Nice jacket!

Oh, the Humanities! by Van ©2013

Chapter 11

Dramatis Personæ


Kim opened her eyes, turned her head towards the nightstand, and focused on the softly glowing display of her alarm clock.  It was almost precisely twenty-four hours from the last time she'd done so, when she'd been sharing the bed with Tori and had roused her in order to trick her into a day of standing in spreadeagled bondage down in the basement, followed by a prolonged and highly entertaining flogging at the hands of Ellen, followed by who knew what else at the hands of Megan and Bibi.  And now, Tori, Megan, and Bibi were asleep in the back guestroom, Clem and Gwen, "The Youngsters," were asleep in the front guest room, and...  Kim looked over her shoulder, and smiled.  By the dim light of the nightlight her dark-adapted eyes could see the naked forms of Ellen and Cynthia cuddled together and asleep.

After various permutations of licking pussy and having one's pussy licked, the Dragon Lady (Kim thought the Little Mouse's new nickname for Ellen was hilarious), Cynthia (the Little Mouse in question), and Kim had surrendered to their mutual and very satiated exhaustion.  Kim and Ellen had found the energy to unbuckle and unzip Cynthia's binder and snip her out of the sheath of "invisible tape" mummifying her fingers, hands, and arms before they drifted off to sleep—meaning collapsed in a naked, three-way tangle of limbs and bodies.

Kim's smile broadened.  Cynthia and Ellen looked so cute spooning together.  She'd like nothing better than to roll over, snuggle close, close her eyes, again, and join them in blessed oblivion; but...  A Wicked Villainess' work is never done.  She carefully eased herself out from under the covers and off the bed without disturbing the others.  Somebody has to keep the ship from careening onto the rocks and...  She shook her head.  It's too early for metaphors.

Kim yawned and made her way to the master bath, relieved herself, washed her hands and splashed a little water on her face, dragged her brush through her tousled hair, then shrugged into her favorite, dark-jade robe.  Tightening the sash as she padded back into the bedroom, she smiled at her still slumbering former bed-mates and recent lovers, then retrieved her keyring from the nightstand.  She then padded to the door, turned the key in the lock and eased it open, stepped through, then quietly pulled it closed.

Her first stop was the youngsters.  She unlocked their door, eased it open a wide crack, and peered inside.  Clem and Gwen were sleeping together on the closest bed.  The brunette was still loosely spreadeagled on her back, buckled into padlocked medical restraints and strapped to the mattress.  The redhead, with Inga's very pretty feathered mask/blindfold still buckled and locked over her eyes but otherwise unrestrained, was cuddled against her helpless roommate's side.  Kim couldn't help but smile.  They were adorable.  She noted the empty, pristine second bed.  Together by choice.  Adorable.  She eased the door closed and locked it, once again.

Her next stop stop was the back guestroom, to check on Megan and Bibi and make sure they hadn't left poor Tori in some hideously cruel bondage predicament before drifting off to sleep.  The door was unlocked, as expected.  She quietly turned the knob, eased the door open, peered inside—and gasped!

Like the other bedrooms, the back guestroom had a nightlight; however, Tori was nowhere to be seen, unless she was hiding under the bed, in the bedroom closet or...  Heart in her throat, Kim quickly checked behind the door, then sighed in relief.  Tori was gone.

Megan and Bibi, however, were present.

Both were naked (of course) and stretched out on the bed, legs together and arms behind their backs.  This was not voluntary on their part.  Both were bound with thin cord, lots of thin cord.  It was "550 Paracord," seven-strand nylon inside a braided nylon sheath and about four millimeters in diameter.  This particular cord was "Desert Rattlesnake (Light.)"  Its sheath was comprised of narrow diagonal stripes crisscrossing broader, horizontal bands, all in subdued shades of sage, sand, golden tan, and gray.  Kim knew the product details because, after a trial purchase, she'd recently ordered and received twenty additional one-hundred foot bundles from the supplier.  She liked the subtle earth tones, especially the way they looked against the dimpled flesh of damsels with a variety of complexions.  Anyway, all of the bundles should be in a cardboard box in the back of the walk-in closet of the master bedroom, but they were not.  The box was on the floor next to the guestroom bed, and a couple of the bundles had been used to bind Bibi and Megan!

The implications of the situation were both alarming and clear:
  1. Tori had escaped, no doubt due to the gross negligence of the captives on the bed.
  2. She then crept to the master bedroom, unlocked the door, retrieved the box from the closet, and made her exit, re-locking the door behind her.  Without a key?  And she'd done this without disturbing Kim, Ellen, or Cynthia.
  3. She then returned to the guest bedroom and used the cord to bind her ex-handlers, her incompetent ex-handlers, and she was currently—on the prowl?
The tiny hairs on the back of Kim's neck stood straight and a thrill shivered up her spine.  She's right behind me!  Kim quickly turned her head—and found the dark hallway empty, meaning devoid of vengeful blond amazons.  Thank god!

Kim entered the guestroom, closed the door behind her, and turned the lock—not that door locks seemed to be much of an impediment to Tori Ballantine.  She then strolled to the bed and smiled down at the bound prisoners, hands on her hips.

The blond and redhead were bound in an identical manner.  Tight bands of cord dimpled the flesh of their arms, pinning them to their sides and passing above and below their breasts.  They were part of a harness that yoked their shoulders, was cinched between and around their bulging breasts, and lashed their elbows together behind their backs.  More cord encircled their waists and forearms.  The bands were cinched between their forearms and between their forearms and waists.  Their wrists, thumbs, and the palms of their hands were bound and the same strands of cord passed through their crotches, cleaving their pussies and pinning their praying hands against their buttocks.

The crotch lashings were complex, something of a cat's cradle, and with strategically placed knots.  It was difficult to be sure in the dim light, but several of the knots and strands appeared to be slightly darker that the rest, especially where they entered or emerged from between the prisoners' labia or slid across their slits, as if they were... a little wet.  Kim's smile broadened.  Way to go, Tori!

Even more cord was lashed around their thighs, above and below their knees, around their shins and calves, their ankles, the soles of their feet, and their big toes.  Doubled strands traveled from their toe-bondage to the foot of the bed, where it was knotted to the lower bed frame.  Similarly taut cords linked the bondage at the nape of their necks to the headboard, enforcing their prone positions.  They had a little wiggle room with respect to the mattress, but their other bonds were punishingly tight.

They were gagged, of course.  Bibi was wearing the combination ball and panel gag formerly in Tori's mouth and Megan appeared to have been gagged with her own panties and pantyhose.  In addition, multiple tight bands of the new "invisible tape" mummified their lower faces from nostrils to chin.  We really do have to think of a name for that stuff, Kim thought.  'Invisi-tape?'  'Skin-tape?'  I'll have to put it to the group... when the least competent handlers among us aren't bound and gagged, that is.  What little remained of the roll was on the nightstand, but it should have been in the nightstand drawer of the master bedroom.  Another shiver coursed up Kim's spine.  She's a ghost!  She was thinking of Tori, of course.  Tori's a ghost!

Oh-by-the-way, the prisoners on the bed were awake.  Bibi's blue and Megan's green eyes stared up at her.  They wiggled in their bonds and moaned quietly through their respective gags—"Mrrrpfh!—begging for release.

"I have several questions," Kim purred, "like...  How could you be so stupid as to let Tori turn the tables on both of you at once?  How long have you been tied up?  Did Tori do anything 'interesting' to you before she left?  And most importantly, where is Tori now?"  She leaned over the bed and turned Megan's bundled body a few degrees, inspecting her bonds.  "But all of that can wait."  She walked around the bed and did the same to Bibi.  There was no way in the world her fellow academics would be able to free themselves or each other.  "If Tori is lurking in ambush somewhere in the house, waiting to pounce, there isn't much I can do about it."  She strolled to the bedroom door.  "Why don't you two sleep in while I wake the others and get the youngsters on their way?"  She opened the door, tiptoed across the threshold, then closed and locked the door behind her.

Alone and helpless in the bedroom, the darkness relieved only by the dim glow of the nightlight, Megan and Bibi turned their gagged heads, exchanged a look of sad, mutual commiseration, and heaved simultaneous gagged sighs.

Oh, the Humanities!
Chapter 11

"Really?" Cynthia demanded, "bound and gagged on the bed?  Both of them?"

Kim nodded.  "Feel free to use the shower, if you wish, but—"

"Wait!" Cynthia interrupted.  "Bound and gagged naked?"

Kim and Ellen exchanged a smile before Kim answered.  "Yes, Cynthia, stringently bound and gagged and gloriously in the nude.  Now—"

"I have got to see this," Cynthia said, throwing back the covers.  She lifted her legs and swung them to the side.  "Hey—Mrrrf!"  She hadn't made it off the bed.  Ellen had her in a tight embrace with her right hand clamped over her mouth.

"Settle down, Little Mouse," Ellen chuckled.  Cynthia tried to squirm loose and Ellen tightened her left arm around her bed-mate's elbows.  "Listen to our hostess," she added, then released her hand-gag.

"You are so grabby," Cynthia complained, then focused on Kim.  "Well?"

"She's grabby with everybody," Kim purred.  "What I was trying to say was this: please stay in here and keep the noise to a minimum.  I'm on my way to wake up the girls.  They'll be using the bathroom and getting ready for breakfast, so you should use my bathroom, quietly, and avoid the hallway until I give the all clear."

"Which means you don't get to ogle Meg and Bibi," Ellen whispered in Cynthia's right ear.  Her left arm was still holding the diminutive scientist's arms behind her back.

"Pout all you want, Cynthia," Kim chuckled.  "You know it's the right thing to do."

"Of course it is," Cynthia muttered.  "I assume Doctors Knudsen and Whelan will still be there after the youngsters have left."

"I assure you," Kim said with a smile.  "The Swede and the Fox aren't going anywhere.  Now, whenever you want, clean up and get dressed.  Your dresses are hanging in the closet and please feel free to borrow some underwear."

Cynthia smiled.  "I can go commando.  It won't be the first time."

"Same here," Ellen purred, then cupped Cynthia's right breast with her free hand.

Cynthia looked back over her right shoulder.  "You really are grabby, you know that?"

Ellen nuzzled Cynthia's neck and squeezed her breast.  "Guilty as charged.  I'm not sleepy anymore.  How 'bout you?"

Cynthia ignored the question, but from the way she continued to squirm, she could not ignore Ellen's hand.  "Stop that," she sighed.

Ellen smiled at Kim and nodded towards the nightstand.  "The tape is in there, right?'

"It was," Kim answered.  "I'm afraid Officer Ballantine confiscated my last roll sometime during the night."  She strolled to the nightstand and opened the bottom drawer.

Ellen scooted across the bed the two feet required for her to peer into the drawer, taking the indignantly wiggling Cynthia with her, and her smile broadened.  In the drawer was a loose tangle of long, narrow bands of cloth in various colors.  "Odd place for hair ribbons," Ellen purred.  "I keep mine with my scarves."

"Hair ribbons," Kim grinned.  "Yes, I suppose they could be used for that."

Ellen switched hands, maintaining her grip on the still "struggling" Cynthia's elbows, then stretched out, reached into the drawer, and pulled out a long, blue-gray ribbon.  She then flipped Cynthia onto her stomach, pulled her hands behind her back, and began lashing her crossed wrists together.

"Ohhh!" Cynthia whined in complaint.  "Okay, I lost Inga's lottery but the party's over.  Ow!"  Ellen had cinched the ribbon and was taking additional turns.  "Why are you guys so mean to me?"

Ellen was doing a first class job of binding Cynthia's wrists, interlacing the ribbon and making sure any folds in the narrow band weren't against her "victim's" skin.  "We're mean to you 'cause you're so cute and tiny," Ellen purred, "and you're so good with your tongue when you're tied up."  She tied a neat, tight bow between Cynthia's wrists on the side opposite her now useless, fluttering fingers, tucking the ends under the bindings for added security.  She then flipped Cynthia onto her back.

Her patented We-are-not-amused pout pursing her bow lips, Cynthia glared up at her captor.  "Mean," she muttered.  "Really mean."

"She is good with that tongue," Kim chuckled, "but none of this 'you guys' and 'we' nonsense.  This is between the Dragon Lady and her Little Mouse.  I have things to do."  With that she turned and padded to the bedroom door.  "Remember," she cautioned, "quietly."   The door closed and she was gone.

Ellen reclined against her still pouting captive's body and pulled the covers over them both.  "I was lying about not being sleepy," she whispered in Cynthia's ear, then kissed her neck.

"You tied me up so you can go back to sleep?" Cynthia sighed.  "So mean."

"Like I said," Ellen purred, "cute and tiny.  Who doesn't want to tie you up?"

"Who, indeed," Cynthia sighed.

"Besides..."  Ellen heaved a huge yawn and snuggled against her prisoner before continuing.  "This way I know both you and your tongue will be here when I wake up."

Cynthia couldn't help but smile.  There were far worse fates than being Professor Ellen Chen's plaything.  "So mean," she reiterated, then closed her eyes and tried her best to ignore the warm, smooth body pressed against her side, as well as the delicate frisson tingling between her legs.

Oh, the Humanities!
Chapter 11

Clem opened her eyes to find Kim Pappas unlocking the padlock securing the buckle of her left wrist cuff.  The robe-clad professor then released the buckle, itself.  Clem opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when Kim placed her right index finger against her smiling lips, shook her head, and nodded towards Gwen.  The redhead was fast asleep, her blindfolded face resting against Clem's right breast and her right arm thrown across her BFF's body.

Kim slowly worked her way around the bed and released Clem's remaining restraints, including the collar.  This required some careful lifting of the covers and avoidance of Gwen's languid, slumbering form, but in short order, Clem was free.  She hadn't moved, was still flat on her back with her wrists, ankles and throat resting in the open restraints, but she was free.

Kim leaned close and kissed Clem's lips, then whispered in her ear.  "Wake up Gwendoline whenever you wish.  The key to her mask is on the nightstand.  Your clothing and fresh towels are in the bathroom.  I'll be in the kitchen ready to cook breakfast, okay?"

"Okay," Clem whispered back.  Without her glasses, her mentor's face was a smiling blur, but the faint bouquet of her perfume was... nice.

"We can talk as we eat," Kim continued, "or, we can go out for breakfast.  I know a very nice place.  Ask Gwen what she'd like to do."

"Mom!" Gwen complained in a slurred whine.  "Lemme sleeeeep.  It's not even a school day."

Kim and Clem exchanged an amused smile.  The blindfolded redhead was still at least half asleep.

"Okay," Clem whispered.  The answer was for Kim, of course.

Kim nodded and left the room, easing the door closed behind her.

I really like that robe, Clem thought, then slowly, carefully eased her wrists and ankles out of the open cuffs.

In response, Gwen tightened her embrace and snuggled even closer, heaved a huge yawn, and mumbled something totally inarticulate through slack lips.

Clem had no choice but to smile and return her roommate's embrace.  A wave of affection washed through her naked body.  It was all entirely Platonic, she assured herself, but she'd never loved the ditzy little redhead more than at this moment.  She kissed the tousled hair atop Gwen's slumbering head, then closed her eyes.  Can't wait to tie her up again.

Oh, the Humanities!
Chapter 11


Kim returned to the master bedroom to find Cynthia awake on the bed and Ellen in the master bath.

Cynthia was on her side with her crossed wrists still bound behind her back.  The tangled covers were doing a truly pathetic job of trying to cover her cute little naked body.  She shook her head in a vain attempt to straighten her short, tousled hair, then nodded towards the bath.  "The bitch took a super long shower," she complained, "and has been primping, like, forever.  And she won't untie me."

Ellen, "the bitch," was standing in the bathroom doorway, clad in stockings and garter belt but otherwise nude.  A coy smile graced her beautiful face—or what was no doubt an evil smile to the much-put-upon Cynthia.  She was brushing her long, raven-black hair.  "Guilty as charged," she chuckled.

"Understandable," Kim grinned as she pulled off her robe and tossed it on the bed.  "You look so cute tied up, Cynthia, especially when you pout."

A smile was threatening to ruin the pout in question, but Cynthia managed to maintain her grumpy façade.  "I need a shower," she groused.

"As do I," Kim responded as she strolled towards the bathroom.

"Ohhh!"  Cynthia tugged on her bound wrists.  "There will be no hot water at all by the time you bitches let me go."

"Not so," Kim laughed from the bathroom.  "The tank in the basement is huge, and a secondary flash heater kicks in when the temperature drops.  In any case, I'll be super quick.  The youngsters have decided to let me take them out to breakfast.  They're waiting in the kitchen."

Ellen had made her way to the walk-in closet and was donning her dress.  "So, we'll soon have Château Pappas completely to ourselves?"

Kim tucked her hair under her shower cap, then turned on the shower.  "Yes.  Wait 'til the girls and I are gone, then free Meg and Bibi, okay?"

"I was thinking," Ellen answered, smiling at Cynthia and pitching her voice to carry over the noise of the running water, "it would be very rude to leave your house in such a mess.  Are the serving chains your French Maid wore last night still in the kitchen?"

"They are," Kim confirmed.

Cynthia rolled her eyes.  "Here we go."

"Not you, Little Mouse," Ellen chuckled.  She walked over and sat on the bed, rolled Cynthia onto her stomach, and began untying her wrists.  "I'm sure the Fox and the Swede would be more than happy to help.  You don't have two sets of serving chains, do you?"

The shower stopped and Kim strolled back into the bedroom, toweling herself dry.  "Just the one set, but we can improvise."

"That was super quick," Cynthia noted as she climbed off the bed and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Kim and Ellen watched the petite scientist's disappearing back (and her tan, dimpled buttocks), then exchanged a smile.

"Like I said," Kim explained, "the youngsters are waiting."  She strolled into the closet and began dressing.

Ellen followed.  "We'll make a day of it," she said, "taking turns supervising the labor of the incompetent handlers who let Tori the Wicked Villainess escape.  My calendar's free."

"Mine too," Kim chuckled, "once I see to the girls."  She had donned panties and a bra and had stepped into and was pulling up a sleeveless sundress.  It was tan linen embroidered with summer flowers in bright colors.  She stood still as Ellen zipped up the dress and secured the top clasp.  "Thank you.  Uh, let's let Cynthia play Top today, okay?"

"You're welcome," Ellen purred, "and I quite agree.  Little Mouse has probably had enough of being a Bottom for a while.  And I'm sure she'll be a precious little taskmaster."  She had unzipped and was pulling off the dress she had just put on.  "We'll have to loot your closet."

"That dress is inappropriate for lounging around while others work," Kim agreed, then gestured towards the racks and built-in drawers.  "Loot away.  I'm not sure what will fit, especially the Little Mouse, but you'll probably find something."

"Yoga pants?" Ellen suggested.

"Good idea."  Kim half opened a drawer.  "In here."  She stepped into a pair of sandals, lifted her feet onto the seat of a chair, one by one, and buckled the straps.

"You look gorgeous," Ellen purred as she leaned close and kissed Kim's lips.

"I do, don't I?" Kim grinned.  "Gotta go.  Ow!"  She rubbed her linen-clad rump, which had just received a playful slap from Ellen.  "Meanie!" she accused as she reentered the main bedroom, gathered her iPhone and purse, and headed for the bedroom door.

"You sound like Cynthia," Ellen chuckled.

Kim crossed the threshold, stuck out her tongue at Ellen, then pulled the door closed.

"Only taller," Ellen continued, speaking to the empty bedroom.  Cynthia was still in the shower.  She walked to the bed, coiled the ribbon she'd used to bind Cynthia's wrists, and returned it to the nightstand's bottom drawer.  She turned to the bed to straighten the covers, then stopped.  No, she decided, smiling at the scene of last night's after-party orgy.  The sheets need changing, and that's work for a naked slave in chains.

Oh, the Humanities!
Chapter 11


Inga stretched her naked body.

After sneaking out of Kim's party she'd returned to the steam tunnels, made her way to the Lair... and collapsed.  She'd peeled off her gown and panties and kicked off her heels beforehand, of course, but then she flopped onto the jumble of soft cushions and surrendered her mind and body to the god Hypnos.

How long Inga slept she didn't know, but she felt refreshed enough to finish packing her books, papers, and computers and make her other moving preparations.  A smile curled her girlish lips.  Inga had a job to report to, and it was her dream job.

Inga sat up, stretched again, and—her eyes popped wide and she gasped in alarm!  "Ah!"

Her bed (the pile of cushions) was surrounded by four sinister figures!  They were clad from head to toe in skintight catsuits, as well as knee-boots, gloves, hoods, and featureless masks of reflective plastic.  Hand weapons and other equipment were holstered and harnessed against their bodies and all the elements of their outfits were mottled in a riot of dark colors, mostly shades of gray.  As fashion statements, the identical costumes were sexy and kinky, but they were also quite obviously functional.  Last but not least, her uninvited visitors were all female—fit, athletic females.  Their features might be hidden behind their oval masks, but the catsuits could do nothing to disguise their voluptuous, feminine curves.

"W-who are you?" Inga demanded.  Then, her attention was drawn to the steel door that was her only access to the tunnels.  It was standing open, and two more of the urban camouflaged strangers were wheeling a large, streamlined object into the Lair.  It was a casket or packing case of brushed aluminum atop a folding frame with wheels, like a gurney.  Prominently embossed on its side was the outline of a chess piece.  It was a castle or rook, a tiny tower with crenelated ramparts.

"We are your ride to the airport," one of the masked figures announced.  Her voice had been electronically altered, but she was easily understood.  "Your new employer wishes you to travel in style."

The case had been wheeled close to Inga and the cushions.  Flush-mounted latches were thrown, the top and side-panels were folded down, and the casket had transformed into a thickly padded pallet studded with medical-style, open restraints—many open restraints—a great many open restraints.  The pallet was covered with black velvet and the many cuffs and straps were thick, wide, black nylon webbing, padded with white pile.

"Y-you're going to put me in that thing?" Inga demanded.  She tried to keep the fear from her voice, but knew she'd failed.

"Not immediately," the spokeswoman answered.  "First comes an enema, then a sponge bath, then another enema, just to be sure.  After that, the insertion of a urinary catheter and a butt-plug, a combination gag and breathing mask, the attachment of various vibrators, clamps, and electrical shock-pads, then the rest of the entertainment system, ear-buds and a video-visor.  Only then do you go into the sarcophagus.  Tell me, do you think you'll resist?"

"W-what?"  Inga's heart was hammering.

"Please resist," the anonymous ninja-amazon continued.  "It's so much more fun when they resist."


Oh, the Humanities!
Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Chapter 12