Giggling, she set the glass on the table beside her with both chained hands, then knocked it off when her chain caught on the stem. She was not used to being chained nearly naked in such a high-class atmosphere with this lot of certifiable kooks, she thought, as she looked about her with an apology on her lips.

"Oops, silly me; sorry" Isabel said, as she knelt with a soft rustle of chains to pick up the shards of broken crystal. Amina, Omar and Sheikh looked at Isabel on her knees, her chains dangling from waist wrists and ankles, and were all smiles. Yes, they all thought, she will make a wonderful subject. And slave. -

The walnut wall clock chimed 10 p.m. and Isabel bent forward slightly in her chair to stifle a yawn with a chained hand. Amina offered to "secure her for bed" and Isabel's eyes widened in recall that she was still, very much, their captive. "Yes, I'm ready for bed, Amina; do with me what you will." The two women bade Omar and Sheikh good night and walked slowly to their quarters. Amina came into Isabel's bedroom with her.

"Stage One of the process involves getting you used to bondage at all times, Isabel," the younger woman said. "You seem predisposed to being in chains and shackles and we are all personally very pleased with this. But every night, for security purposes and to prepare you psychologically for our procedures, you are to be chained by the neck until breakfast. And gagged."

"Gagged?" Isabel said. "Why? No one can hear me way out here."

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Amina replied. "Meanwhile, let me lock this chain - it's 30-ft. long - to your collar and put in the gag. There's a sleeping pill beside your bed if you need it." Amina reached down to the floor beside Isabel's bed, picked up the length of chain and padlocked it to the ring built into the front of Isabel's collar. It snapped home with an air of finality that Isabel remembered from her home, so far away this night in western Scotland.

"This is called a ring gag," Amina said, as she showed Isabel the 2 1/2-in.-diameter, 1/8th-in.-thick, stainless-steel ring with two lengths of small light chain welded to either side. "Open, please."

Isabel opened her mouth and Amina inserted the ring behind her upper and lower front teeth, splinting her mouth open in a perfect O. Isabel then submissively raised her head as Amina passed the two small chains around and locked them securely at the base of her skull just above the top of the back of her collar.

"Good night, now, Isabel. See you in the morning."

"Arr-gg-ll," Isabel replied. Now, how am I going to sleep with my mouth wide open? She thought. Where's that pill? She moved over to the right of the bed and struggled to turn on her reading lamp, found the little, pink pill, reached for it with her chained hands and lay back down.

She then raised her feet to allow her slack to reach her mouth, tilted her head back and tossed the pill into the back of her throat, nearly hitting herself in the face with her wrist chains. She managed to swallow it without gagging and was soon sound asleep.

Seven a.m. arrived before she knew it and Isabel was gently shaken awake by Amina, now wearing a white labcoat which covered her nudity but not her ankle chains.

"Grr-arr-gg-ll?" Isabel asked. (What time is it?)

"Seven a.m.," Amina replied. "Here, let me take the gag out and your neck chain off."

Two snaps and Isabel was working her jaws again between cuffed hands.

"How did you know what I just asked you?" said Isabel. "I could barely make it out myself."

"I'm used to gag talk," Amina replied sweetly. "You see, I was into bondage almost full-time when I was going to USC. I had to pay the tuition and bills somehow so I found a rich guy who paid plenty to gag and bind me. Chains paid off for me big time; I got my two degrees that way. And the gags? Well, they just came with the territory, I guess. Personally, I prefer the ring gag over the others." -

Isabel's first day as a lab subject was about to begin. After a hearty breakfast, she was taken to a lab and asked to lie down on what appeared to be an operating table in the lab wing of the main building.

"Don't worry," Amina said. "We're not going to put you to sleep. Just a few tests to get your genetic profile, look at some of your reproductive organs and test your responsiveness to sexual stimuli."

Isabel positioned herself on the table and Amina secured Isabel's chained wrists and ankles to the table sides with strong leather straps. "Just to keep you in the same position throughout," she informed. The physician then appeared at the foot of the low table and began Isabel's pelvic examination.

When he was finished 45 minutes later, Isabel was writhing, panting and wringing wet with perspiration and pussy juice. She had just experienced the strongest orgasm ever induced in her by a physician trained in ancient African sexual tradition and stimuli.

"She is most assuredly a 9.8 on the Ushwanti orgasmic scale," Sheikh said to his assistants. "Reproductive system entirely normal with evidence of previous childbirths. Nipple rings may hinder breastfeeding. Nevertheless, she tolerated the examination and orgasm measurement extremely well. Highly recommended for breeding."

It was the news Isabel did not want to hear and she began to shake.

"No, no," she cried. "I will never submit. Do what you want with me, chain me up some more, but I don't want to have anything to do with your experiments. Please."

"Gag her, please, Amina," the doctor ordered. "And proceed to Stage 2." Amina produced the same ring gag as the night before and chained it securely around Isabel's head. "Mmffrr," Isabel groaned.

The doctor then ordered her leather straps unbound and Isabel was taken to an adjoining lab which had a single, narrow cot with two long lengths of chain attached to each of the four corners of the bedframe.

Isabel freed her arm from Amina's grasp, looked at her with her O-shaped mouth and lay down unassisted.

Isabel's breath came in gasping pants through her wide-open mouth and her chest heaved in expectation and anxiety as Amina set to work chaining the Scotswoman to the cot.

Waiting in the hallway was a handsome, black African male, chained identically to Isabel. His credentials, according to Amina's chart, were perfect: STD-free; 6-ft. 2-in., 218 lbs.; athletic, endomorph physique; BP 120/80; P, 62/min; high sperm count; single, 22 y/o; MSc, UCLA, 1971; varsity football player, flanker position, three years; no injuries.

"Wilson, you may come in now," Amina called. The young African stud strode in clattering and Isabel's eyes grew wide in despair and admiration as she saw the length and breadth of the huge manhood rising between his legs.

"Aww-gg-aa-kk. Nntkaawwtt," (I can't take all that) she cried, as Amina finished securing Isabel's ankles just 18 in. apart. Isabel, nearly as helpless as she was on the plane the day before, pulled futilely on her chains, heard their clack, metal on metal, and knew herself to be bound securely once again.

"You may mount her now, Wilson," Amina said clinically. "Do your duty."

Wilson grunted as he climbed with some difficulty aboard spreadeagled Isabel and Amina assisted him by directing his firm penis into Isabel's still-moist vagina. "Ah-h," Wilton said, as he sank his 12-in. member deep into Isabel.

"Mrarf," Isabel groaned. "Mmmmnnn."

Wilson began rhythmic thrusts and Isabel thought she would climax almost immediately.

"No, impossible," she said to herself. "Not so soon. Ohmigod." She thought Peter was good but this stud was even better - today anyway.

"Isabel," Wilson whispered softly in Isabel's ear, out of earshot of Amina who was standing 15-ft. away. "Don't look at me and don't give any sign you hear anything," he said quietly into her left ear as he continued to thrust into her. "Just listen. These people are mad. Mad scientists. I can help you escape but we need to plan." Thrust. Pound.

"Mroofay," (OK) Isabel said softly through her circular mouth. "I will get a note to you somehow." Pound, pound. "Be prepared to flee at a moment's notice. Be brave."

"Permission to come, Mistress Amina?"

"Permission granted, Wilson. You may proceed."

"Arrr-gggg-hhhh," Wilson cried as he spurted his hot white cum inside Isabel, pulling out a moment later to shoot another load of semen on her breasts, abdomen and thighs. Isabel's eyes were wide open as he stuck his rigid cock through her ring gag and the big African football player pounded her mouth for a few seconds.

"Gaa-aack," Isabel choked, as she felt the large cock slide through the ring into the rear of her mouth. She faked her orgasm and as Wilson withdrew his thick member from Isabel's gaping mouth, she tried to swallow his cum and digest what he had just told her.

Here was her chance to get away from this madhouse. But how?

"Very good, Wilson; you may go to the locksmith to be unchained. You are free to go."

"Yassum," said the big football player.

Wilson clinked away down the hall and Amina approached Isabel with the second bit of startling news of the morning.

"Well, Is., I hope you enjoyed it. It appears your cycle is on track and we should know in six weeks whether Wilson has successfully impregnated you or not. If not, we have another subject waiting in the wings to copulate with you." Isabel recognized a significant change in Amina, especially from last night's relatively amicable overtures to her.

"I hope you're pleased that our scientific studies are under way. It's a combination of business and pleasure. Don't you agree?"

"Nnnggg," (no) Isabel replied.

Amina unlocked Isabel from the cot, removed her ring gag and Isabel sat stiffly up, wiping her lips, mouth and chin as she swung her legs onto the floor, feeling Wilson's high-grade African semen dribbling down her legs as well as her esophagus.

"You are free to go," Amina said ironically.

Isabel clinked her way back to her apartment and heard the door close with a solid thud, followed by the double-bolts, and she was locked inside her apartment again.

She ran another bath, showered, and dried her hair out on her fenced-in patio. Sitting in a chair out of the hot, dry sun an hour later, she noticed a small paper-covered rock come sailing over the 16-ft.-high fence. It clattered on the patio stone and she stood up, took two clinking steps over and picked it up, unwrapping the note.

"Meet me here at 0200 tomorrow. W."

It was just after 10 a.m. and Isabel had the whole day to herself to think about this next move. She clinked into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, fingering her chains and wondering how Wilson could effect her escape.

Soap. That's it. She clinked back into the bathroom and found every bar of soap she could find.

She lathered her wrists as best as she could and tried with all her might to push her wrist cuffs down over her wrist bones. They wouldn't budge. Frustrated, she threw the bars onto the bathroom floor and shook her chains in frustration.

She had been chained continuously for four days and was finding a way to escape. But how could she manage to get free of these chains by 2 tomorrow morning?

She paced her bedroom and living room, lost in thought about how to get the rivetted shackles off her wrists. She had given up on freeing herself from her ankle chains and the steel collar would not hinder her escape, she thought, unless she was leashed.

She stopped the inner dialogue and looked in the fridge for something to drink. She poured herself a glass of cold water with both hands and took it to her dinette, sitting down to look out the patio doors into her chain-link enclosure and further into the vast, deadly desert expanses.

Time passed and still, no solution came to the chained Scottish woman. She got up and shuffled over to look at the bookcase in her living room and was not in the least surprised to find they were all fantasy fiction novels dealing with female bondage.

:"Just great," she said, as she scanned the cover titles of the rows of paperbacks. "Isabel in Chains"; "Carly Chained"; "Sheila Shackled"; "Moira Manacled." Isabel smiled at the drawings and cover illustrations, each showing some damsel in distress.

She picked up the first one she looked at, titled "Isabel in Chains," and started reading. It described the plight of an ordinary university coed kidnapped by African slavers who bound her in steel and sold her to an Arabian sheik. Isabel started reading with interest; perhaps there would be a clue, she thought, as she read chapter after chapter that dealt with a hapless, young woman put in bondage.

There were no clues, only lurid details about sex, bondage, chains and hope for escape where there was none.

Time passed and by the time she finished the book, it was after 4 p.m. She started reading the Carly novel and soon she was summoned for supper. The stately supper passed again with idle chatter at the table, sherry and ciggies in the library afterward (Isabel did not knock over her class this time and nursed one drink).

At 10 p.m. Amina led Isabel by the arm back to her apartment, locked the chain onto Isabel's collar and inserted the ring gag.

"Night, Isabel, see you in the morning," Amina said.

"Mmffggou," (fuck you) Isabel replied.

"Now that's not nice, Is.," came the reply. The door shut again firmly followed by two solid thuds and Isabel was secured and chained for the night - at least until 2 a.m.

Isabel lay in bed, wide awake on top of the covers, toying with her neck chain. Her breath made a peculiar sound as she contorted her jaws around the 2 1/2-in. steel circle that propped her mouth wide open. She wondered how far she could get across the desert, chained and gagged as she was, and whether she could get free of her leash.

"Aa-ww-kk?" (Anyone there?) she called. No one answered.

How is Wilson going to hear me? Or how is he going to break these, she wondered, as she grabbed her neck and wrist chains together to remind herself of her implacable bondage. Did he have tools? Unsure whether her leash was long enough to allow her out the patio doors, the resourceful woman stood up in a rustle of chain and carefully pulled her tether along as she backed her way out to the patio doors. She had to pull up on her ankle chain to reach the patio door latch and succeeded. She took 1 1/2 steps outside was nearly pulled off her feet as her tether pulled taut.

But at least she was able to get outside if Wilson comes by.

She went back in her apartment, left the patio door ajar and sat down in her living room, gasping through her gag and checking that her long chain was not caught on anything as it reached back to where it was locked in the bedroom. It was after 1 a.m. and she would just sit there, mouth wide open and mute, until someone came by.

She began thinking about the desert and was reminded of the doctor's description of the perils she faced if she dared cross it on foot. She decided she should at least get a drink of water before her escape and adventure and made her noisy way to her small refrigerator for a drink.

Leaning down, she withdrew a water bottle with both hands, unscrewed it and sat down, careful not to tangle her chains any more than they already were. She placed the bottle neck carefully against the lower part of her ring gag, tilted her head back and poured in an ounce or two, swallowed and repeated until she had consumed nearly a half-quart and put the bottle back in.

Quenched, she resumed her seat by the patio door and looked out quietly at the stars, thinking quietly about home and her lover, Peter. A tear trickled down her cheek into her open mouth as she looked out and around.

She saw her reflection in the glass door and was at once appalled and resolute: her propped-open mouth made her appear awe-struck or dumb-founded and she looked away, saddened and anxious. When she looked again, however, her chains made her desire for escape even greater, despite the odds against and, she had to admit, she still looked kind of sexy sitting there, in chains, waiting to be rescued.

She then began to wonder whether this was the right night to make a getaway. If they did get away, and were recaptured, what cost would she have to bear? What more could they do to her? She was already completely chained and gagged!

Isabel looked at a wall clock and saw its digital face - 1:45 a.m. - looked away and thought she saw a fleeting shadow, thorugh the patio door, outside her fenced enclosure.

"Wffn!" (Wilson) she said urgently.

She stood up, breathless, holding her chains in her hands, slid open the single patio door and ventured into the cool desert air as far as her neck tether would allow.