The Phony Birthday Cake Girl




Gus Marino always had the same present from his men in his birthdays, a voluptuous and busty girl emerging from a phony birthday cake dressed with the strictly minimal to not be legally naked in public. Blondes, brunettes and redheads, Latinas, Orientals and Blacks. In his 53 years of life he had had them all. Although not the most envied job among the strippers of the town, there were rumors about what happened to the girls afterwards, he was Gus Marino and thus he had a new babe in a cake every year. Like me.



I had been a stripper for three years when Romano, Gus’s enforcer, stopped by at the ‘South Lake’ and paid me to give him a private dance. Two days later he stopped by again and talked to Bert, the manager, and I was hired for a full night in the following month, I would be the cake girl for that year. As an advance, he paid me 10K and told me that Gus would want some... privileges after the party. I tried to return the money, I wasn’t and still am not such a girl, but then he snapped his fingers and three crooked cops entered the stage room. They picked some plastic bags from their pockets and said stuff like ‘look what I just found on her possessions...’ and threatened me and the other girls.


Bert was of no help, I had been selected by Romano, MY problem. With half the city’s officials (not only the police) on Gus’ pockets I had a month full of small problems just to remind me that: 1- I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion about the matter, 2- Gus would have his fun and, 3- There was no one that could help me.


Let’s just say that my mood was really bad that night when the limo stopped at the ‘South Lake’ and me and Geri, my best friend who would do her best to give support through it all, were taken to Gus’ Hollywood style mansion. We were quickly guided to a back room so I could prepare myself by Romano himself, who seemed weirdly agitated that night.


I didn’t want to go on, I really didn’t, but I had lost a roommate the week before when, after returning from the college, I found my apartment ransacked. My roommate was in her room, tied up and gagged with strips of cloth that had been provided by her bed sheets, and the attackers had left a message to me with her, ‘no one can help you’. Whatever they said or did to her while they were robbing the place she didn’t told me. The very next day she was back in Montana and didn’t answered or returned my calls.


And they had left a list over my bed with all my relatives, all of them, on it. With pictures.


I quickly put on the white and gold G-string bikini, that covered only the essential, and was trying to find a way for my hands not shake that much.


Geri, a small and little plump girl from somewhere in the Bible Belt, was trying to help me and without warning placed a pill (of a very potent anesthetic) on my hands that she begged me to put on Gus' drink somehow. He'd sleep, waking up without any memories of the previous night and I wouldn't have to know the meaning of that 'four-letters-word-starting-with-R' first hand. Of course, I'd have to somehow 'prepare' his bedroom to make look like we have had sex... we were discussing how to do that while whispering (fearing any mike hidden in the room) when there was a knock on the door.


It was Romano's voice, saying that it was time to get inside the cake.


Geri had told me that if I put the pill in my mouth I wouldn't suffer it's effects, I'd have to swallow it, so very carefully I hid the pill under my tongue and nodded to Geri.


Romano entered the room... behind the three women that barged inside it with such ferocity that Geri fell on her butt and an iron claw was over my lips before I realized it. Romano was sweating profusely now, and told them to hurry up.


As if they needed, or would follow, any order coming from him!


The tall and strong woman holding me shoved a hard rubber ball inside my mouth, then she forced to stand up and stay put, and started to use zip-cuffs to trap my arms behind me with my wrists crossed. I took a peek at Geri and saw something that struck me as very odd. The woman that was binding her with other zip-cuffs was dressed like my attacker (as a valet of a parking service deluxe with a black trouser, white waistcoat and a red tailcoat plus a pair of leather gloves and a ski mask), but the third woman was undressing! She was soon in her bra and panties and before I realized she was standing stark naked between me and Geri!


That's when I felt the knots of my bikini being undone by my attacker...


In a matter of minutes SHE was 'dressed' with that bikini while I was struggling naked on the floor! And the two still masked women decided to teach me a lesson, the first of many, so I'd learn that when they said 'Stay put!' it was for me to play a statue... They were using tape, black electrician tape top be more accurate (they cut the zip-cuffs holding a part of me before they started to wrap that portion of me), very freely on my body. The taller one did my torso and arms while the other one took care of my legs and gag.


I still had the pill under my tongue and the ball pressing it (the tongue) all the while, then the smaller girl decided that it was better for me that I was gagged without the ball. I was paying more attention to the taller attacker, who was wrapping that accursed tape all over and above and below my breasts (and was groping me), so it was quite a shock when I felt the fingers of the smaller girl trying to extract the ball from my mouth.


And when she managed to do that I gulped, and swallowed the pill.


I looked at Geri panic stricken. But not only the smaller girl (before being ordered to help the taller one by the nearly naked attacker) had gagged her with the tape, she had also blindfolded her with it, so my pleading eyes met a redhead with freckles that was really trying to tear apart all those zipcuffs that she still wore.


Then nothing... that thing was very powerful!!!








I woke up feeling cramps all over my body. I was in a bed, and I wasn’t alone.


I felt two persons kneeling on the bed, one on each side of me, and two pairs of hands were travelling my body. They were massaging me, and they were marvelous! I was told to help them and turn around so they could work on my back, and that’s when I realized that I was naked and blindfolded. I tried to touch my head but their skilled hands suddenly became paws and while I struggled effortlessly to escape from their grip I heard her voice.


‘They are not supposed to let you remove the blindfold, it’s locked on anyway...’


My right hand was guided to the lock, which was very tiny and was dangling above my right ear. They even allowed me to try to rip it from the leather blindfold...


‘Now you’re going to behave? They are doing a wonderful job with their fingers aren’t they? They can do a even better job with rope... have you ever heard of nawa-shibari?’


‘Ja..Japanese... bondage, isn’t it?’


‘Exactly. Even being Koreans, they are very proficient in it. They can make you a pretty pendulum, dangling from the roof of this very room, in no more than thirty minutes. Or they can keep easing your pain and eliminating the cramps...’




A soft and balled up tissue was pushed inside my mouth and a scarf was loosely tied around my head to keep there. Very ineffective as a gag, but I got the message loud and clear. And for the next twenty/thirty minutes they showed to me, for the first time, how skillful they were with their hands. Then they helped me to sit on the edge on that large bed, bound my arms behind my back in very elaborate spider’s web fashion and put a few strips of tape, enhancing the effect of the gag, then I was told to let them guide me.


The floor was very cold to my bare feet and it seemed that we were walking like forever through a maze of corridors. Left, left, left again, right, left, stairs up, left, left, right, right... for a moment I could hear a commotion, shouts of ‘get her!’ and a fight, a girl screaming ‘Heellllpppp mmmeeemmmpppphhh’ and more struggle, but they never told me what was that about (and I am too smart to ask them anyway)... and finally we were outside but the walk wasn’t finished, it felt like tile to my soles. Then we reached a table, my bonds and gag were undone and the blindfold was removed. I blinked for a minute or two.


Then I saw her for the first time.


Like everybody in the world, my first thought was ‘what an obvious fake shade of red this beautiful lady have dyed her hair with!’...


The Duchess was wearing an impeccable white male business suit with a Panama hat and was seating at the left of the chair that was being offered to me. Blushing, due to the fact that I was the only one naked at the scene, I sat and realized that I was being scrutinized by the man at my right. He was dressed like a doctor, looked like a doctor and was gay (he was looking at my 38DD pair without any hint of desire coming from him, thus...).


‘Are they... natural?’


‘Y-yes... no actually. They were already big but I wanted them bigger...’


‘I knew it, knew it!, nice job by the way. Do not worry. The only reason why you are wearing your birthday suit is because my boss here wants to play a cheap psychological intimidation tactic with you. ‘Reinforce the helplessness feelings of the captive subject’, and therefore make you even more malleable and docile than you already are now. In spite of her preference for men’s clothing and kinky habits of binding and gagging young and beautiful girls like you by the dozen or even hundreds every week, I assure you that she’s definitely not lesbian while I am as gay as they come, and since none of us two have any sexual interest on your voluptuous assets, both the natural and enhanced ones, you have nothing to fear from us. Are you thirsty my dear?’


While he said that he offered a glass of water to me, then the Duchess snapped her fingers and lunch was served. He made a lot of questions to me, after I realized that I wasn’t allowed to make any (the Duchess merely placed the tip of her right index finger over my lips and I complied – she has such a natural authority!), and we ate a very frugal and good vegetarian lunch. Then she decided to show me what was going on...


Lorraine, my soon-to-be new best friend, received the order (a nod from the Duchess) and positioned herself so she was at my left. She was holding a laptop on her hands, which she opened and accessed various TV channels and news websites. I soon stood mouth open and completely baffled by the news she showed me.


Gus was dead, the whole town was upside down with the sudden flow of evidences against the people he had in his pocket that were reaching the State and Federal authorities, and I was the one behind it all? Actually my participation in the whole business was very controversial (to say the least). The public now knew that I had been forced to be the newest birthday cake girl of Gus’ birthday party, with all the implications that came with it, and knew that I had been attacked and kidnapped that night...


But there were things that the whole country now ‘knew’ that were lies...


The official version was that me and Geri had been kidnapped while en route to Gus’ manor. I even saw a reenactment of the fact as it was being told by the FBI. Me and Geri (two actresses/models that actually had very little in common with me and Geri except the skin color and height) got inside the limo and were immediately seized by three unknown men, while two of them held me the last one bound and gagged Geri. Then the limo stopped in an alley and a new ‘Geri’ entered the limo. She said loud and clear that I was to pretend that she was Geri, or the real Geri would suffer, then Geri (the real one) was removed from the limo and taken somewhere while inside a car’s trunk. She stayed bound and gagged to a chair for a few hours, then a new trip inside a (stolen) car’s trunk and she was left inside it. Minutes later the police and the FBI (tipped by someone at the real chauffeur of the limo’s house – he and his family had been seized previously-) found and rescued her.


And all this hogwash was the only ‘real’ account (so far) of the events of that night, since no one but Geri (who had told the press the whole ‘story’) could confirm or deny it!


As my face showed how stunned I was with the whole story, Lorraine (at another nod from the Duchess) started to explain me everything that she could tell me.


‘The late Mr. Marino was very active in his opposition against the Duchess’ plans of building an empire in this country. He was actually very active against any intrusion in his territory, so the FBI has a big list of suspects to check on, and the Duchess is not on the top of that list. Even if they know what he did with some of... our... the Duchess’ ‘envoys’ (so to speak) to that town where you lived. He seems to have been doing the... same... with anyone that tried to grab a penny, or cent, that ‘belonged’ to him.’


(Only months later she would tell me what had happened to the ‘envoys’, one of whom was her lover, after we became the friends that we are now...)


‘Anyway... Gus’ cruelty and paranoia made things easier for us.’


She pressed another button, and the screen was divided in four and started to show the daily life of a family of five: a husband in his late 30’s, a wife in her early 30’s, a woman that was remarkably lookalike the wife but was about five to ten years younger than her, an older woman in her late 60’s and a boy no older than eight. The images came from cameras hidden in the family’s house, showing the family buying groceries, watching TV, lunching and dining, the young girl having an argument with the elder woman about her clothes... It wouldn’t be nothing to get serious about, just the usual illegal peek at a family... if the husband wasn’t Gioachinno (Jack) Romano.


‘The last man of Marino’s circle that found out (and complained) about the cameras set to spy on him and his family was killed, along with his family, in an ‘accidental’ fire. Romano found one of them accidentally, but was wise enough to tell Marino that ‘someone’ was spying on him and that this ‘someone’ was ‘probably’ not the FBI. But he knew that it was a matter of time before he became the next Marino’s employee to perish with his family (wife, son, sister-in-law and mother-in-law) in a very unfortunate ‘accident’.’


The image on the screen shifted to the boy playing some fight game on the X-Box with two unknown men at his side, and the boy was winning. The scene shifted to a room where all three women were tied up to heavy wooden chairs placed in the middle of it. The two older ones were wearing casual clothes while the younger one seemed to have been captured while in the shower (she had only a towel wrapped around her body to badly cover her). All chairs had arms to whom their arms had been tied to, their legs were crossed and tied together to one of the front legs of the chairs and their torsos were generously tied to the back of them. The wife and her sister were gagged and blindfolded with tape and strips of cloth, while the older woman was gagged (it seemed that they had been a little soft with her bonds also) and watching TV. There were two women guarding them, but besides the fact that they were women, their overalls and hoods prevented to identify them completely.


‘One month ago we showed this image to Romano. We made everybody believe that his wife, Carla, grabbed but a few clothes and left him taking his son and her family with her. We staged everything very well and the police, and Marino’s contacts, were looking for them ever since. Marino couldn’t let someone that close to someone that close to him simply disappear. And Romano knew that, if his family was ever found, they would have been ‘interrogated’ (his son included) by Marino’s men. And to be honest, he was already waiting a window, any window, of chance to get out of Marino’s organization...’


‘But... then... why... why did he did... why I was...’


The Duchess answered that question herself.


‘As expected, Marino relegated him to minor jobs, like providing to him his new birthday cake girl. Since Romano was no longer... trustworthy... it was next to impossible to him to lure anyone inside the manor within the guise of birthday cake girl’s chaperone/friend. But the FBI doesn’t know that. They believe that Carla and her mother and sister, and Romano’ son, are hiding somewhere in the Toscana with the help of Romano’s money and contacts. Romano, their new biggest and brightest star witness against the corrupt authorities of your hometown, will not tell them where they are and, as long as he testifies against them, they won’t press him on the subject. But don’t worry about them...’


Lorraine pressed another button and I saw the (then) current whereabouts of Romano’s family. His mother-in-law and sister-in-law where arguing because of the ridiculously little yellow bikini the (buxom) daughter was wearing, his wife was trying to calm them down (and she was showing obvious signs of pregnancy) while the boy was in front of the TV, playing some fight game (a different one than the one he was playing on the first image) on the X-Box. There were two or three people, dressed and posing as FBI agents in the large suburban house with them. All seemed normal.


‘We don’t like to hurt children, so we told young Francesco (Frank) that the FBI staged his family’s kidnapping so the bad guys that were forcing his father to do ‘bad things’ would believe that they had rivals. We told the truth to his wife, but she preferred to tell her sister and mother a different version (a more elaborated one) that her son has, and some of my men got quite a tongue lashing from Mrs. Frambesi for their eagerness in play the ‘make believe’ bad guys... Now even Carla has trouble in believing that those who are responsible 24/7 for her and her family’s safety are not federal agents. And they are all safe.’


‘But what are you telling me all of that?’


‘Because, due to an unfortunate incident during Marino’s execution, some of his friends and associates believes that YOU took an active involvement in his death...’








I had been the ‘guest’ of the Duchess for nearly two years now, and I still couldn’t get used to be bound and gagged on a daily basis. Don’t get me wrong, I was well treated and cared for (and to be honest sometimes I craved for the Koreans’ magic fingers), but be suddenly subjected to the ropes, strips of cloth, tape or whatever those devious ‘keepers’ of mine restrained me with... I simply didn’t liked to be bound and gagged (and I still don’t).


I couldn’t understand how ‘Brenda’ (or Ann Dobson as I had recognized her the moment I saw her for the second time, in the first she was hooded) could get so... nonchalant when they came to us and told us ‘It’s that time again...’. I am not lesbian neither is Brenda/Ann, but I spent hours and hours intimately tied to her, think about it and I will tell you how much time I spent bound in mock embraces, back to back, with my feet touching the back of her head (or her face), etc... and each one will be more than ten, I assure you!


Now I was looking at her face. Like me she was with the whole lower face covered with white micro foam tape, arms tied together in almost their whole length and then anchored to the torso with a pattern that, among other things, crisscrossed our breasts. Our legs were not far behind and we were unable to move much away from each thanks to the way they had been tied together (while Debs liked to tie us with our breasts crushing each other, the others usually thought about facilitating our breathing).


By the way I had underwent a surgery three months before but, after years with 38DD breasts, I was still getting used to them back to their natural size. And NOW they seemed fake to me! I was supposed to be out of the boat already, but unexpected troubles (which I never knew exactly what were) prevented me from that.


Then suddenly the Duchess, whom we hadn't seen for a couple of months, was kneeling on all four at our side on the bed. She was wearing a white and black (yet no chess nor zebra-patterned) bikini and still had the shades and big hat on.


‘Hello girls, I’ll be freeing you in a moment, just let us be a bit afar from the shore...’


She knew very well that she only needed to tell us to behave and she could keep us silent and unrestrained even with two cruisers fully loaded with cops flanking us!


But she was the boss... she just freed our legs and torso, and we had to follow her to outside the cabin and into her private study in the yacht. There was a man there waiting for us. Not too tall, not too strong, easy to blend within a crowd and disappear, and very charming...


‘Which one?’


‘Bonnie...’ – answered the Duchess as she placed her left hand over the small of my back and pushed me forward. I did felt like a dog in a show being evaluated by a jury. He even grabbed me by my shoulders and next thing I know I am in his arms, bridal style, and he’s weighting me! And keeping a straight and blasé face all the time!


‘So you’re ‘Bonnie’? Nice to meet you, I am your dungeoner...’


My what?


‘There is no such word in the English language...’


‘There is now... Say, Bonnie, just nod or shake your head, have you ever heard about a small place I have called ‘Las Presas del Tiburón’ in the lovely island of **********?’








The Shark’s Jaws was a hostel in the outskirts of the town of ***********, capitol and major city of the island of ************ in the Caribbean Ocean, it had a few luxuries like a private pier and a small shipyard, it was very close of a secluded paradisiacal beach and the wife of owner (your truly) was well known in the whole island due to her looks (which the weather always let exhibit more than he likes) and generosity. And no, the local police force, albeit they are all good friends, are not crooked or in the Duchess’ pockets.


Hiding me in plain sight, more or less, that was the strategy of the Duchess.


For a few days my husband had kept me as a bound and gagged guest in the secret room under the hostel, until he became sure that I wouldn’t be ‘so dumb’ to attract the attention of my pursuers. The island, while heavenly as possible, isn’t well known and has not much problems with crime, and my not-so-busty looks (and a little diet) plus a new hairdo made miracles of changing me. So I soon became a hostess in the hostel, we started to date and one year and a half later he proposed me.


Of course, the whole block where the hostel is located is a base for the Duchess’ criminal organization. I work for her now. One of my jobs is to take care of any ‘guest’ she send to the secret room under the building, mostly are women that shouldn’t have seen or heard what they did, but there’s also a few law enforcers every now and then. None of them has ever a word about ‘where’ they were kept during their disappearance or by ‘whom’, and from what I heard they only complain about my ‘knot madness’ (Debs is to blame for that).


I am still forbidden to return to the US, too dangerous for my health, but I heard that it’s not a wild dream anymore, just a difficult one. One day who knows?


For now I work for the woman who saved my life and many more that night years ago.


And you know what? It’s a great job!