Knights And Maidens Pt. 03

We herded our captives to the ground floor, through the lobby, onto the porch, down the steps and across the lawn. Some were moaning softly, some giggling, a few muttering. Most were silent. Many had wads stuffed in their mouths, and there was a pattern to this. They came in clusters, and it was obvious that some of my fellow Knights were keener to apply the gag than others; and some, to my disgust, had trophies tucked into their belts -- plundered lingerie. The girls' state of dress or undress also varied, from fully clothed to almost naked, so I didn't feel too badly about my three in just their bras and panties. But it was a cool morning and those who had been standing in the yard the longest were stamping their feet on the damp grass to get warm.

Although it was not actually freezing, as they filed out of the building the girls recoiled as if hitting an invisible wall of ice. Because they were bunched up, this loss of momentum travelled as a wave backwards along the line, causing the ones behind to bump up against each other. Some of the accompanying Knights barked orders to "Slow down!" while others shouted "Speed up!" This merely added to the confusion and congestion.

Out on the lawn, meanwhile, the Captain was barking his own orders. "Move it along, get into line, we don't have all night!" The arriving captives glared at him as they were hustled into their rows. They were starting to shiver, teeth were beginning to chatter, bodies were beginning to shudder. Their faces were flushed, their skin was sweaty, and aroused nipples poked little bumps in flimsy tops. They were reacting as much from the excitement as from the cold.

When everyone from the house had been assembled, we freed their hands and rebound them, replacing the cable ties with thicker, softer, more pliable nylon cord. The gags were removed. Then we arranged them in a single column, in marching formation, and made them close up so that their bodies were touching. The Captain moved swiftly down one line and back along the other, every so often testing a girl's bonds by seizing her wrists to tug downwards and sideways. Only one protested, a curvaceous beauty with fiery red hair in a camisole and French knickers. The Captain was checking the bonds of the girl in front, and they were all huddled together so close that his movements were vigorously massaging the redhead's most intimate region. As soon as she'd complained, she looked fearfully at him, expecting to be gagged again for her impudence... but he just smiled and moved on.

My three prisoners from the first floor were in the middle of the column. Being piled up snugly was not a problem for them. In fact, I saw many a girl taking advantage of the situation to wiggle her bosom against the back of the girl in front, and to use her bound hands to fondle the girl behind in the only place her fingers could reach. Pressing their bodies together and stomping their feet for warmth primed them even more. There were a few more giggles and moans. I had to admire how well they were handling their predicament. And this is when it really started to sink in, to me at least, that the Maidens were taking their captivity much less seriously than their captors. For many of them, it seemed, this was not the first time they'd been abducted from the Maidenhall. I couldn't escape the feeling, bizarre though it was, that we Knights were the real pawns in this game.

One of the last of the Maidens extracted from the building was half-clad in a lavender-coloured pyjama top and a pair of panties which appeared a little odd, until I realized that they had been hastily pulled on backwards. My gaze lingered there for long enough that I realized it appeared that I was leering; so I raised my eyes. The young woman gave me a reproving look. She didn't say anything. She straightened her body in a show of dignity; but her arms were trussed tightly behind her back, which pushed out her chest; and this and her posture of pride strained the buttons on her shirt until they were close to popping. Despite the chill her cheeks sparkled with droplets of perspiration. I could not have imagined Alice more exposed, more helpless, more gorgeous. She was shoved brusquely into the middle of the line.

The Captain, having completed his inspection of the ranks, gave instructions to have our prisoners joined together with a rope that was specially prepared with large loops about an arm's length apart. These went over the girls' necks but were only loosely secured. The tether was designed simply to prevent anyone trying to make a break for freedom from the column. If they all broke away, en bloc, once they were inside the forest the trees would provide an impenetrable barrier to escape. So with their harness in place, our captive Maidens had no choice but to comply.

On the Captain's order, a group of my comrades promptly disappeared back into the building. He then summoned me to his side.

"Commander, are you ready to lead?" he demanded stentoriously.

"Of course," I replied, in as sanguine a tone as I could muster.

"Pick three men to escort the prisoners."

Those of my fellow Knights within hearing distance turned to me with hopeful, beseeching looks. I shrugged apologetically. Ben had gone back inside, so my first ever command decision was easy enough.

"Rick to the front, Tom and Mike on the flanks, I will bring up the rear."

"Good luck," one of our disappointed comrades called out.

"If we don't hear from you..."

"We'll send out a search party..."

"Give us a week," Mike laughed as the Captain marshalled the rest of his men to secure the Maidenhall.

At the front of the single line of prisoners was Annabel, and at the rear Olivia. Both looked dazed, apathetic, numbed by their ordeal. Again I felt sorry for them -- for all our captives -- but I had a job to do. I flicked Annabel on the thigh with one of my leftover zip-ties. It must have stung, which I hadn't intended. She jerked but stifled a yelp. I resisted the urge to say "Sorry" and instead pointed in the direction of the trees. The line which had snaked across the restricted frontage of the lawn uncoiled as its first members entered the woods.

Beyond the trees, a feeble orange glow suddenly lit up in a pearly white dome. Things were happening back at the Temple.

Within just a few days of my arrival I was well into the swing of things with regard to both my academic affairs and the ways of the Order. Life in the Temple was turning out to be nothing like what I had anticipated -- no bizarre or extravagant initiation rites, no mystical or secret sacraments, no passwords or covert handshakes, not a lot of pomp and circumstance, not even an official induction ceremony. Nor was there anything remarkable about the Knights. Most of my fellow novices came across as either unworldly naïfs like me or supercilious frat-boys like Ben. In my opinion, he and his buddies spent too much time hitting the pubs and hitting on the ladies and not enough hitting the books; but their activities did not interfere with mine. In fact, it worked to my advantage that the roommate was so often absent.

Meanwhile, in those first weeks we had only fleeting and superficial contact with the senior Knights, who occupied the upper storeys of the Temple. This was mainly at dinner. Like any organization of its kind, the Order did have its routines and rituals, and these were generally associated with meals. Since time immemorial, in every culture, the preparation and serving of food has provided occasions and opportunities for fraternal bonding and reinforcement of institutional beliefs and values. It also defines status, demarcating duty and entitlement, setting the boundaries between those who serve and those who are served. Of course, in the Temple, while seniority counted amongst the Knights, the vital delineation was by sex. That was something I was still coming to terms with.

It was not mandatory nor even an expectation that we attend the dinners in the Temple, although it was a courtesy that notice be given if one had other arrangements. All evening meals and lunch on the weekend were prepared in the Annexe, by the girls who lived there. They were rostered for duty on a rotation of eight days (so they weren't scheduled on the same day of the week every time). Breakfast was self-service, although this also was made and set out by the females. Only if he wanted lunch on a weekday did a Knight have to do it himself, which was the reason for the small ancillary kitchen. It was certainly pleasant to have such matters taken care of, freeing us to devote our time and energy to more important things... provided we didn't think too deeply about the provenance of our privilege.

So, by the first Saturday I was beginning to find my way about the university with confidence and starting to settle comfortably into my new life in the Temple. Nevertheless, the Order had its secrets, which were only by degrees revealed to me.

That morning, Kate and I were going home to see our parents and pick up the rest of my belongings. For an early getaway we had arranged to meet at seven o'clock. I waited in front of the Annexe for a few minutes, then phoned.

"I'm outside," I told her impatiently. "You're late."

"I am woman. It's what I do. Why don't you just come on up?"

"Is that allowed?"

"Why not?"

Since my induction I had not seen any females above the ground floor of my own building (which was where the communal facilities were located). So I had assumed they were barred, and that, likewise, males were forbidden to enter the women's quarters. But the Temple was not a monastery. (Of course it occurred to me that Kate had delivered my belongings to my room on my second day. My defence is that she could have had some of the lads take the boxes upstairs. Ben hadn't really specified.)

"Okay," I said, feeling rather foolish. I strode up the steps of the Annexe, still half-expecting to be challenged. The girls who passed me on the way out just smiled a cordial greeting and kept walking.

The lobby was small and plain, in contrast to the grand entrance of the Temple. The reception desk was tended by a young lady in the now familiar little white dress.

"May I help you?" Her manner was polite but businesslike.

I told her that I was here to visit my sister. I gave her Kate's details and she looked them up in the register.

"Here we are," she said. Reaching for the intercom, she asked to see my ID.

"No problem," I replied, pulling out my brand-new student card. I then added, as an afterthought, "and if you need my address, it's next door."

And as I uttered those magical words, the young woman's demeanor abruptly changed. She lifted her finger from the intercom button and stood up. She raised her hands and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The gesture was automatic and mechanical, almost a reflex action. Good grief, I thought, how could you not love Templar symbolism?

"Sorry, Sir" she said. Yet despite the deference, there was a note of reproof in her voice, that I had failed to observe the etiquette.

"No problem," I repeated. "It's only been three days."

If that admission made some difference, it didn't show.

There was an awkward pause.

"Do you call her, or what?"

"You can go straight up." She gave me Kate's location: third floor, dorm number two.

"It's okay?"

She nodded, and I think I detected an eye-roll. She handed me a visitor's pass on a lanyard. There were two kinds stacked on the desk. Mine came from those that bore the logo of the Temple.

Straight away, now that I was wearing the insignia of the Templars, the behaviour of the young women I encountered seemed different, more respectful. I was flabbergasted at how the red emblem had altered the tone so suddenly and dramatically. It was as if I were a celebrity, and it was hard not to laugh at the situation. Here was I, a clueless neophyte hardly out of school with less than a week as a Templar and yet commanding such reverence. Even though I detected the whiff of irony in their performance, even if they were just going through the motions, such obeisance does wonders for a young man's self-esteem... and (as I was already learning) his sense of self-importance.

Instead of a broad staircase like in the Temple, there was a dimly lit stairwell leading to the upper storeys. The third floor corridor was narrow and gloomy, with three rooms on each side. Number two was on the right. As I approached, I could hear voices talking and giggling. There was no actual door, just a portal with a drawn-back curtain.

Beyond that threshold, the sight which greeted me was not the most fantastic in my short life, but it would certainly rank in the top five. A half-dozen heavenly bodies in various stages of delectable undress danced before my eyes. No, they couldn't have been dancing. I must have been swaying. There were lace knickers, a satin camisole, a slinky teddy and a frilly baby-doll. A girl caught bare-breasted squealed and dived for cover. A brown-haired, brown-eyed beauty in a purple bra and G-string panties sauntered over to where I stood transfixed. She looked me up and down as I looked her up and down. I undeniably got the better view.

"Who is our gentleman caller?" she demanded.

I tried to avert my eyes as Kate casually pulled on her jeans and a tank top.

"This is David," she announced.

They all stopped to say hello, even the topless one, her hands positioned strategically.

"Looks delicious." The sultry brunette ran her tongue over her ruby lips, which curled into an impish grin.

The room was a six-woman suite, somewhat cramped but in a cosy, comfortable way. The beds were closely spaced, allowing room for two desks plus other furnishings -- two nightstands, a freestanding closet, a dresser and a small sofa. There were the usual feminine accoutrements -- decorated curtains, embroidered cushions, stuffed toys and the like. Laptop computers and textbooks were lying open on the tables and a couple of the beds.

"I'll take him now, Lucy," said Kate, as she grabbed her wallet and keys.

Lucy pouted, flicked back her hair with a huffy toss of her head, and prodded me in the chest with her index finger. She put the finger to her mouth and licked it.

"Yum," she said. "Save some for me."

"He's my brother," my sister growled.

"Well, bring him back soon."

"If you put some clothes on."

"Why bother?" Lucy tasted her finger again and stared straight into my eyes with a saucy glint in hers. "Don't you think he'd look good on me?" This girl was really something.

Kate and I went downstairs, and when she saw us the receptionist, still bare-shouldered, rose again to her feet. When I tried to return my visitor's pass, she said I could keep it. More young women passed by on the way out, and they offered that same good-humored deference as before -- a polite smile and a very slight tip of the head.

As we walked to the car, Kate broke my contemplation.

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing much," I fibbed.

"You like it, don't you?"

"What?"

"What do you think? For a start, having girls fawn over you."

"You mean Lucy? I think she was just playing."

"Yeah, well, that's Lucy. But I don't mean just her. All the girls."

"So what's with that?"

Kate said nothing, so I continued. "I won't say I hated it. Is it going to be like this all the time?"

"Generally, speaking, as long as you're a Templar."

"You might have warned me."

"Warned you?" She spun her head, surprised, then grinned. "You have a problem with it?"

"No, of course not... bad choice of words... but you have to admit, it's pretty big... takes some adjusting."

"Ha, you should try it from my side."

"No wonder you were so coy about it."

She stopped and stared at me.

"Coy? How do you mean?"

"You've been a Templar for three years. You never mentioned any of this."

"We don't talk much to outsiders about the Order. Yes, including family. No, not for the reason you're thinking. It's just not that big a deal, most of the time; but the more you try to explain how things are to people, the more complicated it gets. So we keep a low profile... And by the way, don't call me a Templar."

"What?"

"You are a Templar."

"Oh yeah, of course. So what exactly are you?"

She didn't answer, or muttered something I didn't hear; so we resumed walking. We reached the car. Kate slid behind the steering wheel. On the passenger seat beside her was a soft white bundle. As I moved it to sit down, I saw it was her slavegirl dress. That's what I had started to call it. I couldn't resist.

"Nice uniform, by the way. How does it stay on when the straps are down?"

"Luck, skill, hope and prayer," she replied. She took the tiny tunic from me and considered it for a few quiet seconds, before tossing it onto the back seat.

"Thanks," I said.

"For what?"

"Getting me in."

"Well, what's a sister for?"

"I know, but thanks."

"You're welcome."

She said nothing more, so I went on. "It's funny though... I don't see how I've earned any of this."

"Any of what?"

"All the attention and service, and yeah, the fawning. I feel like I'm... I don't know exactly... taking advantage of you, riding in on your success."

She reached across and ruffled my hair.

"That's crap, David. Number one, you're my little brother..."

"I'm twice your size."

"Shut up, smartarse, and let me finish. Number two, there are things in it for me, for us. You might be surprised."

I had the feeling there was no "might" about it. But when my sister wants to be inscrutable there's not much anyone can do about it. She started the engine, gave it her customary gratuitous revving up, pulled out from the parking space and into the line of traffic. By the time we were on the open road the subject was forgotten, or at least ignored. Anyway, we had lots of other things to discuss on the journey.

Our parents wanted us to stay for the entire weekend, but Kate had to get back for something or other, and I had to return with her because she was my transportation. (I made a pact with myself to remedy that situation in the near future.) Besides, I was curious to know what the Temple was like on a Saturday night. And as with so much so far, it was totally unlike what I'd imagined. There was a party under way on the second floor; and as if to further discredit my prior assumptions the hallway was congested with revellers of both sexes. Guests were coming and going, there was no checking of IDs, and the place was so crowded it would have been virtually impossible to ensure that everyone present was a member of the Order. So much for the secret society!

It was noisy and boisterous. People were spilling onto the staircase, into several of the rooms, up the stairs and onto the next floor. I was grateful to Ben for having the foresight to lock our door. I found him mauling a girl (or being mauled, it was hard to tell) in one of the easy-chairs.

"What's going on?" I yelled over the tumult.

"Glad you could make it!" he shouted back. "Newbies' reception. You owe me ten for the catering." He returned to the job at hand.

I wanted to retreat to my room but was held back by censorious curiosity. So I tracked a rising crescendo to the third floor. Here any lingering impression of the Templars as conservative and continent was dispelled. (Although I wondered what the staid, starchy Senior Master thought of it.) Music pulsed, liquor flowed, bodies gyrated, heads throbbed... well, mine was starting to. In one of the nearby bathrooms the sound of vomiting resonated in a toilet bowl. In one of the open bedrooms a game of strip poker was nearing its climax. From somewhere else a moan and a scream signified that a different sort of climax had been reached. It seemed that Richmond Hall had lost its ascendancy.