D2-670A

D2-670A

Book One



There was nothing remarkable about the cellar - other than the fact that the
naked light-bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed it to be a little more lived
in than most. The center-piece of the room was a comfortable looking leather
recliner that faced a large television set, which was situated in the corner of
the room beneath a descending flight of stairs. The only other piece of
furniture was a wooden workbench on the opposite side of the room upon which a
wide array of tools had been haphazardly spread.

No, nothing remarkable at all . . .

. . . Until a glowing blue sphere the size of a basketball suddenly appeared in
front of the television. It hovered four feet off the ground for a few moments
and then began to expand at a rapid pace. As it grew, the sphere also flattened
out until it momentarily resembled a hula-hoop that had somehow learnt the
secret to defying gravity.

The hula-hoop, however, continued to stretch at a rapid rate and within thirty
seconds had grown to be six feet high and almost three feet across, whilst
maintaining the thickness of a piece of cardboard. The face of the now-oval
shaped figure was an unblemished dark blue, which seemed to lend it the air of a
closed door.

Suddenly, the face of the oval-figure irised open and a near-naked woman was
expelled as if by a terrific force. The woman slammed into the carpet covered
floor of the cellar with a quiet "Muughh" and rolled to a halt by the wooden
workbench. Behind her, the oval-figure again irised closed and quickly began to
shrink. By the time the mysterious woman had rolled herself over to eye the
portal suspiciously, it had shrunk back to its original size; and moments later,
disappeared.

*****

The red portal faded from sight just as Marcus returned to the empty bedroom.

Disbelief creased his thick lips and narrowed his dark eyes. Surely Rene
wouldn't have . . .

His hand dropped to check the D-keys that were always attached to his belt. He
grasped the handful of keys, but a glanced inspection revealed there were only
three instead of four . . .

She wouldn't dare! No female would. Such an action ran against every law
established in the last fifty years. If when) she was caught, she would be taken
before The Council and sentenced to twenty years torture at Reigel before being
put down. Surely, even Rene - spirited, defiant Rene - would not risk such a
fate.

But the evidence in front of Marcus was undeniable. He'd seen the last vestiges
of the portal, Rene - despite her bondage - was gone, and his key was missing.

Marcus ran a manicured hand through his shoulder length black hair. By rights,
he would have to report his favourite female to The Council.

But not before he gathered an unofficial Retrieval Team and went after her
himself.

*****

With the portal gone, Rene sagged with relief. Marcus hadn't returned in time.
She wanted to give thanks to Rayelle, Goddess of the Willow, but was silenced by
the bulbous rubber ball-gag that completely filled her mouth. The thin leather
straps binding her wrists behind her back ensured that she was unable to remove
the gag; while her elbows had also been bound together by more of the leather
straps which dug cruelly into the flesh of her upper arms and forced her breasts
to jut forward prominently.

Despite her bindings, speed was now of the essence. Rene knew that she had
crossed an all too blatant line by escaping to this dimension. Marcus would
either come after her himself, or inform the Council. Either way, a life of
torture faced her if she was caught. The only variable was whether that life
would be long or short - depending on whom it was that did the capturing.

Rene gripped the D-key in her right palm more tightly. She had lifted it off
Marcus' electric key ring as he had been busy binding her elbows.  As long as
she had the key, she would be able to stay one step ahead of her pursuers - if
need be, by flashing back and forth between dimensions. At least, that was the
plan.

Showing no signs of discomfort from her bindings, Rene rose smoothly to her feet
and peered cautiously around the room. She was tall - perhaps 5' 11' - with
honey blond hair and pale blue eyes. Her lightly tanned body was trim and
athletic, as if she worked out a great deal and was careful to make sure she
maintained her figure. She wore only a high-cut, black G-string - but moved
toward the stairs without the awkwardness often associated with near-nakedness.

Just as she reached the lowest step, the door above her was opened. Rather than
pausing to see who was about to enter the cellar, Rene padded silently over to
hide behind the large bed. Heavy footfalls descended the stairs amid a
high-pitched whistling.

A tall, slightly over-weight, middle aged man wearing a grey sweatshirt, black
jeans and white runners came into view. Rene found his appearance strange purely
due to the fact that he carried no instrument of restraint or torture in his
hands. Otherwise, he could have easily passed for a man from her own world. It
seemed that Marcus had been telling the truth - the ways of this dimension were
very different from their own. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

Buoyed by this revelation, Rene almost exposed herself to the man as he walked
across the floor toward the workbench. Caution, however, prevented such a move
and she instead watched carefully as the man proceeded to pull the end section
of the workbench away from the wall.

Moments later, Rene was very glad her cautious nature had won out - as the man
opened a hidden door and dragged a young, and very pretty, bound and gagged
woman into view.

*****

Shana took a deep breath and for the thousandth time tried to fight off the
panic rising within her. Not that anyone would blame her for panicking - after
all, how many people could claim to have been kidnapped, tortured and imprisoned
in what amounted to a vertical coffin for an indeterminate amount of time,
without losing their cool?

From the moment she'd been bundled into the tiny closet, Shana had felt like the
walls were closing in on her. To her, the sight of the secret door opening to
reveal the coffin-like interior had been worse than when her kidnapper had
proudly produced the leather bullwhip he'd proceeded to thrash her with. She'd
fought and screamed against his mockery of an embrace as he had pushed her
toward the closet. However, his superior strength and the ropes binding her
wrists, elbows, ankles and knees, had combined to render her struggles
pointless. The cloth that had been packed into the mouth and the tape sealing it
in place had been equally effective in silencing her screams.

The man had pushed her into the closet and immediately slammed the door shut,
plunging her into pitch blackness. Shana had screamed and screamed into her gag
until she was hoarse. Then she'd tried kicking her way free - but by that time
she'd had no idea which "wall" was actually the door. Soon afterwards, the
inevitable feeling of pressure had begun to build and with it the knowledge that
she was going to be crushed by the ever advancing walls . . .

Gradually, however, Shana had learnt to breathe deeply and evenly through her
nose, and occupy her thoughts with other matters. In combination, these
techniques helped to quell the panic. She had spent most of her time wandering
why she of all people had been kidnapped and then tortured, and it was to this
topic she again found her thoughts turning.  She had very little money, no rich
family members, and had never made a real enemy in her life. Jesus, she was just
a 23 year old college student! So who, in their right mind, would do this to
her?

Shana immediately knew she had answered her own question upon phrasing it in
such a manner. Nobody in their right mind would. In which case, her kidnapper
was obviously crazy - an assessment supported by the glee he had taken in
whipping her breasts, stomach and back. She shuddered within the grip of her
tight bonds at the remembered pain.

But how did the man's insanity affect her chances of escape? Was he going to
kill her when he was done with her? Or would he dump her, bound and gagged, on
the side of a lonely road as he made his getaway out of state? Shana was well
aware that he'd made no effort to conceal his identity, and that he had to know
she'd seen enough to identify him.

Both of which did not bode well.

Shana refused to think in that manner. It was bad enough having to deal with the
claustrophobia without dwelling on what he might do. Better to focus on what she
could do to make a difference.

Right then, a loud thump sounded from outside the closet. Shana froze. Was he
coming back for her? Conflicting feelings of terror and relief flooded through
her. She wanted out of the closet desperately, but would it be a case of
out-of-the-frying pan . . . ?

The bound and gagged woman listened intently, but for a short time heard no
further sound. She was just beginning to think she'd imagined the thump when the
sound of muted footsteps reached her. At the same time, it sounded as if . . .
yes, as if someone was whistling.

Moments later, someone was right outside the closet door (which, it turned out,
was to her left rather than straight in front of her). Suddenly, Shana was
squinting against the bright light that was pouring into her prison as the man
who had kidnapped her opened the door and leaned in to grab her ankles. Roughly,
he dragged her out into the cellar. Shana uttered a muffled yelp as her ass slid
painfully along the frayed carpet.

"Sorry about your closet-time, baby. I was having visitors and didn't want you
to disturb them." He leered down at her. "Now, what say you and I get a little
better acquainted?"

*****

D2-670A

Part Two


Dr. Heather Landcom sighed heavily as she sat down in the hotel room's expensive
leather recliner. She undid the top button of her white silk shirt and tugged at
the knot of the woven red and black necktie she had chosen to wear for the
corporate meeting. She proceeded to undo the buttons of her black waistcoat and
kick away the three-inch heels she had been wearing. Her matching jacket had
already been discarded and was laying across the slate coffee-table in front of
her.

She'd travelled across the continent for nothing. All the wheeling and dealing,
negotiating and brown-nosing was worthless. The one company that had expressed
anything more than a remote interest in her patent and its associated theories
had regretfully come to the decision that the time and money required to finance
her "Gateway Portal" were simply not economically viable.

Heather wondered if her gender or age had anything to do with the board member's
decision. Not surprisingly, she was one of the only females working in her
field, and at age 33, was certainly the youngest. While she'd generally found
the field of physics more difficult to break into than the typical male
graduate, Heather's keen mind and passion for her work had always seen her
through. She also suspected that her looks had not harmed her level of success,
since she'd yet to meet a potential employer who hadn't been enthralled by her
golden hair, sparkling green eyes, firm bust and long legs.

Not that Heather needed that kind of advantage to beat her rivals into a job.
Only months after graduating with her PhD, she had broken new ground in particle
acceleration research - and from that point on, her professional career had been
a guaranteed success. The only problem was that Heather wanted more. She wanted
to follow her own research interests - interests that centered around the
possibility of other dimensions existing parallel to their own. Of course, no
department, company or conglomerate would ever finance "Extra-Dimensional"
research (as Heather liked to call it) without prior positive results. So the
young physicist had conducted her own pioneer research on her own time using the
equipment at Davidson Global - the company she had worked for up until eight
months ago.

Applying her breakthrough knowledge of particle acceleration to some of the more
complex heat and wavelength theorems, Heather had eventually been ready to
attempt to move an inanimate object from one side of the lab to the other - the
first step in opening the doorway between proposed dimensions. She'd chosen the
gold earring that she'd been wearing - and had never seen it again. More
refining had followed, and 76 days after the original test, the plastic child's
ring she sent through the basketball-sized doorway had reappeared at the other
end of the room. Heather had been ecstatic, but understandably cautious. The
last thing she'd wanted was news of her success leaking out before she was ready
to capitalise on the information. So she'd entrusted only one other person with
the news and a copy of the test's videotape: Daphne Arnold, her 27 year old
research assistant.

And now, here she was eight months later, wiser, but certainly none the richer
for her attempt to take her findings and theories to the business world. Even
Davidson Global had wanted nothing to do with her when she finally let slip what
she'd been able to do. It was as if she'd become some kind of pariah . . .

A brusque knock at the door interrupted Heather's musings. She sighed again and
stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her business-length skirt. She wasn't
expecting visitors, but she'd made quite a few acquaintances in this town over
the years, so it wouldn't be a surprise if one of them had dropped by to say
hello.

Wanting to be presentable, Heather re-fastened the top button of her shirt and
slid the knot of her tie up to rest snugly against her throat. The vest was too
much trouble to re-button so she shrugged it off and tossed it down next to her
jacket. "Coming," she called in response to the second round of impatient
knocking.

Heather walked open to the hotel door and pulled it open. An unkempt bell-hop
stood in the corridor - his tie undone, shirt hanging out, linen trolley beside
him. "Room service?" he inquired politely as he drew a silenced pistol and
pointed it at Heather's forehead.

*****

Rene watched with acute disappointment as the young raven-haired woman was
picked up by the balding man and thrown over his shoulder. Perhaps this world
wasn't that much different after all. Marcus liked to play games with her. So
maybe he had lied about the women on this world being free.

Not that it really mattered. Rene was here now, and although she was still bound
and gagged, she was freer than she had been at any previous point in her adult
life.

Being careful to keep herself hidden behind the bed, Rene watched as the man
carried his prisoner up the stairs and out of the cellar. As soon as he was
gone, she stood and walked over to the workbench. While it may have been a front
for the hidden closet behind it, the bench was home to some very real tools.
And, as Rene noted with relief, tools with sharp edges.

Reaching over, she grabbed at a small hacksaw and positioned it so that it was
wedged between the edge of the table and her ass. Being careful to ensure the
serrated blade did not cut her into her, Rene set about rubbing the straps
binding her wrists against the blade. The first of the straps she targeted began
to fray instantly - a fact that Rene was very thankful for, as she now had two
reasons to free herself and get out of the cellar as quickly as she could.

Firstly, to be away before Marcus or other men from her dimension came after
her; and secondly to rescue the pretty young woman before she was brutalised by
the man holding her captive.

Rene was determined her vision of a new world for herself and women like her
could come true. A world where women did not live as slaves in constant bondage
and with the threat of torture hanging over their heads. Escaping from her own
male master was but the first step in implementing that vision. Escaping from
her inevitable pursuers would be the second, and establishing a safe stronghold
the third. Only then did she plan to return to her world to free as many others
as she could. Rene knew she would need help, and that was where the supposedly
free women of this unfamiliar dimension came in. But if they were the bound and
gagged slaves of males here as well . . .

Then she would just have to start a guerrilla war here first. And the woman
upstairs would be the initial beneficiary of that campaign.

The first of the leather straps binding her wrists abruptly snapped and Rene
felt the lightest of give between her hands.

She smiled around the ball-gag in her mouth.

*****

"C'mon," the man with the gun said impatiently. "Hurry up and get the rest of
your clothes off."

Having already removed her skirt, stay up stockings and tie, Heather paused to
stare at her assailant angrily. "What the hell do you want with me?"

The man ignored her question. "Take off your shirt and bra. Now." He pointed the
gun at her chest. "Don't make me ask you again."

Heather undid the remaining buttons of her silk shirt and slipped out of it to
reveal a set of C-cup breasts framed by a white lace bra. The only other article
of clothing she wore was a matching lace G-string.

"Now the underwear."

As Heather reluctantly reached around behind her back to unfasten the bra, the
unruly bell-hop leant over the linen trolley as if he was fishing around for
something. He stood up again holding multiple coils of white cotton rope in his
free hand. Heather gasped.

"Don't worry, Dr Landcom. This is just to make you comfortable for your trip."

"Trip?"

The man smiled coldly and motioned at her with the gun to finish stripping.
Heather complied hesitantly. She slipped out of her bra, and then while
shielding her naked breasts with one arm, proceeded to pull her panties down
with her other hand. When she was done, the man walked over to stand beside her
and told her to put her hands behind her back. Once again, Heather had little
option other than to comply. Roughly, the man grabbed her hands and proceeded to
bind them together so that her palms were pressed against one another. He made
sure to cinch the coils of rope tightly, and then moved on to bind her elbows
together in a similar fashion. Heather moaned quietly as her upper arms were
tied, and her breasts were thrust forward, but the man's only response was to
knot the rope even tighter.

"Sit down," he ordered, half pushing, half guiding Heather back into the
recliner. She stiffened as her bare ass made contact with the cold leather,
while the man quickly crossed her ankles and bound her feet with yet another
length of rope. He grunted with satisfaction and stood up.

Heather's heart was pounding. She could see the hungry look in his eyes. He
wanted her, and bound like she was, there was nothing she could do to defend her
naked body.

"Don't worry," he said, as if reading her mind. "I'm not going to hurt you. My
orders are to deliver you untouched."

His words did little to reassure her. "Deliver me to who?"

The man shook his head. "No questions for you." Bending down, he scooped up
Heather's panties and woven tie. He balled up her panties and leant over her. 
"Open wide."

Heather leant back as far as the recliner would allow her and turned her head
away. "No! You're not putting those in my mouth." In reply, the man's free hand
darted forward to pinch her nose shut. Heather held her breath for as long as
she could, but was eventually forced to open her mouth slightly to breathe.
Instead, she received a mouthful of her own panties as the man stuffed them past
her teeth. Heather coughed, but the man again ignored her as he quickly pulled
her tie between her teeth and wrapped it twice around her head. He then savagely
tied it off at the nape of her neck, pulling her lips back into a perpetual
grimace.

Climbing off her, the man returned to the linen trolley and this time pulled out
a roll of silver duct tape from its depths. He pulled the end of the tape away
from the roll and walked back over to stand above his prisoner, pausing only to
grab one of her stockings from her remaining pile of clothes. Without warning,
he pulled the stocking over her head and then began wrapping the tape around her
head at mouth level. Heather tried to pull away and fight against him, but he
was far too strong for her. Within ninety seconds her entire head had been
encased in duct tape, leaving her blind as well as stringently gagged.

Were it nor for the tape blindfold, Heather would have seen her kidnapper wheel
the linen trolley into the bathroom, and pause over it as if considering his
next move. Then, had she continued watching, she would have seen him bend, and
with an effort, lift the unconscious form of the real bell-hop out of the
trolley and dump him in the bath tub.

Heather, however, did hear the man's next words as he re-emerged from the
bathroom. "Okay, Dr. Landcom, your carriage awaits."

*****

Shana lay tied with each of her limbs bound to the corner legs of a large bed.
She was completely naked and totally exposed.

She was also terrified. Eyes wide and pleading above her tape and packing gag,
Shana watched as her kidnapper re-entered the room, also naked except for a pair
of boxers through which his straining erection was all too apparent.

The dark haired beauty shrieked into her gag, but the mass of cloth in her mouth
and the sticky barrier sealing her lips together did their work more than
effectively.

"What's wrong, princess?" The man grinned, exposing a wide expanse of yellowed
teeth. "I said we were going to get better acquainted. What else did you think I
had in mind?"

Shan shook her head from side to side and thrashed against the ropes binding
her. In response, the man chuckled and climbed onto the bed, straddling his
prone victim. "Don't worry, when I'm done I'll lock you back up down stairs so
you can think about what a bad girl you've been." His eyes narrowed. "You should
have known better . . . Teasing me like that at the bus stop."

Shana stopped thrashing long to frown up at her about-to-be-rapist.

"Oh don't tell me you don't remember, you little cock-tease! The way you sat at
the bus stop on Wilten Road two weeks ago and paraded yourself in front of me -
dressed in that tiny little skirt and tight black top. And those boots! Ohh, you
were asking for it." His hand suddenly shot out to grab her neck. "And I'm about
to give it to you."

"Mmmffggllllppphh!"

Shana suddenly found she was choking beneath the man's tightening grip, and
could do nothing about it besides struggle against her bonds. She felt his other
hand groping her left breast and heard his breathing become shallower. She
couldn't believe it: He was getting off on choking her!

Black spots began to creep in at the corners of her vision, and she felt her
struggles becoming weaker. She tried to scream at him again through her gag, but
found she no longer hand any air in her lungs to power such a cry. In
desperation, Shana focused her remaining energy into a single buck of her hips,
but never really expected it to have any effect. The man's grip on her throat,
however, abruptly loosened as he was propelled backwards off the bed.

No, not propelled. Pulled . . .

As Shana fought to draw in air through her nose, she saw a semi-naked woman at
the end of the bed raising a wooden baseball bat above her head. Without
hesitation, the woman brought the bat down with all of her might and Shana heard
rather than saw the wet impact. The woman tossed the bat aside and, seemingly
satisfied, hurried over to Shana's side.

"Okay, listen up, we don't have much time. I'm going to untie you and then
you're going to help me get to a safe place. I'll tell you why soon. Just nod if
you understand."

Her mind a whirl of confused thoughts, Shana did as she was told.

"Good." The woman immediately ripped the tape away from Shana's mouth in one
painful yank. Needing no further prompting, the younger woman spat out the large
wad of cloth as her mysterious benefactor went to work on the rope binding her
right wrist.

"Thanks," Shana croaked after she had worked some saliva into her mouth. "I
don't know what I would have done without you."

The woman finished with the binding knot and immediately started unravelling the
rope from Shana's wrist. "We're not out of here yet. Just remember what I said."

"What are you worried about? You got him, right? I mean, the guy that kidnapped
us is dead isn't he?"

The woman pulled Shana's wrist free and immediately climbed onto the bed to
reach her other arm. She didn't even spare the younger woman a glance. "He
didn't kidnap me, just you. And I don't know if he's dead. Now stop thinking
about him, and start thinking about the quickest way out of here. I'll explain
everything to you as soon as I'm orientated in this world."

Shana's mouth closed on her reply as the last words the woman spoke registered
with her. This world? What the hell could that possibly mean? Could it be that
she'd run into two insane people in a row? Surely not. The odds would have been
incredible . . .

But then again, it had been a strange kind of day.

Rather than risking any further words, Shana decided to wait until she was free
to assess her next option. There was no point in antagonising the woman freeing
her while she was still half-bound.

Whatever happened, Shana knew one thing for sure. When she got back to campus,
she was going to have one hell of a story to tell Daphne.

*****

Interestingly enough, Daphne Arnold, 27 year old research assistant to and most
trusted employee of Dr. Heather Landcom, was currently in no position to enjoy
any story from her best friend, no matter now bizarre. Instead, she was lying
naked, bound and gagged on a bench while a masked woman clad entirely in black
leather ransacked the laboratory.

Daphne struggled gainfully against the ropes binding her, but the woman in black
knew her knots and Daphne could not reach a single one.  Her hands were securely
bound behind her back and linked to her crossed and bound feet via a short
hog-tying rope.  Her arms were secured to her sides with more rope that
encircled her torso above and below her moderately sized breasts. But perhaps
most distressingly of all, Daphne's mouth was packed with her own worn underwear
which she had been forced to strip at gun point when the leather clad woman had
first forced her way into the laboratory. The satiny material was held in her
mouth by a knotted scarf that the woman had tied tightly beneath her hair, and
five strips of reinforcing white medical tape that welded her lips together
around the scarf.

The woman threw closed a storage cupboard door and whirled to face Daphne.
"God-DAMN it!" She stalked across the littered laboratory to stand over the
helpless research assistant. "I need to know where you've hidden the tapes, and
I need to know now."

Daphne murmured a moan through her multi-layered gag, trying to convey the
obvious.

"Yes, I know you're gagged," stated the woman. "And that's not going to change.
Just nod in the direction of where the tapes are."

Daphne knew what the woman was talking about, but decided to play dumb.
"Huummupp hhaayy?"

"Don't even try it. We have your boss and she already told us she entrusted the
Gateway portal tapes to you. So unless you want to disappear permanently, I'd
suggest you start nodding." To emphasise her point, the woman drew her silenced
pistol from its holster beneath her leather jacket and pointed it at the bound
and gagged woman's head.

Daphne didn't know whether to believe her assailant about Dr. Landcom, but she
couldn't see any other way out of the predicament she was in. So, with a
resigned nasal sigh, she nodded in the direction of the hidden floor panel.

*****

D2-670A

Part Three

Approximately two hours after Rene freed Shana and the two escaped via the
family sedan they found in the driveway, a second blue sphere appeared in the
cellar of the kidnapper's home and quickly expanded to portal shape. The first
person to step out of the rift between dimensions was a hulking brute of a man
well over six feet tall. A shaven head, squinty eyes, and stubbled cheeks framed
a mass of rippling muscles badly concealed beneath an ill-fitting suit. In his
right hand, the man held a small button-like device with a tiny eye-hole at the
end. He aimed the device around the room like a weapon, and then satisfied that
was all clear, stepped to one side of the portal.

Marcus was the second figure to appear - long hair tied back in a dark ponytail,
startling blue eyes sweeping from side to side, tanned features contracted in a
sneer of disdain. He wore a calf length leather jacket over a black turtleneck
sweater and black pants, and carried another of the button-like weapons in his
hand. Marcus spoke as he moved over to stand beside the large man.

"Confirm dimension, Rufus."

"Rufus" nodded once and reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw a keypad
headed by a display window. He punched in a series of commands and waited
patiently for an answer.

As he did so, the third and fourth members of the unofficial retrieval group
filed into the cellar. The first of these was a petite, red-haired female,
garbed in a heavy wool overcoat, white shirt, knee-length skirt and sensible
heels. She would have been completely unnoticeable (which was exactly the effect
Marcus was searching for when he selected her clothing) were it not for the fact
that a high collared leash was bucked about her neck, and the lower half of her
face was hidden from view by a leather cover-all gag. Less noticeable was the
way the coat hung off the red-head's shoulders, hiding her crossed and bound
hands from a casual observer's view.

The fourth person through the portal - a squat, blonde haired man with a rounded
face and bright brown eyes - held the other end of the woman's leash tightly in
his hand. His thin lips creased into a savage grin as he jerked on the leash,
causing the petite woman to stumble back into him with a muffled grunt of alarm.

"Tarrant!" admonished Marcus, "leave Kitara alone. She volunteered for this
retrieval mission, and you will treat her as nothing less than an Alpha Level
female."

Kitara looked thankful behind her gag as the keypad in Rufus' hands emitted a
shrill beep, cutting off Tarrant's scowling reply. "We're in D2-670A."

"Good, no interference during the transfer, then." Marcus reached down to thumb
one of the D-keys on the ring hanging from his belt. The portal behind Tarrant
and Kitara immediately began to shrink. "Rene has a three hour start on us, so
we don't have any time to waste."

"She could be anywhere," scoffed Tarrant. "How the hell do we find her?" Behind
him, the rapidly diminishing portal disappeared.

Marcus eyes his "friend" squarely for a moment. Tarrant was the last man he
would have chosen for this retrieval in a perfect dimension, but unfortunately
there were very few men willing to part with one of their hard earned Dimension
keys, and even fewer who were willing to openly defy The Council by going on an
illegal retrieval. Hence, Marcus had found his options limited to the sadistic
little runt. Rufus, on the other hand, was his longest serving and
unquestionably loyal bodyguard - and would remain so as long as Marcus made sure
to provide him with suitable rewards for his service. And Kitara . . . well, she
was the bait that he hoped would eventually give him back Rene.

"Rufus, enlighten our doubting companion here."

The large man waved the keypad at Tarrant. "This processor block has a tracking
program enabled. Rene has a bug in her, implanted when she was first sold to
Marcus.  Simple really."

Tarrant sneered. "It must be if a thug like you can understand it."

"Tarant," warned Marcus, "I'd be very careful what you say in this dimension. My
authority over Rufus may not be as profound as it is back home."

Rufus smiled, exposing an array of broken teeth, while Tarrant's sneer was
replaced with a scowl. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Marcus held out his hand for the processor block, which Rufus promptly handed
over. "You two sweep the house, make sure she's not hiding anywhere in here.
I'll watch Kitara and allow the block to orientate itself."

"And if we find any other occupants?" asked Tarrant.

Marcus smiled. "This is a low profile retrieval. The fewer people who know about
our presence here the better."

Rufus and Tarrant smiled and nodded in synch, then together headed for the
stairs.

*****

At 35,000 feet, Dr. Heather Landcom was fast coming to the conclusion that being
bound, gagged and wheeled out of a busy hotel in a pile of dirty sheets and
towels was infinitely preferable to being rebound, regagged and locked in a
wooden crate stored in the cargo-hold of an airplane.

Heather tried, in vain, to maneuver herself into a position to strike against
the side of the crate. Her hope was that if she made enough of a noise, someone
would come to investigate and perhaps even free her from her tiny prison. Her
bondage, however, made a mockery of such a thought.

She was tied into an excruciatingly tight ball. Her knees were drawn up and
pressed against her forehead by rope wound around her neck and behind her knees.
Her arms were welded together behind her back by rope tied at her wrists and
elbows, and attached to her bent legs by a hog-tying cord. Her legs were also
bound together at ankles, knees and upper thighs; while a thin cord wrapped
around her waist and pulled tight between her legs tormented her most sensitive
areas.

She was also blindfolded and gagged, of course. Her binders (and there had been
at least three of them) had taken special care to ensure she was unable to see
anything or utter a sound loud enough to penetrate the crate, even with its
pre-drilled air-holes. Her blindfold consisted of a cotton pad over each eye
that was taped in place and covered with a bandage that was wrapped around her
upper face half a dozen times. In a similar manner, Heather's mouth was packed
with a copious amount of cloth that every so often tickled the back of her
throat, setting off her gag reflex. She had little choice other than to control
the reflex, however, as a thick cloth of some description was tied between her
teeth, preventing her from expelling the intrusive wadding with her tongue. Her
lips were crushed together around the cleaving cloth by the next layer of her
heavy gag - three pieces of white medical tape - that covered her face from nose
to chin. Finally, another bandage was wrapped tightly over the tape, further
ensuring Heather's silence and leaving only her nose free from obstruction.

With a muffled grunt of anger, Heather gave up her attempt to thrust a part of
herself against the box and lay breathing heavily through her nose. It seemed
she had no choice but to wait for someone to remove her from her prison, and by
her calculations that was still over three hours away. She'd heard one of her
binders comment that she should be able to bear being tied in this way for six
hours, and she suspected she'd yet to reach the half-way mark of her flight.

Refusing to think of why anyone would want to kidnap her like this, Dr. Heather
Landcom did the only thing left for her to do - she allowed the rumble of the
airplane's engines to lure her into an uncomfortable doze.

*****

Fortunately for Harold Cromb, the blow Rene delivered to his head with the
baseball bat did not kill him. In fact, he awoke on the floor of his bedroom
with little more than a bad concussion. Groaning, Harold pushed himself to his
feet and was not surprised to see the little slut he had kidnapped was gone.
Someone had obviously jumped him from behind and then helped the tart to escape.
He groaned again and added a grimace for good measure. She was probably already
on her way to the cops, so he had to get his stuff together and leave town as
fast as he . . .

Harold's scheming abruptly ended as he turned around to see a squat blond man
standing in the bedroom doorway. For just a moment he thought he'd come
face-to-face with the slut's rescuer, but the first word's out of the stranger's
mouth ended that notion.

"Well look at this," the man said as he waved a hand at the discarded rope, tape
and cloth wadding on the bed. "Seems like the old man here is into a bit of
slavering himself."

A second, much larger man, moved to stand behind the original speaker. "Maybe he
had Rene in here?"

"Maybe he did at that. Why don't you ask him?"

Harold's eyes widened in confusion as the smaller man made way for his associate
to step into the room. "Wh-what?" he stammered. "I d-don't know any Rene."

"Really?" said the smaller man. "So you haven't seen a tall, butt-naked blonde
running around in the last few hours? Didn't maybe decide that she should be . .
. oh, I don't know . . . punished for breaking into your home? Hmmm, am I
ringing any bells?"

The large man continued his slow advance on Harold who was now too petrified to
move. "No, I swear I haven't seen anyone like that. The girl I had here was
dark-haired. She . . . she was a slut who was asking for everything she got. You
have to believe me."

The large man paused to glance over his shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I think the old man is so terrified, he's ready to piss himself. So maybe he's
not lying." The squat man stepped back into Harold's view. "What happened to the
girl you did have?"

Harold motioned unsteadily to his head. "Someone hit me from behind with a bat."

The large man smiled knowingly, while his partner nodded. "That sounds like our
Rene." He paused for a second. "Rufus, if you'd be so kind."

On cue, Rufus darted forward and grabbed Harold by the arm. The large man
twisted viciously, and Harold howled with pain as his arm snapped like a twig in
his attacker's strong grip. His legs gave way beneath him, but Rufus' grasp held
firm, refusing to let him buckle.

The smaller man moved forward until he was nose to nose with Harold. "It's not
that I don't believe you old man, it's just that . . . well, we have to be sure.
And besides," he added with a wry grin as he pulled a small knife from his
jacket pocket, "we're not supposed to leave any potential witnesses."

*****

D2-670A

Part Four

Forty-five minutes after their escape, Rene sat in the passenger seat of the
stolen sedan while Shana drove. Both women were dressed in baggy track pants and
sweaters also stolen from Harold Cromb's home. It was the only thing he owned
that did not look ridiculous on them. Shana had been okay with the clothes, but
when it came to the car, Rene'd had to convince her no-one would care about
grand theft auto charges given what they had been through.

Although they'd had no spoken destination in mind as they had powered away from
Harold's house, Shana had quickly revealed that she wanted to find the nearest
police station and report her kidnapping. Rene believed that any Retrieval Team
would head straight for the local law enforcement agencies, figuring that that
was where she, like any other escapee, would take refuge. But Rene was smarter
than that, so she'd had to convince Shana that hiding out in a safe place was
their best option for the moment.

And the only way she'd been able to achieve that, was by telling her fellow
escapee everything.

Considering that she'd spoken of alternative dimensions, portals between them
operated by D-keys, and escaping from a world where women after their eighteenth
birthday were automatically sentenced to a life of literal bondage, Rene thought
that Shana was currently taking the news relatively well.

"Actually, there is somewhere else I want to go," said the young woman. "You'll
love it. It's got a lovely garden, and a swimming pool, and best of all - straps
to tie you down to the bed when you feel the need!"

"Shana," said Rene calmly, "I'm telling you the truth."

"Oh come on! Do you really expect me to believe a word that you're saying?! A
world full of women in bondage, please!"

Rene took a deep breath. "Yes, I do expect you to believe it. Because if you
don't help me, they're going to re-capture me and take me back to my world to be
tortured and executed."

Shana glanced over at Rene and then looked back at the road. "Okay, what if I
believe that you believe."

"Not good enough." Rene palmed the D-key. "Pull over."

Shana frowned in puzzlement, but was evidently in no further mood to argue. She
indicated at the next intersection and turned into a quiet suburban side street.
Rene was out of the car before Shana had even pulled to a complete halt. Without
even shutting the door, she thumbed the D-Key and watched as a red sphere
appeared hovering in the air in front of the idling car. She glanced over to see
Shana staring in astonishment as the portal grew and flattened out into its
proper shape.

"If you still don't believe me," said Rene, "step through and find out what's on
the other side. But you should know, it will be a one-way trip."

Shana did not reply. Her gaze remained fixed on the portal.

Rene pressed the button on the D-key again and waited until the portal had all
but faded away before climbing back into the car. Very slowly, Shana turned
around to face her. "You're for real," she whispered.

"As real as you."

Shana's bit her lip and nodded to herself, as if having made up her mind. She
turned in her seat to again face the road and put the car in gear.

"Where are we going?" asked Rene.

"To a friend's. I know someone you're going to want to meet." Shana swung the
wheel hard and began to turn the car around. "And on the way, maybe you should
tell me more about how your world works."

Rene smiled. It seemed she had made her first convert.

*****

Daphne was not found by the security guard on random patrol until almost half an
hour after the masked woman had left the laboratory. By that point, Daphne's
hands and feet had long since fallen asleep from lack of circulation and her
underwear had felt as if it was sliding down the back of her throat.

It was hardly surprising that her discovery had taken so long, Daphne reflected
as she hugged a blanket about her shoulders and explained the events in the
laboratory to the two uniformed police officers a further thirty minutes later.
The building Dr. Landcom had chosen as the site for her laboratory housed
numerous small business and offices throughout its fourteen floors, and all were
serviced by only a single security guard at any one time. Usually, he relied on
closed-circuit cameras to help him do his job, but as was discovered by the
police upon their arrival, Daphne's assailant had somehow gained access to the
security room and set up a pre-recorded tape depicting a darkened laboratory to
play over the real events.

The laboratory assistant told the officers as much about her masked assailant as
she could, but acknowledged that she was not supplying much information to go
on. When asked about the tapes that had been stolen, Daphne answered
semi-honestly that they were the records of important scientific research into
particle acceleration. She also mentioned the woman's threat that Dr. Landcom
was already being held against her will. The officers replied they would look
into it as soon as possible.

Finally, the questioning was over and a re-dressed Daphne was permitted to go
home. As she left the office building, the officers commended her for remaining
calm in a dangerous situation. Daphne managed a weak "thank you" in reply, but
all she was thinking about was her need for a hot, cleansing shower.

She caught a glimpse of herself as she walked out the reflective sliding doors
and was glad to see she did not look quite as bad as she felt. Her long red-hair
was gathered up and tied back in a bunched pony-tail, displaying her
well-defined facial features for all to see. Dark blue eyes, a thin nose and
high cheekbones sat upon full pink lips and a dimpled chin. In contrast, her
moderately proportioned figure was hidden beneath her buttoned-up woolen jacket,
scarf and dark blue jeans. Her feet were comfortable in her favourite pair of
runners. On any normal work day, she would obviously have dressed a little more
appropriately for an office laboratory, but since Dr. Landcom had been off
tempting investors and Daphne had only stopped by for what was meant to be a
short report-writing session, she had decided that her normal campus clothes
were good enough.

It was cold outside in the car park, even by late autumn's standards. Daphne
glanced down at her watch and noted it was almost 10pm. Her short report writing
session had turned into a four hour ordeal of captivity, release and
questioning.

Shivering, Daphne hurried over to her car, thumbed the auto-unlock button on her
key-ring and climbed inside. It was only after she'd locked the doors again and
started the car that she permitted herself a sigh of relief - which, as it
turned out, was horrendously premature. A fact that Daphne may well have
realized had she noticed the small black box with the intermittently flashing
red light attached to the underside of her car's steering column.

*****

In spite of the late hour, Lois Davenport, the 43 year old CEO of Davidson
Global, looked every inch the powerful figure that she was, dressed in a dark
blue pinstripe suit, starched gray shirt, perfectly knotted silk necktie, dark
pantyhose, and three inch black pumps. Her long light brown hair was drawn back
in a severe bun, and a pair of black-framed spectacles rested on the end of her
nose as she appeared to pour over the paperwork in front of her. But the
powerful woman's thoughts were actually elsewhere, focused on the exciting new
opportunity that was even now on its way up to her thirty-eighth floor office.

She smiled widely, displaying a set of perfectly even white teeth. As CEO of a
major research and development company, life was already very, very good, but
she had a definite feeling that it was about to get even better.

The office intercom chimed. Lois leant forward in her leather chair and pressed
a button. "Yes?"

"We're here," answered a male voice.

"Come right in." Lois pressed a second button and the twin office doors opened
inwards with a low buzz. Quickly, she stood and walked around her huge mahogany
desk to check her appearance in a long mirror. In essence, she was content with
what she saw. Certainly, her figure was no longer quite as thin as it had once
been, and it was now impossible to hide the deeper wrinkles that lined the
corners of her eyes and creased her forehead, but she still carried that certain
sexual appeal that many men found irresistible and most women tried to
replicate. Her dress sense and the power it helped convey had much to do with
that. Lois had long believed it was important to look her absolute best for
every occasion. It was a belief that had helped carry her a long way in her
relatively short life, and she saw no reason why it should not apply now -
despite the unusualness of the situation.

Lois subtly straightened the knot of her midnight blue necktie, and turned away
from the mirror in time to see a casually dressed man with fair-hair slide into
the room.

"Welcome Christian," Lois said quietly, trying to keep the tremor of excitement
out of her voice. "How was your trip?"

"Uneventful," the newcomer replied. "Quiet, in fact."

"So you had no trouble?"

"None at all."

"Excellent. And you have the package with you?" Lois' eyes sparkled in the
purposefully dimmed light of her office.

"Of course. Would you like to see it?"

"Please."

The man slid back out through the office doors, but was back a moment later with
a uniformed security guard. Between the two of them, they wheeled a wooden crate
on a delivery trolley. Lois wasted no time approaching them, as Christian and
his partner levered the top off the crate with an iron bar. Cautiously, she
peered over the rim of the crate to look inside.

A thrill the likes of which Lois had never before experienced coursed through
her at the sight of the severely trussed up woman at the bottom of the crate.
She swallowed and struggled to resist the temptation to lick her lips.

"Welcome back to Davidson Global, Dr. Landcom." Lois said huskily. "We have much
to discuss, and many more ... shall we say ... experiments to run."

*****

D2-670A

Part Five

Marcus was busy with Kitara when Tarrant and Rufus returned from their sweep of
the house. The processor block had recently finished its analysis of Rene's
location, but had not supplied a result he was happy with. As a result, Marcus
had decided he needed a little relaxation therapy from his most loyal slave.
Unfortunately, it had just been prematurely interrupted.

Grunting in annoyance, Marcus pulled himself out of Kitara's mouth and
refastened his pants. He then scooped up the cover-all gag from the ground and
pushed the rubber ball into his slave's mouth. She accepted the oral intrusion
without protest, allowing Marcus to quickly position the leather panel squarely
over her lips and then buckle the whole contraption tightly behind her head.
Being an Alpha Level slave may have afforded Kitara protection from any normal
male, but Marcus was her owner, and could therefore do with her as he pleased.

"You better have some good news," said the leader of the Retrieval Team. "The
processor block could only ascertain that she is moving in an easterly direction
and is somewhere between 20 and 30 miles away."

Tarrant grinned. "Don't worry, we have a very good idea who she's with." He held
up an item that women were forbidden to carry back in their own world - a
handbag. "And where that someone lives."

Marcus nodded at his fellow Retrievers, acknowledging their efforts. "In that
case, it's time for us to find some transport. Whatever happens, I want Rene
back within 24 hours."

*****

It felt extremely strange to be moving around without any rope, ties, cuffs or
chains impeding her progress. And it was a feeling that Rene knew she would
always treasure. To be able to stretch her muscles at any time without some form
of ligature restraining her; to be able to speak whenever she wished without
having to make herself understood around a mouthful of cloth or rubber. This was
what life was all about. Freedom. Not being a slave to any male who had a
fistful of credit. Not being tortured and raped on an almost daily basis. Not
having to spend every minute in a public place gagged tightly because The
Council decreed it was law. Not spending the vast majority of her life with her
hands and elbows tied together behind her - and the remainder of her time with
them cuffed before her.

Real freedom - at least as far as the females of her world were concerned - was
evidently a D-key away. But she, at least, had found it. And, come what may, she
was going to share it with as many of her fellow slaves as she could.

It was these words, and many more like it, that poured from Rene's mouth as she
explained all about her world to an increasingly shocked Shana . Rene had just
moved on to the topic of her pursuers by the time they arrived at their
destination - a small apartment situated on the edge of a college campus.

"I didn't think they were just going to let you go." Shana commented

"Not Marcus. Well, not any slave-owner for that matter. But especially not
Marcus." Rene sighed and sat back in her car seat.

"How many are going to be after you?"

"That depends. An official Retrieval Team will have four members. Three guards
and a coordinator. But Marcus will probably try and keep my escape 'in-house'.
That means he'll come after me himself with only a few essential helpers."

"Can we fight them?"

Rene shook her head. "They'll be carrying weapons - powerful weapons that can
turn you to less than ash. And that's if you're lucky. They won't have any
qualms kidnapping a beautiful girl like you and taking you back to our world."

Shana smiled slightly at the compliment, but her brow remained creased by a
frown. "So we have to run. At least this is a big world."

"We?" Rene asked.

"You don't think I'm going to leave you in this mess after you saved me, do
you?"

Rene felt a wave of relief wash over her. She was plainly aware of the fact that
on her own she would not have last more than a day in this strange world. But
with Shana's help, anything was possible.

Breathing a quiet "Thank you", Rene reached out a hand to grasp Shana's
shoulder. The younger woman placed her hand on top of Rene's lightly. The gaze
of each of the women met for a brief moment, and then Rene slowly pulled her
hand away. She looked around her surroundings quizzically. "So where are we, and
what are we doing here?"

"This is a friend of mine's apartment. Her name's Daphne and she works as an
assistant to a doctor working on - believe it or not - a gateway between
dimensions. I figured the two of you might have a lot to talk about."

Rene's eyes widened at the implications of what Shana had just told her - both
for herself and the future of this world. "If what you're saying is true, I
could help them perfect their research and then lose the Retrieval Team via a
different portal. But it could also mean trouble for your world. From what
Marcus told me, there are many dimensions out there worse than mine ... The
wrong portal to the wrong world, and the results could be disastrous."

"God, this is way too 'Sliders' for my taste," Shana remarked.

"What?"

"Don't worry. Current world reference."

Rene glanced out the window at the predominantly dark building up ahead. "So,
when can we meet up with this Daphne?"

Shana gestured at the street through the windshield. "That's her parking spot
there. Her car's not around though, so she must be out. We'll just have to sit
tight and wait until she gets back."

Rene nodded and the two women lapsed into silence. After a few moments, Shana
leant forward and turned on the car's radio. A slow song by a boring R&B band
was warbling to a close, and was soon replaced by a slightly faster, more guitar
orientated number. Suddenly, Rene sat bolt upright in her seat, eyes wide and
staring in horror at the radio.

"What? What is it?" asked Shana, looking around in alarm.

"It's ... it's a woman?!" Rene's brain could not grasp the concept of a woman
being allowed to sing - and even more incredibly, being permitted to record a
song that everyone could listen to! Nothing like that had ever happened on her
world. The gags women were forced to wear in every public situation saw to that.

Shana finally cottoned on to what had startled Rene so badly. "It's okay, it's
just Courtney Love." Shana laughed.  "I didn't think her voice was that bad!"

Rene, too, began to laugh. This world really was amazing!

So amazing that Rene was forced to amend her earlier estimate on how long she
would have lasted alone within it.

An hour seemed like a much more realistic figure.

*****

With the exception of Harold Cromb's broken corpse, the entire house was empty.

And for a short amount of time - approximately twenty five minutes - it remained
that way.

Until a tell-tale blue sphere appeared out of thin air in the dimly lit cellar,
and quickly began to expand ...

*****

Heather groaned into her gag as Lois Davenport, her one time employer and now
self-proclaimed Mistress, ran a gloved hand along her quivering abdomen.

"Quite the strenuous position, isn't it, slave?"

Had she been able to speak, Heather would have wholeheartedly agreed. She was
bent backwards across a hard wooden stool - one that had been taken from Lois'
office bar - with her wrists and ankles each bound together and tied off to the
stool's horizontal foot supports. The edges of the flat seat pressed painfully
into her flesh beneath shoulder blades and upper rump, while the rest of her
back was arched in the air. Her head hung freely upside down, leaving her
feeling light headed and more than a little woozy, but with Lois' soiled
underwear stuffed into her mouth and held in place with a two and half inch
rubber ball gag that was buckled excruciatingly tight beneath her hair, she had
no way to voice her concerns.

While Heather was still completely naked, her captor had changed into something
she'd decreed was a little more appropriate for dealing with slaves. Lois now
wore a black leather corset, black gartered stockings that disappeared into
thigh-high leather booths and shoulder length kid leather gloves. Even from her
inverted position, Heather could see that her one-time superior wore the black
and leather ensemble extremely well and would not have been out of place in a
fetish club, mixing with men and women half her age.

"I've been waiting for this moment ever since I laid eyes on you, slave," said
Lois as she bent down to check the ropes binding Heather's ankles. "The whole
time you were impressing the rest of the board with your work here, I was
fantasizing about this type of situation. You see, up until recently, I was a
submissive to a very strong woman - a woman who would have had me tied in your
position on any normal day. So I know exactly what you're going through."

Lois stood as Heather managed to mumble a muffled reply of "Oooo Aarres."

"Who cares?" said Lois mockingly. "Well I thought you would have. After all, I
have the power to do anything that I want to you. So maybe you'd like to know as
much about me as possible."

The leather clad woman walked around the stool to crouch down in front of
Heather's face. "You brought out the dominant side in me, slave. And it's a side
that I'm going to have a great deal of pleasure exploring. Sorry that I can't
promise the same thing for you." Lois reached behind Heather's head and deftly
tightened the ball gag another notch. Heather winced as the ball was pulled even
further into her mouth, and Lois' underwear was forced further down her throat.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. In another hour or so, we'll leave the
office and I'll be take you down to my own private dungeon. Usually I'm the one
being abused within it, but tonight - and for the rest of your days - you have
that honour, slave."

Heather missed the significance of Lois' first sentence, as the second slammed
home with the force of a sledge hammer. Prisoner of this mad-woman forever?? NO!
She'd had enough of being a captive; enough of the bondage; enough of being
gagged. And then there was the distinct possibility that some kind of torture
was imminent. Which was to say nothing of the fact that she was going to be kept
from her work. Damnit! She was so close to cracking the secrets of the Gateway
Portal - so close to realizing her dream!

Heather mewed into her gag as she began squirming against her bonds, desperate
to wrestle her way free and get out of this nightmare. But the ropes held firm
as Lois watched with a broadening smile. "Yes, that's it! Struggle all you
want!" The leather-clad woman licked her lips and in between ragged breaths
added quietly, "No wonder Veronica liked me to fight - it is exhilarating to
watch."

*****

Thirty-seven floors below, a lone female watched the bizarre tableau unfolding
on one of the two security cameras peering unobtrusively into Lois' office. The
woman, also dressed from head to toe in black leather and holding three video
tapes beneath her arm, watched in silence as Lois walked over to the bar and
grabbed a riding crop from behind it. Her eyes narrowed, however, as Lois strode
back over to the helplessly bound woman and ran the crop teasingly over her
glistening skin.

"I think now would be a good time for your first cropping," said the image of
Lois on the screen.

The image of the bound and gagged woman continued to struggle as she "mmmpphhed"
in response to her tormentor's comment.

"I'll take that as a yes," laughed Lois, and brought the crop down across
Heather's stomach.

"Bitch," whispered the watcher vehemently. With a flick of her finger, she
turned the cameras off, instantly darkening the screens.

"Jealous, Veronica?" inquired a mocking male voice.

Christian stepped over the threshold and into the security room, a wide smile on
his face.

Veronica Sloane, Lois Daveport's most trusted adviser and unofficial
"right-hand" woman, turned slowly to face Davidson Global's Head of Security and
her oldest rival.

"Did you bring her to Lois?" Veronica asked, making no attempt to hide her
anger.

Christian's mocking smile remained firmly in place "Perhaps. What if I did?"

"Then you're stupider than I thought. She'll change things around here - and I'm
not talking about her research."

"Seems to me that she'll only be changing things for you." Christian leant
forward. "I wonder, what will you do when you don't have Lois by a leash?"

Veronica gritted her teeth and let the insult pass. She held up the tapes. "I'm
supposed to take these up to her."

"No you're not. Lois asked me to get them from you." He held out his hand. "I
guess she's not in the mood for your particular brand of company."

Very calmly, with her gaze never leaving his, Veronica placed the tapes on the
desk beside her. Then, with a supreme effort of will, she strode past Christian
and out of the security room, allowing her last words to drift back to him as he
gathered up the tapes.

"I promise you, this isn't the end of it."

*****

D2-670A

Part 6

"Daphne, wait up!"

Daphne turned at the sound of her name and saw two figures approaching her along
the dimly lit sidewalk. She tensed, but a moment later one of them became
recognizable as Shana. Another stunning woman was with her and they were both
dressed strangely in ill-fitting sweat suits.

"I'm so glad you're back," said Shana as they came along side Daphne. "I was
just staring to think you were staying somewhere else. Oh, this is Rene by the
way."

Daphne nodded a greeting at the stunning woman. There was something amiss here.
She could sense it. "Are you okay? You guys look ..."

"Yeah, we know. It's a long story and we'll tell you all about it. But for now
can we go inside? We're not sure how safe it is out here."

Despite her sense of unease, Daphne had been about to say "It's been a really
long day, and I've spent a good part of it being held hostage, so can you maybe
come back tomorrow/" when something in Shana's tone struck a nerve. The look on
both the women's faces confirmed it.

"Okay, come on in. Then you can tell me what's going on."

"Thank you," said the stunning woman, speaking for the first time in a tone that
conveyed just how relieved she was.

Whatever was up, Daphne reasoned, it was evidently big.

Just how big, wasn't revealed until fifteen minutes later when Rene activated
her D-key and gave Daphne her first look at an operational gateway between
dimensions.

*****

Marcus sighed in frustration as he stood in the bedroom of the empty house.
Shana Rodiegez and, more importantly, Rene were nowhere to be found.

"Maybe we should just call it a day and roll with what we've already picked up,"
said Tarrant, looking on from his seat at a somewhat battered old study desk.

Tarrant was referring to the young woman the Team had kidnapped when they'd
commandeered a vehicle near the arrival point. Kitara had played her role
perfectly - running out into the path of the car, hands tied behind her back and
eyes wide in mock panic above her gag. The young woman had screeched to a halt
before Kitara, and climbed from the car saying "What's going on?", before Rufus
had wrapped her in a huge bear hug. A few minutes later, the Retrieval Team were
seated in the car and ready to roll, while the unfortunate woman was tightly
bound and gagged and stashed in the trunk of her own car. Marcus had let Tarrant
do the tying, and watched with admiration as the little man went to work on his
victim, roping her wrists to her ankles, and then adding to it by tying her
thumbs to her big toes with thin twine. A choke cord attached to the spare tire
had ensured she wouldn't be trying to attract any unwanted attention, while the
head-harnessed rubber bladder that Tarrant had stuffed in her mouth and inflated
via the attached hand pump had served to reinforce that fact. Their new
acquisition in place, Marcus had used a map book in the car to plot a route to
Shana's address and they had been on their way with Rufus behind the wheel.

"We're not leaving without her," said Marcus evenly. "You'll just have to wait
to play with your new slave."

Tarrant shrugged. "You're the boss, boss. I was just offering a suggestion." He
scratched his head lightly. "So, where to now?"

By way of an answer, Marcus activated the processor block and again tried to
locate Rene with the tracking program. The block was well oriented now, so he
only had to wait a few moments before Rene's location was revealed to him. She'd
evidently stopped moving and was ... apparently ten miles north-east.

"Got her. She's less than half an hour away and currently stationary."

"All right then," said Tarrant eagerly. "Let's get this over with."

"Wait a minute." Marcus chewed on his lower lip. Maybe spreading their resources
a little more thinly was the order of the day - just in case they missed Rene
again. He was also thinking there had to be a big chance the Shana girl would
return home, if only to get changed and freshen up. And if they were already
linked, there was no reason why Rene wouldn't still be traveling with her ...

Someone was going to have wait here, just in case. Obviously he was going to
lead the chase himself, and he wanted Rufus with him to handle anyone who posed
a problem. Kitara, while a loyal slave, was just a female and could not be
trusted completely. Which left just one option.

"Tarrant," said Marcus, "How would you feel about waiting here in case we miss
Rene and she heads back this way?"

Tarrant frowned for a moment, before his mouth curled into a hopeful smile. "Can
I look after our new slave as well?"

Marcus was prepared for the question. He knew the way Tarrant's mind worked.

"Of course."

*****

Lois Davenport emerged from her private dungeon looking two parts flushed, and
three parts annoyed.

"This had better be good," she snapped at her Head of Security who stood
casually in the corridor leading to the dungeon. "I was right in the middle of
showing Dr. Landcom the wooden horse."

Christian suppressed a smile and handed over the tapes he had taken from
Veronica. It seemed that in one night Lois was determined to put her new
"plaything" through every ordeal that she herself had suffered at the hands of
Veronica. And on the subject of that particular individual ...

"I thought you should know that the woman who normally calls the shots in
there," Christian motioned toward the dungeon, "Stormed out of here quite
dramatically a short while ago."

Lois grasped the tapes in her gloved hands. "So? How is that my concern?"

"I engaged the tracking device on the company car she took, and she's headed
right for the Arnold residence."

"The lab assistant I specifically ordered freed?"

Christian nodded. "The same."

He watched as Lois took a deep, searching-for-calm breath. "So you think
Veronica's going to 'reacquire' this girl?"

"It would seem so, yes."

"Well explain to me then, Christian, how acquiring her at this early stage will
permit her to lead us to others who know too much about Dr. Landcom's
experiments?"

"Now you see why I brought this decision to you personally. Do you want me to
stop Veronica?"

There was a slight pause as Lois considered the implications of her response.
"Yes, and then I want you to bring her to me, here, in the dungeon. We're going
to have to have a long discussion about corporate policy."

Christian clamped down on the thrill of triumph that coursed through him.
Finally, after all these years, his greatest rival within Davidson Global had
caused him his final problem. He was just one drive and a few knots away from
having Veronica Sloane, meddling bitch, out of his hair for good.

"Consider it done." Christian spun on his heel and half-jogged down the corridor
away from his employer.

*****

It had taken near on an hour of explaining, supplemented by a graphic
demonstration of the gateway, but Rene suspected she had finally made a second
convert out of Shana's friend, Daphne.

The three women sat about in Daphne's small TV room. Rene and Daphne were
sitting side by side on the main couch while Shana looked on from her precarious
position on a blow-up arm chair.

"What about an education? Do the women in your dimension go through school?"
Daphne asked in the latest of a long stream of questions.

"Essentially, yes. But it's not the same as what I understand happens here. You
two would have been to a school with the boys of your age and progressed through
a set number of years, correct?"

Daphne and Shana nodded together.

"Well in my dimension all the girls are sent away to boarding schools when
they're six. And that's where they live until the end of our thirteenth year of
schooling." Rene felt the anger stirring within her as she recalled her past.
"The first twelve years involve being taught all the things I imagine any child
of this dimension learns - English, Mathematics, Science, History, and all the
rest of it. But the last is 'Prep Year'."

"Prep Year?" prompted Shana.

"The year in which we're trained in restraint and how to serve our future
Masters."

"Doesn't sound like much fun," said Daphne quietly.

Rene shrugged. "That depends on whether your idea of fun is being bound into a
straight backed chair for hours on end and having to learn the law on
appropriate bondage states for females." She smiled humorously. "Can you imagine
it? A whole class of eighteen year old girls being tormented like that."

"Did you ever try to escape?" asked Shana.

"Escape? To where? Until I was purchased by my Mast- by Marcus, there was
nowhere for me to escape to. You have to remember, my whole world is like this.
Females are programmed from pretty much the day they're born to be subservient
to males. We live, we serve, we die. It's the law - and even worse, it's the
natural order of things."

"But you made it this far," said Shana, "surely there are others like you."

Rene's emotions were racing. It was so unfair. These two women had no idea how
precious it was to be free. To call no-one "Master". To be able to make a
mistake without fear of sudden and painful reprisal. No words of hers would ever
be able to explain it to them, and if they were lucky they'd never have to
experience it for themselves. As far as she was concerned, being bound and
gagged for a few hours hardly cut it. Being a slave was infinitely worse -
especially when you took into account that the slave's of her world had no hope
of escape. Unless their new Master happened to be rich enough to own a D-key ...

"Yes," Rene said eventually. "A few. A secret group of women who worship a
special Goddess. My aim is to eventually join them. No matter how long it
takes."

There was silence for a few moments as each of the women realized continuing the
conversation would be awkward at this early stage. Finally, Daphne stood.

"Okay, we have to work out what we're going to do. Rene, do you think there's
any chance my encounter tonight was in someway related to your Retrieval Team?"

Daphne had told them about her ordeal at the hands of the woman in leather after
Rene and Shana had been through their respective stories. The coincidences in
their situations had escaped no-one, but Rene's world and all its differences
had commanded the bulk of attention until now.

"You said you were attacked in the early evening?"

Daphne nodded.

"Then no, because I didn't arrive until that time. The Retrieval Team must have
been at least forty five minutes behind me because that's how long it took me to
get loose and rescue Shana."

"So that means we're dealing with a different person or group who has the tapes,
and probably Heather." Daphne sighed heavily. "Great."

Rene rubbed her chin. "Whatever happens, we need to find her. Despite the fact
that she's obviously in trouble, opening another portal is the only way I'll be
able to elude the Team chasing me for any length of time. And I want to be out
of here before I lead them to you."

"But she could be anywhere," said Shana.

Daphne began to pace - something Rene had noticed she did a great deal when deep
in thought. "I've left a message for her at her hotel, but that's really all I
can do from here. Unless we go to the police."

"No," said Rene quickly. "No police. If they take me in for any reason, I'll be
a sitting duck for whoever's chasing me."

Daphne opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by the roar of the front door
exploding inwards in a spectacular shower of wooden splinters. Unfortunately,
Daphne's pacing took her in line with the doorway at exactly the wrong moment,
and the force of the blast caught her squarely, lifting her off her feet and
slamming her against the wall ten feet away.

Rene moved instinctively, rolling over the back of the couch and using it as an
impromptu shield. She glanced over to see that Shana, having been seated on the
opposite side of the room from the explosion, was physically unscathed but
staring in shock at Daphne who lay unconscious amid the shattered remains of the
door.

Rene was up and moving toward her new friend before the roar in her ears had
even started to fade, "Move!" she yelled as she grabbed Shana by the arm and
hauled her to her feet. Thankfully, the younger girl responded almost
immediately, and followed Rene of her own accord as she led the way into the
bedroom.

Turning, Rene slammed the door behind them and quickly darted over to the only
other exit remaining.

"Wh-what's going on?" asked Shana, wide-eyed.

"They're here," hissed Rene from her position at the second story window. She
unlocked and then pulled it open. "We're going to have to jump."

"Who's here?" asked Shana, evidently still in some kind of shock.

"Shana. We don't have time for this. Unless you want to be a slave - Move. Now."

Rene waited just long enough to see Shana start toward her and then leapt out of
the window toward the grass below. She rolled as she landed, trying to absorb
most of the impact. Nevertheless, the shock of the landing numbed her legs as
she rolled to a halt and she had to spend a moment waiting for the feeling in
them to return.

By which time the barrel of a gun was jammed into the base of her neck.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" said a feminine voice.

Slowly, Rene turned to see a woman dressed entirely in black pointing an
extremely large looking handgun at her forehead.

Or more specifically, a woman dressed entirely in black leather ...

*****

Shana paused on the window sill, none too eager to follow Rene's lead and leap
out into the darkness without first seeing what she hoped to land on. She gasped
aloud as right beneath her she saw someone standing over her new friend,
pointing a gun at her threateningly.

For a moment she was torn between escaping from whoever was up here with her,
and leaping into potentially even more trouble. But then Shana thought she heard
the sounds of someone outside the bedroom door, and that made her mind up.

She shoved herself away from the window sill and out into the cold night air,
trying desperately to twist her body so that she'd land right on top of the
woman menacing Rene ...

*****

D2-670A

Part 7

Rufus heard a door slam as he stepped over the threshold and into the apartment.
Splinters of wood crunched beneath his massive heel as he stepped forward,
holding his MP-432 between thumb and forefinger and sweeping it across the
living room in a covering arc. The tiny button-like weapon had made mince-meat
of the door and it would do the same to any person who had the misfortune of
being on its receiving end.

Rufus spotted the woman down amid the remnants of the door, but a second glance
proved it wasn't Rene. The rest of the room was empty and had only two other
exits - a hallway leading down to the back of the apartment, and a closed door.

"Clear, boss."

Marcus entered the apartment swiftly, his own MP-432 palmed and ready for use.
"Anything?"

"Just her," Rufus nodded at the motionless woman, "and I think Rene's hiding
through that door there."

Without wasting any further time, Marcus darted toward the closed door while
Rufus trailed behind. The bodyguard had never seen his boss in such a state
before - upset for one reason or another, sure, but never actually desperate.
Marcus was, generally speaking, the most level headed man Rufus had ever worked
for. And yet here he was scampering through a strange world to find a female
slave who had ducked out on him.

Rufus snorted. As far as he was concerned, it was all a spectacular waste of
time. They could be home, tying and using any of the many slaves Marcus owned
(or had leased for a limited period), but instead they were playing Retrieval
Team in this shit of a dimension.

Not that Rufus would ever complain. He had built a reputation as one of the best
in the field, so he wasn't about to jeopardize it by complaining out of turn
now. No, he'd just grin and bear it, and with any luck Marcus would reward him
with an extra bonus at the end of it all. At least, Rufus sincerely hoped Marcus
was considering bonuses for all concerned, because it would be a great pity if
The Council ever got wind of this little venture and who had organized its
conception ...

The door was locked when Marcus tried the handle, so he stepped back and pressed
the firing trigger on his MP-432. Rufus watched in appreciation as another door
all but disintegrated into its component parts, which in turn were propelled
into the next room at speeds faster than the human eye could register.

Wasting no further time. Rufus dodged past his employer and stepped into what
turned out to be a empty bedroom. He cursed and ran over to the open window to
see if his quarry was climbing down the outside wall.

She wasn't, but three figures were moving about on the grass below him in an
interlocked struggle. The darkness and his poor viewing angle made it difficult
to tell, but Rufus was almost positive that the one on top with lighter blonde
hair was Rene. He was about to turn and inform Marcus when he noticed the
semi-circle of dark shadows closing in on the women. Narrowing his eyes, Rufus
peered intently at the shadows to see that they were actually combat dressed men
carrying what looked to be some kind of primitive assault rifle.

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when a stream of bullets exploded
into the wall beside him and sent him diving back into the bedroom for cover.

*****

Christian and his hastily assembled security force of six reached Daphne
Arnold's home address only 20 minutes after Veronica's company vehicle stopped
moving one block over to the east. He just hoped she hadn't yet had time to
break in and make the snatch.

"Remember, Veronica's the target," Christian addressed his men. "Any other
witnesses are to be rendered unconscious and then bound securely. Understood?"

Silent nods answered him.

"Good. Go to it."

As quickly and quietly as possible, the security force filed out of the back of
the van and disappeared into the night. Christian started the timer on his
watch. He'd given them fifteen minutes as a target. If they came in under,
Davidson Global would add a nice bonus to their pay slips.

Lighting a cigarette, Christian slipped out of the driver's seat of the van and
idly wandered across the road. Smoking was a bad habit he'd gotten into while
waiting for anything slightly tense to occur. Like so many others, he found it
helped to calm his nerves.

Which may have helped to explain why Christian barely raised an eyebrow when he
happened to glance into the parked car that he'd chose to lean against and saw a
bound and gagged woman lying with her eyes closed across the back seat.

Or then again, his lack of surprise may simply have been due to he fact that he
was more than slightly habituated to the sight of a trussed up woman.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Christian pulled out his Colt .45 and
used its butt to smash in the passenger side window. The bound woman jumped and
screeched into her leather cover-all gag as she was started awake by the sound
of breaking glass.

Christian noted with a smile that beneath her lock of red hair, the woman
appeared quite pretty in a petite sort of way. He imagined that a similar
picture would be revealed when he eventually removed the woolen coat she was
wearing and got a look at her body. But that was for later. Right now,
introductions were in order, so he poked his head in through the broken window
and said: "Hi there. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, because right now
you're going to be coming with me."

*****

Veronica had just decided that two captives was better than one for what she had
in mind, and was drawing one set of handcuffs from her belt, when something
heavy slammed into her upper back. She was shoved forward and down beneath the
weight, falling across the stunning girl she'd been about to handcuff. To make
matters worse, as she landed she lost her grip on the gun and saw it land on the
grass almost six feet away.

Realizing that her only hope of salvaging this situation was to get the gun
back, Veronica began to claw her way toward the weapon. Her progress was more
than slightly impeded, however, by the girl beneath her and by the weight that
was beginning to squirm about on her back.

A hand caught up in Veronica's hair and another cupped her chin before
proceeding to pull her head back. Instinctively, she responded by throwing
herself to the side and trying to roll her assailant beneath her. The stunning
girl who'd been on the bottom of the pile rolled with her, evidently caught up
in the confused jumble of feminine limbs.

Veronica struck out with fist and elbow, hoping to break away before she was
pinned between her two assailants, and felt solid connections with both. She
heard a whispered "Bitch!" from above her, before a fist slammed into her own
stomach.

Suddenly, the roar of automatic gun fire filled Veronica's ears, causing her and
her assailants to freeze on the spot. Confusion and uncertainty tore through her
as she looked over the shoulder of the girl on top of her and saw a dark shape
approaching them at a fast pace ...

*****

Rene knew from the primitive weapons that the men encircling them were not a
Retrieval Team. But that thought served to comfort her only a little, since it
was obvious that the dark figures did not have her best intentions at heart.

One of them reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her free of Shana and the
woman who had threatened her with the gun. As she came to her feet, Rene tensed,
expecting the figure (who was obviously a man) to bring his weapon to bear on
her. But instead, he suddenly produced a small can and sprayed it directly into
her face.

Rene turned her head away and coughed in an effort to clear the spray from her
airways. But it was far too late. By the time she'd stopped her forced coughing
to take in a breath of air, she could already feel her eyes growing heavy and
her legs starting to buckle.

The last thing she registered before falling unconscious was a sudden extreme
blast of air as the man beside her took a hit from a MP-432 right in the chest
...

*****

Having squeezed off a single destructive shot, Rufus again ducked for cover
beneath the window sill as an answering hail of bullets ricocheted around him.

"One down!" he yelled at Marcus over the roar of gunfire.

"Keep them pinned down," his boss yelled back. "I'll get Rene."

Rufus nodded his understanding and watched as Marcus darted back out into the
lounge room. He stayed down long enough for the inevitable pause in the gunfire
being directed at him, and then leapt up to fire his deadly weapon again ...

****

The "commando" holding Shana released his iron grip on her arm as a second man
exploded into particles of blood, bone and clothing not ten feet away from them.
Glancing round, the young university student saw all of the commandos firing up
at the window of Daphne's apartment. Rene was out cold on the ground and the
woman they'd fought together was slumping to the ground, evidently another
victim of the knock-out spray.

Realizing that her only chance was to move while everyone else was pre-occupied,
Shana abruptly turned and ran. She expected to be cut down at any second by gun
fire, or worse, hit by the weapon that was ripping through the commandos. But
her luck held. She made it to the corner of Daphne's apartment block without so
much as a "Halt!" from behind her.

For just a moment, as she rounded the corner and made it to the relative safety
of the communal washing line, Shana wondered if there was anything she could do
to help Daphne or Rene. She quickly came to the conclusion, however, that they
would be much better off if she could get away and find some help. The only
thing she'd accomplish by going back now would be to get herself caught as well.

With that thought firmly in mind, Shana began to run toward the nearest side
street.

*****

Christian had just finished securing his new captive into a tight hogtie in the
back of the van when the echo of automatic gunfire reached him.

Given that he'd ordered a covert operation, Christian automatically knew that
his men were in trouble.

In an instant, the Davidson Global Head of Security was out of the van and
sliding the door closed on the tightly bound and gagged woman still inside. He
drew his .45 and sprinted across the road in the direction of the firefight.

*****

"Back! Back!" Marcus heard one of the commandos yell as he rounded the side of
the apartment building. He saw two of the men hurriedly dropping to their knees
and pulling Rene and another unconscious woman outfitted in a leather catsuit
across their shoulders. The other two commandos were maintaining their covering
fire, and doing a good job of keeping Rufus pinned down.

All of the men, however, were too preoccupied to have noticed his arrival.

Knowing he couldn't shoot at either of them men carrying the women without
killing them as well, Marcus took careful aim at the closest man firing his
weapon and squeezed off a shot with the MP-432. His aim was true and a pulse of
pure energy slammed into Marcus' target, splattering the bulk of his torso him
across his partner in a scarlet and ivory shower. The second man was knocked to
the ground by the forceful deluge, affording Marcus an oh-so-easy target.

Just as his finger started to squeeze the trigger, Marcus heard another weapon
being fired and almost instantly felt something slam into his shoulder with
enough force to knock the wind out of him. Marcus staggered a few steps to the
side, his mind trying to grasp who had shot at him and where his attacker was.
He glanced around wildly, trying to make out shapes through the darkness, but
all he could see was the rapidly retreating figures of the men carrying the
women.

Another shot sounded and, as a bullet whined past his right ear, Marcus finally
caught sight of a man behind a nearby tree. In response, he tried to bring his
arm up to fire the MP-432, but found that he could no longer feel the right side
of his body. He knew that shock was setting in, but had no idea how to stop his
body's automatic response.

Dimly, Marcus heard a third shot and felt a sledgehammer crack against the side
of his head.

Then, mercifully, he felt no more.

*****

D2-670A

Part Eight


Rufus finished the last of the commandos laying on the ground with two more
shots from his energy weapon and then jumped up and raced back into the
apartment's lounge room. Pausing only to firstly  recognize that the unconscious
woman was pretty enough to make a valuable slave and then to scoop her up in his
brawny arms, Rufus made his way down the out of the apartment building as
quickly as possible. He passed bewildered tenants emerging from their apartments
as he went, but no-one made any attempt to stop the huge man carrying the
obviously injured woman.

Once outside, he quietly called for Marcus, but his boss did not respond. Rufus
quickly decided Marcus had probably gone after the men carrying Rene, and was
about to head in that direction himself when he heard a low moan. Following the
second and third moans around the side of the building, the bodyguard came
across the prone form of his employer.

Placing the unconscious woman to one side, Rufus bent down to examine Marcus'
wounds. A projectile bullet had bored a hole through his right shoulder, beneath
the collar bone, and another had grazed the side of his head. Neither injury
seemed life threatening, although Rufus knew from experience that head wounds
were unpredictable.

The sound of multiple sirens began to echo throughout the yard, which Rufus took
to mean that the local law enforcers were on their way. So, with little other
choice, he gathered up the prostate forms of Marcus and the pretty woman, and
set off toward their stolen car.

Rene, and the people who had taken her, would simply have to wait.

*****

Kitara could only watch helplessly as the two unconscious women were piled into
the van, and three men, including the one who had stolen her from the back of
her Master's car, climbed in after them.

"What the hell happened out there?" hissed the man familiar to her.

"Someone just started taking us out, one by one, with some kind of ... gun"
answered one of the men carrying a large weapon and wearing a black balaclava.
"It just detonated people like a focused C4 charge."

"Veronica was fighting with two other women when we arrived," chimed in the
second. "That one there and ..." He broke off for a moment. "I don't know what
happened to the other one."

The man who had stolen her cursed quietly and blew out a deep breath of air. He
was evidently the leader of the small group. "Okay, so things basically went to
hell and we lost four men on a simple retrieval op. Great." He ran a hand
through his blonde hair. "There must have been two guys, because I shot one
flanking you while you were firing at the window, but we'll sort out the details
later. Right now we have to get out of here and back to base. I'll drive, you
guys take care of our new passengers."

Kitara watched the leader climb into the driver's seat and then turned her
attention to see the other two men binding their unconscious victims. As the van
began to move, both men produced plastic cable ties from their pockets and
proceeded to cross and bind the women's wrists. A second cable tie was used to
secure their ankles, and then the two unconscious women were flipped onto their
backs and positioned between pairs of metal eyelets lining the van's floor.
Their binders then produced long lengths of white cotton rope, which they
wrapped around their captives' chests, both above and below their breasts.
Kitara watched as the men tied the ends of this rope to the metal eyelets on
either side of the women, effectively holding them down and pinning them in
place.

That job completed, the men wordlessly reached for a plain black sports bag
lying behind the driver's seat. Inside, Kitara caught a glimpse of various forms
of equipment designed for binding and silencing female slaves. Ropes, steel
cuffs, leather cuffs, thumb cuffs, leather straps, ball gags, harnesses, scarves
of varying patterns, tape of all colours - there seemed to be no end to the
range of materials. The first man grabbed a large red ballgag and moved over to
the woman in leather. He forced her mouth open and, with difficulty, crammed the
ball in behind her teeth. Then he lifted her long black hair and tightly buckled
the gag into place at the nape of her neck. Kitara turned her head slightly to
see the other man had just finished buckling a black O-ring in between the
blonde woman's teeth. Not yet done with silencing her, he went on to prod a wad
of white cloth through the ring and into her mouth, before sealing it in place
with three strips of thin medical tape that cleaved her lips. Both men then
chose thick, darkly coloured scarves with which to blindfold their captives.

Kitara had time to wonder why they'd been blindfolded and she hadn't, before the
first of the men grabbed a third scarf from the bag and slid over to her.

"Lights out," he said quietly, and stole her vision.

*****

Del Tarrant was a man who loved his job. There was simply nothing that he liked
more than being totally immersed in his work - removed from the rest of the
world, pouring over every detail, ensuring nothing but the best results. Such
was his level of occupational satisfaction, that he found it extremely hard to
understand how any other man could conceivably dislike his job.

Of course, he did acknowledge that very few of them were professional slave
trainers.

Being the self-admitted sadist that he was, Tarrant's favourite part of his
much-loved job was the torturing of new slaves. The power he held over a tightly
bound woman as she awaited his next pain-filled ministration was an aphrodisiac
he had never known an equal too. The slave's wide pleading eyes, her gagged
moans of distress, the way she struggled within the confines of her bondage ...

Tarrant smiled widely as he busied himself heating the insulation-removed end of
a reel of copper wire in the naked flame of the cook top. He deliberately took
his time with it, wanting the woman behind him to fully comprehend the horror of
her situation.

Idly, he wondered what someone in her position would be thinking. Having stopped
to help a bogus woman in distress, she'd been overpowered, bound, gagged and
stuffed in the trunk of her own car. Then she'd been carried inside, dropped on
the floor of the living room and seemingly forgotten until all but one of her
kidnappers had left. That remaining kidnapper had then proceeded to untie her
thumbs, toes and feet, allowing her cramped muscles their first respite in over
two hours. Hope had probably flared at that point. But the kidnapper had not
untied her hands, or removed the pump gag from her mouth, so she would have been
wary. That wariness would likely have changed to outright alarm when the he'd
dragged into the kitchen and lashed her down with long coils of rope to the
dining table. The kidnapper had then taken his time tying her - making sure her
legs were spread wide and her torso held down by ropes across her stomach and
just above her breasts. Only once she was securely tied, did her tormenter
produce the knife ...

Tarrant remembered with pleasure the look in her brown eyes as he'd cut through
her yellow shirt and severed the elastic between the cups of her bra. He'd had a
fine time running the razor sharp boot knife over her well formed white mounds
of flesh - watching her flinch and try to draw away while her sharp intakes of
breath echoed sweetly in his ears.

"Now I'm going to break you, slave," he'd told her brightly. "With more pain
than you could possibly imagine." She'd shaken her head at him and uttered a
muffled protest. Her eyes had been wide and pleading. But he'd simply laughed at
her helplessness and scooped up the copper wire he'd found earlier to use on her
naked breasts.

And now, with the end of the wire glowing orange with heat, it was time for his
ecstasy - and her agony - to  begin.

Tarrant turned to his bound slave and presented the wire for her perusal. She
shook her head vehemently from side to side, and tried to scream through the
inflated rubber bladder in her mouth. Little more than a muffled wail reached
his ears.

"Feel free to try and scream," he said as he approached her. "It's much more
enjoyable for me that way."

Just as Tarrant paused to savour the woman's desperate struggling, he heard the
sound of the front door banging open. Frowning in annoyance, he placed the red
hot wire down on the table beside his victim as she again screamed into her gag.
"Shut up," he hissed and glanced out into the living room.

He saw a short, raven haired woman dressed in a sweat shirt, track pants and
white sneakers leaning against the wall. She'd evidently been running hard,
because she was too busy gasping for breath to have noticed him standing in the
doorway of the kitchen or to have heard the muffled keening emanating from
behind him.

Not wanting to lose the advantage of surprise, Tarrant moved fast. He was almost
on the girl when she finally looked up and saw him. Instantly, he recognized her
from the picture on her driver's license.

It seemed the owner of the house had chosen a poor moment to return home.

Tarrant slammed into Shana before she could react, pinning her against the wall
with his superior weight. She squirmed against him, trying to push him away. But
she was not strong enough and Tarrant held her easily.

"Looks like I got myself a party crasher," he said with a grin. "Why don't you
come on in and join the fun?"

"Get out of my house," Shana gasped. "Let me ... go."

"No can do, bitch. I'm here to stay. And now, so are you." With that, Tarrant
grabbed the small girl by the arms and spun her around, slamming he face first
into the wall. The blow momentarily stunned her, and gave him time to grab a
left over length of rope from the pocket of his pants. Quickly, he crossed her
wrists and bound them tightly behind her back. She began to squirm again, so he
grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her head back toward him.

"I suggest you quit your struggling. Unless you want to be the first slave
broken tonight."

Maintaining his hold on her hair, Tarrant dragged the girl away from the wall
and pushed her toward the kitchen, his mind ablaze with all he could do to two
unwilling slaves.

*****

The sound of a door being unbolted and thrown open awoke Heather from her
restless slumber. Her first instinct was to stretch out the gnawing ache in her
arms and legs, but she immediately felt the bindings holding them in place and
remembered where she was.

Held in a small bedroom somewhere within Davidson Global - the naked, bound and
gagged plaything of the company's CEO.

She was laying on her side, her arms crushed together behind her back by a
leather arm-binder that Lois Davenport had cinched as tightly as she could. The
end result was that Heather's elbows were even now pressed against one another,
and she could no longer feel her lower arms. Lois had also taken great pleasure
tying her knees and ankles together with thin cord, and attaching the latter to
the D-ring hanging from the end of the arm-binder. This meant that Heather's
body was bent in a taught bow with the cord acting as a hogtie between hands and
feet.

Heather groaned quietly, but the sound was muffled by the jaw straining ring-gag
complete with five inch detachable rubber plug that Lois (the bitch!) had made
sure to re-attach before gloating goodnight.

Consequently, Heather was only able to grunt in surprise as a man wearing black
combat fatigues entered the room leading a naked woman by a leash. The woman was
tall and thin with blonde hair, but Heather could see little of her facial
features as they were obscured behind a thick blindfolding scarf, and a white
bandage that had been wrapped tightly around the lower half of her face. Her
arms were bound behind her, and white rope was tied around her torso both above
and below her breasts. In addition, her legs were hobbled by a cleverly knotted
rope that allowed her only enough slack to shuffle forward at a snail's pace.
The man leading her was patient, however. To Heather's critical gaze, he seemed
to be quite enjoying having a stunning woman in his clutches. Every so often he
would pull on the leash a little harder than necessary and grin as she stumbled
forward two or three shuffles.

Heather was not sure whether to be frightened or relieved by the fact that she
was not the only "bondaged" captive of Davidson Global. On the one hand, the
presence of another prisoner implied bigger things were occurring within the
company than simply research and development; while on the other, it meant that
there was another person to bear the brunt of Lois Davenport's dominant urges.
Heather was immediately ashamed of the latter selfish thought, but rationalized
she was entitled to it after the night she had been through.

The doctor was startled from her musings as the other woman was pushed down onto
the bed beside her.

"Mmmmggfff!" protested the newcomer.

"Mmmgghhm," answered Heather, and then saw the other woman stiffen as she
realized she was not the only captive in the room.

"Shut up, the both of you," warned the man.

Working quickly, he removed his prisoner's hobbling cuffs and replaced them with
more rope. He then laid her down on her side next to Heather and forced the two
women to squirm into a pressed together position. Heather mumbled a garbled
protest as her nose touched the other woman's and she felt their breasts mashed
together. A rope was tied around their necks and knotted off securely, making
sure they could not pull away from one another. Each woman was then lifted
slightly as a second longer rope was pulled beneath them, wrapped around their
bodies at chest level and tied off securely.

Now uncomfortably pinned to her fellow captive, Heather could only listen
helplessly as the man exited the room. She shuddered as his final mocking
chuckle was cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut and the bolt sliding
back into place.

*****

Shana still wasn't quite sure how it had all gone so wrong.

She'd successfully escaped from the battle and decided to run for home. There
was no near-by police station, and she didn't want to drag another innocent
bystander into the fray, so she'd considered her small house her best
destination.  But she'd known she was never going to make it the whole way on
foot. So when she'd seen the cab pull to halt up the street, she'd made a
bee-line for it.

One twenty minute drive later and she'd told the cab driver to pull to a halt
two blocks short of home. She'd feigned fumbling round for some money in a
pocket of the over sized track pants she was still wearing, and then made a run
for it. The cabbie had jumped out of his cab and chased her. But she'd managed
to lose him by scaling a fence and then hiding between two small trees in
someone's backyard. Strangely, she'd felt little guilt for ditching the cab
driver - something that would have caused her to recoil in indignation only a
few short hours before. It seemed that the events of the night had left her with
more than a few rope burns.

When she was sure the cabbie was no longer near by, Shana had jumped another
fence and ran the rest of the way home. She'd just had time to congratulate
herself on making it safely, when the squat man had suddenly attacked her.
Within moment her hands had been bound behind her back for the second time that
night and she'd been dragged into the kitchen. Shana had just had time to make
eye contact with the woman bound and gagged on her kitchen table, before she'd
been pushed down to the ground.

She'd fought the man as he'd proceeded to lash her elbows together and tie her
arms to her sides, but with little result. Once she'd managed to connect a solid
kick to his inner thigh, causing him to pause and state "You'll scream in pain
for that", before roping her ankles together. He'd then used a shorter length of
rope to link her bound hands to her feet in a back-arching hogtie. And then he'd
stood up and walked back over to the sink, humming contentedly.

Shana had thought he was finished with her, and was about to begin abusing him
verbally, when he turned around to reveal his hands full with sponges,
dish-towels and another rope. He'd stuffed two sponges into her mouth, packing
them in so that they made her cheeks bulge. Then he'd pulled the rope between
her teeth and knotted it off excruciatingly tightly at the nape of her neck,
underneath her hair. A dish towel folded into a four inch wide band had then
been tied over her mouth, further muffling any words she might have tried to
mutter and adding to her discomfort.

Shana had then watched in helpless silence as the man had scooped up a roll of
copper wire and walked over to heat the end of it in the stove's pilot light.
She hadn't been quite sure what he was going to do with the heated wire, but the
gagged whimpers from the other woman gave her a good idea.

And now, as she watched, the man was turning round, his face a mask of glee. He
brandished the wire and licked his lips. "Hmmmm," he said as if to himself. "Who
to brand first?"

Shana, a sense of desperation engulfing her, tried to tell him that he couldn't
do this, that it wasn't right. But only muffled incomprehensible grunts reached
her ears. Much the same emanated from the woman above her.

The man laughed. "Well I can't understand either of you. So I guess there's only
one way to be fair about this." And with that, he launched into a rendition of
"Eenni, menni, minni, mo", alternately pointing the wire at each girl in time
with the beat.

Shana could barely believe what she was seeing. An adult man singing a nursery
rhyme to determine who he was going to torture with a heated wire. She
struggled, but the constricting ropes held firm. There was nothing she could do.

Just as the man said "eenni" on the final line of the rhyme and pointed the wire
at the woman above Shana, there was a loud crash from the front of the house.
The man had time to mutter "What the fu-" before the kitchen window behind him
shattered. He instinctively ducked, and before he could gather himself, a voice
boomed through the living room.

"HALT OR WE WILL FIRE!"

The man froze on the spot and Shana saw the colour drain from his face. A tall
figure appeared in the kitchen's entryway, dressed rather conspicuously in
Bermuda shorts and a floral Hawaiian shirt. He was dark haired with a square
jaw, and wore dark sunglasses that hid his eyes. He held a contraption that
looked like a toy ray gun in his hand.

Shana's kidnapper straightened and forced a laugh. "Man, you guys didn't even
bother researching the conditions of this dimension, did you?"

A second man climbed in through the broken window, wearing the same style of
clothing with a slightly varied floral pattern on the shirt, and carrying the
same gun. Shana thought she could even see a third "tourist" beyond the first in
the lounge room.

"Del Tarrant," said the first tourist, "you are hereby charged with unlawful
entry into D2-670A and an unsanctioned retrieval attempt. Do you wish to confirm
the identity or divulge the location of your other team members before sentence
is passed? Note that we know your friend Marcus is involved."

The man named Tarrant sneered. "Who gives a fuck about him? I want to know how
you find me."

"The slave, Kitara, has a location bug implanted in her. We simply followed the
signal."

"But you can't know the signal? Only Marcus should have that!"

The tourist who had smashed the window smiled, but Shana knew that the
expression would not have reached his eyes. "Can't we?"

"Now answer the question," ordered the first. "The identity and location of the
other men."

"Okay, okay. Just settle down a little. Marcus has his bodyguard Rufus with him,
and that's it."

The two tourists exchanged a glance. "Now their location," said the first.

"How the fuck should I know? Wherever Rene is I'd guess."

"In that case, Del Tarrant, I hereby sentence you to death for violation of
Council Rules 86..."

Tarrant's eyes widened. "What? You can't! I just told you everything I know."

Without another word both tourists pulled the triggers of their weapons. Shana
briefly saw two beams of narrow white light burst from the guns and slam into
her kidnapper. He dropped like a stone, sprawling across the floor in a position
facing Shana. She saw his open but sightless eyes before looking down to see the
twin blackened holes over his heart.

The first tourist came over to stand above Shana and the dead body. "Reset your
weapons to maximum power," he said quietly, before transferring his gaze to
Shana. "Now, perhaps you and your friend will be more co-operative."

*****

D267-0A

Part Nine

When Rufus had found the window smashed and Kitara gone, he'd groaned in dismay.
Marcus was not going to be happy about his most loyal slave disappearing. It
looked as if someone had taken her - because the window was smashed inwards -
but there was no way to tell for sure. Torn between trying to find Kitara and
getting Marcus to safety, Rufus had eventually decided upon the latter. At least
that way, he'd been able to confer with Tarrant for help.

The decision made, he'd quickly driven back toward Shana Rodriguez's house.
Twice he'd had to take detours down side streets as he'd spotted hastily erected
police barricades up ahead, but eventually he'd made it to his destination. He'd
paused to secure the pretty woman he'd kidnapped by cuffing her hands behind her
back, and then binding her feet together with a length of cord. At first he
hadn't been able to find anything to pack her mouth with, so he'd resorted to
stripping her of her own panties, balling them up and shoving them into her
mouth, crotch out. Then he'd quickly torn off four strips of gray duct tape and
sealed her lips together. Remotely satisfied with the quick job he'd done, Rufus
had climbed from the car and started across Shana's front lawn when he saw the
door to her house was hanging open from its hinges. "This just gets better and
better," he'd muttered, before drawing his MP-432 and starting toward the door.

And now, the burly bodyguard was standing in the entry hall wondering where
potential assailants were likely to be hidden. Moving cautiously, he entered the
living room and caught sight of a figure lying across the kitchen floor. He made
his way closer.

"Shit!" he hissed when he saw that the figure was actually Tarrant lying in a
pool of blood. Broken glass covered the floor around him. A quick check of his
non-existent pulse confirmed what the holes in his chest had already implied.

Rufus finished his sweep of the house. There was no sign of the woman they'd
left with Tarrant. Rufus, however, had a fairly good idea of what had happened.
At least two people had broken in through the front door and kitchen window.
They'd gunned Tarrant down and then taken the woman for themselves. Rufus could
also tell from the wounds in Tarrant's chest that he'd been killed by someone
from their own dimension. Only high quality laser based weapons were capable of
such a pinpoint hole. And, generally speaking, they were the preferred weapon of
Council employees.

Which meant the real Retrieval Team had arrived.

Rufus exited the house and trotted across the lawn toward the parked car. He
climbed in and settled himself behind the wheel. Marcus was still unconscious,
leaning against the front passenger window. The pretty woman was also still out
cold.

Rufus started the car and pulled out onto the street. He didn't really have a
plan. All he wanted to do was put as much distance between himself and the
Retrieval Team as possible. After that, it would be up to Marcus, but Rufus
hoped he'd decide to call it a day. The trip, with Kitara lost, Tarrant dead,
and Rene kidnapped, was nothing less than a disaster. And he had a sneaking
suspicion that things would only get worse if Marcus chose to continue with his
personal vendetta. In fact, it was more than a suspicion.

It was a gut feeling.

*****

The day began early for Lois Davenport - despite having had only three hours
sleep.

She awoke at 5:30am, showered and went through her daily skin treatment rituals.
By 6:03, she was dressed in a black silk robe and enjoying her freshly prepared
breakfast of bacon, eggs, and various citrus fruits while reading the daily
paper. At 6:31am, she had her maid, Michelle, assist her in selecting a suit for
the day, and then told her to have it laid out ready by the time she returned.
Still in her robe, Lois donned a pair of three inch heels and exited her private
suite on the thirty-ninth floor of Davidson Global. She entered the private
elevator reserved for the company's elite and rode it down to Sub-Basement 3. At
precisely 6:36am, she entered her dungeon and strode purposefully over to
confront the woman who, less than 12 hours ago, had been her dominant lover and
most trusted advisor.

"Comfortable, darling?" she asked rhetorically.

Veronica had spent an extremely uncomfortable night hanging suspended by her
ankles. Stripped of the leather cat suit, she was laced into a black latex
straight jacket that folded her arms across her chest. Below, or rather, above
the jacket she was completely naked. Her long legs were bound with leather
straps of diminishing width at thighs, knees, and ankles. Sturdy hemp rope
connected her bound ankles to a thick support pole in the ceiling, and it was in
this manner that Veronica hung helplessly, her long dark hair brushing against
the cold floor of the dungeon.

"I can't count the number of times you tormented me in this position," said Lois
as she squatted next to Veronica. "I often wondered what it would be like to be
the one doing the gloating ... and now I know."

Veronica tried to speak, but the inflated rubber bladder in her mouth allowed
only an unintelligible moan to escape her lips. Lois responded by grabbing the
valve attached to the bladder and giving it a firm squeeze. She smiled as
Veronica's eyes widened and her cheeks puffed out a fraction further. Her breath
whistled out of her nose in laboured gasps.

"Hard to breathe, isn't it? But if you think it's bad now, wait and see what
it's like by lunch time." Lois stood and smoothed her silk robe. "I might check
back in on you then. Have fun, darling." She laughed. "If you can."

Five minutes later, the CEO of Davidson Global was back in her suite in
preparing for the long work day ahead. A further twenty five minutes later, she
emerged into the underground parking lot looking immaculate in a single breasted
beige pant suit and open necked white shirt. As instructed, Christian met her en
route to her limousine. She left instructions with him that none of the
prisoners were to be freed from their bondage until she returned - except for
Heather, whom she wanted readied for the dungeon. Christian indicated his
understanding and quickly excused himself. Lois knew he was anxious to get back
to his newly acquired playmate. According to his report, he'd found her bound
and gagged in the back of a parked car.

Lois had to smile at that. What was the world coming to when slaves were being
left in plain view for anyone to steal?

She could afford to chuckle at the incident because she knew there was no chance
of her making a similar mistake. Christian was on hand to ensure that everything
ran smoothly. Davidson Global would continue doing business exactly as it had
every other day of the year, and no-one would be any the wiser that four women
were being held prisoner against their will deep inside the bowels of the forty
story building.

And it was secure in that knowledge that she was chauffeured out of the
underground parking lot and toward her day as a legitimate and upstanding member
of society.

The irony of it all never ceased to amuse her.

*****

Rene, to put it mildly, was extremely frustrated.

She'd escaped from a world where she was nothing more than a bound and gagged
slave, to a dimension where she was currently being held as a bound and gagged
captive.

In other words, her situation had not improved.

She tugged again on the cord binding her wrists, but like the last hundred
tries, felt no give in the knots. In fact, all she did feel was the longer cord
around her elbows bite painfully into the flesh of her lower biceps. She grunted
- a sound borne of equal parts pain and frustration - but the sound was
swallowed by the huge wad of cloth packing behind her teeth, and the multiple
windings of med-wrap covering her mouth from nose to chin. Rene's feet were also
lashed together and bound to the bottom rail of the bed she had spent the night
on.

The woman she'd slept tied to had been unbound and taken away some time earlier
in the morning. That was when Rene's bonds had been changed from the cinched
ropes and blindfold to this less elaborate, but no less effective, form of
restraint. She was not sure why she'd been re-tied, but she suspected it had
something to do with keeping her in a heightened state of discomfort. Whatever
the reason, being re-tied and having her blindfold removed had given her the
chance to observe her fellow captive for the first time - and she'd been
surprised to see just how similar they looked. Aside from their distinctive eye
colors, Rene's darker tan, and the other woman's slightly larger breasts, they
could have been sisters.

And from the look the other woman gave her, Rene had known she was thinking the
same thing.

A look was all they'd had time for, however, before the man binding Rene had
stepped into her field of view and attacked her with the thin, cruel cord. As
soon as he was done he'd turned and marched the other woman out of the room,
leaving Rene to struggle fruitlessly against her bonds.

Unanswered questions ran through Rene's mind. Who was the woman? Why was she
being held captive? Who were they both being held captive by? And what had
happened to Shana and Daphne?

One thing that was obvious was that she had not been abducted by a Retrieval
Team. Although she was sure she'd felt an MP-432 blast just as she'd fallen
unconscious, the commandos who'd jumped her must have won the fight. If she was
lucky, they'd killed the Retrieval Team and eliminated at least one of her
concerns. But luck was not something Rene had ever possessed much of. She knew
it was much more likely that at least some of the Team had survived and were
even now assessing when the best opportunity to strike would be.

Which meant she had to free herself, find out what had happened to Shana and
Daphne, rescue them if need be, free the mysterious woman who bore the
resemblance to her, guide all of them out of whatever prison they were within,
and do all this before the Retrieval Team made its move.

Fighting back the acute sense of hopelessness that suddenly flared within her,
Rene went back to work on the thin cord binding her and its secure knots.

*****

Jennifer Higgens was startled awake by a shrill cry of "I don't know!" that
emanated from elsewhere in the house. For a moment she lay on the carpeted
floor, unsure of where she was and what was going on, before trying to move and
finding herself unable.

And then it all came flooding back.

Falling prey to the trap set by the three men and their tied-up female
accomplice. Being bound, gagged and stuffed into the boot of her car, and driven
to some kind of "hideout". Being left alone with the man who had been readying
himself to torture her before being interrupted by the arrival of a younger
woman. Having to watch while the girl was also made helpless and feeling somehow
responsible for her capture. Preparing herself for the man to re-commence where
he left off, but amazingly being spared by a group of men in Hawaiian shirts and
... laser guns. Hard as it was to believe.

But the night had not ended there. Rather than freeing the two women, the
"tourists" had re-tied them so that their arms were held behind their backs and
their feet were hobbled with long lengths of rope. Their gags had been checked
and then they'd been marched outside and into a waiting utility van. Two of the
men had sat in the back with them while the third drove, ensuring there was no
possibility for escape. A fourth had appeared and joined him in the front
passenger seat. Eventually, they'd arrived at an ordinary looking suburban house
that was revealed to Jennifer when she and the other girl were forced from the
van. She'd tried to scream for help as they approached the darkened porch, but
the bulbous bladder in her mouth reduced her cries to quiet moans. Nevertheless,
the tourist closest to her (with their dark glasses on, Jennifer had trouble
telling them apart), had produced a wooden switch that he'd evidently taken from
the van and struck her across the ass with it. "No more noise," he'd whispered,
before hustling her into the house.

Once inside, the two women had been separated. Jennifer had been taken into a
living room and bound to a straight backed wooden chair. Then two of the
tourists had proceeded to interrogate her. She'd been thankful for the
opportunity to have the horrid bladder out of her mouth, but far less happy
about the questions that had been asked of her. The men had alternated in asking
her about the details of her kidnapping and subsequent captivity. Then they
turned to asking more private questions. Jennifer told them everything from her
current occupation (claims assessor with a large insurance company) to her bra
size (32B). She'd had to. If she'd refused to answer the questions, or even
hesitated for a moment too long, the wooden switch had been slashed across her
exposed breasts.

Finally, after three hours, Jennifer had been untied from the chair and led into
a bedroom. She'd thought for a moment that she was going to be allowed to lay on
the bed. But instead she'd been forced into a closet where her escort had told
her to open wide. Fearing another blow from the switch, she'd done so, and
received a huge mouthful of silky cloth for her trouble. He'd completed her gag
by stuffing more of the material into each of her cheeks and plastering her lips
together with three strips of white adhesive tape. Her bound ankles had then
been attached to her bound wrists in a tight hogtie.

How she'd managed to drift off to sleep, Jennifer had no idea. The strain on her
limbs had been immense and it hadn't taken long for the silky material in her
mouth to become soaked with her saliva and feel like it was slipping down her
throat. But she was also exhausted from the night's events, and her body had
evidently needed some form of recuperation.

The sound of a switch being slashed across flesh snapped her back to the
present. It seemed the other girl had yet to learn her interrogation lesson.
Muffled sobbing reached Jennifer's ears, before the murmur of low, insistent
voices replaced it.

She noticed that the closet was gray with a grubby light rather the pitch black
she had dozed off within. She rolled over to face the closed door and saw that
the crack beneath it was bright with morning light. Did that mean her ordeal was
over? Would the men free her and the other woman now that their questioning was
almost complete and a new day had dawned? Jennifer did not think so. Despite the
cold feeling of dread that spread through her at the thought, she doubted that
the men had enquired about her personal details simply to pass the time. They'd
wanted to know who would be likely to miss her and how long they had before the
alarm was raised. After all, at 31 years of age, she knew she was an attractive
woman. Honey blonde hair cut in a bob famed an angular, but not severe face, and
small nose. Her lips were full and glossy; her eyes a dark green. Many men had
been attracted to her looks over the years, but it was her perfect ass and well
toned legs that were her real assets.

Or, in this case, her biggest liabilities. If just one of the tourists decided
that her ass or legs were worth a closer and more intimate look, there was
simply nothing she could do to stop him taking what he wanted.

Jennifer groaned into her gag. The thought was almost too horrible to bear.

Unfortunately for Jennifer, her situation was revealed to be much, much worse
than she had imagined when she was dragged from the closet some fifteen minutes
later and carried down a set of wooden stairs and into a furnished cellar. The
other girl was already there, bound in the same manner as Jennifer and sporting
her own wadding and white tape gag. The two women made eye contact as she
waslowered to the floor. Jennifer was concerned to see the other girl was wide
eyed and hyper-ventilating into her gag. She was obviously terrified - but by
what?

Jennifer had her answer a moment later when one of the tourists drew something
from his shirt pocket and thumbed some kind of switch. A glowing red ball
suddenly appeared in the center of the room and began to expand in size.
Jennifer watched in amazement as the ball flattened out into a hovering
man-sized circle.

"Ready for transportation," said the tourist who had "created" the circle.

Transportation? thought Jennifer. What the hell? The girl beside her began to
whimper into her gag, and Jennifer was suddenly very afraid. A tourist bent down
to pick her up, while another hefted the girl into his arms. Both women uttered
muffled squeals.

"Enough," said the third tourist. "That kind of behaviour will not be tolerated
when you are owned slaves in our dimension. Best to learn that now."

Jennifer tried to say "What?!" But all that came out was an unintelligible
gurgle. They were going to make her a slave ... and were taking her through some
kind of portal?

Beside her, the other girl had begun struggling against her bonds with all her
might. She screamed into her gag again and again. Jennifer also began to yell
out, but to no avail. Without further comment, the small procession stepped up
to the circle ... and Jennifer was plunged through the portal.

D2-670A

Part Ten

Kitara had lived her whole adult life as a slave. She'd had numerous Masters
since "graduating" from prep school and all of them had kept her in a constant
state of bondage. Some had been cruel; others - like Master Marcus - had been
fair as long as she'd made every effort to please their various wants and
desires. She knew that some slaves had rebellious thoughts, and one or two had
even whispered such words to her in those rare moments when she found herself in
the presence of an ungagged girl. But Kitara had never been the troublemaking
type. In fact, she'd invariably been a favourite of her Masters because she was
so dependable. The truth of the matter was that Kitara had simply never known
any other way. If her lot in life was to be a slave to men with enough coin to
purchase her, then she would make every effort to please those men - even when
they took it upon themselves to bind, gag and abuse her body on a daily basis.

But now, here in this strange new dimension, she was learning for the first time
that there was more to life than pleasing others.

It seemed that she too could be pleased.

The man who had kidnapped her from Master's vehicle had started out like all of
the men she had previously served. Essentially, he had led her to his lavish
bedroom, secured her with arms and legs spread to the four corners of the bed
and used her. What had been different, however, was the way he had gone about
using her body. Rather than simply thrusting into her with a self-concerned
focus, he had trailed his finger tips over her helpless form. Instead of
finishing with her in less than five minutes, he had taken his time, and
stimulated her in ways that no Master had ever before attempted. Among other
things, he had used his tongue in a way that Kitara had not known possible -
swirling, probing and flicking it within her most sensitive region. At one point
he had also unbuckled her gag and kissed her deeply and it was at that point
that she'd realized she had never before been able to voice her passion during
sex. Sure, there were those times she was forced to service her Masters orally,
but this ... this was so much different ...

And when he had finally entered her, Kitara had welcomed him. Not just offered
herself to the man who had stolen her from her Master, but welcomed him. No
words had been spoken between them, but their mutual moans of pleasure had
echoed around the room. As the minutes had blended into hours, he had re-gagged
her with a knotted silk scarf. But even this she had enjoyed, as it seemed to
her that he had picked the most comfortable of gags to reduce the volume of her
groans. Sometime soon after his pace had quickened and she had felt her own body
responding. She had bucked and twisted at her bonds, caught in the frenzy of the
moment. He had caught her and pinned her down firmly, his thrusting suddenly
urgent, and then ...

Much later, after they had both slept and day had begun to light the room, he
had told her his name was Christian. Not "Master Christian". Just Christian. He
had removed her makeshift gag and they had talked briefly before he had had to
leave the room to meet his employer. In that time, she had told him her name,
but had balked at his questioning of why she had been bound and gagged in the
back of a car when he had found her. What was she supposed to tell him? "It's
simple, really. I'm a slave from another dimension. My Master has brought me to
your world to help capture one of his escaped slaves."

Even now, while waiting for Christian to return, Kitara could just imagine his
reaction to that kind of response. No, she was simply going to have to "bend"
the truth a little - something that would also be a first for her. Never in all
her years of slavery had she ever lied to one of her Masters.

But then, she had never cared about them in the way she already did for
Christian.

As if on cue, the door to the room was opened and Christian entered. He smiled
down at her as he crossed the room. "My apologies. I had to check on our other
guests."

"There are other slaves here?" Kitara asked.

"Slaves?" Christian bent down over her and paused to kiss her forehead. When he
straightened up he had a perplexed look on his face. "Why would you assume
they're slaves?"

"Aren't I?"

His expression changed to one of genuine surprise. "No! Of course not. You're my
guest - a fettered one certainly," he said, fingering the ropes binding her left
wrist, "but a guest nonetheless. The others I mentioned are also guests, but of
Davidson Global, rather than my own."

"Davidson Global?"

"The company I work for." Christian spread his arms to encompass the room. "And
where we're now located."

Kitara nodded in reply and lowered her eyes. She knew what he was about to say;
that she had already revealed too much about herself with her first innocent
query.

"You know, I didn't even imply that the other guests were being held prisoner.
You just assumed that.  So I think now would be a good time to tell me a whole
lot more about who you are." He took a firm hold of her chin and tilted her head
toward him. "And this time I won't take vague avoidances for an answer."

*****

Daphne sat bound in the stiff backed chair and watched as the man named Marcus -
who was evidently in charge - took in the information that Rene had been stolen
away, that another woman named Kitara had also been kidnapped, and that a man
named Tarrant was dead. Shana, thankfully, was not mentioned - which Daphne
hoped was a good sign.

Given the way that the huge man named Rufus tentatively relayed the information,
she had the feeling that he was expecting Marcus to be extremely upset and
angry. But if that was the case, he must have been very relieved, for Marcus
only took one long breath through gritted teeth before asking "Have you tracked
Rene?"

Rufus shook his head. "I wasn't sure what your next move was going to be."

Marcus tried to straighten up against one of the many wooden crates he was
sitting against, but winced in pain as he put weight on his obviously injured
arm. He sank back again, but glared up at his accomplice. "We're going after
them both. What the fuck did you think I was going to do? Walk away from all
this." His words echoed around the deserted warehouse that they were currently
holed up within.

"You've been shot Marcus. You need medical attention otherwise you're not going
to be any good to anyone. I just thought we should get some more help."

"And what about the Council?" shot back Marcus. "If their reps gunned down
Tarrant, they must be on to us. And if that's the case, we may have to hide out
here or in some other dimension until things settle down."

Daphne watched as Rufus digested this information. She also found herself
thankful that she'd discussed the "alternative" dimensions with Rene before this
point, otherwise she'd have assumed she was listening to delusional psychotics.
But then again, if it wasn't for Rene she wouldn't even be in this mess.

"I have a contact or two on the Council," Marcus continued. "And I may be able
to get us off leniently for violating their rules. But only if we come back with
every slave from our world, and a few of the prettier locals for their personal
estates." He looked over at Daphne with a thin smile. "Red here will be the
first of those 'deal sweeteners'."

Daphne almost physically recoiled. These men were going to sell her into slavery
in another dimension!!! She "Mmmpphheedd" into the packing in her mouth and the
tape pressing her lips together. She jerked against the handcuffs holding her
arms over the back of the chair, and fought against the cord binding her ankles,
knees and elbows together. But the cords held firm, and the cuffs only rattled
against the vertical support that they held her hands around. Marcus and Rufus
looked on with appreciative smiles.

"See her spirit?" commented Marcus. "What self-respecting council member would
be anything but forgiving if presented with the opportunity to break such a
slave?"

Rufus nodded. "I see your point." He turned back to look down at Marcus. "How
many more like her will we need?"

"At least two more. That'll be your job while I rest a little longer."

Daphne, realizing she was going no-where fast, slowly gave up on her struggles.
She was simply going to have to wait for a better opportunity to escape. And
there would be no better time for that than when Rufus was out of the picture.

The huge man grinned eagerly. "It will be my pleasure."

"And when we've secured the new slaves and our passage home," Marcus continued,
"it'll be time to make our move ..."

Daphne shivered at the tone of Marcus' voice. It promised pain and suffering for
anyone who stood in his way.

"And take back what is rightfully mine."

*****

Lois Davenport returned from her morning meetings barely able to control her
mounting excitement. Less than a week ago, she would have slunk back into
Davidson Global, hoping that Veronica was too busy with some kind of work matter
to notice her. Because if she did, it would have meant yet another afternoon of
tight bondage, mouth filling gags, and pain filled discipline.

Now, of course, the shoe was on the other foot. And better than that, Lois had
two slaves that she was going to spend the rest of the day with: Veronica, and
the gorgeous Dr. Landcom.

Not wanting to waste a single moment, Lois had called ahead to make sure
everything was awaiting her arrival. So when she reached her suite, she found
one of Veronica's preferred dominatrix outfits laid out on the bed. It consisted
of a long sleeved white shirt with a button down collar, a black leather vest,
and a black leather mini-skirt. Opaque stockings and a black garter belt were
laid out along side the other clothes, and a pair of knee high black boots sat
at the foot of the bed.

Lois surveyed the clothing with awe. This would be the first time she would
truly fill the part of a dominatrix - not only engaging in the correct forms of
discipline, but also dressed for the part. She smiled happily. All her secret
fantasies were coming true.

She could not even begin to count the number of times she had fantasized about
trading roles with her Mistress, even as she struggled against the ropes binding
her, and tried to avoid the next eager strike of Veronica's riding crop.
Gradually her fantasies had expanded to include the brilliant, but aloof Dr.
Landcom, who had never once responded to her subtle attempts at flirtation. For
a long time, however, her fantasies had been hampered by what she had labeled
her "submissive's mind-set". But then, one day, she had realized she was the CEO
of one of the world's most successful R&D firms, and that no matter what had
been done in the past, she did not have to bow to anyone! The fact that Veronica
had proceeded to play into her hands a little ahead of schedule was nothing
other than a pleasant surprise. For whatever had transpired, Lois had planned to
make Veronica a captive in her dungeon as soon as she had completed the first
stages of Dr. Landcom's training. Not to mention the financial advantages the
good Doctor's research might eventually have ...

Lois' reverie was interrupted as Michelle breezed back into the room wearing a
French Maid uniform. It was made of traditional black satin and white lace, but
left very little to the imagination. She had always had Michelle wear it - even
when she had been submissive to Veronica's every demand. Lois wondered idly if
her penchant for Michelle in the revealing uniform had been the first expression
of her initially sub-conscious desire to dominate.

"Is everything as you ordered, Mistress?" the petite blond maid asked.

Lois again looked down at the clothing that had been laid out before her. "Yes,
Michelle, everything looks ..." The CEO of Davidson Global broke off as she
realized a crucial part of Veronica's outfit was missing. "Where is the black
necktie?" she asked sharply.

Michelle looked panicked for a moment. "I - I don't ... know, Mistress. I
th-thought I had ... laid it out for you."

"Well obviously not," Lois said motioning at the bed. "Fetch it - now!" Michelle
quickly scampered into the huge walk-in wardrobe that housed Lois's (and now
Veronica's) stunning array of clothing. "And while you're in there, bring me a
pair of cuffs, a 30 foot length of rope and a head harness."

Michelle returned with the items a few moments later, her eyes downcast. Lois
took the plain black tie and tossed it on the bed beside the other items of
clothing. Then she ordered Michelle down on her knees and took the cuffs, rope
and gag from her. Working quickly, Lois had the blond maid clasp her hands
behind her back and cuffed them together. Then she took the rope, tied one end
of it to the cuffs and tossed the other end over a hanging beam set in the
ceiling, She brought the rope down to Michelle's ankles and tugged on it until
the maid's arms were pulled as high into the air as their bound position would
allow. The petite maid groaned quietly as Lois used the end of the rope to bind
her crossed ankles together. Evidently, the strappado was already proving to be
a real strain for the disobedient maid.

"You may consider this your punishment for failing to follow my orders
precisely." Lois said sternly. She scooped up the head harness by its dark blue
ball gag and shoved the round piece of rubber into her maid's mouth. Michelle
did not resist as Lois proceeded to buckle the gag tightly into place via its
network of straps that met under her chin, on top of her head, and at the apex
of her neck.

"You will remain in this position until I return from visiting Veronica and Dr.
Landcom in the dungeon," Lois said while slipping out of her beige tailored
jacket. She smiled down at the helpless maid. "Unfortunately, that may be a few
hours away."

Michelle "Mmmpphh!"ed  unhappily into her gag, causing Lois to stop and stare at
her. "I don't recall giving you permission to vocalize. You've just earned
yourself an hour on the wooden horse this evening."

Tears began to well in the corner of Michelle's eyes.

"Anything else to add ... slave?"

The blond maid shook her head and looked down at the floor.

"Good." Lois turned away with a wide smile on her face. The dominant role felt
so natural to her - and what was more she knew she was getting better at it
everyday. She undid the zipper of her pants and pulled them off of her long,
slim legs. She could feel the wetness beneath her black satin underwear and her
hands trembled slightly as she considered what delights awaited her in the
dungeon below.

It was going to be an exquisite afternoon.

*****

D2-670A

Part 11

Rene had no idea how much later it was when she finally pulled her red-raw right
wrist free of the cruel cord that had been holding her hands captive. She took a
moment to congratulate herself on yet another escape, and then wearily pulled
her other hand free. Rene's problems did not end there, however. Her elbows were
still securely bound behind her, and unlike her wrists, she instinctively knew
there was no way she could wriggle them free. Thinking quickly, Rene scooted
down the bed and awkwardly - given the position of her elbows - reached for her
feet. The tips of her fingers soon found the small knots but were unable to pick
at them effectively. Instead, Rene was forced to saw at the cord with the side
of her longest nail. It took a while, but eventually Rene could feel the fibers
of the cord snapping away. Finally, she broke through and a few short kicks
later was free to stand for the first time in almost 10 hours.

After allowing the circulation to flow back into her legs, Rene moved to the top
of the bed and raised her arms up and over the corner piece of the wrought iron
bed head. She quickly caught the cord binding her elbows on the pointed tip of
the corner piece and pulled her arms up and away. Gradually at first, and then
more quickly, Rene felt the cord slide lower. She allowed herself a smile of
triumph beneath the many layers of med-wrap gagging her as the cord passed the
bulge of her actual elbows and slipped away. Finally she was able to reach up
and pull the gag away, and spit the horrid wad of cloth packing out of her
mouth.

She was free!

Rene crept over to the door of her prison. She tried the handle, but to her
complete lack of surprise, found it securely locked. Sighing with frustration,
she leant back against the wall of the room. She closed her eyes briefly - as if
seeking some reserve of inner strength - and then settled in to wait for the
next guard unwary enough to check on her.

*****

Marcus was in pain. His head throbbed, his right arm hung uselessly by his side,
and he felt more than a little nauseous. And when Marcus was in pain, he tended
to distract himself by taking it out on those unfortunates around him.

So it was that the inter-dimensional slaver was poised over the gorgeous redhead
that was his prisoner. She was still bound to the straight backed chair via a
network of cord bindings, while her hands were cuffed behind the seat's back
rest. Marcus was satisfied she was going nowhere fast, and was keen to exploit
this situation by subjecting her to his special brand of attention.

In his good hand, he held one end of a wickedly sharp set of clover clamps. The
other end was already attached to Red's left nipple, and by the expression on
her face and the noises she was making through her stuffed tape gag, she was
none too happy about it. Marcus only chuckled quietly as he teased her with the
second set of metal jaws. There was really something about the psychological
aspect of torture that got him going. It wasn't the actual pain - that was
merely a pleasant after effect of the teasing that came before the actual
strike. No, it was more that the slave knew she was not in control of her own
destiny, and yet, rarely refused to give into that knowledge, no matter how
pervasive the evidence. How much simpler it would be, Marcus mused, if slaves
possessed the foresight to simply gave themselves to their Master after one
caress of his whip ... After all, it was going to happen. It was only a matter
of time. And yet his world spent years of education on females, molding them
into the perfect personification of slaves. Surely there had to be an easier
way. Genetic tampering. Or perhaps breeding programs to isolate a submissive
gene.

Marcus shrugged and smiled, pleased with the direction of his thoughts.

And then he attached the second clover clamp to Red's right nipple.

The effect was instantaneous. She sat up as if an electric shock had coursed
through her and sucked in a sharp intake of breath through her nose. Then she
began to buck and strain wildly against the chair, as if attempting to shake the
hateful clamps lose. Marcus knew better than that, however. Nothing short of
equal pressure on both sides of the release catch could only loosen the clamps
from their captive nipples. Marcus knew that anything short of that would only
tear a nipple (or two) away.

Suddenly there was a cracking sound, and the chair the woman was bound too
lurched forward and slightly to the side. Marcus just had time to wonder what
the hell had happened when something hard and bony caught him completely
unawares beneath the chin and sent him crashing backwards.

He had no idea how long he was out - in fact he hadn't even known he was out -
but when Marcus came too, it took him only a few short moments to realize two
things. The first was that his head was throbbing worse than ever. The second
was that Red was now very free and had taken to aiming an MP-432 squarely at his
forehead.

*****

Christian had spent almost the whole morning quizzing Kitara about her
dimension. At first, he hadn't believed a word she had said, and had been
tempted to discipline her for lying. But something about the absurdness of her
story - and indeed the sincerity of her hesitant words - had struck a chord. If
you were going to lie, why be so obvious about it? And more than that, hadn't
one of the reasons Lois had him kidnap Dr. Landcom because she was close to
proving the existence of parallel dimensions?

But to think that a dimension existed where all females were essentially the
bound and gagged slaves of males was simply too good to be true. Christian had
to wonder if he could ever find his way into such a dimension - and if so, what
he could do once he was there. Just the thought of it caused an excited
tightness in his stomach. Life would truly be perfect if he could take Kitara
with him, and force her into place as his number one slave.

He wasn't sure if he especially approved of the emotions she had stirred within
him - but this natural submissive was not someone he was going to let slip
through his fingers anytime soon.

Nevertheless, Christian was a cautious man who never took anything at face
value. He liked to check and double check. It was the reason why he had survived
so long in the political climate of Davidson Global. And it was also why
Veronica was even now languishing in Lois' dungeon. So having paused long enough
to rebind Kitara into a compact hogtie and strap a penis gag into her welcoming
mouth, Christian now rode an elevator down to the floor where the other woman
from Kitara's dimension was being held.

His plan was simple: Confirm Kitara's story, and then, if it was true, find some
way to turn the news to his advantage.

The lift doors slid open and Christian hurried out and down a white corridor
marked with identical brown doors at regular intervals. To the unsuspecting eye,
nothing would have looked out of place in the nondescript corridor. But
Christian knew better. This entire level was comprised of Lois' special holding
cells and was situated just a short flight of stairs above her ready made
dungeon. No one but those with the highest security ratings had access to these
rooms, and the prisoners that often lay within. 

His key card already in hand, Christian reached the door to Rene's cell and slid
it through the electronic lock. The door sprang open and he pushed his way
inside expecting to find the naked woman trussed to the bed and unable to make a
sound. Instead, he only had time to utter "What the fuck?" before something
slammed into him from behind and cannoned him head first into the wall.

*****

Dr Heather Landcom was, to put it quite plainly, terrified. It was bad enough
that she'd been marched back into Lois Davenport's private dungeon, briefly
unbound, and then strapped into what could only be described as a medieval rack.
This was made worse by the fact that another woman whom Heather recognized as
Lois's advisor, Veronica Sloane, was hanging suspended by her ankles on the
other side of the room and bound inside a latex straitjacket. Communication
between the two women - even after Heather's escort had left the room - had 
been impossible, as Veronica was silenced by some kind of exotic leather gag,
while Heather still sported the same O-ring with its intrusive rubber plug
attachment.

As the minutes ticked away, Heather began to realize that Veroinca was in a
great deal of distress. Her chest heaved beneath the black leather of the
straitjacket, and her breath whistled through her nose in labored gasps. From
time to time a muted moan would escape the confines of her gag, but by and
large, her communication was limited to the ungainly wriggling she engaged in
whenever she had enough energy. To Heather, she looked like a newly reeled in
fish, spasming on the end of a hook.

The situation became much worse an immeasurable amount of time later when Lois
Davenport swept into the room. Heather gasped into her gag when she saw her
former employer - dressed to kill (or should that be to torture? an inner voice
remarked dryly) in a leather mini skirt, vest, white shirt and perfectly knotted
black tie. The ensemble was completed by black stockings, short gloves and
knee-high patent leather boots. She immediately moved alongside Veronica and
began to gloat over her position, rubbing a gloved hand over the helpless
woman's exposed legs and strapped crotch. It wasn't long before the inevitable
happened, and Lois strode over to her second captive, smile wide and eyes
gleaming.

"And how is the good doctor?" she asked mockingly. "I trust you were secure in
your accommodations." Lois laughed at her own joke, and Heather turned away.
"Oh, don't be like that - not when I have so many exciting activities planned
for this afternoon."

Heather stifled a moan as she recalled the "activities" she had been subjected
to the night before.

Lois cupped Heather's chin and titled her head until their eyes met. "But don't
worry, I'm going to be starting with Veronica. That way, your anticipation
levels can build up nice and slowly." Lois laughed and spun away, looking for
all the world like a child in a playground - which, Heather came to realize over
the next hour, she probably was.

The young doctor was forced to watch in silence as Lois proceeded to lower her
ex-advisor (and from the sounds of their one way conversation, ex-partner) from
her inverted suspension, only to rebind her ankles and make her hop across the
room to lean against the wooden horse. Once there, her ankles were again unbound
and she was "helped" into a straddling position across the horse. Heather was
familiar enough with the torturous instrument to know that Veronica would next
be released from the straitjacket only to have her wrists bound behind her and
lifted as high as they could go - a position that would force her weight forward
and thereby press her clitoris into the pointed edge of the wedge shaped seat of
the horse. Her ankles would be bound to the horse's legs and she would be left
to deal with the mounting agony of her pubic mound being crushed into the
unyielding ridge of wood.

Heather had been exactly right - except that Lois had not left Veronica alone.
Rather, the shirt-and-tied dominatrix had begun to drip scalding hot wax all
over her helpless victim's back, while she squirmed and twisted against her
inescapable bonds and screamed into the bizarre contraption gagging her. This
went on for longer than Heather could bare to watch, so she eventually turned
away and tried to block out the muffled grunts and screeches intermingled with
triumphant comments. Her efforts were interrupted within a few moments, however,
as Lois noticed her secondary quarry attempting to shy away from the
demonstration.

"I'd be paying more attention if I were you, doctor, otherwise I may just have
to get you over here earlier than anticipated."

Reluctantly, Heather turned back to watch the rest of Veronica's torture ... and
had to stifle a gasp of surprise. There, not ten feet behind Lois and creeping
steadily forward, was the woman she had spent the previous night tied to.
Heather was again struck by how similar the woman looked to herself - despite
the fact that she was now clothed in an ill fitting navy-blue jump suit.

The woman caught Heather's eye and paused in her advance to raise a finger to
her lips. With an effort, Heather tore her gaze away from her potential savior
to again stare at the bizarre display being conducted by Lois.

"That's better," said her former employer, as she paused to straighten her tie.
"In any case, I think it's time we moved on to the riding crop. Don't you,
Veronica?"

Just as Lois was beginning to laugh at Veronica's answering groan, Heather saw
her look alike rear up to slam a fist into the side of her former employer's
skull ...

*****

D2-670A

Part 12

Shana had no idea where she was - and that wasn't just because she'd apparently
been carried kicking and screaming into another dimension. Upon arriving, she'd
had a glimpse of a domed room furnished by an extremely large bed and a series
of expensive looking tapestries, but that had been all.

"Secure them," one of the tourists had said, and a moment later a thick
blindfold had been pulled over her eyes. A pair of earplugs had followed,
stealing even this most basic of senses from her. And then Shana had been
carried for a short distance, loaded into some kind of vehicle, and driven to
another destination. The whole time she had worked at the knots binding her and
fought against the gag stifling her speech. But it had been a waste of time. The
ropes were too well secured to be worked loose, and the knots were all tied out
of reach of her questing fingers.

She had then been removed from the transport vehicle and again carried a short
distance, before being laid down on a cold, wooden floor. And that was where she
now lay, wondering what could possibly happen next.

Shana did not have to wait long for her answer. Within a few minutes, a pair of
hands began pawing at her body - fondling her breasts, slapping her buttocks,
even rubbing against her pubic mount. Shana squealed and tried to pull away. She
received a sharp slap on her right breast for her troubles, but ignored it and
continued to squirm away from her attacker's hands.

Suddenly, she felt her ear plugs being pulled free before a deep voice growled:
"Enough, slave!" Something in the tone of the voice stopped Shana's squirming
cold. She sensed that to disobey the voice would invite pain - and much of it.

"You see?" said another voice, one that she thought she recognized as one of the
tourist's. "Our initial trip was not without reward."

"But Marcus and his bitch-whore-slaves remain at large in D2-670A?" the deep
voice rumbled.

"Along with Marcus' bodyguard, Rufus. Yes, Counselor."

"Then you and your team have failed, Edric. And you know that neither I, nor the
rest of the Council, accepts failure. What are you prepared to do about this?"

"We will return to D2-670A," said the familiar voice, "Without hesitation."

"Good. See to it that Marcus and Rufus are eliminated and the Rene-slut is
brought back to me. I will deal with her initial punishment myself - before she
is sentenced to Reigel. His other whore you can do with as you will "

"We will leave within the hour."

"Oh, and one more thing ..."

"Yes, Counselor?"

"There are to be no native witnesses. None. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Counselor."

Shana heard the sound of footsteps receding and had time to hope that Rene and
Daphne had escaped to some place far away. But then the hands were back kneading
her breasts, and were this time accompanied by grunting sounds of pleasure.

Shivering with disgust, Shana curled up inside herself and hoped whatever
happened next would be over quickly.

*****

Rene stood over the motionless form of the female torturer. She knew her well
placed blows had not been hard enough to kill the woman, and for a moment,
contemplated finishing her off. But then she realized that a hostage would make
much better sense given their impending flight for freedom.

Wasting no further time, Rene stepped up to the woman that she had spent the
night bound to, and set about unbuckling her gag. She recognized the woman on
the horse as the one she had grappled with outside Daphne's home the night
before. The fact that she was evidently a prisoner herself only confused Rene.
Wasn't she the one that had brought the men in black down upon them?

The blonde woman coughed and spluttered as Rene removed the ring gag with its
attached plug from her mouth. By the time she managed to croak a "Thank you",
Rene was already working on the straps holding her against the rack. She waited
until the woman had recovered her breath and had had a chance to swallow freely
before addressing her.

"Okay, I need you to listen carefully if we're going to get out of here. My
name's Rene, and I'm looking for two other girls." She freed the woman's right
hand and quickly attacked the left. "One's a thin redhead, and the other is
younger and shorter with darker hair and skin. Have you seen them?"

The woman frowned. "Daphne, and her friend, Shana?" her voice was still
scratchy.

Rene paused, and her heart skipped a beat. "Dr ..." She hesitated. The title
felt strange when applied to a female. "... Dr Landcom?"

The woman, nodded, looking confused, and Rene smiled. Finally a stroke of luck
had gone her way.

"Have we met? You seem so familiar ..." She half trailed off, but before Rene
could respond she added:  "But what's happened to Daphne and Shana?"

Rene finished unbuckling the doctor's second hand. "I've got a hell of story for
you, doctor, and we'll find Daphne and Shana, I promise. But the first thing I
need to know is who is your friend on the horse over there?"

"That's Veronica Sloane. She was Lois's personal advisor ... or was until
recently. It looks like she must have been demoted." Dr Landcom sighed with
relief as Rene loosened the strap around her chest. Veronica was looking over
her shoulder at them, her red-rimmed eyes wide with pleading. She managed an
accompanying grunt through the inflated bladder gagging her. 

"She attacked me just before I was taken myself, so I'm not sure whose side
she's playing on." Rene bent down to finish freeing the Dr Landcom's legs. "We
need to work out what to do with her."

Finally, the doctor was free. She gingerly climbed off the rack and stood,
naked, in the middle of the basement dungeon. She made a half hearted attempt to
cover herself, then seemed to realize the futility of such a gesture.

"We should get your tormenter there bound and gagged before she wakes up."

"Her name is Lois Davenport and she's the CEO of this company building."

"So she's rich and powerful?"

Dr Landcom nodded in reply.

Rene smiled slowly. "Good. Then she's going to make an even better hostage than
I'd hoped, Dr Landcom."

"Call me Heather," said the other woman. She bent down over Lois. "I could do
with these clothes before we tie her up."

Rene walked over to a side table and grabbed a few discarded coils of cotton
rope. "Well then, Heather" she said as she turned back, "Strip away."

They started with her boots. Rene took the left and Heather the right. The
patented leather slid off Lois' stockinged feet easily. Heather then undid the
button on the short leather skirt, slid the zipper down and pulled the skirt
over her hips. Neither woman was surprised to see that Lois was not wearing any
underwear beneath her garter belt. She began to groan as they pulled her arms
out of her vest, and unknotted the necktie at her throat. Rene worked quickly to
undo enough buttons on Lois' white shirt - including those at the cuffs - to
pull the starched garment over her head.

"Get her garter belt and stockings," said Rene, as she unhooked the newly
exposed white support bra. An idea was beginning to formulate - perhaps the only
one that would get them both out of this mess without being recaptured.

"Do we need them?"

As if answer, Lois groaned more loudly.

"We do if you're going to play the part of the female mistress." Rene scooped up
some of the cotton rope. "Now hurry, before she fully wakes up."

*****

Rufus was being picky.

He knew the importance of selecting exactly the right female. The Council would
not be happy with anything other than a flawlessly beautiful slave, so to return
with anything else bound, gagged, and stuffed in the boot of the car would be
pointless. Marcus would only berate him and send him back out again.

For his vigil, he had parked the stolen car in a side alley leading off a
reasonably busy, but poorly lit street, and wandered out to mingle with the
inhabitants of D2-670A. Many different women passed him by, but all had some
kind of defect that automatically ruled them out. Too short, too thin, too fat.
Breasts that were too small or sagging; asses that were far from perfectly
shaped. Rufus peered at them all, but then allowed each to pass him by.

He had lost track of time. It had been mid-morning when he left Marcus and the
slave, so he was surprised to see that it was almost 2pm when he glanced at his
watch. He decided to give it another half hour before moving to a new hunting
ground. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of a floral shirt through the
mid-afternoon crowd. A chill ran through him as he caught sight of three other
men wearing similar shirts and matching sunglasses. It only took him a moment
more to realize who he was staring at ... and that they were making a bee-line
straight for him.

The big man turned and sprinted for the alley. He slammed into a suited man,
knocking him from his feet, and from behind, heard shouts as the Council Reps
surged after him.

Rufus turned the corner and almost threw himself across the bonnet of the car.
He fumbled with the keys in his pocket, half tempted to grab his MP-432 and
blast the first Rep to round the corner. Instead he jerked open the driver's
door and dived inside. Just as he was yanking the keys free from his pants
pocket, he heard the whomp! of an energy weapon being fired. He felt more than
saw the beam crackle over the car and explode somewhere behind him. And then his
gaze locked on the Reps standing in the mouth of the alley, their weapons raised
and pointed at him through the windshield.

Ever so slowly, Rufus raised his arms.

*****

D2-670A

Part 13

"This isn't over, you fucking slut. I just want you to know that," spat Marcus.
"I will hunt you to the ends of this pitiful dimen..."

Daphne silenced Marcus' rantings by stuffing a filthy rag into his mouth and
then smoothing five readied strips of tape across the lower half of his face.
She stood, wearing his shirt and pants, and theatrically dusted her hands off
for his benefit. For a moment, she enjoyed his half naked, angry reaction -
which consisted of no more than a slight squirm within the confines of his wrist
to ankle hogtie - and then turned in the direction of the exit.

Although she was far from sure, Daphne believed she had gotten all the
information she was going to get out of Marcus. He had refused to say anything
at first, but a couple of sharp blows to his wounded shoulder had convinced him
otherwise. She'd thought she would have trouble forcing the information out of
him, but she had surprised herself by finding it almost a pleasurable experience
to lay into the man who had been responsible for her attempted torture. Marcus
had confirmed Rene's story about her being his runaway slave, but did not know
where she was currently located. He assumed she had been kidnapped - along with
another of his slaves named Kitara - by the men who had attacked them all at
Daphne's apartment. About Shana and Heather, he knew nothing.

But the most important information that Rene had obtained from Marcus was how to
use the processor block she now held in her right hand. It was silent at the
moment, but he had assured her that the moment she got within a 30 mile radius
of Rene or Kitara, it would register their respective presences.

Now all she needed to do was figure out where she was, find transport, and start
scouring the city. With any luck, and with tracker firmly in hand, she hoped to
be able to locate Rene by the end of the day.

With any luck.

Daphne made it as far as gripping the exit door's handle when it was suddenly
thrust inward and the hulking form of Rufus slammed into her. Daphne yelped in
surprise as the two of them went down together. She struggled to get out from
beneath Rufus' weight, terrified that she had again been caught. Both of her
arms were pinned, but she pushed with all her might, trying to get an arm free
to reach for the weapon tucked into the waistband of Marcus' commandeered pants.

She suddenly realized that Rufus was not fighting back. Pausing, she glanced up
to see that his face was battered and bruised. His right eye was swollen
completely shut, his lip was split nastily, and blood obscured the remainder of
his face. He looked like he was barely clinging to consciousness.

She heard a voice. "Well well. Look what we have here."

A shadow blocked out the light from the doorway. "What kind of Male gets himself
bound by a lowly slave?" An indignant grunt from the direction of Marcus was the
shape's only reply.

"Please ..." Daphne begged. "He's crushing me."

The shape clicked his fingers and stepped aside. Three other men wearing bad
Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses stepped into the warehouse. They bent and grabbed
Rufus underneath his arms. He groaned as they pulled him to his feet. Free from
the big man's crushing weight, Daphne's hand wrapped around the grip of the
stolen energy weapon. She almost drew it, but she was unsure exactly what was
unfolding above her. Were the newcomers friend or foe?

Either way, she appeared to be forgotten for the moment. The leader had stepped
across to hover above Marcus, and the other three men were in the process of
lowering Rufus to the floor.

"You led us a merry chase, Marcus. But then, I assume that's because you know
the penalty for unauthorized retrieval attempts."

Marcus again grunted through the gag Daphne had placed over his mouth.

"I'd help you out with that gag, Marcus, but I don't think it would serve any
purpose - given that I'm about to have you executed by order of The Council."
The leader glanced over his shoulder and nodded to his subordinates. Two of the
men instantly moved over to haul Marcus up, so that his bent, hogtied legs
dangled a full eighteen inches off the ground.

Daphne never heard what the leader next said to Marcus. Her attention was
suddenly caught by a nearby whispered voice. "Give me ... the gun."

Rufus' eyes were open and his hand was extended toward her. He looked far more
coherent than he had a moment ago, and Daphne realized that he had been
"sand-bagging". Her gaze flickered over Rufus to take in what the others in the
warehouse were doing. She almost gasped aloud as she saw the leader had produced
his own energy weapon and had it pressed against her ex-captor's forehead.

"Marcus Cerillio, I hereby sentence you to death in accordance with Rule 86 of
The Council's Decleration - for the crime of unauthorized interdimensional
retrieval."

"We're next, girl," Rufus hissed. "So give me the weapon!"

Daphne hovered uncertainly. How could she possibly give the weapon back to one
of the men responsible for kidnapping her? But what if he was right? What if by
failing to act now she was effectively condemning herself to death? Of course,
there was always the option that she could draw the gun and fire, but she wasn't
sure she could take another life so easily. And that was even assuming she fired
the gun correc -

Daphne's whirl of thoughts was interrupted by the sizzle of an energy weapon
being fired. She looked up in time to see Marcus' head snap back, and fragments
of skull and brain explode across the concrete floor of the warehouse behind
him. Daphne reacted without further conscious thought. She gripped the weapon
more firmly and slid it across the short distance between herself and Rufus. In
one smooth motion, the big man pounced on the weapon, turned and fired - even
before the Hawaiian shirts had registered the threat.

The first of the men was blown clean of his feet, his chest all but hollowed out
by the first pulse of pure energy. The leader swung around to return fire, but
before he could squeeze his trigger, a second bolt of energy tore past his left
side - close enough to sizzle away the clothing and melt the skin beneath. He
crumpled to the floor, but Daphne could not tell if he was dead, because she,
too, was moving. Shots boomed around her as she dived behind the relative cover
of a stack of crates. (Relative, because she was under no illusions as to what
would happen if a blast hit the crate against which she leant). More shots
howled through the warehouse in quick succession, until, finally, silence
descended.

Daphne swallowed hard, wondering if she should check to see if anyone was left
standing. Instead, it was all she could do to look down at her hands and press
them hard together to stop their involuntary shaking.

She only looked up when Rufus lumbered around the corner, his huge hands
outstretched and grasping for her.

*****

Kitara had found the loose end of rope after only a few seconds of exploring her
bonds. She'd been trying so hard to wait for her new Master to return, but as
the minutes had ticked into hours (or at least what felt like hours), she'd
found herself becoming restless. And after the restlessness had come the aching
muscles.

Kitara had put up with the discomfort for as long as she'd been able. She'd
rolled over onto her front, fought to find some extra slack in the hogtying
rope, squirmed onto her back, bit down on the rubber filling her mouth,
alternately relaxed her arms and legs - anything to take her mind off the
growing muscular aches. Finally, the aches had given way to mounting pain, and
Kitara had known that if she wasn't freed soon, she was going to be less than
useless in terms of pleasuring her Master when he eventually returned.

So with that justification firmly in mind, Kitara had begun checking the ropes
binding her for any hope of escape.

And now, only moments later, it seemed she held the key to that escape in the
tips of her questing fingers.

Could her new Master really have been so careless in binding her? He'd certainly
been in a rush, but surely no-one could make such an obvious mistake?

Kitara pulled on the rope and gasped into her gag as her legs were suddenly
released from their bent, hog-tied position. She paused to allow the blood to
rush back into her starved lower limbs, and then noted that the rope holding her
hands seemed looser. She tried pulling her hands apart and was again surprised
as the bindings easily gave way.

Now there could no doubt. Her Master had deliberately left her with the means of
escape. No matter how hard she tried, Kitara could not understand why He would
allow such a thing. She could guess that this was some bizarre type of game that
took place in this dimension. Perhaps now she was meant to find Him and beg to
be punished for giving into temptation and escaping?

Or, Kitara thought as her tingling hands unbuckled the penis gag and pulled it
from her mouth, perhaps I'm supposed to be hiding so that He can find me and
then  punish me.

The petite redhead decided to let the door to the room be her answer. If it was
locked, she was meant to wait. If not, she may as well have been commanded to
move beyond.

At least, that was what she told herself when the door knob turned in her hand.

Grimacing with uncertainty, Kitara took three tentative steps into the corridor
beyond her cell, and closed the door behind her.

*****

Christian sighed for perhaps the hundredth time and tried to find a more
comfortable position to rest in.

He sat, naked except for his boxer shorts, on the edge of the room's bed, held
in place by a set of handcuffs that had been latched around his ankle and to the
bed's iron frame whilst he was unconscious. He still wasn't quite sure how he'd
allowed himself to be jumped so easily, but the basic fact of the matter was
that it had happened. It was his mistake, and certainly not one that he planned
to make again. Although he was going to make sure that a certain upstart
prisoner did more than her fair share of explaining once he got his hands on
her.

It was a pleasing thought, and one that helped pass the time.

When Christian had first woken up, he'd made every effort to break free of the
simple restraint. The bed, however, was bolted to the floor, and he was not
stupid enough to believe he could simply slip a foot out of a ratcheting
handcuff. He'd also tried calling for a while - knowing full well that the
guards did not actually stand outside the door to the cells. Instead, one was
supposed to check each prisoner every three hours.

Christian knew this, because it was the system he had implemented as Head of
Security. In essence, it saved on time and manpower, but it was also standard
company policy to keep the predominantly female captives bound and gagged in
their cells. So what point was there in having guards outside each door? Some of
the cells were even equipped with small security cameras, and it was just
Christian's luck that this particular cell did not appear to be one of those.

So he had waited while time crawled by. Besides wondering what the escaped woman
was doing, and fantasizing about her eventual capture, Christian time and again
found his thoughts returning to Kitara. The petite red head had sparked
something in him - of that there was no doubt. It was just that whatever had
been sparked was so unfamiliar that Christian did not actually know what it was.
Her look, submissiveness, and the way she writhed against the ropes binding her
had all whispered volumes to him. But it was the delight she had taken when he
had treated her with relative gentleness ("relative" compared to that usually
afforded the female captives of Davidson Global), that had cemented the
attraction he felt toward her.

A practical man, Christian did not normally believe in fate. On this occasion,
however, it almost seemed as if she had been trained to be his slave, and his
alone.

In other words, it instinctively felt right.

Christian was broken from his reverie at the sound of his cell door being
unlocked. A moment later, a gaping guard stood in the doorway. "Sir?"

Christian waved the implicit question away. "Just go and sound the alarm,
Aronsky. We have an escaped slave on our hands. She is to be recaptured alive.
Understand?"

Aronsky nodded. He paused uncertainly for a moment longer.

"The alarm first. Free me second, Aronsky."

The guard scampered away. Christian could tell from the look on his face that
word of his indiscretion would soon be all over the building. This was not
something he was going to live down quickly.

*****

D2-670A

Part 14

Edric Storm - leader of Official Retrieval Team 33-B - grimaced with pain as he
slowly stood up. He felt as if he had been hit by a speeding truck. His entire
body ached, and his side felt like it was doused with white hot flame. He had
taken an MP-432 shot that had slagged his Hawaiian shirt along with a generous
portion of the left side of his chest, and the two had fused into some kind of
shiny membrane.

Despite the fact the bleeding had stopped - thanks to that very fusion - Edric
knew he should have been dead. But it appeared he had been lucky - even though a
small part of him was aware that his wound was likely to ultimately prove fatal.
Especially if he failed to receive medical attention, and soon.

Not that any medical attention was likely to be forthcoming. His D-key was gone
- either slagged when he was shot, or stolen by Rufus while he lay unconscious.
But he found a Tracking Processor on one of the dead body's. The Tracker was
crucial. With it, he could track Rufus, and anyone else he chose to seek. Every
member of the population was implanted with a personal homing beacon at birth.
The Council very rarely left anything to chance, and on this occasion, that
paranoia was going to keep him in good stead.

Although his teammates were both dead, Rufus did have an idea of where Rufus and
the slave were heading. He'd overheard them as he'd slowly regained
consciousness.

"Where did she work?"

"Davidson Global. We both worked there."

"You as well? Good. Then you'll be able to direct me."

"But she's not ..."

"No buts." Too concerned that opening his eyes would alert his enemies to his
level of consciousness, Edric had heard rather than seen the recalcitrant slave
being gagged, before Rufus spoke again. "Now let's go and see if this Global
place knows anything about where your boss might be."

Davidson Global. Edric had no idea where such an organization might be, but with
the tracker in hand, he did not need to. Very slowly, he pushed himself to his
feet and staggered toward the Warehouse exit, his hand clasped to his side.

What he did need, however, was transport.

And by playing dead on the side of the road he soon had that. Courtesy of a
passing Samaritan who had only an instant to appreciate the lethality of an
upper arching blow to the base of his nose.

Edric claimed the idling vehicle and swung in the direction of the implant's
signal.

*****

Rene suspected the four of them must have made an interesting sight as they
moved without hurry along the carpeted corridor. Heather led the way, dressed in
full dominatrix uniform. She held, in one gloved hand, a leather leash that was
attached to a D-ringed collar worn by Lois Davenport. The once mighty CEO of
Davidson Global shuffled along, naked, helpless and humiliated in her tight
bondage and silencing gag. Her legs were hobbled with six inches of rope that
Rene had tied in place to ensure she could move but not make an escape attempt.
Her head was also hooded to further stop unwieldy questions.

That much of the plan, Rene was happy with. She had her reservations about the
rest of it.

Heather and Rene had ungagged Veronica and listened as she explained why her
former employer had been torturing her in the dungeon. She told them about the
lifestyle that she and Lois had shared, and how only a select few in the company
knew of it. She admitted to being jealous when the subject of kidnapping Heather
had been raised. According to Veronica, Lois had organized this more for the
fact that she wanted the beautiful scientist as a slave, rather than for any
controversial dimension doorway she had created. Lois had gradually been growing
out of her submissive role in their relationship, and this was the final proof
that she was about to take the next step. Veronica had not wanted this to occur.
She was set within the company, could have anything she wanted, and was able to
fulfil all of her sexual desires with one of the most powerful women in the
business world. So she had taken steps of her own which had led her into
confrontation with Rene. From that point she had been as much a prisoner as the
two of them - and she suspected that she again would be, if she did not escape
alongside them. Veronica begged Rene and Heather to untie her so she could not
only lead them out, but by her very presence, give their party a certain
credibility they would otherwise not possess. After all, only one or two people
knew that she was no longer in Lois' favour.

Although it irked Rene, they had been forced to agree. Logically, it was their
only chance of escape. If they did not stick to the private areas of the
building where a bound and gagged woman was relatively common place, they would
be swooped upon by security in a matter of moments. She did not trust Veronica,
however, and she was well aware of the risk they were taking by allowing her to
move freely as one of their bogus captors.

Veronica now held the leash that was attached to Rene's own throat. The raven
haired woman was dressed in a tight latex skirt and opened necked white shirt
that she had pulled from a locker in the room adjoining the dungeon. There had
been no time to don the necktie or stockings and suspenders that she would
normally  have worn (or so she explained), but she did pause long enough to pull
on the knee high leather boots that she insisted she always wore when in the
dungeon with Lois.

For her part, Rene was bound as the second slave of the group. She sported the
same D-ringed collar as Lois, but otherwise was completely naked. Her hands were
bound behind her with rope, and were attached to a crotch rope that sawed at her
clitoris uncomfortably as she moved. The rope around her wrists looked secure
enough, but Heather had tied it so that a short tug on the end of the rope Rene
held in her right fist would be enough to loosen the cords for her to free
herself in a matter of moments. The crotch rope had been judged a necessary
evil, given that they could not have her elbows bound or her arms pinned to her
torso if she was going to be able to escape quickly. Like Lois, Rene's ankles
were hobbled with a similar length of rope; and like the Davidson Global CEO,
her mouth was also tightly gagged. A large rubber ball had been pushed behind
her teeth and was held in place with half a dozen pieces of tape that covered
her mouth from nose to chin.

"Okay," said Veronica quietly, "You need to turn right just up ahead." That will
take us through to the private back-entry. The guards there know of Lois'
proclivity for bondage and are very well paid for their silence on the matter.
We'll need to report into them, and then one will fetch a company limo."

"Won't they ask about Lois?" asked Heather with a nervous glace at Rene.

At the sound of her name, the company CEO hummed into her gag, and turned to
"look" in Heather's direction.

"Not if I have her under my care. Here." Veronica said, handing the leash
attached to Rene's collar to Heather, and taking the other leash from her. "Just
be calm, and act like it's the most normal thing in the world to be leading a
beautiful, bound and gagged woman along by a leash. Okay?"

Heather nodded, and the four of them moved on to reach the double doors Veronica
had spoken of. She took the lead, and with a whispered "Ready?", made her way
through. Rene nodded at Heather to follow, prompting her into action.

She was halfway through the door when the alarm sounded.

At first, Rene thought they must have tripped something by accident, but she
quickly realised the alarm was not confined to the large security point ahead of
her. Back down the corridor behind them, and indeed through the rest of the
building (or so it seemed) she could hear the echoing of the general alarm.
Uniformed security guards were rushing around their desk toward the four women,
and for a few moments, Rene was frozen in shock.

The first of the guards reached Veronica who spun around and pointed at Heather
and Rene. "Grab those women!" She ordered in a commanding voice. "They're
attempting to force me to kidnap Lois!"

Rene cursed into her gag, and pulled on the length of rope to loosen her hands.
The rope instantly slackened, but by the time she was able to wrench her hands
free, a guard's hand had grabbed her arms and was pulling a pair of cuffs free
from his belt. Rene looked over to see Heather being pressed up against the wall
by another guard. Two more were also on the way. Dimly, she heard the guard
telling her to "Hold still!" above the din of the alarm, but it was Veronica's
triumphant smile she was focused on. That, and the words she silently mouthed
with those lips:

"Now you're mine."

*****

Rufus weaved in and out of the mid-afternoon traffic, moving quickly, while
trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He grimaced as he shifted down
a gear. His body was a mass of aches and pains that the bastard Edric and his
goons had inflicted upon him, and every time he moved, one or another of them
flared up. But that was the least of his worries. Marcus was dead, and he was
shit out of options. Rufus knew that his life was now forfeit. He had no ties
with the Council beyond his now-dead employer, and it was probably already a
widely known fact that he was involved in an illegal Retrieval attempt. The
second he stepped back into his own dimension, he would have every Council Rep
alive attempting to gun him down. That was the law.

But it was not an option that Rufus was prepared to accept.

Hence his current plan. The burly bodyguard glanced over at his unwilling
companion. The pretty red-head stared up at him with eyes wide above the gag
wrapped around her mouth. She was clearly terrified. And why not? Although she
was female, that did not constitute a life of servitude in this dimension. She
had probably never even been bound and gagged before twenty-four hours ago. So
to have been through everything she had, and to now find herself the captive of
the man she had effectively saved, must have been a hell of a shock to the
system.

He had tied her hands behind her back and crushed her elbows together with a
slightly longer length of cord before even leaving the warehouse. When she had
protested, he had stuffed a wadded ball of cloth past her teeth, and then
pressed a knotted cloth into her mouth and tied it behind her head. He had tied
a third length of cloth over her lips to hold everything in place, and then
hurried her out to the car. Once inside, he had bound her ankles, forced her to
bend forward, and tied her head down to her knees.

She was still tied that way now, but it was coming to the point where Rufus was
going to have to ungag her. He had made it as far back as the city proper, but
from this point he had no idea where Davidson Global and the female scientist
(something that he still had trouble accepting) were located.

Rufus slowed the car long enough to reach over and pull the covering cloth and
the knotted cleave from the female's mouth. She retched quietly and managed to
spit the wad out. The slimy material rolled down the side of her leg and onto
the floor of the car.

"What ..." The female licked her lips. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing, okay. Female or not, you saved my life. And I'm not going to forget
that."

Hope flashed across her pretty face. "Then why did you tie me up again?"

"Because I didn't have time to argue. And I don't have any more time for it now.
So listen up."  As he spoke, Rufus indicated and pulled into a side alley.  "We
have to find your friend, the doctor. With her research, she might be my only
ticket out of this dimension." He rolled the car to a stop, and, ignoring a
flare of pain from his ribs, leant over to begin unknotting the rope holding the
female in her folded over position.

"But the research is still in the experimental stage. There's no way she could
transport a full human through a dimension door."

Rufus shrugged as he finished with the knot and helped the female into a more
comfortable sitting position. "Maybe, maybe not. But I'm guessing that having
this," he produced his D-key, "will speed matters along."

"Why don't you just use that one to get away?"

"Because it will only take me home. I need to disappear into another dimension
completely. That way they might never be able to track me." It was the best plan
he could come up with. The only plan in fact. It was his one chance, and he had
to move quickly.

The female considered this for a moment. "Do you promise not to hurt Heather or
myself?"

Rufus nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

"And Rene?"

"As far as I'm concerned, she is free to go where she pleases."

"Good. Then untie me, and I'll show you the way."

Rufus was a little reluctant - it was instinctive to want to keep any female
bound (and preferably gagged) - but in this case, he was willing to go against
type.

As soon as the female was free, she turned to look at him with an even gaze. The
fear was gone, and had been replaced by something more ... calculating.

"What?" he prompted.

"There's something you should know." The female took a deep breath. "Heather
isn't supposed to be in the city. She's supposed to be in Seattle trying to find
a backer to finish her research."

The implications of that hit Rufus like a hammer. No escaping. No starting
again. Just time running before the inevitable occurred, and he was executed.
Rufus snarled angrily and was just about to roar at the female when the phrase
"supposed to be" struck a chord.

"What are you saying?" He glared at her. "And make it good."

"Heather is at Davidson Global. The CEO of the company, Lois Davenport had her
kidnapped and shipped back to her yesterday. She decided she wanted Heather's
work for herself and was going to force her to complete it in, how shall we say,
a 'private' capacity."

"So why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I work for Lois Davenport - have done since well before Heather hired
me. That's how I know where she is."

"Work for?"

"I'm essentially Lois' protege. She suspected Heather was on to something based
purely on the brilliance of her academic work. So she planted me to keep an eye
on things after Davidson Global head-hunted her. It's a well kept secret, and
something that we've worked hard to make sure stays that way. Christ, I even let
that sadistic bitch, Veronica, tie me up like a Christmas turkey to make sure I
was never implicated in Heather's disappearance."

Rufus frowned. As far as he was concerned, the female was talking gibberish.

"So what I'm trying to say here is, if you're going to "rescue" Heather from
Lois, then I'm going to need some kind of compensation for selling my mentor
out."  The red-head paused and flashed a thin smile. "And I want Rene."

Rufus processed all that for a few moments. He didn't trust this female, but the
situation dictated that he would have to go along with her. "That could be a
little difficult to organize."

"I doubt it. If Rene was captured by that team of troopers I heard you
mentioning, then she is being kept at Davidson Global with Heather."

A slow smile crept across Rufus' lips. "You really are full of surprises, even
for a female."

"I'll try and take that as a compliment. And please, call me Daphne."

The ex-bodyguard shifted the car into reverse and began backing out of the
alley. "Alright Daphne, I hope that your intimate knowledge of this company will
lead us right to the two female sla- ah, Heather and Rene."

"Don't worry," said Daphne, as she distastefully tossed the remnants of the rope
that had bound her into the back seat. "I know about a private back entrance.
But that means that Lois will know I was involved in stealing the women away.
And then all the world won't stop her from finding me." She paused monetarily,
as if considering her own words. "Either she's going to have to disappear as
well, or you'll have to let me accompany you through the Dimension portal - with
Rene in tow, of course."

Rufus' mind swirled with the many possibilities that were suddenly presenting
themselves. "We'll see ... Now, point me in the direction of Davidson Global."

*****

D2-670A

Part 15

Although Kitara was spotted more than once by the closed circuit security
cameras of Davidson Global, neither of the on-duty guards made any move to
apprehend the half-naked red-head. She was within Lois' private area and the
guards knew better than to interfere with any unruly slave that happened to
wander out of her cell. More often than not, it was part of some elaborate game
involving Lois and Veronica. And if it was something more serious, they were
inevitably warned to be on the lookout.

The guards point of view changed very quickly the moment the order came through
to sound the alarm. One was about to charge off and apprehend the red-head, but
suddenly a more pressing matter came to hand. Veronica and three other women -
two of which were bound - entered the foyer to the private entrance. The guards
immediately sprang to action, and the red-head was forgotten.

Kitara, for her part, followed the distant sounds of commotion that reached her
ears, reasoning that Christian in his role as Head of Security would be
involved.

After two false turns, she came upon a set of double doors and cautiously pushed
them open a crack. Peering through, she did not see Christian, but was instead
confronted by sight of two armed guards busily cuffing a well-dressed female and
subduing a naked slave. She instantly recognised the slave as Rene - the escaped
slave she and her Master had originally travelled to this dimension to find.

But a second surprise was in store for Kitara. She was still trying to piece
together what was happening -as another well-dressed female appeared to be
giving the orders - when the outer doors to the lobby slid open to emit two
figures. One was a beautiful young woman with long red-hair that was several
shade's darker than Kitara's own.

The other was Rufus.

Kitara gasped aloud. She only had time to wonder whether he had come for her as
well as to claim Rene, before he raised his MP-432 and sighted it at one of the
guards.

"Nobody move!" he bellowed.

Of course ... someone did.

*****

Edric easily followed the tracker implanted in Rufus as far as the high-rise
building owned by Davidson Global. The problem, however, was that they were
already inside the building, and he had to reach them without drawing undue
attention to himself. A difficult task given the wound he was carrying.

As such, it would have to be the direct approach.

Edric could discern from the tracker that Rufus was toward the rear of the
massive building, so he drove the stolen car down a smaller side street and
spotted a small access-way.  He turned into it and accelerated toward a guard
hut and a small wooden barricade-arm. Any thoughts of simply being able to smash
straight through the flimsy barricade were put to rest by the large plexiglass
wall behind it. On the other side of that impenetrable wall was a second guard's
hut.

The wounded Retrieval Team leader slammed the brakes on and skidded to a halt
next to the first hut. He glanced over to see a uniformed guard emerging from
the doorway, right hand on his holstered projectile weapon. Grimacing in
two-thirds legitimate agony, Edric fumbled with the handle and pushed open his
door.

The guard was immediately there, as was the distant sound of a muffled alarm.
"Just what the he..." The guard broke off as he took stock of the wound Edric
was sporting.

"He ... Help ... me."

"Jesus, buddy. What happened to you?" Edric heard the man talking into his
two-way. "Billy, I got a seriously injured man here.  I'm going to need some
help carrying him."

There was a brief crackle, then: "But the interior alarm is ringing, Max."

"Billy! Don't make me come in there and get you. We haven't been called in, so
get you ass out here before this guy dies on me!"

Edric snuck a glance toward the plexiglass wall and saw "Billy" emerge from the
rear guard hut. He noted that the guard moved toward a small plexiglass door
that blended almost seamlessly with the rest of the wall. Edric was forced to
groan and look away as "Max" bent over him. "Okay, buddy, we're going to lay you
out here and then call an ambulance, okay? It's gonna hurt, but I gotta get a
better look at the wound. You understand?"

Edric managed a weak nod. Judging that Billy must have made his way through the
door by now, he suddenly reared up, slamming Max into the frame of the car. The
guard grunted in shock as the air was squashed out of his lungs and collapsed.
Edric slid aside and then in one smooth motion, snatched Max's gun from his
holster and sprang to his feet. Billy was just turning away from the door, shock
registering on his face, when Edric shot him in the stomach, chest and face. He
was hammered back into the plexiglass and slid down it slowly, leaving a vague
red smear to mark his passing.

Edric turned to grin down at Max who had reached out to grab an ankle. "Thanks
for the help," he said calmly, before blowing a small hole through the crown of
his head.

Shaking loose the hand from his ankle, Edric trotted over to Billy's body. He
snatched a key from his lifeless fingers, stole his holstered weapon, and then
turned toward the small door. As he opened it and stepped through, he heard the
repetitious  pop of firing projectile weapons, before the WHOOMP! of an
answering MP-432.

*****

Soon after the alarm began ringing, the same uniformed guard, Aronsky, returned
with a skeleton key for the legging holding Christian to the bed and a pair of
overalls. The Head of Security took the key from the guard's hand and quickly
unlocked himself.

"Okay," he said as he climbed to his feet "I want the Private Section of the
building locked down. If the woman who did this escapes, I will hold each and
every guard personally responsible. Is that clear?"

Aronsky nodded wordlessly, clearly unused to the type of situation that was
suddenly presenting itself.

"Well, issue the order", Christian said, gesturing at the man's two-way. He
quickly began to dress in the overalls.

As if on cue, the two-way suddenly crackled to life with a panic-filled voice.
"Intruders in the private entrance lobby!" The voice was interrupted by some
kind of booming sound. It was immediately followed by an agonized scream.
"Jesus! The guy has a laser ray ... It just - It just burnt a hole through
McMurray!  Get down here fast!" There was a second boom and then silence.

Christian paused momentarily. He had heard that sound last night, from a
distance, while his men went about hunting Veronica.

"Sir?" asked Aronsky uncertainly.

Christian stepped forward and ripped the man's standard issue revolver from its
holster. "Get another weapon and get down to the lobby. I'll see you there."

Both men ran out of the room, heading in separate directions. Christian went
straight for the express elevator and stabbed the ground floor button. He only
had to wait a few moments as the elevator ascended the two floors to the lobby
level. Even as the lift slowed to a halt, he could hear the sounds of gunfire.
Periodically, they were drowned out by the sound of a massive energy WHOOMP!

The doors slid open to reveal a war zone. Christian just had time to count three
downed guards (two of which lay amongst the pieces of whatever cover they had
claimed) and a huge man steadily backing toward him, firing blast after blast
from an energy weapons, before a hail of misplaced gunfire ricocheted off the
wall behind him. Christian ducked and threw himself to the side, hearing the wiz
of bullets flying past his ear. By the time he was able to look up, the huge man
was stepping into the lift. He fired off another blast before Christian could
raise his borrowed revolver. But before his finger could even tighten on the
trigger, the man's foot lashed out, striking him below the wrist, and knocking
the weapon from his grasp.

The man swiveled as if in slow motion and pointed a tiny, comical looking silver
weapon down at him. Christian wanted to laugh at the absurdness of it, but he
had seen the type of death this peculiar weapon dealt, and knew without a shadow
of a doubt, that he was looking at something made in another dimension ...

*****

For the first few moments after Rufus seemingly appeared in the lobby with
Daphne in tow, Rene's breath caught in her chest. Despite all her efforts, and
after the multiple escapes she had made, Rufus - Marcus' personal bodyguard -
had still somehow caught up with her.

And worst of all, her hands were now securely bound behind her back by a pair of
handcuffs. She could not run because of the rope hobbling her ankles, and could
not reason with the huge man because of the ball gag taped in her mouth.

Effectively, she was his for the taking.

Then the guard that had been busy binding Heather had pulled his gun - and
promptly been cut in half by the first bolt from Rufus' MP-432. As the answering
exchange of bullets began, Rene had thrown herself to the side and landed
awkwardly on her shoulder. Rene managed to half-slide, half-push herself behind
the token cover of the reception desk as a reign of deadly projectiles destroyed
the room around her. Heather was already there, trying to make herself into the
smallest ball possible with her hands cuffed behind her. The two blonde women
exchanged a desperate glance before Rene went to work on propping herself into a
sitting position.

Just as she did so, another guard seeking cover barreled into her, knocking her
to the floor. Rene uttered a muffled cry that was drowned out amidst the
gunfire. The guard did not seem to register hitting her.  Instead, he propped
himself up on the reception counter and squeezed off three quick shots. A moment
later the same counter exploded inwards to blow him off his feet. The unlucky
man landed beside Rene, his chest a mass of oaken splinters, his body twitching
spasmodically.

The gunfire was more random now, and the MP-432 had stopped firing altogether.
Rene wondered if that meant Rufus was dead, but knew somehow that was not the
case. The remaining guards, for instance, would most certainly have seen to her
and Rene by now. Unless they too were dead ...

Rene squirmed as close to the still twitching guard as possible, and began
searching his belt with cuff inhibited fingers. She smiled triumphantly and
muttered a prayer of thanks to the Goddess of the Willow as she took hold of her
goal and slid the handcuff key into the lock. One twist and a few moments later
her only bondage was the gag in her mouth. She was just about to take care of
this minor hindrance when a shrill feminine scream echoed through the lobby:

"RUFUS!!! NOOOO!!"

*****

D2-670A

Part 16

Rufus had wanted to steal into the building and out again without any bloodshed.
But from the instant he entered the private foyer and found himself confronted
with the sight of armed guards securing bound women, he had known there was no
chance of that. One of the guards had drawn his weapon and fired almost
immediately. Daphne had thrown herself down, arms over hear head, while Rufus
had calmly blasted the man with his MP-432.

From there, the situation had degenerated into an all out gunfight. Rufus knew
he was lucky to be alive and unscathed because the remaining three guards should
have had him the moment after he killed their comrade. Panic, however, had cast
its pall over the men, and Rufus had been able to shoot his way back toward the
relative safety of the lift. By the time he reached the already open doors,
three of the four guards were dead, and the fourth was squirming in the corner,
most of his right arm blown away.

Another guard burst through the double doors at the end of the room, pushing a
naked woman down to the ground in front of him. It took Rufus a moment to
recognise Kitara and by that time, the newly arrived guard had opened fire at
him. He returned the favour once - boring a hole through the man - and dodged
inside the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man aiming a gun at
him. Rufus kicked it from the man's hand and lowered his own weapon to point at
his head. With no time to waste, he began to squeeze the trigger.

Kitara's scream stopped him cold. She pushed herself to her feet and charged
across the foyer at him, hands outstretched and pleading. Suddenly, a single
shot rang out. Kalana buckled and missed her next step. She crumpled almost
gracefully to lay unmoving on the cold, hard floor.

At first Rufus thought another guard had arrived and shot her, but then his eyes
darted left to see a dead man in the doorway, pulling Daphne to her feet to use
as a human shield, his other arm holding a projectile weapon outstretched.

The barrel may as well have been smoking.

Edric offered him a satisfied smile.

Rufus was just beginning to turn and raise his MP-432, when, with a roar, the
man at his feet leapt to his feet and burst past him. Edric appeared less than
amused. He simply aimed and fired a second time, punching the man from his feet
to land beside Kitara, blood pumping from a head wound.

Both Edric and Rufus sighted their weapons upon one another.

"You know I'll kill you if I fire, Edric" said Rufus with a calm that belied the
rage churning inside him.

"And risk killing your new little slave?" queried Edric. 'I think not." He drew
Daphne against him more tightly, causing the young woman to utter a small
scream. "No, what we have here is a stand-off. And I'm going to get what I want,
or this slave, and every other slave in this room is going to die. Do you
understand, Rufus?"

"Kill her and you're dead one heart-beat later."

"Well let's not test each other then." Edric began dragging Daphne toward the
next person closest to him - a naked, bound and hooded woman who had been
cowering on the floor since the shooting began.

Rufus watched helplessly as Edric moved. He would not shoot until Daphne was out
of harm's way. She had already saved his life and was also his link to getting
out of this dimension...

*****

Veronica watched the unfolding stand-off as if it were some kind of horrible
dream where she could see what was happening around her, but was powerless to
act. She broke free of this spell when the man named Edric began moving toward
the helpless Lois.

She glanced around, looking for support. The newly arrived guard was evidently
dead, his chest little more than a smoking crater. Worse, his gun - and all the
other guards' weapons - were out of close reach. She thought she had seen
Heather and Rene seek cover behind the guards' front desk in the midst of the
gunfight. But she couldn't be sure. Either way she was evidently on her own.

Meaning that if she was going to save Lois, she would have to do it herself.

From the moment that Heather and Rene had released her form her bondage,
Veronica had known exactly what she needed to do. Play along with the escaped
women until such time as she could ensure they were recaptured, free Lois, and
thereby prove her worth to the CEO of Davidson Global. From there, Lois would
welcome her back into her role as Personal Adviser, and Veronica envisioned that
it would only be a short amount of time before she was again able to take her
rightful role in their D&s relationship.

True, she had made a mistake by going after Daphne against Lois' explicit
orders. But it was not a mistake that she planned on replicating - something she
hoped that Lois would see when she free of this disaster.

Veronica waited until Edric was almost alongside Lois, some eight feet in front
of her. His attention was fully on the huge man who had stepped out of the
elevator and was slowly advancing toward them. Behind him, the elevator doors
chimed and closed.

"Here's what you're going to do, Rufus. So listen carefully. Firstly, I want you
to throw the D-keys you have on your person over to me. Then I want you to back
up, get back in the elevator and ride it to the very top floor." Edric jammed
the gun against the side of Daphne's head. "Otherwise, this bitch gets it!"

Rufus considered Edric's words for a few moments. She saw his eyes flick to the
side to take in a glance at the lobby reception desk. Then he slowly nodded.
"Alright, Edric. You win. This time." As he spoke the huge man slipped his free
hand into his pants pocket and pulled out three small keys. He then very slowly
bent and slid them across the floor toward Edric. They stopped in front of him,
out of Veronica's line of sight.

"Very good, Rufus. Very good. Now if you'll be so kind as to back up and call
the elevator back down here ..."

Veronica watched as Rufus did as he was bid. She decided she would go for Edric
when he bent to grab the keys. She slid her booted feet under her and tensed,
waiting for just the right moment.

The doors slid open behind Rufus. He stepped inside, small gun still trained on
the locked together pairing of Edric and Daphne. "This isn't over, Edric. I'll
be coming for you," he said. "Count on it." The doors closed in front of him.

Edric did not move until he was sure Rufus was gone. Then he threw Daphne to the
side so that she slammed into one of the reinforced glass window panes alongside
the main lobby entry. The breath knocked from her, Daphne slid slowly to the
ground. Edric bent over, hand outstretched for the things he had called D-Keys.

Veronica pounced. She slammed into his back - or would have had he not easily
sidestepped, sending her sprawling face first. She quickly flipped herself over,
unable to believe the wounded man had moved so fast.

And found herself nose to barrel with his gun.

"Silly slave. I can tell you're going to be a tough one to train." Edric's eyes
narrowed and his finger tightened on the trigger. "Consider this your first
lesson in obedience. Hand me those keys from beside you."

There was no mistaking the malice in his tone. If she failed to act, Veronica
knew she would be dead. So moving slowly, she did as ordered, before sinking
back to the ground. Above her, Edric straightened with the odd-looking keys in
hand. He pocketed two and thumbed a button on the other. Veronica gasped aloud
as a small red sphere appeared above her, and watched in amazement as it rapidly
grew in size and shrunk in shape to form a perfectly flat oval.

The next thing she knew she was being pulled to her feet. "Get up and step
through," Edric barked at her. He shoved the gun into the small of her back for
added emphasis.

Not knowing what to expect, Veronica took three tentative steps forward which
brought her right to the edge of the oval. It seemed to pulsate with a kind of
inner light. She had the feeling of staring down a long tunnel. Then a rough
hand shoved her forward and she suddenly was hurtling through bright lights.

*****

Rufus alighted from the elevator on the second floor, and looked around wildly.
He quickly made out a sign reading "STAIRS" and charged in the indicated
direction.

*****

Beyond simply being naked, bound, gagged and hooded, Lois Davenport was dazed,
disorientated and terrified for her life. The last thing she remembered with any
clarity was tormenting Heather Landcom in her own private dungeon. Then, she had
abruptly awoken to find her arms bound impossibly tight behind her back, and her
legs hobbled with a short length of rope. Something that felt like a ball-gag
filled her entire mouth, while the attached webbing of straps gripped her face
like a vice. The hood that had been tied over her head, blinding her and adding
to her confusion, did not help the feeling of claustrophobia.

She had been marched on a seemingly endless walk before a brief moment of
freedom had seemed to beckon. She heard Veronica's voice ordering the guards to
arrest the impostors attempting to kidnap her. But then gunshots had been fired
and she had thrown herself to the ground, hoping against hope that no stray
bullet would find her.

All had been quiet for awhile after that and she had heard muted voices in
conversation. Now she was being pulled to her feet, and all but dragged forward
by her arm.

"You have quite the body for an older slave," whispered a malicious voice in her
ear. "I'm going to enjoy taking it as my own very soon."

Lois wanted to scream that she was not a slave! That she was one of the most
powerful women in the world! That she was someone who owned slaves. But the gag
in her mouth rendered her muffled cries unintelligible ...

She heard the masculine voice laugh horribly before she was thrown forward. She
did not immediately land on her face, however. Instead, to her surprise, she
found herself falling very quickly, rolling over and over, losing all sense of
direction. She screamed and screamed into her gag, but was powerless to stop her
endless tumbling ...

*****

D2-670A

Part 17

Rene listened to the exchange between Rufus and the man who had murdered Kitara
while she hovered alongside Heather. She had suspected him to be a Retrieval
Team member by his actions, so was not surprised when his request for the D-keys
confirmed exactly that.

As much as she wanted to leap across the counter at "Edric", common sense
prevailed. If she was lucky, he would simply gun her down the same way he had
Kitara and the other man. If she was unlucky, he would wound her and then drag
her back to their dimension to face The Council.

So she signalled to Heather to stay low and keep quiet, and watched and waited
for her moment.

A part of her was tempted to make her move as Veronica charged the man
unsuccessfully. But the raven-haired woman's betrayal was too fresh in her mind.
Rene wanted to see what Edric had in store for the traitorous bitch.

She shouldn't have been surprised when Edric opened a portal on the spot -
thereby breaking the number one law of inter-dimensional travel. After all, she
had done exactly the same thing to escape from Marcus in the first place.  But
for some reason she found it hard to believe that a professional Retrieval Team
member would resort to such a risky venture - even though he was surrounded by
enemies in a hostile environment. If the portal opened in the middle of a wall
in her home dimension, everyone attempting to use the portal would die as they
emerged from the other end. Their very molecules would bond with the wall as two
solid matter components attempted to occupy the same space. Likewise, if they
appeared above a steep drop or water ...

Regardless, Rene had missed her chance at Edric, and was forced to watch as she
shoved first Veronica and then a bound Lois through the red portal.

It was as Edric dragged a still-stunned Daphne to her feet that she propelled
herself across the guard station and leapt at him. She slammed into his back,
knocking him sprawling. The gun clattered from his hand, out of reach. Moving
quickly, she clambered up his back as he struggled to throw her off. She slammed
a fist into the side of his head - once, twice - but was then bucked to the side
as he twisted beneath her. Rene struck out desperately with a foot as Edric
tried to climb to his feet, striking him in the wounded side. He roared with
pain and lurched forwards, staggering into Daphne. The red-headed woman struck
him another blow to the face before he wrapped his arms around her in a tight
bear hug and spun her around. Rene quickly pushed herself up, but not before
Edric forced Daphne forward two steps and threw her through the portal opening.

"NOO!" screamed Rene. Even without the danger of where she would emerge in her
dimension, Daphne was now trapped. The D-keys opened a portal that was one-way,
meaning that the only way to rescue her was to travel through and then re-open a
gate back to this direction.

Which, in turn, meant that she had to take the D-key from Edric.

All of these thoughts passed through Rene's mind in a split second as the man in
question turned back toward her, eyes narrowed, blood trickling from the corner
of his mouth. "I was hoping to get my hands on you before I left. My whole
Retrieval Team is dead because you led us here. And I might be dying. So you'll
excuse me if I ignore my orders to take you back and just kill you on the spot."

"Like you did Kitara?"

"No, in that case, I was following orders. With you, it will be for pure
pleasure." He grinned, showing a mouthful of blood covered teeth. "If only I had
time to work on you like I did your little dark-haired friend. MMmmm ... what
was her name? Oh yes, slave-shana."

"What did you do to her?" Rene demanded.

"Just a short Q and A session. Then a trip back to our dimension." He smiled
again. "I'm sure she's enjoying herself there. I left her in the capable hands
of Councillor Kardel."

With a guttural growl, Rene again threw herself at Edric. But whereas she was a
naked and determined ex-slave, he was a well-trained and this time,
non-surprised, opponent. Rene tried to slam into Edric and again bear him to the
ground. Instead, he side-stepped at the last moment and hooked his ankle around
hers, tripping her up. Rene fell, but instinctively threw herself to the side as
he lashed out with his other foot. Edric pressed home his advantage by kicking
at her again and this time landed a glancing blow. Rene caught his next
attempted kick and twisted as hard as she could, forcing him to collapse to the
ground. They grappled together on the floor, but Edric's considerably larger
frame soon won out as Rene found herself pinned beneath him by his weight across
her stomach. She attempted to grab for his testicles, but he caught the
offending hand with one of his own and wrapped the other around her throat. She
felt his hand squeeze and was immediately unable to breathe. She gasped and
kicked and wheezed and flailed against him, but gradually felt her strength
diminishing.

"Die, you little troublesome bitch." Edric whispered harshly. "Die!"

Everything - even the physical sensation of being strangled to death - began to
fade away. She could no longer focus on the face of her murderer, nor think of
why being strangled was such a bad thing ...

Her last coherent thought concerned whether Rayelle, Goddess of the Willow,
would be able to find her soul in the middle of D2-670A.

*****

Having again reached the first floor, Rufus burst into the room through the set
of double doors that Kitara and the reinforcing guard had appeared from. He
heard the final echo of a scream and saw a portal had been opened in the middle
of the room. As he skidded to a halt, a woman dressed in a white shirt, tie and
black skirt slammed a gun into the back of Edric's skull. The Retrieval Team
leader slumped sidewards and off a naked woman lying on the ground. Rufus
recognised her as the original quarry of this insane day and a half: Rene. Of
Daphne, however, there was no sign.

Rene lay very still as Rufus approached. He could see red handprints around her
slender throat where Edric had evidently attempted to throttle her.

The woman with the gun spun around as she heard him approach and raised the
weapon threateningly.

"It's okay," Rufus soothed, "I wanted to shoot him, remember?"

The woman looked uncertain for a few moments, but then dropped the gun in
relief. "It was empty anyway. I would have shot the bastard. I swear I would
have ..." She knelt beside Rene and felt for a pulse.

"Is she going to be alright?" Rufus asked, one wary eye on Edric.

"Her pulse is a little irregular, but she'll be fine. I think she's even coming
round" She glanced around the room that had all but been destroyed by the
gunfight. "I'm not sure about anyone else though."

As if on cue, the man who had almost shot him in the elevator groaned loudly.
"See to him, I'll make sure about Edric."

The woman trotted over in her black boots to attend to the wounded man, while
Rufus dropped to his haunches beside Edric. "You can quit sand-bagging now," he
commented quietly.

Edric's eyes opened almost instantly. "I didn't think you'd fall for it." His
words ended in a weak cough.

"What did you do with the red-head?"

"Tossed her through the portal along with two other newly recruited slaves."
Rufus's eyes narrowed dangerously - something that Edric evidently noticed
because he rushed to continue. "I would have thought that was your plan from the
start. Cute little bitch like that would make a perfect slave."

"You know I can't go back now. And besides, my plans are my own." Rufus fumbled
through Edric's pockets until he found the two extra D-keys and palmed them. The
third, he took from where it had fallen to the floor during Edric's fight with
the sla- women.

"You've gone soft, Rufus. I can tell."

"Maybe," replied the ex-bodyguard as he stood, "but who's the one holding the
MP-432?"

Rufus looked over to see the woman in the white shirt supporting the other man
as they made their way toward him. He could see from the expression on the man's
blood-streaked face that he was not only in a great deal of pain, but that he
was also ready to dispense it. Rene, too, was sitting up and watching the scene
unfold while rubbing at her throat.

"Well," sneered Edric. "Get it done. Shoot me."

Rufus shook his head. "No, I'm not going to shoot you." He turned and pressed
the MP-432 into the injured man's hand as he came alongside him. "He is."

The man looked at Rufus in surprise for a moment and then nodded in silent
thanks. Rufus indicated how to fire the small weapon and then backed away,
motioning for the well-dressed woman to do the same. The injured man turned to
look down at Edric.

"After what you did to Kitara, this is too good for you ..."

Rufus saw Edric begin to relax ...

"... But since I don't have the time to enjoy making you suffer..."

He pulled the trigger.

*****

D2-670A

Epilogue

Four more guards burst into the reception area carrying shot guns as Rufus
closed the red dimensional portal between worlds. At a look from Christian, the
leader ( a young man named Aronsky) explained that the weapons cabinet had been
locked and that they had had to break it open. Although it was clear to Heather
that Christian doubted their story, he said little other than to order the
guards to begin cleaning up the mess - including the bodies of the men outside.

After that, the four survivors debated whether they should open another portal
and go after Daphne and the other women right away. Heather made it clear that
that was exactly what she wanted to do, and Christian also appeared eager, but
Rene and Rufus explained the possibility that they could end up melded into a
wall. As such, they would have to use a known safe point for a jump between the
dimensions. It was clear that more planning was required.

With Lois and Veronica missing, Christian was effectively in charge of Davidson
Global. He asked Heather and the others to wait for him while the bullet that
had torn a furrow across his scalp was seen to. Heather was less than certain
about doing so - after all, she had just escaped from being Lois Davenport's
captive - but Rene appeared calm about the idea, and Heather found herself
trusting her implicitly. She even managed to push aside the tension that came
from again confronting the man who had been responsible for her original
kidnapping. They were provided with casual clothes from Lois' wardrobe, allowing
Rene to dress and Heather to strip out of the dominatrix uniform. Both
re-dressed in reasonably well fitting jeans and long-sleeved cotton tops.

Heather was surprised to find that she felt numb. Too much had happened in too
short a time. Besides being bound, gagged and shipped back home to be Lois
Davenport's slave, Heather had also survived a deadly gun battle during her
ill-timed escape and discovered that her life's work had not been in vain:
Travelling between dimensions was indeed possible and had been mastered by the
inhabitants of one of those dimensions.

Heather, however, was not too distracted to fail to notice the tension that
existed between Rene and Rufus. The huge man attempted to address this by
explaining his employer - a slaver from their world - was dead, executed by
Edric and his Retrieval Team. The same was apparently also true of another man
named Tarrant.

"Which means I'm just as wanted as you, Rene," Rufus finished.

Rene nodded but said nothing, evidently still grappling with everything that she
had been told. Rufus allowed her some time to consider his words before speaking
again.

"What are you going to do?"

"Go back," she said quietly. "I won't leave Shana and Daphne to the fate I
escaped."

It was Rufus' turn to nod. "Then I'll be coming with you."

Rene looked at him sharply, mistrust evident in her gaze.

"Daphne saved my life, and then I couldn't stop Edric from sending her through
the Portal. I owe her." He smiled thinly. "But I'll want some guarantees in
place for if - when - we get back."

"Such as?"

Rufus turned to nod at Heather. "Your scientist friend here is to work on
accessing another portal while we're gone. One that will take me through to a
dimension where I don't have to worry about being hunted."

"And just how am I going to do that?" demanded Heather.

Rufus stood and walked over to her. He fished in his jacket pocket for a moment
and then handed her the result of his search. It was an odd looking key with a
button in the center of it. "That's a D-key," explained Rufus. "Given how close
you are to cracking the secret with your own research, that should be just the
thing to help you make the final break through."

Further words of protest died in Heather's throat. Rufus could actually be
right. With the technology of the D-key to work with, it might not be beyond her
to construct something similar - if she had the use of Davidson Global's labs.

"Each Key is attuned to a specific frequency," Rufus explained, "meaning it's
only good for travel to one dimension.  This allows The Council back home to
keep track of who's going where. As far as I know there are only eight
dimensions which are sanctioned Retrieval Zones."

"Retrieval Zones?"

"Where women are 'retrieved' from. You would probably use the word 'kidnapped'.
But that's just our way of life." He shrugged. "If you can use that Key to
develop a different frequency, it will allow me to get away from anywhere the
Council can reach me. You might also want to think about that as well, Rene."

"No, I have my own plans. But everything else goes on hold until Shana and
Daphne are rescued."

"So we're agreed then?" asked Rufus, eyeing both women carefully.

"I feel like I'm entering the lion's den with a tiger beside me, but I don't see
that I have any choice. Until I can make contact with the Followers of the
Goddess, I'm going to need a man to act as my slaver." Rene met Rufus' gaze.
"Think you can deal with that?"

"Yes. But I won't have anything to do with the Followers. They'll be as likely
to castrate me as help you."

Rene managed a smile. "And the downside to that would be?"

Rufus laughed, but Heather was confused. "'The Followers'?"

"It's a long story," answered Rene, "but basically The Followers are a rebel
group of women in my dimension that are exceptionally well hidden. They worship
the Goddess of the Willow, an outlawed female deity. I tried for years to make
contact with them, before I was approached by a member. He ..."

"He?!" interrupted Rufus.

"Why so surprised? You don't think a group of females could survive
independently in our dimension without some form of underlying male support? Who
do you think hides them? Acts as their front? He," she said firmly, "taught me
many of their ideas - with the foremost among them being that men and women are
equal."

Rufus raised his eyebrows but said nothing further on the topic. Instead he
asked Heather: "And you, Dr Landcom? Will you take a shot at that D-key?"

Heather nodded. "With pleasure."

"Good," said Christian as he entered the room, his forehead swathed in bandages.
"The three of us go, and you'll stay and work in the labs."

"You're coming?" asked Rene.

Heather saw Christian's eye twitch. "Just try and stop me."

*****

They wasted as little time as possible. One night's rest and the next morning,
the four of them arrived at Harold Cromb's house. None of them commented on the
smell emanating from upstairs.

"It's hard to believe that I entered this dimension here only two days ago,"
Rene commented as she descended the steps leading into the basement. She was
wearing a dark blue shirt, black jacket and black jeans, under which were hidden
knee-high boots.

"Really?" said Christian, who was dressed all in black - turtle neck jumper,
jeans and shoes. Rufus, for his part, wore the only things that had been found
which would fit him comfortably: an extra large white shirt, dark pants, and an
ankle length coat. "I can barely remember anything that happened before ..." He
trailed off but all were aware of his unspoken words: "Before Kitara was
killed."

The four of them said their good-byes in the dank light of the basement. It was
impossible to discern how long they would be gone for, so all treated it as if
it could be a lasting farewell. Rene and Heather moved away from the men to
speak quietly among themselves.

"Be careful, okay?" said Heather. "I'm not sure I trust either of them." She
motioned at Rufus and Christian as they discussed the subtleties of firing the
MP-432.

"I will, but it's okay. If we can get out of the city and reach the Followers of
The Goddess, I'll be fine. Until then, I'll be on full alert." She palmed the
MP-432 she also carried reassuringly. "You also watch yourself. Who knows what
orders Christian has left with his guards. And if anyone else gets wind of what
you're working on ..." There was no need to finish the sentence because Heather
had already lived through that experience. Although she still wondered how Lois
had known where to find her in the first place.

"Let's just make sure we both get through this in one piece." They hugged. "What
about Lois and Veronica?"

Rene half-shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, the two of them can both rot in a
cell somewhere. But the others might have their own ideas. My goal is Daphne and
Shana."

"Please get them back for me."

"I will, but for both of us." They hugged again, this time for a slightly longer
period. Then Rene turned away and walked back over to the men.

"Are we ready?"

In answer, Rufus palmed his D-key and thumbed the activating switch. The
now-standard glowing red sphere appeared. It rapidly expanded as Rene checked
for her own D-key stashed in the pocket of her jeans, . Christian had the third
and final key. Each therefore had a method of escape - provided he or she was
willing to risk the dangers of an uncharted jump.

"Be ready for anything," Rufus said as the portal flattened out into its final
shape and irised open. "The Council might have reps guarding this re-entry
point."

"Good luck!" called Heather. Rufus nodded, and MP-432 in hand, stepped through.
Christian took a deep breath and followed suit. Rene gave Heather one last
encouraging smile. Then she disappeared into the doorway between worlds. A
moment later the portal irised shut and began to fold in on itself.

Heather watched until it again became a small sphere and vanished.

Then she climbed back up the stairs and exited the house into the early morning.
She walked across the front lawn to the waiting limo they had arrived in. She
climbed in and closed the door behind her. "Back to Davidson Global, please,"
she said through the intercom, more than aware of how much there was to be done. 
The driver tipped his hat and immediately pulled away from the kerb.

Neither he nor Heather spotted the figure watching from amidst a think bank of
shrubbery that began five houses up the suburban street. As soon as the
limousine pulled away, the figure lowered the binoculars around its neck and
raised a two-way radio to its mouth. It spoke a few short words and then
disappeared from view.

END - BOOK ONE

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