— in —
Helpless in Seattle
Anne had stopped at one of the
campus cafés and purchased a salad to-go and a bottle of green
tea. She entered the Biosphere and made her way to one of the
Sisters' favorite lunch sites—a stone patio tucked into a spectacular
This particular venue of Margo's secret domain was
located near the intersection of three of the campus' office towers,
and most of the year their mirrored window-walls acted as solar
collectors, concentrating sunlight and sending it through the
Biosphere's polarized glass dome to flood the rock garden.
The terraces of boulders overflowed with bushy and trailing varieties
of lavender, sage,
rosemary, and other fragrant and flowering plants. All elements
of the design
conspired to create a pocket of Mediterranean microclimate in what was
predominately an enclosed, temperate rainforest.
Several of the boulders were sculpted in the form of comfortable
and were actually plastic shells and thick cushions, cunningly
camouflaged to match the
surrounding rock. Reclined on one such lounge chair was
Sabrina ("Brie") Sanchez. An Inner Circle
Sister, Brie was also a TESSERACT publicist, fluent in
several languages, expert chef of a dozen international cuisines,
and... (Anne smiled as she approached.) ...an incredibly hot Mexican beauty.
Brie's eyes were closed and she appeared to be deep in slumber.
dressed in what at the moment was an airy sundress,
for her immediate
surroundings. However, discarded on a nearby seat, next to the
containers that had held her lunch, was a neatly folded sweater-jacket
that would transform the dress into business wear.
Acting quietly, so as not to wake her Sister and friend, Anne set her
lunch on a vacant chair and removed her jacket. Underneath, she
was wearing a sleeveless, low-cut, silk blouse.
"It is very impolite to stare at people,"
observed, smiling at Anne through sleepy eyes.
Anne's smile broadened. "Sorry," she purred, but continued her
leering gaze as she folded her jacket. "May I join you?"
Brie sighed in mock exasperation. "I suppose you might as well,
seeing as how you've already spoiled my nap. I was hoping to
recharge my batteries a little, before practice, tonight." Brie
was the star forward of the Furies,
female soccer team. They were poised to win the Seattle Business
League cup... again.
"Poor baby," Anne laughed, sat down, and opened her salad. She
emptied a packet of dressing over the lettuce, spinach, and roasted
vegetables, restored the lid,
and gave it a vigorous shake. "Why are you so tired?"
Brie favored her friend with a somewhat petulant frown. "Why am I
tired? I'll tell you
why I am so
tired. I let you talk me into taking
a certain Jodi Weber home
with me, that is
why I am so tired." Brie made a luxurious, full-length stretch,
lay still. "The little minx
kept me up most of the night; Naomi as
well." Brie shared a house in the Seattle suburbs with Naomi
Curtis, fellow publicist, Inner Circle Sister, and lover.
"How so?" Anne reopened the salad and began eating, using a pair
of plastic chopsticks.
"She's worse than a newborn baby," Brie sighed, "but instead of
wanting to be fed every two hours, she wants nookie."
Anne choked on a mouthful of roasted peppers. Brie
waited, politely, as
Anne opened her tea and took a swig. "Jodi is a greedy little thing," the
smiling lawyer agreed, when she was once again able to talk.
"She is a gluttonous nymphomaniac," Brie huffed, "and we all love her
Anne continued to eat. "In that case, I suppose you wouldn't mind
keeping her for the weekend?"
Brie sighed again. "What about Ronnie and Fiona?"
Anne chewed a mouthful of salad and took a drink of tea before
answering. "I'm not sure they're ready to handle The Trickster...
not if she's trying to
escape, so she can work some mischief. Plus, their place isn't as
well-equipped as yours."
Anne smiled. "The Bug's already had a turn this week, and she has
some hush-hush project she's testing this weekend—science—nothing to do
Brie nodded, then her smile became rather coy. She watched as
lunch. "I think I may be able to talk Naomi into your
proposition," she said, finally, "but there is a price."
Anne's smile became coy as well. "There usually is," she
"Why, you, chica," Brie
answered. "You are the
|Helpless in Seattle—2
Jackie leaned forward in the saddle and her mount took the final
with effortless grace. "Good girl, Skye!" Jackie shouted,
pure pleasure as the well-trained sorrel mare accelerated into the
stretch of this, the Biosphere's longest and most challenging bridal
The track swerved to the left, skirting a grove of giant cedars.
to the right, and they splashed through a shallow stream. A
wide tunnel of mirrored glass between two office towers followed.
Next, they passed a
field, a stand of oak saplings, more tall cedars—and then they were
Margo's private stable reminded Jackie of a cross between a hobbit hole
and a timber-frame lodge. A
small paddock, fenced with natural wood posts and rails, enclosed the
entrance to a low, earth-sheltered building
with a green, living roof. It was half-buried in the side of an
artificial hill, and looking through its gaping, barn-style doors, one
horse stalls and equipment rooms branching from
either side of a straight, central passage
that led right through the hill to a second paddock on the far
side. The interior was kept light and airy by numerous light
tunnels and skylights. Seasoned barn wood was used
throughout, making a sharp contrast to the modern, steel and mirrored
decor of most of the Biosphere.
Jackie dismounted and inspected Skye's hooves, lifting the mare's feet,
one-by-one. She then removed the saddle, pad, and
bridle, depositing them on a specialized robot. It rolled away on
into the stable, heading for the appropriate tack room. She
gave Skye a smack on the flank, and she clopped away into the paddock.
Jackie was wearing well-worn riding boots, tan jods, and
a white cotton blouse, all brought with her from Brightman Hall.
TESSERACT ID was on a lanyard and tucked into her left breast
pocket, and her blonde locks were pulled back in a
Narelle emerged from the barn. She was dressed for her role as
Biosphere Gardener, in rubber Wellingtons and a close-fitting,
olive-green coverall. The TESSERACT logo was embroidered in bold,
letters across the back, and in a significantly smaller size above her
left breast. Her ID was tucked into a windowed pocket
on her right sleeve. "How are the new shoes?" she asked.
Jackie watched Skye for several seconds before she answered.
"They're fine." She was commenting on her own work, as she'd
replaced Skye's full set, just that morning. It was something of
a compliment that Narelle was asking her, rather than making a close
inspection of her own, but was not surprising. Jackie and
settled into one of mutual respect very quickly, after only a couple of
days into her evaluation. They were now mentor and
protégé, at least as far as the stable was
concerned. Jackie's interest in Narelle's other profession,
limited to knowing which plants were safe for equine browsing.
Narelle's initial testing regime had been simplicity itself.
She's instructed Eve to make sure all of the stable's automated
maintenance systems were turned off,
robots included. She'd
then announced that Jackie
now in charge, that the three horses
currently in residence were her exclusive responsibility. Four
things had become quickly apparent:
One—Jackie knew how to run a stable. She was a proficient farrier
(as she'd just demonstrated with Skye), she was a good judge of
(demonstrated by visits to the campus' larger, public stables, outside
the Biosphere), and she could keep the required logs and records.
Two—She wasn't afraid of work. The horses were fed, groomed,
exercised, and their stalls cleaned on a regular routine, without
complaint (from Jackie or the
Three—Jackie was smart, asking all the right questions and taking
Four—She loved horses. Nothing was more important to Jackie than
and well-being of the mounts in her charge.
After three days, Narelle had restored the stable's automated features,
one-by-one. As there would be similar systems and
robots in operation on Gondaloo Island, she'd given Jackie instruction
in their basic maintenance and programming.
They watched Skye amble to the far side of the paddock. "Let's
get a cuppa while she cools down," Narelle suggested.
"Super!" Jackie grinned, and they headed into the stable.
|Helpless in Seattle—2
a day room off the central passage. It had
a small kitchen, table and chairs, a comfortable lounge area, and an
office suite tucked into one corner. Jackie went to the office
and made a quick journal entry. The stable's expert system had
already made a standard entry documenting Skye's exercise run, so all
Jackie had to do was add a few lines of commentary. Meanwhile,
Narelle brewed some tea.
Jackie finished her entry, then reviewed the stable schedule for the
rest of the day. There was nothing listed that the robots
and wouldn't handle, including getting Skye groomed, fed, and back in
Managing Margo's stable was a decidedly un-demanding task, although Jackie
suspected things might be slightly more complicated when "Her Majesty"
was in town. According to Narelle (and the stable logs) Margo
rode nearly every day when she was in Seattle.
"Come have a seat," Narelle called from the table.
Jackie settled into a chair, poured milk into her cup, then added
tea. She took a cautious sip of the steaming brew, then noticed
Narelle's smile. "What?" she asked, and took another sip.
"I'm just deciding how to break the news," Narelle answered.
"News?" Jackie took a biscuit (a "cookie", as they were called in
America) from a plate and took a delicate bite. "Anything I
should be worried about?"
"To the contrary." Narelle's smile broadened. "I've sent
Her Nibs an e-mail tellin' her you're ready to report to Gondaloo
whenever she likes."
Jackie's smile broadened. "Super!"
"We've already discussed your completing those computer courses in
tropical veterinary medicine, but you can do that on the island."
"Super!" Jackie repeated.
Narelle took a sip from her own cup. "There is one thing that might keep you in
Seattle a jiff longer, though."
Jackie's smile faded.
"No worries, mate," Narelle said, with a chuckle; then her expression
grew more serious. "You're ready to handle Margo's horses... but
what about her ponygirls?"
Jackie's cup rattled in its saucer. She'd been in the process of
setting it down, to reach for another biscuit, and it had nearly
slipped from her startled
Narelle took a leisurely sip from her
cup. "Ponygirls," she confirmed.
|Helpless in Seattle—2
The word seemed to hang in the air. Jackie could almost see a
ghostly maiden, naked, but for high heeled shoes with ankle straps—a
leather corset and body harness—her arms pinned to her sides—a bit
between her teeth, part of an elaborate bridle—harnessed to a light
trap—being put through her paces by a driver, dressed in boots and
jods—with a whip—like in the Sweet
Gwendoline book Solange had shown
her. And the ponygirl looked like Jackie, herself. And the
"A penny for your thoughts," Narelle purred.
"Huh? Oh, sorry." Jackie grabbed her cup and took a quick,
nervous sip. "Uh, we never used to play like that at Brightman
Hall—uh, when I was a girl, I mean."
"When I was a girl," Narelle
whispered under her breath, gazing at
nineteen year-old protégé.
"Nothing," Narelle answered, hiding her amusement with another sip of
tea. "I know that you know
has a penchant for... shall we say, restrictive
Jackie nodded. The bondage games Margo and Lady Brightman played
during the TESSERACT CEO's infrequent visits to Brightman Hall
were an open secret among the servants, and were probably the genesis
of the innocent childhood, and not so
she'd played with Penny, Chelsea, Connie Wright, and Solange.
"Whether you choose to participate in such activities at Gondaloo is
entirely your decision," Narelle continued, "as is the role or roles
you might wish to assume."
"Top or bottom," Narelle explained, "or, to be more fanciful—mistress
or slave, kidnapper or victim, pirate or captive—"
"Cop or robber," Jackie interrupted, a blush on her smiling
"Cowgirl or Red Indian", Narelle added, "although in the latter two
examples, exactly who might be capturing whom is a little ambiguous."
"Yes, I see what you mean," Jackie agreed, still blushing. "Uh,
I... I wouldn't have to..."
Jackie's face was now crimson. "Sex," she answered. "Uh, I
mean, I wouldn't be required to—"
"Only if you want," Narelle answered, with a kindly smile. "There
was more to your games than
playing with rope, at Brightman Hall? Am I right?"
Jackie nodded. "When we were older. Nothing serious,
just... fun. You
Narelle nodded in return. "Nothing you don't want, Jackie.
I promise. Not now, not when you get to Gondaloo, not ever.
Nothing you don't want."
"Now, this is all well and good," Narelle continued, "and
awkwardly private and personal..." Jackie laughed, but her cheeks
red. "...but there's a reason I've brought all this up. If
you do want to play a role
in the games at
Gondaloo, you need training."
Jackie gulped the last of her tea. Narelle gestured toward the
tea pot, Jackie nodded, and she refilled both their cups.
"What kind of training?" Jackie asked, finally.
"Safety, first and foremost," Narelle explained. "As Margo's
Stable Mistress on the island, safety will be your first
concern, whether the games involve rope or ponygirl tack."
Jackie nodded. "I know something
about rope, and... ponygirl tack can't be that different, from
regular tack, I mean." Her cheeks were still pink and her heart
was pounding, but she was getting used to the idea of discussing
bondage games with Narelle. She met the Aussie's amused gaze (and
realized she was feeling something more than her passing
embarrassment). "So, what will this training entail?"
"Most of the formal instruction can happen on the island," Narelle
answered, "computer-assisted lessons, VR, practical
exercises, that sort of thing. Eve will help you out. You
know Penny, of course, but you've never met
Jamie Seaton, right?" Jackie shook her head. "You're gonna
love her," Narelle said, "I promise. Anyway, we'll do some... orientation, here in Seattle,
before you leave. Since you already have some experience, I might
as well toss you in the deep end and see how well you splash around."
Jackie nodded as she nibbled her biscuit. "Okay... so when you
"No time like the present," Narelle said, brightly. She stood,
took Jackie's cup from her hand and placed it and its saucer on the
tray, then carried the tray itself to the kitchen area. "Go to
your room," she
ordered, over her shoulder, "use the loo, then meet me in stall seven
Jackie's eyes popped wide. "Excuse me?"
"Use the loo," Narelle
repeated, "then meet me in stall seven in the altogether." Jackie
continued to stare. "Nuddy, naked, sans
clothing, wanting your kit, starkers."
"Naked?" Jackie squeaked.
"Not a stitch," Narelle confirmed, "jewelry included."
Jackie swallowed nervously. "Uh, can't I wear knickers, or a
swimsuit, or something?"
Narelle shook her head. "I need you in the proper frame of mind,"
she purred, then nodded towards the door. "Off you go."
Jackie rose from her chair, popped what was left of her biscuit in her
mouth, and hurried away.
Narelle washed the tea service and left the various elements drying on
rack. "Eve?" she said, as soon as the door closed.
"Yes, Narelle?" the disembodied voice of the Eve-6900 artificial
"You all set to record in stall seven?"
"Of course," Eve answered, "in HDTV, from multiple angles, including
full biometrics, with hidden cameras and sensors."
"Just to be sure... she's ready for this?"
"Yes," Eve confirmed, "Ms. Silberston is ready. My sensors detect
been following Ms. Silberston in enhanced
surveillance mode since she arrived, as per the Red Queen's
have developed enough of a physiological and psychological baseline to
confirm that she is currently in a state of mild
sexual arousal. Although, I must note that your pheromones are masking my
chemical detectors, reducing their efficiency."
"Very funny," Narelle laughed. "But, you're sure?"
"With high probability," Eve answered. "And don't worry about my
biometrics. I predict I'll soon have more than enough data to fully
calibrate all my sensors,
with respect to Ms. Silberston."
"Too right," Narelle chuckled. "Okay, I concur, and will proceed
as planned—Green Centaur's responsibility."
"Your professional due diligence is noted and logged," Eve
"Now, go have fun."
Narelle laughed, dried her hands, and went to gather the "teaching
aids" she'd need for Jackie's first lesson.
|Helpless in Seattle—2
Jackie hurried through the stable to the side corridor that led to her
guest quarters. Her suite had all the amenities of a
five-star hotel room, but the decor was rather spartan. This was
fine, as far as Jackie was concerned. She mainly used the room's
very comfortable bed and spacious bathtub. So far, her free time
had been spent in the day room, the Biosphere gardens, and as a visitor
to Narelle's much larger stable apartment, where they'd watch TV,
chat about horses, and discuss their respective homelands. Half
of her meals had been cooked on Narelle's stove, and the other
half had been at area restaurants, with Narelle and/or Anne for company.
She unbuttoned and removed her blouse, then sat on the bed and removed
her boots and socks. Her jods came off next, then her bra and
panties. The boots went on the rack in the closet, and the
clothing was stuffed in the suite's laundry basket, to be taken away by
valet-bot for cleaning.
Jackie pattered into the bathroom, relieved herself, then washed her
face and hands. She
considered taking a shower, but decided against it. The
morning rides had been exercise, but she wasn't really what you could call ripe.
There was a
full-length mirror on the back of the door, and Jackie paused to gaze
at her nude reflection. She stretched, full-length, remembering
the time Chelsea and Connie had put her on the Brightman Hall dungeon's
rack. Her captors had been "Norman Ladies",
in embroidered medieval gowns with flowing sleeves and wimples.
"Saxon Lady" costume had been similar, but simpler—dramatically simpler, once they
stripped it off her "struggling" body. She'd been tied to the
rack, stretched tight, and "questioned"—the topic of interest being
the exact whereabouts of Robin Hood's Sherwood Forest hideout.
Jackie blushed (and shivered) at the memory. The interrogation
methods employed had been anything but
her breasts with a bundle of willow switches at one point. (She
always was a bitch.) Luckily, "Maid Jaclyn" was rescued by one of
Robin's Merry Men, a suspiciously girl-like figure in tights, tunic,
and feathered cap. The "Outlaw's" impudent, devilishly cute face,
dark pageboy, and French accent evoked one of Solange's distant
ancestors, but a green mask protected "his" identity.
The "Norman Dogs" were forced to strip, at sword-point, bound together
in an intimate embrace, gagged, locked in an iron cage, and
abandoned. Maid Jaclyn was spirited away to "The Greene Wood",
where she had ample opportunity to thank her rescuer for "his"
heroism. Oddly enough, the Outlaw's reward was strikingly similar
to the "torture" Maid Jaclyn had "suffered" at the hands of the hated
A quiet moan escaped Jackie's lips—and she realized her right hand was
between her legs, gently stroking her labia. "Enough of this!"
she scolded her reflection, and opened the bathroom door. Naked
(and feeling very naughty),
she pattered through the apartment, out into the corridor, and to
stall number seven.
Narelle was waiting. A large canvas duffel was on the floor, next
to her right boot. "Finally," she scolded, with a wry
"I was beginning to think you'd fallen in."
"Sorry," Jackie laughed, nervously. Her left hand was shielding
her sex, her right arm across her breasts.
"Okay, hands behind your back, and take a half-spin."
Jackie swallowed, nervously, and followed Narelle's orders. She
looked over her left shoulder and watched her soon-to-be captor unzip
the duffel and extract a long coil of what appeared to be hemp rope.
"Eye's front!" Narelle ordered. "In fact, eyes closed."
Jackie swallowed, again, and closed her eyes. Despite herself,
she flinched when Narelle lifted her crossed hands until
her forearms were parallel to the floor. She felt rope tighten
around her wrists.
"You're nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers," Narelle whispered,
her lips inches from Jackie's right ear.
"Sorry," Jackie whispered back. "This stuff's... soft."
"It only looks like hemp," Narelle explained. "It's actually
microfiber, a blend of synthetics. Soft as silk, but it
holds a knot like sisal or jute. Now, no more chatter.
Concentrate on what I'm doing—placement, order, initial tightness,
final compaction. This is going to take a while."
Jackie swallowed yet again, suppressed a shudder, and nodded her
head. She tried to stand perfectly still as coils of rope
tightened around her arms and torso, knots and hitches were tied, and
the process of rendering her completely helpless continued—but she
couldn't stop herself from shivering, just a little.
|Helpless in Seattle—2
Jackie struggled to escape. She was on her stomach, on the
concrete floor. Her arms were still folded at the small of her
back, and Narelle's ropes were making sure they stayed there. It was a "box-tie", her instructor had
explained, a simple form of "Shinju" (whatever that meant). It
a hog-tie, as her ankles were tied together, her shins lashed to her
thighs, and everything hitched together to pull her into a back-bending
arc that kept her heels on her buttocks and her breasts off the
floor. Additional rope bound
her big toes, pulled all the elements of the hog-tie even tighter, and
then was passed through a ring in the ceiling.
And thanks to that ceiling rope, a portion of her own
weight was reinforcing her bonds, putting additional tension on
whatever hitch or band or family of loops she tried to defeat.
Now, no matter what she did, no matter how she twisted and tugged, no
matter what limb she tried to lift or push or pull, no matter what
muscles she tried to bunch or flex, she was
It was a cunning predicament. If she willed herself to remain
perfectly still... she was actually comfortable. Narelle's ropes
punished only if she fought
their embrace. And as soon as she
stopped struggling, everything returned to "normal". The floor
was hard, as unforgiving as Narelle's ropes, but at least it was clean
and warm, thanks to the stable's cleaning robots and its underfloor,
Narelle had tied-off the ceiling rope, mumbled something about not
having the proper bit, and had left the stall.
"Narelle? I'm to wait here?" Jackie had called after her, but was
ignored. That had been several minutes ago, and she had used the
time to convince herself that she was not
going to escape from this
tie, even if she was suddenly possessed by the ghost of the Great
There was nothing for it but to keep trying. It would certainly
be a feather in her cap if she did escape.
and squirmed, questing with her fluttering fingers for a
knot or a band of rope she could grip and pull down, or tug to the
use to make some slack—but it was futile.
The thud of rubberized footfalls sounded, and Narelle's Wellingtons
came into view.
"Still here, I see," the grinning Aussie noted.
"Still here," Jackie sighed, lifting her chin and forcing a brave
smile. "This is amazing. I've never felt anything like it."
"Like I told you," Narelle purred, "I'm throwing you into the deep
end. Let's see..." She knelt and began tugging on Jackie's
bonds, one-by-one. "Do you know where the key knots are?"
"There are two basic means of escape from rope bondage," Narelle
lectured, "pick apart the key knots, or create slack. This tie
doesn't allow any
slack. The tension is uniform and self-correcting. And the
key knots—the knots that must be
you're going to escape—are nowhere near
your hands. There's
only one thing to add."
Jackie's eyes popped wide. Narelle had something in her hands,
something that looked like a cross between the mouthpiece of a training
bit and a rubber
dog toy. It was molded in one piece, from hard, black rubber, in
the shape of a ball pierced by a thick rod. A small steel ring
Narelle threaded the ends of a hank of rope through the rings,
carefully measured out a length, and tied a figure-eight knot, joining
the two strands. As a result, the rope and bit dangled from her
hand like a tiny swing. "Your neck's probably getting tired, from
holding up your head?"
Jackie's eyes were still wide. "My neck? Well, a little,
Narelle had thrust the ball between Jackie's lips, pushing it back
until it snapped behind her teeth. It stretched her jaws and
flattened her tongue, and the rod
and rings pressed against the corners of her mouth. The
length of rope was dropped under her chin and pulled taut, then the
remaining rope was pulled up and against her face. It framed her
nose, with the knot
pressed against her forehead, just above her brows. It then
continued across the crown of her head to the back of her
skull. Another knot was tied, the free ends separated, passed to
of her head, tucked under the chin loop, and pulled back. The
arrangement tightened into a head-hugging, symmetrical, rope bridle.
More knots were tied, and Jackie could feel the bridle's ends being
the vertical rope linking her hog-tied form to the ceiling. She
could turn and
twist her head from side to side, a little, but if she relaxed and let
it hang, she
was cradled and held in a comfortable position—as with the rest of her
Narelle leaned close and smiled in her young captive's face.
"We'll discuss the psychological aspects of total helplessness at a
later date," she said. "The lesson for today is physiology."
"Frz'r'fr'ur'ee?" Jackie watched as Narelle stepped away.
She could feel drool leaking from the corners of her mouth, and decided
to keep any future attempts at conversation to a minimum.
Narelle returned, carrying a wide-screen laptop. She placed it on
the floor, positioning the screen for Jackie's optimal viewing.
She leaned down and kissed the captive's forehead, then tapped one of
computer's keys. "I've got some weeding to do in Margo's office
gardens, so here's an hour-long instructional program for you to
watch. Take lots of notes—mental, of course. No worries
about when it ends. I've set it to loop,
Jackie squirmed in her bonds and fluttered her fingers. "Nr'll!"
she complained through her gag—but her mentor was already gone.
The laptop's screen flashed TESSERACT blue, an irritatingly perky tune began playing through
the speakers, words began painting the screen, and a narration began.
"Welcome to... FUN WITH ROPE!
to safe and sane bondage play... WITH ROPE!
In this program you'll learn about...
Preventing nerve damage!
Maintaining proper circulation!
and... Your friends, the pressure points!"
Oh, happy lovely! Jackie
thought. And I can't even rub
my thighs together for entertainment! She squirmed in her
again. ...not enough to do any