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	by Van ©2011
	Chapter 5
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Rachel hung in her bonds, her arms and legs locked in "mutant cuffs" to the elbows and knees and suspended in the spread-eagle imposed by the "Vitruvian Damsel" ring of steel.  On the table below, Cynthia's ordeal continued.  The teasing, tickling, titillating "foreplay" had lasted more than an hour—substantially more than an hour—and then the machines had moved on to the "main event."  All Rachel could really see was that a complicated apparatus had tucked itself against Cynthia's upper thighs and crotch.  Various mechanical parts resembling rocker-arms or the ends of thrusting cylinders rose and fell on the machine's surface and Cynthia writhed and tugged against her bonds in matching rhythm.  That's all Rachel could actually see... not counting Cynthia's sweat-slick, helpless, bound, incredible little body.

Of course, Rachel knew exactly what was happening.  Ghostly fingers seemed to slide across Rachel's body and through her crotch, tactile memories of her ordeal, evoked by the spectacle below.  The mechanical monstrosity was—to put it bluntly—fucking the hell out of poor Cynthia.

Cynthia's tan, diminutive form glistened with sweat.  The straps dimpled her flesh as she struggled and twisted under their tight embrace.  Her feet were on pointe and her hands clinched in tight fists.  The pace of the mechanical thrusts had been slowly building for some time, over the course of many long minutes.  Cynthia was panting through her gag.  "Mrrf-mrrf-mrrf..."  And the thrusting continued.  "Mrrf-mrrf-mrrf..."

Poor Cynthia, Rachel thought, sighing through her gag.

"Mrrrrrrrr!"  Cynthia had gone rigid in her bonds—her shining, tan form frozen and rigid—her eyes wide and her gagged face locked in a grimace of ecstasy.

Poor Cynthia.

And then, the prisoner below collapsed, her body limp and her eyes closed.  The pace of the mechanical thrusting slowed... and finally stopped.

There was a pause of several seconds... and then the machine withdrew from between Cynthia's legs.

Rachel noticed that Cynthia's pubic bush had received a trim.  She now had a Brazilian, like Rachel, herself.  That must have been when I got mine, Rachel mused, when I was on the table.  I wonder why?

The robot arms sprung to life, again, and Rachel watched as Cynthia was fitted with mutant cuffs, like her own.  In a surprisingly short time, the cast-like cuffs were attached to a second ring of steel and Cynthia was a second Vitruvian Damsel, hanging from the ceiling. 

Cynthia opened her eyes, turned her head, and gazed at Rachel.  The two captives were side-by-side, hanging from the same track.  Both were gagged, of course, and other than by some extraordinary means—like blinking their eyes in Morse code—were unable to communicate.  That wasn't entirely true.  Both could tell the other was frightened, confused, and sympathetic.

The hose attached to Cynthia's gag jerked and her eyes widened, slightly.  Then, her throat muscles moved as she swallowed.

She's drinking, Rachel realized.  The machine is watering her.  Cynthia continued swallowing.  Her diminutive, spreadeagled body shining with sweat.  She's strong.  She woke up right away after...  A thrill rippled through Rachel's crotch and up her spine.  ...after the machine did her.  After the thing did me... I needed a nap.

The surrounding robot arms came to life.  Manipulators with tiny nozzles misted Cynthia's body.  Other arms dragged panels of absorbent material across her skin, caressing her stretched form.  Other nozzles blew gusts of air, and yet other arms festooned with spinning petals "buffed" her shivering, wiggling body.  Finally, the robot arms withdrew.

Cynthia's flushed, tan skin was still shining, but she was no longer dripping with sweat.  Cynthia sighed, then turned to Rachel and smiled through her gag.  The twinkle in her eyes was unmistakable.

So strong, Rachel sighed, and beautiful.

Suddenly, motors whirred and a robot rolled from the darkness and positioned itself directly under Rachel.  More motors whined and sections of the robot lifted from its body.  A pair of pincers clamped the bottom of Rachel's ring while the other sections passed in front and behind the ring, joined together, and continued to rise.

"Nrrrrf!"  Rachel screamed through her gag.  The rising sections had formed a saddle, and its target was her crotch!  "Mrfh!"  The saddle made contact and locked itself around her thighs, lower tummy, and the bottom half of her butt-cheeks.  Hoses and tubes trailed from the saddle to the robot's body.

Rachel shivered and squirmed as things happened.  Her labia were being gently pulled apart, and something was sliding into her vagina.  At the same time, something was probing her anus.  "Nrrrrf!"  None of it was painful, but it was very unsettling, to say the least.  The probing continued, then, something warm and wet began flowing into her gut!  "Mrrrr!"  At the same time, a pump whirred and her bladder began to empty.

The water—she assumed it was water—stopped flowing.  The catheter pump also stopped.  It was horrible!  Her gut was full, and she had to go—but obviously, she wasn't going anywhere, in any sense of the word.  Enema machine, she realized.  It's a robotic enema machine.

There was a very long, shiveringly uncomfortable pause...  And finally, a valve opened, a pump whirred, and her gut emptied.  "Nrrrf!"  There was another pause... then Rachel squirmed in her bonds as the pump filled her, again!  Yet another pause... and the pump emptied her, again.  A third cycle followed.  Then, the probes withdrew and the saddle dropped away, disassembling as it was lowered.  The clamp released Rachel's ring and all the sections slid back into the robot's metal body.

The robot grooming arms sprang to life and misted, patted, blew, and buffed Rachel's thighs and crotch.  "Mrrrf!"  It tickles!  Finally, the groomers withdrew.  The "robo-toilet"—she could think of no better name for the thing—hadn't allowed any leakage while doing its work, but she didn't mind the extra cleaning.  However, it had tickled.

Rachel and Cynthia watched as the robot rolled from under Rachel, positioned itself under Cynthia, and stopped.

Cynthia tugged on her bonds as the robo-toilet's sections rose from its body.  She'd surmised what the machine had done to (or for) Rachel, and realized she was next.

The sections extended, the ring was clamped, as before, and the saddle formed; however, well before it made contact with its second victim/customer it stopped.  The robot grooming arms came to life, extended, and the misters wet the saddle down.  Rachel and Cynthia's eyes popped wide.  The metal surface hissed and steam rose to caress Cynthia's splayed legs and crotch.

It's hot! Rachel realized.  It sterilized itself!

Nozzles blew air for several seconds.  More mist was sprayed and steamed away, then more air was blown.  This cycle repeated itself several times, and eventually, mist was applied and steam no longer rose.  Air continued to blow for another minute.  Then, the grooming arms withdrew.

Cynthia sighed through her gag.  The saddle was in motion, slowly rising towards her crotch.  I swear, Sally, she thought, if you're doing this, I'm writing a virus that will tickle all the tactile simulation routines on all your servers, worldwide!

The saddle made contact and Cynthia flinched in her bonds.  The damn thing is cold!

Lillian was wearing a scandalously skimpy black bikini, and nothing else—not counting a pair of designer shades.  She was reclined on a lounge chair, poolside, at the luxury hotel Sally had booked for her.

There were no immediate tasks pending for Salamandras International's "Security Expert"; however, industrial espionage at the corporate headquarters of a financial services multinational was in the planning stage.  It would be a simple, low-risk operation to plant a few programs on a couple of their IT servers.  It would allow Sally to more easily eavesdrop on the target's secure intranet without fear of exposure.  In the meantime, all Lillian had to do was wait for the go signal.

Lillian extended her arms and legs in a full body stretch.  It was good to have a little downtime.  She'd already had her daily workout in the hotel gym, a Tai Chi session on the lawn of the pool garden—a session much appreciated by her surreptitious audience of staff and guests—and a relaxing swim.  Now, it was time for some serious lounging—and a little ogling of her own.

Across the pool, a woman in an expensive one-piece suit climbed the ladder from the deep end, accepted a towel from the pool boy, and began drying herself.  She had a hot little body, in Lillian's humble opinion.  She was a little taller than Little Mouse, a.k.a. Dr. Webbel-Wobble, but was still what you'd call petite.  Her hair was blond and cropped in a boyish pixie, but there was nothing boyish about her figure.  Her tan, toned, curvaceous body was hot.

Lillian fantasized about sneaking into the blonde's hotel room, tonight, sometime after midnight.  Ms. Pixie would be in a frilly babydoll nightie and snug in her bed... all cute and cuddly and unsuspecting.  Lillian's tongue wet her smiling lips.  Rope at the ready, Lillian would pounce.  The blonde's panties would be taped in her mouth before she was fully awake, and Lillian would already be lashing her wrists behind her back.  I'll wear my La Bionda costume, she mused, the black heels, toreador pants, sports bra, bow tie, blond wig, and Zorro mask.  Maybe she'll get the reference, maybe she won't, but it'll be fun for me.

The blonde—the pixie at poolside, not Lillian costumed like Franco Saudelli's comic character—settled into a lounge chair identical to Lillian's.  A waitress, a cute redhead in short-shorts and polo shirt staff uniform, strolled over and the blonde placed what Lillian assumed was a drink order.

A box-tie? Lillian pondered, or something more stringent?  Hmm... maybe a heels-to-palms hogtie.  I'll spoon with her, use my legs to keep her knees pried apart, and tease her nipples and pussy 'til dawn.

Just then, Lillian's phone emitted three short beeps—Sally's ring-tone.  Lillian sighed and held it to her ear.  "What?  I'm busy."

"Liar," Sally chuckled.

"Oh, I forgot," Lillian huffed.  "You know my GPS location to within a fraction of a meter and you've hacked the hotel's security cameras."

"Not to mention retasking a couple of spy satellites and the Hubble telescope," Sally teased, "all to keep track of your bikini-clad bod."

"As long as you're on the line," Lillian purred, "what can you tell me about the blonde across the pool?"

"The one with the super-short haircut?  She's here with her husband.  He's in town on a business trip.  She came along to shop... and to tease horny hotel guests who might be drooling at her from across the pool."

Lillian smiled.  "You're getting pretty good at the snappy banter."

"Thank you.  On to business.  I have a package for you to deliver to Doctors Webbel and Haines."

"You want me to turn around and go right back to where I just came from?" Lillian demanded.  Across the pool, the blonde was accepting a stemmed glass from the waitress, some sort of swirled, orange-red concoction with a fruit garnish.  "Is something wrong?"

"No," Sally answered.  "At least, I don't think so."

"You've programmed a 'I'm kinda worried' sub-routine into your personality?  Now you've got me worried.  Spill it."

"It's nothing," Sally responded.  "I called Cynthia to tell her a faculty committee meeting had been moved up to early tomorrow morning, and she didn't answer."

"So, you want me to punish her for poor telephone courtesy?"

"Like you need an excuse," Sally chuckled.  "The thing is, as soon as my call went to voice-mail, somebody in the building started mining the university's data base for info about 'Sally Salamandras.'  That's how Cynthia has me listed on her speed-dial.

"Somebody?" Lillian asked.  "You mean Rachel, don't you?"

"Yes, and no," Sally responded.  "There were inquiries from both Dr. Haines' and Cynthia's accounts.  My efforts to investigate further are stymied by my promise to Cynthia not to infiltrate the building."

"So?  Do it without telling her."

"No, that would be unethical," Sally huffed.  "Also, it's impossible for me to circumvent the firewalls without leaving a trace.  Cynthia would know I'd tried."

"Hoist by your own technological petard," Lillian chuckled.  "I'll leave right away.  What do you want me to deliver?"

"You can wait 'til morning," Sally said.  "The package won't be ready 'til then.  It's a sort of neutral observer minicomputer.  Once it's inside the building, it'll handshake with the network and monitor what's going on.  If all is well, once Cynthia lets me back into the building, it will wipe its own memory.  However, if it decides something is wrong, it'll sound the alarm and I'll blow past the firewalls."

"Then you get to explain yourself to Little Mouse," Lillian purred.  "Don't worry, I'll tickle her 'til she forgives you."

"Much appreciated," Sally laughed.  "Seriously, it's probably nothing."

"No problem.  I await the delivery of your super-spy minicomputer.  B'bye."

"Bye," Sally answered.  "If you can't be good, be careful."

"Always."  Lillian broke the connection and returned the phone to the side table.  Across the pool, the blond pixie—the married blond pixie—was sipping her drink through an over-sized straw.  Pity, Lillian mused.  It was her policy not to mess with couples.  Things could get messy.  People could get hurt—and not in the fun, riding-crop-across-the-fanny or clamps-on-the-nipples sort of way.

The red-haired waitress was gazing in her direction.  Lillian raised a hand in signal and the Celtic Cutie started in her direction.  Hmm... I wonder if she's married.

Substantial time had passed since Rachel and Cynthia had been serviced—meaning serviced on the "examining table" and serviced by the "robo-toilet."  Rachel hung in her mutant cuffs... and endured.  Cynthia was doing the same, of course.  Rachel turned her head and gazed at her fellow captive.  She's sooo beautiful, Rachel thought.  Her skin is so smooth... and her boobs... and her abs.  Sooo beautiful.

Suddenly, the rings in which the two naked scientists were spreadeagled slowly turned ninety degrees to the left... then started rumbling along the overhead track.  The tubes attached to their gags went taut, then popped loose and reeled out of the way.  Cynthia was in the lead, facing front, with Rachel in the rear.  She found herself staring at Cynthia's rump... her tan, firm, dimpled rump... and her strong back... and her thighs.  Sooo beautiful.

They left behind the spotlights still shining down on the examining table and rolled on, into near darkness.  There was a little indirect light from distant sources down the isles of machinery and racks of spare parts.  It glistened off Cynthia's ring and mutant cuff bonds... and the shining shape of her tan, helpless body.  A little vibration was transmitted through the ring from the motors overhead and a whisper of wind caressed Rachel's skin and lifted strands of her hair, but those were the only sensations of which she was aware.  Mostly, it was a journey into darkness.

They made a turn to the right—first Cynthia's ring pivoted, and then her own—and Rachel could see light shining up ahead.  Cynthia's spreadeagled form was silhouetted against an increasingly bright glare.

Cynthia's ring spun 180° as they continued rolling forward, so now the captives were face to face.  The vibrations from overhead were sending a shivering thrill through Rachel's pussy, the propriety or meaning of which she was too tired and frazzled to process.  She noted Cynthia's nipples were erect, and they were bobbling, ever so slightly.  It's the vibrations, she decided.  That's all it is... the vibrations.  That's why they're pointing.  She's sooo beautiful.

They rolled into the lit area and the track locked.

Rachel and Cynthia turned their heads and looked around.  Numerous spotlights on articulated arms were mounted on the ceiling.  There was also a large amounts of other machinery, much of it also mounted on articulated arms.  That said, they could see no obvious humanoid robo-hands or pincers or clamps or anything else the prisoners recognized from their previous location.

It's all different, Rachel noted.  Various technological components surrounded them, and everything had a polished and newly manufactured appearance, all stainless steel and pristine plastic.  Also, it was all semi-organic, almost alien in appearance,  and nothing in sight had an overt purpose.  A glance at Cynthia suggested she was also confused.  Seeing as they were both robotics experts, this was a little disturbing.  Rachel stifled what she feared might have grown into a full-blown hysterical breakdown.  'Disturbing', she reflected, as if everything else that's happened wasn't 'disturbing.'

The captives were only about a meter apart, hanging in their rings from their inescapable bonds.  They locked eyes.  So beautiful, Rachel sighed. Her eyes are so big and brown and sad.

Suddenly, the technology around them came to life.  Motors whirred and various complex groupings of metal and plastic moved up, down, and/or to the side.  Some moved towards the captives, extending rigid, articulated lever arms.  The arrays at the ends, whatever the hell they were, came closer—"MRRRF!"—and burst into what could only be described as nests of writhing tentacles, varying in size from pinkie fingers to strands of spaghetti!

The tips of the countless metal feelers caressed the captives' pinioned flesh, and wherever they made contact, a tiny blue spark snapped!  The sensations engendered were prickly, titillating, and creepy-crawly—but they were not what Rachel could call painful. 

It's some sort of triboelectric effect, Rachel realized, and we're not grounding the charge.

The spotlights began to fade.  As the darkness encroached, Rachel beheld a mass of blue tendrils traveling from the tentacles to their spreadeagled bodies, between their bodies, and from their bodies to the rings holding them captive.

The tentacles continued to slither and slide, and their hair lifted away from their heads, forming frizzy, gravity-defying clouds sparkling with blue energy.

Skin-crawling sensations were building and becoming decidedly unpleasant.  There was still no pain, but the flickering blue massage was becoming a full blown itch-you-can't-scratch ordeal—and it wouldn't stop!

Rachel and Cynthia shivered, twisted, fought their bonds with all their remaining strength, and screamed into their gags.  The tentacles continued their tickling assault.

Rachel continued screaming and struggling.  The horrible things were teasing her left nipple.  She watched as a cluster of blue sparks caressed the pink nubbin... then broke apart and traced a spiral helix over the surface of the shaking breast... then spiraled back and caressed the nipple, once again.  Her abs and thighs were receiving attention, as well.  Also, her back and armpits.  Also... everything not trapped in inescapable steel.

If this continued, Rachel knew she would lose it!  She'd go insane!  It was horrible!

And suddenly, it got worse!

A cluster of the tentacles was teasing her thighs and labia!  The assault on the rest of her body continued—waves of unendurable, titillating energy rippling across her flesh—but her pussy was now getting special attention!

She focused on her fellow captive, watching as the tentacles did to Cynthia what they were doing to her.  Blue fire danced across the diminutive professor's writhing body.

No!  Please!  Rachel was going to cum.  The wiggling blue worms were making her cum.  No!

Again, Cynthia was in the same fix.  The exact same fix.  No!  Please... I'm sooo tired.

Rachel's body went totally rigid as a massive multiple orgasm rocked her body.  Then, she went limp and her head lolled.

Cynthia lasted a little longer, but soon followed suit.  She bucked in the throes of orgasm... then lost consciousness.

The blue energy stopped sparking, the tentacles and arms withdrew, and all was darkness.

Cynthia opened her eyes.  She was sprawled on a soft surface and was neither bound nor gagged.  She was still naked... almost.

Cynthia sat up and focused on her crotch.  Some sort of thong was, as the saying goes, girding her loins.  The ambient light was dim, but the thong looked and felt like it was made from thousands of tiny, interlocking steel rings interspersed with glass beads.  It encircled her waist, cleaved her buttocks, and cupped her pussy.  There was no visible clasp or lock.  It was tight fitting but surprisingly comfortable; however, it was so tight she couldn't work her fingers under the margins, especially between her legs.  Oh!  She realized that parts of the front panel were actually inside her, and were gripping her labia.  That's why I can't get past the edges.  The thing was like a chain mail bikini bottom, but Cynthia knew it for what it really was, a bizarre chastity belt.

Cynthia lifted her head and focused on her surroundings.  She was inside a hemispherical cage of steel bars, something like thirty feet across.  Its curved surface was a wire-form, geodesic dome.  The six-inch spacing between the vertices and the apparent lack of a door or hatch was what made it a cage.  The floor was one huge, circular mattress.  Beyond, and in all directions, she beheld more robotic machinery, both of the "conventional" and "alien/organic" varieties.  The silent, unmoving technology was back-lit, and this dim, indirect light was the only illumination.

Cynthia ran her fingers through her hair.  I'm a mess, she thought, and still tired.  She went up on her knees and did a half turn, continuing her visual exploration—then gasped as she looked down.  "Rachel!"

Rachel was curled on her side only a couple of feet away.  She was also "dressed" in a chain mail chastity thong and otherwise naked.  She appeared to be unconscious.

Cynthia shuffled to Rachel's side and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.  "Rachel," she said, giving it a gentle shake.  "Rachel, are you okay?"

Rachel opened her eyes, lifted her head, and focused on Cynthia.  Her eyes widened and she sat up, using her fingers to comb her tangled hair from her face.  "Cynthia," she muttered, then looked around.  "What... What's happening?"

Cynthia smiled.  There was fear in Rachel's voice, but she was in control.  She's a brave kid.  "That's something I was hoping you could shed a little light on.  I assume this isn't your programming at work."

"God no!" Rachel gasped.  "I mean... I don't think so.  I mean..."

"Smart Explorer might be running," Cynthia said, "but I assume you didn't change the initial tasking from simulated planetary exploration to erotic bondage orgy?"

"Yes, I mean..."  A slightly hysterical smile curled Rachel's lips.  "No, I didn't change anything.  When I came in on Monday, Smart Explorer was already running, and then..."  Her smile faded.  "Are you okay?"

Cynthia sighed, then opened her arms.  "C'mere."

Rachel and Cynthia came together in a warm embrace.

"I'm so scared," Rachel whispered, her eyes welling.

Cynthia's head was on Rachel's shoulder.  "I am too.  We have to be brave, and keep our wits about us."  The embrace continued.  "If memory serves, you didn't program voice recognition into the Smart Explorer interface, correct?"

"Yes," Rachel sighed, then broke the embrace and leaned back.  "At this point, it probably wouldn't matter if I had.  If this is Smart Explorer, it's several full autodidactic cycles past the initial phase.  Maybe if I could get to a keyboard I could—Oh!"

"What is it?" Cynthia asked.  Rachel's eyes had popped wide.

"I-I-oh!"  Rachel shivered and her hands clutched the front of her chastity belt.  "It's doing something!" she gasped.  "It's doing me!"

Cynthia watched as the tiny beads of Rachel's belt flickered and flashed with all the colors of the rainbow.  Symmetrical patterns were traveling across the garment's front panel like a tiny light show.

"Oh god!" Rachel whined.  Now the entire belt, front panel and waist band, was flickering.  "It's t-teasing me!"

"Oh, Rachel," Cynthia sighed, scooted close and took Rachel back into her arms.

"It won't stop!" Rachel sobbed, clutching her friend.  "It won't stop."

"Hush," Cynthia whispered, kissing Rachel's cheek and giving her shivering body a squeeze.  "Just let it happen, honey.  There's nothing you can do.  There's nothing either one of us can do.  Just let it happen."  She gently rocked Rachel's shuddering body.

"I-I... I can't help it," Rachel gasped.  "It's making me cum.  I-I'm sorry, Cynthia."

"Just let it happen," Cynthia cooed.  "Just let it happen."

Time passed and the flashing continued... and the embrace continued.  Rachel shivered and sobbed, and Cynthia held her close.

"Oh-oh-oh god!"  Rachel's body twitched and she clutched Cynthia with all her strength.  More time passed...  Then, she sighed and collapsed.  "Oh, god."  This time, it was a hoarse whisper and not a scream of ecstasy.  The beads had gone dark.

"Rest, honey," Cynthia sighed, continuing to cradle Rachel's body.  "Just rest."  She kissed the top of her friend's head.  "Just close your eyes and—Eek!"  Cynthia's eyes popped wide.

Rachel could see that beads were flashing again, down below, but not on her belt.  "Oh... I'm sorry, Cynthia," she sighed.

Cynthia's belt was twinkling with a rainbow of rippling patterns.  "Oh damn!"  She shivered in Rachel's arms, holding on tight.  "Sally," she growled through clenched teeth, "I swear to god, if you're doing all this...  Arrrrr!"

Rachel frowned as she continued comforting her shuddering companion.  "Who the hell is Sally?" she asked.