by Van ©2013
		Chapter 5

The Phantom continued leading Gwen by the leash clipped to her straitjacket collar, and the straitjacket-bound, gagged, and hobbled prisoner continued mincing along in the wake of her leather-suited, hooded, and masked captor.

The tunnel—make that tunnels, plural—seemed to go on forever.  They passed junction after junction.  Some were simple side-branches and some bona fide crossroads with long passages leading away in different directions.  The dimly lit corridors appeared to be more-or-less identical, or at most were all minor variations on the theme of endless stretches of pipes and conduits.  The only thing breaking the monotony was the occasional steel door bearing painted stencils of seemingly random letters and numbers.  If the markings were supposed to be providing information, Gwen couldn't break the code.  Wall-mounted maps or diagrams with "you are here" icons would have been helpful, but none were in evidence.

Lack of meaningful signage aside, Gwen's sense of direction was pretty good and she began to suspect that wherever The Phantom was taking her, she was not taking the most direct route.  Of course, Gwen had no idea of the connectivity of the subterranean maze and she could be wrong.  Her captor might be making turns to avoid dead ends.  In any case, Gwen's legs were tiring and her feet sore.  The tunnel floor was even dirtier than the Nicholson Hall basement, but so far she hadn't trod on anything sharp or punishing, nothing that couldn't be classified as gritty dirt.  It was unpleasant for one as princess-like, delicate, and fastidious as Gwen (in Clem's mocking opinion), but not harmful.  The point was, her abduction was turning into a subterranean hike, and she'd just as soon it was over.

And then it was.

The Phantom unlocked a steel door, led Gwen across the threshold, then closed and relocked the door—plunging them into total darkness!  "Mrrpfh?"  Gwen heard the tap of Inga's boots on the floor.  And then, just as her leash began to go taut, a nightlight flashed on, revealing a second door at the end of a short passageway.  This was also unlocked and they entered a...  What the hell?

Inga closed and locked the second door, then led Gwen into the space beyond.  "Welcome to my Subterranean Lair," she announced as she dropped Gwen's leash.  She then walked to a rack of clothing, removed her hood and mask, and hung them on a hanger.

Gwen looked around at the old furniture, fabric wall hangings, the worktable with its racks of laboratory glassware and obsolete computers, and the giant pile of cushions that was unmistakably a lounging and/or sleeping area.  Strings of LED Christmas lights glowed overhead, adding their light to various old lamps draped with gauze-thin scarves.  Melodramatic to the point of cliché?  Yes, but clearly that was Inga's intent.  "Subterranean Lair" fit the place perfectly.  Despite her situation, despite being the helpless prisoner of the owner of the Lair in question, Gwen was impressed... aesthetically.

Inga smiled at Gwen's wide-eyed expression.  "Make yourself at home," she chuckled. 

Gwen watched her captor remove her gloves, then sit in a straight chair and unlace and remove her boots.  She's hot, Gwen thought, for a crazy-ass kidnapper.  Meanwhile, Inga had turned to unbuckling, unlacing, and peeling off the various elements of her catsuit.  She was gonna be a while.

Gwen turned away and began mincing around The Lair.  She noted a small kitchen area in a side alcove with a sink, electric cook-top, compact refrigerator, and wall-mounted cabinets.  Further along, an open door led to a simple bathroom: a commode, washbasin, and an industrial-type shower stall.  Everything was old and stained, but fastidiously clean, and the faint aroma of pine-scented disinfectant hung in the air.  Continuing her tour, Gwen passed through a screen of fabric hangings and found a desk with a comfortable-looking office chair, a laptop computer, and a reading light.  Behind the desk was a set of shelves cluttered with books and binders.  There was also a printer, a standalone hard drive, and a wireless router, all atop a small credenza.  A little shabby, was Gwen's general assessment, but with all the comforts of home.  Just the thing for a costumed villain on a budget.

Suddenly Gwen flinched.  A cool and unexpected hand had landed on her shoulder.  It was Inga, of course.  She'd changed into a simple cotton robe and her feet were as bare as Gwen's.

"Come," Inga purred.  "Take a load off while I fix us some tea."  Inga led Gwen to the lounge/sleeping area and helped her recline.  She then unsnapped the clip at the end of Gwen's leash, lifted a steel chain from the piled cushions, and padlocked it to the collar's D-ring.  Snap.

Gwen watched as Inga strolled to the kitchen, or kitchenette, or Phantom's Food Preparation Laboratory, or whatever-the-hell she called it.  She put on the kettle, then gathered the elements of a tea service and assembled them on a tray.  Gwen gave the straitjacket a perfunctory struggle, more to burn nervous energy than as an attempt to escape.  She knew she wasn't going anywhere.  She then heaved the required Sigh of Despair and relaxed.  Gwen wasn't a big tea drinker, but if it meant her gag would finally be coming out, she'd drink almost anything.  Besides... wouldn't want to be a rude guest... or kidnap victim.

Gwen didn't understand why she wasn't more freaked out.  Okay, she was freaked, but her heart was no longer hammering and she wasn't even close to panic.  And for no good reason.  Inga was pretty.  Okay, Inga was gorgeous, but how did she know she wasn't a psycho?  How did she know The Phantom wasn't going to do really horrible things to her?  She didn't know, but she wasn't panicking.  The main problem is Clem, she thought as she squirmed for comfort in the pile of pillows.  Poor Clem.  She's gonna have a cow, if she hasn't already.  Maybe twins.

The kettle whistled and Inga poured boiling water into the teapot.  She then carried the tray towards the lounging area and her waiting prisoner.  Gwen sat up and crossed her hobbled feet into a semi-lotus.

Inga set the tray on the floor next to the lounging area, then sat next to Gwen and smiled.  "It should be finished steeping by the time you're ready."  She teased back the edge of the PVC tape mummifying Gwen's lower face and began peeling it off.  When the last of the tape came free, she tossed the crumpled black mass aside, unbuckled Gwen's ball-gag, then eased the ball from her mouth.

Gwen licked her lips and worked her jaw.  Her green eyes were locked with her kidnapper's.  "Uh, thanks."

"You're welcome, Gwendoline," Inga said, then turned and poured tea into the single cup and saucer on the tray.  "Milk?  Lemon?  Sugar?"

"Uh, two lumps, please."

Inga dissolved the requested sugar in the cup, then held it to Gwen's lips.

Gwen drank, then licked her lips, again.  "That's good," she whispered.  She continued gazing at Inga.  Good god she's gorgeous, Gwen thought, as in movie star gorgeous.  "What're you gonna do to me?"

Inga's blue eyes twinkled.  "Well, first of all, I'm going to explain what's happening.  After that, we'll get around to actually doing things."

"W-what about Clem?" Gwen demanded.  "Clem is probably going crazy.  You can't just kidnap me and..."  She swallowed, again.  Obviously The Phantom could just kidnap her.  She just had.

Inga held the cup to Gwen's lips, again.  "Don't worry about your friend," she purred.  "Clementine is firmly under control."

Gwen blinked in surprise.  "What?"

Clem twisted her upper body for what felt like the millionth time, seeking some degree of slack, a misplaced knot, or anything she could use to escape her bonds.  No luck.  Clearly, Tori the Crazy Campus Cop knew her stuff, bondage-wise.  It was a simple tie, three passes of white cotton rope around her torso and arms and the support column, hitched and cinched between her body and the post.  There was some slack, but the ropes wouldn't shift, no matter what she tried, and with her wrists locked in steel, hinged handcuffs behind her back, she couldn't try much.

At least her sitting position was reasonably comfortable.  Reclined against the post with her legs bent and tucked to one side, it wasn't too bad.  Good thing, 'cause two passes of the same rope lashed her ankles together and to the base of the post.  Again, she had slack and some wiggle room, but she wasn't going anywhere.

And then there was the gag.  The cotton bandana stuffed in her mouth was doing an efficient job of stifling anything she might want to say... or scream, for that matter.  In addition, the tight, narrow cleave-gag of black electrical tape made expelling the cloying mass impossible.  Not that being gagged mattered, not when there was nobody in or near Nicholson Hall that would hear her, even if she wasn't gagged, not at this hour.

It had been something like an hour since Tori had cuffed, tied, gagged, and abandoned her in the Room of Requirement.  All Clem could do was worry—worry about herself and worry about Gwen—and continue testing her bonds.

And then—ominously—Clem heard the door at the bottom of the stairs being unlocked.  She's back!  The door opened, closed, footfalls thudded on the stairs, and—"Mrrpfh?"—Professor Pappas appeared!  She was wearing the usual skirt, blouse, and jacket with her long, black curls parted down the middle and framing her face—"Nrrf!—and was the last person on the campus Clem expected to see.

"Easy, Clem," Pappas said as she walked towards the wide-eyed, clearly amazed captive.  She dragged the futon cushion close to Clem's post, then knelt on its soft surface, reached into her jacket pocket, and produced a small multi-tool, a compact device with a folded knife blade, pliers, scissors, and who knew what else.  "Hold still, Miss Ricci," she said as she unfolded the scissors, "I very much don't want to cut you."  She leaned close and carefully snipped the band of electric tape, carefully peeled it from Clem's face, freeing strands of hair as required, then tossed the crumpled mass aside.

Clem spat the bandana from her mouth, then licked her lips and worked her jaw.  "A campus cop!" she blurted.  "She—"

"I know," Pappas interrupted.  "I know all about Officer Ballantine and Gwen."

Clem blinked in surprise and focused on the smiling Professor.  More correctly, she tried to focus.  Her glasses were askew.

Pappas adjusted Clem's glasses for her before continuing.  "Gwen is perfectly safe," she reassured the still helpless captive, "and Tori Ballantine is a pussycat, I assure you."

"Tori, she's in on what's happened to Gwen," Clem muttered, then her eyes widened.  "You're in on it."

Still smiling, Pappas nodded.  "Your friend is perfectly safe, I promise.  Now, allow me to explain."

"After you untie me?" Clem asked.

Pappas' smile broadened.  "Eventually, but first...  Gwen has been abducted by The Phantom of the Steam Tunnels."

Clem blinked, again.  "T-the what?"

"The Phantom of the Steam Tunnels," Pappas confirmed.  "She's my student.  Or rather, she was my student."

"You're Professor Pappas' grad student?" Gwen demanded.

"I was," Inga confirmed.  "Technically, I suppose I still am.  I've completed my coursework and successfully defended my dissertation, but the final paperwork hasn't cleared Administration.  I missed the deadline for June graduation, but who cares about the ceremony?  Anyway, I'm Doctor Inga Berg in all but fact."

"All but fact," Gwen sighed.  "That doesn't explain why you lurk around in secret tunnels or why you've kidnapped me."

"No, it doesn't," Inga agreed.  "My dissertation is an interdisciplinary exploration of the damsel-in-distress in Western literature.   As Pappas is my major professor, she's hosting a party in my honor.  My entire committee will be there, and I've decided to invite you and your roommate as well."

"A party?"

"It'll be tons of fun and will be an opportunity for me to demonstrate a few of what I call Damsel-in-distress archetypes, 'DiD-types,' for short."

"A party?"

"Yes," Inga chuckled, "a party, and you're invited."

"And Clem?  You aren't gonna kidnap her too, are you?"

"I've arranged for Clem to receive her own invitation," Inga purred.  "You can compare notes after all this is over."

"Kidnapping is a hell of a way to invite us to a party," Clem muttered.  "A simple note would have sufficed.  That way we could RSVP."

Pappas smiled.  "Formal RSVP's won't be necessary.  You're invited and you're going, both of you.  The Phantom insists."

"The Phantom insists?"

"For quite some time the Phantom, myself, and Officer Ballantine have been aware of the 'hobby' you share with your roommate," Pappas explained, "so we knew you'd be interested.  However, if you insist, we'll let you go and nothing more will be said."

"And Gwen?"

"Miss Percy is being given the same choice."

Clem frowned.  "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," Pappas smiled, "and I'll be glad to answer at least some of your questions, but not here.  We'll go back to my place."  She moved behind the support column and began untying the knots holding Clem in place.

Clem felt the rope melt away, then awkwardly climbed to her feet, turned her back to Pappas, and presented her cuffed hands.

"I'm afraid I don't have the required key, Miss Ricci," chuckled Pappas.  "Not to worry.  This time of night no one will see you strolling around in handcuffs."  She lifted Clem's messenger/laptop bag, dropped the strap over her shoulder, then swung it around until the bag was behind her back.  "Hold onto that and in the off chance we do encounter someone, they'll think you're supporting the bag's weight."

"As opposed to cooperating in my own kidnapping," Clem muttered.  She blushed when Pappas leaned close and planted a kiss on her right cheek.

"Exactly," the professor chuckled.  "Now, let's go."  A friendly arm draped across Clem's shoulders, she led the way to the attic stairs.

"Seriously?" Gwen demanded.  "A party?"

"A very special party, Gwendoline," Inga confirmed.

"And then you'll let us go?"

Inga smiled.  "Us?  You're not going to let me keep Clementine?  It would only be for a few days and I promise to return her none the worse for wear."

Gwen knew Inga was kidding.  She favored her kidnapper with what she called her best "brat-pout," then heaved a truly pathetic sigh.  "You have to let us both go or it's no deal."

Inga smiled.  "Of course I'll let you both go.  I promise.  Now... I know what you two have been up to in your secret attic hideaway but not what you do in the privacy of your dorm room.  So tell me, Gwendoline, have you and your roommate ever made love?"

Gwen blushed like crazy.  "W-what?"

Inga smiled as she moved close and eased Gwen onto her back on the cushions.

By the time Gwen realized what The Phantom was doing, it was too late.  Next, Inga lifted a leg over her body and settled her weight on her tummy and it was waaay too late.  "W-what are you gonna do?"  Inga's robe had parted, and Gwen could see that her hostess/kidnapper wasn't wearing any panties... and she was a natural blond.

"The Phantom is gonna welcome you to her Lair," Inga purred, then leaned close and kissed Gwen's lips.

Gwen's heart was hammering once again.  "Now look—Hey!"  Inga was squeezing her boobs!  "Stop that!"

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Inga purred, then kissed Gwen, again.  "And that's transitive and intransitive.  This feels good to both of us."

"Yes, I mean no, I mean... Stop!"

"You're a damsel-in-distress," Inga said between kisses.  "Just think of it, Gwendoline."  Kiss  "You're helpless—"  Kiss.  "—and can do nothing to stop me—"  Kiss  "—and we are going to make love."  Kiss.

Make love?  "But—ahhh!"  Gwen shivered under Inga's weight.  Her kidnapper/hostess had reached behind her back with one hand and was stroking her labia!  "Ahhh!"

"Don't you dare try closing your legs," Inga chuckled, and continued kissing Gwen's face and stroking her pussy.

Oh yeah, that's right! Gwen realized.  I can close my legs.  "Ahhh!"  But she told me not to, so...  Oh, god!

"That's a good girl," Inga whispered, then slid her fingers between Gwen's labia.

"Ahhh-eeeeh!"

"I'll fix us a midnight snack in a while," Inga promised, then planted her lips on Gwen's and began exploring her captive's mouth with her tongue.

"Mrrrpfh!"

"Maybe a nice sandwich," Inga muttered, then resumed sucking face with her prisoner.

Gwen lay on her back and gazed up at the strings of Christmas lights dangling overhead.  Her heart rate had returned to normal, as had her breathing, but she was still feeling a little flushed.  "Wow," she sighed.  "That was..."

"Orgasmic?" Inga chuckled.  She was also on her back, lying next to Gwen.  Her robe was in disarray, covering very little of her toned, slender body, and her hair was a tousled mess, like her prisoner's.

"A tad literal," Gwen responded, "don't you think?"

"Precisely literal," Inga chuckled.  She planted a quick kiss on Gwen's cheek, climbed to her feet, and adjusted her robe.  "Hungry?"

"Starving," Gwen answered with a smile.  She watched Inga stroll to the kitchen alcove and open the refrigerator.

"Hmm...  How does grilled cheese sound?  I'm a little low on greens and sliced meat at the moment."

"Anything," Gwen sighed, staring at the ceiling again.  "I missed dinner."  She closed her eyes—then snapped awake.  Inga had returned with a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches.  "I guess I dozed off," she muttered, then heaved a huge yawn.

"Sleepy kitten," Inga purred, then helped Gwen sit up.

Inga held a sandwich to Gwen's mouth and she took a bite.  "Yum," she muttered as she chewed.  Bite followed bite until the sandwich was consumed.

Meanwhile, Inga ate the second sandwich.

Gwen was mildly amazed she was taking her kidnapping and ravishment this well.  She'd been kidnapped, dragged to a Secret Lair, and ravished!  For some reason she didn't want to think about what had happened—what was happening—as being criminal.  For one thing, Inga was just too nice to be characterized as a bad guy.  For another... this was like her most secret dream come true!

"That's enough," Inga said after she swallowed the final bite of her sandwich.  "Don't want to spoil our breakfast, do we?"

"You're the kidnapper," Gwen sighed.

"You're so cute when you do that little girl thing," Inga chuckled.

"I'm girlish?" Gwen objected.  "Look in a mirror lately?"

Inga smiled.  "Spoiled Little Girl is one of my villainess archetypes," she purred.  "Trust me, you do not want to see my Spoiled Little Girl."

Gwen swallowed nervously.  "Uh, okay."

"Now," Inga said, putting the empty plate on the tray with what was left of the now room temperature tea, "since we're getting along so well, I'm going to show you a new trick."  She untied the belt of her robe and shrugged out of the garment, her only garment.

Gwen stared at Inga's nude body.  Nice boobs, she thought.  "Uh, I've already seen most of that," she muttered, "if that's what you're talking about... before, while you were, uh, busy.  Your robe came open and..."

Still smiling, Inga had cupped her breasts—her own breasts—and given them a gentle squeeze.  "I'm not going to gag you," she said.  "Down here no one can hear you scream, and I do so enjoy the little noises you make when you're about to cum.  I don't mind if you squirm and roll around a little.  In fact, I expect you to.  But if you try to close your legs, I'll put you in the pike position with your ankle-hobble clipped to the back of your collar, then lash your knees as far apart as they'll go, understand?"

Gwen tried visualizing the position described.  She wasn't quite sure of the details, but it didn't sound comfortable and she knew it would leave her totally vulnerable.  Anyway, Gwen got the message.  "Okay."

"Good girl."  Inga eased Gwen onto her back, then lay on her stomach with her head between her captive's legs.  The heels of Gwen's hobbled feet were resting on her back and her hands were on Gwen's thighs.  "Now, to business."  She extended her tongue and gave Gwen's labia a slow lick up their entire length.

A shudder shook Gwen's helpless frame.  "Oh god!"

Inga continued licking Gwen's pussy, then settled her mouth over the wiggling captive's labia, slid her tongue between the glistening folds, and used the very tip to tease her clitoris.

"Oh GAWD!"  Gwen's thigh muscles tensed, but she managed to keep her legs apart.

Inga paused in her labors.  "Maybe I should have gagged you," she chuckled, then returned to the task at hand.