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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Kat's Revenge: A Love Story ——————————————————————————— by Van © 2001
		E	P	I	L	O	G	U	E
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TWO DAYS LATER... GONDALOO ISLAND, GREAT BARRIER REEF QUEENSLAND, AUSTRALIA

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Jamie and Penny entered "King Kong Klearing" and made their way to the meadow-like expanse on the far side from the pyramid-like stone platform known as the "Sacrificial Steps".  Penny was wearing a blue bikini, floral print sarong, and a pair of sport sandals, and was carrying a picnic basket.

Wearing sports sandals only, Jamie was otherwise naked, save a superabundance of freckles and several dozen bands of white cotton rope enforcing a "surrender" pose: arms raised, hands clasped in her curly red hair behind her head, wrists bound together and to a shoulder and upper chest looping rope harness, and forearms lashed to their respective upper arms.  Tight, tidy, inescapable, but relatively comfortable, Jamie had been impressed by Penny's ingenuity as she was being tied back at the Resort.

"Margo's suggestion," Penny had admitted.  "It's in the latest update to the IC Handbook."

"I haven't seen it yet," Jamie had confessed, "haven't even opened the file.  Been too busy sorting me data."

Penny had tied the final knot and held Jamie close, one hand wrapped around the nude captive's upraised and bound arms, the other exploring the squirming captive's flat stomach and loins.  Jamie squirmed, remembering the delightful but unsettling sensation of Penny's long, strong fingers brushing against the stubby, bristly patch of her returning pubic hair. 

They both had agreed it was an excellent suggestion Margo had made, that Penny should "kidnap", strip and bind the nearest overworked, redheaded biologist, and subject her to a fiendishly planned and diabolically prepared... gourmet picnic.  "It was more like an order than a 'suggestion'," Penny had noted, "but one I'm more than happy to carry out."

The hike from the Institute and Resort had been made in companionable silence, the two friends enjoying the trudge through sundappled rainforest to the bright, flower-filled clearing.

Penny spread a blanket as Jamie turned her face to the sun and stretched in her bonds.  "This is nice," she purred, then turned back to her kneeling blonde companion (and captor).  "You notice how all the V-chatter from Seattle is about Kat and how Margo's right pissed off at her over something?"

"I've also noticed how everyone can't say enough about how brave and stoic the green-eyed monster is," Penny muttered as she arranged the food containers.  "I'm brave and stoic too when I'm bound and gagged and don't have any bloody choice."

Jamie smiled and gracefully settled to the blanket and on her naked rump, folding her legs to one side.  "It's like she's not the bogeyman anymore," Jamie said, "but more a member of the tribe, less the outsider, if you will.  More than she was before, anyway.  It's like Kat's gone through a metamorphosis, a Rite of Passage and—"

"Can we please enjoy our picnic in peace?" Penny interrupted.  "The subject of Kat gives me indigestion.  Let's leave off Kitty-Kat's Spiritual Transformation 'til our next Joseph W. Campbell Roundtable Discussion and High Tea, shall we?"

Jamie laughed.  "Seriously, Kat's a changed monster... at least I think she is."

"If you say so," Penny said, shuddering delicately as she opened a container of deviled eggs.  "She's still the bogeyman to me, and—"

Both Penny and Jamie turned and stared at a robot that had entered the clearing and was rumbling towards them on fat balloon tires.  It was one of Eve's medium utility-bots.  Clamped in place on its flat back was a two meter cube... a gift wrapped two meter cube: gaudy orange and yellow Art Deco clowns on a red background, all tied up with iridescent blue ribbon!

"What the...?" Jamie whispered.

The robot stopped about five meters from the amazed pair, the ribbon's blue bow unraveled with a dry slithering sound, and the top of the gift box began to open.  As it did so, a metal tree began growing, or rather unfurling out of the package, its trunk telescoping upwards, its branches spreading and elongating.  The trunk and branches were a bright, polished copper, and the oak-like "sapling" had countless large leaves, of iridescent blue.

Jamie and Penny exchanged glances, then turned back to their gift.  "It's beautiful," they agreed in unison.

Just then one of the copper tree's blue leaves seperated from its branch and wafted towards the ground—then exploded into fluttering flight!  Another joined it... then a third... then a dozen.  They circled over the delighted picnickers.  "They're butterflies—no robots!" Jamie exclaimed.  "Some of Eve's drones done up as Ulysses Blues!"

The dozen "butterflies" became a hundred... then two hundred.  Unnoticed by Jamie and Penny, the copper tree, now bare of "leaves," retracted silently into its box and the robot backed out of the clearing.

"Isn't it wonderful? " Jamie laughed.  "Whatever made Margo think of it?  It's... Penny?  Why are you lookin' at me so funny?  Penny?  Penny!"

Penny had dropped the container of deviled eggs and was staring at her bound, puzzled companion, a strange, haunted look in her pale blue eyes, her tan features slack—and then a maniacal smile curled her lips—and she lunged across the blanket, digging her fingers into Jamie's ribs, tickling her startled victim savagely.

Jamie kicked her right sandal into Penny's stomach and tried to rolled away, but Penny, the evil, vacant smile still on her face, recovered quickly and continued her attack.  Jamie, giggling and laughing uncontrollably, did her best to resist, but Penny's fingers continued dancing over the struggling redhead's armpits, ribs, and stomach.

"Stop it!" Jamie squealed, "Please Penny, sto-o-o-p!"

Penny continued her assault, her eyes glazed, a thin line of droop in the left corner of her mouth, her face a grinning mask of sadistic lust.  The cloud of butterfly drones fluttered around their heads, a riot of flashing blue wings.

Jamie finally rolled free and scrambled to her feet, but Penny reached up and continued tickling the giggling, squealing, naked biologist.

"Stop!  Eeeee! Please!" Jamie begged, then jogged away towards the Resort.  Penny jumped to her feet, ripped off her sarong, and ran in pursuit.  She got in front of Jamie and blocked her path, then resumed her tickling.  "Eeeee!"  Naked and bound, Jamie turned and sprinted towards the trailheads leading into the Island's interior, the cloud of blue faux butterflies and her possessed, long legged companion easily keeping pace.

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_	TESSERACT HEADQUARTERS CAMPUS SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, USA ONE OF THE LARGER INTERACTIVE VR SUITES IN THE BIOSPHERE					_
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The entire Seattle Inner Circle except Elke was present, sprawled in the riot of cushions and pillows carpeting the floor (with two exceptions), their attention on the images filling one expansive, wall-filling screen (with one exception).

Naomi, comfortably clad in a pair of silk lounging pajamas was reclined next to Sabrina.  The Latina was dressed in very sexy lingerie, in a very sexy violet-blue.  She was also bound with an abundance of very tight thin cord, in a very tasteful metallic gold.  A translucent, violet-tinged ball-gag with a gold strap graced her throat like a large bauble on a golden necklace.  Brie's head was nestled against Naomi's right flank, the fingers of Naomi's right hand idly playing with her captive's raven curls as they stared at the screen.

Anne had custody of Jodi.  The honey-blonde Trickster was encased in a white spandex sheath, with only her bare feet and head left exposed.  A cunning network of web-like straps encircled and criss-crossed Jodi's body from throat to ankles, buckled tight, leaving a totally helpless and undeniably female bundle.  She was flat on her back, her head in Anne's lap.  Anne herself was clad in a white, sleeveless top and designer jeans, and was sharing a bowl of popcorn with her charge as they watched the show.

Margo was in the center of the group (naturally), regally reclined on an informal throne of cushions.  Having come from riding one of the bridal paths that snaked through the HQ Campus and Biosphere gardens, she was wearing black riding boots, skintight, creme jodhpurs, and a white cotton tank-top.  A riding crop (and a bowl of popcorn) lay to her left, and Charlie to her right.  The diminutive Bug was clad in running shorts and a sports top, in TESSERACT-blue and black.  Her bare feet were in Margo's lap and the richest woman on the planet was giving the petite pixie a slow, careful foot massage.  Margo's booted feet were crossed atop the back of a "footstool".

The furniture in question was one of the exceptions mentioned earlier, one of the Sisters not sprawled on the floor.  Kat was tucked in the fetal position and strapped into a tight ball-tie: upper arms to upper thighs, knees to collared throat, ankles together, big toes together, thumbs together, all enforced by black, ribbon-like cable ties that bit into her skin.  She was naked, her head encased by a skintight, black, latex hood.  White-noise generating plugs droned in her ears, and thick pads pressed against her closed and covered eyes.  Her mouth was free.. except for the kernals of popcorn Charlie was regularly (and thoughtfully) feeding the prisoner (and herself) as she and Margo (but obviously not Kat) enjoyed the projected spectacle before them.

The final Sister present (and the other exception) was seated in a hard, straightback, metal chair that was bolted to the floor.  She was naked and bound from toes to throat in meter upon meter of taut, tight rope.  Her arms were behind the chairback, her fingers, hands, wrists, forearms, elbows, upper arms, and shoulders bound together and to the chair.  Torso, hips and thighs were also lashed in place, as here her rope-joined knees, calves, and ankles.  Her feet were stretched en point under the chair's seat, her big toes tied back to her thumbs.  Finally, she was gagged, a large silk scarf wadded and crammed in her mouth, and held there by a tight cleave of dermafoam tape, with more windings covering her gag-distended mouth and lower face from nose to chin.  Cleave and coverings had long since fused into one squeezing, taut, elastic mass.

Lourdes struggled in her incredible bonds, her naked rump squirming in the chair, her small breasts pinched by the tight ropes.  It looked like she wasn't going to escape... was going to have to pay the forfeit of her idle boast... was going to have to spend the rest of the night as Margo's plaything. Drat! the sylph-like, helpless, naked New Zealander thought, smiling behind her gag, and watching the screen.

And what was on that screen that held their attention so? 

Jamie fled through the Gondaloo rainforest with Penny and the flock of robot butterflies in hot pursuit.  The scene changed as various cameras and survellience drones took up the coverage.  The bound redhead was repeatedly captured and ruthlessly tickled by her bikini-clad pursuer.  Victim and tickle-torturer would roll on the damp forest floor, Jamie giggling and begging, Penny with the same dazed smile... then Jamie would eventually roll free, scramble to her sandaled feet, and scamper away with Crazy Penny once again in pursuit.  By this time both were covered head to toe with sweat, grime, and fragments of decaying leaves.

Just then the suite's main door rumbled open and Elke entered, frowning in disapproval.  Clad in Health Club uniform, the Haremkeeper stared at the screen, idly raided Margo's popcorn, then went over to smooth Lourdes' tomboyish bob of straight black hair.

"Explain again why you're doing this?" Elke grumbled, again staring at the screen

Margo smiled.  "Because Eve says Penny will get over her subliminal conditioning sooner if it's triggered at least one time.  She'll snap out of it in an hour or two... maybe three.  Certainly by the time they reach Far Beach... where I've arranged for Eve to rig my 'Pleasure Dome' pavillion and have a seafood dinner awaiting for them."

Elke shook her head.  "Well I for one refuse to watch," she said, spun on her heel and stomped towards the door...then paused in the open portal.  "Uh... you are recording this, right?"

Rude catcalls and a substatial amount of thrown popcorn was directed at the Health Club Director's disappearing back.

On the screen, panting and covered in sweat and compost, Jamie was jumping over ferns and tree roots, struggling to outdistance her equally grungy and suddenly insane friend and lover.

THE NEXT DAY... NEAR THE CAMPUS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA TUCSON, ARIZONA, USA

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The heavy oak door of the townhouse opened automatically as Jessie and Chelsea approached.  The tall redhead was carrying one small carry-on bag and a second, medium-size suitcase, with a suede jacket draped through the strap of the carry-on.  Her short, blonde companion was groaning under an oversize carry-on bag, a makeup case, a small suitcase, and a large suitcase.  Chelsea's fashionably frayed denim jacket was tied around her narrow waist, its entwined sleeves threatening to slide apart.

"You have got to learn to travel light, Short Stuff," Jessie laughed as she bounded up the three steps to the townhouse's front porch.

"I'm too jet-lagged to argue," Chelsea sighed as she struggled up the steps, one by one.  "I'm also too sunbaked and dried out."

Jessie dropped her bags inside the door and returned to help her dimunitive friend.  "Yeah, Arizona—arrid and hot.  Who knew?"

"Frightfully funny," Chelsea groused, but smiled gratefully as Jessie relieved her of most of her burden.  "It will take me a little time to get used to the dry heat is all... especially my nose."

Both were dressed for casual travel in jeans and sneakers, Chelsea in a French-cut T-shirt (fashionably short to display her flat tummy and navel), Jessie in a Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the tails tied in front (to show off her tummy and navel).

"Yeah, my sinuses are a little weird too," Jessie agreed, "after all this travelin'.  It'll pass."

Chelsea looked around as they entered the foyer.  The exterior of the townhouse had been a mix of the postmodern and bungalow styles.  The interior seemed to be carrying forward the same themes.  The girls dropped their luggage and jackets and smiled at one another.

Chelsea grinned coyly, then flinched when the door closed behind her with a business-like slam.  Jessie laughed at her friend's sheepish expression... then Chelsea's coy expression returned.  "Well...?"

"Well what?" Jessie asked with a coy grin of her own.

"Don't I get a house tour or something?" the diminutive blonde demanded.

Jessie's grin turned slightly feral and she opened the bottom drawer of the rustic combination sideboard and boot bench opposite the coat closet.  "I've been givin' it some thought," Jessie drawled, "durin' the flight from LA..."  Chelsea swallowed nervously when she saw the several neatly coiled lengths of cotton clothesline in the drawer.  "...and I've decided you get a house tour and... 'something.'  Strip, Shorty," the grinning redhead ordered.

"Darling! " Chelsea objected, giggling nervously, "we've been traveling for almost two days, and I don't sleep well on planes.  If we're only going to be here 'til Monday, then drive to Copperhead, shouldn't we get some—?"

"We'll get some sleep," Jessie snapped, "but the best way to get over jet-lag is to live by the sun 'til your body-clock resets, and we got six hours 'til sundown."  The grinning redhead selected a hank of rope and began uncoiling it.  "I thought a World Traveler like yourself would know about stuff like that."

"No afternoon nap?" Chelsea asked with a pitiful whine (the twinkle in her big, blue eyes belying her distress).

"It's for your own good, Short Stuff," Jessie said.

"But why do I have to be the one to—?"

"You can't very well give me a tour," Jessie observed, "seeing as how it's my spread and you've never seen it before."

"Your logic is impeccable," Chelsea admitted.

"C'mon," Jessie demanded, "strip!"

Chelsea sighed and pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing her athletic (if diminutive) torso.  She then kicked off her sneakers, pulled off her anklets, unzipped and peeled off her jeans, and stood grinning in her heather gray sports bra and matching panties.  The short blonde Brit smiled sweetly at her redheaded friend's appreciative expression.

"What ya waitin' for," Jessie demanded, "bump-and-grind music?  Get on with it!"

"Crude, Cowgirl," Chelsea giggled, pulling off her bra and panties and tossing them aside.

Jessie drank in the sight of her nude, tan, petite friend... then used her right index finger to trace an orbit in midair, indicating that her soon-to-be prisoner should turn her back.

Chelsea sighed again and spun on her heel, crossing her wrists at the small of her back, above her firm, dimpled buttocks.  "What exactly do you have in mind?" she asked.

Ignoring the question, Jessie stepped forward, repositioned Chelsea's hands palm-to-palm, and set to work.  "I still can't believe how easy it was talkin' yer mom into letting you be my roommate," she drawled, cinching her new academic colleague's wrists and tying several knots.

"We were online nearly two hours," Chelsea noted.

"Having Margo Wells pop in and vouch for me didn't hurt," Jessie mumbled, looping rope around her companion's elbows and pulling it taut. 

Chelsea winced as this was tied off and more rope was used to yoke her shoulders and frame her pouting breasts.  "Don't sell yourself short," the now helpless blonde cooed.  "You absolutely charmed her to pieces ... father also.  Aunt Margo was merely icing on the cake."

Jessie looped a doubled coil around Chelsea's waist, then took another turn around her waist and forearms.  She then snugged it taut and dove between the nude captive's legs, giving the bound Brit a tight crotch rope.  She cinched the rope between Chelsea's torso and forearms, took a turn through her wrist ropes, dove back between the squirming prisoner's legs, and tied the rope off below her navel.  "'Aunt Margo', huh?" she noted.

"Margo Wells has been visiting Brightman Hall for as long as I can remember," Chelsea explained as she tested her bonds.  Her arms were pinned to her neatly roped torso.  "I think she's been friends with mumsy since before Pens was born."

"I see," Jessie muttered as she hobbled her new roommate's ankles.  "Bet there's an interesting story there."

Chelsea blinked in surprise.  "You think so?"  The idea that her mother might have had anything truly 'interesting' in her life (before herself) had never really occurred to the pixie-like captive.

Jessie shuffled her prisoner to the side until they were facing the large mirror incorporated in the sideboard/boot bench.  Standing close behind her diminutive, naked captive, Jessie let her hands wander over Chelsea's smooth, tan, well-roped body.  "I wonder what 'mumsy' would say if she could see us now," the grinning redhead purred.

Captor and captive locked eyes in the mirror.  Despite her bound wrists Chelsea was able to use her hands and fingers to rub Jessie's jean-clad loins.  The tall redhead continued her exploration of her wiggling prisoner's body.  "Your tour will include every room on both floors, and the attic, and the basement," Jessie continued.  "The attic's a little warm this time of year, but it has all those nice exposed rafters... perfect for lashing helpless damsels in interesting positions."  Chelsea shuddered in her bonds as Jessie's strong, freckled hands caressed her rope cleaved labia.  "And then there's the basement," the gloating redhead whispered.  "It's dark and cool, with burglar bars on the high, tiny little windows, for security and ambiance."  Her right hand remained on Chelsea's loins.  The left traveled up to the prisoner's right breast and lightly caressed the firm, tan mound and its flushed, erect nipple.  "It has several steel support columns, also perfect for securing helpless damsels."  Jessie reached down, opened a drawer in the sideboard, and extracted a roll of dermafoam tape.  "Just to show you I'm not a complete tyrant, after the tour I'll let you decide in which room, attic or basement, you want to spend the afternoon.  Of course I get to choose the 'interesting position'."

Chelsea watched as Jessie stooped and retrieved her discarded panties and tucked them into a tight ball.  "I assume I'll be getting my turn as incomplete tyrant later this evening?" the bound Brit asked with a coy pout.

Jessie thrust the wad of gray cotton into Chelsea's mouth and held it there with one hand while she ripped free a length of tape with the other.  "Assume anything you like, Shorty," the gloating redhead purred.

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Chapter 12

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