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 on what was "VR" & what was "R"); had been captured by the cruel but fictional Kul'Dakar Amazons (the very same slaveholding (& handling) Ancient Warrior Culture Ronnie herself had helped invent); accused of being a "Spirit-witch" & Spy; "stolen" & "entertained" by the "Sacred Twins" (who nick-named her "Neeka"); & sentenced by the Kul'Dakar's Dread Queen to Eternal Slavery [it's a religious thing] &...
...to be BURIED ALIVE in the Caverns of Kor!!!

---

Poor Ronnie!

---

Ronnie stumbled after Elá in a daze.  Naked, wrists, thumbs and elbows bound together with white silk rope, arms pinned to her torso; more rope cleaving her crotch and lashed to her thumbs, mouth stuffed with one blue silk scarf and cleaved with another, leather slave hobbles buckled around her ankles, steel slave collar around her throat (now permanently so, the lock mechanism having been fused by The Queen), and the leather lead snapped to the ring in the front of the collar firmly in the hand of Captain Elá, the Panther Cult Kul'Dakar who had captured her... two days ago... or was it one day?  None of that mattered.   Nothing mattered.  The Queen's final words echoed in her mind:

'Bury her alive in the Caverns of Kor.' 
'Let the bone beetles interrogate her.'
'Bury her alive...'
'Bury her alive...'

Ronnie's heart hammered in her well-roped chest.  Her captive breasts heaved.  Her eyes welled and a sob escaped her cloying gag.   Elá stopped and looked back.  They were in a dark, narrow passage with an arched roof, the floor beneath their feet a ramp leading down, deep under the base of the Kul'Dak, the Queen's Palace.  The pomp and politics of The Queen's Audience Chamber was far, far behind them and they were alone, for the moment.

Elá smiled  cruelly and pushed Ronnie against the cold stone of the passage wall.  "Not as strong as you thought you were," the gloating blonde purred, "eh, Brown Eyes?"  One hand gripped Ronnie's short, tousled hair, the other her right breast.  The Amazon leaned close, her leather armor and tan skin sliding against her captive's toned, inescapably bound body.  She leaned even closer and gave Ronnie's left cheek and eye a slow, languid lick.  The prisoner shuddered and squirmed in her bonds.  "The tears of a terrified slave," Elá whispered, "sweet as honey wine."

Ronnie found her fear turning to anger, her wet eyes flashed and she kneed her smug, cruel, Amazon captor in the crotch... only her hobble absorbed most of the force and her gloating tormentor experienced little more than a slightly more than gentle nudge.

Elá laughed and kissed Ronnie's gagged lips.  "Oh, Brown Eyes," she murmured, "such a waste.  The body of a warrior... The spirit of a warrior... The soul of a slave.  Breaking you to your true self would have been such pleasure: a long, slow, journey of pain and ecstasy.  A journey of months, even years, until you were ready for the Begging Ceremony, ready to confess your craving for The Yoke.  How I would have loved to have been your guide."

Ronnie mewed through her gag and shook her head, struggling to push her tormentor away.

Elá laughed again and kissed Ronnie's nipples, first the left, then the right.  "Such a waste... but The Queen has spoken.  Let's get going, shall we?  We have leagues to travel and I have to make the journey back as well."  Ronnie shuddered and lurched forward as Elá jerked her leash and continued down the ramp.

After descending more ramps and stairwells Ronnie found herself at a heavy wooden door bound with iron bands.  Elá knocked and the door opened.  Ronnie was hustled through and found herself in a guardroom, surrounded by a mixed squad of Amazon warriors.  They snapped to attention.  

The leader of the squad was a Hawk Cult veteran in her early thirties, a tall blonde with high cheekbones, ice blue eyes, and a strong, lithe, athletic figure.  She was dressed in a light variant of the brown leather harness and chain mail armor favored by her cult.  Heavy rings, designed to bind her to the saddle of her winged mount were clipped flush to her harness' corset-like waist belt.  "How may we serve you, Captain?" she inquired, thumping her left breast with her right fist in salute.

"By Royal Command this condemned spy is to be buried in the caverns," Elá said, nodding at Ronnie.  "When does the next patrol depart for the Bat Grotto?"

"This is that patrol, and we depart almost immediately.  Your timing is perfect."

Elá laughed.  "To your orders," she barked, and the squad resumed their preparations.  "I'll accompany you, uh..."

"Squad Leader Kira," the tall blonde answered, "detached to The Queen's Guard."

"Elá, detached to the High Mistress," Ronnie's captor answered, gripping the Squad Leader's forearm.  "Well met in Her service, Kira."

"Well met in the service of She Who Commands All," Kira responded, returning the grip.

Ronnie watched as the squad (two of Kira's fellow Hawk-riders, a very young Panther-rider, a Cave Lion trooper,  two Cheetah-riders, a young Kestrel-rider Scout, and a Jungle Scout), buckled on their various swords, sabers, and knives, slung satchels of supplies, water skins, climbing rope, quivers, and short, recurved, compound bows over their shoulders, and stood ready for inspection.

Meanwhile, Elá had hitched Ronnie's leash to a convenient iron ring and was outfitting herself from the guardroom stores with water skin, field rations, extra rope, quiver, and bow.  Kira gestured, inviting Elá to conduct the inspection, but the officer politely declined.

Kira paced down the line, testing the hang of her troops' equipment, the fit of their armor, their readiness for long travel in the field.  She paused at the young Panther Cult Amazon, staring down at the short, green-eyed redhead.  "Try not to trip over your feet this time, Tamarie," she said, giving the blushing warrior's quiver a shake.  "You're under the eyes of a superior Cult Sister."

The rest of the squad (and Elá) laughed, and Tamarie bit her lower lip coyly, smiled at Kira, then shifting her gaze to Elá.  "Yes, Squad Leader," she muttered, snapping a smart salute.

Kira returned the salute, took a step back, and addressed her squad.  "Stay close and keep an eye on your squad-mates.  No side trips for water or pretty rocks.  We don't want the Red Ghost to take another trophy."

Half the squad laughed (the younger half).  The rest simply nodded.

Elá noticed Ronnie's puzzled expression and leaned close.  "There are many dangerous things in the Caverns of Kor," she whispered in the prisoner's ear, "many of which would be very happy to devour a tasty morsel such as yourself... but the 'Red Ghost' is one of the few things you don't have to worry about.  The Ghost only takes unwary Amazons... not  slave-criminals."

Her leash back in Elá's hand, surrounded by the members of the patrol, Ronnie shuffled behind her captor and executioner out of the guard room and into a large chamber.  An iron door clanged shut behind them.  Another iron door was opposite.  Both walls were lined with narrow vertical slits.  Through the slits Ronnie could see several Amazons manning heavy crossbows.  She looked up and found several small openings in the high ceiling.   Murder holes, she realized, for dropping hot oil or burning tar.  This area is as well defended as Victory Gate.  The final portal opened, slowly rising into the ceiling.

"Service to the City!" Kira shouted.  "Service to The Queen!"

"Fear is for slaves!" her squad chanted in response, and the patrol stepped off.

The first mile through the caverns was a literal maze, smooth walls of dressed stone or native rock, designed to confuse, separate, and frustrate would-be attackers.  Then the caverns opened into an entirely natural maze of fumeroles and lava vents.  The long snaking passageways divided, crossed, divided again, and crossed again, rising and falling, some slopes gentle, some decidedly steep.  Difficult going for a bound and hobbled prisoner, but the Amazons set a fast pace and Ronnie had no choice but to stumble along in Elá's wake.

"If you get lost, Tamarie," Kira called back over her shoulder, "have the courtesy to find a place where at least three tunnels cross before you sit down and die.  That way the odds are better the City will eventually be able to recover your equipment."

The young Panther Cult Amazon grinned as her squad-mates hooted and laughed.  Such ribbing was an inexperienced warrior's lot.

Ronnie found herself sweating, partially from the effort of having to keep pace while hobbled, but mainly because the air in the caverns was hot and humid.  She was becoming thirsty as well, very thirsty.  Claustrophobically small, dark, and narrow tunnels alternated with huge galleries, some with ceilings high enough to be pierced by small openings to the sky, all lined by hanging ropes of jungle vines.  In such chambers shafts of tropical sunlight pierced the depths.  In other areas, red light glowed from deep fissures and the heat was intense.  One such fissure was near their path and Ronnie glanced down to find a flowing stream of molten lava, hundreds of meters below.

After about two hours Kira called a halt.  The Jungle Scout and Kestrel Scout nodded at a hand signal from their Squad Leader and darted ahead, their bows at the ready.  

Elá motioned for Ronnie to sit and she dropped to the ground.  The Captain tossed the end of her prisoner's lead to Tamarie.  "Watch her for me, Cult Sister," she said, and joined Kira at the head of the resting patrol.  "No water for her!" she called back.

"Yes, Captain," Tamarie answered, eyeing Ronnie's nude, bound, glistening body with leering interest.  "She must really hate this one," she whispered to another of the Amazons, then took a drink from her waterskin.

Swallowing behind the cloying gag stuffed in her parched mouth, Ronnie watched miserably as her young, red-haired, gloating custodian drank.

The veteran Tamarie had addressed took a slow drink from her own skin and shook her head.  "If the Captain hated her, she'd give her all the water she could hold, fortified with honey and wake-root.  The beetles can take a long time to find living meat, and even longer chewing their way to important organs.  If that one..."  She nodded at Ronnie.  "...were to die of thirst before they really got started on her... it would be a gift from the goddesses."  Her eyes looked Ronnie up and down, then turned back to Tamarie.  "If anything... the Captain's soft on her."

Tamarie started to defend her Cult Sister, then eyed Ronnie again, taking her time.  Her lips twisted in a feral grin.  "I can understand that," she whispered.

Ronnie stared back at the young warrior, miserable but defiant.  Her bonds were inescapable, but she fought them anyway.

"Goddess how I'd love to teach her some manners," Tamarie murmured, a cruel smile curling her lips.

The veteran glanced at Tamarie, then at Ronnie.  "Hey Kira!" she called out softly, pitching her voice to carry only within the group.  "The Panther Cub needs some time in the slave brothel really bad.  Haven't you been putting numb-weed in her loincloth, like a good Squad Leader?"

"Cut the chat!" Kira snapped (stifling a smile, as did Elá).  She gave a hand signal.  Half the squad climbed to their feet and settled their gear for the march.  When they were ready (and alertly scanning their surroundings), the rest of the squad made their preparations.

Tamarie dragged Ronnie to her feet and jerked her leash.  Stumbling on her hobble, her eyes glazed and her throat parched, she was pulled towards Elá.

"You keep her," Elá said, then glanced at Kira (who nodded her assent).

Ronnie watched as Elá readjusted her equipment and unslung her bow.  The Amazon officer strung the compact, powerful weapon and pulled two arrows from her quiver.  One she held parallel to the bow with her grip hand, the other she notched to the string.

Ronnie yelped through her gag in surprise.  Tamarie's free hand was clutching her crotch rope.  "Give me any trouble," the young redhead growled, "and... and..."

"You'll bury her alive?" Kira suggested.  "Never make threats to a captive unless they mean something, Kitten."  The squad leader then reached out, grabbed Ronnie's right nipple and gave it a twist.  Ronnie writhed and mewed through her gag.  "Give my warrior any trouble," the tall blonde hissed, "and I'll flay your breasts before we bury you, so the beetles will smell your blood and start dining before we're out of bowshot... understood?"

Ronnie nodded miserably and Kira released her nipple.  The captive twisted her bound wrists and thumbs (causing her crotch rope to slide), then noticed that Elá was staring at her, a sad, almost kind expression on her normally cruel face.  They locked eyes... then Elá turned her back, ignoring the condemned captive.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the head of the short column.  The Kestrel Scout (a young, very beautiful Nubian) appeared and whispered in Kira's ear.  The Squad Leader gave a hand signal, and they advanced.

Almost immediately the squad came to a vast gallery of huge tumbled boulders.  As they picked their way among the jumble of gray rocks Ronnie heard quiet gasps from the Amazons ahead.  Tamarie jerked her lead and they rounded the sharp edge of a room-sized boulder.  Off to the side was a lizard... a very big, very dead lizard.  Perhaps twenty feet from its snout to its whip-like tail, it was a dull mottled gray that precisely matched the color and texture of the surrounding rocks.  Its mouth was open, revealing a set of very nasty teeth and a long, forked, lolling tongue.  An arrow was buried in its right eye, almost to the fletching.  As Ronnie watched, the monster's coloration began to change, slowly fading to a light, uniform gray.

The Jungle Scout was kneeling beside the reptilian corpse.  She pulled a short-bladed knife from her belt and began digging one of the larger teeth from the lizard's lower jaw.

"Good shot," Kira said.

"The Hawk Chick made it," the camouflaged veteran stated, and tossed the tooth to the young Nubian.

The tooth was sharp, smooth, and slightly recurved.  The Kestrel Scout smiled, accepting the muttered praise of her squad-mates.

"I don't have to tell you to wrap that thing and wash it the first chance you get, do I?" Kira asked.

"No, Squad Leader," the grinning Amazon answered, then nodded towards a shiny black beetle scuttling across the rocky floor towards the dead lizard.  "No blood scent."

"Look," Tamarie whispered, giving Ronnie's leash a jerk and pointing at the beetle, "it's one of your new friends!"

Ronnie stared dully at the thumb-sized insect.  So that's a 'bone beetle'.

Elá nodded at the now ghostly pale lizard.   "I've never seen one that big," she muttered.

Kira shrugged.  "I wasn't there, but one twice that size took one of my Cult Sisters, about three moons ago."

"May the strong wings of the Hawk shelter her," Elá muttered.

Kira nodded her thanks and gave a hand signal.  The scouts scampered ahead and melted into the rocks, and the march resumed.

The patrol walked for two more hours.  They passed through various tunnels and chambers, but for Ronnie it became a blur of gray, red, and brown rocks, gleaming white and pink limestone, and red and black lava.   She stumbled along in a daze of torment and thirst, panting through her cloying gag, stumbling on her hobbles, her tight silk bonds pinching her sore shoulders, aching arms, chaffed wrists, and raw sex.

And then they stopped.  Ronnie dropped to her knees, exhausted, then slowly lifted her head.   Elá and Kira were inspecting a vertical fissure in the cavern wall.  Two huge slabs of basalt had slammed together and buckled, producing a triangular alcove roughly a half meter wide and deep and three meters in height.

"It should do nicely," Elá was saying.

"We can carry blocks from that slope we passed about a quarter mile back and build the wall," Kira said, then pointed to a large slab of basalt on the cavern floor.  "Then we lift that slab and lean it against the front.  Only two ways in or out.  The Scouts can plug the holes while we work."

Elá nodded and Kira began barking orders.  Ronnie watched as the patrol cached their supplies (but not their weapons), the scouts deployed, and the Amazons formed up and departed.  Only Tamarie remained behind.  She selected a coil of hemp climbing rope from the cache and sauntered towards Ronnie, a cruel smile on her face.

"I've been ordered to get you ready to feed the beetles," Tamarie announced.  "White silk rope is too valuable to let it rot on a skeleton."  She dropped the rope next to Ronnie's ankles and began unbuckling the prisoner's hobbles.

This is it, Ronnie realized.  I don't have a snowball's chance in hell, but this is my last chance.  As Tamarie removed her hobble and tossed it aside, Ronnie summoned her remaining strength and kicked the grinning redhead in the jaw.  The young Kul'Dakar warrior staggered and fell back on her rump, blinking and half-stunned.  Ronnie scrambled to her feet, as did Tamarie.  The Amazon drew her sword, but Ronnie kicked the blade from her hand.  She then executed a perfect swing-kick and caught her opponent squarely in the solar plexus.  Tamarie staggered again, and Ronnie sent a second swing-kick towards her head.  Her foot connected... and Tamarie was down.

Panting through her gag, Ronnie gazed at the unconscious Amazon sprawled at her feet on the dark rocks.  Arms stringently bound to her torso Ronnie was far from free... But not entirely helpless, eh Amazon?  Ronnie scanned the nearby rocks, looking for Tamarie's sword.  I'll cut myself free (somehow), steal some weapons and equipment, sneak up behind the lead Scout, and...  

Ronnie heard a noise behind her back.  She turned—and her last impression was of a fist approaching her face.

Ronnie opened her eyes.  She was on her back.  Overhead was dark gray rock.  Dark gray rock was also her bed.  What felt like the same blue silk gag was stuffed in her parched mouth and bound between her clenched teeth.  She lifted her head (with difficulty) and found that the rest of her bonds had been changed.  She was hitched and wrapped from collar to toes with an overabundance of tight, cunningly interlaced, and very snug hemp rope.  Her elbows and wrists were bound behind her back.  Her fingers and thumbs as well, and a lattice of rope bit into the flesh of her arms from her wrists to her shoulders and was anchored to the back of her collar.  More rope, hitched through the ring in the front of her collar, pinned her arms to her torso, cleaved her crotch, and bound her legs together from thighs to knees to shins to ankles to insteps to her very toes.  All her bonds were hitched together, one tight band pulling on another, and being pulled in turn, and there was no slack in any of them.   They tied up my toes, she mused, still not fully alert.   Were they afraid they'd get away?  She squirmed and struggled, exploring her predicament.   Goddess... I can barely wiggle .

Miserable, sore, and aching, Ronnie turned her head.  Members of Kira's patrol were coming and going, adding to a large stack of head-sized rocks growing beside the narrow alcove in the cavern wall...  (A thrill of terror passed through Ronnie, and a moan of despair escaped her gag.)  ...the alcove Elá and Kira had selected... for her tomb.

Tamarie was sprawled on her back on the other side of the chamber.  Kira was standing over the still unconscious young warrior with Elá seated comfortably on a boulder nearby, smiling serenely.  Kira had a waterskin in her hand.  She took a large mouthful, and spat it in Tamarie's face.  The youthful redhead sputtered and tossed her head, her eyes opened, and she started to rise.

Kira planted the hobnailed sole of her left boot-sandal between her subordinate's breasts and slammed Tamarie back onto her back.  "I've decided to add prisoner handling techniques to the formal training regimen for this patrol," she announced in a loud voice.  She was addressing all present, but her icy blue eyes remained locked with Tamarie's wide green eyes.  "Some of you obviously need it!  Which of you scum want to volunteer to act as training-slave?"

The laboring Amazons laughed.  One called out, her voice pitched in a mocking, artificial soprano, "Me, Squad Leader.  Choose me!"  

Another joined the fun.  "I already know everything, Squad Leader, so let me be the training-slave!"

Kira laughed, her foot still on Tamarie's chest.  "Why thank you, Kitten," she smiled down at the miserable redhead.  "But I tell you what, I'll give you a choice: you can be training-slave for the remainder of the patrol, and... say... for half a moon afterwards back at barracks... or I'll let your superior Cult Sister take you back to the Panther wing for cult discipline."

Tamarie's eyes popped wide and darted from Kira, to Elá (whose smile broadened), and back to Kira.  "I... I choose whatever duty my Squad Leader assigns me," she stammered.

Kira took a step back.  "Get up!" she barked, and Tamarie scrambled to her feet.  "Strip to the skin, put those hobbles on your clumsy feet, meaning, of course, the hobbles from the Royal prisoner that almost escaped due to your slovenly, stupid, undisciplined, inattention to duty, gag yourself with your smelly loin cloth, and then you can haul all the rest of the rocks we need to carry out The Queen's orders, so your squad mates can take a well-deserved rest."   Glaring at Ronnie, Tamarie began peeling off her armor.  "The rest of you lot," Kira continued, raising her voice to address the patrol, "start thinking of ways to entertain a difficult prisoner during a forced march.  I want one good idea from each of you before we start back!  Best idea gets first turn with Kitten's 'training' tonight."

Cruel... Ronnie mused, even with their own.

Save for her loincloth, Tamarie was now nude.  She neatly arranged her weapons (for later redistribution to her squad-mates), rolled her armor, boot-sandals, and personal gear into a compact trail bundle and tied it with a thong, then stalked over to Ronnie and began buckling the hobbles she had removed from the captive around her own ankles, as ordered.  "I hope the beetles take a week to eat you," she muttered.  "Then, I hope you wake up in hell to find more beetles chewing on your slave carcass... forever! "  Still glaring at the helpless, suffering Ronnie, she removed her loincloth, tied an overhand knot in its center, took the knot in her teeth, and tied the ends of the cloth together behind her neck, pulling it tight until her cheeks bulged.  She then stalked away to haul rocks to Ronnie's tomb, stumbling once on the hobble, to her now lounging squad mates vast enjoyment.

"Don't let the Red Ghost get you!" one called after her, and the others laughed.

Ronnie watched Tamarie's nude, lithe form until she was out of sight, then turned towards the alcove.  One of the Amazons was using the flat end of a hand ax to hammer small spikes into the back of the coffin-sized fissure.  The dull, metallic pinging continued for some time; then the Amazon stepped back and Ronnie beheld an array of more than a dozen small rings, outlining the hourglass shape of a female figure.

"Let's get her ready," Kira ordered, and two Amazons approached Ronnie's squirming, mewing form.

"C'mon, Beetle Meat," one said, and they hauled Ronnie towards the alcove.  

Soon Ronnie was upright in the alcove, her shoulders, arms, buttocks, and legs hard against the cold stone, and more rope was tightening around her body.  Threaded through the rings of the spikes, loops and bands of rope were laced in a diamond pattern and pulled tight across Ronnie's already totally helpless form, until her skin was dimpled by the rough hemp and crushed against the rough rock.  A series of running knots were tied, interlaced with the underlying bonds, from Ronnie's shoulders to her ankles.

"There," one of the Amazons said as they finished.  The Cave Lion Trooper, a brawny brunette with hazel eyes, smiled sadistically and gave the side of Ronnie's gagged face a gentle pat.  "Eventually the blood soaks the rope," she explained, "and the beetles chew them as well... so we use a lot of rope and a lot of knots."

The Amazons returned to their lounging squad mates and Ronnie tested her new bonds.  She found she could barely squirm, could barely even twitch.  The ropes were so tight, so numerous, and so well arranged, that other than bobbing her gagged but otherwise unrestrained head, she might almost have been paralyzed from the neck down.

The Amazons watched her toss her head, grinning and whispering among themselves.  Finally, Ronnie let her head loll.  No longer providing entertainment... she was ignored.

Tamarie returned, her nude body glistening with sweat, panting through her gag, the large stone clutched in her hands banding the lithe tensioned muscles of her arms and shoulders.  She added the rock to the pile, glared at Ronnie, and departed for another.  This continued for several trips.

"Start the wall, Kitten," Kira finally ordered, and Tamarie set a large rock at Ronnie's bound feet.  "Make sure the base is broad and well-seated and the stones lock."

The building of the wall took some time.  Ronnie watched miserably as stone was piled on stone, all carefully chosen and set by Tamarie, the nude, sweating redhead pausing occasionally to wipe her forehead and smile above her gag at her helpless victim.  None of the stones touched Ronnie.  The toiling Amazon was careful to leave a gap of a few inches between Ronnie's well-roped body and the inner face of the gradually climbing wall.

  The top of the wall reached the level of Ronnie's knees... then her thighs... her stomach... her breasts... and finally her collared neck.  Her pleading eyes wide with terror, she watched as Tamarie set a large stone to the left; another to the right; then continued building upwards, leaving a small opening before Ronnie's face.

Helpless, gagged, naked and suffering, Ronnie felt the grip of panic stealing over her mind.  Mildly claustrophobic all her life, this was her worst nightmare come true... come horribly, horribly true!  She panted through her gag and fought to escape her bonds.   Impossible!  This is really going to happen!  Please goddess! she prayed, oh please no!  Not this!

The wall building stopped.  Tamarie had completed her task.  Ronnie struggled and whimpered through her gag as she watched the patrol don their gear and prepare to leave, to abandon her to her ghastly fate.

  Elá stepped into view.  Her cruel, beautiful face became Ronnie's entire world.

"Such a waste," the Amazon officer said, then her expression became... wistful, almost sad.  "When the beetles come," she sighed, "think of the things that might have been.  Think of the pleasure and joy of a mistress pleased with your service.   Think of the sweet spice of pain mixed with the rich ecstasy of release as she plays your slave body like a finely tuned harp.  As the pain turns to agony and the endless, suffering hours of your final journey begins, think of me, Neeka Brown Eyes.  When I'm back in Valpakra tonight, I'll find a strong, beautiful slave with short brown hair and big brown eyes, and I'll bind her and she'll pleasure me... and I'll think of you in your tomb... waiting to meet your goddess."  The blonde Amazon gazed into Ronnie's eyes... and the cruel hardness returned to her angelic face.  "You never should have come to Kul'Dakar, Spirit-witch," Elá said evenly, and backed away.

Ronnie heard Kira bark an order, several seconds passed, then a huge slab of stone rose into view and inched towards the opening before her face.  As the Amazons heaved, Ronnie saw Tamarie; naked, hobbled, in the process of being bound by one of her fellow Amazons, her green eyes smiling at Ronnie above her gag as bands of rope tightened around her torso—then Ronnie could see nothing but stone—and finally darkness... total... ink black darkness.  Ronnie listened to her heart hammer, her breath pant past her gag and through her flaring nostrils.  She whined through her gag... and the whine became a scream!

Time passed... how much time Ronnie had no idea.  Her panic ebbed and flowed.  She twisted in the python embrace of her bonds, whimpering without shame through her gag, blinking back stinging tears as she stared into the total darkness.  A thousand times she imagined strange, glowing, shapes sharing the tiny confines of her stone tomb.  A thousand times she heard voices calling to her, speaking her name, whispering urgent, indecipherable instructions.  A thousand times she flinched in her bonds, imagining things crawling on her skin, touching her face, pulling on her hair.   She wondered, Have the beetles finally come?  But there was no pain (other than the tormenting cramps of her rope enforced immobility and her still growing thirst).  The beetles had not come... not yet.

She thought of Elá... of the Sacred Twins... of Kul'Dakar's Cruel Queen... and her terror subsided.  Maybe the goddess will grant me revenge, she mused.  Maybe when I'm reborn I'll be granted a chance to...

Ronnie heard the noise of stone scraping on stone.  At first, she dismissed it as another hallucination... then it returned... and there was a glimmer of light before her totally dark adapted eyes, a glimmer that resolved into the stone face of her tomb... and the face was receding, falling away!  There was a resounding crash and dust filled the air of the cavern.  Still trapped in her coffin-like prison, Ronnie coughed through her gag and sneezed violently.  

The ghostly, pale face of a woman came into view.  She had flaming red hair, full red lips, pale, fair skin, and she was beautiful, very beautiful.  Her expression was cold and detached, the hint of a slightly sardonic smile on her angelic features.  Ronnie was mesmerized.   She... she's gorgeous, the captive mused, so... gorgeous!   Not speaking, not moving, the red-haired vision stared into Ronnie's eyes. The woman's eyes were dark, dark as night, dark as the tomb.  In the eerie, orange light washing the visitor's face, Ronnie couldn't tell what color they were.   A death-dream, Ronnie decided, it's a death-dream... she's a death-dream.  Are you my guide?  Are you to lead me to the goddess?

Still not speaking, the redhead slowly raised her hand.  Palm up, it held a small mound of white powder.  The redhead pursed her full, sensuous lips, and blew the powder into Ronnie's face.

Ronnie blinked once and began to sneeze—then all was darkness.

THE END

of Trapped in Time!

OF COURSE NOT!
It's the end of Chapter 4.  :-) Rest assured, Ronnie's Virtual Adventure continues... (...& we get to watch! )
... Stay Tuned for the NEXT thrilling episode of...
◄		Revisit Chapter 3		►