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			DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			Anne's Story — by Van Chapter 3

Margo unwrapped the last of Anne's gag, then reached into the embarrassed captive's mouth and helped her eject the slimy handball within.  With a look of disgust, Margo tossed the ball into the corner of the office, where it bounced and rolled back towards the center of the room.  "And you are?"

Anne swallowed and cleared her throat.  "I'm... I'm... Anne Clayton, I..."  Anne's voice broke.  Wracked by sobs she was unable to say more.

Margo cradled Anne's head to her naked bosom.  "Easy, it's okay.  Just rest.  Eve, be helpful."

The voice of the Eve 6900 filled the room.  "Anne Clayton, Legal Department, 19 months employment, Special Projects Team—"

"Enough," Margo barked.  "Where's Jodi?"

"She'll be here in approximately one minute," Eve responded.

Margo helped Anne into a chair and began unwrapping her knees and legs.  This was only halfway accomplished when the glass panel over the outer door to the pool area slid open, Jodi sprinted into the pool area, and towards the office.  The panel slid ominously closed behind her.  Without looking over her shoulder, Margo said "My robe," and continued freeing Anne's legs.

"Jodi, bring Ms. Wells her robe," Eve's echoing voice instructed.

Jodi, who had almost reached the office door, skidded to a halt, looked frantically around until she spotted the robe in question, raced over to where Margo had let it fall, then sprinted back to the office, robe in hand and breathing heavily.  Margo, having just finished removing the last of Anne's leg bindings, stood, and her back still to the door and without a word, extended her arms to either side.  After a short pause, Jodi lunged forward and slipped the robe over Margo's arms.  Margo pulled the silk robe closed, tied the sash, and spun on her heel.

"I believe you've been warned about playing games like this," Margo said quietly, addressing a still panting, and apparently very frightened Jodi.  "Well, haven't you?"

"Yes... Ms. Wells," Jodi gasped.

"Do you have an explanation?" Margo demanded.

"We were just playing," Jodi said.  "I thought Anne might like it, and..."

"You thought she might like it?" Margo interrupted.  "You kidnapped one of my employees in my headquarters and you thought she might like it?" 

Jodi seemed to shrink six inches under Margo's interrogation.  "I... It was only...  I was about to..."

"You're about to start looking for a new job is what you're about to start doing," Margo said evenly.

"Please, Ms. Wells," Jodi began, her eyes darting to Anne,  "I—"

"Uh, Ms. Wells?" Anne said.  Margo's gaze swiveled in her direction and she continued.  "No real harm has been done, and I'm willing to let the whole thing drop."

"I don't care what sort of games Jodi plays on her own time," Margo stated.  "I don't even object to such games being played on my property, but I do object to people being dragged into her games against their will."  She turned back to Jodi and continued.  "What if the next time you decide to play evil villainess you attack a visitor to the complex, and I wind up with a law suit and an exposé on the evening news?  I just can't risk it."

"It wasn't against my will," Anne whispered.

Margo and Jodi turned to face her.  "What did you say?" Margo demanded.

"I said it wasn't against my will," Anne said.  "I was a willing participant."

"Eve, is Ms. Clayton telling the truth?" Margo asked.

"Not entirely, Margo," the AI said, "but voice stress analysis suggests complex emotions."

Margo stared at Anne.

"Okay, the truth is, Jodi was playing a trick on me," Anne admitted, "but I enjoyed it."

"You enjoyed it," Margo repeated.

"I knew it!" Jodi said brightly, then cast her eyes to the floor when Margo's withering gaze turned in her direction.

"Eve?"

"Anne is telling the truth.  Voice stress and thermal skin dilation patterns nominal," Eve intoned.

"I'm still not sure I believe you," Margo said to Anne.  "If I'm going to let this little troublemaker off the hook, I'll need some proof."

"What kind of proof?" Anne asked, more than a little confused.

"You can prove you were enjoying yourself and that the whole affair was an innocent lark... by continuing the game," Margo explained.

"Continuing?" Anne whispered.

"If you aren't willing to remain a bound prisoner until I decide to set you free," said Margo, "I'll know you're just trying to cover for 'The Joker' here, and I'll have to fire her."

Jodi pleaded with her eyes.  Margo stood with arms crossed, a ghost of a smile curling her lips.  Anne twisted her arms inside their sleeve prison, shifting nervously in the chair.

"Well?" Margo demanded.

After several seconds, Anne nodded yes.

"Say it," Margo instructed.  Say you want to be my prisoner until I decide to set you free."

Anne blushed.  "I-I want to be your prisoner," she stammered, "until... until you set me free."

"Oh, thank you, Anne," Jodi gushed.  "I'll make this up to you.  I promise to—"

"Quiet!" Margo barked.  "You aren't off the hook yet, you little trickster.  First of all, I want you to get down on your hands and knees and suck that ball into that big mouth of yours so I don't have to listen to another word out of you."  Margo pointed at the saliva covered, now dust and lint flecked handball that until very recently had been in Anne's mouth.  Jodi swallowed, then did as she was ordered.  "Now, on your knees."  Jodi scrambled to comply.  "Legs crossed," Margo ordered and Jodi obeyed.  "Hands on top of your head, fingers interlaced.  And don't even twitch until I tell you to."  Jodi assumed the ordered position.

Anne watched in wide-eyed disbelief as Margo opened the desk drawer and shook a second handball from the same can from which Jodi had taken the first.  She then untied the blue silk sash of her robe, and finding one end, ripped open the stitching, slipped the ball inside, and let it drop to the center of the sash.  Sash and ball hung in her hand like a sling and stone.  Margo's sashless robe now fluttered open to reveal her firm, toned body and pubic patch as she walked around the desk and over to Anne.  "Open," Margo ordered.

Anne shifted in her chair.  "I—"

"Too late for second thoughts, Anne," Margo said.  "Open."

Anne's lips parted, and Margo thrust the silk enclosed ball inside, then took a taut turn in the fabric at the nape of Anne's neck, and from either side, pulled the sash back between Anne's lips once, twice, then tied a tight square knot behind.  Anne sat in stunned, involuntary silence.  Twice in one night! she thought.

Margo then rummaged in the desk drawer until she found a pair of scissors.  She walked over to Jodi and casually snipped the top of her swimsuit, exposing Jodi's breasts to Anne's incredulous eyes.  Margo then snipped Jodi's suit bottom on the left and right hips, and after dropping the scissors in the pocket of her robe, pulled both halves of the suit from Jodi's body and threw them in the corner.  Jodi blushed bright crimson in embarrassment (or excitement).  Anne watched the blonde's nipples grow firm and erect, rising and falling as their owner took deep breaths through her flaring nostrils.

"Eve, if Jodi moves more than a centimeter until I return, you will let me know about it, won't you?"

"Of course, Margo," the AI responded.

Margo then lifted Anne from the chair and without a second glance at Jodi led Anne out of the office and towards the locker room.  As they approached the glass panel that had been sealing the access slid open.

"Mmmpfh?"  Anne forced a questioning sound past the rubber and silk filling her mouth and trapping her tongue. Margo ignored her prisoner's inquiry as they entered the locker room and approached one of the large, ceiling-to-floor mirrors. 

"Eve?"  In answer, the mirror slowly slid back and to the side, revealing a dark mirrored passage that stretched as far as Anne could see. 

"What are your access instructions, Ms. Wells?" Eve's voice asked.

"I hate it when she gets all formal like that," Margo whispered in Anne's ear, "but I intentionally programmed her to act that way when dealing with security matters."  Margo smiled at Anne's gagged, quizzical expression.  "Eve, Ms. Clayton is granted full 'Wonderland' access privileges as a 'Level One Alice.'"

"Thank you, Ms. Wells," Eve responded.  Anne heard a mechanical hum from inside the passage.  A small drawer was sliding out from the otherwise featureless glass wall near the door opening.  Margo reached inside, and after briefly rummaging through the unseen contents, produced a small metal hoop, which she held for Anne's inspection.

"A choker for you, I think," Margo mused, "in silver."  The hoop was, in fact, a piece of fine jewelry—a plain, featureless, silver torus with thick, rounded sides.  Margo grasped the choker in both hands and pulled.  Nothing happened.  She smiled at Anne, and pulled again, this time with all her strength.  Still nothing.  "As you can see, it's very strong—platinum-silver alloy bonded over a titanium band, and the band incorporates a series of very sophisticated transponders.  Eve's sensors can locate it to within centimeters anywhere on the campus."  Margo held up her right hand, and Anne could see she was wearing a small, feminine, signet ring with a blue stone.  Margo slid the ring along the surface of the choker, and the circle parted.  "Voila!"  Margo reached out, and before her prisoner could react, snapped the choker closed around Anne's throat.

Anne took a step back and found herself hard against the mirrored door.  Margo took her by the shoulders and spun her around, presenting Anne with her own bound, gagged, and now collared reflection.  The choker was close and a little heavy, but it was a perfect fit, and ...she had to admit ...it looked good on her.  "With a nice black dress and the right earrings," Anne mused, "maybe simple posts, make the whole thing a less-is-more statement."  Anne blinked and came back to the present—her bound and gagged, captive present.  She blushed when she noticed Margo's amused smile.

"You're welcome." Margo chuckled.  "Now, to give you a costume more suitable for the occasion.

Margo reached into her pocket and retrieved the scissors, then silently slit Anne's swimsuit first up one side, then down the other, lastly from left to right.  Anne mewled into her gag and cringed against the cold mirror as Margo jerked the suit from her body.  Margo pinned her employee against the door, one hand cupping Anne's left breast, then lifted the tattered suit, turned it in her other hand until she found the crotch panel, and gave it a delicate sniff.  "Well, well," she murmured,  "I do believe you were telling the truth after all.  You do enjoy being bound and gagged, don't you?"  Anne's cheeks burned as she turned her face away.  Margo laughed and gave Anne a shove into the dark corridor.  "I'll be coming for you later," Margo promised.  The door cycled closed, and Anne was alone—but not alone.  The far side of door was clear—it was made of one-way glass.  Anne watched as Margo pulled her robe closed and walked away.  Now, the locker room empty, Anne was truly alone.

Anne leaned back against the corridor wall, breathing deeply, her heart tripping like a hammer.  What in the hell have I gotten myself into? she thought.  Less than an hour ago—I was a corporate lawyer in the employ of the most powerful woman on the planet.  And now I'm—her naked plaything? ...her prisoner?  (There was that thrill again.)  ...and I asked for it!

After several minutes, Anne had calmed herself enough to begin really surveying her surroundings.  She searched for a door release and found none.  In all directions as far as she could see, the tunnel was a nearly featureless, reflective glass tube.  A few hair thin squares and rectangles hinted at more drawers or other openings, but none responded to Anne's prods or kicks.

Well, she thought, there wasn't much reason for me to remain here.  She took several steps into the tunnel... then several more.  The gloom deepened.  She kept walking, until the locker room mirror/door was a distant, glimmering point.  Anne looked ahead.  The tunnel seemed to be brightening.  Several feet further along this impression was confirmed, and the light seemed to be coming more strongly from the left then from the right.  Anne reached the area of greatest brightness, and found the left tunnel wall had become... a window... a window onto one of the main building corridors!  This time of night the corridor was empty, but Anne recognized the furnishings in the conversation alcoves, the plants, the electronic signs, and the closed entrance to one of the many campus snack bars.  Anne walked through that very corridor several times a day, and she knew it well.  Wait a minute, she thought, There's no window onto anything in that corridor, only... mirrored walls.  So this is one-way glass, she surmised, just like the locker room.

Anne continued down the tunnel, which began gently curving to the right.  After several yards, she come to a cross-shaped juncture.  Mirrored tunnel stretched in three directions.  She looked down the left tunnel.  There was another branching intersection in the distance.  It's a maze.  I could get lost in here... fast!   Deciding discretion was the better part of curiosity, Anne turned to retrace her steps ...and nearly walked into a mirrored glass wall, now blocking the path back to the locker room.  She heard a quiet humming noise behind her and, and turned in time to watch similar glass panels slide across all openings but the tunnel to the right.

"This way, Anne," Eve said.  Anne nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected, echoing suggestion.  She looked cautiously down the indicated tunnel.  It was just an empty corridor, like all the rest.  "I said... this way ," Eve repeated.  "Not to be overly melodramatic, but I do have the means to compel your cooperation, although I'm programmed to use them sparingly.  You will be a good girl, won't you?" 

'Means?'  'Compel?' Anne thought anxiously.  She decided discretion was definitely the better part of curiosity, and started down the tunnel.  Shepherding her progress, panels closed behind and across every branching she approached but one.  After what felt like miles of twisting turns, she came to a dark, straight section of tunnel.  A spotlight shone on the floor several yards ahead.  Anne continued forward, and as she entered the light, panels closed across both ends of the tunnel, in front and behind.

"Wait here," Eve intoned.

Minutes passed.  Physically tired, in emotional turmoil, Anne collapsed to the floor.  More time passed.  Anne leaned back against the tunnel wall and closed her eyes.

Abruptly, the mirrored wall panel slid to the side with a high pitched hiss, startling Anne as it unceremoniously spun her onto her side.  Anne scooted away from the wall and stood.  The panel hadn't opened a new passage, but had revealed another glass panel, this one a window onto a small... cell... an occupied cell.  Anne gazed through the window with fascination... and dread.

In the center of the small, mirrored chamber, a straight chair of chromed metal seemed to grow out of the polished steel floor.  Seated in the chair was a female figure dressed in a skintight body stocking of some shiny, almost metallic red fabric.  The stocking covered her completely, encasing her from toes to fingertips to the top of her head.  Not one square millimeter of skin was exposed, but every detail of her lush, voluptuous body was visible; full breasts with large nipples, narrow waist, flat stomach.  Only a pair of visor-like, mirrored goggles covering her eyes broke the integrity of the tight, red garment.

The figure was bound to the chair with thin white cord... elaborately, tightly, inescapably bound to the chair.  Anne could see every aspect of the figure's predicament reflected in the mirrored walls.  Neat, broad bands of cord encircled her ankles, knees, waist, shoulders, arms, elbows and wrists, melding her to the chair.  Her feet were off the floor and tied to either side, knees widely splayed, arms pulled behind the chair, armpits crushed against the top of the chairback.  The seamless stocking's hood covered the figure's features, but Anne could tell by the outline of bulging cheeks and flattened lips that the occupant of the chair was tightly gagged.  The figure's head drooped, and stains darkened the stocking at her armpits, between her full, cord encircled breasts, and through her crotch.  She gave every impression of having been tied in that chair for a very long time. 

The overhead lights in the mirrored cell began to fade.  The figure raised her head, and the mirrored visor seemed to lock on Anne.  Anne became aware that she could see herself reflected in the back wall of the cell.  The lighting change had revealed her presence!  The figure in red was shaking her head, struggling against her bonds, and seemed to be trying to scream through her gag, but no sound penetrated into the corridor.  Who was this anonymous prisoner?  What was she trying to communicate?

Just then, one of the mirrored panels blocking Anne's corridor slid open, and Anne heard the staccato tap of approaching footsteps.  A strange specter was approaching from far down the darkened corridor, its distorted reflection glimmering on the walls in infinite regression.  Anne backed against the tunnel wall, eyes wide above her gag, her heart beating rapidly once again. 

The specter stepped into the spotlight.  It was Margo, dressed in a sleeveless white silk blouse, open to the waist and tied across her flat stomach; skintight riding pants of cream cotton; and tall, laced, brown riding boots with high, spike heels.  Brown riding gloves, and a small, brown leather waist pack with a riding crop tucked in the waist band completed the ensemble.

Margo put one gloved hand behind Anne's neck, and pushed her towards the window of the red figure's cell.  Anne's nipples touched the cool glass, and she felt Margo's hot breath on her neck and left ear.  "I wanted you to see her," Margo whispered.  "It's really quite interesting."  The figure seemed to recognize Margo, and froze in her bonds.  "If her hood was removed," Margo continued, "you'd recognize my friend in there immediately, as would almost anyone on the planet.  She made quite a spectacle of herself at the last Canne festival.  She really is a shameless ham."  The red figure's head slumped to her chest.  "I'm thinking of financing her next several film projects through one of my subsidiaries," Margo explained.  "We're currently in negotiations... extended negotiations."

The glass panel hummed closed, concealing the mysterious prisoner in red.  Margo grabbed a gloved handful of Anne's hair and started back down the corridor.  "You'll enjoy being a member of my 'special team', Anne," Margo said in a conversational tone.  "Effective immediately, I'm doubling your salary, you get special stock options, and... unlimited use of all my recreational facilities."

After what seemed like a mile of rapid walking to the overwrought and increasingly fatigued Anne, they came to a side corridor.  A door hissed open to reveal a large, circular, uniformly white, padded room.  Margo dragged Anne inside, and, her hand still in Anne's hair, forced her down on her knees, and onto the floor.  She then knelt at Anne's feet, pulled a length of black satin cord from her waistpack, and tied Anne's ankles tightly together.  Margo then straddled Anne's hips, pinning the embarrassed captive on her back.  Anne's sleeve encased arms were pushed deep into the soft padding, her trapped and encased hands crushed into her dimpled rear.  Margo smiled as she loomed over Anne's gagged face.  "Such an interesting feeling being a helpless damsel-in-distress, isn't it?" Margo whispered, removing her gloves.  Anne mewled into her gag as Margo's fingers kneaded and massaged her breasts.  The massage stopped and Margo began combing her fingers through Anne's tangled hair.  "Don't worry, Anne," Margo said, "I only get intimate with willing partners... and we hardly even know each other... yet."  Anne closed her eyes and turned her head to the side.  She felt Margo's fingers loosening and then removing her gag.  "Besides," Anne's captor continued, "I'll be busy correcting Jodi's misbehavior for the rest of the evening."  Anne watched as Margo tucked her gloves and the sash and ball of the removed gag into her waistpack.

Anne swallowed.  "I—"

Instantly, Margo's hand covered Anne's mouth.  "Shh... quiet as a mouse... or you stay gagged all night.  Understand?"

Anne swallowed again, then nodded silently.

"Gooood," Margo purred, then leaned over and kissed Anne on the lips.  Margo rose and went to the door.  "Eve and her minions will see to your needs for the next few days," Margo said.  "We'll have time to get better acquainted and discuss your career options... later."

The door hummed closed and Anne was alone—a helpless prisoner, naked, bound hand and foot and locked in a padded cell, behind a secret door, down a secret corridor, in a hidden wing of a hidden complex not known to exist, at the mercy of a rich, powerful woman.  Anne squirmed on the padded floor, scared, forlorn (and excited—and, bound as she was, unable to do anything about it).

The lights in the room began to fade.  "Good night, Anne," Eve intoned.

"Eve, wait...  Please..."  Anne pulled weakly at her bonds, trying not to cry.

"Quiet, Little One," Eve admonished.  "It's time to sleep.  Don't be afraid.  I'll watch over you."

"Eve... I'm frightened," Anne whispered.

"Of course you are," Eve answered. 

As the final light faded, the room seemed to momentarily spin and swirl, a mass of random shapes and colors.  Anne recognized the effect as the operation of state-of-the-art, digital, hi-resolution projectors. 

The shapes suddenly coalesced, and Anne found herself nestled in the middle of an illusory forest clearing.  Huge conifers towered on all sides.  A thousand brilliant stars wheeled overhead in a clear, indigo sky.  A light breeze stirred the tree limbs, creating a rustling, sighing music.  Crickets chirped, and in the distance Anne heard an echoing chorus of frogs around a pond that must be... over there... somewhere through the trees.  Even further away, an owl hooted into the warm, green night.

A figure stepped out of the forest and into the light of the small, flickering campfire that Anne suddenly noticed quietly crackling and popping to one side.  The figure was tall, female, and very beautiful.  Strong and athletic, with lithe, sculpted muscles, long flowing braids, and high-cheeked, even features, she was dressed in loincloth and bandeau of elaborately embroidered tanned leather.  A gold bracelet encircled one upper arm.  A necklace of beads and small charms encircled her throat.  Sword at her side, bow and quiver across her back, a stout spear in one hand, half-Celtic, half-Native American—she was the very vision of the Forest Amazon.  "Eve?" Anne whispered.

The figure smiled down at her kindly.  "Go to sleep, Anne.  I'll watch over you."

Anne stretched in her bonds, closed her eyes, and listened to the wind, and the fire, and the crickets... and slept.