DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			A SERIAL MELODRAMA by Van © 2003

When last we left Our Heroine, Ronnie Allbriton (TESSERACT Game Designer & Tae-bo Tart); she was trapped in Virtual Reality with no memory of the "real world"; had been captured by the cruel but fictional Kul'Dakar Amazons (the Ancient Warrior Culture she herself 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 be BURIED ALIVE in the Caverns of Kor... & was!  ...then was rescued by the Alluring & Mysterious "Red Ghost," was transported to the Ravishing Redhead's Subterranean Lair... & WAS EATEN BY A BIG SNAKE!!!  (She got better.)  Rescued again by The Red Ghost (who now lets "Neeka" call her "Teela") the pair have joined forces to fight the hated Kul'Dakar (& their Dread Queen!)  As we rejoin our story, Teela & Ronnie are plotting to reenter the city & rescue Princess Tollie!

"This sucks!" Ronnie muttered, eyeing the pile of mush in the crude wooden bowl before her.  Naked but for a skimpy and very ragged loincloth, kneeling on the stone floor of The Red Ghost's Lair, her hands crossed and bound behind her back, she lifted her gaze to her "trainer" and scowled.

Teela sighed, leaned down, grabbed a handful of her "trainee's" hair, and jerked her head back.  "I keep telling you.  You have got to have the reflexes of a slave.  One minor slip and you arouse suspicion... or get your throat cut for disrespect.  No untrained slave gets out of Valpakra, much less out of the city as the personal slave of a wanderer."

After much discussion Ronnie and the Red Ghost had settled on roles for their expedition to rescue Princess Tollie (King Ancillar's daughter, last seen as a hostage/slave on Meg's crew inside Valpakra, the Slave House of Kul'Dakar, capital city of the Kul'Dakar Amazon Empire).

The Red Ghost (a.k.a. Teela) had many choices for her disguise.  Over the years she had captured the armor, clothing, and equipment of virtually every amazon cult and guild.  She had decided to portray a Kestrel Scout, one of the hawk-riding, Hawk-goddess worshiping warrior cults who specialized in reconnaissance and swift raids.  She would garnish her Hawk badge with a feather and lock of her own hair, both dipped in blood (the sign of mourning) and if questioned (which was highly unlikely) would say her mount was slain in battle.  Amazons unfortunate enough to be thus dismounted (and survive) often went through a period of extended mourning for their mounts, and it wasn't unusual for them to decide to "wander" for a few months, to pray and meditate in the wilderness, deciding what to do with the rest of their lives.  (The mount/rider bond was very personal, whether the mount was a cat or a hawk, and not easily shrugged off or replaced.)

Her costume was therefore a bandeau, loincloth, and cloak of coarse linen woven in a subtle horizontal sawtooth pattern, the earth tone colors chosen to match and complement the feathers of her mount (and not coincidentally, to act as excellent camouflage).   She also wore a harness belt and soft thigh boots, both in a mottled rust-red.  Her weapons were various small blades, a short recurved bow and quiver, and a lightweight saber.

Ronnie had no choice as to her role.  The iron collar magically and physically fused around her neck limited her disguise options to one: slave.  A small ring-like bronze "slave-tag" disk with Teela's mark was crimped around the front ring mount of her collar. (The tag was magically charged, the means by which they would penetrate the city's magic defenses with Teela's Spirit-witch powers remaining intact... they hoped.)  The only other change: "Neeka's" skimpy loincloth was now a much faded and frayed rag that matched (had once matched) her Kestrel-Scout mistress' attire.  Kul'Dakar personal slaves were often "clothed" with their mistress' cast-offs.

They had been training for more than a week.  After some debate, Ronnie's sword practice had continued.  While it was death for a slave to so much as touch a blade, much less use one to threaten an amazon, Teela had finally agreed that if things went bad, very bad, it would be better to have a sword-wielding novice at her side than a cringing slave.  Ronnie was getting reasonably competent with the short sword, and had incorporated a few Tae-bo moves into her style that might surprise the average amazon.

The rest of the training was equally rigorous but not at all war-like.  Ronnie's days of dining Kul'Dakar-style, comfortably reclined on her side on a soft pallet, were gone.  She now took all her meals in a wooden bowl, kneeling on the floor, and at least once a day, that meal was "slave mush," the almost tasteless starchy mixture of rice, grains, and dried meat that was the staple of a Kul'Dakar slave's diet.  Slave mush could be baked into bricks and with appropriate precautions stored for months, then soaked in water and heated (or served cold).

"You have to get used to it," Teela explained, "and you have to learn to eat it without making a mess of your entire face... like you've been doing it for years."

"It still sucks," Ronnie complained.

Her hand still clutching Ronnie's hair, Teela sighed again and leaned close, touching her forehead to Ronnie's.  "I'm trying to save your life, Neeka," she whispered.  "It's the small things that betray a spy.  The amazon bitches ignore their slaves, but if something, anything makes a guard suspicious, or a passing shopper in the market sees you do something funny, or a trustee slave going about her duties catches you watching a guard..."   Teela's grip tightened.  "...you'll die!"  She released Ronnie's hair and took a step back.

"I'm sorry, mistress," Ronnie whispered.  "I'll do better."

"See that you do!" Teela barked, "and for being disobedient... no supper tonight, and you sleep turtle-tied and gagged."

"Yes mistress," Ronnie muttered, her eyes downcast.

Teela smiled.  "That's better.  Good reaction.  Now, eat!"

"Yes mistress," Ronnie repeated, and ate, trying her best to consume the lumpy warm paste in her bowl without making a mess.

"I was kidding about the no supper and turtle-tie bit," Teela admitted.

Ronnie paused, but her eyes remained on her food.  "I know that, mistress," she said.  "Mistress Teela spoils her lowly slave."

Teela laughed and settled gracefully to her knees.  "'Personal slave' is the first grade of trustee," she lectured, and dipped the fingers of her right hand into Ronnie's mush.  "It's expected that you and I would have a... special relationship."  She held her hand before Ronnie's smiling lips and the "personal slave" licked the gooey mess from her mistress' pale fingers.  "You might hear an amazon refer to you as my 'slave-wife.'  If that happens, you blush, suppress a smile, and keep your eyes on the ground.  I, on the other hand, finger my sword hilt, and try to determine if it was meant as a good-natured jibe or an insult."

"'Slave-wife'," Ronnie purred, keeping her manner properly subservient but clearly enjoying the blush the term brought to Teela's beautiful face.

"Stop that!" Teela barked, "or you really will sleep gagged and turtle-tied."

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie answered, her lips quivering with suppressed mirth as she licked the remaining mush from Teela's fingers.

Teela stood and walked away.  "Finish your lunch," she called back over her shoulder.  "More rock-hauling this afternoon."

Ronnie frowned and started to complain, but caught herself.  "Yes, mistress," she sighed, and resumed eating.

"Rock-hauling" was accomplished with a device routinely used by Kul'Dakar slaves to carry heavy loads: a yoke-frame.  There were no roads leading to Kul'Dakar.  The mountainous jungle terrain surrounding the city and its border colonies made road building difficult, but the rapid fluid mobility of their giant hawk and giant cat cavalries was the Kul'Dakar's strongest military advantage, and the foolishness of allowing the rapid movement of an invading foe obvious.  Only a network of easily defended foot trails connected amazon outposts, terrace farms, and the main city.  Commerce was accomplished with slaves as the principal beast-of-burden, the "yoke-frame" both a tool and a unit of measure.  (One yoke-frame equals one half an average slave's weight.)

The frame itself was essentially a wooden pack frame with hip belt, shoulder straps, a head sling at the top, and handles and wrist cuffs at the bottom.  Straps and frame were well-padded, and properly adjusted, distributed the pack's load evenly.  This was not for the slave's comfort, of course, but to allow the extended hauling of heavy loads without damaging the slave's hide.

Intellectually Ronnie agreed that being inescapably strapped to a padded frame and hauling half her weight in large rocks up and down the several miles of tunnels surrounding the Red Ghost's Lair was excellent conditioning; but also, like eating mush from a bowl on the floor like a pet dog... it SUCKED!

"You have to get used to the frame," Teela had explained.  "Once we leave the tunnels and reach the first amazon trail, we could be surprised by a patrol or a passing caravan at any time, so I can't pamper you with a light load; and you can't arrive at the city with chaffed shoulders and hips.  There's a headstall with a bit-gag and blinders that can supplement the head sling.  Don't make me use it!"

That first day Ronnie had managed a muttered "Yes, mistress," and had staggered down the passage glowering at Teela's back.  Since then the loads had gotten heavier, but to her infinite surprise, the effort required to haul them less (and the nightly hot tub soaks and deep massages by Teela's skilled fingers almost compensated for the pain).  The stones were used to build an additional work table in the Lair's kitchen area, nearer the fire pit.

Finally, the agreed upon day of departure arrived.  "Slave" and "Kestrel Scout" consumed the last of the fresh meat and fruit in Teela's larder for breakfast.  Ronnie watched as Teela donned her weapons, slung her rolled cloak and a small satchel, then waited with slave patience as she was strapped into her yoke-frame and their trail supplies lashed down.

"That's not very much, mistress," Ronnie noted, then blinked in surprise when Teela jerked off her slave loincloth and began folding it into a narrow bandage.

"You forget we're taking on a consignment of 'trade goods' from the Apemen," the grinning redhead said, then blindfolded her beast-of-burden.

"Hey!  How do you expect me to follow the trail?" Ronnie complained, then yelped when Teela slapped her face.

"Not even one step away from the Lair and already you've forgotten your place."

"Sorry, mistress," Ronnie muttered.  "How you you expect this lowly slave to follow the trail, mistress?"

"That's better," Teela purred, and gave Ronnie's face a gentle slap, "but a little too impertinent.  Try again."

Ronnie felt her cheeks coloring, but she kept her blindfolded head lowered (not a difficult task as Teela was now fitting and adjusting the frame's head sling).  "Forgive me mistress.  This slave is afraid she'll stumble, mistress."

"Much better," Teela said (a very irritating tone in her gloating voice).  She clipped a rope lead to the ring dangling from the frame's sternum strap.  "I won't let you fall.  Trust mistress."

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie muttered.

"The Apemen are wary of strangers.  If the Kul'Dakar ever learn the trails in and out of their territory, it would be war... a war they'd almost certainly lose.  It's much better for all concerned if you remain blind."

"I understand, mistress," Ronnie sighed, and waited patiently to be led away.

Instead, Teela came close and gave her harnessed "slave" a savage kiss... which Ronnie returned... and it lasted for some time.  Finally, Teela broke the kiss and took a step away.  "That's the last time we get to kiss until this little escapade is over," Teela announced.  "Oh... I may slave-rape you a few times at night, after we camp; and you may be required to give your mistress pleasure... but no idle displays of affection."

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie whispered, a thrill of arousal,  exhilaration (and fear) shuddered through her body.  She felt a gentle tug on her leash... and they were off.

Much to Ronnie's surprise, the blindfold was less of a handicap than she feared.  During her conditioning with the yoke-frame she seemed to have established a rapport with her "mistress-handler" without even realizing it.  Small twitches and tugs on her leash warned her of rough spots and obstacles in her path.  It was only on the most treacherous parts of the trail that Teela had to grab her by the sternum strap and whisper instructions, and even that was accomplished with a minimum of verbal communication.

The echoing closeness of the caverns suddenly gave way to the open jungle, with all its sounds and smells and the occasional warm, hair-stirring breeze or the gentle burn of direct sunlight.  Ronnie continued to trudge on her leash, following her mistress' subtle signals, carefully planting her bare feet on the leaf litter carpeting the trail.

Hours passed.  There was a pause and Ronnie was helped to sit on a moss-covered boulder, then was watered and her feet inspected.  

"All that rock-hauling on the hard stone of the cavern trails and sword practice in the sand pit has given you tough peds, slave," Teela whispered as she massaged the feet in question.

"Thank you, mistress," Ronnie whispered in return, her lips curling in a coy smile beneath her blindfold.

"Do you hear that bird calling?" Teela asked.  "'Took-rah... took-rah'... then the trilling slide?"

"Yes, mistress."

"A beautiful bird," Teela said.  "Long white tail feathers and blue-green wings and body.  Bright and shining, like a butterfly."

"Yes, mistress." Ronnie sighed.

"And it's not found anywhere near this valley."

"Oh... I see, mistress."

"Be brave, and be respectful," Teela instructed, then helped Ronnie to her feet and began checking the yoke-frame's straps.  "The Apemen are not stupid, and the weakest among them could snap your spine like a twig."

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie muttered, and the journey resumed.

They walked for an hour more, then Ronnie began to notice a change in the terrain.  The trail seemed less open than before, with more ferns and vines trailing from above that Teela had to hold for her or maneuver her around.  There were new smells on the air as well, which Ronnie finally separated into wood smoke and cooking food.  Her stomach grumbled as she trudged through the close jungle.  It had been a long time since breakfast.

They came into a clearing, at least it felt like a clearing to Ronnie's heightened senses.

"Wait here," Teela whispered, and Ronnie felt her leash drop.

Seconds passed.  "Mistress?" Ronnie whispered.  She could hear things moving around her... big things... with big feet.  Something whooshed through the air several yards away and thudded to the clearing floor.  There was a guttural exchange, too quiet for Ronnie to hear more than a few barking, hooting sounds, then several pair of feet pattered away in different directions.

More seconds passed... and seconds became minutes.  Ronnie was getting nervous.  Whatever... whoever was out there... they were still there... all around here.  They had to be Apemen, she knew... but where was Teela?  What was happening?

Ronnie heard feet approaching, smaller and lighter than the others she had been hearing, and suddenly realized that several animals... people? ...Apemen? ...were close around her... surrounding her.

"Toola n'wanna ree," a voice whispered, and several other voices responded with subdued laughter.  All the voices were soft and high-pitched and feminine.

Suddenly a small hand touched Ronnie's right outer thigh.  The blindfolded, naked, and bound "pack-slave" started and bit her lip.  Then another hand touched her left knee.  The right hand returned... and remained, then other hands began touching her, caressing her legs... then one hand touched her left butt and began sliding towards the crack.  "Urp!  Mistress?" Ronnie called out softly.  Suddenly, a hand touched her sex!  "Teela!" Ronnie yelped and squirmed under the gentle, continuous, caressing assault of the unknown female crowd.

"Hoon!" a deep male voice called from far overhead, and in a giggling flurry the hands disappeared and the crowd was gone... and Ronnie was alone.  "Mistress?" she whispered, bit her lower lip, and fought the urge to cry.  Then she heard a swoosh , and something big landed nearby.

"I am Keera," a voice announced.  It was alto, deeper than the others, but just as unmistakably feminine.  "You'll have to forgive the Ape-maidens.  The only hairless ones they know are the captured Ape-wives... and myself.  They're curious."

"Maidens?" Ronnie blurted, then caught herself.  "I'm sorry, mistress.  This slave was frightened, mistress.  She meant no disrespect, mistress."

"Enough of that," the voice laughed, and Ronnie felt her wrist cuffs being unstrapped, then the head sling and sternum strap were released, and the yoke-frame pulled from her shoulders.  "Don't touch your blindfold, please," the voice admonished.  

Whoever or whatever Keera was, Ronnie could tell she was tall, and from the way she hefted the half-loaded yoke-frame with one hand while loosening straps with the other, she was strong!  "Yes, mistress," Ronnie whispered.

A firm but gentle hand gripped and lifted Ronnie's chin.  "'Mistress'...  I suppose, you're right," Keera sighed.  "It probably is best for you to remain in character.  But I refuse to punish you like an amazon bitch."

Soft lips kissed Ronnie's, and Ronnie knew she had a new friend.  "Yes, mistress," she answered, her lips curled in a shy smile.  She heard and felt her Keera step behind her and the knot of her blindfold being checked.

"I'm going to tie your hands," Keera announced.  "It will make the more nervous members of my family feel better.  Is that all right?"

Ronnie was momentarily confused.  Someone was asking if they could tie her up?  This was a first.  "Yes, mistress," she whispered, and crossed her wrists behind her back.  Something, perhaps a broad ribbon of rawhide, was wrapped and cinched around her wrists, then quickly knotted.  The bond was comfortable, but Ronnie could tell it had been expertly applied, and was inescapable.

Keera lifted Ronnie into her arms and carried her away.  Ronnie found her tall, polite, new friend was as hairless and apparently nearly as naked as herself.  She was carried several paces, then abruptly shifted to Keera's shoulder and balanced there, stomach down and rump in the air, while her captor used both hands to swarm up a thick vine.  Ronnie cringed and fought the urge to cry out.  The climbing continued for some time.  They stopped and Ronnie felt a breeze lifting her short hair and cooling her naked skin.   How high are we? she wondered.

"No matter what happens, keep still and don't shift your weight," Keera whispered.  "I won't let you fall."

"What?" Ronnie whispered in response.

"Be brave," was Keera's only answer, and they swung out into space.

Ronnie gasped and barely suppressed a scream.  The air was whistling around them.  They swung low and then back up... there was a pause... and they swung again.  It was terrifying... and exhilarating!  Ronnie trembled, struggled to remain motionless, and fought the urge to cry out in fear.

The swinging stopped, but not their journey.  By the sounds of fluttering leaves and singing birds, Ronnie surmised they were high in the canopy, and Keera was running along the branches of a forest giant.

"Jump coming," Keera muttered.

"Wha—eeeh!"  Still balanced on Keera's shoulder Ronnie was suddenly weightless—then they landed and the running treetop journey continued.  "Sorry, mistress," Ronnie whispered.

Keera laughed.  "You're doing very well, Neeka.  One more set of vines.  Here we go!"

There was a leap... and the swinging resumed.  Ronnie found that her fear had vanished.  Keera was strong and as skilled as an acrobat, and Ronnie trusted her completely.  The blindfolded captive's heart was still hammering, but now she was struggling not to scream in delight!

The final swing ended with a running sprint and a short leap, and then Ronnie sensed they were entering an enclosed space.  She was carried several paces, then gently placed on a soft surface.  Keera's strong hands grasped and pulled her ankles together; and they were tied with what felt like more of the soft rawhide already binding her wrists.  Then Keera spun Ronnie around on her naked rump and began untying her blindfold.

The frayed linen rag came away... and Ronnie blinked in the sudden light.  "Thank you, mistress... oh! "  The folded cloth was slipped around her waist from behind and was being returned to its former role of loincloth.  Ronnie squirmed as Keera's strong, tan arms reached around her and made intimate adjustments to the skimpy garment.  As her eyes adjusted she found herself in a hut of some sort.  Dried thatch comprised the ceiling and the walls, tied with woven grass to a lattice of lashed bamboo.  The floor was more bamboo, and Ronnie was sitting on a comfortable bed of dried grass, herbs, and flowers covered with a broad silk cloth in a leopard skin print.  

Ronnie squirmed around to face her hostess, and caught her breath.  Keera was wearing a skimpy bra and thong of real leopard skin and lying on her back with her legs in the air.  More of the leopard skin silk hung like a drape on the wall behind her.  Her hair was pale blonde, almost white, and she was smiling and was tall and tan and muscular and... "Beautiful!"

"Thank you, Neeka," Keera said, her smile broadening.

Ronnie blushed.  "I said that aloud?" she muttered.

"Yes," Keera laughed.  "You're something of a jungle orchid yourself."

Ronnie felt her blush deepening.  She squirmed in her comfortable bonds and averted her eyes.  "Wh-where are we?" she asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Where are we, mistress," Keera corrected her, still smiling.

"Sorry, mistress," Ronnie responded quickly, more flustered than ever.

Keera took pity on Ronnie's embarrassment, leaned close, and kissed her lightly on her brow.  "We're up in my tree house," she explained.  "You'll remain here while the Ghost chants with our shamans.  The storm shutters are lashed down, so the secrets of my family will remain safe from your prying eyes."

"I-I'm sorry if I'm causing any trouble."

"No trouble, Neeka," Keera said.  "We're happy to have you among us... but must take precautions."

"Teela explained that to me."

"'Teela'...," Keera whispered.  "The Ghost has given you her birth name.  Interesting.  This is more serious than I thought."

Ronnie didn't know how to respond, exactly.  Aware of the blush still burning her cheeks she watched Keera smile, then lowered her eyes to the mat-covered floor.

"Come over here," Keera ordered and reached behind her to produce a covered bowl and a sloshing gourd with a cork plugged in one end.  "I assume you're hungry.  I know I'd be starving if I'd been load-hauling through the jungle all day."

The bowl was full of cooked rice, vegetables, and strips of roasted meat.  Ronnie's stomach growled and she scooted to the edge of the low pallet and leaned forward.  Keera smiled and used the fingers of her right hand to spoon the meal into Ronnie's eager mouth.  The gourd was full of a delicious coconut and fruit juice mix.  Between swigs from the gourd Ronnie consumed every morsel in the bowl.

"You want more?" Keera asked when the bowl was empty.

Ronnie shook her head shyly.  "I didn't realize how hungry I was.  Thank you.  That was delicious... mistress."

Keera laughed and gave Ronnie a final drink from the gourd.  "I'll pass your compliments to the cook," she said, then set the bowl and gourd aside and helped Ronnie lie back on the bed.  "You take a nice nap now."

Ronnie nodded, and caught herself in a huge yawn.  She blushed again.

Keera leaned down and kissed Ronnie's lips, then turned and gracefully exited the hut.  Ronnie had a quick glimpse of the sun setting through a canopy of leaves, then the thatch door closed and she heard a solid timber sliding into a slot on the far side.

Ronnie lay back, closed her eyes, and stretched in her bonds.  She could hear the wind rustling the canopy and the entire hut was gently swaying to and fro.  Keera—Jungle Princess... Keera—Friend of the Apemen... Ronnie snuggled against the soft silk and smiled. "Beautiful," she murmured, and was asleep.

It was full night when Ronnie awoke; however, there was a full moon, and despite the huts' closed door and shutters, enough light was present for her dark adapted eyes to discern most of the hut's interior... then she realized what had disturbed her sleep.

Ronnie shuddered in her bonds.  There was a sound... a deep, echoing, thundering sound... dozens, perhaps hundreds of voices, male voices, chanting and singing.  Every hair on her body stood on end.  There were also drums and eerie flutes and a strange rhythmic whirring noise she couldn't identify... and all of it was getting louder... and closer.

The shutters and door were closed and barred, but yellow light was beginning to leak around the edges and through the air vents high in the walls.  It bathed the interior in flickering luminescence, broken by shadows as the light sources moved and as shapes crossed in front of them, large shapes.

The door flew open, and Ronnie screamed!  Huge, very hairy, very male figures flooded into the shack!  They were humanoid apes and all over seven feet tall!  Their fur was dark and glossy and did little to disguise the massive muscles banding their chests, arms, and thighs!  They were wearing loincloths and elaborately painted masks fringed with feathers, and they were on her!  "TEELA!  HEL—mmfh!"

Huge strong hands closed around her ankles, waist, and arms!  She continued trying to scream but one of them was close behind and had her in a hand-gag, his huge, hot palm covering her lower face from below her nose to under her chin!  The torches remained outside, and for Ronnie everything was in silhouette.  She couldn't see many details... then she couldn't see anything at all!  A blindfold was over her eyes and being knotted behind her head!  Next, something large and soft was stuffed in her mouth and bands of cloth or perhaps chamois leather first cleaved then covered her lips!  Thick rope was being tied around her arms, elbows, thighs, and knees!  It was cinched and knotted.  She struggled and continued to scream, but the huge, hairy hands easily controlled her, the ropes were tight and well-placed, and the gag reduced her cries for help to inarticulate moans.

Ronnie was lifted into the air, the hands supporting and continuing to control her writhing, near-panicked efforts to squirm free.  She was carried outside, and the chanting swelled in volume—then she was tossed into the air!—and caught—then tossed again—and caught again!  This continued for toss after terrifying toss!  Ronnie squirmed in her bonds and screamed, but was helpless.  She felt her hair and loincloth fluttering and the warm, humid air rushing around her body each time she was in free fall.  By the time the descent to the ground was accomplished, Ronnie was sobbing through her gag, shuddering with fear.

The chanting continued and the hands supported her, carrying her prone on a bed of clutching palms, held above the rumbling, basso profundo voices chanting all around her.  Ronnie's blindfolded, gagged and bound journey continued for several minutes.  Her panic had passed, but her heart was still hammering and she was still very afraid.

She could tell by the increasing resonance of the primal music that she was being carried into an enclosed space, probably a cave.  A complex, musky odor hung in in the hot, humid air, and Ronnie's journey continued.

After a while Ronnie was lowered and she felt fingers fumbling with the knots of her bondage.  The chanting continued and other hands continued to grip her torso and limbs.  Soon all her bonds were gone, including the wrist and ankle thongs.  Still blindfolded and gagged, clad only in loincloth and slave collar, Ronnie struggled and moaned as she was lifted high and pulled into a spread-eagle.  The Apemen holding her spun in a circle, singing and chanting in their guttural voices, easily controlling her efforts to escape their grasp.

This continued for several seconds, then she was lowered and felt herself being stretched against something hard and rough.   She was pinned at a slight incline with her limbs at full stretch, against a stone structure of some sort.  Soft, thick rope began tightening around her wrists and ankles, then her loincloth was removed.

Ronnie tugged on the the tight restraints.  She could barely move.  She writhed and squirmed, sweating in the humid air and whimpering through her gag.

One of the nearby male voices sang a new chorus in her captors' unknown language, and was answered by the surrounding crowd.  Then a counterpoint of feminine voices joined the swell.  The chant began taking the form of challenge and reply, the males singing a phrase in deep bass voices, the females answering in a complex alto melody.

Then Ronnie started in her bonds and screamed!  A dozen pair of small, feminine hands were rubbing her captive limbs and body, rubbing something on her, something thick and oily, and as their small hands slid over every inch of her body, her skin began to burn!  Ronnie writhed and squirmed.  The hands continued their oily massage.  The burning wasn't painful, in fact, it was rather pleasant.  Ronnie was still frightened, but something was taking the edge off her terror.

She felt hands untying her gag... then the stuffing was removed from her mouth.  Before she could speak, something was held to her lower lip.  "Drink!" a deep male voice ordered, and Ronnie obeyed.  Whatever it was, it was delicious, the most refreshing, delicious liquid she had ever tasted.  She drank and drank, until there was no more.  Then the stuffing was returned to her mouth and then the rest of the gag as well.

Ronnie's head began swimming.  Stars were bursting before her blindfolded eyes, like silent, multicolored fireworks.  The voices, male and female, bass and alto, continued chanting.  The music was beautiful... primal and beautiful... everything was beautiful.  She chewed on the cloying gag stiffling her moans and writhed in her inescapable bonds.

Ronnie opened her eyes and lifted her head.  The music echoed all around her—She was drifting weightless, bound with thick bands of living vines to a bizarre structure of stone slabs and huge ivory tusks—Bound in a stringent spread-eagle, and drifting in the darkness—Naked (but for her collar)—Not gagged and not blindfolded, but bound and helpless...

Suddenly, torches flared to life.  She was in a huge cavern, surrounded on all sides by concentric rings of stone ledges.  She was center stage in a natural theater, and the ledges were occupied by countless dark, hairy, indistinct, humanoid shapes, waving their arms and chanting.

 Ronnie looked down her body.  She was glistening with oil and swirling, strange, arcane, finger-painted symbols covered her straining, struggling form.  She opened her mouth to scream... and nothing happened.  She could hear air rushing from her mouth, she could feel her lungs empty... but there was no sound... no sound but the primal music echoing from all sides.

Three huge, upright, female, humanoid figures appeared, floating into the torch light as if gliding above the cavern floor.  They were huge, each looming well over nine feet in height!  The figure on the left had feathered wings sprouting from her back, and a skull-cap of dark feathers covered her head.  The figure on the right had long dark hair from which a pair of cat-like ears emerged.  Her eyes were red, with dark vertical slits.  The central figure was taller than the other two and had blonde hair, well-developed muscles, and was bound in a collar, manacles, and connecting chains of gleaming steel.  All three were very beautiful.

Ronnie recognized them instantly.  They were the central trinity of the Kul'Dakar pantheon: the Hawk, the Panther, and the Slave-goddess, in their most human forms.  Ronnie screamed silently and pulled on her bonds.  She was helpless.

Suddenly, between Ronnie's splayed legs, a fourth figure rose into view, as if ascending from the underworld.  It was The Queen!  Ronnie's efforts to escape doubled, with no effect on her condition.

The Queen was wearing leather training armor, just as when Ronnie had seen her last, in the Audience Chamber of the Kul'Dak... right before she was condemmed to be buried alive.  The Queen smiled at Ronnie in a gloating, sardonic manner.  "Well, well, well," she purred, her voice easily heard above the rumbling chant still echoing through the cavern.  "If it isn't our escaped, Spirit-witch spy, delivered for our pleasure..."  She came closer and raised her hands and Ronnie could see that The Queen's fingers were long and her nails even longer, and they were razor sharp!  "I'm going to enjoy this a great deal," she said, leaned towards Ronnie's glistening sex, and opened her mouth fully.

Ronnie's eyes popped wide in horror!  The Queen's mouth was filled with serrated fangs!  Ronnie put her head back, and SCREAMED!!!

Ronnie sat bolt upright and opened her mouth to scream—and was immediately hand-gagged.

"It's about time you woke up."

The hand-gag was released, and Ronnie blinked in surprise.  She was bound hand and foot, ankles together and crossed, wrists behind her back; she was back in her loincloth (her collar was still around her throat, of course); and she was in a dugout canoe—in the middle of a jungle river.  "What the...?"

"I was afraid I was going to have to use that wake-up potion the shamans gave me."  

Ronnie shook her head.  Her companion (the other occupant of the canoe, the one not tied up) was, of course, Teela, and she was in her Kestrel Scout disguise.  Her bow, quiver, cloak and satchel were on the floor of the canoe, and so was Ronnie's yoke-frame.  Ronnie noticed that her load had doubled.  Several new bundles were lashed to the frame.  "What...?"

"The Apemen are a week behind us, slave," Teela said with a grin.  "The first River Outpost of the city is six hours ahead."

Ronnie stared into Teela's eyes, then shook her head again.  "Th-the Queen, she..."

"It was a hallucination, Neeka," Teela explained.  "The ceremony infused your collar with the deflection spell and—"

"You said you'd already done that!" Ronnie interrupted, shivering at the memory of her ordeal.

"Keep your voice down, slave," Teela hissed, continuing to paddle.  "We probably won't pass the first Jungle Scout hide for two hours, but you never know.  My magic merely primed the talisman.  It takes more than a quick chant to defeat Great Magic like the city wards... and warning you would have weakened the spell."

"Oh..." Ronnie said quietly.  "Sorry mistress."

Teela paddled for several strokes.  "It... it wasn't that bad... was it?"

Ronnie shivered again.  "I'm okay... mistress."

"Good," Teela said, and paddled some more.

"Why am I so sore?" Ronnie asked, stretching in her bonds.

Teela laughed.  "You've been hauling eighty pounds over jungle and mountain trails from sunrise to sunset for a week... stumbling along like a zombie, muttering curses at The Queen."

"Oh..."

"Keep your eyes down and don't speak unless spoken to," Teela whispered.

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie answered.  "How soon did you say we would—"

"Starting now!" Teela hissed.

Ronnie stared at the passing water, her head lowered.  Very carefully she watched with surreptitious glances as Teela raised her paddle and waved it in the air, then pointed the tip towards a distant tree on the right bank of the river, perhaps a quarter mile ahead.  A red cloth appeared high in the tree's crown and waved in return.

"They've moved the perimeter out a little," Teela observed.

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie whispered.

The river outpost was on a bluff above the river and was nothing more than several huts surrounded by a ditch, stockade, and abatis of sharpened stakes.  Teela paddled the canoe towards a narrow beach protected by a crude breakwater of logs and stones, carefully skirting several basket-like fish traps suspended from floats in the main channel.

She beached the canoe, hopped out, and reached back in to untie her "slave."  "Get your frame," she muttered, "then haul the canoe up next to the others."

"Yes, mistress," Ronnie whispered, and scrambled to obey.  The fully loaded yoke-frame was heavy, but she managed to get it above the wet sand with relative ease.  The canoe itself was much more difficult.  She tugged and struggled, and finally managed to drag the heavy wooden thing a few feet until it was beside the other canoes, then roll it onto its side and onto a pair of logs.

Teela pointed at the yoke-frame and Ronnie hurried back and began the process of donning the heavy load.  She balanced it on its base, stooped, and settled the padded yoke on her shoulders, then carefully stood, grasping the handles.  Her head submissively bowed and eyes on her bare feet, she waited as her "owner" fitted the wrist cuffs, hip belt, sternum strap, and head sling.

The lead was snapped to the sternum strap ring, and allowed to dangle as Teela donned her quiver, rolled cloak, and satchel, slung her bow, and adjusted the ride of her blades and saber.  She then retrieved the end of the leash and gave it a tug.  "Every slave is afraid," she whispered to Ronnie, "but you're under the charge of your mistress: Teela of the Kestrel Scouts, Left Wing, Third Flight.  Repeat that."

"I'm under the charge of Teela of the Kestrel Scouts," Ronnie whispered, her eyes still on the sand, "Left Wing, Third Flight."

The leash tugged again, and they stepped off.

They left the beach and started climbing the winding trail.  The trail was steep and despite her conditioning Ronnie was soon dripping with sweat in the humid, tropical heat.  They came to an amazon at the third switch-back.  From her boots Ronnie could tell she was a Jungle Scout.

"Well met, in Her service," the stranger said (to Teela, of course).  Ronnie kept her eyes on the trail.

"Well met, serving She," Teela answered.

"Wandering over?"

"Maybe," Teela answered.  "News from the city?"

"Nothing much," the stranger answered.  "Another year, another campaign.  This time it's the Steppe Riders.  Lots of work for the Cheetahs, Panthers, and Hawks.  Not much for Jungle Scouts."

"I've been South," Teela answered.  "Didn't see a damn thing worth reporting... other than there isn't a damn thing worth reporting."

The stranger laughed.  "Negative reports are valuable too.  Enjoy the city!" she said and stepped past them towards the river.

"Thanks," Teela grunted, and gave Ronnie's leash a tug.

They continued up the trail, around two more switch-backs, then came to the ditch, bristling abatis, and log palisade protecting the outpost.  Ronnie stole a glance and discovered they were at a narrow drawbridge flanked by two guard towers.  A squad of Panther Cult amazons were on guard, with two of their giant mounts saddled and lounging beside the gate, one licking its paws, the other eyeing the newcomers with feline curiosity.

"Halt and identify," one of the Panthers ordered, in a somewhat bored manner.

"Teela—Kestrels, Third of the Left, detached to wander," Teela announced.

"Pass," the guard responded, and Ronnie followed Teela across the narrow bridge.  The gate before them opened and they continued towards the inner compound.  They were halfway through the gate defenses, surrounded on all sides by Panthers, when suddenly a voice shouted from one of the watch towers.

"Look, it's Neeka!"

... NO!!! (Is this bit getting old yet?)
It's the end of Chapter 7. Rest assured, Ronnie's Virtual Adventure WILL continue... eventually...
But in the meanwhile... ... Stay Tuned for the NEXT thrilling episode of...
◄	Revisit Chapter 6		►