Velma shifted uneasily on her seat in the back of the Mystery Machine. She was stuck in between Shaggy and Scooby, because each claimed car sickness if they didn’t have a window. Daphne rode shotgun, as usual. Everyone in the group knew Fred had a thing for her.
And why not, Velma sighed. Gorgeous long red hair that you could bury your face in, long legs that her little short dress almost showed too much of, and a figure that just wanted to be squeezed, what wasn’t there to like?
Velma gave herself a mental slap. Time to start thinking about tonight’s mystery. The Tunnel of Love attraction at the amusement park had recently been haunted by someone they called, “The Phantom Groper.” The Phantom would lurk in the shadows of the dark ride before springing out to accost the young women on the ride with their beau’s. But tonight the mystery would be solved.
The van rolled to a stop in the center of the midway. The gang piled out into the night, dimly illuminated by a few bare bulbs strung between the attractions. A cool breeze sent trash skittering down the empty street.
“Yoikes,” moaned Shaggy. “This place is super creepy.” He turned to his canine companion, “Whaddya say we sit this one out, Scoob?”
The dog gave a “Rokay” that was quickly interrupted by Fred.
“Velma, you take Shaggy and Scooby and check out the Chamber of Horrors exhibit. Daphne and I will check out the Tunnel of Love.”
Velma sighed as the terrified dog leaped into Shaggy’s arms. She didn’t know which was worse, the dog’s cowardice or Fred’s painfully obvious ploy. “Well not tonight, Freddie-boy,” she thought. She grabbed Daphne by the wrist and gave a tug. “Come on Daphne,” she said as she headed towards the horror exhibit. “We’ll let the boy explore the Tunnel of Love.”
Leaving the male contingent of the party with their mouths hanging open Velma dragged Daphne across the midway. “I think there’s a side entrance down this alleyway,” she told Daphne. “We can sneak in that way in case the Phantom is watching the entrance.”
Even in the dim light the girls could see the dilapidated state of the building. The steps creaked ominously and the door showered paint flakes as they pulled it open. The room inside was filled with shadows.
“I can’t see a thing in here,” complained Daphne. “Where’s the light-switch?”
Velma knelt down and rummaged through her pack. She pushed some bundled clothing aside and pulled out a pair of flashlights. “Here,” she said as she handed Daphne one of the lights. “You go that way and see if you can find the lights. She pointed in the opposite direction, “I’ll go this way and look for clues.”
“Shouldn’t we stick together?” Daphne asked doubtfully.
“Jinkies Daphne, if I wanted chickens I’d have taken Shaggy and Scooby,” was Velma’s sharp retort.
Her face crimson with embarrassment, Daphne turned away in search of the light switch. Velma moved about ten feet in the other direction before dousing her light. She dropped to one knee, slinging her pack on the floor once again. From the pack she withdrew a long black robe and a ghoulish green mask. She rummaged around in the pack before she withdrew a small brown bottle and a folded white cloth.
Velma slipped the pack back on before donning the robe. It took a minute to settle the mask over her glasses but she had done it enough that she was used to it. Disposable black latex gloves were pulled over her hands. Picking up the rag and bottle, the Phantom began to stalk their prey.
Daphne wandered helplessly through the exhibit hall. Scenes of horror played eerily in the beam of her flashlight. Monsters of every description loomed up from the darkness, shaking her resolve. She was about to retrace her steps to the entrance when she heard Velma’s voice.
“Jinkies, I’ve found it,” came the faint cry. It was coming from the hall marked, “The Inquisition.”
Daphne moved towards the entrance. “Velma?” she called uneasily. She played her light across the room. It was filled with all sorts of implements of torture. On the far side of the room was the flickering beam of a flashlight.
“Velma?” Daphne called again as she crept towards the light. She rounded a long wooden table with ropes on either end and froze. Velma’s light lay abandoned on the floor. She was about to cry out when an arm gripped her around the waist. Her scream for help was stifled when a wet rag was slapped over her mouth and nose. She struggled briefly before the room spun into blackness.
Velma grunted as she supported the dead weight of her friend. “You must be hitting the Scooby snacks,” she gasped as she heaved Daphne’s unconscious body onto the table. Slipping off her disguise, she opened her pack and got to work.
The table Daphne was on was in fact a medieval torture rack. Velma pulled Daphne’s hands over her head before buckling leather straps around her wrists. From her pack she pulled out a leather blindfold. Moving quickly she buckled it over Daphne’s eyes, pressing her silky red hair against her head. Velma wasn’t sure how long the chloroform would last, and it wouldn’t do for Daphne to see her friend at work.
Daphne let out a little moan as she struggled back to consciousness. Realizing her time was almost up, Velma pulled her friend’s legs apart before fastening them to the end of the rack. She tossed her phantom mask aside but kept the black robe and gloves.
“Wha-where am I?” came the groggy question from the now restrained Daphne. She tried to sit up, but found she could do little more than wave her arms ineffectually above her head. Her cry of, “Help” was cut off as a black gloved hand clamped down over her mouth.
A weird, sinister voice spoke close to her ear. “No need to cry out, my dear,” the voice hissed. “There’s no one to hear you now but the dead. Still- we don’t want you waking them, now do we?” The hand came off her mouth and Daphne prepared a scream. Before she could summon help she felt something hard and round pressed between her lips.
Velma pressed the ball gag up against Daphne’s open mouth. The red ball wedged between her teeth. She held it firmly in place with one hand while the other threaded the strap through Daphne’s auburn locks. She buckled it tightly in place, reducing her friend’s cries to an unintelligible mumble.
“Now, let’s see what kind of sinful wickedness you’re hiding,” hissed the phantom’s voice. Velma adjusted the electronic voice changer about her neck. She wanted both hands free. And if Daphne recognized her voice the game would be up.
Daphne’s body stiffened as she felt the hem of her dress lifted. She thrashed wildly as she felt the purple fabric pulled upwards. She heard the phantom hiss, “Enough of that.” There was the creak of wood and gears, followed by a sharp pull on her arms. In sudden horror she realized that she was bound on a rack. Her shoulders screamed in protest as her body was pulled tight.
“Now where were we?” hissed Velma as she grabbed Daphne’s dress once more. She pulled the dress up, revealing first Daphne’s little pink panties and then her matching lace bra. With the dress bunched up beneath Daphne’s chin, Velma turned her attention to her breasts.
Daphne shuddered in her restraints as cool hands stroked the edges of her bra. She could feel fingers hook the underside of it before giving a sharp tug upwards. A muffled yelp escaped her as her bra was pulled upwards, causing her breasts to spring from their concealment.
“Ohh yesss,” came the voice out of the darkness. Daphne whimpered as the cool hands lightly stroked her exposed breasts. They cupped each one, giving a gentle squeeze that she was powerless to stop.
Velma closed her eyes in bliss as she cupped Daphne’s naked orbs. How she had dreamed of touching this tender flesh. Her black clad thumbs sought out Daphne’s little pink nipples. She rubbed little round circles around them at first, before working her thumbs back and forth across them. Daphne’s breath quickened as the nipples became little hard buds.
Daphne tried to ignore her body’s response to her captor’s teasing. She was mortified at feeling pleasure against her will. She gave a quick sigh of relief when the fingers stopped their teasing. But then there was the warmth of soft lips on her breast. A garbled, “Oh God,” escaped her gag as the phantom sucked her nipple up into their mouth.
Velma drew her friend’s hardened nipple up into her mouth. Daphne bucked in her restraints beneath her. Velma let her hands curl and dig into Daphne’s breast tissue. The captive girl’s whimper let Velma know that her warning was clear. She could give pain as well as pleasure.
Daphne tried to settle herself on the rack. Her wrists and shoulders ached from the constant pull. But the touch of the phantom’s mouth stirred feelings of arousal that she refused to accept. Her nipple was a rock hard bud that was alternately sucked, licked and bitten. And while the phantom worked that one with their mouth, their free hand accosted the other. Contrary to her mental outrage her juices began to flow.
Whether Velma scented Daphne’s growing arousal or her brain knew her time was short she couldn’t say. But she let one hand drift down over Daphne’s abdomen to slip inside her panties. Her gloved hand slid easily over the wetness there. “You are mine, little bitch,” she hissed.
Daphne mumbled, “Please no,” as fingers probed her sex. She burned with humiliation as the phantom learned of her growing arousal. The discovery was enough to draw them away from her tormented nipples, but to what end?
Velma withdrew her hand from Daphne’s panties. She fished in her pack for her EMT shears. “Let’s see what you flaunt in front of the boys,” she hissed through the voice changer. Grabbing the front of Daphne’s panties she pulled sharply upward. Daphne gave a satisfying whimper as the bunched fabric was pulled into her slit.
For her size, Velma was stronger than she looked. She pulled until Daphne’s backside lifted from the table. The EMT shears slipped in on one side, parting the strained material. A second quick cut and the panties parted, letting Daphne drop back to the table. Velma pulled the ruined panties up and away, dragging them between Daphne’s lips.
The scissors and panties were dropped into Velma’s pack. In the dim light Velma looked on Daphne’s glittering mound with hunger. ‘All the time we’ve lived together,’ she thought, ‘and I’ve never seen this.’ She leaned over her captive, breathing in the heady aroma of sex.
Velma ran her hand lightly over Daphne’s clit. She watched the woman’s face as she gave an involuntary moan. In the weak glow of the flashlight she saw a glistening trail of saliva escape around the ball gag. It drew her attention away from exploring Daphne’s sex. Knowing she was taking a risk getting so close to her friend’s face, blindfold or not Velma leaned in.
Daphne felt the phantom’s gloved hands on either side of her face. The cold hands were warm now, warmed by her own body heat. She could feel the presence hovering over her, feel her captor’s hot breath on her face. She had expected a charnel house smell from the horrible creature. Instead its breath was almost sweet. But before she could think on it further she felt the phantom’s mouth press down over her gag.
Velma closed her eyes as she lowered her mouth over Daphne’s. Her lips were warm and wet from the large ball in her mouth. Velma let her tongue explore the edges of the gag, running it over Daphne’s lips. The little whimper of protest made the kiss that much sweeter.
Daphne struggled against the forced kiss at first. But other than the hands gripping her head, the kiss was surprisingly gentle. She willed herself to relax and was rewarded by an easing of the hands on her head. The one still held a grip on her hair. The other drifted down over her naked body.
Velma worked her hand down Daphne’s body while she played with her gagged mouth. Her tongue pressed the edges of the gag, seeking to slip into Daphne’s mouth, tasting the sweet saliva that dribbled from her lips.
She tweaked Daphne’s nipple on the way down, just to enjoy the little yelp of distress it caused. But Velma’s true goal was the sweet wetness between her captive’s legs. She found the little knot of Daphne’s clit, rubbing her fingers over it. The moan of forced pleasure was music to Velma’s ears.
Daphne felt the heat rising in her body as the phantom’s fingers probed her sex. As terrifying as her situation was, she found the phantom’s touch almost gentle. The thought came unbidden to her mind, ‘Why can’t Fred be more like this?’ Horrified by the thought that she could actually enjoy this rough treatment she struggled anew.
Velma felt Daphne struggle. But as the girl fought her restraints Velma slipped two fingers inside her. The struggling ended with a moan that was at once frightened and aroused. With her thumb on Daphne’s clit, Velma worked her fingers inside in a pincer movement that drove her captive towards climax.
It was at that pivotal moment they both heard a voice call, “Daphne? Velma? Are you in here?” It was Fred, searching for them. Velma stopped her sensual assault, pulling her wet fingers from Daphne’s sex. “Curse those meddling kids,” she growled, making herself giggle in the process. Daphne let out a little whimper that almost sounded like disappointment.
Velma knew the game was over. She abandoned her friend, leaving the phantom mask lying on the table between Daphne’s legs. As she sprinted across the room she stripped off her black robe. She stopped to drop the robe by the entrance to the room. Velma pulled off her black gloves, turning them inside out to preserve the moisture on them. She stuffed them in her pack before pulling out a small black book. She tossed the book on the floor and kicked the discarded black robe over it.
From the doorway Velma could see the glow of approaching flashlights. She was quickly running out of time. She rushed into the next room. It was dedicated to classic movie monsters. On a low pedestal there was an open coffin lined with blood red satin. Beside it stood a poorly done wax figure of Dracula.
Velma moved to the coffin. Lifting her leg she climbed in. Steeling herself for what she must do, Velma reached up and pulled the lid closed. There was a sharp click as the latches closed. She was now trapped in the coffin until the boys came to “rescue” her. Velma began banging on the lid.
Fred entered the chamber of horrors with his two companions quivering by his side. From across the room came a, “Mmmph, mmmph,” sound. He played the light across the room, catching a glimpse of pale skin. “Daphne!” he cried, rushing to her side.
Shaggy and Scooby followed close behind, skidding to a stop at the sight of their naked and bound friend. “Like, don’t look, Scoob,” Shaggy said as he put a hand over the eyes of his canine friend. He covered his eyes as well, but with a significant gap between fingers.
“Daphne, what happened,” cried Fred.
Daphne shook her head angrily, “Mmmph, mmmph!”
“Like, maybe take the gag out Fred,” said Shaggy helpfully.
“Oh right,” Fred replied sheepishly. He pulled the gag from Daphne’s mouth with a wet, “pop!” He removed her blindfold, leaving her to blink in the glare of the flashlights.
“Would you please get that light out of my eyes,” Daphne snapped. “And untie me! My arms are about to come out of their sockets.”
Fred went to work on the leather straps that held Daphne to the rack. “These ropes are too tight,” he complained. “Shaggy, loosen the drum on the top of the rack so I can get these cuffs off,” he told his friend.
Shaggy rushed to obey. He grabbed the long wooden handles and pulled. Daphne let out a howl of pain. “Not that way,” she wailed.
“Like, sorry Daphne,” Shaggy said as he reversed the direction of the drum.
Daphne let out a sob of relief as the tension on her limbs was released. Fred fiddled awkwardly with the restraints while Shaggy and Scooby looked on with wide eyes. In response to their stares she snapped, “Do you mind?”
Fred, noticing his companion’s fixation on Daphne’s nudity, suggested that they go search the next room. Perhaps they could find Velma? The man and his dog turned reluctantly away.
As Shaggy and Scooby entered the next room they were quivering with fear. The room was full of waxwork monsters. A thumping sound echoed across the room. “Like, I don’t hear anything. Do you Scoob?” Shaggy asked, hoping his friend would choose to ignore the sound as well.
The two cowardly friends were about to retreat from the room when they heard Velma’s muffled voice, “Help, get me out of here!”
“Like, that’s Velma’s voice, Scoob,” Shaggy said in a quivering voice. “And it’s coming from that coffin,” he said as he pointed a trembling finger. The coffin was ornate, black polished wood adorned with the Dracula crest. Behind it stood a looming waxwork vampire.
The two friends approached the casket warily. “Like, what if Velma’s been turned,” Shaggy gulped, “into a vampire?” Scooby whined and shook uncontrollably.
The pounding from the coffin increased. “Help, get me out of here!” came the muffled cry.
“Quick Scoob, grab that cross,” Shaggy said, gesturing towards a wax figure of the vampire hunter. The dog reached up and snatched the cross from the figure. He stood by the casket as the trembling Shaggy lifted the lid.
Velma sat up, swatting away the cross that the frightened duo shoved in her face. “I’m not a vampire!” she growled. “The Phantom Groper locked me in here. Now let’s go find Daphne. She might be in danger,” she said as she climbed from the coffin.
“No problem, Velma,” Shaggy said. “Scooby and I already rescued her.” He started back towards the room they had left Daphne and Fred in. Oblivious, Shaggy stepped on the black robe Velma had left on the floor.
Velma rolled her eyes. “Jinkies, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to the discarded costume.
“Looks like someone forgot to put away their laundry, eh Scoob?” was Shaggy’s clueless response.
Velma kept the sarcasm from her voice. “I think this is the Phantom Gropers’ outfit. You guys found it!” She picked up the robe, carefully kicking the book towards Shaggy’s feet.
It was a clue even the two dimwits couldn’t miss. “Hey, what’s this?” Shaggy asked as he picked up the book. “Looks like a bible. But what’s a phantom need a bible for?”
Velma took the book from him. She flipped it open to a page marked with an envelope. “Shaggy, look at the return address on this envelope. It says ‘Pastor McMaster’. That must mean that he’s the Phantom Groper. You boys have solved the case!”
Velma smiled as the two friends raced back to tell Fred and Daphne they had solved the mystery. Later tonight Velma would drop the incriminating gloves in the trash at McMaster’s home. She knew the evidence was too flimsy to get a conviction. But when the people the pastor had molested over the years read the article in the paper Velma knew they would come forward with their own accusations. Convicted or not, the perverted pastor was finished.
The rest of the evening was filled with talking to the police. Velma took charge of Daphne, comforting her while the boys talked to the authorities. Velma suggested that Daphne ride in the back with her on the way home. After being ogled by Shaggy and Fred, Daphne agreed eagerly.
As the van drove through the night Velma pulled a blanket over her friend’s shoulders, settling her arm around her. In the darkness she hid a satisfied smile.
Epilogue
“Daphne, help!” came Velma’s cry. Daphne climbed out of bed at the sound. Had she imagined it? But the cry was repeated. Clad in one of Fred’s old football jerseys she padded quietly across the house to Velma’s room.
Daphne listened at the door to her friend’s room. There were the faint sounds of a struggle. Cautiously she eased the door open. She gasped in surprise. There on the bed lay Velma. She was stripped down to only her bra and panties. The struggling woman was bound hand and foot, with her feet pulled up behind her in a tight hog-tie.
Daphne let out a yelp as she rushed to her friend. “Velma, are you okay? Who did this to you?” She turned her friend over and began working on the knots that held her. “How did they get in? I’m going to call Fred and have him come over.”
“No, please don’t,” Velma pleaded as she was released. Slipping on her glasses she blushed crimson. “The truth is-I did this to myself.”
“What? Why would you do that?” Daphne asked in disbelief.
“Well,” Velma said as she massaged her wrists. “The villains always seem to grab us and we have to wait for the boys to come rescue us. I thought it would be better to be able to free myself.” She gave an embarrassed pause. “My knots were better than I thought. I guess it’s kind of silly.”
Daphne thought back to the last time she was tied up, and how humiliating it was to be seen by the boys in that state. “Well, it’s not a bad idea,” she answered slowly.
“You’d probably be better at it than me,” Velma replied, brightening. “Do you want to try?”
Daphne gave the ropes a dubious look. “I don’t know. What if I can’t get out?”
“Then we’ll have to do a little more research on escaping. Besides, I’ll be right here to help you. What do you say?”
“Okay,” Daphne said slowly. “But I still think it’s kinda weird. What do I do?”
Velma, taking charge, said, “Just put your hands behind your back.” She took up a length of rope and slipped it around Daphne’s wrists. Her hands trembled with excitement. Within moments she had her friend’s hands bound securely.
“Should I try to escape now?” Daphne asked as she twisted in her bonds.
“Not yet,” Velma said. “No villain is going to make it that easy for you. Just lay back on the bed.”
Daphne watched as Velma caught her ankle. The other girl pushed it up until it was pressed against Daphne’s thigh. As Velma roped ankle to thigh Daphne said doubtfully. “This isn’t how you were tied.”
“I had to do it myself,” Velma answered as she bound Daphne’s other leg. Her mouth went dry as Fred’s jersey hiked up, revealing Daphne’s purple panties. “This will be easier for you, less stress on your body.”
Daphne tested her bonds. Velma had done a thorough job. She tried to free her legs, blushing brightly as they fell open to flash the other girl. “This isn’t very easy,” she said as she struggled. Spying a pair of scarves in Velma’s hands she frowned. “What are those for?”
In response Velma pressed a scarf over Daphne’s eyes. “Villains always blindfold you, thinking it makes it harder to escape,” she said as she blindfolded Daphne. “In reality it allows you to focus all your attention on your situation.”
“And this,” Velma said as she pressed a knotted scarf against Daphne’s lips, “Just adds to the reality of your predicament.”
Daphne felt the satin fabric pressed between her teeth. She mumbled a protest. But Velma seemed determined to make her challenge as real as possible. She began to struggle against the ropes.
Velma sat back on her heels, watching her best friend struggle against the ropes. As Fred’s jersey crept up to Daphne’s waist Velma eyed her hungrily. Of its own volition Velma’s hand slid down inside her own panties.
Ten glorious minutes later Daphne was exhausted from her escape attempts. The scarf between her teeth was soaked with her saliva. She slumped back on the bed, letting her bound legs fall open. “I give up Velma. I’m never going to get out of this,” came the muffled protest.
Velma leaned over her helpless friend. She said quietly, “I know,” just before placing her lips over Daphne’s gag.
The End