(& Jennifer Hailey) in...
WORK OF BONDAGE FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2007
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A WEEK LATER
TRAINING CHAMBER IN THE PARAMOUNT
FIRST CITY OF PELLUCIGOR
The room was brightly
lit, by skylights in the domed ceiling and by banks of windows
high in the mirror-paneled walls. The floor was covered
by a thick, well-padded carpet.
Hailey was standing perfectly still in the center of the
She was naked, but
for the steel chastity belt locked around her waist and through
the steel slave-collar around her throat. Her long, blond
loose and tangled, with the majority of the glossy strands
her back. Her smooth, pale skin was lightly oiled, and
with sweat. An expression of concentration on her face,
stared straight ahead, focused on a theoretical horizon.
breasts heaved and her nostrils flared as she filled and emptied
lungs. Slowly... her breathing returned to normal.
Charis was pacing a slow circle around her student, her critical
on Hailey's glistening body. She was naked as well, but
more-decorative belt and collar, and the disk-like shields
nipples. In addition, torque-like bracelets were around
arms, and similar
twisted bands around her ankles. Her hair fell down her
a long, elaborate braid, with the tip secured by a decorative
similar in style to her armbands and anklets. She had a
straight cane in her right hand, about a-meter-and-a-half
in length. Its handle was wrapped in leather, and it
width of her thumb to that of a pencil. It was too
flexible to serve as a walking stick, but it made an excellent
pointer. It was also the perfect
correcting student mistakes, as Hailey had already
"All right, then..." Charis said, quietly. "Very slowly,
special attention to graceful transition, hand placement, foot
position, and the fall
of the hair. Straighten that straw-tangle, then assume a
Hailey leaned forward, ran her fingers through her hair, then
her head back. Her blond locks fanned through the air and
slapped her back as they fell into a more orderly drape. She raised her
her left foot slightly forward, bending the knee and lifting her
off the mat; and
placed her hands on her buttocks, palms down. This was the
"standing" slave position.
Charis tapped the mat with the tip of her cane. "Display!"
Hailey lifted her arms and clasped her hands behind her
chin remained high, and the new position rolled her shoulders
caused her pert breasts to point.
Charis tapped the mat, again. "Nadu!"
Hailey lowered her chin, dropped to her knees, and settled back
heels. Her knees were wide, and her hands rested on her
up, with the fingers slightly curled.
Chin still lowered, Hailey lifted her arms, closed her hands
fists, and crossed her wrists above her head.
Tap! "Kneel to
Hailey crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward,
the waist until her
forehead touched the mat. Simultaneously, her butt was
into the air, shifting her weight back on her thighs.
"Better," Charis conceded, "but you must master the head-flip,
hair forms a perfect, full-length fan on the mat, every
Mistress likes to stand on a slave's hair, as she uses the
Hailey brought her hands from under her body and extended them
full length, with her hands palm-down on the mat.
Charis walked a slow circuit around her student. "Much better,
Little Flower," she said. "You make me proud."
"May I speak, slave-teacher?" Hailey asked. Her words were
slightly muffled by the proximity of the mat.
Charis grinned. "Apparently, you may," she purred.
your question, slave-student?"
Hailey lifted her head and turned her face towards Charis.
Charis had delivered a stinging
Hailey's buttocks. "I said you may speak," she stated, "not
Hailey lowered her pouting face to the
mat, resuming her former position. "Why this moving from
to position at different speeds?" she asked. "Or is it
"No, slave-student," Charis answered. "The basic slave
are also the basic elements of the slave dance. These
are the foundation on which we will build the house of pleasure
will be Hay-lee the slave. Do you understand?"
"I..." Hailey sighed. "I guess... slave-teacher."
Charis lips curled in a sad smile. She tapped the mat with
Hailey extended her legs, full length, then crossed her ankles
pointed her feet. She also slid her arms back and crossed
her wrists atop her buttocks,
the palms up; then turned her head to rest the side of her face
mat, with her eyes towards Charis. She watched as her
slave-teacher walked to a small table beside the door, and
with two lengths of silk cord.
Hailey sighed, again, as Charis bound her ankles, and then her
wrists. She had given up, long ago, trying to figure out
slave-teacher felt the need to tie her up, lock her in chains,
otherwise keep her restrained for most of the day and
certainly wasn't going to escape the slave levels, or the tower,
or the city—she
the planet, for that matter, even if they gave her back her P90.
Charis went back to the table beside the door. This time
returned with a
stoneware bottle and a cup. She gracefully settled on the
sitting with her legs crossed, then hauled
Hailey's bound form onto her lap, arranging her student so that
with her bound arms against her body, and her head and shoulders
against her breasts. She filled the cup, and
held it to Hailey's lips.
Hailey drank. It was more of the slightly fizzy concoction
Pardesse liked to consume after exercise... sort of a Gatorade
cooler. This time it was green in color, and reminded
apples and peaches. "Thank you," she said, and drank the
Charis refilled the cup and took a drink herself. "You are
welcome, slave-student." She set down the cup, then
her fingers through Hailey's hair, clearing errant strands from
face. "Oh, Hay-lee," she sighed, "your mind is attentive,
memory quick, and your body..." She kissed Hailey's
"...your strong, precious little body, has grace and power."
Hailey blushed. "Thank you, slave-teacher," she whispered,
her face, and kissed the side of Charis' right breast."
need much work," Charis continued.
"Yes, slave-teacher." Hailey kissed Charis' breast, again.
"My flirting Little Flower," Charis
cooed, and resumed running her fingers through Hailey's hair.
Hailey closed her eyes and snuggled her bound body against her
"Yes, body and mind are willing," Charis sighed, "but the
Hailey considered giving a flip answer, then decided now was not
time. "I know you can break me," she said, quietly, "but I
a slave... not on my world, and not on yours. I can act
slave, but I'll never be a
"I fear this is true," Charis whispered. Seconds passed,
continued combing Hailey's hair.
In the distance, a slavegirl laughed, somewhere beyond the
of the training chamber. Dust motes danced in the shafts
sunlight streaming through the skylights.
Finally, Charis spoke. "Our Mistress orders me to train
continued. "I must, and I will. Keep the warrior in
heart, Little Flower, but let the world see a slave. I
the call of the collar for as long as I can remember... in
"All Pardesse are warriors, Little Flower," Charis
men invade, all will
fight. It has always been so. I am a slave by
vocation. Obedient service to my Mistress, in all things,
life. This has nothing to do with my duty to PelluciGor."
"I... I see," Hailey said.
Charis smiled, and kissed Hailey's forehead. "Keep the
your heart. I will speak to Mistress, at the appropriate
time, should that time
arise. I will suggest that a little straw-haired
warrior might serve her better than a tiny, awkward
kissed her slave-student again. "Keep the warrior in your
heart... and keep hope, as well."
Twin thrills coursed through Hailey's bound body—the familiar
caused by Charis' musky perfume—and the possibility
of at least some form
THE WAR TOWER
Sam wiggled her
and sighed in frustration. She had had a full day.
from her captor's bed at the crack of dawn, she had been untied,
allowed (ordered) to use the sanitary facilities, then her hands
bound behind her back, this time with a ribbon-like, leather
Long ago, Sam had learned that resistance was useless—physical resistance,
Kyna was a highly trained martial artist, and Pardesse combat
well-adapted to the capture and manipulation of prisoners.
Further, her aides
and orderlies were numerous and never far away, and on the one occasion
she had managed to wiggle out of her rope bonds and make a
almost immediately encountered
and well-armed guard patrol. They cut short her
escape with depressing efficiency.
Sam sighed, again. Goa'uld ships and buildings always
have convenient side corridors and alcoves that might as well
been designed to
entire squads of
fugitives to elude capture.
Pardesse architecture suffered from no such shortcomings.
Strangely, she wasn't punished for the escape attempt, but
aides did take
precautions to ensure it would never happen
For her morning exercise, it was Kyna's habit to accompany a
selected unit of the Jannisary Guard,
dragging her "guest" along for the fun. It was obvious
"Panther-girls" were a disciplined and fit
Even the support units set a brutal
their morning runs. Sam had trained with Air Force Spec
Army Rangers, and even Royal Marine Commandos, during visits to
various bases, and had to
admit, the Pardesse physical conditioning program was first
This morning, after a run of about six miles, nude, and with her
the Pardesse exercised in the
went her way, and Sam was taken to an interrogation chamber for
yet another question
session. She was strapped to a well-padded chair, contacts
strapped to her temples, lights began to
glow—and then she awoke
to find that most of the day had passed. It reminded her
Tok'ra used for their mind scans, only their probes didn't cause
Sam could never remember exactly what was "discussed" during
interrogations... although, for hours afterwards, she would
déja vu-like flashes: images of different weapons systems,
tactical concepts, and elements of historical battles.
was little doubt what her captors wanted to know, and she very
feared her mind was the proverbial open book.
After interrogations, Sam was usually returned to Kyna's
the slave kennel, chained to a wall,
or, like today, strapped to Kyna's "pleasure-rack". The
device could be used in a variety of different configurations,
orderlies had secured her on her back, reclined at a forty-five
angle, with her arms raised and wrists secured behind her
Her legs were usually splayed and secured at the knees and
this time, they had been raised to waist level, strapped together, and her ankles
a heavy, rigid clamp. It was as if she was
comfortably reclined on a lounge chair with her feet up and her
behind her head—only there was no
chair, and in its place was a fully-adjustable, minimalist, wood
Sam squirmed in her bonds, testing the padded clamps around her
and the leather straps above and below her breasts, around her
across her thighs, knees, and calves. She tried to move
but the clamp
around her ankles wouldn't budge, no matter how she twisted and
strained. It didn't even shake. A little toe
all the stock-like device would allow.
least I'm not gagged this time, she thought, ...yet.
Kyna always made her wait—sometimes for hours—and then she
return from her council meetings, inspections, briefings, and
else had consumed her day... and they would make love—share a meal—make love some
more—share the bed, for
more love-making... and then, finally,
slumber would come... and the next day would begin.
Sam sighed. As captivity went, this wasn't bad. It
hell out of a Goa'uld prison or a naquata mine, that was for
sure—but why wasn't she outraged by the things
her... by what she continued
Kyna could be a generous lover—but she could also
Sam had always considered herself to be completely heterosexual,
affection for Kyna was undeniable. It was more than
Syndrome"—more than the
fear-based, misplaced infatuation of a prisoner with her
wasn't disgusted or ashamed, and she certainly wasn't repulsed;
but she was
strained against her bonds with all her
she accomplished was a slight oscillation of her breasts.
The door opened. Kyna had arrived, at last. She was
usual green and brown bandeau, loincloth, and leather harness,
time she was also wearing an open, linen robe. It was
stylized camouflage pattern as the rest of her uniform, but the
hemmed with broad stripes of maroon silk and embroidered with
thread. Sam surmised the stripes were badges of rank, the
which the Pardesse military seemed to keep to an absolute
"Council meeting?" Sam asked.
Kyna entered a closet, without answering. Seconds
returned, barefoot, and without the robe or harness.
"I hate those formal meetings. No real work is
accomplished." A grin on her face, she walked to Sam and
helpless captive's left breast a gentle squeeze. "Did you
the terrace fields at Tall Rock would benefit from an artesian
irrigation system? And did you know this topic required two hours of briefings and
discussion by the Wise Council? Did you know the well
alone would consume more energy, labor, material, and other
than the renovation of 1,000 low-level apartments? ...that
seven agricultural holdings would benefit from the added water,
would only extend their growing season by two to three weeks,
adding to the abundance of luxury crops that are already in surplus?"
"Sounds like a bridge-to-nowhere," Sam answered.
Kyna frowned. "A what? That doesn't make any sense."
"Tell me about it," Sam muttered.
"Two hours!" Kyna swore, shaking her head. "It should have
The door opened and two of Kyna's orderlies entered. One
a folding table near the pleasure-rack, and the other deposited
covered tray on its surface.
"Thank you," Kyna said, absently. Most of her attention
the continuing massage of Sam's breasts. The orderlies
closing the door behind them.
"Your hair has started
a fashion," Kyna stated.
"W-what?" Sam was distracted by her captor's gentle,
hands, and the throbbing in her now fully-erect nipples.
"A few of the more daring junior warriors have cropped their
finger length," Kyna explained. "They claim it is more
and is cooler in hot weather." She continued her
"I must admit, I do not find the style... unattractive."
The massage stopped, and Sam watched as Kyna removed the cloth
from the tray, revealing the usual array of covered bowls,
meal. Kyna smiled, and picked up a small
bowl and a wooden spoon. "I have a surprise for you,
She removed the bowl's cover and held it so Sam could see the
Sam frowned. The bowl contained small, blue, transparent
"Do you think war-craft is the only topic
your probe-trance sessions?" Kyna purred. She turned the glistening mass with the
Sam was... touched. "You had them ask me about my favorite
Kyna loaded the spoon. "Clear, cool, sweet,
blue. The War Tower cooks took it as something of a
challenge. Taste." She held the spoon to Sam's lips.
Sam locked eyes with her captor, opened her mouth, and Kyna
blue glob on her tongue. It was cool, and sweet, and had a
flavor. It was not "Blue
Jell-OTM". She let the
melt in her mouth, then swallowed. "Delicious."
Kyna frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Sam responded. "It's fine."
Kyna took a taste, herself. "This is sweet as honey," she
still frowning. "How can you like it?"
"They didn't get it right, did they?"
Sam smiled. "We have a saying on earth: it's the thought
Kyna turned the faux-Jell-O with the spoon, again. "I don't know
they thought they could just mash up some berrys and—"
see that her captor was actually... blushing. "Kyna," she
said, quietly, and the War-Captain met her gaze. "Thank
Kyna smiled, restored the bowl's cover and set it back on the
tray. "You're welcome, Straw-hair. Now, I need to unwind a little, before we
eat. First, let's complete the evening ritual, shall we?"
Sam sighed. "Kyna, please let me go. Please stop
tied-up all the time. Please?"
Kyna struck a pose, as if considering her answer.
Let me see... No!
ritual over." She walked over to a work table and returned
with a wooden stool, then sat at the foot of the pleasure-rack.
Sam lifted her head, but her knees and feet were in the
she could see was the top of Kyna's head. Apparently, she
rummaging for something, near the floor.
"Ah, here it is!" Kyna said. She straightened up, bringing
smiling visage into view, then raised her right hand to
feather! It was peacock green, with tufts of fluttering
the base. Its stiff, blade-like, six-inch length tapered
a slightly rounded point.
Sam swallowed nervously, and tried to keep the dread and horror
her voice. "Kyna, you wouldn't..."
Kyna's smile turned truly evil.
me I'm not very 'funny', Sam..." She twirled the
feather between her fingers. "...but how would you like to
joke? Have you heard the one about the drunken
and the three slavegirls?"
In the outer chamber, an orderly was using a hand viewer to scan
evening drop of official reports, deciding which would be filed
which would be forwarded to the War-Captain's workstation for
Another orderly was
sweeping the floor.
Suddenly, peals of giggling, girlish, soprano laughter emanated
private quarters. It was somewhat muffled by the thick
the door, but the nature of the continuing noise was
"It would appear the War-Captain has suddenly developed a sense
orderly stated, perfectly deadpan.
"At least Straw-hair thinks so," the other observed.
Both went back to work.
UNDER THE DOME OF
HONNA'S APARTMENT SUITE
Janet removed one
crystal from the workstation's data tray and inserted
The holographic display rippled, then resolved into a rotating
of symbols and characters. Janet's SGC-issue laptop was
the workstation by a jury-rigged set of power and data transfer
cables. A language translation program developed by Sam
Daniel Jackson was making a valiant effort to transcribe the
text into English, but with only limited success.
Janet took a sip of tea, and began the laborious task of trying
sense of the half-translated information. She was alone in
apartment, and was dressed in a loincloth, bandeau, and robe of
linen, all trimmed with narrow bands of blood-red silk.
the normal attire of a Pardesse healer. However, the cuffs
wrists and ankles were not normal.
bands had dangling rings, set in ball and socket joints, but
the connecting chains she was required to wear when Honna took
of the apartment were unattached. They dangled from a hook
the closed and locked door.
The crystal was
entitled "War of Sorrows—The Revolt of Queen
Egeria". Janet's eyes popped wide. "Interesting!"
muttered, under her breath. Unless her memory was wrong,
founder of the Tok'ra, the Goa'uld resistance movement.
technically Goa'uld, themselves, the Tok'ra were
one of earth's most valuable allies against the System
Daniel Jackson would give an important body part for a chance to
particular work. The first line read "Egeria, beloved of
The apartment's outer door opened and Honna entered. She
dressed like Janet—without steel cuffs
and anklets, of course—but her robe was
trimmed with white silk. The white-on-white colors
status as a "High Polymath" and her mastery of what, on earth,
considered to be several different academic fields.
"How was the council meeting?" Janet asked.
"The usual," Honna answered. She walked to the work
kissed the top of Janet's head.
Janet took one of Honna's hands and gave it a gentle squeeze,
indicated the stoneware tea service on a nearby tray.
fresh," she muttered, continuing to read.
Honna poured herself a cup. "How go your studies?"
Janet tapped a key on the laptop and the screen went
looked up at Honna, and sighed. "I wish I had more of a
languages. I probably have half of it wrong."
Honna took a seat. "Don't pout, Little Healer. You
our writing. Tell me what you've discovered, today.
intent was to study our history, yes?"
Janet nodded, sipped her tea, then leaned back in the
is, or was, a female pleasure planet. It was a place for
high-ranking Goa'uld women to hunt game, engage in athletic
and otherwise relax, away from their men; and it was the domain
"Bashasti, uh, recruited your
act as her retainers." Janet pointed
at the workstation display. "I only just now found an
actual history of the
Great Downfall, but
there was enough in other sources to tell the tale. There
civil war among the System Lords, right?"
Honna sighed. "Before the war, there were no 'System
Lords'. The winning side invented the 'honor'.
killed in battle, far from PelluciGor. This place was
minor outpost, but it was also more than
pleasure planet. It was a center of knowledge and
learning. Our ancestors used Bashasti's wisdom to cloak
system, then sent agents among the enemy. In the chaos
war, we succeeded in deleting all reference to PelluciGor's
from all known archives. It took many years and cost many
"The SGC got the gate address from an Ancient database," Janet
the gate builders; not from a Goa'uld source."
Honna smiled. "There was great consternation when you and
friends... and those men...
The Pardesse have always thought themselves safe,
confident that we were invisible and forgotten. We did not
have a formal
watch on the chap'ai, itself. That has since changed."
"It's because we don't use a DHD, isn't it?" Janet said.
able to get past your safeguards because we created our own
"Yes," Honna agreed. "Otherwise, our stealth algorithms
have prevented you from opening the portal. Anyway, back
War of Sorrows... With the death of our beloved patron, the
resolved to continue the pursuit of knowledge, to keep ourselves
for war, and to remain hidden."
Janet frowned. "One thing I don't understand: why didn't
make your ancestors Jaffa?" Most System Lords used their
retainers as hosts for the larval form of their Goa'uld
offspring. This gave the "Jaffa" great strength and
abilities, and made them formidable warriors.
"Bashasti did not believe in making Jaffa," Honna
Gift is more than enough of an advantage for the
noticed the impatient set of Janet's jaw. "Not to worry,
Healer," she said. "You have reached the point in your
that I think I can explain the Goddess Gift in detail, and you
Janet waited, expectantly.
"But not tonight," Honna continued. "Oh, do not pout,
Healer," she laughed. "We will discuss the Gift tomorrow,
the morning run. I have cleared my schedule through the
meal. Tonight, however, we have a dinner commitment.
your robe and top."
"Don't tell me," Janet huffed, "you want me to impress another
of the boneheads who want the Pardesse to keep their collective
buried in the sand." She folded the screen of the laptop,
then walked to the bedroom and into its walk-in closet.
Honna followed. "Hence you must arrive at her door as my
my loincloth," Janet interrupted, "to put her at ease."
removed her robe and bandeau and hung them on a hook in the
then turned and faced Honna. "Good enough?"
Honna shook her head, a coy smile on her lips. "Not this
Little Healer. Our hostess-to-be—an engineer of
legendary intellect, by the way—is notoriously
difficult to convince. We must put her completely at ease, and
expect her to question you... thoroughly."
The Pardesse believed it was impossible to tell falsehoods while
and the closer one was to orgasm (supposedly) the greater was
sincerity. Janet could expect a great deal more than
conversation during the upcoming visit. It wouldn't be her
such "dinner party" since becoming Honna's captive.
"Politics," Janet muttered, then her eyes popped wide when she
was in Honna's hands. "What the hell is that?"
Honna had opened a drawer and produced some sort of...
It was made completely of what appeared to be natural,
rubber. "A means of restraining dangerous
invaders," she answered.
Janet sighed, but made no resistance as Honna "dressed" her in
garment. Something like an open-cupped bra tightened
breasts and was clipped closed behind her back. It
breasts while still leaving them almost completely
straps tightened around her upper arms and pinned them to her
torso. Honna folded Janet's hands behind her back and
narrow rubber straps through the rings in her steel wrist
were tossed over her shoulders, crossed between her breasts, and
through a loop in the "bra". They were then tucked under
elbows and secured between her shoulder blades. Finally,
tightened a flap
over Janet's forearms, at the small of her back, then tightened
straps, one by one.
Janet rolled her shoulders and flexed her arms. The
rubber... thing was skintight. She
whether to call it a minimalist straitjacket or an overly
harness. Her flesh
bulged between the milky rubber straps and panels. "I'm
hell not dangerous now," she muttered. "Now you do my
hair?" Honna usually plaited Janet's hair into something
French braids, before taking her out.
Honna hugged her prisoner, from behind, and nuzzled her
"That would be premature, Little Healer. We aren't
more than an hour."
"Then why did you..." Janet's nostrils flared.
arousal, her delicious, musky odor, filled the close air of the
closet. "Oh," she said, quietly. She shivered as
reached around her helpless body and cupped her breasts.
moaned, softly, as Honna's fingers played with her erect
"I take it you have some questions of your own, and wish to
Honna released her embrace and reopened the drawer from which
produced the rubber "strait-harness". This time, she
ball-gag. Both ball and strap were translucent, like the
harness. "The only question I
have, Little Healer," Honna purred, "is how many times I can
cum without making us late for dinner."
A sly smile on her lips, Janet eased towards the closet
"Yeah? You have to catch
Honna smiled and blocked Janet's path. "With those stubby
legs? No problem." She lunged, but the diminutive
ducked under her arms and scurried out the door, giggling as she
Honna removed her bandeau and loincloth and dropped them to the
floor. "The outer door is locked, you know!" she
"You aren't going anywhere!" Janet's giggling laugh echoed
into the closet, from somewhere in the apartment suite's outer
chambers. Honna smiled, stretched, and began her
search for the "escaping fugitive", the ball-gag swinging from