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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Jodi's Story: R-E-S-P-E-C-T WITH A CHERRY ON TOP  ———————————————————————— by Van © 2005
		Chapter 4

THE NIGHT OF "THE SECURITY DRILL"
RONNIE ALBRITTON & FIONA McLEAN'S APARTMENT
THE BEDROOM

---

"I still think there's something funny going on," Fiona muttered.

"You're just jealous I got to spend the afternoon having fun," Ronnie responded, "while you had to toil away in your musty old stacks."  Clad in her usual pajamas—an old T-shirt, panties, and nothing else—Ronnie climbed between the covers of the king-sized bed, and pulled them up to her waist.

Fiona favored her lover with a cool stare.  "I knew it!" she huffed.  "You messed around with that Jenny Lovell tart, didn't you?"  She sat on the bed, leaned down, and buckled a leather cuff around each of her ankles, making sure the locking clasps clicked home.  She then stretched luxuriously, arms over head, leaned forward, and slowly stood, making sure Ronnie got a look up her short nightie as she did so.  (She wasn't wearing any panties.)  "Or did you 'have fun' with Jenny and her randy little elf of a boss?"

Ronnie grinned.  "You are jealous."  She snuggled back against the piled pillows.  "You're so cute when you get like this."

Fiona buckled and locked leather cuffs around each of her wrists as well, then climbed under the covers next to Ronnie.  "Cute!" she sniffed.  "You're a teasing cheat!"

Ronnie knew her lover was kidding.  They'd played this game before.  "We did have fun, crowded together, wiggling and squirming, our helpless, bound bodies pressed close together in the dark, humid closet; our piteous moans muffled by our tight gags."  She savored Fiona's pouting expression.  "Of course, with our fingers and hands taped, we couldn't do much about it.  But later, when I had Jenny bound and gagged in my office... and we were all alone... and no one even knew she was there..."

Fiona stared at the ceiling... and waited... then finally her eyes darted to Ronnie's grinning face.  "What?" she snapped.

Ronnie's grin melted into an innocent smile.  "I cut her free, and reminded her that 'security drills' are secret, not a suitable topic for gossip—"

"Not counting pillowtalk with your roommate, of course," Fiona interrupted, continuing to pout.

"Of course," Ronnie agreed.  "Anyway, I was the perfect gentlewoman, and kept my hands to myself."

"It would be a shame to spoil all that perky innocence," Fiona agreed.

Ronnie rolled onto her side, facing Fiona, and smiled coyly.  "But what a pleasure to de-spoil," she whispered.

A smile quivered on Fiona's pouting lips, and was suppressed.  "Just like you've despoiled me," she sighed.

"Speaking of which..." Ronnie mumbled, tossed the covers aside, and dragged Fiona to the center of the bed.  She then stood, and gazed down at her lover with a lecherous grin..

"Why, whatever are you going to do?" the redhead demanded, batting her eyes in "innocent" surprise.  She watched as Ronnie pulled a bungee cord from under the top corner of the mattress, and clicked its attached clasp to the ring of her left wrist cuff.  "Oh, please don't tie me down!" Fiona whined, squirming in place (but offering no real resistance).  "I won't be able to move, or escape, or, or defend my virtue!"

Ronnie stepped around the bed and secured her right wrist, leaving the squirming redhead pinned on her back.  "I just love your 'Polly Purebred' routine," she whispered.

Fiona stopped struggling and glared at her captor.  "Hey, I'm trying to get into the zone here," she complained, then went back to her theatrical squirming.

"Thespian!" Ronnie accused, then reached through Fiona's hair, behind her neck, and untied the bow securing the nightie's spaghetti halter straps.

"It takes one to know one," Fiona grumbled, then smiled.  "Oh, you said 'thespian'... with a 'T'."

"Very funny," Ronnie whispered, and pulled Fiona's nightie down her body and legs.  The silk fabric made a dry, whispering sigh as it slithered against the redhead's pale, firm flesh.  She then pulled bungee cords from under the bottom corners of the mattress and secured the captive's ankles, leaving her in a full spread-eagle.

"Oh!" Fiona whined, struggling and tugging on her elastic bonds.  The cords gave her a couple of inches of  reluctant slack, but nothing near what she needed to reach the clips or buckles and free herself.  "Woe is me," she whispered, affecting her most heartrending pout.  "Who will save me?  Whatever will become of me?  What sexually depraved horrors await?"

Smiling evilly, Ronnie pulled her T-shirt over her head, tossed it aside, then peeled off her panties.  Locking eyes with her captive, she stretched, arms over head and panties still in her right hand.  She walked to the nightstand, opened a drawer, and produced a ball-gag, a pastel green, rubber sphere, pierced by a black rubber band.

Fiona put her theatrics on hold.  "I really do think there's something funny with this whole 'security drill' business," she said.

Ronnie climbed onto the bed and knelt, her knees straddling Fiona's waist.  She settled a portion of her weight on her lover's firm, pale tummy, then leaned forward, elbows locked and hands on either side of Fiona's head.  "I know what you mean," she purred.  "It may have been 'official', but either Jodi Weber has a lot of experience, or she's been to bondage college."

Fiona grinned.  "You want me to check the training archives tomorrow?" she offered.

Ronnie grinned back.  "No, I want you to open your mouth."  She gave her panties a delicate sniff, then crinkled her nose.  "Goodness, I guess I did have fun in that closet."

Fiona shuddered in anticipation.  Musk-stained panties may be an acquired taste, but in the case of Ronnie's warm, moist, intimate apparel, Fiona was a seasoned gourmand.  "I knew it!" she growled.  "You cheater!"  She opened her smiling lips, dropped her jaw, and extended her tongue.

Smiling sweetly, Ronnie turned her panties inside out, positioned the crotch panel on Fiona's glistening pink tongue, then tucked panties and tongue back into her mouth.  The green ball of the gag was positioned over the silk wad and between her teeth, and the rubber strap-band pulled over her head.  Then her long, straight locks were pulled free, to fall in a tousled, coppery mass around the prisoner's ivory pale, incredibly beautiful face.

Fiona pulled weakly on her bonds, wiggled under (and against) her naked captor's thighs and sex, mewed through her panties and ball-gag, and batted her doe eyes.  Her nostrils flared and the perfect, pale globes of her breasts heaved as she struggled.

Ronnie leaned closer still, until their erect nipples brushed, then continued forward and kissed her captive's forehead, cheeks, and gagged mouth.  She sat up, and shuffled back on the bed, lifting her knees over Fiona's legs, one-by-one.  Now kneeling between her prisoner's legs, she smiled down at Fiona's sex, pursed her lips, and blew on the red wisps of her captive's pubic hair.

Fiona shivered in her bonds.  Her sex was flushed and probably dripping, she could tell.

Ronnie let her fingers caress and tease Fiona's labia.  "Maybe we ought to invite Jodi Weber over for dinner sometime," she suggested, "maybe on a friday... at the start of a long weekend."  She parted and held Fiona's outer labia, and gave her lover's pale pink, most intimate flesh a long, slow lick.  She paused, grinning up Fiona's pale, helpless body to her gagged face.  "It would give me a chance for some payback."  She gave her captive another teasing, frustratingly slow lick.  "And maybe she can teach me some new ways to torture and torment your pale, skinny form."

Fiona pulled on her left, then her right cuff, using all her strength to stretch the bungee cords binding her in place.  It was pointless.  She was bound, and gagged, and unable to prevent Ronnie from doing anything she wanted.

"You are right, about the drill and everything," Ronnie whispered, thrust her tongue deep enough to tickle Fiona's clitoris, then lifted her head, locked eyes with her lover, and smiled sweetly.

Fiona quivered and thrust her sex against Ronnie's chin.  Clearly, as far as she was concerned, the time for conversation was over.

"There is something funny going on,"  Ronnie purred, licked her lips, and set to work.

THAT VERY MOMENT
CHARLIE & ELKE'S BIOSPHERE APARTMENT
THE BEDROOM

---

"Do you mean funny strange," Elke asked, "or funny ha-ha?"

"You have to ask?" Charlie responded.  "Funny strange and funny ha-ha.  Your sister's involved."

Both were in bed, and were nude, or nearly so.

Elke had a portion of the top sheet draped across her body.  She stretched, extending her perfectly toned arms and perfectly toned legs, effortlessly balancing on her rump, to form a "V" of tan, strong, amazon flesh.  She held this pose for several seconds, then tucked her legs and sat, gazing at her petite lover.

Charlie's hands and arms were folded behind her back and secured in a leather binder.  The buckled sheath held her forearm-to-forearm and wrists-to-elbows, and incorporated broad cuffs around each upper arm.  The buttersoft, lightly padded device was comfortable, and totally inescapable.  She was lying on her back, comfortably sprawled against the piled pillows and tangled sheets.

"There's no doubt whatsoever that the drill was official," Elke stated.

"That's not the issue," Charlie countered, frowning in concentration.  "I just have a feeling Jodi's up to something, something not official.  I have this 'damsel sense' that tells me when people who tie me up are up to something."

Elke grinned.  "You do?"  She reached down, seized Charlie's ankles, held them together with one hand, and used a coil of soft cotton rope to bind them together.  "So, what is your 'damsel sense' telling you right now?  I assume it's tingling."

Charlie watched as her big toes were added to the bondage.   "Something's tingling," she whispered, then swallowed nervously and continued in a normal voice.  "Uh, you're going to make me nice and comfortable, and then we're going to get a good night's sleep?"

Still holding Charlie's ankles in her left hand, Elke smiled evilly, and stretched the fingers of her right.  "Not even close," she purred.

"You wouldn't," Charlie whined, affecting her most pathetic pout.  She tried pulling her feet away, but Elke's grip was rock solid.  Her naked and vulnerable feet might as well have been locked in heavy timber stocks.

Elke let the nails of her fingers trail up Charlie's wrinkled soles.

Charlie bit her lower lip, stifling a nervous giggle.  "Please, Elkie," she whispered.

Elke smiled, and began to lightly tickle her precious prisoner's feet.  "What, I never get to be bad?  You think it's easy being the Den Mother to an undisciplined gaggle of Bondage Scouts?  ...always having to set the good example?"  She began tickling Charlie's feet in earnest.

Charlie twisted, squirmed, and struggled for all she was worth, all the while giggling, laughing, and whining.  "P-please!!  Noooo!!  Eeek!!  Elke, s-s-stop!!"

"Good thing this place is soundproof," Elke noted, and concentrated her efforts on the sole of Charlie's left foot.

"Oh–oh–oh–please!!  Please, Elke!!  Ahh!!  I–I–I c-can't stand it!!  G-go t-tickle Jodi instead!!  It's her fault!!  Ahh!!"

Elke shifted her attention to Charlie's right foot.  "Jodi?"

"Y-yes!!" Charlie gasped.

"But she's not here," Elke noted.

"W–w–w–ahhh–we can go get her!!  Eeeh!!  Stop!!"

Elke paused, as if considering her panting prisoner's suggestion, then resumed tickling the helpless pixie.  "No, that would be funny strange," she purred.  "She is my sister, after all.  No, we'll stick to funny ha-ha."

Charlie writhed and rolled, continuing to do her very best to escape Elke's vice-like grip.  Her eyes wide and staring, she giggled and guffawed, her breasts bobbing and jiggling as she struggled and laughed.

"Well," Elke observed, as she continued her teasing torment of her lover's tiny feet, "I guess something funny is going on."  Charlie continued to giggle and laugh.  "In fact," Elke continued, "whatever it is, it's downright hilarious."

HONG KONG, CHINA
MADAM LIAN'S ESTATE
THE MASTER BEDROOM

---

"You can laugh if you want," Kat growled, "but something funny's going on in Seattle."

Margo smiled.  "Eve-L schedules a security drill without your permission.  Hmm, how nefarious.  But isn't that how things in the Executive Security Cadre are designed to work?"

Kat frowned.  "The day I use Jodi Weber as a security operative—"

"Will be the day you're on the other side of the planet and aren't consulted," Margo interrupted.  "I believe that day was yesterday."

Kat glared at her boss, but held her tongue.

"Intuition is not to be dismissed lightly," Madam Lian purred, sipping tea from a stoneware bowl.

Margo and Lian were relaxing, having just received full-body massages.  They were dressed in warm robes.

Kat, however, was dressed in a spandex catsuit.  Black, of course, with boots, gloves, and a nylon weapons harness.  All of the weapons were harmless training versions of her usual "accessories".  This was for two reasons.

(1) Even Kat accepted that in the very heart of Madam Lian's estate, Margo couldn't be safer;

(2) In just a few seconds, Kat would be starting her evening diversion, a covert penetration, ambush, and evasion scenario with Lian's security staff (including "The Five").

Margo took a sip of tea as well.  "I value Katherine's intuition," she purred, "but I also know my 'Black Knight' is bored ushering me to and from business meetings.  She'd much rather be back in her beloved Katacombs, with Jodi strapped to some unspeakably horrific and/or erotic nightmare contraption,  interrogating her about some mysterious funny business that may or may not exist."

Kat turned to Madam Lian for support, but all she got was their hostess' usual inscrutable smile.  "Jodi's up to something," the glowering bodyguard muttered.

Margo laughed.  "Of course she is, silly!"  She set her tea down, stretched, and lay back on a lounge chair.  "Eve and I reached that conclusion an hour ago, after the full exercise report was filed.  We also agreed to give Weber-the-Younger and her accomplice enough rope to hang themselves... or get themselves thoroughly entangled, to use a less lethal metaphor."

Kat blinked in surprise.  "Accomplice?"

Margo's smile turned irritatingly coy.  "All will be revealed... in time."

"True patience is the most difficult of virtues," Madam Lian purred.

Kat rolled her eyes, turned, and headed for the balcony.  "If you need me," she said, "I'll be down in the lower gardens, teaching the guards some new tricks."  She jumped over the railing, and was gone.

Margo turned to Lian.  "Three minutes?"

Lian smiled.  "Katherine is a formidable opponent, and in this case, she will have the advantage of initiative.  However, as you know, my defenders are very formidable.  It is possible 'the Huntress' may remain at liberty for as many as five minutes, if The Five have difficulty discerning the pattern of her attack.  But three minutes is a reasonable prediction."

Margo nodded, acknowledging the compliment her hostess was paying her bodyguard, and indirectly, herself. The friends finished their tea, enjoying a serene, companionable silence.

"Let us discuss something else," Lian suggested after about two minutes.  "The remaining business meetings.  I believe they are unnecessary."

"Things are going better than I had hoped," Margo agreed.  "I may be able to get back to Seattle a week ahead of schedule."

"Impossible," Lian responded, causing Margo to raise an eyebrow in question.  "You will break Penny's heart if you arrive on Gondaloo early and then leave before her Treehouse Project is inaugurated.  You shall simply have to take an extra week of vacation.  I'm sure TESSERACT headquarters will survive the originally planned period of your absence."

Margo sighed.  Completion of the long-awaited Treehouse Project was her legitimate excuse for visiting the resort, and it couldn't be rushed to completion early.  "I may be the CEO, but I can't just disappear and lounge around a tropical paradise anytime I please."

"Of course not," Lian agreed.  "Would you rather arrive at Gondaloo seven days early, or would you rather spent that time naked and in chains, languishing in my dungeons next to your bodyguard?"

"Ever the perfect hostess," Margo purred.  "Has it occurred to you that Kat may have something to say about that?"

Just then a melodious chime sounded.  Lian reached to the side for a compact telephone handset.  She spoke softly in Mandarin for several seconds, then broke the connection.  "Three minutes and forty-seven seconds," she announced.  "Do not think less of our Katherine.  Happenstance is always involved in such matters."

"And The Five are without peer," Margo responded.

Lian nodded.  "The Huntress managed to incapacitate three of my perimeter guards and one of The Five before she was discovered and subdued.  She is currently unconscious and is being dealt with."

Margo smiled.  "Dealt with?"

Lian smiled back.  "She shall awaken a naked prisoner, in one of my deeper, more unpleasant dungeons.  Would you care to join her?"

Margo paused, as if considering the offer.  "Assuming of course, that you're not threatening a coup of some sort, " she said finally, causing Lian's smile to broaden, "I'll have to decline.  I'll be chatting on the phone with Jamie and Penny, advising them of my probable early arrival on Gondaloo.  But thank you for the offer."

Lian nodded again.  "Concerning this 'funny business' of Jodi's, my robotics labs are involved.  You must tell me of your plans."

Margo smiled.  "Anything to stay out of your dungeons.  Nothing down there is funny."

Lian opened a lacquered chest, and produced a coil of rope.  It appeared to be washed silk, dyed a deep, golden tan.  "We can talk later.  Now, I believe we have 'funny business' of our own to conduct."

Margo sighed, removed her robe, and knelt before her hostess and friend.  Her smile never wavered.

Margo and Lian shared a long-established, ongoing competition.  Whenever one was "at the mercy" of the other (whenever they exchanged visits), the hostess would treat her guest to at least one episode of extended bondage.  The rules of the game were simple: each ordeal had to be creative and original, taxing but ultimately harmless (of course), and "entertaining".

During her last visit to Seattle, Margo had bound Lian in a pose worthy of a Beijing Circus acrobat, and had introduced her to the the pleasure and torment of TIKLER-lined panties.  Margo had enjoyed the resulting "torment" a great deal, just as she was sure Lian would enjoy her current predicament.

Margo's arms were folded behind her back and tightly bound in a traditional manner, her upper arms pinned to her sides, her breasts framed and mildly squeezed between bands of cinched and shoulder-yoking rope.  Elaborate hitches and knots behind her back and between her shoulderblades made sure she would remain her hostess' helpless captive.  The comfortable yet inescapable arrangement was a tribute to Lian's skill, her high regard of Margo's status (personal and professional), and her respect for her talent for escape.

The prisoner was seated on a low platform, her legs widely splayed in a full split, and her ankles tied back to ringbolts set in the wall.  Her midriff was trapped in the tight embrace of what amounted to a waist pillory.  Four vertical iron posts, all threaded and lightly oiled, and four pair of oversized wing nuts locked the pillory's two halves in place, at the level of her navel.

The platform had a low ridge, perpendicular to her legs and passing under her crotch; however, the smoothly polished surface was carefully sculpted to accommodate her most intimate anatomy.  Her labia were spread and her weight did rest on her sex, but the arrangement was surprisingly comfortable, for now.

White silk cords with jade bead clasps noosed her nipples and were tautly tied to the forward screw-posts.  They were not particularly painful, but gave her strong incentive to not slump backwards.  Leaning forward triggered a spring loaded lever and brought her clitoris in contact with a spoon-like metal flange which delivered a mildly irritating electric shock.  Margo took the hint, and maintained an unmoving, upright posture.

Ominously, a data cable trailed from the front of the platform's ridge to a state-of-the-art palmcom resting on a low table.  The hand-held computer's tiny screen was illuminated, but it was too far away for Margo to read the display.

On the same table was a strange looking helmet.  The front appeared to be wood, carved in the visage of a hideous demon.  The back, what she could see of it, was black plastic.

Lian was kneeling behind the table, still dressed in her fluffy white robe.  She noticed Margo's gaze, and smiled.  "Made especially for you," she explained indicating the helment with a graceful gesture.  "The interior dimensions precisely match the measurements of your cranium, and the face region is sculpted to match your features.  It is fully padded with medium density foam, of course."

"Of course," Margo agreed.  "Funny, I don't recall posing for any sculptors."

"Our animation studio in Japan used video of your public appearances to create a high-resolution model of your visage.  The front of the helmet is a traditional demon face.  It looks like polished and lacquered wood, but is actually high-strength plastic resin, like the rest."  Lian smiled.  "Masked as a demon, you shall frighten away evil spirits while I sleep."

Margo sighed.  "It will be my honor."

Lian's head dipped in a polite bow.  "You shall remain silent, of course, as the mask incorporates an inflating gag, as well as sensors that will trigger electrical shocks if they detect the slightest vibration of your vocal cords.  In addition, there are speakers in the demon's horns which will broadcast any vocalizations out of phase, further rendering you mute."

Margo sighed again.  "In that case, I better do my talking now.  I have a request."

Lian bowed again.

"Kat would pout like a schoolgirl if I ordered her back to Seattle on a special assignment," Margo continued.  "She's looking forward to seeing Jamie and Penny again, and always hates leaving me alone.  May I borrow the services of a strike team drawn from The Five?"

"My super-ninja protectors are your super-ninja protectors," Lian responded.  "This would involve the resolution of Jodi's 'funny business', of course.  We shall discuss your requirements over breakfast."  She picked up the demon helmet, rose gracefully to her feet, and pattered towards her prisoner.  She pressed a stud and the back of the helmet snapped open.

Margo locked eyes with her captor/hostess.  "You realize, of course, that the next time you visit headquarters..."

Lian smiled.  "Who knows what the future may hold?"  She fit the helmet around Margo's head.

Margo opened her mouth, accepting the rather large rubber plug built into the front of the interior.  The back clicked shut, and the entire helmet began to tighten, accompanied by a series of ratcheting sounds.  The padding embraced her face like a second skin.  Strategically placed openings under her nostrils allowed her to breathe, and two pinholes piercing the mask's eyes provided a severely limited view of the outside world.  The helmet was surprisingly light, weighing no more than two pounds.

The plug in her mouth began to grow, not as a balloon inflating with air, but a thick rubber bladder filled with expanding gel.  Soon Margo's oral cavity was packed solid.  She mewed through the gag, and, as promised, a mild electric shock coursed through her sex.

In the world outside the mask, Lian had walked to the far side of the room, to the low platform bed.  Ignoring her "demon guardian", she slowly removed her robe, stretched (in all her lithe, nude glory), then settled down on the bed and pulled a silk sheet over her perfect body.  The overhead lights faded to darkness.  Only a pair of candles provided dim illumination.

Suddenly, Margo noticed a third light.  The screen of the palmcom on the low table had begun to flicker.  She still couldn't read the display, but could see different colors and shapes flashing and scrolling.   A program's been triggered, she surmised.   I wonder what— "EEK!!"

Her gagged and sonically shielded outcry earned Margo a punishing shock, but she had other concerns.  The ridge under her crotch had come to wiggling, vibrating life!  Rounded, elongated things of various size were caressing, massaging, and penetrating her sex!  It was as if she was sitting on the entrance of a nest of writhing, probing, inquisitive worms, or snakes, or tentacles!

Margo shuddered and tugged on her bonds, as best she could, not wishing to punish her noosed nipples.  The tentacles were doing their best to excite and arouse her helpless body.  They were succeeding, but she could tell they weren't going to be enough to bring her to orgasm... not in the immediate future, anyway.  Frustration torture, she realized.   Been there, done that... to everybody in the Inner Circle.

Margo shivered and watched Lian sleep.  The helpless CEO fumed, glaring at her slumbering torturer and friend.  She wasn't really angry.  In fact, she had a grudging respect for Lian's creative blend of technology and tradition.

Just then, several of the tentacles joined together, subjected Margo to a single slow, deep thrust, then withdrew, separated, and resumed their teasing, writhing caresses.

Dammit Lian!  Hentai-tentacle-rape, and you don't even stay awake to watch?  This isn't funny!