Kirsten Dunst as Patty Scanlon Rage at the Machine

by Van ©2004

Chapter 4
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Another Friday evening in the dorm.  Patty ran the fingers of her left hand through her damp hair, then grabbed the edge of the towel wrapped around her otherwise naked body.  It had begun to slip, and that wouldn't do.  Accidental public displays of nudity on the way to and from the shower weren't unprecedented, but she'd just as soon not give any loitering geeks or nerds a free show if she could help it.  She'd taken her evening run, showered, and now was on her way back to her room to dress for supper.  Her shower shoes slapped the vinyl tile floor as she walked, and the net bag containing her bodywash, body sponge, shampoo, conditioner, razor, shaving cream, comb, hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, (etc., etc.), swung gracefully from her right hand.

Patty waved at Rachel and Julie (brunette neighbors three doors down) then opened the door of her own room.  It was dark, with the lights off and drapes closed, just as she'd left it.  This was a bit of a surprise, as Kiera should have been back from her last class by now.

"Red?"  Patty took a step into the room.   She must've stopped at the bookstore, or something, she reasoned, then reached for the light switch, and—

The door closed behind her and a gloved hand was over Patty's face!  An arm was pinning her arms to her sides!  Worst of all, the hand was pressing a soft pad against her mouth and nose, and an acrid vapor was filling her lungs and sinuses!

Her assailant was a woman.  Patty could feel her breasts pressing against her back.  She tried kicking, then twisting free, then swinging her bag, but her movements were slow and weak, her captor strong and expert at countering her moves.  All Patty succeeded in doing was causing her towel to slip loose and slide to the floor.  She managed to exhale and clear her burning lungs, but when she tried to inhale her attacker pressed the pad even tighter.  All she gained was more of the noxious chemicals.  The vapor had a tart, sweet, cloying odor.  It wasn't ether, or chloroform—but—there was a ketone edge it—and she recognized it from Chemistry Lab—maybe—and—the already dark room was getting even darker—and beginning to spin—and tiny motes of light were dancing in the air—and there was an irritating buzz in her ears—and—(all was black).
 Chapter 4
Without releasing her grip on the anesthetic pad over her captive's face, Lillian reached behind her back, locked the dorm room door, and flipped on the overhead light.  She recognized the limp, naked coed in her arms as Patty Scanlon, her primary target's roommate.  She hefted Patty into her arms and carried her towards the rumpled bed behind Kiera's desk.

Lillian smiled down at Patty's calm, relaxed, beautiful face, then let her eyes wander over her fit, toned body, smooth shoulders, pert breasts, flat stomach, and strong legs.  She was quite the sexy little package... especially naked, unconscious, and in Lillian's power.

Pity I can't keep this one, Lillian mused.  We could have a lot of fun.  I love the perky, feisty type.

Not dressed in her usual head-to-toe black, Lillian was in a dark variant of "coed camouflage"—black sneakers, indigo jeans, black crop top, and a dark burgundy jacket.  She also had a backpack, but it wasn't full of books.  She laid Patty on the half-made bed, put the anesthetic pad back in its heavy-duty ziplock bag, and returned it to her inside jacket pocket.  She then produced a roll of silver duct tape from her backpack and rolled the slumbering blonde onto her stomach.  Kidnapping one or both roommates out of the dorm was far too dangerous.  She'd hoped to recover the CD Cynthia had passed to Kiera without being discovered, but, ever the professional, Lillian had a contingency plan for dealing with either or both roommates, and had brought the required materials.

She folded Patty's arms behind her back, forearm to forearm, and taped them tightly together.  She continued taping until Patty's hands, fingers, and elbows were completely wrapped, and both arms were covered from armpit to armpit.  She then rummaged through the built-in drawers beside the bed until she found several pair of panties.  All were black.  Two were stuffed in Patty's mouth and secured with three wide, long lengths of tape, the first two forming an "X", and the third in a horizontal strip.  A third pair of panties was pulled over Patty's head.  The seat was to the front, covering her eyes.  A fourth pair followed, this time with the seat to the rear, covering her hair.  Bands of tape followed, anchoring the silky black fabric over Patty's eyes, reinforcing the gag, and wrapping completely around her head.  When Lillian was finished, the captive's head was shrouded in tape, with only her nose and a little of the panties exposed.

The rest of the roll and most of another were used to wrap the prisoner from just above her breasts, all the way down to her ankles.  Lillian worked quickly, lifting and rolling Patty's limp, naked form as needed.  When she was finished, Patty was a silver mummy with only her nose, throat, shoulders, and feet exposed.  Lillian pulled back the bedspread, arranged the still unconscious captive on her back, then did her best to restore order to the room.  Patty's shower bag of was hung from a hook and the damp towel neatly folded over a towel rack.  The dorm room was far from neat, but was more or less like she'd found it.

The missing CD was already in a plastic case in a side pocket of Lillian's backpack (and was about to become very missing).  Lillian produced a broad-tip, black marker and printed "DID
RULES!" across Patty's taped chest.  This bit of misdirection would insure that when Patty was discovered, the blame for her condition would automatically shift to Greek Row.  The Delta-Iota-Delta sorority was notorious for its elaborate pranks, often involving rivals being found tied to flagpoles, duct taped to walls in the men's locker room, etc.; and making duct-tape mummies was one of their favorite tricks.

Patty was regaining consciousness.  Her mummified form slowly writhed and rolled on the bed.  Lillian enjoyed the show for several seconds, then (with a regretful sigh), shouldered her backpack, tossed the bedspread over her victim, turned off the lights, and departed.  She exited carefully, to insure she wasn't observed leaving the room, then casually strolled to the elevators, chin down, long brown hair half-covering her face, and gloved hands in her jacket pockets.

The elevator doors opened, and as Lillian got on, Kiera McFadden got off.  Lillian watched the black-clad redhead stroll away, then the doors closed.   Quite the cutie, Lillian thought as the elevator descended, if you like freckles, red hair, and the overabundance of attitude that usually completes the package.  The doors opened.  Lillian crossed the lobby and exited the dorm, one more coed on her way to a late class or the library.   I like feistiness, she thought with a wistful sigh , but prefer warm, strong, little blondes with great smelling hair, dimpled cheeks, and firm, smooth skin.
 Chapter 4
Kiera opened her door, flipped on the lights, strode to her desk, and turned on her computer.  Her mind was on what to do about Cynthia.  Something just wasn't right about the whole sabbatical thing.  She could feel it!  It wasn't like Dr. Weeble to just disappear without even a written good-bye.  Their relationship had always been close, with Cynthia treating her more like a colleague than a student.  She'd really enjoyed the talks she'd had with Cynthia during her office hour visits.  It hadn't just been class stuff, or even computer stuff, or even mathematics, but stuff about college life, careers, life in general.  It just wasn't right for her to just... vanish.

Suddenly, Kiera became aware of a rustling noise behind her back, then a soft, plaintive moan.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she slowly turned.  Something, someone (probably Patty), was on her bed, hiding under the bedspread, obviously trying to scare her.  Fear turned to irritation.  "Okay, very freakin' hilarious!" she huffed.  "Check your calendar, moron.  It isn't—"  She pulled the cover back, and discovered a giant silver cocoon writhing on her bed!  "—Halloween?"

Kiera rose from her chair, jerked the bedspread completely away, and found the cocoon was Patty, or someone of her height, build, complexion. and with the same exact shade of pink polish on her wriggling toes.  Kiera noted the message printed on her chest, then attacked the tape covering the mummy's head.  She teased back the edge of what appeared to be the top strip of tape, and peeled it back.  It took some effort, but eventually she removed enough tape to reveal the panties, then Patty's wide, blue eyes, and finally, her taped lips.  She teased the edge of the gag back, being careful not to scratch her roommate's face, and slowly pulled it aside.

Patty's lips were stretched to the side as the silver strips reluctantly released their adhesive grip.  She forced the panties in her mouth between her teeth and Kiera pulled them free.  "M'mnwr—yuck!"

"Hey!  These are mine!" Kiera observed, then noticed the expression on her still totally helpless roommate's face.  "Sorry," she mumbled, "minor concern.  What happened?  What do the D-I-D's have against you?"

"Huh?" Patty asked.  Kiera pointed at her chest and Patty lifted her head and dropped her chin to read the message neatly printed above the compressed bulge of her breasts.  "This is stupid."

"No, ya think?" Kiera said with a sarcastic snort.  The roommates had no use for the crushing conformity and complete lack of privacy that was sorority life, but neither was a vocal Greek opponent.

"Seriously," Patty said, squirming in her silver bonds.  "If this was a DID raid, there would have been a giggling crowd of the idiots, clapping and chanting their inane slogans.  There was one of them, and she used some sort of drugs to knock me out."

"Drugs?" Kiera gasped.  "Talk about your 'double-secret-probation'!  The Greek Council would disband the DIDs and burn their house, right after the Administration lined them up and had them shot."

"Yeah," Patty agreed.  "There's something funny going on."  She glanced down at her wiggling toes, then at Kiera.  "Uh, can you get on with it?"

"Huh?"  Kiera had been busy picking strips of tape from the panties that had shrouded Patty's head.

"My dissection kit is in my pack," Patty suggested, nodding towards her desk.

"Huh?—Oh!"  Kiera scrambled and returned with the brown plastic pouch that contained Patty's dissection tools.  She opened the pouch, pulled out the scalpel, and wrinkled her nose.  "Yuck!"

"Formaldehyde and eau de fetal pig," Patty explained.  "You can clean all you want, but you can't get rid of the smell.  Use the scissors."

Kiera returned the scalpel to the pouch and pulled out the scissors.  Roughly equivalent to a nurse's bandage scissors, one tip was blunt and the other sharp.  She sat on the foot of the bed, clicked the scissors, and leaned towards Patty's feet.

"Blunt tip down, moron!" Patty scolded, wiggling her feet.

"Don't have a cow," Kiera mumbled, reversing her grip.  "Hold still."

"Like I have a choice?" Patty muttered, watching as the tape was snipped apart from her ankles to her shins to...  Kiera had paused, her eyes staring into infinity.   "Get on with it!" Patty demanded.

"I think I figured it out," Kiera said.  She dropped the scissors and hurried to her desk.


"It's gone!" Patty said rummaging through the desk drawers.  "I knew it!"


Kiera swiveled her chair to face the bed.  "The CD Dr. Webbel stuck in my project," she explained.  "It's gone!  Somebody took it!"

"Fascinating," Patty muttered, kicking her partially freed legs.  "Now would you please...?"

Kiera returned to the bed and carefully cut the tape between Patty's knees and up towards her thighs.  "I told Peter about the CD and Dr. Webbel's research—"


"The TA who took over the course."

"Is he cute?"

"He's a twitching geek," Kiera responded.  "He confiscated the copy of the CD I showed him and told me not to go to the Dean.  Apparently Salamandras International, the corporation funding the research, is paying the University a butt-load of cash to compensate for Dr. Webbel—"


"Shut up!" Kiera barked.  "To compensate for Cynthia's super-sudden sabbatical."

"'Cynthia's super-sudden sabbatical'!" Patty laughed.  "Say that fast ten times.  Ow!  Watch it!"  Kiera had reached her crotch with the scissors.

"Oh! Did I cut you?"

"Watch the hair!" Patty muttered.

"I don't know if I can do much for your curlies," Kiera said.  "Between the duct tape and the scissors..."

"Just be careful, and get me out of this stuff!"

Frowning in concentration, Kiera leaned close and delicately sliced more tape and trimmed Patty's pubic hair free of the sticky sheath.  "There," she said finally.  Now the blunt tip was gliding against Patty's abdomen, above her mons and towards her still tape-shrouded navel.

"Let me get this straight," Patty said, suppressing a giggle.  (Patty was very ticklish.)  "You think a secret agent or industrial spy or cat-burglar-for-hire did a covert entry into our little dorm room to steal the infamous 'Webbel-Wobble CD'?"

"That's exactly what I think happened," Kiera said.  "Not in those terms, of course..."  

"How'd they know you even had the damn thing?" Patty wondered.

"They probably sniffed around for people doing internet searches in a certain pattern."

"You can do that?" Patty asked.

"You'd have to own or have hacked most of the servers involved in the pattern," Kiera mumbled, "but it's possible.  Well... feasible."

The scissors had reached Patty's sternum.  Kiera slit the final band, but it maintained its adhesive grip on the squirming blonde's breasts and most of the rest of her body.  And, of course, Patty's arms were still folded and tightly taped behind her back.

"Well, Nancy Drew," Patty mumbled.  "It's moot now.  Super Spy took the original, and Peter-the-Geek took your copy.  And it's a waste of time telling Campus Security about any of this.  Once they hear about the duct tape—"  Patty's eyes popped wide.  "Oh!  That's why she did it, why she took the time to tape me up!  She's not trying to fool us, just the cops!"

Kiera smiled, set down the scissors, returned to her desk, opened a drawer, and produced a shiny, unlabeled CD.  "Did I say it was my only copy?" she purred.  "We're not going to Campus Security, or the Police, or the FBI, or even the Justice League.  I've cross-referenced the files with municipal records and found a single local property, an office building, leased by Salamandras.  I'm betting that's where Cynthia is working, and we can ask her what's going on."

"What an incredibly clever Girl Detective you are," Patty sneered, "now get me out of this damn tape!"

Kiera's smile widened as she returned to the bed.  "Stop your whining, or I'll find another sidekick."

Patty squirmed and smiled up at her roommate and rescuer.  "Sidekick!" she sneered.  "Yeah, right.  Just peel me out of this, would you?  And watch the tits.   God, this stuff is sticky."
 Chapter 4
Cynthia woke as the cord harness and bands of tape pinning her head against the column were cut.  Lillian had returned.  This time she was dressed in sneakers, dark jeans, and a black top that showcased her hard abdomen.

"Good evening, Doctor" Lillian cooed.  She was using a knife with a short, drop-point blade to cut the cords of Cynthia's bondage, one-by-one.  She was careful to free the prisoner in a manner that maintained as much support as possible, for as long as possible.  As the final cords were cut, Lillian leaned close and held Cynthia's body against the column, then slowly eased the limp captive to the floor, unlocked her handcuffs, and relocked them, this time with her hands in front.  She unwound the last of the tape, then unbuckled the ball-gag.

Cynthia was too tired to even glare.  She licked her lips and stared out the window wall.  It was late afternoon.  The mountains had an orange glow, and the sky was a deep blue.  She stretched her sore limbs, rolled her shoulders, and let her eyes droop closed.

Lillian straightened her prisoner's bangs with her left hand, then let her eyes wander down Cynthia's naked form.  Her smooth, tan skin was criss-crossed with ropemarks.  She lifted the diminutive scientist into her arms and carried her from the room.  "What a mess you are, Doctor.  Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

"Leave me alone," Cynthia whispered.

"You'll feel better soon," Lillian reassured her prisoner.  "I talked our employers into modifying your punishment.  Instead of leaving you lashed to that column all night... we'll try something different."

Cynthia opened her eyes and stared up at her captor.  "What?"

Lillian smiled.  "That would be telling," she purred, and headed for the elevators.
 Chapter 4
Cynthia dozed through most of the journey, but as Lillian put her down, she sat up and looked around.  In the short time of her captivity, it had become obvious the building that was her prison was in an unfinished state, only partly ready for human occupation.  However, the room in which she found herself was an exception.  It was a small, fully-tiled locker room, complete with steel lockers, benches, and a shower with a half-dozen showerheads.

They were in the shower area itself.  Cynthia watched as Lillian stepped back to the lockers, sat on a bench, and unlaced her sneakers.  Never taking her eyes off her naked captive, she stood, peeled her top over her head, unzipped and removed her jeans, then hooked her thumbs in the sides of her bikini thong, pulled it down, and stepped free.

Despite her aching body, her smoldering anger at the manner in which she'd been treated, and her fear of what was to come, Cynthia stared at Lillian's tan, toned, perfect body in awe.  Her captor was the most beautiful woman, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  She knew she should be trying to escape.  She was naked (like Lillian) with her hands cuffed together in front (unlike Lillian), but she should be getting to her feet and making a run for it, wherever it was, no matter how quickly Lillian, with her long, sleek legs, would catch her... but all she could do was stare at her captor.

Lillian approached, a smile on her face and a bar of soap in her left hand.  "Up you come," she purred, grabbing Cynthia's cuffed hands, and lifting her to her feet.  She pulled the captive into a close embrace, then spun her around until her breasts and thighs were against Cynthia's back and rump.  Her left arm was over Cynthia's shoulder and her left hand against the prisoner's ribs, enforcing close, intimate contact.

"No!" Cynthia whined, struggling weakly, then gasped as Lillian turned on the water and a cold stream soaked their bodies.

"Easy, Doctor," Lillian whispered.  "It'll get hot very soon."

The water temperature did increase, as promised.  It felt glorious, pelting against Cynthia's sore, tired body, but she wasn't about to let her captor know that.  "No!" she repeated.  Lillian was sliding the soap over Cynthia's squirming form, easily controlling her half-hearted struggles.  "Leave me alone—ahh—stop!"  Lillian's soapy hands were gliding over her breasts, stomach, buttocks, and between her legs!  "Please!"

"Hold still, Wiggle-worm!" Lillian chuckled.  "And keep those hands below your waist.  Do it, Doctor!  Don't make me get more rope!"

Cynthia's struggles slackened, but she didn't surrender.  "Get your hands off me," she whispered.  "Please!"

"This isn't so bad, is it?" Lillian whispered.

"No!" Cynthia whispered back.  It was another protest, rather than agreement.  She shuddered as Lillian thrust her tongue in her ear and slid her fingers along her wet, soapy sex.  "I hate you!  I—stop!"

The intimate shower continued until both the short captive and her tall captor were thoroughly clean.  Lillian turned off the water, lifted the dripping prisoner into her arms, and carried her into the locker room.  She used a thick, fluffy towel to dry Cynthia's body.

Cynthia shuddered as the towel rubbed her skin.  It was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend she wasn't enjoying the pampering massage of the thirsty terrycloth.  She managed a few unconvincing protests, but lifted her limbs and turned as needed to aid Lillian in the task of rubbing her dry.  She then sat on the bench and watched as Lillian dried herself.

Finally, Lillian tossed the towel aside and lifted Cynthia back into her arms.


"Hush, Doctor," Lillian cooed, and carried her from the locker room.  

They passed through several corridors.  The walls changed from drywall to glass, and Cynthia found herself in another corner office.  This one looked out on the distant mountains and a neighboring office building.  The sun was beginning to set, and both its direct rays and the reflection from the mirrored glass of the other building bathed the room in a golden light.

Centered in the room was a large platform bed, its mattress covered with a fitted sheet of dark purple satin.  At each of the platform's four corners was a large, shiny, steel eyebolt, and stretching from each eyebolt was a long, thick, black cable attached to a black leather cuff, lined with fleece.

Cynthia sighed as Lillian laid her down on the mattress.  Resistance was pointless, and she was so tired.  She watched as Lillian wrapped a cuff around her left ankle, buckled it tight, and snapped a tiny padlock through the tongue of the buckle.  It was wide and tight, but quite comfortable.  Her right ankle followed.  Then, her handcuffs were removed, and her wrists were wrapped, buckled, and padlocked.  She could now see the attached cables were comprised of braided elastic cords, and they were surprisingly long.  Cynthia had sufficient slack to touch her face with either hand and to fully bend her knees.

"Time for your punishment," LIllian announced with a smug smile.

"What are you going to do?" Cynthia demanded, a worried frown on her face.

Lillian reached for the right wrist cable where it met the eyebolt.  She gave it a pull, and it slid through the eyebolt and stretched down to the right ankle eyebolt, where she secured it with a steel clip.  Cynthia's right arm was now stretched to its full length.  She tugged on the cuff and the cable stretched a little more, but not by much.

"Perhaps 'punishment' is the wrong term," Lillian said, then stretched Cynthia's right ankle cable up to the right wrist eyebolt and secured its clip.  She walked around the bed, smiling down at her squirming, nervous captive.  "We've tried the vinegar approach.  Now we'll try a little honey."

"No!" Cynthia whined.  She tried to prevent her left arm and leg from being stretched and secured, but her position gave her very poor leverage, and Lillian was strong.  She found herself spread-eagled on her back, with all four extremities under a gentle but relentless tension.

 Lillian opened a drawer in the side of the platform and produced a roll of wide, translucent tape.  "This is hypoallergenic medical tape," she explained as she tore off a six inch strip, "so it should contain your screams without raising that rash we talked about earlier."  She stepped onto the mattress, straddled Cynthia's waist, and gracefully settled her weight onto the prisoner's tummy.  Smiling broadly, she leaned forward, preparing to tape Cynthia's pouting lips.

"Wait!" Cynthia begged through clinched teeth.

"What?" Lillian asked.  "We'll eat later, if that's what you're worried about, in an hour or two.  I'm going out for Chinese."

"I've got to tell you about Salamandras—ah!"

The tape strip dangling from her left hand, Lillian's right hand had Cynthia's left nipple in a tight pinch.  "You've been warned, Doctor," she said, gently squeezing the erect nubbin.  "No catty gossip about our employers!"

"There are no employers—ah!"

Lillian gave the nipple a final pinch, then leaned forward again with the tape.  "Lips together, Doctor," she ordered, "or I'll find something a lot less comfortable to gag you with, something that doesn't require your cooperation to apply."

Her heart hammering, Cynthia held her head still and pursed her lips; but as the tape descended, she managed one word, "Demonseed!"  Then the tape sealed her lips.

"'Demonseed'?" Lillian said as she smoothed the tape, making sure its adhesive had a firm grip.  "What a strange thing to say, Doctor."  She smiled down at her tautly stretched captive, enjoying the way her lips could still be seen under the tape, the way her nostrils flared and her bosom heaved.  "You can explain yourself later," she cooed.  "Right now..."  She filled her hands with Cynthia's breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.  "...we have other, more pleasant concerns."  She slid her body down the bed, and let her hands glide down Cynthia's abdomen, across her hips and thighs, and finally settle against the helpless captive's sex.

Lillian spread Cynthia's labia with her fingers, leaned close, and gave the glistening pink folds a kittenish lick.  The prisoner bucked and squirmed, mewed through her tape-gag, and clinched her eyes tightly closed.  Her fingers stretched wide, then clenched into tight fists.

"I told you I wanted us to be friends," Lillian whispered, then gave Cynthia another slow lick.  "Surely this is much better than being tied to a support column all night long."  Cynthia continued moaning and pulling on her taut bonds.  "Let's see how many times I can make you cum for the next hour or two—{lick}—then we'll break for dinner—{lick}—then I'll ring your chimes 'til midnight—{lick}—or until my tongue gets tired."

Cynthia wiggled her toes and twisted her feet, then opened and closed her hands and pulled on her bonds, causing the muscles of her short, toned limbs to bunch and flex.  A despairing whine escaped her gag.

"Oh!" Lillian cooed, "silly me!"  She used her tongue to drag a slow swirl around her victim's clitoris.  "I forgot about the three different kinds of vibrators in the other drawer.  My tongue will get plenty of rest tonight. But you won't."  She thrust her tongue deep into Cynthia's sex, wiggled it from side to side, then slowly pulled it out.  "Oh, Doctor, I do believe you're beginning to get a little wet.  Your musk is very tasty, by the way."

Lost in a fog of increasing arousal, helpless, angry, and humiliated, Cynthia struggled weakly, pulling on her soft, inescapable bonds.   I hate her!  Oh god, I hate her!  Ohhhhh!

Lillian smiled and increased the tempo of her thrusting tongue.  Cynthia was obviously building to her first climax, and there was nothing the precious little prisoner could do to stop it.

'Demonseed', Lillian mused as she worked.   What's with that?
Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 5