STARGÅTE SG-1—Sam & Janet (& Jennifer Hailey) in...
		A WORK OF BONDAGE FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2007
		Chapter 7

Sam eyed her new captor, Kyna.  With her athletic figure, even features, high cheekbones, and dark eyes, she was certainly an attractive woman.  Daniel and Mitchell would be falling all over themselves, were they here.

Meanwhile, the process of restraining Janet continued; but the diminutive doctor seemed more concerned with Sam's prediciment than her own.  "Get her out of all that!" she shouted, nodding in Sam's direction.  "Ow!  Watch it!"  The amazon had finished binding her wrists, had raised them until her forearms were parallel, and was using loops of the same rope to bind her arms to her sides.  "Can't you see she's in pain?  Cut her loose—M'mmpfh!"

A second amazon had stepped forward, blocking Sam's view.  Seconds passed, she stepped back, and now Sam could see that her friend had a wadded cloth stuffed in her mouth and a second cloth folded and tied between her teeth as a cleave-gag.  Janet kicked, squirmed, and mewled a constant stream of well-muffled protests and complaints at her captors.

The amazons, Kyna included, were obviously amused and impressed by Janet's brave resistance.  "Don't let her overpower you!" Kyna cautioned, and the other amazons laughed.  The War-captain turned back to Sam.  "Feisty and wild," she cooed, "like the other tiny captive."

Sam's eyebrows lifted.  'Tiny captive?'  Hailey?

"And what of you, Straw-hair?" Kyna continued, speaking directly to Sam.  "Will you cause trouble, after we cut you out of the Grimbors' bonds?"  Suddenly, Kyna gasped in astonishment.  "Her eyes!"

"What is it, War-captain?" one of the other amazons asked.  "Is she injured?  Should I call for the ship's healer?"

"No, no," Kyna responded, waving a hand.  She reached into a pouch on her harness and produced a small, bronze object.  She gave it a twist, and it emitted a cone of white light.  Kyna leaned close and shone the light directly into Sam's eyes.  "Blue!  Blue as the sky!"

Sam blinked several times, but, of course, was powerless to turn her head away.

"Blue?" the other amazon asked.

Kyna turned off the light and returned it to its pouch.  "As the sky," she repeated.  "A detail not in the report from the Little One's interrogation.  What else did Honna fail to learn?"

'The Little One'? Sam noted.  It had to be Hailey!

"In all fairness," the other amazon said, "would any of us have thought to ask the Sleen-cub if her companions had freakish eyes?"

"Too true," Kyna laughed, gestured towards Sam, then turned and walked to Janet. 

One of the amazons stepped behind Sam, slung her weapon, drew her knife, and began cutting her free from the cage.

Meanwhile, Kyna lifted the diminutive Doctor's chin, and gazed into her eyes.  Janet glared back in angry defiance.  "This one's eyes are normal enough."  She lifted a strand of Janet's hair.  "...but her hair is different.  Not as strange as the two straw-tops, but almost... red... like clay from the Borgo riverbed, only darker."

"Perhaps it is the light," the other amazon suggested.

"Perhaps," Kyna agreed, then jumped back, as Janet tried to kick her between the legs.  Kyna and the others laughed, and the amazon who had tied her grabbed a handful of the doctor's hair and forced her to her knees.  "Finish binding her," Kyna said, "before I'm the one that needs the ship's healer."

The amazons howled with laughter, but Sam noted that the warriors on guard never took their eyes from the surrounding jungle, or their hands from their rifles.  Janet was forced to the ground, then onto her back, and one of the amazons seized and held her legs in the air.  Another stripped off the doctor's moccasins, then bound her ankles, the insteps of her feet, and her big toes.  Janet squirmed and struggled, but her captors were too strong.  Next, both warriors drew their knives and severed the thongs securing Janet's bandeau and bottom.  The makeshift garments were stripped away, and Janet was now as naked as Sam; albeit not nearly as elaborately bound.

Freeing Sam from the wicker cage took some time, as the innumerable lashings of wood-on-wood and the cords connected to Sam's underlying rope bonds had to be carefully severed, so as not to cut her skin.  But, eventually, the task was accomplished.

Sam was carried to the middle of the clearing and deposited on the grass next to Janet.  Lying beside her fellow prisoner, with all of the gremlin's rope bonds intact, she was pathetically helpless.  Neat, intertwined, and elaborately hitched strands criss-crossed and encircled her body from shoulders to toes—from toes to the crown of her head, if you counted the rope harness anchoring her gag.  Janet's bonds were superficial, by comparison—inescapable, yes—but superficial.

Sam looked up.  The dark shape she'd noted earlier was some kind of ship, hovering silently in the dark sky.  She couldn't make out much detail, but it appeared to be entirely made of wood, and it reminded her of something she'd seen in a video game demo at the Citadel Mall in Colorado Springs.  The name of the game had been Final... something.  It wasn't important.  What was important, however, was what their captors would do next.

And what they did next was surprising.

Kyna spoke into what was obviously their version of a hand radio, and a bundle was lowered from the ship on the end of a long cable.  Her troops released the cable, then unfolded the bundle to reveal several much smaller bundles.  The overlying tarp was spread in the center of the clearing, and Sam and Janet were lifted, carried, and deposited, side-by-side, at one end.  The small bundles were stacked opposite.  Kyna unslung her weapon and handed it to one of her troops, then sat, cross-legged, next to the bundles.  The remaining amazons walked to the far end of the clearing and stood together in a group.

A spotlight from the ship illuminated the tarp, and seconds later, a horn sounded a mournful, three-note call.  The call was repeated twice, then the horn went silent.

"Grimbor!" Kyna shouted.  "Come and trade!  The Pardesse are not thieves!  Come and trade!"

Seconds passed... then a gremlin appeared at the edge of the tarp.  Sam was reasonably sure it was King Gremlin himself.  The tiny figure's body was covered in the gray, brown, and black stripes Sam had come to recognize as his default coloration, and in addition to his fur loincloth, he was now wearing a necklace of animal teeth.  "Welcome, Pardesse," he said, in his high-pitched, rasping voice, and sat cross-legged, mimicking Kyna's pose.

"For the captives..."  Kyna selected two bags, opened their drawstrings, and emptied them on the tarp.  They were filled with glass beads in various shapes, half in shades of green, and half in amber.  "Six bags."

"Eight bags," King Gremlin responded, "for each."

"Six bags, for each," Kyna countered.

"Six bags for each, and blades of metal.  Eight hands of blades."

Kyna reached for another bundle, untied its string closure, and unrolled a bundle of metal shards  They were tiny knives, but without attached handles.  They appeared to be specially made for gremlin-sized hands, or perhaps they were small woodworking blades made for a human craftsman.

King Gremlin nodded at the blades, then pointed at Sam.  "Rope, to replace what the Grimbor wasted catching that one.  Five times."

"Three times," Kyna bartered, "but quality stuff; and ten rolls of strong twine."

"Deal!" King Gremlin shouted, and hopped to his feet.

"Wait," Kyna said, and the Grimbor chieftain sat back down.  Kyna gestured at the bundles behind her.  "More blades, ax heads, spear points, rope, cloth, beads, and water pots.  The Pardesse want all the metal things of the strangers.  Their cloth and rope are yours, but we want all their strange hard things."

King Grimbor gazed at Kyna for several seconds.  "Why?" he asked, finally.

"Bad magic," Kyna responded.

King Grimbor nodded, then gestured behind his back.  Seconds passed, then a line of gremlins appeared, carrying pieces of Sam and Janet's gear.  The P90, both G.D.O.'s and radios, two compasses, four clips of P90 ammo, and two clips of ammo for Janet's lost M9 pistol were deposited on the tarp.  There were also various bits and pieces from Janet's aid kit, as well as various metal and plastic fragments from the rest of the miscellaneous gear they'd kept in the pouches of their vests.  Last of all came Sam's watch and dog tags.

Kyna waited until the gremlin parade was over, then selected the G.D.O.'s, radios, ammo clips, the watch and dog tags, and anything else that looked largely intact.  "The rest is Grimbor booty," she said.

King Gremlin stepped to the edge of the tarp and gave a little bow—which Kyna returned with a nod of her head.  "The Pardesse are not thieves," he said, then vanished into the jungle.

"Let's go!" Kyna shouted.

One of the amazons bundled the bartered earth equipment while others hauled Sam and Janet to their bound feet.  Long ropes, with loops tied at periodic intervals, were lowered from the ship.  The amazons planted their booted feet in the loops, and the ones holding the prisoners made sure their feet were on a loop, as well.  The captives had time to exchange one last commiserating look, then the ropes were raised to the ship, taking the amazons, Sam, and Janet with them.  Kyna was the last to depart.  The entire withdrawal of the ground force took less than thirty seconds. 

The spotlight winked out, and the ship began to pull away, rising and heading for the far rim of the crater.  Behind, in the clearing, King Gremlin was supervising the repacking and hauling of the bundles of booty, including the underlying tarp.

BACK IN THE CITY

---

Hailey pattered along beside her "Slave-teacher".  Both were still shining with sweat, but their breathing had returned to normal.  Hailey's rope bonds were still as tight and inescapable as ever, despite her earlier exertions.  The bridge between the dome and the tower led to a narrow passage, which, in turn, led to a descending spiral staircase.  Whatever it was that Charis wanted to show her, it was located deep inside the tower.

For most of the journey their way was lit by glowing strips of glass tiles set in the ceiling, but eventually they came to a long, gently curving corridor, and the light faded.  They continued, and Hailey could see a gentle glow ahead.  The dressed blocks of the walls gave way to a mosaic of stone tiles.  Most of the tiles were opaque, but important elements, like human or animal figures, were comprised of blocks of colored crystal or glass, lit from behind.

"Behold, the Saga of the Panther-girls," Charis said.  Her tone was reverential, almost religious.

The style reminded Hailey of both Egyptian tomb paintings and Roman mosaics.  There was limited use of perspective, but the figures were strikingly realistic, within the limits of the medium. The first section showed male figures, dressed in tunics or bronze armor, busily stabbing or whacking on each other with swords, axes, and spears.  Cities burned in the background, and women were fleeing or were being raped by the men.  All the females had metal collars around their necks and were either dressed in skimpy loincloths or were altogether naked.

"Gor, the planet of our origin," Charis continued.  "Ruled by the mindless, brutal animals called men.  All women were slaves, whether they heard the call of the collar... or no.  Constant war... famine... hunger... suffering."

They continued down the corridor, and Hailey could see a number of women, naked, but for their collars, fleeing into the wilderness.

"But not all women would submit to the men of Gor.  Some fled the cities and lived as outlaws.  They taught themselves to hunt and learned to defend themselves with stolen weapons."  As they strolled, Hailey saw the women dueling with swords, bending bows, and dancing around a fire.  All of them had long, brown or black hair, brown eyes, and strong, lithe bodies.  Their collars were gone, and they were clothed in loincloths and bandeaus of dark pelts.  "The women hid in caves, and the men called them 'Panther-girls', because of their ferocity and attire.  They hunted them like animals, but with little success, and sometimes, the hunters became the hunted."

There was a section devoted to the rape of a bound, captive male—then a pregnant woman being cared for by the others—and finally, a woman holding a female infant above her head.

"And then came... The Testing," Charis intoned.  The next section of the mosaic depicted an epic battle between one of the women and a huge black cat.  "The Chieftess Saraid was hunting one day, and she was attacked by a panther.  Her spear and sword broke on the beast's claws, so she went close and grappled with her opponent."  The mosaic clearly showed the panther's jaws closed on Saraid's right shoulder, and it had its claws out, but for some reason neither teeth nor claws were cutting the woman's skin.  "They fought and fought," Charis continued.

"Let me guess," Hailey said.  "Forty days and forty nights?"

Charis gave Hailey an odd look.  "Don't be silly.  How could you fight for forty days and forty nights?  It was four days and four nights."

Hailey suppressed a smile.  "Yes, I can see how that's much more reasonable."

"Anyway," Charis continued, "they fought and fought and fought... until they could fight no more.  Both collapsed in exhausted slumber, and when Saraid awoke, she found herself lying with a beautiful woman with long, black hair, and skin as pale as polished ivory."  She reached out and gave Hailey's left breast a gentle squeeze.  "Pale, like your skin, Little Flower."

A thrill shuddered up Hailey's spine.  "Charis, stop," she begged, in a whisper.

Charis pulled her close and planted a kiss on her pouting lips.  "Greedy Little Flower," she cooed, "trying to distract me from my story."  She turned back to the mosaic.  There was a particularly striking image of the two women, Saraid and the transformed panther, in a close embrace.  Both were naked, and silhouetted by the rays of a rising sun.  The panther woman's hair swirled around them both, like ribbons of black silk.  "And thus it was that the Pardesse became children of the goddess Bashasti, and our journey to PelluciGor began."

Hailey frowned at the mosaic.  There was something above the embracing women, something hovering in the air.  It was impossible to judge the scale.  It could have been a triangular hat, or...  Hailey gasped.  It was a Goa'uld motherhip!  "That's a ha'tak!"

Charis nodded, formed a triangle with her fingers and thumbs, and began to sing.

"Ha'tak, ha'tak, city of Bashasti;
 City of Bashasti, flying in space;
 Ha'tak, ha'tak, swift as the arrow;
 Take the Pardesse home!

"A song.  We learn it as children.  The goddess brought all the Panther-girls to PelluciGor, and we became her servants, slaves, and soldiers."

"Is that what you meant by the 'Goddess Gift'?" Hailey asked.  "What's it got to do with me?"

Charis shook her head.  "The Goddess Gift is something else entirely, and a later part of the saga.  I'll continue the tale another time; but for now..."  She stepped away, down the corridor; then turned and made a beckoning gesture.  "Come, Little Flower, to what I really brought you to see."

Hailey took one last look at the two embracing women of the mosaic—or more correctly, one woman, and what was almost certainly a Goa'uld in a female, human host— then pattered after her slave-teacher.

The corridor led to a junction of several passageways, including the start of another spiral staircase.  Charis took hold of Hailey's shoulder, and they descended into ever-growing darkness.

"Where are we going?" Hailey asked.

"Manners, slave-student."

Hailey sighed.  "Where are we going, Slave-teacher?"

"I have decided to show you one of our Mistress' many playrooms."

Hailey frowned.  "Playroom?"

Charis smiled and raised an index finger to her lips.  "Hush, Little Flower."

The stairs finally ended and they continued down a straight, narrow corridor to a closed door.  Charis tapped her pinky ring to the door switch, a musical chime sounded, and the door slid open.  With Charis' hand still on Hailey's shoulder, they crossed the threshold.

Hailey squinted in the sudden, increased light.  Her eyes adjusted—and she gasped.  "What the hell?"

A naked slave was suspended by chains in the middle of the chamber, her dangling body brightly lit from above.  Broad, heavy leather cuffs were buckled and locked around her wrists and ankles, but she was not spreadeagled.  Her predicament was far more cruel.  Her ankles and wrists were above her head and she was bent forward at the waist, in an extreme crunch, with her head between her knees.  Broad leather straps belted her thighs to her arms and passed behind her head, forcing it forward.  A half-helmet of skin-tight leather covered her eyes, ears, and hair.  Only her nose, mouth, and chin were exposed.  A ball-gag was strapped in her mouth, and she was drooling on her prominently displayed sex.  It was like some obscene gymnastics pose, frozen in space and time and enforced by leather restraints, chains, and gravity.

"It is not as bad as it looks," Charis said.  "She is at the locus of a lifting field, and her bonds are designed to be comfortable."  Charis walked a slow circle around the anonymous, helpless victim.  "Of course, the position itself is very uncomfortable, especially after a few hours."

The slave was in excellent physical condition, like all of the Pardesse Hailey had encountered—soldier, artisan, or slave.  Her muscles were well-defined, and her smooth, well-tanned skin shone in the bright light with a patina of sweat.  Her hair was hidden under the helmet, but her neatly-trimmed pubic thatch was dark.  Her labia were pink and flushed, and her nipples hard and erect.  As Hailey watched, a thick drop of saliva formed in the corner of the slave's gagged mouth, slowly elongated, and dropped onto her sex.

"Wh-what did she do?" Hailey whispered.

Charis frowned, then her smile returned.  "Oh, you assume she is being punished.   Not so.  She simply caught the eye of our Mistress, perhaps as she has serving a meal, or cleaning a room, or performing some other slavish task—and she was chosen."

"Chosen?"

"Chosen to serve as a diversion for our Mistress."

Hailey stared in disbelief.  "She's being t-tortured... as a diversion?"

Charis nodded.  "For all the hours of this day she will be... entertained, thusly.  Tonight, she shall share our Mistress' meal—and her bed.  Tomorrow, her performance will be punished or rewarded."

"That's insane!" Hailey gasped.

"What do you mean?" Charis asked.  "How else does a slave serve her Mistress?  How else does a Mistress learn the strengths and weaknesses of her slaves?  Now do you begin to understand, Slave-student?  Now do you sense the seriousness with which you must attend my teachings?"

"It's cruel!" Hailey responded, stamping a bare foot for emphasis.

Charis smiled and shook her head.  "Oh, Little Flower," she cooed stepping forward and straightening Hailey's hair with her right hand.  Her left hand cupped the petulant prisoner's right breast.  "Of course it is cruel.  Our Mistress' is not known as 'Zanta the Cruel' for nothing."

"For nothing, indeed," an amused voice agreed.

Charis gasped—then immediately faced the doorway, dropped to her knees, and raised her hands above her head.  She then bowed low from the waist, until her breasts, forehead, forearms, and palms were touching the stone floor.

Hailey turned to face the doorway, and beheld "Zanta the Cruel", herself.

"I am disappointed, Charis," the PardaUbar intoned.  "Your slave-student hasn't even learned the position of obeisance?"

"Forgive me, Mistress," Charis begged.

"Kiss the floor until I give you leave to speak," Zanta ordered.

Hailey could see Charis' lips do just that, kiss the cold, stone floor.  She turned to her supposed "Mistress", tossed her head to straighten her hair, and stared in defiance.  Zanta was dressed as she'd been at the time of her arrival in the city, only this time her black silk robe was opaque, and it was trimmed with narrow, embroidered bands of peacock-green, violet, and metallic gold.  "Zanta the Cruel," Hailey muttered.  "More like Zanta the insane bitch."

Zanta's lips curled in an evil smile, and Hailey heard Charis gasp, again.  She glanced at her slave-teacher, and found that Charis was shivering, despite the more than adequate heat in the chamber.

Zanta stepped forward until she was less than a foot from Hailey.  The defiant little blonde stood her ground.  "You truly are a brave little warrior," the PardaUbar said.  "Such spirit is admirable... but not in a slave."  She turned her gaze to Charis' prone form.  "Charis, I suggest you gag your slave-student before she makes me angry."

Hailey scowled, and prepared to deliver a devastating kick, where it would do the most good.  "I'm not your slave, you—M'mmf!"

Charis had leaped to her feet and pulled Hailey back before her foot could connect with Zanta's crotch.  Her right hand was tightly clamped over Hailey's mouth and she was restraining her struggling student from behind with a tight embrace.

Zanta opened her robe.  She was wearing a leather harness over a black silk loincloth and bandeau.  Attached to the waist belt was a small, holster-like pouch.  She lifted the pouch's cover and extracted a gleaming metal instrument.  She held it before Hailey's eyes, for her inspection. 

Hailey squinted at the device.  In size and basic shape it was like a salad fork, only with the tines curled at the end.  She realized it was the stylized paw of an animal, probably a cat.  Its claws were extended, and they looked to be needle sharp.

Zanta gazed into Hailey's eyes.  "Spirited.  Not stupid, yet she ignores the wisdom of her slave-teacher."  She shifted her gaze to Charis.  "Speak freely," she ordered.

"She is not of the Pardesse, Mistress," Charis said.

"I'm not stupid, either," Zanta stated.

"No, Mistress!" Charis said, quickly.  "I remind Mistress that slave Hay-lee has grown to age on a world of men; a strange world of men, without slavery as we know it; a world not of the Pardesse."

"Point taken," Zanta said, her smile returning.  "You lead her slowly, with both of you, teacher and student, treading on unfamiliar, treacherous ground."  She strolled towards the suspended slave, spinning the cat's paw instrument in her fingers with practiced ease.  "I understand."  She reached out and used the tips of the tiny rake to delicately tease the margins of the slave's sex, dragging the claws across the sensitive skin on either side of her glistening labia.  The suspended victim shuddered in her bonds, and a piteous moan escaped her ball-gagged lips.

Hailey watched, wide-eyed, as the PardaUbar continued tormenting her helpless victim.

"Will she cum, if this continues?" Zanta inquired.

"She will cum in perhaps... two minutes, Mistress," Charis opined.

"I agree," Zanta purred, and continued teasing the slave's quivering flesh.  "I have decided you have made me angry, after all, Slave Hay-lee," she said, "but I do not want to interfere with the training program of my First Pleasure-slave.  So, what to do?"  She continued the gentle scratching for several more seconds.  Then, in one fluid motion, she transferred the instrument to her left hand, pulled a small, multi-tailed flogger from the belt of her harness, and delivered a single, devastating lash to the slave's sex.

The victim screamed through her gag, sending droplets of saliva flying.

Zanta returned the flogger to her belt, the rake-instrument to its holster, and let her robe fall closed.  "There, I feel better," she said, watching the suspended slave writhe in her bonds.  "Poor thing," she cooed.  "So close... only to be blocked by a flash of white-hot pain.  Let your slave-student see."

Maintaining her tight embrace and hand-gag, Charis dragged Hailey forward, until her wide, staring eyes were inches from the slave's sex.

"You can smell her arousal, can't you?" Zanta asked.  "Note how the stripes are already fading.  There... all gone.  No damage at all.  I will lash her all afternoon... sometimes teasing her first, sometimes not... with hours between strokes, while I come and go, attending to my duties."  Her smile turned truly evil.  "It's all in the timing, you see."

Hailey's realized her heart was tripping like a hammer.  She was beginning to believe that she was in the power of a sadistic madwoman!

"Yes, I feel better," Zanta continued, "but the insults of slaves are not to be ignored.  Slave-student and slave-teacher shall be punished together, until morning.  Make it something memorable and... creative, Charis."  She spun on her heel, and departed in a snap of fluttering silk.

Charis continued her embrace and hand-gag of Hailey's naked, shivering form as the door slid closed.  "Well, Little Flower," she sighed, finally, "that could have gone better."