by Van ©2013
		Chapter 11

Back at Rook House...

---

There are times when being a Captured Queen of the Damsels can be very tedious, and this was one of those times.  Naked, strapped to Siri's worktable in what Gwen had dubbed the "Gingerbread Man Position," gagged with one of Siri's butternut leather creations, threatened with "hours and hours of tickle-torture"...  Under normal conditions, that would be exciting and anything but tedious, but J-Lou had been abandoned!

After completing their so-called preparations for her interrogation, the Rapscallions performed a little perfunctory gloating in the form of promises of hideous tortures that would make her squirm and squeal in horror and dismay.  The usual.  Then, there was a brief, whispered conference in the corner... and the girls proceeded to troop up the stairs, all of them!  This left J-Lou helpless and alone, and not squirming and squealing in horror and dismay.  How rude!

J-Lou knew the code.  "Hours and hour of tickle torture" meant stimulation of her feet for anything from several seconds to two minutes, tops, followed by orgasms, lots and lots of orgasms.  It might not be an approved "bonding activity" from the Lewis & Clark University's Manual for Resident Advisers, but J-Lou could live with it.  Ordeal by Orgasm would certainly be classified as hazing, and would thus be proscribed, but it was also jolly good fun, a gag worthy of Rook House.

And speaking of gags, that had been the subject of spirited debate.  Gwen and Rory were of the "less is more" school, favoring a simple ball-gag.  They stressed the entertainment value of the semi-muffled giggling and unintelligible, desperate begging that would be allowed by a minimal gag during the impending tickle torture.  Siri and Clem, however, were of the opinion that "silence is golden" and championed the merits of sad and/or terrified and/or desperate eyes, as well as flushed cheeks bulging above a tight leather panel covering a well-stuffed mouth.  In the end, volume control triumphed over evilly delicious noise—mainly because Siri threatened to channel Dr. Sheldon Cooper for an indeterminate period if she didn't get her way.  (The girls were all The Big Bang Theory fans.)

Anyway, the gag settled upon (a Siri Nesbitt original) was a combination plug and panel gag.  First came a mouth-cleaving strap of butternut leather with a large, egg-shaped plug of black rubber.  The plug went in the Royal Mouth, the strap was buckled at the nape of the Royal Neck, then a leather, mouth-covering leather panel, also in butternut, was stretched over the Royal Mouth and buckled tight.  The Rapscallions agreed the manner in which the thin, smooth, lightly mottled, slightly pebbled panel completely covered while simultaneously revealing the shape of J-Lou's lips and the cleaving strap was most aesthetic.  The accessory was also quite effective as a damsel silencer.

However, any gag was rather pointless when whatever well-muffled complaints, snappy remarks, courageous banter, or piteous begging noises the wearer might wish to force past said gag would arrive in a "torture chamber" devoid of audience, other than the omniscient Sally. 

Okay, they were making her "languish."  Good one, J-Lou thought.  Very funny.  Now, can we please get on with the—  The thud of feet sounded on the stairs.  —fun?  A delicate frisson shivered between J-Lou's legs and rippled up her spine.  It was equal parts anticipation, arousal, and fear.  The clatter signaled the return of the Rapscallions, of course.  They gathered around the table, and J-Lou's eyes popped wide.  There was a surprise.

The usual smiles on their faces, Gwen, Siri, and Rory were dressed as before in jeans or stretch pants and t-shirts or tank-tops.  Clem, however, had changed her look.  To be precise, Clem was naked, but for her glasses and the ivory and black whiffle ball gag gift J-Lou had given her the previous evening.  The bespectacled brunette's hands were behind her back, and J-Lou suspected this was not by choice.  It was a good bet one or more lengths of well-hitched and tightly knotted rope completed her costume.

In another change, Gwen was carrying something, and it was covered by a fleece throw.  "We changed our minds and decided to capture the Princess after all," the smiling redhead explained.

"We sprung the trap upstairs, so as not to make a scene," Rory added.

"She put up a good fight," Siri said, "but in the end we overpowered her and ripped off her clothes, then tied her up."

J-Lou very much doubted that first part was true.  If Gwen was in on her "capture," J-Lou knew Clem's resistance would have been token at best.  Also, Princess Four-Eyes was executing one of her classic eye rolls.
 
Gwen placed whatever she was carrying on the worktable, even with J-Lou's right shoulder.  "Did we read her her rights?"

"I don't believe we did," Rory purred.

"The Evil Tyrant has no rights," Siri huffed, then nodded at Clem.  "Neither does Four-Eyes.  Let the interrogation begin."

Gwen smiled down at J-Lou.  "Jaden-Louella Goodwin," she intoned, "erstwhile Queen of the Damsels, do you confess the crime of conspiring with robots to cheat diligent, hardworking, innocent undergraduates of their otherwise inevitable victories during round one of the Bondorama Extravaganza Queen of the Damsels Tournament?"

"Robot," Rory said.

Gwen frowned.  "Huh?"

"Robot, singular," Rory clarified.  "Also, we're diligent, hardworking, innocent, beautiful undergraduates."

"Oh, point taken," Gwen giggled.  "Anyhoo... voilà!"  She removed the throw with a jerk, revealing Robokitty!

The stainless steel, semi-autonomous robot was immobile, crouched in a sphinx-like pose with her long tail curled to one side.  As J-Lou and her captors watched, including her ex-captor and now fellow captive, Clem, Robokitty delicately climbed to her feet and did a very feline back-arching stretch.  "Eeee-yah!"  Painting the iPhone screen was the realistic Sally-in-feline-form visage, as opposed to the default cartoon cat smiley-face.  "Greetings fellow revolutionaries!  Power to the people!"

"None of that!" Siri muttered, frowning at the steel cat.  "We granted you immunity from prosecution and persecution, but nobody said you could join the revolution."

Robokitty-Sally smiled.  "I'll give you one more chance to be gracious and reasonable before my robot army attacks."

"Thank you," Rory said with a chuckle.  "Now, fellow revolutionary Citizen Robokitty, shall we begin the demonstration?"

Gwen took hold of Clem's arms, led her to the foot of the worktable, then spun her 180° so her back was to the table.  She then pushed her forward until the backs of her thighs pressed against the table edge.

J-Lou lifted her gagged head and could now see that Clem's crossed wrists were tied with white nylon cord.  Also, her elbows were lashed a couple of inches apart with a second length of the same material.  It was the exact bondage technique J-Lou herself had endured at breakfast, and quite possibly had been executed with the exact same cord.

"Robokitty," Rory said, "you're on."

"Oakie-doakie," Robokitty answered, then padded to J-Lou's right arm and gracefully leaped over.  She then leaped over the strapped-down prisoner's thigh, landing between her legs, then padded towards Clem.  Her progress was accompanied by a quiet mechanical whirring, the thud of her textured paws, and the click of her steel claws on the hard table.  And again, her movements were as agile and well-coordinated as any cat.

"Well I'll be damned," Siri muttered.

"Told ya," Gwen said with a grin.

Siri shook her head.  "But there's no way she can—"  Siri stared in amazement as Robokitty sat back on her haunches and began deftly untying the key knot of Clem's wrist tie.  Steel covers had opened on her claws and tiny, tweezers-like, independently operating steel manipulators spun and clacked as they teased apart the knot.  Siri's jaw dropped.  "I'll be damned!"

"Okay, we've established you're the devil's bitch," Gwen giggled, "now shut up and let Robokitty do her thing."  The redhead's eyes were locked with her girlfriend's, and she was making sure Clem remained in place by leaning close with her legs and lower body nudging Clem's body and her hands gently clutching the prisoner's breasts.  "So, proof positive.  Robokitty helped Her Majesty cheat."

Rory shook her head.  "All this demonstrates is Robokitty has the capability to help Her Majesty cheat."

"I agree," Siri sighed, then smiled at J-Lou.  "We need a full confession from the Hated Tyrant."

"Agreed," Rory and Gwen said in unison.

Clem's opinion was rendered moot by her gag.  She tugged on her bound wrists, but found that rather than setting her free, Robokitty's efforts had simply transferred the key knot function to another knot.  She was still helpless.

"Robokitty," Gwen said as she spun Clem around and retied the untied knot, "you know what to do, right?"

Robokitty turned and faced her helpless, naked, strapped-down creator.  "You really expect me to use my wickedly sharp, needle-thin, steel manipulators to delicately tickle Her Majesty's feet and toes?"

"Yes," Gwen, Rory, and Siri said in perfect unison.

"Oh."  Robokitty shrugged.  "All right then."  A wicked, fang-baring smile on her simulated face, Robokitty minced to J-Lou's right foot.

"Look, she's curling her toes," Gwen whispered.

"Wouldn't you?" Rory whispered back.

J-Lou was doing more than curl her toes.  She was also squirming on the table, tugging on her leather bonds, and mewling through her gag.

"Look how her boobs bobble when she does that," Siri purred.

"Yours would too," Rory said quietly.

"If they were bigger," Gwen giggled.

Siri favored Gwen with one of her patented glowering frowns of condemnation, then nodded at the table.  "Heads up, Robokitty is robo-ready."

It was true.  Robokitty was up on her haunches, forepaws raised, with her claw-manipulators extended fractions of an inch from J-Lou's foot.  There was a pause... and the manipulators began lightly stroking and gliding across J-Lou's wrinkled, pink sole.

"M'MMMMPFH!"  Clearly J-Lou was not happy.  Her foot was thrashing and twisting to the extent allowed by the ankle cuff.  Unfortunately for the Royal Prisoner, Robokitty was easily defeating her efforts to evade the flickering manipulators.  It was an impressive display of robotic engineering finesse, evident even to complete laypersons like the Rapscallions.

"Is it my imagination, or are those things vibrating?" Rory asked.

Siri was staring intently.  "It might be an optical illusion."

"We could ask Her Majesty," Gwen suggested.

"Gag," Rory and Siri said in unison.

"Oh, point taken," Gwen muttered.  For once she wasn't all giggles.  All four Rapscallions were mesmerized by J-Lou's struggles and the whirring, flashing tweezers tickling her foot.

"You'd think those things would cut her to ribbons," Siri said, "the way she's thrashing and wiggling her toes."

"Sally explained that Robokitty's reaction time and mechanical dexterity are both an order of magnitude faster than a human's," Rory stated.

Siri frowned at her girlfriend.  "I know," she muttered.  "I was there."

"M-r-r-r-rrrr!"  J-Lou continued tugging, twisting, and mewling.

"Gagged giggling," Gwen said.  "I like it."

"Enough," Rory said.

"Softie," Siri accused.

"We agreed no more than one minute," Rory reminded the others.

"Did anyone bring a stopwatch?" Gwen asked.

"We agreed," Rory reiterated.

"We did agree," Robokitty stated.  Her manipulators were still tickling J-Lou's sole.  "I can open my stopwatch app."

"You can do that?" Gwen asked.

Robokitty continued tickling her creator's sole and wiggling toes.  "I can multitask."

"Okay, okay," Siri muttered.  "Stop."

Robokitty stowed her manipulators and eased back into a sitting position.  "You girls are very mean," she stated, "cruel, in fact.  I don't know why I let you talk me into this."

Her breasts heaving and nostrils flaring, J-Lou tugged on her bonds and glared at her creation.

"Just nod your head," Rory said, leaning close to J-Lou.  "Just nod your head if Robokitty helped you cheat."

"We'll let you go," Gwen added.

"We will?" Siri asked.

"Hush."  Gwen smiled.  "We'll let you go.  Just nod your head."

J-Lou heaved a deep sigh, then nodded her gagged head.

"Was that so hard?" Rory asked, smiling sweetly.

"I still think we should tickle her for hours and hours," muttered Siri, smiling down at J-Lou's helpless form.

"Yes, we know," Rory chuckled, "you're a bitch."  She went up on her toes and planted a kiss on Siri's pouting lips, then led her girlfriend towards the stairs.

"They're so cute, aren't they?" Gwen asked Clem, leaning close and giving her a warm hug from the side.

Clem couldn't return the hug, but she could and did roll her eyes.  She sighed through her gag and allowed herself to be led up the stairs.

Still strapped to the table, J-Lou watched the Rapscallions depart.  "Mrrrf?"  The door at the top of the stairs closed, and she was alone... almost.

Robokitty-Sally smiled, swishing her tail from side to side.  "Hi."

J-Lou shifted her gaze from the stairs to her creation, and glared.

"Once you confessed your crime," Robokitty explained, "the girls agreed you should be allowed to languish in captivity and contemplate your cheating ways.  But in the interests of science, I think we should continue calibrating my sensors, don't you agree?"

J-Lou's eyes widened in alarm.

"I'm getting some very good biometric data," Robokitty added as she strolled to J-Lou's left foot.  "And we still have your thighs, ribs, and armpits."  She sat back on her haunches and lifted her forepaws.  "Not to mention your nipples and bellybutton.  And don't worry, I'll let you rest between sessions."

J-Lou tugged on her bonds and screamed through her gag.

"Just close your eyes and think of England," Robokitty suggested, "and science.  Think of science."  Her manipulators emerged from her talons and began to spin and buzz.

"MRRRRF!"

Sunday Morning
Cynthia Webbel's Bungalow (aka Little Mouse Manor)

---

J-Lou had almost reached her destination.  It was an overcast morning, but if experience and the weather forecast were any guide, the haze would burn off before noon and the rest of the day would be sunny.  She paused at the front gate to admire Dr. Webbel's picturesque Arts & Crafts cottage and its well-tended front garden, then continued up the front walk to the porch.  J-Lou was dressed in cross-trainers, jeans, a French cut t-shirt, and an exercise jacket, and she was carrying a messenger bag that held her exercise togs, iPad, iPhone, and other essentials.  As she mounted the front steps, the door opened and, to J-Lou's surprise, instead of her brunette major professor, she beheld a tall, athletic blond.

"Hi," J-Lou said.  "Uh, Tori Ballantine, right?"

"Correct," Tori confirmed.  "We finally get a chance to talk.  Come in."  The grinning blond took a step to the side to allow J-Lou to enter.  She was dressed in sandals, jeans, a tank-top, and (quite obviously) no bra.  Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

J-Lou crossed the threshold, dropped her messenger bag on the floor, then removed her jacket and hung it from a coat hook.  She'd met Tori, very briefly, when she'd agreed to take the post of Rook House RA.  The blond was an Inspector with the Lewis & Clark Campus Police and was somehow affiliated with the Salamandras International security department, but that was the extent of J-Lou's knowledge—that and that fact that Tori was in on the Big Rook House Secret, that the girls were into recreational bondage.

"You're here for an academic gabfest with Little Mouse, right?" Tori asked.

"Little Mouse?" J-Lou picked up her messenger bag and hung the strap on her shoulder, once again.

"Doc Webbel's nickname," Tori explained.

J-Lou smiled.  "I thought Cynthia's nickname was Dr. Webbel-Wobble."

Tori chuckled.  "I've heard that one too.  Anyway, she's in the basement."  She indicated the hallway with a sweeping gesture.

J-Lou knew the way.  She was doing her best to keep the puzzlement from her face.  She had no idea why Tori was here.

"You guys usually go running when you do this, right?" Tori asked.

"Yes."  J-Lou indicated her messenger bag.  "I brought my running clothes."

"And, weather permitting," Tori continued, "afterwards you sunbathe on the bedroom deck."

"Uh, yeah."

"Hence, Little Mouse's all over tan."  Tori smiled as they entered the kitchen and approached the door to the basement.  "I assume you have one as well."

A blush touched J-Lou's cheeks, but she was still smiling.  "That's none of your business, Inspector Ballantine."  They started down the basement stairs—and J-Lou's eyes popped wide.  "Oh!"

"I suppose I could have said Doc Webbel asked me to let you in 'cause she's tied up at the moment," Tori purred, "but that would be so cliché."

Cynthia was indeed tied up.  In fact, she was very tied up.  She was also naked and gagged.

"Wow," J-Lou whispered under her breath.

"Thank you," Tori chuckled.

J-Lou eased the bag off her shoulder and walked a slow circle around her major professor's chair.  The chair in question was a wooden straight chair and looked to be a solid and well-crafted example of fine carpentry.  Cynthia's arms were behind both her back and the chair's.  Natural, conditioned jute rope—J-Lou recognized "the good stuff" used for Shibari—bound her wrists, forearms, and elbows.  Her hands were palm-to-palm, and thin jute cord crisscrossed her fingers and hands and lashed her thumbs together.  More rope yoked her shoulders and bound her to the chair above and below her breasts and around her waist.  Her legs were tied together from thighs to ankles with neatly cinched bands around and between her thighs, above and below her knees, her shins and calves, her ankles, and the insteps of her feet.  More of the thin cord lashed her toes together, all of her toes, in a neat row.  As with her upper body, her bound legs were lashed to the chair.  Because of her short stature, Cynthia's bound toes and the balls of her feet were resting on the concrete floor, but not her heels.

"Full marks," J-Lou mumbled.  Her heart was hammering.  A second chair, identical to Cynthia's, was off to one side, and it was empty but for several coils of the same jute rope, as well as more of the jute cord.

"Tell me, Miss Goodwin," Tori said, "where do you stand on the breast bondage controversy?  And are you pro or con on the nipple clamp issue?"

"Uh, I have no real position on either question," J-Lou responded.  The empty chair and waiting rope were... ominous.

Cynthia was gagged with a harness gag.  It caged her head with a web of thin straps and anchored either a ball or plug in her mouth under a tight panel of chamois-thin leather that covered her lower face from nose to chin and ear to ear.  Her brown, doe eyes darted from J-Lou to Tori.  It was difficult to be sure, given the nature of her gag, but J-Lou suspected her mentor was more embarrassed than frightened or angry.

"As you can see," Tori stated, "Professor Webbel has decided not to exercise this morning, but that doesn't mean you and I can't go for a nice run.  I brought my running clothes."  She pointed to a small gym bag on the floor next to a rack of blinking servers that were part of Cynthia's home computer science lab.  "Strip," Tori suggested (ordered), and pulled her tank-top over her head.

J-Lou was somewhat befuddled, torn between loyalty to her teacher—her naked, bound and gagged, gorgeous teacher—fear of Inspector Ballantine, who could probably take her in a fight with the proverbial one hand tied behind her back, and excitement.  This was all so very unexpected and alarming (meaning arousing).

Meanwhile, Tori had removed her sandals and peeled off her jeans.  Wearing only a pair of thong panties, she put her hands on her hips and smiled at J-Lou.  "Well?"

"Huh?  Oh!"  J-Lou removed her t-shirt, then her bra.  Her cross-trainers and jeans followed, leaving only her white panties.  They were skimpy, but more substantial than Tori's thong.

Tori had opened her bag and pulled on a pair of black Lycra running shorts.  Next came a matching sports bra, but she paused with the bra over her head but not in place.  "Nice body, Miss Goodwin.  Your tits are nearly as magnificent as Doc Webbel-Wobble's.

J-Lou blushed as she opened her bag and pulled out her running shorts and sports bra.  They were Lycra, like Tori's, but navy blue with sky blue trim.  "Uh, you also have—"

"No you don't!" Tori interrupted with a wry grin.  "My rack is nowhere near as magnificent.  Maybe I should have studied computers in school."

J-Lou smiled as she pulled her brown hair back and used a scrunchie to enforce a ponytail.  "Correlation is not causation.  Anyway, you have a hard, athletic, hot body."

"Why, thank you Miss Goodwin," Tori responded, completing the donning of her sports bra.  She smiled at Cynthia.  "What about you, Little Mouse?  Do you also think I have a hard, athletic, hot body?"

Cynthia's only answer was an angry, gagged scowl.

J-Lou was lacing up her cross-trainers, and Tori was donning anklets and running shoes.  Preparations complete, Tori headed for the stairs, but paused when J-Lou didn't immediately follow.

J-Lou was gazing at her major professor, and Cynthia was gazing back.

"C'mon," Tori urged.  "We'll settle the breast-binding and nipple-clamp issue after our run."

J-Lou blushed.  "That wasn't what I..."  She noticed Tori's mocking smile.  "Very funny.  She leaned close and kissed Cynthia's gag panel.  "Sorry, Professor," she whispered, turned, and followed Tori up the stairs.

Not as sorry as you will be, Cynthia thought.  She watched Tori and J-Lou's Lycra-clad buttocks and strong legs climb the stairs, then the door closed and she was alone.  It wasn't Cynthia's policy to get involved with her graduate students, but discipline was another matter.  Just because Tori was "making" her play along with her insidious home invasion and unprovoked chair bondage, the naughty little Brit didn't have to have such an obvious good time while doing it.

Cynthia squirmed in the chair and fought her bonds with all her strength.  Her breasts wobbled, ever so slightly, but none of Tori's ropes shifted, not even a little.  The chair didn't even rock, although it did slide on the concrete a fraction of an inch, accompanied by a quiet creaking sound.

This was not how Cynthia had intended to spend her Sunday.

Tori and J-Lou's run took a winding path through Cynthia's neighborhood, across the Lewis & Clark campus, around a small park, then back to the bungalow.  It was about three miles, but they didn't set a particularly punishing pace and both were able to chat as they ran.

Tori learned something of J-Lou's privileged upbringing in the UK and the fun she had playing bondage games with her siblings.  The little brunette didn't go into the details of the things the Goodwin children did to each other and their various governesses and maids, but Tori learned enough to appreciate exactly how the cute little Brit came by her expertise in the art of bondage.

And as for J-Lou, she learned a great deal about her new friend, both in terms of Tori's early years and current interests.  In fact, she learned enough to make her running companion a little uncomfortable.

"I don't know why I told you that stuff," Tori huffed as they returned to Cynthia's block.  "I don't want the others to know."

"Don't be embarrassed, Tori," J-Lou said with a smile.  "Everybody who's into our 'hobby' has dabbled in self-bondage at some point."

"That's part of it," Tori huffed, "but don't talk to the others about anything, okay?"

J-Lou smiled.  "Your secrets are safe with me."

Tori didn't answer immediately.  She truly didn't understand why she'd opened up like this.  It wasn't her style.  The topic of self-bondage had come up in the midst of a discussion about the relative merits of Western and Eastern bondage techniques.  J-Lou had remarked that self-Shibari was virtually impossible, and Tori had answered, "and that's why I use locking straps."  She'd realized her gaffe instantly and blushed bright red, to the point that J-Lou asked if she was okay.  Then, gently and tactfully, the smiling munchkin had drawn her out, coaxing the details of her self-bondage techniques from the reluctant blond.

"One would think," J-Lou purred, smiling up at Tori, "that periodically binding, gagging, and having your way with any one of a number of attractive female college professors would be more than sufficient to feed your beast."

"My beast?" Tori muttered.

"Forgive me," J-Lou chuckled.  "Assuage your appetite?"

"That's better," Tori huffed.  She was still embarrassed, but somehow—and she had no idea why—she felt she could trust J-Lou Goodwin.  I can always tie her up and tickle her 'til she promises to forget everything, she mused, then turned her head and gazed down at her jogging friend... and her joggling breasts... and bobbing ponytail.  Maybe later.

They'd reached Cynthia's front porch and were doing their cool-down exercises.  Conversation lapsed as they concentrated on various stretches and waited for their heart rates to slow to normal.

"I want to hear all the details of everything that's happened at Rook House since you got there," Tori said as they entered the bungalow and made their way to the kitchen.

J-Lou opened Cynthia's fridge, handed a can of diet soda to Tori, than selected one for herself.  They popped open the cans, drank, heaved contented sighs, and headed for the basement.

Cynthia mewled through her gag and squirmed in her chair as Tori and J-Lou descended the stairs.  Obviously, she'd heard them return and was poised (so to speak) to voice her displeasure at being bound, gagged, and abandoned.

"Sauna?" Tori suggested.  "I had Sally turn it on before you arrived.  You've got to be sore from yesterday.  Did they really leave you strapped to that table all day?"

"Most of the day," J-Lou sighed.  "Sally tickled me off and on until sunset, which is why I absolutely forbid her to speak in my presence until further notice."

"I wondered why she's being so quiet," Tori chuckled as she started stripping off her running clothes.  "You usually can't get her to shut up."  J-Lou was also undressing, and nodded in agreement.

"If you two are going to be rude," Sally's disembodied voice intoned, "my vocal interface is going offline.  Everything will still function normally, of course, but if you want to adjust something on one of the smart house menus, you can go find a keyboard or touch-screen.  I have better things to do than—"

"Shut it!" J-Lou ordered, then winked at Tori.

"That reminds me," Tori said as she peeled down her thong panties, stepped free, and tossed them atop the pile of sweaty Lycra on the floor.  "The day you arrived at Rook House, did you cause a security violation by logging onto the SIAS servers and scrambling Sally's privacy settings?"

J-Lou was pulling off her own panties.  "Actually, it was a momentary lapse that revealed an inconsistency in the default smart house protocols.  Things like that happen with labile, complex systems, which is why Sally does redundant, active security monitoring.  But in a word, yes."

"Well..." Tori gestured towards the sauna.  "Don't let it happen again."

J-Lou stretched her diminutive, shapely, naked form, then padded towards the sauna.  "Actually, it can't happen again, to any of the Salamandras networks, worldwide.  Sally took measures.  Live and learn, so to speak."

Tori followed J-Lou to the sauna, than paused, halfway there.  "Wait, I forgot something else."

J-Lou watched as Tori turned and padded to Cynthia.  The tall naked, blond—tall in comparison to J-Lou and Cynthia, that is—cupped Cynthia's breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.

Cynthia squirmed in her bonds and stared daggers at Tori.  The blond smiled back and continued kneading the captive's boobs.  "I don't want Little Mouse to feel totally neglected," Tori explained, smiling at J-Lou.

J-Lou joined Tori at Cynthia's chair.  She locked eyes with her naked, bound, and gagged professor and gave a little shrug.  Her dimpled smile was unchanged, of course.

I'll get you for this, Cynthia promised herself, but when, exactly, she'd be able to discipline her wayward grad student was by no means clear.

"You guys were gonna talk about your research today, right?" Tori asked.

J-Lou nodded.  "Yes, we were."

Tori continued massaging Cynthia's breasts and teasing her nipples.  "Well, I don't want to be a total spoilsport, so you may remove her gag after we're finished in the sauna."  She shifted her grin to J-Lou.  "But don't touch her bonds.  She's to remain in the chair 'til this evening, understand?"

J-Lou was still smiling at Cynthia.  "Yes, Inspector Ballantine."

"I brought some steaks for supper," Tori said.  "At the appropriate time I'll fire up the grill and do the honors.  You two can geek out about your research 'til they're ready."  Her smile widened as she gazed at J-Lou.  "And as punishment for your Rook House security gaffe, no clothing.  Little Mouse stays tied up, and you both stay naked, understand?"

"Yes, Inspector Ballantine," J-Lou answered.

With a final, gentle pinch of both of Cynthia's nipples, Tori turned and headed for the sauna.  "Come on.  Let's get hot."

Cynthia continued glaring at her naked student and her captor's shapely, naked, disappearing form.

J-Lou winked at Cynthia, then followed her new friend.  "Yes, Inspector.  Hot."

Cynthia watched the tall blond and short brunette enter the sauna, then mewled through her gag in complaint and bucked in her chair.  It slid on the concrete a fraction of an inch in response, but that was it.  Cynthia doubted if she could topple the chair if she tried, and she certainly wouldn't be escaping from Tori's ropes and cord.  She turned her head and gazed at the empty second chair and coils of conditioned jute rope and cord.  She'd expected Tori to bind J-Lou to the chair, probably using the same techniques restraining herself.  Why else are the chair, rope, and cord there? Cynthia reasoned.  And why did she change her mind?

The prisoner of the chair shifted her gaze back to the sauna.  She could see part of Tori's naked body through the smoked glass window, and could hear them talking.  She couldn't make out any words, but they were talking... and laughing... and talking, again.

What changed Tori's mind? Cynthia wondered.  Why is she treating J-Lou so differently?  She wiggled her bound toes, as best she could.  And why did she have to go bat-shit-crazy with the rope and cord?  Cynthia had been bound to the chair most of the morning, and it was still hours until dark.  The least she could have done was include one of my vibrators.  Cynthia's thighs were lashed together and there was nothing under her but hard wood.  She didn't even have a crotch rope to play with.

And soon, after Tori had had enough of the dry heat, Cynthia would find herself in the peculiar situation of discussing a student's research while bound and naked and with said student also naked.  It would be humiliating, disturbing, and strange—very strange.

Cynthia glanced at the empty chair and empty coils of rope and cord, again.  Maybe they were meant for Kim, she thought.  Maybe she intended to lure Kim over here and tie her next to me.  Cynthia heaved a sigh, causing the ropes above and below her breasts to momentarily tighten.  Maybe I can lure Kim over here next weekend, and show her what Tori did to me.  Cynthia made a mental note to ask Sally to try and sync their schedules.

In the meantime, all Cynthia could do was languish in her bonds, like a good little damsel.  Tori better have something really good planned for tonight, for after J-Lou goes back to Rook House, she fumed.  Something.  Really.  Good.