| by Van ©2013
continued leading Gwen by the leash clipped to her straitjacket
collar, and the straitjacket-bound, gagged, and hobbled prisoner
continued mincing along in the wake of her leather-suited,
hooded, and masked captor.
The tunnel—make that tunnels, plural—seemed to go on
forever. They passed junction after junction. Some
were simple side-branches and some bona fide crossroads with
long passages leading away in different directions. The
dimly lit corridors appeared to be more-or-less identical, or at
most were all minor variations on the theme of endless stretches
of pipes and conduits. The only thing breaking the
monotony was the occasional steel door bearing painted stencils
of seemingly random letters and numbers. If the markings
were supposed to be providing information, Gwen couldn't break
the code. Wall-mounted maps or diagrams with "you are
here" icons would have been helpful, but none were in evidence.
Lack of meaningful signage aside, Gwen's sense of direction was
pretty good and she began to suspect that wherever The Phantom
was taking her, she was not taking the most direct
route. Of course, Gwen had no idea of the connectivity of
the subterranean maze and she could be wrong. Her captor might
be making turns to avoid dead ends. In any case, Gwen's
legs were tiring and her feet sore. The tunnel floor was
even dirtier than the Nicholson Hall basement, but so far she
hadn't trod on anything sharp or punishing, nothing that
couldn't be classified as gritty dirt. It was unpleasant
for one as princess-like, delicate, and fastidious as Gwen (in
Clem's mocking opinion), but not harmful. The point was,
her abduction was turning into a subterranean hike, and she'd
just as soon it was over.
And then it was.
The Phantom unlocked a steel door, led Gwen across the
threshold, then closed and relocked the door—plunging them into
total darkness! "Mrrpfh?" Gwen heard the tap of Inga's boots on the
floor. And then, just as her leash began to go taut, a
nightlight flashed on, revealing a second door at the end of a
short passageway. This was also unlocked and they entered
a... What the hell?
Inga closed and locked the second door, then led Gwen into the
space beyond. "Welcome to my Subterranean Lair," she
announced as she dropped Gwen's leash. She then walked to
a rack of clothing, removed her hood and mask, and hung them on
Gwen looked around at the old furniture, fabric wall hangings,
the worktable with its racks of laboratory glassware and
obsolete computers, and the giant pile of cushions that was
unmistakably a lounging and/or sleeping area. Strings of
LED Christmas lights glowed overhead, adding their light to
various old lamps draped with gauze-thin scarves.
Melodramatic to the point of cliché? Yes, but
clearly that was Inga's intent. "Subterranean Lair" fit
the place perfectly. Despite her situation, despite being
the helpless prisoner of the owner of the Lair in question, Gwen
was impressed... aesthetically.
Inga smiled at Gwen's wide-eyed expression. "Make yourself
at home," she chuckled.
Gwen watched her captor remove her gloves, then sit in a
straight chair and unlace and remove her boots. She's
hot, Gwen thought, for a crazy-ass kidnapper.
Meanwhile, Inga had turned to unbuckling, unlacing, and peeling
off the various elements of her catsuit. She was gonna be
Gwen turned away and began mincing around The Lair. She
noted a small kitchen area in a side alcove with a sink,
electric cook-top, compact refrigerator, and wall-mounted
cabinets. Further along, an open door led to a simple
bathroom: a commode, washbasin, and an industrial-type shower
stall. Everything was old and stained, but fastidiously
clean, and the faint aroma of pine-scented disinfectant hung in
the air. Continuing her tour, Gwen passed through a screen
of fabric hangings and found a desk with a comfortable-looking
office chair, a laptop computer, and a reading light.
Behind the desk was a set of shelves cluttered with books and
binders. There was also a printer, a standalone hard
drive, and a wireless router, all atop a small credenza. A
little shabby, was Gwen's general assessment, but with
all the comforts of home. Just the thing for a costumed
villain on a budget.
Suddenly Gwen flinched. A cool and unexpected hand
had landed on her shoulder. It was Inga, of course.
She'd changed into a simple cotton robe and her feet were as
bare as Gwen's.
"Come," Inga purred. "Take a load off while I fix us some
tea." Inga led Gwen to the lounge/sleeping area and helped
her recline. She then unsnapped the clip at the end of
Gwen's leash, lifted a steel chain from the piled cushions, and
padlocked it to the collar's D-ring. Snap.
Gwen watched as Inga strolled to the kitchen, or kitchenette, or
Phantom's Food Preparation Laboratory, or whatever-the-hell
she called it. She put on the kettle, then gathered the
elements of a tea service and assembled them on a tray.
Gwen gave the straitjacket a perfunctory struggle, more to burn
nervous energy than as an attempt to escape. She knew she
wasn't going anywhere. She then heaved the required Sigh
of Despair and relaxed. Gwen wasn't a big tea drinker, but
if it meant her gag would finally be coming out, she'd drink
almost anything. Besides... wouldn't want to be a rude
guest... or kidnap victim.
Gwen didn't understand why she wasn't more freaked out.
Okay, she was freaked, but her heart was no longer
hammering and she wasn't even close to panic. And for no
good reason. Inga was pretty. Okay, Inga was gorgeous,
but how did she know she wasn't a psycho? How did she know
The Phantom wasn't going to do really horrible things to
her? She didn't know, but she wasn't
panicking. The main problem is Clem, she thought
as she squirmed for comfort in the pile of pillows. Poor
Clem. She's gonna have a cow, if
she hasn't already. Maybe twins.
The kettle whistled and Inga poured boiling water into the
teapot. She then carried the tray towards the lounging
area and her waiting prisoner. Gwen sat up and crossed her
hobbled feet into a semi-lotus.
Inga set the tray on the floor next to the lounging area, then
sat next to Gwen and smiled. "It should be finished
steeping by the time you're ready." She teased back the
edge of the PVC tape mummifying Gwen's lower face and began
peeling it off. When the last of the tape came free, she
tossed the crumpled black mass aside, unbuckled Gwen's ball-gag,
then eased the ball from her mouth.
Gwen licked her lips and worked her jaw. Her green eyes
were locked with her kidnapper's. "Uh, thanks."
"You're welcome, Gwendoline," Inga said, then turned and poured
tea into the single cup and saucer on the tray.
"Milk? Lemon? Sugar?"
"Uh, two lumps, please."
Inga dissolved the requested sugar in the cup, then held it to
Gwen drank, then licked her lips, again. "That's good,"
she whispered. She continued gazing at Inga. Good
god she's gorgeous, Gwen thought, as in movie star
gorgeous. "What're you gonna do to me?"
Inga's blue eyes twinkled. "Well, first of all, I'm going
to explain what's happening. After that, we'll get around
to actually doing things."
"W-what about Clem?" Gwen demanded. "Clem is probably
going crazy. You can't just kidnap me and..." She
swallowed, again. Obviously The Phantom could just
kidnap her. She just had.
Inga held the cup to Gwen's lips, again. "Don't worry
about your friend," she purred. "Clementine is firmly
Gwen blinked in surprise. "What?"
|Oh, the Humanities!
her upper body for what felt like the millionth time, seeking
some degree of slack, a misplaced knot, or anything she
could use to escape her bonds. No luck.
Clearly, Tori the Crazy Campus Cop knew her stuff,
bondage-wise. It was a simple tie, three passes of white
cotton rope around her torso and arms and the support column,
hitched and cinched between her body and the post. There
was some slack, but the ropes wouldn't shift, no matter
what she tried, and with her wrists locked in steel, hinged
handcuffs behind her back, she couldn't try much.
At least her sitting position was reasonably comfortable.
Reclined against the post with her legs bent and tucked to one
side, it wasn't too bad. Good thing, 'cause two
passes of the same rope lashed her ankles together and to the
base of the post. Again, she had slack and some
wiggle room, but she wasn't going anywhere.
And then there was the gag. The cotton bandana stuffed in
her mouth was doing an efficient job of stifling anything she
might want to say... or scream, for that matter. In
addition, the tight, narrow cleave-gag of black electrical tape
made expelling the cloying mass impossible. Not that being
gagged mattered, not when there was nobody in or near
Nicholson Hall that would hear her, even if she wasn't gagged,
not at this hour.
It had been something like an hour since Tori had cuffed, tied,
gagged, and abandoned her in the Room of Requirement. All
Clem could do was worry—worry about herself and worry about
Gwen—and continue testing her bonds.
And then—ominously—Clem heard the door at the bottom of the
stairs being unlocked. She's back! The door
opened, closed, footfalls thudded on the stairs,
and—"Mrrpfh?"—Professor Pappas appeared! She was wearing
the usual skirt, blouse, and jacket with her long, black curls
parted down the middle and framing her face—"Nrrf!—and was the last
person on the campus Clem expected to see.
"Easy, Clem," Pappas said as she walked towards the wide-eyed,
clearly amazed captive. She dragged the futon
cushion close to Clem's post, then knelt on its soft surface,
reached into her jacket pocket, and produced a small multi-tool,
a compact device with a folded knife blade, pliers, scissors,
and who knew what else. "Hold still, Miss Ricci," she said
as she unfolded the scissors, "I very much don't want to
cut you." She leaned close and carefully snipped the band
of electric tape, carefully peeled it from Clem's face, freeing
strands of hair as required, then tossed the crumpled mass
Clem spat the bandana from her mouth, then licked her lips and
worked her jaw. "A campus cop!" she blurted. "She—"
"I know," Pappas interrupted. "I know all about Officer
Ballantine and Gwen."
Clem blinked in surprise and focused on the smiling
Professor. More correctly, she tried to focus. Her
glasses were askew.
Pappas adjusted Clem's glasses for her before continuing.
"Gwen is perfectly safe," she reassured the still helpless
captive, "and Tori Ballantine is a pussycat, I assure you."
"Tori, she's in on what's happened to Gwen," Clem muttered, then
her eyes widened. "You're in on it."
Still smiling, Pappas nodded. "Your friend is perfectly
safe, I promise. Now, allow me to explain."
"After you untie me?" Clem asked.
Pappas' smile broadened. "Eventually, but first...
Gwen has been abducted by The Phantom of the Steam Tunnels."
Clem blinked, again. "T-the what?"
"The Phantom of the Steam Tunnels," Pappas confirmed.
"She's my student. Or rather, she was my student."
|Oh, the Humanities!
Professor Pappas' grad student?" Gwen demanded.
"I was," Inga confirmed. "Technically, I suppose I still
am. I've completed my coursework and successfully defended
my dissertation, but the final paperwork hasn't cleared
Administration. I missed the deadline for June graduation,
but who cares about the ceremony? Anyway, I'm Doctor
Inga Berg in all but fact."
"All but fact," Gwen sighed. "That doesn't explain why you
lurk around in secret tunnels or why you've kidnapped
"No, it doesn't," Inga agreed. "My dissertation is an
interdisciplinary exploration of the damsel-in-distress in
Western literature. As Pappas is my major professor,
she's hosting a party in my honor. My entire committee
will be there, and I've decided to invite you and your roommate
"It'll be tons of fun and will be an opportunity for me
to demonstrate a few of what I call Damsel-in-distress
archetypes, 'DiD-types,' for short."
"Yes," Inga chuckled, "a party, and you're invited."
"And Clem? You aren't gonna kidnap her too, are you?"
"I've arranged for Clem to receive her own invitation," Inga
purred. "You can compare notes after all this is over."
|Oh, the Humanities!
a hell of a way to invite us to a party," Clem muttered.
"A simple note would have sufficed. That way we could
Pappas smiled. "Formal RSVP's won't be necessary.
You're invited and you're going, both of you. The Phantom
"The Phantom insists?"
"For quite some time the Phantom, myself, and Officer Ballantine
have been aware of the 'hobby' you share with your roommate,"
Pappas explained, "so we knew you'd be interested.
However, if you insist, we'll let you go and nothing
more will be said."
"Miss Percy is being given the same choice."
Clem frowned. "Can I think about it?"
"Of course," Pappas smiled, "and I'll be glad to answer at least
some of your questions, but not here. We'll go back
to my place." She moved behind the support column and
began untying the knots holding Clem in place.
Clem felt the rope melt away, then awkwardly climbed to her
feet, turned her back to Pappas, and presented her cuffed hands.
"I'm afraid I don't have the required key, Miss Ricci," chuckled
Pappas. "Not to worry. This time of night no one
will see you strolling around in handcuffs." She lifted
Clem's messenger/laptop bag, dropped the strap over her
shoulder, then swung it around until the bag was behind her
back. "Hold onto that and in the off chance we do
encounter someone, they'll think you're supporting the bag's
"As opposed to cooperating in my own kidnapping," Clem
muttered. She blushed when Pappas leaned close and planted
a kiss on her right cheek.
"Exactly," the professor chuckled. "Now, let's go."
A friendly arm draped across Clem's shoulders, she led the way
to the attic stairs.
|Oh, the Humanities!
Gwen demanded. "A party?"
"A very special party, Gwendoline," Inga confirmed.
"And then you'll let us go?"
Inga smiled. "Us? You're not going to let me keep
Clementine? It would only be for a few days and I promise
to return her none the worse for wear."
Gwen knew Inga was kidding. She favored her kidnapper with
what she called her best "brat-pout," then heaved a truly
pathetic sigh. "You have to let us both go or it's no
Inga smiled. "Of course I'll let you both go. I
promise. Now... I know what you two have been up to in
your secret attic hideaway but not what you do in the
privacy of your dorm room. So tell me, Gwendoline, have
you and your roommate ever made love?"
Gwen blushed like crazy. "W-what?"
Inga smiled as she moved close and eased Gwen onto her back on
By the time Gwen realized what The Phantom was doing, it was too
late. Next, Inga lifted a leg over her body and settled
her weight on her tummy and it was waaay too late.
"W-what are you gonna do?" Inga's robe had parted, and
Gwen could see that her hostess/kidnapper wasn't wearing any
panties... and she was a natural blond.
"The Phantom is gonna welcome you to her Lair," Inga purred,
then leaned close and kissed Gwen's lips.
Gwen's heart was hammering once again. "Now
look—Hey!" Inga was squeezing her boobs! "Stop
"It feels good, doesn't it?" Inga purred, then kissed Gwen,
again. "And that's transitive and
intransitive. This feels good to both of us."
"Yes, I mean no, I mean... Stop!"
"You're a damsel-in-distress," Inga said between kisses.
"Just think of it, Gwendoline." Kiss "You're
helpless—" Kiss. "—and can do nothing
to stop me—" Kiss "—and we are
going to make love." Kiss.
Make love? "But—ahhh!" Gwen shivered under
Inga's weight. Her kidnapper/hostess had reached behind
her back with one hand and was stroking her labia! "Ahhh!"
"Don't you dare try closing your legs," Inga chuckled,
and continued kissing Gwen's face and stroking her pussy.
Oh yeah, that's right! Gwen realized. I can
close my legs. "Ahhh!" But she told me not
to, so... Oh, god!
"That's a good girl," Inga whispered, then slid her fingers between
"I'll fix us a midnight snack in a while," Inga promised, then
planted her lips on Gwen's and began exploring her captive's
mouth with her tongue.
"Maybe a nice sandwich," Inga muttered, then resumed sucking
face with her prisoner.
|Oh, the Humanities!
Gwen lay on
her back and gazed up at the strings of Christmas lights
dangling overhead. Her heart rate had returned to normal,
as had her breathing, but she was still feeling a little
flushed. "Wow," she sighed. "That was..."
"Orgasmic?" Inga chuckled. She was also on her back, lying
next to Gwen. Her robe was in disarray, covering very
little of her toned, slender body, and her hair was a tousled
mess, like her prisoner's.
"A tad literal," Gwen responded, "don't you think?"
"Precisely literal," Inga chuckled. She planted a
quick kiss on Gwen's cheek, climbed to her feet, and adjusted
her robe. "Hungry?"
"Starving," Gwen answered with a smile. She watched Inga
stroll to the kitchen alcove and open the refrigerator.
"Hmm... How does grilled cheese sound? I'm a little
low on greens and sliced meat at the moment."
"Anything," Gwen sighed, staring at the ceiling again. "I
missed dinner." She closed her eyes—then snapped
awake. Inga had returned with a plate with two grilled
cheese sandwiches. "I guess I dozed off," she muttered,
then heaved a huge yawn.
"Sleepy kitten," Inga purred, then helped Gwen sit up.
Inga held a sandwich to Gwen's mouth and she took a bite.
"Yum," she muttered as she chewed. Bite followed bite
until the sandwich was consumed.
Meanwhile, Inga ate the second sandwich.
Gwen was mildly amazed she was taking her kidnapping and
ravishment this well. She'd been kidnapped, dragged to a
Secret Lair, and ravished! For some reason she
didn't want to think about what had happened—what was
happening—as being criminal. For one thing, Inga was just
too nice to be characterized as a bad guy. For another...
this was like her most secret dream come true!
"That's enough," Inga said after she swallowed the final bite of
her sandwich. "Don't want to spoil our breakfast, do we?"
"You're the kidnapper," Gwen sighed.
"You're so cute when you do that little girl thing," Inga
"I'm girlish?" Gwen objected. "Look in a mirror
Inga smiled. "Spoiled Little Girl is one of my villainess
archetypes," she purred. "Trust me, you do not
want to see my Spoiled Little Girl."
Gwen swallowed nervously. "Uh, okay."
"Now," Inga said, putting the empty plate on the tray with what
was left of the now room temperature tea, "since we're getting
along so well, I'm going to show you a new trick." She
untied the belt of her robe and shrugged out of the garment, her
Gwen stared at Inga's nude body. Nice boobs, she
thought. "Uh, I've already seen most of that," she
muttered, "if that's what you're talking about... before, while
you were, uh, busy. Your robe came open and..."
Still smiling, Inga had cupped her breasts—her own breasts—and
given them a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going to gag you,"
she said. "Down here no one can hear you scream, and I do
so enjoy the little noises you make when you're about to
cum. I don't mind if you squirm and roll around a
little. In fact, I expect you to. But if you try to
close your legs, I'll put you in the pike position with your
ankle-hobble clipped to the back of your collar, then lash your
knees as far apart as they'll go, understand?"
Gwen tried visualizing the position described. She wasn't
quite sure of the details, but it didn't sound
comfortable and she knew it would leave her totally
vulnerable. Anyway, Gwen got the message. "Okay."
"Good girl." Inga eased Gwen onto her back, then lay on
her stomach with her head between her captive's legs. The
heels of Gwen's hobbled feet were resting on her back and her
hands were on Gwen's thighs. "Now, to business." She
extended her tongue and gave Gwen's labia a slow lick up their
A shudder shook Gwen's helpless frame. "Oh god!"
Inga continued licking Gwen's pussy, then settled her mouth over
the wiggling captive's labia, slid her tongue between the
glistening folds, and used the very tip to tease her clitoris.
"Oh GAWD!" Gwen's thigh muscles tensed, but she managed to
keep her legs apart.
Inga paused in her labors. "Maybe I should have
gagged you," she chuckled, then returned to the task at hand.
|Oh, the Humanities!