DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Jackie Silberston — in — Helpless in Seattle by Van ©2006 Chapter 3

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
TESSERACT WORLD HEADQUARTERS
THE BIOSPHERE
MARGO'S PRIVATE STABLES, STALL #7
ABOUT ONE AND A HALF HOURS LATER
...& NOT—GOING—ANYWHERE!

---

Jackie had discovered a flaw in Narelle's cunning plan, her cunning lesson plan, that is.  If the topic was How to do a Comfortable Tie, she'd failed to consider a fundamentally important factor—time.  Granted, the ropes binding her nude body in a semi-suspended hog-tie remained more or less comfortable, as long as she didn't try to escape their insidious grasp; but no one could remain a helpless bundle for hours without going stir-crazy, at the very least.  And the insipid "instructional video" continuing to drone from the laptop in front of her gagged and bridled face wasn't helping.

Granted, the facts being imparted by the video were interesting, the cleverly drawn, animated illustrations were cool (and a little arousing), and she was learning some good stuff... but if she wasn't allowed to stretch her legs sometime soon, she'd SCREAM!!  Of course, the big rubber ball and bit filling her gaping mouth would render said scream a pathetic, squawking, gurgling mix of well-muffled noise and dribbling drool; but not being able to stretch was getting very—old—indeed!

The video (on it's third loop, by the way) was getting to the part about proper rope placement in various bondage positions.  For each pose the illustration would slowly spin and rotate, to provide a detailed and unobstructed view of all elements of the computer-generated figure's bondage.  The sequence on tying a proper spread-eagle started.  Jackie remembered the important lessons were to use redundant, carefully wrapped rope bands, so as to evenly distribute the pressure on the wrists and ankles, and to use non-compacting knots.  The illustrated figure, a she (all the figures were naked females), was stretched on her back on a featureless plane, and—wait a minute—she looked just like Anne!  She didn't look like Anne before... did she? Jackie wasn't sure.

The spread-eagle gave way to a lesson on the hog-tie... and this time the figure was the spitting image of Narelle!  Now I know that's different! Jackie told herself.  There was another change.  The figure was writhing and squirming, but in a way that suggested she was more interested in rubbing her thighs together than in escaping.  The tiny Narelle struggled and moaned, and the alto timbre of her gagged voice served to confirm her identity.

What the hell is going on?  Jackie wondered.  Am I hallucinating?  Am I losing it?

The hog-tie lesson gave way to a frog-tie lesson—and this time the figure was Jackie herself!!  Jackie watched her tiny, animated image fight her bonds.  The narration droned on—but then, in a marked departure from previous iterations, Anne and Narelle figures appeared, naked, of course, and joined the helpless Jackie figure on the screen.  The Anne figure pulled the Jackie figure's head onto her lap, made cooing, reassuring noises, and combed the helpless prisoner's hair from her face with her fingers.  Meanwhile, the Narelle figure was on her stomach, with her face between the Jackie figure's splayed and bound legs, and was busy licking and sucking the writhing captive's sex!

Jackie—the real Jackie—writhed and squirmed in her very real bonds.  Her sex was tingling, and felt like it was dripping with juice.  It was so embarrassing—so humiliating—so shiverlingly delicious!!

Suddenly, a finger appeared and tapped a key of the laptop, and the program was replaced with a blank screen.  The finger belonged to Narelle.

Jackie's cheeks blushed bright crimson—and, strangely, the thrill coursing through her sex seemed to double! 

"I think you've had enough of that," Narelle purred.  She was wearing a kimono-like robe in a white, silk-like fabric.  Her long, blonde hair was damp, and her feet bare.  Jackie surmised she had just come from the shower.  The tall Aussie made short work of the knots enforcing Jackie's hog-tie.  Rope slithered through rope, Jackie's body rocked forward, and her breasts settled to the concrete floor.  The ropes binding her shins and thighs were untied, and she was finally able to straighten her legs.

Jackie sighed in contentment, and stretched her still ankle-bound legs full-length. It felt every bit as good as she'd imagined to finally be able to do more than wiggle and twist the fraction of an inch allowed by her former rope bonds.  She watched as Narelle untied her ankles, then her captor/rescuer shuffled forward, untied the rope bridle of her gag, and eased the rubber bit and ball from her mouth.

"Thank you," Jackie muttered, after stretching her jaw and licking her lips.  She folded her legs under her body and struggled to her feet.  Her arms were still bound to her sides and her wrists against the small of her back.

"How do you feel?" Narelle asked.

Jackie stretched her legs, again, one at a time, before answering.  She pointed each foot and wriggling her toes.  "A little sore, but not too bad."  She twisted her upper body.  The remaining ropes were still tight and inescapable.

"That's good," Narelle said, an evil smile curling her lips, "'cause your lesson is far from over."

"What?" Jackie responded in a worried whisper.  She backed away, until her bound arms and naked rear bumped against the stall wall.

"C'mere," Narelle purred, crooking her index finger.

A shy smile overpowered Jackie's frown.  "Why?" she demanded, flipping her tousled hair from her face.  "Why should I?"

"Because I said so," Narelle responded.  "You still can't reach the key knots, no matter how you wiggle and squirm."

"Oh... you are going to untie me," Jackie sighed, and padded to her smiling friend.  "You shouldn't tease me like that.  Are the knots in the front..."  She did a quick half-pirouette.  "...or are they in the—M'mmf!"

Narelle had her young, naked, helpless protégé in a tight embrace, and an even tighter hand-gag.  Jackie's eyes were wide above Narelle's hand.  She struggled and stamped her bare feet.  "Settle down," Narelle ordered.   She maintained the hand-gag and embrace, but let her other hand roam over Jackie's body.  "You aren't foolin' me, not one bit.  You're not scared, and you don't really want me to untie you... or let you go..."  Her hand slid between Jackie's legs, and came away slightly damp.  "...do ya?"  She released her hand-gag.

"We—I—I'm... oh!"

Narelle's hand had returned to Jackie's sex, and was sliding slowly back and forth across her labia.  "I asked you a question, young lady."

Jackie moaned and shivered in her captor's embrace.  "I—don't'—don't stop."

"What's the first rule of the game?" Narelle asked, her lips less than an inch from Jackie's right ear.

"I—rule?  I-I—oh!"  Jackie was having a hard time concentrating on Narelle's question.

"The first rule of the game is—the bottom is always in charge," Narelle whispered.  "So, I ask ya again—do ya want me to stop?"

Jackie's eyes were pinched tightly closed, and she was rolling her hips against Narelle's hand, pressing her sex against the slowly gliding palm.  "No-no-no-don't stop," she panted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes-yes-pleeease!" Jackie moaned.

Narelle shifted her hand and her fingers came into play, stroking Jackie's glistening loins.  "You're a wet little weasel, ain't ya?" she purred, then her fingers slid between Jackie's labia and into her sex.

Jackie shuddered and twisted in her bonds.  "Oh-oh-eh-eh-ah-AH—MMMFH!!"

Narelle's hand was back over Jackie's lips.  "Shh, quiet," she admonished the prisoner.  "You'll disturb the horses."

Eyes wide and nostrils flaring above Narelle's tight hand-gag, her rope-framed breasts heaving as she struggled and moaned, Jackie shivered in her captor's grasp—Narelle's fingers continued working their magic—and it went on and on.  Finally, Jackie's body went perfectly rigid—she bucked and struggled with all her strength for several seconds—and then she went completely limp.

Narelle maintained her hand-gag.  Jackie was still panting through her nostrils and her breasts were heaving against Narelle's arm, but otherwise she remained still.  Time passed... several long seconds... an eternity... while Jackie's breathing slowed to normal... then Narelle released her grip, turned her prisoner until they were face to face—and they kissed.

Tongues rolled and lips smacked—then Narelle broke the kiss.  She smiled down at Jackie's flushed, sweat-dampened face.  "That was quick," she said.  "I guess you were pretty much... ready."

"I was," Jackie admitted, went up on her toes, and kissed Narelle's lips.  "Let's play some more, shall we?"

"Greedy little thing," Narelle laughed, and their lips met.  Again, their tongues slid and mouths sucked, and it went on and on.  Finally, Narelle pulled back, again.  "Enough!" she reached for the knots between Jackie's breasts.

"No!" Jackie gasped, and took a step back.  "You aren't untying me, are you?"

Narelle crossed her arms across her breasts.  "That was the general idea," she purred.

Jackie took a second step back.  "I—I don't want you to."  She bit her lower lip and favored Narelle with what she hoped was a seductive smile.  "I want to play... 'til morning?"

Narelle smiled back.  "And if I have better things to do?"

Jackie stamped her right foot.  "The first rule is I'm in charge, remember?"

"You're in charge?  I suppose I'm expected to find your 'spoiled brat' act flirtatious and charming?"

The bound, naked captive stamped her foot again, with more force.  All this accomplished was to make her rope-framed breasts bobble a little.  "I'm the bottom—I'm in charge!  I order you to play!"  After several seconds her petulant pout faded, and was replaced with a rather chagrined smile.  "Not working?"

Narelle smiled and shook her head.

"Oh... well... How 'bout my shy seduction act?"  She batted her eyes and bit her lower lip.

"Has that ever worked?" Narelle asked.

"Yeah, sure... sometimes... with Solange."  Jackie sighed, then her smile returned.  "Please, Narelle.  Let's play."

Narelle sighed, took two rapid steps forward, and once again had Jackie in a tight embrace.  "Be careful what you wish for, Little One," she whispered, and once again they kissed.

Laptop under one arm, coiled rope and rubber bit-gag in the other, Narelle entered her apartment.  Jackie, still naked and her arms box-tied, padded behind her.  Narelle set the laptop on a side table, then tossed the rope and gag into an easy chair.  "Into the loo, Little One," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Jackie answered, and went into the bathroom.  It was quite spacious and well-appointed, with both a glass-enclosed steam shower and a large, deep, Jacuzzi tub.

Narelle was right behind her.  She turned the tap on the Jacuzzi, then returned to the main apartment.

Jackie watched the water splash into the tub, then her eyes popped wide in surprise.  Narelle had returned with one of the coils of rope.  The grinning Aussie pointed at the marble tiles, and Jackie settled to the floor, sitting on her rump.

Narelle seized her ankles, crossed them, and began binding them with the rope.

"Uh, do you have to do that?" Jackie sighed.  "I'm not sure I want you to."

"There's in charge, and in charge," Narelle said, as she tied the final knot.  "If you don't want me to gag you, you'll stop giving orders and start showing the proper respect."

"Oh, I'm soooo sorry," Jackie laughed, then shrieked and giggled when Narelle picked her up and lowered her into the water.  "It's hot!" she complained, still giggling.

"Poor baby," Narelle laughed.  She opened an ornate glass jar and poured some powder into the water.  Foaming suds began to form and a fragrant scent filled the air.  She turned off the tap, and pressed a large button.  The tub's water-jets gurgled to life, and the soapy water began to roil and churn.

"This feels goooood!" Jackie purred, half-floating in the white foam.

"I thought it was too hot," Narelle reminded her, untied the sash of her kimono-robe, opened the shimmering garment, and let it fall to the floor.

Jackie stared at her mentor's tan, perfect body, an appreciative smile on her flushed face.  "It's very hot indeed," she answered.

Narelle smiled back, wet a washcloth in the water, then groped under the surface until she found Jackie's feet.  "Hold you breath," she cautioned.

"What?" Jackie responded.  "Why should I—eeh—glub!"

Narelle was holding Jackie's feet in the air with one hand and scrubbing her soles and between her toes with the other.  Jackie's head had disappeared under the sloshing water.  Narelle completed her task quickly, then released the prisoner's feet.

Jackie's head and shoulders emerged from the suds.  Her hair was plastered to her sputtering face.  "You absolute bitch!" she complained, but the mirth in her tone was unmistakable.   "Ahh!"

Kneeling against the tub, Narelle had her left arm across Jackie's shoulders and had a firm grip on her right breast, pinning the prisoner's upper body against the end of the tub.  She began scrubbing the squirming captive's face.

"Narelle!" Jackie complained.

"Stop yer wigglin'," Narelle whispered, and reached under the water to scrub between Jackie's legs.

Jackie shuddered, then let her head rest against Narelle's shoulder.  "That feels good," she whispered.

Narelle kissed Jackie's wet hair, and continued cleaning her captive's body.  "Greedy thing," she laughed.  The cloth slide over Jackie's tummy... her breasts... and  her shoulders and neck.  "There," Narelle said, stood, and began toweling herself dry.  "You simmer a few minutes, while I start the evenin' meal."

"Okay," Jackie answered, then lifted her bound feet above the churning suds.  "I can't go anywhere with my feet bound like this anyway, now can I?"

Narelle was pulling on her robe.  "That's the idea."  She blew Jackie a kiss, then left the bathroom.  The door remained open.

Jackie settled back into the soapy water and closed her eyes.  "Don't leave me in here too long, or I'll get all pruney."

"Maybe I'll like you that way!" Narelle called from the kitchen.

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER

---

Still dressed in her white, silk kimono (and nothing else), Narelle was stirring a simmering saucepan with a wooden spoon.  She lifted her gaze to the living room area, and smiled.  Jackie was reclined on the couch, full length, and wrapped from neck to toe in a warm blanket.  To all appearances, she was fast asleep.  Underneath the blanket, the nude Brit was still box-tied, her arms folded behind her back and pinned to her sides by a network of tight, interlaced rope bands, and her ankles were still crossed and bound.

Narelle had let her soak in the tub for about ten minutes, then had dried her off, including her hair, and had carried her to the couch.  The smiling blonde captive was then wrapped in the blanket, snug as the proverbial bug in the proverbial rug, and the blanket secured with more rope.  Tight strands of twisted microfiber were hitched around the fluffy cloth tube at regular intervals—across Jackie's shoulders, above and below her breasts, around her waist, thighs, above and below her knees, and around her shins and ankles.  Only her head was left exposed.

Narelle removed the pan of broiled chicken pieces she had been letting cool in the warming oven.  Using a pair of tongs, she moved them to the pot of simmering vegetables, added a splash of Marsala, restored the lid, and reduced the heat.  Time to start thinking about the rice, she decided, and reached for a clean pot.  She was careful to make as little noise as possible, so as not to disturb her dinner guest.  Her smile broadened, remembering the huge, kittenish yawn Jackie had made as she'd tied the final knot in the rope securing her blanket.

"Sorry," the precious prisoner had apologized.

"No worries," Narelle replied, and pulled a panel of "gag-film" from her robe pocket.  Another of Margo's special projects, gag-film was the latest variant of dermafoam.  It was very close to the texture of human skin and was virtually transparent, once applied.  Its adhesive was totally hypoallergenic, but very strong.  This particular panel was rectangular, with rounded corners, was approximately eight inches by four inches, and had a shallow cut-out for the gag-ee's nose.  Narelle peeled off the paper backing, and smiled at Jackie.

Jackie gave a worried little sigh.  "You're going to gag me, again?"

"I like peace and quiet and a little cool jazz while I cook," Narelle explained.  "Don't worry.  I'll un-gag you when dinner's ready.  Now, zip yer lips."

Jackie sighed again, and followed her hostess' orders. Narelle centered the gag-film over her guest's pouting mouth, pressed the film home, and slowly, carefully smoothed the entire surface of her captive's lower face, to give the film a firm, even grip.  It adhered to Jackie's mouth and lower face as if it had been painted on, but Narelle knew (from experience) that it was very strong.  Jackie's lips were sealed.

"There," Narelle, said, and kissed the prisoner's forehead.  "Take a nap."

And a nap she had taken, while Narelle prepared the meal and enjoyed the music emanating (quietly) from the speakers in the kitchen ceiling.

Suddenly, Narelle noticed a flashing light.  The widescreen TV across the room was pulsing in bands of blue and white—then Eve Prime's image appeared.  She smiled, pointed at the still sleeping Jackie, put her index finger to her lips, then pointed at a telephone handset in her simulated hand.

Narelle pointed at herself, and Eve nodded.  "Thanks", Narelle mouthed, silently, and headed for her bedroom.  She carefully closed the door, then picked up her bedside phone.  "Hello?"

BRIE AND NAOMI'S HOME
SHORELINE, WASHINGTON, USA

---

The iron gate across the driveway opened automatically as Anne approached the house.  She was expected.  She drove through the gate, and the light over the gravel area next to the garage came on.  By the time she'd parked and exited the car, the gate had rumbled closed.  Anne knew Brie and Naomi's TESSERACT security system was responsible.  The sensors had read her car's tag, scanned her face, and had pinged the transponder in her signet ring.

Anne unfolded her phonecard as she walked toward the house.  She pressed the call button and said "Narelle Tulley."  The call connected as she mounted the front steps.  "Hi, Narrie, it's Anne.  Just wanted to remind you that I'm gonna be incommunicado, possibly for the rest of the weekend."

"No problem," Narelle's voice answered.  "The Brit-bit and I will entertain ourselves.  What should I say if Her Nibs calls?"

"Oh, I'm not going off the grid," Anne responded.  "Eve can override if something comes up.  I just felt I should remind you, myself, since Margo charged both of us with Jackie's indoctrination.  Speaking of which, I assume Ms. Silberston is still doing well?"

"She's doin' fine," Narelle answered.  "The professional phase is over.  As for the other phase... I've just started my evaluation.  We'll have much more to talk about on Monday."

Anne smiled.  "I understand."  The front door opened, and Naomi Curtis was smiling at her.  "Gotta go!  Bye!"  She folded the card and returned her hostess' smile.  "Hi, Naomi!  What have you done with your hair?"

Naomi's hair was short, in a shaggy pixie.  It was also a light brown, with frosted highlights, rather than her usual blonde.  "I got it chopped off last week," she explained.  "You like it?"

"You look great!" Anne gushed, kissed Naomi's cheek, and had her own cheek kissed in turn.  She crossed the threshold and the door closed behind her with a solid thud.  Both women were wearing cocktail dresses.  Anne's was black and Naomi's was brown satin.

"I assume Brie's busy in the kitchen?" Anne suggested.

"Actually, she's still at soccer practice."  Naomi responded.  "I'm afraid dinner's gonna be quite late.  No worries, though.  She has everything ready.  Once she gets home it'll come together in less than an hour."

"French-style," Anne said, referring to the food preparation method.

Naomi nodded, then walked over to a sideboard, inserted a key in one of the drawers, turned the lock, and slid it open.  "Shoes," she said.

Anne smiled, placed her handbag atop the sideboard, lifted her right foot, and removed her stylish pump (black, with a 3" heel).  "No more preliminary small talk?  No cocktail?"

Naomi accepted the shoe, and placed it in a paper-lined cardboard box.  "Drinks in a while," she said, "once I have you properly dressed."

"You mean un-dressed, of course."  Anne handed over the left shoe, and watched as it to was placed in the box, the paper folded over, and the lid closed.

"Undressed and re-dressed," Naomi purred.  She produced a second, much smaller box, removed its lid, folded back the paper lining, and placed it atop the sideboard.  "Everything," she ordered.

Still smiling, Anne gazed into the mirror above the sideboard, removed her diamond pendant earrings, and placed them in the box.  Naomi stepped behind her guest and opened the catch of her necklace.  Anne placed it in the box as well. 

"Exquisite!" Naomi remarked, gazing at the diamonds and white gold set.  "Gifts from Margo, right?"  Anne nodded, and reached for the zipper of her dress.  "I'll get that," Naomi announced.  "Everything," she reminded her guest.

Anne removed her Inner Circle signet ring.  Eve would be monitoring everything, regardless, so the removal of the ring, with its micro-circuitry and blue opal scanner, was largely symbolic.  It went into the box, along with a second, purely decorative ring from her left pinkie, and her watch bracelet.

Naomi folded over the paper and restored the the jewelry box lid, then turned and watched, an appreciative, rather wolfish smile on her face, as Anne shrugged out of her dress.  She handed it to Naomi, who carefully folded it and placed it in the drawer.  Anne's matching black lace half-slip and demi bra were next, then her black silk bikini panties.  She released the stocking-top catches of her old-fashioned garter belt, removed the black, flimsy silk belt, and handed it to Naomi.  Finally, she peeled the black, thigh-high stockings down her freshly shaved legs, and they too were folded and placed in the drawer.

Naked as the day she was born, Anne spread her feet about eighteen inches apart, interlaced her fingers, placed her hands behind her head, and rolled her shoulders back.  She watched as Naomi added her handbag to the drawer, slid it closed, and turned the key in the lock.

Naomi gazed at her guest's nude, perfect body.  "No nipple rings or navel post, I see.  No labial rings?"

"Not you, too?" Anne laughed.  Naomi frowned, and Anne explained.  "Every time Kitty-Kat gets me in her tender, caring, sadistic claws, she threatens to pierce my nipples.  Surely I'm not the only one she does that to?"

Naomi took a step forward, cupped Anne's breasts, and gave them a gentle squeeze.  "I have to agree... these little gals would look so pretty with jeweled posts... or gold rings."  She stroked Anne's erect nipples, and the naked beauty bit her lower lip and squirmed.  "Hold position," Naomi purred.  Anne shivered, but maintained her submissive pose.  "I should poll all the Sisters, world-wide.  Maybe if we all ask politely, Margo will give Kat permission."

"Very funny," Anne huffed, still struggling to ignore what her hostess was doing to her breasts.

With a final, playful pinch, Naomi returned to the sideboard, opened another drawer, and pulled out a pair of steel shackles.  She knelt, snapped the cuffs around Anne's ankles, then fit heavy bolts and secured them with a small, key-like tool.

"They're heavy," Anne observed, "and what's with the fancy bolts?"

"Something new," Naomi explained, "from Eve's workshops.  The threads are interrupted by tiny holes and spring-loaded pins, like in a regular lock."

"Tiny deadbolt... bolts," Anne suggested.

Naomi smiled.  "They come in large sets, so you can load a damsel with a full set of hardware and not have to worry about which tool unlocks what."

"Very clever," Anne purred.  "Is that what you're going to do... load me with a full set?"

"Maybe later," Naomi purred, then reached back into the drawer and pulled out a pair of hinged handcuffs.  They were standard police issue, as far as Anne could tell.  Naomi smiled, lifted the index finger of her free hand, and traced a slow circle in the air.

Anne smiled, and shuffled in place until her back was to her hostess.

Naomi pulled down Anne's hands and closed the cuffs around her wrists.  The ratchets clicked until the steel bands were snug and tight, then Naomi used the key to double-lock the mechanisms, so they wouldn't tighten any further.

"They're heavy, too," Anne whispered.

"You act like you've never worn cuffs before," Naomi laughed.

"I haven't... No, really!" Anne responded.  "Rope by the yard, in every color and type, including Eve's experimental smart-rope; rubber and leather binders and harnesses and straitjackets; dungeon hardware; every form of costume bondage in Kat's closet... but not plain old handcuffs."

Naomi embraced Anne from behind, placed one hand on her stomach, the other on her left breast, and gave her a tight hug.  "So... I get to bust your handcuff cherry," she whispered, her lips inches from Anne's ear.

Anne locked eyes with her captor in the mirror.  Her cheeks were burning.  "Do you have to talk that way?"

Naomi chuckled, then nibbled Anne's ear.  "You're getting so brazen, it's the only way we can get you to blush, these days.  You know your Sisters love it when you get all embarrassed and ashamed, don't you?  You're so beautiful when you blush—yes, just like that."

Anne's cheeks were crimson.  "Bitch!" she complained.  "Ahh!"

Naomi's hand slid down her stomach, through her neatly trimmed pubic bush, and cupped her sex.  "Embarrassed and wet," she accused.

"Stop it!" Anne whined, but a smile was quivering on her lips.

"Well," Naomi purred, and released her embrace, "I think you're ready."  She pulled the long, thin, brown satin scarf that had been accessorizing her dress from around her throat, dropped it over Anne's head, looped it once around her neck, clutched the two free ends, and used it as a leash to pull her down the hall.

"Ready for what?" Anne gasped, clinking and clanking in her wake.

"Ready to earn yer supper, of course," Naomi laughed.

"I don't think you've been here since we finished the attic guest room, have you?" Naomi inquired.

"No, I haven't," Anne confirmed.  She was being led up the stairs to the second floor, down a hallway, and to a much narrower set of stairs that led to the attic in question.

They mounted the stairs and Naomi unlocked the heavy deadbolt in the substantial oak door on the top landing.  Beyond was a comfortable, well-appointed bedroom, with an overstuffed chair, love seat, wall-mounted TV, writing desk and chair, and a large, four-poster bed.  Off to the side, through an open door, she could see a half-bath.  A second oak door was set in the far wall.

"Very nice," Anne said.

"Thank you," Naomi responded.  "Eight inches of insulation in the stud bays, rafters, and floor joists, plywood sheathing, a layer of rigid foam, then another layer of plywood.  Totally soundproof.  But this is the 'good girl' half of the suite.  Wait 'til you see the 'bad girl' half before passing final judgment."

As Naomi led her across the room, Anne noted several minor details that had escaped her initial inspection. There was a large peephole in the landing door, but it was set to look into the room, rather than out.  Iron rings dangled from the mouths of lion heads carved into the head and foot posts of the bed.  The desk chair was unusually heavy, with rolling casters for feet and design details that would make for excellent lashing points.  The pocket door that would allow for privacy in the bathroom was secured in the open position by a padlocked bolt below the handle.  Finally, there were pad-eyes and ring-bolts set in all four walls, some near the ceiling, some near the floor, and some at mid-level.  This place is a posh prison, she realized.

Naomi looked through a peephole in the second door, smiled at Anne, unlocked the deadbolt lock, and opened the door.  Beyond was a second room, about the same size as the main guest room.  It was uniformly gray, with plush carpet covering the floor, walls, and ceiling.  Industrial fixtures protected by heavy wire mesh cast a bright, uniform light.

A wall of steel bars bisected the room.  Beyond the bars was a king-size mattress covered with a gray cotton sheet.  Sitting on the mattress was Jodi Weber.  She was nude, but for a steel collar padlocked around her throat.  A long, dangling steel chain secured the collar to a heavy eye-bolt embedded in the far wall.

"I've brought you a present, Trickster," Naomi announced.

"What?" Jodi responded, a broad smile on her pixie face.  "I see the naked lawyer, but where's my present?"

Naomi unlocked and opened the door in the center of the wall of bars, then pulled the scarf from around Anne's neck, and gestured for her to enter the cell.  Anne sighed, stepped through, and flinched when the door slammed behind her.

"How's it goin'?" Anne asked her lover and roommate.

"Like you care, you despicable traitor!" Jodi responded.  She grabbed Anne and pulled her down to the mattress.

"Jodi!" Anne protested.  She struggled as best she could, but her shackles and cuffs were a serious impediment.  Jodi's collar and chain didn't even slow her down.  "Ow!"  Jodi had Anne across her lap, was using one hand to hold her cuffed hands off to the side, and was using the other to deliver a series of stingling slaps to Anne's buttocks.  "Jodi, stop it!" Anne whined.  Her shackle chain rattled as she kicked her feet.

"Traitor—traitor—traitor!" Jodi chanted, between spanking blows.

"Please, Jodi," Anne begged.  "I only did what I thought was right.  You'll get to play with Jackie, next time we visit Gondaloo.  Ow!!"

Jodi had delivered an especially telling slap.  "And you couldn't just warn me not to mess with her, could you?"

"Like that would have done any good," Anne muttered.  "Ow!  Jodi!"

"Bad—bad—bad Shyster," Jodi growled, as she continued spanking her lover's derrière.

Naomi had left the 'bad girl' room immediately after locking the cage door.  Now she returned, pushing the overstuffed chair from the 'good girl' room.  "Stop that!" she ordered, as she arranged the chair to face the naked captives.

"Why should I?" Jodi demanded.  "She's a dirty—rotten—traitor!"

"Hold that thought!" Naomi said, and left again.

"Where's she goin'?" Jodi wondered aloud.  "Oh well."  She resumed spanking Anne's rump.

"Jodi!  She said you should stop!"

"Like I care!" Jodi groused.  "What's she gonna do?  Lock me in a cell?  Chain me to the wall?"

"Please, Jodi!" Anne sobbed.  By this time her butt cheeks were pink, and her eyes were welling.  "Please."

Jodi raised her hand, preparing to deliver another spanking slap, then paused.  She sighed, lowered her hand, and began rubbing Anne's buttocks.  "Dirty rotten traitor," she sighed.

Naomi had returned.  She had a cocktail glass in one hand, a clinking silver cocktail shaker in the other, and a toothpick impaling an olive was clutched between her teeth.  She flopped into the chair, plunked the olive and toothpick into the glass, then poured it full of clear liquid from the shaker.  "Cheers!" she said, and took a careful sip.  "Ah—nice and dry."  She took a second sip and smiled at the prisoners.  "Now, where were we?  Oh yes, no spanking the Shyster, Trickster."

Jodi stuck out her tongue and blew her "hostess" a mocking raspberry.  "Why should I do what you say?  Huh?  Gimme one good reason!"

"How' bout three?  If you're a good little naked slave," Naomi explained, "in a little while, you can have a martini."  She held up one finger.  "When Brie gets home you get a nice dinner."  She raised a second finger.  "And even later, you get to spend the night, with your fellow naked slave, of course, in the 'good girl' room."  She held up a third finger.

"Oh."  Jodi continued rubbing Anne's pink buttocks, deep in thought.  "You make a compelling argument."

"Now," Naomi continued, "Brie won't be home for at least an hour, dinner won't be ready for at least an hour after that..."  She paused to take another sip of her martini.  "So, I want you two to make each other cum as often as possible..."  She glanced at her watch.  "...'til I say stop—then you both get a martini—then you can diddle each other again, 'til the food's ready."

"You want us to give you a sex show?" Anne demanded.  "No way, you filthy pervert!"

Naomi smiled and lifted her gaze to Jodi.  "If you're a good girl and make her cum, whether she's a good girl or not, you still get all that I promised—and I'll let you spank her some more, before bedtime."

"Hey!" Anne protested.  "Ow!"

Jodi had delivered another slap.  "Get off," she ordered, "and stay on your stomach."

Anne squirmed off Jodi's lap and remained on her tummy, as ordered.

Jodi raised her gaze to Naomi.  "Key!"

Naomi smiled, reached into her décolletage, produced the handcuff key, and tossed it through the bars.

Jodi caught the key and used it to release the cuff from around Anne's left wrist.  She then rolled Anne onto her back, straddled her stomach, and pulled her wrists together.

Anne watched as Jodi closed the cuff around her left wrist and double-locked the mechanism.  She favored her fellow captive with a wry smile, but didn't try to resist.  "Meanie," she accused in a hoarse whisper.  "You just wait 'til the next time I have a chance to paddle your behind."

"I wasn't even hitting hard, you big baby."  Jodi leaned forward and kissed Anne's lips.

"Hard enough, Meanie!" Anne pouted.

"Okay, okay," Jodi laughed, "I'm sorry you're an untrusting bitch and you forced me to punish you."

"And I forgive you for being an untrustworthy, vindictive brat," Anne responded, with a winsome grin.

Naomi cleared her throat.  "Ahem!"

"I know, I know," Jodi sighed, and tossed her the handcuff key.  She kissed Anne's lips again.  "The bed in the other room is much more comfortable," she advised, "believe me.  We better do as we're told."

Naomi tucked the key back down the front of her dress.  "Time waits for no horny damsel," she reminded the captives.

"Well, if I have to..." Anne sighed.  "Play number sixty-nine?" she suggested.

Jodi smiled.  "A classic!"  She spun around on her hands and knees, and settled her face on Anne's crotch.

Anne shivered in delight, used her cuffed hands to part Jodi's labia, and extended her tongue.

Naomi stretched in her comfortable chair, and took a sip from her martini.  "Life is good," she sighed.