From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Karg Chapter 1 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG01.TXT (341 lines)
Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message.
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==========================================================================
Karg Ch 1 -- m/f f/f B&D sex, masturbation, public sex -- RBR
Karg -- Chapter 1
THE CRUCIFUX
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
Keywords: sex, bondage, domination
This story contains explicit descriptions of B&D sex and nanotechnology.
If you are offended by such materials, or too young to legally read them
-- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
That first morning was the second toughest. Taldron awakened me at dawn,
crawling out of bed then pulling the furs away from me and letting the
cool night air rush over my naked skin after he came in from his bath. He
then released me from the hogtie that I had learned to sleep in over many
long, painful nights.
` The first order of business was a dunking in the cold waters of the
stream that ran by our camp, in the pre-dawn chill. It was a beautiful
spot -- a bend in the stream had lowered the stream bed to a couple of
feet. There was a thick bed of sand sloping down to the stream bottom on
the side where the stream waters dropped their silt. You could sit in the
shallow water on that side, then slowly slide into the deep end, with the
creamy feel of the sand oozing against my bottom as I slid. The
early-morning calls of birds and the thrum of insects was all around me,
mingled with the gurgling of the stream. Mists danced on the water as the
sun's rays made themselves felt.
The water was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Enough to make my nipples
stick out as far as they could, but not enough to raise goose bumps. I
performed my ablutions as best I could with my hands bound together in
front of me, under Taldron's watchful eye. Taldron never rushed me at
this time, seeming to enjoy watching me bathe. As always, he kept me
naked save for the collar and harness, and my cuffs and anklets.
Back in camp, Taldron stirred the ashes of the previous night's fire and
put on new wood, then put me to work cooking breakfast, a thick, porridge
that tasted like grits, except that it had more texture and flavor. I
also heated a crude clay pot filled with water, to which Taldron added
some ground roots that gave the water a rich, pungent flavor. Best thing
I'd had since coffee in my room so long ago, in that other life I'd led
on Earth and in space.
My portion was considerably smaller than Taldron's, but then my waist
was much slimmer than Taldron's fleshy girth.
While I cleaned up and banked the fire, Taldron rummaged around inside
his wagon. He came out with two thick boards about seven feet long. The
boards were hinged in the middle so that they could be spread apart like
the blades of a pair of scissors to form an "X." Taldron had drilled
holes along the entire length of both boards.
Taldron took a loop of rope and ran it through the metal loop in my
right wrist cuff, then ran it through a hole in the tip of one board,
tying it in place. I was now secured to the boards. Then he gagged me, a
standard precaution Kargian men took whenever they took their slaves
traveling. He used a big, thick leather gag with wadding that completely
filled my mouth. Another Kargian male trait.
Taldron tied my walking leash to the collar around my neck, then
proceeded to walk away from camp, and I was forced to follow him,
dragging the boards behind me.
As we walked along the narrow, beaten footpath that served for a road on
this rathole of a planet, the boards grew heavier and heavier. I tried
dragging them, I tried carrying them on my shoulders, I tried carrying
them in my arms, but after a time nothing worked and I was reduced to
staggering in Taldron's footsteps, my arm stretched behind me by the
boards that dragged along the ground.
Several times I fell over. The first time I fell, it felt so good to lie
on the ground that I just stayed there, ignoring Taldron's exhortations
that I get up and move on. This was a mistake. Taldron walked over and
began kicking me. I got up quickly, my sobs and cries reduced to pathetic
mewls by the gag, and Taldron resumed his walk.
As I followed Taldron, my mind was filled with images of Christ carrying
His boards up to Calgary hill. I'd seen the image in films and it seemed
so much like what I was going through now. I wasn't too worried that
Taldron planned to crucify me, though -- to him I was property, and he
didn't strike me as a wasteful man.
Be he DID plan to crucify me -- in a different sort of way.
Eventually our tiny trail merged with what was probably a superhighway
by Kargian standards -- a road lined with paving stones about 10 feet
wide. A space of about 10-feet on either side was also cleared, starting
with bare dirt and gradually becoming low undergrowth.
We walked down this road for a time, keeping to the smooth, beaten dirt
that fringed it. When I saw a dusty chariot come rattling down the road
at high speed, I understood why. The helmeted man who drove it did not
look much inclined to stop for anyone. Neither did the huge lizard that
pulled it. Several other chariots passed during the day, always pulling
arrogant-looking military types who ignored the commercial traffic around
them.
Others walked the road with us, mostly poor-looking peasant types
carrying heavy loads, who were inclined to ignore us. I did see a group
of women being herded in the opposite direction from ours, chained at the
ankles and the wrists, gagged and naked as I was. They carried no burden,
but were attended by a couple of burly thugs with whips. Obviously, they
were property like me. Under other circumstances, I would have wanted to
speak to them, but carrying those boards took up all of my physical and
mental resources. I didn't have energy to even regret not being able to
speak to them.
At last, we came to the intersection of two roads, and here Taldron
showed me by sign that I was to sit down. I collapsed to the ground with
a profound sense of gratitude and promptly passed out.
I came to a few minutes later. Taldron was dragging me across the ground
by my feet, as if I were a sack of rice. He was fat, but there were
muscles under the fat. He had the boards I had dragged so painfully
spread out on the ground in an "X." He proceeded to lay me down on my
back on top of the "X," securing my ankle and wrist cuffs to the boards
so that I was spread-eagled. I was too tired to resist, not that it would
have done any good. He gave my arms and wrists an unusual amount of free
play, so that I could move my arms and feet about three inches in any
direction -- normally he tied me very tightly, when he tied me. Not that
I was in any condition to do anything with them, after dragging those
damned boards through the woods.
Now I understood why the boards were so wide -- so that I could like
atop them comfortably. Something I hadn't paid much attention to earlier
was that there where holes drilled in the boards where they hinged
together. Obviously, the holes that ran down the center of the board were
for securing my arms and legs. But what about the center holes?
I found out soon enough. The previous night, Taldron had spent some time
sitting by the fire and whittling on a piece of wood while I knelt bound
at his side. Taldron had spent a long time carving that stick, and
several others like it, pausing occasionally to show it to me and chuckle
knowingly in his deep voice. He had stripped it of bark, then sanded it
smooth. He carved a series of ripples in one side of it. One end was
knobbed, the other tapered a bit.
It looked a lot like a big dildo, and I was afraid Taldron was planning
to stick it in me, but he did not. When he had me spread-eagled and
bound, he thrust the tapered end of the stick into a hole that was right
between my legs, less than an inch from my vagina. Then he reached into
the pouch that hung around his waist and pulled out a bundle of green
leaves. He opened the leaves, and brought forth a gelatinous substance,
which he rubbed over the stick, being very careful to rub it thoroughly
into the ripples he had carved.
I watched Taldron very carefully as he worked -- a sort of helpless
fascination. There was nothing I could do to resist Taldron's activities,
but still I had to see what he was up to.
Taldron reached into his pouch again and brought out another bundle of
leaves with more gelatinous stuff inside it. He smeared a healthy glob on
his fingers, then bent over. I expected him to smear this on the stick as
well. Instead, he thrust his fingers inside my vagina and smeared the goo
on the inner walls of my vagina. I started and strained away from him,
but bound as I was, there was nowhere I could go and nothing I could do
except moan and protest, which I did.
Taldron responded by smearing more of the goo around the outside of my
vagina, working slowly and carefully to get all of its surfaces well
coated.
I found the whole process intensely humiliating, because Taldron had
positioned the cross I was spread-eagled on so that my wide-open crotch
faced the road. Everyone could see all of the proceedings. Not that
anyone was paying particular attention to us. They simply walked by, with
perhaps a glance or two at us. I was too ashamed to look any of them in
the eyes, naked and exposed as I was. On Karg, I suppose my situation was
not one that should have shamed me, but despite all I had been through, I
was still shamed and humiliated by the things that were done to me, and
that I had to do.
Taldron set out a wooden bowl on the ground near my feet, with a crude,
hand-lettered sign written on a scrap of fabric spread out on the ground
beside it. Then he sat on the ground near my head and watched me, as if
waiting for me to do something.
Under the circumstances, there was nothing I could do. I looked around.
The intersection of the two roads was full of commercial activities.
Farmers had produce laid out on blankets and hung on racks. Merchants had
some simple manufactured goods and jewelry on display -- some had erected
tents, most simply used blankets as the farmers did. Passers-by stopped
to talk and haggle with the merchants. Wonderful smells arose from the
cooking fires that dotted the roadside.
I was obviously part of the merchandise on display, and I wasn't the
only such merchandise. Directly across the way from me another woman was
displayed in a sort of stock that kept her bent over at the waist. A
bench supported her head and upper torso, both of which were completely
enclosed in a bag. Her ass, with her feet strapped wide apart, was of
course completely naked and exposed to the views of passers by from the
road. It was all I or anyone could see of her.
Nearer the intersection was a dancing girl, who looked very like the
belly dancers of old Earth, except that she was naked, gagged, and a
long, light chain ran from one ankle to a stake driven into the ground.
Around her, musicians played, their lively sounds mingling with the
cheerful chatter of the market customers around them to produce a warm
murmur. Food, drink, naked women, anything a Kargian male could want was
there.
After a few moments I began to feel a distinct warming sensation in my
vagina. I looked up at Taldron questioningly. Was this caused by the goo
he had spread there? Taldron smiled back down at me and chuckled softly.
The warming sensation quickly intensified and ... changed. It changed
into an itch, the most infernal itching I had ever experienced in my
life. It was as if my entire vagina had become one giant hemorrhoid.
The worst thing was, my hands and feet were bound. I couldn't scratch. I
had learned to live with minor itching and irritation while bound during
my time on Karg, but this blazing itch was not minor at all -- it quickly
blazed into a burning fire that consumed all of my attention. I began to
shift my body on the cross, writhing in my distress. As I did so, my
vagina brushed against the stick between my legs, and a blaze of blessed
relief spread through my whole being.
In an instant, the full fiendishness of Taldron's actions became
apparent to me. The itching I was suffering had been caused by Taldron's
goo. The stick was between my legs was there so I could rub my vagina
against it to relieve the itching - but it would undoubtedly only make
things worse. And I would be lying there naked, humping the stick like an
animal in full view of all passers-by on the road.
I did not know why Taldron wanted me to do this, but I knew I wasn't
about to do it. I summoned every ounce of resolve I had and froze solid,
thrusting backwards with my feet so that my crotch was well away from the
stick, which now had an almost magnetic appeal for my body.
I steeled myself not to move, but the itching seemed to grow in
intensity and discomfort with each passing moment. I wanted to scream, to
writhe, to find some release ... ANY release ... from the unbearable urge
to rub against the stick between my legs. But I instinctively knew that
any release, however tiny, would be all my body needed to take over and
beginning scratching the itch.
It could not have been very long that I lay there, bound to Taldron's
cross and in agony, but it seemed an eternity. Taldron broke the spell.
He reached down, pulled up the stake, and pushed it into a hole that was
directly beneath my crotch. I gasped and cried out in shock and pushed
back as far as I could, shrinking from the stick. But there was no
escaping it. To my horror I felt my pubococcyngeal muscles pulsing and
driving my labial lips up and down the stick. Slowly, as if by its own
will, my hips began grinding against the stick, up and down and sideways.
I cried out in despair as I felt myself losing control of my body -- a
strange, drawn-out sound that I had never before heard myself make.
Seconds later, there was nothing left of my mind -- there was just the
wonderful sensation of relief as I slid my vagina over the ribbed side of
the stick, again and again and again, each rub sending a wave of blessed
relief throughout my entire body. And the itching, horrible as it had
been, was more powerful by an order of magnitude.
I couldn't help myself. I pushed my vagina against the stick. The feel
of it against my pussy lips was pure heaven. I moved my hips and the
pleasure intensified. The goo Taldron had spread on the stick, and his
careful sanding of it, had left the stick perfectly smooth -- except for
those ripples.
Oh, those ripples. I began moving my hips up and down against the stick,
barely conscious of anything except the fact that to lie still was agony
and to move was to replace the agony with pleasure.
Well, you know how scratching is. The harder and faster you do it, the
better it feels. At some level, I knew what I was doing. I knew that I
was naked, in a public roadway, masturbating against a stick. And making
little moans and groans of pleasure as I did so. After I had been doing
it for awhile, I started panting as well, forcing air in and out of my
nostrils as fast as I could to keep up with the physical demands of
rubbing against that stick.
I tell you this, not to make you think the less of me -- I have long
since discarded any modesty of person, and I've ceased to feel guilty
about the things Kargian men have forced me to do-- but to help you
understand how helpless I was. You might say that inwardly I had some
deep moral flaw in my character that made me prey to the deprivations of
Taldron and his ilk. I really don't think that's true, though. I had deep
and powerful inhibitions about doing the things Taldron forced me to do,
but he was willing to subject me to almost any torture to make me bend to
his will.
Perhaps you think you are somehow better than me, that you would not
have succumbed to that stick. Think again. Try to put yourself in my
place. Imagine how helpless and alone I was, and how intensely the
itching assaulted me. Imagine the people walking past, indifferent to my
plight, and me, gagged, unable to call out to them for help in any event.
Would you really have done better than me? Or would you, too, wind up
like me -- naked and bound at the side of a road, humping a stick to
relieve overwhelming torment?
Think about it.
In a few moments, a definite pattern had established itself. The itching
would come in mounting waves of intensity, I would rub myself against the
stick until exhaustion won out over itching, and I would collapse and lie
still, helplessly feeling the mounting agony of the itching, knowing that
I would give into it momentarily, just as soon as my body recovered
enough to move.
I tried going to the Desktop of course. The biochips implanted in my
brain ever since birth allowed me an escape, supposedly. But it took a
certain amount of concentration to go to the Desktop. And I could not
muster ANY at the moment.
The hustle and bustle of what was obviously a busy marketplace all
around me barely registered through the waves of itching and relief that
alternately coursed through me.
Then I heard something metallic hitting something wooden. I looked up. A
large, dirty man stood over me, pulling up his jerkin. The sound I had
heard was a coin dropping into the bowl at my feet. Taldron pulled the
stick from between my legs. I was still reflexively rubbing against it.
The man, grinning broadly, lowered himself to the ground and mounted me.
I nearly passed out with pleasure as he thrust into me. The goo that
Taldron had smeared inside me had been unreachable, until now.
Ordinarily, I would have chewed my own arm off in order to escape such a
man's attentions. Now, thanks to Taldron's goo, I was moaning and
writhing with pleasure beneath such a man.
When he rose from me, I instinctively tried to rise with him. If my
hands had been free I would have clung to him.
But of course they were not, and neither were my legs, so I just laid
there while Taldron wiped my vagina off with some leaves. He put the
stick back into place. Moments later, I was going at the stick again,
this time with added fervor, since the laborer had ignited the itching
inside as well as outside my vagina.
Some time later, I heard the sound of another coin hitting the bowl. I
looked up. Another man stood over me.
Every hour or so, Taldron "turned" me. That is, he flipped me over on my
stomach and tied me so that I knelt with my ass in the air, my arms
stretched out before me, my legs spread wide, and that damned stick snug
up against my crotch. It was a blessed relief from being on my back for a
short while. I had "customers" more often, and my contact with them was
less personal, if that can be said of an experience in which someone
fucks you. And several of the men buggered me.
Around noon Taldron untied me from the cross and led me off into the
bushes, where I was able to take care of business. I did not know how
many men had availed themselves of me, but there had been many, I
thought. Taldron watered me, and fed me gruel and walked me around to
restore my circulation, then tied me back to the cross and applied more
goo where he imagined it would do the most good.
I spent the afternoon doing the same thing I had spent the morning
doing. The major difference between the morning and the afternoon was
that things were busier, and it was hotter. I smelled ripe, with all the
spent sexual juices drying on my legs, and of course I did a lot of
sweating.
That was probably why Taldron smeared pleasant-smelling leaves over my
crotch and armpits when he turned me.
I did have a new experience. Early on in the morning I had formed the
habit of keeping my eyes closed. I had no control over who climbed on top
of me, and with my eyes closed, I could at least imagine that they were
handsome ... that they had all their teeth ... and limbs ...
I couldn't shut my nostrils, though. Most of the men who climbed aboard
me smelled OK ... Kargians bathed frequently, it turns out ... but one
guy smelled really good. And he was really good at working over my outer
vagina, but I wasn't feeling anything inside.
So I looked up. And saw that the person on top of me was a woman -- a
strong, heavy-set peasant woman who was on top of me like a man. She was
grinning down at me while her pendulous breasts bulged and swayed to the
rhythms of her motion.
I screamed into the gag. I writhed in the ropes. I tried to fight it,
but I was bound, I was helpless, she was on top of me, she was strong,
and she was so very good. When she climbed off me I was really sorry she
left, in a strictly physical sense. Mentally, I felt more violated by her
than by any of the men. So much for sisterhood.
In late afternoon, traffic on the road began to thin out, and Taldron
untied me again. Before he did so, he smeared more goo on me. This goo
had the effect of removing the itching. It was as if a switch had been
turned.
I was so glad to be relieved of the itching that I did not mind dragging
the cross behind me as we headed back down the road the way we'd come.
End Chapter 1
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Karg Chapter 2 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG02.TXT (342 lines)
Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message.
Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the
archive as a public service only - any copyrights belong to the authors.
See the footer for important information.
==========================================================================
Karg Ch 2 -- m/f B&D sex, voyeurism -- RBR
Karg, Chapter 2
Girl On A Stump
Keywords: sex, bondage, domination, voyuerism, squishy
This story contains explicit descriptions of B&D sex and nanotechnology.
If you are offended by such materials, or too young to legally read them
-- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
The overwhelming relief I felt from that abominable itching is
impossible to describe. As I dragged the cross I had been bound to all
day down the road, I felt like a female baboon in heat. That is, my pussy
felt all red and puffy and swollen, a squishy thing that felt like it was
ten times normal size and pressing against my inner thighs with every
step. I actually looked down to see what it looked like, but could not
see any sign that it was swollen. Just FELT that way, I guess.
The trip back to camp was another long nightmare, but my experiences on
the cross had put it in perspective. It was just the capper on a day
straight from Hell, basically. I crashed through bushes and undergrowth
without worrying in the least about what kind of exotic fauna was
transferring itself from the bushes to me.
I collapsed once or twice -- can't really remember much -- as I had on
the way in, and was too tired to even resent Taldron's foot kicking me to
see if I were really exhausted. I don't remember anything after the
second blackout. I came to in camp, bound hand and foot and tied to a
tree by my neck leash. There was a dish of cold water nearby and a bowl
of mush. I was too busy enjoying the sensation of resting to respond to
either.
Taldron came out of the wagon while I rested. He was humming softly. All
the way back from the road, he'd been humming and chuckling and casually
jingling the bag of coins that weighted his belt. Obviously, I'd brought
him some nice profits while I was tied to that cross. I had no idea how
many people had crawled on top of me -- the itching was all that my mind
had room for at the time.
In fact, that had been the most intolerable part of the whole
experience. Even under the incredibly degraded condition in which I now
lived, I was able, most of the time, to reserve some part of my mind from
what I was doing, to retain some sense of self and identity apart from
the animal/woman that Taldron sought to make of me.
But there was no mental refuge from that itching. When your body is
trapped in servitude and mental escape is the only hope you have, you
take it. And to lose that -- to become totally enthralled by my body's
sensations under such circumstances, was just too much to bear.
But I bore it because I had no choice.
Taldron glanced casually at me and disappeared down the trail towards
the area where the other wagons were pitched. I lay still and watched him
go. Then I rolled as best as I could with my arms bound behind my back
and my feet bound together and began drinking from my bowl, lowering my
face into it and sucking it in. The first gulp of water caused my thirst
to flare up and I greedily drank down every drop. Then I did the same
with the gruel, licking the bowl like a dog.
The sight of Taldron had reminded me that I had to eat whenever I got
the chance. Taldron did not like to leave food lying about for long -- it
attracted animals and insects. Lying naked, bound and alone in the dark
Kargian night, I was with him on that point.
It was nothing to Taldron whether or not I spent the night hungry, and
given the near-constant physical activity of the day, I would have been
starving the next morning if I didn't eat before Taldron put away my
dish, so I was doing the smart thing.
It just FELT like I was acquiescing in Taldron's attempt to reduce me to
animal status.
I had just settled down, still hungry for more, when I heard Taldron
returning to camp. He had someone with him. When he reached the light of
the banked fire I could see that he it was Rynissa, another one of the
woman slaves in the camp. He led her to the fireside on a neck leash. Her
arms were bound behind her back, and she was gagged and blindfolded. All
she wore was the usual collar, harness, cuffs and anklets.
Taldron had a favorite stump by the fire where he liked to sit, and a
favorite log by that stump where he liked to position me during meals,
either facing him or facing away from him, depending on what he wanted
from me. He has spent some hours carving various holes and brackets into
the log and the stump, so that he could secure me in any manner he liked.
Kargian men, I would discover, were like that. Give them some wood, a
sharp knife, and a few hours, and they would happily spend hours devising
all sorts of ways of tying women up. It almost seemed to be an instinct
with them. That, or they were simply men who had women they could tie up.
Taldron tossed a few longs on the fire, sending showers of sparks
floating up to the leaves overhead, bringing new gleams from the smooth
expanse of Rynissa's skin. Taldron positioned Rynissa on the log facing
him. Rynissa was a big, powerful blond woman, with large tits and a big
round ass. She was probably stronger than any of the other women in the
camp, but she was a gentle and sweet-natured woman, so she didn't get
much in the way of respect. Not that any of the other women tried to beat
up on her, you understand.
The log that Taldron liked to position me on faced the stump, with a gap
of about a foot between it and the stump. Taldron positioned Rynissa so
that she straddled the stump, facing him. He secured Rynissa's ankles to
brackets he had carved at the back of the stump. He then went into his
tent, coming out a few moments later with a bag from which he pulled one
of his favorite toys -- a wooden phallus with a large, square base.
I knew that phallus well, though I had never actually seen it before.
Taldron walked over to Rynissa, knelt beside her, and slowly and
carefully inserted a finger or two into her pussy, eliciting a moan from
behind Rynissa's gag, her blindfolded head moving helplessly.
It was strange to see someone I had always seen as so powerful and
vigorous at the washing rocks, rendered so helpless. It made me feel
strange. On the one hand, I wanted to help her escape from Taldron's
bonds. On the other hand, it excited me to see her so humbled. I was a
small woman, I had been put upon since birth in this way. Nice to know
that big women like Rynissa were treated in the same way I was, on
occasion. (All right, I KNEW that already, but it's one thing to know it,
and another to see it happening right before your eyes).
Taldron placed the square base of the phallus into a square niche he had
carved into the stump. The phallus now stuck out from the side of the
stump like a broken-off branch. Now Taldron siezed Rynissa's hips and
guided her toward the phallus. At first, Rynissa moved tentatively, but
when she felt the phallus pressing against her pussy, she quickly and
smoothly scooted backwards until the phallus was well into her pussy.
Now Taldron tied a rope to Rynissa's wrists, securing them to a bracket
on top of the log, at its rear, so that she could not move forward to
free herself from the phallus. Next, he ran a rope from Rynissa's collar
to the base of the stump, so that she could not move backward either.
Typical Kargian male overkill, if you ask me.
Now Rynissa's head and shoulders dangled over the end of the log as she
was bound. But Taldron had a place for her head -- his lap. He walked
over to his stump, flung his tunic up so that the whole lower half of his
body was revealed in all its fleshy, jiggling magnificence.
He picked up a pot of stew whose smell had tantalized me ever since I
awoke and set it beside him, then sat down on the stump facing Rynissa.
He leaned forward and casually undid the gag over Rynissa's mouth, as if
her were popping the top on a can of beer.
He dropped the gag, with its really massive phallic worok wood
mouthpiece, on the ground.
Rynissa's mouth worked a few times as she brought moisture back into her
mouth. While she was recovering, Taldron casually reached down and picked
up his stew pot, spooning the rich, meaty stuff into his mouth and
watching Rynissa carefully.
Watching Taldron, my mouth began to water. I knew just how that stuff
tasted, except that in my case it had had an extra added ingredient,
which I was sure Rynissa was about to sample.
The smell of the stew must have been just as enticing to Rynissa as it
was to me, for in just a moment I heard her utter a low, throaty "Master."
Not her normal speaking voice at all, you understand. Her voice was
normally high and clear.
Taldron allowed some of the goo to drip onto his dick, then placed a
greasy hand behind her head and guided it dickward. In a moment, Rynissa
was licking and sucking on Taldron's dick with all the abandon Taldron
could have asked for.
I watched her slurp and lick and suck in every last drop of stew as
Taldron carefully drizzled bits of it on his pizzle. I still did not
quite believe what I had heard from the other slaves down at the stream
-- that this was considered the only normal and natural way for adult
women to eat on Karg -- bound, sucking nutrients from a man's dick.
I also could not believe what I was feeling -- intense jealousy of
Rynissa. But not sexual jealousy. What bothered me was that that was MY
food she was eating out there. MY food. If I hadn't been tied hand and
foot, I probably would have walked over to that log and slapped Rynissa
silly, shoved her away, and taken my rightful place at Taldron's dick. It
was feeding time, dammit, MY feeding time. Who did that hussy think she
was?
So I watched Taldron feed Rynissa, and my mouth watered, and my eyes
stung with tears, and I couldn't BELIEVE the way I was feeling.
Yet another proof that despite my long conditioning and training,
despite the fact that I came from a more advanced culture, I was being
affected by the primitive conditioning the Kargians sought to impose on
me. That was depressing, and scary.
I tried to retreat to my desktop, the place in my mind where I studied
and thought and escaped from the world around me. But the smell of that
stew had lodged in my nostrils and overpowered my brain. The muffled
sounds of Rynissa gulping down food were strong in my ear, as were
Taldron's little grunts and groans as Rynissa's licking and sucking had
its predictable effect on him.
Also, the sight of them was something to behold -- Rynissa's long,
sleek, curvaceous form writhing and gleaming in the firelight, light
glinting from her nipple rings, as Taldron's bald dome and bulging
stomach gleamed above her.
So my desktop crashed -- I couldn't summon the concentration needed to
blot out my surroundings and think about the things I wanted to think
about. I tried to pull up some long-forgotten memories archived in my
mind and give them a thorough examination, seeing how well I could
restore them, a favorite thing to do when Taldron had me bound helplessly
anyway and was molesting me -- but no go.
It wasn't just that I didn't have the mental force of will to assemble
the desktop and inhabit it -- it was that the desktop didn't seem very
relevant to my situation at the time. Right now the thing that was most
important to my survival was understanding Taldron -- probing for some
weakness in his personality or his cultural beliefs that I could exploit
to my advantage.
So I watched, and got both horny and hungry as I began to see the
relationship between the two bodies in the firelight more clearly. It was
an obvious attempt to reduce Rynissa to infant status when she fed (and
me as well, when I fed, of course). Bound as she was, Rynissa was
helpless, and her feeding and sucking movements had an uncanny
resemblance to a baby's feeding movements as it suckeled at its mothers
breast.
I had to give the Kargians credit. They were thorough.
After a time, Taldron's grunts and groans became rather frequent, and he
pulled his dick out of Rynissa's mouth. Then he reached down and picked
up the gag. He held it before Rynissa and poked the worok phallus into
her mouth. Rynissa obediently opened wide and Taldron slid the phallus
into her mouth to its base, then tied the leather straps at its base
behind her neck, securing the gag in place.
I remembered the first time I had ever been subjected to such a gag. I
had been bound in a hogtie at the time, with a man sitting on my chest to
keep me from moving so much. I couldn't breathe. I screamed and writhed
and finally passed out.
When I came to, Wantoi was no longer sitting on my chest, but I was
bound so tightly that I couldn't move at all. My whole head was wet.
Water had been dumped on it.
My body was enclosed in a wooden frame much like a coffin, except it
didn't have sides -- just thick wooden slats that formed its frame.
The man was holding the same gag. But I was gagged already, and by a gag
that stretched my mouth as wide as it would go.
I was wearing a ring gag, which was a large wooden "O" that was secured
inside the mouth, behind the teeth, holding the mouth wide open and
permitting any object to be inserted into the mouth through the ring,
whether the wearer wants it there or not. The ring gag was not made of
wodok either -- there was no give to it.
Wantoi, the man sitting on my chest, was holding that big wodok phallus
in his hands, and when he saw that I was recovered, he shoved it into my
mouth, this time more slowly and carefully, but firmly as well.
I tried to move my head from side to side but discovered to my horror
that in addition to all the straps, clay had been packed into the space
between the form and my head, rendering it impossible to move it so much
as a millimeter. A strap across my forehead kept my head down, and the
ring gag was secured to the bottom of the form, which was bolted into the
ground, so that I could not move at all.
So I screamed as best I could as the phallus entered my mouth, and
screamed and gasped and struggled more until it triggered my gag reflex,
and I lost all control and struggled wildly in my bonds, pissing on
myself and shitting too, all too no avail.
I passed out. When I came to, I was soaking wet all over, having been
hosed off from the top to the bottom. The open latticework I was strapped
to let the water and the mess flow to a trench dug in the ground.
I was in a Kargian gag trainer, the device which is commonly used to
train young girls in the fine art of deep-throating. Actually, it is
rarely used or needed on Karg, as Kargian women pride themselves on the
size of the phallus they can engulf and spend a lot of time from the
onset of puberty in practicing at swallowing larger and larger phalli,
until by the time they are old enough for their womanhood rite, the
average Kargian woman could swallow a donkey's dick without so much as an
eyeblink.
Some girls, however, have a problem with gagging which they cannot
master themselves, and so they must spend time in the gag trainer, a
much-feared device which teaches, like much Kargian training, by
demonstrating the absolute inevitably of what is to be done, and the
absolute futility of resistance to it.
I did not know any of this at the time, of course. I was still newly
captured. My resistance to the gag had been noted, and so I was being put
in the trainer. That I could not speak or understand a word of Kargian
did not matter. Kargian gag trainers required almost nothing of the women
that are placed in them.
I do not know how long I spent gagging and retching in that fiendish
frame, any more than I know how long I spent passed out within its
confines, only to be wakened by a bucket of water splashed over my head.
I do know that it seemed to take forever. I do know that I completely
lost all sense of myself as a functioning adult, crying and sobbing as a
child does.
As the ordeal dragged on, I became weaker and weaker. Wantoi was able to
jam the phallus deeper and deeper into my throat before I gagged. I had
no energy to gag with.
Finally, there came a time when he was able to slide the gag all the way
in, and leave it there, and I did not gag. I could not. All I could do
was lie there and breathe shallowly, so I did.
Wantoi grunted encouragingly, and proceeded to slowly and carefully
slide larger and larger phalluses down my throat, phalluses so large I
felt them going all the way down, and I swore I could felt them going
into my stomach.
I did not gag or retch again. Once I learned that I could take in such
huge phalli just by relaxing, I was able to relax, so I did. The
alternative, which I had just been subjected to, was too horrible to
bear. Better to relax and swallow the donkey dick.
Another triumph of the Kargian educational system.
Back in Taldron's camp, I watched Taldron walk behind Rynissa and untie
the rope running from her wrists to the stump, then scoot her foward
slowly and carefully, until the wooden phallus slid out of her pussy,
which clung to its oily surface as if it had a mind of its own and did
not want the phallus to leave.
Taldron, of course, had another phallus in mind, and he mounted Rynissa
and took her from behind with the same casual ease with which he'd taken
her mouth. It was impressive to see that huge bulk of his ramming itself
into Rynissa's helplessly splayed out form. I could see impact waves
starting out the place where Taldron's hips rammed into her buttocks,
travelling up to her back and along her sleek sides, while the same waves
rippled Taldron's bulk.
Rynissa's hands twisted helpless in their bonds, her legs strained
against their bonds, and her head bobbed in time to Taldron's thrusts. I
could hear little noises coming out from behind her gag. Like most
Kargian men, Taldron had great sexual endurance -- having women in their
power as they did, Kargian men had developed an ethos of taking their
time, which could be very trying when you were bound beneath a man and
all you wanted him to do was finish, and instead he went on and on and
on. But to judge from Rynissa's movements and her muffled moans, she was
either extremely uncomfortable or having a good time. Suddenly her back
arched and her head bobbed straight up, and a high sound that was
probably screaming issued from behind her gag. Then her head went limp. A
short time later, Taldron gave a few particularly bestial grunts -- I
knew that sound well -- and he stopped humping Rynissa. He sat for
several minutes behind her, his dick still wedged into her rear end,
petting her back as if she were a favorite horse. I had felt such petting
on my back many times.
It was quite educational to watch Rynissa being fucked. It also made me
almost unbearably hot. Somehow, the Kargian slave conditioning was
working on me, despite the fact that I was a trained, professional
explorer from an advanced society. It's not that I wouldn't have gladly
escaped if the least opportunity presented itself. But I wanted, really
wanted, to be fucked by Taldron after watching him take Rynissa, and that
bothered me. I didn't respect the man or his techniquess, but despite my
feelings, they worked on me. They worked. And that hurt more than any
simple beating or lashing I had been subjected to.
Taldron got up after a few moments' rest and freed Rynissa's collar
leash from the stump. He helped her slide off the stump to the ground.
She rested there for a moment, then slowly and carefully brought her
knees beneath her and assumed a kneeling position. She spread her knees
wide and knelt forward until her head touched the ground, maintaining the
position of absolute obeisance that Kargian men demand of their women.
Taldron gave an upward tug on Rynissa's leash and she quickly rose to
her feet. He led her off into the forest, leaving me once again alone
with the flickering shadows and the sounds of nocturnal birds, insects,
and other animals.
When Taldron returned to camp, he was humming softly. He tossed another
log on the fire, poured himself some hot maflak, and walked over to me.
He squatted over me and casually reached down and ran a finger into my
pussy. It went in easily, for I was wet, but I was so racked with need
that I started at his touch and moaned.
Taldron removed his finger, sniffed it, and grinned. Talk about a
romantic. He walked over to the fire and put some more stew on. A few
moments later, he came over and untied my feet, then led me over to the
stump, securing me there just as he had secured Rynissa.
As he prepared to feed me in the customary Kargian way, a part of me was
eager for the feeding to begin, and another part of me was cringing in
horror at my eagerness. It wasn't just the food that made me eager
(though that was a large part of it) and it wasn't just the sex (though
that was a part of it, too). It was the ATTENTION, the fact that Taldron
was now paying attention to me, and he was the only human being on this
miserable planet who did. It really hurt to know that my world could be
made so small by nothing more than a few scraps of leather and rope.
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:01 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Karg Chapter 3 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:01 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG03.TXT (247 lines)
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==========================================================================
Karg Ch 3 -- m/f DNI link sex -- RBR
Karg, The Prequel -- Chapter 3
Keywords: sex, m/f, consensual, DNI sex
This story contains explicit descriptions of DNI sex. If you are offended
by such materials, or too young to legally read them -- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
"Yeah, well, the Voerhaven installation was transmitting for SOMEBODY
just 600,000 years ago," Tully was saying. Through the viewport we could
see a Portis starliner heading for the Pelman jump point, surrounded by a
swarm of smaller craft making last-minute checks and changes. Smaller
craft hung in space everywhere, part of the enormous hustle and bustle
that befitted the central hub of Earth's rapidly expanding interstellar
trade empire.
"Just because the Voerhaven installation was transmitting, it doesn't
mean any living thing was transmitting, or receiving those
transmissions," Anna replied calmly. "Some installations we have found
show evidence of having functioned on a purely automatic basis for over a
million years. Certainly, the lack of any recoverable AI at the
SumiyatsuVoerhaven site indicates that the place fossilized long before
the radio died. I'll stick with the Caslons at the most recent -- there's
evidence of biological activity at the Minamaru 7 installation within the
last five thousand years."
Tully, Anna, Sammy and I (Susan Holmes-Yearby) were part of the hustle
and bustle of Earth's empire -- in fact, we were at its cutting edge. We
were members of the elite Exploration and Contact Corps, charged with
seeking out the lost colonies that had vanished to the far corners of the
galaxy when the Voerhaven Pelham Point jump station was discovered
between Jupiter and Saturn, and found to be operational. The problem was,
there was no known way of directing the jumps at the time, so that if you
made a Pelham jump, you vanished from human ken forever, as far as your
individual life went. Most normal people didn't care for that prospect,
but as always there were a number of discontented
religious/political/what-have-you types on Earth who found the prospect
of escaping the bounds of Earthly authority very appealing.
Earthly authorities were at first reluctant to grant access to the
Voerhaven Pelham Point station to such groups, but after a few waves of
terrorism and political unrest, their scruples relaxed somewhat, and wave
after wave of malcontents boarded whatever rustbuckets they could afford
and headed into space for a rendezvous with whatever they thought lay in
the stars for them.
For many, it was death. The Voerhavens were not attracted to Earth-type
planets. They preferred the moons of gas giants. If they'd been attracted
to Earth-type planets, they would have colonized Earth, since it must
have looked idyllic to most sentients who did find Earth conditons
attractive, prior to the evolution of humans. The evidence was that the
Voerhaven jump point in the Earth system was just a transfer point with
some repair facilities.
When the first signals came back from an Earth authority drone vessel,
interest in the Voerhaven facility jumped by orders of magnitude -- until
then, there had been some question of whether or not it was functional.
Money was poured into the study of the facility, but since whole new
sciences had to be invented in order to understand it, it was still over
50 years before the Voerhaven facility began to yeild up significant
secrets, and another ten beyond that before the Pelman jumps were
understood.
Unfortunately, no one knew exactly where the lost Earth colonies had
been sent by the Voerhaven facility. Once the Earth system had the
ability to direct Voerhaven jumps, it began expanding rapidly in a
spherical sort of way. As the sphere expanded new colonies were found.
And new dangers.
That's why the Exploration and Contact Corps existed. We were the ones
who moved on the edge of the sphere, moving into a system after a
flythrough by an AI showed it to be promising, and not presenting any
immediate threat to human life.
It had been 200 years since the initial exodus via the Voerhaven jump
point had begun, and though many colonies had been found, many more
remained to be found.
Adding to the danger were the numerous forerunner sites found. Almost
every system in the Arm had a spaceborne forerunner site from SOME kind
of sentient spacegoing race. Evidence was overwhelming that intelligent
civilizations of some kind or another had traversed space for billions of
years.
Almost all such sites were inactive, the fine bits of metal and silicon
that made them work gone to dust with their creators. Still, of the 47
ECC teams that had been lost over the last 125 years, 39 had been lost to
either known or suspected forerunner installations that had their
defenses still active. Twelve of the system explored by these lost ECC
teams were still unknown, despite the fact that they had been probed
constantly by the best known AI systems since the teams were lost.
"I can't believe we're shipping out tomorrow," said Sammy, changing the
subject to the one that was on everyone's minds. The relative dates of
forerunner sites was one of those subjects you could argue about forever.
Talking about them was a way of not talking about the impending launch.
"Something tells me it's going to be a cultural artifacts only kind of
place," said Tully. He and Anna were the experienced members of our
group, having been on half a dozen missions already. Sammy and I were
cherries -- this was our first mission. We were too excited just by the
thought of finally doing what we had been trained to do for so many years
to have any really objective thoughts about the mission. Tully, on the
other hand, was thinking about the level of culture we'd find.
"There might be some nifty low-tech innovations," I said. "Remember the
sling-wing design they found on Argus IV, in a culture that had gone all
the way back to hunter-gatherer? And this place has roads and cities."
"Exception that proves the rule," said Tully. "The reason you don't find
much innovation in low-tech is that the human race spent an awful lot of
time exploring the possibilities of low-tech while it was evolving on
Earth. I'm betting the only thing we'll find worth exporting out of this
bunch is their artwork and pottery. And there's been so many places
opened up in the last few years that regressed primitive artwork is
becoming a drug on the market."
"Speaking of drugs, you're overlooking the pharmaceuticals," said Sammy.
"Lots of plant and animal life on that planet, it would be a real
surprise if they haven't come up with a few new plant and animal
compounds that'll have the big drug combines slavering."
"Real possibilities there," Tully admitted. "We'll go over this ground
while we're linked and have access to the Earthside datanets."
We all nodded. This sitting around bullshitting was OK, but if there was
some real thinking to do, best to do it while we were all hooked into our
cybernet via DNI.
"So, who's for the pleasure dome?" Sammy asked. "Last chance for who
knows how long?"
And maybe last chance ever, I thought, but did not say. The teams that
had gone out but never come back -- or come back in pieces -- were in all
of our minds, as well. It was not that great a risk -- most teams lived
out their 20 years of service quite handily, thank you -- but still,
there it was. You could die out there, all alone in the universe.
"Sounds good to me," said Anna.
"The pleasure dome ALWAYS sounds good to you," Tully said, grinning.
"It's just my sanity talking," said Anna. "I like pleasure. Imagine
that."
"Imagine that, indeed," said Tully.
Being sane, we left the lounge and took a null-g tube to the Pleasure
Dome bubble moored to the central axis of the station. There was a clump
of empty couches not too far from the entrance -- it was a lull between
shifts, which is one reason we'd agreed to readily to go. Good time.
Sammy and Anna slid onto a cot together and Tully and I slid onto
another. That's the way we generally paired off, mostly because Tully and
I had more similar backgrounds to each other than either of us did to
Sammy and Anna, and vice versa. I'd paired off with Sammy a few times,
and with Anna once, and Tully had paired off with Anna a few times, but
it had been more for the sake of change than anything else.
Tully and I stripped. We embraced, kissed in a casual way, then got down
to business: I slipped a DNI jack into the socket concealed at the base
of Tully's neck, and he did the same for me. It was always so intimate
when you let someone else do it.
We laid down on the couch together, lying on our sides facing each
other, casually caressing the skin on each others' arms and chests. I
especially liked to run my hands over his shoulders, biceps and lats --
all were nicely developed and good to touch. Tully especially liked to
run his hands over my tits, which were unusually large for someone who
wasn't pregnant, or in the entertainment or sex industries.
I'd naturally developed large tits as a kid, no adjustments needed,
thank you, so I kept them as they were, as a way of flaunting their
naturalness. Large tits were mine, fair and square, original DNA thank
you, and though I'd made adjustments to my face and hips, I'd not made
any big adjustments.
I closed my eyes for a moment and felt the smooth, sliding sensation of
my hand gliding over his skin. I lost the sense of scale and place, my
whole being was running through many layers of firm, smooth, rippling
stuff, gliding through it towards goodness. Things opened up, I was
gliding through space, skin glowing and melting all around.
I felt Tully's hand on my nipple, brushing it, making it swell and
bloom. I was a pool of warm seawater, my nipple a giant anemone pulsing
in my very center, sending waves of heat and desire pulsing through my
entire being.
The anemone at my center began to stiffen and swell, sending out a raw
current of red-hot need that made water around it curdle and ooze in a
slippery, sliding, roil of desire.
I ran my hands up and down Tully's body, feeling the swell of his
muscles and the bony indentations of his ribs, the smoothness of his
flesh, and he did the same to me. I could feel the way his skin felt
under my fingers, and thanks to the DNI link, I could feel the way my
skin felt under his fingers.
In the pool of feeling that we both shared, ripples of good feeling
spread from each of our roving hands, sending out waves of pleasure
across our minds. Tully's hands came down to my crotch and ever so
delicately caressed my pubic hair. I shifted my body slightly, opening my
pussy for his probing fingers while my own fingers sought and found his
stiffened cock.
The waves of pleasure now became something more powerful -- pulses that
surged through my mind, as Tully's fingers first gently caressed my
vagina, then slowly and carefully worked their way inside me, moving with
a sureness and ease that could only exist because Tully knew exactly what
his probing fingers felt like from my side, just as my fingers played his
cock like a violin, because I knew what they felt like from his side.
After a time, Tully withdrew his fingers and brought them to his nose,
inhaling deeply while looking directly into my eyes and smiling.
This was a joke that Tully and I shared. Once, early on in our
lovemaking, we'd talked about how DNI sex had affected us.
"As a girl, I thought boys were kind of weird, bestial animals," I said.
"And when you smelled your fingers after putting them inside me, it
reminded me of that, because that's exactly the sort of thing that made
me think men were weird and bestial. It seemed so indelicate, so gross,
something a man would do as an affront to the beauty of sex. But then,
the first time a man ever did that while I was hooked into a DNI circuit
with him, it all changed for me. I'd never understood that my pussy could
be the source of such a warm, wonderful, rich, pleasant smell. And when I
felt the spangs of pleasure as the smell hit his olfactory centers and
went straight to his brain's sexual center, I understood it, really
understood it. From then on, I was disappointed in a man who DIDN'T smell
his fingers. What sane person would pass something that good up, just for
propriety's sake?"
"I'll always smell my fingers, just for you," Tully promised.
"Can't kid me," I said. "I was hooked into you when you did it. You
smell your fingers for your own sake, and that's OK with me."
Still, every time we made love thereafter, Tully would smell his fingers
and smile at me, and I would smile back at him.
I held out my arms to Tully and he slid over and climbed on top of me. I
closed my eyes, the better to feel the sensations as he slid his cock
inside me. I reached down and pulled my vaginal lips apart, and felt his
shaft go in -- both with the nerves on my pussy lips, and the nerves on
his cock. He felt the same, so his entry was smooth and sure and
painless. If he hurt me, he would feel it, long before I could tell him
about it.
As he entered me, Tully and I kissed, and for a time we were just an
orgy of sensation, touching and being touched, penetrating and being
penetrated, so much in contact with each other that the entire rest of
the world diminished to a pinpoint.
Tully began plunging in and out of me, sensing the exact rhythyms that
most affected me through the DNI link. Since he felt my excitement as
well as his own, he had every incentive to bring me pleasure -- and vice
versa for me.
As we moved, our nanomed systems worked in synch with the DNI link,
regulating our muscular and hormonal systems so that the state of our
bodies mirrored the state of our minds.
As we progressed toward climax, we became a sexual dynamo, with my
excitement increased by Tully's excitement, which increased Tully's
excitement, which increased mine ... I was aware, in a distant way, that
I was moaning and crying out and clutching spasmodically at Tully's back,
that my feet were raised high in the air and my hips reciprocated the
thrusting of Tully's groin, urgency for urgency. But in my head we were
two interlocked sets of needs and desires, and our physical coupling was
no more than an echo of the coupling that our minds were engaging in.
When we came, it was a series of mutual explosions of feeling that
flowed and ebbed, each mind and body interlaced and responding to the
other. My orgasms precipitated Tully's climax, which blended so smoothly
with what I felt that when I experienced Tully's orgasm with him, it was
as a final, powerful, climax of my own, a climax that snuffed out my
consciousness like a candle flame -- and Tully's, as well.
We came to a few moments later, both experiencing the luxurious, total
langor that came with DNI-linked sex. Words would have been an imposition
at such a time, an interruption of the pure pleasure we felt.
But after a time the langor wore off, and Tully looked at me and said,
"Tomorrow," and I knew exactly what he meant.
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Karg Chapter 4 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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==========================================================================
Karg Ch 4 -- interstellar archeology -- RBR
Karg -- Chapter 4
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
Journey to Karg
This story contains explicit descriptions of interstellar archeology and
spaceflight. If you are offended by such materials, or too young to
legally read them -- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
No sex -- this chapter is ALL science fiction!
But be patient .... there are goodies in store ahead ...
Pelman jumps were named after the scientist who made the key deduction
in understanding the Voerhaven installation's Pelman jump facilities.
Once the facilities were understood, it became possible to know where a
jump was headed -- and to know how to get back. This was what made real
interstellar trade and commerce possible. The wild diaspora that had
taken place while the Voerhaven facility was little understood was
strictly people who didn't care if they ever saw the rest of the human
race again -- and in fact, none of them ever did.
But their descendants did, because one of the first things Earth system
did after Pelman jumps became practical was to begin searching for
survivors of the diaspora. Over time, survivors were found, although it
was more common to find desolate ruins filled with bones sited on planets
that would never support human life, or silent ships drifting through the
darkness of space, their life support functions gone, their crew and
passengers frozen in the attitudes of madness, despair or resignation in
which their fate overtook them.
But the settlements on Eniar III, Valsom's World, the Astaroth Fields
and others had not only survived, but prospered, and quickly started up a
lucrative commerce with the planet their ancestors had fled.
Other former colonies had survived, albeit with reduced technology and
culture. Several had been reduced to hunter/gatherer status in just a few
generations. Even these often produced unique cultures and artifacts that
brought good prices in Earth system and elsewhere.
M2395b looked to be such a planet. An AI probe of the system had found
two Forerunner installations: Celtan and Two Mazurinsky III (the latter
site belonged not to a specific culture, but was more a name for a
grab-bag of cultures found in the 2+billion-year range in this arm of the
galaxy).
More to the point, the planet that at present bore no more designation
than the letter b had shown signs of habitation. Closer inspection by the
AI ship had shown that there were roads, buildings, primitive wheeled
vehicles and bipeds that looked very much like human beings walking on
those roads and living in those buildings.
The betting at Jupiter base was that we were looking at a lost colony
group that had reverted back nearly to prehistoric levels. They weren't
ALL the way back to hunter-gatherers -- the roads, buildings and fields
showed that they'd been able to stabilize before that happened -- but
they were very nearly there. There were no radiations, radio signals, or
chemical elements in the atmosphere to indicate advanced technology.
There were very likely quite a few tribes on the periphery of this
"civilization" at hunter-gatherer status, and they were probably several
notches up from the wretches who lived at the bottom-most rung of the
"higher" culture.
All of this data came from the AI probe that had flown through, explored
the system for a week, and flown on, sending back a report via a
Pelman-jump drone to Jupiter base.
As soon as the drone's first transmissions came in, the nets started
buzzing with the news. So far, the exploration of h-space (i.e., human
space) had turned up 43 surviving colonies, and each one was a huge
success in terms of entertainment net ratings, and also generated huge
interest in the academic, scientific and biz nets, and of course the
gossip nets went wild.
When the news hit that we would be the team that explored, our Net
traffic went through the roof. We had to get an AI program to answer the
mail for us -- there would have been no time to prep for the mission. We
just got tidbits and whatever we asked the AI to screen for. I asked it
to let through proposals of marriage (there were 227) and photos of naked
men (there were 4,765) and Tully asked it to let through the same thing:
he had several thousand marriage proposals and several thousand photos of
naked women, generally both at the same time.
We both had about a thousand photos and a hundred proposals of marriage
from members of our own sex, as well.
Some people just sent us images of their genitals, which I thought was
kind of sad and had the AI screen out after seeing the first few, but
Tully said they were just trying to participate in our mission in their
own peculiar way, cheering us on with the knowledge that many excited
genitals waited for us on Earth upon the successful completion of our
mission.
We toyed with the idea of matching our photos and marriage proposals up
and returning the appropriate men's photos and proposals to women whose
appearance and suggestions seemed to be complementary, and vice versa.
But we knew that would be a cruel thing to do, so we just had our AI
agent send out noncommital thanks for all the mail we received, even the
stuff we would rather not have received.
There was also a lot of E-mail that was much more relevant to our
mission. Some hobbyists who tracked re-contact missions sent us very
cogent summaries of what we might expect, briefs that were very close to
what we were getting from our Jupiter base trainers. There was also
considerably less cogent advice to be had: several people wrote to say
they were certain that the planet's populace originated in the lost
continent of Atlantis, Mu, Lemuria and other unlikely places. Others
claimed to BE from the planet we were about to investigate, and either
asked for return passage to their homeland in the most desperate and
pathetic terms, or warned us to stay away lest we disturb the highly
evolved beings who lived there. A couple of the letters included
extremely detailed and elaborate drawings, paintings and diagrams which
purported to prove the sender's assertions, but in fact served only to
demonstrate the sender's incipient schizophrenia. (Our AI agent
discreetly sent copies to the sender's local mental health agencies, when
their addresses were known. A lot of the mail we got was sent anonymously
or under and untraceable pseudonym).
Well, that was Earth system for you.
Our ship, the Hillary (named after the 59th President of the old U.S.)
was a roomy affair, with berths for twice as many people as it carried
(the number of people sent on a mission varied, depending on what kind of
information the AI probe sent back). As we approached, telemetry resolved
it into the standard exploration vessel -- a collection of circular
Asimov cells strung together into a necklace by a spidery webwork of
steel beams, with the ion drive hung in the center (the Pelman drive
emitted no dangerous radiation and did not push the ship per se, so it
was located in one of the Asimov cells.)
With its running lights on it was a beautiful sight as we approached it,
gleaming against the darkness of interstellar space, with Jupiter in the
background. It was a nice thing to look at as we sat and absorbed our
final instructions before boarding.
The Dawn Treader's command cell was a roomy place, and we'd trained in
enough cells like it that it was also very familiar. After stowing our
few items of personal gear in the bunk cell, we congregated in the
command cell and got the ship underway, under the watchful eye of
videocams that were sending feeds to the Earthside nets.
The whole ship did that deep groaning and subtled shifting an Asimov
ring ship does as it took up the strain created by the ion drives'
thrust. You couldn't hear the ion drives, or see them directly from the
command cell, but you could feel the vibrations travelling from the
engines, damped though they were by the webbing that held them in place.
Sammy took the captain's chair, Anna handled astrogation, I was traffic
control and Tully was sysop of the comp nets, inboard and outboard.
Actually, we were all supercargo -- the AI was flying the ship, and we
were just watching the readouts to make sure everything went according to
spec. But in Earth system, deep backup was mandatory, as there was just
too much stuff whizzing around the Pelman jump points to take any chances
at all.
Besides, it was good PR to show the brave young explorers running the
ship.
I was the only who was really busy, trying to respond to all the
well-wishing from Earth system potentates. It kept me busy, which was a
blessing, because after all my training, I was really ready to hit that
jump point and check out M2395b.
Before I knew it, I heard Anna's voice saying, "Pelman jump point 131XC
on approach. Ten seconds..."
And suddenly there was no Earth system, no stars, no nothing but the
absolute silence and the towering quasi-structures of subspace. The
pillarlike formations that towered above us and below us, receding to
infinity, did not in fact exist in the sense that we did, but it was
still not wise to fly through them, and the AI drove the Pelman engines
in microjumps that would in a few day's time put us at the jump point for
M2395b, without impaling us in a quasipillar.
Subspace travel was about as boring as it got, and being veterans, we
all buckled down and studied our primitive cultures and temperate worlds
databases, not looking for anything in particular, just absorbing all we
could in the hope that we'd pick up that one little piece of data that
would make the difference between a successful mission and a washout.
It was boring, but it was the only thing we had to do that would help us
on the mission, other than staying fit and healthy, so we did it.
Three days later, Anna announced "Pelman reentry point obtained, and
suddenly we were back in normal space, gazing at the tiny distant speck
that was the live sun of the system we were about to explore. We were
actually a few million klicks out of the orbit of a dead dwarf star that
was M2395b's companion in the system, but was so remote and small (in
stellar terms) that its only effect on the system was to warp the orbit
of a couple of tiny ice balls that constituted the system's outer
planets. Its orbit didn't interfere with the system's Oort cloud, so it
didn't even have the occasional baleful effect that Nemesis had had on
Earth's evolution.
We sent a drone back through the Pelman point to let Earth system know
we were safely arrived, then began deep scanning everthing in the system,
replicating exactly the steps taken by the AI probe when it first entered
the system.
Every shift, we sent another drone heading for the Pelman point. The
drones would make the subspace jump to our Jovian Pelman point, where
they'd head for a drone station in close orbit. There, the drone's data
would be sent to Earth, it would be refuelled and fitted with news from
Jupiter base and the Earth feeds, and sent back through the Pelman point
to us. Thus, we'd have a constant supply of new drones to return to
Earth, and a constant supply of news from Earth, while Jupiter base would
be able to keep tabs on our progress.
There would be some delays -- as we headed insystem, the distance our
drones would have to travel to and from the Pelman jump point would
increase, so the lag between what was happening and when it got to Earth
system would increase, but there was no helping that.
Our deep scans revealed a solar system that had been progressing in just
the way a solar system should -- the usual Kepler stuff.
We checked out the Carmel and Mazurinsky installations. Both were based
on asteroids orbiting near the system's single gas giant planet. The
Carmel installation was superficially typical of all the others that had
shown up in the last few years.
The Mazurinsky installation, like most sites dating back over 2 billion
years, was only identifiable as a site because it had existed in the
vacuum of space. On a live planet, it wouldn't even be an identifiable
fossil, just another collection of chemicals in the lithosphere. Even in
space, micrometeorites and radiation had pretty much reduced the site to
rubble. It was the sort of place you didn't lean against the walls in,
because the walls would just crumble into dust under your weight, even in
the negligible gravity of an asteroid. We could tell that the beings who
built it had been smaller than us, from the size of the doorways and
rooms, and there were a few indications that they had a different body
plan than us as well.
But there weren't any intact datasets of any kind -- nothing that we
could recognize as a storage medium which had withstood the ravages of
two billion years. Whoever had built this facility was a mystery to us,
like so much else that we were finding as we explored our Arm of the
galaxy.
I was deeply conscious of the fact that I and the others were the first
sentient beings to visit this site in centuries -- perhaps millions or
billions of years, if the original colonists hadn't found the site. And
odds are they hadn't, or hadn't investigated them if they had, because
200 years isn't much time in space, and any little bit of litter they'd
left behind would have been there, good as new.
The Carmel installation was much better preserved, but our scans gave an
estimated date of 80,000 years for the site, which meant that none of the
equipment worked. A fair-sized meteor had breached the installation's
walls at some point after the meteor shield had gone down, and it had no
atmosphere. The area where the meteor had hit was a mess -- it appeared
to have been a warehousing facility, now it was just a jumble of
half-melted metal and scraps scattered by explosive decompression.
There were living quarters inside the base that were eerily intact -- I
half expected to see the beaked visage of Carmelite as I turned a corner.
The Carmelites were a well-documented race -- we'd found and interpreted
many of their records much more easily than we'd managed with the
Voerhaven site in Earth system, perhaps as a result of the expertise we'd
picked up in that effort. So when we found the installations com center
and all its records, many of which appeared to be salvageable, we were
pleased but not ecstatic. Most of the records would be accounting and
inventory information, as the Carmelites were a trade empire.
Archaeologists would sift through the records, but probably not anytime
soon. There were too many much hotter sites out there to explore.
To put our explorations of these sites in perspective -- I personally
found it fascinating, gripping, to explore the ruins. But the net feeds
in Earth system weren't running them for general interest, because after
hundreds of such sites had been found and explored, there wasn't much
general interest.
So after the preliminaries we moved on to M2395b and set up orbit around
the planet at about 30 klicks, scanning it with the full array of
instruments in our ships, and if there was one thing our ships had, it
was the best scanning equipment Earth system could produce.
It was time to get down and explore this planet.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please don't send requests for reposts, missing parts, GIFs, FTP sites, etc.
If you find getting stories from this newsgroup inconvenient, the archive
is available on disk. Send a blank email to adultarc@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org
for more information. Authors wishing to have files added to or removed from
the THC Public archive should contact me at: tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org.
Please refer comments to alt.sex.stories.d or to e-mail. Thank you.
-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!EU.net!enews.sgi.com!news.corp.sgi.com!news.sgi.com!uhog.mit.edu!grapevine.lcs.mit.edu!myriad!mail
From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Karg Chapter 5 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG05.TXT (308 lines)
Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message.
Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the
archive as a public service only - any copyrights belong to the authors.
See the footer for important information.
==========================================================================
Karg Ch 5 -- mass b&d oral sex -- RBR
Karg Chapter 5
This story contains explicit descriptions of interstellar spaceflight and
planetary studies. If you are offended by such materials, or too young to
legally read them -- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
So after the preliminaries we moved on to M2395b and set up orbit around
the planet at about 30 klicks, scanning it with the full array of
instruments in our ships, and if there was one thing our ships had, it
was the best scanning equipment Earth system could produce.
The first thing we looked for was some sign of high tech that the
initial inspection by the AI had missed. It was redundant, really, since
the AI probe in question was a fairly recent launch with scanning
equipment much like our own. Some of the probes that had been launched
when Pelman points were first figured out were still in service, and
their equipment was not comparable to what was available nowadays.
Since it was OUR lives that were on the line if any nasty advanced tech
was lurking planetside, we had no problem with redundancy in this
instance. We happily scanned and checked and rechecked.
What we came up with was a portrait of a basically undeveloped planet
with a flourishing but primeval human civilization on it.
The most startling bit about the planet was the coexistence of large
insectoid and large reptilian animals on the planet. On planets where
animals that grew exoskeletons (insectoids) had solved the problem of
pumping air through large bodies, as they had on M2395b and others, the
insectoids tended to rapidly fill every available ecological niche for
large animals.
But here, there were both large reptilians, akin to Earth's dinosaurs,
and large insectoids, akin to nothing that had ever lived on Earth.
With such crowd of large, fierce animals on hand, it was hard to
understand how the humans on M2395b survived, but the evidence of newly
cleared fields everywhere indicated a growing population. Primitive
humans should have had a hard time surviving in a world on which fast,
giant reptiles were established -- even more so, fast, giant insectoids.
Both types were extremely hard to kill, and difficult to escape from if
they were stalking you, as some early ECC teams had discovered to their
woe.
If you had an assault laser or a military grade laser you could cut them
down very handily, but with swords, bows and arrows, you were in deep
doo-doo very quickly. Yet the inhabitants of M2395b seemed to be doing
very well. Had they figured out some strategem for dealing with these
monsters that no one had yet found? We saw things that looked a lot like
Earth's wolf spiders prowling the plains that telemetry indicated were
four meters long. A sword would just bounds off one of those babies'
armor.
Other than that, surprises were few and far between. An agrarian society
was flourishing on one of the planet's two continents, with evidence of
nomadic hunter-gatherers living in the forests that still dominated the
continent ecologically. No evidence of fossil fuel consumption, internal
combustion engines, radio transmissions, or any large-scale industrial
activity. There was some metal-smelting activity occurring near the site
of copper and iron deposits that were near the surface. The most advanced
method of transportation appeared to be lizard-drawn carts. The building
materials were wood and stone.
Primitive, really primitive.
"Who goes down first?" was a question we had debated while DNI-linked to
the ships' AI system. It was SOP to send two crewmembers planetside and
let the others stay in the ship, on the grounds that if there was some
REALLY nasty biohazard or other catastrophe waiting, the people in the
ship could survive and report back. It had worked out just that way, far
too many times.
Tully and I were the obvious choice. My planetside specialty is
biochemistry, and that was a key to checking out any new planet. Tully's
specialty was cultural ethnology, an obvious necessity in this case.
So we found ourselves crawling over to cell 4 and into the lander that
was moored to its exterior. The lander was a much more complex bit of
construction than the Asimov cells: it was designed to fly deep within
gravity wells and through all kinds of atmospheres, so it was a sleek
little number with swept-back wings and a streamlined cargo pod.
The ship's artificial intelligence and I piloted the lander down while
Tully handled the com. The spot we'd picked out to explore in detail was
a salt estuary on the fringes of the planet's "civilized" area. There was
a small settlement at the edge of the marsh, but not enough of a
settlement to put us at any risk of premature discovery. There was a
small hummock of trees about five miles from the settlement that served
our purposes nicely. We came in just before dawn and I put us down right
in the middle of the hummock.
"How's it lookin' down there?" Sammy asked once we were down.
"Dark," Tully responded. "We'll get our 'bots out and set up a perimeter
before the locals wake up."
This was also SOP -- sending out a group of sentry robots equipped with
videocams to keep an eye on the surroundings. Subsequently, we sent out
sampling robots. Tully and I stayed very busy our first day, directing
the activities of the sampling robots in the morning hours and then
analyzing the materials they brought in -- water samples, air samples,
tissue samples from plants and animals, and in some cases, whole plants
and animals.
Sammy and Anna monitored our work from the mothership, and the ship's AI
provided extra processing power where needed.
"Looks pretty clean," I said as I rechecked the number on a monitor
screen. "We can metabolize the plant and animal protiens and
carbohydrates. Funny thing is, I don't think the native plants and
animals can metabolize OUR proteins and carbohydrates. There's some
differences in the structure."
"We can eat them, but they can't eat us?" Sammy asked from the com.
"That's pretty much it," I said. "That doesn't mean the local flora and
fauna won't TRY to eat us, however."
"An important point," said Sammy, grinning. "Some of the 'bots have
recorded some large, toothy types lurking in the marshes here. I imagine
they could make a pretty good try at eating us."
"I imagine so," I said calmly. "You'll be careful when you go out, then,
won't you?"
"You got that right," said Tully.
That night, we sent 'bots into the native village, with IR enhancers
that gave a noonday glare to the village's darkest recesses, with the
light available from the two moons that were presently visible in the
night sky.
The design was reminiscent of most low-tech villages in subtropical
regions on Earth -- a collection of thatch-roofed huts sided with light
wooden frames patched with broad leaves whose slick surfaces looked
distinctly water-repellent.
The huts were arranged in no particular order, and there was no outer
perimeter around them -- a curious condition, considering the large
predators that we knew lived in and around the marsh. Several banked
cooking fired were raging bonfires until the IR monitors compensated.
There were some pens on one side of the village that housed some small
reptilians, and other pens that housed small insectoids.
It was really very typical.
In the exact center of the village were four effigies that probably
represented the local deity or deities. Each was identical, and they all
sat back to back, forming a sort of compass. The effigy showed a curious
creature, a male figure that sat on a throne and held its arms
outstretched, elbows bent down so that the "hands" which were circular,
pointed at the ground and were about on a level with the lap.
The feet were also strange -- long, splayed-out things that bowed in the
center.
And the reason I KNEW it was a male deity was the large phallus that
jutted out from the creature's seated torso.
The head was also very masculine, with prominent brow ridges,
cheekbones, chin, and a carved beard. A pretty fearsome-looking fellow,
except that the expression on his face was a lost,
gazing-into-the-distance look, and his mouth hung open, as if he were
panting or moaning slightly.
The real surprise came when we sent flycams into the huts to check out
the villagers. As expected, we found the natives sleeping peacefully,
cuddled up on the floor of the huts. They were, for all practical
purposes, naked, except that some of them wore strings around their
waists, necklaces, etc. No loincloths or wraparounds of any kind were in
evidence. Letting it all hang out was the fashion rule here, apparently.
I heard Tully instruct the ship's AI, "Give me a close-up of the large
woman sleeping at the far left."
"She's gagged!" I said, as the camera closed in on the woman's sleeping
face. Something large and brown filled her mouth, and straps ran from it
to the back of her neck.
"That's not all, look at her arms," said Tully. "See how she's sleeping?
Doesn't look natural. Let's see if the flycam can give us a view of her
hands."
The flycam detached itself from the hut wall and hovered above the
sleeping woman, so that we could see behind her.
"She's hogtied," Tully observed. And she was -- her hands were tied
together behind her back, her legs were tied together as well, and a rope
ran from her hands to her feet.
"Why do you suppose she's tied up like that?" I asked.
"She's probably a slave," Tully replied. "Maybe a capture from another
tribe, or maybe she violated a taboo seriously enough to merit
enslavement as a punishment."
We checked out several other huts in the village and in every one of
them, the adult females wore gags and were hogtied as they slept.
In one of the huts, the adult female was not asleep. Neither was the
adult male. The were having sex, while their two children slept
peacefully. The woman's hands were tied behind her back, she was gagged,
and her ankles were tied to a pole that kept them stretched widely apart
as the man took her from behind.
"What do you make of it?" I asked Tully. "Why are all the women tied up
like that? Have we stumbled on the Village of the Terminally Kinky, or
what?"
"I don't know," said Tully. "It's obvious that women in this tribe have
pretty much the status of slaves. There's some historic precedent -- in
many primitive Earth societies, women had the status of chattel. In fact,
women had the status of chattel in some Islamic and Asian societies well
into the 21st century. But they didn't tie the women up like that, that I
know of, except as a form of recreational sex. Which is what this might
be, though I doubt that. Practice is too widespread. Well, that explains
the effigy, anyway."
"How so?" I asked.
"Didn't you notice the straps on it, at the base of the phallus, at the
foot of the throne and in the "hands"?" Tully asked. "They obviously tie
their women to it on ceremonial occasions, in poses that make it clear
that the deity is having sex with them."
"Ah," I said. "Sounds like a pretty repulsive little culture."
"Primitive cultures tend to be," Tully said. "The level of misery at
which the people exist has a way of being reflected in their treatment of
one another. Plus, of course, they've got no DNI, and their language has
probably regressed considerably. They can hardly understand each other,
and the slightest difference is magnified by the lack of understanding.
They can hurt each other a lot, without understanding that they're
hurting each other, and without the victim even understanding that she's
being hurt. It's really hard to understand what things were like before
DNI links were widely available."
"Yeah, I guess so," I said, staring at a bound woman sleeping peacefully
amid her family members, her mouth stretched wide by a gag that clearly
filled it, her hands. She probably thought that was the natural way to
sleep.
No other surprises showed up as we completed our survey of the village.
We hid flycams at various spots in the village so we could keep an eye on
things as the day progressed, then we went to sleep ourselves. I set my
nanomeds for one complete cycle of deep, intensive sleep, which ought to
be OK so long as I caught up the next night.
I awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and alert, and very glad that
I hadn't spent the night bound hand and foot and gagged. What a strange
way to live.
Tully and I watched the day begin for the villagers. It began as the
mature females awoke and nuzzled their mates until the males awoke and
untied them, and ungagged them, though a few were not ungagged, and
unless they were ungagged by their men, they did not remove their gags,
but went about wearing them. The females got up and began going about the
business of getting the day started, while the males rolled over and went
back to sleep. That figured, somehow.
By the time the men got up the banked fires were roaring away and the
kids were eating a starchy-looking porridgelike substance out of wooden
bowls. But none of the women ate. They waited until the men came out,
stretching and yawning and grinning -- and every one of them was carrying
a short length of rope.
The men took seats on logs beside the fire, and their womenfolk picked
up large bowls porridge, walked over to their men, knelt before them and
offered the bowls to them. The men took the bowls and set them on the log
beside them, then made a peculiar hand gesture to the women. This was the
signal for the women to turn so that they faced away from their men, and
cross their hands behind their backs, which the men promptly tied there
with the ropes they'd brought out. And at this time, the women who were
still gagged were ungagged.
The women shuffled around to face their men again. The men reached into
the porridge bowl and palmed out of glob of the stuff, eating it with
every sign of enjoyment. Then he reached in again and pulled out more,
which he smeared all over his dick. The women then knelt forward and
licked and sucked at their men's dicks until the porridge was gone, at
which point the men smeared more on.
"Do you believe that?" Tully asked as we watched the proceedings in
bug-eyed amazement -- an orgy of oral sex conducted in complete calm, as
children, teens and elders ate their mush without showing any interest in
the definitely obscene goings-on.
"We're going to be the number one net feed all over Earth system as soon
as the drone gets through with this stuff," I said.
"Incredible," Sammy's voice said over the com. "This is one kinky
village. What a weird orgy."
"It's not an orgy," Tully said. "An orgy is a specific kind of cultural
event. What we're watching is breakfast."
"Messy way to eat breakfast," Anna observed, as a large blob of mush
oozed to the ground before a woman could get to it. "If their hands
weren't tied back like that, I bet they'd do a lot better."
"I don't think neatness counts for a lot among these people," Tully
said. "it's obvious that this culture places a high value on reinforcing
the subservience of women to men. A little spilled mush is a minor price
to pay, I'm sure."
One by one, as the mush ran out, the men stopped spooning it onto their
dicks and seized the women's heads, thrusting their penises in and out of
the women's mouths while the women's bound hands writhed helplessly
behind their backs and their feet struggled for purchase as they were
pulled forward and then backward.
"Little extra protein there," Tully observed as one man after another
groaned and pressed his woman's face deep into his groin as he
spasmodically thrust at her.
"These people are WEIRD," I exclaimed, overcome by the strangeness of
the spectacle. At one time, it was tremendously sexual and deeply
obscene, and at the same time, the casual attitude of the nonparticipants
indicated that it was a mundane event. "Breakfast" as Tully put it.
The women bowed down and kissed their men's feet with every sign of
reverence, then waited patiently for their hands to be untied. Once their
hands were untied, the women picked up the mush bowls and walked to one
of the many inlets that fringed the village, and washed the bowls and
themselves. The kids came along played in the water. Some of the men
bathed as well. Others sat by the fire and chewed on leaves, their
expressions growing more and more stupified as they chewed.
"Starting out the day with a good buzz, I'd say," said Anna. "Great
little lifestyle they've carved out for themselves."
"Think you're right," Tully said. "Probably some kind of narcotic. A
common practices among Earth's primitive tribes."
Next, the adult males in the village stood together in the center of the
village and held a relaxed conversation, while the children played and
the women began hauling various primeval paraphernalia out of the huts.
After about half an hour of slow-motion wrangling, about 2/3 of the men
-- almost all of the ones who were in their prime -- siezed spears,
knives and nets and trooped off into the swamp.
"What are they doing, going off to raid somebody?" Sammy I asked.
"Extremely unlikely," Tully said. "Things are too casual. Even among
primitive tribes which warred with one another frequently, there's always
some kind of ritual before a raid, to get everyone whipped up and ready
to fight. More likely, this is a hunting party. The men are going off to
catch game while the women and children will move off to harvest edible
plants, or fish. Very typical pattern -- hunter/gatherers."
When the bulk of the men were safely out in the swamp, the women in the
tribe relaxed visibly. The level and loundness of their chatter
increased. The women took large woven baskets and got the children
organized, leaving the village deserted except for some oldsters, and a
few women who were tending babies and very young infants. There were also
three men who sat by the fire, chewed leaves and talked.
"Why are those three guys hanging around?" I asked.
"Guards," Tully answered. "Since there's just three of them, I don't
think there's much of a threat out there."
Tully was sure things would be dull in the village until later in the
day when hunting party returned, so we set the cams on "T&R" (Transmit to
the mothership and Record) and started doing some sampling. This time, we
did it live and in person.
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
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Subject: Karg Chapter 6 -- m/f f/f BnD
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG06.TXT (170 lines)
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Karg Ch 6 -- planetary exploration -- RBR
Karg Chapter 6
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
We started by officially stepping on M2395b's soil for the first time
and officially claiming it as a protectorate of the Earth Trading Empire
(a necessary step, given the existence of sharp traders like the Myrm and
species who didn't recognize other sapients as having the same rights as
themselves, like the Pulchris.)
We officially named the planet Edgewood -- a good developer's name --
but reserved the right to change the name to the one used by the
indigenous natives, also per SOP. Then we planted the flag of the Earth
Empire -- a blue-green globe on a field of black -- in a bit of ground
that seemed a little bit higher and dryer than most of the muck that
surrounded us.
"Here's hoping that all who live here will lead better lives for our
presence," Tully said officially as we saluted the flag for the flycams.
"And that we'll learn a lot and have fun doing it," I said on a lighter
note.
Official duties done, we headed out on our separate ways to collect
samplers and just in general get a feel for the planet in ways that you
just couldn't obtain by watching a flycam.
The hillock we were on wasn't very big, but was connected to other
hillocks by small ridges of slightly raised ground that threaded through
the marshes, just as the deeper channels of water did. It was also low
tide, which meant that much of the water in the marsh was confined to the
deep channels.
This was good news to me, because I didn't trust the water. I had seen
video images of the customers that swam in it, and there were several
that I had no interest in meeting.
We both moved quite confidently, in large part because we were being
covered by flycams that would warn us well in advance of the approach of
any reptilians, insectioids or humans, and partly because we both carried
military-grade hand beamers that could blow a room-sized hole in anything
the planet had to offer, or if set on continuous beam, could turn
anything in the planet into a large, smoking pit.
I came across a particularly interesting species of blooming vine at
some point and was happily cutting specimens, when my nanoset went off.
"Susan, get back to the lander, pronto!" Anna's voice came over the com.
"Run!"
I immediately dropped my specimens, turned and headed straight for the
lander, now an invisible part of a distant hillock. "Emergency override,"
I subvocalized, activating the desktop. "Nanospeed muscle activation now."
And suddenly, without effort, I was running four times as fast as I had
been. As a member of an ECC contact team, I was pumped to the gills with
nanotech -- in fact, I had a set of nanotech gills -- and one of the
nanotech features I had was a parallel nervous system that was capable of
driving my muscles four times as fast as my organic nervous system,
moving at electrical and not chemical speeds as it did. It could have
moved me much faster, but my muscles could only respond so fast.
"What's up?" I subvocalized to my nanoset as I ran.
"Fifth-level Kesselman waves planetside, that's what," Anna said.
"Oh, shit," I thought. Kesselman waves ocurred only in a few exotic
places in nature -- the cores of collapsing stars, for instance. In a
place like this, they could only mean one thing -- an active,
interstellar-level tech site was somewhere on the planet.
"We have a drone away," I heard Sammy report. If anything were to
destroy the mothership now, the drone would let Jupiter base know what
was up -- unless the drone were destroyed, too. In which case the absence
of drones would trigger an investigation by a Hostile Contact fleet.
The Kesselman waves were probably not the product of hostile intent, but
we weren't about to take any chances. The rule was that when evidence of
high tech was encountered, you buttoned up and prepared to leave at a
moment's notice. Let a warbird handle it, if it were hostile.
"These damn swamps will slow you down but good," I heard Tully project
as he hotfooted it towards our ship from the copse he'd been exploring. I
knew what he meant -- even with my nanoset driving my muscles, I felt
that my progress toward the shuttle was achingly slow.
"Shields on full," I heard Sammy say. "No further activity detected
planetside."
I guess it was the fact that I was hurried, and listening to the
mothership that made me not see the triprope hidden in the grass, or
react to it with enough speed to escape its effect. Instead, I suddenly
found my feet swept together and jerked up in the air from behind. I
started to fall headlong, but before I could hit the ground my feet were
pulled in the air, and suddenly I was hanging upside down by my feet.
At the same time, I felt something brush the side of my head, and looked
down to see my beamer land on the ground beneath me -- a good five feet
beneath me.
"Oh, hell!" I exclaimed, thoroughly vexed at my plight.
"What's the matter?" three voices inquired at once over the nanoset,
voices edged with concern.
"I've gotten caught in a damn hunter's snare," I said. "One of those
tree and noose things. I'm hanging upside down from a tree, with a rope
around my feet. I can reach it, but with all m"
"Beam the rope," Sammy advised. "You'll fall and then you can get it off
your feet once you're down."
"Well, yes, that WOULD be a good idea, except that my beamer fell out of
my holster when I was caught by the snare. It's on the ground, out of
reach."
"No problem," said Tully. "I'll head right over. Don't go 'way."
"Ha. Ha," I said. "And watch it. This probably isn't the only snare in
this swamp."
"OK," Anna said. "We'll wait for you, on standby. Take care."
Take care, I thought, take care. I had really fucked up this time. We
were supposed to be heading into the lander and hightailing it for the
mothership so we could investigate those Kemmelman waves from the
relative safety of space, but no, I had to get caught in some damn
primitive hunter's snare and lose my beamer.
It was so humiliating. The mighty explorer, hanging upside down from a
tree. Well, nothing for it but to wait. Tully should be by in a couple of
minutes.
"Shit! What was that?" I heard Sammy ask for the mothership.
"Jump!" Anna cried.
Then I heard nothing. Nothing. The nanoset link between me and the
mothership was dead. Or perhaps between me and the lander. In any event,
where there should have been a signal of some sort was nothing.
The ship had executed an emergency Pelman jump from its planetary orbit,
because something was coming at them that they didn't recognize --
something that might kill them. There was no telling where they would
wind up, but the odds were that they would not be dead when they got
there. There was always talk about Pelman jumping into the heart of a
star, or the event horizon of a black hole, but the fact was that space
was almost completely empty, and you could executive millions of blind
Pelman jump without winding up inside something or in the path of
something big enough to harm your ship.
The real problem was getting back to a place without a set of Pelman
coordinates.
"Tully! Tully!" I subvocalized.
Nothing.
I felt a chill creep up -- or more accurately, given my situation, down
-- my spine. My stomach bunched in a knot. I felt very alone. I hoped
Tully would pop up any second now, cheerfully explaining that his nanoset
was out. But I had a nasty feeling that I had better figure out some way
to get out of the trap myself.
Two hours later, the nasty feeling had gotten even nastier. My feet were
long since numbed and the numbness was stealing down my legs to my upper
thighs.
I had tried everything -- swaying from side to side in an attempt to
loosen the knots that held me in place, trying to bounce up an down in an
attempt to get close enough to the ground to snatch up the beamer (my
greatest efforts still left me jerked into the air with my outstretched
fingers half a meter above the ground).
"Humans approaching," I heard a flybot report to my nanoset. "Three of
them, coming in together. Take evasive action now."
Great advice. I didn't particularly want to evade them. I needed some
help to get down, and they were apparently now my best bet for getting it.
I heard a noise. A man appeared before him. It wasn't Tully, but I did
recognize him -- one of the men from the village who had left with the
hunting party.
I heard another noise, and spun around to see two more villagers
surrounding me. They formed an equilateral triangle around me. Very
careful, these hunters.
Maybe they would help me voluntarily. But I doubted it. I'd seen how
they treated their own women, and I didn't think it likely they'd treat
women from outside their tribe better. If I could get my hands on the
beamer, though, I bet I could persuade them to help me. Or if they'd just
let me get free for an instant. Primitive hunters they might be, but they
didn't have nanoset-augmented reflexes.
Our lander's computers had been working hard on the villagers' language
since we'd gotten flybots into the village and could pick up their words.
But there was still much that was unknown. That's why when they began to
speak, I heard the following:
"Blah blah blah woman blah blah blah up blah blah."
"Blah blah."
"Blah blah blah blah bring blah woman blah."
In short, fat lot of good it was doing me. They were talking about me,
so what?
Suddenly the man in front of me lunged toward me, spear upraised.
I activated my nanoset reflexes and was easily able to fend off his
advance.
But he hadn't really intended to spear me. No, he was a distraction for
the man behind me, and all I know about him was that he hit me -- quite
expertly -- in the back of the head with something hard. I felt an
explosion of pain. Lights. Then blackness.
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Karg Chapter 7 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG07.TXT (302 lines)
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==========================================================================
Karg Ch 7 -- m/f B&D sex -- RBR
Karg, Ch. 7 -- Boytoy
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
This story contains explicit descriptions of B&D sex. If you are offended
by such materials, or too young to legally read them -- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
keywords: sex, bondage, dominance, boytoy
I knew something was wrong even before I came to. Something was very
wrong. My head hurt -- a lot. So did my knees. And my hips. And my arms
... which were wrong. And my mouth! What was in my mouth?!
I snapped into awareness. I was lying on my face, but I couldn't move to
look about, because there were straps holding my head down.
I suddenly realized where I was. I was strapped into one of those
effigies in the center of the village. The straps around my head were at
the base of the phallus that came out of the seat -- and that phallus was
what was in my mouth.
My wrists were held in the outstretched arms of the effigy, secured
there by leather straps. My knees were loosely tied to the base of the
effigy, so that they were spread nice and wide. What's more I was naked,
in a position that so blatantly displayed my genitals, prevented by my
bonds from concealing them.
I would have been in terrible pain if my weight had been resting on my
knees, but the chair seat was unnaturally deep, and the phallus was so
positioned that the weight of my body rested on the base of the chair.
What was in a lot of pain was the back of my head, where I had
apparently been clubbed.
I struggled, testing my bonds, but Kargians typically are nothing if not
thorough in the matter of tying women up, and this was no exception.
As I became more and more awake, the extent of my predicament became
more and more clear to me -- as did the extent to which the phallus was
jammed into my throat. It was big. It was waaaay back there.
This knowledge had its inevitable result -- I started gagging and
retching uncontrollably. I tried instinctively to pull my head away from
the phallus, but the straps held my head firmly in place. Soon my whole
body was writhing in my attempts to get free of the hateful phallus that
was sending waves of miserable retching over me. I was dimly aware that I
was making horrible noises and that people were gathering around me, but
as the retching intensified, I lost all awareness of even that. I was
just a miserable wretch, retching. Then I passed out.
When I came to I was in the Kargian gag trainer. I've already told you
all about that experience. so I'll skip the particulars except to note
that the last few phalli that Wantoi slid into my mouth were so big that
they weren't of human proportions, but under the duress of the gag
trainer, I swallowed them down, all the way.
Once Wantoi (as I later learned he was called -- I did not know his name
at the time) was satisfied with my ability to swallow large donkey dick
effigies, he began the laborious task of untying me from the trainer,
leaving the last and largest of the phalli secured in my mouth as a sort
of test, I guess.
With the retching, and the fear of retching gone from my mind, I watched
very carefully as Wantoi untied me. At the least chance I would activate
my nanoset and blow out of that village so fast all they would see of me
was a pink blur heading in the general direction of the lander.
But Wantoi treated me as carefully as if I were some kind of toothy
monster that would devour him at the least misstep. No more than one limb
was freed at any given time. He even ran a rope around my wrists and
secured my wrists to that, one at a time at the hips, rather than free
both in order to tie them together at the back. And he was wise to do so,
as I would gladly have put a stiffened finger through the orb of his eye
and pithed him to death, for what he'd put me through.
But I never got that chance. Instead, I was hobbled and leashed and led
over to the chair, bent over it, and bound exactly as I had been when I
woke up at first.
As before, I was gagged by the phallus in the center of the chair.
When he was through, Wantoi watched me carefully for a few minutes --
checking for a renewed bout of gagging, I suspect -- then went on his way.
To tell the truth, I was glad for the relative piece of being tied to
the chair. The session in the gag trainer had taken the starch out of me,
left me limp and lifeless. If it hadn't been for the nanoset working hard
as a shadow thyroid gland, pumping all the right neurochemicals (as well
as a few neurochemicals that had never been found in human DNA, I
suspected) into all the right places, I probably would have been a
gibbering mess.
Certainly, my mind was in a fragile state. The horrors I had been
subjected to at the hands of these people were like something out of a
history book. In my world, in the REAL world, people didn't behave like
this. If they saw you didn't like something they were doing to you, they
stopped it. I had come seeking new worlds, hoping to find primitives, and
I'd found them, all right. But I'd expected to find them as a well-armed,
fully shielded member of an exploration team, not as a naked woman tied
to an effigy.
I roused enough to notice that it was mid-morning by this time. All the
adult men were gone, except for a couple of guards who sat chewing leaves
and gazing into the fire with blank expressions. But there were still
plenty of small children, older women and men hanging around.
I suppose I was a novelty in the village, because in a very short time I
was surrounded by a flock of children. They seemed to find me an amusing
toy. They hit me, they slapped me, they tickled me, they pulled my hair,
they rubbed dirt and mud and probably shit on me -- oh, they were a
lovely bunch, doing it all with those gleeful little noises that children
make when they're having fun.
I had never been particularly romantic about children, having had a
younger brother, but these kids -- and my helplessness before them --
gave me a brand new perspective on them. They were scary little monsters,
and in short order I winced and tensed up whenever one of them
approached. The oldsters watched with a kind of benign indifference as
the kids worked me over, only stopping their play if they seemed to be
likely to do me lasting harm -- as when the kid came at my face with a
sharp, pointy little stick, or another kid who was behind me (so I
couldn't actually see what he or she was up to) apparently tried to pull
one of my vaginal lips off.
I did some real screaming at times, but the phallus gag muffled most of
it. Fortunately, the adults kept careful watch to see that the kids
didn't injure me seriously, although they didn't worry much about whether
thd kids caused me pain.
At the same time, some of the children would pet me, hug me, caress me
and coo over me, showing every sign of affection with the same blank-eyed
calm they exhibited when they were tormenting me. In the space of five
minutes a kid might kiss me on the shoulder and stroke my arm, gurgling
happily, then start slapping me and kicking me and shouting angrily --
each set of reactions displayed for no evident reason.
It was an impersonal sort of anger, much like the impersonal affection
the children displayed. The behavior they displayed was very conswistent
with DNI studies of children's minds which indicated that it took a few
years before normal emotional responses set in -- which was a BIG
consolation to me.
I had pretty much sworn off childbearing by the time the women and the
older children came in from gathering. They had baskets and bags filled
with berries, they had some fishoids on strings, they had leaves and
vines that they had collected. They piled these in open spaces near the
fires, talking cheerfully and brightly about their morning's adventures,
and pretty much ignoring me.
This was just the sort of thing my translator chip needed to get more of
their language down, so I watched and listened carefully. Or tried to. I
was soon distracted.
The older kids who'd gone out to forage with their mothers -- ranging in
age from six to 14 or so, I'd say, became interested in me. I was a
novelty for them, too -- a sexual novelty.
These kids at least knew the score -- I wasn't to be injured, but beyond
that, anything went.
The first thing they did was wash off all the crud the younger kids had
filthed up my hair and skin with. I thought that was nice. Maybe these
kids were better human beings than their parents and their younger
siblings.
When they took the phallus gag out of my mouth, I felt even better about
them.
Then they replaced the phallus gag with an O ring gag. I immediately
found myself wishing for the phallus. Because the only reason Kargians
use an O ring gag is because they want to put something in your mouth,
and they don't want you to keep them from doing so.
I figured out what they wanted to put in my mouth when a boy slithered
into the seat in front of me. He began rubbing his already-stiff
little-boy penis against my face. Big surprise. In seconds, it was a very
stiff, enlarged little-boy penis, which he promptly shoved into my mouth.
Bound as I was, and with the boy's fingers twined in my hair to direct
my head, there wasn't much I could do about it. The boy moved with
spastic, jerky motions, obviously overcome with excitement. He was
literally fucking my face.
I fought instinctively to escape these invasions of my person. I pulled
my head back, I clenched my butt, I wiggled and twisted as much as the
restraints that held me in place would permit. It wasn't so much that I
was inhibited. It was that at a very basic, physical level, I reacted
against those probing fingers and that slippery little prick. I was angry.
But there was nothing I could do. The lifeless hands of the effigy held
my hands stretched out in their dead grip, and my knees stayed spread
wide by the ropes that secured them to the base of the idol. The boy in
the seat in front of me had his fingers wrapped tightly in my hair, was
able to use the whole weight of my body to control my head, whereas I was
bent over, off balance and the O ring kept my mouth spread wide. The boy
behind me just grabbed my hips and annealed his body to mind, slowly
working his penis into me and fucking me.
In a few moments I was tasting the salty taste of come and the boy was
sliding out of the seat, while the boy on my rear end continued to bang
away. Another boy slid into place as soon as he was gone, but by this
time I was crying and did not resist so much or pay so much attention.
My nanoset had been dumping tranquilizers into my brain at what must
have been unprecedented levels to help me recover from the ordeal of the
gag trainer and the torment I had received at the hands of the smaller
children. But these had been physical assaults, and impersonal ones at
that.
But the mass rape I was undergoing was more of an emotional assault on
me, the person Susan Yearby. I had never been treated like this before.
In Earth system, everybody respected your person, because everybody used
DNI and hence had a clear feeling for what it was like not to have your
person respected. Anybody who DIDN'T respect the persons of others was an
obvious freak, his detached mental state made visible in his every nuance
of body language and speech, to those who used DNI.
But these people -- THESE PEOPLE did not respect my person at all. They
treated me exactly as they treated the small reptilians and insectoids
they kept tethered in various parts of the compound. I was just another
captive animal, different only from the others in that I could be used
for sexual purposes (although with these primitives, I may not have
differed in that respect, either).
It made me furious that I should be so used. Boy after boy slid into the
seat in front of me and shot his wad into my mouth, pulling my hair hard
enough to bring tears to my eyes if they weren't there already. I also
felt but generally did not see boys taking me from the rear. I felt their
hands on my head, on my back, my ass, my sides, my tits.
This was not an erotic experience for me, because it had nothing to do
with me. I was an available female body, being used, and how I responded
to that use mattered not a whit to the boys who used me.
Yet I knew how the boys who were doing it, could do it, because I had
experienced boys' sexual feelings from the inside, via DNI sex.
This relentless, impersonal grasping and wriggling and poking invasion
was the exact opposite of DNI sex, which was all about who I was, was in
fact completely entwined with my identity as a person. The whole point of
DNI sex was that it allowed minds to unite as well as bodies. A man who
wanted to have sex with you without a DNI link was expressing a desire to
rape you, in effect.
Or so I once thought. Now that I was experiencing the real thing, I was
willing to admit that there was an important distinction to be made
between this and making love without a computer-assisted mindlink.
Not that men were reluctant to have DNI sex. They liked it. It was
mostly old-time lesbian feminists who opposed DNI sex, because they
feared that heterosexual DNI sex made women like heterosexual experiences
a lot more, as their minds were conditioned by experiencing sex from a
male point of view. Which was absolutely true. After you've directly
experienced the pleasure that men have in sex, there's only one question
on your mind, and it's one I asked my girlfriend the day after my first
DNI sex experience.
"Why don't they rape us, Mary?" I asked. "I mean, it's so BIG, so
OVERWHELMING that I don't see how they maintain any control over
themselves at all. If I were a man, I'd rape me. Daily."
"Well, they all want to, you know," said Mary, who was about a year
younger than me but liked to be wise about everything. "That's why they
sit around with their eyes gone all blank when we're talking to them.
They're fighting off the urge to rape us."
Mary adjusted herself on the sling so she could look me in the eye. We
were in our private place, an abandoned section of the Mecklenberg 9
habitat that we called home. Most habitats had places like this -- sealed
off areas that weren't needed yet by the inhabitants, but were still kept
lighted and filled with oxygen (for emergencies) and at shirtsleeve
temperature because in space it was cheaper to let the sun heat the whole
installation up to a certain point than it was to maintain a gradient.
The inevitable result of having all that unused space was that whenever
the habitat had some piece of equipment or supplies that they wanted to
store indefinitely (i.e., it wasn't so worthless that they would cast it
into space, but it didn't have any immediate value) they'd dump it in the
empty sectors, the most accessible of which soon became a wonderful
jumble of odd machines, boxes, bags and crates that soon created little
mazes and hidey holes that were very attractive to kids. They've got
equivalents for kids on Earth -- I think they call them "woods."
Our hidey hole (which we were sure was ours and ours alone) was actually
inside one of the larger cast-off machines, a snug little place about six
feet square. Light got in through a metal grating in the machine's side,
patterning our faces and the whole interior. It was dusty and quiet,
except for the dim background creaking and rumbling that was typical of
any functional habitat.
"You are probably right," I said archly. "I wouldn't have believed you
before today, but ... it's just UNBELIEVABLE how intensely guys
experience this. When I first hooked into the DNI with him and felt how
strongly the sight of me affected him ... what he wanted to do to me ...
my nipples just popped up like two little balloons hooked up to a
pressure hose. Fip! Fip! When he ran his hands over me, it was like ...
like ... my whole body was just ready to explode. Only it was his body. I
was just getting warmed up. When we kissed, it was so ... so ... gooey.
It was like our faces were melting together, only it was our minds that
were doing the melting."
"Sounds beautiful," Mary sighed.
"It was," I said happily.
"I guess you'll be hanging out with Davin a lot now," Mary said.
"Well, we anticipate a few evenings together, yes," I said smugly.
"You're probably going to turn into a bone kitten," Mary said.
"I think I already am," I said. Most women went through a bone kitten
phase after experiencing DNI sex. It was considered a normal part of
growing up, post DNI. I for one had been looking forward to it.
"Boys really are that different," Mary said questioningly. She had not
jacked in with a boy yet.
"Oh, YEAH," I said. "But you know, they're messy. When they come, goo
goes everywhere."
"Yech," Mary responded. "Do you love him more now?".
"Kind of," I said. "I mean, I love him, but it's not TRUE LOVE if you
know what I mean."
"You want to do it with other boys," Mary said shrewdly.
"Yeah," I said, grinning, "a LOT of other boys."
"Bone kitten," Mary said primly. "And you of all people. I remember how
you made fun of Li Yeun and Samantha when they went bone kitten."
"Well, that was different," I said airily. "That was them."
This reverie took me with unusual force. No doubt it was a defense
mechanism, a way for my mind to block out the distressing things that
were occuring to me. Hands, dicks, flesh everywhere and me held naked and
helpless to prevent any invasion of my body at all.
Eventually, the ordeal ended. The last boy slid out of the seat and
reoved the O ring from my mouth, replacing it was a phallus. (My jaw had
gone past stiffness to a kind of numbness -- I suspected that in order
to close my mouth I would have to use my hand.)
The taste and smell of sperm filled my mouth and nostrils. I used to
like it. I could feel a stream of it running down the inside of my thigh
from the several boys that had used me there.
I was grateful when the last boy left, grateful that my ordeal was over.
Then I noticed out of the corner of my eye a knot of small figures who
were standing together, looking at me, pointing at me occasionally, and
very obviously talking about me as well.
The girls. The adolescent girls who had gone out to gather food had been
standing by and watching as the boys had their ways with me. And I could
tell from the way they moved and gestured that now they felt it was their
turn.
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com
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Subject: Karg Chapter 8 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG08.TXT (281 lines)
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Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the
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==========================================================================
Karg Ch 8 -- B&D f/f dinosex -- Repost By Request
Karg -- Ch 8 -- I Walk The Dinosaur
Instructions for use -- Play "I Walk The Dinosaur" at MAX VOLUME while
reading this for best effect
This story contains explicit descriptions of B&D lesbian and reptilian
sexuality. If you are offended by such materials, or too young to legally
read them -- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (MrSkin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
I don't believe I have ever seen a sight more frightening than the
expression on those girls' feral little faces as they slowly approached
me. There was a certain sullen hostility to them, a sense of "We're gonna
get ours now!" Clearly, the low women on the totem pole had finally found
one lower than themselves to play with.
Me.
Something about their approach so horrifed me that I began struggling
instictively against my bonds and making what noises of fear and protest
I could through the gag. Struggling and protesting had not done me an
iota of good as yet, but as it was all I could do, I did it.
This time, maybe it did do me a little good.
"Huntoki!" said one of the elders. All the girls froze.
The elder came and stood beside me. Pointing at me, he said, "Wakokoi
bolloi nomesi! Wakoki bolloi nomesi!"
Or words to that effect.
The girls all immediately dropped to all fours, en masse, facing away
from the elder. Then they reached behind themselves and spread their
vaginal lips apart.
"Om kor," they murmured as a group.
"Stosh-ka," said the elder, apparently mollified.
At this word, the girls released their vaginal lips and stood up.
"Warroina!" cried the elder, walking away, and the girls all climbed
slowly to their feet, their heads still downcast. Then they turned to
face me, and I saw with horror that the expressions on their little faces
hadn't changed a bit.
I started struggling and moaning again, but this time to no avail. The
warning had been given. There would be no others.
The girls approached me. They were actually a fairly attractive lot,
physically -- they were generally healthy and strong-looking, obviously
not starved or horribly maltreated (unless you count the total domination
that men practiced in this society as a form of maltreatment). But their
little faces were what was frightening -- smooth, clean faces with dark
eyes that were deep pools of feeling, and need. And they were all
directed at me.
But once they had me surrounded, instead of assaulting me as I expected,
they began arguing with one another. Their little voices rose and they
became very animated, shaking their fists and jumping up and down,
looking and sounding like pre-adolescent girls, rather than the sullen
crowd of teens that had approached me.
At length, they decided on a plan, laughing and shouting at the
brilliance of it. There was a note to their glee which I did not like.
Several of the girls departed while the rest surrounded me and began
gently stroking my skin in a manner that was really, really pleasant.
They started by stroking my back and my ass and my legs and my head, a
wonderful soothing sensation that I really needed to feel after all I had
undergone.
Despite the certainty that this was just a prelude to some new horror, I
found myself unable to resist. I needed to be comforted too much. I
relaxed, and when after a time their hands began to stray to my breasts
and the exterior of my pussy, I did not resist -- I was too far gone in
soaking up the luxurious comfort of those marvellously deft hands.
In retrospect, it was easy to see that my psychic defenses had been all
but stripped away from me by what I'd undergone already that day. I had
had too mach of pain and rape, I had to take comfort where I could find
it, no matter what the circumstances it was offered under, no matter how
much I distrusted the source.
The hands that now caressed my breasts and pussy (others continued to
caress the rest of me) were clearly intent on arousing me sexually, and
they knew just how to do it. They were so gentle, and so sure. It was
almost as if they were hooked into a DNI link with me. Of course they
weren't -- they were just women like me, so they understood what aroused
me, just as they knew what aroused them. Also, I realized later, they had
all probably already spent time bound at that effigy themselves, as I
was, so they well understood the psychology of one who was (literally) in
my position.
My nipples began to pop as clever young fingers tweaked them, my pussy
began to throb as other fingers deftly found their way into and out of
the cracks and crevices of my pussy, in ways that soon had me moaning
into the gag and moving my hips involuntarily.
It was a moment of strange despair for me, because it underlined my
utter helplessness. These people could torment me, could rape me, then
they could sexually arouse me, with me no more than a passenger in my own
body. I who had formerly thought myself autonomous was being
systematically reduced to the status of a living doll for these
adolescents. It was bad enough to be forced into submission by the ropes
that held me in place, but to find my own body in league with those ropes
was just too much.
So I cried, even as I came at the hands of those girls, for reasons I
barely understood at the time.
I could feel something sticky and cool being smeared on my butt a moment
later, laved deep into my pussy and up my crack. I was incurious about
what it was -- I was spent emotionally, and physically, I thought.
Then those fiendish little hands began moving across my body again, and
because I had so recently been aroused, in no time I was back near the
peak of arousal as before, helpless before their knowledge of my body and
my emotions.
The girls knew something I did not know at the time -- that there is
something about being bound and helpless that makes you respond more
deeply and powerfully than you do under more normal conditions. Being
spread out like that -- displayed in a position that was clearly a
prelude for sex -- made me deeply conscious of my sexuality. It made me
all the more ready to receive the probing fingers that invaded me.
If the boys who had raped me earlier had had half the art that these
girls did, I would have been reduced to a moaning, wriggling thing at
their hands, too.
I heard a commotion coming from somewhere ahead of me, lots of laughing
and shouting and grunting. I looked to see what it was, distracted
momentarily from the artful hands that were quickly leading me towards
another series of orgasms.
At first I could not see what it was because the effigy blocked my view.
But soon the commotion drew up beside me, and I saw what it was. It was a
reptiloid, about five and a half feet tall, which was in some sort of
harness rig. About a dozen girls were holding onto the traces that were
attached to its body, fighting to control it. They were having a rough
time.
This reptiloid, like many of the reptiloids on the planet, was bipedal,
like the dinosaurs of prehistoric Earth and the thanars of Primus IV. Its
skin was covered with smooth scales in bands of gold and red that gave
its body a liquid, glowing appearance. What's more, the bands were
pulsing with color. Like some Earth reptiles, it could change colors, but
the color changes were more rapid and more intense than on Earth. Its
eyes were large and the irises were keyholes, like an Earth octopus's
irises. The eyes -- huge, green things -- were mounted on top of the
skull, and like the octopus's eyes, they could swivel about independently
in a manner that was really disturbing to see.
Its front claws had been wrapped in many layers of a soft, pliant
material that made it look like it was wearing boxing gloves. Each of the
large, spiky claws on the end of each of its toes was similarly wrapped.
Its muzzle was also wrapped, tightly enough that it could not open its
muzzle more than a little bit -- not enough to use any of the many, many
needle-sharp teeth that filled its muzzle, but enough that its very long,
ropy, forked tongue could slide in and out of its muzzle, sampling the
air.
Oh, yes, one other thing. It was male. Real male. A large, pink thing
was peeking out of a sheath underneath the tail. It was male, and it was
excited.
If I had seen it in a zoo, while standing safely on the far side of a
force field, I probably would have describe it as a beautiful animal,
with its attractive, flowing colors, smooth, flowing lines and powerfully
muscled legs and torso.
But it scared the hell out of me. Because it was staring right at me
with those keyhole eyes. Its breath was making its nostril flaps as it
strained with every muscle to get at me. The eight or nine adolescent
girls who clung to its traces were all lean, lithe kids, well muscled and
well coordinated from the outdoorsy life they led, but they were
straining evey bit of their collective bodies to keep the reptiloid in
tow.
Two girls who weren't part of the retinue being dragged along by the
reptiloid walked over to me and waved at me to get my attention, so I
looked at them as best I could with my head secured to the chair seat by
the gag straps.
One of them pointed at me then pointed at herself. She was me. OK. The
other pointed at the reptiloid, then pointed at herself. She was the
reptiloid. OK. Then the girl who was me got down on her hands and knees,
her knees spread wide in the dirt and her head held parallel to her body,
face to the the ground, in imitation of mine.
The girl who was the reptiloid got down on her knees behind the girl who
was me, siezed her by the waist, and began making broad, unmistakable
thrusting motions with her hips while the girl who was me made moaning
sounds and waggled her head and hips about wildly, while the girl
playing the part of the reptiloid began making loud honking noises.
A few moments of that was just too much for them, and they both fell to
the ground, laughing uproariously at the cleverness of their little skit.
The villagers who stood around them laughed, too.
I felt a coldness in my heart. I had gotten the message. I knew what was
coming. And I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I moaned in
misery and started crying again. My body began a strange shivering. All
my apprehension about these girls had been with good cause.
Two of the girls walked forward and quickly untied one of my bound
knees, then raised my leg and tied it to the arm of the chair above the
seat, so that I was even more exposed. My leg was so stiff from being
bound for so long that I could barely move it, either to resist or
cooperate.
The girls led the reptiloid up to me and then released it. I could hear
its breathing now, a deep, sonorous sound that probably came from the
enlarged sinus passages atop its muzzle. It rushed forward and stood
beside me for a moment, its tongue flickering in and out of its muzzle.
And the pink blob peeking out of its penile sheath was growing.
The creature leaned forward with incredible ease and smoothness -- those
counterbalancing tails are handy things-- and its tongue flicked over my
back, my head and my face. I was horrified by the feel of that flickering
tongue on my skin, but I could only make mewling sounds through the gag
and move away. When I felt its tongue flickering on the side of my face
and my lips it was almost more than I could bear.
The reptiloid abruptly rocked back into an upright posture. It stalked
past me, and I felt its scaly muzzle probing deep into my ass. I felt its
forked tongue probing my pussy. I thought I was going to pass out with
the horror of it. I could not see what was going on behind me, only feel
the coolness of its smooth scales sliding against my legs and ass. Not
knowing what was going on back there was almost worse than knowing what
was back there.
I felt two hard things probing on either side of my hips. I knew they
were not human hands, thought that is what they felt like. They gripped
me right above the hip, as the hands of men often had when they were
taking me from the rear.
I felt something hard probing at my pussy. I panicked and tried to move
away, but bound as I was I could only wiggle about a little. Apparently
this was a sign of female excitement to reptiloids, because I heard a
honk from behind me, and the things on my hips gripped me tighter. The
probing became more insistent, and despite my frantic writhing within the
bonds, there came a moment when things lined up and I felt that long,
smooth lizard prick slide right up my pussy.
"Oh, god," was all I could think. "I've got a lizard dick in me. I'm
being fucked by a lizard."
The loud, high laughter of delighted girls was all around me as the
reptiloid sent its cock sliding further and further up me.
I began to make strange moaning sounds, sounds that welled up from the
helplessness I felt and the fear and alienation I felt. Worse still,
every bad feeling I had was fully justified. I had been tied like an
animal, and now I was being fucked by an animal, in all my helplessness.
My status among these wretched excuses for human beings could not be
clearer.
Once the reptiloid had sent its cock about as far up my pussy as it
could go ... which felt like a long, long way, it rested for a moment. I
just laid there, feeling numb, surrounding my laughing people in a
circumstance that I had never in my entire life imagined would occur to
me.
The reptiloid began the old in-and-out, gently at first, but rapidly
building to the most incredible fucking I had experienced in my life. The
reptiloid banged me so hard that I was slammed against the chair with
every one of its thrusts. I felt the straps securing my legs to the chair
straining with its thrusts, likewise the straps securing my head to the
phallus in the base of the chair.
I am not sure how long it lasted -- long enough to make me forget about
everything but the feel of being impaled again and again and again with
thrusts that blanked out everything in my mind. There was no emotional
element to it, but it was so overwhelmingly physical that I could not
help but succumb to it, in the condition that the girls had left me in
with their artful little fingers. I have never been fucked like that
before or since, but then, I've kept to my own species, pretty much, if
you don't count the Korellians.
(Later, I saw two small reptiloids mating and understood better what had
occurred. The female raised her tail and also raised one leg and brought
it forward, to give the male better access. That is why the girl had
retied my leg so that it was raised, to make my posture like the mating
posture of female reptiloids. Why the male reptiloid didn't notice my
lack of scales and tail, I don't know. I suspect that the substance the
girls has smeared on my ass had been the vaginal secretions of a female
reptiloid in heat, which had probably overwhelmed any other sensory data
it was getting. Anyway, the male reptiloid I'd seen mating was crouched
behind the female, and it was thrusting, not just with its hips and legs,
but with its tail. Its tail was planted firmly on the ground, giving it a
tripod base to balance on, which permitted much more powerful thrusting
than was possible to, say, a human male in a similar posture.)
There was nothing I could do as the reptiloid fucked me, but lie there
and try not to think about England. It was less like a fucking than
riding an I-beam trolley out to a substation with the jets on full,
something I'd done as a teen for the thrill of it, often enough. There
was that same sense of being jostled and banged about by forces beyond
your control. I made a lot of noises but the phallus gag in my mouth
muffled them thoroughly. What made things worse was that I was being
thrown forward so vigorously by the reptiloid's thrusts that my head was
straining painfully against the straps that secured me to the cock gag.
It wold have helped if I could have braced myself with my hands, but the
effigy's arms were clamped about my wrists, and so they could not do much
to take up the shock of the reptiloid's vigorous thrusts.
I lost it there, for a while. Probably it is a benevolent conspiracy
between my subconscious and my nanoset, but even my chip-assisted memory,
normally flawless, can't or won't pull up much concerning what I
experienced or felt like in the interval between the beginning of the
reptiloid's assault and the loud, echoing roar that it announced its
orgasm with. The villagers cheers and laughed when it roared, I remember
that part all right.
I also remember the rough feel of the reptiloid's tongue as it licked my
back and ass in a post-orgasmic display of what was probably affection.
It felt good, and I liked that, and that's the most pitiable, telling
sign of all, that I had been reduced to the point where I was grateful
for the kindness of a lizard that had just raped me. If it was not the
lowest point in my life, it was definitely a contender.
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-=( Tommy )=-
From Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Fri Mar 14 13:05:02 1997
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Subject: Karg Chapter 9 -- m/f f/f BnD
Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG09.TXT (581 lines)
Please do not allow anyone under 18 to read the contents of this message.
Note: I did not write any of these stories. They are being posted from the
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See the footer for important information.
==========================================================================
New Karg! Ch. 9 -- b&d, mf, ff, nanotech
Karg, Chapter 9
copyright 1995 by Pat Powers
This story contains explicit descriptions of B&D sex and nanotechnology.
If you are offended by such materials, or too young to legally read them
-- don't.
It is illegal to sell, rent, or otherwise use this material for
commercial purposes, without my express written permission. Reading and
enjoying it is another matter entirely. If you do enjoy it, feel free to
e-mail me (mrskin@mindspring.com) and let me know what you think. Such
encouragement is what will make me more likely to continue the story. We
haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.
After the dinosaur had had its way with me, the girls washed me down,
being real careful not to miss any of those hard-to-reach places. Then
they freed my leg from the upper chair arm and tied me in my former
kneeling position.
Then, miracle of miracles, the crew left me alone for the rest of the
day. They went about the business of eating, camp maintenance and ritual
performances, while I was ignored like a piece of discarded furniture.
(Not that I minded.) But as I was able to sit and watch the tribe go
about their business, my translators began to make more and more sense of
what was being said. On my desktop, a display said, "variant of
French-Canadian of 22nd Century." It had fixed the language of origin.
Things went quickly after that.
As I lay there, I began to drowse, and then to fugue. It was like a
cross between going to the desktop and punching up a memory, and
dreaming. There was that same sense of full consciousness and intensity
that came with the desktop, but there was a dreamlike sense of detachment
to it. In the fugue, I relived a scene from my childhood ...
... Janny was crying.
"It's all right, Janny," I said, "it'll come back."
I was in nursery school, sitting against a tree in the yard during
recess, with my friend Janny, whose parents were liquid metal constructs
and had chosen that form for their offspring. Janny was shaped like a
normal kid at the moment, but his skin color was silvery gray. Janny and
I were friends, as much as three-year-olds can be friends. We liked each
other, but would fight to the death over a crumpled piece of paper, given
the right circumstances.
Janny was crying because his head had fallen off, and was now lying in
front of him, crying at the sight of his headless body, which was still
sitting against the tree, his three-year-old's hands clutching the air,
his feet kicking as he cried.
"Mrs. Brookman," I said to the teacher, who was back in the classroom.
"Janny has a hurtie. His head fell off."
"I'll be right out," said Mrs. Brookman.
Mrs. Brookman was one of the human teachers in our school. Mostly we
were taught by AIs like Mr. Silverman and Ms. Pradha, but in every school
there were several human teachers as well, almost always female, to give
human warmth and comfort where needed. Not that the AIs couldn't have
provided it, but it was felt that some contact with actual adult humans
was good for kids in the course of the day. Otherwise, we might imprint
too much on the AIs and have trouble relating to our human parents.
Mrs. Brookman came out the door the classroom a few moments later and
walked over to where Janny and I sat. She held her arms out to Janny as
she neared him and his headless body gratefully climbed into her arms and
clutched her, crying.
Mrs. Brookman picked up Janny's head and held it next to his body as he
cried, which he didn't do for long with Mrs. Brookman holding him and
rocking him.
I watched Janny get all that attention, a little jealously, and wondered
what Mrs. Brookman would do if my head fell off. This was unlikely, since
my parents had chosen a considerably less radical form for me than
Janny's had chosen for him. Mom had taken the full course of nanomed
treatments while she was pregnant with me. Most especially, she'd taken
the nanomed treatments that ensured that I'd have a rich supply of glial
cells and that ensured that the parts of my brain that were most directly
related to cognition, communication and the ability to think abstractly
-- my cerebral cortex, Broca's area, etc. -- developed properly and to
the fullest extent possible.
The nanomed also monitored me for developmental problems -- major ones
like spina bifida and minor ones like hammer thumb (which I might well
have had, were it not for the nanomeds) and corrected the DNA sequencing
problems that produced them.
And the nanomed established the links in my brain that would allow me to
communicate directly with computers, and with the chipsets implanted
within me, and with other people, which is why I'd been able to call Mrs.
Brookman when Janny's head fell off.
I was doing all of this in a Spacer nursery in Florida, a large
peninsula on Earth. My mom and dad had been working in the solar factory
complex off Mercury before I was born, but they moved to the Spacer
nursery complex on Earth when she became pregnant, so I could develop
under Earth's gravity field and grow up with a full complement of muscles.
Some parents chose that for their kids, others chose the attenuated form
with fine muscle control that resulted from birth and development in
space. My parents felt that the gravity-well form was more advantageous,
since gravity-well kids easily adapted to space, but space kids had to go
through a LOT of physical adjustment (i.e., hell) before they could
handle a gravity well, especially one as deep as the Earth's.
Janny's parents had chosen the liquid metal form because it could
survive indefinitely in almost any environment. Most didn't, because the
liquid metal form broke the human mold too completely. They were normal
people, all right, you could tell than any time you had a DNI link with
them. That's why Janny and the other liquid metal kids were accepted by
us traditional kids. They looked different, but they felt just like we
did, in their minds, when we were DNI linked with them. So they were OK.
"Feeling better now?" Mrs. Brookman asked Janny after rocking him for a
few minutes.
Janny said "unh huh," in a muffled voice, as liquid metal tears coursed
down his cheeks, to be reabsorbed into his neck.
"Don't you worry," Mrs. Brookman said. "Just because your head fell off,
it doesn't mean you can't get it right back on again. Let me show you
how."
I was linked to Janny at the time, so I could sense Mrs. Brookman
showing Janny exactly how to create the right field structures in his
body to reattach his head. (I know now that it was probably an AI linked
to Mrs. Brookman doing the instructing, since it's doubtful she'd carry
that information around ordinarily.)
In a moment, Janny's head was mounted properly on his neck. His cries
turned into snuffling noises in a moment, then he was silently hugging
her.
"Do you want to go inside or stay out here and play with Susan?"
"I wanna play with Susan," Janny said, not willing to part with any
recess time.
"All right," Mrs. Brookman said. "I'll put you back down again. If you
get any more hurties, just call me, I'll be right here."
"OK," Janny said, already sounding quite composed.
Mrs. Brookman set Janny down next to me.
I turned to him and patted him on top of the head, tamping it down, as
it were.
"You'll be OK," I said with the absolute ignorance of a three-year old.
"I will watch out for you."
"That's very nice, Susan," Mrs. Brookman said. "You have been a very
good girl, helping Janny like that."
"Thank you," I said. I enjoyed being praised by Mrs. Brookman.
Mrs. Brookman left.
"Wanna go over to the maze and play chase?" Janny asked.
"Sure," I said. We were kids, after all, and our attention spans didn't
allow us to pay much attention to hurties. That was for adults ...
... adults like me, lying strapped to a chair, sexually used and abused
by a tribe of primitives on some godforsaken planet circling a planet you
probably couldn't even see from Earth with your naked eye.
At least I was now able to clearly translate the primitives' words,
which turned out to be fairly prosaic stuff, "Judy-ta, go fetch water."
"Bill and I will fix the lattice on the food hutch." That kind of thing.
There were a couple of references to me that I picked up.
"The new slave's breasts are very large," one woman said. "Do you
suppose she is with child?"
"Her belly is very flat and her nipples, while large, are not that
large," said another in reply. "I would suspect that she is not."
"Have you seen the way the men look at her?" asked another old woman.
"There will be fights soon..."
"There will be no fights," said another. "As soon as they brought her
in, I sent Eldric running to the traders. They will be here tomorrow, and
buy her. That will prevent any fighting."
"My master wants her tonight," said one woman.
"So does mine," said another.
"Let them have her tonight," replied their leader. "Tomorrow she will be
gone."
At the sound of those words, a wash of relief flooded over me. I had
been afraid I was to be sacrificed in some idiot primitive ritual. Or
worse yet, kept forever by the tribe as their love slave of convenience.
Now I knew I would be traded away, hopefully to someone a little higher
on the cultural scale than these people.
As darkness fell, the evening meal was served, in pretty much the same
way breakfast had been served. The women prepared the food, then those
who had mates stripped naked, knelt before their men, and offered them
lengths of rope to bind them with, crossing their hands behind their
backs and uttering words I could now understand.
"I submit myself and my work to you, master."
Whereupon the men would say, "I accept you and your work," and tie the
women's hands behind them, then begin the routine of feeding them using
their dicks as a conduit for the food.
In the evening meal, I noticed, some of the men chose not to orgasm,
merely withdrawing their dicks from their women's mouths when the meal
was over.
It occurred to me that I was looking at a cultural remnant of a period
of even more extreme subjugation for the women of this tribe, that at
some time in the past their forebears had been actual slaves, captured as
I was, and that these rituals had developed to formalize their slave
status, and now served to make their slavery less onerous, more
ritualized.
One man grabbed his woman's face and spasmed especially hard into it,
grunting as she moaned. Afterward, he hurled her to the ground.
"Hot slut, you sucked it right out of me," the man said grinning. "But I
think there will be more later in the evening, and you may not get it.
You will have to work very hard for it, if you want it."
"Yes, master," the woman said, and there was no denying from the sound
of her voice, that she intended to work very hard for it.
"Baby, feed and water the new slave," I heard one of the men say. "She
has been ridden hard and has had nothing to eat or drink all day. Give
her a rubdown and put some balm on her, too, when it is time."
An older girl, with noticeably larger breasts and wider hips than her
peers, came forward and undid the gag, pulling it from my mouth, waiting
politely for me to finish retching before placing a steaming bowl of stew
and a bowl of water before me.
My hands were not untied so I had to work both dishes like a dog,
thrusting my face right into the food, but I was so hungry that I was
hardly aware of this minor humiliation. A few moments after I finished
off those bowls, I was brought a second bowl of food and of water, and I
polished those off, too. It had been a very long time since I'd eaten,
and as the man said, I'd been ridden hard.
After I ate, I heard and felt and (out of the corner of my eye) saw the
girl who attended me place large leaves lined with moss between my legs.
The Kargians had anticipated that digestion would run its normal course
with me, and were prepared. Digestion did run its course with me, rather
quickly, and the leaves were quickly removed to a latrine pit somewhere
downwind of the campsite, to judge from the smell of it (actually, I
learned later that the natives used human dung to fertilize their fields).
Then the girl poured a bucket of water over my backside, and cleaned me,
very thoroughly. Afterward, she spread some gelatinous stuff over my
pussy and anus, and rubbed it in very gently and thoroughly. It had a
wonderful, cool, soothing feel to it. The balm mentioned earlier, I
guessed. Then the girl sat on my back, as if I were giving her a pony
ride, and proceeded to give me a very thorough, neck, shoulder, back and
ass massage. She even massaged my bound arms.
Forget the boys and the dinosaur. This girl who knew how to give such
good massage was the one I'd prefer to be a love slave to. Then again,
it may have been her who came up with the idea to have the dinosaur screw
me. Hard to tell. All I knew, it felt really good to be massaged by her.
"Remember Baby," she whispered in my ear as she leaned forward to
massage my neck.
I did not know why Baby (apparently, the girl's name) wanted me to
remember her -- I would be out of this wretched little collection of
hovels sometime tomorrow.
After Baby had finished cleaning and massaging me, one of the warriors
came over and tied my hands together behind my back and hobbled my feet
together, securing a new gag in place that secured behind my neck,
instead of to the chair. Even this adult warrior type was as careful with
me as any of the children had been. At no time did he allow more than one
limb to be free at a time. He tied a cord around my waist, then tied one
wrist to that cord before freeing the other, tying both wrists together
before releasing them from the cord at my waist. He hobbled my ankles
together, leaving about one foot of free play between them, before
releasing my knees from the chair. He sat atop me and wrapped a longer
cord around my neck before allowing me up from the chair.
Getting up was a slow and painful process for me. It was the first time
I had stood upright since awakening at the chair/throne/idol/whatever
that morning. My upper thighs were cramped.
My warrior guard gave me time to stretch, then with a gentle tug on the
cord, led me away. I followed him, hobbling carefully, knowing that if I
fell I'd be unable to break my fall with an outstretched hand. In a few
moments we came to a hut at the edge of the camp. He placed his hand in
my hair and forced me to enter it bent double.
The hut's dim interior, lit by a single smoky torch, revealed a single
long pole, a couple of stakes driven into the ground here and there, a
lot of ropes dangling from the walls, and something that looked
suspiciously like a whip.
The warrior turned me around, then gave me a shove that left me
sprawling face up on the floor of the hut. I gave a muffled grunt of
protest as I hit the ground. The warrior ignored me. He took the collar
rope and dragged me over to one of the stakes, I pushing against the
ground with my feet to ease the pressure on my neck, then tied my collar
to a stake, with about a foot of free play. Then, using the same
one-limb-free-at-a-time procedure as before, he tied my wrists to my
ankles, or to be more accurate, he tied my forearms to my shins, with
many turns of rope. The he unhobbled my ankles. As a finishing touch, he
tied a rope to one ankle, ran it up over my shoulders and through the a
loop in the back of the collar around my neck, then ran it back down over
my other shoulder and to the other wrist-ankle tie. Then he pulled my
legs W I D E apart and tied the rope in place, so that my legs were held
wide apart.
He stood over me and looked down at me, lying on my back with my legs
held wide apart, and grunted in approval.
"OK, Baby, she is ready," said the man.
Baby entered the room, carrying a large pile of moss and other
soft-looking things.
"Enjoy the show," the man said, grinning, and Baby looked down and
nodded demurely.
Baby walked to a corner of the hut and sat down cross-legged, so that
she saw me from the side. She spread it her moss and so forth out, then
walked back out and brought in a large container that sloshed heavily.
Water, probably. Baby knelt again. I looked over at her, a dimly lit
figure kneeling near the wall of the hut. "Remember Baby," she had said.
Baby must have interpreted my look as a question (I just wanted to make
sure she wasn't about to whack me with anything).
"It is near my time to become a full slave woman," Baby said. "In that
time, I must watch women learn their slavery, but I cannot participate. I
cannot relieve myself, but must wait for the touch of a master to relieve
me. It has been hard. I would so love to trade places with you right now.
Instead I must watch you learn your slavery, and tend you between times."
I nodded. These people got weirder every time they opened their mouths.
And what did she mean, "between times?"
The question was answered almost immediately as one of the adult males
entered the hut. He smiled at Baby and nodded, then looked down at me.
The feast prepared and spread wide. He stepped forward and kneeled
between my legs. He was naked. He looked to be early middle-aged, but was
probably only in his late twenties. He had hair cut loosely at shoulder
length, and he had a foreskin. It was being strained by its contents
right now. But he was not in a hurry. He knelt there calmly, running his
hands over my body, feeling its contours, looking down at me. He caressed
my legs my arms, my throat, my belly, my breasts, and finally, my pussy,
watching me.
I laid there and took it, because that was my option at the moment. I
was not going anywhere. I was not closing my legs. I was not going to say
anything other "Mmmmfffgh!" I could have wriggled, I suppose, but that
would probably only serve to turn him on. Besides, I suspected he would
have me wriggling soon enough.
I was right. After he had satisfied himself with caressing and kissing
my body, he crawled atop me, slid his cock into my pussy, which was nice
and moist thanks to all that caressing and kissing, and conducted what I
can only describe as a brilliant display of dickmanship.
I had intended to follow my usual route of staying as mentally
disengaged as possible in what was happening to me and letting my body
simply respond as it was, but I found it impossible. The man stared down
at me, watching me, as he pumped away at me, gauging my reactions and
working to make me respond to him.
I quickly realized that the man was an expert at gauging female sexual
response purely on the basis of body language. This made sense, given
that the women he fucked were almost always bound and gagged. I just
hadn't expected him to care. I had expected the men to be larger versions
of the teens, interested only in feeling me and getting a quick orgasm.
But no, what this guy after was mastery, what he wanted to do was
literally force me to come.
And that's just what he did. He lasted an incredibly long time in the
saddle (why not, when your women are tied down and gagged, what's the
reason to hurry? They aren't going anywhere, they aren't going to say
anything except "mmmfgh!"). He moved incredibly well. And my body
responded to his moves in predictable ways, until my breath was coming
hard through my nostrils, and I would have been grasping him in my arms
if they had been free. When I came I made muffled groans through my gag,
and felt my vagina spasming. He did not come until I did.
After he came, he collapsed atop me, lay there for a few moments, then
gently kissed my forehead and rose to his feet.
He turned and stepped out of the hut without a word. I heard voices
cheering and shouting outside. I suddenly realized it was going to be a
long night.
Baby came over to me, carrying some moss and her water bucket. She
placed a hand on my lower abdomen and gave it a gentle shove.
"Push hard with your pussy now," she said softly, looking at me with
curiously intense eyes. Of course. She'd been watching the whole time.
I'd kind of forgotten about her. I pushed hard, as she'd asked, and felt
some goo ooze out of me. Baby wiped it off me with the moss, then spread
some water over my crotch and dried it again with the moss, finally
spreading some pleasant balm over my crotch. I relaxed. Too soon.
Baby walked to the door and said, "Next!" and another man walked into
the hut as Baby resumed her post near the wall. I sighed and looked up at
him. Younger. Bearded. But naked, male, and from the tilt of things,
ready for action...
... Several more men came through the hut door in the next couple of
hours, all for the exact same reason the first one had come through. And
all of them were into sexual mastery -- they wanted to make damn sure I
came before they did. They laid on top of me and stared down at me, and
watched me with those knowing male animal eyes of theirs, looking for the
signs. They were good, every one of them.
I could have fought or gone limp or otherwise resisted, but it would
only have served to prolong things. So I just turned off the old
forebrain and let my pussy run things. They wanted me to have orgasms,
well, I'd have them. They wanted female arousal, they'd have it. I
obliged. And obliged. And obliged.
And after each and every male visitor left, Baby would crawl over and
clean me and spread balm on me, and lick me ... did I say, lick me? Yes,
because she started doing that after the third guest. She would lick the
sides of my thighs and kiss them just before applying the balm.
"Do not tell!" she whispered urgently after doing it the first time,
glaring at me. She was clearly just about out of her mind with sexual
frustration. I quickly nodded "No," hoping it was the same in Kargian
culture as in mine. It was. Baby looked relieved.
"It's just that my need is so much upon me, and they will not let me
relieve it," she whispered. "Men are cruel."
"Yes, and stupid, too, at least the ones around here," I thought.
As the evening continued, it quickly became evident that Baby was the
one who was really suffering in the hut, not me. Oh, I was getting the
jolly-what reamed out of me, that was for sure, but the nanoes were
keeping things gooey in there, and I was doing a pretty good job of just
lying back and enjoying it. But Baby was going nuts having to watch all
the goings-on and then come clean up the mess, which between me and the
boys was getting pretty profoundly smelly. For someone in her condition,
that smell had to be maddening.
I glanced at Baby while I entertained my next visitor. She knelt very
still and watched us as if hypnotized, unable to look away. Probably, she
wanted to. But the men had ordered her to watch. And her hormones we
ordering her to watch. So she watched.
She knelt very still, but I noticed that her hands were in her lap, and
her fingers were partially screened by moss.
One of the men must have noticed this, too, because just after he left,
an older man walked into the tent immediately, walked over to Baby who
was gathering up her moss, and said to her, "Let me smell your hands,
Baby."
Baby held up her hands to the man, who smelled her fingers and said,
"Your hands smell of sex. You have been touching yourself."
"No, master," Baby said calmly. "They smell because I have been cleaning
her up, and she reeks of sex."
The man glanced over at me and grinned.
"Submit," the man said to Baby.
Baby obediently turned way from the man got on her hands and knees, and
lowered her face to the ground, then reached around on either side of her
buttocks and pulled her vaginal lips apart.
"I submit," she said.
The man knelt, then placed his nose almost in Baby's pussy, and sniffed.
"Your pussy is moist, and smells of sex," said the man.
"Yes, master," Baby said, still holding her pussy lips wide. "I have
been watching her learn her slavery. I have not touched myself. It has
been hard."
"And so it should, be Baby," said the man, grinning. "You may break
position, now."
"Thank you, master," Baby said, releasing her pussy and turning around
to face the man, now kneeling before him.
"I can see that it has indeed been hard for you, maybe too hard," said
the man. "You have been subjected to temptation that it may well be
beyond your will to resist. I can see only two solutions that are fair to
you. One, I can have someone else come in here and clean up, or two, I
can put you in tight hahenda. You choose."
"Hahenda," Baby said softly.
"I thought it would be that," the man said, grinning. He walked over to
a wall, reached into a shadowy pile of ropes and brought out a collar
form which two bracelets hung. He secured the collar around Baby's neck,
the secured her wrists in the bracelets.
The bracelets hung from two chains, each about four inches long, each
dangling from a hasp in the front of her collar. They gave Baby's hands a
certain amount of free play, but she could not move her hands much below
the level of her breasts. She looked like a kid doing an imitation of a
tyrannosaurus rex, with her wrists dangling limply just above her tits.
"Since the hahenda permits it, I will, too," said the man. "You may
touch your breasts while you watch -- and any other part of yourself the
hahenda will allow you to. Now, clean up the capture. Her next master
awaits, but given that you are now limited, I'm sure he will be patient.
Do a thorough job."
With these words, the man left.
Baby glared at the doorway to the hut for a moment after the man left,
obviously not happy with what had transpired, then sighed and grabbed a
clump of moss as best she could with her now greatly restricted reach.
She dropped the moss and dragged the water bucked over beside me, now
much more of a chore for her, with her greatly restricted arm movement.
But the hardest part for Baby was what came next -- cleaning me up.
Because with her hands secured so closely to her neck, she spent the
whole time with her face right in the thick of things, so to speak.
At first, Baby tried crawling around in front of me to clean up, resting
her elbow on the dirt between my legs and scrubbing away with her face so
close to my crotch that I could feel her every breath on my crotch. But
that apparently got uncomfortable quickly, because in a few moments she
stood up, walked to my side, then stepped over me so that she straddled
me facing away from me, then sank to her knees and worked with her elbows
resting on my inner thighs.
This was probably easier on her physically, though still difficult
psychologically, because her face was just above my pussy now, and
considering the use I'd been put to recently, it was one fragrant little
pussy. I didn't care for the feel of her elbows digging into my lower
torso, but I wasn't in much of a position to complain.
Baby was very thorough in cleaning me, as ordered, and I got plenty of
chances to look at her plump, post-pubescent pudenda as she straddled me.
And to smell it, because she was ready, and I mean extremely ready, for
sex. It must have been a great joke for the men of the tribe, denying her
like that, or maybe it was it was a cultural thing. Whatever it was, it
was certainly working on Baby.
When Baby finished with her ministrations, she had to plant her hands on
either side of my pussy, lean forward until her face was pretty much in
my pussy, then push hard against me and lean backwards. The movement
propelled her rear end backward and her pussy made momentary contact with
the surface of the gag that projected an inch or so out of my mouth.
Her whole body stiffened at the contact. A moment later, her rear end
descended and very intentionally, her pussy made contact with the
exterior of the gag, rubbing back and forth. This lasted several seconds,
long enough for me to get a pretty clear idea what her labia tasted like,
because she pressed down hard enough that the outer portion of the gag
penetrated her outer labia.
But she quickly dismounted from me, then grabbed the water and the moss
and the balm and gave my face a thorough cleaning. She didn't say a word,
just looked at me with that curiously intense expression that I now
recognized as being the product of extreme lust.
When she had my face clean, she went to the door and cried, "Next," then
returned to her post by the wall. The next man walked in.
A lot of men walked in over the next couple of hours. Now that I was
warmed up, they would fuck me in the missionary position until they were
sure I was responding, then they'd withdraw, grab my ankles, flip me over
so that I was on my stomach, and take me from behind. With my ankles and
wrists tied together, I was automatically laid out in perfect position to
receive, doggy-style, and receive I did.
After about an hour I ran out of energy, and kind of went limp on what
was about my eighth master of the night. He pulled out of me, grabbed the
whip, and whipped my pussy while I laid there, legs spread wide, helpless
to escape, screaming into the gag. The nanoset could help keep the
afterburn on those whip strokes down, but it couldn't suppress that
initial surge of pain. After about a half a dozen strokes he dropped the
whip and dropped on top of me. I writhed. I moaned, I lubricated, my nips
popped, my chest got sweaty and my vaginal muscles seized at his cock.
It beat getting whipped again.
I lost count of the men, but it probably was only another hour -- a very
LONG hour -- before a man's head appeared in our door.
"The lessons are over now, Baby," said the man. "Clean her and let her
sleep, but leave her tied as she is. You sleep here with her tonight, in
hahenda."
"Yes, master," Baby said.
The man's head disappeared, and Baby came over and began cleansing me
for the last time. She was very thorough, as far as my pussy went. But my
face she left a mess. Because this time, the whole time she was cleaning
me, she let the whole weight of her body rest on me, and every time she
had to move a little bit backwards to clean me, her pussy went up against
my face.
When she was through, Baby extinguished the torch that lit the hut, then
laid down somewhere above my head. But she did not go to sleep. Somehow I
could sense her lying there, watching me with those big, brown eyes of
hers.
A silence settled over the camp. Voices in other huts trailed off one by
one, and all I could hear was the strange chirping, clicking and
shrilling of insects and animals that no one from Earth system had ever
heard.
Baby was listening to. Because shortly after the last sounds that might
be made by an awake human died away, and all was distant snoring and the
occasional sigh that blended weirdly with the other animal noises of the
night, I heard Baby moving above me.
I sighed and closed my eyes. The night was not over yet.
The first thing Baby did was tie ropes around my ankles and the tie
those ropes to some of the pegs in the tent, rendering me even more
immobile and helpless than I already was. It was a tedious process with
her hands bound so close to her body, but I wasn't going anywhere.
The next thing I saw was the dim shape of Baby struggling to her feet.
She walked over and stood with her feet on either side of my head, then
slowly knelt down to her knees. She backed up, hooking her feet under my
arms, until her knees were on either side of my head, and her pussy was
suspended directly over my face. I could dimly make out her face gazing
down at me, though most of the lower portion of her face was blocked by
her breasts and her tightly bound hands.
It was not at all difficult to figure out what Baby had in mind, and
since I had a way of resisting it, I did. I turned my head to the side
and pressed my face into the warm flesh of Baby's upper thigh.
Baby made a small snort of annoyance. She knelt almost double at the
waist, reached down with her bound hands, seized my face and pulled it
back upright, then moved her knees together until they were locked on
either side of my head like a vise. I could not turn away now.
Which is when Baby's bottom descended on my face, a warm blanket of
flesh.
Baby positioned her pussy directly over that portion of the gag I work
that projected out of my mouth, forcing the gag a little deeper into my
mouth, but not so deep that it went in completely. Then she started
rubbing her pussy back and forth over it. And a certain portion of my
face, most noticeably, my nose. Because with my mouth plugged up, my nose
was all I had to breathe with. And with the upper end of Baby's pussy
snubbing itself more and more enthusiastically against my nose, I was
having some trouble breathing.
The speed and force of Baby's movements increased as she masturbated
against my gag and nose. Her hands were clutching her breasts.
She gasped suddenly, then froze, stock still. She was listening, fearful
that someone had heard her gasp.
Apparently, no one had, but Baby was taking no further chances. She rose
to her feet and went to a corner of the hut. A moment later, she walked
back. I could dimly make out her sliding a large object into her mouth,
then tying something behind her neck, with some difficulty, as her hands
were still in hahenda.
It was a gag. She was gagging herself, so no one could hear her gasping
as she masturbated.
Baby resumed her position kneeling over my face. This time I did not
resist. I had given the men what they wanted, why not Baby? There was
nothing I could really do, anyway, so I kept my face upright and allowed
Baby to fit herself over the gag as before.
The back-and forth began again, this time with Baby emitting tiny moans
that couldn't compete with the insect noises. Baby moved faster and fast
and faster, sliding her pussy back and forth so enthusiastically that she
sometimes lost her perch and slid across my face, or down to my chin. But
she was right back in place in seconds, and in a few minutes, she had it
grooved and with a prolonged ecstasy of groaning and shaking and pelvis
thrusting, she came. Not only came, but ejaculated. I felt hot little
streamers of liquid squirt out from around the gag and slide down my
face, as Baby rocked back and forth a few more times, before suddenly
relaxing and literally sitting on my face. She became very still.
Probably passed out for a moment.
This was a problem, as the upper folds of her pussy and the soft tissues
of her mons completely engulfed my nose with her body pressed down on me
like that. I could not breathe at all. I began making squeaking,
distressed, noises and trying to move my face to one side, to free my
nose. But with the full weight of Baby's torso bearing down on me, I
couldn't. My legs thrashed helpless, secured to the stakes and to my
wrists. I writhed and twisted and was on the point of passing out myself,
when suddenly the weight of Baby's body lifted off me. Because Baby had
been lifted off me.
With her gone I began breathing again, drinking deep the sweet air as
best I could through my nose. After a moment or so, I was able to see
again. Baby hung limply in the arms of two men, while a third, older man
faced her.
"She has passed out while rutting on the captive," said the man. "She
was forbidden to relieve herself, and commanded to wait for the touch of
a master. She did not. Take her to the altar. Five lashes. I will have a
girl clean up the captive. No one else must bother her. She must look
well tomorrow."
A few moments later, I heard the sound of flesh being struck by a whip,
followed by stifled screams. They did not last long. A girl came into the
tent and cleaned my face, then laid in the door so that anyone coming
into the tent had to step over her. I fell asleep almost immediately,
exhausted.
End Chapter 9
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