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!europa.clark.net!worldnet.att.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!128.6.21.9!rutgers.rutgers.edu!uhog.mit.edu!grapevine.lcs.mit.edu!myriad!mail 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 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 356 Message-ID: <2079823389@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG01.TXT (341 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 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 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 2 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 357 Message-ID: <1379869423@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC 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. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 13:05:01 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 3 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:01 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 262 Message-ID: <4233606008@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG03.TXT (247 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 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. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 4 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 268 Message-ID: <28199693@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG04.TXT (253 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 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 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 323 Message-ID: <2949044894@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC 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. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 6 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 185 Message-ID: <2249092716@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG06.TXT (170 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 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. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 7 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 317 Message-ID: <677838787@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG07.TXT (302 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 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. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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!howland.erols.net!newsxfer.itd.umich.edu!uunet!in1.uu.net!128.6.21.9!rutgers.rutgers.edu!uhog.mit.edu!grapevine.lcs.mit.edu!myriad!mail From: Tommy@tommys.spydernet.com Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Karg Chapter 8 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 296 Message-ID: <2794232057@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC The THC Adult Text Archive: KARG08.TXT (281 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 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. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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!howland.erols.net!ix.netcom.com!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 9 -- m/f f/f BnD Date: 14 Mar 1997 13:05:02 -0500 Organization: Mail to Usenet Gateway Lines: 596 Message-ID: <149162346@f26.n340.z1.ftn> Apparently-To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net To: alt.sex.stories@mail2news.alias.net X-FTN-Sender: "Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org" X-FTN-FLAGS: PVT TRN X-FTN-Tearline: NaNoSPaM+ 0.05 X-FTN-Via: Squish/386 1.11 1:340/303, Fri Mar 14 1997 at 12:07 UTC 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 archive as a public service only - any copyrights belong to the authors. 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 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 )=-