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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 5

THE NEXT DAY

---

Margo glanced at the palmcom on the low table next to her lounge chair, noting the time.  She stood, stretched, smiled, and tightened the sash of her robe.  It was a beautiful morning.  She walked to the stone balustrade of the guest suite balcony and drank in the view.  The sky was clear, with the rising sun glinting off the wakes of the passing ships far below.  This portion of the Hong Kong passage, the section overlooked by Liana's hilltop estate, was relatively unspoiled.  A few white buildings could be seen below and on the neighboring islands, but the hills and slopes were mostly a rich, verdant green; with the urban heart of Hong Kong proper unseen and miles to the east.

Margo's mind drifted back to the previous evening, to the hours she had spent lashed to Lian's frame, gagged and helpless...  the "tentacle beast" between her legs doing its very best to maintain a fully aroused state of frustrated "entertainment"...  the mask-gag stifling every sound (and her screams of joy on those infrequent occasions when the tentacles failed in their frustration function, but succeeded in their arousal function too well)...  and then Lian had released her from the frame (leaving her still bound, gagged, and helpless, of course), taken her to her bed...  and the fun really began.

Seabirds wheeled in the heavens, and one of the freighters below sounded its horn.

Margo would have liked nothing better than to pour herself another cup of coffee and continue enjoying the morning, but duty called.  It was the appointed time for the rescue of her bodyguard.

The scrolling map on the palmcom's tiny screen led her into the service area of the estate, through a hidden door, and into a labyrinth of stone corridors.  The flags were smooth and cool under her bare feet.  She descended a spiral staircase, pattered across an arched bridge over a subterranean stream, and came to a heavy timber door bound with decorative iron bands.

Multiple interlocking bolts secured the door, as well as a large cylinder lock of traditional Chinese design.  A wand-like key was on the floor, next to a small knife in an ornately carved sheath.  There was a peephole through the thick portal, under a small swinging cover.  Margo eased the cover aside, squinted through the small opening into the dungeon cell beyond, and gasped!

Kat was naked and hog-tied.  This Margo expected.

The bodyguard's wrists were folded behind her back and her arms pinned to her torso by breast-pinching ropes, the same traditional tie that Lian had used on Margo the night before.  Her ankles were crossed and lashed to her wrists, and additional cords appeared to be tied in Kat's hair and were enforcing a taut backwards bow of her entire body.  The position was cruel and punishingly tight.  Having seen the sorts of games Kat and The Five played in the past, this also was expected.

What was not expected was the expression of suffering on the smudged, glistening face of the normally supremely stoic Kat.

Margo let the cover of the peephole drop, grabbed the knife and put it in the pocket of her robe, then used the key to open the cylinder lock.

Warned by the sounds from the door, Kat had time to compose herself.  Now a mask of casual indifference hid her earlier distress.

Margo walked into the dungeon cell and stood, hands on hips.  "I know you have a lot of fun playing your little games with The Five," she said quietly, "letting them show you Lian's dirtiest, dankest, most unpleasant guest rooms—exchanging notes on new knots and new positions with which to torment captives—learning new techniques of interrogation and torture—but I expect some degree of moderation."

She walked a slow circuit around her bodyguard, shaking her head as she surveyed Kat's strained, glistening body, and the tight black cords dimpling her smooth, tan flesh.  Margo struggled to suppress a smile.  To see her perfect female fighting machine helpless and suffering like this...  A frisson of dark pleasure rippled through her sex and up her spine.

There was something protruding from Kat's crotch.  Margo leaned closer, and found it to be the head and foreclaws of a traditional Chinese dragon, carved or molded from what appeared to be coral jade.  Its snarling face had elaborate whiskers, mane, beard and eyebrows, all stiff, pointed, and positioned to prick the sensitive flesh around Kat's labia if she struggled in her bonds.  The sharp claws gripped the labia themselves like tiny hands.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Margo asked.

"What?" Kat mumbled.  "Oh... the dragon.  If it has a name, nobody bothered sharing it."

Margo pulled the knife from her pocket, drew the blade from the sheath, and began severing the cords of Kat's bondage, one-by-one.  Soon, Kat was lying on her stomach on the stone floor, her wrists, ankles, and torso festooned with the remnants of her former bonds.  She kept her legs carefully apart, mindful of the dragon's spines, and slowly, carefully stretched her limbs and rolled her shoulders.

Margo helped Kat to her feet, and they carefully worked in concert to release the dragon's grip.  Eventually, they discovered the scales which controlled the spring-loaded talons, and the tiny paws released.  Kat stifled a gasp.  Margo could see the blood flowing back into the flesh that had been in the tiny monster's grip.  Kat then slowly, carefully extracted the body of the dragon.  It was surprisingly large, both in girth and length.  Its rounded, relatively smooth body was covered with scales, carrying the dragon motif to the bullet-like tip.

Margo hefted the coral reptile/dildo.  "It just sits there?"

Kat smiled weakly.  "Hell no!  It wiggles and vibrates, and every now and then, at random intervals, it delivers an electric shock."

"Shock?"

"It gets your attention," Kat purred as she pulled the last of the cord loops from her wrists and ankles.

Margo shook her head.  "Moderation," she grumbled.  "And you weren't gagged because?"

"Begging for mercy or crying out in pain would be most humiliating," Kat explained.

"Of course," Margo whispered, still shaking her head.  She set the dragon on the floor and gestured towards the door.  "You won't lose face if I treat you to a sauna, massage, and late breakfast, will you?"

"As if I care," Kat muttered, then gasped as Margo grabbed her, pulled her into a tight embrace, and kissed her lips.

The kiss lasted a very long time, with a great deal of tongue sliding and lip smacking.  Finally, Margo pulled back and smiled at her bodyguard.  "What am I going to do with you?" she whispered, and they kissed again.

Kat sighed in contentment.  Lying on her stomach on a padded table, clean and having enjoyed an invigorating sauna, the still nude bodyguard's sore body was being oiled and kneaded by the expert hands of Margo Wells.  "Don't you have a meeting today?" Kat murmured.

"All meetings have been canceled," Margo explained, "except for one, tomorrow.  Then it's off to Gondaloo."

"Gondaloo," Kat  whispered with a contented sigh.

"Yes, Gondaloo," Margo said, "which reminds me.  I'd appreciate it if you'd not do your usual sadistic psycho-bitch number on Jamie, this trip."

Kat smiled.  "Freckle Fox and I have been V-chatting for weeks.  We have something special in mind for the treehouse inauguration, and cruel and unusual torment of Jamie, in particular, and most of the other residents and guests is not involved."

Margo raised an eyebrow in question.  "Am I going to regret not asking for a complete briefing?"

Kat rolled onto her side and favored her boss with an innocent smile.  "Despicably evil torture has its place," she purred, "but so does good ol' sisterly fun."

"Well," Margo said, "as my plans develop, I guess I better keep you informed, so we don't ruin each other's agendas."

Kat lay on her back and sighed in contentment as Margo lifted her left arm, draped it over her shoulder, and began manipulating the bodyguard's muscles.

"For starters," Margo continued.  "A group of The Five have been dispatched to Seattle, to deliver some 'invitations' to Gondaloo."  Kat frowned, and Margo laughed.  "Don't pout 'cause I didn't send you," she scolded.  "As you keep telling me, when I'm traveling, your place is at my side, and The Five deserve their share of the fun."

"Who, exactly, are going to receive these 'invitations'?" Kat asked.

Margo smiled, and shifted her attention to Kat's right arm.  "That would be telling."

TWO DAYS LATER
TESSERACT WORLD HEADQUARTERS
SEATTLE, WA, USA

---

"This sucks!" Fiona pouted, frowning at the image of her roommate and lover on the screen of her desktop system.

Ronnie smiled.  "You love business trips," she chided.

Fiona smiled back.  "Well, 'love' is a bit strong, but it is nice to get out now and then; but the timing couldn't be worse."

"Things happen," Ronnie purred.  "I wish I could come with you."

Fiona's pout returned.  "Me too.  I also wish the administrative geeks could give a person a little warning."

"You had time to zip home and pack a bag," Ronnie observed.

Fiona's pout turned absolutely heartrending.  "But not time to kiss you good-bye," she whispered.

"Bad timing all around," Ronnie sighed.  "I get called downtown to a pointless meeting, and you get called out of town."  She sighed again, then her expression brightened.  "Not to worry.  I'll reschedule dinner with Jodi, and—"

"Don't you dare!" Fiona blurted.  "Keep the date, have fun, and we'll do it again, after I get back."

Ronnie's smile turned coy.  "You're not... jealous?"

Fiona smiled back.  "There's jealous, and then there's jealous."

"And we're secure in our relationship to the point that I can invite over nubile aerobics instructors and do my very best to have my wicked way with them?" Ronnie purred.

"My only regret is I won't be there to help," Fiona responded.

Ronnie sighed.  "You all set?" she asked.

"My bag's already at the maglev station," Fiona answered, "I've finished cleaning up my workload here... so I might as well head for the airport."  She stared at her lover's beautiful face, and sighed.

Ronnie sighed as well.  "Well, bring me home something I'll like... in addition to your sweet self."

Fiona blushed.  "Stop," she giggled.  "This is difficult enough.  Love you!"

"Love you too," Ronnie responded.  "'Bye, Red."

"'Bye, Brown Eyes," Fiona responded, smiled bravely, and broke the link.  She sighed again, staring at the blank screen, then started to tap out the shutdown sequence for her workstation—but before she had tapped a single key, the screen went truly dark, as if the power plug had been pulled.

Fiona blinked in surprise.  The headquarters' monitors were usually never turned off.  Shutdown would have simply locked her files and returned this station to the network management systems.  This was different.  She looked at the neighboring workstation, and found it also to be pitch black... as was every screen she could see.  She tried her phone, and there was no dial tone.  She replaced the handset and punched the speakerphone button.  Still nothing.

Obviously there was a serious outage of some kind.  She hoped it was just the library, and not the entire campus.  The tech support people were almost certainly aware of the problem, whatever it was, but it was her duty to report the situation.  At least the lights were still on.

"Looks like I'm getting out of town just in time," she muttered.  The last of her co-workers had left for the day nearly an hour earlier.  The library was quiet and still.  Fiona grabbed her raincoat, purse, and briefcase, and made her way to the library complex' main door.  She'd find a working phone, someplace, and call tech support from there.  She approached the doors—but they didn't open.  "Just great!" Fiona growled, and hit the doors' manual open button.  Nothing.  She hit it again.  Still nothing.

"Just great!"  Obviously, the outage was serious.  Reason (and the Fire Code) dictated that the failure position for the doors should be "open".  Clearly, more than a selective loss of power was involved.  The logic of some control server was badly scrambled.

Fiona's options were to wait for help, which would make her late for her flight, or to look for an exit not controlled by the campus' main servers.

There was a storeroom in the back of the reference area, and Fiona knew (although most of her co-workers didn't) it included a secret door to the maintenance corridors.  There was a good chance that door was controlled by a different system than the library's main doors.  If she could figure out how to open it— Squee! —The hairs on the back of Fiona's neck stood on end.  She'd heard something... something moving... something human!

"Who's there?" Fiona called out, peering into the library stacks to the right.  There was no one there.  She sighed.  "Now I'm imagining things," she muttered, and glanced to the left.

Fiona gasped, and her blood ran cold.  At the far end of the rows of shelves was a female figure dressed all in black!  There was something about the way she stood.  Her easy, casual pose radiated athletic grace.  Her head was completely hooded, and her eyes covered by hi-tech goggles festooned with sensors.  "Who are you?" Fiona demanded.

Squee!

That sound again, this time behind her back!  Fiona spun around—and again, there was no one there!  She spun back to the left—and the figure in black was gone!

"Look!" Fiona called nervously, "if this is another of those silly 'security drills', I don't have time to play!  I'm due at the airport!"  Fiona swallowed nervously.  The was no response to her words, and no further evidence of black-clad intruders.  "Jodi?" she called out.  "Jodi Weber?"  There was no answer.

Her heart pounding, Fiona carefully dropped her briefcase and coat, then removed her heels, one-by-one. Clutching a shoe in each hand, ready to wield them as weapons, she broke and ran for the storeroom!  It was at the far side of the technical stacks, but she had to try.

She pattered to the storeroom door, ducked inside, and groped the far wall for the hidden switch panel.  It clicked, and the door to the maintenance tunnels slid open.  "Thank god!" Fiona whispered, hurried into the darkness—and came face-to-face with one of the figures in black!

Less than ten feet away, the unmistakably female figure was dressed in an exquisitely tight, body-hugging outfit.  It was midnight black, and had just enough of a gloss to highlight its wearer's perfect form.  Her head was hooded and masked, but Fiona could see several sensors or cameras attached to the side of the goggles covering the menacing figure's eyes.

Training and discipline triumphed over panic.  Fiona flowed into combat stance, a shoe in each hand, ready to wield the heels like a pair of daggers.  She wished her feet were bare, rather than clad in stockings, and her business suit would suddenly transform into a leotard or the sports-kilt and crop-top she wore for Medieval Martial Arts practice, but this party was come-as-you-are.

The figure before her had assumed combat stance as well, in a style with which Fiona was unfamiliar.  The black-clad "ninjette" hadn't even seemed to move.  One moment she was simply standing in the dark passage, the next she was in a graceful crouch, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, one arm extended, and the other at her side.

Fiona decided on a strike to the eyes, followed by a sweeping kick to the back of her opponent's knees.  With luck, a lot of luck, she could take her down long enough to dance past and flee down the passage.  Trying not to telegraph her intentions, Fiona tensed for the exchange—and found herself seized from behind and completely helpless!

Her heels clattered to the floor.  Her arms were pinned back at the elbows, a hand was over her mouth, and a strong leg was clamped across her crossed legs.  She struggled and mewed, but her captor was expert to a degree Fiona hadn't thought possible.  Fiona couldn't even shift her weight, much less struggle free and escape.  Her captor's strength and sense of balance was almost supernatural!

Suddenly, the figure in front took one fluid step forward, and Fiona felt something hard and cold being placed against the side her throat, just under her right ear.  There was a quiet hiss—a mild burning sensation at the point of contact, then a curious chemical aftertaste on the back of her tongue—and all went black.

Fiona opened her eyes.  She was lying on her back, legs together, and arms at her side.  The surface beneath her was soft and warm.  The air was stirred by a gentle breeze carrying a pleasant aroma.  Sandlewood, jasmine, cedar... it was all of these things... or something else entirely.  The chamber was lit from below by a dim, red light, and candles flickered in the distance all around her.  She could not move.

That wasn't quite true.  She could flutter her fingers... slowly.  She could turn her head a few degrees... slowly.  Lifting an arm or leg or her head was an exhausting impossibility.

She was lying on a table.  She could judge the height because women were moving around her.  They were dressed in silk, skintight bodysuits, elaborately patterned with oriental ideograms, dragons, cranes... or were they naked, and covered in tattoos?  No, they were clad in stretched silk.  The predominant color seemed to be red... a deep, blood red.  The women were masked, but when they came close enough, Fiona could see their eyes.

One leaned close and shone a light in Fiona's eyes.  Her eyes were almond-shaped, brown, and very beautiful.  Her hair was long and black and straight,

Another appeared before the dozing redhead and swabbed her lips with a cool, wet sponge.  Her eyes were pale, pale blue, her skin deeply tan, and her hair long, straight and blonde, with bangs.

"Thank you," Fiona whispered... may have whispered.  Perhaps it was only a thought.  In any case, her blonde benefactor was gone.  Surprisingly, Fiona did not feel afraid.  The fear was there, the desire to escape was there, but at a distance.

The women were back.  With gentle, expert hands, Fiona felt her clothing being removed.  They worked slowly, silently, and with perfect coordination.  Fiona was lifted, and her jacket pulled off her shoulders and from her arms and upper body.  Her skirt was unbuttoned and pulled down her legs.  Her blouse was next.  She turned her head and watched as each article of clothing was carefully folded, wrapped in red tissue paper, and packed in a small shipping container.

Next came her bra.  Then her panty hose were peeled down her legs.  Finally, her panties were gently removed, and she was completely nude.  She watched as her underwear was wrapped and packed away.  Then her heels appeared and were wrapped and packed as well... then her raincoat... and lastly her briefcase.  The lid of the aluminum case closed with an authoritative click, and it was gone.

A third woman appeared.  Her skin-hugging clothing was similar to the others, and she was masked, but her black hair was cut in a short bob.  Her eyes were a deep, dark brown.  There was a basin of warm water on a stand nearby, and the woman began bathing Fiona's torso and limbs.  Hands appeared and turned her as required.  The cloth was warm, the gentle scrubbing made her skin tingle, and the evaporating water was cool and refreshing.

Warm towels followed.  The drying process was a slow, gentle, erotic massage, and it took a very long time.

And finally, hair brushed out, makeup removed, skin clean and warm, Fiona lay on her back... still unable to move... still unafraid (but afraid).  She let her eyes close.

Something was happening.  The women had returned (if they had ever actually left), and were pulling what felt like sheer nylon gloves over Fiona's hands.  They covered her hands and wrists completely, but the fingers were joined, side-to-side.  Toe-encasing bootie socks followed.

"Wh-what?" Fiona asked... and was ignored.

A sheer bodystocking was next.  They lifted her limbs and turned her body as required, and soon she was encased from toes to throat in a layer on thin, tight nylon

They were doing things to her sex.  (Apparently, the bodystocking was crotchless.)  She could feel it, but their hands were gentle and expert.  A catheter?  Some sort of plug being eased into her bottom?  Finally, a long, thick, flaccid cylinder slid into her sex.

Next was a nylon body sheath.  It had one leg opening, and like the layers of nylon underneath, was tight without being punishing.  Her mittened hands and nylon-clad arms slid into sleeves sewn into the sheath's sides.  The upper sheath slid over her shoulders and was zipped closed.

A tube-like sheath of what looked like neoprene rubber followed, then an elaborate harness of rubber straps.  Countless horizontal and transverse bands tightened around her helpless form.  She looked down her body, and found herself to be a smooth, helpless, rubber object, criss-crossed by straps festooned with countless steel rings.

"Please..." she whispered.  "Please, let me go."  Her head dropped back on the table.  The effort of making the plea had been exhausting.

Her hair was being carefully combed, rolled, and tucked under a spandex cap.  Gloved fingers gently opened her jaws, and thrust something into her mouth.  Her teeth snapped into soft channels, a plug filled her mouth, and her lips were sealed by a rubber panel.  Plugs slid into her ears, and a helmet was eased over her head.

She was lifted... and lowered... and she heard clips being snapped to the rings in her harness.  Something happened beneath her... and she was floating on something warm and soft.  She tried twisting and struggling, and found she couldn't move at all, drugs or no.

The blonde and the two oriental women were peering into her eyes—and then the visor of her helmet slid closed.  Seconds later, something solid thudded closed over her upper body, and all was still.  Panic joined the fear hovering in the back of her mind, awaiting its turn.

Fiona opened her eyes.  She still couldn't move, but that didn't seem to matter.  A voice was speaking to her.

"Do not be afraid.  There is nothing to fear.  You are perfectly safe."

She was in VR... not the convincingly realistic VR of a Spherus IV or V machine... but VR... Spherus II, maybe.

"Nothing matters but the dance."

Fiona blinked.  The dance?

A female figure appeared before her.  It was Fiona herself, naked, and in chains.  Manacles joined by a yard of light steel links were locked around her wrists, and shackles with a surprisingly generous two or more yards of chain joined her ankles.

Soft, melodic bells sounded, and Fiona watched as her alter ego began to dance.  She was lithe and graceful.  Her long red hair fanned and flipped, her body and limbs spun and pointed, and her chains were a part of the dance, gently tinkling and ringing and flying in graceful arcs as she moved.  The long ankle chain allowed her to kick and spin at the hips, its added weight making the moves quick and fluid.

"The dance is beautiful.  When you dance, you are beautiful.  You please your lover when you dance."

Fiona watched herself... and smiled.  It was beautiful.  She was beautiful.

"You will learn the dance.  All that matters is the dance."