|by Van ©2015|
|OUR STORY CONTINUES|
The day began like any one of the last... week? Frankie added up the Sybian and non-Sybian days since the start of her captivity on Damosel Island and arrived at six, probably six. Of course, she might have been drugged and unconscious for who knows how long before waking up and being introduced to the doctors, but she was pretty sure she could remember six days.
Breakfast was the usual oatmeal mush and coffee. At least the coffee was good. She was naked, of course. After all, clothes were for science-dweebs and blond amazon handlers, not for "guinea pigs" like Frankie Dekker. Her hands were tied behind her back, wrists crossed and lashed together with thin, white cord of braided nylon. A ball-gag was plugging her mouth, buckled tight at the nape of her neck under her semi-tousled hair, the steel shock-collar was locked around her neck, and Annika was leading her down the subterranean corridors of the scientists' lair.
Annika was wearing boots, cargo shorts, and tank-top, rather than a bikini. Frankie had come to think of the two clothing options Annika seemed to prefer as "A," for Abercrombie & Fitch safari apparel, or "B," for bikini. The blonde seemed to alternate between the two without any regular pattern.
By this time Frankie had worked out a credible floor plan of the lair. She hadn't visited every room in the complex, but she was getting her bearings. Annika wasn't leading her to the Sybian. This was a different corridor, Frankie was sure.
There was a pause while Annika tapped the virtual keys of the tiny touch-screen of a cypher-lock, opened a steel door, and led Frankie across the threshold. The prisoner found herself on the landing of a set of steel stairs that led down into a large, domed chamber. The space was a half-sphere with the apex something like thirty feet above the circular floor, and at the center of said floor waited what appeared to be a gynecological examining table or chair or... another armature. It was festooned with cuffs and straps of nylon webbing and Frankie wanted nothing to do with the thing!
"Silly girl," Annika chuckled. "Stop struggling. You know I can handle you, with or without the help of your collar. Will you come quietly, or do you want to be carried like a sack of flour?"
Frankie's eyes were glued to the waiting table/chair. As she allowed Annika to lead (drag) her down the steps to the floor below and drew closer to the thing, she decided "chair" was the best descriptor. There were a pair of pads for her butt and narrow strips of padding for her spine, shoulders, thighs, and calves, stirrups for her feet, and a padded headrest. Her arms would be secured in the horizontal, outstretched position, in a line to the left and right―but not if Frankie had anything to say about it!
Unfortunately, Annika hadn't been bragging. She could handle Frankie, and she did. Despite her most energetic struggles, in a surprisingly short time Frankie found herself in a semi-reclined position on the chair, her body supported by its minimal pads, her knees bent, legs splayed, arms outstretched, and pinned in place by padded cuffs around her ankles and wrists. Annika removed the shock collar, much to Frankie's surprise, then turned and strolled to the stairs.
"Mrrrk?" Frankie was helpless, but her only restraints were the wrist and ankle cuffs. The rest of the many, many straps still dangled from the chair's steel frame were very much not restraining Frankie's body.
"Enjoy yourself, Miss Dekker," Annika purred as she climbed the steps.
Frankie watched her handler cross the threshold and close the door behind her, then tugged on her bonds. Minimal as they were, she was helpless... as always. She heaved a gagged sigh, then turned her attention to the chamber.
The floor and domed ceiling were concrete, like the rest of the lair. Small spotlights on tracks mounted to the ceiling shone down on her body, and there was also many conical... things mounted at the apexes of a geodesic framework that was also mounted to the ceiling. The cones appeared to be translucent plastic. Frankie counted twenty... then stopped counting. There were probably more than a hundred cones, whatever they were.
Along the walls at floor level were numerous steel hatches with hinges and handles, some the size of cabinets and some door-sized. Steel tracks flush with the floor radiated from directly underneath Frankie and her chair. Some led directly to one of the larger hatches, and some curved to join other tracks.
Finally, set high in the side of the dome, at the level of the door at the top of the stairs, was a bank of mirrors that Frankie suspected were actually picture windows of one-way, reflective glass. Control room? she reasoned. Probably, but controlling what?
Suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs opened and Andi and Effie entered the chamber. Both were dressed in sneakers, shorts, T-shirts, and open, unbuttoned lab-coats, sky-blue with the Orgasmatron Project logo on the breast pocket. They giggled and chatted like schoolgirls as they clattered down the stairs and strolled towards Frankie.
"Good morning," Andi said with her usual quirky smile.
"Good morning," Effie added, also smiling. She placed a hand on Frankie's right, outer thigh, and gently slid her palm up and down a few inches. "See," she said to Andi, "I told you so."
"Mrrrpfh!" Frankie complained, scowling as she tried and failed to squirm out from under Effie's hand.
Andi reached out and gently slid her fingers through Frankie's left armpit, much to the squirming captive's distress. "Yes, you're right. But when did I say you were wrong?"
"You didn't," Effie giggled, then turned and strolled to one of the larger hatches, opened it and pulled out a stainless steel lab cart, then rolled the cart to a second, smaller hatch and began loading the cart with various items. The distance was too great for Frankie to make out any details.
Meanwhile, Andi had begun tightening additional restraints, further securing Frankie to the chair. This included straps across her upper arms, forearms, her chest above and below her breasts, and her waist. Additional straps were attached to the legs of the chair, but Andi left them dangling.
Effie pushed the cart between Frankie's legs, and now the prisoner could see a steel tray with a can of menthol shaving cream, a safety razor, a steel bowl, a two liter plastic bottle, and a stack of hand towels.
Uh oh, Frankie thought, staring at the razor.
Frankie watched as Effie twisted off the cap of the bottle and poured water into the bowl. It appeared to be water, anyway. Effie wet a towel, smiled, wrung out the towel, then began running the now damp terrycloth up and down Frankie's right leg, wetting Frankie's smooth, tan skin from her crotch to the margin of the ankle cuff.
"Mrrrf!" Frankie complained, glaring at the smiling Brit. She didn't want her legs shaved by Effie or anyone else―not that what Frankie Dekker did or didn't want had anything to do with anything that happened on Damosel Island.
"Don't worry," Effie said, smiling sweetly. "I'll be careful."
Frankie glowered and tugged on her now quite stringent bonds as Effie spritzed a generous dollop of shaving cream onto her left palm, rubbed her hands together, then began applying the fluffy white foam to Frankie's right leg.
"I'm going to warm up the array and start running the diagnostics," Andi announced, smiled at Frankie, then headed for the stairs.
Effie had finished giving Frankie's leg a thin but thorough coating of cream, and was cleaning her hands with the damp towel. Still smiling her angelic, infuriating smile, she picked up the razor, wet it in the bowl, then leaned close to Frankie leg. "Hold still, please," the gorgeous little British dweeb purred.
The shave cream was causing Frankie's skin to tingle... slightly. Menthol, Frankie thought with a gagged sigh. I hate menthol. The razor was approaching her inner thigh, and she complied with Effie's request to hold still. Humiliating? Yes, but at least she wasn't riding the Sybian.
|Welcome to Damosel Island
Up in the control room, Andi flipped several switches on several panels, then began navigating her way through various menus on several large and small touch-screens. A generalized humming sound began, a quiet chorus of tiny fans turned, banks of LED lights began flashing red, green, blue, amber, or white, and text scrolled and flashed on the screens.
Satisfied that the diagnostic programs were underway, Andi turned her attention to what was happening in the main chamber. Frankie was continuing to squirm and mewl through her gag and Effie continued shaving her right leg. The beautiful, adorable, frightfully clever, and supremely desirable little Brit was demonstrating her usual competence, gently but firmly sliding the business end of the razor over Frankie's tan, smooth, foam-covered skin, pausing now and then to clean the razor in the increasingly cloudy, soapy water.
At the same time, the sensor cones of the Orgasmatron's array were glowing with all the colors of the rainbow. That is, as the diagnostic routines put them through their paces, each cone flashed several different colors. Also, rings and spiral arcs of cones began flashing with the same color. Complex patterns rippled across the dome. If the spotlights focused on Frankie and her chair hadn't been shining so brightly, the light show would be more noticeable, but it was still an impressive sight... as always.
The cones were a specialized and somewhat more advanced version of the SMAT (Synthetic Multiphase Aperture Tomography) array at the Salamandras Institute for Advanced Studies (SIAS) near Lewis & Clark University. Andi and Effie's research built on the groundbreaking work of Doctors Webbel, Haines, McFadden, Bell, and Goodwin at SIAS, but took a different turn. Rather than mapping and modeling general brain function in human subjects, Doctors O'Hara and Hyde-Goode were mapping specific responses to specific external stimuli, and inducing that response with carefully modulated waves of electromagnetic energy.
Andi continued smiling and watching her colleague work. Effie had finished shaving the overwhelming majority of Frankie's right leg and was wiping away any excess cream with a damp towel. Now, she was tightening straps across Frankie's upper thighs, above and below her knees and across her shins. She then released Frankie's right ankle cuff and proceeded to lather, shave, and cleanse the band of skin that had formerly been protected from the razor by the cuff. That task accomplished, Effie restored the cuff and moved on to Frankie's left leg.
Andi touched the margin of the control room's main screen, which until then had been glowing a uniform blue but was otherwise blank. A false-color image of the interior of the chamber appeared, a depiction of Frankie, Effie, and the chair, but fuzzy and surreal. All the colors of the visible spectrum were at play and the images were exaggerated in contrast and color saturation. It was a computer generated image, and as more and more data became available to the machine, the processed images sharpened and grew in detail. However, they remained otherworldly and bizarre.
Andi was thoroughly familiar with the unique display, of course, having developed the interface herself, working with Effie and Sally, the brilliant engineer at SIAS with whom they sometimes consulted via teleconference. The data buffers continued to fill as more and more of the cones finished their diagnostics and the passive sensors came fully online. Now, on the screen, flashes of light in distinct patterns rippled across Frankie and Effie's craniums, indicating the electrical and chemical activity in the various parts of their brains. Through the window and in the real world they appeared completely normal, of course―if you could call what was happening below normal.
Andi's lips curled in her trademark smirk. To her trained eye, the data on the screen revealed the emotions of the subjects below. She detected textbook erotic arousal in her British colleague. Effie was enjoying herself. Frankie, on the other hand, was angry; but as Andi continued studying the image, she detected an undercurrent of erotic arousal in Frankie as well. Their beloved guinea pig wasn't nearly as horny as the smiling scientist shaving her legs, but it was clear that the experience was having an effect.
Meanwhile, Effie had completed shaving Frankie's left leg, including the area under the ankle cuff, and was moving on to a detailed grooming of the subject's crotch. She carefully shaved the outer margins of Frankie's bush, but left the curly thicket intact. The Orgasmatron Project Science Team had long since determined that there was no danger of the subject's pubic hair getting caught in the machinery or in any way masking the sensors. Besides... Frankie's bush was pretty... like her boobs... and her face.
Down in the chamber, Effie had finished her grooming, put away her supplies and the cart, and was attaching medical sensors to Frankie's naked, helpless body. Cardiac sensors were pasted to the areas over Frankie's carotid and femoral arteries, on both the left and right, and a stretch-sensor tightened around her chest to monitor her breathing. Next, Effie tightened a strap across Frankie's forehead, pinning her head to the headrest, then removed her ball-gag.
Andi made sure the directional microphones were properly focused to capture the exchange she knew would inevitably follow.
"Effie, please," Frankie gasped as soon as the ball left her mouth. "What's happening? Please don't hurt me."
"Clever girl," Andi purred. She could tell from the colors flickering on the main display that Frankie was not afraid. She was playing the sympathy card, and had correctly sensed that Effie was a bit of a soft touch―but Andi knew Effie was not a softy when it came to science.
"Oh, don't be afraid," Effie cooed, cupping Frankie's right breast and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "None of our tests are painful, not in the slightest. Just relax."
"No! Let me go, you little―Mrrrrpfh!"
Effie had eased a new gag into Frankie's mouth. It included a large rubber plug, a pair of clear vinyl tubes trailing away to somewhere under the headrest, and a wide panel that cupped Frankie's chin and covered her lower face from ear-to-ear. Once the panel was buckled to the headrest, Frankie's head was completely immobilized and she had no choice but to bite down on the mouth-filling plug.
Effie leaned close to Frankie's well-gagged and glaring face. "The thin tube will provide periodic hydration," she announced, "and the larger tube will provide oxygenated, humidified air, as well as allow us to monitor the level of CO2 in your exhaled breath. Also..." She tucked the cannulas of a medical-type oxygen line into Frankie's nostrils. "There." Smiling brightly, Effie kissed the tip of Frankie's nose, turned, and headed for the stairs.
Frankie squirmed in her bonds. Wiggling her fingers and toes was just about her only means of expressing her displeasure. That, and forcing inarticulate curses past her gag.
She continued squirming and struggling as Effie climbed the stairs and made her exit. The door closed... then the spotlights began to fade.
For the first time, Frankie noticed the glowing, flashing cones. Soon, their light show was the only illumination in the chamber.
Pretty, Frankie thought, and somehow ominous.
|Welcome to Damosel Island
Andi kept her eyes on the main screen as Effie entered the control room. The redhead was still smiling her trademark smirk. "You didn't shave her armpits," she noted.
Effie blushed, then made a show of double-checking the diagnostic results still painting one of the secondary screens. "Her armpits aren't that hairy," she finally answered. "In fact, they aren't hairy at all."
"I'm not saying they're French," Andi purred. "I'm just sayin'."
Effie began punching up the first test routine. "Maybe I'll shave them for her tonight."
"You can ask Annika to tie her to her bed in a nice spread-eagle," Andi suggested, "or one of those hands-behind-the-head ties with the upper arms lashed to the forearms. That way she couldn't squirm away or―"
"Okay, okay, I get it," Effie interrupted, then paused, her finger poised over the virtual button displayed on a touch-screen. "Ready?"
"Ready," Andi confirmed.
Effie pushed the button, the screen flashed, and text and numbers began scrolling in various windows on various screens. Both scientists gazed at the main display.
"The new software filters appear to be working quite well," Andi said.
"I quite agree," Effie said. "The display is very crisp and detailed. We'll have to send a congratulatory e-mail to Sally."
"No rush," Andi chuckled, gesturing towards a side screen. "The session is streaming to SIAS in real time. Sally will probably be sending us e-mails before too long."
Down in the chamber, one of the door-sized hatches opened and a complex machine rolled forth. Following one of the tracks embedded in the floor, it slowly approached Frankie and the chair. It soon became clear that its target was the area between Frankie's splayed legs.
"Fear," Effie said, gazing at the pattern of colors flashing across the processed image of Frankie's pinioned head on the main display.
"Perfectly normal," Andi responded.
"Poor thing," Effie sighed.
The machine had clamped itself to the base of the chair and was pressing itself against Frankie's crotch, changing shape to achieve a virtual seal. She squirmed and mewled through her gag, but quite obviously was unable to prevent whatever was happening.
Of course, Andi and Effie knew exactly what was happening. They'd designed all of the various modules of the Orgasmatron Project. In essence, the active device was a very well designed robot Sybian, and by this time, Frankie had probably made the same assessment.
"Penetration," Andi noted, gazing at the various screens, "and... phase-one vibration."
"Resistance," Andi said, using a laser pointer to highlight various aspects of the flashing image on the main display. "She's trying to ignore the stimuli."
"Good luck with that," Effie purred, "but it's reassuring to know she is, indeed, reluctant."
Andi nodded. "Yes. She's the perfect subject for this phase of the trials."
"Perfect," Effie agreed.
The scientists continued gazing at the main screen. Their smiles had faded. They were mesmerized by the display.
"The frustration subroutine is tracking her responses," Andi noted. "It appears to be working."
"Yes," Effie agreed. "Her resistance indicators have been noted and the system is compensating. She's in for quite a ride."
"Quite a ride," Andi agreed.
Down in the chamber, Frankie continued squirming and struggling. Her skin was beginning to shine with sweat and she was panting through her gag and the oxygen line. Her nipples were pointing, mimicking the shape of the flashing cones lining the dome. The machine had conformed itself to the anatomy of her thighs and crotch, so there was no external evidence of exactly what it was happening to Frankie's most intimate anatomy, but clearly the device was doing something. Soon, Frankie's struggles gave way to shivering, and she began mewling through her gag. With her mouth tightly covered by the gag-panel, all that emerged was a rhythmic, regular, well-muffled moan.
"Mmm... Mmm... Mmm..."
"Poor thing," Effie sighed.
Andi took hold of Effie's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "She'll be fine," she said quietly.
"I know," Effie responded, "but... poor thing."
The scientists continued monitoring the session... and holding hands.
"She'll be okay," Effie said in a near whisper.
Andi's smirk returned. "Are you askin' me, or tellin' yourself?"
That caused Effie's blush to return. She continued holding Andi's hand, but nudged her with her elbow. "Don't be beastly."
"I know you care about her," Andi said quietly. "I do too, but you can't make an omelet without breakin' eggs."
"And we can't test the OP system on a reluctant subject without strapping her down," Effie sighed. "Still..."
"We'll find a way to make it up to her," Andi reassured her colleague.
Effie nodded and continued watching the main screen. She knew Andi was sincere, but neither one of them wielded a great deal of power on Damosel Island, not outside the OP workshops, control room, and experimental chamber, anyway. From a "security" standpoint, Annika was in charge, and Petra La Roque was in control of literally everything else on the entire island and however far at sea was patrolled by her security force's helicopters and flotilla of well-armed boats.
"Seriously," Andi said, "we'll find a way."
Effie sighed and nodded, again.
Down in the main chamber, the module between Frankie's legs continued doing whatever it was doing, and Frankie continued her long, slow, frustrating journey to yet another crashing, involuntary, multiple orgasm.
|Welcome to Damosel Island
Frankie writhed in orgasm several times in the course of the next few hours. By the time Annika and the dweebs appeared and removed the medical sensors and gag and released her from the chair, she was a sweaty, totally exhausted mess. Annika took the precaution of binding Frankie's wrists behind her back, as always, and once again locked the steel shock-collar around her neck, but rather then leading her up the stairs and back to her cell, the blond amazon hoisted her onto her shoulder and carried her.
This was just as well. Frankie really was exhausted. Also, she didn't know whether to thank the scientists for her experience in the domed chamber, or curse them to the lowest pit of hell. She'd have to think about it... after a nap.
Annika had changed into one of her string bikinis, this one a very pretty shade of tangerine-orange that looked good against her smooth, deeply tanned skin. No doubt she'd gone for a relaxing run and/or swim in the sea while Frankie was being machine boinked to near oblivion. Frankie noted than her handler's hair was damp, and carried the scent of the sea, and the smooth, deeply tanned skin in question smelled of coco butter and clean sweat.
They arrived at Frankie's cell. The semi-conscious captive expected to be deposited on the waiting bed, but instead, Annika carried her directly to the bathroom alcove. She turned on the shower, eased Frankie off her shoulder, onto her bare feet, and under the stream of hot water, then joined her. Frankie luxuriated under the pelting artificial downpour and reveled in the soapy caress of Annika's hands as she received a gentle and thorough cleansing. All too soon, Annika turned off the water and the shower was over.
Both of them dripping wet, Annika carried Frankie to the bed and gently deposited her on the fabric-covered mattress. She then untied Frankie's wrists, blew her a kiss, and made her exit, closing and locking the door behind her, of course.
Frankie heaved a sigh as she stretched full-length on the bed. "Ahhh." She then relaxed, curled into the fetal position on her right side, and closed her eyes.
Well... that happened, the prisoner thought. Sleep came quickly.
|Welcome to Damosel Island
Some time later, Frankie came awake at the sound of the door of the cell opening. She knew time had passed because her hair was dry. It was a tangled mess, but it was dry. Also, she wasn't dead with fatigue from being boinked in the OP chamber.
Anyway, Annika had appeared. She was dressed in the same tangerine bikini as before and was carrying a bundle of what appeared to be black nylon straps and... other things.
"Good evening, Miss Dekker," Annika said cheerfully.
"Bite me," Frankie replied, not so cheerfully. Was it really evening? Maybe. She was hungry, but then, being boinked repeatedly for science would make one hungry, wouldn't it? It seemed reasonable. Riding the Sybian had certainly done wonders for Frankie's appetite. Maybe she'd been hungry before her nap and was just too exhausted to notice.
Annika dropped the bundle on the bed next to Frankie, separated from the mass of straps what was obviously a nylon mitt, and grabbed Frankie's left hand.
"No!" Frankie objected, halfheartedly trying to withdraw her hand. The mitt had a zipper down one side and a wide cuff that closed with a snap-buckle, and Frankie didn't want to wear the thing. She knew the shock-collar would quickly put an end to a real struggle on her part, but honor demanded that she fight. Anyway, Annika-the-amazon easily defeated her proforma resistance and slid Frankie's hand into the mitt, zipped it closed, and secured the snap-buckle. The snap as the buckle closed was more metallic than plastic. Frankie's right hand was next, then Annika shook out the bundle, revealing that the straps were a body-harness. She "dressed" Frankie in the harness, rolling and lifting her squirming body as required and easily controlling her thrashing limbs.
Frankie sent a steady stream of complaints, objections, and curses (some quite creative) in Annika's direction, but soon found the harness hugging her torso with horizontal straps above and below her breasts, around her waist, and around her upper thighs, and a vertical, connecting strap passing down her front between her breasts. Additional straps pinned her upper arms against her body, anchored the mitt-cuffs behind her back and against her spine, and yoked her shoulders. It was yet another variant on the box-tie.
The captive's resentful invective continued right up to the point that Annika plastered a long, wide strip of black tape over her pouting mouth. Finally, a second, much smaller strap assembly snapped closed around Frankie's ankles, feet, and big toes.
"There," Annika said, standing with her hands on her hips and smiling down at her glaring, squirming prisoner. "Thank you for your cooperation." She then turned and left the cell, taking the roll of tape with her. Oddly, she left the door open.
Frankie kicked and struggled, testing her bonds and quickly satisfying herself that she was, indeed, helpless. She heaved a sigh and lay back on the mattress. What a bitch! she thought, staring at the open door. But why did she―"Mrrrk?"
Annika had returned, and balanced on her shoulder in a fireman's carry was a pale, freckled, nearly-naked, female form―and the female was nearly-naked because she was wearing a body-harness of black nylon straps identical to Frankie's. Her ankles, feet, and big toes were also similarly bound. Annika carried the new prisoner forward, then heaved her off her shoulder and onto the bed next to Frankie.
The newcomer shook the red hair from her tape-gagged face and confirmed what Frankie had already come to suspect: it was Doctor Andi O'Hara!
Andi blinked her green and amber eyes. The bound, gagged, and naked scientist's cheeks were blushed a pretty shade of pink (dappled by freckles) above her black tape-gag. Clearly, she was embarrassed.
Frankie, on the other hand, was naked, bound, gagged, and amazed.
The mystery of Andi's arrival and captivity remained unresolved, for Annika had left the cell, again, and had left the door open, again.
Seconds passed as Frankie stared at Andi, and Andi stared back. Then, Annika returned, and this time she was pushing a stainless steel cart. On the cart was a large tureen with a lid, a single bowl, a ladle, a single soup spoon, a carafe of what appeared to be rose wine, a single wineglass, and a stack of napkins.
Frankie stared at the cart. Obviously, this was dinner, and she could smell something that was delicious. Soup? More of that seafood stew? Whatever it was, Frankie felt ready to empty the tureen all by herself; however... How are we supposed to eat while bound in body-harnesses and with our mouths taped shut?
Meanwhile, Annika had departed the cell, once again, but this time she returned quickly, and she wasn't alone. The tall, tan, smiling blonde was leading a somewhat shorter, not quite as tan, and very naked Doctor Effie Hyde-Goode! The Brit's wrists were bound behind her back and another strip of the black tape sealed her lips. She was blushing, like her redheaded colleague, and blinking her pretty brown eyes.
Annika untied Effie's wrists, gave her a gentle push into the cell―"Mrrrf?"―and closed the door behind her. Effie turned and pushed against the door, but it was as solid, featureless, and inescapable as ever. The naked brunette gave the hard steel a final, pitiful pound with her right fist, then sighed, turned to face the others, and peeled the tape from her lips. Still blushing, she licked her lips and stepped forward. "G-good evening," she stammered, knelt beside the bed, and peeled the tape first from Andi's lips... and then from Frankie's.
"What the hell is going on?" Frankie demanded.
"Annika said we should be nice to you," Andi said quietly.
"After today," Effie added. She was still blushing. "The session in the OP chamber was necessary, of course, for science, but..."
"We're sorry," Andi muttered.
"You're sorry you used your damn machine to rape me?" Frankie huffed.
"Rape is such a harsh word," Andi said. Now she was also blushing, again.
"And it was for science," Effie reiterated. "Anyway, we're here to make it up to you."
Frankie tugged her nylon-encased and strapped-down hands. "Okay. For a start, you can get me out of this harness."
"I can't," Effie sighed. "Annika forbade it. And besides, she didn't give me the key."
"Magnetic locks," Andi explained, shrugging her nylon strap-yoked shoulders. "The buckles all secure with magnetic locks."
"Sorry," Effie sighed, then she nodded towards the tureen and smiled. "I know what will make you feel better. How about some Jamaican bouillabaisse?"
Frankie frowned. "Jamaican bouillabaisse?"
"It's delicious," Andi said solemnly.
"It is," Effie agreed, then removed the lid from the tureen, ladled a generous portion of the steaming concoction into the bowl, then returned to the bed, loaded the spoon, delicately blew on the fish and broth, then held it before Frankie's frowning mouth.
"You must be hungry," Andi said in encouragement.
"After you boinked me all day?" Frankie muttered. "Yes, I'm hungry." She tried to maintain her hostile frown, but a smile was starting to curl her lips. She gulped the spoon-load of bouillabaisse, then let the smile take hold. "This is good," she mumbled after she'd chewed and swallowed.
"There's a basket of Jamaican Coco Bread on the lower shelf," Andi said helpfully.
The meal continued in a silence that slowly transitioned from somewhat-awkward to surprisingly-companionable. They all made occasional comments about the virtues of the soup, bread, and wine, but mostly they ate. More correctly, they were all fed by Effie as she was the only one present not helplessly bound in locked nylon harnesses.
"It was an excellent experimental session," Effie said as they finished the last of the soup.
"We'll need one more to confirm the results," Andi said, "but I quite agree. The coefficient matrix matches our most optimistic prediction out to three significant figures."
Obviously, the science-dweebs were discussing their research program, the program in which Frankie was their guinea pig and got her brains boinked out.
"And we still need to do at least one session with... the other module," Effie added, smiling apologetically at Frankie.
"What other module?" Frankie huffed.
Effie's blush returned. "Uh... we can't tell you. Sorry. Foreknowledge might bias the results."
Andie nodded in agreement. "Sorry."
"Sorry," Effie reiterated.
"This sucks," Frankie groused.
"It won't be forever, Frankie," Effie said, gently placing her arm across Frankie's shoulders. "Ms. La Roque promised it won't be forever."
Frankie's heart skipped a beat. Was she finally going to learn something of her ultimate fate? "Yes?"
"Effie!" Andi gasped. "Are you trying to get us in trouble?"
Suddenly, a melodic chime sounded and the screen built into the far wall of the cell glowed with two words in big, bold letters: "BIG TROUBLE."
"Sorry," Effie said quietly.
"GO TO SLEEP" appeared on the screen, then the lights began to dim.
"Annika," all three prisoners sighed in near perfect unison, then shared a giggle.
Frankie was conflicted, to say the least. How could she harbor feelings of affection for the scientists who were using her as their erotic test subject? Granted, they were both cute, sometimes gorgeous, smart (of course) and funny, but she was their prisoner. Of course, at the moment they were all prisoners, but Frankie was certain that would change in the morning.
The lights faded to nightlight levels as Andi snuggled against her right side and Effie against her left. Great, Frankie thought, I'm the meat in a science-dweeb sandwich. It was a cozy fit on the bed, but they managed.
"Goodnight," Effie sighed.
"Goodnight," Andi agreed.
"G'night," Frankie muttered in reply.
Effie has nice tits, Frankie thought as she closed her eyes. The tits in question were pressed against her arm and the side of her left boob. And she smells nice. They both smell nice. Frankie yawned and squirmed her strap-restrained body. Andi and Effie yawned and squirmed in sympathy. Anyway... nice tits. Not too big, not too small, just... nice. Andi too. She also has nice tits.
|Welcome to Damosel Island
|◄||Chapter 4||☻||Chapter 6||►|