by Van ©2012
		Chapter 2

"Look, I said I was sorry," Clem muttered as she coiled the lengths of cotton rope and stuffed them into Gwen's duffel.  "What else could I do?"

"Yeah," Gwen huffed, "what else but gobble a gourmet feast at the Faculty Club with Pappas while I'm locked in this hellhole writhing on the floor bound and gagged for hours and hours?"

"Geesh, over-dramatize much?"  Clem returned the ball-gag to the side pocket, zipped the duffel closed, and watched her roommate dress.

It was nearly nine o'clock and ATTIC 3B NORTH of Nicholson Hall (aka the Room of Requirement) was pretty dark.  The roommates had replaced the light bulbs in the four dangling overhead fixtures, but in a unique manner.  One fixture was given over to laptop recharging duty through the use of a screw-in tap, an extension cord, and a power strip.  The power strip also powered a small reading lamp, but at the moment the lamp was off.  Three more taps allowed the remaining fixtures to power strings of LED lights.  They were of the icicle variety, short vertical light strings dangling from a horizontal run of twisted wires.  Most such lights are intended to hang along rain-gutters and evoke actual icicles (hence the name), but Gwen had gone online and found strings with black wire and purple bulbs intended for Halloween use.  The roommates had strung the lights in a zigzag manner through the attic rafters and the result was a random (a Math major would say pseudo-random) field of hundreds of tiny points of magenta light.  The overall effect was somewhat eerie, as Gwen intended.

Gwen zipped up her jeans, pulled on and zipped up her hoodie, then sat back down on the futon cushion where she'd spent the last few hours as a bound and gagged prisoner and laced her sneakers.  It was obvious she wasn't really mad at Clem—not that she was gonna let her BFF off the hook, of course.  "So... what now?"

"Uh, I assume you're hungry," Clem muttered, "so we can go to the Sac if you want."  Sacajawea's, or "The Sac," was a popular burger joint and student hangout just off campus.  Clem knew Gwen was particularly fond of their bison-burger on a fry-bread bun with everything.  "My treat.  I'll watch you eat and continue apologizing 'til you tell me to shut up."

Gwen rolled her eyes.  "I mean this summer.  What about this summer?"  Clem had already explained about Professor Pappas' job offer.  "Where are you gonna stay?"

Clem shrugged.  "Pappas said I could crash at her place if they won't let me stay in the dorm."

"And I go home alone," Gwen sighed, "abandoned again."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Clem responded.  Her brow knitted in thought.  "Hey."

Gwen smiled.  "Hey what?"

"If you stay here with me," Clem suggested, "we can get the job done in no time, maybe just a couple of weeks, and still have time to lounge around your pool—I mean stay at your parents' house—for most of the summer."

"I knew you only loved me for the pool," Gwen teased.  "Okay, off to the Sac, and I will stay and help you count furniture—but I have one condition."

"Yes?"

Gwen smiled.  "Later."

The roommates left the attic, turning off the lights and locking the door behind them.  Clem remained none the wiser with respect to Gwen's "condition."

Tori Ballantine watched Clem and Gwen bounce down the front steps of Nicholson Hall.  Her shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and she was in uniform.  In Tori's case that meant a pair of brown hiking boots, brown jeans, and a khaki-tan Lewis & Clark Campus Police shirt with the requisite arm patches and name tag.  Less formal than the other campus cops, Tori's badge was clipped to her belt, along with her holstered Glock, handcuff case, and radio.

Tori's radio was special, like her status.  It was half the size of the handie-talkies carried by the other cops and was actually a radio, compact computer, and smart phone in one rugged case.  Her fellow officers teased her by calling it her "tricorder."  The device was a product of Salamandras International's R&D Division and wasn't on the market.

Tori's special status was also linked to Salamandras.  Her position was funded by the corporation—"Sally-Corp" for short—and Tori had come with the money.  Transferred to the campus force from Sally-Corp's security division, her mandate was the oversight and protection of Salamandras' many multimillion-dollar research projects scattered across the campus.  She trained and mustered with the rest of the campus cops but was not on the regular patrol schedule.  However, Tori's job was anything but cushy.  Industrial espionage of classified research and/or the theft of sensitive technology were constant concerns.  Tori was kept very busy checking on projects in various labs and offices—and that included "special projects" that involved faculty and students of "special interest."

Gwen and Clem faded into the distance, passing in and out of the pools of light around the widely spaced lamp posts lining the sidewalk, but never passed completely out of view.

Tori was well away from the nearest lights and leaning against the trunk of a tree.  It was one of several casual surveillance posts she'd established across the campus.  She didn't spend all her time rummaging through faculty files and using her tricorder to verify the bar-codes and security transponders on hideously expensive pieces of exotic equipment.  Sometimes, Tori liked to just keep an eye on things.  It helped her fellow campus cops keep the peace and kept the muttering about her flexible work schedule to a minimum.  And it was also a good cover for her "special" duties.

Tori smiled.  There she is.

A dark, slender, female figure had emerged from a side door of Nicolson Hall.  Her sneakers, jeans, hoodie, and small backpack/book-bag were uniformly black.  The hood was up, but the figure's appearance and demeanor weren't particularly sinister.  The Lewis & Clark student body had its share of Goths and Vampire-wannabes, so the black outfit might have been a fashion statement.  In any case, the "creature of the night" was following Gwen and Clem.  If not shadowing them directly, she was headed in the same direction.

As the figure in black passed from light to light, she did more or less disappear... and reappear.  She was maintaining a constant distance from Gwen and Clem, but had still done nothing Tori could actually call suspicious.

Tori pulled out her tricorder and tapped its screen to navigate a series of menus.  A map of the L&C campus appeared and she made a finger spreading gesture to enlarge the scale and zoom to her current location.  Three tiny icons appeared.  The tricorder was pinging the student ID cards of Clem, Gwen, and a third individual.  The map locations matched the actual locations of the two roommates and the figure-in-black, confirming her identity.

"The 'Phantom of the Steam Tunnels' is on the prowl," Tori chuckled under her breath.  She blanked the screen, returned the tricorder to her belt, and headed for the main campus police office.  She intended to stroll around for a while longer, maybe 'til the midnight shift change.  It was getting nippy and she needed her jacket.

This could be an interesting summer, Tori thought, still smiling.

Suddenly, the tricorder buzzed, signaling an incoming call.  Tori pulled out the device, read the text message on the screen—and smiled.  The tricorder slid back into its holster and she strolled away from the tree, heading in a different direction from the roommates and the figure-in-black and the campus police office.  Her plans had changed.

Clem had fulfilled her solemn vow to watch Gwen consume a bison-burger and fry-bread grease bomb at the Sac (stealing only a few of her double-dipped fries in the process) and they were back in their dorm room.  "No," she said.  "No way in hell.  Not gonna happen."

"Why not?" Gwen demanded.  "Aren't you curious?  I know I am."

"Your brain is curious," Clem huffed, "possibly abnormal.  You should donate it to the Neuroscience Department.  No."

"You've studied the book," Gwen said, "I've studied the book, and I need closure for the horrible-evil-wicked trick you just played on me."  The book in question was Douglas Kent's Complete Shibari Volume 1: Land, of course.  The trick was being abandoned in the Room of Requirement ball-gagged and tightly and elaborately roped from head to toe wearing nothing but her bathing suit.

"That's not fair," Clem complained.  "You know I didn't have any choice.  Next time you want me to bring Pappas up to the attic and show you off?"

"I'm not going to leave this alone 'til you say yes," Gwen huffed.

Clem sighed.  Gwen could be a whining, pouting, royal pain-in-the-butt for days when she got like this.  (And Clem was curious... a little.)  "Okay, but remember, what goes around comes around, and this is a one time only deal."

Gwen smiled and went to the closet for her duffel—not the small duffel she'd taken to the attic—but her big duffel.  "Oh, goodie-goodie-goodie.  Strip."

"Oh yeah, like that's gonna happen," Clem muttered.  "Don't press your luck."

"Bra and panties," Gwen chuckled.  "Chop chop.  It's traditional."

Clem rolled her eyes and pulled her top over her head.  "I'm curious and stupid," she muttered under her breath.

Kimberly Pappas stepped from the shower.  She was feeling very pleased with herself.  The plan was coming together.

Truth be told, the use of the word "plan" suggested a level of scheming and control that would be inappropriate.  Clementine and her roommate might or might not behave as expected, and she didn't even know if Gwendoline, the roommate, would decide to remain on campus and help with the job.  She'd make the suggestion herself if they didn't arrive at the obvious conclusion on their own.  In any case, the youngsters were almost certainly in for a summer of exciting fun—and so was "The Phantom."

Kim didn't consider herself to be a manipulative person.  After all, no one could argue it was wrong of her to give her students subtle (or not so subtle) encouragement to follow a path they had already chosen for themselves, and being a mentor was her mandate as Clementine's faculty adviser.

Kim toweled her body dry, patted her face, then tossed the towel in the bathroom hamper.  She then removed her plastic shower cap and the elastic band that had kept her long, dark curls coiled atop her head.  She shook out her hair and exited the bathroom—"Mrrf!"—and was immediately grabbed and a hand clamped over her mouth!

Kim twisted and struggled and tried to kick, but her attacker was strong and had her arms trapped behind her back with her elbows crushed together.  She was helpless.  "Nrrrmf!"

"Hush," an amused and familiar female voice whispered in her left ear.  "Stop struggling or I'll put you in a sleeper hold."

The hand left Kim's mouth, but her naked body was still helpless in her attacker's embrace.  "You're early," Kim hissed.

"I was already in the neighborhood," Tori purred.  "Your booty-call ruined my plans for the evening.  I haven't even eaten yet."

"I can cook you something," Kim offered.

"No, you'll be otherwise occupied," Tori whispered, then kissed Kim's left ear.  "I'll fix somethng myself."

"Hey!"  Tori had shoved Kim onto her bed.  She bounced on her stomach, then—"Ooof!"—Tori was astride her body, kneeling on the bed with her denim-clad knees tucked against her bare hips.  Kim's hands were pulled behind her back—Vrrrrrip-vrrrrrip!—and hard plastic bands tightened around her wrists.  "I hate those things," she muttered.

"Poor baby," Tori cooed.  The things in question were "flex cuffs," two thick, heavy-duty cable-ties fused together at the clamp end to form a single unit.  When closed around a prisoner's wrists they formed a "═B" shape, with the "═" being the free ends of the ties.  "They cut my wrists."

"Not like my steel cuffs cut your wrists," Tori responded, "and not if you don't struggle."  She reversed direction and bound Kim's ankles together with a second pair of flex cuffs.  Vrrrrrip-vrrrrrip!  "You didn't shave your legs," she noted.

"I don't shave them every night," Kim sighed.

"No problem," Tori laughed as she climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom.  "I'll shave them for you."

"You can't shave my legs on the bed," Kim complained.  "You'll make a mess."

"Then I'll carry you back into the shower!" Tori called from the bathroom.  She returned to the bedroom with a pair of panties in each hand.  "These were the on the top of the pile in your hamper, so I assume they're today's and yesterday's."

Kim glared at Tori and didn't answer.  She knew what was coming and there was no point in verifying the chronology of her intimate apparel or in protesting.  She watched as Officer Ballantine opened the lower drawer of her bedside table and produced a three-inch roll of flesh-colored coban bandage wrap.

"It's possible you might be late for work in the mornin', Doc.  Good thing Spring classes are over."   Tori climbed back on the bed, straddled Kim's waist, and settled her weight on her tummy.

"Oof!" Kim complained, glaring at her captor.  "You're putting on weight."

"Watch it!" Tori huffed, "or I'll shave more than your legs.  Open wide."

Kim continued glaring, but did open her mouth.

Tori stuffed both pairs of panties into Kim's mouth, then freed the end of the tape from the roll and took two tight, mouth-cleaving turns around Kim's head and tousled hair to keep them there.  She then took several more turns, this time stretching the tape wide to mummify Kim's lower face.  Smiling sweetly, she reached the end of the roll, tossed away the cardboard tube, and smoothed the tape, making sure there was a tight seal covering Tori's lower face from nose to chin.  "There.  Now we won't disturb the neighbors."  She then leaned to the side and reached into the still open drawer and pulled out a torpedo-style vibrator.  Its glistening shaft and rounded tip were a truly hideous shade of bright purple latex mottled with swirls of lavender.  "That is one ugly color," she huffed, then twisted the ring at the base and the torpedo began to buzzzzz.

Kim mewled through her gag and rolled on the bed, but she knew she wasn't going anywhere (and was anything but upset about it).

Tori unlaced and kicked off her boots, pulled off her socks, then reclined on the bed full-length and pulled Kim into a close hug.

Kim tried to squirm away.  "Mrrrf!"

"Settle down, Doc," Tori purred, and slid one of her jeans-clad legs between Kim's naked and ankle-bound legs.  "I am hungry, but we have time for round one."  She used the tip of the vibrator to tease Kim's nipples.  "Maybe I'll shave your legs in the morning.  It's gettin' late if I'm gonna fix a midnight snack and boink your brains out."

Kim shuddered and tugged on her plastic bonds.  Tori's leg was keeping her from closing her legs—closing them enough to keep the vibrator away from her crotch, anyway—and it was already gliding down her body.  Tori was tracing the undersides of her breasts—Buzzz—and the flat muscles of her abdomen—Buzzz—and the pubic bush she had just threatened to shave.  And then it was gliding over her labia.  "Mrrrrrf."

"Hush," Tori chuckled.  "Save your strength."  The purple torpedo continued working its magic, and Tori continued her wicked smile.  "Don't forget, you're gonna have to do me a few times before morning."

Buzzzzz...

Kim continued writhing and shivering, and Tori continued teasing her pussy with the vibrator.

"I watch you when you workout in the gym," Tori whispered in Kim's right ear.  "And you watch me.  I've seen you do it.  Maybe the next time you slip into the steam room I'll grab you and we can see if this thing—"  She slid the tip of the vibrator between Kim's labia and nudged her clitoris.  "—works in the heat."  She began sliding the torpedo in and out Kim's pussy.  "That's another advantage of flex cuffs.  Handcuffs can get way too hot in the steam room.  Steel conducts heat much better than plastic."

Kim was getting close to climax.  She tugged on her wrist bonds and mewled through her gag.  "M'mmmpfh!"

"Stop that," Tori chuckled.  "You don't want to mark your wrists, remember?  Now... where was I?"

"Nrrrmff."

"Oh yeah, the steam room."  Buzzzzz.  "Imagine a couple of students, say... Clem and her friend Gwen... wandering into the steam room and finding the two of us naked and dripping with sweat—you bound and gagged—me sliding this thing in and out of your pussy—"  Buzzzzz.  "—like this.  Talk about your memorable college experiences."

"MMMMMF!"

"Yesssss," Tori whispered, then kissed Kim's ear.  "Cum for Tori.  Cum like a bunny."

And Kim did cum—and cum—and cum.

"There's my girl," Tori chuckled.

Kim panted through flaring nostrils, her breasts heaving and her skin flushed and glowing.

Tori turned off the vibrator and gave Kim's upper body another hug.  "You get so very pink and wet after you cum," she whispered, sliding the palm of her right hand across Kim's pussy.  "Pink and wet."

Kim's breathing and heart rates returned to normal.  She did workout in the gym and she was in good shape.

Tori was enlarging her massage to include Kim's thighs and abdomen, and was gently squeezing one of her breasts with her other hand.  She teased the still erect nipple.  "I wish I could keep you like this for a week," Tori sighed.  "I wish I could keep you bound and gagged and naked in your basement, locked in that little closet next to your water heater."  She slid her index finger between Kim's labia and her captive shivered in response.  "I'd come over on my lunch breaks and at night, take you out of your dirty little dungeon, and fuck you like crazy."

"Mmmmpfh."

"Yes," Tori chuckled.  "Like crazy."  She kissed Kim's gagged mouth, then climbed from the bed and went to the walk-in closet.

Kim sighed through her gag, snuggled against the rumpled bedclothes, and watched Tori return to the bed with a large coil of braided nylon rope.  This wasn't Tori's first visit.  She knew where Kim kept all her "hobby supplies."

Tori hitched a bend of rope between Kim's flex cuffed wrists and pulled the long free end through the loop, then did the same with her flex cuffed ankles.  She tied one end of the rope around the upper right bedpost, then tied the other end to the lower left bedpost.  As a result, Kim was now loosely hogtied on her bed.  There was enough slack in the rope to let her roll around a little, but the terminal knots were impossible for her to reach.

"I'm gonna make a sandwich and grab a beer," Tori announced as she strolled to the bedroom door.  She paused at the threshold and smiled.  "Don't go anywhere."

The door closed—Thunk—and Kim was alone... at least for a while.  She knew Tori would be back.

The glowing green numbers of Gwen's alarm clock read "2:13."  Clem's clock was turned around to face her bed, but Gwen knew they agreed to within a few seconds.  The two digital displays were the only lights shining inside the dorm room, but the drapes were open and the campus lights below were providing plenty of light for dark-adapted eyes.

Gwen's eyes were dark adapted, and had been for the last two and a half hours, since shortly after she'd finished "tucking Clem in for the night" and turned off the lights.  Gwen was in her usual spring/summer pajamas of panties and tank-top and was in her bed, reclined on her back with the top-sheet and light fleece blanket pulled up to her chin.  Her head and shoulders were cushioned by a pair of large pillows and she was gazing across the dark room.

Clem was not in her bed.  In point of fact, Gwen's roommate was sitting in her desk chair in her underwear—bra and panties—and she'd be staying there until Gwen decided otherwise.

Cotton rope bound Clem's wrists behind her back and the chair's back with her hands together, palm-to-palm and finger-to-finger.  Tight bands of rope also bound her elbows a few inches apart and lashed her legs together at her thighs, above and below her knees, and her ankles.  More rope bound her to the chair, lashed around her waist, cinched and looped above and below her breasts and across her shoulders, and anchoring her bound ankles to the cross-brace joining the chair's legs.  Oh-by-the-way, Gwen had used thin white cord to bind Clem's thumbs together and had done the same to her big toes.

A balled sock was stuffed in Clem's mouth and held there by a narrowly folded scarf tied as a cleave-gag—but that wasn't enough.  Gwen had also placed a second folded scarf over Gwen's packed mouth and it was held in place by a third, more widely folded scarf.

Wisely, Gwen had bound Clem's wrists and ankles and tied the cleave-gag (with stuffing) before tipping her hand that she intended to go bat-crap-crazy with her entire rope collection and apply the Über-gag.  All Clem could do was stare daggers, squirm, wiggle, writhe, and mewl through her very effective gag as doubled strand after doubled strand of rope passed around her body, was pulled taut, cinched tight enough to dimple her skin, and was tied off.  This was a blatant violation of the roommates' rules with respect to bondage in the dorm.  There was no way Gwen could release her prisoner in a reasonable amount of time if someone came banging on the door.  Of course, there was probably something like eight people left in the entire dorm, and none of them were on this floor, as far as they knew.  The odds of a late night visitor were astronomically small.

Even more damning, Gwen had absolutely no excuse for the thumb and toe bondage!

Clem's displeasure and condemnation were unmistakable, so Gwen did the only logical thing: she folded a fifth scarf and blindfolded her.  She then kissed the tip of Clem's nose, wished her "Good night," turned out the lights, and climbed into bed.

Lit only by the indirect light of the sodium vapor lights shining through the window from below, Clem fought her bondage as Gwen watched.  The web of rope dimpled Gwen's skin as she struggled—and while her roommate writhed in her chair, Gwen pleasured herself.  Slowly.  Quietly.  She didn't want Clem to know what she was doing, but she couldn't help herself.  After several long minutes, with the mate of the sock in Clem's mouth in her mouth, Gwen did some writhing of her own—and she came.

And about the time Gwen achieved climax, Clem accepted her fate, which was—to put it simply—that of a bound, gagged, helpless, semi-naked damsel-in-distress.  She slumped in her bonds and waited for her kidnapper to become her rescuer.

Gwen basked in the afterglow and gazed at Clem's bound body.  Her BFF's bra-clad breasts rose and fell with every breath—the ropes tightening, ever so slightly—then slackening, ever so slightly.  She's so beautiful, Gwen thought, lightly stroking her pussy.  And she's gonna be so pissed when I let her go.  Gwen had already decided to do that about four o'clock... or five... which would be about the same length of time she'd spent bound and gagged in the Room of Requirement.

Clem will want to take epic revenge, Gwen mused.  And won't THAT be terrible.