by Van ©2004
	Chapter 7

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

Patty and Kiera sat slumped in their chairs.  They had long since satisfied themselves that escape was impossible.  Naked, their wrists cuffed and cable-tied to their chairbacks, their ankles cuffed and cable-tied to the right legs of their chairs, their lips sealed with multiple strips of translucent tape... they knew themselves to be completely helpless.

The sun was setting, and the parking lot below was beginning to empty.  As the captives watched through the mirrored window-wall of their office prison, the employees of the business in the next building shuffled out to their cars in dribs and drabs, and departed.  Eventually, the entire lot was empty, and the last orange rays of the sun were bathing the clouds.

Paty and Kiera sat in their bonds, and waited.

Suddenly, the glass door of the office slid open with a dry scrape.  The prisoners lifted their heads and found Lillian striding through the door, a broad smile on her beautiful face.  "Good evening, interns!" she said.  "Your clothes are safely deposited back in your dorm room, suitably scattered about, of course.  And I left your car in the appropriate student parking lot.  All part of the service.  Hungry?"  She was carrying a large paper cup with a plastic lid, and a bulging paper bag.  Both had the logo of "Fat-Burger", a popular student dive bordering the university campus.

The roommates locked eyes and sighed, then turned to face at their captor.  They were hungry.

Lillian deposited the bag and cup on the floor, then stepped behind Kiera's chair.  She pulled a blade from her boot and severed the cable-ties securing the redhead's wrist and ankle cuffs.  She lifted Kiera from the chair and sat her on her butt on the carpet.

Lillian leaned lose and whispered in Kiera's ear.  "I don't have to warn you again about the consequences of resistance, do I?"

Kiera sighed, shook her head, then watched as a key was inserted in her cuffs, they were released, and she was re-secured in a new configuration.  When Lillian stepped back, Kiera found her left wrist cuffed to her right ankle and an empty cuff dangling from her right wrist.  Kiera tossed her head to get her hair out of her face, then began peeling the strips of tape from her lips.  By the time this was accomplished, Lillian had Patty out of her chair and had the blonde's right wrist cuffed to her left ankle.

"Do you have to be such a bitch?" Kiera inquired, then squealed as Lillian dragged her across the carpet on her naked butt until she was beside her roommate.  "Ow!" Kiera complained, then sighed as Lillian locked the loose cuff on her right wrist through the loose cuff on Patty's left.  This left about a foot of interlocked steel between the roommates' hands.  "This is mean!" Kiera observed.

Lillian chuckled, grabbed the chairs, and slid them to the far wall.  "If I was mean," she purred, "I would have cuffed you wrist-to-wrist.  Also, I wouldn't have brought you extra ketchup."

Patty pulled the last of the tape from her lips.  "I hate ketchup," she muttered, working her lips and straightening her tousled hair with her free hand.

"There's also mayo and mustard," Lillian said, then opened the bag, took out a large, paper-covered lump, and peeled back the wrapper.  "A 'mega-monster-burger', with the works."

She arranged the wrapper on the floor like a small, greasy picnic blanket, pulled the knife from her boot, and cut the burger in two with one quick stroke.  She used a paper napkin to wipe the blade, it disappeared back into her boot, then she dumped a large packet of fries between the two halves of the burger.

She peeled the wrapper from a straw, inserted it in the drink lid, then took a sip.  "Yum... Extra-large vanilla shake!"  She set the cup on the carpet, next to the burger and fries, then walked to the door.   "Bon appétit!"

"Hey!" Patty complained.  "You're really gonna make us eat like this?"  She lifted her left hand, dragging Kiera's right hand and the two linked cuffs along for the ride.

Lillian's smile turned absolutely evil.  "It's called 'cooperation'," she said, "something all interns must learn."  She spun on her heel and left the office.  The door slid closed, and she disappeared into the glass-distorted darkness of the maze of corridors.

Kiera and Patty sighed, then scooted across the carpet until they were within range of the waiting food.

"Grease-burger," Patty said sadly.

"Grease-burger," Kiera agreed.  "I hate onions."

"I know," Patty said, guided their joined hands to the food, and helped her roommate remove the onions from the left half of the burger and transfer them to the right.  They dumped the packets of condiments from the bag.  "Mustard only for you, right?"

Kiera nodded, picked up a mustard packet, lifted it to her lips, and tried to tear it open with her teeth.  Encumbered by Patty's left arm, she failed in a spectacular manner.  Mustard spurted from the packet and landed on Patty's left breast and stomach.  "Sorry," she mumbled, and squeezed the remaining mustard on her half of the burger.

Patty stared at her roommate in mild disgust as she opened a second mustard packet and squeezed its contents over her half of the meal.

Kiera reached for a napkin.  "I said I was sorry," she said, and tried to wipe the yellow globs from Patty's breast.

Patty jerked their cuff-joined hands away and deftly snatched the napkin from Kiera's hand.  "I'll do it," she mumbled, and succeeded in wiping most of the mustard from her skin.

"It's not like this is easy," Kiera said.

"Like I have practice dining in handcuffs?" Patty huffed, then smiled.  "Don't have a cow.  No harm done."

"Okay," Kiera whispered.  "Mayo?"  Patty nodded, and they reached in concert for the required packet.

Patty's half of the burger was prepared, and the captives took turns consuming the greasy feast.

Suddenly, Patty paused, a fry half-way to her open mouth.

"What?" Kiera demanded.

Patty popped the fry in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and smiled.  "Our 'hostess' may have made a mistake," she whispered.

"What?" Kiera whispered back.

Patty lifted her chin and stared at the red tuft sticking out of the ceiling tile overhead, the end of the narcotic dart Lillian had fired to frighten them into submission.

"Can we reach it?" Kiera asked.

Patty smiled.  "We pull over the chairs, I climb onto them, straddling the backs, you brace me with your free leg.  Piece of cake!"

Kiera gave her roommate a skeptical stare.

"Okay, okay," Patty admitted, "it won't be easy."

"Won't be easy?" Kiera scoffed.  "We can audition for the circus if we pull this off."

Patty smiled.  "We'll be a popular act, especially in these costumes."

Kiera gave her friend a pained look, then stared up at the dart.  "Well, the ceiling is kinda low.  What if we somehow do manage to get it, find a way to plunk it into what's-her-name, and only then find out all the drug squirted out when it hit the tile?"

Patty sighed, and locked eyes with her friend.  "Leather-Bitch-Girl's name is 'Lillian Steele', and in answer to your question; we piss her off big-time, and she probably shows us those rope-yoga tricks we were warned about."

Kiera sighed.  "It'll go well with our contortionist act."  Then her lips curled in a brave smile.  "Nothing ventured..."

Patty smiled back.  "Nothing gained.  Let's get the dart, then finish eating.  She could come back at any time."

Cynthia's toes were throbbing.  They ached.  In fact, they hurt!  The ballet shoes Lillian had laced, strapped, and locked on her feet were punishingly tight, forcing her full weight onto her toes.  Cynthia was seriously considering letting herself cry.

The scientist had studied ballet until her early teen years, abandoning classes only when it became obvious she lacked the stature to make a career as a ballerina.  (She was also too much of a math-loving computer geek to devote her life to dance.)  She'd hated toe shoes then, and she certainly hated them now, especially in concert with a spreader-bar, tight corset, neck-immobilizing collar and gag, and suspension cuffs holding her in a standing spread-eagle.

The sun had set, and the office Lillian had left her in was now quite dark, lit only by the glare of the lights of the parking lot, far below.

The door slid open, and Cynthia opened her eyes.  Her nemesis had returned.  Lillian was dressed in the same black leather boots, pants, and toreador jacket as before.  Cynthia stared at her kidnapper and tormentor with sad, tired eyes.

Lillian stepped forward, ran her fingers through Cynthia's short brown locks, then planted a warm kiss on the captive's forehead.  "Poor baby," she whispered.  "That should be enough serious punishment to satisfy our employers.  I hope you don't make me put you through something like this again."

To Cynthia's surprise, Lillian's tone was neither gloating or sarcastic.  She watched as Lillian untied the rope from the support column, and slowly played it out.  The pulleys overhead squealed and rope slithered.  Cynthia first dropped to her knees, then collapsed to the carpet.  Lillian knelt, removed the suspension cuffs from her wrists, removed the spreader-bar from the ankle cuffs of her shoes, and snapped the shoe cuffs together.

Cynthia mewed through her gag, and her hands went to the laces securing the hateful collar around her neck and lower face.  Lillian rolled her onto her stomach and straddled Cynthia's corseted waist, then pulled her hands together behind her back, and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.  She then pulled her knife and sliced the laces of the posture collar with one deft stroke.  The knife was returned to her boot, and she released the gag's buckles.

Cynthia lifted her head free from the loose leather apparatus and spat the plug from her mouth.  "I hate you!" she gasped in a hoarse whisper.

"I know you do, Doctor," Lillian answered.  "Let's go someplace we can 'hate' each other in style."  She lifted Cynthia onto her shoulder, feet to the front and head to the rear, and carried her from the room.

The petite prisoner kicked her bound feet and twisted her wrists in their cuffs.  "Monster!" she muttered.

"Hush!" Lillian laughed, slapped Cynthia's naked rear, then rested her hand on the warm, dimpled flesh.

They entered another seventh floor office, and Lillian deposited her prisoner on a padded couch.  Cynthia watched as black nylon straps tightened across her chest, her corseted waist, and her thighs.  She craned her head and realized she was on a gurney... a thick, full-length pad on a wheeled, adjustable frame of tubular aluminum.

Cynthia winced as Lillian pulled her joined hands from behind her back and to the side, and unlocked her handcuffs.  "Ow!" she complained .  "You're wrenching my shoulder!"  Lillian was strapping a wide, padded leather cuff around her left wrist.  "Can't you just let me rest?" Cynthia pouted.  "Why do you have to keep me tied up all the time?"

Lillian stepped around the gurney and secured Cynthia's right wrist.  "You are a naughty girl, remember?" she said, then shortened and buckled the strap connecting the cuff to the frame.  "Naughty girls get tied up.  Corporate policy."

Cynthia tugged on the cuffs and twisted under the gurney's straps.  "You can take your corporate policy and—m'wrf!"  Lillian had seized her head and was giving her a savage kiss.  Cynthia struggled and moaned, then found herself returning the kiss, using her tongue to explore her captor's mouth, even as Lillian's tongue explored her own.

As the kiss continued, the fingers of Lillian's left hand entangled themselves in Cynthia's hair, and she took a gentle, firm grip.  At the same time, her right hand slid down Cynthia's bare shoulder, gave her left breast a soft squeeze, continued down the smooth leather of the tight corset, and on to her sex.  Her palm resting on the prisoner's pubic thatch, her fingers slid between the Cynthia's clenched thighs to caress her flushed, glistening labia.

Long seconds of licking, sucking, lip-smacking, and tongue-wrapping continued, then Lillian pulled away.  Captive and captor locked eyes.  Lillian's smile was at once gloating and warm.  Cynthia wiggled and writhed in her bonds, and was unable to keep a shy smile from her blushing, glistening face.

Lillian's right hand continued its slow, light caress.  "Naughty... and wet," she whispered.

"I–ahhh–hate you!" Cynthia responded, pausing in mid-statement to shudder and moan as Lillian teased her clitoris.

Lillian laughed.  "I can tell," she said, then released Cynthia's hair and sex.  She licked the fingers of her right hand, one-by-one, continuing to smile at her prisoner.

"Bitch!" Cynthia hissed (her blush deepening) and she turned her face to the side.

Lillian produced the now all-to-familiar roll of translucent medical tape, and snapped off a six-inch strip.  "You know the drill," she purred.

Cynthia turned her face back and glared at her captor, but allowed the tape to be pressed and smoothed over her pouting lips without resistance.

Lillian stood and methodically tightened all of the gurney's straps—chest, waist, and thighs—tugging on the black nylon until they dimpled Cynthia's skin and pressed her into the padding.  She then unlocked the ankle cuff of Cynthia's left shoe, released the laces, and slid the hateful (but beautiful) thing from her foot.

Cynthia sighed and flexed her foot, then rolled her eyes and moaned softly as her toes and foot received a gentle, expert massage from her captor.

"Pretty and pink," Lillian observed, "but none the worse for wear."  The massage continued for more than a minute, then she slid the unresisting foot into the embrace of a padded cuff similar to those holding Cynthia's wrists at her sides.  She tightened and buckled the cuff's straps, then turned her attention to her prisoner's right shoe.  It was removed, the strong, small foot received its own therapeutic massage, and was locked in its own padded ankle cuff.

Cynthia tugged on her restraints.  Pinned on her back against the soft padding, her arms at her sides and legs slightly spread, she was comfortable, but helpless.  She closed her eyes, sighed, then opened them to find Lillian smiling down at her, holding something new in her hands.

"This is a toy Salamandras had made for me," the grinning brunette explained.  She held up the curiously shaped object of hot pink plastic.  It was festooned with long, narrow, dangling strips of what looked like black rubber.  "The basic design is similar to the 'butterfly', but I had them include a small egg so it can stimulate the clitoris and the outer vagina."

Cynthia's eyes popped wide.  "M'mmpfh???"  Vagina?

Lillian released the gurney's thigh strap and set to work.  Cynthia rolled her hips and struggled, but couldn't prevent Lillian from easing the pink "toy" between her labia, nestling it against her clitoris, and strapping it in place.  Soon, rubber strips looped each of her upper thighs, and linked the object's petal-like flanges to the back and front of her corset.  Lillian restored the thigh strap, pulling it as taut as before, then took a step back.

Cynthia lifted her tape-gagged head and stared down her strapped, cuffed and helpless body at the object strapped over and inside her sex.  She wiggled and squirmed, but was unable to dislodge the smooth, glistening device.

Lillian held her PDA, lifted its cover, snapped free the stylus, and tapped her way through a menu.  "Isn't wireless technology wonderful?" she asked, and tapped the screen a final time.

Cynthia screamed through her gag and struggled in earnest.  Lillian's pink toy was squirming and vibrating!  She bucked and strained against her restrains, then went perfectly still.  The vibrator's initial buzzing had dropped to a gentle hum.

"This will keep you in the proper frame of mind while I go about my evening chores," Lillian explained, smiling down at her slowly writhing prisoner.  "I'll be back with a late dinner.  How does Italian sound?  Spaghetti or linguini?  Chicken of some kind?"

Her breasts heaving, Cynthia lifted her head and locked eyes with her tormentor.  She shook her head, forcing pitiful moans past her taped lips.

"You'll love it," Lillian continued.  "I'll get a nice Chianti to go with."  She folded the PDA's screen and tucked it back in her pocket.  "'Pinkie's' buzz will vary in intensity and duration," she explained, "according to a program that's supposed to keep you entertained, but prevent you from cumming."

She lifted Cynthia's shoulders and placed a small pillow under her head, then leaned close and kissed Cynthia's taped lips.  "Let me know if it works," she purred, combing Cynthia's bangs with her fingers.  "I only got to test it a few times before getting sidetracked with your 'recruitment'."  She stood, spun on her booted heel, and walked through the door.  "Later!"

Cynthia screamed through her gag, but the door was already closing.  She struggled and bucked against her bonds in frustration, but it was pointless.  She was completely helpless, as always.  The petite captive shuddered and rolled her hips.  "Pinkie" was slowly building to its next pre-programmed crescendo.

Patty and Kiera looked up as the door of their office cell opened.  Lillian strode across the threshold, several coils of black rope in each hand.  She dropped the rope and smiled down at her prisoners, hands on hips.  Everything was as she'd left it, the naked, captive coeds sitting on the carpet in the center of the dark space, and the two chairs against the far window-wall.  The only change was the cup, wrappers, and condiment packets of the prisoner's evening meal had been gathered, stuffed into the paper bag, and were waiting on the floor for a trip to the trash.

Lillian smiled and kicked the bag towards the door.  "Here's the plan, ladies," she said with a cheerful smile.  "I take you to the 'little intern's room' one at a time, you take a nice tinkle, then I tuck you in for the night.  Who wants to go first?"

The roommates sighed in perfect unison, the very picture of forlorn defeat.

"You go first," Kiera muttered.

"Okay," Patty sighed, and lifted her left hand, palm up.  Kiera's right hand and the two pair of cuffs came with it, of course.  The redhead's hand was closed in a loose fist.

Lillian pulled out her key, knelt on one knee, and leaned forward to unlock the cuffs.

Suddenly, Patty grabbed her palm, Kiera grabbed her wrist, and the coeds rolled back.  Lillian planted her feet and leaped, flew over the captives, landed on her right shoulder, and rolled to a fighting crouch.

"Why you little twerps!" she growled.  "What the hell?"  She stared down at the dart protruding from the back of her right hand, and blinked.  She was finding it difficult to focus.  "I'm going to... to..."  Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she collapsed like a rag doll.

The captives scuttled in a quick spin on their butts, then scrambled for the handcuff key.  In less than a minute they were free of all the cuffs, and were standing over the unconscious Lillian.

"Good job, Red," Patty said.  "You nailed her."

"I nearly peed my pants," Kiera admitted, "figuratively speaking, that is."

Patty nodded.  "And speaking of pants..."

The naked roommates descended on their former captor.  They pulled off Lillian's boots, then her leather pants.  The jacket was next, followed by her panties and tank-top.  In the process, they discovered Lillian's boot knife, dart pistol, PDA, and the partially used roll of medical tape.

Kiera watched as Patty donned Lillian's costume, with the exception of her panties.  "I still think we should share," she muttered.

"I'm more-or-less her size," Patty answered.  "You're a little small.  You want the jacket?"

Kiera snorted in disgust.  "That'll work.  Naked from the bellybutton down?  I'll wait 'til we find wherever she's stashed the rest of her wardrobe."

Patty nodded.  "Assuming she has more clothes stashed someplace," she muttered.  "Maybe we'll find some curtains, or something."

Kiera gave Patty a pained look, then turned to gaze at the limp, and now nude Lillian.  "No real tan lines," she observed.  "Well, how you want to handle this? ...meaning her."

"It'd be a pity to waste these handcuffs," Patty growled, then prodded the neat black coils heaped on the carpet, "or all this rope."

Lillian opened her eyes.  She was tied to one of the chairs, ankles together and arms behind the chairback.  Two pair of hinged cuffs were around her ankles, and another two pair around her wrists.  Ropes bound her elbows, knees, encircled her arms and torso, and lashed her waist, ankles, and shoulders to the chair.  Kiera was tying a final loop of rope that pulled her feet off the carpet and linked her wrist and ankles cuffs.  The ropes were tight and well-cinched, albeit a little asymmetrical.

The naked redhead tied a final hitch, stood, and joined her roommate.  Patty was already standing in front of the chair and smiling at Lillian-the-captive.  

Lillian noted that Patty was very much not naked.  She was wearing Lillian's own boots, pants, tank-top, and jacket.  The only thing of Lillian's she was not wearing was her black silk panties, which lay in a crumpled wad on the carpet.  

"Where did you learn to do that?" Patty inquired, directing the question to her roommate.

"My cousins and I used to play 'Cowboys and Indians' at my Aunt's farm," Kiera explained.  "Summer vacations."

Patty turned her head and looked her naked friend up and down.  "You strike me as more the helpless Indian maiden or captured cowgirl than the savage war party or ruthless outlaw type."

Kiera affected a smug smile.  "Shows what you know.  Actually, we used to share the villain duties pretty evenly."

Patty nodded, then turned to face Lillian.  "She's awake," the gloating blonde noted.

Lillian glared at her former captives.  She could see the bulge of her pistol under the jacket behind Patty's back, and noticed that Kiera wasn't quite naked.  She was wearing Lillian's watch on her left wrist!

Kiera noticed Lillian's glare, and smiled.  "I've always wanted a G-shock," she said.  "You don't mind if I borrow it, do you?"

"She won't mind," Patty said.  "Prisons runs on closely regulated schedules.  She won't need a watch."

Lillian continued glaring.  "I knew I was being too nice to you two," she growled, then her expression softened.  "Oh well, no good deed goes unpunished."

"That's rich," Patty growled, stooped and retrieved Lillian's panties, and rolled them into a tight ball.

"Wait!" Kiera said, then frowned at Lillian.  "Where's Doctor Webbel?" she demanded.

Lillian's smile turned rather coy.  "Oh, she's resting comfortably..."  She nodded towards the ceiling.  "...upstairs.  Seventh floor."

"Where can I find some clothes?" the redhead asked.

"There's always a sale on at the mall," Lillian suggested.

"Get that roll of tape," Patty muttered, and stepped behind Lillian's chair.

Lillian was apparently completely unconcerned with her captivity.  "This is a real pity, Blondie," she purred.

"What?" Patty demanded.

"I was hoping you and I could have some fun, later," Lillian whispered.

Patty blushed, then crammed the panties in Lillian's mouth, and held her head steady.  Kiera leaned forward and plastered a strip of tape over the captive's mouth.  Patty lifted Lillian's hair and held it atop her head.  "All the way around," she growled.  "Nice and tight."

"A pleasure," Kiera mumbled, and began wrapping the tape around Lillian's lower face.  She made each pass taut and smooth, and made sure the layers overlapped.  When the roll was expended, Kiera tossed the remnant plastic tube away and stepped back.  Lillian's face was mummified from just under her nostrils to the point of her chin.  Her cheeks bulged above the tight, translucent bands.

"Let's go," Patty said, heading for the door.

Kiera was staring at Lillian's bound, nude, perfect body.  "I wish I had tits like that," the naked redhead sighed.

Patty was still blushing.  "The sooner we find Webbel-Wobble, the sooner we can turn Ms. Steele here over to the cops."

Kiera joined her at the door.  "You don't suppose her name is really 'Lillian Steele', do you?"

Patty snorted.  "It's probably Jane Bond, or something equally spooky.  Let's go."

Lillian watched the coeds depart, her eyes shining with amusement.

Cynthia had endured dozens of slow, vibrating crescendos, with minutes of low-level stimulation in between.  So far, Lillian had been true to her promise.  The pink monster she had strapped over and in Cynthia's sex was enough to keep her very hot and bothered, but (so far) not enough to put her over the edge.  The helpless scientist shivered in arousal (for what felt like the hundredth time) and tugged on her bonds.

The door slid open.  Cynthia lifted her head, ready to glare at Lillian.  Instead, her eyes popped wide and her blood ran cold.

A dozen robots were rolling into the office!

All were about four feet tall, and were propelled on complex sets of articulated treads, the kind that would allow them to negotiate stairs and other obstacles.  They also had swiveling torsos, massive pairs of arms ending in pincers, and spherical "heads", each with a single glowing red "eye".

Acting in perfect coordination, the robots surrounded Cynthia's gurney, clamped the frame with their pincers, and rolled her out the door and down the corridor.

"Pinkie" continued buzzing and stimulating Cynthia's sex.  She struggled against her bonds and mewed through her gag.

Suddenly, the vibrator went still.  At the same time, the robot closest to her head on the right swiveled its "head" and a voice spoke through a small speaker.  "My apologies, Doctor."

The tone was flat and somewhat tinny, but Cynthia recognized Salamandras' synthesized voice.

"I still have difficulty evaluating human interactions, especially when sensual activity is involved," the voice explained.  "I have terminated Ms. Steele's entertainment program."

Cynthia continued struggling.  They were approaching the elevators, and one set of doors was open and waiting, like the dark, open maw of a hungry monster.

"We are modifying our relationship," Salamandras continued.  "I have an offer you will find difficult to refuse."

The gurney, helpless captive, and robots entered the elevator.  There was a quiet chime, the doors closed, and once again the seventh floor of the Salamandras Building was dark and still.