Victims of the Tiger's Eye

This is another Tiger's Eye story, a sequel to Vanished and Welcome to the Tiger's Eye.

Cherry was the right arm of a chair. She was locked in place with two other women. One woman was the left arm, while the third woman's body formed both back and seat of the chair. None of them could talk: Cherry was gagged with a heavy muzzle tightlocked over her mouth and much of her face. She could only go "Mmmmmhhh... mmmmmhhh.... mmmhhhhh...."

The mistresses promised Cherry that she could see her husband Todd some time. But Cherry had not seen Todd since they were abducted and brought here, wherever "here" was. Cherry had been locked into place as a piece of the chair ever since they brought her to the Tiger's Eye.

Living your life as part of a chair... Sometimes Juliette would come in and sit in the chair. It was Juliette's private chair. And then the three women who were the chair would hold and caress Juliette as they had been taught, while a fourth woman stood behind the chair keeping Juliette handgagged with both her hands clamped over Juliette's mouth. Hold Juliette just right, hold and stroke her, bring her to climax... just as the women had been taught.

"You don't want to piss Juliette off," explained one slave girl who was not always gagged. "Or damage her long fingernails." Each of Juliette's fingernails was grown out more than three feet long. "Juliette is very powerful, richer and more powerful than some entire nations. Juliette is one of the founders of the Tiger's Eye. The only surviving founder. You're lawn furniture now; piss Juliette off, and you'll end up as a lawn ornament. Believe me, better to die than be turned into a lawn ornament..."

After each session with Juliette, the light in the room would be turned off. And Cherry would sit there in the dark, weak mmmmphing noises coming from behind her perpetual gag. Her stomach was in knots. Cherry wanted Todd...

While Cherry sat there in the dark in the Tiger's Eye, a doorbell rang in Boulder, Colorado. Aubrey got up to answer the door. He wondered who in the world it could be, on a quiet Wednesday morning.

Aubrey opened the door. Two young women stood there: one of them, in black tights with a ponytail; the other, a tall woman with short brown hair and a long thin face, dressed in a too-large camouflage jacket. "Hi," said the camo jacket woman. "My name is Amy. I wonder if you could please sign for this delivery?"

"Delivery?" said Aubrey. He was well to do, retired before age fifty, and not used to signing for unexpected deliveries. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't expecting anything to be delivered."

"Mr. Aubrey Moran?" asked Amy.

"Well, yes..."

"Could you please check if this is the correct address on the delivery?" Amy handed Aubrey a clipboard, and a pen. On the clipboard was a delivery form. Aubrey scrutinized the form... it was his address, all right...

While Aubrey was distracted with the delivery form, suddenly he found a large warm strong hand clamped tight over his mouth. "Mmmmmmmmmhhh!!" A large warm soft powerful female hand clamped tight over his mouth, and... Aubrey hesitated, reluctant to drop the clipboard in his one hand or the pen in his other hand. Several seconds' hesitation, ample time for Amy to get her other arm locked around Aubrey's neck from behind. Amy was holding him, her left arm around his neck, her right hand clamped hard over his mouth and nose!

"MMMMMMMMHHH!! Mmmmmmm, hmmmm mmmm mmmmmmhh, mmmmmm HHHMMM!!! MMMMMMHHH! Mmmmhhhh! Mmmmm, hhhhmmmmmm..." Aubrey reached up, he tugged at her hand, he struggled. But this Amy was a professional. She had him locked in a tight unbreakable smother-hold.

"She said his financial papers are in the freezer. In a ziplock bag!" Amy called out, and the ponytailed woman in black tights hurried past them toward the kitchen.

Aubrey squirmed and thrashed in Amy's tight handgagging embrace. "MMMMMMMMHHH, MMMMM HHHMMMM MMMMMMHHHH! Mmmmmhhhh.... mmmmhhhh....." He jerked and struggled just as hard as he could, but this woman was stronger, and try as he might, he just couldn't get away. And he couldn't breathe!

Then a tinny radio voice squawked from beside Aubrey's ear. From... the lapel of Amy's camo jacket? And Amy called out, in a loud but measured voice of military command, "Sara!! Leave the papers! Scanner said -- we've got to leave right now, or we'll be apprehended!!!"

Already Amy was manhandling Aubrey out the front door of his house, dragging him handsmothered down his front walk toward a waiting black van. "Mmmmmmhhhh, mmmmm hhhmmm MMMMMMH!!" Aubrey couldn't get away. Even in hasty retreat, Amy's handhold over his mouth and nose was tight and invincible.

Sara in her black tights, carrying the clipboard, closed the front door behind them and followed after Amy and Aubrey. From behind them, Aubrey heard the side door of the van sliding open.

"What's going--" Sara began.

"Into the van!" barked Amy. As she dragged Aubrey into the van, her hand slipped from his face and he gasped, drew in a few refreshing gulps of air. Then Amy clamped her large soft warm tight powerful hand back in place over Aubrey's mouth and nose, and shut off his breathing again.

Sara was in the van, and sliding the door shut behind her. Already Amy was calling out to another woman in black tights behind the wheel. "Red alert -- scanner says! Get us back to the safe house, fast as you can without getting pulled over!"

The woman behind the wheel shifted the van into gear and took off down the street. Aubrey meanwhile was cradled in Amy's lap, her large strong hand gagclamped over his mouth and nose. He couldn't breathe, but those few breaths getting into the van would hold him for a while. A little while!

Sara was livid. "What the hell did the scanner miss? This job was supposed to be safe!"

Amy was calm. Her smothering hand tightened its grip over Aubrey's face. "Scanners work on probabilities... not on concrete details. This was just out on the end of the bell curve, is all. Chance in a thousand, things changed."

"Can't they get any details?"

"Not without waking her. She's talking in her sleep, floating in the tank." Amy turned to the driver. "Anyone following us?"

"Not so far."

Amy said, "Sara, you get on the horn. Tell 'em get ready to open a portal, soon as we arrive!"

Sara climbed up into the passenger seat and was talking on some sort of radio apparatus. Aubrey squirmed in Amy's lap. "Mmmmmmmhh, mmmmm hhhhmmmmm!!" He reached up and tugged in futility on Amy's large smooth soft warm hand locked over his mouth and nose. He was once again feeling an urgent need to breathe...

Amy looked down at Aubrey, handgagged in her arms. "Just you shush, Mr. Moran. You can struggle or you can relax, but either way I'm going to keep you from breathing until I black you out..."

"Mmmmmmmhhh!! MMMMMMMMMMMHHH!!"

"You know, the harder you struggle, the quicker you're gonna run outa oxygen."

The van turned off into a driveway. A garage door was rolling up. The van drove into the garage, and the driver killed the engine. The garage door was rolling back down again.

"Oh shit!" said Sara. "He's still not blacked out!"

"Yeah, well," said Amy, "we don't have time to waste. They ready to gate us through?"

"Yeah!" Sara slid the van door open, and Amy was marching handgagged Aubrey out of the van, up a few steps, and through a door into... an ordinary suburban house.

"Mmmmmmhhh, mmmmmmhh hmmmmm!" Aubrey made noises from behind Amy's tightgagging hand, but he tried to conserve every last scrap of oxygen. He noted with unnatural clarity the unused furniture in the house, clear plastic over lampshades, a thick layer of dust on everything. Sara was over by a closed door which had a pushbutton combination door lock on it.

"Three two two four five!" called Amy. "Make sure you get it right, or we're fucked!" Sara punched the code into the lock, and opened the door.

"MMMMMMMMMHHHH!!" Aubrey's head was spinning. He couldn't breathe with Amy's large hand tight over his face. Things were whirling around him. Amy was dragging him into the room, handgagged. Maybe once a bedroom? Now... racks of electronics, and orange road cones set around the room...

Aubrey heard the door shut, and the driver saying, "Amy, there's a police car out front..."

"Get inside the cones!" cried Amy as she knelt with handsmothered Aubrey in the center of the room. The other two women huddled up against them. Amy spoke into her lapel: "Roxanne, party of four ready to gate through -- immediately!"

Then... a lurching discontinuity, and Aubrey, already spinning down into scarlet darkness, looked out at something like a big gymnasium around them. No longer in that bedroom, but all of a sudden inside a large gymnasium... Aubrey was spiraling down into blackness as he heard Amy barking orders: "Scrub that safe house! No, we don't have time! At least pull the electronics through, the van too if you can -- oh fuck!!!"

There was a loud agonized shrieking sound of rending metal, very near by. Aubrey, smothered beneath Amy's big tight hand, flicked his eyes to one side. As he spun down into darkness, the very last thing he saw, not twenty feet away, was the twisted wreckage of three-quarters of a black van...

Three hours after Aubrey was abducted in Colorado, Sienna walked in the door of a safe house near Brussels. Only Sienna didn't know it was a "safe house." "My, corporate retreat," she said to the other two women who were leading her in. "The Tiger's Eye certainly has taste in its corporate retreats!"

"Well," said Amy, "this is one of the perks of working for the Tiger's Eye." Amy was dressed in a smart dark professional outfit; for once she was without her camouflage jacket. She looked stunning, a tall beautiful young twenty-something woman with short hair and a long, thin, feminine but vaguely tomboyish face. "Sienna, if you'd like a drink?"

"Mmmmm, I'll have a fuzzy navel."

"Sharon?" Amy turned to the other young woman, who was dressed in black tights. "If you'd like to get Sienna her drink, I think I'll have a seven and seven." Sharon went out into the kitchen area, while Amy and Sienna had a seat in the great room. Amy smiled. "Over dinner at the restaurant," she said to Sienna, "I was especially amused at your story of how you used to hold your hand over that neighbor boy's mouth."

"Yes, well," said Sienna, "I'd catch him off guard, drag him back into the bushes without warning, with my hand over his mouth as he struggled and made noises. I'll be honest, I enjoyed doing it. And I think he sort of enjoyed it, too, you know, the older neighbor girl who was shutting him up and taking him prisoner..."

Amy chuckled. "This may sound silly, but when I was that age I was always holding some boy's mouth at school. Guys can be so annoying, you know? You can always find an excuse to clamp your hand over a fellow's mouth and shut him up! I know I always could!"

Sienna laughed at Amy's remarks, as Sharon brought them their drinks, and sat down beside Amy.

"Well," said Amy, "to get down to business, I should let you know that the Tiger's Eye was very impressed with your doctoral dissertation. Electronic circuits as they might function under variations in the laws of physics..."

"Oh, well," said Sienna, taking a sip from her drink, "it's a topic dear to my heart, but I'm afraid it's something of a ship in a bottle. Of course, variations in the laws of physics, the best we can do is to run simulations, which is always less efficient than--"

"What would you say," asked Amy, "if I told you that there is a place where the laws of physics differ from what you learned in physics class? Where subtle variations in physics have already made it possible for us to make remarkable progress in fields such as teleportation and clairvoyance? Expertise such as yours might prove highly valuable to us in such a setting..."

"Well, it would be nice," said Sienna, "but in the real world it's a pipe dream."

"No," said Amy. "No, it's not. What I'm telling you is, the Tiger's Eye operates from just such a place. What would you say if I told you we're offering you a position in a place where your specialty -- research into electronics under variant physical laws -- is not just something to be run in simulation, but something to be run directly, in the real world?"

"Oh, well, it's a clever joke, but I assume that's not your real offer..."

"On the contrary," said Amy, "it is our real offer. Electronics research under real-world conditions of variant laws of physics. Things you couldn't dream of achieving here on earth. And what if I told you that, in the Tiger's Eye, you could drag your neighbor boy back behind the bushes and hold his mouth to your heart's content? Live out your wildest fantasies. Because we in the Tiger's Eye are all about holding our hands over people's mouths! Seriously, imagine a place which combined your research interests, translated into the real world, with having just as many sex slaves as you can handle, sex slaves to handgag, sex slaves to tie up, sex slaves to treat however you please..."

Sienna looked soberly across her drink at Amy. "Sex slaves?! I'd say that sounds fairly demented."

"Sienna, I understand your feelings. Sometimes women feel this way when we first approach them with our offer. But we know far more about you than you imagine. We know you like holding your hand over a fellow's mouth just as much as we do... Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

"Yes. Hand over mouth, I'll admit, that I like. But sex slaves... Not in a thousand years!!!"

"Is that your final answer?"

"Yes, that's my final answer!"

And with that, Amy leaped up, leaped across the coffee table, and pounced on Sienna. Sienna's drink went flying. Amy clamped her large smooth strong right hand tight over Sienna's mouth, her thumb squeezed down tight on Sienna's nose. And with her other arm, Amy had Sienna's arms locked immobilized behind her back.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMHHHH!!! Mmmmmmmmhh, mmmmmm hhhhmmmmm mmmmmmmh! Mmmmmmhh, MMMMMMMHH!!" Sienna was jerking around, squirming wildly, trying to fight back against Amy's sudden tight handgag. But she couldn't use her arms, and she couldn't get away. Sienna tried to struggle, but Amy had her. And Sienna couldn't breathe!

"Mmmmmmmmhh, mmmmmmm hmmmmmmm, MMMMMMMMM'MMMHH!" Sienna was trapped, held tight and suffocating with Amy's oversized athletic hand steelclamped over her mouth. Sharon now joined in, sitting on Sienna's thighs, straddling Sienna's lap to keep her from thrashing around too much as she struggled against Amy's tight smother-hold.

"Too bad," muttered Amy, "you really did have just the talents we were looking for. But once a woman comes in this far... either she joins us, or she's never seen again!"

"MMMMMMMMMHHHHH! Mmmmmmmhhh mmmmmmhh hmmmm mmmmmmmhh!!!" Sienna jerked and twisted frantically beneath Amy and Sharon's restraining grasp, but it was no use. Wildly as she struggled, she couldn't get away. And Amy's big warm smooth powerful hand clamped tight over Sienna's mouth and nose was little by little taking the fight out of her...

"Mmmmhhh... mmmmmhh.... mmmmmhhh... mmmhhh..." Sienna bucked, jerk, jerk, jerk, jerk, as if she might somehow bend the laws of physics to her will. But Amy was too strong for her, and Amy held on, and Amy kept her huge smooth athletic hand locked tight over Sienna's face, Sienna's arms locked behind her, "Mmmmmmh... mmmmmhh... mmmmhhhh...", frantic terrified muffled noises from Sienna now growing fainter and weaker as Sienna lapsed into a deep fogbank of unconsciousness...

The last thing Sienna heard was Amy, from behind her head: "Hand over mouth really turns me on! I know it turns you on, too. Too bad you wouldn't join us..."

Then, straining in vain to breathe, straining in vain to get her mouth open behind Amy's large tightclamped palm, Sienna passed out.

Minutes later, sharks swarmed in a spot far out into the Pacific Ocean, a thousand miles from the coast of South America. Sharks frequent this remote spot because of food which becomes available there from no known source...

That evening, at Amy's luxurious house back in the Tiger's Eye, Dave lay on the living room floor, watching Amy play with that young English woman, Anne. Dave lay and watched. It was all he could do, for Dave lay there on Amy's living room floor, gagged and hogtied.

Amy liked to play with Dave a lot. She enjoyed forcing her sex play on him, bringing him out of his shell, as she put it. Dave still felt depressed sometimes, not so much over the woes he left behind when Amy abducted him from Minneapolis, as over the prospect that Amy might one day tire of Dave as a sex slave. For Dave knew his best chance of survival lay in remaining a favorite of Amy's.

Now Dave lay there, his arms and legs stretched taut behind him and tied tight together so he couldn't move. Dave lay there, with his mouth lavishly taped shut with a massive amount of white cloth medical tape. Amy loved taping Dave's mouth shut. She often left him tapegagged when she wasn't playing with him, when she wasn't holding him and handgagging him as he mmmmphed and struggled against her in vain.

But now this evening Amy was playing with Anne instead. That pretty blonde English girl, Anne, twenty or not much more. Dave lay there hogtied and tapegagged as Amy made Anne crouch on her hands and knees on the living room floor. "Now let's say you're a pony!" cried Amy. "And now let's say I'm riding you!"

Amy got up and sat on Anne's back, as if she was riding a horse. "And now I've got to bridle you and shut you up! Because you've been a bad pony, and you need to be smothered!" And as Amy sat on Anne's back, she reached down and clamped both her large smooth strong beautiful hands tight over Anne's mouth and nose. Amy held Anne tightgagged, with her large hands covering more than half of Anne's pretty face.

"Neigh, pony! Neigh! Let's hear you make noises!" Dave watched as Amy clamped her hands even tighter in place over Anne's mouth and nose and lower face.

"Mmmmmmmmmhhhh! Mmmmmmmmhhh! Mmmmmmhhh!! MMMMMMHHH!!" Anne made muffled pony-noises from behind Amy's soft but firm gagging hands. Anne couldn't breathe. She twisted her head this way and that, but Amy sitting on Anne's back wouldn't let go, she wouldn't stop holding her hands clamped tight over Anne's face.

"Buck, pony! Let's see you buck in the air! Oh, you can't get away from me!"

"Mmmmmmmmmhhhh! Mmmmmmhhh!!" Anne reared up, with Amy on her back. Anne reached up with her hands, and pawed and tugged at Amy's smothering hands, but Anne couldn't pull Amy's large smooth powerful hands away from her face, no matter how hard she pried and pulled. Amy was much too strong with her unbreakable mouth-hold.

Dave lay there watching, gagged and hogtied, as this strange game continued, as Amy called out bizarre commands and Anne played a pony, mmmmmphing and bucking and struggling against Amy's tight hands over her face. It was only toward the end of the game that Dave realized something very peculiar was going on: Anne couldn't breathe, Amy was keeping Anne handgagged with her hands fastened tight over Anne's mouth and nose. And this was going on for at least ten minutes. But Anne was not losing consciousness. Anne couldn't breathe, yet Anne was not being smothered.

The game went on a while longer before Amy tired of it, and then she gagged Anne with medical tape, and she strapped Anne up in tight belts which immobilized her, with her legs tied together and her arms belted fast to her body. Then Amy went to bed, leaving Dave and Anne tied up and gagged on the living room floor, like toys she couldn't be bothered to put away.

Dave lay there, listening to the wall clock tick. In his bones he could feel that stately rhythm, unmatched to the ticking of the clock, which had beat in his frame ever since he arrived here in the Tiger's Eye. There was really no difference here between day and night, the same tawny orange light filtered into the house through the drapes at all hours. Dave lay there, looking across the room at some framed photos on a shelf.

Photos of Amy. Photos of Amy in a basketball uniform -- college basketball, by the look of it. Dave couldn't tell what school. And on the shelf beside the photos, a basketball.

And more photos. A photo of Amy in camouflage fatigues, with a group of others in camouflage fatigues, surrounded by sand, a desert. A dozen or more of them standing there together, and Amy had her hand jokingly clamped over one fellow's mouth. Dave had been up close to that photo one time shortly after he arrived in the Tiger's Eye, and the scrawled inscription on it stayed in his mind:

Capt. Amy Wilson
Black Ops Team Leader
USMC 3rd Force Recon Co.
Afghanistan 2008

Dave wished he could get another close up look. Had he been seeing things? Amy, a US Marine -- yes, he could believe that. But Force Recon? Special Ops? A woman in a secret elite combat role?!

Dave knew how lucky he was to be Amy's slave, the sex slave of a mistress who was one of the rising stars of the Tiger's Eye. As long as he could retain her interest and good will, he had her protection. But there was too much here that Dave just didn't understand. Smothered without smothering. Mistresses, and an endless supply of abducted sex slaves. Slaves right and left, bound and gagged, or handgagged, as if this was just everyday routine. And that horrific orange un-sky overhead... There was no sky!

Dave saw that Anne, bound and gagged, had already drifted off to sleep. He knew he would remain gagged and hogtied until morning. Dave slowly drifted off to sleep, uncomprehending, just another victim of the Tiger's Eye...