CaptivePenny - Monster Mansion Madness (f/f, F/f+)

[Zek_]

Monster Mansion Madness (f/f, F/f+)
By CaptivePenny

Erin joins our group... & things get SPOOKY!!!!!

Erin's mom is cool! She's old, of course (over thirty, in fact), but she has a wicked sense of humor. She (I mean they, Erin and her mom) moved into town a few months ago when they (I mean she, Erin's mom) bought the dilapidated little bookstore downtown on First Street and the big decapitated Victorian house at the end of my block. All of us really like her... and Debra practically worships her. (It's one of those BOOKWORM-©-BOOKSELLER things.)

I remember the day they arrived: moving van, a bug-splattered Jeep Wrangler with a pyramid of luggage lashed to the roof rack, and two redheads... and I mean RED-heads. The newcomers had long, bright, copper red hair. (Erin's is mostly straight, her mom's mostly in curls.) ...and freckles, millions of freckles. From a distance they looked like big and little sisters. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes! It was almost dark by the time the movers left.

Jodi had always been kind of afraid of the old Victorian. She calls it the "Monster Mansion." (I think when she was little Lisa told her it was a haunted house.) It sits on a low hill, and is set further back from the street than the other, newer houses on our block, and is surrounded a tall, thick, riotously overgrown hedge. It has three stories (plus the basement), four if you count the turret and the attic, and the facade is dripping with those wooden decoration doohickies they call "gingerbread" (or something), and the ol' gal is badly in need of fresh paint. (I can see Jodi's point. On a dark, stormy night, it looks like a haunted house.)

Four of us watched the move-in from my side yard: yours truly (Penny), Carol, Lisa (the three of us openly, perhaps rudely curious), and Jodi (curious as well, but slightly nervous... maybe a little... suspicious.)

"Look!" Lisa said, nudging her kid sister in the ribs. "Isn't that a coffin filled with dirt they're unloading?"

Jodi snorted derisively. "That's sooo funny," she snapped.

"You don't think...?" I asked, turning to Carol with mock gravity.

Carol took her cue and gave a horrified gasp. "They're... vampires!"

The three of us turned on Jodi and began tickling her unmercifully, eliciting the usual giggling, whining protests, and half-hearted attempts to escape and/or break our collective noses.

The tickle-fest was interrupted when the side door of my house banged open and my mom emerged with a picnic basket and a hot covered dish of her famous "Mystery Meat Casserole." I was drafted as escort (and beast of burden) and the two of us marched down the street, an impromptu Welcome Wagon and Moving Day Food Service.

"Don't let them bite you!" Carol called after us.

"Somebody call Buffy!" Lisa added as Jodi giggled.

I scowled and silently motioned for them to shut up! (...but my mom thought it was funny.)

Anyway, the casserole was much appreciated, Erin's mom and my mom hit it off, and so did Erin and myself. We were invited to join them for dinner, during which we learned: Their last name is Farrell (Mrs. Farrell's first name is Kate); Erin's dad was killed in a car accident when she was three (Bummer!); and finally, although fixing up the bookstore (now renamed "Kate's Books") was going to take first priority, eventually they plan on de-dilapidating the Monster Mansion (they loved Jodi's nick-name for their new home), and plan on turning it into what Mrs. Farrell calls a "Painted Lady." (That means a fancy paint job, but I'm still not sure on all the details.)

Also, It turns out Erin and my birthdays are only three days apart! ...and her middle name is Penelope! (Whenever the two of us are together her mom calls us her "two Pennies," or "two cents worth." Like I said... she's cool!)

Erin joined our group, without joining our group (if you know what I mean.) We all like her (even Jodi, once she convinced herself Erin wasn't a redheaded, freckled vampire), but how do you ask someone "Hey, wanna get kidnapped and tied up and gagged? We do it to each other all the time!" What if she freaked?

Well, about two months after Those Farrell Girls moved in, it was Jodi who let the bound and gagged Catwoman out of the bag, so to speak. Debra, Lisa, Jodi and I were playing a rainy day game of Risk in Erin's "Monster Mansion" bedroom. As usual, Debra was winning. Erin's mom brought in a tray of soft drinks and a colossal bowl of popcorn.

"Thanks Mrs. Farrell!" we chorused, slurping sodas and digging into the popcorn.

Our benefactor was wearing a long, creamy ivory, sleeveless, linen sun dress, with spaghetti straps and a narrow, sash belted waist. Did I mention Erin's mom is mega-gorgeous? She runs and plays tennis a lot, and she used to be a model! (Erin showed me some of her old catalog photos.) I hope I'm thin and athletic and graceful like that when I'm an old lady over thirty. Anyhow, Mrs. F chatted with us and we talked about the storm ('rainy day,' remember?) Right before she left, she made one of her "two Pennies" remarks, and Jodi (little body, big mouth) piped in.

"Yeah, Copper Penny," she giggled pointing at Erin, "and Captivepenny," she added, indicating me.

Erin said something profound, like "huh?" and I blushed like a fool. Erin's mom smiled politely, patted Jodi on the head, and left us to our game.

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Lisa turned on her sister. "Shut up, shut up, shut... up!" she hissed.

Jodi flinched. "Sorry!" she whined.

Erin gave me a puzzled look. "'Captive... Penny?'"

"One word," Jodi corrected. "'Captivepenny... one word. Ow!" she complained, rubbing the red mark on her arm where Lisa had just pinched her.

Debra rattled the dice in their cup. "I've got my eye on Kamchatka," she announced, desperately trying to cover Jodi's gaffe.

"Screw Kamchatka," Erin said politely. "Captivepenny? ...one word?"

Debra pointed towards the bookcase at her back, with its neat row of yellow binders, Erin's virtually complete collection of Nancy Drew books (including the newer paperbacks, the Hardy Boys crossovers, etc., etc.) "Uh... you know how sometimes Nancy gets grabbed by the villains and tied up and ...em..... "

"Deb-ra!" Lisa and I complained in unison. (My cheeks were burning.)

"Well... we gotta tell her something," Debra said sheepishly.

"Yeah, right," Jodi groused. "Bookworm gets to tell Freckle Farm here..." (Jodi pointed at Erin) "...all about how we tie each other up all the time, but if I so much as... M'mmpfh!"

Lisa had grabbed her kid sister, wrapped her bare legs around the struggling munchkin's arms and torso... (We were all in Summer Uniform: shorts or cut-offs; tank-tops or T-shirts; and bare feet.) ...and had her hand tightly clamped over Jodi's mouth. We watched with amusement the sisters' rather one-sided wrestling match. "Stop squirming, Shrimp," Lisa ordered. "I told you to watch it !" No you don't!" Jodi had managed to twist one hand free and was trying to tug Lisa's hand away from her lips. Lisa grabbed Jodi's wrist with her free hand and pulled it down.

"Let me guess," Erin inquired with a smile, "Cowgirls and Indians?"

"Lady Cops and Female Robbers," I confirmed, still blushing.

"Damsels-in-Distress and Dastardly Kidnappers," Lisa piped in.

"Xena and Callisto," Debra added.

"'Xena and Callisto?'" Erin, Lisa and I demanded.

"Okay, so it's non-standard," Debra admitted, blinking behind her glasses, "but Watch it you two! Hey!"

Still struggling, Jodi had managed to kick the game board and the popcorn bowl across the room, scattering the markers, cards, and buttery kernels everywhere (without managing to escape, of course.)

"A little help here?" Lisa asked with a tight-lipped grin.

Debra giggled, climbed over the scattered remnants of her near World Conquest and wrapped her arms around Jodi's kicking legs.

"Uh, we just... uh... play," I explained to Erin. "It's kid stuff, I know, but "

"Sorry, can't hear you!" Erin said coyly, shaking her head and holding one hand to her ear. She then went over to her dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thin pair of tennis anklets, neatly rolled and tucked into a tight ball. "This should quiet things down," she said with a giggle, and tossed the fuzzy, white, cotton orb to Lisa.

"No mfh!" was all Jodi managed before the anklet-ball was popped in her mouth and Lisa's hand was back over her lips.

"This is an old one," Erin said, tossing Debra a neatly folded, faded, sky blue, cotton scarf.

Debra laughed, shook out the scarf, and refolded it, first point-to-point, then into a narrow bandage. Jodi watched this process with wide, staring eyes, mewing through her sister's hand (and Erin's socks) and continuing to struggle. Despite her best efforts at prevention, the thick scarf was soon tied tightly between Jodi's teeth and knotted behind her head under her ponytail. She tossed and shook her head, writhing in her sister's tight grip. Her tan face was flushed by her efforts and contorted in a permanent, involuntary grin, her cheeks bulging. Obviously the gag was in to stay.

Meanwhile, Erin had gone to her walk-in closet and was doing some serious rummaging. Eventually she produced a large backpack, opened the flap, and pulled out a nylon stuff bag, the kind used to hold sleeping bags or small tents. She opened the drawstring and dumped the contents on the floor. It was a mess of different kinds of rope and cord, all coiled and rolled into neat hanks. "Mom and I use this stuff when we go camping," she explained, "to rig our dining fly, hang our laundry, hang our food bag where the bears can't get it... that sort of thing.

Jodi wanted none of it! She put her head back and screamed through her gag. (The resulting desperate cry for help was, well... ineffective, to say the least.)

"Cool!" Lisa said. "Toss me some of that thin white stuff."

"Parachute cord," Erin explained, tossing a hank of the thin, braided nylon to Lisa.

Debra helped hold the Jodi's arms while Lisa carefully, methodically, tightly bound her little sister's crossed wrists together behind her back. The hank was a long one, so Jodi's wrists were wrapped at least a dozen times each lengthwise, crosswise, and in-between. Lisa took her time, neatly arranging and cinching the tight loops and tying the final knots well out of the reach of Jodi's fluttering, questing fingers.

A second, long hank of cord was used to bind Jodi's ankles together. We watched this procedure with fascination (Jodi included), none more interested than Erin.

"This is fun, right?" Erin asked.

"Of course," Lisa said with a giggle, running the final couple of feet of the cord down to her sister's big toes and binding them tightly together. The resulting taut cords joining ankles and toes placed the squirming Jodi's dirty bare feet in a permanently flexed position.

"Jodi?" Erin inquired.

Jodi lifted her gagged head, turned towards our red haired hostess... and nodded. "Eh'fwu!"

"'It's fun!'" Debra translated.

"Well...," Erin said with a demure smile, "help me clean up this mess, and then the fun can really begin!"

Lisa was busy sorting the remaining rope. "You guys do that," she said, selecting a very long coil of thick, nylon rope and smiling at her sister. "I'm gonna be busy."

We invent a new game!

In short order, Erin's room was restored to something resembling its normal, semi-cluttered order (not counting the bound and gagged Jodi writhing around on Erin's rumpled bed), and Erin, Lisa, Debra, and I were gathered in a circle on the floor around the mostly stowed Risk game. I say mostly stowed because the dice cup and three red, six-sided die were still out, waiting ominously on the box.

Incidentally, when I say Jodi was bound and gagged, I mean BOUND and gagged. While the rest of us were corralling the various plastic armies, die, game cards, and popcorn kernels lurking around, under, on top of, and behind everything in Erin's bedroom, Lisa had filled the time tying loop after cinched loop of rope around her sister. The poor kid was hitched every few inches from her shoulders (Lisa had used the old armpit yoke trick) to her ankles, pinning her arms to her sides and her legs together. Since the rope was not only tight, but tucked and pulled through itself at every opportunity, Jodi could manage her world famous earthworm imitation, but little else. Every time she tried to tuck her legs or bend at the waist, things got really tight, and since the only two knots (not counting the knots on the wrist and ankle cords) were at the nape of her neck and tied to the cord joining her toes to her ankles... she was stuck!

"Wow!" Debra said as Lisa tied the final knot. "Did you find a Handbook for Villains someplace or something?"

"'Practice makes perfect,'" Lisa quoted, "and the little twerp can't wiggle out of this tie... at least she hasn't ever been able to yet... have you Shrimp?"

Jodi fixed her sister with a killer stare, then tossed her head, trying to shake away from her face the several long, wispy strands of straight, sun-bleached, blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"You're a cruel, evil villainess," I accused, "who delights in torturing your sweet, innocent little sister. I like that in a person."

"'Cruel?'" Lisa demanded. "You should see what she does to me when it's her turn."

I laughed. "As if she ever gets a turn," I said, shaking my head.

"Speaking of turns," Debra said, eying the three die waiting on the box, "how do you want to do this?"

"I thought you guys did this all the time?" Erin asked.

"Not with dice," I explained. "Usually with guns and clubs and chloroform and..." Erin was giving me a very strange look. "Pretend guns and clubs and chloroform," I added hastily (blushing again, of course.)

"Role playing," Lisa clarified.

Erin nodded, smiling at my embarrassment.

"Uh... We all roll and high number gets to be villainess and low number victim?" Debra suggested.

"Damsel!" I corrected. "'Victim' is sooo politically incorrect."

Erin laughed, grabbed the die, and dropped them in the cup. "We each roll all three die," she announced. "That way there'll be fewer 'roll-overs' 'cause of duplicate numbers."

"You sure you want to do this?" I asked my redheaded, still relatively new friend.

Erin didn't answer. She only smiled (rather coyly), rattled the cup, and slammed it down on the box. Still smiling, she slowly lifted the cup.

"Four three six," Debra announced. "Lucky thirteen."

"Let's see how lucky," Lisa said, grabbed the cup, rattled, and rolled.

"Four six one; twelve," Debra announced (apparently our self-appointed croupier.)

I went next.

Debra tallied the result. "Five five four; fourteen! ...and we have a new leader."

Lisa (the current loser) eyed me nervously and handed Debra the cup. "Shut up and make your roll," she ordered.

Jodi chortled behind her gag from the bed, delighted at the prospect of her big sister being the first loser in our new game. ("Rolling for Ropes?" I like that!)

Debra rattled and slammed down the cup and groaned at the result. "Two one three? Aw shi F'MMPFH!"

Lisa had pounced, her left arm pinning Deb's elbows, her right hand over Deb's mouth. "I got her, Boss!" Lisa sneered, playing the Evil Minion. Debra did her best to wiggle free, but Lisa controlled her easily.

I stood over my writhing, mewing, wide-eyed, bespectacled prize, hands on hips. (I can slip into Gloating Villainess mode in a heartbeat.) Erin stood at my side. "Got any more of those anklets?" I purred.

"I got a whole drawer full," Erin said with a toothy grin. "Tennis Team really wears 'em out, but I keep forgetting to toss the old ones."

"Lucky you," I said. "Now you have a use for them."

"I don't have a lot of scarves, though," Erin mused, then snapped her fingers. "Got it!" She rummaged in another drawer and produced a worn elastic bandage. It was two inches wide and closed with a stitched velcro strap. "I sprained my ankle last year," she explained, "and had to keep it wrapped for a while. Boy, did this thing get dirty." She sniffed the rolled bandage uncertainly, delicately wrinkling her freckled, button nose. "I think mom washed it... I think." She tossed me the bandage.

I caught it and took a careful sniff of my own. (It was clean, but we weren't going to tell Debra that.) "Whoa," I complained, shaking my head, "I think not. Oh well... no matter."

Erin and I advanced on the helpless, struggling Debra, Erin with another rolled sock-ball, myself with the "smelly" bandage. In less than a minute Debra was chewing on the socks, the bandage tightly wrapped completely around her lower face from nose to chin. (I was considerate enough to take one turn under her chin and across the top of her head. It anchored her glasses, you see. Now she wouldn't lose them.)

Selecting a long piece of rope, I tied Deb's wrists behind her back; then, using the same rope, I circled her chest, pinning her arms and raising her crossed wrists high on the small of her back. Done properly this is impossible to wiggle out of. Your upper arms are pinned close and the ropes lock your elbows. You can twist and turn your upper body, but you can't slide or move anything. With a final flourish I pulled the free ends from either side across Debra's chest, tied a tight square knot, braided the free ends under and through the other arm ropes, and tied two more knots.

"With the key knots in front like this," I explained to Erin, "she can't possibly get loose."

"Genius!" Lisa snorted sarcastically. "We stand in awe. Now tie her feet and let's get on with it."

"Wait a minute," Erin said with an evil grin. "I just thought of something."

"Well," Lisa said impatiently.

Erin smiled. "I know a much... better... place to do this."

Did I mention the "Monster Mansion" has an attic? (I think I did.) What do you suppose it's like up there? Creaky, dusty wooden floor? Exposed rafters covered with cobwebs? Dirty windows edged in faded stained glass? Old trunks, luggage, and furniture? An old bike or two? A hobby horse with a snarling carved head? An old tailor's dummy shrouded in a gray sheet? A worn doll in a frilly dress staring sadly (with her single, remaining, glass eye) from the front porch of an old doll's house? All lit by a single, weak, swaying, naked lightbulb? Well... you got it!

And remember the storm? It was getting worse. Rain was pelting those dirty windows I mentioned earlier, the wind moaning softly through the cobweb shrouded rafters, making the dusty webs ripple and wave.

Giggling wickedly and carrying the still thoroughly bound and gagged (and wriggling) Jodi, Lisa and I followed Erin as she escorted the bound and gagged (but still mobile) Debra to the end of the bedroom hallway... along a second, twisting, rather cramped back hallway... paused as Erin unlocked a heavy wooden door... trooped up a steep, very narrow, claustrophobically dark and enclosed staircase... paused again for Erin to unlock a second door... and we found ourselves in the attic.

"Wow!" Lisa gasped. "Spook-eee!"

"M'mmmpfh!" Debra said, nodding her gagged head in concurrence.

(Jodi's eyes darted from side to side, big as the proverbial saucers.)

"Sasha's gonna love this place," I whispered.

"Yeah," Lisa agreed. "Primo Goth vacation spot. All it needs is thunder and lightning and "

As if on cue a white flash lit the attic, giving us a momentarily clear glimpse of its true size and cluttered contents. Several seconds later a low, grumbling report echoed through the attic, rattling the windows.

"If anyone starts suggesting rats, spiders, and bats I'm gonna deck 'em," I warned.

"I'm afraid 'spiders' is a given," Erin said, "but if there are any 'rats' and 'bats' they hide very well."

We carried Jodi to a dusty, overstuffed arm chair and plopped her down. The poor kid's eyes were still wide and staring. "Don't worry, Shrimp," Lisa gloated. "I won't let the ghosts and monsters get you." Jodi whined through her gag and squirmed, not at all reassured.

I leaned close and kissed Jodi's forehead. "Be brave, kiddo," I whispered. She still seemed frightened, but I'd managed to calm her down a little. "Good kid," I said, patting her head. This condescending gesture elicited a well-muffled growl from our youngest damsel, her fear at least momentarily replaced by angry pride (just as I'd intended.)

Meanwhile, Lisa selected a length of rope (we'd brought Erin's rope bag with us), tied one end to Jodi's ankles, took a turn around one of the chair's short, thick, front legs, threaded it under the chair and to the back, took a hitch completely around the chair (and Jodi) about mid-way, then pulled the free end up and over the chairback and slipped it under the top loop of Jodi's other bonds.

She then went back over the rope, tugging and removing as much slack as possible, until Jodi was pressed into the dusty cushions and the chair's padding dimpled and creased where the rope bit. As a result, Lisa gained enough slack to take a final turn under and interlaced through the hitch already centered on chair's back. She tied it off in a flurry of knots.

Jodi twisted in her inescapable bonds and sighed. Lisa stood before her helpless sibling, hands on hips. "You're monster chow now, Shrimp!" she gloated.

"Don't be mean," I whispered, nudging Lisa in the ribs. She shrugged, blew her sister a kiss, and walked away to sort the remaining rope.

I leaned close to Jodi's well-gagged face. "You okay?" I whispered. She sighed again... and winked. I winked back... (Ya gotta love this kid, ya know?) ...then turned to rejoin the group.

I noticed the arm-bound and gagged Debra edging towards the still open door. "Don't even think about it!" I warned. A big grin on her face, Erin walked over, closed the door, and turned a skeleton key in the lock. I crooked a finger and motioned for Debra to join me. She sheepishly ambled to my side. I grabbed her arm ropes with one hand and escorted her towards the rope pile. "Care to help me make a selection?" I inquired pleasantly.

"Uh... there's not a lot there left to choose from," Lisa observed, squatting on her heels among the remaining coils. She looked up at Erin. "Got any more?"

Erin laughed. "We just moved, remember? We got a lot of stuff."

Our game continues ...and we learn all is not as it seems!

Lisa and Erin left to scrounge for Villain Supplies while I dealt with Debra. Given carte blanche to use up the remaining rope, I did. I backed Deb against a support column a few feet to the left of Jodi's chair, and set to work. Soon she was squirming against the gray, unpainted wood, ropes encircling the column and her chest and shoulders, waist, above and below her knees, and her ankles. I was careful to position the knots on all the ropes where she couldn't possibly reach them (assuming, of course, that the ropes already binding her wrists and arms somehow miraculously evaporated.) I also hitched and cinched the ropes so she couldn't even shift things around, no matter how she squirmed and twisted her bound body.

I stepped back and Assumed the Position (hands on hips, Standard Villainess Pose #1A.) "E'yah'ha'haaa!" I chortled. "That will hold you, my amateur detective friend," I gloated, "you and your cub reporter companion. Bet you're sorry now you stuck your pretty little noses in the affairs of... The Interplanetary Syndicate of Crime!" No... that didn't sound right. "Uh... The Global Criminal Consortium!" Still not right. "...the League of Bad Guys?" Debra and Jodi glanced at each another, then rolled their eyes and sighed in unison. "Okay, okay, I've got it!" I said. (I love a captive audience.) "I'm the head of a counterfeiting ring, and you two... are toast!" Again on cue, lightning struck, followed by rumbling thunder. Hands still on hips, I put my head back and laughed.

"My, aren't we maniacal," Erin commented. I turned to find Erin and Lisa standing in the doorway, each with a cardboard box in their arms. (The attic floor was creaky as hell, but apparently the stairs had been framed by a Master Carpenter.) "Villainess gloating included," I explained, blushing. "No additional charge."

Erin and Lisa laughed and set down their loads. "About a dozen partial rolls of carton sealing tape," Lisa said, tallying their finds, "three rolls of duct tape (one still unopened), several more coils of thick nylon rope "

"We used it to tie our luggage to the roof rack," Erin explained.

" some cotton clothesline," Lisa continued, glaring at Erin to protest the interruption, "some cable ties, some old nylons "

"From the rag bag," Erin said. "We put them over the end of the outside vent of the clothes dryer. They catch the lint that gets past the main filter and..." (She noticed Lisa glaring again.) "Sorry!"

" and some more sock-balls," Lisa finished.

I peered into the boxes and a shudder went down my spine. The possibilities were... limitless!

Erin and I turned at the sound of rattling dice. Lisa was kneeling on the floor. "C'mon!" she urged. "I want my turn."

"Anxious to get tied up are we?" Erin inquired.

"I want to be Villainess," Lisa explained, and slammed down the cup on the bare floor, "and practice on you guys. I can tie up Jodi any ol' time." (Jodi twisted in her bonds and vociferously (if impotently) protested this assertion.)

We joined Lisa on the floor and gazed at the cup. Lisa swallowed and slowly picked it up, revealing the dice. "Three plus Five plus five is..." Lisa laughed. "Thirteen! Read 'em and weep!"

I loaded the cup, shook it, and slammed it down. Lisa groaned when we tallied the result. "Four five five; fourteen!" I crowed, smiling at my two un-bound companions. "Somebody's getting tied up next, and it won't be me!"

Jodi and Deb watched all this with great attention, but we ignored them completely. (Once the main gloating is over, that happens a lot when you're a helpless damsel.)

Erin grinned (a little nervously) and made her roll. "Six six five!" she read. I grinned and Lisa groaned again, much louder this time.

"Oh maaaaan!" the soon-to-be-helpless-damsel complained.

"No wrestling match, okay?" I suggested to the disgruntled blonde.

"Yeah, we're dirty enough already just from being up here," Erin said. "If we start rolling around on the floor..."

"Okay," Lisa agreed with a theatrical sigh. "Where do you want me?"

Erin looked around, standing and brushing the dust off her knees and the seat of her shorts. She spotted an old wooden armchair and dragged it over to Jodi's right. Erin gave it a violent shake. It creaked a little but seemed pretty solid. (I guess it had been relegated to the attic for reasons of style.) Erin made a Grand Gesture. "Your throne awaits, Princess," she said sweetly.

Glowering like a wet cat, Lisa stalked to the chair and sat down, raising a minor dust cloud. She looked to the left, found her already bound sibling laughing behind her gag, and scowled.

"Want some advice?" I asked Erin.

"No," she said with a confident smile, then went to rummage in the boxes of binding stuff. She selected two old nylons and tossed them to Lisa. "Over your hands and arms," she ordered.

Lisa was puzzled. "Huh?"

"Like gloves," I coached. (I could see where this was going.)

"Oh," Lisa said, donned the nylons (like overly long, sheer, fingerless opera gloves), and laid her arms on the armrests... then jerked them back and crossed them over her chest. "Oh!" she repeated. (I guess now she could see where things were going too.)

Erin grinned and approached with a roll of duct tape. She knelt beside Lisa's chair and waited patiently.

Lisa sighed and put her nylon covered arms back on the armrests mumbling something (no doubt very rude) under her breath.)

"Scoot back as far as you can," Erin instructed. Lisa did as ordered and now her rump and spine were snug against the chair's back and her entire forearms flat on the armrests, her shrouded fingers curled over the ends. Erin ripped some tape free and took three tight turns around the armrest and Lisa's left wrist, then three more turns went around the wood and Lisa's upper arm, just below her elbow. Lisa's right wrist and right forearm were taped down as well, then Erin returned to the boxes and produced several partial rolls of carton sealing tape. "Let's use up some of these nearly finished rolls, shall we?"

Lisa, Debra, Jodi, and myself exchanged rather surprised looks. Erin was not acting like a newbie.

"Uh... Erin?" I asked.

"Yes?" Erin answered sweetly as she wrapped (make that mummified) Lisa's left arm to the armrest, from wrist to elbow.

"I thought you hadn't done this sort of thing before," I said.

"Did I say that?" Erin inquired innocently as she wrapped Lisa's left arm.

"Uh..." I managed eloquently.

"Summer vacations. Lots of cousins. Twenty acres of woods behind my aunt's house," Erin explained. (Well, sort of explained. We got her meaning.)

"Oh...," Lisa and I said together.

Lisa twisted her arms (tried, anyway.) "What sort of games did you guys... Hey! m'mmpfh!"

Erin had popped a sock-ball in Lisa's mouth. "Hold that for me, would you please?" she asked pleasantly. Lisa grumbled but didn't spit out the cotton stuffing. "We can chat later. Right now you're busy being helpless, remember?" She smiled at Lisa, then up at me.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Clearly, we'd been suckered... sort of.

Erin lifted Lisa's left ankle and pulled it back under the chair and alongside the brace running between the front and back legs. "If the feet are off the floor," she explained as she wrapped duct tape around ankle and brace, "it makes it much more difficult to slide the chair around... nearly impossible."

That chill was back again. Great! Now she was lecturing me on technique.

Meanwhile, Erin had dealt with Lisa's right ankle. She made a trip to the boxes and returned with several long coils of nylon rope. Over the next several minutes, bands of rope were passed around Lisa'a waist. chest. upper arms, shoulders, thighs, knees, and calves, leaving the tan blonde virtually melded to the chair, her shoulders back and bent knees wide apart, rope coils looped around and around her bare legs and her already tape enshrouded arms.

I glanced down at the sole of Lisa's right foot. It was filthy, almost black with ground in grime. I started to say something disparaging... then lifted my own right foot and took a gander. We all have mega-grungy feet, I mused, in fact we're all pretty filthy from wandering around up here. (On the other hand... I mean foot... Jodi's still upturned soles were only dirty. (She did get a free ride from the bedroom, remember.))

Lisa was twisting in her rope and tape bonds. The chair creaked slightly (less than it had when Erin tested its strength), wobbled a little... and that was it. Lisa wasn't going anywhere.

Erin leaned close and examined Lisa's face. "You have a little smudge on the tip of your nose," she announced, licked her right index finger, and carefully rubbed the appendage in question. I smiled. Lisa's eyes were crossed, trying to follow the progress of Erin's grooming efforts. Lisa opened her jaw a little and the the end of the sock-ball started emerging from between her lips. Instantly Erin's hand was over Lisa's lips, pushing the cotton ball back into the captive's mouth. Lisa tried to twist her head to the side to escape this freckled hand-gag, but her grinning captor would have none of it. "Penny," Erin purred, "tear me about... oh... an eight inch strip of that duct tape, would you please?"

"Uh... sure," I mumbled, and did as requested. Lisa growled through Erin's rolled anklets and hand gag and glared at me. "Don't look at me like that," I said defensively. "You'd do it in a heartbeat if I was in your place."

Lisa disagreed, but wasn't in a position to explain her reasoning. Erin slapped and smoothed the tape over Lisa's lips, then two more strips in a wide "X." "Hold her hair up," Erin ordered. In a bit of a daze I complied, and Erin took several tight turns of carton tape completely around Lisa's head, covering her lower face from below her nose to the tip of her chin. "This stuff comes off easier," Erin explained. I nodded absently, my eyes watching Lisa grimace and work her jaw behind the swathing of translucent, sticky, brown plastic. I assumed Erin was finished... but she wasn't. Three layered bands of silver-gray duct tape went around Lisa's head, over the carton tape. Now Erin was finished.

We stood back and watched Lisa shake her head and struggle in her bonds. The patter of rain on the window across the attic was louder than her attempts at speech. I stepped behind Lisa's chair, pulled off the rubber band securing my helpless friend's ponytail, and ran my fingers through her hair. "I don't suppose you brought a hairbrush or comb?" Erin shook her head, a warm smile on her freckled face. I used my fingers to straighten Lisa's blonde locks as best I could, then gathered them back into a ponytail and snapped on the band. A few wispy strands escaped my efforts, but she did look better.

Erin and I eyed the waiting dice, and Erin's smile grew slightly... feral. "Time for the endgame," she announced.

Who will win, & who will lose? (...& what will happen then?)

The storm was definitely getting worse. It wasn't a hurricane or anything, but the thunder and lightning was coming faster and closer, the rain striking the attic window with greater ferocity.

Five sets of eyes stared at the dice cup, three pair belonging to already bound and gagged damsels, one to a soon-to-be bound and gagged damsel, and one to the Grand Villainess... but of course only the fate of those in the first category was a done deal.

Erin turned and smiled at me. "You want to roll first?" she asked.

I swallowed and shook my head, afraid my voice would crack if I tried to speak.

Erin reached out and picked up the cup. One by one she dropped the three red, six-sided die into the cup, shook it for several long, very long seconds. (C'mon! Get on with it! (I tried not to fidget.)) WHAM! Erin slammed the cup to the floor (causing myself and my bound and gagged companions to flinch.) Sloooowly she lifted the cup.

"Three two two," I read. "Seven!" A lucky number, but in this game, there were several numbers even luckier!

"Too bad," I sighed, feeling a lot more confident.

"Do your gloating after you win," Erin advised. (Her confidence seemed to have faltered a little, but she was still smiling.)

My hand shaking, I dropped the dice in the cup, gave it a quick rattle, and slammed it down. I took a deep breath... and lifted the cup.

"One two ..." I had a lump in my throat and was unable to continue.

"One!" Erin said, finishing for me.

Unconsciously I glanced towards the still open door... (Erin hadn't locked it when she and Lisa returned with their boxes of bondage booty.) ...then back at Erin. "Don't worry," I said. "I won't run."

"I know," Erin said with an evil grin, "but it doesn't really matter. I run Track, remember? What's your best time in the 100 meters?"

"With or without first tripping and kicking my opponent in the head?" I countered.

Erin smiled. Her gaze traveled around the attic... and settled on the shrouded tailor's dummy. She walked over and slowly pulled the dust cloth from the headless, very feminine shape. Despite her best efforts she raised a considerable dust cloud. Jodi sneezed behind her gag. "Gesundheit!" Erin said, still smiling.

The dummy was a set of padded, articulated panels in the shape of a female torso, an adult female torso. It was adjustable, a mechanism allowing the panels to be moved in and out, simulating a wide range of measurements. This particular dummy was clamped down tight... apparently to simulate the figure of Barbie's slightly more buxom and wasp-waisted sister. The dummy was on a flat, wheeled stand (low and wide to give the dummy stability yet allow the tailor or seamstress to get as close as they cared.) It also had a telescoping central post that allowed adjustments in height. A padded, mushroom-like knob protruded through the top of the dummy's neck (to serve as a hat rack.)

"This'll do," Erin announced.

I eyed the artificial torso uncertainly. "Uh, for what?" I managed finally.

Erin grabbed some cotton clothesline from the boxes, stepped back to the dummy, and crooked her finger at me. "Come hither, Fair Damsel," she giggled. I sighed and ambled towards my soon-to-be captor, my arms crossed over my chest. "Step up back-to-back, and put your arms behind you, around Miss Dummy's waist," Erin ordered.

Now I understood. I swallowed, stepped gingerly onto the dummy's platform and pressed my back to, uh, "hers." Erin grabbed my wrists and held them together at the dummy's narrow waist (about where my padded friend's belly button would have been, had she had one.) Several tight loops, cinches, and hitches later, and my wrists were tied together, palm-to-palm. Next I felt the soft rope being hitched around my touching thumbs, then stretched to my waist, from either side. Erin stepped into view, smiled, and crossed the free ends across my stomach. "Inhale!" she ordered. I complied (my belly button peeked into view as the bottom of my tank-top lifted slightly), and Erin tied a tight, double square knot. Erin affectionately patted my cheek and stepped behind me, out of sight again.

"I think if you stretch your ankles back here on this side of the post things'll be more stable," Erin suggested.

"I don't know if eep!"

Erin had grabbed my ankles and pulled them back until my legs were stretched and I was up on my toes. I must have looked like one of those old statues from the 1920's. (Art Deco I think they call it?) My Aunt Susan has a table lamp like that, a skinny naked chick leaning back and holding up a globe. Clothesline went around my ankles and the post and now I was a statue.

"Struggle," she ordered. "I want to make sure your center of gravity's okay."

"I don't know..." I mumbled.

"I won't let you fall. You want some encouragement?" Erin asked, and lightly tickled my ribs. I giggled and did indeed struggle. I did not fall over. "How rude of us," Erin said.

"What?" I gasped, still panting from Erin's "encouragement."

My redheaded captor pointed towards the other bound damsels cluttering the attic. Three gagged heads were bobbing and necks being craned as they strained to watch what Erin was doing to me.

"Your audience awaits," Erin giggled, grabbed the rope stretching across my stomach, and wheeled me to center stage.

I blushed as Erin spun me in a slow circle, letting Debra, Jodi, and Lisa get a good look at her handiwork. All three seemed suitably impressed.

"There's still a lot more rope work to do, of course," Erin said, "but would you rather be gagged now, or after I finish the rest of the tying?"

No need to rush that part. "I'd just as soon wait 'til m'mmpfh!"

I'd developed an instant case of socks-in-mouth, of course. Erin giggled as she ripped several strips of duct tape from a roll. I glared at her but didn't expel my gag (brave, stoic, heroic damsel that I am.) "I know, it's a dirty trick," Erin chuckled, "but I like quiet when I work." The thunder clashed, quite loud and close this time. "...not that I always get it, of course."

She gave me a gag essentially the same as Lisa's: socks, duct tape " " and "X," head encircling carton tape, and head encircling duct tape. "That'll do," Erin gloated, then picked up a long, thick coil of nylon rope and set about her remaining task.

It took a while. Shoulders, elbows, waist, thighs, knees, and ankles, I was eventually bound as completely as Jodi, as inescapably as Debra, as tightly hitched as Lisa. I snuggled my back and butt against the dummy (about the only motion possible in my condition), grateful for her firm padding, and especially grateful that whoever had used her last hadn't left any pins. As a final touch, Erin wheeled me next to Debra, tied one end of a coil of rope around the dummy's hat rack-knob, tossed the other end over a rafter, pulled it taut, and tied it off to Deb's post.

"There," Erin gloated, clapping her hands to remove the dust, "now you can't possibly tip over."

Now Erin assumed Villainess Pose #1A and slowly surveyed her four helpless captives, an evil smile on her freckled, angelic face. "We didn't discuss how long your games last, did we?" she noted. The four of us (the helpless four) exchanged slightly worried glances. "My cousins used to tie me up and leave me for hours. I survived, so I don't suppose you'll all croak on me if I turn out the light, lock the door, go downstairs, take a nice looong bubble bath, then find mom and tell her "

"Tell mom what?" a voice demanded.

The five of us gasped! (...one un-gagged gasp, four gagged gasps.) Erin's mom was standing in the attic doorway!

BUSTED! ...& you thought things were spooky before???

Erin's mom was wearing the same pretty sun dress from when she'd made her popcorn delivery... and a fierce scowl. Her freckled arms were crossed over her chest and she was in full you-are-in-so-much-trouble-young-lady mode, complete maternal meltdown. "Well?"

"Uh... we're... uh... playing," Erin explained sheepishly.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Farrell stormed past her highly embarrassed daughter and inspected her captive house guests. (And I thought I blushed bright red when I got embarrassed. Erin's face was one solid freckle.) Erin's maternal unit went over us one by one, inspecting our bonds and gags, all the while clucking and shaking our head. "You poor thing," she whispered when she came to me. "Are you okay, Penny dear?" I nodded (blushing furiously.)

She stepped back to the open space before us (the bound and gagged us) and the door. Erin fidgeted about two paces behind her, doing her best to turn invisible (and failing miserably.)

"You're sure you're alright?" Mrs. Farrell asked, addressing us all. We nodded and hummed eloquent agreement through her daughter's old socks and our various scarves, bandages, and tape layers. "...and this is a game you all agreed to play?" We nodded again (including Jodi, although she hadn't exactly volunteered as you'll remember.)

"T-They're okay, mom," Erin stammered. "I wouldn't "

"Put a sock in it!" Mrs. Farrell ordered, then turned back to her captive audience and smiled. "Does anyone want to be untied?"

We exchanged rather surprised and sheepish glances... all except Jodi, who shook her head emphatically NO, forcing a "Nuh-huh!" noise past her gag. We took our cue and shook our heads as well.

"Okay, then," Mrs. Farrell continued. "I'll let you play for a bit, then we can clean up and have dinner. I was coming up to tell you I've called your mothers and they all agree that because of this storm " She was interrupted by a flash of lightning and a nearly simultaneous and very LOUD clap of thunder. "My goodness! That was close!" She walked over to Jodi and leaned close. "You okay, Little One?" Jodi's eyes smiled above her gag. She squirmed in her bonds, basking in Mrs. F's maternal concern. Lisa snorted through her gag and rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Farrell laughed and stepped back to center stage. "As I was saying, because of this storm, we're going to turn this into a sleep-over, okay?" We all nodded happily. This was gonna be fun! "There's plenty of room and you can wear Erin's PJ's while I wash your clothes."

"Thanks mom," Erin said. "You want me to... uh..."

Whatever she was going to ask, she didn't finish, but watched as her mom reached into one of the boxes, pulled out an old nylon stocking and a sock-ball. Erin swallowed nervously as her mom slid the rolled anklets into the middle of the stocking, and tossed into her daughter's hands.

"I said 'put a sock in it,'" Mrs. Farrell ordered.

"Mom!" Erin complained. "Don't make me "

"What did I tell you when I found cousin Christine tied to that tree?" Erin's mom demanded.

"Uh," Erin fidgeted nervously, her downcast eyes on her own wiggling, dirty toes, "...we should ask permission before playing tie-up games?"

"Or?" Mrs. Farrell demanded,

"Uh, I'd get a taste of my own medicine." Erin lifted her gaze. "But they were showing me how they play and "

"Nice try!" Erin's mom said, then pointed at the nylon and sock in Erin's hands. "Take your medicine."

"Oh mom!" Erin sighed, but (to our stunned amazement), thrust the sock into her own mouth and tied the ends of the stocking behind her head.

Her mom tossed her two hanks of clothesline. "On the floor, right here," she ordered. "Ankles and knees."

Erin sat on the dusty floorboards and used the rope to tie her ankles and knees together. Her mom grabbed more rope, knelt behind her daughter, and tied Erin's wrists behind her back, then tied several bands of the soft cotton around Erin's arms, shoulders, elbows, and waist, cinching the ropes tight, until they dimpled her daughter's freckled arms and the fabric of her tank-top. She then untied, cinched (causing Erin to flinch), and retied Erin's ankles and knees.

"If you're going to tie your friends up tight," Mrs. Farrell said, "then you get tied up tight. Get on your knees and lean forward," she ordered. It took two tries, but Erin finally made it. "Interlace those grubby fingers," Mrs. Farrell ordered, "and make a double fist." We all watched Erin clench her hands together. Her head was bowed, her now smudged forehead touching her dirty, bound knees. Her mother took a roll of carton tape and mummified Erin's hands, then covered the ball of sticky, brown plastic with multiple tight layers of silver duct tape. "I don't think you'll be untying any knots now," she gloated, "will you?"

This was incredible! Not only was Mrs. Farrell letting us play... she was playing too! I squirmed in my bonds. Incredible!

Mrs. Farrell tied one end of a rope to her daughter's ankles, then tied the other end to the post to which I had tied Debra. The rope was long and acted as a leash more than anything else. "...and now you can roll around and get as grubby and dirty as you please, Tickle Elf." Mrs. Farrell added. "You'll be getting the last turn in the shower," she advised, "so you better hope your friends don't use up all the hot water first."

("Tickle Elf?" Erin was going to get some serious grief over that one. "Tickle Elf!!!")

Mrs. Farrell then walked over to Jodi, leaned very close, and began whispering in the bound and gagged munchkin's ear... and whispering... and whispering. Lisa, Debra, and I exchanged a curious glance. Jodi's eyes went wide... then wider... then wider yet and she squealed through her gag. I was alarmed for a second, then realized she was laughing. "You sure you're okay with all that?" Mrs. Farrell asked. Her eyes twinkling, Jodi nodded. Lisa, Debra and I exchanged a very curious glance. Erin, who had been filling the time using herself as a dust mop (rolling on the floor and testing her bonds), looked up. She seemed as confused as the rest of us.

Mrs. Farrell walked back to her daughter, leaned close and tightened Erin's gag, eliciting a muffled complaint. "What a grubby little kitten," she sighed. (It was true. "Tickle Elf" was indeed a sorry, soiled mess.) "I know someone who's going to spend the next few days cleaning the attic."

"Wah wah!" Erin whined. (My Gaglish-to-English dictionary translates that as "Aw mom!")

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time," Mrs. Farrell said, shaking her index finger in her bound, gagged, and forlorn daughter's smudged, freckled face. Deb, Lisa, Jodi and I chortled behind our gags, enjoying the predicament of the "winner" of our little game. "Tickle Elf" glared at us angrily as her mother strolled to the attic doorway, turned and waved, then gracefully glided down the stairs.

A few seconds later the overhead light went out. (Allow me to rephrase that.) A few seconds later... THE OVERHEAD LIGHT WENT OUT!!!

Thunder and lightning! Rain beating on the attic windows! Virtually INK BLACK DARKNESS between lightning flashes! CREEPY shadows! Lisa, Debra, and I were struggling for all we were worth and screaming through our gags! Erin was rolling on the floor, getting nowhere fast! My heart was hammering in my chest and I was panting through my nose.

Then lightning flashed again... and I noticed Jodi was not struggling and mewing. In fact, she was... smiling above her gag! That little creep! Erin's mom had warned her! Brat!

It took me about a minute for my heart rate to settle down to something resembling normal panic, by which time the others had relaxed as well. They'd also figured out why Jodi wasn't a gibbering vegetable. The only one in a position to do anything about it, Erin, slowly slithered over to the chair-bound munchkin and kicked the grinning little twerp's bound feet with her own bound feet.

Erin kicked Jodi again, and we all heard a loud "M'mwr'rr'wr mf'ftw'rwwr!" issue from the direction of Lisa's chair. (Gaglish-to-English: "The only one who abuses the Shrimp is me, 'Tickle Elf!'" (or words to that effect.))

Before this drama could be resolved... (How do you resolve something like that when everyone involved is bound and gagged in near total darkness?) ...we were interrupted by a startled "EERP!!!" from Deb's direction.

What was she so excited about? (...besides being bound and gagged in a dark, spooky attic?) ...and then I saw it! There was an eerie green light shining up the stairs from below... and it was getting brighter!!! ...and closer!!!

...&closer!!! And then a dark shadow came into view, cast against the angled ceiling of the stairwell! ...and the shadow got larger!!! ...and larger!!! And then what was casting the shadow came into view!

It was a sinister human figure in a dark, hooded cape, carrying an antique lantern! The green light was emanating from the lantern, and we couldn't see the figure's face... or even if it had a face!

The specter glided up the stairs and into the attic... and towards us!!! We struggled and screamed through our gags! The floor creaked as the ghost or spirit or whatever it was came closer and closer and dash lightning flashed dash and for a few seconds I could see the ghostly apparition in greater detail.

It was ERIN'S MOM!!! She was wearing a velvet cloak with a deep hood, and long dark gloves. She'd draped a sheer, gauzy scarf under the hood and over her face like a veil (to obscure her features.) The lantern had some of those plastic "chem-light" things in it (the kind you give a snap and shake and they glow?) That was the source of the eerie light.

Again, Jodi was in on the joke, squirming in her bonds and laughing at our distress through her gag. With great chagrin, Debra, Lisa, Erin, and I relaxed in our bonds and sighed through our gags. (Lisa told me later she almost had an accident when "the ghost" first "floated" into view. (I'll leave the tale of Lisa's subsequent cruel-and-unusual revenge on her little sister for another time.))

Anyway, Mrs. Farrell removed her cape and set it and the lantern on the floor near Erin. (Our "ghostly visitor" was still wearing the same sun dress underneath.) She then removed her gloves, extracted one of the chem-lights from the lantern, and walked over and placed it in the back of the old doll's house. It cast a cold, green luminescence throughout the interior of the miniature mansion, backlighting the forlorn doll on the porch. Spooky!!!

Mrs. F returned to her spread cape, gracefully settled to the floor, reached into the cape's pocket and produced a book and a small book-light (one of those clip-on, read-in-bed things.) She clicked on the light and gave her captive audience a sloooow, theatrical, sweeping gaze, her face grave and weirdly lit from below by the book-light's tiny white bulb.

"Collected Ghost Stories, by Montague Rhodes James," Mrs. F read aloud, then paused as Erin squirmed towards her. We watched as our game-winning "Grand Villainess" snuggled close and settled her gagged head on her mom's lap. Mrs. F smiled and ran her fingers through Erin's tousled hair, then turned her attention back to the book. She cleared her throat and began reading us a story: "The Haunted Doll's House."

Like I said, Erin's mom is cool!