Three Daring Damsel Dilemmas

The Handover

Che Quinnvara stood at the prow of her boat as the sun rose over the Caribbean Sea. The water was a millpond, barely a wave lapped the hull and the clear horizon was bathed in a beautiful orange glow. Quinnvara breathed in the still ocean air, already full of humidity and indicative of how hot it would later become. In normal circumstances it would have been the perfect day to lounge on the beach in the shade of the palm tree with an expensive cocktail. But today was not a normal day. Today the dictatress, ruler of her self-proclaimed island paradise near the West Indies, had pressing business to attend to.

    She reaffixed the army beret on her jet black hair, tilting her strong, dignified face in the direction of the rising sun. Behind her stood a pair of hulking goons on either flank, members of her private army. Without turning to face them she ordered, "Bring me the hostages!" Her goons disappeared into the depths of the ship to carry out her request, while she remained outside enjoying the seascape. A few minutes later the peace and quiet was shattered by a cacophony of muffled grunts and angry protests.

    Quinnvara turned around and saw her goons holding fast a trio of young women, all of whom were bound with thick rope about their upper bodies and restraining their hands behind their back. Gagged with multiple strips of grey tape they glared defiantly at the dictatress while she paced up and down in front of them.

    "So thought it would be a good idea to spy on my domain did you?" she barked brusquely at them. "Thought you'd report all my secrets to my great rival? You're lucky to still be of use to me, because my pool of Piranhas is always hungry."

    "Llllllmmm ssss ggggnnnnn!" the women chorused through their gags, dressed in a variety of military uniforms. They didn't let any fear creep into their expressions. It was clear their allegiance was to someone else.

    Their eyes lit up as a boat appeared on the horizon, originating from the direction of the island less than a hundred miles from Quinnvara's own. It was on a direct bearing for their craft, getting closer and closer. Quinnvara used a telescope to view the boat, focusing on the woman in military dress stood on the prow, who was viewing her back through her own telescope.

    Soon the boats were side by side. The engines were cut and anchors dropped so they remained only a matter of metres from each other. Quinnvara no longer needed a telescope to see this woman. She could recognise the form of her dictatorial rival Martha clear as day now.

    "You're forty five seconds late," Quinnvara chided as Martha's goons started unloading two long planks of wood from their boat.

    "Punctual as always Quinnvara," Martha commented bluntly. "I trust you have missiles locked on my vessel?"

    "Precisely five more than you have locked on mine," Quinnvara retorted as the planks of wood were lowered over the sides of both boats, creating a bridge between them. "Shall we get this over with?"

     Martha nodded, than clicked her fingers. From within her ship her own goons pulled out three trussed hostages of their own. Quinnvara recognised the three bound and gagged women staring back at her. They were the spies she'd sent to investigate her rival's regime. Her own hostages were Martha's spies sent to repeat the same courtesy.

    The hostages were arranged into lines and then ordered to step up onto the gangplanks. Then in perfect synchronicity they walked over the wood into the opposing boats. Their footsteps echoed off the wood, even as it creaked and groaned trying to support their weight. The hostage women passed by like cars on a single lane carriageway, not looking at either line as they walked. They were more preoccupied in ensuring they didn't lose their footing and fall into the deep blue sea below.

     But as it was they all made it over safely. Martha didn't hang about; the moment the hostages had embarked on their respective boats the planks were raised, removing the bridge between the two boats. She then stood tall and defiant as she announced with an air of arrogance, "Pleasure doing business with you Quinnvara!"

     "I suppose so," Quinnvara replied curtly, though she was deeply distrustful of how smug Martha appeared all of a sudden. But neither said a word or tried anything bold as both boats turned around in long sweeping circles, both parties knowing that any reckless action on their parts would result in their mutual destruction. Soon all that could be seen of Martha's vessel was a tiny speck on the horizon.

    "Welcome back agents!" Quinnvara then said to her operatives as her goons removed their tapegags. "I trust your mission was successful?"

    "Very," confirmed Agent 16, a blonde woman dressed in a navy skirt suit, even as the ropes were unwound from her body. "During my undercover posting on board Martha's newest aircraft carrier I uncovered her plans to build ten more such vessels."

    "I only wish I hadn't got caught, I could have learnt more," said the Latino lady disguised in the uniform of Martha's land army.

    But Quinnvara did not seem too upset. She was even smiling. "It is of no concern Agent 23. It gave me an opportunity to enact operation Red Beach."

     The last of the hostages, a raven haired lady codenamed Agent 8, commented while watching the others being untied, "So one of the hostages you handed over was actually a double agent? How cunning of you madam."

    Quinnvara's smile intensified as she stared intently at Agent 8. "Thank you very much. I know it was a cunning move, as it was a cunning move on the part of Martha sending you back to act as a double agent against me."

    Suddenly Agent 8's expression was filled with surprise. "But surely you can't think I would betray you in such a mannnnngggg mmmmm!"

    Quinnvara simply chuckled triumphantly as her goon re-gagged Agent 8, slapping more tape over her protesting lips. "Save your tongue for when it's consuming prison food traitor. But don't worry; I'm sure you'll be reunited with your precious Martha when we complete next month's hostage transfer. Now get her out of my sight!"

    Ignoring the muffled cries from her traitorous double agent as she was escorted to the boats brig, Quinnvara stared out to see and once again took in the view, as the rising sun illuminated the approaching landmass that made up her self-proclaimed island paradise.



The Revenge of Dr Ludwig

"Oh how long I've waited to enact my revenge on you, young lady!" Dr Ludwig announced in triumph as he gazed up at his pair of dangling captives, while lightning flashed through the window of his secret lair.

    "Ppppptttt ssss ddddwwwnnnn!" Ashley half pleaded, half demanded, through the white cloth pulled tightly over her lips and knotted securely underneath her long blonde ponytail. She gave a desperate tug against the rigid chains coiled about her waist and arms and then attached to a winch above her head, keeping her suspended a good twenty feet above the vat of glowing green liquid below her feet.

    Behind Ashley her dark haired friend Spencer gave a loud cry of, "Hhhhhhnnnn ddddnnn yyyynnn  ttthhhnnnkk yyyynn rrrrr?" as she struggled for freedom as well. The same chains were coiled around her waist and arms, fixing both girls back to back. But in addition to their arms being pinned against their sides their hands were also conjoined by more chains, as were their legs at the knees and ankles. The cold metal chafed Ashley's bare legs above her purple converse shoes, and she was jealous of the brown leather cowboy boots being worn by her Texan friend.

     Dr Ludwig was stood on a raised metal platform, on the same level as his duo of young lady captives, though they were dangling well out of his reach. He could barely contain his delighted giggles. Ever since Ashley had intruded upon a demonstration of his greatest invention, the Bindomaton 3000, his life had taken a turn for the worst. He'd thought he'd done enough to ensure the blonde snoop wouldn't go blabbing about his secret project, yet against all odds she'd managed to escape and alert the authorities. Since then he'd been forced underground as the police seized his wealth and inventions, leaving him close to despair. His lust for revenge kept him going, and he left a trail of breadcrumbs for Ashley and her cowgirl friend to follow. Their inability to resist a mystery led them right into his trap.

     "You're probably a bit fed up of hanging around like this," he remarked, chortling at his terrible pun. "So I've arranged for you to enjoy a brief dip in my special concoction below."

    Ashley cast her eyes down to the steaming, glowing green liquid over which she dangled. 'The old slow descent into the pit of acid peril, how cliché can you get?' she thought almost inanely.

     But as if he'd read her mind, Dr Ludwig continued, "Oh but this is so much more than a pool of acid or lava. This is my nanobroth, a thick liquid filled with billions and billions of microscopic nanobots. I have programmed them all so that they fuse with human skin, changing DNA and the chemical makeup of the body. They replace skin with metal, arteries with wiring and fill the brain with silicon chips. Enough flesh will be retained so you retain your basic human identity and form, but you'll become fully augmented cyborgs: Half metal/half human creations and slaves to my will."

     Right on cue, more lightning flashed throughout the room as the mad scientist's scheme was revealed. Ashley glanced again at the bubbling mixture below and thought, 'Ok, maybe a bit worse than an acid bath.'

     Then with a manic laugh that reverberated throughout his lair, Dr Ludwig pulled a large lever on the wall. Ashley and Spencer squealed as the lock on the winch was released, and then slowly but surely they began to descend towards the nanobroth.

    Immediately Ashley began wriggling and twisting with everything she had, pushing forward against the chains encircling her torso and purple hoodie, trying to pull her hands and feet free. This brought a sequence of furious grunts from behind her, as Spencer reacted to these desperate wriggles and to having her own hands and feet yanked backwards and forwards. But it all seemed futile. Even if somehow they could wriggle loose what good would it do, dangling precariously as they were over such a dangerous substance?

     The winch lowered them slowly but surely, neither faltering nor juddering. The only thing making the chains rustle or clink was their repeated struggles. Ashley looked up at the sneering face of Dr Ludwig and pleaded, "Dddddnnnttt dddd tthhhsss ppplllsss!" But even though the scientist understood her muffled cries perfectly, he did nothing but laugh. She felt no heat from the bubbling concoction now just metres away from her toes. Yet sweat poured down her brow regardless as she became overwhelmed by nerves. It was looking hopeless. Only an act of God would save her and Spencer now.

   And then, with only seconds remaining, they got one.

    There was a blinding lightning flash and a thunderclap that shook the buildings foundations. Milliseconds later the room was plunged into darkness. Every light went out and the winch stopped dead, leaving Ashley and Spencer suspended just over the pool, which was glowing so radiantly it managed to illuminate both them and the room with its green translucence.

    There was the sound of a match being struck above them, and both girls looked up to see Dr Ludwig lighting a scented candle for light. As the smell of rocky pines wafted down into Ashley's nostrils he frowned in embarrassment as he realised what had occurred. "Blast, the lightning strike has knocked the power out. It'll take hours for the electricity board to get the grid back up."

    Ashley and Spencer breathed easier. Their situation remained precarious, but there was nothing Ludwig could do until the power returned. Perhaps it would give Ashley's sister and the rest of their gang the opportunity to come to their rescue. Or perhaps it would merely delay their dip in the nanobroth.

    Either way, all three were limited to waiting for the power to return. Dr Ludwig exhaled in frustration, leaning on the railing as he gazed down at the pair of restrained girls below. "So erm, fancy hearing a ghost story, or something?" he asked meekly.

    Ashley and Spencer merely rolled their eyes to the ceiling.



Bella's Charity Auction

Bella Jade moaned gently as her eyelids fluttered open. The writers head felt heavy and her vision was blurred. She cast her mind back to before she'd fallen asleep. She'd been at a fancy mansion in the country, dressed to the nines while attending a charity auction. She'd taken one swig of champagne, which had tasted slightly odd, before she blacked out.

    'Oh great, drugged champagne,' she deduced as her senses returned. 'Which probably means…'

    Her instincts proved accurate. She was sat in a high backed wooden chair, kept in place by a large quantity of rope. She peered through her glasses at her bonds. Areas of emerald green fabric, the same shade of her party dress and matching cardigan was visible in between the copious ropes anchoring her body and thighs to the seat. Her hands were pulled around the chair, crossed over and lashed together. Her legs were also bound below her knees and around her ankles. Then for good measure the ropes binding her ankles were also wrapped over her feet underneath the soles of her green suede high heels, and also fixed to the chair's crosspiece.

    Bella gave another moan, now feeling the thick white rag pulled between her teeth and knotted behind her head, resting underneath her flame red hair held in an elegantly crafted bun. But who could be responsible for this?

     The light seemed to intensify about her position. As her vision returned Bella realised she was on a raised platform with a spotlight on her. Through the glare she could see row after row of party guests in tuxedo's and dresses, all staring at her intently. The sharp crash of a gavel made her jump, and she turned her head to see the party host at a stand addressing his audience.

    "And now we come to lot number 43. It is an opportunity to spend a week in the company of this lovely damsel in distress. She's a keen writer and investigator, a beautiful red head with a fiery temperament, and she's no stranger to playing hostess to rope wielding robbers and vagabonds. Now there's a lot of interest in this lot, so the bidding starts at $10,000."

     'Wait, I didn't agree to this!' was what Bella was thinking and wanted to say, but all she could muster through the rag was, "Mmmmm ddddnnnttt gggrrrr tttttnnn ttthhhss!"

     "$12,000," a white bearded man yelled.

     "$13,000," said a younger man with an English accent.

     "A good start," cried the auctioneer. "Any advance on $13,000?"

     "$16,000," said a man on a phone in the corner.

     "$16,000 from our bidder in Washington, do we hear another?"

     Bella stopped struggling for a moment as the Englishman raised his bid to $17,500. 'Really, they think I'm worth that much?' she thought, almost feeling flattered.

    'Wait a minute, that's bad, I don't want to be auctioned off, even if it is for charity,' she rethought, resuming her struggles.

     "$20,000," said the Englishman, upping his initial bid.

     "We've now doubled the original asking price," the auctioneer announced. "But surely we can go higher? Come on ladies and gentlemen it's for charity!"

     "Nnnmmmm nnntttt mmmmggg!" Bella protested, wriggling about in her seat, stamping her high heels against the raised platform. She gave a shake of her head so her neatly arranged bun came loose and her red hair tumbled onto her shoulders. Her display seemed to increase the audience's interest in her. Several more bids were made, two from the white bearded man, one from an elegantly dressed brunette woman, another from the Englishman. Soon the bids had exceeded $30,000.

     "$35,000," the Englishman announced, fending off another bid from the woman bidder. It seemed the ceiling was being reached. Bella knew she had minutes left to wriggle free, but the rope work was tight and unyielding. She could only sit and stare as no-one else upped this Englishman's bid.

    "$35,000 for a week with this lovely damsel," the auctioneer repeated. "Going once…going twice…"

     Bella's frustrated, "MMMMPPPHHH," intermingled with the banging of the gavel. The auction was over. The fact she'd help raise $35,000 for a local orphanage didn't help to quell the nervous pangs in her stomach as the Englishman rose to his feet and signalled his bodyguards who were sat in the corner. Bella couldn't contain her muffled squeaks as they came over and picked her up, still bound to the chair, and began hauling her out to his car in the outside parking lot, even as the audience applauded in appreciation.

    "Ready for a week of fun and games sweetheart?" the Englishman grinned at her as he walked beside her.

    Two days later…

     "There, damsel," the Englishman announced as he placed six tiles on the gridded board. "Plus it's on a triple word score so I gain a lovely twenty seven points I'm afraid."

     "Mmmmmm," Bella responded, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, fearing she was about to lose this round. It had been an interesting two days of fun and games with the Englishman: Monopoly, Backgammon and the like. He'd been a considerate host, feeding her well and even allowing her to change into her favourite pink top and jeans. But he hadn't extended the courtesy to releasing her from her bonds and gag, tied as she was a heavy kitchen chair. She wished they'd be slackened slightly; it was hard playing scrabble with her hands tied together in front of her. She bore the inconvenience; it was for charity after all.

    "Your move," the Englishman remarked as he sipped his glass of scotch. Bella raised her eyebrow at him over her gag as she added four tiles to the 'm' of 'damsel'. Her host couldn't help but chuckle as she used them to form the word 'mmmph' on the Scrabble board.