STARGÅTE SG-1—Sam & Janet (& Jennifer Hailey) in...
		A WORK OF BONDAGE FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2007
		Chapter 6

Charis had re-secured Hailey's chastity belt while she was still half-asleep.  Basking in the afterglow of what felt like countless orgasms, Hailey knew she probably couldn't have resisted, even if she hadn't been tied up.  A few dozen rounds of love-making was enough to take it out of anybody.  Okay, it hadn't been even one dozen rounds; but Hailey had been too involved to keep an accurate count.  It had been more than ten, of that she was sure... maybe.  She'd been on the receiving end of most of the fun, although she distinctly remembered using her lips and tongues to work Charis into an orgasmic frenzy, at least twice... or was it three times?

In any case, most of the screaming and cumming had been done by Hailey—and now, at last, she could rest.  And she was doing just that, enjoying a brief catnap, bound hand and foot and sprawled on the bed—when suddenly she awakened to find Charis untying her ankles and binding her upper body with rope—and saying something about them going for a run!

"A run?"  Hailey protested.  "Now?"  Charis simply smiled, and continued the task of changing her bonds.  Actually, Hailey had to admit (to her surprise), a run sounded good—and she didn't know where all her sudden energy was coming from.  She should be exhausted, but she wasn't.  Go figure.  Besides, it was a chance to see more of the city, even if she would be seeing it as a naked captive.

Equally surprising, Hailey found she was no longer angry or frightened, nor was she ashamed.  She'd never been particularly puritanical about her sexuality, but she hadn't been what you would call a hedonist, either.  Perhaps the loss of control trumps Puritanical guilt, Hailey mused.  I'm not pissed and ashamed 'cause I had no choice... and because Charis is so nice... and 'cause I enjoyed it like crazy!!

Charis had folded Hailey's arms behind her back and lashed them together, forearm-to-forearm; and now bands of rope were slithering around her arms and torso, passing above and below her breasts.  None of the ropes were especially tight, but they were being hitched between her arms and torso so they couldn't be slipped over her elbows.  It was similar to the bondage she'd endured during her trip to the city, only not as elaborate or severe.  She could already tell, however, that her bonds would be just as inescapable.  Charis rolled her over and tied the final, unreachable knot between her breasts.

"What are you smiling at, slave?" Charis demanded.  She was smiling as well.

"Nothing," Hailey responded, willing her features into a expressionless stare.  "Do I have to be tied up all the time?"

Charis laughed and pulled Hailey to her feet.  "That should be: 'Do I have to be tied up, Mistress'," she corrected, "or rather, it would be, if I were not also a slave.  From now on, until I tell you otherwise, you will address me as 'Slave-teacher'."  She turned Hailey around and gently combed the blond captive's hair back with her fingers, pulled it into a ponytail, and secured the end with a short length of twine.  "Therefore," she continued, "your question should be: 'Do I have to be tied up all of the time, Slave-teacher.'  Say it."

Hailey sighed, and rattled off the question in a huff.  "Okay, do I have to be tied up all the time, Slave-teach—Ow!!"

Charis had delivered a very business-like smack to Hailey's right butt-cheek.  "A slave never questions the actions of her Mistress, or her Slave-teacher."

"That hurt!" Hailey complained.  Charis was raising her palm, to strike again.  "Uh—that hurt, Slave-teacher!"

"Better," Charis conceded, and let her hand drop.  "A run will do you good, Slave-student."  With nimble fingers, she was plaiting her own hair into a loose, neat braid, using the gossamer silk ribbons that had been her former costume, and Hailey's former bonds, to wrap its length and secure the end.

Hailey watched this process with interest.  "How do you do that?" she asked.  "I find it hard enough to braid my own hair when I have a mirror."

Charis tied a final bow, then tossed the braid and the long, fluttering free ends of the ribbons over her shoulder and behind her back.  "A slave learns to care for her appearance.   It is her duty, and most slave-kennels do not have mirrors."

"Slave-kennels?"

Still smiling, Charis hooked a finger through the ring in the front of Hailey's collar, pulled her close, and planted a kiss on her lips.

Hailey shivered in her bonds.  There was that thrill again, her now familiar response to Charis' musky scent... only it wasn't as strong as it had been before, both the scent and her response.

"You forget your lessons as quickly as they are taught, Hay-lee," Charis purred.  "My Slave-teacher would stretch you on the pleasure-rack, on your stomach and head down, and have every student in the class, in turn, whip your back, buttocks, and slit, making you say, 'thank you, Slave-teacher', between every fall of the lash."  She kissed Hailey again.

"I-I'm sorry, Slave-teacher," Hailey stammered.

"The lash has its place," Charis said, "but sometimes nectar is better than vinegar."  She pulled Hailey's face close.  "In any case, don't think for an instant that I won't do whatever is required to fulfill my Mistress' commands."

"Yes, Slave-teacher," Hailey whispered.

"Stay at my side as we run," Charis ordered, released Hailey's collar, and started towards the door.

"Yes, Slave-teacher," Hailey answered, and padded in her wake.  A blush colored her cheeks.  'Slave-student!' she fumed, inwardly.  Her spirit was far from broken, but resistance was going to be a difficult game.  She had to appear to be going along with her indoctrination, while hiding her true feelings.  But she liked Charis... a lot!  Yes, it was going to be difficult.

And so, here we are, Hailey thought, two slave-girls out for some exercise.  Charis' black, silk ribbons fluttered like a pair of black pennants as they ran.  The jewels on her chastity belt and nipple shields flashed in the sunlight.  Running beside her, bound in hemp and in her plain, unadorned belt, Hailey felt like some runt of a farmer's pony next to a well-groomed Arabian thoroughbred.  At least our collars match.

Their bare feet were pounding the tiles of a helical ramp, a sort of spiral balcony that wound up and around a large dome, one of several domes and towers clustered together on the mountain's highest plateau.  The grade was challenging, the equivalent of running up and down a substantial hill, but the view was spectacular, both of the surrounding country and the city below.  In short order, both runners were glistening with sweat, but Hailey was surprised she was handling the course so well.  She was in excellent shape, but this much hill work should have sapped her strength long ago.

They were approaching the base of the dome, completing their third full circuit of the ramp, when Hailey skidded to a stop.

Charis ran on a few steps, then halted, turned, and strolled back.  She was breathing deeply and rapidly, but could still speak.  "What is it, Little Flower?"

Hailey was also breathing deeply, but was not in anything approaching distress.  "I should be panting like crazy," she answered, "and running barefoot on these tiles?  My feet should be killing me."

"In truth?" Charis asked.  "It is one of the effects of the 'Goddess's Gift', Little Flower.  I shall have to ask Honna what other changes you may expect."

"What?"

"All Pardesse have the Goddess's Gift as birthright," Charis continued.  "You are the first I have seen who has received it as an adult.  Enslaved foreigners are so rare on PelluciGor, you see."

"No, I don't see," Hailey gasped.  "She-she did something to me?  What?"

"The Goddess's Gift," Charis repeated.  "You are quicker, stronger, better able to heal—"

"What did she do to me?" Hailey interrupted, stamping her right foot.

Charis smiled.  "You are so cute when you are like that, Little Flower," she cooed, "with your flashing eyes, bobbing breasts, that adorable scowl—"

"What??" Hailey demanded.  "What-did-she-do??"

Charis hooked Hailey's collar ring with her left index finger, grabbed the captive's ponytail with her right hand, and pulled her head back.  "Careful, Slave-student, " she said, quietly.  "You have not been harmed.  Far from it.  You will learn more in time, when I teach you the Saga of the Panther-girls.  For now... control yourself."  She gazed into Hailey's eyes.

Hailey stared at her with an angry pout.  "I have a right to know—Ah!"

Charis had given Hailey's hair a firm jerk.  "You have the rights of a slave: food, shelter, the care of a healer when required... and nothing more.  Now, you will stop this nonsense, immediately.  I have something to show you."  She released Hailey's collar ring and hair, and walked away, towards a bridge leading to a doorway in the side of a nearby tower.

Hailey watched her depart, then sighed and followed.  Obviously, she wasn't going to learn anything more about this "Goddess's Gift" until Charis was good and ready.  Patience was her only option.   She quickened her pace until she caught up with her "Slave-teacher", then padded along at her side in sullen silence.

MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE CRATER...

---

Janet made good time getting to the waterfall clearing.  She'd left the tree house fort after only a brief catnap, as planned, and had hurried down the game trail to the crater rim to begin her search for Sam.  In fact, she now feared she may have hurried too much.  It was still night.  The sky was clear and the stars were more than enough to light her way, but she'd wanted to reach the clearing at dawn, to have more light for the search.

It was a difficult thing to do, but Janet forced herself to sit and wait.  She positioned herself so she could scan the entire clearing, the waterfall, and the looming cliff, then sat cross-legged, with the P90 at the ready, across her lap.  Her club hung behind her back, on an improvised sling of braided canopy-suede thongs.  Her knife was on her hip, suspended from the thong-belt of her loincloth, with the tip of the sheath tied around her thigh.

Janet continued watching the shadows.  This was where their uniforms and gear had been stolen, and was therefore a dangerous place to take a break—but she had no choice but to wait for the dawn.  She couldn't afford to miss any detail when she started trying to follow Sam's path.  What if she passed her by, unconscious and hurt, just off the trail?

Time passed, and finally, there was more light.  The face of the cliff was taking on a reddish glow.  She waited a few more minutes, then stood and walked into the clearing.  Looking up, she could see the cloud-banded globe of the gas giant hanging in the sky.  Most of it was dark, lit only by the intermittent lightning storms that always danced through its cloud layers; but the arc of its very edge glowed like burning gold.

"Double eclipse," Janet muttered in a disgusted whisper.  "Of all the rotten luck."  Just when she needed their light the most, both suns were behind the planet.  She looked around.  The shadows were still deep, not as deep as moon shadows on earth, due to the increased starlight, but deep enough.  The glow from the planet shifted everything slightly into the red, but didn't add much in the way of candlepower.  Janet sighed and turned to the left, the direction in which Sam said she would be exploring.  She trudged to the game trail at the base of the cliff, and began her search.

Sam could barely squirm.  In fact, other than roll her eyes, she could barely move at all.  With night falling, the gremlins had marched her to another clearing and positioned her between two saplings with tall, straight trunks.  Next, a score of her foot-tall captors swarmed up and down the trees and her bound body, lashing her in place.  They also changed her bonds.

Again, working in concert and giving her no opportunity to resist, ropes were untied, her limbs were repositioned, and ropes were retied.  It was frustrating and humiliating.  Despite their relative sizes, Sam could do nothing.  The gremlins took their time, making the ropework neat and tidy, as the bands were redundantly hitched, wrapped, and cinched.  Adding insult to incarceration, they giggled and chattered among themselves in their high-pitched voices as they worked, grinning up at her gagged face as they tightened strands and tied elaborate knots.

Eventually, Sam found herself standing upright, legs together, and wrists, elbows, and thumbs tied together behind her back.  Her hands were palm-to-palm and her forearms touching from wrist to elbow.  This rolled her shoulders back and thrust out her breasts.  Sam was in good condition, including her flexibility, so the position wasn't immediately painful; but she knew it was going to get very old, very fast.  Horizontal and lateral bands of rope tied around the trees and her body reinforced her helplessness, pinning her arms to her sides, her legs together, and holding her between the two trunks.  Even Sam's big toes were tied, with braided twine, and the gremlins were just getting started.

Long, green, flexible wands of wood appeared.  Most were less than Sam's little finger in diameter, but a few were as thick as her thumb.  Her captors interlaced the wands around Sam's already helpless body and the trees, adding more and more until they had, in essence, woven themselves a wicker cage.  Most wands were in horizontal pairs, one in front and one behind, but a few of the very longest were used as lateral braces.  Everywhere the smooth wands pressed against Sam's body they exerted enough flesh-dimpling pressure to make their presence felt.

Gremlins swarmed over the wicker prison, using braided twine to lash every point where one wand crossed another.  This actually improved Sam's situation, marginally, by making the cage one rigid structure and distributing the pressure.  In addition, wherever a wand passed over her rope bonds, gremlin hands hitched and tightened more cord, linking the rope bands to the cage.

The final wands, the thinest and most flexible, were used to imprison Sam's head.  The wooden bit and leather thong ball-gag remained in her mouth, but it was enhanced by a thick panel of oiled leather that was stretched over her lower face and tied behind her neck.  It had cutouts for her nose and the ends of the bit, and by the time the gremlins finished lacing and knotting its thongs, it was a tight and effective muzzle.  Horizontal wands were positioned across her forehead, the bridge of her nose, under her chin, and behind her head and neck.  After they were lashed to the rope harness anchoring the bit gag and the protruding ends of the bit itself, Sam found she couldn't move her head at all.

A final wand was tucked under Sam's already bound thumbs, and cord tightened around her fingers... and then her captors disappeared.  She felt their tiny hands pat her shoulders, buttocks, thighs, and breasts—her nipples were tweaked, several times—and then they were gone.  Her field of view was restricted, of course, and the light from the stars was limited, but she watched them scatter into the surrounding jungle, their chameleon camouflage turning them into rippling, ghostly images before they vanished altogether.

King Gremlin was the last to depart—at least, Sam was pretty sure it was King Gremlin.  He stared at Sam with an infuriating, gloating smile, then turned and disappeared, like his subjects.

And the waiting began.

Sam knew her role: bait, to catch Janet!  All she could do was hope her friend would be clever enough to realize the clearing was a trap.  Of course, Sam had known the site of her capture had been a trap, and all the bait it took to catch her was a few technological trinkets.  Janet would have to resist rescuing a helpless friend!  Please Jan, the miserable prisoner wished, for once, be a little cold-hearted and think of yourself first.  Sam knew that would never happen, of course.  Janet Fraiser would just as likely paint herself green and join the gremlins as abandon Sam to her current fate.

Minutes passed... and became hours.  Sam's shoulders and arms were beginning to ache like crazy, as was her jaw, as was every other part of her body, for that matter.  If only she could move.  She tried rolling her shoulders.  Her wicker cage did flex, but just a little, no more than a couple of millimeters.  The sky was brightening, with the ambient lighting taking on a reddish tint.  Sam rolled her eyes upwards, and could see a part of the gas giant, hanging in the sky.  Full eclipse, she realized, visualizing the pattern of light and dark defined by the formula she'd derived to program a P69-758 clock for her laptop.  It's a 'triple night', she realized, the first instance of night—followed by a double-eclipsed day—followed by night, that they had encountered since arrival.  Such periods of prolonged darkness were infrequent, but not exactly rare.

Sam noticed movement, across the clearing—and her eyes popped wide!  It was Janet!

The doctor was striding forward, P90 at the ready.

Sam struggled, fighting her incredible bonds with all her strength.  The wicker cage barely shook in response.  At the same time, she forced a well-muffled warning past her gag, but it sounded feeble, even to her ears.

Janet was halfway across the clearing, moving rapidly, in a low crouch, her head swiveling from side to side—when the attack began!

Lassos flew towards Janet from all sides!  Most of them missed, but one found its mark and tightened around the P90.  The weapon discharged as it was jerked from her grip, and the improvised sling spun her around as it was pulled from her shoulder—but the weapon's flash and report startled her attackers and won her a few seconds grace.  She used the time to unlimber her club and draw her knife, then the lassos were flying again.

A noose tightened around the head of her club, but she managed to slash it free—then a noose tightened around her right ankle.  She slashed it as well, and managed to kick one of the gremlins.  The monkey-like figure flew several feet, rolled to his feet as he landed, shook his tiny fist at the astonished Janet, and vanished.  Another well-thrown rope tightened around Janet's arms and torso, but she managed to cut herself free.

A score of shrieking gremlins charged from cover on all sides and leaped on Janet's head, shoulders, and back.  Ropes tightened around her left wrist, the club, and her upper arms.  Again, she cut herself free, but then the knife was wrenched from her hand, and more gremlins were piling on all the time!  It was only a matter of time before they would subdue their prey.

Suddenly, a high-pitched whistle sounded from the jungle—and the gremlins vanished, as if by magic!

A few branches and fern fronds were shaking at the edge of the clearing, but that was it.  One second she was at the bottom of a pig-pile of tiny kidnappers—the next, she was alone.  Janet snatched her knife from the grass, then slashed and wiggled free from the rope her attackers had managed to loop around her body and limbs.

Janet spun in a slow, cautious circle.  The P90 had been carried away, but she still had her club and knife.  She started forward, to rescue Sam, when—a sizzling snap sounded and a blue beam lanced from the sky.  It landed midway between Janet and her goal, and was the same, zat-like weapon used in the ambush back at the stargate!  Janet froze, then looked up—and her jaw dropped.

Sam couldn't see what Janet was staring at with such amazement.  She could tell there was a dark shape overhead, but couldn't raise her head far enough to get a good look.  What she could see was several human-sized, female figures rappelling on ropes and landing in a circle around her would be rescuer.

The newcomers were dressed in dark bandeaus and loincloths, and leather harnesses and boots.  Their bodies were painted in a disruptive pattern of dark earth tones, and their hair pulled back in tight, ponytail braids.  All were armed with what looked like some sort of bronze assault rifle.

Janet brandished her knife and club—but a half-dozen weapons were trained on her at near point-blank range.  She sighed, dropped the knife and club, and raised her hands in surrender.

Sam watched as one of the camouflaged amazons stepped behind her friend, unslung a coil of rope, and began binding her wrists behind her back.  Another of the amazons stepped forward and smiled at Sam, eying her captive condition with evident amusement.  "Sam-anta Car-tur, warrior," she said, then turned and smiled at Janet, "and Jaw-net Fray-zur, healer."  She turned back to Sam.  "I am Kyna, War-Captain of Pan-PelluciGor—and you are my prisoners."