that outsmart the cops, rob other women, and make the women satisfy them sexually before they leave," Kathy's smile broadened as Dan drank the last of the iced tea.

"Tha...that part about something sexual wasn't in the papers," Dan choked out, realizing what that meant.  His head was beginning to spin.  He assumed it was because of this new information.

"Of course not, Dan.  You cannot imagine how eager those women were to lick out our pussies when a gun was pressed against her head," Kathy got up from her chair and walked up to Dan, "Of course, but sometimes we rob places where guys are working and they eager to lick out our pussies also."

"But that means… That means that…" Dan was finding it hard to focus both his eyes and his mind.  The woman must've put something in the tea, he realized.

"That means I am one of the Headscarf Girls, but you suspected that, didn't you?  I knew as soon as you came to the door that you had figured out who we were.  Don't worry about what I put in the tea.  It's just a little sedative to make you docile while I take care of you.  It's not going to put you totally to sleep.  I want you to know what going on.  Now I'm going to help you upstairs so that you'll be out of the way and out of sight.  So be a good boy and do exactly what I tell you," Kathy hissed.  She went to grab Dan, who tried to push her away without much success.  He turned toward the window and tried to yell but not much came out of his mouth.  He was so dizzy.  Kathy clamped her hand over his mouth and pulled him back.  She reached in under her blouse and grabbed a well used embroidered handkerchief that she stored under her bra strap.  She shoved it into Dan's mouth and then slapped him back and forth with her open hand, an attack designed to hurt, not damage.  Dan tried to put up his hands in surrender and she slapped them down, grabbing his right arm, pulling him up and twisting it behind his back.  Dan staggered in the direction she pushed him.

"Dammit, I told you to behave yourself.  You have to stay quiet, like a good little boy.  I have an idea," Mary said as she leaned the compliant young man against the wall in the hallway.  She went to the hat rack and selected one of her partner's silk headscarves, which was already folded into a triangle.  It was a polkadot affair, black on a white background.  She folded it down into a band and went back to Dan, who is making a pointless effort to expel the lady's handkerchief from his mouth.  Kathy slapped his hand away from his mouth.  Then she saw that the handkerchief in his back pocket.  She pulled it out and shook it out.  Holding the folded silk scarf in her left hand, she grabbed his chin and used her right hand to force-feed his own handkerchief into his mouth.  Dan retched as he was forced to accept the cotton handkerchief that had been in his pocket for a long time.  He had no idea if it was clean, but it probably wasn't.  When she was done, the wadded up handkerchief was completely behind his teeth along with her handkerchief.  Dan retched, but could do nothing.  Kathy brought up the scarf and positioned it over his mouth, bringing the ends behind his head, pushing his head down, and knotting a tight bow at the back of his neck.  She pulled his head up and examined her handiwork.  A small triangular portion of the scarf, the apex, hung down just below his chin.  She gave it a yank and the scarf didn't budge from his mouth.

"Now you're gagged just like a girl.  I like gagging girls.  They look so pretty that way and now you look pretty.  Let's get you upstairs and find a nice closet for you," Kathy laughed.  She grabbed his right hand again, twisted behind his back, and led him up the staircase.  Dan stumbled as he went up as his sense of balance and his vision were in flux.  At the top of the stairs he was directed into a bedroom.  It was some sort of spare bedroom, but in this case, it was more like a robber's office.  The bed had jewelry and other valuables sorted by type.  There were Halloween masks.  And there was cord and coiled loops.  There were stacks of handkerchiefs and folded scarves.  Kathy grabbed a couple coils of cord.  She forced Dan to his knees in front of the bed, undid one of the coils, which was about six feet long.  Pulling his hands behind his back, Kathy expertly wrapped cord around and between his wrists, knotting it where Dan couldn't reach it with his fingers.  She did the same for his ankles with the other length of cord.  Just then the phone rang.  Kathy pushed down to the floor.

"Don't go a anyplace, honey.  I'll be back to finish the job in a couple minutes," Kathy said as she walked out the door.  Dan tested his bonds.  You could say he was struggling against his bonds, but that might imply some chance for escape.  There was no chance.  This woman knew what she was doing.  His only hope was to get the gag out of his mouth and cry out loud enough so that Stevie would go get help.  He took a deep breath in through his nose and yelled as loud as he could.  Only a faint grunt came out of his mouth.  If the door had been closed, no one would've heard it in the hallway.  She had gagged him that well.  He had to hope that Stevie would go get help.  It must be getting close to the 30 minutes.  And then from another bedroom, then heard Kathy on the phone, apparently with her partner.

"Hi.  Good.  We have a problem.  As you suspected, that kid who was asking questions around the neighborhood is trouble.  He figured out who we are.  Not to worry, I offered him some of my special iced tea and he drank it.  I have him bound and gagged like a little girl.  No, if he told the police, they would be here already.  But we do have a problem, he has an associate parked out front.  No doubt that boy has instructions to go to the police if his friend doesn't come out soon.  Can you get back here quickly.  Park the car out of sight.  If you approach from behind, I'll walk right toward him and we can surprise him and put him out of action.  Yes.  Right, I'll bring it.  Oh, don't forget to wear your headscarf.  Okay.  Don't worry.  I'll come out when I see you at the corner.  We'll get the kid," Kathy said.  She hung up the phone and walked back into the bedroom where Dan was lying on the floor.  She picked up another coil of cord.

"Now let's get you wrapped up nice and tight.  We'll collect your friend so that we have a pair of girls.  Then will decide how to dispose of you," Kathy laughed as she retied her headscarf so that the knot was under her chin, "I have to get in character, now don't I?"


Stevie looked at his watch.  He was really getting nervous.  In three minutes he was supposed to make a decision.  He was supposed to go to the police.  Maybe Dan forgot the time.  Maybe everything is okay.  Maybe he just got a great interview.  Stevie didn't want to be in this position.  And then he saw her, the woman who had let Dan into the house.  Yes, it was her.  The only difference were that her headscarf was tied differently and she was wearing sunglasses.  She was coming directly toward him carrying a big purse.  He had to get out of there.  He fumbled with the car keys, finally getting them in the ignition, and he started the car.  At that moment, there was a tap on the passenger side window.  Stevie looked over and a pistol pointed at him.  Then the woman coming from the house reached the car.  She also had a gun.  Stevie put up his hands as they both opened the car doors and forced their way in.  Stevie had to move to the center of the bench seat.  The woman from the house passed her purse to the other woman, who wore a raincoat, a floral headscarf, sunglasses, and leather gloves.

"What do you want?"  Stevie asked with a shiver in his voice.  He knew what they wanted, him.  No doubt the woman in the house already had Dan prisoner.  Now they had to stop him from going to the police.

"Put your hands down, honey.  We don't want to draw attention to our encounter, now do we?  That's better.  Besides, my friend needs to tie your hands behind your back.  Please don't resist or struggle.  I might not shoot you, but I would have no trouble hitting you over the head with his gun.  And as to what we want, your cooperation for a few hours.  My name is Kathy and my friend's name is Jennifer.  Those aren't our real names, of course.  I believe you know us as the Headscarf Girls.  What's your name, honey?"  Kathy explained as she waved the gun in Stevie's face.

"I am Stevie.  What have you done with Dan?"  Stevie tried to be defiant, without much success.

"Your friend, Dan, is quietly detained in our house.  He made a mistake of drinking some of my iced tea, which was spiked with a very effective sedative.  Don't worry, he'll be fine.  He's recovering now, but he won't be able to help you.  He's also suffering from a bad case of ropes and gag.  Something you're about to experience.  Jennifer, I think Stevie needs a makeover, don't you?"  Kathy said.  Jennifer had just finished tying Stevie's hands behind his back.

"Oh, I do, but we need a little more privacy.  Let's drive around to the alley behind the house.  Then we can make Stevie into a girl," Jennifer said with a smile.  Stevie opened his mouth to complain or to scream, but Jennifer wrapped her left arm around his head, clamping her leather gloved hand over his mouth.  She pulled his body so that his head laid on her left breast.  Kathy put the car in gear and slowly pulled around the block, turning into the alley.  The alley was very private, unless someone was taking out the trash.


Dan couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be captured like this.  He was a guy, after all.  But that lady had tricked him with the iced tea.  Check that.  She was definitely no lady.  She had really tied him up tight.  His legs were bound at the ankles and knees.  She had removed his shoes so that he couldn't kick anything to make noise.  His wrists were tied behind his back and there were body ropes around his midsection pinning his arms to his body.  She had also looped a cord through the front of the body ropes, through his legs, and tied to his hands.  The cord was on either side of his package and it rubbed when he struggled… It was designed to make him excited.  Even though he still had on his underwear and pants, the ropes were tight enough that struggling rubbed all the right places.  Still he struggled because he had to get free.  Who knows what they would do if they captured Stevie also.

He was still gagged, as before.  The handkerchiefs stuffed in his mouth were becoming wet.  The embroidered lady's handkerchief was dangerously close to his throat.  Fortunately, his tongue had gotten behind the wad, as he was gagged.  Once in a while, Dan's gag reflex was triggered, but usually he could control it.

The bitch had tied a silk scarf over his eyes as a blindfold.  Every time he inhaled, he smelled the cheap perfume or was it hairspray that saturated the headscarf.  He had to try to ignore it because the smell was so strong, he wanted to retch.


"There.  No one will find his car back here.  Now for the makeover.  Just in case there are prying eyes," Jennifer said.

"What makeover?  What are you talking about?" Stevie asked with panic in his voice.

"Were going to turn you into a girl for little while.  We have some nosy neighbors and they might be come suspicious if they saw us sneaking a boy into the house, particularly one with the gag in his mouth," Kathy said.

"Gag?  You don't have togammmppphh," Stevie tried to say as Jennifer stuffed it embroidered lady's handkerchief, she had taken from Kathy's purse, into his mouth.  She then got a man's handkerchief, a relatively small one.  She folded it into a triangle and then twirled it, forcing the handkerchief into Stevie's mouth.  She pulled the ends back, forced his head down, and tightly knotted the ends at the back of his neck.  She held the ends as his head came back up, making sure that all the slack in the knot was removed.

"That should keep him quiet until we get into the house.  But I expected you to stuff my clean handkerchief into his mouth, not the used, dirty one," Kathy said with a grin.  Stevie choked at the thought of what was now trapped in his mouth.

"Oops.  At least it's not in one of our mouths.  Consider it this way, Stevie, it will give your gag a little flavor," Jennifer said.  Stevie retched a couple times.

Jennifer and Kathy put a brown curly woman's wig on Stevie, much to his dismay.  As Kathy held him, Jennifer got out a tube of ruby red lipstick and forcibly applied it to Stevie's lips.  Having finished that, Jennifer pulled a folded silk scarf from her pocket of the raincoat, unfolded it, and then refolded it into a triangle.  It was a large silk scarf with a red boarder, cream center, and bright red roses on green stems.  It was a girlie scarf, very feminine, not something that a young man would willingly wear.  Why couldn't they just put a plain silk scarf, like the plain white ones that women like to wear.  Why did they have to make him look like a girl?  Stevie shook his head, but Kathy held him as Jennifer positioned the scarf over his wig.

"Make sure to tie it really tight," Kathy said as Jennifer pulled the ends down under Stevie's chin and expertly tied the knot, "We wouldn't want his hair to get mussed, now would we?"  Both women laughed.  Stevie blushed, but surprisingly found himself getting aroused.  Was it that he was being dominated by these women or the fact that they had put a girl's wig on him and made him wear a lady's silk headscarf?  The scarf were it touched his skin was very soft and he could smell the perfume coming from the scarf.  He always got turned on by girl's perfume.

Stevie was pulled out of the car by Jennifer.  He tried to run away, but didn't get more than a step or two before both women grabbed him.  Kathy pulled out a wraparound skirt that she had in the bag she had brought.  While Jennifer held him, Kathy wrapped the skirt around Stevie's waist, over his pants.  The skirt reached to just above his shoes.  It was rare for a woman to wear pants so why take the chance.  Jennifer took off her raincoat and put it over his shoulders, buttoning a few of the buttons.  The raincoat extended just below Stevie's knees and hid the fact that his hands were tied.  It also hid the fact that he was wearing a man's shirt.  With the exception of his shoes, which were well hidden by the skirt, he looked like a woman.  Well, a rather flat-chested woman.  That was something the bulky raincoat would hide, as well.

With one of the women on each side of him, holding him, Stevie was marched toward the house.  Through the back gate, along the garage, and through the yard.  Jennifer made sure that Stevie couldn't raise his head.  He mostly saw the ground.  Kathy had a gun pointed at him.  He couldn't scream because of the gag in his mouth.  He tried to raise his head, but was warned against it.  The two women didn't want any onlookers, and they assume that there were nosy neighbors watching, to get a good look at him or the gag in his mouth.  But from any significant distance, the gag was all but invisible.  It came out the corners of his lipstick covered lips and disappeared into the scarf.

Both women gave a sigh of relief when they pushed Stevie through the side door.  They hustled him through the hallway.  They stopped at the edge of the staircase.

"Where did you put his friend?,"  Jennifer asked as she rubbed Stevie's crotch, "I think we have one excited little girl."  Both of the women snickered, much to Stevie's embarrassment.

"I put Dan in the walk-in closet in the master bedroom.  You know the term master bedroom seems very appropriate, don't you think?  Should we question them one at a time or together?"  Kathy laughed, "I guess we better get Stevie here nice and comfortable.  He does make a nice looking girl, doesn't he.  I'm sorry, doesn't she."  The women laughed again as they dragged Stevie upstairs.

Well at least Dan still looked like a guy, a bound and gagged and blindfolded guy, but still a guy.  Stevie was happy that Dan couldn't see him like this, looking like a girl.  The raincoat was taken off, as was the headscarf and wig.  The wraparound skirt was pulled off of his legs.  But he still had Ruby red lips.  That is, until Jennifer started kissing him on the lips licking off the lipstick, devouring it as if it was a sweet treat.

"Did you have to use a couple of my headscarves to gag and blindfold Mr. Dan?"  Jennifer asked with her hands on her hips.

"Well, he was giving me trouble and your headscarf was easy to grab for his gag.  I really didn't think about the blindfold too much.  Sorry," Kathy said as she was wrapping cord around Stevie.  He had been forced to the ground and she was tying his ankles and then his knees together.  She then wrapped cord around his body, pinning his arms to his side and tying it off in front.  She looped another cord through the front of the body ropes, between his crotch and tied the ends to his bound wrists, as she had done with Dan.  It wasn't as good as you could do with a woman.  The slit in the woman's crotch easily anchored the cord in her twat.  A man's package was more difficult to stimulate using a crotch rope.  Still, it was the thought that counted, Kathy assumed.  

"Hey, those are my headscarves.  We can gag and blindfold him with handkerchiefs.  We don't have to use my headscarves," Kathy said with an irritated voice.

"You should've thought that before using my headscarves to gag and blindfold the other kid," Jennifer said as she unfolded a large silk floral scarf, refolded it into a triangle, and then folded it down to into a band with a small triangular portion hanging below.  Kathy untied Stevie's gag, but instead of taking it out of his mouth, she force-fed entire handkerchief into his mouth causing him to cough and retch his disapproval.  She packed it in along with the ladies handkerchief that was already in his mouth.  Before Stevie could do anything, Jennifer looped the folded scarf over his head, positioned the center of the scarf over his mouth, pulled the ends back and tightly knotted them at the base of his head.  She then tied the remaining ends of the scarf into a large floppy bow.  Stevie's blindfold was another large silk headscarf, this one with splashes of color on a red background.  Suddenly his world went black, but a sense of smell was overwhelmed by the perfume on the scarf.  Fortunately, that sensation faded as he got used to the smell.  It was an erotic smell which would have been enough to get him excited, if he hadn't been bound and gagged.

Stevie was dragged into the closet next to Dan, who grunted his acknowledgment that the two women had captured his only hope for escape.  The light was turned off in the closet door was closed.  Stevie heard the key being put into a lock and engaged.  Now even if they somehow got free of the ropes, blindfold and gag, they were still locked in a closet.  Stevie suspected that their screams would never be heard from inside the closet.  If they did get free or got the gag off, the two women would just tie them up tighter and gag them better.  It was certainly a discouraging situation.

It must've been a couple hours later when the two women returned.  One at a time, Dan and then Stevie had their leg ropes removed allowing them to be taken to the toilet, which they desperately needed.  What they didn't need was the help the women gave them, caressing them, and encouraging them.  If they thought their humiliation was over, the young men were mistaken.  After their ankles and knees were retied, the two women forced Dan and Stevie to their knees.  Chairs were pulled up in front of them and the two women sat down.  They removed the blindfolds.  It was pretty obvious what the two women wanted given that their panties were down at their ankles and their skirts were hiked up, giving the two young man a clear view of their twats.

"We been pretty easy on you two so far," Kathy said as if she was talking to a couple children, "now we want you to show your appreciation.  If you choose not to cooperate, you will be severely and painfully punished.  Do I make myself clear?  Excellent.  Now we are going to take your gags off.  There will be no screaming or even talking.  We have no interest in whatever it is you have to say.  What you need to know is that you must obey us and if you do not, you will regret it.  Your goal is to make each of us cum, preferably multiple times.  You will keep working until that happens.  Understood?"

Dan and Stevie bent her head forward so the disgusting gags could be removed from their mouths.  Well, the silk scarves were disgusting, but the handkerchiefs in their mouths were wet and has turned rancid.  The scarves were pulled off their mouths and neither boy could spit out the handkerchiefs, given how well stuffed their mouths were.  The two women gingerly pulled out the offending stuffing with their forefingers and thumbs, tossing the sodden balls of cotton into a laundry hamper.

Dan and Stevie looked up just as the women rammed their faces into their twats, clearing the way through their pubic hair for the boys with their fingers.  The first thing that Stevie encountered was the wave of heat coming from Jennifer's crotch.  Then there was the smell of her womanhood.  Not a clean smell, these women had not cleaned up for their encounter, but womanhood mixed with sweat and other smells.  And her twat was wet with pre-cum, which only made things even more disgusting for him.  Stevie tried to avoid the strongest smell and found Jennifer's clit with his tongue.  He tentatively touched it and the reaction was like an earthquake.  Both women were encouraging the young men between their legs to lick harder and faster.  Stevie tried to stay on Jennifer's clit, but she forced his head down lower and he was forced to directly service her lady sex.  The flavor was intense initially and he had to fight not to gag and retch.  Stevie lost track of time as he worked.  He heard Kathy cum and in a few seconds Jennifer's twat became very wet as she came, her knees almost crushing his head as her entire body tensed and shivers went through it.

Dan and Stevie were forced back into the woman's thoughts several times, until the women were totally satisfied.  Both guys felt sick at what they had been forced to do.  The two women seemed pleased, but were clearly exhausted from the multiple orgasms.

After to two women had recovered, they stuffed Dan's and Stevie's mouth with a fresh handkerchief and tied a second handkerchief over their mouths.  They were then blindfolded with a third handkerchief.  Stevie was dragged to Kathy's bed and Dan was dragged to Jennifer's bed.  They were tied as before, but their ankles were secured to the end of the bed so there was no chance of escape. The two women crawled into bed with them after pulling down their pants and shorts.  Condoms were put on their manhood.  All four drifted off to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Stevie felt lips around his manhood, which quickly hardened.  He was forced inside Kathy and she did all the work, pounding him until they both came.  For Stevie, it was an intense orgasm.  Kathy didn't stop until every bit of juice was out of him.  And then she turned over and went back to sleep.  Stevie drifted off to sleep also, but was awakened when Dan was used by Jennifer.


The Headscarf Girls had pulled their robbery and the police were closing in.  They got an anonymous tip that the women were parked in the field next to an abandoned warehouse.  The car was facing the wall of the warehouse and the police had surrounded it.  The Headscarf Girls were wearing the same headscarves that they did during the robbery.  It was no doubt that it was a criminal duo.

"Headscarf Girls – you are surrounded.  Give yourselves up and you won't be hurt.  Throw your guns out the window.  Do it now or will will start firing.  Show your compliance by putting your hands on the windshield where we can see them," a police officer said through a bullhorn.  There was no reaction from the car and the officers prepared to fire.

Actually there was a reaction in the car, both Dan and Stevie were terrified.  They were going to be shot by the police, of all things.  The two women had forced him to dress up like girls, complete with panties and bra.  The silk blouses were a bit small for them and truly emphasized their fake breasts.  They had on wraparound skirts, garters and stockings.  At least they weren't forced to wear high heel shoes.  But their two legs were encased in a single stocking so they were actually wearing two stockings on each leg, one for each leg and the encasement stacking.  Their legs were not tied, but being encased made them useless.

Dan's hands, which were covered by cotton gloves were bound to the steering wheel in such a way that he could not use the horn.  Stevie's hands were bound in front and to his lap.  Both young men had cords securing them to the seat around their waist and above and below their artificial breasts.  They were helplessly tied to the bucket seats in the car.

Both Dan and Stevie were wearing women's wigs, a curly brunette for Stevie and a wavy haired blond for Dan.  Headscarves were over the wigs and tightly tied under their chins.  Each had a Halloween mask of a girl over their face.  They were no longer blindfolded under the mask and could see through the small eye holes in the mask. They were still gagged in the same manner as before. But as the final act of humiliation – well, not really the final humiliation, handkerchiefs over their mouths had been removed and bright red lipstick was put on their lips, before they were gagged again.

It had been late afternoon, when the boys were bundled into the back of their car.  They were dressed as they were now, except there was a silk scarf over their eyes, as a blindfold, which the masks he hid along with their gags.  They were wearing different colorful headscarves.  They weren't tied to anything so they could squirm all they wanted.  To the outside world, it simply looked like two women talking to each other in the backseat of the car.  They couldn't make enough noise to attract attention.  The two women had pulled into a parking lot and parked.  Dan and Stevie could hear people, mostly women, walking by, but no one paid any attention to them.  Their captors were gone about 30 minutes and came back excited, having pulled off yet another you robbery.

The two women had driven them to this spot and had driven away in another car.  Before they left them, the young men had been transferred to the front of the car, retied, the blindfolds removed, and had been forced to wear the headscarves the two women had worn during the robbery.  As a final humiliation, Kathy and Jennifer had decided to test their gags one last time.  The two women reached under the boy's skirts, and had rubbed the silk panties they were wearing until they became hard and, despite their efforts to resist, forced them to empty their load into their panties.  The boys screamed into their gags, but no one but the two women heard them.  The two women laughed.  There would be no doubt what had happened to them.  

It was about 30 minutes later when the police arrived.  Kathy and Jennifer must've called them because otherwise the police would not have gotten there so quickly.  And now they were about to be killed by the police.

"Headscarf Girls, this is your last chance.  Give yourselves up or we will shoot you," the police officer yelled through the bullhorn.  Another officer came running up to him.

"Sir, I been watching them through binoculars and I don't think that these are the Headscarf Girls," the second officer said.  The first officer rolled his eyes.

"The women in the latest robbery identified those headscarves as the ones the Headscarf Girls wore during the robbery.  They are in a stolen car.  Who else could they be?"  the commanding officer asked.

"I think they are those missing wannabe reporters, dressed up to look like women.  Remember their friends said that they had a lead on the Headscarf Girls.  It would make sense that they might be taken prisoner and then used as decoys.  While we got these two surrounded, the real Headscarf Girls are getting away," the second officer explained.

"Are you certain?  No self-respecting man would allow himself to be dressed up like a woman," the commanding officer said.

Ten minutes later, Dan and Stevie were released, but newspaper photographers were taking their pictures while they were still dressed up as women.  Among the photographers was the school photographer.  They certainly got their names in the paper, but not how they wanted.  

The End

The GID Wantabe Reporters
Okay, it is time for the women to get their revenge on the boys.  Enough said...

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This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts.  If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction.  The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.  

Thomas Silk

Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

It was January, 1962 at the height of the Cold War...

Chapter 4 – A Bad Retirement Plan

Margaret Hill was relieved.  She had been working for the Mistress for a year.  The real Margaret Hill had been terminated and her body disposed of in a crematorium.  The real Miss Hill had to die so that she, the imposter, could take her place at the Agency.  For the past year, she had been giving weekly reports to the Mistress or her second in command.  A phone number and a time to call, always at night, would be left for her in a special drop.

The phony Margaret Hill had become tired of being a spy.  She was always afraid of being discovered.  In recent months, she was concerned that the Agency had her under suspicion.  So for the last couple of contacts, she had pleaded with her contact to allow her to retire.  The phony Margaret Hill didn't want to hang for snooping in files.  She had a fear of hanging.  She would much rather be shot, she thought.  Finally, she had been granted her wish.  She only had this one last report to make and she would be free and clear.  Her controller had insisted that she give this one final report because it was of the utmost importance.

Miss Hill had driven to the suburbs of Washington, DC to make her final report.  There was an isolated phone booth in an area park that would be deserted this time of night.  She parked her car in the parking lot and walked through the snow.  Her high heel shoes were covered in plastic galoshes.  She wrapped her cloth coat around her as tightly as she could.  Temperatures were below freezing and there was a stiff breeze.  Miss Hill was wearing her most expensive silk headscarf, which was tied under her chin and tucked into her coat.  She walked quickly to the phone booth, opened the door and slid inside.  At least she was sheltered from the wind.  Taking out the paper from her purse and two circular devices that each looked like a lady's compact, Miss Hill quickly dialed the international number and deposited the $2.40 that was requested for a three minute conversation.  She then put the circular devices that would scramble her conversation and unscramble the conversation from the other end of the line over the two ends of the handset of the telephone.

"Right on time, darling," the female voice said at the other end of line, "You have information for me.  Yes?"  As with most international calls, the line crackled and Margaret wondered if people were listening in, even with all the precautions she was taking.  The broken English of the second in command and the strong Eastern European accent made it difficult at times to understand the woman.

"Yes, Mistress.  Two female agents are coming to Egypt to investigate the recent abductions," Miss Hill reported.

"Is one of them Stacy Stewart?"  the woman asked this some excitement.  

“No, Mistress.  I'm sorry, but she has been sent to Switzerland to protect diplomats at a conference,” Miss Hill explained.  There was a sigh at the other end of the telephone connection.

“Pity, but our plan remains the same,” the woman stated.  Of course, Margaret Hill had no idea what plan the woman was talking about., but went on to give her all the details she had in the deployment of the Agency's operatives, both male and female, but the woman on the other end of the phone was more interested in the female operatives.

"So it is agreed that this will be my last report?"  Ms. Hill held her breath in anticipation.

"Of course, darling – you will have a nice retirement, yes?" woman then disconnected the call.  Margaret put her stuff back in her purse, but was startled when there was a knock on the window of the phone booth.  She looked out and saw an older, squat woman with gray hair and wearing a well used silk headscarf with a cloth coat.  She was apparently in a hurry to use the phone.  Margaret exited the phone booth to allow the woman to enter.  It was weird that anyone else would be out at this location at this time of night, Miss Hill thought to herself, but then dismissed the thought.

 One strap whipped around Margaret's body and pinned her arms to her sides.  The second went around her ankles.  Margaret Hill opened her mouth to scream, but a leather gloved hand clamped over her mouth, just hard enough to silence her, but not hard enough to leave any bruising.  Terrified, the young woman tried to struggle, but the straps easily prevented this.  Looking around, a taller man she hadn't seen initially was the one who had strapped her.  It was the squad woman, who had her hand over Margaret's mouth.   A long, folded cloth was wrapped around Margaret's head, softly sealing off her mouth.

Instinctively, the helpless woman knew that this wasn't a robbery.  She was about to be terminated.  Miss Hill frantically tried to plead through the gag.  She had to tell them that she changed her mind.  She didn't want to retire.  But they weren't interested in listening to her.  The cloth over her mouth was thick enough to effectively silence her, such that her screams were reduced to faint mumbling.  These were professionals, professional killers.  Such people had no consciousness and many of them enjoyed killing.  Margaret couldn't believe that this was happening.  It had to be a bad dream.  Such things only happened in bad movies.  But it was real.  She was going to be murdered and there was nothing she could do about it.

The man grabbed her under the armpits and the woman picked her feet off the ground.  Miss Hill was carried 200 feet into a wooded area.  When she was able to see past the man, the helpless woman peed in her panties.  There was a noose hanging from a tree.  A step stool from her apartment was under the noose in the snow.  The fake Margaret Hill squirmed and shook her head as the warm pee saturated her panties.  They forced her onto the stool, holding her there as the man put the noose over her head, tightening it, pulling the rope taunt.  Without saying a word, the stool was kicked out from under her.  And the two strangers, just watched.

It wasn't a quick death.  Some hangings are violent enough to break a person's neck, ending it quite quickly.  Margaret Hill knew she was going to die.  For her, it was the worst way possible.  Almost immediately, she felt the rope tighten around her neck.  It was her own weight that was causing her to strangle on the clothesline.  She needed to breathe.  She wanted to live, but she knew she wouldn't.

"The Mistress hopes you enjoy your retirement," the squat woman finally said and then laughed.  It was the only thing they said to her.  It seemed like an eternity, but finally life drained out of the fake Margaret Hill's body, her limbs twitched for a while, and then her eyes simply stared into the distance.

The two assassins took the straps off and gag off the dead woman's body.  The man lowered the young woman's body so that the squat woman could repair her lipstick, using the lipstick from Miss Hill's purse.  The dead body was once again raised to just the right level above the ground.  The dead woman hung there, slowly twisting in the breeze.  The man and woman examined the scene and smiled.  It would be ruled a suicide, particularly with suicide note that would be in Miss Hill's car.  They had done their job well.

As the two assassins left, the promised snowstorm began to coat the ground with a new layer of snow.  Any tracks the assassins left, would be gone before Miss Hill's body was discovered.

Chapter 5 – The Bait

Thousands of miles away, another Margaret was in peril.  She sat on a cot in the small windowless room.  Her clothes were in tatters.  Ripped by her captors in their desire to explore her body.  She had managed to put her blouse back together sufficient to cover her breasts, but her bra had been completely destroyed.  She no longer wore panties, but her skirt was still relatively intact.  Her stockings had rips and runs in them.  Her shoes had been removed.  There was a chain around one ankle that was long enough to let her reach the makeshift toilet in the room and the cot she was sitting on.

Even though the young woman was not otherwise bound, she was gagged.  A dirty handkerchief was tied tightly over her mouth.  She could have reached up and removed it, but she knew that she would be punished by the women who kept her prisoner.  The only time the disgusting handkerchief was removed from her mouth was during the two feedings or when the women wanted her to service them.

She was certain that her parents had paid the ransom, if they could afford it.  The women who'd kidnapped her were clearly professionals and had knowledge of how much her parents were able to pay.  They were keeping her for a reason which she did not understand.  But it had something to do with someone named Susan Harris.  One day the two women wearing niqābs had come in and had tied her tightly with cord.  They had removed the gag, but consulting with a picture, they were obviously not happy with the way her mouth looked.  So they had gagged her again with the handkerchief.  After more consultation, they seemed pleased.  The woman with the brightly colored veil then came in and took about a dozen pictures of her.  It was a large camera with a big flash.  The flashbulbs blinded her as the woman would take one picture after the other, ejecting the spent flash bulb, and replacing it with a fresh one.

Of course, all of this seemed to be part of a dream.  Margaret had no choice, but to eat the food provided and she had no doubt that they continued to keep her sedated by putting the sedative into her food or drink.

Despite being drugged, Margaret Brown spent much of her time trying to figure out where she was and who had abducted her.  The women were clearly not of Middle East origin, despite the clothes they were wearing.  They were also not Muslim.  No, they had adopted the clothes as a way of hiding their identities, which made Margaret believe that they were probably known to police organizations or, at least, to Interpol.  She had only seen three women, but figured that there were probably more in this organization.  She was surprised that she had not seen any men, so far.  She was also grateful.  It seemed that these women and their organization valued sexual humiliation as part of their modus operandi.  If there were men in the organization, she had no doubt that she would have been used by now.  The women did use her and they did so frequently, forcing her to pleasure them.  Oddly, the women seem to get as much enjoyment out of forcing her to climax, as if they were doing her a favor, instead of humiliating her.  Or perhaps, they just enjoyed the humiliation they inflicted.

Although the women hid behind the Muslim clothing, she could tell them apart.  The most recognizable, was the one woman that was from Africa, a large black woman.  The smaller woman in the niqāb was clearly the leader.  The woman in the colorful veil was notably thinner than the others, but just as dangerous.

Margaret tried not to think about the possible outcomes of her abduction.  When her usefulness was gone, would they murder her?  Or would she be sold into slavery, a practice common in these parts?  Would her family ever know what happened to her?

Margaret Brown began to sob, tears rolling down her face onto the handkerchief gag.  She would cry herself to sleep, like she had done on every other day of this ordeal.

Chapter 6 – The Puppet Master Makes a Switch

The Puppet Master sat in the back of the stretch limousine provided by the Russian Embassy in Zürich.  The limo was unmarked and it could not be traced back to its owners.  Anyone who checked its license plate would find that it was owned by a shell corporations, of a shell corporation, of a shell corporation, whose office consisted of a mailbox in the nondescript building outside of the city.

The Puppet Master was in his female persona, wearing a black leather skirt and a light blue silk blouse.  The chill of the winter air was muted by his fur trimmed coat.  He had on white cotton gloves that hid one of the few flaws in his female appearance.  Fortunately, his only flaws could be easily hidden.  The Puppet Master didn't have much of an Adam's apple, but he always wore neck scarf or a headscarf to hide what was there.  Today was no exception.  He wore an expensive headscarf from France that covered the dark brunette wig.  He liked the feel of fine silk against his face and this headscarf was very feminine, one of his favorites.   The white and blue scarf at a complex pattern of white flowers, with a white boarder.  The scarf was knotted under his chin hiding a hint of an Adam's apple.  Headscarves were also handy when you wore a wig and might be in the fight.  Much less chance that the wig would be pulled off when it was secured with a scarf.  Of course he also wore all the other trappings of the modern 1962 woman, including nylon stockings with garters and modest high heel leather boots.  The most exciting feature, of course, was the satin panties that he wore.  Just wearing them made him excited.

The Puppet Master could not believe his luck.  The Americans had sent over one of their top agents, Miss Stacy Steward, for the diplomatic detail.  That was something that usually new agents are assigned to, protecting and chauffeuring diplomats around.  Either the Americans knew something about their plans or they were just trying to keep Miss Stewart occupied while she grieved over her partner's apparent death.  Regardless, it provided the Unit and the Puppet Master the opportunity to humiliate and perhaps even kill one of America's top agents.  Of course, the humiliation would come if they succeeded in compromising the conference.  To have the opportunity to kill Miss Stewart would require the Puppet Master to pull some strings, to set up the opportunity for it to happen.  Of course, it was always possible that something the American agents did would present such an opportunity.  The Puppet Master's hope was that he would be able to tell Miss Stewart about former her partner, Susan Harris, just before he killed the spy, when there was no chance that she could do anything about it.

He looked over at Tatiana and wondered if he should ask her to service him before the mission.  She would do it, of course, and do it with great enthusiasm, as she had many times in the past.  Of course, he had satisfied her, as well.  She was his lover, as well as being his top agent.  Although he was horny as hell – he was always horny as hell – the mission came first.  If all went according to plan, and he knew it would, there would be a frightened woman between his legs very soon.  He enjoyed humiliating captive women that way.  She would think that he was a woman until she saw his equipment under the skirt.  By then, she would be satisfying him.  It was the least that she could do.  After all, The Puppet Master would be responsible for her death.

Tatiana was finishing with her makeup.  He had the best agents in the world, but he would only give this assignment to Tatiana or do it himself, personally.  It was that important.  If he didn't know who she was impersonating, he wouldn't have known that he was looking at Tatiana.  The fake face was relatively new technology and made impersonation that much easier.  It was a flawless representation of the woman who Tatiana would impersonate.  Unless there was a fight or some other physical activity, Tatiana's new face should remain perfect for several days.  Her wig of black hair, salon styled, would also remain perfect for several days.  Unlike his wig, Tatiana's wig was glued in place with a special adhesive.  It required a special solvent to remove it.  The hair was natural hair and the scalp was real skin.  It would be impossible to detect any flaws in Tatiana's new face or hair.

Because of the American's security precautions, it was necessary that Tatiana wear the woman's actual clothes and not copies.  Given the timing, which would be close, Tatiana was only wearing an American bra, half slip, stockings, garter, and satin panties so that she could quickly put on the woman's clothes.  Her selection of lingerie was exactly what the female KGB agents at the New York airport had deduced that their target was wearing on her trip to Zürich.  They agents had literally used a mirror on a stick to look up the woman skirt while she was on the toilet in the airport ladies room.

The Puppet Master looked at his watch, a delicate piece of jewelry on his wrist.  They were approaching the critical time.  It was only possible to delay the American agents a few minutes without raising suspicions.  If the flight from America was late or the Americans avoided the delay, the plan would be ruined and the Puppet Master would have to rethink the entire mission.  But the KGB agents were very good at their jobs.  They had to be.  Their lives might depend on it.

The limo was not parked next to the terminal where passengers disembarked, but rather in short-term parking, where there was less foot traffic and the melodrama that would take place would appear perfectly normal.  If they attempted the abduction closer to the terminal, the chances of success without detection would be much lower.

The Puppet Master saw Yana and Nika as they emerged with the young woman from the terminal.  Stefaya followed the three, placing herself directly behind their target.  His agents all wore wigs with brightly colored headscarves and dark glasses.  They wore loose dresses under their coats and low heels, that would allow them to move quickly if something went wrong.   Stefaya task was to prevent any retreat by the young woman and to hide what was happening by blocking the view from behind.   Yana and Nika were telling the young woman that they were from the American Embassy and that they would drive her to her hotel.  They were getting very close to the young woman, casually touching her arms as they talked.  That was important.  If they did their job right, the young woman wouldn't know what was happening until it was much too late.  And Yana and Nika always do their job right.

The gaggle of young women were now within 10 feet of the car.  The Puppet Master prepared to do his task, a simple one, to open the door at just the right moment.  This was a simple assignment.  His team had practice such abductions with trained KGB agents, both male and female.  A mere college professor, a woman at that, would stand no chance against his agents.  The only concern was that an onlooker might figure out what was going on, but that was very unlikely.  With his three agents surrounding their target, it would be difficult to see what was happening.  

The women were now five feet away, the Puppet Master opened the back door of the limo.  Yana and Nika grabbed the woman's elbows, almost lifting her off the ground.  In the same motion, Yana clamped a handkerchief over the woman's mouth.  The Puppet Master could see that the young woman was puzzled.  She hadn't realized yet that she was in grave danger.  She was thinking that the women must be trying to help her in some manner.  The woman's expression quickly changed to fear as her mind processed what was happening.  The Puppet Master grabbed the woman's head as she was shoved into the limo and forced the handkerchief completely into her mouth, effectively gagging her.   Their target was allowed to fall to the floor of the limo, sprawled out on her stomach.  Yana and Nika quickly got in after the woman, with Yana grabbing her arms and Nika grabbing her feet.  Stefaya closed the door of the limo and calmly put the woman's luggage in the trunk of the limo.  She then walked around to the driver's door and got in.

Inside the limo, the woman was fighting as best as she could given that she was outnumbered and didn't have the skill set of the KGB agents.  Tatiana immediately forced a thick oblong silk scarf into the woman's mouth, pulling the ends behind her head and knotting them tightly.  Nika tied the woman's ankles with cord and took off her shoes.  The limo started up and began to move.  Nika and Yana took off the young woman's jewelry and handed it to Tatiana, who put it on.  The woman's coat and hat were next to be removed and given to her replacement.  Nika carefully unbuttoned the captive woman's silk blouse while Yana held the struggling woman.  Together, they forcibly removed the blouse and handed it to Tatiana.  The woman's arms were brought behind her back and Yana secured them with cord.  Nika wrapped cord above and below the woman's breasts, pinning her arms to her body, while Yana pulled off the woman's skirt, leaving her silk half slip in place.  The hapless woman's bound wrists and bound ankles were corded together, severely limiting her movement.  Tatiana was already fully dressed and ready for her mission, only having to put on the woman's shoes to complete her outfit.

The limo pulled into the passenger pickup area next to the terminal.  Tatiana got out and Stefaya already had the woman's luggage on the ground behind the limo.

The Puppet Master smiled at the woman on the floor of the limo.  Yana and Nika pulled the woman up so that she was leaning against the Puppet Master.  The captive knew that she was in grave danger, but she didn't know the extent of what these people intended to do to her.

Chapter 7 – Traffic Can Be a Bitch

Stacy Steward and Lori Trackman were frustrated.  All that they had been doing for the past two days was chauffeuring various American dignitaries to their hotels.  What was maddening on this trip was that there had been a minor accident in front of them and two women had been outside the car screaming at the top of their lungs at each other, one in French and the other in the Italian.  The Lady Spies always gave themselves plenty of time to get to the airport because they were supposed to meet the dignitaries at the gate, but on this trip they were going to be late.  Of course, this woman was a minor dignitary, not one of the bigwigs of the conference.  She was a university professor was just there to observe.  What could possibly go wrong?  Apparently, the woman had argued with the American Embassy about being put under guard by a couple of goons, even if they were women.

They had missed the flight by nearly 20 minutes because of the accident.  They quickly pulled their car next to the curb where incoming passengers were picked up.  They got out of the car and almost immediately spotted the woman.  She was nowhere near the entrance to the terminal, but was slowly walking towards the terminal and was next to a long limousine.  This made Stacy suspicious, but why should it?  She probably thought she was going to be taken to the hotel in a limousine, even though the car Stacy and Lori had was a regular four-door sedan.  They trotted up to meet the woman, who looked relieved to see them.  They introduced themselves and then Lori Trackman stood back and examined the woman.  She took a folded piece of glossy paper out of her purse and looked at the grainy fax image.  Although not commercially available yet, the agency had prototype models and allowed images to be faxed through telephone lines.  A picture of the woman had been faxed to the embassy prior to her getting on her plane in New York.  And there was a difference.

"You were told not to change her outfit in any way during your trip," Lori told the woman, who suddenly got a worried look on her face.  And then there was a smile.

"I'm sorry.  I change the position of the scarf, didn't I?"  The woman replied as she moved the knot of the neck scarf from the left side to her right side of her neck.  Stacy and Lori relaxed.  Tatiana had mistakenly tied the scarf on the wrong side of her neck.  She was lucky that she realized her mistake and recovered in time.  Simple mistakes like that can be fatal for spy.

Lori began walking the woman to their car.  Stacy walked in the other direction looking carefully at the limo.  There was a woman behind the wheel, the chauffeur Stacy assumed.  She was wearing a dark blue cloth coat, driving gloves, sunglasses, and a light blue headscarf tied under the chin.  Stacy mouth the words, "Nice limo."  The driver ignored her.  She walked down the length of the limo looking for any signs of who it might belong to.  She was bothered by the fact that the dignitary they picked up looked like she came from the rear of the limo.  There were regular license plates on the vehicle, nothing out of the ordinary.  Still, something bothered Stacy.  There was something wrong.  The windows were strongly tinted.  She took off her sunglasses and cupped her eyes against the side window trying to get a peek inside.  She could only see her own reflection.  Suddenly the car was in gear and pulling away from the curb.  Stacy had seen this type of glass before, she thought.  It looked like one way glass, where the people inside the car could see her, but it was impossible for her to see inside.  She also heard nothing, which struck her as odd.  Limo drivers usually respond to orders and she heard nothing from inside the limo.  It was almost as if the limo was partially soundproofed.

Stacy watched the limo drive away and wondered what secrets it held.  Perhaps it was nothing, but spies are trained to be suspicious.  Stacy hurried to catch up with Lori and the woman.

Chapter 8 – The Trip to Hell

Helen Troy had been ecstatic when she found out that she was going to be able to attend the NATO conference.  Yes, her parents had a sense of humor.  They named her after Helen of Troy.  People she met made that joke once and they never made it again.  Helen had been brought up in a military family and had excelled in tactics and all things military.  Against the odds, she become a professor in psychology.  She had applied for and received a contract with the Defense Department to work up psychological profiles unknown military leaders.  She was just an observer at the conference, but excited to be there.  She was less excited about all the security that the Defense Department was requiring.  They even went to the extent of photographing her just before she got on the airplane.

Helen had on her pink suit with a white silk blouse underneath.  She also had on a pink cloth coat and a pink pillbox hat, a la Jackie Kennedy.  Even her heels were pink.  There was a brown silk scarf tied at her neck that contrasted nicely with the outfit.  Her hair was black and salon styled.

At the gate, three women met her.  She was only expecting two women, but she assumed one was the chauffeur.  The women all had on nice cloth coats with matching cotton gloves.  They all wore large silk headscarves with colors that contrasted the colors of their coats.  The one she assumed to be chauffeur had on dark sunglasses.  Two of them introduce themselves as Stacy Stewart and Lori Trackman, the women she was expecting to meet.  The woman chauffeur was not introduced, but did go and pick up her bags when they were delivered from the airplane.  She was surprised when three women directed her to a limo parked in the short term parking, rather than the closer area where passengers are normally picked up.  She noticed that two of the women walked rather close to her on either side of her and while they made small talk, their attention seemed to be directed elsewhere.  Helen assume this is what security people did.

They were almost at the limo when the back door of the limo suddenly opened and another woman appeared there.  It was at that moment, that the women on either side of her, the women she knew as Stacy Stewart and Lori Trackman, grabbed her arms by the elbows and began to physically force her into the car.  At first, Helen thought they were doing this for some sort of security reason and she opened her mouth to ask them what they were doing.  But that option was taken away when one of the women clamped a folded handkerchief over her mouth.  That was when Helen realized something was wrong, really terribly wrong.

She was almost thrown into the limo.  The woman who had opened the door of the limo grabbed her face and forcibly stuffed that handkerchief into her mouth.  Helen thought she was going to knock out a tooth or two when she did it.  Then she looked up in time to see a woman, who looked exactly like her, force a silk scarf into her mouth, pulling it behind her head, and tying it extremely tightly, almost with anger.  Now it was impossible to force that handkerchief out of her mouth.

Helen was fuzzy on what happened over the next minute or two.  Most of the work was done by the two women who had guided her to the limo.  The term work somehow seemed inappropriate.  They were clearly enjoying what they were doing.  Tying her ankles, stripping off her clothes, and tying her up so that she could barely move.  The gag was oppressive.  The handkerchief that had been rammed into her mouth periodically hit the back of her throat causing her to retch.  The scarf was made of thick silk.  It  seemed too pretty and feminine to be used as a gag.  The worst part was that I was saturated with perfume, probably the type the woman who wore the scarf used, to the point that Helen could both smell and taste it.  The women in the limo didn't seem to care about any discomfort Helen might have.  The cords bit into her skin.  They had been tied quickly and as tightly as possible, but somehow they did not cut off her circulation, at least not yet.  It was obvious that these women knew what they were doing and that she had little chance against them.

They were all now speaking Russian.  Helen didn't understand stand Russian or at least not much of it, but it sounded like they were talking about what they were going to do to her and none of it sounded good.  It was obvious that these were Russians, probably KGB, and were simply replacing her at the conference.

There was that moment when she had hope.  Helen saw the face, a woman's face, looking in the window of the limo.  And then the woman that seemed to be in charge told her in English that the window was one way.  The woman couldn't see in, couldn't see Helen's plight.  As the limo pulled away, Helen was told that the leader was called the Puppet Master.  She was also told that if she wanted to live, she would do exactly as she was instructed.  As they drove through the city of Zürich, the Puppet Master had Helen leaning against her leg, her head in the woman's lap.  Helen felt like a dog at the side of her mistress.  The sun was setting and lights were coming on in the city.  Soon it would be dark.  Helen felt her hope of surviving fading and setting with the sun.

Twenty minutes into her drive to hell, the Puppet Master pulled her in front of her, pulled up her leather skirt, and unfasten Helen's gag.  Helen could see the silk panties the woman wore and looked at her in disbelief.  Did she really expect that Helen was going to satisfy her sexually?  The Puppet Master smiled.

"I'd rather die…" Helen said meekly.  Yana took off her white and purple silk headscarf and twirled it making a silk rope.

"As you wish, Helen," the Puppet Master said with a smile.  Yana looped her scarf over Helen's head, bringing it around her neck, and pulling the ends tight.  Helen choked and gasped for air.  Being bound, she had no way to fight back.  Her eyes began to bulge out and her face started to turn blue.  Her women captors were clearly enjoying the show.  They were laughing and smiling.  Who in their right mind enjoy seeing a woman murdered?  Helen was on the verge of death for what seemed an eternity.

The Puppet Master waved a hand and the scarf loosened.  Helen gasped for air.  She had never come that close to death before.  She panted as the Puppet Master stroked her head.

"As you see, Helen, your decisions now are life-and-death decisions.  If you wish to stay alive, you will do what we tell you to do.  Part of that will be servicing myself and my agents, sexually, in any way, shape or manner that we desire.  You will do it with enthusiasm, not because you want to – we know it's against your will which makes it all the more exciting for us, but because for you your life depends on it.  If you still wish to die, Yana will be happy to assist you.  She gets sexually aroused when she strangles somebody," the feminine voice of the Puppet Master said in a soothing voice, not the threatening voice one would have expected.  Helen looked up at the woman.

"May I have the pleasure of servicing you, Mistress," Helen said and watched as the Puppet Master pulled down his satin panties, "You're a man… Master."  She leaned forward and took his hard manhood in her mouth and began to work at.

"Mistress will be fine, Helen.  You made a wise decision," the Puppet Master replied.  After that the leader of the KGB Unit was too busy concentrating on what his captive was doing to care about much of anything else.  Yana looked disappointed as she unrolled her scarf and tied it back over her hair.

Helen had given blow jobs boyfriends before, but never under duress and never to what had to be considered a she man.  This didn't seem to be a man dressing in drag, wearing women's clothing.  She seemed to be a woman, but with a man's instrument of power.  And that instrument of power performed, pumping more than a mouthful of creamy cum into her mouth.  Helen tried to swallow it, but it spilled out of her mouth, rolling down her chin and onto her bra.

Her decision to cooperate only spared her life.  The handkerchief that had gagged her was quickly stuffed back into her mouth after had been used to clean both the Puppet Master and her face.  One of the other women tied  the thick silk scarf in her mouth again.  The gag was still effective, but now it had the taste of the Puppet Master's cum.  She was pulled up so she was leaning against the Puppet Master again, Helen's head on the she man's lap.  She was the man's, or was it the woman's, pet again.  The Puppet Master took out a cigarette in one of those long cigarette holders, the type that aristocratic women use.  Her subordinates quickly had lighters to light the cigarette.  She chose one and was clearly relaxing after sex.  The night had fallen and the Puppet Master seemed satisfied for the moment.

As the limo pulled into the driveway of the 'safe house,' Helen realized that she would do anything to stay alive.  Whatever the consequences down the road, she had made her deal with the devil and her captors knew it.

To Be Continued...

Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 4-8
Book 9 in the series -January, 1962 - Agent Susan Harris has been missing and presumed dead for over a month.  Agents Stacy Steward and Lori Trackman are sent to a NATO conference as a protection detail where an elite KGB team might be at work.  Agents Doris Jenkens and Babs Wilson, now recovered from the explosion they were in, are sent on a mission to Egypt.

Chapter 4 - Margaret Hill, a mole planted in the Agency by the Duchess (in the Duchess Affair), finds retirement shortlived..

Chapter 5 - Margret Brown, who was kidnapped in Egypt, tries to figure out what is going on.

Chapter 6 - The Puppet Master executes a plot to inflitrate a NATO conference.

Chapter 7 - Stacy and Lori are late to their assignment.

Chapter 8 - Helen Troy gets a rude welcome to the NATO conference.

So if you want lots of bondage, sex, chloroformed women, KOs...Read Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair.

Complete details of the Lady Spies series can be found in Lady Spies - A Chronology including links to the chapters of each story.

The cover is by the amazing :iconmileshendon:  That scene is in this portion of the story.


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NabselHinari Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2018
thanks for the watch
coppola76 Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2018
thanks for watch! I love all your work!
xinpite02 Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2017
Happy New Year!Wink/Razz 
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Happy New Year to you and yours.:happybounce: 
cicisaur Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2017
thanks for faves
RedFalcon23 Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for watching
Dugas Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2017
Thanks for the favs :-)
knottysilkscarf Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2017
Thank you for the interesting drawings and the translations!
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itiehoesup Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch!
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