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“...after that, Emily Lockwood, the amateur detective, won’t exist!”

What had Tommy meant by that!? Emily knew that Tommy Hart was a chauvinistic pig, and she had certainly thwarted his maniacal plots before, but that cryptic threat sounded like a stretch, even for him. What was Tommy and his rude gang up to this time? Emily pondered as she fought against her bonds. The ego maniac and his boys had left the amateur detective trussed up on top of some old barrels in what looked like a dingy basement. The smell of dampness and mold was overpowering. She knew this, because the cloth gag that muffled her frustrated groans, forced her to breath deeply in through her nose. Emily didn’t like it. But the coarse ropes that were lashed around her slender wrists and trim ankles left her little ability to do anything about it for the moment.

“Mmmmppphhhffff!” she grunted stretching at her bonds. Having her arms pulled back and bound at the wrist made her shoulders groan with the strain. And kneeling on the unforgiving splinter filled lid, with nothing to cushion her but a vapor thin pair of sheer black pantyhose was agonizing. Not only would she have bruised shins, but she would yet again have to spend her allowance on fresh nylons. Emily had been trying to save up for a new bike, but babysitting gigs were barely keeping up with the increasing size of her stockings discard pile. If only I could unravel cases as easily as I unravel my flimsy tights she thought with a sour sigh.

If I can just---OOOF!!! WHOA!!! Emily yanked at her bonds while she lamented the financial realities associated with being a girl detective. Her distracted thoughts (as they often did) led her to not pay close enough attention to her precarious perch. And as such, she began toppling over. With her ankles tightly bound by rope, she had little ability to counterbalance. Luckily, she gathered herself just in time, and with a wincing expression on her face, she saved herself from a full on blunder.

Instead, Emily found herself with a new perspective on things. That is to say, she found herself upside down. Oh goodness, that hurts, she winced as she felt the top of the barrel biting unkindly into her painfully arched back. She was grateful for the modest padding afforded by her signature green sweater vest, but really, it wasn’t much. Emily tried to position her legs in an urgent reaction to counterbalance, while maintaining some sense of modesty in her short plaid skirt.

“Pantyhose present a girl’s modesty,” Emily could hear the preaching words of the Head Mistress of Greenfield Academy in her head, regarding the antiquated and unfair dress code for girls at her school. Somehow I don’t think the Head Mistress had this in mind when she was trying to teach us to be proper young ladies. Still, Emily thought, I guess I’m kinda grateful for the darn things right now, she blushed. She felt the draft on her raised bottom as the back of her skirt draped as a tablecloth over the surface of the barrel top.

On a positive note, the clumsy blundering rewarded Emily with more than just a new perspective of the world. It also (painfully) twisted her arms out from behind her back and up above her head! Alas, she also began experiencing the sensation of the pressure of blood rushing into her skull and pushing on her eyeballs and eardrums. Emily rolled her eyes upward, or in this case, downward, toward the floor, and reached with her still bound, but now slightly more useful, finger tips. Her pink painted nails danced in the air. No surface to be found.

Drat it, can’t quite reach! Okay, hmmm… you can figure this out, Em. Just gotta figure out a way to get off this barrel without busting yourself up too bad, she thought determinedly. As she tried to solve that problem, she blinked her eyes a few times and whimpered a little into her gag. Between the rapidly escalating backache she was incurring, and the dizzyingly unplanned blood congregation pounding in her head, Emily found it quite impossible to clear her mind.

Hurry, Emily! Tommy warned you that he’s up to something, and it’s no good!

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Here is part 6 of my brand new story. Uh oh! You didn't forget about Emily, did you? She's found a new perspective on her situation, and always likes to examine a problem from different angles. That Emily, she's so clever! Now if she can only...

(This picture was made in Daz Studio 3.1.2.24 and post-worked in Adobe Photoshop CS2)

Description

“...after that, Emily Lockwood, the amateur detective, won’t exist!”

What had Tommy meant by that!? Emily knew that Tommy Hart was a chauvinistic pig, and she had certainly thwarted his maniacal plots before, but that cryptic threat sounded like a stretch, even for him. What was Tommy and his rude gang up to this time? Emily pondered as she fought against her bonds. The ego maniac and his boys had left the amateur detective trussed up on top of some old barrels in what looked like a dingy basement. The smell of dampness and mold was overpowering. She knew this, because the cloth gag that muffled her frustrated groans, forced her to breath deeply in through her nose. Emily didn’t like it. But the coarse ropes that were lashed around her slender wrists and trim ankles left her little ability to do anything about it for the moment.

“Mmmmppphhhffff!” she grunted stretching at her bonds. Having her arms pulled back and bound at the wrist made her shoulders groan with the strain. And kneeling on the unforgiving splinter filled lid, with nothing to cushion her but a vapor thin pair of sheer black pantyhose was agonizing. Not only would she have bruised shins, but she would yet again have to spend her allowance on fresh nylons. Emily had been trying to save up for a new bike, but babysitting gigs were barely keeping up with the increasing size of her stockings discard pile. If only I could unravel cases as easily as I unravel my flimsy tights she thought with a sour sigh.

If I can just---OOOF!!! WHOA!!! Emily yanked at her bonds while she lamented the financial realities associated with being a girl detective. Her distracted thoughts (as they often did) led her to not pay close enough attention to her precarious perch. And as such, she began toppling over. With her ankles tightly bound by rope, she had little ability to counterbalance. Luckily, she gathered herself just in time, and with a wincing expression on her face, she saved herself from a full on blunder.

Instead, Emily found herself with a new perspective on things. That is to say, she found herself upside down. Oh goodness, that hurts, she winced as she felt the top of the barrel biting unkindly into her painfully arched back. She was grateful for the modest padding afforded by her signature green sweater vest, but really, it wasn’t much. Emily tried to position her legs in an urgent reaction to counterbalance, while maintaining some sense of modesty in her short plaid skirt.

“Pantyhose present a girl’s modesty,” Emily could hear the preaching words of the Head Mistress of Greenfield Academy in her head, regarding the antiquated and unfair dress code for girls at her school. Somehow I don’t think the Head Mistress had this in mind when she was trying to teach us to be proper young ladies. Still, Emily thought, I guess I’m kinda grateful for the darn things right now, she blushed. She felt the draft on her raised bottom as the back of her skirt draped as a tablecloth over the surface of the barrel top.

On a positive note, the clumsy blundering rewarded Emily with more than just a new perspective of the world. It also (painfully) twisted her arms out from behind her back and up above her head! Alas, she also began experiencing the sensation of the pressure of blood rushing into her skull and pushing on her eyeballs and eardrums. Emily rolled her eyes upward, or in this case, downward, toward the floor, and reached with her still bound, but now slightly more useful, finger tips. Her pink painted nails danced in the air. No surface to be found.

Drat it, can’t quite reach! Okay, hmmm… you can figure this out, Em. Just gotta figure out a way to get off this barrel without busting yourself up too bad, she thought determinedly. As she tried to solve that problem, she blinked her eyes a few times and whimpered a little into her gag. Between the rapidly escalating backache she was incurring, and the dizzyingly unplanned blood congregation pounding in her head, Emily found it quite impossible to clear her mind.

Hurry, Emily! Tommy warned you that he’s up to something, and it’s no good!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is part 6 of my brand new story. Uh oh! You didn't forget about Emily, did you? She's found a new perspective on her situation, and always likes to examine a problem from different angles. That Emily, she's so clever! Now if she can only...

(This picture was made in Daz Studio 3.1.2.24 and post-worked in Adobe Photoshop CS2)