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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		_ Kapturing Kiki by Van ©2007 _ Chapter 4: A Clockwork Conundrum _

REALITY
(AS OPPOSED TO VIRTUAL REALITY)
TESSERACT HEADQUARTERS
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA
10 PM

---

Margo was wearing an elegant, blood-red cocktail combo, an embroidered top over a calf-length skirt.  She had just come from a preview of a new exhibit of contemporary ceramics at the Seattle Art Museum.  As far as Margo was concerned, the alleged art had been nothing to get excited about, but as a member of the Board she had been more-or-less obligated to attend.  After a little conversation with the usual Artsy crowd and a few sips of champagne, she'd made her exit as soon as was politely possible.

The doors of the Executive Tower automatically opened as she approached, and closed behind her as she made her way through the deserted corridors.  Her way was lit by floor-level night-lights and the occasional overhead pin-spot.  She entered her spacious "Public Office" and glanced at the "light sculpture" that covered one entire wall.  Most visitors took the swirling, rippling waves of colored pixels for a work of electronic art, but it was much more.  The slowly changing, complex pattern of seemingly abstract shapes-within-shapes was actually a graphic status report, a symbolic representation of the current state of the staggeringly complex entity that was TESSERACT-International.  At the moment, it was telling Margo that none of the ongoing operations of her business empire required her immediate attention.

The wall behind her desk slid to the side, revealing a passage into the Biosphere.  It was a long glass tunnel, one of the few direct links to the large, vaguely mushroom-shaped structure that housed her private office and apartment suite.  Enclosed by the massive dome and nestled in the midst of a grove of towering cedars, its many window-walls overlooked a large, naturalistic pool and waterfall, flowering rock-gardens, and a Zen-garden with rich, thick, undulating carpets of moss.

Margo looked up.  Through the curving roof of the tunnel and the dome above, she could just make out the details of the underside of the ubiquitous Winter cloud cover, underlit by the lights of the city.  That meant the ubiquitous Winter rain was still in a lull.  If anything more than a light mist had been falling, she knew she would have seen only darkness.

She kicked off her shoes as she entered her working office.  One of Eve's valet-bots would see that they found their proper place in the proper closet.   She considered removing her dress, but decided to remain clothed.  There was Inner Circle business to conduct, and for the sort of things that lay ahead, the Red Queen always dressed to impress.

A few taps of the keyboard and a quick glance at the holo-tank display confirmed that Kat had finished carrying out her orders.  Margo blanked the display and walked towards the opening door of one of her private lounges.  She entered the dimly lit space, the door closed behind her, and the Red Queen smiled.

Narelle Tunney, Margo's riding-mistress and gardener, was reclined on a black leather sofa in the conversation pit.  She was naked, and her legs were folded and each ankle lashed to its respective thigh.  Also, her arms were folded behind her back and bound, and additional rope bands encircled her arms and torso, framing her breasts and yoking her shoulders.  She was ungagged, but a pair of pale blue panties lay next to her on the sofa, as did a roll of translucent dermafoam tape.

"Oh, Katherine," Margo chuckled, shaking her head.  "I must apologize, Narelle.  I told Kat I wanted to have a chat with my Green Centaur, and would she please deliver the message.  I didn't tell her to deliver you as a gift-wrapped package."

"Bloody liar," the blonde Aussie accused, with an amiable scowl.  "If you only fancied a chat, Eve would have been the messenger."

Margo didn't answer (which was an answer).  She padded to the wet bar, mixed a martini, then returned to the conversation pit.  "How long have you been waiting?"

Narelle squirmed in her bonds.  "More than an hour."

"Tsk, Tsk," Margo teased.  "Have you even been trying to get free, or do you enjoy basking in a Kat's cradle of rope?"

Narelle snorted in derision.  "You know bloody damn well that when Kat ties you up, you stay tied up.

"That has been my experience."  Margo sat next to Narelle, lifted the prisoner's helpless body until they were side-by-side, then draped her left arm behind her shoulders.  She held the martini to Narelle's lips.

Narelle took a sip.  "Thanks."  She snuggled her bound body against the Red Queen, and let her head rest on her shoulder.

"You're welcome."  Margo took a sip as well.  "Now, to business.  There's something you need to understand about Eve."

Narelle frowned.  "Eve?"  Margo's artificially intelligent creation was the last thing she expected they'd be discussing.

Margo cleared her throat.  "Eve is much more than a convenience," she lectured.  "She's my partner.  Starting shortly after she passed the cognitive threshold, we began a collaborative, heuristic process by which we learned to co-manage and lead what eventually grew to become TESSERACT-International."

"I've read the articles in the business press," Narelle said, with a wry grin, "and watched that bloody boring documentary on PBS, but thanks for the refresher."

Margo smiled.  "Anyway, Eve filters and regulates the information flowing across my desk.  We've developed a deep empathy over the years, almost a private subliminal language for the management of the infinite reports, documents, and memos infesting my holo-tank and wall-displays.  That being the case, there still isn't much that happens around here that doesn't rise to some level of my attention, even if steps have been taken by the people involved to maintain secrecy."  She held the glass to Narelle's lips, and the Green Centaur took another sip.  "Sometimes I'll notice something in the ebb and flow of icons and markers that just bothers me, even though I couldn't tell you why.  I dig a little deeper, and usually things clear right up.  Understand?"

Narelle nodded.  "I suppose."

Margo sighed.  "The same applies to the Inner Circle, and the management of Sisterly shenanigans."  Her left arm was still around Narelle's shoulders, and she gave the captive a gentle squeeze.  "I want you to understand that Eve never betrayed your trust," she said, quietly.  "I noticed something in the data stream, and ordered her to tell me what was going on.  Eve can't refuse one of my orders."

Narelle's heart skipped a beat, but she did her best to hide her reaction.  "So?"

Margo sighed, again.  "Eve... if you please."

The far wall began to glow; a pattern of random, swirling shapes appeared; then an image snapped into sharp focus.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Narelle swore, blushing furiously and turning her face away. 

Filling the wall was the main screen of Narelle's secret (she had thought) fantasy pony-girl project.  The center window depicted the basic leather and steel pony-girl costume.  Tables linked to the various elements provided summary details and acted as navigation to the relevant sub-folders.  In windows on the left and right, continuous video loops of Ronnie and Anne were displayed.  The brown-haired beauties were in bikinis, enjoying the sun and surf of Gondaloo Island.  It was security-cam footage, and neither Sister had been aware that they were being recorded.

"Why no corset?" Margo inquired.

"What?" Narelle responded, in a miserable whisper.

"Most of the pony-girl costumes in your tack-room use corsets.  Why not this time?"

Narelle sighed.  "Corsets aren't good for long-term wear... or for all out athletic effort."

Margo nodded.  "So... Anne and Ronnie, kidnapped, sequestered, and trained to become a matched pair of world class racing ponys... involuntarily trained... until they can pull a racing trap in perfect unison, responding to the reins and whip as if by instinct.  Would they also be trained in dressage?  High-step prancing?"

"Yes," Narelle whispered.

"I know why you're embarrassed," Margo said.  "It's the involuntary aspect, isn't it?"

Narelle nodded.

"Your Sisters would do anything you asked," Margo continued.  "If you sent Anne and Ronnie engraved invitations to put their immediate affairs in order and report to the Biosphere stables for pony-girl training, naked and in handcuffs, with their panties in their mouths and their lips taped shut... what do you suppose would happen?  Do you have any doubt whatsoever that they wouldn't appear?  If you sent Jodi and Fiona invitations to trick their lovers into bondage and deliver them to you, naked, bound, gagged, and helpless at the end of leads, do you doubt that wouldn't happen as well?"

Narelle shook her head.  "Not the same."

Margo sighed and kissed Narelle's cheek.  "Well, I'm the Red Queen, also known as the meddling tyrant with her regal nose in everyone else's business.  You're stuck with that and there's no way around it, so please try not to be embarrassed."  She kissed Narelle again.  "There's something I want you to see."  She placed a hand on the captive's chin and gently turned her face to the screen.

Narelle focused on the display, and her eyes popped wide.

Her pony-girl file had been replaced by two new windows.

On the left, Fiona was naked, bound, gagged, and kneeling astride what Narelle recognized as a Sybian fucking machine—Kat's Sybian fucking machine.  She recognized the feline crest on the front of the padded, hassock-like shape, and the Katacomb setting.  The redhead was bound, and the ropes were arranged in a manner more or less identical to Narelle's frog-tie bonds.  She was sure Fiona's thigh and wrist bonds were hitched to lashing points on the sides and back of the machine, to prevent her from lifting herself off the impaling dildo, but the camera angle didn't allow confirmation.  She could see a rope stretching from the back of Fiona's upper-body bonds to a ring in the ceiling.  This was a "safety line", to prevent her from slumping forward, backwards, or to either side, if she lost consciousness.  There was also a steel collar locked around her throat with a semi-taut chain stretching up to the same ring, but its purpose was probably simply to emphasize Fiona's helplessness.  Her lips were sealed behind a large patch of translucent dermafoam, and were clearly visible.  Finally, electrical contact pads were pasted to her breasts, one on either side of each nipple, and their attached cords were plugged into a small power unit.

Ronnie was box-tied, like her lover, but she was standing against a wooden post.  The camera panned down, and Narelle could see ropes lashing her ankles and knees as well.  From Ronnie's minimal movements, Narelle could tell her bonds, upper and lower body, were hitched around the post.  She was tape-gagged, like Fiona, but that was it.  Her bonds were clearly inescapable, but compared to what Narelle had seen Kat do with limitless rope, a naked damsel, and a post, they were decidedly minimalistic.  There was no vibrator lashed against her sex, no electrical pads on any part of her body, no telltale cables protruding from her sex... nothing.

"In case it isn't clear," Margo said, "they're locked in the same chamber, about ten feet apart.  The machine Fiona is riding is a new model, just added to Kat's toy chest.  The dildo and saddle-pad vibrate independently, and the shaft wiggles and squirms with three degrees of freedom."

"TIKLER contacts?" Narelle inquired.

Margo nodded.  "Seven separate rings of micro-beads around the shaft, each one independently computer controlled."

"What about the pasties?"

"The tit-pads are traditional TENS contacts."  Margo noted Narelle's raised eyebrow and chuckled.  "Yes, I know, electrical 'stimulation' is so blasé, but Kat enjoys the look in a damsel's eyes when the power unit starts to hum and she knows she's about to get a jolt.  Anyway, the star of the show is the program running on the Sybian's computer.  The various features operate in a manner designed to stimulate and frustrate, building to an hourly mega-climax."

Narelle shuddered in sympathy (and envy).  "And Ronnie?"

"Ronnie..." Margo purred.  "She gets to watch."

"Is there a reason for all this," Narelle drawled, "or has Kat finally snapped?"

"Yes, there's a reason," Margo laughed.  "You'll learn the full details in the next episode of 'Inner Circle Cops'.  Fiona and Ron are learning that I don't take the prohibition on Sisterly shenanigans that might expose the Inner Circle to non-members lightly.  That's a lesson all Alice-I's seem to require, at some point in their probationary year."

"Yes, all newbies get their first exposure to the Red Queen's justice and Kat's 'playful' side," Narelle purred.

Margo nodded.  "Anyway, both 'Brown Eyes' and 'Red' broke the rules, but Fiona's conduct was the most egregious... at least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it."

"That still doesn't explain why Ronnie's getting such an easy ride," Narelle noted.  "Kat's usually more strict when she just parks a damsel to make preparations for her real punishment... or is that what's happening here, Ronnie's 'fun' hasn't even started."

Margo smiled, and shook her head.  "No, Ronnie gets to watch.  That's it.  I purposely ordered Kat to go easy on her.  I'm sure Ronnie feels very guilty.  Doubtless, she'll fawn over Fiona and wait on her hand and foot for several days, after they're released, and from this point forward I'm sure their private fun will be much more balanced.  Either their VR hours will go up, or, more likely, they'll simply start swapping who's on top in their bed.  And, there's more."

"What?"

Margo's smile broadened.  "I asked Kat to go easy 'cause I want the demerits to accumulate in Ronnie's ledger, so to speak.  At some point, probably in a few months, I'd be asking you to discipline her for me.  Anne's involved in this too, so you might as well handle her punishment as well.  We'll do it during that inspection of the Gondaloo stables I asked you to think about.  I don't care what you do to them... as long as it's long-term, stringent, taxing, and something neither of them will ever forget."

"You want me to train them," Narelle frowned, "as pony-girls."

"And if you get all pouty and whine 'it's not the same' one more time!" Margo cautioned (a smile softening the rebuke), "you'll spent the next week as Kat's guest."

Narelle's frown faded, and her smile returned.  "Well... it's not the same... but it ain't bad."

Margo laughed.  "One more thing.  You've already got the programs written for the computerized training aspect, right?—intense physical conditioning, hours of dressage practice, diet, rewards and punishments?"  Narelle nodded.  "And I know you already have two copies of the basic costume ready to go, custom-made to the measurements of your matched pair."  Narelle nodded again.  "Well, I'm having Eve fabricate a third costume, as we speak, tailored to your measurements."

"My measurements?" Narelle asked.  "Why would you... Oh no!  You ain't gonna—M'mmf!"

In one fluid motion Margo had grabbed the panties from the couch, crumpled them into a loose ball, and crammed them into Narelle's mouth.  She kept them in place with the palm of her left hand, and used her right hand and her teeth to rip free a strip of dermafoam.  "I think you'll enjoy your stint as Anne and Ronnie's trainer much better if you have a full understanding of exactly what they're going through."  She plastered the strip over Narelle's mouth, then used the roll to take turn after tight turn around the prisoner's head, covering her mouth and lower face from the tip of her chin to just under her nostrils.  "And what better method of understanding is there than firsthand experience?  Also, think of it as a chance to debug your program."  Margo tossed the remaining roll away, kissed Narelle's tightly taped lips, then stood and smiled down at her captive.

Narelle squirmed in her bonds and forced well-muffled, mewling noise through her gag.  She pantomimed helpless distress, but her gorgeous blue eyes were smiling.  Like all her Sisters, Narelle Tunney would forgive Margo Wells anything, no matter how "outrageous" or "unfair".

"What's that you say?" Margo purred.  "You don't want to be held against your will, prisoner in an inescapable pony-girl stable, bound in a humiliating costume 24/7, and trained as if you were an animal?  What makes you think you have a choice?"  Margo stretched.  "Seriously, Narelle, you'll need empathy for your Sisters' plight, when it's their turn, and what better way?"  She walked towards the lounge door.  It opened as she approached.

"I'll be back," Margo said, pausing in the doorway.  "We'll play 'til morning, then Eve's robots will take you down to the stables and your training will begin.  Ciao!"

The door closed.

Narelle shivered in her bonds, with elation and dread.  She was going to get her wish!  Anne and Ronnie would be hers!  But she knew exactly what lay ahead, in the morning, exactly how her training would proceed.  Eve had done the actual coding, but she'd set the parameters of the physical conditioning routines and designed the TIKLER-enhanced punishments.  I hope to hell I got it all right!

On the wall display, Fiona appeared to be nearing one of her hourly orgasms.  She was twisting and struggling against her bonds; shuddering, squirming, and grinding her thighs against the soft padding of the Sybian machine.  At this point in the program, the thrusting dildo was regularly lifting and dropping the redhead's body a fraction of an inch, causing her breasts to shudder and bob with a remarkably engaging rhythm.  Suddenly, the lights on the power unit flashed.  Fiona's upper body jerked and she screamed through her gag.

Narelle shifted her attention to her future pony-girl.  Ronnie was watching Fiona's plight with rapt attention, of course.  Her eyes telegraphed mainly sympathy, but also lust.  The post-tied beauty gave her bonds a half-hearted test, confirming that she was completely helpless, then sighed.  Her smooth, tan skin was glowing, but her condition was nothing like the beads of sweat dripping down Fiona's pale, writhing form.

Poor kids, Narelle thought, remembering the first time she'd broken the rules and had been Kat's guest in the Katacombs.  Still, Ronnie was getting off easy... very easy.  That would change, of course, when she became Narelle's guest... together with Anne... on Gondaloo.

I'm getting my wish! Narelle thought, then sobered, as once again she contemplated her imminent ordeal.  Be careful what you wish for, she mused.  You might get it... and it might get you!

Margo left her office/apartment suite, and made her way through a connecting tunnel to a complex of nearby chambers.  A door opened, and she entered one of the theater/lounges the Sisters used for the group viewing of movies, TV shows, and records of VR-sessions.  Three-quarters of the circular room's walls and half the domed ceiling could be used for ultra-high resolution, anamorphic projection.  At the moment, two separate images were being displayed: Ronnie and Fiona's Katacomb dungeon, and the lounge from which she had just come.  In the dungeon, Fiona had finally achieved orgasm, and was putting on quite a show.  The writhing, squirming, mewling redhead was being watched by the helpless Ronnie, as she was well aware; but she also had at least three other watchers, of whom she was not aware.

The first was Narelle, bound, gagged, sequestered in Margo's lounge, and gazing at her own wall display.  Margo was the second observer; and at the grinning CEO's feet was the third: Anne Clayton.

Anne was lying on her side on a fleece rug.  She was naked, but for a pair of elbow-length opera gloves, thong panties, and high heel pumps, all in red.  Her arms were behind her back and she was in a fetal tuck, with her legs folded, her knees against her breasts, and her heels nearly touching her butt.  Several meters of thin white cord enforced this pose.  The pattern of her bonds was simple but effective, with neat, multiple bands of a dozen strands each lashing her thighs to her torso, her ankles to her waist, and her wrists and elbows together.  Additional bands looped behind the nape of her neck and down to her knees, lashed her wrists to her ankles, and hitched her heels to her ankle bonds, ensuring her shoes would remain on her feet.  A ball-gag lay beside her on the rug.  Its leather strap was black, but its red rubber sphere matched her non-bondage accessories.

"Kat's taken a page from Elke's play-book," Margo purred.  "The 'Bug-ball' is one of her favorite ways of tormenting Charlie."

"First chance I get, I'll compare notes with the Bugster," Anne responded.  She squirmed in her tight ball-tie and smiled up at her employer.

"How long?"

Anne sighed.  "Since lunch.  Since before lunch, actually.  I never got to eat lunch.  I opened a door to the Biosphere, intending to picnic in the rock gardens, and walked right into Kitty-Kat's loving arms."

Margo settled into one of the theater's throne-like easy chairs, one that gave her a good view of all the Sisterly captives, projected and present.  "She brought you straight here?"

"And lashed me into this 'Bug-ball'," Anne confirmed.  "I started out on my knees, but about an hour after she left I fell onto my side."

"You've fallen and you can't get up?"

"Hilarious," Anne huffed, but she was still smiling.  "I can't even roll over."

"The sign of a proper Bug-ball," Margo laughed.  "How thoughtful of Katherine, to take you first."  She nodded at the display wall.  "That way you could watch the entire game as it unfolded."

Anne sighed, and rested her head on the rug.  "Black Knight takes Alice-Ronnie; Black Knight takes Alice-Fiona; Black Knight takes Green Centaur; Red Queen chats up Green Centaur; Red Queen gloats over poor innocent Alice-Anne; checkmate."

"When you put it like that, it's not much of a game, is it?"  Margo's stretched and flopped on her side in the over-sized chair.  "I'm giving you a promotion, by the way."

Anne's eyes widened.  "Promotion?"

"You don't really mind the sobriquet 'Shyster', do you?"

Anne grinned.  "I resent it horribly; but I don't mind."

Margo laughed.  "All right then.  I dub thee 'Shyster', Justicar of the Red Queen's Damsel Court and Counselor of the Privy Council."

"I thought you already appointed me 'Justicar'," Anne noted.

"I'm giving you unique status, wise-ass," Margo chuckled.  "You're no longer an Alice."

"Should I be grateful... or apprehensive?" Anne asked.

"Oh, slavishly grateful," Margo responded.

"Slavishly grateful," Anne sighed.  "At least I'm dressed the part."

"Just the way I like you.  Why are you dressed like that, by the way.  Did Kat tell you?"

Anne squirmed in her bonds.  "Now that you mention it, she said the gloves are something new called 'sliptex'.  The fingers are slippery as hell.  I don't think I could untie any of these knots, even if I could reach them."

Margo nodded.  "Something the Materials Science people came up with.  It looks like normal spandex, but presented with any of a wide family of synthetic polymers—like in nylon cord, for example—it's virtually frictionless."

"How terribly clever," Anne sighed.  "Anyway, as far as I can tell, the panties and pumps are just... panties and pumps."

"Katherine's aesthetic sense seems to be evolving," Margo mused.  "In the past, she would have just shibari-tied you from head to toe, totally naked.  This is something of a statement."

"And that statement is: 'Anne is totally helpless'."  The prisoner wiggled in her bonds, emphasizing her point.

Margo smiled.  "I want to thank you for agreeing to play Narelle's pony-girl game.  I've been trying to draw her out for some time, and this just may do the trick."

Anne's smile faded and her expression became somewhat reflective.  "Pony-girl game... that's a rather harmless sounding description for Narelle's program.  It's going to be... taxing."

"Physically, mentally, and emotionally."  Margo shook her head.  "Are you sure you're up to this?  Eve will be monitoring everything, but there'll be no safe word and I won't pull you out, no matter what."

Anne's smile returned.  "First you talk me into this, and now you're trying to talk me out of it?"  She squirmed in her bonds.  "Ronnie will need someone to help her take it the right way, remember?  Otherwise, she might resent being kidnapped and subjected to a humiliating, long-term ordeal, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Margo grinned.  "Of course not.  Seriously, Annie, without you on the inside, I couldn't let this happen.  Ronnie's unshepherded psychological reactions are too difficult to model, even for Eve's expert systems.  I want to temper Brown Eye's spirit, not break it.  It's too risky, without your help; and it's the only way Narelle is gonna get her fantasy."

Anne's smile turned into a wry smirk.  "And here I thought I'd joined Margo Wells' Inner Circle, not the 'Make an Evil Wish Foundation'."

Margo laughed.  "I'll have to remember that one.  Anyway, Ronnie and Narelle will never learn of your true role.  To Narrie, you'll be the blue-eyed half of her matched pair; and to Ronnie, you'll be her fellow pony-prisoner and big Sister, setting an example of inner strength and brave spirit."

Anne favored The Red Queen with a direct stare.  "Are all your diversions this devious?"

Margo laughed again.  "Some of my Inner Circle recruiting efforts get really convoluted.  Speaking of which... exactly how much do you know about 'Kiki'?"

Anne smiled.  "I know very little.  Ronnie's search really was designed to keep her in the dark.  That portfolio I read documented the steps and procedures, not the details of the actual results... except for that one photograph of Kiki... if that is her real name."

Margo stretched.  "Allow me to rephrase.  How much do you suspect?"

Anne cleared her throat.  "Kiki—actual name unknown—probably works at the TESSERACT Cyber-kinemetrics Lab on Oahu.  It's at Hawai'i Kai, isn't it?  I've never been there."

"Methinks the 'Shyster' knows too much," Margo purred.

"Suspects too much," Anne grinned, "and you can't blame me for knowing something about the organization of TESSERACT-International.  It comes with the territory at Legal Services, even in the Special Projects division."

"No, I can't blame you," Margo responded, "but I can order you to stop knowing or suspecting anything more about Kiki—actual name unknown—and if you ever run into this employee of TESSERACT-International..."  Margo nodded at the displays and a new window opened, displaying Kiki's portrait.  "...you will pretend you've never met her before."

Anne smiled, and nodded at the screen.  "You mean that incredibly attractive technical/scientific employee there."

"So you do know more," Margo accused.

"Uh, she's wearing a violet ID badge," Anne noted.  "That gets her into Proprietary Technology spaces.  Now, could we please stop this farce?  You've made me curious, as was your obvious intent.  Do you want me to try to make the rest of the Inner Circle curious as well, or are you just setting me up for some future punishment?"

Margo smiled.  "Your intelligence and powers of deduction are a given.  I'm not setting you up.  When the Red Queen discusses something with one of her Counselors—like The Shyster, for example—discourse is straightforward and candid... as candid as possible, anyway."

Anne nodded.  "Okay, I get it.  Kiki is your problem... or opportunity... or whatever.  So, what now?"

"What now?"

Anne sighed and squirmed in her bonds.  "I've been tied up since lunch?"

"That lunch you never had," Margo purred.

"Turkey salad on a ciabatta roll," Anne sighed.

Margo smiled, sweetly.  "Well, I'm already committed.  I told Narelle she'd be spending the night in my bed.  Granted, it's a big bed, but three's a crowd."

"I thought three was a ménage à trois?"

Margo left her seat and settled to the floor, next to Anne.  "This is Narelle we're talking about, remember?  She gets full marks for 'plays well with others', especially when pony-girlishness is involved, but she's more comfortable in one-on-one situations."

"A personal foible."

Margo nodded.  "I'm working on it."  She picked up the ball-gag, and gave the red ball a slow lick.

Anne affected a wounded pout.  "The Red Queen is a cruel tyrant," she whispered.  "Long live the Red Queen."  She opened her mouth, and Margo popped the ball inside.

"We'll have to celebrate your promotion another time," Margo whispered, leaned close, and kissed Anne's gagged mouth.

Just then, the theater door opened and Kat strolled in.

Margo's personal bodyguard was dressed to impress, like her boss, but with a decidedly kinkier twist.  She was wearing black knee-boots, dark pantyhose, and a "playsuit"—a skintight, long-sleeve, very French-cut, leotard-like garment in red patent leather with black trim.  Her only accessories were a black leather collar studded with short steel spikes and a black riding crop.

"Perfect timing," Margo purred, then stood and gave Kat a welcoming kiss on her unsmiling lips.  Kat's eyes were on Anne, who was staring up at her, the proverbial trapped mouse to Kat's feline predator.  "She's all yours.  By the way, I told her about her promotion."  She blew a kiss to Anne, then departed.

Kat watched the door close, then turned back to her prey... and sighed.  "She would spoil my last chance to torture your ass with unbridled abandon."

Anne's expression became one of puzzlement... terrified puzzlement.

Kat dropped her crop and sat on the rug on the exact spot Margo had so recently vacated.  She hauled Anne's head and shoulders onto her lap, unbuckled her ball-gag, and plucked the sphere from the captive's mouth.  "Congratulations, Shyster."

"Uh, thank you.  What did you mean by—nurff!"

Kat had leaned close and was kissing Anne on the lips—French kissing her on the lips—and she continued French kissing her on the lips.  Her tongue explored the prisoner's mouth and her lips sucked with savage force.  After a few seconds, Anne returned the kiss with equal fervor.  Finally, after several additional seconds, their lips parted.

"I only torture Alices with unbridled abandon," Kat explained.

"And your 'Unique' Sisters?"

Kat smiled... a rather coy, twisted smile.  "Harem Keeper, Gondaloo Princess, Green Centaur?  I only get to torture them with bridled abandon... except the Trickster.  For some reason I simply can't control myself when I get my claws on the Trickster."

Anne smiled (and was mildly surprised to find that she could smile while bound and helpless in the presence of the Black Knight).  She knew Kat's statement about Jodi was a deliberate exaggeration.  Kat's cruelty was always under control, and it was self-control, not external control set by Eve-Prime or Margo.  "So, we won't be playing anymore?" Anne inquired.

Still smiling, Kat shook her head.  "Pay attention, Shyster.  'Bridled' abandon... something you'll soon have lots of experience with... bridles, I mean."

Anne shivered in her helplessness, but a smile still curled her lips.  "So, you know about this pony-girl scheme.  Who else?"

"Elke," Kat answered.  "If she doesn't know now, she will, before it happens."

Anne sighed.  "I must be crazy to have let Margo talk me into this."

"Crazy," Kat agreed, "and brave.  Not to worry.  'That which does not kill us makes us stronger', and it'll be months before Her Majesty sends me to kidnap you... to bind, gag, and lock you in a transport module for your trip to Gondaloo... and into Narelle's waiting arms, and her inescapable costumes."  She reached behind her back and produced a wicked, saw-toothed blade, then began severing the bands of cord enforcing Anne's ball-tie.  Soon, Anne's bonds were reduced to the lashings around her wrists and elbows.

Anne stretched her body, full-length, and sighed.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome."  Kat selected one of the longest remnants of cord and began binding Anne's ankles.

Anne watched the process with resigned amusement.  "The Missing Princess," she said.  "That's the tie the kidnapping bitches used to bind Gwendoline's ankles.  The hitch around the heels and the insteps of the shoes is exactly the same."

"I know the image you mean," Kat said.  "Eve, please be helpful."

There was a white flash on the display wall and a new image appeared.

"From Gwendoline and the Missing Princess," Eve's disembodied voice intoned, "by John Alexander Scott Coutts, a.k.a. John Willie."

"The very one," Kat confirmed.  "Thank you, Eve."  She tightened the frappings between Anne's ankles and tied a pair of redundant square knots.

"Ow!  That's tight," Anne hissed.

"That's one of the things I like about Willie," Kat said, ignoring Anne's complaint.  "Everything he drew is doable."

"Some of his stuff is sadistic and cruel," Anne noted.

Kat nodded.  "Yes, but doable."  She used her knife to sever the sides of Anne's panties with two careful, slashing cuts, reaching under the stretched fabric on either hip.

Anne flinched when the cold steel slid between her skin and the panties, but she kept silent.

Kat jerked the ruined garment from Anne's body, then gave the crotch panel a sniff.  Her knowing smile brought an embarrassed blush to the captive's cheeks.  "I guess somebody really enjoyed herself this afternoon.  The sight of your Sisters being kidnapped, tied up, and squirreled away like nuts really got your juices flowing, didn't it?"

Anne didn't answer, but her red cheeks and the stained fabric were answer enough.  She watched as Kat wrapped the panties around the sphere of the ball-gag.  "Kat, please," she whined.

"Be patient," Kat laughed.  "I'm working as fast as I can, Shyster.  I have to make sure the juicy part will rest against your tongue."

Anne shuddered in disgust.  (Or was it arousal?)  She offered no resistance as Kat seated the now silk-shrouded ball back in her mouth; but she did wince when Kat pulled the strap tight enough to make her cheeks bulge.

"There," Kat said, as she secured the buckle.  She then straightened Anne's tousled locks, combing them away from her face with her fingers.  "It seems like only yesterday you were a newly-caught, wide-eyed Alice, wiggling in that rubber single-sleeve Jodi tricked you into, blushing at everything that happened."

Anne blinked and gazed up at Kat's smiling face.  Her captor's left hand cupped her right breast and gave it a gentle squeeze.  Her right hand slid down her flank and thigh, then between her legs to stroke her sex.  Anne thrust her hips against Kat's hand, and she could feel her cheeks burn, but it was from arousal rather than embarrassment.

"There it is," Kat whispered.  "There's that blush we all love so much."  Eyes locked with her captive, Kat continued her slow, gentle massage—then pulled her hand free and cleared her throat.

"Urr!" Anne complained through her gag, affecting a wounded pout.

"Anyway, here's what's gonna happen," Kat announced.  "I'm taking you back to my place.  We'll have a late, seafood supper, then I'll congratulate you properly... all night."  She returned her knife to its sheath, then retrieved her riding crop.  "Have you been practicing your rope-work, as prescribed in the Inner Circle Handbook, like a good little Alice who didn't know she was about to be handed a free promotion?"

Anne nodded.

"That's what Jodi said," Kat confirmed, "the last time I tied her to my bed."  She lifted Anne into her arms, stood, and hefted her onto her shoulder.  The prisoner was face-down, with her feet to the front and head to the rear.

Anne yelped when she felt the shaft of the crop slide between her buttocks and against her sex.

"Clench those butt-cheeks and hold that for me," Kat ordered.  "If it falls, you'll be sorry.  You can do it.  Your pussy lips aren't that lubricated."  She faced the screen.  At some point, the window displaying Narelle had closed, giving the Red Queen and her plaything their privacy—a Royal prerogative.  The window showing Ronnie and Fiona's chamber was still active.  "Evelyn will entertain those two," she said, "until I set them free, some time tomorrow morning after breakfast."  She turned to the door, and the display went dark.

Kat carried Anne out into the corridor.  "When I get back from freeing Brown Eyes and Red," she continued, "you can show off those rope skills you claim to possess by tying me up."

Anne's eyes popped wide, and she forced a questioning noise past her gag.

"You heard me," Kat laughed.  "You get to tie me up.  Being a Unique has privileges mere Alices don't even suspect.  I don't let anyone other than Margo or Evelyn help me with my escapology practice very often, but it's certainly not something I'd invite a mere, low-ranking Alice to try.  And you better make a good job of it, too, 'cause if I wiggle free... there'll be hell to pay."

A section of wall slid open, revealing a set of steps leading down into the Katacombs.  Kat carried her helpless burden through the secret door and it closed, leaving a dark, empty corridor of mirrored glass and steel.

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Chapter 3

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