Me Sam...
STARGÅTE SG-1Sam & Janet (& Jennifer Hailey) in... ...you Janet.


Escape From PelluciGor

A WORK OF BONDAGE FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2007

EPILOGUE

  


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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

The embedded Flash object below was created by my friend "Courier".  Thanks, dude!
(Note: click the arrows on the "iPhone" to change the display.)


OUR STORY CONCLUDES

THREE MONTHS LATER
COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO, USA
JANET FRAISER'S HOME

Janet watched from her front porch as Sam jogged up the street.  She sipped her coffee, and smiled.  Sam was wearing running shoes; anklets; a pair of brief, black, baggy running shorts; a compact, black nylon waist pack; and a midriff-baring, body-hugging, salmon-pink sports bra.  Sam's body—her toned, athletic, tan, perfect body—was shining with sweat; her short, golden, tousled hair fluttered as she ran, and her breasts...  Janet shuddered as a thrill rippled through her sex.  ...Sam's full, perfect breasts performed a compelling, oscillating dance as she passed in and out of the dappled shade cast by the neighborhood trees.

Janet was wearing her usual Summer-weekend-at-home uniform: khaki-tan shorts and a powder-blue, French-style T-shirt.  Her feet were bare.

As Sam approached, a couple of neighborhood boys rode past on their bikes.  They were young, maybe eleven or twelve, but old enough to appreciate the sight of Samantha Carter in all her sweaty, tan, jogging (and joggling) glory.  Both lads stared in open-mouthed wonder, and one nearly collided with the back of a parked car.

The distance was still pretty great, but close enough that Janet could see the amused smirk on Sam's face.  The flirt, Janet mused, taking another sip  She's hot, and she knows it
.

Sam jogged up the path to Janet's porch and skidded to a halt.  "Okay..." she panted, "what's so... urgent?"  She was only slightly out of breath, and was already recovering.

"I never said 'urgent'," Janet purred, "and hello to you, too."

Sam flashed her trademark dimpled grin.  "Hello," she said, and stretched, full-length, arms overhead and back arched.

That pesky thrill shivered through Janet's sex, again.  She focused on the street, and found that the pair of juvenile cyclists had doubled back and were passing the front of the house again, this time at a much slower pace.  Janet couldn't bring herself to frown at the kids, but apparently her gaze was enough.  The bikes picked up speed and Sam's audience zoomed away.

"How many car wrecks did you cause in the four-point-five miles between your place and mine?" Janet asked.

Sam laughed.  "None.  Got any water?"

Janet opened the screen door and led the way into the kitchen.  She filled a glass with ice and chilled water from the dispensers on the front of the refrigerator, and handed it to her guest.

"Thanks," Sam said, drank half the contents, then refilled the glass at the refrigerator tap.  "Okay, what's so non-urgent?"

Sam, Janet, and the others kept their on-line and telephonic discussions of what had happened on PelluciGor to an absolute minimum, and the full, unedited details were discussed only in face-to-face meetings, like now.

"Three things," Janet answered, and gestured towards the kitchen table.  They pulled out chairs, sat, and Janet continued.  "One: The list of attendees for the first treaty conference on PelluciGor is finally approved.  They have all agreed to attend, and all that's left is for you to contact Kyna and Honna and settle on an actual arrival date."

It had been decided that Sam, Janet, and Hailey would return to PelluciGor for the treaty signing, and they would be accompanied by six other women.  Since Sam and Janet were the lead negotiators, and knew the "peculiarities" of Pardesse culture, the I.O.A. (International Oversight Advisory) had agreed to let them propose the candidates.  Sam and Janet had screened the dossiers of prominent women who either already had the required clearance or who had already been selected to be briefed if it looked like the secret of the stargate program might become public.

"So, who made the final cut?" Sam asked.

Janet picked up her iPhone and opened an encrypted file.  Actually, the object in Janet's hand was a modified iPhone, with a data crystal access port, enhanced memory, and added security.  All members of the "Panther Girl Club", as Sam, Janet, Hailey, Cadman, Galina, and Vala called themselves, had identical models.

Janet cleared her throat.  "The first of the six is Elizabeth Weir, of course.  And as far as the I.O.A. is concerned, she'll be in charge."

"Of course," Sam agreed.

"Number two is Jenny Shepherd, Director of the N.C.I.S.," Janet continued.

Sam nodded.  "Good.  First female director of an armed Federal agency... and a redhead.  The Pardesse will eat her up... so to speak, especially Kyna."

"And speaking of redheads," Janet said, and advanced the display.

"Dana Scully!" Sam exclaimed.  "I was afraid the blockheads at the Bureau still had her on their shit-list."

"They probably do," Janet muttered, "and think this as a possible way of getting rid of her.  The F.B.I. has always been an over-politicized boy's club; but how do you know Scully?"

"How do you know Scully?" Sam countered.  "Oh, never mind.  I'll tell you my story later... and then you can tell me yours."

"Okay," Janet purred, with an enigmatic smile.  "Next... our favorite Marine... not counting Laura Cadman."

"Sarah Mackenzie!"  Sam and Janet had met Lt. Col. "Mac" MacKenzie when she had visited the SGC as the legal member of a Department of Defense inspection and audit team.

Janet grinned.  "Brown hair, brown eyes, built like the proverbial brick outhouse... Mac is more Pardesse than most Pardesse."

"It'll be good to let them know they haven't cornered the entire market on hot brunettes with pretty brown eyes," Sam purred.

Janet laughed, and displayed the next file.  "Dr. Temperance Brennan.  Have you met her?"  Sam shook her head.  "I met her during a trip to D.C., last year," Janet said.  "She's... interesting.  Bright as... well... as you are, Sam, but not nearly as well-socialized."

"Huh?" Sam said with a frown.

"She's a nerd, Sam," Janet explained.

"A drop-dead gorgeous nerd with gorgeous blue eyes," Sam muttered, staring at the tiny screen.

"Yes, well, number six is..."  Janet changed the display.  "...Jenny Lerner."

"The reporter," Sam said.  "I'm kinda surprised she made the cut—pleased—but surprised."

"Pleased we'll have an embedded member of the fourth estate, or pleased she's a drop-dead gorgeous honey-blond cutie with gorgeous blue eyes?" Janet asked.

Sam's smile was enigmatic.  "Yes.  Anyway, I'll schedule a time to contact the Pardesse.  I can't wait to see everybody's reaction to the 'welcoming ceremony'."

Janet smiled, and nodded.  The "official" cover story was that the Pardesse had a highly formalized culture, and all potential attendees had been warned they would be required to take "ritual baths" upon arrival.  What they hadn't been told, of course, was that each of the newly-arrived earthlings would have about a dozen, highly skilled "attendants" in the water with them, scrubbing them down in intimate detail.  Once the inevitable pheromone overload worked its magic... all six would return to Earth with the Goddess's Gift, and the Pardesse would get six new sets of cell samples.

"Two flaming redheads," Sam noted, "two blondes, two brunettes, and four of the six have blue or green eyes... but all are of European stock.  Next time, we'll have to introduce some diversity."

"I agree," Janet said, "but, as Honna and Kyna suggested, it's best to let the Pardesse conservatives get used to 'exotic' earthlings before they encounter anyone they'd be tempted to label as truly alien.  We'll insist on at least one African-American and one Asian-American in the next group."

"Agreed," Sam said.  "Now, the approved list of attendees is already waiting in my e-mail queue at the SGC.  You didn't have to make me haul my ass over here for a preview."

Janet affected her most seductive, saucy grin.  "But it's such a nice ass."

Sam laughed.  "Shut up!  You said there were three things to discuss?"

"Yes, there are two more closely related things," Janet said.  "Both have to do with the Gift."
Escape From PelluciGor EPILOGUE
"I take it the virologists at Area-51 are making progress?" Sam asked.

"Not really," Janet answered.  "They agree there's no easily identifiable marker for a Gift-infected individual, but that's about all they agree on.  They aren't even sure how many distinct retro-virus strains are involved, or even if they have any actual physiological effects on the host.  The group consensus is that the 'Gift effect' is probably psychosomatic."

"That's ridiculous!" Sam scoffed.  "We're living proof the Gift is real."

"Yes," Janet agreed, "and if you don't want to spend the rest of your life as a test subject, you won't bring that up again.  As we agreed, I'll take the lead on Gift-related research, and I have more news."

"Yes?"

Janet took a sip of coffee.  "Using Pardesse technology, I've confirmed that forty-two retro-virus strains are involved, just as Honna said, and... infection can be airborne."

Sam gasped.  "Airborne?  I thought it was sexually transmitted."

"Sexual contact results in instant infection with all forty-two strains," Janet confirmed.  "Airborne infection is piecemeal."

Sam nodded.  "So... individuals are infected by each strain, one at a time and independently, but once they encounter all forty-two strains, they become fully Gifted."

Janet grinned.  "You're wasted on Astrophysics," she cooed.

Sam blushed.  "Shut up again!  Now, it might be difficult to set the parameters...  it'll be guesswork, at best... but there are some AMRIID biological warfare simulations we can run to
—"

"Done that," Janet interrupted.  "The most optimistic predictions are that 100-percent infection of the entire population of the planet will take less than a decade, and we crossed the pandemic threshold within days of our return from PelluciGor.  The spread of the Gift simply can't be stopped."

"Because there are no overt symptoms or markers," Sam said.  "We can't isolate infected individuals, 'cause we can't identify infected individuals."

"Not unless we start locking up anyone who starts acting horny."

Sam laughed.  "You mean every teenager?  We agreed that sharing the Gift was a good thing... but I never thought we'd be sharing it with everybody."

"It's still not clear what the effect on the male population will be," Janet added.  "Two X-chromosomes seem to be required to fully manifest all of the Gift's bio-engineered benefits, but there ought to be some benefit for males... increased longevity, disease resistance, enhanced healing, etc.  We'll just have to wait and see."

"Well, there's no use crying over spilled retro-viruses," Sam sighed.  "I always knew the stargate program would change the world..."

"But not like this," Janet agreed.  "Anyway, as a Gifted individual, in every sense of the word, I need your help with my virus research."

"Of course," Sam agreed.  "What do you need me to do?"

Janet smiled, sweetly.  "Strip!"
Escape From PelluciGor EPILOGUE
"Janet!" Sam muttered, blushing deeply.

"I'm serious," Janet responded, still smiling.  (She was obviously enjoying Sam's acute embarrassment.)  "I've found a way to harvest the retro-virus in high enough concentrations to be useful for research.  Unfortunately..."  Janet's smile turned disturbingly evil.  "...it requires the subject to maintain a level of physiological arousal not normally sustained for more than a few seconds."

"Let me guess," Sam said, still blushing.  "You need me to cum for you."

"Actually, I need you to not cum," Janet clarified, "until I let you.  Apparatus is involved."

"Apparatus?"

Janet rose from her chair and retrieved a suitcase-size packing container from the pantry.  She set it on the table, popped its latches, and lifted the lid.

Sam looked inside, and gasped in surprise.  "You stole medical restraints from the SGC clinic?" she demanded.

"Borrowed, Sam," Janet corrected her soon-to-be research assistant.  "Borrowed.  I have influence with the Chief Medical Officer."  She reached into the case and pulled out a canvas and leather garment.  "This is one of those reinforced Poseys we developed, after we discovered the Goa'uld symbiote gives its host phenomenal strength."

Sam eyed the straitjacket with apprehension.  "Do you really have to..."

"Do you trust me, Sam?" Janet asked, softly.

There was a pause of several seconds, then Sam grinned and pulled her sports bra over her head.  "It's not a matter of trust, Short Stuff.  It's a matter of control."

"And the Mighty Galactic Warrior Samantha Carter hates losing control," Janet purred.  Her eyes were on Sam's breasts.  "You're getting tan-lines," she observed.  "One of the disadvantages of not exercising in the nude."

"I'm probably going to regret this," Sam sighed.

"In the short term," Janet agreed, "but in the long term?"

Still smiling, Sam removed her shoes and anklets, then peeled down and removed her shorts and panties.  "Now what?"

"Close your eyes," Janet instructed.

Sam heard the tinkling of steel buckles, then Janet was pulling the stiff, rather scratchy canvas garment over her arms and shoulders and around her torso.

"Can you feel the rubber channels in the end of the sleeves?" Janet asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered.  "They're to immobilize the fingers, right?"

"Uh-huh," Janet answered, and zipped the jacket closed down Sam's back.

"It's tight," Sam noted.  "Why are my eyes closed?"

Janet was busy buckling leather cuffs sewn into the jacket's sleeves around Sam's wrists and upper arms.  "It heightens the sense of touch."  She closed a leather collar around Sam's throat, and tightened the buckle.  "This isn't too tight, is it?"

"No," Sam whispered, shuddering with excitement. "Oh!"

Janet had threaded the long, stout straps at the end of the sleeves under a vertical strap running down the front.  She stepped behind, threaded the sleeve straps through much smaller loops on the back, just below her shoulder blades, and tugged.  The sleeves slithered through the straps and Sam's arms crossed under her breasts in a self-hug.  Janet stepped to the front, threaded the still lengthy sleeve straps through loops in the upper-arm cuffs, and tugged again.  Sam's self-hug tightened, and stayed tight when Janet buckled the ends of the straps together below her breasts and under the vertical strap.  The vertical strap was tightened, and then straps linked to the bottom hem of the jacket were buckled around Sam's thighs.

Sam heard Janet step away, and the tinkling of more buckles.  "Can I open my eyes, now?" she asked.

"Not just yet."

Sam felt leather cuffs tighten around her ankles.  Janet tugged on the buckles, Sam took a cautious step, and discovered she was hobbled.

Janet grabbed the strap between Sam's breasts and pulled her several short steps to the right.  "Okay, open," Janet purred.

Sam opened her eyes, and found that her captor had positioned her before an open closet door, and mounted on its back was a full-length mirror.  Sam gazed at her reflection.  The straitjacket was bleached canvas, the leather was a light saddle-brown, and the buckles were stainless steel, with locking clasps.  Her breasts were pressed against the canvas.  In fact, there was very little slack in any of the fabric.  The straitjacket was a perfect fit, and Sam very much doubted this was by chance.

"Do you know what this is for?" Janet asked, holding up a steel key.

"I have a pretty good idea," Sam sighed.

Janet worked her way from buckle to buckle, inserting the key in each of the snap-covers, and each time giving it a full, counterclockwise turn.

"Why do you need to lock everything?" Sam asked.  "I can barely wiggle my fingers, much less pull my hands out of these sleeves, and these straps are squeezing me like a love-sick python."

Janet smiled.  "Even if you dislocate your shoulders, there's no way you could wiggle out of one of my 'Special Poseys'."  She walked to the refrigerator, stood on a step-stool, lifted the lid of a cookie jar, and tossed in the key.  "Why lock everything?  Why, to make you feel even more helpless, of course."

"It's working," Sam whispered.

Janet's smile turned rather... shy.  "Sam?" she said.

Sam smiled.  "Janet?"

"Uh, you know how you used to wear those muscle shirts under your uniform blouse?"

"Muscle shirts?" Sam asked.

"Those sleeveless T-shirts, like Teal'c wears all the time?" Janet clarified.  "And don't tell me they're not an authorized uniform item.  The SGC plays fast and loose with the uniform regs all the time."

"Yeah."  The climate control in some parts of Cheyenne Mountain, like sub-level 21, the location of Sam's lab, was notoriously unstable.  Rather than let things get too cold, Sam generally set the thermostat controlling her zone a little high, so it cycled between warm and too warm, and she often worked in a T-shirt.  "You want me to wear muscle shirts?"

"Uh-huh," Janet nodded.

"But... why?"

Janet's shy smile returned.  "'Cause I like the way you look in them... that's why."

Sam blushed.  "Okay... I'll wear muscle shirts
—"

"And tank-tops," Janet added, quickly.

"Don't press your luck," Sam laughed, "but there's a price."

"Yes?"

"Pixie cut." Sam whispered.

"Huh?"

"I've always liked the way you look in a pixie cut," Sam clarified.

"A pixie cut..."  Janet's right hand went to her hair, which was currently loose, and fell down her back to the level of her shoulder blades, the longest she'd had it since she was a teenager.  "It is more practical."  Air Force regs required that a woman's hair not reach past her collar, so, unless it was cut short, it had to be kept coiled in a bun.  "Okay, it's a deal."  Janet extended her right hand.  "Let's shake on it."

"Hilarious," Sam huffed.  She attempted to kick Janet's shin, but her hobble didn't even let her come close.

"C'mon," Janet said, with a pert smile.  "I have something to show you down below."  She gathered up Sam's shorts, panties, anklets, and sports bra and led the way to the basement.

Escape From PelluciGor EPILOGUE
Careful not to trip on her hobble, Sam followed Janet down the basement steps.  Off to the right was a deep sink and Janet's washer and dryer.  Straight ahead was Janet's "home virology lab", a work table, racks of glassware, a laptop computer, and a tray with her Pardesse medical tools.  To the left...

"Janet!" Sam exclaimed.  "What the hell?"

Hailey was seated on a low, padded, hassock-like... something.  She was naked, but for a straitjacket.  It looked just as tight and inescapable as Sam's, but was of a smaller size.  In addition, she was gagged.  Something was stuffed in her mouth and her lower face was mummified with tight, overlapping bands of white medical tape.  She was sweating profusely, and her eyes held the haunted, fevered expression of one suffering from Gift-need.

"Lieutenant Hailey has also agreed to help me with my research," Janet purred.

Sam was still amazed.  "What?  Janet!"

"Remember Cassie's visit last weekend?"

"Our favorite coed's first trip home from college?  Of course."  Cassandra, Janet's adopted daughter and Sam's goddaughter, had just started her freshman year at the University of Colorado.  "I was so sorry to be stuck in Nevada.  I wanted to hear all about life on campus.  Did something happen?"

"You could say that," Janet huffed.  "I came home... and found Cassandra and 'Little Flower', here, in bed together."

"What??"

Janet glared at Hailey.  "That's right, the Tiny Terror of the SGC was having her way with my... with our Cassie... or Cassie was having her way with her.  It was difficult to tell which.  This was just after I discovered the Gift could be spread through the air, so I suppose Cassie may have caught it from me
—via the piecemeal airborne method, of course."  Janet smiled sweetly.  "But that's no reason I can't torture Hailey, especially when it helps me perfect my virus collecting apparatus."

Sam shuffled over to Hailey.  "Lieutenant, I'm very disappointed in you.  I admire your taste
—"

"Sam!" Janet gasped.

Sam turned towards the outraged doctor.  "You've got to admit, our Cassandra has grown into quite the little hottie."  She turned back to Hailey.  "Very disappointed."  Sam frowned.  "What exactly are you doing to her?"

Janet nodded towards the hassock.  "That's called a 'Sybian machine'," Janet explained.  "I found it on the internet.  It's a fucking machine
—"

"Janet!" Sam complained, blushing brightly.

"It's a fucking machine," Janet continued, with a saucy grin.  "The subject straddles an impaling, vibrating dildo.  I replaced the rubber phallus with a ceramic cylinder of millipore filter material.  A weak suction on an attached air line pulls virus-sized particles into a collecting chamber.  The vibrating function is still effective, although I wired in a rheostat that turns the power waaay down..."  She stepped forward, cupped Hailey's chin, and kissed her tape-gagged lips.  "...which ups the frustration factor by quite a bit, doesn't it, Sweetness?"

Quarter-inch, white, nylon rope hitched around Hailey's knees and folded legs and through steel rings in her ankle cuffs, thigh cuffs, and the bottom hem of the strait jacket bound her to the machine.  The tight bands made it impossible for her to lift herself off the modified Sybian, or to even shift her position more than a fraction of an inch in any direction.

"Lieutenant Hussy, here, has only been riding the apparatus for two hours, and has two more hours to go."  She turned to Sam.  "Then it'll be your turn, Blondie.  I'm inviting Vala over next weekend, followed by Galina, when she gets back from her current mission, then Laura Cadman, before she heads back to Atlantis.


They had all agreed to heavily edit the official reports of their adventures on PelluciGor, and Sam, Janet, and Hailey still had only a sketchy idea of what had happened to their "rescuers" when they weren't in their actual presence.  "You should use the occasion to get the full details of their Gifting on PelluciGor, on the airship ride back to the city."

"We should use the occasion," Janet corrected Sam.  "I expect you to be here to act as my assistant."

Sam smiled, and affected a stooped, hunchbacked pose.  "Yes, Mistress.  Igor will help, Mistress."

"Very funny," Janet huffed.  "Anyway,
I'm sure we can persuade them to provide all the details."

Hailey locked eyes with Sam, squirmed against the straps of her straitjacket, and let loose a piteous sigh.

"Janet, this is mean," Sam complained.

"You may call me Fraiser-the-Cruel," Janet purred.  She carried Sam's running clothes to the washing machine and tossed them inside, all but the shorts.  She gave the seat a sniff... and a shudder passed through her diminutive form.  She smiled, carried the shorts over to Hailey, and held the crotch panel under her nose.

Hailey shuddered as well, moaned through her gag, and struggled against her bonds with renewed vigor.

"Be strong, Little Flower," Janet cooed, and carried the shorts back to the washing machine.  She tossed them in, together with some detergent.  "That makes a full enough load," she announced, and started the machine.  She walked back to Hailey, and kissed her gagged lips, again.  "Don't worry..."  She turned to Sam.  "...I'll make it up to her when her ride is over, up in the bedroom."  She nodded at a steel support column several feet from Hailey and the Sybian.  "Have a seat, Blondie," she ordered.

Sam eyed the folded blanket at the base of the column.  Next to it was a coil of white nylon rope, the same kind as the rope binding Hailey to the machine.  Sam sighed, settled into a kneeling position, then sat on the blanket, with her back against the pole.

Janet bound Sam in place.  No great art was required, as Sam was already totally helpless.  All Janet had to do was wind a few tight loops around her waist and take a hitch through her hobbling strap, but she did thread several of the strands through the straitjacket's various straps, just for added security.  "There," she said, tying a final knot.  "Now you can watch over Hailey while I finish the housework.  Oh, there are two more things."

"You and your endless list of things!" Sam muttered.  "What?"

Janet had walked to the lab table and returned with a small steel tray.  She set in on the floor and Sam beheld a steel dental spreader; a rather large, Nerf-like ball of foam; a ribbon-like strap of natural rubber; and a large roll of white medical tape.  There was also a bullet-shaped cylinder made of silver plastic.

"Uh, what is that thing?" Sam asked.

"The dental spreader?  It's just if you decide to be less than fully cooperative."

"No," Sam huffed, "the silver thing."

Janet smiled, picked up the cylinder, and twisted its base.  It began to vibrate.

"Oh," Sam gasped, and locked eyes with Janet.

"Having gone without the male of the species for thousands of years, the Pardesse have lost their appreciation of... penetration."

"Not counting tongues," Sam noted.

"Yes," Janet agreed, still smiling.  "Anyway, I'm going to give you a nice, quick orgasm, just to prime the pump, making sure Hailey has a good view, of course, for frustration's sake; then, I'm going to gag you, and you can wait your turn to ride the machine, like I promised."  She leaned close and nudged Sam's labia with the tip of the buzzing vibrator.

"Jack was wrong about you," Sam said, through clenched teeth.

"How so?" Janet cooed.

"You're not a 'Napoleonic Powermonger'," Sam gasped, "you're a Napoleonic Dominatrix!"
THE END
Escape From PelluciGor EPILOGUE


Chapter 15
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