BowPi’s Halloween: Part Two
By Victor Von Doum
BACK ON TOP
Penelope motions to Dewey to start heading up the stairs. Dewey makes the point of catching one last glimpse of the two now-exposed pairs of bodacious tah-tahs before walking upstairs in front of Penelope, who is placing her gun back in her holster. She grabs her re-packed gym bag and shuts off the downstairs lights on her way out, leaving it pitch black down there.
Up in the hallway, Penelope re-opens the exit door, takes a quick peek outside, and deposits her gym bag in the same spot as before. Dewey heads into the bar through the fire door, and props it back open. Penelope follows a few seconds later so as not to appear together. He picks up and removes the “Section Closed” sign, as both he and Penelope know that no one can hear the bound and gagged equestrienne-garbed co-eds, even if they weren’t unconscious and didn’t have their mouths stuffed with silk scarves. Penelope looks around for Heather.
ALL THE NEXT MOVES
During Stef and Erica’s basement kidnapping, Amy finally finds Brett, who had been hanging with Jim and some of his buddies. Amy whispers to him that she wants to go back to Jim’s fraternity house and freshen up a little bit before he gets there, wanting to smell nice for him.
“How long?” Brett inquires.
“Half an hour,” Amy replies, with a flirtatious wink. “Don’t be late.”
Penelope heads up to the second floor and finds Heather, who, decked out in her Dallas Cowgirls outfit, had coincidentally been talking to a couple of guys dressed as football players. Penelope takes her aside and tells her about Stef’s and Erica’s current predicament; Heather smiles in smug satisfaction. Next, Penelope tells her how she had overheard her captives about how Amy is heading to Jim’s room to hook up with Brett there. She tells Heather to try and stall Brett.
“Stall him how?” Heather asks.
“How do you think?! You’re 21 and wearing a Dallas Cowgirls outfit; he’s 18 and a farm boy dressed as a prisoner. Doesn’t matter how much he digs Amy; he’s going to find it flattering that you, a college girl ‘older babe,’ is hitting on him! I’m out of here. You make sure to check on our basement gals from time to time, cool? When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you’ll see them, you know, indisposed, sitting back to back, just the way I want them. I’ve got plans for them later. Hit me on my cell if you need me. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back; be sure to answer, got it?”
“Got it,” Heather dutifully replies.
From the second floor bar walk-around, Penelope sees Amy talking to Brett. A few seconds later, she notices Amy give Brett a whisper in the ear and kiss on the cheek, and sees her walking out, back to Jim’s fraternity house bedroom, Penelope reckons. Penelope quickly walks downstairs, through the hallway with the women’s bathroom and storage room door behind which Stef and Erica sit tightly bound and gagged. Penelope opens the exit door, picks up her gym bag that she’d set outside of it, and waits for a moment to see whether the coast is clear. Leaving the doorstop in the exit door, Penelope stands behind the lamppost for a few seconds, when she sees Amy start crossing the alley before suddenly stopping.
“Shit!” Amy cries out. “Forgot my stupid purse,” she mutters as she turns around and heads back toward the bar entrance.
Penelope, seizing the opportunity, hurries down the alley the two blocks to the fraternity house. Knowing how fraternity houses rarely lock their doors, she goes around to the front door and goes inside. The few pledges there, setting up for the after-party, pay her little heed, used to seeing bevies of babes saunter in and out. On Halloween night, an auburn-wigged leather-clad bad sheriff hottie would barely merit a passing glance, but Penelope’s shiny leather-clad form cuts a stunning figure. Penelope gives the pledges a quick sly smile and starts to walk up the stairs to Jim’s bedroom when she stops and walks back down the few stairs. As the pledges continue getting the kegs, ice, cups, and bowls of snack food set up, she announces to all within earshot, “Hey, shouldn’t you guys be cranking tunes? I mean, you’re having a party, right?!” One of the pledges realizes the astuteness of her suggestion, and, in a vain attempt to gain favor with the gorgeous outlaw, he turns the stereo up loud. Penelope reciprocates with a coy wink and heads back up the stairs.
FRATERNIZATION WITH THE ENEMY
Penelope enters Jim’s room and surveys the scene. She notices Jim’s overhead light; she immediately goes and unscrews the bulbs from the sockets. As her eyes adjust to the near-total darkness of the room, she finds the door opens inwards so she knows to hide behind it, waiting for Amy to arrive. She bends down and opens her gym bag. Satisfied with its contents, she removes a flashlight, a large white cloth, and the bottle of chloro, keeping the cap screwed on tightly for now. She unlatches the holster to allow her to pull out her gun right away, hides behind the door and waits, plotting her plan of attack. Ideas come quickly and deviously.
A few minutes later, Amy opens the door and flicks on the light switch to the right of the door: nothing.
“Crap,” Amy mutters, flicking the light switch on a few times, in vain. She enters the room to look for a light on the nightstand.
“Scheisskopf, halt!” (“Shithead, stop!”) Penelope yells out in German, as she slams the door shut, standing in front of it to block any escape. Penelope hasn’t studied the language since high school, but she knows how powerful it sounds, and doesn’t exactly care whether she gets it 100% correct. More importantly, she also knows Amy wouldn’t understand it, as Penelope knows that the Stiefelbach sisters, despite their surname, had studied Spanish and not German.
“Wha…? Who…? Huh?” Amy, her heart racing, completely taken by surprise in the dark room barely manages to utter. Penelope shines a flashlight in Amy’s face to blind her.
“Please don’t hurt me!” Amy pleads, barely making out the silhouette of a woman from the behind the flashlight. “If, if, uh, you were at the party and got lost, I can show you the way back,” thinking the uninvited guest must have been one of the foreign students she’d heard at the bar. Amy can tell it’s a woman’s voice, but the German spoken at her and her overall sudden unpleasant surprise keeps her from recognizing WHICH woman’s voice.
“Nicht ein Wort! Was machts Du hier?!” (“Not a word! What are you doing here?)
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying, “Amy stammers. “Why don’t I just go and leave you alone here? If you could just turn on the light, I can walk out that door and forget I was ever here. That’s cool, right?”
“Nein! Siehe diese Pistole?” (“No! See this pistol?”) Penelope yells, as she shines the flashlight on her gun, to make sure Amy sees it.
Panicky at the sight of a gun, Amy meekly replies, “Please, please, I’ll do anything you want. If you need money, I don’t have much, but you can have whatever I’ve got. Just please don’t hurt me.”
“Vor dem Bett! Jetzt!” (“In front of the bed! Now!”) Penelope yells at Amy, while pointing the flashlight at the footboard of Jim’s bed. “Und machts deine Handen hoch!” (“And put your hands up!”) Amy doesn’t perfectly understand the last order, but guesses what it means. She steps over to the foot of the heavy four-post bed, as Penelope sets the flashlight on Jim’s desk, pointing it at the bed, and grabs her own gym bag off the floor. The street lights outside provide some more scant light to the bedroom, but not much.
Amy is now standing at the foot of the bed, her hands in the air and her back facing Penelope. Penelope grabs her by the left wrist, yanks it down behind Amy’s back, then grabs Amy’s right wrist, pulls it down too and crosses both of them behind her. With a prepared coil of starched white cotton rope from her gym bag, Penelope begins tying Amy’s wrists together.
“No, no, please. You don’t have to tie me up. I swear I won’t say anything to anyone,” Amy begs, thinking that maybe she’d interrupted a cat burglar.
“Ruhig, du Hure!” (“Quiet, you whore!”)
With Amy’s wrists now tightly tied behind her back, Penelope pushes her hard onto the bed; face first, onto her stomach. “Ugh!” Amy yells, not expecting the push. Her cowgirl hat flies off and lands on the floor to the right of the bed. Amy’s head falls straight into one of the big pillows, so she turns it to her right side to grab some air.
Penelope sees the bandannas in Amy’s back pockets. Seizing the opportunity, she quickly straddles the back of Amy’s legs and pulls the bandannas out. The big red bandanna, still moist from Amy’s blotting her sweat off of her face and neck—extra sweaty from the crowded bar, her cowgirl hat, and her down ‘do—Penelope, having moved up Amy’s back and now kneeling her leather-clad crotch hard on top of Amy’s palms, fingers, and roped wrists, forms it into a ball and, pinning Amy’s head to the side, stuffs into Amy’s open mouth: an extra-large bandanna, it fills her mouth entirely.
“Noooo—-mmmph!” Amy yells as her gagging begins. She tastes her own sweat now in her mouth but doesn’t have a prayer of spitting out her large bandanna balled up in her mouth, not with Penelope’s next move.
“Halts maul, armleuchter!” (“Shut up, dipshit!”) Penelope yells back as she takes Amy’s long blue bandanna and wraps it around her red bandanna mouth-pack, yanks it, and ties it tight around the tousled chestnut hair now pressed to Amy’s neck, knotting it once, then twice, for good measure. Amy’s fierce protests go muffled.
“MMMpph!!! Mppmh mg gmmmph!” (“Please! Let me go!!”)
“Die Musik ist zu laut, meine Leibchen,” Penelope taunts, “Niemand kann Dich hören.” (“The music is too loud, my sweetie. No one can hear you.”)
Fearful of this strange German-speaking woman, Amy kicks her powerful boot-heels back at her captor. They connect with the small of Penelope’s back, but inflict no damage to her leather-clad binder.
“Danke shon, schatzi. Ich werde jetzt Deine Beine binden.” (“Thank a lot, dear. I’m going to tie your legs now.”) Grabbing Amy’s booted legs with one hand, Penelope uses her other hand to grab a length of rope and cross-ties the ankles of her old / Amy’s new boots, noticing how well preserved they’ve stayed after three years. Amy moves her strong legs as best she can to avoid the roping, but fails to prevent Penelope from lashing them together, tight enough that Amy can even feel the rope bite into the hard shafts of these unbroken-in cowgirl kickers. Now on her stomach with her wrists and boots both cross-tied, Amy’s mind races to think what new tie her captor will unleash on her next.
Penelope steps away from the bed to pick up some more rope out of her gym bag; seeing her step away, Amy flips herself onto her back and then into a sitting position, and tries to move to the end of the bed by pulling her legs toward herself like a caterpillar, and pushing herself forward with the free hands below her bound wrists. (Once on the floor, Amy thinks she can head-butt her Teutonic tormenter when she gets close to her, then untie herself and escape.)
Seeing Amy inch her way down the bed, Penelope pounces on her from behind, yelling
“Ich denks nicht, mein kleine Fraulein!” (“I think not, little missy!”)
“Aaay-mmmph!” Amy yells into her gag, frustrated at Penelope’s stopping her so quickly.
Penelope kneels right behind the would-be escapee, wraps a section of rope under Amy’s flared-out shirt and around her taut belly and then right above her bound wrists, tying them tightly to the struggling Amy’s torso. Penelope then gets off the end of the bed, faces Amy, and pushes Amy’s shoulders hard onto her back.
“Gmmmng!” Amy grunts into her gags, the wind knocked out of her. With Amy’s legs now folded over the end of the bed, Penelope jumps off, grabs some more rope and moves over to slam Amy’s boots against the footboard, immobilizing them and creating a deep thud of wooden heels against wood board. Penelope takes this rope and wraps it around the several widths of rope tied around Amy’s ankles, then runs it around the footboard to secure her legs to it. Amy attempts to kick her legs, but knows instantly she cannot move them forward.
“Uggh! Muuggph” Amy yells through her gags as even her taut soccer player’s thighs make no headway with these ropes. She then shifts her body, sits up, and then squirms her torso in another fruitless attempt at loosening her bonds. Penelope watches on, amused, pleased that she’s recaptured the young hottie who bested her those several weeks ago; she realizes right away where the next ropes must go.
Penelope grabs another rope-length from her gym bag, runs it around Amy’s protesting left leg, just below the knee and above the boot-top, then pulls it around the closest bedpost, and ties it tight. Amy attempts to move her now-tied lower thigh to the right, but makes little headway. Penelope then runs another rope above Amy’s boot-top on her upper right shin, runs it toward the other bedpost, and ties it tight. Tied this way, Amy can’t move her legs at all: not forward, and not side-to-side. With her legs now forced wide apart and immobilized that way, she now gets the real idea of what her captor is planning for her:
“NNNNmmmmph!!”
FRESH LIBRARY BINDINGS
“Stall him,” Heather remembers Penelope’s instructions about Brett. About Stef and Erica, she recalls Penelope’s orders, “You make sure to check on our basement gals from time to time. When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you’ll see them, you know, indisposed, sitting back to back, just the way I want them.” Dutiful sidekick, she follows them. She approaches Brett and introduces herself as “Savannah.” Flattered at the attention, Brett thinks she looks familiar, but doesn’t know where he could know this hot college babe from: with her make-up cheerleader-heavy, her hair cheerleader-big, her teeth sparkling white, a hot rack nearly falling out of her starry short vest and royal blue tied-just-below-the-boobs long-sleeved shirt, her short starry shorts, her shiny nylons poured into white Dallas Cowgirls boots, Brett knows he would remember her, but a bit buzzed and thinking about his upcoming meeting with Amy, he isn’t concentrating too well.
Heather does her best to distract him, flipping her hair back, complimenting him on his costume, laughing at his sophomoric attempts at humor. She even gets him a beer before she realizes she needs to check on the tightly bound and gagged Stefania and Erica in the basement.
“Don’t you go away, now, ya’hear? I’ll be right back from the little girls’ room in a jiffy,” Heather tells Brett as she heads downstairs toward the ladies washroom and beyond. Brett feels more than a bit torn: undeniable attraction to Amy but he can sense she’s not the least bit experienced in bed; this Savannah chick, however, a college girl, must be, he reckons. He looks at his watch and realizes he’s got about twenty more minutes before his and Amy’s planned hook-up. He looks around for Jim but doesn’t see him in the crowd.
Heather quickly walks downstairs and into the hallway, brushing past the ladies room and directly toward the storage closet. She looks around, and with no one watching, she opens its door and heads inside. Closing the main door behind her, she switches on the main storage lights and heads to the stairs leading to the basement. From the top of the stairs she switches on these lights and walks down the creaky stairs, her cowgirl black boot heels clomping against the wooden stairs. Near the bottom, she looks straight ahead, right where Penelope told her to, toward the back-to-back chairs containing the slumped-over, boob-exposed, tightly tied back-to-back equestriennes. Her eyes squint when the scene doesn’t look right.
Hurrying down the last few steps at looking ahead to the disarray, Heather doesn’t see a boot come out from the side of the stairway, tripping her and sending her crashing onto the hard vinyl-tiled floor. She puts her hands out instinctively and breaks her fall somewhat, but the right side of her head still smacks the floor, reeling her and making her dizzyingly close to unconsciousness.
PILLOW GAG-TALK
Amy,
realizing why her German-speaking captor has tied her legs apart, continues her
loud but muffled protests:
“Nnnnmmph! Mmm-mmmmph!!”
Penelope snickers and approaches her young victim, effortlessly undoing Amy’s dark brown leather gun belt, while Amy attempts to scoot back onto the bed, making no headway whatsoever, not with her ankles lashed to the bottom foot-board and with ropes running just above her boot-tops to each respective foot-end’s bedposts. Penelope, treating Amy’s second-hand gun belt with obvious disdain compared to the expensively tooled one of her own, holds it between her right thumb and index fingers’ tips, dropping it to the right side of the bed, close to the fading flashlight still perched on the desk, still aimed at the bed, and providing the only major light source in the room.
Penelope goes back into her gym bag of tricks. Pulling out yet another extra-long length of rope, Penelope doubles it over twice and ties it to the right side bed rail, then flings the leftover length behind the still-sitting-upright Amy, who can’t see where it flies. Penelope follows the rope and crawls behind Amy, then gets off the bed on the other side, taking the rope-ends and evening them out. With the far-end tied, Penelope quickly flicks the rope from behind Amy to in front of her, and then slams her hand against Amy’s sternum to push her down onto the bed. “Unngh!” Amy yells into her thick gags as she falls backward. Penelope then pulls the ropes—now in width of four—across the tops of Amy’s supine boobs, then pulls it very tight around the opposite side rail, pinning Amy hard onto her back, the ropes biting through her shirt and vest, pushing hard onto her soft skin. With Amy’s wrists cross-tied underneath her and her arms also tied with ropes to her torso, this wide tie-down rope completes her immobilization. With only her fingers free but pinned completely beneath her, Amy can’t push herself off the bed at all, and now lies at the complete mercy of her Kriegerfrau (“Warrior woman”) captor. Amy nervously chews into her gags in a valiant but utterly useless attempt to dislodge them. Her mind races at the thoughts of her approaching fate at the hands of this mysterious leather-clad German-speaking woman.
COOL STORAGE
Heather lies on the basement storeroom floor, groaning with shock and grogginess, straining to push herself up. The boot, then the leg, then the body of her tripper walk from the side of the wooden staircase, walks around to where Heather’s head is lying in semi-consciousness, and stares at the side of her face.
“Heather, you stupid bitch,” Erica announces, “Time for a taste of your best buddy’s own medicine,” as she turns over the Dallas Cowboys cheerleader-clad beauty and pulls her a few feet toward a 4-inch-diameter metal support column; Heather’s black cowgirl heels drag across the vinyl tile. Once there, Erica sits Heather flat on her firm cheerleader short-shorts, takes a coil of tan-colored hemp rope down from one of the hooks, pulls Heather’s arms behind the column, and lashes the wrists together, hands palm to palm, with a number of lengths around them. To support Heather’s nearly dead weight, Erica then ties ropes under Heather’s boobs, then around the column and her arms. To keep her legs from kicking once she fully comes to, Erica ties ropes around Heather’s legs: first just above the knee, then just above the boot-tops, then around her booted ankles, where the ropes make a squeaking sound when Erica pulls them tight against the shiny white cowgirl boot leather.
“Good thing I remember my knots,” Erica thinks to herself, recalling her numerous bondage sex romps starting with her high school boyfriend through many more boyfriends ever since. “Oh, and Heather? When you see Penelope again, please tell her to check and make sure her would-be chloro victims have actually breathed it in, and not just faked passing out. Plus, her idea to have Stef tie me instead of her tying me herself? Bad idea! Stef knows how to make the ropes appear tight while keeping the knots loose. I freed myself in just a few minutes, right before you got here.” Erica removes the silk salmon-colored cleave gag that had fallen around her neck, balls it up, and stuffs it firmly into the slumped Heather’s mouth.
Erica then untucks the wet silk scarf that had served as her mouthpack gag from her waistband where she’d placed it, pulls Heather’s raven mane away from her face, then wraps the damp scarf into Heather’s mouth, then around her hair at the back of her head. The wetness of the scarf forms a tight knot at the back of Heather’s neck; her head slumps into unconsciousness.
With Heather safely secured, Erica turns her attention to reviving Stef, still passed out in her chair. Heather had arrived right after Erica had freed herself, so she hadn’t had any time to check on Stef, not when she was hearing doors open and steps coming closer. She’d barely found the time to hide next to the stairs, a location that afforded her full view of the top of the staircase and any people walking down it. Once she saw Heather, she knew instantly that she would have to trip her to gain any advantage. The plan now realized, Heather moves over to Stef, loosens the knots of Stef’s black bandanna cleave-gag, and moves it from between her lips, dropping it onto her neck. Erica then uses her thumb and forefinger to remove Stef’s white mouthpack gag, looks around and finds a wash-sink where she douses the cloth with cold water before returning to Stef, where she starts to put Stef’s bra back together—pausing for just a moment to admire Stef’s perfect pair—then quickly snaps out of it. She pats Stef’s face with the cold compress in an attempt to revive her. Between patting Stef’s face, Erica unties the Stef’s ropes: first the ones linking her wrists to the bottom chair rail, then those around her wrists, then around the chair and upper thighs, those around her lower thighs, those around the boot-tops, the ones tying her ankle-ropes to the lower-rung, and those around her ankles. Erica leaves on the ropes around Stef’s torso to keep her upright in the chair, but loosens them slightly so Stef could easily remove them should she awaken before Erica gets back.
EAGER TO PLEASE HER
Penelope, having just finished lashing Amy to the bed, looks over at the dimming flashlight and knows she needs more light. She walks over to the desk with the flashlight on it, picks up the device and shines it toward a nightstand next to the bed where she finds a lamp. Walking over to the night table, she turns on the light bulb, which she soon finds contains a three-way bulb: click, click, click, and the very dark room instantly turns very bright. Both women’s eyes take a few moments to adjust. Amy, able to see her captor for the first time, remembers her from the party and how hot this outlaw-garbed babe looked, poured into rich leathers, “Why would she single ME out?!” Amy wonders, “Why would she want to tie me up?! Who the hell is she?!”
Penelope walks to the end of the bed and smacks both her hands on her leather-clad hips; she positions herself with one boot slightly in front of the other, as if posing for a super heroine portrait. Amy leans her neck forward off the bed to get a better view. “Ja, guten abend, meine Leibchen,”(“Yeah, good evening, my dear.”) Penelope casually utters, as if greeting a dinner party guest and not some helpless tied-up prey. She unbuckles her tooled chocolate brown leather gun belt & holster, placing it over a nearby chair-back. Placing her right hand on top of her black Stetson, she removes it and drops it onto the seat of that chair, showing her full head of auburn page boy wig. With her left hand, she removes her outlaw mask, the wig, and the hairnet under it, dropping them all and unleashing her thick, long blonde tresses to fall onto the shoulders of her black leather outlaw vest and below.
Amy watches these accessories fall to the floor and suddenly, now realizing the identity of her captor and extent of her predicament, she gasps in horror through her nose and into her gags. Amy’s then eyes widen into saucers when she hears her ropemistress introduce herself in English:
“Well, hi, BowPi!” in a mock Southern accent before switching to her usual upper-crust bitch-speak—“My real name is Penelope Van Dijk. Remember me?”