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			DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			Kat's Story — by Michael Masterton Chapter 4

GONDALOO ISLAND

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“Comfy, Dr. Seaton?” Kat asked smugly.

Jamie didn’t even bother to look up, or respond, to Kat’s rhetorical—and cliché—question.  Kat laughed and started to wander idly around Jamie’s quarters, while Jamie watched from her prone position on the bed.  She was lying on her tummy, still bound and gagged.  The ropes were tight once again around her wrists, elbows, chest, above her knees and ankles, but Kat had now added another rope, that kept her bound wrists within a few centimetres of her bound ankles, so close that she could run her fingers along the ballet slippers that were still on her feet.  The ball filling her mouth had become all too familiar, held in place with fresh strips of tape.

Last night and this morning had been... interesting.  The ropes that held Jamie in a spread-eagle position overnight still dangled from the corners of the bed.  Her captor had mercifully provided her with a much less stringent gag for sleeping.  She’d had a few embarrassing but necessary trips to the toilet, and when this ordeal was finally over, she was going to revise Eve’s menu planning program so that it only had a data file of foods she liked, not separate lists of likes and dislikes.  Her uninvited hostess had taken great delight in putting together a selection of cuisine that almost made Jamie prefer to stay on a diet of cloth, tape and rubber.

She had to admit, though, that she was still as comfortable as she could be expected to be in her current circumstances.  It was a tribute to Kat’s skill with ropes that, even though Jamie was very tightly and inescapably bound, there was no danger of injury or losing circulation.  Kat started to look over her handiwork, as if to confirm this.

“Looks like your hopping days are definitely over now, Freckle Fox,” Kat gloated as she tugged the newly added hogtie rope.  She folded her arms, towered over her helpless captive, who looked up at her wearily.

“Don’t look at me like that—surely this is much better than those ‘Damsel-in-distress’ interactive video sites you visit on the web.  And I know you keep pressuring Margo to install a VR Spherus unit here, even though she’s not satisfied that it’s safe enough yet to be used by someone on their own.”

“I’ve just taken a phone call for you, Ms. Mayfair,” Eve interjected, “I presumed you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“You presumed correctly,” Kat replied, “who was it?”

“Major Henstridge.  His message is as follows: ‘I’ve got the two packages you wanted, and I’m on my way.  Should be at Gondaloo in two hours.”

Jamie frowned.  She knew Major Henstridge—or ‘Major Alex,’ as he liked to be called.  He was a pleasant fellow (kind of sexy if you liked them older and salty, Jamie mused) and ran a charter service for tourists from his home on one of the nearby islands.  All the locals had been consulted while the Gondaloo facilities were being constructed, and knew just enough about the resort so it’s presence didn’t upset or anger them.  In return for their assistance and support, Margo had been very generous, pumping a lot of hard currency into the local economy.  But what was Kat up to now?  What dastardly deeds had she persuaded Major Alex to commit?  Her ponderings were interrupted by Kat patting her on the head.

“I love the way you frown when something doesn’t make sense to you,” Kat said in a sickly tone, “but there’s no need to worry your pretty head about what Major Alex is doing for me. Oh, you didn’t know?  Major Alex is ex-SAS, nearly as good at handling himself... and others... as I am.  Speaking of ‘handling others’—two hours—that’s lots more time for us to play!”  Kat stepped in front of Jamie and showed her a length of thin cord.  "Ever had those pretty red curls of yours plaited around something like this, Dr. Seaton?"

Jamie's eyes grew wide.  She shook her head, mewing through her gag. 

"I thought not," Kat said pleasantly, pretending to take her captive's highly negative response as a simple answer.  "Just wait 'til you see how exquisitely taut things become after I've given you a nice ponytail braid and tied it back to your thumbs."

GONDALOO WATERS

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Here we go again, Kathleen thought, sighing through her gag in the darkness.  And this time, there seemed to be no way out.  Whenever they had been bound with ropes there was some hope of escape, but there was no hope of freeing themselves from the handcuffs that tightly encircled their wrists, even if they could have freed themselves from the hogtie and ankle bindings, which they couldn’t.

It was becoming more and more hot and stuffy under the tarp that covered them.    Odours of old fish, their socks and sneakers and their sweat mingled.  It was salty and rough, and they were very sweaty.  The rope around their waists, holding them together in forced intimacy, was hard and scratchy, and Kathleen could feel her partner’s breasts crushed against her lower abdomen.  But whenever Jo moved, Kathleen felt her breasts and nipples slide over Jo’s hot, firm, sweat-slick skin.  Throughout their careers they had endured whispered speculations between their colleagues that they were in a lesbian relationship.  They did have a relationship that went well beyond their professional lives, but they had never been sexually intimate with each other... at least not voluntarily.  Kathleen had to admit their current circumstances were definitely intimate, even though neither partner had taken advantage of the situation.

They heard the boat’s engines stop, and their captor entering the cabin.  They squinted in the sudden flood of daylight as he quickly pulled the tarp off them.  They renewed their futile struggles, mewing anxiously through their gags.  Their captor smiled, obviously enjoying their predicament. 

“So ladies—did you enjoy the voyage?” he asked.

They responded by shaking their heads.  Their hair was tousled and plastered to their faces, and their bodies were filthy from their sweaty predicament.

“Well, from here, it looks like you’ve been having some quality time together,” the man laughed, “wish I had a camera.”

He sighed at the lost opportunity to capture the moment for posterity and his own titillation, and then pulled out his knife.

“Enough fun and games, on with business,” he said, then crouched down, cut Kathleen and Jo free from their hogtie and ankle bindings, and sliced the hemp that had been enforcing their stomach-to-stomach “embrace.”  He put away the knife, and pulled out his shotgun.  He used his free hand to help Kathleen and Jo, still handcuffed and gagged, to stand, then pointed the sawn off shotgun at them.

“This is where you two get off.  Move,” he announced, punctuating his command by waving the shotgun.

Kathleen and Jo stood up, hesitated, then moved towards the cabin door.  The man followed them, the gun pointed in their direction.  They walked out into the sunlight.  The boat was drifting about twenty metres off a long, pristine beach, fronting the lush forests of an apparently deserted island.

“Keep going,” the man said, gesturing with his gun towards the steps that were used to assist getting on and off the boat.  Kathleen and Jo stopped by the steps, looking at him questionably.  A gentle breeze wafted through their hair.  The man rested the muzzle of the shotgun against Jo’s cheek.  She mewed questionably through her gag.

“Don’t worry, love.  You’re not going to drown, besides you both need a dip—look at the state of you,” he said, then turned to Kathleen, “Up you go Blondie,” he said.

Kathleen looked at the water, then at Jo.  She walked up the steps to the edge of the boat.  She swayed, but just managed to keep her balance.

“This is where you ‘walk the plank’ Blondie.  Come on—in the water.”

Kathleen looked at him in disbelief.

“I’m waiting.  One, two...”

Kathleen allowed herself to fall backwards, squealing before hitting the water.  She emerged instantly, shaking the water from her hair and eyes.  Once she stood up, the water came to just above her navel.

“See,” the man said to a briefly relieved Jo, “you won’t drown.   Now, time for you to join her.  I’m sure the water’s fine.”

He pushed the shotgun muzzle into her cheek to reinforce his request.  She moved away from him, and started to go up the steps.  But as her foot left the deck, the man cupped her instep and heaved.  Jo flew into the water, mewing into her gag and came up sputtering alongside Kathleen.

“It’s only a short wade to the beach,” the man laughed, “bye girls.”

He laughed, and returned to the controls of Tarsis III.  He started the boat’s powerful engines, and moved off, leaving his two naked, handcuffed and gagged captives up to their belly buttons in water—and trouble.  They watched the boat get further and further away, noting that it was still sailing away from the mainland.  They then turned and waded through the water to the beach.  The sand clung to their wet sneakers as they walked towards the rocks.  Kathleen sat down on the rocks.  Jo stopped next to her, and reached behind Kathleen’s head to untie her gag.  The saliva soaked, scrunched up scarf fell away from Kathleen’s mouth, and she gladly spat out Jo’s underwear from her mouth.

Jo sat down beside her, looking at her hopefully.  Kathleen just looked at her.  Jo made some unintelligible noises.

“What?” Kathleen asked.

There were more indecipherable noises from Jo.

“You want me to remove your gag?”

Jo rolled her eyes and nodded.

“Now why should I do that?  Every time you open your mouth you get us into trouble.  And we’re up to our necks in it this time.”

Jo pleaded to Kathleen with her eyes and more mewing through her gag.

“Oh allright.  That’s the problem.  You always talk me into things I regret afterwards.”

Kathleen stood up and reached behind Jo’s head, fumbling through her long brown hair, trying to find the knot in her gag.  Eventually she was unable to undo the knot, and Jo was able to expel the soaked cloth from her mouth.

“Thanks,” she said in a barely grateful tone.

“Okay—I removed your gag,” Kathleen said, “now you better have some good ideas on how we’re going to get out of this mess.”

Jo looked down at her sneakers, which were encrusted with sand.

“There’s sand all over my sneakers,” she moaned.

“I suppose that’s why they’re called sandshoes.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Well, our whole predicament is really hilarious, isn’t it?  We’re naked, our hands are handcuffed behind our backs, and we’ve been abandoned on an uninhabited island.”

“It may not be uninhabited.”

“If that prick knows this area, it probably is.  And if it isn’t, let’s hope it’s a convent.  If it’s inhabited by anyone else, we could be in even more trouble.”

Jo stood up, idly kicking their discarded, saliva soaked panties, which were now covered with sand.

“Forget it,” Kathleen said, “I’m not even going to think about trying to put those panties back on.”

“Me neither,” Jo agreed.  She crouched down and picked up the scarf that had been part of her gag.  She stood up, the scarf dangling limp from her right wrist, wafting in the gentle breeze.

“And this isn’t much of a sarong, is it,” Jo mused, “even if I could figure out how to tie it around me with my hands cuffed.  Forget it.  Let’s go.”

She let the scarf flutter from her grip, and started to walk off.

“Where are you going?” Kathleen asked her.

“There’s no point in us sitting here watching the tide come in,” Jo replied, “let’s head inland.  We may find a sharp rock or something to remove these handcuffs.”

“Yeah, we might stumble across a marooned locksmith.”

“If I wasn’t handcuffed, I’d smack you in the mouth.”

Kathleen heard trickling water, and saw where the mouth of a stream cut through the beach and went out to the sea.

“A drink would be nice,” she said, and started to walk alongside the stream into the forest.  Her naked, handcuffed partner followed her until the stream widened into a small pool fed by a waterfall.  Kathleen knelt, then laid down, trying to figure out the best way to drink from a waterway when your hands are cuffed behind your back.  She lapped the refreshing water as best she could, while Jo took the opportunity to rinse the sand off her sneakers.  She waded into the pool, the water coming up to just above her ankles.

“Do you mind,” Kathleen grumbled, “I’m trying to drink the water that you’re bathing your smelly sneakers in!”

Jo responded by flicking water in Kathleen’s face with her sneakered feet.

“Stop it,” Kathleen protested.

Jo continued her watery attack, but slipped on the stones beneath the water, falling on her bare behind.  Kathleen laughed.  Jo tried to rescue her dignity, and kicked more water in Kathleen’s face.  Kathleen withdrew onto the bank.  She noticed a trail on the other side of the pool.  She stood up and started to follow it.  Jo stood up, rubbed her sore behind, and caught up to her partner.

“It’s beautiful,” Jo said, looking around in wonder.

“Yeah, a real paradise,” Kathleen responded.

Jo turned around, but before she could reprimand Kathleen about her sarcasm, Kathleen screamed and leapt back several steps.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought I saw a snake!”

“Oh, for God’s sake...”

Kathleen looked around anxiously.  Jo looked in the same direction, but the only wildlife she saw was an endless double line of green ants climbing up and down a tree.  She looked at Kathleen with weary scepticism.

“It was over there!” Kathleen protested.

“Haven’t you ever seen a bloody nature show on the telly?” Jo berated her.  “It’s the bloody jungle.  Of course there’s a bloody snake.  There’s probably a million bloody snakes, and spiders the size of your empty little head, and ants as big as your nose, and....”

“I don’t like snakes.” 

“Well luckily, they bloody well don’t like you either.  Now keep moving.”

Jo resumed her hike through the foliage.  Kathleen looked around again, then tried to catch up to Jo.  Suddenly Jo screamed and disappeared momentarily from view.

“Jo!”

A palm slapped across Kathleen’s face, nearly toppling her off balance.  She stooped under the branches of the offending plant, and then skidded to a sudden halt.  There was a bog just inches away from her sneakered feet.  Jo was up to her waist in the bog, her breasts and face caked with mud.