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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Blue Planet
by Mararch (mararch@pacbell.net)
***
Robert and Debbie, newly married innocents, get pulled
into the far future in order to help free humanity from
a race of Dominant females. Novel length. (MF, bi, nc,
1st, orgy, bd, mc, sci-fi)
***
CHAPTER ONE
She stared into the mirror, feeling the fluttering in
her stomach like the tickling of frantic dragonfly
wings. It was the dream she had waited for, at long last
coming true. She was a bride, minutes away from hearing
the solemn tones of the Wedding March and walking down
the aisle of the old stone church before all her friends
and family... from repeating the vows, from feeling the
ring slipped onto her finger and the intoning of the
final words that would bind her and Robert together for
the rest of their lives. It was her day and she stood,
her eyes locked on the vision of herself in the full
length mirror against the wall of the small side room of
the church and saw the glow that filled her features,
feeling that strange, once in a lifetime mix of utter,
erupting electricity and deep, inner peace.
Images flitted through her mind, of that day, back at
college, when she'd first met him, their first date,
their first kiss, the first time he had looked into her
eyes and told he loved her, echoing the leaping joy in
her own heart as she gazed back at him. And the gush of
feelings that welled over her the first time they held
each other close and perfectly in the dark silence,
fully clothed as they lay on his bed in his cubby hole
dormitory room, and whispered and giggled. They'd known
even then, without ever having to say a word, that they
would save themselves for each other to enjoy on this
night that, after five, frantic, wonderful, exciting
years had finally arrived.
It was strange, she thought to herself with a sly grin,
that she had managed to last so long without falling
prey to that rush of jittering need that had seemed to
have claimed all her friends long before. Not that she
had anything against carnal enjoyment. She didn't. All
her dearest friends would whisper of their own frantic,
midnight tussles with various boys, joking about the
size of their organs or their clumsiness or boasting of
the deep, profound pleasure they had enjoyed in the pure
lust of the act. And she always joined in their
laughter, the oohing and ahhing and thought not one bit
the worse of them. But such things were simply not for
her. She had always known, since she was first rushing
through the anxiety of her young body beginning to bud
into that of a woman that she would save herself for the
one man she would love for the rest of her life. And
that thought had always pleased her and perhaps made her
feel just a little bit special.
Naturally she had felt the tingling, that deep, urgent
flutter inside her sex now and then. But she merely
enjoyed the small charge of extra alertness it seemed to
cause in her and never took it any further. Once, years
before, she had indulged in touching herself, exploring
the warm, moist folds of her sex with a delicate
brushing touch of fingertips. But she had let the
feelings swell within her, like a balloon pumping larger
and larger, and then relaxed, drifting on the tingling
as it slowly faded rather than tipping herself over into
the explosion of clenching muscles and deep, rippling
sensations of release. She wanted her first leap from
that high cliff of excitement into the pool of carnal
pleasure to come over her when her beloved Robert was
buried deep inside her. And that would happen this very
night.
That thought caused her sex to flutter faintly and she
clutched the muscles that surrounded it, savoring not
only the faint shudder of pleasure that rippled through
her but also the realization that she was quite wet
inside. But this time she would not dismiss the arousal,
let it flow and fall away on its own, unfulfilled. This
time she would fix on it and tickle her mind with the
thought that in a very few hours her gift would be
opened and filled, her body would bear the weight of her
husband and her most vulnerable and delicate center
would be deeply pierced by him.
A slow, wicked smile spread over her lips as she let her
eyes trail down the figure in the mirror. The white,
flowing dress gripped her form in all the right places,
accentuating the curve of her hips, the slim, firm waist
and the high roundness of her breasts. She had seen
other young women's bodies and she knew hers would be a
visual delight to any man who was lucky enough to
encounter it. And under the soft folds of the satin
wedding dress she had decked it in a parade of lacy
delights with which to torment poor Robert to his
fullest fury and make him ravenous for her. Tonight she
would be, at last, conquered, and she wanted it to be a
destruction of her innocence so complete that when she
finally fell into exhausted sleep it would be as a fully
blossomed woman, no longer wondering, no longer teasing,
no longer trapped outside the mystery of her own
potential pleasure.
Tonight, she thought to herself as she gazed into the
piercing green eyes of the tall, lithe, raven haired
beauty in the mirror, your beloved will fuck you until
you scream. And she giggled at the tingling shudder that
flashed through her body on the thought.
Behind her the door to the small anteroom opened and
there stood her best friend, Donna, who had been more
than a sister to her since they first shared a room in
their mutual initial isolation from the comforts and
familiar graces of home that freshman year at college.
In the mirror she could see Donna catch her gaze, and
the naughty, almost sneering grin that played over her
lips as she admired her friend, pausing to lean against
the doorframe.
"Well" Donna purred, her deep, sensuous voice lilting
with hidden meaning "don't stand still too long in one
place, honey. You'll leave a puddle."
The young bride's eyes flared for a moment before she
pinched her face in mock disapproval at her friend, now
giggling at her own wicked wit and then blushed and
giggled along with her.
"Is it that obvious" she said quietly, pulling her eyes
away from where Donna was now approaching her and fixing
on the image of her own face once more.
"Honey" Donna said, stepping up behind her and gently
reaching up to lay a soft, warm hand on her arm "I'll
bet you could cum right now if the right man just says
'boo' to you."
The bride quickly dropped her eyes and the blush
deepened, her face standing in a growing crimson above
the snowy white of the dress, but her giggle tightened
with a deeper glee. It was so good, she thought, to
finally be ready to know all those secrets, she thought
to herself.
Suddenly Donna stepped to the side and playfully swatted
her friend on the curve of her buttock, causing her to
jolt and gasp, the unexpected sensation sending a deep
rocketing rush of electric fire through her that ending
in tingling toes and quivering hair at her forehead
under the edge of the white, lacy veil.
"Now come on" Donna said "let's get you hitched."
Then Donna turned and moved to the door where she
stopped and looked back, waiting.
With a final wistful glance at herself, the final time
she would look upon herself and see a virgin, the bride
turned, drew in a deep breath, reached down to gather up
the billowing folds of the dress before her and glided
toward the door.
*
Robert thought he would choke to death and clutched his
hands even firmer together before his crotch, arms stiff
and beginning to get sore, fighting the urge to reach up
and run a finger under the stiff, tight collar of the
tuxedo shirt. More than anything he was afraid it would
withdraw dripping with sweat borne of nerves and
uncertainty. Not about Debbie. Never about Debbie. From
that first day his only questions about her had been how
soon could they be bound together and how long would
they live to enjoy that union. There had never been
anyone else for him and never would be. They both had
known that from the moment their eyes had first locked
and they'd seen the reflection of their own souls deep
inside one another. They were born to be together.
And because of that deep, unbreakable understanding,
there had never been any need on his part to push for
that groping, snuffling, momentary rush of sweaty
physical enjoyment all his friends seemed to think about
constantly. They would, he had known, have their entire
lives to savor the closeness of each other's flesh, to
learn what pleased and comforted, soothed and fulfilled.
So whenever the guys would play their childish little
game of boasting about which of the females known to
them all each had bedded, Robert simply nodded and
smirked and shared a silent, knowing look. Sometimes
they'd kidded him, egging him to reveal some of his own
conquests, but he never would, merely stating with bland
disinterest that a gentleman didn't discuss such things.
The fact that he literally had no conquests to reveal
was something only he knew.
In fact, he realized as he slowly turned his head to
look back at the row upon row of guests in the pews, he
never even had any campaigns to speak of. Oh, he'd
touched girls in the fumbling days of high school, and
once had even slid his hand between the shyly parted
thighs of a young, slim, pretty blond and discovered to
his wonder the hot, moist folds of her.
He'd been fascinated and amazed that his delicate
touches over the folds and ridges of her opening could
cause her to shudder so violently, and when his
fingertip had brushed over the tiny, hard nub of what
he'd later discovered was her clitoris, her whimpering
moan of limp surrender was an amazement to him. But for
himself, he'd never had his organ inside a woman. In
truth, he'd had no such desire since the day he'd met
Debbie, and very little of what his jocular friends
called the "wooden mallet heebie-jeebies". Not that he
didn't occasionally find himself erect and sensitive to
the slightest pressure or brushing touch. But the very
few times he'd indulged in stroking himself always
seemed to him to be a mindless and embarrassing
activity.
Yes, he considered, it felt good, but he knew, deep
down, that feeling himself inside of Debbie's secret,
warm, moist folds and gazing into her eyes, sharing with
her the silent mutual knowledge that their bodies were
now truly one would be the final, ultimate expression of
his love, and that made a fluttering wrist and an idle
fantasy seem empty in comparison. He had carefully
planned and taken two full weeks off from his position
as a rising young Junior Executive at the company in
order to devote his full attention to his new bride and
discovering together what such intimacy and love were
all about.
He turned his head the other way and noticed that Josh,
his college roommate for the last two years, was
smirking at him, his own tuxedo bulging at the shoulders
of his muscular frame.
"If you wanna run," Josh muttered from the corner of his
mouth "I'll hold 'em off for ya."
Robert returned the smile, more for the sake of Josh's
friendship than in approval of the lame jest. The only
running he wanted to do at this moment was forward, in
time, to the instant when the puffy faced, elderly,
darkly robed man who stood in front of the alter before
him, waiting just as Robert now was, would say those
words, pronouncing Robert and Debbie man and wife,
because that was when he knew his real life would
finally, at long last, begin.
"You sure you wanna go through with this?" Josh
muttered, his tone teasingly cautious.
Robert shrugged shyly and tossed his friend an
embarrassed grin. Josh rolled his eyes in mock
exaggeration, as if giving up on a lost cause before
letting his own smile spread over his face.
"Well," Josh sighed quietly, as if under his breath, "at
least you'll be able to get it any time you want."
Robert looked at him, his face falling to a mask of
open, innocent confusion.
"Get what," he said, his tone curious and awed at once.
Josh snorted, stifling a laugh and turned, leaning in
and bumping Robert's arm with his own in a fumbling
gesture of affection. Robert nudged him back and then,
as if suddenly noticing they'd been caught in some light
mischief, both young men struggled to appear solemn once
more.
Out of the corner of his eye, Robert could see the old
reverend notice something at the back of the church, his
arms suddenly bending in an involuntary gesture of
expectation. The organ struck the first, heavy chords of
the processional. A general rustle of satin and silk and
solemn occasion clothing swelled throughout the church
as the gathered witnesses turned to look toward the back
of the large, high ceilinged room.
The organ struck into the Wedding March and Robert
slowly turned to see his mate, the partner of his soul,
gliding slowly down the aisle on the arm of the tall,
white-haired man who had given her life and now was
about to give her over to his keeping, forever.
Hurry, Robert thought suddenly. Hurry or I'll go mad.
*
They remembered the following hours in fragmentary fits
and starts, some moments rushing by as if in ghostly
images and shadows, others hanging, crystal clear in all
their minute detail, as if frozen for what seemed
eternities of heartbeats. The droning of the old pastor,
the recital of the vows, the rings exchanged and
received and finally the lifting of the veil and the
touch of lips. At last it was done and, together they
were moving, arm in arm, down the way she had approached
and out from among the gathered witnesses to the bright
shock of sunlight outside the church.
Then came the reception line, and the endless
photographs, the shaking hands and small talk, all the
while neither one stepping so much as arms reach from
the other, their hands clasped, occasionally squeezing,
sending urgent reassurances of adoration through their
palms to one another.
And then the reception, the open hall like a gymnasium,
packed with tables and noise and speeches and food and
friends and toasts and yet more ceremonies and
traditions to struggle through. And not once throughout
the day from the moment their lips had touched, sealing
their union at the alter, had they spoken the word love,
for it would have been unnecessary and redundant, like
looking at the Empire State Building and saying that it
was big. For them love was a given and always had been
and forever would be.
And finally it was time. Debbie slipped her hand under
the table and placed it lightly on Robert's thigh,
giving it a gentle squeeze. He turned and saw the
knowing smile, the raised eyebrows and understood
instantly. Rising they each turned to say their good-
byes to Donna and Josh, each in their own way and each
received the little lascivious, knowing leer. Each
grinned shyly and blushed, then moved slowly around the
table, bending to plant a kiss on a cheek or shake a
hand, slowly working their way toward the aisle between
the tables that led to the large, double doors. By the
time they could finally break away to move, hand in
hand, toward their escape, there was general applause
and some drunken cheers following their exit. They were
laughing by the time they left the hall.
The ride to the hotel was a tense, nervous silence in
the back of the limo, both fully aware of what now lay
ahead of them. Robert's palms pressed into the seat on
either side of him, arms tense, eyes locked at the
glimmering lights of the city that flashed by the
speeding vehicle. Debbie took many deep, slow breaths
and forced a casualness into her expression that she did
not feel as she scanned the passing scenery. At last the
limo turned into the drive of the hotel and pulled to a
stop under the large awning. The doorman stepped briskly
up to open the door and Robert, legs weak and trembling
slightly, climbed out of the back seat, turning to
extend a hand for Debbie who managed to slide across the
seat and rise with smooth grace, despite the rustling
folds of the billowing, white dress.
Hand in hand they entered the lobby of the hotel. The
concierge looked up from behind his desk with a smile
and raised an arm, snapping his fingers with a sharp
click. A bellhop was instantly moving to intersect the
couple and lead them to the elevator. The doors slid
closed and they rose to the topmost floor. Stepping from
the elevator the bellhop gave a slight bob of his head
and gestured toward the door to the honeymoon suite,
stepping to it and sliding the key he held ready into
the lock.
The door opened and he stepped back allowing Debbie to
glide through, giving him a blushing half-smile. The
bellhop extended the key which Robert seemed to reach
for as if utterly distracted. Before even waiting for
the offer of a tip the bellhop nodded, turned briskly
and was back in the elevator behind the doors already
sliding closed.
Inside the large, plush room Robert turned and slowly
closed the door, hearing it latch with a sharp sound
rich with a sense of finality. As he turned he noticed
their bags already sitting in the bottom of the recess
by the door that served as the coat closet, then stepped
fully into the room. He stopped short at what he saw.
There was Debbie, perched daintily on the foot of the
bed, her hands folded in the billowing fabric of the
dress that collected in her lap. For the first time
since he had met her Robert had no idea what he should
do next. He smiled sheepishly, his hands feeling
suddenly awkward as they dangled at his sides, twitching
slightly.
A slow, knowing smile spread over Debbie's lips and she
rose, her body seeming to drift up to her full, majestic
height. They simply stood there for a long moment,
separated by the length of the room, staring at one
another, each savoring or enduring these final few
moments of innocence. Then, without a word, Debbie's
hand rose and her fingers touched the topmost of the
many, tiny pearl buttons at the collar of her dress,
slowly, deftly slipping it open, her eyes never leaving
those of her husband.
Robert swallowed hard, unable to move as the full import
of what he was witnessing flooded his already jangled
mind. With smooth grace Debbie's fingers slowly,
patiently, worked their way down the front of the long,
white gown, parting button by button. The stiff folds of
the bodice, at last released from their rigid attention,
began to part, revealing a shimmering glimpse of satin
beneath. At last her hands were slipping open the final
buttons at the bottom of the bodice and she was reaching
up to peel the heavy garment from first one shoulder,
then the other.
As if it were a living thing finding a sudden joy at its
release the wedding dress dropped from her, puddling
gently around her calves in a creamy heap of soft fabric
and from this virginal shell seemed to be released an
erotic temptress hungry for a carnal conquest.
Her torso was held in a tight, white satin corset that
seemed to cup and lift her firm, ample breasts like a
pair of eager, offering hands, the stays like tiny,
vertical ribs running from under the billowing cups
along her sides to the high cut of the fabric at her
hips. From there thin lacy strands slinked down her
thighs, their silver clasping fingers firmly gripping
the lacy swirls of the white stocking tops, the smooth,
creamy circlet of her thighs peeking provocatively out
of the opening.
Even as the dress seemed to plummet from her body,
Debbie felt a rush of cool air flood over her body and
as if on instinct her sex clutched and quivered,
squeezing the gathering moisture down until she could
feel it on the very lips. A moment later she felt the
moisture seep into the gathered satin that pulled
tightly up at her sex and begin to cool, causing her to
shudder slightly. She could actually feel her clit begin
to throb with need and excitement and for the first time
she allowed herself to savor the rush of pleasure that
rolled slowly through her from that center of her
womanhood.
Fuck me, she heard herself thinking, her eyes riveted on
Robert's over the distance between them. Fuck me until
I'm weeping. Fuck me until I scream. Fuck me until I beg
for mercy. Fuck me until I cum, husband, and then fuck
me even harder. Fuck me until I die, she thought,
letting each wicked thought fall quivering through her
stomach and splash against her engorged and throbbing
clit.
Robert did not realize for a long moment that his lips
had parted and hung slack and open, so transfixed was he
by the vision before him. He had seen pretty,
attractive, even lovely women before, some clad only in
the skimpiest of bikinis at beaches, but the realization
that the goddess who stood across the room from him in
garments that carried no other message than pure, animal
hunger of lust was now his, perfect and forever his
alone flooded through his body and caused his muscles to
tighten in a combination of arousal, confusion and
outright terror. Would he be worthy of her? Would he be
able to please her? Would she... he swallowed hard at
the thought... would she cum? He knew how important that
was, that a man be able to make his wife cum, give her
that ultimate pleasure, and he so wanted to give that to
her.
Suddenly he jolted slightly, as if a part of his
drifting brain realized he was slipping into a reverie
and pulled him back to the moment. He smiled, his lips
quivering slightly, trying to form words in his mind he
might say to express his utter awe, his almost pure
worship for her and the love they shared. But before he
could sort out the rush of feelings and pluck any
coherent message from them, he saw her raise one leg and
step sideways, out of the folds of whipped cream like
cloth at her feet.
Her face broke into a cool, almost devilish grin as she
slowly raised the other leg, a fold of the heaped dress
caught on her toes, and with a sudden flick of her knee
flung it away, tumbling through the air like a thick,
fluffy cloud, to land in a sprawling puddle of fabric a
few feet away. And when her leg came down it rested now
apart from the other, planted firmly, with a touch of
playful defiance. She raised her arms and hooked her
open hands on her hips, cocking her pelvis to one side.
"Well?" she said quietly, her voice cooing, teasing,
tempting.
Robert swallowed hard once more and suddenly it struck
him she was waiting for him to do something. With a
crooked grin and a slight puff of expelled breath his
arms jerked up tensely, his hands reaching for the
lapels of his jacket. The tie had been opened at the
reception long before and now hung uselessly around his
neck, the top button of his shirt open, the collar
slightly splayed. He grabbed at the jacket and pulled,
managing almost in tangling his shoulders in the corners
of it before it slipped free and slid down his arms,
bunching around his wrists.
He shook his arm and only succeeded in turning one
sleeve inside out, the bulk of the jacket dripping down
behind him like unruly taffy. It took him a number of
wild flaps and stretches to finally yank one arm free
from the now inverted jacket, grab it with the free hand
and virtually tear it off, flinging it away into the
corner.
Debbie was giggling, he saw, amused as much by his
fumbling as she was charmed by his puppy-like innocence.
Even before the jacket landed his hands were already at
his shirt front, fumbling with the small buttons, trying
to slip them apart and not succeeding well. He barely
got two open before his hands seemed to lose patience
and plunged to his belt, slipping it open and undoing
the clasp, sliding the zipper down and raising a leg to
slide the trousers off. Only when they began to bunch at
his ankles did he realize he was still wearing his
shoes. He almost toppled over as he muttered a curse and
grabbed at the shoe through the bunched fabric of his
trousers. Debbie was laughing openly now as he tore the
heavy footwear free and raised his other leg to remove
it's heavy leather case. With a few small hops he
managed to yank it loose and hurled the rumpled mess
aside.
Robert turned to where his bride stood, his body tense,
as if ready to leap at her, and she stifled her giggles,
struggling to compose herself. The look in his eyes,
part amusement, part hunger, quickly dissipated her
laughter and in a few moments they were standing, once
again, still, eyes locked across the distance that
separated them.
Then slowly, as if by silent, mutual agreement, they
each stepped forward, the distance between them closing,
until they were standing nose to nose, able now to hear
the faint rasping of each other's breath, feel it
lightly float and tickle over each other's skin.
Robert realized that he was growing erect, beginning to
ache and throb, his excitement fueled by the faint scent
of Debbie's building arousal that came drifting up to
him. She could feel the lips of her sex now pulsing
gently in time to the heavy beats of her heart, her clit
tingling.
Robert reached up and lightly let his fingertips brush
against her cheek, savoring and admiring her. She closed
her eyes, drinking in this first tender touch in the
wonderful, soon to be fulfilled ballet of their joining.
And then they stepped into each other's arms, their
bodies sliding into place, a perfect fit, as if designed
for no other purpose but to mold together in a blissful,
physical harmony.
Robert leaned his face toward her, his eyes slipping
shut, as Debbie raised her own lips toward his. When
they touched the tingle that flooded them both was be
first of many tiny ecstasies facing them in the dark,
private hours ahead.
As if in perfect concert of souls they both sighed,
their breathes mingling in the chasm of their slowly
parting lips. Tongues extended and brushed. An instant
later, it happened.
The energy bolt seemed to materialize no more than a
foot above their entwined bodies, striking down with the
power of a hundred densely packed lightning discharges,
shooting through every cell of the couple within a
millisecond. Every synapse in both their brains
discharged at once under the onslaught, obliterating all
thought, all feeling, all vestige of two human souls.
Their collected muscle tissue went instantly rigid in an
Electro-chemical frenzy as the energy pulse infused
every fiber down to the core of their bones.
Had there been anyone in the room to observe, they might
have felt on the edge of their consciousness a high,
quick something like a buzzing snap sear through the
expanding, super-heated air. They would not have been
able to know that if slowed a thousand times they might
have heard an echoy, metallic voice saying -
"Target lock... warp initialized... engage wormhole...
mark!"
The immeasurable blast of energy flooded every cell of
the couples now rigidly locked bodies and struck against
the thick, soft carpeting beneath their feet, then
seemed to swell, filling the room in blinding flashes of
raw power. Within a fragment of a second any viewing eye
would have been burned to ash, instants before the loud,
sudden crack of the discharge rebounded off the walls.
And the light was gone, the sharp noise bouncing through
the confines of the room. All that was left to show
Robert and Debbie had ever entered the room were the
still packed bags in the closet, the discarded garments
in random piles here and there, and a deep, scorched
patch in the soft, cream colored carpeting where they
had been standing. Robert and Debbie were gone.
To be continued in chapter 2...
Will post more if enough people are interested.
mararch@pacbell.net
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 71