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continued gazing at Amanda's helpless body. "My goodness," she
purred, "you're quite the dirty little girl, aren't you?"
It was true. Amanda examined what she could see of her naked,
body. From her bound toes, to her grubby knees, to her smudged
thighs, to her soiled stomach and breasts... she was a filthy, damp,
greasy mess. She shook her head, trying without success to free
the tangle of wet, oily curls plastered to her scowling, gagged
face. She twisted her body and tested her bonds, again.
The ropes were some sort of braided microfiber,
off-white in color and about a
in diameter. Whatever the material, they were soft and
pliant, didn't seem to have much stretch, and
held a knot as well as anything Amanda had ever encountered.
Worse yet, they had been applied with
that perfect union of practicality and aesthetics that Amanda had come
Petra La Roque. The visible pattern was symmetrical and balanced,
and the placement of the key knots was depressingly flawless. The
bands were tight where they needed to be tight and were hitched and
they couldn't be worked loose, no matter how Amanda struggled.
if she was willing to surrender to their embrace, she was
more-or-less comfortable. Amanda shook her head,
again, and glared at her
Petra sat on the floor in a graceful half-lotus, near Amanda's
"That was a lot of fun," she
said, and held her helmet so Amanda could examine
goggle-shaped section over the eye region. The
lenses were comprised of thousands of tiny hexagonal panes of glass or
plastic and glistened with all the
colors of the rainbow. It was like examining the eyes of a
dragonfly under a magnifying glass. "The latest breakthrough in
electronics," Petra explained. "It uses what they call 'Balanced
False Color'. Infrared and two other carefully chosen light
frequencies are processed, amplified, and used to paint a full-color
image on an
screen. There's a little bit of chromatic distortion, but no
strobing or loss of perspective. The image is far superior to what's available
in the best civilian devices
currently on the market." She set the helmet on the
floor, reached out, and straightened Amanda's hair.
Amanda growled through her ball-gag and turned her face away.
grabbed a handful of her captive's hair and took a tight hold.
Amanda winced and continued her angry glare.
"Settle down, Grubby Girl," Petra ordered, and released her hold.
"I'm very proud of you, Amanda," she said. "You're the first of
my 'Specials' to make it out of one of the newly renovated Tower
smiled, sweetly. "Of course, you never had a real chance of escaping... and
no... I won't tell you anything about any of my countermeasures you
haven't already encountered; but you
made a valiant attempt, and
I'm very proud."
Amanda was unmoved.
"Once we determined your ultimate destination..." Petra made a
graceful gesture, indicating the entire room. "...I was waiting
for you. You were blind, in the total darkness, of course; but
thanks to my new helmet,
entered this place, and I closed the door before you could
tell you'd walked into a
removed the worst of the synthetic lubricant from that delectable body
of yours, making you
easier to handle. By the way, you didn't swallow any of the
stuff, I hope?"
Amanda continued to glare.
"No matter," Petra continued. "If you did swallow more than a gulp,
you'll be getting a ferocious case
of the runs in a few hours. Not to worry. My staff
will be giving you a preemptive enema well before that time, just in
shower also covered any sound I made as I moved around and
prepared my lasso-snares for your capture. And don't feel bad for
curious about my firefly lure and perfectly positioning yourself
for the first snare. If you hadn't done so, I simply would
have waited until you blundered into me. Wrestling is also fun,
especially with you naked and blind and myself with 'normal' sight and
in invulnerable armor. Maybe next time we'll give it a try."
Amanda sniffed in disgust, and shivered in her bonds. Now that
the warm shower and her capture were memories, her wet skin was
beginning to dry and she realized the air was quite cool.
Petra's gaze settled on Amanda's breasts. Her nipples were
hard, and the wet,
soiled, rope-framed globes were covered in
"Yes, it is a little cold in
here, isn't it?" Petra purred. Amanda continued shivering, but
her eyes were still angry. "I'm afraid I have to keep the
temperature rather low. Otherwise, I get too hot in all this
rubber. Again, not to worry. As
soon as I leave, things will get nice
and toasty." She picked up
her helmet, then stood. "And speaking of which... you've kept me
up long enough.." She ripped open a velcro-secured rectangle on
forearm, pressed a button on the small keypad revealed, then
closed the flap.
There was an echoing clang,
and one of the chamber's steel doors swung open. Petra walked
towards the hatch-like portal. "I'm going to try and sleep in," she
announced, "but I'm afraid you only get a short nap." She paused
"We have to get you ready to travel. Ta-ta, Dirty Girl."
Petra stepped across the threshold, the door closed with another loud clang, and Amanda was
did she say? 'Travel'?
The overhead lights began to change color. In a matter of
seconds, their former actinic glare had shifted to a dim,
orange-red glow. Amanda shivered in her bonds, but she could feel
the infrared radiance bathing her body. Very soon
she would be "nice and
toasty", as Petra had promised.
I just hope I don't get too toasty,
Amanda thought, and closed her eyes.
Damn! I never had a chance...
just like I don't have a chance against these ropes. With
conscious effort, Amanda willed herself
to relax, surrendering to neither rage nor despair nor to any other
emotion. Okay, my first try
was a bust, and the Bitch's first 'mistake', letting me get hold of
those paper clips, was actually a trick...
maybe. I'll be ready for the next opportunity... whenever or wherever it comes. I just hope it's genuine.
came for her some time later. Amanda had dozed, for a while,
so she couldn't be sure how much time had
passed. In any case, a door opened and a dozen
female drones entered the chamber. All were clad from head to toe
in latex catsuits of different colors, with the usual matching boots,
gloves, and helmets
full-face, reflective shields. They wheeled a gurney into the
Amanda's bound, helpless form onto the padding, and tightened
thick, wide, nylon straps across her breasts, waist,
thighs, shins, and ankles.
Amanda didn't struggle. What was the point? She
was wheeled towards the door, there was a jarring moment as the
spring-loaded scissor mechanism of the gurney's legs negotiated the
elevated threshold, then she was being wheeled down a concrete
corridor. Amanda sighed and watched the industrial-style light
fixtures pass overhead.
Her destination was a large room lined in shining
white tiles. Rubber hoses with stainless steel nozzles dangled
from reels mounted on tracks in the ceiling. Amanda's straps were
released and she was transferred to a stainless steel table. Her
handlers then used shears of some sort to sever her rope bonds and the
cable-tie strap of her ball-gag. She was then doused with warm
water and scrubbed with soapy mitts from head to toe. Her
received a thorough shampoo and rinse.
The latex drones turned her body on the table and lifted and
manipulated her limbs, as needed. Amanda remained relaxed,
and let the drones do their work. In the first place, she
very much wanted to be clean. And in the second place, she could
the way the drones maintained strategic holds on her limbs that they
would be able to control any hypothetical struggles, regardless.
The promised enema was next. Amanda was lifted off the table and
her feet planted on the floor, then she was hustled towards a stainless
steel commode. The deed was accomplished, with a
half-dozen drones continuing to maintain physical control. Then,
back on the gurney, which had been washed down and fitted with a clean
straps were tightened, one of the drones held her head steady, and
another plastered a wide strip of translucent tape over
her mouth. Her hair and skin were clean, but still wet.
lifted her head and watched as
used large, white towels to dry their costumes. The air was warm,
but evaporation was cooling Amanda's skin and her nipples were
erect... again. She wished her handlers would use a warm, thirsty
dry her body, but it didn't
Amanda was wheeled from the tiled room and down the corridor, leading a
parade of all
twelve drones. Several turns and one brief elevator
later, the bizarre procession arrived at yet another room. This
had concrete walls, ceiling, and floor, all flat-black. In the
center, brightly lit by a grid of pinspots in
the ceiling, was a rather sinister piece of furniture. It was
like a full-length
dentist's chair, with headrest and armrests, but with more than a dozen
padded clamps and dangling straps waiting to secure an occupant in
There was never any question about who that occupant would be.
The drones released Amanda from the gurney, lifted her onto the soft
cushions of the chair, and secured her in place. Heavily padded
clamps closed around her wrists, above and below her elbows, around her
ankles, and above and below her knees. Straps were cinched across
her waist, and across her arms and torso above and below her
breasts. In seconds she was completely immobilized, with
her legs slightly splayed and her arms at her sides. Her neck
and head were cradled and supported by pillow-soft cushions, but
The last buckle was
snapped shut, its strap pulled taut enough to dimple her skin, and the
drones were wheeling the gurney out the door. The steel portal
swung closed, the lock engaged with an audible click, and again, Amanda was
alone. She lifted her head and looked around;
but there was nothing to see but the closed door, the black walls, and
glare of the overhead lights. She let her head drop and closed
After a few minutes of rest, she methodically tested her bonds,
twisting her wrists,
arms, ankles, legs, and torso. There was nothing she could
the exception of the
snap-buckles securing the straps, and they were well
beyond the reach of her questing fingers.
Amanda was helpless, and her bonds were inescapable... again.
A quiet hum sounded, and something lowered from the
It was a wide-screen TV monitor on an articulated framework. It
positioned itself for optimal viewing angle—from Amanda's point of
view, of course—the lights dimmed, and the screen began to
Amanda found herself staring at the image of what was either the very
same room she currently occupied, or its twin; however, the prisoner
strapped to the chair was Gloria,
rather than herself. Amanda was pleased to see her assistant and
best friend; but was not pleased
what was happening, and neither was Gloria. Several latex-clad
wrapping the helpless Latina's hands, feet, arms, and legs in what
appeared to be elastic
bandages. Gloria was squirming and struggling for
all she was worth, but to no avail.
It was now clear why the
couch-chair had so many clamps to secure its victim's limbs. The
drones could cause specific clamps to open and retract, and the
section of padding to drop several inches, allowing them to work,
remaining restraints were more than enough to immobilize the relevant
portion of Gloria's anatomy. The drones stretched and wrapped
the bandages over and around Gloria's body, releasing and re-securing
Gloria's bonds as required.
Amanda sighed through her gag and continued to watch. Gloria's
legs, arms, and torso were completely covered, then her arms were
pinned against her sides and secured with an additional layer of
bandages. Mummified from the neck down, Gloria continued to
wiggle and squirm.
The drones stepped back, a motor hummed, and the legs of the chair
pulled apart, splaying Gloria's bandage-wrapped and
clamped legs in the process. A white-clad drone stepped forward
and used instruments from a small, stainless steel stand to open a slit
bandages over Gloria's sex. She
inserted a speculum, gave its handle a squeeze, the ratchet
clicked, and Gloria's labia were stretched apart and held. The
drone then inserted a
catheter, followed by a flaccid rubber dildo with an attached
cable. The speculum was relaxed and withdrawn, and a conical
rubber plug was
inserted into Gloria's anus. The white drone stepped back, and
legs slid together. The other drones stepped forward and began
wrapping Gloria's feet and legs together with more bandages.
Gloria continued to resist, but her her struggles were now very feeble,
indeed. The tape was peeled from her mouth, but, immediately, a
spreader was used to pry her jaws apart. A large, perforated
rubber ball with
an attached hose was inserted in her mouth, then more tape was used to
her lips. The white drone reappeared and inserted plastic plugs
with an attached airline in Gloria's nostrils; then the drones began
wrapping her head with bandages. As Amanda watched, the final
wrappings were made over Gloria's darting, desperate eyes—and she was
completely covered, from head to toe. The neat, tight
wrappings were broken only by the tubing and cable from her crotch, the
hose from her gag, and the breathing-line.
The clamps and straps were released, and Gloria squirmed like a
cocooned butterfly, struggling to break free. The drones
lifted her legs, and began pulling some sort of stiff, black, fabric
tube over her
body. It was a sheath of "Darlex", neoprene
rubber sandwiched between layers of spandex fabric, and it was
at least twice as thick as the Darlex bodysuit Amanda had donned, way
the dressing room of Petra La Roque's Donjon
sighed through her tape-gag. It seemed like a lifetime ago... not
something like... three days? It was a bit of a tight fit, but in
short order the drones had the sheath stretched completely over
including her head. Amanda watched as the drones threaded
the hose, cable, and lines through reinforced openings in Gloria's
then zipped it closed.
Gloria was now doubly encased, and the drones weren't finished.
They began fitting a complex harness of nylon straps over the smooth,
Darlex mummy. They secured buckles and tightened the broad, thick
straps until the black material bulged between the network of
horizontal and lateral bands. One of the drones used some sort of
ratchet to lock each of the buckles, working her way down Gloria's
body, fitting the tool into a socket and giving the handle several
quick, noisy turns.
Meanwhile, several of the drones wheeled a coffin-like container close
to the chair. It had a brushed aluminum exterior, heavy-duty
reinforcing bands of stainless steel, and locking latches. The
drones popped the
lid and opened the case, revealing an interior lined with medium
foam. There was a human-size hollow in the padding, and they
lifted Gloria and deposited her inside the
container. Her breathing-line was plugged into a fitting near the
as were the hose from her gag, the line from her catheter, and the
cable from the thing in
her sex. All of the excess lengths were carefully coiled and
secured with velcro straps, precluding the possibility of kinks when
they closed the lid.
Amanda shuddered with despair as the lid of Gloria's container was
closed and the latches secured. One of the drones opened a small
hatch at the foot of the container, revealing a compact keyboard and a
flatscreen monitor. She tapped several keys. The words
"LIFE SUPPORT" appeared on the screen, above several lines of smaller
text and a series of green rectangles. Amanda couldn't read any
of the smaller writing, but she surmised the drone was running some
sort of diagnostic program. More keys were tapped, and the words
"EROTIC STIMULATION" appeared. The drone made a series of
selections from a series of menus,
then tapped a final key and closed and locked the hatch.
Gloria's container was rolled through the door... seconds passed... and
a second gurney was rolled into the room. Strapped to the gurney
was a naked, tape-gagged, black woman. Amanda recognized her
instantly. It was Fiona Lassiter.
entire, sad drama repeated itself. Fiona was transferred to the
"wrapping chair", secured in place, then slowly, methodically, her
smooth, dark skin disappeared under tightly stretched layers of elastic
bandages. Catheter, dildo, gag-hose, and breathing lines were
inserted, a Darlex mummy-sheath and a harness of straps were added, and
she was transfered to a second coffin-container. The only
difference was the level of resistance offered by the victim.
Fiona did struggle and
complain through her tape-gag, but she seemed much more resigned to her
fate than had Gloria. In any case, the drones completed her
encasement without difficulty, and Fiona was
A cold knot of despair continued growing in Amanda's stomach.
Petra had told her she would be made "ready to travel". Had
she just witnessed Gloria and
Fiona being converted to cargo? Would Chessy be
next? ...and then Amanda, herself?
As if to answer at least one of her questions, the door on the screen
opened and the drones wheeled in a third gurney. Strapped down on
was a nude and apparently unconscious Chessy Golden. One of the
drones threw a series of switches on the wrapping chair and all the
clamps and straps retracted into the cushions, leaving a more-or-less
smooth, padded surface. Several drones released the gurney straps
and lifted Chessy onto the chair, then other drones immediately began
mummifying the sleeping redhead's toned, freckled body.
The process was only a third complete when the door opened—the actual door, not the door in the
image on the screen—and Petra
strolled into the room. She was dressed in yet another of her
off-white power suits, with matching heels, taupe hose, white blouse,
and a string of pearls. Behind her came her "Precious Pair" of
petite maids, Keira and Hime. Both were naked, except for steel
chastity belts, steel cuffs on their ankles and wrists (this time without connecting chains), and
the same full-face masks Amanda had always seen them
wearing before, gold and vaguely
Celtic in the case of the freckled redhead, and in the classic Noh style for the black-haired
Japanese. Keira was carrying a folded chair, and Hime was pushing
a cart laden with a silver coffee service.
Petra stepped to Amanda's side and smiled down at her "employee's"
nude, restrained body. "Dirty Girl no more," she purred, reached
out, and gave Amanda's right breast a gentle squeeze. Amanda
simply stared up at her captor, her tape-gagged face devoid of
Keira deployed the folding chair, and Petra sat. "Well..." she
sighed, "I suppose it's just as well our first encounter is being cut
short. I hate it when my 'Special Apparel Consultants' enter
their all-too-predictable 'ennui' phase.
It's not nearly as much fun as 'angry-feisty'."
Amanda turned her gaze back to the screen. Chessy's mummification
continued. The only change in routine was that the insertions of
catheter, anal plug, dildo, gag-hose, and breathing-line were made
bandage cocoon was complete. Chessy's unconscious condition
allowed the drones to work with greater efficiency.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Petra said, giving Amanda's breast another
squeeze. "And so intelligent." She reached out and slowly,
gently, pulled the tape from Amanda's lips. The translucent film
stretched Amanda's lower face as it surrendered its adhesive grip.
Amanda licked her lips and stretched her jaw. "I thought you were
sleeping in?" she asked, quietly.
Petra smiled, and accepted a cup of coffee from Hime. "No rest
for the wicked, I'm afraid," she purred, and took a sip. "Ah,
good. I'd offer you some, but we must keep your stomach as empty
as possible. Anyway... business concerns require my presence in
Europe, so I'm afraid our
first encounter must end."
"What are you talking about?"
Petra took another sip of coffee. "I'm flying to France, and
you're flying elsewhere."
Petra's smile turned playfully sinister. "You don't want me to
ruin the surprise, do you?" Amanda didn't answer. After a
few seconds, Petra continued, gesturing at the screen. "You'll be
traveling with your companions, in containerized luxury."
Amanda sighed, not having the energy to offer her usual brave, angry
"Each module has an onboard computer that controls everything," Petra explained. "I'm really
quite proud of the system. The dildo segments vibrate in
sequence, at carefully chosen harmonic frequencies. The effect
is... remarkable, even at low intensity. The gag and nostril
lines are part of a re-breathing system that scrubs carbon dioxide,
replenishes oxygen as needed, and dispenses carefully metered doses of
various anesthetic gases. The mix produces an effect similar to
absinthe—and I'm talking real absinthe, not that watered
down legal stuff. Together,
dildo and gases engender vivid, erotic, and somewhat hallucinogenic
dreams—nothing the conscious
mind will remember, of course, but
the overall experience has... lingering effects."
Amanda said nothing, but simply continued staring at the screen.
Chessy's mummification was complete, and the drones were moving on to
the Darlex sheath and overlying harness.
"Don't worry about your assistants," Petra purred. "Their
container systems put them to sleep almost immediately, as soon as the
were closed. They'll slumber and dream all the way to their
destination, as will Chessy..." Petra set down her coffee, stood,
leaned close, and kissed Amanda's nipples—first the left, and
then the right. "...as will
you. I've given you a bonus for your escape attempt, by the
way. An additional 100-thousand dollars is already in your accounts—and that's
100-thousand after taxes.
I always have my money people attend to such details with due
diligence. You'll find all your finances to be in perfect order, with absolutely
nothing a forensic accountant would flag as anything other than...
lucky." Petra took a sip of coffee, then leaned close.
"Just wait 'til our next encounter.
How does something with a medieval theme sound? The challenge of
escaping from an authentic dungeon? Cold iron? Hemp
rope? Wooden stocks and pillories? Complex, exotic torture
that combine all three? Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Just then, the door opened again, and a white-clad drone pushing a
steel cart entered. Amanda lifted her head as the cart
drew near, and beheld a clear plastic breathing mask with an attached
plastic line leading to a small gas cylinder; and a hypodermic, a stack
of cotton swabs, an alcohol dispenser, and a small glass vial.
Anonymous behind her reflective face shield, the drone began preparing
Petra lifted the breathing mask and pressed a steel flange on its
side. There was a quiet hiss, cut short when she released the
flange. "Well, this is au
revoir, Amanda," Petra said. "I hope you've enjoyed
yourself as much as I have."
"I hate you," Amanda said, quietly.
"Yes, I know," Petra answered, and placed the mask over Amanda's nose
Amanda could hear the hiss of the gas, but whatever it was, it was
odorless... or maybe it had a slight metallic
tinge... and it was cold, and—the world went black.
Cheyenne princess, dressed in a buckskin shift with long fringe.
Her hair was parted down the center and in braids, one to either side
of her face. She was bound, hand and foot, with stout rope, and
with a cotton bandanna. She was in the back of a covered wagon,
reclined on several folded trade blankets. In the front of the
wagon were Chessy and Fiona, dressed as cowgirls, and Gloria, dressed
as a vaquero, complete with
awake," Chessy noted, then handed the reins to Gloria and started
climbing into the back.
gonna be fun," Fiona said, and joined her mistress.
"Why do I
have to be the driver?" Gloria complained.
get to play with her all the time," Chessy explained.
fair," Gloria conceded.
Fiona reclined on the blankets, close to Amanda's helpless form, and
began running their hands over her body, squeezing her buckskin covered
breasts and caressing her thighs.
are tight," Fiona noted, running her hand over the strands framing
Amanda's breasts and pinning her arms to her torso.
never getting free," Chessy agreed, then licked the side of Amanda's
princess growled through her gag and struggled with all her strength,
but her captors controlled her easily.
princess," Chessy ordered, and plucked the single eagle feather from
Amanda's headband, "or I'll use this to tickle you 'til you go crazy with lust."
"Let's do it,
anyway," Fiona suggested.
to me," Chessy laughed. She reached down and pulled a knife from
her boot top, "but first, let's cut her out of all this buckskin."
her in a nice spread-eagle," Fiona suggested, producing her own knife.
began slicing Amanda's dress and pulling the remnants from her still
helplessly roped body. Her moccasins were pulled from her feet,
was no way to treat the Viceroy's daughter! Amanda's fashionably
low-cut gown was pulled off her left shoulder, nearly exposing her left nipple;
but she could do nothing to correct this shameful déshabillé. She
was bound with dozens of strands of tight hemp, from shoulders to
ankles, with several bands binding her many petticoats and the skirt of
her gown tightly around her legs. A silk handkerchief was stuffed
in her mouth, and held there by a narrowly folded silk cravat.
She was in a longboat, being rowed towards The Red Witch, the notorious
frigate that was the scourge
the sea lanes.
The captain of The Red Witch,
the infamous Red Chessy, was seated beside her, dressed in a green silk
shirt, black trousers, and black knee boots. A sheathed sword was
buckled to her side, and a brace of pistols were tucked in her
belt. A black silk scarf was tied over her head, Gypsy-fashion,
but her signature copper-red curls cascaded down her back in loose
The boat pulled alongside the anchored ship. The crew grabbed
Amanda's helpless form, none too gently, lifted her aboard, and carried
her towards the deck house.
A female, African pirate, dressed in black leather boots, pants, and
vest (scandalously exposing her stomach, arms, shoulders, and most of
her full breasts) seemed to be in charge. "Stow that cargo in the
Captain's cabin," she growled.
"First Mate Fiona!" Captain Chessy shouted.
"Aye, Captain?" the African responded.
"Set course for Dariabar."
"Aye Captain." Fiona turned to the crew. "Look lively, you
Amanda was through the door of the deck house. She had a quick
impression of surprisingly luxurious surroundings, then she was tossed
on a large bed, the door closed with a bang, and a key turned in the
lock. Amanda looked around. The frame of the bed was
suspended from creaking ropes. It swung, slowly, compensating for
motion of the ship. She could hear the crew putting the ship to
sea—then she heard something else, the tinkling clatter of a steel
Emerging from the shadows was a native maiden. She was naked, but
for the batik loincloth swaddling her loins and the steel collar around
her throat. Attached to the collar was a long chain. It
trailed away towards the stern, to a padlock that secured it to an
iron staple. The maiden's hair was black, straight, and cut in a
boyishly short manner. Her skin was brown, smooth, and
flawless—her breasts were full and firm—and her face was... beautiful.
"I am Gloria," the maiden announced, "and I am very glad to see you." She
climbed onto the bed and gave Amanda's gagged face a gentle kiss.
"Now I shall get more sleep, as our Captain has a new plaything." She kissed
Amanda again, then tugged down the front of her gown, fully exposing Amanda's left
breast. Her smile broadened, and she gave the nipple a delicate,
teasing flick with the tip of her tongue. "The Captain has taught
me many things..." She took Amanda's nipple in her mouth, and
gave it a slow, long suck—once again using the tip of her tongue to
tickle the erect, now supremely
sensitive, nubbin of flesh. "And now I shall teach you."
Amanda writhed in her bonds, twisting and testing the tight,
inescapable ropes. She moaned through her gag as Gloria kissed
and nuzzled both her breasts, her shoulders, her neck... And then—
safari costume was a mess. Her tan, cotton blouse was tattered
and torn, exposing her left shoulder, most of the lace brassiere
underneath, and a provocative glimpse of the top of her right
breast. Her dark tan, skintight jodhpurs were ripped as well, and
both blouse and jods were soiled and sweaty. Only her
saddle-brown corset-belt and knee boots were intact—scuffed, but
intact. Her hair was a tousled mess... a tastefully draped,
tousled mess. Her face was glistening with sweat and was as dirty
the rest of her tired, exhausted, overheated body. Finally, her
hands were tied behind her back and her mouth was stuffed with a
cloth held in place by a narrowly folded cloth cleave-gag.
It was night, and Amanda was surrounded by female native
warriors. All were dressed in grass skirts and coconut shell
bras. There faces were painted in bold patterns, using black,
white, and rust-red pigments. Necklaces and bracelets of animal
bones, fangs, and claws decorated their throats, wrists, and
ankles. All were armed with spears and carried shields of animal
stretched over light wooden frames. Two of the warriors, Gloria
Fiona, had Amanda by the arms, and were hustling her through a
torch-lit village of primitive huts and towards a huge, imposing wall of dressed
stone. Unseen drums boomed in a compelling rhythm, and the crowd
of warriors were shaking their spears and chanting—"Roque! Roque! Roque!"
The wall was at least a hundred feet tall. It had seen better
days, but the seams between the massive blocks were still tight
and there were no cracks or obvious flaws. Elaborate carvings
were everywhere, and there seemed to be only one theme: naked,
bound, female captives.
Amanda was hustled up a set of steps and through a dark tunnel.
As they emerged from the far side, she realized it was actually a
gate through the wall. It led to a narrow causeway of logs lashed
with vines, which,
in turn, led to a stone platform flanked by a pair of stone
columns. A deep chasm dropped on all sides, protecting the wall
like a vast dry moat. Opposite the platform, separated by only
perhaps ten feet of dark void, was the thick vegetation of virgin
jungle. Amanda was dragged between the columns, and a crowd of
natives (with Gloria and Fiona supervising) accomplished four tasks:
(1) Amanda was stripped to the skin.
(2) She was bound in a standing spread-eagle between the columns.
(3) She was slathered, from head to toe, with clear, floral-scented oil.
garland of jungle orchids was arranged atop her head, and a matching
lei was dropped over her head and arranged to tastefully drape across
her breasts, covering (and tickling) her nipples.
retreated through the tunnel. Gloria and Fiona went last, pausing
to kiss and/or pat Amanda's cheeks (on her face and elsewhere).
Amanda forced an inquiring moan through her still intact gag, looked
back over her shoulder, and beheld the log causeway retracting into the
wall and a solid stone door (it was more like
a plug), sliding forward to seal the tunnel.
later, Amanda could see the entire amazon tribe dancing atop the
waving torches and spears and continuing their chant of—"Roque! Roque! Roque!"
There was a slightly raised section of the wall, even with Amanda's
platform, and onto this stone stage stepped... Chessy! She was
dressed as the tribe's chief, with a headdress of long plumes, and
and anklets of hammered gold. Her
bra was a pair of large seashells (rather than coconuts), and she was
wearing a loincloth of some sort of striped and spotted leather.
The hide of a raptor, perhaps? A necklace of large, dagger-like
claws reinforced Amanda's guess. Her Red-haired Majesty was
flanked by Gloria and Fiona. Even at this distance, Amanda could
see the evil, sadistic smiles on all three faces.
Chessy raised her feather-decorated spear, and the dancing, chanting,
abruptly stopped. Three loud, metallic gongs sounded, then Chessy
shouted into the dark night.. "Klaatu
Seconds passed, and all Amanda could hear was her own breathing.
Chessy waved her spear, and the three gongs repeated. The
echoes faded, and once again Chessy shouted, "Klaatu barada nikkto—Roque!!"
Again, there was silence... but then Amanda heard a noise in the
distance, a crashing, as if something huge
was moving through the jungle. The canopies of the
mature forest swayed, then a giant, human, very female figure stepped into
view! She was more than sixty-feet tall! Her skin was
and tan, her muscles toned and strong, and her hair a pale
blonde. She was dressed in a ragged bikini that seemed to be made
from pieced together dinosaur hides. Her huge, incredibly blue
eyes reflected the
native torches; and when she opened her mouth in a vast, dimpled smile,
her teeth shone like polished ivory. She was—Petra La Roque!
Amanda screamed through her
gag, and tugged on her inescapable bonds.
Still smiling her sinister, gloating smile, Petra stepped to the edge
of the cliff, and stretched her giant hand towards Amanda's helpless
"Ms. Pressfield..." Petra's voice boomed and echoed from the
wall, its volume and timbre in scale with her gigantic, exquisite
body. "We meet again!"