Knights And Maidens Pt. 02

The occupation of the Maidenhall proceeded on schedule, without a hitch. The lack of opposition would have been baffling to the unenlightened. The women outnumbered us. They may not have been strong enough to overpower us or eject us from the house, but at least some, perhaps most, might have staged a successful breakout. They could have escaped into the gloom or returned to harass their attackers and free their sisters. Some were too sleepy and disoriented; but others were simply passive, almost apathetic. In any case, with few exceptions they submitted without a struggle, resigned to their fate. It was like we playing roles on a stage, each with our scripted roles.

Of course we were.

There was no way our two hostages could have raised the alarm; but to make sure we forced them to lie on the grass. Annabel was on her back. I sprawled across her midsection while Rick held her legs and Ben clamped his hands over her gagged mouth so that no sound at all could leak out. She was a deceptively tough little nut to crack, and in the brief struggle to wrestle her to the ground her blindfold had come loose. Her eyes were bulging. Her chest heaved. The pressure of my weight on her body, especially with her arms pinioned behind her, must have been severe. The tussle had also displaced the neckline of her dress, exposing her breasts. Feeling more ashamed than ever, I lifted the top of the dress back to its proper place. She repaid me by kicking and squirming, and managed to land a knee on the side of my head. I couldn't blame her. But once I had tied the black satin sash over her eyes she calmed down.

Meanwhile Olivia, who you'd think would have put up a fight, was more compliant, probably because she had been forced onto her stomach. Nevertheless, she was grunting and groaning and cursing through her gag. As a result of our efforts, our captives were making more noise than before. But it didn't matter. No one stirred inside the house. So when the signal was given, we hoisted our damsels to their feet once more and hustled them forward. I volunteered to stay with them at the bottom of the steps while my comrades rushed up onto the colonnaded portico. I stood between the women, clamping a hand on each arm. Their skin was ice-cold and trembly. I didn't know if the shivering was due to the low temperature or the high tension. Perhaps both.

Bright light poured out onto the porch as the doors were swung open. From inside I heard a yell, a scream and a high-pitched profanity. A young woman dashed out of the building, down the steps and onto the lawn. She was pursued and tackled, and struggled with the two guys attempting to wrest her arms behind her back. She actually managed to break free but decided that further resistance was futile. She knelt with her hands clasped behind her head; but ignoring her surrender, Sean and Jacob pushed her onto her belly. They wrenched her arms behind her, bound them with nylon cord and then deftly trussed her in a full hog-tie. She was then gagged, but this was redundant. It was too late to shout a warning. She was left lying helpless on the dew-covered grass as the two noble Knights dashed back to the building.

The new captive was wearing shorts, a tank top and running shoes. She must have been about to go jogging, which meant that she and her sisters had no idea what awaited them. We had achieved complete surprise. She stared up at me and my two prisoners, regarding them and me with a stony frown.

A couple more of my comrades came out of the building, each with his own booty. I pointed to the three prostrate young women and they added to the collection. One of the guys waved towards the porch; I nodded my appreciation and went up the steps. Inside there was a commotion. Shouts and squeals and laughter -- feminine laughter -- echoed across the lobby, down the stairwells and along the corridors.

Every Knight carried a bunch of plastic cable-ties, so it took just a couple of seconds to restrain a cooperative captive. Most were. Half a dozen Maidens had been caught downstairs and were lying face-down on the cold, hard tiles, silent and stoic as their hands were secured behind their backs. A tray with four steaming mugs of cocoa had been deposited on the floor without a drop spilt -- testimony to the ease of conquest. The prisoners were hauled to their feet and instructed to report to the assembly point on the lawn. All were in nightdress -- thin robes, wispy camisoles, flimsy teddies skimpy shorts and singlets. They whimpered as the cold air bit into their flesh, but showed no other sign of distress -- no fright, no anger, no outrage.

At one end of the lobby was the kitchen, and being hustled out of it were two more prisoners. One was a tall, dark-skinned beauty in a yellow satin chemise. Ben was trying to pin her arms behind her back, and while she was not resisting he had them in a double hammerlock and was struggling to get the zip-tie around both wrists. He was hurting her, she was grunting and panting, and in his frustration he started twisting even harder. Although significantly shorter, he was burly; although lean, she was athletic; so it would have been an even contest if she had refused to be bound. But by not fighting back she was actually making it harder for herself. Had she broken free, I would have intervened and she could have been wrestled to the floor and quickly subdued. But she was too proud for fruitless gestures of defiance, and he was too arrogant to call for assistance.

Yet I felt obliged to intercede, to release the victim from her suffering and my fellow Knight from his dilemma. So I seized the young woman's elbows and wrenched them out of Ben's grasp. She stifled an obscenity when she realized what I was doing, and lowered her hands so her wrists could be crossed and bound. Ben, however, felt that he had to salvage some pride at her expense. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cloth. Appalled, she clamped her jaws and after some prodding Ben was about to give up.

My sympathy was with the Maiden but my loyalty was to my comrade, so I gripped the corners of her mouth and pinched hard until she surrendered. She made a wretched sound, a sort of mumbled mewl, as he shoved the stuffing between her lips. Nevertheless, the crude gag was more symbolic than effective, and when I next saw her, she had spat it out.

This diversion delayed me for just a minute, but by the time I gone up the stairs my comrades had already achieved their objective. The dormitory occupied two floors (above the ground level) each with twelve rooms. On the first, the guys had encountered no difficulty. But from the floor above had come the sounds of a scuffle which quickly escalated into banging and shrieking. Perhaps not every Maiden was as docile as those downstairs. More likely, some of the Knights were getting carried away with their mission. That troubled me... but I had my job as well.

"What kept you?" Mike asked, grinning. He was standing in a doorway twirling one of the cable-ties around his finger. He nodded in the direction of the adjoining room. There were three young women in the twin-share, lined up facing the wall, feet together, hands clasped behind their heads. One was naked and her roommates were in just their knickers. I must have stood there staring as Rick came up behind me. Flanked by two bound captives, he had his arms around their waists and was pulling them in close. Both were breathing heavily, and the blank expressions on the pretty faces revealed the dejection of defeat. At least these wore something -- a cute baby-doll and a lacy nightshirt.

Rick laughed and nodded towards the three girls. "I think you caught them in an intimate moment."

I heard a gasp of dismay from one of them. Rick was probably right.

"Let's get moving," I said.

The room was not very big, but the décor was deluxe by the standards of most student residences. Yet there was something off-putting about the furniture and trimmings. They reminded me of a chichi hotel suite -- lots of dark wood, carved and gilded; faux marble facings and stucco walls; polished wooden floor and plush rugs; velvet upholstery, cushions and curtains; rococo frills and ornaments; pink and purple satin sheets and pillows. (What an occasion to be judgemental, I reprimanded myself.)

I tapped the nude girl on the shoulder. "Put something on. You two as well."

With sighs of relief and gratitude, my prisoners obeyed. One of those in briefs picked up a t-shirt.

"Just a bra," I said, feeling ashamed and self-satisfied.

She gave me a quick, resentful glance, but shrugged her shoulders and tossed the shirt aside.

"We're in a hurry," I explained, though I doubt she believed that was the reason. In any case, she began rummaging through a drawer full of underwear and inspected several of the brassieres before selecting one and putting it on. (It only occurred to me later that this was probably not her room and these were not her undies.) I watched her, having never taken much notice of how a girl puts on her lingerie, before this moment. I guess I expected it to be more sensual -- like a reverse striptease -- and was actually kind of disappointed. What, for some reason, did arouse me was that she looked to be in her mid-twenties. All the Maidens were postgrads, and yet here they were, submitting to callow Knights with just a few months of experience on campus. I shook these thoughts out of my head. I had a job to do.

More practically, I discovered that using zip-ties to bind a girl's wrists behind her back is not a simple matter. The first one I made too tight, and she flinched as the plastic strip dug into her skin. A pair of scissors lay on top of the dresser, so I tried again. As I worked on her, my other captives, without waiting for a command, had resumed their stance at attention facing the wall. The second one took a step backwards from the wall when her turn came, and stretched her arms out behind her and made an odd, low-pitched gurgling sound when I drew them together. But none of them offered any resistance.

When the three had been restrained, I ordered them to march out into the corridor. By now all the rooms had been emptied, so my girls took their place at the very end of a column of prisoners queued up at the head of the stairs. Uncertain of what was holding us up, I went forward to check. From out of the stairwell came rhythmic shuffling sounds, some mumbling and grumbling and an occasional, incongruous giggle. The top floor of the Maidenhall was being cleared. It had been a quick, efficient operation.

But on my way out, I passed by my office, located at the end of a short, dark hallway on the ground floor. This was where I discharged my coordination and liaison responsibilities and worked day-to-day with the Maidens. I could not help but feel that I had betrayed them.

Close-up the Temple is imposing, albeit with a sort of faded grandeur. It is set apart from the rest of the university campus by a broad, dense nature strip, so there were not many passers-by or curious onlookers at that time of day. Already gathered on the lawn in front of the building were some two dozen of my fellow inductees, identifiable by their luggage and their apprehensive expressions. I knew a couple of them, casually, from the boarding house. We acknowledged each other with cursory nods, but no one was in the mood for conversation. Indeed, it came as a relief when an odd-looking fellow emerged from within. He was nondescript, tall, thin and pallid, and prematurely balding. His face was fixed in a permanent pouting frown. He wore a scarlet jacket and sharp-creased grey slacks, a starched white shirt and a black necktie. His dress and demeanour reminded me of a cross between a head prefect and a head waiter. As he directed us inside, he shook his noggin in dismay at this newest batch of feckless recruits.

We entered a large foyer, opulently adorned with marble-tiled flooring, polished wood-panel walls, an ornately carved ceiling and a crystal chandelier. Near the entrance a desk had been placed, with a sign announcing "Registration." I gave my name to the crimson-coated, grim-faced registrar (who was one of the men who had been on the interview board).

Now that we were all present, I counted thirty of us, and I knew (from the little data I had about the Templars) that we were all or mostly freshmen. Second-year students are admitted only on special conditions, as my sister had been. And speaking of the other sex, there was no sign of them. The females' induction took place, it would seem, on a different day or at a different venue. That disappointed me somewhat, because I have never understood the boys-club mentality. I've always liked having girls around.

Once everyone had filed past the desk, we assembled in the middle of the room as our leader shut the great doors. He clapped his hands and loudly proclaimed: "Gentlemen, your attention please. We are about to begin."

The drone of voices petered out.

"Some of you already know me. For the rest, I am Senior Master Ross Parnell."

Senior Master of the Order, I presumed. There was an irritating pomposity about his manner.

"We shall leave the remainder of the formalities until dinner. For now, you will be assigned your rooms. You have until six o'clock to unpack and freshen up, before dinner."

With a wave of his arms, he beckoned us to draw closer. We formed a semicircle around him. He had been joined by his colleague, who still bore that dour expression, as if he had a better place to be; but also by Olivia, the young woman from the interview. In eye-pleasing contrast to the males' stiff decorum and the stuffy setting, she was profoundly sexy in a very short, magenta-coloured dress, which showed off superbly the sleek figure of an athlete and the legs of a showgirl. The narrow straps of the dress had slipped down her arms, and silken tresses cascaded over bare shoulders. Encircling her slender neck was a slim, black leather choker embossed with a tiny red rose. It was hard to keep my eyes off her as she handed the Senior Master a sheet of paper, which he perused in silence, as if searching for anomalies. The other guys were equally distracted, and you could tell from the way she was standing there -- her body straight, hands clasped behind her back, one foot slightly forward and the knee slightly bent, positioning herself to best effect -- and by the subtly sardonic smile and the twinkle in her eyes that she was not averse to the attention. She was a couple of years senior to her male associates, and quite a lot older than the cluster of admiring young men. I actually felt a bit creepy ogling her.

The Senior Master cleared his throat to begin reading out pairs of names. They were arranged on his list in alphabetical order, as good a way as any to match up strangers. My heart was pounding, although I am not sure exactly why. I guess that hearing my name would be the final affirmation, proof that I was now a bona fide Templar. And yet there was also that queasy feeling in my stomach which reminded me of my not so far-off schooldays, when marginal misfits like myself were always the last to be picked for the team. I was so preoccupied that I nearly missed hearing my name, and didn't catch that of my roommate.

When the list was exhausted, the registrar summoned us to follow him, with a brusque wave. We trailed behind him up a broad, carpeted staircase. Our rooms were located on the second floor. As we unpacked and selected our beds -- by the time-honoured convention of a coin toss -- my roommate introduced himself. Ben was, like me, a freshman, still finding his way around. He was short and stocky, with unruly hair and a somewhat disreputable, dissolute look about him. Indeed, he turned out to be much like Perry, an incorrigible slob, irredeemably indolent and a chronic carouser. On the other hand he was easy-going and non-territorial, meaning that we were not going to argue over who had what; but he also respected personal space and private property. Although we never became close friends, we got along without friction.

Also like me, Ben was a protégé. His sister Emily was studying at postgraduate level, something in the esoterically exotic field of photonics and nanoscience. She was the antithesis of her brother, on whom she doted (perhaps more than he deserved); and he in turn idolized her. I think he was a little ashamed that he didn't measure up to her high-achieving standard, and that perhaps explained his frivolous disposition. In any case, she was gorgeous. She was the type who would look sublime in a burlap sack; but at our first encounter she was wearing a candy-striped, strapless playsuit; and it was impossible not to be smitten by the transcendent vision -- dark hair but eyes that shimmered like blue sapphires, lustrous legs, delectable décolletage and a perfectly contoured body. But she had a gentle soul, was unworldly and intellectual, and did not seem aware of her own resplendence.

Our quarters were comfortable if far from luxurious. Besides our beds, we each had a desk and chair. There were also a mini-refrigerator, bookshelf, washbasin, storage cabinet and reasonably capacious closet; an intercom phone; internet and network connections; and no television, which I thought was a good thing. We didn't have our own bathroom, but one was located between each pair of rooms so that only four guys had to share. The corridor outside was wide enough for socializing, and in fact at one end was set out a suite consisting of a coffee table, a full-size fridge and half a dozen easy-chairs.

On the wall in each room was posted a list of rules and expectations -- the usual stuff -- and a plan of the Temple. I saw that it had a dining hall, spacious common and conference rooms, several small TV lounges and study rooms. There was a communal kitchen that anybody could use at any time of the day or night. The main kitchen facility and laundry were located at the end of a passage leading from the dining hall. There was even a gym, spa and sauna. At the rear of the building was a barbeque area and garden.

The Temple rose five storeys, and a quick calculation showed that it accommodated 120 residents. Above the neophytes, on the third to fifth floors, lived the rest of the so-called Knights. (Not at all pretentious, that name!) Nothing on the plan indicated where the women's quarters were located.

We had time before dinner for only a splash of water on the face and a change of clothes. I took my lead from Ben, who thought there was no need to dress too formally. It turned out he was right.

Not knowing what to do or where to go, once downstairs all us newbies milled about aimlessly in the foyer until our escort arrived, the severe-looking Senior Master and the fine-looking Olivia. He had forsaken his uniform for more casual attire, but she was still in her nice little dress. He quickly departed, while she smiled indulgently and waited for us to finish inspecting her once more before directing us to the common room. Tables there had been set up with about forty places. I was glad that it was nothing elaborate, just cutlery, glasses, jugs of water and the like. I was not in the mood for any sort of ceremony.

We took our seats and our pulchritudinous hostess disappeared out a side exit, re-emerging a minute or so later and beckoning towards the doorway. Through it filed seven or eight girls carrying baskets of bread, platters of meats and vegetables, bowls of salad and fruit, pitchers of juice and carafes of wine (including what turned out to be a surprisingly drinkable non-alcoholic variety). However, as sumptuous as the feast were the waitresses.

They had on white versions of the dress worn by Olivia (who didn't just stand by to supervise but helped serve the meal). It was a plain cotton slip dress, or chemise. It was skimpy at both ends, and slung low on spaghetti straps. It was snug enough to accentuate the wearer's figure, but loosely enough fitting around the top that within just minutes of the girls starting their work, on every one the thin straps had, by accident or design, slipped down off her shoulders. This caused the neckline to slump even lower, in a most agreeable fashion, especially as none appeared to be wearing a bra. Absorbed in their duties, with both hands occupied, our servers had difficulty maintaining what slight modesty their costume afforded. They made a picturesque addition to the banquet, but I felt, once more, qualms gawking at them.