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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		_ Kapturing Kiki by Van ©2007 _ Chapter 1: Games Sisters Play _

RONNIE ALLBRITON & FIONA McLEAN'S TOWNHOUSE
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
A MID-WINTER FRIDAY EVENING

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The cold front that had been dumping rain on the Emerald City for the last week had finally passed; however, as was always the case this time of year, another front was on its heels.  Occasional breaks in the clouds revealed patches of indigo sky, but the lights of the city bouncing off the overcast overpowered all but the brightest of stars.

As Anne Clayton bounded up the front steps of the townhouse, the door opened, revealing a smiling Ronnie Allbriton.  "Hey there, stranger," Ronnie said, and pulled Anne into a welcoming hug.

"Hey there, yourself," Anne answered, planting a return kiss on her hostess' cheek.  "Thanks for asking me over."

"Our pleasure," Ronnie purred, returning the kiss.  They crossed the threshold and the door closed with a solid thud.

"Sorry to be so late," Anne added, as she removed her coat, "but it took longer to clear my desk for the weekend than I'd planned."

"No problem.  The food isn't here, yet.  A lawyer's work is never done, I suppose."  Ronnie hung Anne's coat on a hook, then turned and looked her guest up and down, with an appreciative (and leering) smile.  Both women were dressed in sexy, unseasonably short dresses that showcased their decidedly sexy forms—sort of girls'-night-in club wear.  "So, what's up in the Legal Department?  Is Margo suing, or being sued?"

"Both!" Anne laughed, "and multiple cases in a dozen venues, as usual; but that's not a 'Special Projects' concern.  Margo has my team working on a set of proposals for a 'Law of the Internet' symposium at the Sorbonne, next month.  Dry stuff, but potentially historic."  She nodded at a control panel discreetly mounted on the wall of the entry hall.  "Your 'T-Sec' system is finally installed, I see," she noted.

All members of Margo's Inner Circle were protected by a surveillance system monitored by TESSERACT Security, the same level of protection enjoyed by TESSERACT International's top executives.  The very existence of Margo's Inner Circle might be a closely guarded secret, but the Sisters' unavoidable public associations with TESSERACT's high-profile, exceedingly wealthy CEO could identify them as potential kidnap targets.

"Did you go with remote monitoring only," Anne asked, "or the fully automated option?"

"Full-auto, of course," Ronnie answered.  "Kat's recommendation was difficult to ignore." 

Anne grinned.  "She can be very persuasive."

"Don't get me wrong," Ronnie continued.  "She didn't exactly tie us up and torture us 'til we agreed to have the nexus server installed."

"Consider yourself lucky," Anne laughed.  "Security aside, the 6900 avatar you get with 'full-auto' is really helpful... with everything."

Ronnie smiled.  "How do you think I knew you were at the door?"

"Using a state-of-the-art artificial intelligence to make your door bell redundant," Anne said dryly.   "Talk about your inappropriate uses of technology.   I was referring to things like, oh, 'recreational safety'."

"We use it for that too," Ronnie purred.

"Good evening, Eve," Anne said, addressing the room at large.

"Good evening, Ms. Clayton," a disembodied voice answered.  It was the familiar, slightly husky alto of Eve-Prime.  "I've placed your communications on monitored hold, if that's all right."

"Thank you, Eve," Anne answered, "that will be fine."  Monitored hold meant Anne's evening would be interrupted only by messages or calls of very high priority.  Anne smiled at Ronnie as they walked towards the living room.  "You aren't going to use a unique avatar?"

"Eventually," Ronnie responded.  "We decided to use an Eve-Prime clone and let her evolve a while, before we start tinkering with her personality."

Anne paused in the doorway, and her smile broadened.  "Hi, Fiona!" she said, then continued into the room.

"Hi, Anne!" Fiona McLean answered.  She was against the far wall, seated in a straight-back wooden chair.   She didn't rise to greet her guest for practical reasons.  The redhead's arms were behind the chair's back, her knees splayed, her legs off the floor, and neat, tight bands of white cotton rope wrapped and cinched around her wrists, waist, knees, and ankles made sure she would stay that way.  She was dressed in a "little black dress", and the hem was hiked up to the point that the crotch panel of a pair of jarringly pink panties was clearly visible.  "Glad you could come," Fiona added, beaming a happy smile.

"Thanks," Anne answered.  She marched across the room, took Fiona's head in her hands, and planted a warm kiss on her lips.   Maintaining the hold, she made a quick, more detailed inspection of the prisoner's bonds.  The rope bands were tight, symmetrical, and neat, and Anne could tell they were well-placed, reasonably comfortable, and totally inescapable.

In fact, Ronnie's technique was flawless.  (Anne assumed it was Ronnie who had done the tying.)  Half of Fiona's waist ropes were hitched around the chair back, and half over her forearms.  Her hands were palm-to-palm, with strands lashing her thumbs together.  Rope passed through her armpits, yoked her shoulders, and was lashed to the lower cross-brace of the chair's back legs.  Uniform tension, unreachable knots (all carefully compacted, with the free ends neatly tucked)—yes, Ronnie had done a first rate job of rendering her roommate, lover, and fellow Inner Circle Sister completely helpless.

Ronnie gazed into Fiona's gorgeous green eyes, then kissed her again.  "So, were you a bad girl, or what?"

"Oh, this is just for fun," Fiona explained.  "We're at home, so it's my turn."

"We've reached an accommodation between our personal life and the Inner Circle rules," Ronnie amplified.  "If Sisterly shenanigans aren't involved, and we aren't playing in VR—I'm in charge, as per our original agreement."

"I see," Anne purred, still smiling at Fiona.  "So, in the privacy of your townhouse, you're Gwendoline..."  She shifted her smile to Ronnie.  "...and you're the Mysterious Countess?"

"More like U-89," Ronnie answered, "lounging around between adventures, playing with her silly little girl-toy."

"Yeah, right," Fiona sneered, "in your dreams.  She's more like a female Snidely Whiplash, without the mustache."

Ronnie's smile became rather evil.  She stepped behind Fiona's chair, and gestured towards a nearby side-table.  "Top drawer, please."

"Aww, c'mon!" Fiona objected.  Clearly, she knew what was coming.  "It was a joke.  You have a magnificent mustache!—M'mmpfh!"  Ronnie had her lover in a tight hand-gag, the palm of her right hand over her lips, and her left arm pinning her head against her body.

Anne opened the drawer and discovered...

• One "standard Inner Circle ball-gag"—a translucent rubber ball (in TESSERACT blue) with a black leather strap and a locking buckle.
• One black leather blindfold—also with a locking buckle, and thickly padded with synthetic lambswool.
• One set of noise-canceling headphones—Ronnie recognized the model, and knew they would channel out-of-phase environmental noise to their wearer, rendering her virtually deaf.
• One "Bug-collar"—one of the steel "gag-collars" developed by Charlie Peretsky.  It also used noise-canceling electronics, like the headphones, but its speakers broadcast into the environment.

The combination of headphones, ball-gag, and blindfold would render Fiona totally deaf, dumb, and blind, and the addition of the gag-collar would make her silent, as well.  Anne picked up the ball-gag and returned to the chair.  Working in concert, the smiling brunettes exchanged hand-gag for ball-gag.  Fiona sent a stream of mewling complaints past the obstruction filling her mouth as Ronnie secured the buckle and Anne returned to the drawer.

Anne picked up the collar, clicked the clasp, and pulled it open.  The two halves pivoted on a cunningly concealed hinge.  "Are these TIKLER beads lining the inside?" she asked.

Ronnie nodded.  "This model cancels damsel vocalizations and punishes the attempt."

"That's mean!" Anne accused, but her gloating smile canceled any promise of sympathy her words might have inspired.  "How does it feel?"

"It tickles like crazy," Ronnie answered, gathering Fiona's hair atop her head and holding her still.  "It's skin-crawlingly horrific, but not what you could call painful.  Very effective, I assure you."

Still smiling, Anne snapped the collar around Fiona's neck.  TIKLER beads consumed almost no power as they worked their nerve-stimulating magic, so they wouldn't be much of a drain on the collar's rechargeable batteries, and adding the behavioral modification feature was a logical evolution of the technology.

Fiona's expression was priceless—righteous indignation, sad betrayal, brave resignation...  If she didn't know the beautiful librarian was such a glutton for the submissive role (especially at the "villainous" hands of her beloved Ronnie), Anne might have felt guilty.

At the moment, she could use a good gloat.  Work was getting a little stressful, and Jodi was away visiting family with Elke, and wouldn't be back in Seattle for days... several days... several long, frustrating days... and nights.  She returned to the drawer, then gave Ronnie a questioning glance.

"Headphones and blindfold," Ronnie confirmed, then smiled at Fiona.  "I have something I want to discuss with you, and we need complete privacy."

Fiona shifted into "full pathetic" mode as Anne walked over with the headphones and blindfold.

"Heartbreaking, isn't she?" Ronnie asked, as she took the blindfold from Anne.  "The big, sad, green eyes—the tears—the brave pout?"

Anne nodded as she adjusted the headphones.  "The very picture of the dolorous damsel.  I assume your villainous heart is unmoved?"

Ronnie kissed Fiona's forehead, then fitted the pads over her eyes.  As the strap was tightened and buckled, Fiona sighed through her gag, and her whining display changed to a well-muffled tirade of no doubt very rude remarks.

Anne fingered a series of black nylon tabs on the headphones.  "Are these what I think they are?"

Ronnie took the headphones and ripped the tabs, one by one.  "Velcro anchor points."

"Charlie?"

"The Bugster thinks of everything," Ronnie chuckled.

"A born engineer," Anne agreed.  She placed the headphone's cups over Fiona's ears, then mated the velcro loops with matching tabs on the blindfold and gag straps.  Fiona probably couldn't have dislodged the headphones without the added attachments, but now they were doubly secure.  Fiona shook her head and continued mewling through her gag and struggling against the ropes.

"Eve?" Ronnie asked.

"Time for me to hit the mute button?" Eve's disembodied voice suggested.

"Yes, please," Ronnie answered.

Fiona shuddered once, then slumped forward until stopped by her bonds.  The room was totally silent.

Ronnie gazed at her helpless, and now gagged, blindfolded, and deafened lover, then smiled at Anne.  "Wine?" she suggested.  Anne nodded, and Ronnie led her towards the kitchen.

Fiona remained behind, of course.  She settled in for what she hoped would be only a brief period of "total languishment".  Her stomach growled.  She'd skipped lunch, and was very much looking forward to the arrival of the take-out feast they'd ordered, especially the Kung-pao Chicken.  She hoped Ronnie would deign to let her rejoin the party as soon as the food arrived (as something other than a totally helpless, sensory-deprived decoration to be admired from across the room).  Her stomach growled, again, and she sighed, behind her gag.  That's probably the loudest noise I can make, right now, she reflected (and a shiver of helpless arousal rippled through her sex).

Anne took a sip of wine and smiled at her hostess.  "Okay... I'm waiting."

Ronnie took a nervous sip from her own glass, then set it down.  "Uh, there's a couple of Inner Circle things I want to discuss," she said, "to get your legal opinion."  Anne nodded.  "First of all," Ronnie continued, "we can talk about things without getting in trouble, right?  I mean, I can tell you things and ask you questions without having Kat sneak into my bedroom the next night, or without disappearing from my office and into the depths of the Katacombs, never to be heard from again, right?"

Anne smiled.  "First of all, the 'Inner Circle Bylaws' are Margo's rules.  She can interpret them any way she wants, or ignore them altogether, for that matter."

"But she's always been fair," Ronnie noted, "and loving."

"Especially loving," Anne agreed.  "I've had my share of 'punishments'—deserved, or otherwise—and at the time they were, well, punishing..."  She paused to take another sip of wine.  "But with the passage of time, and the inevitable Inner Circle interplay that accompanies things of that sort, I wouldn't trade one second of my Sisterly 'ordeals', for anything."  She glanced at Fiona's helpless form.  "...except maybe a chance do something erotic, undeserved, and really mean to Jodi, of course"

Ronnie smiled, and nodded.  "Well, I don't want to get in trouble, or to get you in trouble."

"As your lawyer," Anne responded, "and for purposes of this conversation, you may consider me your lawyer... we can discuss anything—anything short of you inviting me to enter into a criminal conspiracy.  You can ask me to explain or interpret the bylaws, but you can't ask me to help perpetrate a blatantly illegal act.  Got it?"

Ronnie nodded, again.  "I think so.  Help me out if I start stepping over the line."

Anne laughed.  "Oh, count on it!"

Ronnie refilled her glass and took a drink.  "Okay... you weren't directly involved when Fiona and I were recruited, but I know you've seen the video."

"Unfortunately," Anne purred, "I can't spend all my time on Sisterly shenanigans, but yes, I have seen the edited video."  [Editor: See Jodi's Story: R.E.S.P.E.C.T....With a Cherry On Top]

"Including the part with Kiki Ohana?"

"The name almost rings a bell," Anne answered.

"She's my designated nemesis in the Air Pirates! venue," Ronnie explained.

"The Sheriff of Nottingham to your Robin," Anne said, with a knowing smile, "the Saladin to your Lionheart.  I remember, the incredibly hot Asian babe who had her minions strap you to the wall so she could have her wicked way with your helpless body."

Ronnie blushed.  "Yeah... she's my nemesis, but my honorable nemesis.  By the way, while we were alone, she grossly violated VR etiquette.  She stepped out of the game and addressed me player-to-player."

Anne shook her head.  "Very bad form, but not without precedent.  That was edited out of the video, by the way."

"Anyway, during the snappy banter, she let something slip."

"What?"

"She named a project her development team was working on."  Ronnie took a sip of wine and gazed at Anne.

"Okay, so..."  Anne's eyes widened.  "Oh no!  You're talking about tracing a VR-player back to her real body!"

"No, not at all!" Ronnie objected, then blushed under Anne's withering gaze.  "Okay... what I want to do is lure 'Kiki Ohana', whoever she is in the real world, into a VR encounter, one in which I'll have the upper hand."

"You're on thin ice, Brown Eyes!" Anne remarked.

"No, listen to me," Ronnie continued.  "I want a chance to turn the tables on my nemesis, in VR, in the middle of an R&D game session—not follow her home and tie her to her bed."

"So... you want my permission to engage in a colossal faux-pas of VR etiquette and stalk a non-member of the Inner Circle?"

"Non-member as far as I know," Ronnie responded, with a raised eyebrow.  "I doubt if it was pure coincidence 'Kiki' decided to participate in an R&D session with those particular parameters just when Margo needed something to keep me occupied en route to Gondaloo."

"As far as I know," Anne said, "whoever this 'Kiki' might be, she's not a Sister... unless she's part of Madame Lian's Inner Circle."

"Hong Kong?" Ronnie inquired, reached into a portfolio and produced an eight-by-ten photo.  "I know nothing about the Asian branch office of the Sisterhood, other than that it exists.  But..."  She handed the photo to Anne.  "...anyone you recognize?"

Anne examined the photo.  "Yes... that's the 'Kiki' I remember, not counting the costume, of course."  The image was of an attractive, athletic, gorgeous woman, seated at a desk in a dusty, cluttered office.  Her features were Asian, but her style of dress and the setting were Western.  "So... who is she?" Anne asked.

"I have no idea," Ronnie responded.  "No, really," she added, in response to Anne's skeptical look.  "I asked Eve to conduct a search, but had her protect the identity of all individuals involved."

Anne's expression was still skeptical.  "A search."

Ronnie smiled.  "Which Game Division teams are developing Air Pirates! 'Aztec-Hawaiian' venues?  Are any of those groups sharing documents that use the phrase 'Temple of the Rabid Bat-god'?"

"That 'project' your nemesis let slip?" Anne inquired.

"The very same," Ronnie nodded.  "This led to exactly one team at one of the TESSERACT subsidiaries—name, designation, and location unknown—or known only to Eve, I should say."

"At which point you had Eve zero in on the identities of all hot Asian females," Anne accused.

"I did no such thing," Ronnie objected.  "I had Eve show me randomly selected, unlabeled photographs of the team in question, like in a police photo-array, until I recognized 'Kiki'."

"And that's how you found your nemesis?"

"I haven't actually found her," Ronnie said.  "Eve knows her identity... and all I know is that Eve knows, and that she can contact her at any time."

"How very cagey of you," Anne laughed, shaking her head.

"I've had Eve prepare a briefing packet for you," Ronnie continued, "so you can confirm the parameters of the search and the safeguards we used to keep me in the dark about 'Kiki's' true identity."  She nodded at the portfolio.  "Most of it's there, but you have my personal clearance to access all relevant files and logs using the secure methods of your choice."

"I see," Anne answered.  She opened the portfolio and began turning the pages.

Ronnie sipped her wine, and waited.

Anne examined the documents for several seconds, then closed the portfolio and smiled.  "I think you're on safe ground," she said, finally.

Ronnie sighed in relief, and grinned.  "Good!  I wasn't really concerned, of course, but—"

"But, indeed!" Anne interrupted.  "It will take me time to examine these papers in detail, and only then will I know for sure whether or not you can proceed with the rest of your plan.  In the meantime..."

Ronnie's grin remained, but with a trace of nervousness not present before.  "Yes?"

"Eve, this is 'Shyster'," Anne announced.

"Good evening, Shyster," Eve's disembodied voice responded.

"In accordance with the Inner Circle Bylaws and pursuant with my authority as Justicary of the Red Queen's Damsel Court, I am arresting this damsel."

Now Ronnie's nervousness was clearly overpowering the general amusement of her expression.  "Anne!" she complained.

"It's just a precaution," Anne explained, with a reassuring smile.

"All entrances and exits of this domicile are now locked down and are under Shyster's control," Eve announced.  "Do you wish me to summon the Black Knight?"

"No," Anne responded.  "I'm sure Ms. Allbriton will cooperate fully, knowing the serious penalties, punishments, and tortures that would inevitably accrue should Ms. Mayfair's services become necessary."

Ronnie gave a nervous laugh.  "Anne?  What the hell?"

"You knew you were on shaky ground, Brown Eyes," Anne purred, "but you went ahead and did your little search, anyway."

"Ever hear the one about how it's easier to get forgiveness than permission?"

Anne shook her head.  "Her Majesty will forgive almost anything, but she has to let Kat have her playtime.  This is just the sort of excuse she'd use to justify one of her 'torture first and cuddle and have lots of make-up sex later' melodramas."

Ronnie's eyes widened.  "Torture?"

Anne laughed.  "Oh, no you don't!  You knew this was shaky, admit it!"

Ronnie sighed, and gulped the last of her wine.  "Okay... I knew.  What now?"

Anne smiled.  "Welcome to the major leagues, Brown Eyes.  I can give you to 'Kitty-Kat'... or I can handle this myself.  Hmm..."

Ronnie watched as Anne decided her fate.  "Well?" she said, finally.

"Why let Kat have all the fun?" Anne responded.

"What are you going to do?"

Anne's smile turned disturbingly evil.  "For starters, I'm putting you to bed without any supper, and since frustrated desire is the theme of your transgression, I think we'll make that the theme of your punishment."

"Huh?"

"You'll find out."  Anne sipped her remaining wine.  "Now, do you accept your punishment, or would you rather appeal to the Red Queen?"

Ronnie's eyes were locked with Anne's.  "Eve?" she said, after several seconds.

"Yes, Prisoner Allbriton," Eve answered.

"I accept my punishment," Ronnie sighed.

"Very wise, Prisoner Allbriton," Eve responded.

Ronnie glared at Anne.  "You bitch!"

"Now, now," Anne laughed, "show the proper respect.  I'm 'Justicary-Bitch', to you."  She smiled at her 'prisoner'.  "Hands on top of your head," she ordered, "and stand in the presence of the Red Queen's justice."

Ronnie sighed, and carried out her orders.  She continued to glare, but there was an unmistakable twinkle in her eyes.

There was a long pause, as Anne took a final sip of wine.  "I'm betting this was not how you expected the evening to progress," she said, after a while.  "I'm betting that at some point, you assumed I would be in your power..."   She nodded towards Fiona's blind-deaf-dumb-helpless form.  "...like your sexy-librarian friend over there.  And then you could spend the rest of the evening... if not the weekend... satisfying your animal lusts at our expense."

Ronnie was wise enough not to answer.  She was still relatively new to the Inner Circle, and Sister-on-Sister games were still something of a social minefield, especially when one of Margo's grand schemes wasn't involved.  And Anne was right: this encounter wasn't going as anticipated.  She held her submissive pose, careful not to shift her gaze to the helpless form of Fiona, across the room.  Ronnie had made plans—dominating, domineering, dominatrix plans, and had been daydreaming about them all week!  A frisson of pure lust shuddered through her body.  Oh well... maybe next time, she mused.

"You have to learn your place," Anne said, quietly.   "You have nowhere near the seniority to simply assume you'll always be the one on top, Brown Eyes."

"Ahem," Eve's voice sounded.

Anne's expression turned slightly sheepish.  "Okay, I'm not that senior, but I outrank these two."

"I simply wanted to let you know that the delivery from 'China Palace' is about to arrive," Eve explained.

"Oh," Anne answered.  She smiled at Ronnie.  "Your oven has a warming tray?"  Ronnie nodded.  "Good.  Go turn it on, pay for the food, put it all in the tray, then meet me in your spare bedroom."

"The spare bedroom?"

"I heard you were outfitting it as a 'secure guest room'," Anne continued.  "I think Fiona mentioned it at lunch, last week."

"She has a big mouth," Ronnie muttered.

"And such pretty lips," Anne agreed.  "Oh, and go by way of your bedroom," she added, "so you can put away that dress... and whatever you're wearing underneath."

Ronnie opened her mouth to respond—and the doorbell rang.

"Hold that thought," Anne said sweetly.

Ronnie favored her guest with a final resentful stare, then headed for the main door.

Ronnie and Fiona's spare bedroom was decidedly spartan; windowless, with walls of unadorned plaster.  Its only furnishing was a queen-size mattress, covered with a salmon-colored, fitted sheet and placed directly on the carpeted floor.  Four recessed can-fixtures in the ceiling cast a bright, uniform light.

"How far along are they with their 'home improvements'?" Anne asked.

"The door has been replaced with a solid-core, steel model with flush hinges and a triple deadbolt lock," Eve responded.  "The power and data outlets have locking, armored covers, and, like the lights, the ventilation and heat are under my automated control."

Anne nodded, and smiled down at the naked, bound, and gagged form of Ronnie.  She was lying on her side on the mattress.  Her hands were behind her back, palm-to-palm, with her fingers interlaced.  They were mummified under tight, overlapping layers of black dermafoam.  The unbreakable tape had fused into an inescapable sheath, covering her hands completely and pressing her forearms together, all the way up to her elbows.  Black leather straps above and below her breasts pinned her arms to her torso, and additional straps encircled her legs from ankles to thighs.  The thigh straps also trapped a large, wand-style vibrator between her legs, with the saddle firmly pressed against her sex.  Its long, heavy-duty cord trailed across the floor to a power and data port.  A special security fixture made it impossible to pull the plug from the outlet, no matter how frantic or desperate the force that might be applied.

Ronnie might have complained about her situation, but the rather large black ball-gag strapped in her mouth made this impossible.  She stared at her captor with the appropriate mix of helplessness, frustration, and outrage.

"Eve, there are additional plans for this room," Anne continued, still smiling at Ronnie, "aren't there?"

"Eventually they intend to tear out the drywall," Eve responded, "re-frame the walls and ceiling, add additional insulation, for sound-proofing, of course, and then clad the walls, ceiling, and floor with either steel panels or heavy wooden planks, depending on the final decor.  Some sort of sliding panel or bookcase will be used in the hallway, to hide the outer door... and that's about it."

Anne nodded.  "Excellent.  Eve, please open my personal files and access a program entitled 'Wicked Wanda'.  Found it?"

"Yes, Ms. Clayton," Eve answered, "and before you ask, yes, this room has the required biometric sensors and I have more than sufficient physiological data on Ms. Allbriton to calibrate the program's parameters.  I'm confident I can maintain a level of stimulation just below the prisoner's 'Oh'-level more or less indefinitely.  It's a constantly moving target, but I enjoy a good challenge."

Anne's gloating smile broadened.  "Most excellent.  The librarian and I will enjoy a nice supper, then I think we'll entertain each other in the master suite... several times, no doubt.  I'll then read the 'Kiki Portfolio', in detail... and only then will I be back to play with Ms. Allbriton."  She walked to the doorway, and turned.  "In the meanwhile, I wouldn't want her to become bored.  Hmm... level two?"

"I suggest level three," Eve responded.  "Ms. Allbriton has an unusually high degree of erotic tolerance."

"Level three it is, then," Anne purred.  "Later, Brown Eyes," she said, with a final, gloating smile, "and next time, ask before you bend the rules."  She exited the room and closed the door.  The deadbolts engaged with a loud thunk.

Ronnie stared at the featureless back of the door with a mixture of horror, fear... and anticipation.  This sounded bad... really bad... like a ride on a particularly scary roller coaster... a very long, continuous, ride—bound and gagged in the first seat of the first car—with no way to make the thing stop.

The light was fading... the cans in the ceiling slowly growing more and more dim... and then they went out, altogether.

Ronnie's heart was pounding.  She willed herself to relax, and was succeeding—but then the saddle of the wand gave a sudden buzz!  She flinched, and the vibrator settled into a low, steady hum.  Ronnie struggled for all she was worth, but the tape wrappings and leather straps were inescapable.

The vibrator buzzed on.

Her Sisters had warned her about times like this, when things looked like they were going to be more than she could handle, and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it!  That was the point of the bondage, of course, to remove the element of choice.  It was supposed to be terrible... unendurable... and wonderful.  Her previous adventures as a member of Margo's Inner Circle hadn't been that intense—incredible, of course—but she could tell that this time... things would be different.

Had she made the right choice?  The things Kat did to people... she'd heard the stories, not in great detail, but enough to know that Margo's bodyguard could be very cruel.  Curious that she's never done anything really bad to me, Ronnie mused.  She'd thought about the day when she'd be Kat's victim... but Anne's victim?  Anne had always been so nice.  I think being a member of this club is going to be more complicated than Fiona or I thought, she decided.

The wand continued to vibrate... and pulse... and hum... and it developed a complex, rhythmic pattern... or patterns... and it was building—and Ronnie's arousal was growing, and growing—and then the wand stopped.  "M'mrfh!" Ronnie complained, shuddered in her bonds... and the wand began to buzz, again... just at the threshold of her perception... and, as before, it began to build.

How much time has passed? Ronnie wondered.  No more than a minute or two... possibly three.  She stared into the total darkness.  Anne probably doesn't even have Red untied from the chair, yet.  This is going to last for... hours!

The buzzing continued to build, ever so slowly.  Oh, please let Eve remember to save this program! Ronnie wished.  I can't wait to use it on Fiona!