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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 r
		Chapter 9

Jodi liked to languish as much as the next damsel.  Cold iron in a dark, dank dungeon; tied to a chair in the proverbial abandoned shack; taped from head to toe and rolling on a dirty mattress in a grungy basement; it all had its place.

But this sucked!

Back on the plane, Jodi's kidnappers (three of The Five, Madam Lian's elite cadre of super-ninjettes) had run her through the entire Dark Side Kama Sutra, multiple times; then she'd passed out... and woke up here... like this.

"Here" was a jungle clearing, possibly on Gondaloo Island, probably on Gondaloo Island.  "Like this" was bound and gagged, of course.

Jodi couldn't name the species of trees, ferns, bushes, orchids, vines, etc., that made up the jungle surrounding her, but everything did look familiar, similar to the other riots of overgrown, leafy, ant and spider-infested rainforest she'd scampered, skipped, and/or been dragged through on her previous Gondaloo adventures.

No, she wasn't much of a naturalist in the scientific sense.  But at the moment, in the fashion sense, she was very much a naturalist... a nude, involuntary, tightly bound naturalist.  Her back was against a palm tree, her arms were raised above her head, and she was standing on her right foot.  Her left leg was bent at the knee and raised, with her left ankle against the trunk.  Yard upon yard of soft, microfiber rope was lashed around her wrists, torso, waist, thighs, and left ankle, holding her in this bizarre pose.  The multiple bands were tight, well-placed, and well-cinched, supporting and distributing her weight.  That's why she was "languishing", rather than suffering.

Expertly bound in relative "comfort", Jodi would nonetheless have voiced some serious complaints, but a thick, tight cleave-gag of some coarsely woven, soft material made this impossible. Also, she was alone, which, she acknowledged, was generally considered a required element of "languishing".

Oh, she knew she had an audience.  Helpless TESSERACT damsels always had an audience.  Eve probably had a dozen cameras and microphones focused on her at this very second, recording every sweaty, uncomfortable, infuriatingly boring detail of her captivity.  And there was probably a gaggle of her Inner Circle Sisters back in Seattle, lounging about in one of Margo's special screening rooms, munching popcorn and/or pizza, sipping sodas and/or beer, making clever, catty remarks, and thoroughly enjoying her plight.

Wait, Jodi thought, the time difference.  Ten hours?  She tugged on her wrist bonds (for the zillionth time) and sighed through her gag.  So, I'll be recorded... and I'll play in the background some time tomorrow, while they torture the damsel du jour.  I won't even be the main feature.  Evil, despicable, callous witches!  She sighed again.  I wish I was there... with them.

Suddenly, Jodi felt a tickling sensation on her right foot.  She looked down, and found a disturbingly large green ant crawling across the top of her foot, towards her ankle.  She yelped through her gag and lifted her right leg, letting the ropes take her full weight.  Several seconds of vigorous shaking finally dislodged the six-legged monster, but there were more of the buggers crawling through the leaf litter at the base of the palm.  This was not good!  What if they started up the tree?  What if they decided they liked the taste of Jodi tartare?

"Don't worry," a husky, depressingly familiar voice advised, "they won't bite."

Jodi lifted her gaze to find Kat Mayfair entering the clearing.  She was dressed in a skimpy bikini of black faux-fur, and decked out in a necklace and arm bands of animal teeth.   She's playing at being a jungle girl, Jodi observed.  Introducing, for your languishing pleasure, your guest villainess, Jungle Girl Kat... and friend.  Kat had moved to the side, and now Jodi could see she had a prisoner in tow.

It was Penny Brightman, more or less confirming Jodi's suspicion that she was on Gondaloo.  The tall, blonde Brit was naked, except for a pair of brown riding boots.  Her arms were raised and extended horizontally to either side, and lashed to a stout pole at the wrists, forearms, and just above the elbows.  She was also gagged by a stick tied between her teeth.  Finally, a generous length of microfiber rope draped from wrist-to-wrist, behind her back, and another rope was tied to the center.  This was pulled forward to cleave Penny's sex, and was being used as a leash by her "savage" captor.

Kat stepped forward, leaned down, and made a show of examining Jodi's sex.  "None the worse for wear," she purred.

Jodi and Penny, fellow captives and Inner Circle Sisters, locked eyes and shared the required long, sad, mutually commiserating sigh.

Kat reached out with her right hand, as if to cup Jodi's sex.  But her strong, tan fingers stopped a fraction of an inch from the pink, soft, crinkled flesh.  "No... this greedy thing's received enough attention over the last several hours."  She dropped Penny's leash and walked a slow circuit of Jodi's tree.  She made a show of checking the ropes, tugging on the knots one by one.  "Still nice and taut," she observed.

All the activity seemed to have sent the ants into hiding, so Jodi let her right leg drop and gingerly planted her toes among the scattered leaves.  She squirmed and shifted her hips, redistributing her weight.

Kat retrieved Penny's lead and gave it a tug.  The helpless blonde yelped, and took a step closer.

Kat gestured towards Penny.  "This is Lady Frederica Farrah Brightman," she explained, "a.k.a. 'Lady Freddie', twin sister of the good and kind Lady Penelope Brightman.  Lady 'F' is a notorious scoundrel, adventuress, shameless tart, and wanted criminal."  Jodi and Penny rolled their eyes, and Kat continued her introduction.  "She attempted to kidnap the good and kind Queen Margo of the Lost City of Opar, but her nefarious scheme was foiled by the good and kind Jungle Jamie and yours truly, the good and kind Panther Girl."

Jodi and Penny again rolled their eyes and again sighed through their respective gags.  Apparently, everyone on the island not currently tied up and helpless was officially designated "good and kind".  In what passed for logic during Inner Circle shenanigans, this meant all captives were officially not good and not kind.  Jodi and Penny were fair game.

"Lady Freddie's on her way back to Opar," Kat continued, "where she will be tried and punished for her transgressions."  She turned her gaze to "Lady Freddie" and smiled.  "Don't worry, the rumors about Oparian ritual cannibalism are greatly exaggerated."

Penny sighed, then rallied her courage and made a gallant attempt to kick her captor with the toe of her right boot.

Kat dodged the kick, then, quick as a pouncing panther, forced Penny to her knees and took a handful of blonde hair in her right hand.  She gazed into the prisoner's pale blue eyes (noting the playful sparkle and fear within) and tightened her grip.  "So brave..." she whispered, then continued in her normal voice.  "I promised Freckle Fox I'd return you in one piece, but don't push your luck."

She directed Penny's gaze to Jodi, and completed her introductions.  "And this is the notorious Jodi Weber, disrespectful flirt, lazy lump, and breaker-of-rules.  The Red Queen has special plans for Ms. Weber."

Uh-oh!  Jodi affected an air of nonchalance, which is difficult to pull off when you're naked, bound, gagged, and in the presence of the dreaded Kat.  'Jodi Weber'—I don't even have a role-playing name!  I'm really in the doghouse!  Had the bodies-for-robots plot been discovered?  Probably.  Had Evelyn betrayed her?  Maybe.  What "special" plans were in store?  Margo and Kat's "normal" plans were bad enough!

Leaving Penny on her knees, Kat stepped forward and gave Jodi's left nipple a gentle pinch.  "Maybe Her Majesty will finally give me permission to pierce these pretty things."  The left nipple received a playful pinch as well.  "I have some nice, heavy, gold-plated titanium alloy rings I've been saving just for you."  She fiddled with both nipples, which popped firm and erect.  "They lock permanently, of course," she continued, "and it would take a diamond bladed saw to remove them."  Her gaze dropped to Jodi's sex.  "And maybe a double row of a dozen or so of interlocking rings down there?  Thread them with a titanium chain and add a matching padlock, and Elke and Margo can stop worrying about you playing with yourself night and day."

Doing her best not to react to Kat's teasing caresses, Jodi summoned her courage and glared at her gloating nemesis.  Kat was kidding about the rings, of course... wasn't she?

Kat glanced to the side and found Penny glaring as well.  "Don't have a cow," she said, with a chuckle.  "You know the Red Queen doesn't allow involuntary body-mods."  Her hands continued to wander over Jodi's breasts as she continued.  "No piercing, no scarring, no 'slut-monkey' tattoos across the forehead..."  She leaned close to Jodi's still glaring face, and smiled sweetly.  "...no matter how appropriate."  Jodi responded with a sarcastic, gagged grimace of a smile; then her eyes popped wide and she yelped in alarm as Kat delivered a business-like pinch to each of her still erect nipples.

Kat sauntered back to Penny.  The prisoner's  pale blue eyes stared in surprise as Kat gently stroked her sunbleached blonde locks.  "So brave," Kat repeated in a husky purr, then nodded towards Jodi.  "All of you... all of my Sisters."  

Kat watched as Penny and Jodi shared brief, tender, gagged smiles; then turned their heads to smile at her as well.  The sparkle in their eyes sent a thrill of pure, sisterly affection through Kat's body.  She shook her head and blushed, embarrassed to realize she had let a tender smile of her own slip past her control.   Such a maudlin display was unacceptable!  She gripped Penny's hair and hauled her to her feet, then her free hand wandered over Penny's breasts, down her flat, firm abdomen, through her blonde pubic bush, and to her sex.

Penny panted through flaring nostrils and shivered in her helplessness as Kat's fingers gently stroked her most intimate flesh.  Then her captor's middle finger parted the glistening folds and delicately teased her clitoris.  Penny closed her eyes, to shut out Kat's terrible (beautiful) gloating smile, and did her best to suppress the feelings Kat's talented fingers were awakening.  As an Inner Circle Damsel she had to resist.  It was her duty!

Kat continued her stimulation for more than a minute, brought Penny just to the brink of release... then turned her head and smiled at Jodi.  Kat released her grip on Penny's hair, stopped teasing her now glistening sex, and retrieved the end of her leash.  "Let's go, Lady Freddie," she purred, made sure the rope was well-seated between Penny's shining labia, and stepped away.  Directing a steady stream of gagged invective at her tormentor's back, pausing only to wink at Jodi, the sweating, panting, and very frustrated captive had no choice but to follow.  

"Later," Kat called over her shoulder, directing the remark to Jodi, "in a few hours.  Play nice with the ants."

Jodi watched Kat and Penny disappear into the jungle foliage.  Penny's continuing gag-distorted tirade and Kat's husky laugh faded, the humid silence of the rainforest settled over the tiny clearing... and once again she was alone.

There's something you don't see every day, the helpless captive mused, Kitty-Kat getting all mushy.  Jodi knew Kat loved her, (all her Sisters loved her, and she them), but that didn't stop the 'Black Knight' from doing horrific, over-the-top, super-erotic things to her.  It was Kat's job, role in life, calling, vocation, whatever.

Jodi sighed at the prospect of more hours of languishing, then mewed in alarm.  The ants were back!  This time two of the green beasties were crawling on her right foot!  She shook them loose, then watched with horror as two more crawled up the tree trunk.  One crawled across her left leg (the leg bent at the knee and bound at the ankle, the leg she couldn't shake), and continued up the tree.  The other seemed interested in her ribs and left armpit.  The helpless honey-blonde shivered as the tiny, tickling feet delicately picked their way across her sweating flesh.

Yep, this sucks! she decided, and sighed yet again.

Ronnie woke to the quiet chimes of a bedside clock.  Simultaneously, the door of the wardrobe cracked open, and all the narrow steel bars formerly blocking the doors and windows of her treetop apartment, turning it into a literal cage, slid back into their concealed housings.  It was still light outside, but the sun had made significant progress in its journey towards the horizon.

Ronnie slid from between the sheets and stood; then yawned, went up on her toes, and stretched her nude form until the tips of her fingers just touched one of the bamboo rafters.  Smiling, she pattered the short distance to the wardrobe   I finally find out what Margo expects me to wear to her soirée.  She opened the wardrobe's teak doors, then laughed and shook her head.

Inside, neatly arranged on hangers carved from gnarled tree limbs, was the uniform of a Squadron Leader of the Flying Service of the Grand Republic of Britannia, Hibernia, and Columbia.  In fact, this particular version was one of Ronnie's favorites: Class-A (Equestrian), brown riding boots; khaki-tan riding pants, blouse, and straight tie; and a short-waisted jacket in olive drab.  Everything was tropical weight and resembled worsted wool or gabardine, but Ronnie suspected the fabrics were microfiber blends.  There was also a small, specialized hanger with bra and panties, both plain, utilitarian (and rather skimpy), in semi-transparent silk dyed military-brown.

Ronnie lifted the hanger with the undies from the rack.   Tactical chic, she mused.  So, we're continuing to play Air Pirates!, only now in the real world.  She tossed the bra and panties on the bed, then examined the uniform jacket.  The sky-blue piping on the epaulets and matching rank stripes on the sleeves identified the branch of service.  The comparable uniform of a Grand Republic Marine would have had blood-red piping, and an Army Officer's, leaf-green.  The winged badge of a combat pilot, embroidered with gold and silver thread, was sewn above the right breast pocket, and two rows of ribbons were above the left.

Also on the left, pinned above the ribbons, was an ornate, brooch-like decoration: the Gold Cross of the Order of Saint Gwendoline (with Diamond Cluster).  It was the Grand Republic's highest decoration, and the Air Pirates! development team had insisted her character have it.  After the success of her "adventure" in ancient Kul'Dakar (all the team members had seen at least edited versions of the action), it was decided Ronnie should be assigned a Prime Character, one capable of shifting the balance of a scenario.

"No more skulking around the fringes in objective mode, with PDA in hand," the development team's leader had decreed.  "We need you out there playing."  Ronnie had objected, but everyone had agreed, and eventually, she caved.  "Squadron Leader Veronica Allbright" would have a rich history of gallant service, with many daring adventures, narrow escapes, etc., etc., and all the Noble Friends and Villainous Enemies that implied (as well as the Villainous Friends and Noble Enemies that made the game really interesting).

Ronnie stood for several seconds, staring at the underwear on the bed.   So...  This was something of a tipping point.  Margo's immediate wants and desires were clear, for Ronnie to don the uniform, and thereby give her tacit consent to whatever Air Pirates! role-playing nonsense would follow.

There were no other garments hanging in the wardrobe, but Ronnie wasn't completely without options.  There was nudity... and there were sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom.  With or without the undies, she could improvise a toga... maybe even a gown; but that might make her late for whatever she was supposed to be getting ready for.

Her interactions with Margo to date had been nothing but fun...  Ronnie blushed.  ...sensual, erotic fun.  Granted, she'd been kidnapped and dragged here (wherever here was) against her will, but it was impossible to believe that Margo meant her any harm.

Let's see what she has in mind, Ronnie decided, and reached for the bra and panties.

"Jodi," Ronnie whispered under her breath as she dressed.  Was the honey-blonde scamp here as well?  How would she be in on the scenario?  In what role?   Hmm...  She'd make a cute Comic-Relief Sidekick, Ronnie mused, the Faithful Mechanic who cares for my personal pursuit-fighter?  She imagined Jodi in coveralls with tech-sergeant's stripes; toolbelt cinched around her waist; her hair pinned back under a fatigue cap cocked at a jaunty (non-regulation) angle, with a few errant wisps dangling in her impudent, grease-smudged face.   No, make it combat boots, khaki cargo shorts, tool belt, and a dirty, military-brown tank-top, she decided, and no bra.  The cap's a grimy baseball cap (the New Avalon Knights) with her rank badge pinned to the front, and she constantly chews bubble-gum.  Yeah, that'll work.

And what about Margo? Ronnie wondered.  What role will she play?  Without a lot of makeup, she couldn't be an Aztec-Hawaiian.  There were citizens of the Empire with fair skin, even a few blondes, but only Polynesians, Aztecs, Mayans, and Incans achieved high status.  No, Margo would be from the Grand Republic... hmm... a Senator?  That was it!  Ronnie imagined Margo in an elegant, black, strapless evening gown, white opera gloves, crimson silk sash of office with her medals and honors, draped over one white shoulder.  Perhaps a diamond tiara, indicating noble lineage.  (The Grand Republic was a democracy, but the culture recognized hereditary and conferred nobility.  Ronnie's character might find herself on the Honor's List someday, if she kept up the good work... and survived.)   Yes, I bet I'm going to dinner with Grand Senator Wells, Ronnie decided.

As she went to put on the boots, she discovered a riding crop leaning against the back of the wardrobe.  This was appropriate for her character, and she took it as evidence she was going to at least start the evening in full control of her immediate future... at least until Kat showed up.

Ronnie admired herself in the bathroom alcove's full-length mirror.  The uniform was perfectly tailored.  The pants were tight, but not excessively so.  Riding pants are supposed to look like they're sprayed on, she reasoned.  The jacket's shoulders were slightly padded, and the waist belt was mildly elastic.  The boots shone like mirrors, and were very comfortable.  "Well, aren't I the snappy soldier?" she whispered, smiling at her reflection.  "Very amazon-chic.  Better get moving."

She ran a brush through her hair and straightened her tie, then tucked the crop under one arm and made her way out of the treehouse apartment.  The rope elevator dropped her to the rainforest floor, and she looked around.  She was alone.

"I guess I wait," she mumbled under her breath.

The blue-green light under the jungle canopy was starting to fade, but she could still see her surroundings quite clearly.  Seconds passed... and turned into minutes.  "Squadron Leader Allbright" waited as patiently as she could, not daring to sit on the ground or lean against a tree, for fear of soiling her uniform.

Finally, there was movement in the jungle, and Ronnie found a short, smiling redhead dressed in an olive green top and skirt coming towards her down one of the trails.  The newcomer gave a friendly wave, and Ronnie returned the gesture.  As she came closer, Ronnie noted that her costume had a rather "primitive" look, homespun and vegetable-dyed fabric, stitched together as if by hand.  The top left her flat tummy bare, the skirt stretched to mid-calf, and her feet were bare.  There was one mildly ominous accessory: a coil of hemp rope dangling from her left hand.

The stranger was very beautiful.  Ronnie sighed, and felt a pang of longing for her absent lover.  The redhead had glorious, copper-red locks, like Fiona, but hers were curlier.  Also, while Fiona's incredibly pale, incredibly smooth skin was clear as polished ivory, this redhead was a riot of freckles.

"Jamie Seaton," she announced, a bright smile on her face.  She extended one small, freckled hand.  "I'm yer guide."

Ronnie smiled back at her "guide" and shook the offered hand.  It was impossible not to smile when Jamie's devilishly cute, freckled face was beaming up at you.  "Ronnie Allbriton," she answered.  "You're Australian."

"And you're a Yank."  Jamie looked Ronnie up and down.  "Perfect!  I've always had a weakness for a gal in uniform."

Ronnie felt a blush coloring her cheeks.   Little flirt!  "Uh, I don't recognize your costume," she said.

Jamie turned in a quick, skirt-lifting pirouette.  "I'm actually supposed to be in one of me jungle girl outfits, but since we'll be dining in the Lost City of Opar, Queen Margo let me borrow an Oparian warrior-maiden's getup.  Pretty, ain't it?"

Ronnie nodded.  "Opar?  That isn't an Air Pirates! venue."

Jamie laughed.  "You'd know, wouldn't ya?  Margo stole the Lost City idea from Tarzan, I think.  I've never read Burroughs.  No worries."  She gestured down the trail from which she had come.  "Follow me?"

Ronnie pointed to the coil of rope still in Jamie's hand.  "I suppose you're going to tie me up and drag me along on a leash?"

"Oh, that's right," Jamie said, looking at the rope as if she'd just noticed it.  She looked up at Ronnie and her smile broadened.  "Margo's orders, and only for if you offer resistance.  In that case, I'm supposed to overpower you and take you prisoner."

A skeptical smile curling her lips, Ronnie looked the diminutive redhead up and down.  "Overpower me?"

Jamie affected a coy pout.  "I was sorta hopin' you'd... surrender?"

Still smiling, Ronnie shook her head.  "Not gonna happen, I'm afraid.  She should've sent Kat."

Still pouting, Jamie let loose a heartrending sigh.  "I've got me orders!"

The short redhead and tall brunette regarded one another for several long seconds, then Ronnie broke the silence.  "How does 'Her Majesty' feel about surprises?"

Jamie's pout transformed into a happy smile.  "She loves surprises.  What did you have in mind?"

"She expects to see a bound captive led into her presence..."  Ronnie took the rope from Jamie's unresisting hand, turned the redhead around, and pulled her hands behind her back.  "...and so she shall."

Jamie felt rope tightening around her crossed wrists.  "I get it," she purred, "the ol' switcheroo."  She tugged on her newly applied bonds, but it was too late to resist, even if she'd wanted to.  The bands were tight and well-cinched, but not uncomfortable.  "You're pretty good."

"Thanks," Ronnie replied, and looped several bands of rope around Jamie's arms and torso, above her breasts.  She then lifted her captive's wrists up to the level of the bands, and lashed them in place.

"Been watching a lot of Samurai TV, have we?" Jamie asked.

Ronnie cinched the bands between Jamie's arms and torso, on either side, and tied a final knot, then turned Jamie back around.  A long, free end of rope remained, more than enough for a convenient lead.  "Excuse me?"

"This is how the evil samurai tie up their captives, especially the women, always."

"Always," Ronnie repeated, then gently brushed the tousled red locks from Jamie's smiling face.  "Never watched much Japanese TV, actually."

"It's a highly effective tie," Jamie explained.  "With the elbows locked and the rope tight and cinched so the bands can't slip, it's inescapable."

"Yes, it is," Ronnie agreed, then her smile faded.  "I know you.  When and where have we met before?"

Jamie smiled up at her uniformed captor, and shook her head.  "We've never met... 'til now."

Ronnie shook her head as well.  "I know you from somewhere," she said quietly, then her smile took on a slightly lecherous edge.  "No, I guess you're right.  I definitely would have remembered."

This brought a blush to Jamie's cheeks.  She nodded towards the trail.  "Can't keep Her Majesty waitin'."

Ronnie responded with a polite bow, and they were off, the captive Jamie taking the lead, the end of her rope leash in Ronnie's right hand.

Unless Ronnie's sense of direction was failing her, they were heading away from the other treetop structures she had glimpsed earlier.  The trail led into the mountains, gently rising underfoot.  The light was fading rapidly, but the trail was easy to follow.  Jamie pattered along on her bare feet, setting a good pace, despite her bonds, but Ronnie could easily keep up.

"How far are we going?" Ronnie asked after several minutes.

Jamie looked back over her shoulder and smiled sweetly.  "Not far.  You okay?  Not out of breath, are ya?"

Ronnie grinned.  "No worries, mate.  I was just wondering if I should start thinking about foraging for food or finding a camping site for the night."

Jamie giggled.  "I like you, Yank."

"I like you too, Sheila," Ronnie responded, and gave the rope a shake.  "Giddyup."

Jamie giggled again, turned back to the front, and continued down the trail.  They came to a massive, living tree trunk that served to bridge a vine-choked chasm, and started across.  The bark underfoot was rough enough to provide good traction, but not enough to punish Jamie's bare feet.  Ronnie knew they were coming to a sheer mountain face, having caught glimpses of it through the trees as they approached; but nothing could prepare her for what she saw now.

On the far side of the bridge was an ancient, colossal statue.  The size of a small office building, it occupied a niche-like crevice in the side of the mountain.  A woman dressed in a long gown, its style was ancient Greek or Roman.  At some point, a rock slide had caused the stone giant to pitch forward several degrees, but massive boulders locked it in place, preventing it from falling further.  The statue and the rocks were overgrown with moss, ferns, jungle vines, and the roots and branches of full-grown trees, blending them into the jungle.

Near the statue's head and shoulders, and level with the bridge, was the huge, yawning mouth of a cave or grotto.  Reddish torchlight glowed from within.

"That can't be real," Ronnie gasped, frozen in wonder atop the bridge.

"Oh, it's real all right," Jamie said.  "Didn't you know the Etruscans colonized the Great Barrier Reef?"  Ronnie favored her with a highly skeptical look, and she continued.  "Okay, it's real, as in really there; but it's not ancient.  The colossus is concrete, sculpted in place by Eve's robots."

"Good job!" Ronnie whispered.  "In fact, great job!"

"It is that," Jamie agreed, then nodded towards the glowing grotto.

"Our destination?" Ronnie asked.  

"Welcome to Opar the Lost!" Jamie proclaimed.

So... I'll finally get some real answers, Ronnie mused, and savored the delicious thrill of suspense rippling up her spine.  She gave the rope another flick, and they continued across the bridge.