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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Kat's Revenge: A Love Story ——————————————————————————— by Van © 2001
		Chapter 4

MID AFTERNOON
GONDALOO MARINE INSTITUTE
THE BOATHOUSE

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Jamie eased the Zodiac into the docking cradle, cleaned, inspected, and stowed her gear, then stepped into the boathouse shower.  She removed the hood of her wetsuit and stepped under the blood warm water, rinsed the hood inside and out, then hung it from a convenient hook.  Jamie then removed and rinsed her gloves and tab booties.  She was still a little chilled, so Jamie didn't remove the wetsuit itself... not just yet.   She leaned against the tile wall, letting the warm water cascade over her rubber-clad body.  That last dive had been deep, long, and cold.  Jamie soaped her face and hair and gave them a vigorous scrub, followed by a long rinse.  She was tired, but she also felt pumped, like she always did at this part in a project.  Data collected, analysis about to start (with the delicious possibility of unexpected results), this was the point where Jamie always took a little break, found some diversion to let her body rest and her mind idle.

I'll find something to do with the girls when they get back from their hike, Jamie mused, reaching for the wetsuit zipper at her throat.  There must be something I can get them excited about, something a little more challenging than basking on the beach all day.  Jamie's hand fumbled with the zipper clasp, her hands still a little cold.  She was aware of a dark shadow, then suddenly something white and fluffy (a towel) dropped over her head and was held there by what felt like a noose of rope around her throat!  Jamie's muffled screams and protests were ignored as she was expertly tripped and landed on the wet floor of the shower.  The now soaked towel was plastered to her face, making breathing difficult.  Her wrists were wrested behind her back and quickly bound with thin cord.  More cord was used to bind her rubber-clad ankles, knees, and elbows.  Then the noose was loosened and the wet towel jerked from her head.

Bound hand and foot on the wet floor of the shower, the still active shower continuing to pelt her bound, rubber-clad body, Jamie gasped for air and lifted her head.  Her worst fear was confirmed: through strands of red hair plastered to her face she found Kat standing two meters away; dressed in a tropical weight black catsuit and boots, gloved hands on hips, a toothsome smile on her strong, tan, angelic face.

Jamie stared up at her feline nemesis, dismay and despair on her wet, freckled face.

"When last we parted," Kat purred, "I promised that someday... someday... you'd be very...sorry... for what you did to me, putting me on display in that cage, in that humiliating costume.  Today's the day, Freckle Fox."

Jamie swallowed nervously.  "Penny?" she gasped.

"How touching," Kat gloated.  "Faced with an unknown, no doubt terrible fate, Freckle Fox's only thoughts are of her tall, tan, oh-so-cultured, slut of a girlfriend.  Don't worry.  She's tucked away in her very own bed.  You'll be pleased to hear she was asking about you as well."

"Jessie and Chelsea?" Jamie asked.  "They're guests and—"

"Exempt from all such... fun," Kat interrupted.  "Don't worry.  They won't be touched... although they will have a fun adventure, in a nice, Nancy Drew Mystery sort of way."  Jamie frowned.  "Nancy Drew?  Don't you Aussie girls read those insipid stories while you're growing up?"

"I know Nancy Drew," Jamie groused, pulling on her bonds.  "What are you going to do to them?  Margo'll be right pissed off if you—M'mmpfh!"

Kat had lunged forward and thrust a ball gag in the biologist's mouth.  Jamie winced as the black-clad bodyguard tightened the strap with gusto, then put one gloved hand in Jamie's hair, used the other to grab Jamie's elbow bonds, and hauled the dripping, wetsuit-clad captive to her bare feet.  Kat leaned close and whispered in Jamie's left ear.  "Enough about Penny and the kiddies," she purred.  "They're all taken care of, and none of your concern.  This is about you and me, and the wonderful, horrible things I'm going to do to you."  Kat ran her right hand down the smooth, wet rubber covering Jamie's flank, across the region of the petite captive's flat stomach, and between her squirming thighs to nudge the freckled prisoner's rubber protected sex.  "With your wetsuit in the way," Kat sighed, "I can't tell if you're wet... wet like a dingo-bitch-in-heat I mean; not wet from the shower.  Are you wet... Freckle Fox?"  She then lifted Jamie's slight body, stepped from the shower, planted the captive's bare feet on the dry floor of the boathouse, turned off the shower, and took a step back.

Bound and gagged, Jamie tottered on her bare, freckled feet in a growing pool of dripping water as Kat casually wiped her gloves and catsuit with a second, dry towel, smiling evilly at her captive all the while.  Jamie tested her bonds, being careful not to lose her balance. Hopeless, she sighed, despair a cold lump in her stomach.

Kat tossed the towel aside.  "Our destination is Storeroom Echo Seven near the Main Desalinization Pump Room," she announced.  "You know it?" 

Jamie nodded, miserably. The other side of the bloody resort, and two bloody levels down!   She twisted in her bonds and sighed again.  I won't be cold for long, she mused, hopping around in the afternoon heat, in this suit.

"Good," Kat said, then reached out and unzipped Jamie's wetsuit from throat to navel.  "Now... you know how much I enjoy watching your tits flop when you do your little kangaroo dance... so start hopping!"

MID AFTERNOON
GONDALOO ISLAND
FAR BEACH

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Jessie finished rubbing herself with yet another coating of sunblock, noting that the bottle was nearly empty.  Meanwhile, Chelsea had finished showering and toweling herself dry, and was changed into her hiking costume: panties, shorts, tank top, socks, and boots.  Jessie was already wearing her hiking costume, as specified by her diminutive soon-to-be captor: socks, boots, string bikini, and the freshly applied sunblock.  This is cute , Jessie thought.  She's gonna make me hike in my bikini (as if that would bother me), probably with my hands tied in front.  She's got a lot to learn.

Chelsea folded her towel and set it on a convenient palm log, one that ran above the sand horizontal for a few meters before lifting for the sky and spreading its fronds.  "Sit," the short, blonde Brit ordered, patting the towel, "and bring your pack."  Jessie smiled and did as ordered.  Chelsea brought her own pack, knelt beside her soon-to-be captive, then opened Jessie's pack and began rummaging inside.

"Hey!" Jessie grumbled in good-natured protest, "keep your mitts off my stuff!"

Chelsea smiled and carefully arranged Jessie's shorts, panties, and tank top on the log next to the "outraged" redhead.  "I think you should be calling me 'Mistress.'  Don't you agree?" Chelsea inquired, continuing to rummage.

"'Mistress' ain't gonna happen," Jessie laughed.

Chelsea smiled.  "Ha, here they are!"  She held Jessie's extra pair of socks in triumph.  They were unlike the thick hiking socks the girls were already wearing, more like sheer, short, nylon hose than fluffy socks.  Synthetic, stretchy, and virtually indestructible, the spare socks were for wet weather, to be worn alone or as liners, under more conventional socks.  Their special fabric wicked water away from the skin and didn't slide, thus preventing blisters.  Chelsea shook out the thin tubes and tossed then to Jessie.  "Over your hands, please, like gloves."

"Like gloves?" Jessie asked, awkwardly trying to don the socks as ordered.  It was difficult.  Sock-on-sock the material was very slippery, while it tended to grab the skin of her fingers and hands as if it was slightly tacky.

Chelsea sighed in mock exasperation, reached up, and pulled the ends of the sheer, stretchy tubes up Jessie's forearms and over her elbows.  "Tight fists," she ordered, Jessie complied, and the socks stretched a few inches more.  "Perfect," she gushed, then reached for Jessie's still open pack.  "Here we go," the perky blonde said, standing and helping the still seated Jessie don the day pack.

"A little snug ," Jessie complained as Chelsea tightened the waist band and the thin sternum strap joining the padded shoulder straps.

"You'll get used to it," Chelsea answered cheerily.  "Here, let me have your left hand," she ordered.

Jessie offered her hand and watched as Chelsea snugged the sock up tight again, then dropped a loop of rope over the grinning redhead's wrist and snugged it tight as well.  Several more loops and a flurry of knots later, and Jessie knew her left fist would remain clinched 'til the rope was untied.  Chelsea disappeared behind Jessie's back, and she could feel the short blonde doing something at the base of the pack.  There was a dry slithering sound, Chelsea pulled Jessie left hand behind and under the pack, and the rope tightened.

"Don't pull on that until I get your other wrist situated and tie some knots," Chelsea ordered.

Jessie surmised her friend was using the lashing points sewn into the pack's bottom as, well, lashing points.  "Clever," she mumbled as her right wrist received similar treatment.

"Excuse me?" Chelsea asked as she pulled the wrist ropes taut and tied then together in a square knot.

"Clever use of the pack," Jessie answered.

"Thanks, my tall red llama," Chelsea answered, continuing to mess with the ropes.  She saw Jessie's confused expression and explained.  "I saw a piece on the telly about some people hiking in the Rocky Mountains using llamas to haul their supplies," Chelsea said as she looped Jessie's upper arms and lashed them to the pack as well, using lashing points stitched into the pack's sides.  "It was in Colorado, I believe."

"People do that," Jessie agreed, "all over the West.  I like goin' into the mountains on horseback myself... with pack ponies.  You can cover more ground."

"'Pack ponies..." Chelsea purred, tying a final knot.  She then straddled the log next to Jessie, leaned close and kissed her freckled friend on the cheek.  "You make a very pretty pack pony, Jessie," she said.

"Flirt!" Jessie snorted, pulling on her bonds.  She could feel her cheeks coloring slightly.

Chelsea laughed.  "That's not very nice," she said with mock outrage.  "Now I shall have to be firm."  She leaned close and kissed Jessie's lips.  "A pony needs discipline, you see," she whispered.  "I'll have to take you in hand... at least until I get you better trained.  A pity we lack proper tack.  I'm afraid I'll have to improvise."  She leaned low and pulled a rope through the loop tabs on the back of Jessie's boots, tied a generous loop with a bowline, pulled the rope under the trunk of the palm on which they were seated, up to Jessie's pack, pulled it taut, and tied it off.  "There," she exclaimed.  "Now my untrained pony shan't go wandering off on her own."

Jessie pulled on her bonds and watched as Chelsea strolled back to the picnic supplies and started rummaging through one of the hampers.  She's got me good, the bikini-clad redhead mused.  Chelsea continued her rummaging. Wait 'til I get you to Copperhead Canyon, she thought, imagining the short Brit's eyes popping wide when she beheld the stable tack room, groaning with straps, bits, harnesses, and every other conceivable equestrian accessory, most designed for real ponies, but a few designed for humans.  Hmm... Jessie mused, hiking into the mountains with a short, blonde, British pack pony does sound like fun.  She imagined Chelsea, naked and helpless in a tight leather harness, gagged with a full head harness and bit gag, sweating under a forty pound load, tethered behind China, Jessie's favorite mare, as they climbed the trail to Kettle Lake at a slow walk.

Jessie roused from her equestrian daydream to find that Chelsea had returned.  The diminutive blonde had two pair of bamboo chopsticks and was whipping tight coils of quarter inch rope around the bundled sticks.  "What's with the chopsticks?" Jessie asked.

"This will make a super bit," Chelsea explained smiling sweetly at her helpless, bikini-clad friend.  "Now, I've only tied a head harness with rope once before," she continued, "so you'll have to bear with me."

"Only once before, huh?" Jessie asked nervously, eyeing the wrapped sticks and long, trailing free ends of braided rope.

"It all held together nice and snug," Chelsea said, reaching for Jessie's panties.  "Connie had no complaints."

"Well, how could she if—M'mmpfh?"

Chelsea had stuffed the panties into Jessie's mouth and followed it with the rope wrapped chopsticks.  "There is that, of course," Chelsea admitted with a giggle.  "It is hard for one to complain when one's gagged, no?"  Jessie sighed and waited patiently as Chelsea tied an effective harness, including a forehead looping band, bands across Jessie's cheeks, meeting at the bridge of her nose, and another band under her chin.  In a surprisingly short time, the chopstick bit was securely bound in place, pulling Jessie's mouth back in a tight grimace, and no amount of head tossing or jerking from side to side would dislodge it.  "Easy girl," Chelsea cooed in a mocking whisper, then started braiding Jessie's hair in a tight ponytail down her back.

What the hell've I gotten myself into? Jessie wondered.  I thought I'd be the one teaching her.

Chelsea untied the rope hobbling Jessie's boots and helped her to stand.  "Up, up girl," she urged, clicking her tongue.  Jessie glared at her diminutive captor and growled through her gag.  "Oh, a spirited pony," Chelsea giggled.  "Good!" 

Jessie tried to act pissed, but could tell from Chelsea's expression that her eyes were giving her away.

Chelsea pointed at the ground.  "Kneel for me please, Pretty Pony."

Jessie rolled her eyes but knelt in the sand as requested.  Chelsea grabbed her own pack and stepped behind, out of Jessie's view.  The bit-gagged and pack bound "Pony" could feel things being rearranged and added to her pack.  She craned her neck and tried to see what was happening, mewing through her gag.

"Not to worry," Chelsea giggled.  "I shan't make you carry all our supplies... only the heavy stuff."

Jessie laughed through her gag.  Neither pack had been more than fifteen pounds to begin with.  This was nothing... but it's the thought that counts.

"I have your shorts and top in my pack," Chelsea said, "so you can change right before we get back to the Main Resort."

That's nice of you, Jessie thought.  Her captor was doing something to the ropes hobbling her boots, then—Urk!—Jessie's ponytail was pulled back, taking her head with it, of course.  Jessie rolled her eyes, her chin pointing at the blue, tropical sky.  Obviously, a rope had been braided with her hair.  Chelsea knelt in front and Jessie felt a rope being passed from the back of the pack and between her legs, then Chelsea untied the left bow of Jessie's bikini bottom, pulled the minuscule cloth covering aside, and snugged the rope between Jessie's labia.  Jessie stared at the sky and squirmed as Chelsea ran her fingers across the prisoner's sex and tugged on the rope.  The blushing redhead could now tell the rope was the same one braided in her hair.

"Such a pretty red bush," Chelsea whispered, running her fingers through the bush in question, then pulled Jessie's bikini back in place and retied the string with a tight bow.  She then stood in front of the still kneeling Jessie, leaned forward (her cotton covered breasts brushing Jessie's bit-gagged, freckled face), and carefully pulled up on Jessie's ponytail.  Jessie's head slowly came forward, and the prisoner could feel the rope sliding back through her bikini bottom, sex, and butt crack.  Chelsea stopped when Jessie's chin was still slightly raised, her nose in the air.

Chelsea leaned close and kissed Jessie's bit-gagged mouth.  "Maybe later I'll show you some of the other games Connie and I used to play," the short blonde purred.  "Tonight?  After the others have all gone to bed?"

Jessie slowly nodded her head (feeling a tug on her hair and sex with each bob of her chin).

"Super!" Chelsea purred, kissing Jessie again.  She then took a step back and smiled down at her captive with what to Jessie seemed to be a slightly more sinister expression.  "But I said I would have to take you in hand... didn't I?"  She then reached behind Jessie's neck and untied the upper string of the redhead's bikini top.  It took a little tugging to pull the strings out from under the day pack's shoulder straps, but soon the bra cups were down, freeing Jessie's pale, freckled breasts.  The prisoner's nipples were quite erect, which had been obvious even before her top was lowered.  Chelsea took each nipple in hand and gave then a slow, expert massage.

Jessie tried to ignore what was happening to her breasts, with only limited success.  Soon she was squirming in her bonds, savoring how her head movements tugged slightly on her moistening sex.

Chelsea stopped her massage and reached into her still open pack.  With an evil grin she opened a bottle of water and used it to thoroughly soak the bra panels of Jessie's top.  She then produced the nearly empty bottle of sunscreen and poured huge, greasy dollops on the tops of each of Jessie's breasts and quickly spread them over each pale globe before they could drip.  More sunscreen was poured on Jessie's coral pink nipples, ensuring a thick coat from each erect tip to the margin of each flushed aureole.  Smiling sweetly, Chelsea reached down, scooped up a handful of sand, and slowly poured the white, glistening grains of pulverized coral over each breast, giving them a thorough, powdery coating, stuck fast in the sunblock.  More sand was poured into the interior of each wet bra cup, then the sand lined bikini top was tugged over Jessie's sand coated breasts and retied behind her neck.

Chelsea reached down and brushed the sand from her hands, using the front panel of Jessie's bikini bottom.  "Good for you that you aren't too spirited, Pretty Pony," Chelsea purred, "or I'd have to give you a sandy bottom as well.  That would really make for an interesting hike, wouldn't it?"  She laughed and began securing her pack.

Jessie squirmed in her bonds.  With the upper strings of her top now tied over the padded shoulder straps of her pack and behind her neck, every little motion of the pack and its straps caused the bikini strings to tug and slide.  It wasn't so bad now, but Jessie could tell that when she got sweaty on the trail...  Just you wait, Shorty, Jessie mused. When round two starts, all bets are off.

Chelsea donned her nearly empty pack and adjusted the straps.  "We can talk some more about my becoming your roommate at Arizona tonight," she chatted.  "I still have to convince mum and dad to let me attend an American University, of course.  They have nothing against Yank schools, actually, they just have always wanted me to attend Cambridge.  Family tradition, you see."  Chelsea took the ponytail-sex rope lead in hand and gave it an authoritative jerk.  "Up!" she commanded.

Jessie frowned in complaint (or rather tried to frown in complaint; she could feel herself smiling again), and climbed awkwardly to her booted feet.  As she did so, she found the rope hobbling the back tabs of her boots apparently crossed over the rope linking her ponytail and sex.  Every motion of her feet caused the crotch rope to vibrate, ever so slightly, as rope slid across rope.  Clever, Jessie mused, glancing at her probable future roommate with renewed respect.  She's gonna be a handful.

Chelsea stepped behind Jessie and adjusted her prisoner's pack, taking a little of the slack out of the hobble.  She then stepped to the front and pulled the slack from Jessie's lead, smiling as the rope tugged at the center of the bikini's front panel causing the top of Jessie's glorious, copper red bush to peek into view.  She turned and started down the trail back to the Resort.  Jessie, of course, had no choice but to follow.

"If I tell them I'll start school in Arizona then transfer to Cambridge," Chelsea continued, "they'll have no choice but to agree.  Maybe you could transfer back to Cambridge with me!"  Jessie didn't try to participate in the conversation (being gagged), and to Chelsea, for the moment at least, all questions were rhetorical.  "I'm most anxious to hear more about this townhouse of yours.  You say it's situated hard by the campus?  I'll have my own room, won't I?  Does it have a cellar?  How about an attic?  I can think of lots of fun things we can do in an attic.  Not exactly a tower, but it should have all those delicious wooden beams.  And a dark cellar with support columns and maybe a luggage room tucked under the cellar stairs, with a nice, solid, locking door?  Just think of the possibilities!"

Chelsea's "pack pony" sighed through her panties and bit-gag.  She sure likes the sound of her own voice, Jessie mused.  Guess I'll have to keep her gagged most of the time if we're going to get any studying done.

LATE AFTERNOON
GONDALOO ISLAND RESORT
PENNY'S BEDROOM

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Penny stared at the image of Jamie and Kat on the vid screen, trying to focus on what was happening to her friend and companion.  It wasn't easy.  The hours of teasing, tingling stimulation as waves of gentle,  phantom fingers caressed the most intimate parts of her anatomy; enough to thrill her to the point of shuddering, writhing distraction, but never enough to send her over the top...  The ordeal was taking its toll.  Penny was exhausted, lying limp in her bonds, slick with sweat, feebly twitching her hips now and then as Eve-L continued her cruel, erotic, endless game.

Eve-L had "changed clothes" immediately after Penny's torment had begun.  The gloating blonde avatar with the slightly demented smile had blinked and reappeared in her original latex outfit, and over the course of the last hours had said little, apparently content to watch Penny roll on her bed, bound, gagged, and helpless.

(...And that irritating sound, just at the limit of Penny's hearing, like voices, speaking to her, urgently, only too soft for Penny to understand, demanding her attention and not letting her rest, whispering, mumbling, in rhythm with the teasing torment of the belt...)

Penny was so... tired...  She lifted her head and watched the sad drama unfolding on the screen, less than a 100 yards from her bedroom in the real world, yet somehow distant... far away... on another world.   So... tired... 

Jamie was hopping across the courtyard linking the Marine Institute with the verandah of the Central Lobby, with Kat in close, gloating attendance.  Jamie's swimsuit covered tits were flopping as she hopped, clearly visible under the open, flapping top of her wetsuit, and the petite redhead was beginning to sweat, grimacing behind her ball-gag... and she still had a long way to go.  Poor Jamie, Penny thought, closing her eyes.

Suddenly the teasing rhythm of Penny's belt peaked... and Penny arched her hips... but again, it wasn't enough.  Eve-L had pulled that trick before, many times before, in the last few hours.  Never enough, Penny mused, never...

On the screen, Kat suddenly grabbed Jamie, and held her close.  The black-clad bodyguard's gloved right hand reached through the prisoner's open wetsuit, under the thin, wet swimsuit underneath, and squeezed each of the panting redhead's slick, flushed breasts.  Over the screen's audio feed Penny could hear Kat speak.

"My, my, how hot and bothered you are, Freckle Fox," Kat purred, then tucked her short captive's breasts back into her swimsuit and zipped up her wetsuit.  "There... now all that delicious warmth can simmer."  She then hoisted Jamie over her left shoulder and started walking towards their announced destination.  The captive biologist struggled weakly, her bound legs to the front; her flushed, gagged head to the rear; her dimpled, rubber-clad rump straight up.  "I'll carry you from here," Kat said.  "We wouldn't want you to scuff those precious little tootsies on all that nasty, hot concrete, would we?" Kat said other things... but Penny couldn't process the words... not in real time anyway... Kat's voice was like the other voices... Penny could hear their catsuited nemesis speak... but... everything faded to black.

Sometime later... some indeterminable time later... Penny heard maniacal giggling from the screen and slowly opened her eyes.  The bedroom was dark, except for Eve-L on the wall display, together with a dozen blue butterflies.  The gaudy insects were flitting about, landing on the avatar's upturned, angelic face and golden hair, flapping their blue, iridescent wings.  The avatar squealed and gasped, wrinkling her simulated button nose as it was tickled by the tiny, scrambling feet and colorful, fluttering wings of the simulated insects.

Penny stared at the flitting butterflies and her girlishly delighted cybernetic torturer.  Somehow... for some reason... the butterflies made Penny feel... happy... happy and content... but she had a task to perform, a task which would make her even happier!   What is it? Penny wondered, struggling in her inescapable bonds.   What do you want me to do?  Why don't you stop whispering and just tell me?  Penny struggled anew... then collapsed in sweaty, aroused, hopeless exhaustion.  How can I do what you want if I'm tied up? she demanded.  I want to... I want to do it... just tell me!  Tell me and let me go!  Please!  I... I want to...  I have to...

Penny's eyes closed again, and the dark bedroom was still, save for the flickering images on the screen.  Ruby and emerald points of light flashed in rippling waves through Penny's loins, dimly visible through the gold, chain mail curtain of her belt.  (The countless voices continued their soft, quiet, urgent whispers.)