DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			A SERIAL MELODRAMA by Van © 2002

When last we left Our Heroine, Ronnie Allbriton (TESSERACT Game Designer extraordinaire & Tae-bo Tart); she was trapped in Virtual Reality (& had lost her grip of what was "VR" & what was... uh... "R"); had been captured by the cruel but fictional Kul'Dakar Amazons (the very same slaveholding (& handling) Ancient Warrior Culture Ronnie herself had helped devise); accused of being a "Spirit-witch" & Spy; penciled in for a morning appointment with Kul'Dakar's Dread Queen; and "stolen" by the "Sacred Twins" (who've nick-named her "Neeka"), & who were about to punish her with... The Whip!!!

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Poor Ronnie!

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Her sore jaw tight on the wooden bar to which her head was lashed, her white-knuckled hands gripping the same bar, her feet up on her aching toes, Ronnie squeezed her eyes tightly closed... waited for the fall of the lash... and waited... and waited...

Ronnie slowly opened her eyes... Both twins were before her, arms entwined in a close embrace, their naked, sweat-slick bodies pressed together, their big blue eyes regarding Ronnie's distress with sadistic delight, their pouting lips curled in cruel smiles.

"Silly slave!"

"We can't whip you!"

"You're going to The Queen tomorrow."

Ronnie relaxed slightly (as best she could), but her relief was short-lived.

"What if She wants to whip you?"

"What if She wants you flayed alive?"

Ronnie's eyes popped wide, and despite herself she whined through her bar gag. 'Flayed alive??'

"Whip marks—"

"—would ruin your hide—"

"—and we can't have that—"

"—now can we?"

"You can smell her fear," one twin purred, sliding her hand over her sister's back and rump.

The other twin pressed her breasts against her sister's and used her hands to explore her twin's oiled body. "What a slut-slave she'd make—"

"—and with only a little training."

"Such a pity," the twins said in unison, then sighed, tightened their embrace, and kissed with savage hunger.

Ronnie's heart was hammering and she could feel sweat beading on her forehead.  Terror gripped her naked, straining form.  My Spirit-witch powers are gone, she thought.  I know the sorts of things The Queen does to her captives, the kind of tortures that give her pleasure, the sort of deaths She makes her victims suffer... that I will suffer.  Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, joining the drool already dripping from her chin onto her breasts.  Ronnie whimpered through her gag, her breasts bobbing as she sobbed.

The twins broke their embrace.  "Oh... poor Neeka," one cooed.

"Let's be nice to her," the other whispered.

Both twins embraced Ronnie and began sliding their hands over the captive's straining body, caressing her breasts, stomach, flanks, rump, and sex.  Ronnie continued weeping and sobbing.

"Be brave, Neeka," one twin whispered, then thrust her wet tongue into the weeping prisoner's right ear.

"Suffer well, and the Slave goddess will take you to her bosom," the other said, then suckled Ronnie's left nipple.

"It will only be a few hours—"

"—or days—"

"—of agony—"

"—and then—"

"—paradise."

Despite her fear, despite her sorrow, Ronnie found her hands had left the bar and were exploring the twins' firm, young, hot bodies, sliding over their backs and arms and rumps as they pressed themselves to her tractioned, straining form.

Continuing to caress and explore Ronnie's body, the twins' strange twin-chat was punctuated by pauses as they applied their lips and tongues to Ronnie's captive flesh.

"They say..." {kiss} "...if you make a Spirit-witch..." {kiss} "...suffer the 'little death'—" {lick}

"—she'll lose her power over you. " {kiss} "Yes..." {lick} "...I know." {kiss}

"It's 'City Wisdom'—" {kiss}

"—so it must..." {lick} "...be true."

"She's done herself once—" {kiss}

"—but that hardly counts." {kiss}

"Of course not." {lick}

"The bath?" {kiss}

"Get some binding fiber." {kiss}

"Why me?" {lick}

"It's not midnight yet." {kiss}

"Yes Mistress," the other twin sighed, then released her embrace of their "Spirit-witch" captive and stalked away.  From the corner of one eye Ronnie saw the "Slave" twin toss the discarded whip on the slave handling equipment rack (Thank the Slave goddess! ), then return with a coil of the same braided hemp cord they had used to bind her head to the bar.  The "Amazon" twin continued to caress and explore Ronnie's naked body.

As if by its own accord, Ronnie's right hand slid down the back of the twin still embracing her, between the cruel/kind youngster's dimpled buttocks.  Her thumb resting on the twin's anus, Ronnie used her fingers to caress her captor's labia.  The "Amazon twin" giggled and pressed her body closer, sliding the tops of her breasts against the undersides of Ronnie's.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled Ronnie's hands away from the twin and behind her back. The "Slave twin" had returned.

"None of that, Neeka-slut," the Slave twin scolded, pinning Ronnie's crossed wrists at the small of her back with one hand and loosely lashing them together with the other.

"Yes..." {lick}, the Amazon slave purred. "Slut-monkey-slaves aren't allowed to take the lead."

Her teeth biting the bar and held there by tight lashings, her weight supported by her aching toes, her crossed wrists lashed behind her back, Ronnie whined and quivered as the Amazon twin's hand cupped her sex, then the strong slender fingers parted her labia, and caressed her throbbing clitoris.

Next, the Slave twin bound Ronnie's thumbs together with more of the "binding fiber," then folded Ronnie's wrists and thumbs up along her spine until they were just below her shoulderblades.  She threaded the thumb cord under the back of Ronnie's slave collar, pulled the free end down and tightly cinched Ronnie's wrist bonds, making them anything but loose.  Another example of Kul'Dakar expertise in the control of slaves, Ronnie sighed, fluttering her useless fingers.

The final knots were tied, and the Slave twin pressed her body against Ronnie from behind. "The knife," she said.

"Oh, Panther poop!" the Amazon twin complained, withdrew her fingers from Ronnie's sex and stepped away.

"I'm not supposed to handle blades when it's my turn to be the slave," the Slave twin explained to her writing captive, sliding her hand between Ronnie's thighs to continue her now absent twin's caressing massage.

Suddenly there was a solid thunk as something slammed into Ronnie's gag bar.  A throwing knife was quivering in the wood near her sweat dampened, flushed face, close enough to part several strands of the "binding fiber" enforcing her jaw-stretching bite on the bar.  Despite her fear, Ronnie growled through her gag and glared at the smug, self-satisfied Amazon twin.

"Neeka's a spirited slut-slave," the naked Amazon muttered as she sauntered towards her twin and the naked, bound "slut-slave" in question.

"The mark of the Hawk or the Panther is on us all," the Slave twin purred as she continued to caress Ronnie's sex, "even Spirit-witch slut-slaves."

The Amazon slave laughed as she slashed the remaining fibers, allowing Ronnie to release her biting grasp on the bar and slump into the Slave twin's embrace.  Ronnie worked her jaw and tried to speak, but her words were muffled by a swath of blue silk the Amazon pressed between her teeth.  The miserable prisoner mewed in complaint as her new gag was pulled tight and knotted behind her neck.

Ronnie tested her bonds as she was hustled towards the far corner of the twin's rooftop compound.  Her stringent binding fiber bonds were inescapable, having been applied with Kul'Dakar skill, the knots impervious even to unencumbered human fingers.  Her gag was tight, the silk cloying, clinging to the dry interior of her mouth.  Ronnie struggled and mewed in complaint then shrieked through her gag as she was tripped and dumped headfirst into the pool of steaming water that she had noticed earlier.

The plunge was at once frightening and exhilarating; the helplessness of her bound and gagged state driving Ronnie to near panic as she thrashed in the dark, clear, hot water; the close heat soothing her aching muscles.  Her feet found the bottom and Ronnie thrust herself to the surface, sputtering and coughing through her gag as her head broke the surface.  The pool was deep, too deep for Ronnie to stand.  She had taken the circular stone-lined opening for a large hot tub, but it was more like a deep well, full to the brim.

Still coughing, Ronnie shook her short wet hair from her eyes and treaded water.  The twins had joined her in the pool and were obviously very much at home in the water.  The last full rays of the sun were on the sunscreen overhead, bathing the twins and the steaming water around them in an indirect, pinkish glow.

"Ooooo—I like it hot," one of the twins murmured.

The other twin swam behind Ronnie and embraced the bound and gagged captive, pressing her short athletic body against the struggling prisoner.  "Once they filled the pool with ice chunks hauled down from the mountains and made us tread water—"

"—in full armor—"

"—all day—"

"—as training."

"It's called the trial—"

"—of the Snow Leopard."

"We passed," the twins said in unison.

Ronnie gasped as the twins' hands played over her body, teasing her most intimate flesh.  She moaned through her gag and struggled to keep her head above water.

"Yessss—it's better hot," one twin purred.

The other pushed away and climbed, dripping, out of the pool.  "We better tie her ankles—"

"—so she can't kick," the twin still holding Ronnie agreed.

Ronnie struggled and did kick, but couldn't prevent her ankles from being individually bound with thick rough hemp ropes.  She then screamed through her gag and struggled desperately as her widely seperated ankles were hoisted into the air until they were about two feet above the roiling surface of the pool.  The ropes were then tied off to either side, leaving her thrashing in the center of the hot, deep, steaming water, her legs splayed widely apart, her sex held at the surface.  In this position the weight of her slave collar made floating impossible.  Ronnie had no choice but to bend forward at the waist in an abdomen-clenching, thigh-straining crunch to keep her upturned face above the churning water.

The twins swam around Ronnie with slow, languid strokes, watching her sputter and gasp.  "She'll drown if we leave her like that," one observed.

"Yesssss, slowly," the other agreed.

"It will take—"

"—a very long time."

The twins continued treading water, watching Ronnie's desperate one-sided battle to escape her bonds.

Isn't she pretty—"

"—when she struggles?"

"Those big brown eyes?"

"Yesssss," the twins agreed in unison.

One of the twins paddled over, supported Ronnie's head, and gave her a long, deep kiss, her tongue sliding under the wet silk cleaving Ronnie's mouth to caress the captive's lower teeth and tongue.  "I'll take care of this set of lips..." the twin purred, coming up for air.

Her twin smiled and ducked under the water, resurfacing between Ronnie's splayed legs. "...and I'll take care of this pair."

What followed was equal parts passion and punishment for Ronnie.  One twin would caress her face and breasts, sometimes cradling her head, sometimes not.  Meanwhile, the other twin used her lips, tongue and fingers to tease and titillate Ronnie's sex, skillfully building the struggling, gasping, sputtering captive to the peak of orgasm—holding her there—then pushing her over into bliss.  More than once Ronnie's head was held completely underwater, her nostrils pinched closed, completely dependent on the hot air of one of the twin's lungs delivered to the desperate prisoner mouth-to-mouth.  More than once the twins swapped roles. More than once Ronnie passed out at the peak of orgasm, her lungs screaming for air, straining against her inescapable bonds, her oxygen-starved brain exploding with pleasure.

Finally... who knew how long it had been... Ronnie was floating on the surface of the pool.  Steam was rising around her into the dark night, the sun having long since set.  Her ankles were no longer bound, but her other bonds were still intact.  Her gag was around her neck, half-floating in the water.  The twins were supporting her buoyant body.  Ronnie was hot... too hot... and exhausted.

Ronnie looked from twin to twin, finding affection on both identical, flushed, sweat-beaded faces.  Despite everything that had happened... everything that would happen (would probably happen)... everything they had done to her, Ronnie felt affection as well. "I... I—"

"—You love us Neeka?" one twin suggested.

The other laughed and returned the sopping silk gag to Ronnie's mouth, holding the compliant captive's head steady as her sister tightened the gag's knot.

"Every slave loves her mistress, Neeka," one twin whispered, as if sharing a great secret... or an obvious truth.

"Even as she suffers—"

"—and knows pain."

"You're no different, Neeka—"

"—'cause you're a natural."

The twins paddled to the edge of the pool and hauled themselves and Ronnie from the water. The night air felt deliciously cool to Ronnie's overheated and flushed skin.

"You loved us before we took you," one twin whispered.

"For we are the Hawk and the Panther—"

"—and you are The Slave—"

"But we are The Slave as well—"

"—and know you better—"

"—than you know yourself."

Ronnie was in no condition to debate the finer points of Kul'Dakar theosophy with her youthful captors, but shook her dripping head weakly as she was led towards the raised platform at the far side of the exercise yard.  I may be 'natural,' and I may love you at some level, she mused, but I'll still swing-kick you both into oblivion and escape the first chance I get.  Ronnie half stumbled as she was half-supported, half-dragged along.  Her muscles felt heavy and languid, her head woozy and hot.  Later, she decided.  I'll escape later .

"She has no power over us now," one twin said.

"But let's tie her to the bed," the other suggested.

"—and do her a few more times—"

"—just to be sure."

Goddess give me strength, Ronnie prayed.

Ronnie opened her eyes.  Dawn was breaking.  She was in the twins' bedchamber, in their bed.  She slowly, carefully lifted her head.  She was tied to the bed in a loose spread-eagle… loose but still inescapable (like all Kul'Dakar bondage.)  The silk gag was still in her mouth… or rather, had been returned to her mouth. The languid captive remembered it being removed and reapplied several times during the long, dark hours of lovemaking, physically restrained (but emotionally un-restrained); removed so she could pleasure one of her captors; reapplied when her tongue and lips were (for the moment) not required.  Ronnie turned her head and examined the bonds on her right wrist.  Carefully interlaced and cinched strands of braided cloth (matching the deep red sheets covering the bed) encircled her wrist in neat, tight bands.  The knot was complex and tied well out of the reach of her fingers.  She turned her head.  Her left wrist was identically bound.

Ronnie looked down at her captors.  Both were fast asleep, one snuggled against her left side, the other on her right.  The meat in a Sacred Twin sandwich, the helpless brunette mused, then sighed through her gag.  The right twin stirred in her sleep, her full lips moving silently, her eyes rolling under her closed eyelids.  Ronnie shuddered as the dreaming Kul'Dakar youth's nails delicately scratched the taut, sensitive skin between her bellybutton and pubic bush.

They look so sweet, Ronnie mused, so innocent, like sleeping kittens. She stared up at the canopy overhead. Kittens… and I'm their mouse… their helpless plaything.

Ronnie swallowed behind her gag.  This is the day I meet The Queen, she thought. This is my last.  Unless she could escape (unlikely), torture and slow death lay ahead; but Ronnie felt calm… not resigned to her fate, not unafraid, but somehow… prepared… prepared for her final battle; prepared for a contest of wills with The Queen; prepared to die bravely, if that was the will of the goddesses; prepared for the greatest battle of all… the battle neither ropes nor chains nor gags could influence: the battle within herself.

Just then, the calm of the post-orgiastic bedroom was shattered.  Elá, the blonde leader of the Amazon guards who yesterday had captured Ronnie (Was it really only yesterday?) stormed in, fire in her eyes.

"Get up you little troublemakers!" she snarled, stomping her boots and slapping one open palm against her leather armor.

The twins scrambled to their feet and stood at rigid attention, naked, their long, brown hair tousled and half obscuring their carefully expressionless faces.  They must be used to getting rousted from their sleep, the bound and gagged Ronnie mused.  The training never ends for Kul'Dakar Amazons… or Kul'Dakar slaves.

"Who is the Amazon responsible for this breech of discipline?" the Captain demanded, pointing at Ronnie.  One of the twins raised her hand.  "You were Amazon yesterday?" Elá clarified.  The twin's hand slowly went down, and the other twin's hand was slowly raised.  The Captain pointed to yesterday's Slave twin.  "You," she ordered, "make that State Prisoner ready for a Royal Audience.  Use new silk, and all the correct ritual knots."

"Neeka," the twin whispered.

"What?" the glowering Captain demanded.

"Smooth Brown Squirrel," the twin explained.  "We named her."

"'Neeka' for short," the other twin added.

Despite herself Captain Elá smiled, then carefully reasserted her anger.  "Silence!" she barked, and drew her sword.  "You!" she addressed yesterday's Amazon twin, "turn around, bend over, and grab your ankles."  The twin bit her lip, but complied.   Whack!  The Captain began paddling the twin's dimpled buttocks with the flat of her sword.  Whack!  "You're lucky you're not under Panther Cult discipline," the Captain growled between strokes.  Whack!  "...or I'd have you dragged to the Panther wing of the Warrior's House..."  Whack! "...and strung up by your short hairs..."  Whack! "...'til they fell out!"  Whack!  "All of them!"

Meanwhile, the other twin, wincing in sympathy with every stinging blow impacting her sister's taut naked behind, freed Ronnie from her wrist bonds and helped her sit up. The captive's legs were lewdly splayed, her ankles still bound to the foot of the bed. The twin quickly, efficiently brushed the prisoner's hair, then ran to a carved chest and returned with several neat coils of white silk rope.

Ronnie considered resisting, but the odds were too great: one semi-helpless Tae-bo trained Spirit-witch against three Kul'Dakar, one with drawn sword.  Now is not the time, Ronnie decided, sighing through her gag as her wrists and elbows were bound behind her back.  The twin doing the binding was in an obvious hurry, working quickly but with deliberate care, anxious for the task to be accomplished and her sister's punishment to end.  More silk rope was used to pin Ronnie's arms to her sides, framing and slightly constricting her breasts.  Next, a length of rope was tied around her waist and pulled through her crotch. It cleaved her labia and was tied off to her now joined thumbs. Ronnie's ankle bonds were untied and she was hustled off the bed.

Ronnie was forced to her knees and the twin not having her rump paddled stood at her side, one hand clutching the back of the prisoner's collar.  "Ready, Captain," she said, snapping to attention.

Elá sheathed her sword and walked a slow circuit around Ronnie and her captor, stooping to finger a knot or test the tightness of a strand of white silk.  Her head respectfully bowed, Ronnie stared at the floor.

The punished twin maintained her bent over position, panting and stifling sobs, her tearful blue eyes glaring at Ronnie through her tousled hair, her taut cherry red rump very much on display.

"Adequate," Elá finally pronounced, then grabbed the chin of the twin at Ronnie's side and leaned close.  "And a lucky thing for your sister, too, or I would have had her fetch a cat, and then would have lashed her tits 'til you got it right!"  The Panther Cult Captain turned and regarded the punished twin.  "Hmm… I may do that anyway. Fetch!" she barked. The punished twin broke position and scurried away, towards the exercise court. Elá turned back to the other twin.  "Slave hobbles and a fresh gag!"

The twin returned to the chest and rummaged through the contents, then scampered back with a pair of stiff leather cuffs joined by a twelve inch strap and a folded silk scarf, virtually identical to the scarf already cleaving Ronnie's mouth.

As the hobble was buckled around Ronnie's ankles, the punished twin returned with a rather nasty whip in her hands. It was short, with a braided handle that flowed into several flexible, tentacle-like strands, each of which in turn flowed into several dangling knotted thongs. Without being told, the twin knelt before the Captain, clutched the whip's handle between her teeth like a bit, interlaced her fingers behind her head, and pulled her elbows back, causing her breasts to point. The cat's thongs spilled around her left breast, the nipple peeking through the curtain of narrow leather ribbons.

Elá smiled down at the punished twin.  "You may sit back on your rump," she purred.  This was hardly an act of kindness.  The twin winced as her throbbing, chastened behind settled on her heels.  Hair a tousled mess, eyes wet but defiant, the whip clutched between her strong teeth and full lips, the naked twin gazed up at Elá, brave and unbowed but obedient to orders.  Meanwhile, her sister was fumbling with the knot of Ronnie's old gag.  "Stuff the old silk and make the new silk tight and pretty!" Elá ordered.

The twin binding Ronnie leaned close, pulled the gag from the captive's mouth and tucked the dangling ends into a tight wad.  "I'm sorry you're going to The Queen, Neeka," she whispered.  "We would have loved to have had a chance to train you.  We've never trained a foreign captive.  We would have had a lot of fun."

Ronnie suspected being trained by the Sacred Twins would not have been 'fun' for her, but before she could whisper a reply, the twin gave her a quick kiss, and crammed the silk wad into her mouth.

"Suffer well, Neeka," the twin whispered in Ronnie's ear as she tied the narrowly folded new scarf in a cleave-gag, pulling it tight until the stuffed wad disappeared and Ronnie's face was contorted in an open-mouthed pout.  "It's important to suffer well.  It pleases the goddesses."

Ronnie was ready.  The Captain plucked the whip from the kneeling twin's mouth and locked eyes with her victim.  "Duty before pleasure," Elá muttered, "something you two still have to learn."  She tossed the whip aside.  "You, Amazon!" Elá barked, nodding at the other twin.  "Punish this undisciplined slave until noon.  Do anything you want, but make it real punishment.  Be creative."

The twin without the scarlet rump and tearstained face snapped to attention and saluted.  "As you command, Captain.  She has been very bad," the twin agreed, her voice quite serious.

"Oh, you!" the punished twin growled and lunged at her sister.  Soon both were wrestling on the bed, the punished twin howling whenever her glowing rump rolled onto the sheets.

The Captain laughed and snapped a braided leather lead to Ronnie's collar.  "C'mon, 'Neeka,'" she chuckled, and gave the leash a jerk, causing Ronnie to scramble to her hobbled feet.

"A question!" the Captain shouted. The battle on the bed paused and two tousled heads lifted out of the tangled sheets and turned towards the doorway.  "How was she?" the Captain asked, nodding towards her prisoner.

"Not bad—"

—for an untrained foreigner."

"She starts out cold—"

"—but turns into a slut-monkey—"

"—once she loosens up."

Ronnie's cheeks burned above her gag as she blushed, bright scarlet.  The Captain laughed and tugged the leash.  "Time to meet The Queen, 'Neeka'," she purred.  "You'll find her not quite so easy to seduce."

The wrestling match resumed as Ronnie was dragged towards her unknown fate.

The Captain dragged Ronnie along the dark corridors and down the winding staircases of Valpakra, their course leading them ever closer to the main entrance.  They passed the occasional Amazon guard (who saluted Elá as they passed) or nearly naked slave (who paused in her labors to drop respectfully, kneeling with her wrists crossed behind her back and forehead pressed to the stone floor.)

More than once they passed an open doorway; Ronnie would have a quick impression of a large, complex machine of wood and metal; and then they would be past.  Once the machine she glimpsed was in creaking, grinding motion, and plaintive, gagged whimpering could be heard from somewhere in the chamber.   Once they passed a pair of Amazons in the leather harnesses of Handlers.  Between them was a naked, collared, bound and gagged female, being dragged towards her unknown fate.  The captive was short and very healthy; her skin brown and smooth; her figure athletic and lithe; her breasts firm and full; her dusky nipples large and delicate; her raven hair short (much like Ronnie's); her face angelically beautiful with strong, even features and full, pouting lips; her eyes dark brown and flashing with defiance… and then she was past.

Ronnie looked back at her disappearing fellow captive.  The captive looked back as well.  There was an instant of silent communication. Suffer well! Ronnie wished her fellow prisoner, and then a bend in the corridor carried them apart.

Eventually they reached the ground level, and Ronnie was dragged through the large but plain Main Gate of the "Palace of Pain" and out into the city's Central Plaza. Ronnie stumbled along on her lead, overwhelmed by a thousand sights, sounds, and smells.  Huge black jungle cats in leather armor were being ridden by Amazons in Panther Cult uniforms.  Sabertooth Tiger and Cave Lion Heavy Cavalry were present, resplendent in their chainmail and steel plate. An entire troop of Cheetah Light Cavalry loped past, the tan leather armor of their riders matching their spotted, feline mounts, the pennants on the end of their lances snapping in the breeze. Gigantic birds of prey could be seen landing and taking off from the roof of the Warrior's House, all being ridden by Amazons dressed in leather armor and harnesses, perched with acrobatic ease on their winged mounts' backs.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Ronnie the Game Designer noted that someone had grafted a great deal of High Fantasy into the Virtual Reality of Kul'Dakar. She was impressed by the skillful integration (and how easily it all seemed to fit.)  In her conscious mind, Ronnie/Neeka the captive Spirit-witch accepted the giant cats and huge winged raptors as completely natural.

There were also carts and wagons trundling about, some nearly empty, most piled high with produce or bundled goods. All were drawn by beasts of burden, including, of course, slaves.

Amazons in various uniforms, or in the favored off-duty costume of short pleated skirt and bandeau, wandered about, shopping at the various stalls, each accompanied by one or more naked or semi-naked slaves. Some of the collared slaves were restrained by chains or binding fiber. A very few were gagged.

The vendors were, for the most part, trustee slaves, bowing respectfully to their customers and presenting their wares: exotic foods, spices, trinkets and baubles, clothing, slave-handling items, slaves themselves. A conspicuous exception were the vendors of weapons and tools. All these were Amazon class, skilled and respected artisans of the Bladesmiths' Guild, assisted by their young apprentices.

Finally, Ronnie found herself mounting the steps of the Main Gate of the Kul'Dak, the Queen's Palace. The guards at the gate were a mixed lot, drawn from all the Amazon cults and disciplines.  (This was deliberate policy, Ronnie knew.  No single element of Kul'Dakar society held permanent power at the Queen's court... save The Queen's own Witch-warriors.)

Elá presented a warrant.  The Captain of the Gate (this month a Jungle Scout Amazon in mottled green, gray, and brown leathers) examined the small scrap of leather and its intricately carved pendant seal of red jade.  She handed the warrant back to Elá and turned her amused attention to Ronnie.  The Captain of Scouts was a redhead with piercing gray eyes, freckled skin, and a toned, athletic figure, perhaps an inch or two shorter than Ronnie.  Her amused gaze traveled over Ronnie's captive body, examining, with obvious appreciation, every curve and rope-caused crease of the prisoner's flesh.

"Quite a catch," she purred, idly toying with Ronnie's right nipple as the blushing captive fidgeted and squirmed.

"A gift from the goddesses," Elá agreed.  "The Queen must be favored indeed for the Hawk and Panther to toss her such morsels."

The Scout Captain laughed, then leaned close to her Panther Cult colleague's ear.  "Watch your tongue this morning, Elá," she murmured, her smile and manner making the admonition friendly advice.  "Morning sword practice didn't go well.  A young Hawk Rider subaltern was Her sparring partner and the little idiot actually beat Her, four passes out of five."

"What should she have done?" Ela snorted.  "If She thought the Hawk-Chick was going anything but all out, she would have busted her to tending male prisoners on the frontier."

The redheaded Scout smiled.  "Probably. In any case, She is in an unusually bitchy mood... so be careful."

"How unfortunate," Elá sighed (a sardonic smile curling her lips), "especially for any captured Spirit-witch spies hauled before Her for disposition."

Ronnie's leash jerked and she was hauled through the giant bronze gates.  The sound of the Scout Captain and her squad's mocking laughter echoed hollowly through the long tunnel of the gate passage.  They came to a door set to the side.  Carved and painted above the door was the floating eye and sword glyph, the symbol of the Amazon Witch-warriors.  The heavy door opened (as if by magic) as they approached, and Elá dragged Ronnie into the large room beyond.

Inside, several of the Queen's magical elite were lounging on low couches or studying scrolls at a long table.  All were clad in flowing robes or tight fitting shifts of golden silk, and wore elaborate headbands, headdresses, bracelets, and necklaces.  Although her Spirit-witch powers here held in check, Ronnie could sense Power emanating from the Witch-warriors' jewelry.  The intricately engraved and jewel encrusted accessories were weapons, not decorations.

A few Witch-warriors were off to the side in a small group, moving in slow, graceful, silent unison as they performed a martial exercise.  Moving from position to position, making intricate and arcane hand passes and gestures with each transition, the exercising group were clad in thin narrow bandeaus and loincloths of golden silk.  Although their movements were slow, almost languid, their athletic well-toned bodies glistened with sweat and their muscles quivered, as if straining against an invisible force.  As the groups moved and gestured, Ronnie was aware of a strange vibration in the air, like a sound too low to be heard but powerful enough to be felt, like the feeling before lightning and thunder.

Two of the Witch-warriors detached themselves from the group at the table and sauntered towards Elá and her charge, amused interest in their eyes. One was a brunette with full, red lips, the other had dark auburn hair under an elaborate headdress of beads. Both were very attractive.

 "Well met in Her service, Elá," the brunette said formally, her big blue eyes on Ronnie (like a hungry cat eyeing a plump mouse).

"Well met in the service of She, Vash," Elá responded, then took a step to the side.

"Let's see what you've brought us this fine morning," the Witch-warrior purred, gently placing her hand on the side of Ronnie's face.

Ronnie started as if she'd been slapped, and—

Ronnie had collapsed to her knees and was panting through her gag.  Sweat was dripping off her face and her head was throbbing.

"She's a powerful Spirit-witch," Vash said, "but completely helpless.  The City Wards have done their work well.  She is no more danger to The Queen than a newborn fawn.

"What's wrong with her?" Elá asked dispassionately, watching Ronnie grimace and blink.

"Examining a witch of her power is something akin to torture," the brunette explained, a cruel smile on her beautiful face.

"Well, I can't drag her to an Audience looking like this," Elá muttered.  "When will she recover?"

"I think I can help you," the auburn Witch-warrior purred, hauled Ronnie to her hobbled feet and placed her right palm on the captive's rope-cleaved sex.

Ronnie squealed through her gag and shuddered in her bonds, standing up on her toes and clenching her bound hands.  She was being hammered by a series of intense, nearly continuous orgasms.  Her headache was gone... and through a haze of ecstasy she could hear laughter and amiable complaints from all the Witch-warriors present, echoing through the chamber.

"Are you quite finished?" the brunette snapped at her colleague in mock reprimand.  "You two are spilling all over the Spirit-plane. The younger witches will be rutting like virgin weasels for the rest of the day trying to relieve the tension.

"I... I had no idea she was that powerful," the auburn witch gasped as she released her hand.  The panting Witch-warrior was soaked with sweat, her silk dress stained and plastered to her flushed body.

"Liar!" the brunette laughed, then turned to Elá.  "Better take your spy before we chain her to the wall and drain her for our pleasure."  The smiling sorceress gripped Ronnie's chin and stared into her frightened brown eyes.  "Hmm... that's an attractive idea.  Perhaps The Queen will let us have her.  It's certainly an unpleasant way to die, to be slowly drained, the main course at a Spirit-orgy.  It takes several days, and the orgasms quickly become anything but pleasure.  A suitable punishment for a Spirit-witch spy... don't you think?"

"Ha! Get in line, Vash!" Elá laughed and jerked Ronnie's leash.  "Half the City wants to claim this one."

"I'm coming with you," the brunette Witch-warrior said, "just in case."

Still reeling from the aftereffects of her "examination" (and especially her "recovery"), Ronnie stumbled along behind Elá and in front of Vash, ignoring her surroundings... and then she found herself passing a reinforced squad of guards (all veterans of more than one campaign by their muscles and hard looks)... and they were into the Great Audience Chamber.

Amazons of every cult and discipline, Witch-warriors, Scholars, even Bladesmiths and Engineers, all wandered about in small groups, all attended by trustee slaves burdened with scrolls and charts, most assisted by young Apprentices or Officer Candidates... and in the center of the chamber, blazing like a torch among candles, was... The Queen.

Incredibly attractive; tall, strong and lithe; her features even and beautiful (but hard); "She Who Commands All" dominated the room, a room crowded with the best-of-the-best of Kul'Dakar elite.  The Queen was in her fifties, but moved with the grace and athletic poise of a warrior half her age.  She was dressed in close-fitting practice armor, unadorned save the informal crown banding her forehead.

Elá was busy whispering in the ear of the Captain/Herald beside the entrance.  Vash had passed and taken her place behind the Royal Presence, ready to assist or defend her leader. But all Ronnie was really aware of was... The Queen.

The Queen's eyes were upon her!  Ronnie's heart was hammering, her breath caught in her collared throat.  She felt the blood drain from her face and her knees shake.  Goddess give me strength, she prayed.

"We'll do this now," The Queen commanded, her voice stilling all of the quiet whispered conversations of her court.

Elá nodded to the Herald and jerked Ronnie forward.  "Be strong, Brown Eyes," the Captain of Panther Guards wished her captive.

Elá bowed, and without being told Ronnie dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the cool hard stone floor, shivering in her bonds.

"So," The Queen drawled, examining every inch of the terrified prisoner at her feet, " this is our Spirit-witch spy who escaped from the High Mistress' dungeons, only to be found cavorting with the Sacred Twins."  Several Amazons laughed quietly.  Their amused mockery echoed through the vast chamber.  "Let me see your face, spy."

Ronnie swallowed behind her gag and composed herself.  I'm done being afraid, she decided, and felt the color return to her cheeks and forehead.  She slowly raised her upper body until she was sitting back on her heels, and lifted eyes to boldly meet the Royal Gaze.  The Amazon court gasped at this affront, their hands flashing to the pommels of their swords... but from the corner of one eye Ronnie noted that Elá simply... smiled.

The Queen smiled as well, took a step forward and cupped Ronnie's chin with her strong, sword-calloused, right hand.  "A brave little spy, are we?"  The Queen extended her left hand.  "Key!" she barked.  Elá reached into her pouch and slapped the key to Ronnie's collar into the Royal Palm.  "Eternal Slavery!" was The Queen's next command.  Again the Amazon Court gasped (this time in something approaching pity.)  An Amazon Engineer stepped forward and handed The Queen a small ceramic jar.

Ronnie swallowed behind her gag, feeling the constriction of the steel band locked around her throat.  She knew what was happening... and what it meant.

The Queen opened the jar, dipped the wards of the key it its oily contents, then inserted the now smoking key into the tiny keyhole in Ronnie's collar.  Locking eyes with the prisoner, she gave the key a twist... that another... Acrid tendrils of vapor escaped from the locking mechanism around the key's shaft... then the end snapped off, leaving a clean, smooth plug of gleaming metal where the keyhole had been.

"Forever a slave, in this life and the next," The Queen intoned, "and in all lives to follow, until the Sacred Mountains are worn to sand and your collar crumbles to rust."

"Forever a slave!" the assembled court chorused.

Ronnie stared into The Queen's brown eyes... so beautiful... so cruel... and shook her head in defiance.
 
"A warrior spirit, about to burst free to embrace The Hawk or The Panther," The Queen purred, "...and now trapped in her collar, never to know release; trapped on the wheel, for turn after turn after endless turn; trapped in time as an Eternal Slave, until time itself is no more...  Sometimes my cruelty frightens even Myself." The court laughed (although Ronnie could still detect sympathy in some eyes... including Elá and Vash).

The Queen leaned close and cradled Ronnie's chin once again, her other hand cupping the shivering prisoner's left breast. "So very brave... even now," The Queen whispered, then spoke aloud, for all to hear. "I've wasted enough time on this spy.  More important matters await."

"But your Majesty," Elá protested, "she is a powerful Spirit-witch.  Surely you would want to question her."

The Queen smiled.  "And perhaps you would like to question her for me? ...perhaps in your bed?"  The court laughed, as did Elá, not in the least offended by The Queen's teasing.  The Royal Gaze shifted back to Ronnie... and the Royal Grip tightened on her breast until the Eternal Slave winced in pain.  The Queen released her grip, and Ronnie turned her gaze to the side.

"Enough," The Queen said. " I don't have time to indulge myself questioning petty captives... even brave, beautiful, dangerous, seductive captives.  Bury her alive in the Caverns of Kor.  Let the bone beetles interrogate her."

---

Poor Ronnie!
Did She (Who Commands All) REALLY say:
"BURY HER ALIVE"???
That's not very nice!
And say, don't we all recognize the Kul'Dakar's Dread Queen?
(...First name rhymes with "Fargo," "Embargo," "Key Largo?")
What's gonna happen???
Is this truly...

In a word... NO!
It's the end of Chapter 3. :-) Obviously this thing is a FULL BLOWN (so to speak) STORY trapped in the melodrama format! (...trapped like Poor Ronnie! (Oh... the IRONY!!! )) Rest assured, Ronnie's Virtual Adventure continues... (...& we get to watch!)
...Stay Tuned for the NEXT thrilling episode of...
◄	Revisit Chapter 2		►