The Rope Girls and the Haunted Prison

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by John Savage

The two extremely kinky girls are back in this the third book in the Rope Girls series.  Colleen and Sandra, travelling north through California, see a sign “Haunted Prison” and go to take a look.  The once infamous women’s prison is ideal for the bondage games the girls love, including solitary cells and a hidden, dungeon-like room where once the mad female warden punished prisoners.

The sweet, innocent young woman running the old prison, now a tourist attraction but with few visitors, is persuaded, for a fee, to allow Colleen and Sandra to have exclusive use of the facilities for a while, and it soon becomes clear that she is very interested in their activities and happy to find out more and join in.

Unfortunately, the prison really is haunted, and the appearance of the sadistic former warden, as well as ghosts of past prisoners, makes for a very frightening, intense experience for a young woman when she is bound, gagged and locked in a cell.

Published: 3 / 2015          No. words: 46,800EX1t

“We’ll start tonight.  We would like to have you tie both of us and lock us in one of the cells in the main cellblock.”

She was on a roll now while Susie and I listened with interest.

“You will leave us all night.  Let’s say from ten o’clock to eight o’clock tomorrow morning.  Of course, we’ll have to spend some time this evening teaching you what you need to know.  That can be after dinner.  Are you free for dinner?  Yes?  Good. We’ll all go to that steak house in town and then back here for the lessons.  You don’t have to bring anything; we have all the ropes you’ll need.”

Susie looked a little surprised at being sucked into Colleen’s plan so quickly, but she also looked interested.  Was it the money?  Or something more?  I certainly hoped so.

“Can you meet us back here at seven o’clock?  Good.  Wear something nice.  That place is a bit upscale.”

“Upscale?”

“Fancy.  Haven’t you ever been there?”

“No.  Their prices are too high.”

“Well, wear a nice dress.”

It was mid-afternoon when Susie left to go home and change clothes.  Colleen, as she often does, overwhelmed Susie by naming a fee to be paid that was high enough to make even my eyebrows lift, and I’m used to Colleen’s waving cash about.

“I hope she doesn’t change her mind,” I said after Susie was gone.  We were still down in the dungeon.

“She won’t.  She’s interested.  Did you see the way she looked at my body?  And when she came down here and found me tied in that ball, she didn’t offer to untie me right away.  She came over and inspected me from all sides.  Oh, yes, Sandra, dear, she is interested.”

“Great!  Ah, now what will we do until dinner time?” I asked.

Colleen looked at me and smiled.  She has the most beautiful yet wicked smile when she’s got something planned for me.

“Would you like to meet Mad Coldwater yourself?  In the flesh, so to speak.”

A negative was about to leap to my lips but I held it back.  I had already met one ghost that day, why not another?  Besides, Colleen had met the mad woman and survived, with nothing worse than a tiny sting from the ghost whip.

“Okay,” I said and began taking my clothes off.  Well, Colleen was naked when the ghost came by; maybe she was attracted to naked women.  Made sense to me.

In less than fifteen minutes Colleen had me tightly bound into a ball, almost exactly as I had tied her, and sitting on the table.  She did add a little additional restraint to the affair by tying ropes from my bondage to various hooks on the sides of the table so that I could not roll over, nor move a bit no matter how much I strained and wiggled.

“Shouldn’t I be gagged too?” I asked.

“No.  If she appears, I want you to try to talk to her.”  Colleen patted me on the cheek lovingly.  “I’m getting very interested in this whole ghost thing.  It’s fascinating.”

“If you don’t mind being scared to death,” I put in.

“I guess mother was right all along.  She always believed in ghosts.  She even told me that she saw the ghost of our cat, Snowball, around the house.  And Snowball had been flattened by truck that ran over her years before.”

“You sure that the whipping didn’t hurt?”

“Of course, I’m sure.  It was a ghost whip and only stung a little bit.”

“Okay.  I’ll try to make contact.”

Colleen headed towards the stairs.

“Don’t forget to come for me in enough time for me to get a shower and dress for dinner,” I called out.

“You know me.  Would I forget about you?”

I muttered a few nasty words under my breath.

Time went slowly, as was usual when you’re immobile and forced to stay that way.  I spent the time looking around the room, noticing every little detail I could, and wondering if the mad Warden would show up.

The worst part about being tied in a ball is that your back gets to hurting.  It’s the strain on the muscles.  Try holding your face down by your knees for a while and you’ll see what I mean.

Having seen and catalogued everything I could see from my position, I closed my eyes to rest a little bit.  Not that I expected to fall asleep, that would be unlikely in that position.  It was then that I felt a coldness wash over me.  My eyes snapped open but I couldn’t see a thing.  Yet, it felt as if an icy breeze had blown over me.  Then I saw a shape forming over by the cage.  Expecting to see a towering, ugly, mad woman, I was surprised to see that it was Vicki again.

“Hello, Vicki,” I called out.  She floated over to the table and looked at me.

“Why are you tied up?” she asked.  “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Some,” I said, then told her about Colleen’s run in with Coldwater.  “That’s why I’m tied like Colleen was,” I explained, “to attract the Warden.”

Vicki shuddered and faded partly away.  “Why would you want to talk to that woman?” she asked.  “She’s terrible.  She beats us.  I think she killed a few of the girls.  She hates all of us.”

“Even now that you’re all ghosts?” I asked.

“A ghost?”

Apparently she was still having trouble swallowing the idea that she was dead.

“You said that you are innocent.  Is that true?” I asked to change the subject.

“Oh, yes.  I did not steal that money.  But my boss said that I did and another woman said she saw me do it.  The judge ordered me to prison for ten years.”  She began weeping.  “They hurt us here.”

“What year was that?”

“Year?  Why, last year.  1931.”

An idea was forming in the back of my mind.  “Listen, if I could prove that you did not take the money, would you be free to move on?”

“Move on?”  She still didn’t grasp that concept.

“Okay, I will see if I can have your case reviewed.  Maybe something can be done to prove you innocent.”

“Oh, that would be so wonderful!” she was weeping louder but also smiling.  “Then they’ll let me out of here.”

“Right.  Now tell me the name of the company.  And the name of your boss.  And the woman who testified against you.”

Vicki did, and I tried to memorize the information.

Suddenly she stopped in mid-sentence.  “She coming!” she cried and disappeared.

She?  Coldwater?  Of course, it was.  I felt a coldness right down to my bones that made me shiver.  A dark shape began to form.  It was, as Colleen said, taller than us, over six foot.  And talk about ugly!  I doubted that any human could look that grotesque.  Maybe ghosts take on an appearance related to their natures.  That would explain some of the stories about really horrid ghosts.

The shape approached the table.  This one seemed more real than Vicki had been, more substantial, more solid.  She held a whip in her hand.  The eyes that looked down at me were black at first but began to glow with a deep red inner fire.  Now that began to scare me.  I found myself twisting my hands around and straining against the ropes.

I could almost see the hate flowing from her, like heat waves.  She lifted an arm and swung it down so that the whip struck me.  It was, as Colleen had said, a sting.  But a sharp one and fairly intense.  I yelped.  Again she swung and again I cried out, mostly in surprise.  The thought ran through my mind that she was getting better at making that ghost whip hurt.  Practice, maybe?

Coldwater paused in her whipping.  I got the feeling that she was aware that her blows weren’t having the impact they would in real life.  Then she did something that really made my blood run cold.  She turned to the wall with the selection of whips, and reached for one.  When her hand came away, that whip was floating in mid-air and coming towards me!

Oh, crap, I thought.  That’s not a ghost whip.  That’s a real one.

The whip lifted, trembled and came down onto my back.  I had the impression that she was having trouble moving that solid object.  The blow on my bare back was not hard, but it was real.  If she got better at this game, I might be in for a really, really bad time.

Again she lifted it and let it fall.  A little harder that time.  Then again.  By the fourth time, she was gaining experience and the blows were beginning to hurt.  Before they got to the point where I would be screaming, I tried the only thing I could think of that might stop her.

“Do you know that you’re dead!” I called out.

The whip shook and fell to the floor.  That black shape came closer until it was only inches away and those red-glowing eyes burned into mine.

“Yesssss,” she hissed.  “I am dead.”  The words came out slowly and faintly but clear enough for me to understand.

I could feel myself straining against the ropes in a desire to be free and running out of there.  But I didn’t have time to pay much attention to that.

“Why don’t you go on to the next level?” I asked her.

The laugh was the most horrible sound I have ever heard.

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can.”  I tried to sound firm and confident, but probably failed.  “All ghosts can go on.”

“Hell.”

Was she just cursing?  “What do you mean?” I asked.

She was getting better at communicating with practice.  “No want Hell,” she said.  Then, “Heaven won’t take me.  Don’t want to go to Hell.”

Well, the logic seemed reasonable.  If ghosts are spirits stuck in this world because of unresolved issues, and the beyond is Heaven or Hell, I can understand her wanting to stay a ghost.

“Do you know for sure there is a Heaven or Hell?” I asked.

She said nothing.

“I mean, there might be something else,” I offered.

“Hell.  Only.”

So much for the theological discussion.  I tried another direction.  “Okay, you want to stay a ghost.  Fine.  But why do you want to whip me?”

“Hate.  Hurt.”

Oh, fine, hatred survives death and goes on.  Wonderful!  There was only one other argument I could think of.  “Warden Coldwater,” I began, “if you stop doing bad deeds and repent, maybe Heaven will let you in.  God is supposed to be very forgiving.  If you really want to change, that is.”

“Hate.  Hurt you.”

Damned one-track mind!

“Stop hurting us and really, really want to be a good person.  Good people get into Heaven.”

I saw her answer rather than heard it.  The black leather whip was rising above the edge of the table.  It looked as if she had a firmer grip on it this time.

She did.  The blow that landed across my shoulders actually hurt.  And I mean more than a sting.  At the third blow, I began to yell for Colleen to come down and get me out of there.

The blows were not coming very fast, but they were getting harder.  In between reaction to the bursts of pain, I was thinking fast.  What was it that the movies and TV shows always have the exorcists do?  Prayer.  Sure.  But what else?  Sprinkle her with Holy Water?  Sorry, fresh out.

“I command you to depart in the name of God!” I called out.

She laughed.  So much for that.

How do you stop a determined ghost?  Especially when you can’t move?

There was a noise from the stairs and Colleen came walking in.

“Who are you talking to?” she asked.

“Right there,” I told her with a nod of my head in Coldwater’s direction.

Colleen looked but frowned.  “I don’t see anyone,” she said.  Then she saw the whip floating in mid-air.  Rushing over, she grabbed it.  The tug-of-war was over in a second.  With a howl of anger that we both heard, Coldwater faded away, leaving Colleen standing there with the whip in her hand.

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