to the bathroom allegedly attached to her not-allegedly
and in fact undeniably luxurious Modern/Asian/Tropical
bedroom... cautiously opened the door... and confirmed that the
space beyond was, indeed, a bathroom.
So far so good. "Beautiful Jane," the mysterious
bikini-clad 40-something woman who'd appeared soon after Heidi
woke up had been truthful... so far.
The bathroom's decor matched the main bedroom and there were the
usual face-basin and mirror, commode, glass-enclosed shower
stall, and bathtub, and the tub was large, sunken into
the floor, and had built-in ports that strongly suggested water
jets. It was big enough for two... or three if everybody
got chummy. Heidi relieved herself, took a drink of water,
brushed her teeth (and yes, the bathroom came fully stocked with
all the usual toiletry products and equipage, like toothbrush,
hairbrush and comb set, cordless blow-dryer plugged into a
recharging stand, and various sizes of hanging or stacked towels
of various sizes, all in very pretty, subdued, tropical colors
and compatible with the rest of the decor.
Next, Heidi padded to the shower, figured out the digital
control panel, and enjoyed a refreshing shower. She'd
briefly considered taking the sunken mega-tub for a spin (a
swirl?) but in the interests of brevity, opted for the shower
instead. Grumble. Her stomach kept reminding
her that breakfast was waiting. Stepping from the stall
she toweled herself dry, then blow-dried and brushed her
hair. It felt very good to be squeaky clean from
head to toe. Then (without bothering to wrap the damp
towel around her naked body) she padded from the bathroom and
into the alleged walk-in closet.
She opened the door... and once again Beautiful Jane's veracity
was verified. It was a largish, narrow space, with a
triptych of full-length mirrors at the far end, a bar with
hanging clothes, built-in cabinets, and a rack of neatly paired
shoes. Yet again the decor was unchanged, with subdued
metal hardware and richly stained wood paneling and cabinets.
As for the clothes... Heidi slid the hangers apart and
made a cursory survey of the roughly two dozen outfits,
all high quality (and probably expensive), all in her size, and
running the gamut from formal gowns, to cocktail dresses, to
lightweight sundresses, to casual skirts, shorts, and blouses,
to rugged-but-tasteful hiking outfits. And hanging from a
hanger at the far end of the rack, all by itself, was a black
string bikini, and the hanger included a black
hair-scrunchie. Obviously, this was the "swimwear"
Beautiful Jane had suggested would be appropriate breakfast
attire, and she'd made it easy to find. Grumble.
"Okay-okay-already," Heidi scolded her stomach as she donned the
bikini. It wasn't difficult, and thanks to the infinitely
adjustable string-ties, she achieved a perfect fit. Heidi
then pulled back her freshly washed, dried, and brushed hair and
used the scrunchie to enforce a sleek ponytail.
Heidi admired herself in the three mirrors. "It'll do,"
she decided (with a smile). There were racks of shoes, all
feminine and obviously expensive, but Beautiful Jane had been
barefoot, so Heidi decided she'd remain barefoot as well.
"All-rightie-then..." Heidi purred, smiling and posing a final
time for the mirrors... "Breakfast!" Grumble!
Heidi padded from the closet, used the door Jane had used to
exit the bedroom, and found herself outdoors, on an open walkway
shaded by a roof/canopy of blue canvas-like material stretched
over an elaborate wooden framework. The air was hot and
humid, but an ocean-scented breeze kept her cool. There
were more of the coconut palms, flowering shrubs, sandy beach,
and turquoise and blue ocean she'd glimpsed from the bedroom's
window-walls. Gulls and other seabirds dotted the cerulean
sky, chattering and scolding one another as they soared and
And as it turned out, Heidi's bedroom was actually a cabin, or
maybe a cabana. Whatever. In any case, it was a
small(ish) standalone building, and one of a cluster of several,
all spaced apart and sharing the network of covered
walkways. Other women were present, varying in age, hair
color, and skin tone, but none were particularly close.
And now that Heidi noticed, they were all probably older than
herself and were dressed in a variety of outfits, all
appropriate to the tropics and similar to what Heidi had found
hanging in her closet. That said, roughly half the women
were wearing bikinis, like Heidi, but in a variety of really
pretty colors. Heidi was the only one she could see in
The closest two women were dressed for hiking, in boots, cargo
shorts, tank-tops, and with light day-packs. One of them,
a redhead (who was not The Evil Peyton Frazier), gave
Heidi a friendly wave. "Looking for the pool?" she
"Uh, yeah!" Heidi shouted back.
The women pointed, Heidi padded a couple of steps in the
direction indicated... and now that her cabana was out of the
way, she could see a large, multi-storied building, not far
"It's on the far side of the lodge," the second women
shouted. She was African, with very dark skin and closely
cropped black curls.
"Thanks!" Heidi shouted, and the redhead and African waved and
walked away. Heidi waved back.
The "lodge" that supposedly was between herself and breakfast—Grumble—was,
in a word, tropical, like the cabanas. Heidi decided it
was a cross between a "native" long house and a Frank Lloyd
Wright mansion, with solar panels on the roof, a tower studded
with satellite dishes, and a multitude of balconies with hanging
Heidi made her way towards the lodge. She passed a couple
of sundress-wearing women, both of whom smiled and nodded, and
she returned the gesture. Both women (like all the others
in sight) were, indeed, older that herself, and were quite
obviously fit, with athletic, curvaceous figures. The
bikini-wearers (who weren't Heidi) appeared to be headed for the
beach, with the exception of one (a thirty-something beauty with
nut-brown skin, long, straight, gleaming black hair, and rocking
a chili-red bikini) who was was ahead of her and padding in the
same direction, so Heidi discretely followed her down the
walkway... towards the now looming lodge... around to the far
side... and there was the promised pool.
And what a pool! It was very natural, anything but poured
concrete and straight lines. It was more like a
semi-improved pond or small lake, surrounded by a patio of
closely fitted irregular flagstones partially shaded by a grove
of palms and a gigantic banyan tree. The brown
(Hispanic?) woman paused to thoroughly drench herself under a
shower built into the teak frame of a flowering arbor, then ran
and dove into the pool, joining three other swimmers.
Grouped around the pool were the usual lounge chairs and a few
cafe-tables with chairs, all in teak with colorful-but-subdued
cushions. Further from the pool were shaded, gazebo-like
shelters with more tables and chairs, and seated under one of
them were Doc and Jane. They'd seen her first and both
were smiling and waving.
Heidi waved back, then padded around the pool to join
them. Beautiful Jane (the Truth Teller) was still wearing
(barely) her blue bikini, while Doc was wearing (barely) a white
bikini, equally skimpy and revealing. Doc and Jane rose to
their bare feet as Heidi drew near... and the last few yards
Heidi accelerated into a full sprint and flung herself
into a full embrace of her Major Professor.
Lori was not generally ebullient in her interactions with her
students, but this was a special and hopefully unique
occasion. She returned Heidi's squeezing hug with equal
enthusiasm. She also joined her student in shedding
They were safe! They were rescued!
The hug lasted for a minor eternity... then they both took a
step back, holding each other's hands and smiling.
"You're okay?" Heidi inquired, and Lori nodded.
"And you?" Lori asked.
"Peachy," Heidi answered, then turned and gazed at Jane, who was
also smiling (and was beautiful)... then turned back to her
beloved Doc and made a show of looking around at the pool, the
lodge, the cabanas, and their tropical surroundings in
general. "What's up, Doc?"
Jane erupted in a veritable fit of melodic laughter.
Lori, on the other hand, wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks
and favored her student with one of her notorious
disappointed-but-tolerant wry smirks, but clearly, she was also
amused. There was a consensus among a certain segment of
the Professor's undergrad students that her prim and proper
English demeanor was actually a façade, that underneath
Doc was actually a "saucy minx." Secretly, Heidi conceded
that there was merit to their position.
"Quite a bit is up," Doc finally replied. She
gestured to the table, which was formally set for three,
complete with elaborately and decoratively folded napkins atop
each plate. "Please, join us."
Still very amused but back under control (and
beautiful), Jane pulled back a chair for Heidi to sit, then Jane
and Lori resumed her former places. Jane lifted an
insulated carafe and poured hot, dark, steaming coffee
into the cup at Heidi's place. Meanwhile, Doc lifted a
teapot, replenished her cup, then added milk from a small
Just then, a woman pushing a teak cart laden with covered
serving dishes approached. She was tall, in her late 20's
or early 30's, and might have been the twin of the brown-skinned
woman Heidi had followed to the pool, and was wearing a bikini
in a pleasing floral print and a long, whisper-thin sarong
loosely tied around her waist. Her long black hair was
pulled back and held by a narrow band of fabric matching her
bikini (what there was of it).
"Ah, Lahela, perfect timing!" Jane gushed.
Grumble. Heidi's stomach concurred. Polynesian,
Heidi decided, ignoring her salivating mouth and smiling at
Shortly thereafter, Doc was politely but enthusiastically
enjoying a Full English Fry-up of Irish bacon, sausages,
sunny-side-up eggs, black pudding, baked beans, sautéed tomatoes
and mushrooms, and white toast.
Jane was enjoying something she explained (in response to
Heidi's curious stare) was a "Moco Loco," white rice covered by
a hamburger steak, smothered in brown gravy, and topped with a
pair of fried eggs, all sprinkled with chopped scallions.
Meanwhile, Heidi (and her stomach) were enjoying scrambled eggs
(with a little cheese), perfectly sautéed potatoes (with diced,
caramelized onions and a hint of minced garlic), bacon (American
bacon, aka "streaky bacon"), and white toast with butter and
what appeared to be (and tasted like) genuine Marionberry
preserves (just like at Sacajawea's, Heidi's favorite
burger joint and greasy spoon restaurant near the Lewis &
Clark campus). Everything was, in a word, yummy!
They were all about halfway through their plates before
"So..." Heidi said, then popped half a piece of bacon into her
mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "What about the bad guys,
Peyton and Kassidy?"
"Your kidnappers are being dealt with," Jane answered, her lips
curled in a sardonic smile. "Once their disposition is
finalized, I'll be able to tell you more."
Heidi frowned. "Uh... okay... I guess." She turned
her gaze to Doc.
"I know nothing more than you," Lori told her student.
"Let's agree to let the, uh, authorities handle the
Heidi turned back to Jane.
"That's me," Jane chuckled. "I have a badge and ID card
back in my room, both stamped 'Authority', or something
similar. Remind me to show it to you later."
Heidi resumed eating. Everything was very... mysterious...
also luxurious, tropical, and delicious. I'll get all
demandingly inquisitive later, she decided.
"The real news concerns Ms. Frazier's trove of stolen
and/or looted documents and artifacts," Lori said with a broad
Heidi raised an questioning eyebrow as she shoveled more food
into her face. (Everything really was delicious!)
"It's all being donated to the University," Doc beamed, "and I'm
going to lead an international team of scholars to study the
collection, and you'll be a part of it, Heidi."
Heidi smiled, then heaved a sigh. "After I complete my
coursework and successfully defend my dissertation, of course."
"Before," Lori beamed. "In fact, immediately. We'll
have to carefully work thought the details, but I suggest you
more-or-less shelve your current doctoral research and refocus
on Toland of Consett and his 'newly discovered' writings.
There's enough material there for dozens of
dissertations, and I have every confidence the results of your
portion of the research effort will make your reputation."
Heidi continued eating. Truth be told, she wasn't very far
along with her current dissertation work, and starting over
wouldn't be much of a challenge.
"As I said, we'll go over everything in detail," Doc reassured
her student. "For now, I've already been on the phone with
the Dean and you're presently on an extended research
sabbatical, retroactive from the beginning of the quarter.
We agreed to bend the rules and all your current classes have
been properly dropped, They won't even be listed as
'incomplete' on your academic record."
Heidi's smile returned. "That's good."
Scholastically, they still had a lot to talk
about. She was keeping an eye on their surroundings as
they ate, and noted a gorgeous, bikini-clad, dripping wet
brunette had climbed the ladder from the pool and her place
taken by two newcomers, one Asian and the other a tall blonde
doing a very credible Viking shield-maiden imitation.
"Marsopa Cay is one of several rest and recreation resorts
affiliated with my organization," Jane announced, obviously
noticing Heidi had managed to pry her attention away from her
now nearly empty plate. "You'll both be our guests for the
next few weeks while you recuperate from your ordeal, work out
the framework of your new academic endeavors, and begin curating
and studying Ms. Frazier's collection. Then, you can
return to Lewis & Clark and resume your studies."
"The preliminary plan," Lori explained, "is to either build a
new building to house the collection or add an annex to the F.E.
Campbell Library. Jane assures me funding won't be a
Heidi held out her cup to be refilled by Jane, then took a
sip. Obviously, there were a ton of questions
that needed answering, but for now, she decided to sit back,
enjoy her full stomach, and revel in not being kidnapped, naked,
and bound and gagged. Maybe later, after the obligatory
half-hour wait to prevent stomach cramps, she'd give the pool a
try... or bask in one of those comfy-looking lounge chairs... or
stroll down to the beach and take a dip in the ocean. She
made a mental note to add the identity of the surrounding waters
to her list of questions. With a name like "Marsopa Cay,"
her money was on the Caribbean.
Lori refilled her tea cup, added milk, took a delicate sip, then
sighed, smiled, sat back, and closed her eyes.
Doc looks pretty good in a bikini, Lori mused, for an
old lady. She's no Jane... but then... who is? She
shifted her gaze to the Jane in question, and blushed.
Jane was smiling directly at her. "Uh, any chance of
seconds?" Heidi inquired.
Lahela had left, but the cart was still there and within Jane's
"How 'bout some fruit?" Jane suggested, lifted the lid from a
covered bowl, and ladled a portion of chopped cantaloupe,
honeydew melon, papaya, mango, and... a few varieties of fruit
Heidi didn't recognize into a small bowl.
"Yes-please," Heidi gushed, and accepted the bowl. Her
place setting already had the appropriate spoon. The fruit
was delicious, and Heidi had to admit that she didn't really
need any more eggs and greasy bacon. She spooned the cool,
sweet, yummy chunks into her mouth and chewed and swallowed at a
Many questions. So many questions. But for now...
life was good, and Doc seemed to agree. In fact, Heidi was
sure she agreed.
|Scads of Extra Credit
awoke to find herself hot, sweaty, and sore all over... and she
was wearing some sort of long dress... or... ball gown?
Also, her waist was being squeezed by a corset! Why
the hell am I wearing a corset? she wondered. And
there was more. A lot more!
For one thing, she was tied up! Her arms were folded
behind her back with her wrists crossed and raised slightly past
the horizontal. Rope pinned her upper arms against her
sides, in the process squeezed her breasts together from above
and below, and more rope yoked her shoulders. And now she
was sure her ridiculous and overly voluminous costume was a
ball-gown—an off-the-shoulder number with a full train and way
too many petticoats to be comfortable in this much heat and
humidity. Not counting the ropes of the box-tie, her
shoulders were bare and the upper halves of her rope-framed
boobs revealed, nearly to the nipples! But while the
gown's waist, corset, and torso layers of the underlying
underclothes were tight and close-fitting, the skirt and its
many layers of underskirts were loose—or rather they would be if
bands of rope weren't lashing her legs together around her
thighs, above and below her knees, and around her ankles.
There were way too many layers of cloth. The
skirts were practically a sleeping bag, repeatedly cinched with
bands of hemp, but puffy in between the bondage. Way too
much frilly fabric. Her right foot was bare, but her left
was still wearing a dancing slipper.
Peyton had to admit that what she could see of the silky, frilly
gown was very pretty, in shades of salmon-pink with white lace
trim. It was a little ripped, torn, and soiled, but before
whatever had happened to her with all the rope it had to be
quite a look... very Disney Princess. Her eyes popped wide
as she finally came fully awake. I've been kidnapped,
dressed in a ridiculous Victorian costume, tied up—"Mrrrf!"—and
gagged! Something silky and substantial was stuffed
in her mouth and was being held in place by a very tight
band of folded cloth. Peyton kicked and struggled, testing
her bonds, and in the process, the left slipper slipped from her
foot and joined its mate on the floor of her cage.
Peyton was, indeed, in a steel cage! Its vertical,
gunmetal bars were about 1½" in diameter and spaced something
like four-inches apart. The overall shape was cubical, six
to seven feet on a side, with periodic horizontal steel
bracing. The cage's ceiling and floor were also made of
bars. Whoever had orchestrated Peyton's historical costume
drama captivity hadn't been thoughtful enough to provide a
pallet or mattress in the arrangement. She squirmed and
struggled and managed to sit up and lean her back and bound arms
against the unforgiving bars of her cage. Using only her
nostrils and despite her gag, she then managed to blow a few
strands of her loose, tousled red locks from her face and
focused beyond the bars.
It took a while to make sense of her expanded surroundings...
but eventually Peyton decided she was in the hold of a wooden
ship, of all places. This was further reinforced by a
barely perceptible rhythmic rocking motion accompanied by the
creak of mooring lines. Light was streaming through a
grated skylight, or possibly a hatch cover, as well as a couple
of small portholes. In addition to the vessel's wooden
hull and structural timbers, she noted neat rows of wooden
crates and barrels, all lashed together with tight rope (like
Peyton's arms and legs), presumably to prevent them from rolling
or sliding around during rough weather. All bore stenciled
labels, which she assumed were either points of origin or
destinations. The three Peyton could most easily read were
SINGAPORE, VALPARAÍSO, and BÅTSFJORD.
This is nuts! the caged prisoner decided.
Just then, the big hatch-cover directly over Peyton and her cage
slammed open, allowing direct sunlight to flood the hold.
An iron hook on the end of a thick, stout rope lowered into the
hold, and with it came a sailor, her bare feet riding the top of
the hook. She was European, with deeply tanned skin, blue
eyes, a very pretty face, and long, sun-streaked brown hair
pulled back in a ponytail. A rather piratical-looking
bandana was tied atop her head like a skullcap, and continuing
the buccaneer theme, she was wearing a loose-fitting linen shirt
with its long, full sleeves rolled up to her biceps and the
front open to the waist, as well as a pair of dark but
sun-bleached knee-pants. She was beautiful, fit, strong,
and nimble as the proverbial monkey as she bent at the waist and
slid the hook through a staple on the top of Peyton's cage
(giving Peyton a good look at most of her breasts in the
process). She then planted her bare feet atop the cage
with one hand on the rope and her other on her hip, shouted
"Haul away!" and rode the cage as it was lifted from the hold.
Peyton went along for the ride, of course, and found herself...
elsewhere. Once again, her green eyes popped wide above
Peyton was, indeed, on a ship... a sailing ship!
And she was dressed as a nineteenth-century European aristocrat,
bound and gagged, locked in a cage, and dangling from the rope
and hook of a cargo crane over the open hatch of said wooden
ship! She didn't know a great deal about such vessels, but
this one had three masts and was... big. Not huge, but
nonetheless, substantial. There were more sailors present,
all female and in very casual "pirate uniforms" similar to the
sailor still riding her cage. They were climbing around on
the rigging or performing various other tasks on deck.
There was also an officer present, also female, but dressed in a
white and in-no-way-piratical naval uniform with black epaulets
and was wearing a white wheel-hat with a black bill. All
in all, the scene was very... nautical.
The crane swung around and lowered Peyton and her cage to a
wooden dock, and in the process she got a decent look at what
was beyond the ship. She was arriving at what was to all
appearances a small and primitive tropical port.
There were sandy beaches, palms, broad-leaf trees, and rolling
hills that rapidly built into steep, volcanic ridges and jagged
peaks. As for the port itself, there were warehouses close
to the docks, and beyond were one and two story adobe buildings
with tiled roofs, but a few in the distance were thatched with
palm fronds. Men and women (mostly women) were shopping at
various outdoor stalls or, near the docks and warehouses,
loading trucks and carts. Peyton focused on one of the
trucks, and decided it was... peculiar... sort of like a cross
between a model-T Ford, a jeep, and a steam locomotive.
The crane continued its stately swing, and—"Mrrrf?"—Peyton found
herself staring at an actual castle!
There was absolutely no doubt. It was a castle,
with crenelated towers, massive stone walls, and a moat!
The outer walls were sloped inwards, with regularly spaced
embrasures bristling with cannon. Set in the wall was a
gatehouse with its drawbridge lowered, massive timber gates
gaping open, and spiked portcullis raised. She could see a
pair of guards manning the gate, both female, wearing brown,
tan, and green uniforms, and holding some sort of rifles.
Other women (and a few men) in various 19th Century civilian
outfits crossed the bridge and passed in and out of the
gate. Most were carrying things.
And then—Thud!—the cage landed on the dock, the sailor
nimbly climbed atop and unhooked the hook, then rode it back to
the ship. At the same time, a different sailor, another
ship's officer with two stripes on her epaulets, and two
soldiers in castle uniforms were focused on the cage and its
bound and gagged occupant. All four were female.
Peyton noted that the soldiers' outfits were antiquated in
design, mid to late 19th Century European, but looked fully
functional and too comfortable to be historically accurate, with
neatly rolled-up sleeves, open collars, and made from fabrics
appropriate for the tropics.
One was clearly an officer, in brown riding boots, tan jodhpurs,
a brown blouse with green trim, and a brown Sam Browne belt with
a handgun holstered on her right hip. Each of her green
epaulets bore a pair of diamond-shaped gold pips, and atop her
head was a green wheel hat with a brown visor and a dull gold
badge emblazoned with what Peyton recognized (to her utter
astonishment) as the stylized rook or castle chess piece that
was the La Roque logo, a fashion brand as successful
and world famous as Gucci or Prada.
The other soldier was enlisted. Her boots were
more-or-less modern combat boots, and her uniform consisted of
brown knee socks, tan cargo shorts, and a green blouse with
brown trim. Three downward-facing chevrons were sewn on
her upper sleeves. She was a sergeant. Her
broad-brimmed hat was brown, with a bronze La Roque badge
pinned to the front. A peculiar looking carbine was slung
across her back and a wooden truncheon dangled from a loop on
The ship's officer (a strikingly beautiful African, by the way),
handed a clipboard to the castle officer (who might be Arab, or
possibly Indian), flipped through the pages, pulled a pen from
her breast pocket, signed the bottom sheet, and handed the
"Any trouble?" the castle officer inquired.
The ship's officer smiled. "This one? Are
you kidding me?"
Meanwhile, the sailor produced a key and unlocked Peyton's cage,
swung open the gate/door, knelt inside, and began untying her
"Rumor has it she's a bad one," the castle officer
"I read her summary file," the ship's officer replied.
"Morally and ethically, she's a piece of work. But as a
physical threat?" She shrugged. "A novice Action
Directory Cadet could handle her."
Her bonds reduced to her inescapable box-tie—"Mrrrk!"—and her
gag, Peyton was hustled from the cage, onto the dock, and a
noose dropped over her head. Her dancing slippers remained
behind in the cage. The sailor pulled Peyton's tousled red
hair free of the rope and tightened the noose, then tossed the
end to the castle sergeant.
"We'll take full precautions, nonetheless," the castle officer
said, smiling at Peyton's gagged, frightened face. She
then shifted her smile to the ship's officer. "A bunch of
us are going to Ariel's tonight around sevenish.
It's Jamaican Brown Stew night and Dua Lipa
will be singing a set. You should join."
The officers exchanged salutes. Then, together with the
sailor, the white-uniformed African turned and headed for the
Meanwhile, the castle officer stepped close to Peyton, smiled,
then took a firm hold on her gown, directly over Peyton's left
breast, and gave it a firm downwards jerk. The
pink fabric ripped and dangled over the lower ropes of
Peyton's box-tie. Her left breast and most of her right,
including the nipple, were now exposed to the tropical sun.
"Welcome to Damosel Island," the officer purred, then spun on
her booted heels and set off towards the castle at a brisk
walk. The sergeant turned and followed, Peyton's leash
snapped taut—"Mrf!"—and she had no choice but to pad in their
|Scads of Extra Credit
her eyes... and found herself staring into the white glare a
bank of bright lights. She squeezed them closed... blinked
until they adjusted... then cautiously opened them again.
The overhead lights were an array of compact spotlights on a
rectangular steel frame set in a concrete ceiling. All
were focused on her body... which was naked. Also, she was
spread-eagled on a table, or framework, or possibly an armature
of four long, narrow extensions, one under each of her
outstretched arms and full-extended legs. There was a
similar narrow surface under her torso and head.
Everything was padded, curved, and followed the contours of her
anatomy with comfortable precision. Nonetheless, the
various parts of the "table" weren't very wide and Kassidy
realized she would fallen off the thing long ago if not for the
medical-style restraints tightly buckled around her ankles,
thighs, waist, upper-arms, and wrists, holding her firmly in
place. She wasn't going anywhere.
In addition, Kassidy realized she wouldn't be lodging any
complaints anytime soon. Firstly, she had no
audience. Secondly, something pliable and substantial was
plugging and filling her mouth and a panel of something,
probably rubber, was tautly stretched across her lower face from
under her chin to just below her nose and from ear-to-ear, and
it had been applied properly, tight enough to make her cheeks bulge.
She was gagged.
Just then, a steel panel set in the wall directly between and
well beyond her splayed legs revealed itself to be a door by
sliding into the wall—Snick!—and admitting a pair of very
beautiful, very fit and decidedly graceful
women. Both were wearing black boots and skintight
Shades of Star Trek, Kassidy mused, or maybe Agents
The black-clad woman on Kassidy's left had long, sleek
raven-black hair pulled back in a swaying ponytail and was
Asian, or possibly mixed-race. A sprinkling of freckles
graced her nose and high cheekbones. Her brown eyes were
almond shaped and her expression was... neutral at best.
The woman on Kassidy's right was a redhead. In fact, she
was a ginger, with even features, a peach-pink complexion with a
superabundance of freckles, and green eyes. The
aforementioned ginger hair was cropped short in a curly pixie,
and like her Asian companion, she was not smiling.
Both women were in their late 30's or early 40's, and from the
way they moved, Kassidy could tell they were not just graceful,
but were highly trained athletes—dancers, acrobats, or martial
artists. Kassidy's money (for what it was worth) was on
Both women gazed down at Kassidy for several seconds.
Kassidy tugged on her bonds and gazed back. She didn't
bother trying to force any noise past her gag.
"This is the one all the fuss is about?" the ginger purred.
"Preliminary investigation reveals she's had several years of
training in taekwondo, karate, and jiu jitsu, and
at least a little hojojutsu," the Asian answered.
"And her status is that of an extra-national convict?"
The Asian nodded. "With a twenty-to-life sentence from the
Great Mother's judicial subcommittee."
"She has outstanding warrants in at least three countries," the
Asian answered, "but the chances of conviction are considered
marginal, at best, and her most recent felonies can't be handed
off to the American authorities without exposing Sisterhood
means and methods. So..."
"She remains our problem," the ginger frowned.
"Mental evaluation and rehabilitation will proceed, of course,"
the Asian said, "but for now, she's classified as a Level Three,
and will serve her time as a sparring opponent for senior cadets
and agents rotating through refresher training... with full
precautions, of course."
"Of course," the ginger nodded. She then leaned forward
and (for the first time) smiled into Kassidy's gagged and
glowering face. "Welcome to the Action Directorate
Academy, Convict Roth," she purred.
And with that, the ginger and Asian spun on their heels,
strolled to the open door, made their exit—Snick!—and
once again, Kassidy was alone... naked, bound, and gagged.
The spreadeagled prisoner was short on details regarding what
had happened back at Peyton Frazier's mansion or how she'd come
to find herself at the "Action Directorate Academy"... but one
thing she knew with near certainty: Kassidy Roth was well
and thoroughly screwed.
|Scads of Extra
| Chapter 8