Ali Landry as Lillian
              Steele Rage at the Machine

by Van ©2005

To see the actresses I would cast in a RAGE AGAINST the MACHINE motion picture, follow the link below, and use your browser's "Back" feature to return.



Patty was beginning to feel like a fried egg.  Enough was enough.  She'd been basking in the afternoon sun for nearly an hour, including the several minutes of stretching and yoga exercises she'd performed after completing her daily run.  She usually ran through the tree-lined neighborhood and nearby park with Kiera or Cynthia or both, but today the pair had apparently gotten themselves in an amiable argument in computer-geekese, clustered around a keyboard and bank of monitors in the basement lab, and had missed the prearranged start time.  So... Patty had run alone, had done her cool-down alone, and had sunbathed alone.

Patty climbed to her feet, stretched, and pulled on her cotton robe; then stooped and retrieved her towel and lotion.  She was on the sundeck off Cynthia's master bedroom, their usual sunbathing station.  It had waist-high railings all around, with a vine-covered lattice screen to one side, to shield the deck from the attic window of a neighboring house.  Tall, dense shrubs and stands of trees provided privacy on all other sides.

The French doors to the master bedroom opened, and Kiera and Cynthia emerged.  Both were flushed, sweating, breathing heavily, and wrapped in robes of their own.

"Sorry we missed you," Kiera gasped.

Patty smiled.  "You snooze, you lose.  Three miles?"

"Two, but quick," Kiera answered.

"Wimp!" Patty sneered, a smile defusing the insult.

"Cut her some slack," Cynthia laughed.  "She had the 'Old Lady' slowing her down."

"Yeah, right," Patty snorted.  Despite her "advanced age" and "munchkin-like stature", Cynthia could easily keep up with the young students, as she'd demonstrated on countless occasions.

Kiera and Cynthia removed their robes and were now as nude as Patty had been just seconds before.  They began their cool-down exercises, and for several seconds Patty watched the tan, toned, diminutive Professor, and her freckled roommate twist and stretch.  She then turned and headed for the side door that gave access to the upstairs hallway.  "I'm gonna be reading," she called back over her shoulder.

"Grill-roasted chicken!" Cynthia shouted as the door began to close.  "The usual time.  It's my turn to cook."

Patty turned her head and smiled at Kiera.  "Thank god!" she exclaimed.

Kiera smiled back, then stuck out her tongue.  The roommates had an amiable argument going over which of them was the worst cook; although, under Cynthia's culinary tutelage, both were improving rapidly.

Patty pulled the door closed, continued through the upstairs hall, down the stairs, and through the kitchen; then out the door to the lower deck, across the yard, and up the back stairs to the apartment she shared with Kiera above the garage.  She occupied one large bedroom, Kiera the other, and they shared a kitchenette and a common room with a fireplace.  Like the main house, like most of the old houses surrounding the university campus, the design was Arts and Crafts.  In any case, it was vastly superior to any dorm room, that was for sure.

Patty unlocked the apartment door, pattered to her bedroom, and shrugged out of her robe.  She'd take a quick shower, find something to drink, and—"M'MMPFH!"

She'd been seized from behind!  A gloved hand was clamped tightly over her lips and her elbows were locked behind her back.  The naked, helpless blonde twisted to the side, and focused on a distant mirror.  Her captor was Lillian Steele, of course.  She could see the beautiful brunette's smiling face over her left shoulder (and could feel her hot breath on her neck and ear).

"Hello again, Blondie," Lillian purred, thrust her tongue into Patty's ear, and gave it a wet, swirling lick.  Patty shivered in her captor's tight, expert grip, but was otherwise still.  "Do I have your parole?" Lillian inquired.  Patty nodded, and Lillian removed her hand-gag.

Patty could see in the mirror (and feel against her skin) that Lillian was dressed in typical leather costume: boots, pants, and jacket, only this time everything was in a rich, dark oxblood.  Patty squirmed, then gasped as Lillian tightened her grip.  "It's Kiera's turn!" the helpless coed complained.

Lillian maintained her tight embrace, and used her right hand to grip a handful of Patty's short blonde locks.  "That's the advantage of being the 'security expert'," she said.  "Lillian gets to decide whose turn it is."  She nuzzled Patty's neck.  "Umm... I just love the smell of cocoa butter, sweat, and fear," she whispered, dragged Patty into her bedroom, and closed the door.

"I'm not afraid of you," Patty exclaimed.  "Ahh!"  Lillian had tossed her on the bed, face down, and was straddling her back.  "Let me go, you bitch!" Patty whined, bucking and struggling as Lillian pulled her hands behind her back.

"You call that a parole?" Lillian laughed, held Patty's wrists together with her left hand, then reached back and slapped her buttocks with her right.

"Ow!" Patty complained, but stopped struggling.  She felt Lillian reposition her left arm against the bed and her thigh, pinning it with her weight.  And now her captor was doing something to her right hand.  "What are you doing?" Patty demanded.

Lillian was wrapping her fingers with a roll of narrow, ribbon-like, translucent tape.  "What am I doing?" Lillian said, "why, I'm making sure I don't have to worry about these pesky little phalanges."  The tape stretched slightly, imparting an elastic grip as it adhered to itself and Patty's skin.  Lillian laid Patty's thumb across her palm, folded her wrapped fingers down over it, then mummified her entire fist.  "There," Lillian said, and repeated the process on Patty's left hand.  She then pulled the tightly wrapped hands together, and tightened a pair of plastic flexi-cuffs around Patty's wrists.

Patty tested her bonds, and sighed.  Her tape-shrouded fingers hands flexed a little, and the long, stiff ends of the flexi-cuffs rattled together and shook, but she knew herself to be completely helpless... again.

Lillian climbed off the bed (and Patty), walked over to the bedroom window, and adjusted the slats of the closed mini-blinds until they could see out.  Now captor and captive had a perfect view of the sundeck, including Cynthia and Kiera.

"Red's getting quite the freckle collection," Lillian noted, "and just look at Doc's luscious, dark, all-over tan."  She turned back to the bed to find Patty sitting up with her legs crossed, rolling her shoulders and twisting her bound wrists.  "You're quite the little sun goddess yourself, Blondie."  She smiled evilly, peeled off her gloves, and slowly walked back to the bed.

Patty continued struggling.  "I hate you," she pouted.

Lillian removed her jacket, revealing a simple black sports top (and a lot of toned, tan skin), then climbed onto the bed.  She arranged herself with her back against the pillows piled against the headboard.  Patty she held close in a tight embrace, with the captive's bound arms against her breasts and her tape-shrouded hands against her crotch.  She spread her booted and leather-clad legs, intertwined them with Patty's bare legs, and pinned them open.

Patty twisted and struggled, to no avail.  "You—m'mmf!"

Lillian's left hand was over Patty's lips.  Her right was giving the captive's right breast a gentle squeeze.  "I know, I know," Lillian purred, and licked the side of Patty's neck.  "I'm a bitch, you hate me, etc., etc."  She gave Patty's earlobe a playful nibble, thrust her tongue into the squirming blonde's ear, and pulled it out.  Her hand gave Patty's breast a final squeeze, then slid down her side, across her tummy, through her prisoner's dark blonde pubic curls, and caressed her glistening, flushed sex.

Patty strained to close her legs, but Lillian easily defeated her efforts.

"For someone so full of hate," Lillian whispered, "you're awfully wet."  

Patty forced a miserable moan through her captor's hand, then flinched and shuddered in Lillian's tight grip as her hand slid between her labia.

"Let's get down to business," Lillian purred, "shall we?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lillian stroked and manipulated Patty's most intimate flesh.  The helpless blonde writhed and squirmed, her breathing ever more labored, her eyes wide and desperate.  Lillian would let her build to the brink of orgasm... then slow the pace of her expert manipulation... allow Patty to relax... then take the shuddering captive to a new level of frustrated pleasure.  And finally... after many long minutes of sweet torture, Patty thrashed and screamed through her lover's hand, and shuddered in orgasm.
Lillian had removed the rest of her clothing and was lying on her back, her head and shoulders propped against the pile of pillows.  Her hands still mummified and wrists bound, Patty lay on her side, against Lillian's right flank, the side of her face resting against her captor's ribs.  An open bottle of champagne was in an ice-filled bucket on the floor beside the bed.  Lillian took periodic sips from a crystal flute, and held it for Patty so she could drink as well.

Captor and captive gazed out the open blinds at the distant sundeck.  Cynthia was lying on her stomach, her head resting on her crossed arms, eyes closed, and a blissful smile on her face.  Kiera, nude and glistening with sunblock, was kneeling at her side, rubbing lotion on the tan back of her mentor.

"Do you think Doc knows Red loves her?" Lillian asked.

Patty blushed, lifted her head, and snuggled against Lillian's breast.  "It's kinda sad," she whispered.  "Neither one of them will admit it.  The whole teacher/student thing."

"So, Red is forced to worship from afar," Lillian chuckled.  "So near... at her very fingertips, in fact... yet so far."

"Don't be a bitch," Patty scolded, then nodded towards the bubbling flute.

Lillian smiled and tipped the glass so Patty could drink.  Lillian took a drink herself, then set it on the bedside table.  "What's the latest?" she asked.

"Salamandras?" Patty asked, and Lillian nodded.  "Doc's satisfied that she's operating within her ethical bounds."


Patty smiled.  "We call her 'she'.  Her voice is female, and there's very little evidence of cyber-testosterone in her actions."

"I know about the ethics thing," Lillian said.  "Doc explained it to me, the last time I visited her."

Patty blushed again, then continued.  "Anyway... the latest... She's well-entrenched across the Internet.  She doesn't ever do anything drastic.  Otherwise, somebody might figure out she exists.  So..."  Patty snuggled close and Lillian began stroking her hair, straightening the coed's tousled locks.  "...she nudges things along advantageous paths.  Supposedly 'secret' information is suddenly and mysteriously shared with members of the press, and the next thing you know, a corrupt bureaucrat is forced to retire, a crooked politician is indicted, etc.  She only acts to remove impediments to progress."

"Good thing 'she' doesn't want to rule the world," Lillian sneered, with obvious sarcasm.

Patty shook her head.  "I'll give you an example," she said, "in exchange for more bubbly."  Lillian gave her prisoner a drink, and Patty laid her head back down on Lillian's flank.  "You know how an asteroid strike wiped out the dinosaurs?"  Lillian nodded.  "Well," Patty continued, "it's happened several times in the history of the planet, and some day it will happen again."

"I've seen Armageddon," Lillian said. "Also, Deep Impact.  An asteroid gets fresh, we nuke the bastard."

"Yeah, except we won't know it's there 'til it's too late," Patty explained, "and, we don't have a viable delivery system.  Salamandras has a long-term plan for a deep space radar system, useful for research and early warning, and an orbital space tug that can boost payloads on planetary missions.  She's nibbling away at the bureaucrats and politicos blocking development in the US, Russia, EU, Japan, and China.  Development should shift into high gear in about five years, and the governments and the UN will think it's all their idea."

"That's very nice of her," Lillian said.

"That's self-interest," Patty responded, "hers and ours.  And that's only one of her schemes."

"Makes me proud to be her employee," Lillian purred, then gripped a handful of blonde locks and lifted Patty's head.  "Enough rest, Blondie.  Time for you to entertain your guest."

"Ow!" Patty complained.  "Watch the hair, bitch!  And we can't.  Not here.  Kiera will find us!"

"Don't want Red to see you licking my pussy, eh?" Lillian chuckled.  "What you want to bet when Red and the Doc finish baking, they'll head for that nice cool basement full of computers, and settle in for a long, lazy afternoon of cyber-geeking?"

Patty sighed, rolled over Lillian's body, and wiggled down the bed until she was on her stomach, between Lillian's splayed legs, and her pouting lips were within easy reach of her captor's crotch.  "Bitch!" she muttered, leaned forward, and gave Lillian's sex a slow, deep lick.

"Oh, Blondie!" Lillian gasped, shivering in delight, "keep that up, and Lillian will be nice when it's time for her to leave."
Eventually, Lillian announced it was time for her to leave.  She hauled her prisoner to the bathroom, and ran Patty's brush through her long, dark, silky hair.  Meanwhile, the blushing blonde took a tinkle on the toilet.  Missions accomplished, she hauled Patty back to the bedroom and plunked her on the bed.

Patty lay on her side and watched Lillian dress.  She was anxious to learn if she'd achieved "nice" status.  Kiera had been in a bitchy mood during Lillian's last visit, and although her tongue had performed as required, her captor had grown tired of her constant complaints.  Patty discovered her roommate, several hours after being abandoned by Lillian, naked, tied in a tight fetal tuck, and buried in the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper.  The dirty panties had been carefully sorted beforehand, three were stuffed in the indignant redhead's mouth (prior to the application of several layers of tape), and the rest layered over her head.  Finally, Lillian had left spring-loaded clamps joined by a light chain on Kiera's nipples!  Patty had been wise enough to remove the clips before the gag, otherwise the resulting screams would have caused the neighbors to call the cops.

One didn't mess with Lillian Steele, but she had no respect for push-overs.  There was a fine line between "feisty" and "bad" when dealing with Lillian, and you had to know when to push and when to dial back the insults.

Fully dressed, Lillian dropped several coils of cotton rope on the bed, then stood, hands on hips, and gazed down at Patty.  "Do you really hate me?" she inquired, a smile on her face.  Patty locked eyes with her captor.  Seconds passed, and finally the captive blonde gravely nodded.  Lillian laughed.  "I understand.  It allows you to let yourself go.  After all, you're tied up and helpless, in my power, as the saying goes, and have no choice."

"You're delusional," Patty muttered.

"Merely perceptive," Lillian chuckled, and began sorting through the coils.  "Don't worry, Blondie," she added, "that talented tongue of yours has wiggled its way into my good graces, dragging the rest of you along for the ride."  She lifted a paper shopping bag off the floor and emptied several packages on the bed.  "Parting gifts," she explained, smiling broadly.
Dressed in her usual summer uniform of shorts and T-shirt, Kiera bounded up the stairs, through the door of the apartment, and walked toward the bedrooms.  Patty's door was closed, so she gave it a gentle rap with her knuckles.  "Patty?"  There was no response.  She rapped louder.  "Yo, Blondie!"

Still no response.  "Wake up!" Kiera shouted.  "Nap time is over!"  She turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door.  "Sorry we're late with supper," Kiera said.  "We got sidetracked running some simulations, lost track of time, and—"

Kiera stared, mouth open and eyes wide.  Patty was lying on her bed, naked, face down, her rump raised by a stack of pillows tucked under her tummy.  Her hands were mummified with tape, her wrists locked in plastic flexicuffs, and the cuffs lashed to the small of her back by bands of rope encircling her waist.  More rope bound her ankles, knees, and thighs tightly together, and pinned her arms to her sides.  Even more rope lashed her to the bed, hitched around her body and bonds and tied to the bedframe.

Patty's head was mummified in elastic bandages, covering her eyes, ears, and mouth.  Only a peek of bulging cheeks, several locks of blonde hair, and parts of a set of headphones were exposed.  A cord leading to a battery pack trailed from the headphones.  An empty package was on the bed, and Kiera learned the headphones were of the noise-cancelling variety.  They broadcast any environmental noise detected back through themselves, 180º out of phase.  This made them incredibly effective earplugs, far better than foam plugs or even industrial "Mickey Mouse ears".  They were just the thing for the weary traveler on a noisy airplane... or for harmlessly rendering a captive totally deaf.

Patty was slowly writhing in her bonds.  She was glistening with sweat, and apparently oblivious to Kiera's presence.  Now that she looked more closely, Kiera noticed a second cord and battery pack, but this one was linked to Patty's sex.  Vibrator, she surmised.  She couldn't hear it buzz, but the air was rife with Patty's musk, and what she could see of her roommate's sex was flushed a dark pink, and was literally dripping.

"Lillian, you bitch!" Kiera whispered, under her breath.  There was also a folded sheet of notebook paper on the bed.  Kiera picked it up, and read:


Sorry I missed you.  Maybe next visit.  There's another gift waiting for you, on your own bed.  Break it in for me, would you?  I may need it, next time I'm in town.

The Bitch

P.S.:  I almost forgot the actual reason for my visit.  Also on your bed, find a stack of flash cartridges.  Tell Doc they're the NSA encryption files she's waiting for, the ones that are too sensitive to send over the internet.

Kiera dropped the note and hurried to her room.  The memory modules were waiting on her bed, and so was her "present", a black leather riding crop with a decorative red bow tied around its braided handle!  Kiera picked up the crop, and gave her palm a tentative whack.  It wasn't clear if the crop was a genuine present, or a warning of what might happen during Lillian's next visit.  Probably both, Kiera reasoned, shivering with dread (and the frisson of arousal quivering through her sex).

She returned to Patty's room, walking as if in a daze.  The crop still in her hand, she stared at Patty's helpless, bound body, especially her elevated, smooth, firm, vulnerable buttocks.

Seconds ticked by... then Kiera extended the crop and held it steady, its flat, leaf-shaped tip less than an inch from Patty's right butt cheek.


Kiera turned to find Cynthia standing in the doorway.  She was dressed in the same shorts and blouse as when Kiera had left her in the kitchen, but she'd added a hunter green cook's apron to the ensemble.  Kiera threw the crop to the bed, fluttering her hand, as if stung.

A coy smile on her pixie face, Cynthia walked forward.  "I'm ready to put the chicken on the grill, and wanted to know how long Patty would be."

Her eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Kiera stared at her mentor with open mouth.  She then swallowed, and tried to speak.  "I... she..."

Cynthia put her left arm around Kiera's waist and pressed her right index finger to the flustered redhead's lips.  "Shh...  Calm down, Freckles."  She turned her attention to Patty's helpless, sweating, slowly writhing form.  "Another example of Lillian's unique sense of humor," she noted.

"I... the crop," Kiera gasped, "I wouldn't have... I..."

"I know," Cynthia cooed, went up on her toes, and kissed Kiera's blushing cheek, then tightened her embrace and turned her attention back to Patty.  The helpless blonde continued her weak, hopeless struggles against her implaccable bonds, ignorant of the fact that she had an audience.  "By my count, it was supposed to be your turn to play, the next time Ms. Steele had business in our area, wasn't it?"

"I guess it's true that blondes have more fun," Kiera muttered, then blushed an even brighter shade of red.

"Poor Freckles," Cynthia whispered.  "Lillian always gives you a hard time, doesn't she?"

"She likes Patty best," Kiera pouted.  "I, I mean

"I know what you mean," Cynthia laughed, and gave Kiera another kiss.  Teacher and student watched Patty writhe for several more seconds, then Cynthia cleared her throat.  "You know," she said, "you'd have a better chance of escaping from whatever Lillian does to you during her next visit, if you took the time to practice."

"Practice?" Kiera whispered.  "H-how can I practice?"

"All the rope and leather gear that was in the Salamandras Building is in a wardrobe and trunk in the back room of the basement," Cynthia confided, "together with the leather we took off you."

"The room with the padlock on the door?"

Cynthia nodded.  "I'll get some exercise mats for the floor.  You can practice in there anytime you want, when you're not busy with your studies, of course."

"Of course," Kiera snorted, and tightened her hold on Cynthia's waist.  "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

Kiera smiled shyly.  "Don't you need practice, too?" she whispered.

Cynthia blushed, then squeezed Kiera's hand.  "We'll take turns, helping each other.  Now, find something to cut Patty free, get her cleaned up, and I'll put the chicken on the grill."

Kiera's smile turned coy.  "And ruin all that rope?  I'll untie her."

Cynthia laughed.  "I'll factor that into the cooking time."  She leaned close and whispered in Kiera's ear.  "This 'practice' thing will be our little secret, okay?"

Kiera nodded.  "Patty'll never suspect a thing," she whispered.

Cynthia smiled, whacked the redhead on the butt, and left.

Kiera rubbed her butt cheek, but her eyes were on her helpless roommate.  The apartment's outside door closed, and she knew Cynthia was gone.

Kiera retrieved the riding crop, her gift from Lillian, and her smile turned somewhat evil.  Still feeling the sweet sting of Cynthia's slap, she waved the crop's fluttering tip above Patty's buttocks; not touching them, but close enough that the captive might feel the air stirred by its passage... maybe... possibly.

Kiera savored the delicious power she had over her bound, gagged, and helpless roommate.  "Poor Patty," she cooed, continuing to wave the crop, "all hot and helpless."

Patty continued writhing in her bonds.  The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the still air.

Kiera sighed, and tossed the crop to the floor.  "Well," she muttered, leaning forward and attacking one of the knots lashing Patty to the bed, "Lillian may be soft on you, but I'm teacher's pet."

Chapter 8

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