This story, set in the world of Scooby-Doo, features damsel-in-distress bondage and some humiliation; it's not explicitly sexual but reader discretion is advised. There are gagtalk translations at the end of the story for those who are interested.
1. The Case Of The Ghastly Ghost
"I'm
so
over this damsel-in-distress nonsense."
Daphne Blake blew a stray lock of auburn hair out of her eyes and glared defiantly at the rest of the gang. Given that her wrists were still bound in front of her and she had been ungagged for all of two seconds - the expensive green scarf was back around her neck where it belonged - the declaration was not entirely convincing.
"Are you sure, Daph?" said Fred, smirking. "We always assumed you enjoyed it! You really should have said something."
"Enjoy this?!" If looks could kill, Fred would have been pushing up the daisies. "Enjoy getting tied up and carried around like a sack of potatoes? Enjoy being gagged with my own scarf? Enjoy having my tights yanked up by some handsy ghost?" Remembering that last part, the feisty redhead turned and bestowed an awkward, two-handed punch on the slumped-over figure in the white clown costume. There was no response.
"But jinkies, Daph, it does seem to happen an awful lot," Velma pointed out. "Mathematically, it is highly improbable that an able-bodied woman in her mid-twenties who
isn't
trying to get captured should be taken prisoner four times in any given ninety-minute duration."
"Rive rimes!"
"Thank you Scoob, five times. The statistical analysis doesn't lie, I'm afraid."
"The statistical analysis can kiss my butt. I wasn't walking around asking to be kidnapped." In an effort to change the subject, Daphne pouted at Fred and batted her eyelashes. "Can you untie me, please?"
Fred hurried over to assist, unable as ever to resist the appeal of a damsel in distress - even one who refused to accept that designation. But Velma ploughed on with the stubborn perseverance that had proved the downfall of so many sinister amusement-park owners across the nation.
"Go on then, Daphne. We already know how you got tied up in the janitor's closet, and ribboned up in the balloon room, and wrapped up on the conveyor belt, and packaged up in the life-sized doll room. Tell us what happened this time."
"Well..." Daphne knew it wasn't going to sound good. But it had seemed like such a clever idea at the time! "It was when I was being the bait..."
Velma raised an eyebrow. "I thought you might be a little too good at that job."
"I was very good at it! I noticed that the ghost always seemed to truss me up, so I thought it must be keen on that sort of thing - you know, bound and gagged damsels in distress, all that stuff. So I figured that the ghost would find me irresistible if I was tied up."
"Ruh ro."
"Like, tell me you didn't tie
yourself
up, Daphster," said Shaggy.
"I may have done. Just a bit. But that isn't how I got caught! I'm just setting the scene."
Fred had finally finished unpicking the knots around Daphne's wrists, and he now whipped off the cords with a flourish.
"Don't tell me," he laughed. "You locked yourself in a set of antique manacles and handed the ghost the key. Or you wrapped yourself up with duct tape, like a neat little parcel."
"No!" Daphne was conscious, as on so many occasions in the past, that the gang were looking at her as if she was a complete liability. The worst part, somehow, was the way they all seemed to find her susceptibility to capture so amusing, even endearing.
"The plan had worked! I was luring the ghost into our trap. But then it... caught me, with a jump rope. And tied me up. And started grabbing my... you know. So I told it not to, and it gagged me!" Daphne blushed with embarrassment and frustration.
"Never mind, Daph," said Fred, smiling patronisingly. "You just can't help it, can you? I'm the ideas man, Velma here looks after the boring details, Scoob and Shaggy do... their thing, and you're the damsel in distress who gets kidnapped. We're a brilliant team!"
Fred was saved from Daphne's angry reply by the timely arrival of the Mystery Machine, which smashed through the door of the factory and squealed to a halt mere feet from the startled gang. And moments later, the warehouse was a circus of fans and media, all clamouring for information about the case - including the identity of the Luna Ghost, who turned out to be Old Man Smithers, the creepy janitor, in an elaborate disguise.
It wasn't until the gang made it outside that they were able to continue the conversation. But it didn't go well. Velma was furious that Fred had taken credit for her plan. And Daphne was furious that she had spent so much time as a captive.
"Daph, look," said Fred, unhelpfully. "It's not our fault that you always get kidnapped."
"I do
not
always get kidnapped. I can't believe you'd say that to me."
"Oh, please," said Velma. "You come with your own ransom note."
There was no coming back from that. Daphne stole Velma's glasses; Velma accidentally throttled Fred half to death; and Shaggy attempted a food-themed motivational speech which somehow made everything worse. Before they knew what was happening, the gang had fallen out completely and gone their separate ways, swearing never to speak to one another again.
2. The Case Of The Disappearing Damsel
As far as Daphne was concerned, breaking up the gang was the best idea she'd ever had. And it
had
been her idea, whatever Velma might say on the matter.
"Always getting kidnapped, am I?" she muttered to herself. "Come with my own ransom note, do I? Laughably straightforward for villains to bind and gag me, is it? I'll show them!"
Daphne was more determined than ever to leave behind her reputation as a damsel in distress. Never again would she mmpphh helplessly from behind a tight gag, pleading for a big strong man to come and untie her hands and feet. Never again would she allow a villain to toss her over his shoulder like a helpless prize and carry her off to his spooky lair. Hadn't these villains heard of feminism? It was the 21st century, not 1969.
Fortunately, she knew exactly where to go.
oOo
"My name is Daphne, and I am a damsel in distress."
"Hello Daphne," the room chorused back at her. There were roughly a dozen young women sitting on foldaway chairs, holding cups of bad coffee. A sign read "Damsels Anonymous: One Kidnap At A Time."
"Let's see. I'm 25, an Aries, obviously! I work as a private investigator. And it's been... three days since I was last bound and gagged." She blushed. "I actually got bound and gagged five times that day."
The faces around her shone with sympathy and understanding. Daphne felt better already. "It's okay, honey," said one beautiful fellow redhead, who according to her badge was named April. "We believe in you. Keep going."
"I just..." Daphne sighed. "I don't want to play this part any more. I'm supposed to be part of a gang, but I never get to do anything fun. There's this one guy, Fred, who gets to be the hero, and my girlfriend Velma has all the clever ideas, and this weird stoner Shaggy says the jokes, and even his stupid dog gets more lines than me because I'm inevitably gagged. Why do they always feel the need to put a gag on me? Why would a ghost care if I can talk? It's so humiliating."
It all came flooding out, the frustration and embarrassment that had built up over the years. The hours spent tied to chairs. The laughter when her friends pretended not to understand what she was saying through a gag. The total lack of bondage applied to the rest of the gang.
"Have you talked to your friends about this?" asked April. "Maybe they could make more of an effort to prevent you getting kidnapped. I bet they always insist on splitting up, don't they?"
"Yes! Why do we do that, if not to present villains with the perfect opportunity to capture me? It makes no sense at all."
The group smiled at one another, as if Daphne had stumbled across a truth they had realised long ago.
"That's a common experience," said April. "If you're a damsel, you need to accept that your friends and loved ones won't always have your best interests at heart. They might come and rescue you once you get captured, but for whatever reason they will feel compelled to put you in situations where you're likely to get captured in the first place. It isn't their fault, it's just the way they are."
"My boyfriend is supposed to go on reporting assignments with me," explained a dark-haired young woman named Lois, "but he always seems to vanish at the exact moment when things become dangerous. I get captured and tied up, and have to be rescued by this other guy I met recently. But I don't blame either of them. It's just the way things work."
"If Robin would let me live with him in the forest, I bet I'd be safer. But he insists that I stay in the castle with his worst enemy, who obviously takes me prisoner whenever he feels like it."
"Mario goes on a fishing trip with his brother once a month and what do you think happens while they're gone? I get kidnapped!"
"And my four best friends always turn up slightly too late to stop me getting nabbed by the bad guys," concluded April. "It's not in their nature to prevent trouble, only to deal with it when it arises. And I've accepted that." She smiled. "One day you will too."
Daphne looked around the group. She knew the women were trying their best to offer good advice, but she felt uneasy.
"I didn't come here to accept the way things are," she exclaimed. "I want to learn how to change them!"
oOo
"Okay," said April. "Let's try a roleplay. You be you, and I'll be a villain."
"Right."
"Stop right there, my proud beauty!" April was doing a deep voice and some highly convincing facial expressions. "You're my prisoner now!"
"Well jeepers, mister! I guess I surrender. I won't try to escape, I promise!"
"Good! But I don't trust you, so I'm going to tie you up. Minion, pass me the rope!"
A young lady in a pink jumpsuit handed over a coil of thin cord - Daphne noticed that there was a coil under everyone's chair - and April gently drew Daphne's hands behind her back.
"Is this okay?" she asked quietly. Daphne nodded.
Her wrists were crossed and tightly lashed together with the cord, which was wrapped around and then between them. Daphne was depressingly familiar with the technique: it was simple but effective.
"I cannot allow you to run away, fair maiden, so I shall bind your pretty legs."
April, giggling just a little, knelt in front of Daphne and quickly tied her legs together, using more and more coils of rope provided by other members of the group. With ankles and knees tightly bound, April knew her legs were largely useless to her. Although hopping was still an option, and one she had used in the past.
"Since I've got some rope left over, I might as well tie it around your arms."
The rope encircled Daphne's chest, with multiple loops snugly pinning her upper arms to her sides. This felt like overkill.
"Gee, mister, is this really necessary?"
"Silence, impertinent damsel!" April flourished a brightly patterned bandana. "Is it okay if I gag you now?" she whispered. Daphne nodded, and the cloth was folded, then placed over the top of her lips and knotted at the nape of her neck.
