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A young wife rediscovers her past.

"Ohmigod, who goes there?" Spirella demanded as she hurried to straighten her mane and apply just a bit of mascara before they met whatever fate was about to befall them.

"Oh, Spirella, I'm frightened," squeaked Marie-No__lle as she tore apart her rucksack in search of her curry comb.

"Oh, shit," sighed Buttplug, realizing he was going to have to be heroic without the benefit of stuffing his snout with snuff.

But the valiant vacationers proved to be no match for the dozens of short, hairless men wearing long white robes and matching headbands who descended on their clearing. Within minutes, Spirella and Marie-No__lle found themselves stripped of their pony gear, gagged with large red balls, tightly bound in coils of rough brown hemp, and hung like fresh meat from long sticks carried on the shoulders of the men.

As for Buttplug, the invaders had simply laughed at his synthetic claws and electric-blue fur, but when they discovered he was male, they slapped him on the back, gave him a headband to match theirs, and beckoned for him to march alongside them as they advanced down the path to their village.

Buttplug couldn't understand their language, but as dawn broke over the horizon, he thought he recognized their thin eyes, clever fingers and great love for electronic gadgets.

"The Shibari," he whispered into Spirella's delectable ear as they approached a cluster of strangely-shaped wooden structures surrounded by elegant gardens filled with artfully-arranged stones of pleasing shapes and colors. "A politely barbaric tribe from the far east. I have heard they aren't really dangerous, but they have many rituals and very specific tribulations that they like to practice on their females and, er, esteemed visitors."

Spirella twisted and thrashed excitedly, and not just because of the coarse cords digging geometrically-symmetrical trenches in her limbs.

"Mmm mingggg!" she mumbled urgently through her gag.

"Don't worry, ma petite equestrianette. I snatched your precious cargo, not to mention the rest of your stuff, while the Shibari were busy with your bitchin' bindings. Besides, I don't think these are the chaps you're looking for. Shhhh, best to play nice until we get to wherever we're going."

The captors and their trussed prey entered the largest of the buildings, which was filled with painted screens, rough-hewn furniture, odd-looking scaffolding, and a preponderance of pulleys hanging from the ceiling. Spirella and Marie-No__lle were freed from their poles, only to be tied again in an extremely elaborate fashion, including multiple windings around their breasts and hair, and hoisted high into the air, their refined orifices exposed for the pleasure and amusement of the men.

The shortest and most portly of the Shibari gestured excitedly at Buttplug and began babbling in his strange tongue at a very rapid pace while his cohorts busied themselves with various tasks, many which seemed to involve large rubber bags festooned with clear plastic hoses.

"He's the leader," Buttplug translated. "He seems to be saying that you are the Shibari's honored guests, and he wants to share his tribe's special form of hospitality with you. Apparently, it involves some kind of...cleansing."

A few moments later, the purpose and intent of the rubber bags became painfully apparent as Spirella and Marie-No__lle found their most private passages filled to the point of bursting with warm, soapy water.

"Don't worry," Buttplug assured them, trying his very hardest not to enjoy his companions' dire and somewhat disgusting predicament. "It's very healthy and beneficial, or so I've been told."

After being instructed to release the contents of their bountiful bottoms into chipped white pans held beneath them, the Shibari lowered them to the ground and proceeded to take turns tying them up in some of the most fiendishly convoluted positions Buttplug had ever witnessed.

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