A WORK OF STARGÅTE SG-1 FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2010
		Chapter 17

Sam continued to struggle against the tight ropes binding her naked body and to expel the cloying silk gag from her mouth.  She knew it was pointless, but enough was enough!  She'd had her fill of fairy bondage even before being kidnapped by Goldeneye.  And now she was in the clutches of the Darklings and it was going to be business-as-usual, with the business plan revolving around inventing new ways to tease and torment "The Queen"?

Not if I have anything to say about it! Sam vowed.

The trouble was, of course, that unless her pale-skinned, black-haired, violet-eyed captors made a serious mistake, she didn't have anything to say about it—and thanks to the gag, that was both literally and figuratively.

After several long minutes of flight, the Darkling hunting party and their captured prey emerged from the forest, zoomed across a clearing, and into the yawning mouth of a cave in the side of the Dark Mountain.  Once inside, their way was lit by periodic torches and cauldrons of fire, and their passage was noted with keen interest by clusters of quarterstaff-armed Darkling guards.

Most of the hunting party peeled off, fluttering away down various side tunnels, but Sam, Janet, Markie, and their handlers, as well as the First Darkling and her two guards, stayed together.  They traveled deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels riddling the mountain, and finally, they entered a cavern dominated by a lake of clear, turquoise-tinted, bubbling water.

Flaming cauldrons cast a flickering, red-orange light, and steam wafted through the warm, humid air.  Several naked Darklings bathed in the shallows, attended by Hailey and Keller-fairy slaves.

The fey slaves were naked, but for black rope harnesses yoking their shoulders, crisscrossed between their breasts and around their torsos, and through their thighs.  The tight webs dimpled the flesh of their wet, glistening bodies and were banded around their folded wings, depriving them of the power of flight.  In addition, they were gagged by tight panels of black leather that covered their mouths from nose to chin and were buckled tight at the napes of their necks.  Some gently scrubbed their Dark Mistresses with wet cloths, while others toweled the bathers dry or helped them to dress.

"The Queen!" one of the Darklings cried, and the others took up the call.

The Darklings crowded around Sam, smiling and running their pale hands over her body.

The First Darkling watched her Sisters greet their squirming, mewling Queen, an indulgent smile curling her lips.  "Enough!" she said, finally, raising an arm in an imperious gesture.  "Bathe the Queen!"

Sam needed a bath, as did Janet and Markie.  They may have been bathing regularly in the "Xena and Gabrielle hot tub", as Sam had dubbed the side-pool of geothermally heated water back at the sunken lake, but now they were soiled with sap from the vines Goldeneye had used to bind them in her makeshift basket, as well as the dirt and leaf-litter that had been smeared on their bodies or tangled in their hair during their capture in the forest.

The wet, naked Darklings bathed the Queen, while Janet and Markie were bathed by the Hailey and Keller-fairy slaves.  First, the captives' bound bodies were scrubbed as clean as they could be with their arms pinned to their sides and wrists bound against their shoulder blades.  Then, their bonds were changed.  Tight loops of rope were tied around their wrists and they were held in the shallows with their arms stretched away from their bodies.

Janet and Markie stood in the shallows as the soft, warm, wet cloths scrubbed away the remaining sap.  Sam, on the other hand, continued to struggle.  Mewling curses through her gag, she twisted and tugged on her bonds.  Then, after locking eyes with Janet, she stopped moving.  She's right, as usual, Sam thought.  Might as well save my strength.

A Darkling fluttered into the chamber with a bundle of black leather in her hands.  "The prototype of the new slave-binder, my First," she announced with a bow, "as ordered."

"Perfect timing," the First Darkling chuckled.  Her eyes were on Markie.  "Put it on the Queen's Hailey."

Markie didn't resist.  Surrounded by Darklings and already helpless, it would be the most futile of gestures.  Besides, she was supposed to serve the Janets, even the Dark ones.  She was frightened, and would much rather be serving the Queen, but resistance was not her place.

Sam and Janet stood in their bonds, being toweled dry by the Hailey-slaves.  They watched as Markie was outfitted with what amounted to a single-sleeve binder and body-harness.  The sleeve encased her hands and arms up to her mid upper arms, behind her back and under her wings.  It pressed her wrists and elbows together, and laced up tight by means of metal grommets and a crosshatch of black leather thongs.  The harness consisted of thin straps that secured the sleeve against her back.  They yoked her shoulders and passing above and below her breasts and around her waist.  Finally, a wide flap buckled over Markie's folded wings, pinning them to the sleeve.  Her wing-roots and wing-tips were exposed, and there was no apparent strain in the arrangement; but clearly, her wings were as useless to her as her fingers, hands, and arms.

"Excellent!" the First Darkling said.  "Now we can easily tell the Queen's Hailey from the others."

"That is already possible, my First," one of Markie's handlers remarked.  "She has a scratch on her arm."

"Where?" the First Darkling demanded.

"Just under the sleeve," the handler answered.

The First Darkling nodded.  "Perhaps we should scratch all the Haileys with numbers.  That way we can tell all of them apart."

The Darklings laughed.  This was Dark Humor.  Mutilating a fellow fey was against the Law of the Machine.

"Bind the Queen and the Lightling traitor," the First Darkling ordered.  "The Inaugural Feast of the Dark Hall is about to begin."

Sam and Janet's handlers grabbed fresh coils of black rope and set to work.

The First Lightling entered the cavernous chamber of The Machine of Life.  With Darkling hunting parties on the prowl, she had journeyed to the Great Temple with an escort of a half-dozen quarterstaff-armed guards, but she had ordered them to wait in the outer corridor.  What she had to say was for the Machine alone.

The vast pyramid of glowing crystals rippled with complex patterns... as always.  The First Lightling could sense no added urgency in the incomprehensible waves of flashing lights.

Does the Machine not know? the First Lightling wondered.  How could the Machine not know?

She carefully placed her quarterstaff on the floor, then removed her harness of brown rope, coiled it, and let it drop.  Her sage green loincloth and bandeau were next.  She folded the cloths and laid them atop the rope.  Wearing only the gold collar of her office, she slowly, gracefully stepped forward, knelt on the stone floor at the very base of the Machine, and placed her palms against the flat surface of one of its giant crystals.

The feast had been underway for more than an hour.  Thirty or so Darklings were lounging around the cavern, being served food and drink by Haileys and Kellers.  Apparently, the drink was somewhat potent, for several Darklings were showing signs of inebriation, singing songs and toasting their captive Queen.

Sam was "seated" on what her captors called the Dark Throne. Two dozen or more black leather straps bound her to its black steel frame.  By her position—knees bent, back straight, and wrists and forearms strapped against the "armrests"—it was as if Sam was actually sitting on a real throne, but the straps alone supported her body.  Her bare feet dangled about a foot above the stone floor and her knees were splayed widely apart, leaving her crotch on humiliating display. 

Thanks to the Throne's elevated position in the Dark Hall, and despite the forehead, ring-gag, and throat straps pinning her head against the Throne's headrest, Sam had an unobstructed view of virtually the entire cavern.

The First Darkling and her party occupied the slightly lower area immediately surrounding Sam.  The Darklings were all naked, or, like their leader, had changed into open, sleeveless robes of black, gossamer-thin silk.  They dined Roman-style, reclined on cushions and sampling platters of elaborately garnished savory meats, roasted vegetables, and sliced fruit.  Rope-harnessed and panel-gagged Haileys and Kellers attended to their needs.  Unlike the fairy slaves in the bathing chamber, these attendants' wings were free, and they fluttered to and fro, carrying fresh food and pitchers of drink to the Darkling revelers.

Markie, still bound in the slave-binder and gagged with the same stuffing and cleave-gag of black silk, lay on her side in front of the First Darkling.  Her legs had been bound with black rope from ankles to thighs.  Her sad, worshipful eyes were on her Queen.

On the Dark Leader's right was a wingless redhead Sam didn't recognize.  She assumed the stranger was Laura Cadman, 1st Lieutenant, USMC, the new member of SG-3 Janet had mentioned while telling her story back at the lake.  Her face was set in a glowering frown, and she was bound in an elaborate web of black rope, pinning her arms to her sides, her wrists behind her back, and her legs together.  Her head and shoulders were in a Darkling's lap, and she was being fed tidbits and sipping from the cup occasionally held to her lips.  The redhead was not happy, but from the way she was eating, Sam suspected she was also more than a little hungry.  SERE training, Sam realized.  Resist when you can, conserve your strength, gather intel, make your plans, and look for an opportunity.

And speaking of Janet, several fairy-feet above the large, cleared area in the middle of the cavern, Janet—Janet the joined Darkling and Lightling who, as far as Sam was concerned, was Janet Fraiser reborn—was suspended in a web of black ropes.  Her legs were splayed almost to the point of a complete split.  Her wrists and elbows were bound behind her back and wrenched upwards in a stringent strappado.  Her auburn hair was tightly braided and the end of the braid bound to her wrists.  Several long, taut ropes held her in this position, stretching away to disappear among the stalactites and stalagmites of the cavern.  Her black silk stuff and cleave-gag remained.  Finally, her hanging breasts had been bound at the base with thin cord, and they bulged and were flushed a shade of bright pink.

Sam stared at Janet, hanging in her stringent predicament, and fought the despair threatening to devour her soul.  It isn't fair!  It's not her fault she loves me.  They shouldn't punish her like that.  Tears welled in Sam's eyes.  Dammit, they're hurting her!

The First Darkling clapped her hands.  "Let the dancing begin!" she shouted.

Several of the Haileys and Kellers gathered in a group with drums and lute-like instruments, and began to play.  At the same time, several Darklings clothed themselves in long, dangling loincloths of sheer black silk, strolled to the area under the suspended Janet, and began to dance.

Sam didn't recognize the music.  It was classical and kinda folksy, and may have been simple improvisation.  The dance had an equally extemporaneous air, but was graceful and compelling, nonetheless.  Not surprising, Sam thought.  She knew Janet had studied dance as a kid, and the Darklings might be playfully cruel, but they were a form of her love.  There... finally, Sam realized.  A tear formed and rolled down her left cheek.  She stared at Janet's helpless, suspended form.  My love.  Confusion and denial were things of the past.  Janet, my love.

Now, Sam pondered, what do I do about it?

The dancers had formed a ring and were spinning and prancing as the music's tempo slowly increased.  One by one, they leaped into the air, fluttering their wings to prolong their suspension.  The jumping continued, and simple leaps became somersaults and elaborate spins.  This continued for some time.

The First Darkling rose to her feet and strolled in Sam's direction.  Her open robe fluttered in her wake, exposing her firm, pale body and the raven-dark curls of her pubic bush.  It may have been Sam's imagination, but her gait was perhaps a little... unsteady.  A cup was in her right hand, and she paused to take a sip.

She's drunk, Sam suspected.  This can't be good.

"Magnificent," the First Darkling said, indicating the cavern with a grand gesture of her free hand.  "Simply magnificent."  She carefully set her cup on the floor of the dais, then stepped behind the Throne.

Sam felt the strap of her ring-gag slacken... then fall away.  She licked her lips and swallowed, then glared at the First Darkling when she stepped back into view.  "Let her go!" Sam demanded.  "Do it now!"

"Let who go, my Queen?" the First Darkling asked, then noticed Sam's gaze was on the captive suspended above her dancing Sisters.  The First Darkling chuckled as she stooped and retrieved her cup.  "Oh, my Queen, why do you want to deprive the traitor of her reward?"

"What reward?" Sam demanded.  "You're torturing her."

"We're providing her with a story that will make her the toast of her kind." the First Darkling countered.  "She rescued the Queen from the dragon kidnapper, and now she is the main entertainment at the Inaugural Feast of the Dark Hall!  She will be legend at the Lightling Grove!"

"Let her go!" Sam reiterated.

"Drink, my Queen," the First Darkling purred and held the cup to Sam's lips.

Sam was thirsty, so she accepted.  Prepared for a beverage with some kick, she cautiously swallowed.  Pretty good, she thought, sort of a vodka tonic with berry juice of some sort.  Her head still pinned to the backrest by the strap across her forehead, Sam watched the silver-collared Darkling take another sip.  Should I tell her Janet is different?  Is that a good idea?  Probably not.

"Ah, the dance continues," the First Darkling said.

Down on the floor, the prancing Darklings continued to leap and perform acrobatics, but now they were timing their leaps so at the apex the tips of their fluttering wings brushed the soles of Janet's feet, or the nipples of her bulging breasts, or her exposed pussy.

"No!" Sam gasped.  Janet's entire body was quaking and her wings shivering at each touch.

"The sensation is... indescribable," the First Darkling purred.  "One might call it 'tickling', I suppose; but the delicate brush of rapidly fluttering wings is infinitely more titillating than wiggling fingers."

"Let her go!" Sam demanded, tugging on her bonds.

"Oh, I intend to," the First Darkling chuckled.  "But let us give her more of a story to tell her Light Sisters, shall we?"  She held the cup to Sam's lips, again, and this time slowly tipped it back until Sam had imbibed its entire contents.  "You shall soon be fed, my Queen," the First Darkling said as she stepped behind the Throne.  "But first—"

Sam felt her fiddling with the strap of the ring-gag, and made one more try on Janet's behalf.  "She's suffered enough.  Let her gluh!"  The ring was back in her mouth, and the strap was being buckled tight.

"Bring the Queen's Hailey!" the First Darkling ordered.

Two of the Darklings laughed, grabbed hold of Markie, and carried her before the Throne.

"You know what to do," the First Darkling said.

Sam watched as Markie's silk gag was removed and immediately replaced with a ring-gag attached to a harness of thin straps that caged the little blond fey's entire head.  Markie stared back at her Queen with worried, frightened eyes.  Just then, Sam heard a wet, scraping hiss and noted movement beneath her dangling feet.  She lowered her eyes and found that a pit had opened in the floor.

"Install her," the First Darkling said.  "Let her entertain her Queen."

Markie was lowered into the shallow pit, which left her head at the level of Sam's crotch.  Then, straps were buckled around Sam's waist and thighs and additional, attached straps were threaded through rings in Markie's head-harness.  Both the Queen and her fairy friend mewled through their gags as the little fey's face was pressed between Sam's thighs and against her crotch, her ring-gagged mouth positioned so her gaping lips were crushed against Sam's pussy.  Then, the straps were buckled tight.

"Use your tongue," the First Darkling ordered.  Her words were for Markie.  "Use your tongue and worship your Queen.  And do not stop until I order you to do so."

Markie sobbed, then began wiggling her tongue.  Sam flinched in her bonds and gasped through her ring-gag.  Her hands closed into tight fists, and her toes curled.

"And the pits for the licking of the Queen's feet, my First?" one of the Darklings suggested.  "I can have a pair of tongue-trained Kellers here in seconds."

"Not at this time," the First Darkling purred.  "Perhaps later.  Ah, fresh lizard-meat skewers!" she said, noting a Keller arriving at her former position with a loaded platter.  "Cruelty makes me so very famished."  She strolled away as her companion Sisters laughed.

Sam stared at Janet, still being teased and tickled by the dancing Darklings.  She strained against the straps binding her to the Throne.  She was struggling to distract herself from what Markie was doing to her, rather than with any real hope of escape.  Where's the cavalry when you need them? she mused.

Suddenly, a loud, deep, metallic clatter echoed throughout the chamber.  Somewhere in the labyrinth of tunnels honeycombing the Dark Mountain, a huge gong was being struck.  The noise continued for several seconds—then, abruptly ceased, as if cut off.

The music had stopped and the dancers were still.  All were staring in the direction of the main tunnels.  A single Darkling entered the Dark Hall, flying at top speed.  "Attack!" she cried.  "The Dark Mountain is under attack!"

Chaos erupted.

A dozen fairies were on the new Darkling's tail.  All were a little taller than a Darkling (or a Lightling) and their entire bodies were mottled and stained with body-paint, mostly in shades of gray.  They were wearing metal bikinis and helmets with nose guards and cheek protectors, but the steel plates had been painted like their bodies, making them dull and gray.  Brown leather collars were around their throats and they were armed with quarterstaffs, catch-poles, or lassos.

The assembled Darklings and fairy-slaves armed themselves or milled about in confusion, respectively, and the First Darkling's guards stepped in front of their leader and assumed fighting stances.

A dozen more of the camouflaged newcomers entered the Hall—followed by a hundred more, but this larger group of fairy invaders was not camouflaged.  Their bodies were clean, and their bikini armor and helmets polished to chrome brightness.  Sam surmised the camouflaged fairies were scouts and/or infiltrators and the uncamouflaged fairies were the main attack.

Lassos flew and Darklings were captured.  Invaders and Darklings paired off and began sparing with quarterstaffs, but most of the contests ended very quickly.  The invaders were highly skilled warriors, while the Darklings were merely adequate.  Some Darklings managed to flee the Dark Hall, but all had invaders following close on their heels.  In short order, all the remaining Darklings became hogtied, wing-bound, and gagged captives in the ruin of what moments before had been their Inaugural Feast.  The Haileys and Kellers had been left alone, and all had quickly fled.

The First Darkling and her two guards were the last to be dealt with.  They now stood before Sam and her throne, all three armed with quarterstaffs and ready to fight.  They were surrounded by a dozen invaders: two scouts and ten of the uncamouflaged warriors.  Another invader fluttered across the Dark Hall and joined the group.  Her helmet had a crest of red feathers and a small badge was clipped to the front of her leather collar.

Sam focused on the badge and her eyes widened in surprise.  The device was the fouled anchor, globe, and eagle of the United Stated Marines!  Okay, Sam thought, if the cavalry's busy, the Marines are good.  The newcomer removed her red-crested helmet and Sam was unsurprised to behold the face and red hair of the SG-3 member still a bound captive nearby.

"In the name of the Machine of Life," the redhead announced, "I arrest you."  She was addressing the First Darkling.

"This is an outrage!" the First Darkling responded.  "I demand—"

That was as far as she got.  The fairy Marines disposed of the guards and knocked the staff from the First Darkling hands, then bound all three with rope.  The guards were gagged, hogtied, and wing-bound, like the other Darklings, but the Dark Leader was box-tied and her knees and ankles bound.  Her wings were left free.  Still dazed by the businesslike thump on the head she'd received during the "fight", she stared up at Sam as a brown rag was stuffed in her mouth and a second used to give her a tight cleave-gag.

Meanwhile, a couple of the Cadman-fairy Marines had rescued their wingless template.  Naked, but completely unbound, uncollared, or in any way restrained for the first time in days (she wasn't sure how many), Cadman joined the group at the Throne.

The Marine fairies had freed Sam from the Dark Throne, and she was standing on her feet.  "Please, free her," she asked, pointing to Markie, who was still bound and ring-gagged in the pit.

"The Temple has many Haileys," the leader of the fey Marines said.

"Free her!" Sam demanded.

Laura Cadman came to attention and snapped a smart salute.  "Major, Lieutenant Cadman, SG-3."

Sam returned the salute.  "Lieutenant."

"We must return to the Temple," the fairy Marine leader said.

"Free her," Sam repeated.

"I'd do as she says," Cadman added, smiling at her fairy counterpart.  "She's a Major."

The leader shrugged, nodded, and two of her fey Marines pulled Markie from the pit and began to free her.

"And Janet," Sam said, pointing towards the still helpless prisoner suspended above the dance floor.  "Free Janet."

The Marines (except Laura Cadman) stared at Sam in confusion.

Sam realized the problem.  "The Lightling," she said.  "Free the Lightling."

Cadman addressed the fairy Marine leader.  "Better do it."

Shaking her head, the leader pointed towards Janet.  "Why not?"  Two of her Marines flew towards the dance floor.

"This is weird," Cadman whispered to Sam.

Sam smiled.  "Tell me about it."

"Fairy copies of myself," Cadman muttered, looking at the fairy Marines.

Sam shrugged.  "I've seen a robot duplicate of myself and a me from a parallel quantum reality.  You only get fairy clones.  Welcome to the SGC."  Sam was surprised Cadman was taking events this well.  Sam was surprised she was taking events this well.  Training and experience really does help you handle the unexpected, she reflected, even being kidnapped by kinky fairies.  Sam motioned to Markie, and the little fey stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, my Queen," Markie said.  "I'm sorry I licked your—eep!"

Sam had pulled Markie into a tight hug.  "Quiet, you little scamp."  She kissed Markie's lips.  "I know you didn't have any choice."

"My Queen," Markie sighed, and hugged Sam tight.

Sam noticed Cadman's puzzled expression.  "It's a long story," she said, and released her embrace.  "Stay close, okay?"

"Yes, my Queen," Markie said, smiling sweetly.

Eventually, "the Lightling" was freed and brought to the group by the throne.  Sam pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You okay?" Sam whispered in Janet's ear.

"Yeah," Janet whispered back.  "I see you've met Laura."  She smiled at Laura Cadman.  "Lieutenant."

"Doctor Fraiser," Cadman smiled back, then nodded at the dance floor.  "So... been hangin' around?"

Janet favored the grinning Marine with her best We-are-not-amused moue.

"Are you drunk, Lieutenant?" Sam inquired.

"Yes, ma'am," Cadman admitted, "but only a little and not by choice."

"Enough!" the leader of the Cadman-fairy Marines barked.  "I have my orders."  She turned to face the main cavern.  "Sound recall!" she shouted.  "First platoon, to me!"

Somewhere in the cavern, a bugle-like horn sounded and the fairy Marines began fluttering away down the main tunnels, all but the three dozen that had answered their leader's call.

"The Queen, the Cadman, the Lightling, and that Hailey," the leader ordered, pointing to each in turn.  "Make them safe."

"What?" Sam asked.  "Hey!"

The Marines were binding Sam, Janet, Cadman, and Markie, using what was apparently the standard fairy technique, the box-tie.

"Does everyone on this entire planet live to tie me up?" Sam demanded.

"What was your first clue?" Janet grinned.

"Just out of curiosity," Cadman asked the Marine leader, as rope tightened around her upper body, "if you're all me and you're all identical, why are you in charge?"

The leader shrugged.  "My turn in the barrel."

"Oh," Cadman responded, nodding in understanding.

"Marines," Sam muttered, shaking her head.

"To the Great Temple," the Marine leader ordered.  "And don't forget the First Darkling."

"Wait!" Markie squeaked, her eyes wide as she looked from face to face.  "What about gags?"

"It makes her happy," Janet explained.

The leader rolled her eyes and gave a wave of her hand.

One of her Marines stuffed a rag in Markie's mouth and tied a cleave-gag to keep it there.

"Withdraw!" the leader ordered, and with four Marines carrying each of the wingless earthlings and a pair escorting each of the fairies, the platoon lifted into the air and fluttered away.

Seconds passed...

A Keller-fairy fluttered into the Dark Hall.  She was burdened with a large platter of carefully arranged, finger-sized, rolled slices of roasted meat.  She stopped, hovering in midair, and stared in wide-eyed wonder at the host of hogtied and wing-bound Darklings wiggling on the cavern floor, struggling to free themselves and mewling through their gags.  The Keller screamed through her panel-gag, dropped the platter, and fluttered back the way she had come.

The Darkling captives continued to writhe and moan.