Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Summary: Several people recount their experiences of a future pleasure
palace to a journalist, who suspects that not everybody is using the
unrivalled body-modification facilities for their own good.
Part: 4
Author: Hugh Deacon
Title: Investigating the Palace
This is a sequel, but as the original is a published book, I can't ask
you to read that first.  Hopefully these bits of story stand on their own,
but it may help to know that they're set in a kind of pleasure resort of
the future, and that it is common in that time to modify your body just as
much as you can afford.  My interest is in those who have less control over

how their bodies turn out ...

   As you might imagine, I don't advise reading any further if you're
underage, nor if you're one of the many types of person who risks a
shattered world-view discovering what turns some people on.  All others -
read, save, distribute, whatever you like as long as the file stays in this
form.

   Investigating the Palace

   by Hugh Deacon

   Interview Three

   You mustn't use my name.  'A society lady' will do.  Sounds dreadfully
old-fashioned, doesn't it?  Still, if my friends knew I actually talked
about what goes on here I'd never hear the end of it.

   I've been spending a week a year here for a long time now.  I remember
when it was only an expensive hotel and, my, things have improved.  Only
yesterday I splashed out and outbid all the panting males to spend a night
with a cute little girl, barely into her teens by the looks, although no
doubt it's only a clever illusion.  She nearly wept with gratitude when I
told her there would be no penetration, and her eager little tongue worked
overtime down between my legs in a practical thank-you.

   I say things have improved, but for a number of years we hedonistic
women were not really very well served.  The management were keen to
please, but there was a certain sterility to the offerings, nothing much to
quicken the pulse of an experienced slut.  The time before last I actually
took this up with the man himself, J C Brookes (does he possess a Christian
name, do you know?).

   "Look here, Brookes," I told him, "You're not trying hard enough. 
You've got a unique place here, but you're disappointing half your
customers."

   "My dear Mrs -, I'm sorry to hear that.  What can we do to improve
things?  As one of our most valued clients I'm sure your wishes will be
accomodated if at all possible." Those whiskers of his were positively
vibrating with distress.  A criticism of his precious pleasure palace is
like a direct challenge to his manhood.

   We were in the reception area at the time, surrounded by enticing
displays of flesh and assorted depravaties.  I waved my hand in a gesture
taking them all in.

   "Look at these - we have pneumatic dolly-birds, we have mermaids, we
have girls with more orifices than nature ever planned for, we have girls
held in permanently available poses by metal exoskeletons . . .  I could go
on and on."

   "We are proud of our diversity, certainly."

   "But." I took hold of his chin.  He was too cultured to object, but his
eyes widened in surprise.  "Where are the males?  I don't mean the bronzed
specimens of perfect manhood that we are encouraged to make use of whenever
they're not serving or maybe disciplining your slaves.  I mean the beasts.
The satyrs.  Pure masculine dominance in some freak form.  Don't you think
I get tired of inviting men to my bed and having them perform for me?  I
can do that in my normal life."

   Brookes carefully detached himself.  "So what is it you're suggesting?"

   "Oh, I don't know," I said, turning on my heel in frustration, noticing
with pleasure that he couldn't help glancing at my leg as my skirt flapped
free.  I've spent a lot on this body over the years.  "I leave the details
to you.  Something I've never experienced before.  A male I can't resist,
who will overcome my maidenly resistance and rut, rut, rut all night long.
But not just a rent-a-man.  Surely you can think of something."

   When I looked back at him he was straightening his collar with a
thoughtful air.  "I think you may have something there, Mrs -.  There is a
programme we have on at the moment that could be diverted, and it may also
solve a little problem." He refocused on me, a decision obviously having
been reached.  "Before you leave, we should have something to surprise you.
And, please, allow me to add a vintage champagne to your next meal in
thanks for your suggestion."

   Well, I wasn't going to object to that, was I?

   I must confess that I spent the next day in a strange mood.  The
beautiful hunks of manhood around couldn't match up to what my imagination
was already creating for me, and I simply didn't feel like the slippery
sensuality of a girl.  Most unlike me.  That must have been the first visit
after they'd introduced the new transports, because I seem to remember
touring the place most of the day on those, torturing the poor girl drivers
by constantly changing my mind.

   I feel for them anyway, those girls.  Have you seen them?  The car-like
things float just off the ground and have some unseen method of propulsion
that's very smooth when you're sitting back in the passenger's padded
chair. If you close your eyes, you'd never know you were moving.  Then you
open them to be faced with the shapely buttocks of your controller, more
often than not dripping with sweat at the effort it needs.  She stands in
front of you, her feet locked into the base of the vehicle, with a shiny
metal pole up between her legs, the top of which is shaped to fit into her
anus to hold her in position.  From the front of the pole sprouts a more
complicated and flexible protrusion that she receives into her vagina. 
I've never been sure exactly how this works, but it's the sole means of
controlling the thing.  You can't see from behind, but I've watched them
passing, bellies rippling as they work their pussy muscles to keep their
charges heading in the right direction.  More than once I've seen winces of
agonised straining when coming across someone heading in the other
direction as a girl's tired internals try to pull her vehicle to one side.

   Anyway, as I say, I got through several drivers that day.  None of them
could stand it for long.  Whenever they slowed down, I'd give them a crack
on the trembling rear, forcing them to squeeze their invader ever harder to
maintain the speed.

   I saw interesting things on my way around, much as you're doing now, I
imagine.  It's quite possible to have a good time here without once
succumbing to the vices of the flesh, but you'd be missing the point.  The
restaurant, where I consumed my free wine, is one of very few left in the
world where real food is still used exclusively.  Many will say that you
can't tell the difference, that synthesised foodstuff is just as good and
more reliable.  They're just jealous.  And where else can you select the
most gorgeous young woman in sight to act as your table, just on a whim, as
I did?  She whimpered a bit at the heat of my plate on her back, but it
suited my mood to be a little cruel.

   I also watched the slave auctions briefly, but I long ago lost interest
in those.  There are still a good many people for whom the instant
availability of all the staff around them isn't enough.  They need a body
or two to call their own, and will pay handsomely for the privilege. 
Personally, I think it's vulgar to drag the poor things around after you
all the time, weighed down with I don't know how much metal in the form of
chains and fastenings.  If a slave displeases you, it's a simple matter to
use the rings they all have to put them in position for a whipping.  Extra
chains are just frivolous.

   I won't spoil your time here by detailing everything I saw.  Suffice it
to say that it isn't hard to fill a day even when you're as jaded as I was.
Even so, I couldn't face the idea of a late night in my current state of
mind, and retired to my suite early.

   There, I met with a sight that instantly dispelled my boredom.

   On the deep rug of my parlour was a cage, neatly decorated with a ribbon
and bow.  Inside, clinging to the bars, a most peculiar creature was
looking very sorry for himself.  He gazed around with a hunted expression
as I squatted beside him.

   "Here, I recognise you," I said, the moment I realised.  "Weren't you
the cosmetician here?  Didn't you treat me a year or two back?"

   "Possibly, mistress." He wouldn't meet my eyes.  I wasn't surprised. 
He'd always been a vain man, as far as I could remember, and this must have
been a real come-down for him.

   "So how do you come to be caged in my room, half-dog?"

   He just shook his head.  I looked down his body, from the handsome head
and well-sculpted shoulders to his waist, where the fur started, and on
down to his legs.  He'd never stand up again, that was for sure.  He
appeared to be a German Shepherd from the haunches back, complete with
tail. It was a bizarre combination, paws at back and hands at front.

   "I won't let you out unless you do as I say," I warned him.

   "I don't want to be let out.  Please, leave me in here."

   "Why, are you afraid I'll parade you around and embarrass you?"

   "No.  No, it's not that.  Please, just ignore me, and perhaps they'll
change me back." He turned away, his tail brushing the bars.

   "That does it.  Now I'm intrigued.  You've got a minute to begin telling
me what's wrong, or you come out of that cage and I shoo you out into the
public area.  Get on with it.  I'm in the mood for a story."

   He sighed.  "Was it you who told Mr Brookes there weren't enough male
mutants?"

   "It was, and it's true."

   "Then I suppose you deserve to hear.

   "He visited me yesterday afternoon, in the nearest I've ever seen to
panic, wanting to know if I had any projects that could be adapted to your
request.  Just at that time I was working on a way of combining a woman
with a bitch - something which a certain fellow-director had made me think
of.  We've been adding animal features to our slaves for a long time, but
there were new aspects to this, behavioural changes, so it was tricky. 
Still, I'd got it cracked, and couldn't see why a male version shouldn't
work.  All I needed, I told Mr Brookes, was a person to use.  That was all
right, he said, because he had someone in mind already.

   "I worked late into the night changing the programme where necessary,
and left a message to say I was ready before crashing out in my clinic. 
That was where my problems started.  I woke up strapped to my own couch,
with a line into my arm.  I was about to protest when I saw Mr Brookes was
there again.  My angry words died in my mouth.

   "'I said the ideal man was around, didn't I,' he said, and my fears were
confirmed.  'One who needs to be taught some loyalty, I think.  A spell as
a lap-dog should do the trick.'

   "I had no reply to that."

   "Why not?" I asked.  "Had you done something wrong?"

   His face distorted with anger for a moment.  "I gave that director I
mentioned a long-overdue taste of slavery.  Mr Brookes didn't even disagree
with what I'd done.

   "'I like the way Tamara's turned out,' he said, 'You'd be in a lot worse
trouble if I didn't.  But I can't have people stepping out of line like
this.  You need to learn that.'

   "He pressed the button, and here I am.  When I came to, I was in this
cage."

   I studied him afresh.  His two halves were beautiful specimens of their
type.  It was only their juxtaposition that was shocking.  Admittedly I
wouldn't have welcomed such a change being forced on me, but I couldn't see
why the man was so cut up about it.

   "You must be too valuable to be dismissed.  I know you're one of the top
men in your field, otherwise I wouldn't have used you for a treatment
myself.  So can't you carry on with your work as usual and accept the
interludes like this as a bonus?  All the dogs I've seen seem to enjoy
their lives."

   "They wouldn't dare let me work.  I wouldn't myself." He rolled onto his
side and put his face in his hands.  "Please.  Say I'm not good enough. 
They'll listen to you, and I'll have my body back."

   "No.  Not unless you tell me what's really bothering you."

   "I can't."

   "You can, and you will, or I'll make personally sure you stay like that
at least until my next visit."

   "No, please!"

   But I just made myself comfortable on the rug, and waited.

   Eventually he sat up.

   "Well, this should make you get rid of me, anyway.  You know I said my
original design was meant to incorporate bitch behaviours?"

   "Yes.  I wondered what you meant.  Whining, perhaps?"

   A watery smile.  "No.  She could do that already, my inspiration woman.
No, what I wanted was the hard-wired instincts of a bitch in heat.  You
know how they can't help offering themselves to any male dog that comes
along?  I made sure that the smell of male musk - human, of course - acted
like that on my bitch-woman.  Any aroused male that approached her would
have the same effect, whatever she thought of him in the civilised part of
her mind.  She'd turn her rear to him and offer a dripping pussy.  It would
be such a powerful instinct that she'd be helpless to stop it."

   "So how does this fit with you?  Male dogs don't do that."

   "Do I have to spell it out?" He looked at me pleadingly.  "OK.  Male
dogs, if they're presented with the scent of an aroused female, can't help
going for it.  Have you ever tried to stop one?"

   "No, but I've seen it." I stared at him with new interest.  "Do you mean
to tell me . . ."

   "I don't know for sure, but I'm afraid so."

   "Congratulations!  That's great!  I began to think I was beyond being
surprised, but you've outdone yourselves."

   I pulled up the hem of my dress, slid my hand under my panties and wiped
a finger up my slit.  Then I thrust my hand through the bars and straight
towards his baffled face.  To my delight, his nostrils flared and he shot
up onto all fours again.

   "Don't do this to me!" he begged, even as he followed my fingers to the
edge of the cage.  I could see a hint of shiny red flesh showing through
the fur, and knew I had him on the path he dreaded.  I wondered what it
would be like to be a slave even to my own instincts, finding myself doing
things I didn't want to do.

   I found the cage's fastening and partly undid it with a flourish,
leaving it still sealed but with the promise of freedom.  Then, slowly and
deliberately, I shed my clothes, turning every part of my body towards
those hungry and fearful eyes to make sure the message sank in deeply. 
Once naked, I squatted in front of him with my legs spread wide, and played
with myself.  With one hand at my crotch, fingers gently busy with the
folds, I raised one of my breasts so I could suck at my nipple, keeping my
gaze on his.  For several minutes I readied myself, all the time inching
away from him until I could perch on the edge of an armchair.  When I felt
a wet patch spreading in the fabric under me, I saw the blank look in his
eyes and knew the time was ripe.  With a stretch of my leg I knocked the
catch loose.

   Immediately he bounded across the floor and hit me like a train.  He was
clumsy, his arms and legs bending the wrong way for each other, but in his
desperation he almost flew over the floor.  As my head hit the back of the
chair I suddenly thought I might have made a mistake.  I tried to close my
legs.  Far too late.

   The insides of my thighs met sleek hair and wiry muscle.  Already as I
tried to straighten up his hands were mauling at my breasts and shoulders
and something hot and hard was pressing at my entrance.

   "Hey, steady!" I gasped.  He was thrusting even before he got inside me.
There was something strange about his penis, too, but I couldn't see
properly.  I took one look into his eyes and, seeing that all his sense and
consciousness was buried under animal lust, gave up.  "OK, boy, here we
go."

   I shifted my hips until he was stabbing at the right place, then waited.
All at once he found me and thrust deep inside all in one movement, making
me stifle a scream.  His penis was hot and smooth, and widened rapidly from
a slim tip, quite different from the well-endowed men I usually make use
of. I started to say something about slowing down, not trying to skewer me
until I was ready, but looking into his eyes I saw that the intelligence in
them had evaporated, leaving only a blankly lustful fire.  He frightened
me, to be honest, and I'm ashamed to say I tightened up.  Then when he
ducked his head and bit my neck, I panicked and tried to throw him off. 
That was the wrong thing to do.  He gripped my upper arms hard, so hard
that the bruises showed for days in spite of the repair efforts of my
implant, and pushed me down into the armchair so that my back was painfully
bent over the edge of the seat cushion.  Having immobilised me, he thrust
ever deeper, stabbing at my core with jerky strokes.  I struggled
underneath him, but it did no good at all.

   My years of experience are not for nothing, though, and with a conscious
effort I managed to regain control of myself, if remaining completely
helpless to control the situation.  I tried to move with him, tried to
recapture the enjoyment I'd caught a hint of first.  Deliberate attempts at
relaxation, concentrating on the exotic feel of hair rubbing at the skin of
my thighs, had an unanticipated effect.  What I had assumed was the base of
his cock, which had been beating out a regular rhythm on the lips of my
pussy, slipped suddenly inside and I felt a sucking spasm as I closed
around it.  Worse, it began to expand, stretching me until I had to scream.
I'd never had anything like it since one fool tried to get his whole hand
into me, and I'd made sure he was whipped for that.

   I hadn't a hope of doing anything about it this time.  I gritted my
teeth and pulled my legs out as wide as I could, succeeding in easing the
dreadful aching and tearing to the point where I could get contact with the
pleasurable side of the experience.  The was no slowing of the pace, even
now, and the short stiff hairs agitating my clit gradually became the
dominant sensation until I didn't care what damage was being done to my
insides.  I just wanted that heavenly tickling to go on and on, even if the
huge presence inside my vagina tore it asunder in the process.  The fact
that I couldn't move, that he was holding me still and arching my body to a
position that would crack me if I resisted, only compressed the tidal wave
of my approaching orgasm, funnelling it into heights I didn't think I could
bear.

   It was finally triggered when my assailant reached his own climax.  He
plunged as deep as he could possibly go and held there while I shrieked and
quivered under him, pumping what seemed to be gallons of hot liquid into
the far reaches of my womb.  For a while - I don't know how long - I was as
animal as he'd been since the start.

   I opened my eyes and had to blink away a twinkling curtain before I
could see the slow return of awareness to his.

   "Fuck," he said, aptly, after unclenching his jaw.  Then he loosened his
vice-like grip on my arms.  "Did I hurt you?  I couldn't help it."

   I used the freedom of my shoulders to shrug.  "Oh, it hurt all right. 
But don't worry about it - I haven't come like that in years." The ache in
my pussy, and almot equally in my back, prompted me to add "But it would
help if you let me up now."

   "I'm sorry!" All of a sudden he was eager to please.  He pulled back -
tugging me with him.  Like it or not, we were still firmly joined crotch to
crotch.

   I straightened up sufficiently to look down between the sweat and drool
covered mounds of my breasts.  I swear I could see the bulge in my belly
from the outside.  "What's the problem?" I asked him.  "Do you need another
go?  I hope not, because I don't think there's room for any more sperm in
me."

   "No." He looked embarrassed and wretched.  "I think it's a dog thing. 
They stay locked to their bitches for some time after mating, to give their
sperm a chance to work, I suppose.  I'm sorry."

   I shifted painfully.  "I don't know if I can stand this for very long.
Hold still, and I'll see if I can get off you."

   It was awkward, to say the least, as I was bent backwards in the kind of
position we used to call 'the crab' when I learnt gymnastics as a girl.  I
tried gently letting myself down, only to hurriedly thrust my genitals back
into the junction of his legs when it felt like they were supporting my
whole weight.  I knew instantly that I was plugged until his penis
softened, unless I wanted surgery on a torn pussy.

   "I'm sorry," he said again.

   "Look," I said as my legs began to tremble with the strain, "do you
think we could get onto the chair?  I think I could get used to this if I
could rest a bit."

   "Yes, yes, good idea." And he marched forward in a doggy quickstep,
pushing me with him until I was sitting on the edge of the cushion.  That
was as far as we could go, because his legs didn't fold like mine, of
course.

   There we sat, for half an hour at least.  It wasn't time wasted, because
he gave me some really good ideas for improving my own body.  Half animal
or not, the man's a genius.  Eventually he deflated enough to pull free
with a soft pop, and I suddenly felt very empty, so much so that I just had
to fill the aching hole with a finger and soothingly stroke it.  As I did
so, my fingers were covered with thick ropes of his semen.

   "This won't do," I told him.  "Clean me up at once."

   "Certainly.  I'll fetch a flannel."

   "Fool!" I slapped his head, hard, even as he turned to rush off.  "Use
your tongue, like the animal you are."

   Wounded pride flared in his eyes.  But he knew how much he was dependent
on my good will.  "Yes, mistress," he replied, and ducked his head to obey.

   Ah, that soft tongue was just what I needed.  The most sensitive flesh
of my body had been pummelled and stretched, abused unmercifully, and the
gentle licking did more good than my hand could ever do.  He grimaced with
distaste to begin with, no doubt at the idea of swallowing his own bodily
fluid, but I kept him at it with a hand on his head.

   "Well done, boy," I said when he'd lulled me almost to sleep.  "As a
reward, you get to go walkies."

   "What . .  ?" Horror and outrage battled on his face.

   "That's right.  I'm sure you must need regular exercise to keep in good
condition.  And I want a visit to the bar.  Something soothing and yet
hallucinatory would do wonders for me just now, though I rarely indulge. 
Come on, fetch my dress and we'll go." It was a bit cruel of me to
emphasise the 'fetch', but there was still a little too much vanity in him
and it needed purging.  Of course he struggled, trying to limp along on
three legs while holding my crumpled clothes in the other while I waited
languidly, but in the end the dangling folds were too much and he had to
hold them in his mouth.  This irritated and embarrassed him almost as much
as anything else.  Fortunately the fabric was a self-clean and self-repair
type and was as good as new by the time I shrugged it on.

   I enjoyed the attention as I sauntered along the corridor with my exotic
pet on his lead, and once surrounded by the evening crowd in the nearest
'refreshment area', it reached a level that had me quite gratified.  I'm
not one for mixing, as a rule, but there was something about inspiring
fascination in such jaded people that made it extremely rewarding.  Of
course it was torture for the creature at my feet, but then he deserved it.

   One dizzy-looking woman fought her way to the front of the circle around
me and looked at him for minutes on end while the conversation buzzed. 
Finally she interrupted someone to ask a question of her own.

   "What's he like for sex?"

   Now, this was just a little blunt.  Among my acquaintances, the rule is
'do, don't talk'.  In other words, it's as vulgar to ask about the skills
and preferences of a person sexually as it would be to ask the price of
their jewellery, however much you try to outdo it.  But then there was a
naive shine to her eye that told me she was nearly as young as she looked,
so I forgave her.  Provisionally.

   I leaned towards her.  "Have you got a personal slave, here?" I asked in
a lowered voice.  "A female?"

   She shook her head, disguising her disappointment badly.

   "That's a shame.  I could have demonstrated."

   The girl brightened at once.  "I'll stand in!  I like an audience.  What
does he do?"

   I made a show of considering, then shaking my head.  "No, dear.  I don't
think you know what you're asking for.  He's not like the genteel lovers
you'll be used to."

   As I'd thought, this only added to her keenness.  "But that's why I'm
here!  I'm so bored of all the nice men around, and I need a surprise. 
This . . .  this dog-man here, is the most exciting thing I've ever seen.
I'm just itching to be his bitch!" She squared up her shoulders and stared
straight into my eyes.  "If I have to, I'll wait until you've left.  But it
would be kind of you to share him."

   I smiled.  I do a very effective condescending smile.  "My dear, calm
down.  You're letting your youth show.  I wouldn't dream of depriving you.
Heaven knows I had to rant enough at the management to get them to produce
anything interesting - it would be very inconsiderate of me to keep it to
myself.  But are you sure you want it to be quite so public?"

   The girl flushed slightly, but stood her ground.  She ran a hand through
her hair.  "I don't care.  Bring him to my room if you want."

   "I can't." I shook my head.  "I have to wait here." What for, I didn't
say.  "If you want him that badly, I'm afraid it's a public show."

   "Fine." She bent to remove one shoe.

   Despite my cool exterior I was bubbling with glee.  This was going to be
even more enjoyable than the earlier violent sex, and I'd steered the ideal
victim into it beautifully.  She'd never be able to complain I hadn't
warned her.  "Hold on," I said.  "Would one of you lead my pet away until
she's ready?  He gets just a little too eager, and we don't want to rush
things." I selected a solidly built man from the eager offers, and ignored
the creature's venomous glances as he was dragged away.

   The girl's flush deepened, from excitement this time.  She stepped into
the small circle of space surrounding my seat before the bar and ran one
trembling finger down the fastening of her dress.  It fell to the floor in
an insubstantial puddle.  Her revealed body sent a twinge of envy through
me - no amount of treatment could ever give me a body of such flawless
beauty, no surgeon I knew had that artist's touch - but the feeling was
quickly overtaken by an excitement of my own.  She had put that marvellous
body into my hands, herself, of her own free will, and I would enjoy it. 
True, that enjoyment would be vicarious, but no less for that.

   First, though, I would involve myself more actively.

   "Step over here, my darling," I told her.  "No, you needn't remove your
shoes, they won't interfere at all."

   The woman obediently presented herself to me clad only in her heels, the
type that cling to the underside of the foot with no visible attachment,
that I've always felt emphasise nudity so nicely and do such wonders for
the calves.  I ran the tips of my fingers down the hollow between her belly
and leg, and on down to the smooth pout of her pussy.  She twitched as I
touched her inner thigh, bringing a sigh from the onlookers.  As you know,
only the richest get into this place, and the mass around me were
discerning enough to realise the rare perfection under my hand.

   "Hmmm." I pretended to consider before turning back to the bar. 
"Waiter!"

   "Yes, ma'am?" He was another slave, naked and rippling with muscle,
eager to please.

   "We need some clamps at once."

   "Certainly." He waved a hand in front of the nearest fetch-cabinet, and
opened its door to remove ten or so semi-circular hoops, which he placed on
the polished wood beside me.

   The first traces of nervousness showed in my victim.  "What are they
for?"

   "To hold you in position.  Darling, my pet gets quite enthusiastic, and
you'll be glad of them, I assure you."

   She followed my hand with uncertain eyes as I touched one clamp to her
forearm, allowing it to register her form.  "But are they . . .  do I need
them?"

   I paused and gave her a serious look.  "I quite understand if you don't
want to do this.  I did suggest you didn't."

   It didn't occur to her that I hadn't answered her question.  She glanced
round at the expectant faces and turned back to me with new resolve.  "I do
want to.  What now?"

   "On your hands and knees." I gestured to the floor by my feet.

   Once she was there, I moved her knees apart and fastened her ankles to
the floor.  The clamps obediently fixed when tapped in the right way,
holding tight to her shape.  Then I moved her elbows near her knees and
double-clamped her forearms, thus immobilising her completely.  She raised
her face from the floor for long enough to give me a fearful glance, but it
was a strain she couldn't keep up.  She lapsed into the bottom-up posture
that displayed her luscious pussy to her audience.

   I lowered my stool a little and rested my hand on the curve of her
buttocks.  "There, you're nearly ready.  All we need to do is to get you
wet for him." As I spoke I ran my hand down the taut muscle and between her
legs, wiggling my fingers lightly on the baby-smooth skin at the top of her
cleft.  I could see several bulges showing on the men present, and I didn't
blame them.  I was getting a heat deep inside myself, so the urge for these
males to fill such a prime female specimen full of baby-making semen must
have been almost unbearable.  The tension rose as I stroked around the
sensitive flesh, muttering getting louder as the girl rotated her hips,
desperately following my hand to get her clit in contact with my fingers.
She groaned into the hard floor when I finally relented, and the sound was
matched by the crowd.  I was tender, slipping to the floor to cup a breast
in my hand while I worked her nubbin, and pushing a finger inside her to
test her wetness.  The time for violent action would be soon, and I wanted
her lulled by soothing hands first.

   After a dreamlike few minutes I got up.  I climbed back onto my stool
and sucked her juices off my hand.  She would never be wetter, and seemed
hypnotised.  "OK.  Pass the word to bring him in.  And make sure he's kept
on a tight rein."

   A ripple among the people four or five deep in the little crowd turned
into quite a commotion by the time the dog-man appeared in the space at the
front, two strong men fighting to hold him back.  My girl lifted her head
to watch his approach, and the eager pleasure in her eyes became naked fear
as she saw the obsessive lust blanking all intelligence out of his.  All at
once she was a prisoner ready for a pagan sacrifice, the scent of her
arousal drawing in this creature who, now I thought about it, did look
rather like a heathen god.  One moment of glorious anticipation, when a
lustful heat rose in my own belly, watching the two actors in the drama and
knowing that neither of them had any control over what was to happen, and
the lead snapped.

   The girl strained against her bonds as the dog-man leapt across her and
skidded in a half-circle, but she could do nothing.  It was scarcely two
seconds before she was impaled with such a commanding thrust that her own
gasp was drowned out by the crowd.  From my privileged vantage point I
could smell the musk and sweat in a wave from the pair of them.  The girl's
perfect breasts were cruelly gripped in the creature's hands as he pushed
at her, working his slickly alien cock in and out of her vagina, stretching
her for that huge swelling at the base.  I slid off my stool to watch more
closely, crouching down just in time to see the round lump press against
the tight hole.  She moaned as the soft flesh stretched, the sound rising
to a high scream when the force threatened to tear her apart.  Finally,
with an audible 'plop', the tortured lips closed around the cock's narrower
base.  I knew from experience that it would not be comfortable to be filled
so full, but at least there was no blood, and the girl lapsed into hoarse
panting in time with the jerking thrusts.

   She raised her head and struggled to turn to me, getting far enough to
show me her tear-stained face before dropping her forehead to the floor.  I
couldn't help my sticky fingers creeping to my own crotch at the sight of
her despair.  I worked my clit through the fabric of my dress in time with
the frantic pace of the rutting before me.  A good many others were doing
the same.  This beauty, still flawless despite her degredation, her tangled
hair, the red fingermarks on the most sensitive parts of her body, was so
utterly posessed by the strange body covering her that act plugged straight
into erotic centre of everybody present.  Meanwhile, the creature, an
insane light in his eyes, was reaching the climax of his arousal, the taut
hairiness of his groin slamming into its soft counterpart as though to bury
his whole body in it.  He sank his fingernails into her shoulders, drawing
out a fresh whimpering cry, and pulled her back to him as he twitched,
pumping semen deep inside.

   Swiftly, before they recovered, I unclicked the clamps.  The pair of
them sank sideways to the floor, and I saw the slow return of horrified
intelligence to my pet's eyes as I walked away, the last twinges of my
orgasm still in my belly.  They would be publicly tangled together for some
while yet, the beauty and the beast, and I knew I would enjoy the knowledge
of it better than the sight.  Let them come to terms with it themselves - I
needed a rest.

   Oh, I had a lot of fun in the remainder of that stay.  But you don't
want to hear even more from me . . .  and anyway, I'm wasting my valuable
time.  I'll be sure to read what you've written, so be careful what you
say!