by Van ©2022
		Chapter 7

It was the one week anniversary of Lori and Heidi being abducted and spirited away to Peyton Frazier's Modern mansion/prison, but neither the prisoners nor their kidnappers marked the occasion.  No exchange of cards.  No cake.  No party.  It was business-as-usual.

In the days since Lori's very memorable several hours in the gym—with naked bondage and walking on the running machine until her feet were very sore—Peyton had ordered her to resume studying Toland of Consett's multi-volume history of the invasion of England by the Great Heathen Army more-or-less full time.  Ostensibly, Lori's walking ordeal had been to illustrate the principle of collective punishment, that Lori and Heidi were now considered responsible for each other's behavior and would both suffer if either one of them attempted to escape.  It was Heidi who had done the escaping (sort of), but Lori didn't fault her TA one iota for trying to find a way out of Peyton's clutches.  In fact, she was proud of her student.  Heidi was the one getting the worst of their predicament.  Kassidy, Peyton's enforcer, obviously enjoyed tormenting them with naked bondage, but Heidi more so than Lori, and there was nothing Lori could do about it.  Her pleas for leniency for poor Heidi continued to be ignored.

Unfortunately, the prisoners weren't allowed leisure time in which they could lay back, put their feet up, sip a few drinks, and compare notes.  In fact, Lori had seen her protegé quite infrequently during the course of the last few days, and it had always been in passing.

For example, a couple of days ago, naked, dripping with sweat, overheated, and flushed, her wrists bound behind her back, Lori was led from the sauna by Peyton, who was also naked, dripping with sweat, etc., but not bound in any way, subjected to a chilling (but not unwelcome) shower, then toweled dry and led away.  Supposedly, they were on their way to enjoy a light lunch on one of the mansion's many outdoor decks overlooking the surrounding wilderness.  They crossed the yoga studio—and Lori skidded to a halt.  "No!" she gasped.

Kassidy was punching and kicking a martial arts dummy, and was as naked as Lori and Peyton, but also present and also naked was Heidi, and she was quite obviously not happy.  Lori's student was lying on her side on the padded floor with her wrists and ankles tied together and to each other.  This necessitated a full crunch into the pike position on Heidi's part, and the pose was reinforced by an interlaced web of ropes binding her knees, elbows, lower legs, forearms, and upper arms, with a tight crotch-rope integrated into the arrangement.  Heidi's brown hair was a tousled mess, and a perforated ball-gag was strapped in her mouth, tight enough to make her cheeks bulge.

"Hush," Peyton said, directing the order to Lori.  She then shifted her goofy smile to Kassidy.  "She's been bad?"

"Not especially," Kassidy answered between punches.  "This is just a minor attitude adjustment, to remind her who's boss."

"Please!" Lori whined, twisting her bound wrists.  "She can't take much more of this!  Can't you see that?"  Heidi's eyes were open but not expressive.  Lori could tell she was in a bad way.

Still smiling, Lori dragged Lori from the room by one arm.  "Kassidy knows what she's doing," the psycho-redhead purred.

"No!"  And then they were gone, leaving Heidi still naked, bound, gagged, and no doubt suffering, and Kassidy still naked and pummeling the unfortunate dummy.

Most of Lori's daylight hours were spent in the Secure Reading Room.  She was almost to the end of her first reading of Toland's first volume, and still hadn't been allowed to take notes; however, she found she couldn't actually fault Peyton's insistence that she simply read.  In-depth study and analysis could follow.  In any case, it didn't matter.  Payton Frazier was calling the shots.  All the shots.

Lori wasn't always naked.  In fact, unless involved in exercise, Peyton insisted her "Resident Scholar" wear a faux-medieval sleeveless shift with a plunging, loosely laced décolletage, a tightly laced bodice, and a ragged hem that only just came down to her mid thighs.  The fabric was loosely woven cotton, or possibly flax, and was an off-white/natural color.  Fortunately, it was well-conditioned and comfortable against her skin.  Unfortunately, Peyton would allow neither a bra nor panties to accompany the dress.  The same went for a more "authentic" bandeau and/or loincloth of similar fabric.  And equally unfortunately, Peyton decreed the continued wearing of the now ubiquitous iron collar and the restoration of the matching shackles and hobbling chain.  Apparently, she'd decided Lori should be a Captive Resident Scholar character from some horrible and only marginally accurate historical costume drama.  It was humiliating, and offended Lori's academic sensibilities.

At night, Peyton insisted that Lori share her bed, and always after stripping her of her cotton/flax dress and either tying her to the bed or chaining her collar to the headboard with her wrists crossed and tied behind her back.  Lori found all of Peyton's arrangements to be not particularly restful, and she didn't appreciate the casual intimacy inflicted upon her naked, defenseless body by her hostess/kidnapper.  Thankfully, Peyton didn't inflict involuntary coitus on her blond prisoner, but there was a lot of non-consensual touching, in gross violation of accepted social norms.  Peyton Frazier refused to keep her hands to herself!

As for escape... or even the hope of escape... that was entirely missing.  Lori had no idea how long Peyton intended to keep them her prisoner (or what would be their eventual fate).

Anyway, when the evening of the one-week-anniversary arrived, Peyton let Kassidy indulge herself at the prisoners' expense.  Maybe it did count as some sort of perverse celebration.

The setting was one of the mansion's many lounges or sitting rooms.  Lori and Heidi were naked (of course) and sharing a comfortable, overstuffed easy chair.  It was Modern (of course), and while easily large enough for two, was not a loveseat.  Heidi was sitting in Lori's lap with their arms were around each others waists, which meant their breasts were pressed together.  Also, their hands were tied together, palm-to-palm and behind the others back.  Their ankles were also tied together (with Lori's steel shackles removed).  Taut, doubled ropes linked their bound wrists and their bound ankles, both their own and their companion's, passed under the chair, and looped around its legs.  Additional ropes crossed the chair and their laps, reinforcing their helplessness.  Squirming was possible, but if either of them pulled on her bound wrists and/or kicked her bound ankles, it tugged on both their arms and legs.  It was also... intimate.  They were in an involuntary embrace... an involuntary naked embrace.  There were knots (of course) but none of them were within reach of their fingers, and that became even more the case after Kassidy mummified their fingers and hands with black latex tape, then used silver duct-tape to tightly cover the latex layer.

Kassidy was very pleased with herself.  The hugging naked professor and her naked student were not.

Peyton had watched her employee perpetrate her hemp, latex, and duct-tape outrage, smiling her lopsided grin and ready to help, if necessary, but her help hadn't been needed.  Lori and Heidi's spirits weren't broken, per se, but Kassidy had taken the usual precautions, making sure they were always at least semi-helpless while she created her art installation.  The prisoners knew it was yet another battle they couldn't win, so they didn't bother trying.

Anyway, Lori and Heidi's predicament complete, Peyton and Kassidy stood side-by-side in matching arms-crossed-under-boobs gloating poses, smiled, and watched the captives wiggle, squirm, and blush.  Then, the kidnappers exchanged a high-five hand-slap, turned, and left the room.

Cheek-to-cheek, Lori and Heidi watched their kidnappers depart... then heaved simultaneous sighs.  (This did nothing to suppress the embarrassing intimacy of their boob-on-boob plight.)

"Are you okay, Heidi?" Lori whispered.

"Uh... I suppose," Heidi answered.  Was she sore all over?  Yes.  Was she happy?  No.  But there was no need to add to Doc's burden.  "How 'bout you?"

Lori heaved another sigh.  "I'm rather worried about the rest of the academic quarter.  I suppose others can take up my teaching load, but it's going to be inconvenient for all concerned."

"Yeah," Heidi agreed.  "This is gonna totally wreck my plan-of-study.  Some of my courses won't be offered again 'til next year."

"Yes, that is unfortunate," Lori stated, perfectly deadpan.

They gazed at each other for a few seconds... then laughed.  It was either that or cry, and both were pleased to see that the other had retained her sense of humor.  They then heaved another sigh and rested their heads on each others shoulders.

A short while later, Kassidy returned to the sitting room.

The chair-captives watched her approach, and heaved yet another joint sigh.  Dangling from her right hand were a pair of ball-gags.  Neither prisoner was surprised, just disappointed.  There was absolutely no objective need to gag either of them.  And so, of course, Kassidy was going to do it.

"Sorry for the delay," Kassidy purred.  "I knew this thing was around here somewhere, but I couldn't remember exactly where I last stashed it."

Lori and Heidi could now see that the ball-gags were, in fact, a single ball-gag, or more precisely, a double-ball-gag, with two conjoined mouth-plugging spheres, each with its own strap!

"No!" Lori objected.

"Nrrrf!" Heidi agreed.  Kassidy had chosen her to go first.  One of the balls was in her mouth and Kassidy was buckling the strap at the nape of her neck, under her tousled brown hair.  As usual, Kassidy was cinching the buckle tight enough to cause Heidi's cheeks to bulge.

"No!  I said no!"  Lori squirmed and objected as Kassidy walked around the chair—"Mrrrk!"—thrust the second ball between her teeth and into her mouth, then buckled the second strap as tightly as she had the first.

Fortunately (and probably by design) the balls were joined together by a rubber-padded swivel-joint, enabling Lori and Heidi to turn their heads and find a "comfortable" position.  Their lips were now pressed together, exactly as if they were sharing a deep, wet kiss—an involuntary and permanent deep, wet kiss—and in point of fact, they were!

"Mrrrmpfh!"  That was a joint statement by the naked prisoners.

Lori and Heidi rolled their shoulders and continued mewling complaints through the double-gag.  A free exchange of saliva was underway, with a liberal amount escaping their mouths, dripping down their chins, spotting their upper breasts, and oozing between the squashed globes, providing lubrication when their struggles caused boob-on-boob grinding.

"Well... sleep tight," Kassidy quipped, then spun on her heels and left the sitting room.

"MMMRFFF!"  The prisoners screamed... then stopped struggling.  The rope-enforced hug continued, of course, as did the "kiss."

THAT NIGHT
(Approximately 1:00 AM)

---

For the past several nights Peyton had shared her bed with her Resident Scholar, the University Professor she'd "hired" to curate the latest additions to her wonderful collection.  It had been Peyton's longstanding habit to sleep in the nude, and she had seen no reason to change simply because she'd decided to indulge Kassidy for the evening by letting her play a rope game with both her senior and junior Resident Scholars.  So... Peyton was nude, sprawled in the tangled covers of her king-sized platform bed, her tousled red curls half-covering her totally relaxed face, fast asleep... and completely alone in her luxurious bedroom.

And then, she wasn't.

"Mrrrf!"  Something (meaning someone) was sitting on Peyton's body!  Another someone had stuffed some sort of foam ball into her mouth, and now was stretching a rubbery, mask-like panel over her mouth and lower face, from under her chin to just under her nose!  "Mrrrrrr!"  And they were somehow securing the panel-gag at the nape of her neck, under her hair!  "Mrrrk!"  Peyton wasn't completely without martial arts training, so she might have been able to at least impede her captor's progress, but the contest had started with her unconscious.  And more importantly, her attackers were highly competent, anticipated and countered her every move, and overpowered her feeble resistance with trivial ease.

Peyton's arms were pulled behind her back and padded restraints of some sort tightened around her wrists, binding them together.  Similar cuffs secured her ankles, putting an end to her enthusiastic efforts to kick her captors.  Naked, bound hand and foot, and—"Mrrrf!"—gagged, Peyton shook her red hair from her face.

The only light in the bedroom came from the pair of dim, blue-green nightlights near the floor on either side of the bed, but it was enough.  She could now see that her attackers were three in number, and they were all dressed from head to toe in black tactical outfits: boots, skintight catsuits, knee pads, body armor, elbow pads, hoods, helmets, and night-vision goggles.  They had handguns holstered on their right hips, but no weapons were in their gloved hands.  And oh-by-the-way, the strangers were all women—fit, curvaceous, and unmistakably female.

"First target secure," one of the ninja-like intruders announced, probably into the microphone in front of her mask-covered lips.

And then, two more of the black-clad women appeared, bringing the total of uninvited bedroom guests to five, and they were bringing with them a coffin-sized, brushed aluminum packing case on what appeared to be a gurney-like folding wheeled platform.  Now fully awake and with adrenaline coursing through her veins, Peyton realized the coffin-case was almost certainly for her!

"MRRRRF!"

She was right.  The attackers opened the case's lid, lifted her squirming, naked, bound, and gagged body, and deposited her in its padded interior.  "Nrrr!  Nrrrrrrr!"  Resistance was futile.  Nylon straps tightened across Peyton's already bound ankles, above and below her knees, her thighs, her waist and forearms, and her upper arms and torso, above and below her oscillating breasts.  Thankfully, there was a cutout in the padding to accommodate her hands and arms, minimizing the strain on her shoulders, but she was now totally helpless.  Only minimal squirming was possible.

One of the ninja-women peeled the paper backing from adhesive disks and pasted what Peyton suspected were medical sensors to her chest, above her left boob, then to her right inner thigh, over her femoral artery.  Meanwhile, one held her head steady while another secured the straps of a gasmask with a large, clear, oval face-plate over her gagged face.

Peyton squirmed and fought her restraints, to no avail.  And then, one of the she-ninjas closed the lid of the coffin!

"MRRRRRK!"

Total darkness!  The padding of the lid's interior pressed against Peyton's upper body, unnecessarily enhancing her total helplessness.

"MRRRrrrrrr..."

Peyton's panic abruptly subsided.  She felt... strange... and suddenly very sleepy.  She closed her eyes... watched phantom lights twinkle and dance across the inside of her eyelids... then lapsed into blessed unconsciousness.

(Approximately 1:01 AM)

---

Kassidy opened her eyes.  Someone was in her bedroom.  She lay still for several seconds... then erupted from the bed, was immediately knocked to the floor, rolled to the side, and flowed to her feet into fighting stance—all in one fluid motion.

Kassidy was nude.  Like her employer, sleeping in the buff was her habit.

The intruders, however—and there were three of them—were not nude.  They were dressed identically in black tactical outfits and gear.  Even in the dim light Kassidy could see their equipment was state-of-the-art, allowing both freedom of movement and protection, and included the latest in low-profile night vision goggles.  One was engaging her in combat—the second was standing by to her left, just outside of Kassidy's swing-kicking range but ready to join the fray—and the third was slightly further away and to her right, her right hand resting on the butt of the handgun holstered on her hip.

Somehow (obviously) they'd disabled the mansion's alarm system.  All three were female, and they knew their business, which (obviously) was attempting to capture Kassidy Roth.  She could see no markings on their uniforms, like "FBI" or "POLICE", and they hadn't announced their affiliation and called upon her to surrender.  Also—following a flurry of blocked kicks and strips, a deftly countered take-down, and another roll on the carpet and return to fighting stance—at least the one Kassidy was fighting knew her stuff.

"Enough of this crap," one of the intruders announced.  It was the one with the handgun.  With lightning speed, she drew the weapon and fired.

There was a surprisingly quiet cough, and at the same time, Kassidy felt a sting in her right butt-cheek.   Obviously, the handgun was a gas-powered dart-pistol—and a dart was now protruding from her right gluteus maximus.  She reached back to pluck the dart from her butt and throw it with and under-arm flip at one of her attackers.  That was her intention, anyway.  Instead, Kassidy's eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed to the floor.

Kassidy lay on her side, more-or-less paralyzed.  She opened her eyes and flinched when one of the women-in-black plucked the dart from her butt for her, then watched as two more intruders wheeled a coffin-shaped aluminum case into the bedroom.  She struggled to make sense of what was happening and get to her feet... then decided to close her eyes, instead.  Darkness descended.

(Approximately 1:12 AM)

---

Lori and Heidi awoke from a fitful, wretched, and not at all restful slumber to find someone unbuckling their double-ball-gags.  Whoever they were, there were at least two of them, and they were dressed from head to toe in black. 

"Dr. Ryder, how are you feeling?"

Lori blinked in confusion.  The voice was female, and now that she noticed, both of their black-clad rescuers were as well... meaning female... also quite obviously physically fit.  "I... I'm, uh...  Oh, yes, please."  The woman-in-black had held a bottle of water to her lips, and she swallowed a generous (distressingly sloppy) gulp.  "I'm fine.  And you would be?"

"We're here to rescue you," the woman said.

"How 'bout you, Ms. Hass," the other woman inquired as she held a second bottle so Heidi could drink.

After swallowing, Heidi heaved a deep sigh.  "Peachy.  Did you say rescue?"

"Yes, rescue."

Lori was pleased to learn that this was, in fact, a rescue, but wanted to know more.  "Are you the police?  What about Peyton Frazier and that horrid Kassidy woman?  Ow!"

After restoring the cap to the bottle of water and returning it to the pouch on her belt, Lori's rescuer had pulled a cylindrical object from a narrow pocket sewn into her left upper sleeve, removed its cap, and pressed it against the side of Lori's neck!  It was a hypodermic injector!

"Ow!" Heidi agreed.  Her alleged rescuer had given her an injection at the same time.  "What the hell?  I thought you were the good guys!"

"We are," the masked woman answered.  "This will help you relax."

Heidi noticed Lori's eyes were closed, with an uncharacteristically goofy smile curling her lips.  "What did yoo dooze tuh Doc?  Waz did yoo ingest us wiz? ...I mean injex? ...I mean... wha waz in da neezles?"  Heidi's tongue had suddenly turned numb, making it very difficult for her to enunciate properly.  And then... it didn't matter.  She closed her eyes and her head lolled to the side, coming to rest on Lori's shoulder.

The women-in-black began untying the captives' rope bonds and carefully slicing through the layers of tape mummifying their hands.

"The kid's strong," one of the woman untying Heidi remarked.  "Maybe I should give her another injection."

"They'll both be breathing sleep-gas in the back of the ambulance soon," the other responded.

Just then, two more black-clad rescuers appeared, each pushing a conventional gurney (with a plethora of dangling straps).

(Approximately... later.)

---

Heidi opened her eyes... blinked... and stared up at the rather complicated wooden rafters of the wood-panelled ceiling overhead.  It was arched, vaulted, and crisscrossed by richly-stained timbers.  All of the above.  Complicated.

She was lying in a very comfortable bed, covered by a gazillion-thread-count cotton sheet in a very pretty shade of... Pomegranate?  There was also a light blanket woven in a vaguely ethnic/tribal pattern in a half-dozen visually pleasing and mutually compatible natural colors.  Very pretty.  She was naked, and—

Heidi's eyes popped wide and she threw back the covers, vaulted from the bed, landed on the floor in her best combat-ready stance, and blew the errant strands of her tousled brown hair from her face.  I'm not tied up! she realized.  Not even a little!

There was soft carpet under her bare feet, and she was in a large, luxurious bedroom.  (Her big clue had been the bed.)  There was a little art hanging on the wood-paneled walls, all abstract, and very soothing, with the exception of a single Post-Impressionistic painting that was probably a Gauguin reproduction.  However, it was all very pretty.  Also, there were a few inoffensive knickknacks and tchotchkes scattered among the many books on various shelves and cabinets.  Overall, the decor was ethnic/tribal (like the blanket on the bed), in a mix of compatible earth-tones, but was... generic and slightly impersonal, like a suite in a high-end tropical resort.

This impression was reinforced by the view from the trapezoidal-shaped bedroom's two window-walls.  Heidi could see the ocean (some ocean), a gleaming sand beach, and green vegetation, including what appeared to be several coconut palms. 

Angelina Jolie as...       "Jane" Executive Operative of the Sisterhood's Action Directorate

Heidi was about to pad to the windows and see if she could learn anything more, when—Rap-rap-rap!—there was a quiet but authoritative knock at the door.  (And yes, the bedroom did have a door).  Heidi shuffled to face said door, still in combat mode and ready to do battle.  The door opened... and a beautiful stranger appeared.

She was old, about Doc's age... maybe... and with tan skin.  A lot of tan skin, as she was wearing nothing but a string bikini in a silky blue fabric that matched her eyes.  Her longish, gleaming brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a warm smile curled her full lips.  And she was beautiful.  Her physique, muscle tone, proportions, body-fat-index, flawless skin, and everything were simply perfect.  And she was beautiful.  Heidi was impressed.

But was she a good guy or a bad guy?  (Not that there was anything to in any way suggest that she might be a guy.)  She wasn't carrying coils of rope or cord, handcuffs, or anything else she might use to render Heidi bound and helpless (other than her string bikini).  That was a good sign, and her smile was welcoming.  Another good sign.  That said, the jury was out until Heidi knew more.  She remained ready to fight... and naked.

"Ah, you're awake," the beautiful woman said.  "How are you feeling, Ms. Haas?"

Heidi relaxed into a more casual pose.  She could always snap back into combat stance if the woman made any threatening moves.  "Uh, I'm fine... I suppose."

"Excellent," the woman beamed.  "My name is Jane."  She gestured towards a closed door.  "The bathroom is there."  She pointed to another door.  "And that's the walk-in closet.  After you tidy up you should get dressed and join Dr. Ryder and myself for brunch.  We won't be difficult to find."

Heidi realized she was very hungry.  Her stomach grumbled in anticipation.  "Doc's here?" she demanded.

"She is," Jane smiled.  "There's no hurry, so take your time.  Enjoy a nice refreshing shower.  We'll be dining poolside, so swimwear would be appropriate."

Heidi frowned.  "Excuse me.  Swimwear?"

Jane laughed and pointed to the second door.  "You'll find everything you'll need in the closet."  Her smile widened.  "Welcome to Marsopa Cay, Heidi."  And with that, she closed the door and Heidi was alone.

Well, Heidi thought, staring at the back of the now closed door.  Okay.  Thanks.

So... Heidi was naked but neither bound nor gagged, and she was forced to accept that it was increasingly probable that she (and Doc) had, in fact, been rescued.  Granted, she was in need of a bathroom visit, a shower, some clothing, and especially—Grumble!—some food, all of which had been promised and were supposedly imminent, providing Beautiful Jane had been telling the truth.  Of course her bikini-clad hostess could be a part of the whole Peyton Frazier Conspiracy and at any moment one of the bedroom's three doors could burst open to admit Kassidy, no doubt with a handful of rope and the expert skill to use it!  But that seemed increasingly unlikely.

Heidi's stomach complained again.  Grumble.  (Get on with it!)

Okay, okay, she mentally sighed as she padded towards the alleged bathroom door.  On with the show.