_
		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Jodi's Story: R-E-S-P-E-C-T WITH A CHERRY ON TOP  ———————————————————————— by Van © 2005
		EPILOGUE

PAIN-DUNGEONS OF THE DARK ELVES OF TIRITH-NIG
DARK ELF PENNY'S CHAMBER OF TORMENT
[...VIRTUAL REALITY...]

---

Jamie was peeved, ticked off, miffed—in fact, she was full-blown, teeth-gnashing, howl-at-the-moon furious!

She'd put a lot of effort into preparing for this scenario—and now it was all wasted effort!

In the first place,  she'd cobbled together the perfect Dark Elf outfit, with the help of Games Division's costumer software.  She'd gone with the "Punk/Goth" option:

1. Elf ears.
2. "Fright wig" coiffure.
3. Black leather upper-body armor.
4. Full-length black leather gloves (fingerless, to show off her long, sharp, steel, press-on talons).
5. A narrow, black, silk loincloth, embroidered with silver thread in a Celtic/Art Nouveau pattern.
6. Thigh-length, black leather gladiator boot-sandals...

She was perfect!

In the second place, she'd managed to modify the design of a really good "Diabolical Device" she'd been working on, adapting it to the Dark Elf venue.  (The design of erotic torture engines was a hobby Jamie shared with many of her Inner Circle Sisters.)  Granted, it was just another variation on the rack, but the idea of slooowly stretching the damsel/victim while slooowly lowering her into a giant aquarium full of slimy cave eels?  That was original!

And in the third place... Margo in her late twenties!  Young Margo!  Margo as she was at Jamie's present age!  That was gonna be sooo goood!

And now it's all spoiled!  And it's Penny's fault!

Okay, if Eve was right (and when was Eve ever wrong?), Penny hadn't really done anything.  She'd just had the misfortune of being the Dark-Elf-in-charge when Eve-L finished hacking her way past the game scenario controls, and the Princess and the slavegirls—Young Princess Margo, Trickster, Evil-Eve herself—had escaped!  —were escaping! —were beating feet back to the mythical kingdom from which the Princess had been abducted, at this very virtual minute!

So, instead of being trapped in an inescapable VR logic-box prison, helpless and awaiting their Sisters' pleasure, the "criminals" were actually off playing the damn game—with Eve-L "cheating" her way past any obstacle that interfered with their fun!

Cheeky bastards! Jamie fumed.  ...except for Margo.  Margo's innocent, of course.

Jodi and "The Great Sorceress" Eve-L had overpowered Penny, stripped her, and released the Princess from Penny's "Diabolical Device".  Eve-L had then donned Penny's costume, which was similar to Jamie's, only in gleaming, saddle brown leather, to complement Penny's blonde hair.  To disguise her lack of Elf ears, Eve-L had added an Elfish helm, stolen from a convenient storeroom/armory.

How could Penny be SO STUPID? Jamie raged.  An unguarded storeroom AND armory right next to her personal torture chamber?  Then her anger faded.   Oh... Eve-L probably 'conjured' it, of course.  Never mind.

Eve-L had then bound Jodi and the Princess, gagged them, hooded them, chained them collar to collar, in coffle—and waltzed right out of the dungeons!  She was simply an anonymous Dark Elf Warrior escorting an anonymous pair of human captives to labor in the mines.  Why stop them?  Why even look at them?  And now they were across the frontier, and so deep into the surrounding labyrinth of forested valleys and dark caves that not even a platoon of Elfish rangers could find them—and they were trying!

And Eve (both Eve-Prime and Gondaloo-Eve) weren't going to do anything to put things back the way they belonged!  Apparently, Eve-L was cheating fair-and-square—or it would be dishonorable to spoil her brilliant coup de théâtre —or some such artificially intelligent bullshit!

Well, there was something Jamie-the-Evil-Dark-Elf could do about it!  It wouldn't bring back the fugitives, but it would make her feel much better.

Penny's large, circular, dome-ceilinged torture chamber had the usual accouterments: pillory, whipping posts, rack, wheel, two kinds of horse, etc., etc.; but the showcase was in the center.  There was a stone pedestal supporting a panel with three levers.  In front of the pedestal was a deep well, and protruding from the well was the top of a wooden cylinder, surmounted by a carving of the head of a satyr mounted on a pentagram.  The satyr had the usual horns and beard, and its tongue was rudely extended.

Jamie threw the left lever.  There was a low rumbling, the sound of massive gears meshing and grinding, and the wooden cylinder began rising from the well.  It continued to a height of about nine feet, then stopped.  Jamie threw the middle lever, and two panels in the front of the cylinder slowly opened, like clamshell doors.

The cylinder was a spike-lined torture cell, designed to contain, restrain, and torment a standing occupant.  And it had a standing occupant—Penny the Dark Elf.  The points of her ears could be seen protruding from between the silky strands of her blonde hair.

She was nude, and her arms were pinned to her sides and folded behind her back.  Tight, boob-pinching ropes made sure they stayed that way.  Her ankles were locked in a set of wooden stocks built into the base of the cell, and her neck was locked in an iron collar attached to a padeye in the back wall by two or three heavy links.  Finally, something was stuffed in her mouth, and a tight strap of black leather was keeping it there.

Jamie smiled, grimly.  "Hoist by your own petard," she purred.  Penny squirmed in her bonds, and moaned through her gag.  Her eyes begged for release.  Jamie left the control pedestal, took a few steps forward, and examined the torture cell itself.  She ran her hands over the outside of the thick-walled, iron-bound cylinder, then tested the points of a couple of the spikes on the interior of one of the door panels.  "Not very sharp, or very long," she observed, "but they're to discourage wiggling around, not for penetration, right?"

Penny sighed and rolled her eyes.  Clearly, Dark Elf Jamie was in a gloating mood, and the bound and gagged captive had no choice but to stand and endure.

"What kind of sick mind could conceive of such a device?' Jamie inquired, then turned to face Penny, reached up, grabbed her by the chin.  "Oh, that's right.  It was you, wasn't it, Blondie?"  She let her hand trail down to the collar, then to the knot between Penny's breasts.  "The Evil-One did a good job of tyin' you up, didn't she?"  She inspected the wad stuffed in Penny's mouth.  "Hm... black silk.  Your own loincloth?"

Penny sighed again, and nodded.  The links of her collar rattled as her head bobbed.

Jamie reached out and delicately traced the margin of Penny's right nipple with one of her steel talons.  Then, smiling evilly, she leaned close and gave the left nipple a slow, teasing lick.

Both nipples popped erect, and Penny shuddered in her bonds.

"Tsk, tsk, Blondie," Jamie scolded, slowly shaking her head.  "So very careless.  Letting the prisoners escape."  Her smile became a teasing pout.  "You ruined all the fun, you naughty Elf.  I imagine the other Dark Elves are very disappointed.  I know I am."  She took a step back, and sighed.  "However shall we ease our frustration?  Whatever shall we do to relieve the misery of our dejection?"

Penny's blood ran cold.  She wasn't really afraid.  Jamie wouldn't really hurt her, not even in VR, but she knew she was in for it!

Jamie spun on her heel and returned to the pedestal.  "I'm gonna contact the other Sisters," she announced, "the Sisters you deprived of their pleasure through your carelessness.  We'll hold a little contest, and I'll be the judge.  They'll describe, in 500 words or less, the original torture engines they'd been planning on using to 'entertain' Princess Margo and the slavegirls.  The most fiendish, horrific, and depraved design wins the prize... and that prize is you, Blondie!"

Penny forced a piteous, mewling whine through her gag.

Jamie was unmoved.  "That's right, they get to use you to test their design... right after I use you to test my design..."  She rested her hand on the center lever of the control panel.  "...right after I use you to test your design."

Penny's whine became a squeal of distress, and she squirmed in her bonds.

"Let's see now..." Jamie said, smiling at the controls.  "As I recall—and you've talked my pointy ears off in the last several hours, bragging about this thing—the left lever raises and lowers the cell, the middle lever opens and closes the doors..."  She moved her hand to the right lever.  "...and this one controls the water."

She focused on Penny's worried face, then smiled and pointed at the ceiling.  "Water, from a huge reservoir above..."

She pointed at the carvings on the top of the cylinder.  "...that drips into a depression on the top of the satyr's head..."

Her finger shifted slightly lower.  "...then drips from his tongue..."

She pointed at Penny.  "...and onto the top of your head..."

Her hand dropped to the second lever.  "...then into the well, where it collects."

"Imagine," Jamie said softly, "trapped in total darkness; bound, gagged, and unable to do more than wiggle; water drip-drip-dripping on your head, and slooowly rising, hour after miserable hour, and finally... very slowly... you drown."  She moved the middle lever, and the cell's spike-lined doors began to slowly close.  "What a sadistic bitch you are, Blondie."

As the doors closed, Penny struggled and mewled.  Then the edges met with a solid thud, sealing her inside the cell.  Jamie pulled the lever the rest of the way down, and gave it a clockwise twist.  A pair of iron straps snapped into hasps on the cylinder's side, and heavy bolts clicked into place.

Jamie threw the left lever, and the entire device began to sink into the well.  An evil smile on her face, Jamie threw the right lever, and water began dripping from a hole in the chamber's ceiling.  It landed squarely atop the satyr's head, disappeared from sight, then reappeared, to drip from the satyr's tongue and into a hole in the top of the cylinder.

Why didn't Eve-L use the water? Jamie wondered.   I guess she wanted to leave it for me.

Jamie watched the water drip for several seconds, then turned and left the chamber.

As soon as the chamber door had closed behind her, Jamie stopped.  She sighed, and ran her hands through her hair.  "Eve?" she said softly.

"You feeling better now?" Gondaloo-Eve's disembodied voice demanded.  "Or do I have to send in the Kul'Dakar cavalry to rescue poor Penelope?"

Jamie laughed, sheepishly.  "Yes, much better, thank you... and only mildly ashamed."  She started walking down the virtual corridor.  "Put her into limbo sleep in a few minutes, okay?"

"No worries," Eve responded, "and before you ask, I've already prepared a draft of your 'Win a Torture-Toy Penny Doll' contest invitation for the other Sisters."

"Killer," Jamie said.  "Make sure they understand there's gotta be lots of orgasms.  Lots and lots."

"Agreed," Eve responded.

Jamie smile faded.  "I'm letting things get pretty far out of whack, aren't I?"

"If you're referring to the Sister-to-Sister balance between yourself and Ms. Brightman," Eve answered, "and, if I might add, your personal balance— seriously out of whack.  You realize, of course, that only an elaborate, extended, and horrific act of revenge, perpetrated by Ms. Brightman upon yourself, will redress said balance?"

Jamie's smile returned.  "You talk like that's a bad thing" she said quietly.   "Orgasms.  Lots of orgasms.  Make sure they understand.  Maybe Penny will return the favor... when it's my turn."

"I understand," Eve responded, "lots and lots."

Jamie continued down the corridor to the next turn, then skidded to a stop.  "Where am I going?"

"Beats me," Eve answered.  "Want me to bring you out?"

"Yeah," Jamie said, blushing.  "Damn accommodation effect!" she muttered under her breath.  It was embarrassing to get so engrossed in a VR venue that you forgot it wasn't real.

---

"Just out of idle curiosity," Anne sighed, "do you feel as stupid as I do?"

"Probably," Ronnie mumbled in reply.  "Almost certainly.  Of course, I am new to all this."

Anne gasped in mock outrage.  "Are you implying I should have known better?" she demanded.

Ronnie smiled and shook her head.  "I get the impression that when it comes to Jodi Weber, there's no such thing as knowing better."

Anne sighed again.  "That's about right.  What about your Fiona?"

"She surprised me, literally."  Ronnie squirmed in her bonds, and sighed as well.  "She's usually not so... aggressive, outside of VR.  I think Jodi's a bad influence."

Each Sister had been captured separately, and were wearing identical, gleaming black, rubber bodysuits.  The suits were onepiece—incorporating booties, gloves, and tight collars.  There were two zippers—a short one through the crotch, and a long one that ran from the small of the back to the nape of the neck.

"Shyster" had been first.  Jodi had begged, flattered, cajoled, and seduced her into modeling the suit, telling her it was a prototype "interface unitard", under development by the R&D weenies for the next generation of VR.  It was only after Anne had stretched and squeezed her naked body into the thing and the zippers were secure, that Jodi began explaining the suit's "special features".

#1—The rubber fabric was ventilated by millions of pores, to let the wearer's skin breathe.  (This hinted at long-term wear, and was Anne's first inkling that maybe letting The Trickster talk her into this wasn't such a good idea.)

#2—The suit's outer layer was inordinately slippery, especially the gloves.  They made it nearly impossible to grip anything, including the zipper pulls, especially after Jodi tucked them into tiny pockets along the seams.  Walking was possible, with great care, and only thanks to a clever pattern of tiny ridges on the soles of the booties.  (And now Anne was really worried.)

#3—The inner lining, Jodi explained, was something called "TIKLER plex-cloth".  It seemed Charlie and Jenny had finally succeeded in growing microscopic TIKLER beads, and the Hong Kong lab had developed a manufacturing process for embedding the beads at the appropriate positions on woven sheets of nano-gauge conductive fiber.  It felt like slightly nubby spandex—until the appropriate radio signal was broadcast.   Then, whenever one moved, there was the sensation of being tickled over every square inch of the body!

Springing the final stage of the trap had been pathetically easy.  All Jodi had to do was flip a switch on a handheld remote.

Instantly Anne found herself writhing on the floor, giggling, squealing, and powerless to prevent her wrists from being bound behind her back.  Tape was plastered over her mouth, stemming the inevitable flood of angry protests and dire threats, the TIKLER signal was turned off, and she was dragged through the mirrored corridors of the Biosphere and into one of its countless steel-walled chambers.  The glaring, rubber-suited captive was plopped into a chair, bound in place with thick, blue rope at the ankles and wrists, and left to contemplate her fate (whatever it might be), and the second, empty chair next to her.

She was alone for less than an hour, then Jodi and Fiona appeared with a rubber-suited, bound, tape-gagged, and furiously struggling Ronnie.  Anne watched as the newcomer was bound to the second chair.

Ronnie tugged on her bonds and glared at her Sisters, especially Fiona.  The grinning redhead grabbed the edge of the tape-gag and removed it with a quick jerk.

The captive's eyes momentarily crossed in distress.   "Ow!  Watch the lips, you orange-haired, albino freak!"

"Sorry," Fiona said, smiling sweetly.  Obviously, she was not sorry.

Jodi affected a gloating, insincere, pseudo-sympathetic pout, but said nothing.

"You're okay, you big baby," Fiona scolded.

"We have a deal, Red!" Ronnie complained, fighting her bonds and rocking her chair.  "This isn't VR!"

"If you're referring to your top-slash-bottom arrangement with 'Orange Hair', here," Jodi said, "read the handbook, Probie.  Every Alice knows that Inner Circle shenanigans supersede all interpersonal Sister-to-Sister agreements."

"You're making that up!" Ronnie growled, then glanced at Anne, "isn't she?"

The tape-gagged lawyer sighed, and shook her head.

"Now you tell me," Ronnie muttered.  She locked eyes with Fiona.  "Just you wait, Red.  The next time we're in VR, Neeka's gonna personally deliver the Red Ghost to the main gate of Kul'Dakar, naked, bound, and gagged; then stick around to watch the fun!"

"Forewarned is forearmed," Fiona purred.  "Maybe the Red Ghost will sell Neeka to the Apemen.  They're always looking for good breeding stock."

Jodi and Anne could tell the probationary Sisters were teasing, not quarreling.

Ronnie focused on Jodi's smiling face.  "At the risk of descending into cliché... what's the meaning of all this?"

"Oh, nothing sinister," Jodi purred.  She strolled over and grasped the edge of Anne's tape-gag.  "Well... maybe sinister-ish."  She began slowly peeling off the tape.

Anne's lips were stretched and distorted as the tape's adhesive surrendered its grip.  "Mmmm-ow!" the prisoner complained  "That hurts!"

Jodi ignored her lover's complaint and continuing angry glare.  "Fiona and I agreed that you two ought to get to know each other better," she explained.

Anne and Ronnie exchanged a surprised look, then turned back to their captors.

"We know each other," Anne objected.

"Yeah," Ronnie agreed.

Fiona leaned close and gave Ronnie a peck on the cheek.  "We mean really get to know each other."  She kissed Anne as well, then headed for the door.

"Better," Jodi agreed, "much better."  She also headed for the door.

"Wait!" Anne and Ronnie blurted, in unison.

Jodi and Fiona paused in the doorway, smiling sweetly.

"You're just going to... leave us here?" Anne demanded.

"Well... yeah," Fiona answered.

"That's about it," Jodi purred.  "Oh, there is the thing with the suits."

Anne and Ronnie exchanged another worried glance, then turned back to the door.  "Suits?"

"The TIKLER beads in your suits were grown on slightly different frequencies," Fiona explained.

"In a few minutes," Jodi added, "Evelyn will start broadcasting the activating signal."

"Only with a phase-coupled, feedback inversion... thing," Fiona said.

"Yeah," Jodi continued, "the phases are... inverted and..."  She turned to Fiona.

"I didn't follow Evelyn's physics lesson either," the redhead admitted.  "But I understood about the final result."

"Me too," Jodi said, then smiled at the rubber-suited captives.  "Once the signals mesh, or phase couple, or whatever the hell they do—"

"When one of you moves—" Fiona interrupted.

"The other gets erotically tickled!"  Jodi's smile turned decidedly evil.  "All you have to do—"

"Is stay perfectly still."  Fiona turned to her fellow villainess.  "Evil laugh?"

"Why not?" Jodi purred, and the honey-blonde and redhead began cackling like demented mad scientists.

This continued for several seconds, then Ronnie sighed.  "Look."

"Wait!" Jodi barked.  "We're not finished."  She nodded at Fiona, and they resumed laughing.

Anne and Ronnie exchanged a pained look.  Having no other choice, they waited patiently for the diabolical mirth to abate.

"Feeling better now?" Ronnie asked, when the laughter finally stopped.

"Yes, thank you," Jodi purred.  "You were saying?"

"This is a bit much, don't you think?" Anne said.  "Even for you?  A little over the top?"

"The speech thing," Fiona said.

Jodi frowned.  "The speech thing?"  Her smile returned.  "Oh, yeah, the speech thing."  She turned to Anne and Ronnie.  "As long as you two keep talking," she explained, "the tickling thing will stay at near subliminal levels.  Any period of silence greater than one minute will cause the intensity to ratchet up one setting, and it takes five minutes of talking for it to ratchet back down."

"Oh, that's so evil!" Fiona said, smiling sweetly.

"It is, isn't it?" Jodi agreed.  "More laughter?"

Fiona paused to think.  "No," she said, finally.  "Let's get some coffee, instead."

"If I get laryngitis," Ronnie groused, "and get goosed to death, I'm never speaking to you again... either of you."

"What she said," Anne agreed.

The door was already closing.  "Later!"

That had been several minutes ago.

"Stupid," Anne said, shaking her head, sadly.

"Stupid and gullible," Ronnie sighed.  "So, is the entire Inner Circle like this?  Or just in Jodi's orbit?"

Anne laughed.  "Jodi's orbit."  Then her expression grew more thoughtful.  "Jodi has an orbit.  My little psycho-libertine airhead is growing up, and I find myself in her orbit.  I always assumed..."

"What?" Ronnie asked.

Anne blushed.  "I always assumed Jodi would be in my orbit," she said sheepishly.

Ronnie nodded.  "And I always thought I'd get to tie and torment Fiona whenever I wanted, outside of VR, of course."

Both Sisters sighed, then squirmed in their chairs.  Their suits had begun squirming back, just at the limit of perception.

"It's starting," Ronnie observed, shivering with arousal.

"This isn't so bad," Anne mumbled, also shivering, "...for now.  We better keep talking."

Ronnie nodded.  "What should we talk about."

"Oh, this and that," Anne sighed.  "And revenge... especially revenge.  You any good at designing elaborate torture devices?"

"I have my moments," Ronnie answered.  "About a quarter of the stuff in the Kul'Dakar dungeons is my work."  Ronnie twisted in her bonds.  "Why didn't they tie us up better?"

Anne smiled.  "With these gloves on, we couldn't escape if the knots were bows.  This way we can squirm around and struggle and try to escape, and humiliate ourselves."

Ronnie nodded.  "And even if we did untie ourselves, we'd still be locked in this room, and these suits.  Oh, and the freedom of motion will make the trying-not-to-move part even more difficult.  Clever."

Anne nodded also.  "Yeah, clever... and harmless.  You mad?"

Ronnie blinked in surprise.  "W-what?" she asked, with a delicate shudder.  "This is more or less par for the course around here, isn't it?"   The suit was sending feathery waves of titillating energy rippling around her thighs, through her crotch, up her abdomen, and around her breasts.

"Yeah," Anne agreed, "pretty much the normal state of affairs.  Sit still, will ya?"

"I will if you will," Ronnie muttered through clenched teeth.

"I'm trying," Anne responded.  "This is gonna take discipline and cooperation, if we don't want to find ourselves quivering lumps of rubberized, orgasmic jelly."

Ronnie smiled.  "Good thing I like you," she said, "even if you are The Trickster's girlfriend, and being your friend lands me in situations like this."

Anne smiled back.  "Jodi pulls crap like this on everybody.  Welcome to the Inner Circle."

Both captives stared at the closed door.

"We better keep talking, " Anne reminded her fellow captive, and herself.

"Yeah," Ronnie agreed.  "Tell me how you became a Sister, a member of Margo Well's super-secret Inner Circle."

"Okay," Anne answered.  "One night, about five years ago, I was working late and decided to take a break and get some exercise.  I went to the Campus Health Club, suited up, and went out to the pool to swim some laps.  Elke was there, and Jodi was splashing around in the water."

"Jodi," Ronnie said.

"Yeah," Anne muttered.  "Jodi."

---

A quiet chime sounded and one of the icons on the window-wall display began flashing.  Margo tapped a key, the icon enlarged, and a small window popped, providing details.

INCOMING SECURE ---VID-LINK---

The Berkeley Hotel London, UK, EU

HAREM-KEEPER

Margo smiled and touched an icon on her desktop monitor.  The screen cleared, and Elke Weber's smiling face appeared.  "Hello there," Margo purred.  "How's the symposium going?"

Elke's image smiled back.  "Hello, yourself, and the symposium's over.  Charlie delivered her paper in the last session.  It was a hoot.  People were already starting to filter out of the hall, to get an early start on the farewell mixer down in the Blue Bar.   Charlie started talking, and not only did people head back to their seats, but people passing in the hall started piling in.  By the final applause, the place was packed.  The question and answer period lasted nearly an hour.  Charlie's a scientific star... and if I study real hard, maybe someday I'll grasp the tiniest bit of what she was talking about."

Margo laughed.  "Where's our star right now?"

Elke's smile became rather coy.  "Oh, she's tied up at the moment."

Margo stared at the screen for several seconds, then slowly shook her head.  "You should be ashamed," she scolded.

Elke laughed.  "For conducting a practical knot theory exercise with our favorite mathematician and physicist?"
 
"No," Margo responded, "for that abominable pun!  'Tied up at the moment', indeed."

"We're staying at the Berkeley," Elke laughed.  "The classics come naturally.  Anyway, we decided to stay in and order room service.  They have this 'Girl's Night In' package with special cocktails and aromatherapy candles and in-room manicures and—"

"We decided?" Margo interrupted.

"You know me too well," Elke laughed.  "I decided.  Charlie owes me.  I had to sit through three days of scientifical mumbo-jumbo."

"Poor baby," Margo purred.  "Trapped in a five-star hotel, with only a world-class gym and spa as diversion.  Show me."

"Show you what?" Elke asked, with an innocent smile.

Margo smiled.  "Show me," she repeated.

Elke smiled back, then the image on Margo's screen erupted into a jumbled riot of blurred pixels as Elke repositioned the tiny camera at her end of the link.  The image stabilized, rippled into hi-resolution, sharp focus—and there was Charlie.

The diminutive scientist was on the carpeted floor, on her side, in a tight fetal tuck.  She was fully-dressed, for business, or for delivering a scientific paper to an audience of her peers.  Her wrists were crossed behind her back, her breasts squashed against her thighs, her legs folded, and her chin nearly resting on her knees.  Several yards of white cotton rope enforced this pose, and black tape was plastered over her mouth.

"Another Bug-ball?" Margo sighed.

"Like I said," Elke's voice answered.  "At the Berkeley—"

"—the classics come naturally."  Margo watched Charlie squirm, struggle, and beg for release with her gorgeous blue eyes.  "She's strangely quiet," Margo observed.

"My panties are crammed in her mouth," Elke explained, "under three strips of dermafoam, but it's her choker that's keeping the decibel level near zero."

"One of her own noise-cancelling 'gag-collars'?

"The very same," Elke confirmed.  "Any pitiful whimpers she manages to force past my undies are masked by the choker's mini-speakers."

Margo savored the sight of the helpless pixie.  Elke's ropes were elaborate, redundant, and well-cinched.  Even the heels of Charlie's stylish black pumps were bound into the cat's cradle of tight rope.  "I'm surprised she's still dressed," Margo purred.  Charlie was wearing a striped, wool-blend jacket and matching skirt, pantyhose, panties (Margo could clearly see a sliver of black silk peeking from under the short skirt), and heels.

"Why rush things?" Elke answered.

Margo laughed.  "You've wrapped her in rope, then you'll unwrap her, undress her, and, I assume, wrap her again."

"A full evening," Elke agreed.

Charlie continued squirming and struggling, but obviously her bonds were completely inescapable.  Finally, she sighed through her gag and rested the side of her face on the plush carpet, resigned to her "cruel" fate.

"I'll stash her in the closet when room service arrives," Elke explained.  "No need to cause a scandal."

Margo nodded.  "I spoke with Abby a few hours ago.  She'll be expecting you around noon tomorrow."

"Excellent!" Elke responded.  "I haven't been to Brightman Hall in two years, and Charlie's never been there.  This'll be a fun weekend."

Margo nodded again.  "Well, play nice, you two.  I have work to—"

"Wait!" Elke interrupted, and turned the camera back to her face.  "What about things at your end?  I believe you hinted about an 'injustice' you intended to correct during my absence?"

Margo's expression turned coy, then she laughed.  "Why not?"  She began tapping her keyboard.  "Wait a minute," she muttered, "while I reroute the video feed."  She then smiled, and tapped a final key.

The screen of Elke's laptop (actually, it was Charlie's laptop) cleared, and a very exotic, very erotic image appeared.

It was a naked woman.  Long, dark, tousled hair obscured her face, and her skin was elaborately painted with tiger stripes from head to toe.  She was in a cage of iron bars, kneeling on all fours on a bed of straw.  A collar and cuffs, all in gleaming steel, with dangling rings, were locked around her throat, wrists, and ankles.

The captive used one hand to flip the curtain of curls from her face, and it could be seen she was—

"Katherine!" Elke gasped.

The camera pulled back, slightly, and now Elke could see the words "KITTY-KAT" painted on the outside of the cage.

"Don't worry," Margo said.  "She can't see you.  She's looking at a projection of this office, at me.  There's no audio at her end.  She knows I'm vid-linking with someone, but she can't tell who.  Also, she doesn't know she's on camera."

Elke stared at the screen, mesmerized.  "Didn't Jamie do something like that to her once, on Gondaloo?"

"Similar," Margo confirmed.  "I guess I'm in a classical mood, too."

"How the hell did you catch her?" Elke demanded.  "Not more drugs, I hope."

"Oh, Kat agreed to be my pet pussy," Margo said.

"Yeah, right!" Elke scoffed.

"No, it's true," Margo laughed.  "I gave her a choice:  Strip, allow the valet-bots to apply the bodypaint, clamp herself in cuffs and collar, enter her new cage, pull the door closed, and be my feline plaything for 24 hours.  Or... a much more extended, elaborate, and humiliating punishment, at some unspecified future date."

"All this as payback for your little VR adventure with Trickster and Eve-L?" Elke muttered.  "I still don't buy it."

"I did have to promise to let her stage a cheerleader hunt through the Katacombs," Margo purred, "at some unspecified future date."

Elke was still skeptical.  "Kat gets to dress a Sister in a 'sweater monkey' costume, play cat-and-mouse with her through the lower levels for a few hours, then have her elaborate, sadistic way with her... and that's all it took?"
 
"Actually," Margo responded, "Katherine drives a hard bargain.  She gets to hunt five Sisters, of her choice."
 
Elke stared at the screen. "I see.  Which Sisters did she choose?"  Seconds passed, with no answer.  "Margo?"
 
More seconds passed, then Margo finally spoke.  "My love to Abby," she said, and the vid-link terminated.

Elke sighed, folded the laptop's screen closed, and focused on Charlie.  "We better start practicing some cheers," she muttered.

◄

Chapter 12

Send feedback to the author