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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Cuento De Sabrina (Brie's Story) ———————————————— by Courier © 2001
		E	P	I	L	O	G	U	E
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"...Then you can start working off what you owe me for that nipple clamp nonsense."

Margo Wells, CEO of TESSERACT Inc., watched the screen as Naomi began to again manipulate her lover's body.  The image was displayed on the inside of one of the now opaque sky box windows.  In fact, the same scene was displayed from two separate angles and a third view showed the image thermoscopically.  The sound was replayed from a number of hidden speakers, doing an excellent job of magnifying Brie's gagged, inarticulate moans.  Margo liked to keep tabs on things.

The TESSERACT CEO was dressed in a tight black body stocking, with black slippers and long satin gloves.  Her hair was slicked backed, giving her a very sexy "just out of the pool" look.

Behind Margo, in the now dimmed sky box, Madam Lian also watched the images.  Of course, she had little choice of where to look.  The second most powerful woman in TESSERACT Inc. was bent into an amazing contortionist position, one that would be strenuous to a professional, and she was locked there.  Her legs and back had been bent back so far that her feet rested on either side of her head.  Her ankles were then secured to a yoke that was secured around her neck.  Her arms we also pulled back and held in manacles.  The Asian woman's toned body was beaded with sweat from the arduous position.

Adding to her predicament was the cunning array of a simple black leather bra and panties.  These pieces of soft, glistening leather clung to Lian's small breasts and pressed securely between her legs, but they seemed slightly thicker than one would have expected.  The extra thickness contained the latest in TIKLER technology, along with thin long-lasting battery packs.  The stimulating surfaces were contoured perfectly to Lian's body (as per Margo's exacting design specifications), and pressed firmly against Lian's most intimate anatomy.

"They do make a cute couple, don't they?" she asked, still watching the energetic pair on the screens.

"It is...  the passion... of youth," Lian answered, her stretched words evidence of the level of concentration demanded by her arduous contortion.

Margo gestured towards the screens and they dimmed.  The erotic images were still visible, but now they are more like silent suggestive shadows.  Margo turned and smiled.  "And we old witches are all dried up?" She asked her old friend.

Lian returned the smile from her strained position. "And we are so... inflexible," she added.

Margo laughed and crossed to her prisoner.  "You are simply amazing," she said, stroking the tensioned calfs of her prisoner.  "I'd love to have playmates half as flexible as you at my disposal all the time. But then, I think that if I instituted a mandatory yoga program for my employees just so I could have bendable damsels...  Well, I doubt Elke would approve..."

"I am sure that... the Huntress would not mind enforcing... the policy," Lian replied, using her nickname for Kat.

Margo knelt before her captive, putting them eye to eye. "I respect your flexibility, but I love your evil mind," Margo said, leaning in to kiss her friend's lips.  She pulled back and gave her best evil smile, "but then tonight is all about my being evil and your being flexible, hm?"

"I can endure... anything you are capable of," Lian proclaimed.  It was an old wager between them, one that was almost always lost, and in the most interesting ways.

"I think you will discover that the Bug's latest breakthrough is beyond even your endurance," Margo gloated. "Eve?  Level one please."

"Mmmrrr..." Lian's vocalization was half moan and half cry.

"Now, while you adjust to the baseline and Eve collects response data, we need to discuss a career development strategy for your new executive trainee," Margo said, "...and then we have nine more levels to test..."

Sometimes I think I should just dress as a cavewoman! Elke Weber thought.  I always seem to end up carrying some woman or other over my shoulder.  Ugh!  Grunt!  Me take girl back to cave!  Make shnu-shnu!

The Harem Keeper sighed and readjusted the bound form she had on her right shoulder.  The form tried to squirm and adjust her own position, but wrapped collar to toe in dermaform and fully hooded in black latex, there wasn't much adjustment available to her.  The form was, in fact, the anonymous model that Madam Lian had used to instruct Naomi and Brie in the arts of the Tantra.  After her wildly erotic usage she had been wrapped like a mummy and stored in one of the Biosphere's many well monitored (and thus misnamed) oubliettes.  Then, not long ago, a powerful form had picked her up and started carrying her... somewhere...

A mirrored door in Elke's path slid open silently and she entered a gleaming white bathing chamber.  The air was warm and moist and in the center of the room was a steaming sunken pool.  Elke sniffed the air, detecting the aroma of exotic bath oils, and nodded her approval. She walked to the edge of the pool and laid her burden on the smooth tiled floor.

"Now," she said, "let's get you ready to travel..."  Of course, since her captive was still wearing the isolation hood, she couldn't hear Elke's words.  She smiled down at her squirming, hooded, and mummified captive, then began stripping off her Health Club uniform.  Soon Elke was naked, her tanned, muscular body beginning to sweat in the humid bathing chamber.

Elke knelt and began to undo the fastenings of the hood and gently eased it off.  Ebony black hair, released from its pony tail, fell across the captive's face.  Elke set the hood aside as the still mummified captive attempted to blow the errant hair away from her face.

"Help!  Help!  It's tickling my nose!" The girl complained, giggling and continuing to huff at the hair.

Elke smiled and brushed to hair off the girl's face.  The features revealed were stunningly beautiful, even streaked with sweat and the occasional hair.  She was Chinese American, in her mid twenties. Her dark eyes twinkled as she looked up at her savior. Rachel Yan, executive trainee for TESSERACT Inc., blinked at the brightly lit room, trying to adjust her eyes.

"Thanks," she said, smiling coyly.  "I don't think I could have handled that much longer."

"Right..." Elke replied, shaking her head skeptically.  She then produced a small electric scissors wand and set to work on removing Rachel's dermaform encasement.

"Um, Elke," the girl asked, squirming and trying not to giggle as the dermafoam cocoon parted before the buzzing tool.  "Not that I have any complaints about being tied up and ravished all weekend, but wasn't I supposed to be moving to my new job?"

"You are," Elke answered matter of factly, frowning in concentration as she carefully teased apart the dermafoam over Rachel's loins.

"Oh..." Rachel replied, gasping and giggling as her black pubic hair came into view, followed by her sex and upper thighs.  "I really like the way HR handles things here.  Much better then the old memo, airline ticket, tourist brochures, real estate referrals..."

"And once I get you washed up," Elke continued, "I'll be packaging you for shipping."  The grinning Amazon peeled away the last of the dermaform, revealing a firm well-proportioned body.  Toned muscles, firm breasts, and narrow waist... and perfect skin, flushed and glistening with sweat.  Rachel noticed Elke's careful (and appreciative) inspection of her now unrestrained body, smiled sweetly, and enjoyed a long (seductive) stretch.

Elke laughed and shook her head, wadded up removed tape cocoon and tossed it aside, then gently lifted the unresisting Rachel and carried her into the water.  As the Harem Keeper washed and shampooed her "captive" she explained more about the move. "Margo believes you have great promise, Rachel, but she believes you need a wider breadth of experience before you can assume an executive role here in Seattle.  She has decided that you'll do better with more seasoning."

"Why can't Margo 'season' me herself?" Rachel asked, closing her eyes and smiling as Elke massaged shampoo into the half-floating trainee's scalp and hair.

"Because you are a handful and she has other jobs." Elke explained.

"I suppose I should pout," Rachel replied.  She contorted her face into an exaggerated pout and then relaxed.  "OK, done pouting now," she said. "Where is she sending me?"

"You want me to ruin the surprise?" Elke asked, rinsing the last of the shampoo from Rachel's hair.

"Well, considering all the factors, I think I've pretty much worked it out, but I thought you might want to tell me anyway.  I mean, Margo had me doing Cybernetics Systems analysis all last week, then Lian arrives from T-Hong Kong.  Then I get tormented in a very ritualistic, no doubt fiendishly Oriental way, and finally, Lian is leaving and you are getting ready to package me..."  She shrugged.

"Well, you can work out the rest in the crate." Elke lifted the precocious girl from the pool and stood her on the floor.  Rachel walked to a row of white towels and quickly dried her naked body.

"Plus you'll get a chance to try out our prototype VR learning system.  Fu Manchu's Evil Daughter will be giving you a tour of her father's torture chamber and quizzing you on Chinese law, language and culture during the bulk of the trip.  I think there should be plenty of feedback to encourage you."

"Oh boy," Rachel smiled nervously, "That beats an in-flight movie all to bits!"

One of the room's walls silently parted, revealing a TESSERACT Damsel Shipping Crate.  It was molded of high impact plastic (in a tasteful matte gray), was roughly the shape of a sarcophagus (in a futuristic Art Deco sort of way), foam lined, with numerous dangling nylon straps, metal clamps and brackets (all conveniently open), catheters and hose attachments, and a VR mask.  The outside had a prominent sticker reading:

.

.

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WARNING! PRECOCIOUS DAMSEL PLEASE DO NOT FEED OR TEASE IN TRANSIT

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.

.

"First class this trip," Rachel joked, smiling nervously.

"So," Elke asked sweetly, towering over her companion, "would you like to do this with struggling or without struggling?"

Rachel looked up at her captor and Elke cracked her knuckles for emphasis.  Rachel looked over at the crate again... then back at Elke... then the crate... then stretched her arms, twisted her neck to left and right, then cracked her knuckles.  "How about a little of both?" she said laughing, and quickly tried to duck around the imposing Elke.

Rachel's laugh was cut short when Elke reached out and easily corralled the "escaping" transferee, pulling her into a close embrace and hand gag.  "Ah... naked wrestling, " Elke purred, effortlessly controlling her lovely captive's attempts to squirm free, "one of my favorite pastimes!"

(This section courtesy of Van)

Most of the Inner Circle, Kat included, have apartment suites in the Biosphere, even those who maintain primary residences off campus; however, Kat also has exclusive use of several other spaces of the TESSERACT Headquarters... in the Katacombs.  These include Kat's combat gym, meditation room, other training facilities, interrogation rooms, and her personal trophy room.  (Few of the Inner Circle are familiar with all of these spaces, the exceptions being Margo (of course) and Elke... oh, and Jodi.  Jodi's been a visitor to all of Kat's private chambers... and has the nightmares to prove it.)

Sunday evening found Jodi a "guest" in Kat's trophy room, along with Anne and Charlie.  Still in her revealing and still solidly padlocked rabbit costume, Jodi was also padlocked into a pillory and stocks arrangement that left her legs fully extended, head and shoulders leaning forward, and naked rump precariously balanced on a hard narrow perch.  A sign dangled around her pilloried neck on a fine chain read "Bare Rabbit."  Jodi grimaced and whined through her thick, tight, effective cloth gag.  Whether she was complaining about the discomfort of her enforced pose or attempting to express her disappointment at having been largely ignored by her captor since being placed there wasn't entirely clear. 

Anne might have wanted to express her feelings about the evening's arrangements, but in addition to a tight cloth gag of her own, Kat had given her a demanding task requiring all her concentration.  Standing on a low pedestal, the not quite naked lawyer's feet were shackled about a foot apart to heavy rings set into opposite sides of the pedestal's base.  Her loins were covered (barely) by a narrow cloth draped around her hips and through her crotch.  This preserved the prisoner's modesty, but didn't quite conceal the metal chastity belt clamped around Anne's waist (and sex).  No attempt was made to hide Anne's firm breasts, or the tiny, cage-like clamps surrounding and grasping her erect nipples in a toothy embrace.  Anne's left arm was at her side, her left hand resting on the pommel of a steel sword, a sword whose point was rigidly embedded in the pedestal's base.  A manacle and short chain ensured Anne's hand remained on the pommel.

Anne's right hand was holding aloft a metal measuring scale of the old-fashioned balance variety, two pans suspended by fine chains from either end of a free swinging lever arm.  The pans were empty, but from Anne's expression, holding aloft the scale itself was a minor challenge... or had been at the beginning of her ordeal.  At present the weight of the scale was a real challenge, with significant, major, and finally impossible looming in the future.  And why did Anne accept this challenge?  Thin silver chains linked the top ring of the scale to a pulley set high in the ceiling over Anne's gagged head, and down to the clamps on her nipples.  Kat had told her that if the pressure on those chains exceeded a certain weight, the spring arms in the clamps would release, and Anne's nipples would be pierced by needle sharp, sterile, stainless steel pins, pins designed to serve as the locking posts for a "tasteful" set of gold rings.  In other words, if Anne allowed her arm to drop, she would be "accepting" Kat's "gift" of nipple rings!

As a final touch, Anne was covered from head to toe with body paint designed to mimic the luster and hue of highly polished marble.  The fabric of her loincloth and gag matched the color and texture of the paint, with only Anne's worried blue eyes spoiling the nearly monochromatic effect.  Chiseled into the pedestal's base was the single word: "JVSTICE."

Charlie was dressed in a really precious Lady Bug costume: a black body stocking (with full-fingered gloves and full-toed booties), a set of shield-like "wingcases" clamped to her back (red with large black spots), and a set of black antennae peeking out from under her short tousled bob.  She was hogtied with white rope, tightly gagged with a thick, white cloth, and impaled through the thorax by a giant, steel pin (the size of a spear).  The impalement was an illusion, of course.  A clever saddle arrangement kept her suspended on her stomach in midair, the "pin" only appearing to pierce her back and emerge from her tummy.  The thinly padded saddle was narrow, designed to be invisible in operation, and none too comfortable, but half of Charlie's weight was being carried by her wrist and ankle bonds, "thoughtfully" hitched to the shaft of the "pin."  Pierced and suspended (this time quite literally) on the shaft below Charlie was a square card upon which was neatly lettered: "BUG, of an unknown & highly irritating variety."

All three "guests," Jodi, Anne, and Charlie, were encased in separate upright cylinders of thick glass, brightly lit from above.  They were arranged in a neat row along the back wall of the rectangular trophy room.  All of the room's walls were lined with glass.  To one side, various firearms, blades, staffs, whips, and other weapons were displayed, as well as several hats of various designs; mementos of past battles.  (The latest additions were a coiled bullwhip and a black Stetson, both neatly labeled "The Copperhead Canyon Affair.") 

On the opposite wall, other objects (not so easily categorized) were on display.  Prominent in this second collection were several brightly colored cheerleaders' sweaters, no two alike.  Most were intact, but some were in tatters, as if they might have been cut from the bodies of their original owners.  (An informed observer might surmise these artifacts were mementos of some of Kat's encounters of a less combative nature.)

In the center of the room, nestled comfortably in the center of a huge nest of silk pillows, Kat was reclined in feline splendor, clad in one of her signature catsuits, munching delicately on a pastrami sandwich (Russian rye, stone-ground mustard, fat untrimmed), swigging on a cool bottle of pilsner (Henry Weinhard's Private Reserve), and watching a widescreen TV.

Suddenly, a musical chime sounded and a small window popped open on the TV screen.  In it, Kat saw Elke waiting patiently on the far side of the trophy room door, clad in her usual TESSERACT Health Club uniform of leotard, leg warmers, and white trainers.  The word "Haremkeeper" in bright red letters flashing below the window told Kat ("Black Knight") this was not a social call, but Inner Circle business.

Kat took a slow, deliberate swig of her beer, then rummaged for a multi-function remote and pressed one of the buttons.  The door opened and Elke strolled in.

"Evening," she said brightly.  Kat muttered something in return but her attention had returned to the TV.  Elke walked past her reclined hostess and inspected the glass cylinders at the back of the room.  As she passed each exhibit, the trophy on display begged with their eyes for release.  They appeared to also be mewing through their gags, but no sound escaped the glass prisons.  "White noise shielding?"  Elke asked.

"Yeah." Kat answered.

Elke waved to her sister (eliciting a piteous, gagged pout from the captive bunny), then stepped even with Anne.  "I thought Justice was blind, not gagged," Elke remarked.

Kat shrugged but said nothing, her eyes still glued to the TV.

Elke winked at Anne (who did not wink back), then stepped away.  (Anne sighed and continued her hopeless task.)

Elke stopped before her helpless, pleading, insect-garbed lover.  "You done playing with my bug collection?" she called over her shoulder.  Kat's answer was to point the remote over her shoulder and give it a click.  The cylinder containing Charlie-the-Bug shuddered and slowly lowered into the floor.  Elke smiled, stepped forward and untied Charlie's bonds from the shaft of the oversize pin, then thumbed a hidden switch, swung the top half of the shaft aside, and hefted the still hog-tied captive under her right arm.

As Elke stepped back to the center of the room, Kat rummaged in a cooler set in the floor of her "Kat bed," and handed her Amazon guest a cold beer.

"Thanks," Elke said, appreciating the beer (and especially the gesture).  "What are your plans for Jodi and Anne?"

Kat stretched before answering.  "One more hour... just to make them think I'm gonna leave them in there all night.  Then I'll drag them to one of the nearby interrogation cells, let them clean each other up, and lock them into one of the cells... to comfort each other."

Elke glanced back at Anne.  "Uh... about the nipple piercing thing..."

Kat sighed.  "It's a bluff.  The pulley will lock before the clips snap.  Shyster only thinks she has to hold up that scale to keep her nips from getting ventilated."

"That's very cruel," Elke observed (but did nothing to rescue Anne from her self-imposed torment).  "Neither of them will be late for work tomorrow?"  Kat shook her head but said nothing.  Elke's attention shifted to the screen.  On it, scenes of what looked like the American Southwest were alternating with two people in khaki uniforms, one male and one female, riding in an SUV and talking.  Either Kat was listening to the dialogue through her earpiece... or practicing her lip reading.  "Jim Chee?"  Elke asked.

"The only new show worth watching," Kat mumbled, and took a swig of beer.

"Who would have thought a show about a Navajo cop would be a smash hit?" Elke mused.

"Anyone who'd read Hillerman's books," Kat drawled.

Charlie squirmed in Elke's grasp and mewed through her gag, protesting the indignity of being held with her face to the rear, and thus missing most of the exchange.  Elke smiled, capped her beer bottle with her thumb, and briefly pressed the cold wet glass between the captive bundle's hogtied legs and against Charlie's thinly covered sex.  The bound bug squealed and shuddered, then went very still.

"Behave," Elke ordered, then turned her attention back to her hostess.  "What I really came to tell you is that you have my approval for 'Operation Fox Hunt.'  You'll find the Harem Keeper's seal on the charter page.  I changed nothing.  All you need now is a window of opportunity and the Red Queen's final seal."

Kat smiled, took a swig from her beer, and nodded.  (For Kat that was enthusiastic glee.)

"Well," Elke said, "I got things to do."

"No doubt," Kat agreed, leering up at the smiling Amazon and her hogtied burden.

"Thanks for the beer," Elke said and strode to the door.

"Mmy-my!" Charlie mumbled through her gag, smiling brightly as she was carried away.

Kat assumed Bug was trying to say "Bye bye."  The lounging bodyguard waved, waited for the door to close, then tapped her remote several times.  The door locked, curtains lowered around the glass cylinders containing her two remaining captives, and the TV program screen changed.  Jim Chee was replaced by a live security-cam feed from Gondaloo Island.  Jamie Seaton, Ph.D., Director of the Gondaloo Marine Institute, could be seen working at her desk, apparently using her desktop system to correlate data from a current research project.  The short redhead was wearing a TESSERACT tank-top.  Kat noted the way the thin stretchy fabric hugged Jamie's svelte, athletic torso; how the diminutive biologist's surprisingly full breasts strained at the top, the outline of her nipples clearly visible; how the top's sleeveless cut showcased Jamie's freckled shoulders and toned arms.  Kat took a bite from her sandwich and slowly chewed, watching the screen.

On distant Gondaloo, Jamie worked on, totally ignorant of the highly attentive audience of one watching her every move.

MONDAY MORNING
SABRINA & NAOMI'S SECLUDED HOME

---

Sabrina Sanchez rolled over and came face to face with an Aztec war mask.  The menacing visage was brightly colored with red and yellow paints and festooned with the feathers of colorful tropical birds.  Carved from hard wood, the mask normally hung over the fireplace in the house's front room.  It took Brie several moments to recall why it was lying next to her in bed, propped up on a pillow...

...Then Brie recalled being ravished beyond the limits of endurance by Naomi in the hidden chamber in the locker room.  She recalled Naomi hobbling her and leading her through the stadium's tunnels to a waiting electric van, wondering aloud all the time whether Eve could reliably control access to this part of the TESSERACT Campus (and what she'd do if one of her teammates discovered her being lead around bound, gagged, and naked).  She vividly remembered being secured tightly and uncomfortably in the back of the van and then Naomi finding every pothole between TESSERACT HQ and their home.

Once home there followed an evening of wild "fun."  Naomi had explored all the locations in the house that she could think of to bind the hapless Latina.  The most memorable was a frog tied, naked, and gagged Brie being barely hidden behind an open front door when (a fully clothed) Naomi accepted delivery of a large veggie pizza.  Hearing the poor delivery guy try to flirt with Naomi, all the while worrying that she might be exposed, had left Brie suppressing gagged giggles.

Brie recalled her pizza dinner... but then things got a little fuzzy.  After teasing her partner yet again Naomi had rung a promise to reverse the roles from Brie.  That had led to terrible things being done to the blonde ex-reporter and had ended with Aztec war goddess Chalchiuhtlcue demanding a fair-haired sacrifice to slake her blood lust.  Fortunately the cowering gringa had managed to slake Chalchiuhtlcue 's divine lust in other ways...

Brie smiled at the memories and stretched languidly.  The bedroom smelled from an enticing combination of sex, sweat, scented candles, and pine.  Brie heard a door open and looked over to see a disheveled, naked Naomi entering with a tray, seemingly only slightly encumbered by the "slave chains" Brie now remembered locking on her Aussie captive before they had both succumbed to post-orgiastic exhaustion.

"Breakfast!" Brie exclaimed, scooting into a sitting position.

"We have fruit and cereal," Naomi replied, laying the tray across her naked partner's lap, being very careful so she wouldn't be tripped by the taut chain linking her collar, manacles, and shackles.

"We're not due in for another hour," Naomi added, giving Brie a quick kiss, "but if we show up like this..."

Brie nodded, "I guess since you made breakfast you get dibs on the shower, huh?"

"I thought that sharing a shower this morning would not help us get to work on time," the blonde smiled.

"Good thinking", Brie agreed, digging into the bowl of cereal.

Naomi smiled coyly and held up her manacled wrists for inspection.  "Uh... the key?" she inquired sweetly.

Brie smiled evilly and munched a mouthful of cereal... then swallowed and cleared her throat.  "They're stainless steel," she observed, nodding at Naomi's chains.  "Just don't scratch the tile or I'll have to punish you, no?"

Naomi laughed, placed the back of her right hand on her forehead and struck a melodramatic pose.  "Woe is me," she sighed, "the helpless prisoner of a sadistic Latina libertine!"  She then turned and shuffled towards the bathroom.  "Hurry up and eat, Lazy Bones," she scolded from the doorway, "or we'll be late."

Brie munched on a slice of apple and a couple of marionberries, then took another mouthful of cereal.  The shower started.  "Don't use up all the hot water!" Brie shouted... then frowned.  Truth be told, she had absolutely no idea where the key to her lover's chains might be hiding.  Maybe we'll be late afterall , she thought with a sigh, and popped a dark red, sweet, juicy cherry in her mouth.