-----------
Velma Dinkley was about as far from a superstitious person as you could get. From the day she was old enough to walk and talk, she’d dedicated practically every waking moment of her life to proving the supremacy of reason and scientific analysis in the face of irrational fear and supposedly unexplainable phenomena. And going by the hundreds upon hundreds of “monsters” she and her friends had exposed as common criminals in rubber masks over the years, she’d say she was doing a spectacular job so far.
But although she’d never admit it out loud, over the course of her long career as an amateur sleuth, she’d come to regard certain phrases as a guaranteed sign that things were about to go downhill fast. And chief among those phrases was the dreaded “Okay, gang, let’s split up and search for clues!” It never failed: she, Fred, and Daphne would head off one way, Shaggy and Scooby would go the other, and within five minutes at least three of them would be tied up, locked in a room, or chased around by some creep who thought dressing up like a B-movie creature was an important part of any successful real estate scam.
If only she’d known exactly how bad of an omen it would be this time around, she might have decided to take a page out of Scooby’s book and fake a sudden illness.
“C’mon, bookworm, put a little more effort in! If I don’t see that cute, freckled bubble butt shaking around in the next five seconds, I’ll just have to encourage you again!”
“Mmmfff...” Velma whined into her gag as she reluctantly began struggling harder against her bonds, wiggling her panty-clad ass against Daphne’s legs. She didn’t want to do this to her long-time friend, but she also didn’t want to earn another round of paddling from that wooden hairbrush her captor had dug up. Her butt was still practically glowing bright red from the last fifty spanks!
The night had started out no different from any other investigation: an exotic location, reports of spooky shenanigans, and three or four quirky locals who all had something to gain from scaring everyone away. In this case, she and the gang had stopped at a historic hotel building in downtown Chicago, where all the other guests had been driven out by a glowing, ghoulish maid. As usual, Shaggy and Scooby had been sent off to “look for clues” in the hotel restaurant (and presumably get chased around by the maid) while everyone else explored the upper floors.
She’d figured out the mystery in short order, of course. The “ghost maid” was the hotel’s female concierge in glowing face paint, her seemingly impossible ability to appear and disappear from locked rooms was accomplished via secret passages installed by mobsters during the Prohibition era, and she was searching the hotel for the long-lost treasure of infamous racketeer Skinny-Legs Scalletti, who was secretly her great-grandfather.
However, she soon discovered the concierge wasn’t the only criminal operating out of the hotel. When Fred had run off to find Shaggy and Scooby, Daphne had leaned against a nearby section of wall - which promptly spun around, revealing another system of secret passages and hidden rooms unconnected to the one the ghost maid was using. The two girls had decided to explore inside - and what did they find in one of the concealed rooms but the hotel’s head maid using a surprisingly modern-looking press to print stacks of counterfeit money?
Luckily, the shapely blonde was too distracted by her illicit work to notice Daphne and Velma peering through the door behind her, and Velma had seized the opportunity to take a few candid snapshots with her camera as evidence. Unluckily, she’d forgotten she left the flash on after taking a group photo in front of the hotel earlier. She and Daphne didn’t even have time to back away from the door before the maid rounded on them with a gun in her hand, ordering them into the room. Once they were in close, she’d drawn a taser and stunned them one after the other, leaving them lying on the dusty wooden floor with their muscles numb and useless.
In their paralyzed state, neither she nor Daphne had been able to stop the maid from cutting their clothes up with a pair of scissors, leaving only their underwear untouched. Daphne had groaned in protest at the destruction of her designer outfit, but the maid had simply laughed and removed the redhead’s pantyhose, then balled it up into an oversized wad of cloth and stuffed it into her mouth. Five long strips of microfoam tape over her lips ensured she wouldn’t be spitting the enormous mass of packing out anytime soon.
Then, much to Velma’s dismay, the maid had gagged her in the same way using her orange knee socks. For someone like Daphne, who had gotten tied up and gagged so many times that she’d once admitted to Velma that she’d developed a bit of a fetish for it, a massive gag like that was barely a step up from how she usually spent her Saturday nights. But for Velma, who had only been loosely bound a handful of times in her life, it was a whole new experience. She didn’t know how Daphne could enjoy something like this - it had only been about twenty minutes, and her jaw already felt like it was ready to fall off!
But if she thought the gag was uncomfortable and humiliating, it was nothing compared to the way the maid had bound them.
Much like the rest of their night, things had started out normally enough before taking a turn for the perverted. The maid had tied Daphne to a wooden chair, her wrists crossed behind her back and her knees and ankles bound together with white cotton rope. She’d added a couple extra ropes to make the position more secure than normal - two above and below her breasts to pin her back to the chair, and a short loop fastening her ankles to the front crossbar - but nothing too out of the ordinary.
Then she’d bound Velma’s wrists behind her back, picked her up, and plopped her down on a chair - specifically, the same chair Daphne was already tied to.
She’d struggled as best she could with her body still weakened from the taser, but in the end, Velma had been forced to straddle Daphne’s lap, sitting face-to-face with her equally embarrassed friend with their panty-covered crotches rubbing together . Her ankles were tied to the rear legs of the chair, and a rope harness identical to Daphne’s had been tied around her chest and linked to the one the redhead wore, forcing them to keep their breasts squished up against each other.
On some primal level, Velma had to admit it was a little satisfying to see that her boobs were indeed a little bigger than Daphne’s, but this definitely wasn’t the way she wanted to find that out!
As if their position wasn’t humiliating enough, the maid had tied loose-fitting rope collars around the two sleuths’ necks and connected those as well, keeping their faces so close together that their noses practically brushed against each other every time they tried to turn their heads.
And then, on top of all that, she’d picked up Velma’s discarded camera and told them they’d be having a little bit of fun before she left. First, she was going to delete the incriminating photos Velma had taken of her…
CLICK!
“That’s more like it! Now, redhead, start jiggling those bimbo jugs of yours! I want to see you two sluts grinding your tits together like you’re getting paid for it!”
...And then, she was going to fill up the memory card with pictures of Daphne and Velma’s half-naked bodies squirming and struggling against each other while she taunted and tormented them.
Moaning pitifully, Daphne complied with the maid's order, sending tremors of forced arousal down Velma's spine. Thanks to their close proximity and constant grinding, Velma's white cotton bra had been thoroughly soaked with sweat, and Daphne's lacy purple bra had slipped off her chest entirely. With every movement either of the two made, Velma could distinctly feel Daphne's rock-hard nipples pressing against her own - and no matter how she tried to mentally justify it as a purely physical reaction, her dripping wet crotch told a different story.
She knew she couldn't blame Daphne for playing along with their captor's perverted game, though. If the maid felt they weren't putting enough effort into their wriggling, she wouldn't hesitate to tan their hides with her hairbrush as "encouragement", or even start groping them herself to get them in the mood.
Finally, after what felt like nearly half an hour of sweaty struggling and camera flashes, the maid sighed and lowered the camera. “Well, it’s been fun, but I’ve gotta get going. This operation’s been fun while it lasted, but it’s time for me to cut my losses and scram before the cops show up. But hey, I’ve still got room for one more photo on my new camera! How about a group snapshot for the road?”
The maid placed the camera down on a nearby table, set the timer, and jogged over to stand behind her squirming captives.
“Say cheese, girls! Three, two, one… GOTCHA!”
“MMMFF!”
CLICK!
At the last second before the flash, the maid grabbed the backs of Daphne and Velma’s heads and pushed them together, forcing them to mash their taped lips together in a humiliating gagged kiss. While they were still blushing and blinking the spots out of their eyes, they heard the ripping of a roll of microfoam tape, followed shortly by an unexpected pressure around their cheeks as she wound half the remaining roll around their mouths.
Velma groaned in frustration. As if being forced to practically make out with Daphne wasn’t embarrassing enough, now they’d be stuck together in this position until someone found them!
“Perfect! Believe me, I’ll be getting some good mileage out of that one for a couple lonely nights,” the maid laughed, stashing Velma’s camera in the pocket of her uniform. Paying no heed to the girls’ muffled protests, she quickly set about loading her printing plates and stash of counterfeit money into her laundry cart, packing a few stained bedsheets in on top to conceal its contents.
“Don’t worry, girls! You two found this place without much trouble, so I’d say your friends should be able to track you down in… hmmm… an hour, maybe? Two hours at most!” the maid chuckled as she wheeled her ill-gotten gains toward the door. Suddenly, she stopped right next to them, and Velma swore she could see a mischievous smirk out of the corner of her eye.
“Then again, that sounds like a heck of a long time. Maybe I should give you girls something to keep you entertained until they show up?”
The loud humming sound that filled the room was quickly drowned out by Daphne and Velma’s desperate gagged protests and whines. Unfortunately for them, the maid had no intention of going easy on them now, and their whines quickly turned to high-pitched moans as she wedged a battery-operated massage wand into the small gap between their crotches. A few small pieces of tape secured it to Daphne’s stomach, ensuring their struggles wouldn’t inadvertently dislodge it the way they had with Daphne’s bra.
And with that, the maid left the room, pushing her cartful of counterfeit cash out into the secret passageway and leaving the two sleuths to suffer.
...Well, maybe “suffer” was a strong word. With their faces pressed so closely together, Velma couldn’t mistake the glimmer of genuine enjoyment that shone in Daphne’s shimmering blue eyes. As humiliated as she was by what the maid had done to them, the redhead still couldn’t stop herself from getting off on her tight, inescapable bondage.
And as much as she hated to admit it, neither could Velma herself. At least, she hoped it was the bondage that was making her soak clean through her panties. The alternative - that what was truly driving her wild was her close proximity to her beautiful, scantily-clad friend - was almost too mortifying for her to consider.
Whatever the reason for her rapidly-peaking arousal, one thing was for sure: Velma was going to have a hard time looking Daphne in the eye for a while after this. Cumming your brains out all over someone’s lap was the kind of thing that tended to make a friendship awkward, after all, and Velma had a sinking feeling the vibrating wand would drive her over that boundary more than a few times before rescue arrived...
No comments:
Post a Comment