Mr. Brooks (part1)

“Hello?” she leaned into the hangar at the small airport, looking for someone, anyone. Weird. No one in the office, no one here?

She took a few steps into the cavernous space. Two small planes were parked in there, one open. Maybe someone was inside the plane. She approached the steps cautiously.

“Hello?” she queried again.

“Help ya, darlin’?” drawled a voice directly behind her.

She jolted, whirled. Her hand came up to cover her racing heart; she was certain he could see it about beating out of her chest.

He didn’t see her heartbeat, but he definitely took note of the rack that was dancing in front of  him. Man she was stacked.

“I’m looking for Mr. Brooks?” she spoke rather sharply, attempting to direct his attention from her breasts to her face.

“Uh-huh.”

That was not much of response, the dolt! She looked at his hands, greasy with black goop, holding some kind of strange airplane part. In the top pocket of his coveralls was some kind of silver wrench thingy, and his lower pockets were bulging with other sorts of…of…paraphanalia. Plane mechanic, she mused.

“Well?” Crossing her arms protectively over her chest, she tapped her foot, impatiently. “Will you tell me where Mr. Brooks is or are you going to stand there and ooogle me like a cave man?”

He flashed her a grin that so transformed his face, from grubby mechanic to beautiful. She was struck by the sheer gorgeousness of it.  He smiled again. Damn that was one hell of a weapon, she mused, blinking herself back to the chore at hand.

“I have an appointment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. A-point-ment.” She spoke slowly, pointedly. Tapped the face of her watch. “Ten minutes ago. Can you tell me where to find him?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed. Some days it wasn’t worth it, it really wasn’t.

“Look, I really need to see him. I’m supposed to give him something. From my boss. ”

“That so? Money?” He drawled at her, a glint in his eye.

“No, no…I don’t have any money on me…” she raised a hand at him, warding him off, although he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Look, is he in the plane? I really need to talk to him, and be off.”

“Go ‘head in and look for yourself” he told her, turning away. She watched for a moment as he crossed to a table under the tail, put the  strange piece down. She turned and went back to the steps, climbed up into the small plane.

There really wasn’t much room in here, she mused, looking inside. Where there should have been a row of seats, there was nothing but open space. Moving forward, there were two seats very close to each other. Pilot and co-pilot, she mused. Hearing a noise behind her, she turned, drew in a sharp breath.

“What?” she said to the mechanic. He’d doffed his jumpsuit, and wiped his hands. Dressed now in old, well-worn jeans and a tee shirt as old as the jeans, she guessed, he appeared even more intimidating than before. He was buff. Tall, tanned, tight.

A small ball of heat coiled in her belly. ‘down girl’ she thought to herself.

“Mr. Brooks at your service,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

“You couldn’t tell me that out there?” she glared at him.

“Wasn’t sure you’d believe me if I had,” he laughed. “So, you have something for me?”

Unsettled, she stared at him a moment longer before opening her small handbag and pulling out a letter, and handing it to him.

Their fingers met for a moment and she felt the electric zap of heat jump between them. He continued to smile at her, lightly stroking a finger down hers as he gently pulled the letter from her loosened grasp. She swore she could feel that stroke from her finger right to her pussy. As if he had traced a line directly to her clit.

She felt her nipples rise in response. A faint blush suffused her face as he noted them with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow.  He opened the envelope, and began reading. With his legs stretched across the tiny aisle, she tried to ooze past him, but he snagged her arm and refused to let her pass. There she stood, trapped between his legs, his hand holding her arm firmly. Her cunt was beginning to throb, she could all but hear the sizzle where his hand met the flesh of her arm.

“Well,” he said finally, “Your boss does keep his obligations, I’ll say that for him.”

“He’s a good man,”she began, but he interrupted.

“No, no he’s not. Then again, neither am I.”

She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “I really need to get back…”

“Don’t you want to know what that was about?” He gestured to the letter on the floor where he’d dropped it. “Not even curious as to why the old man had you hand deliver this? Are  you his personal gopher that he’d send you all the way out here for that?”

“I do whatever he tells me to do.”

“I know you do. And….” he paused, gave her a smile that was at once beautiful, and sinister. “I know why. You’re not only his personal assistant, but also his submissive. He ordered you out here and he didn’t even tell you, did he?” He paused, looked deeply at  her. There was a question there, and maybe the beginnings of fear.

“He didn’t. Just looking at you, I know. ”

He pulled her closer to him, even as she struggled to get away. Bending, still holding her arm tightly, he retrieved the letter. Turned it to face her, tapping at the part he wanted her to read.

and so, Daniel, the debt will be paid. You know I have precious little by way of soft assets. Liquidity in these times is  hard to come by. Since I know your prediliction for young, desirable women, especially those with ‘luscious titties’ as you described them to me at the last munch, I give to you my slave. She will serve you well. She is a very good little thing, always seeking to please me. She could be more adventuresome, but I trust you will work that out with her yourself. In truth, I’d only just begun our training as she came to me several weeks ago, which is why she was not with me at our last meeting. “

The letter continued, but with a little moan, she released it, and tried to pull away.

“But…but…he can’ t do that to me? How can he? ”

“He owns your ass…or he did until this paper gave that ass to me. And I would like to see more of it. Strip. ”

She gaped at him.

He looked at her. After a moment he spoke in silken tones. Ones that shook her to her core.

“Little slut, I know you are confused. But you are a slut, and a slave, and as of now, mine. When your owner tells you to strip, you strip. Your punishment will not be pleasant should you defy me again. Understand?”

She shivered, terror zinging through her. Her owner had only beaten her hard that one time that first day. She had learned very quickly to obey him.

Shaking she reached up to unfasten her blouse. He stopped her, his large hot hand covering hers.

‘Wait”.

He went to the back of the plane. From a small storage area he removed a folding chair. He opened it, then sat down, crossing his leg over his knee, his arms folded across his chest. A smile flirted across his mouth but his eyes were hard.

“Slowly, little slut, very, very slowly. Tease me with your charms.”

She thought quickly to the porn videos her Master had enjoyed. They were pretty fast, but she’d been to some upscale clubs with him. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Then another.

Opening her eyes, she looked at his face, into his glinting eyes. Then dropped her gaze to her top button. As she took another deep breath, she watched her own bosom rising, then falling as she exhaled. Timing her fingers to her breathing, she slowly pushed each pearly button from its little hole. Halfway down she smoothed the fabric over her tits with her palms slightly pulling the opening wider, then took a slow but very deep breath.

Her tits popped into view, her cleavage welling upwards. Chancing a glance  his way, she noted that his arms had come down to rest in his lap, and his gaze was latched onto her chest.

A few moments more and the last of the buttons was undone, and she turned to profile her breasts, gently shrugging the shirt down her shoulders, letting it glide down over her wrists to puddle at the floor behind her. Her large, upthrust tits were encased in a barely-there soft lavender demi-bra, the shelf holding them, lifting them high and barely covering the large pink circles of her areola. Even as he watched, her nipples began to pucker and rise, pushing out against the lace that restrained them.

Ignoring her bra for now, she turned fully away from him, and slowly unzipped her skirt. The pzzzzzt sound of it was loud in the quiet plane. A soft swish sounded as the lining rasped over the thin lace sides  of her panties as they rose over her softly curved hips. With barely a whisper more, it too dropped to the floor on top of the blouse. She stepped free of the pile, bending to pick them up and lay them to one side, neatly.

Salvia pooled in his mouth as her gorgeous ass mooned him as she moved, sweetly framed with the matching lace panties. The soft violet of the lace accented her skin, drawing attention to the twin globes. The thin strap that bisected her ass disappeared between them, and left him wanting to run his finger under that, to pull it firmly and watch her buck as it pulled up against her clit in front. He did love  big tits, but a nice ass was almost as good for him. And she had a very lovely ass.

Even from here he could smell the scent of her arousal. She may be nervous, may be scared shitless, but she was becoming turned on. Fucking slut. He smiled.

“Come here.” His voice was liquid lust. The heat of it further ignited her. Who knew that stripping could be such a turn on? She walked slowly, glided, really, towards where  he sat. He reached up and hooked his finger into her bra, pulling her forward and up to straddle his lap.

“Stand right here,” he ordered softly.

The smell of her was intense this close, her cunt  just below his chin, the scent wafting up at him with her every breath. It was intoxicating. If a guy could just bottle this….

He licked her exposed belly, ran his  hands up the sides of her legs, liking the smooth feel of her thigh-high nylons. He admired the curve of her calves in the heels, followed that curve up and up until he was cupping that ass with his large strong hands. He squeezed her flesh, pushing her belly close to his mouth as  he did. He licked and sucked at her softness, all the while molding her soft moons. He found the thin strap and gave into his desire to tease her. He pulled, firmly but slowly. Moving his mouth from her belly, he watched as the small triangle of lace began to be pulled into the thin slit of her mons. She moaned, bracing her hands on his shoulders, her tits nearly resting on his head. He pulled harder, and lifted upwards and she gasped and tried to pull away. He wrapped his free hand around her waist, and continued to pull up and away, until all the lace was buried in her slit, like a little gag.  He smiled to himself.

She was moaning and pulling back to ease the pressure on her little clit. He released the lace strap, then pulled forward. Then again, backward. One hand on each side of her, he sawed the panties back and forth. He could smell her wetness, and see the wetness coating the cloth as he continued to floss her.

“Please Sir, may i cum?” she rasped out her plea to him.

“No.” She moaned, a low animal sound of frustration.

“I didn’t believe you were sincere in wanting my approval,” he said, pedantically. He smiled against her belly.

Why Does Doing the Right Thing Hurt?

Dateline: Saturday

Nilla is at work, talking on the phone to a very old, very dear and beloved friend that i’ve lost connection to…and we’ve reconnected! If there is anyone that i can share the “who i am now” with, it’s her. After that call, a text comes in from Sir to call.

We chat and banter, knowing that the next day is our playdate. He is so funny. Makes me laugh. And i can make him laugh, too.

It’s a slow slow slow day at work. I’m all alone in this giant open room, no kids have come up to play, and i’m starting to slowly do the closing things. Washing the mirrors, and windows, and doors. Changing the trash, singing along to Mary Chapin Carpenter (its’ such a man-bash cd but the music is great to clean to!)

And i start thinking.

Damn, i hate when i do that.

Sir has changed jobs. The career he is moving into is full of young, eager men. He’s been hired because of his connections. His maturity. His stability. But.

He must pass a ginormous test in mid-May. He studies at work, while taking in all the meetings etc. He studies at Starbucks. He studies at home. He studies *all* the time. And in two weeks, is frustrated. i do my best to reassure him, coz i *know* he will be successful. Two weeks? Are you kidding? it took 3.5 for my son to understand the basic make up of cell-structure last year. I think my “homeschooling gene” started to twang. I dunno.

So, i’m done cleaning, and i work on this puzzle the staff is working on during slow times. Nail a few tricky pieces, and then i get my cell phone.

Sir: WHAT??!!  (his stock answer!)

n: well, Sir, i was….

Sir: oh no. You were thinking.

n: giggles…well, yesSir, i was.

Sir: sighing. Okay, go ahead.

n: (quiet)…this is …well…i…(more stuttering, then a deep breath) i was thinking Sir that we shouldn’t get together tomorrow. You should use that time to study. You only get un-interrupted time on Sunday, and i’d be taking all that time away from You.

Sir: *dead air*

Sir: *clears throat* ah…well…nilla, I think I might take you up on that. That’s a generous, thoughtful thing.

n: i’d like to meet, just for a few minutes. i have to go to the fabric store near You anyway, and i have something to give to you. Then i’ll be out of Your car, and off so You can study.

Sir: Okay. Thank you, nilla

n: (nodding at the phone. i’m so choked up by now i can’t speak. my vocal chords freeze up when i get hyper emotional…finally i clear my throat and am able to kinda whisper)  okay, good. I’ll text you in the morning.

Sir: okay, its a plan. Talk to you tomorrow, little girl.

nilla disconnects, and yanno. i dash into the kitchen and start sobbing. Dear goddess. i’m so sad. it hurts so much. it hurts way way more than i ever thought it could. Because i know i can’t see Him again for 9 weeks, because of my crazy schedule.  Because He needs to give His all for this test, and as His subbie, it’s my duty, my obligation, to do all in my power to help Him.

But it was pretty fucking hard.

This is a really  hard pain. It’s right here (rubs over heart)…and it doesn’t go away as fast as a bruise.  Later i’ll glow about being a good subbie. For now, i think i’m gonna wallow a bit in it.

Coz we do love the pain.

Right?

Comfort Food

It was his turn to host the “dessert” portion of the circle dinners. The hors d’oeuvres were at Carol and Amy’s house, a selection of cheeses and exotic crackers. Amy had crawled from person to person, the tray carefully mounted on her bare back, her horse’s accoutrements gleaming with polish, her long lustrous tail trailing on the floor between her legs. The main course had been roast beef,  beautifully served by Chuck’s lovely, naked wife Anna.

Quint had spent many long hours laboring over dessert. Cooking was not his forte, but he had needed to host, and he figured dessert was the easiest part of the meal. Getting his subbie to go along with it had been amusing. All in all this would be a very fun end to a very fun event.

Even the guests were getting naked now, which fit with his choice all the better.

Carefully he tapped his wineglass for their attention. He had them stand together in an open circle, then left for the kitchen.

The guests all looked at each other inquiringly as they heard the squeak of wheels. What had he come up with?

As one, they gasped, then spontaneous applause broke out. He wheeled the long silver table into the living room, and with a flourish, invited one and all to begin partaking of his dessert.

She lay perfectly still, a recumbent statue of chocolate. Syrup dripped down her thighs, while hardened thicknesses of it coated her tits, her mons, even her fingers.

Dots of whipped cream on each breast and a trail of it leading down to where her pussy lips were delineated with the rich dark sin.

She moaned as 9 mouths came down and began to devour.

The Picnic

He called her on his drive home from work.

“I want you to pack a picnic supper. Don’t bring dessert. Dress very sexy. Go to the toybox, and pick 3 toys. One that you hate. One that you love.  One that you are ambivalent about. See you in an hour. Be ready and waiting at the door for my next call.”

She never really got used to these impromptu dates of his. They came so unexpectedly, and he always, always had a devious twist. “Dress sexy” meant something to give him easy access…and no undies. She moved to the kitchen, packing their hamper as she pondered the toy box items. He knew what she hated. If she substituted her most hated item for one that was less hated, he would know for certain. The retribution might be interesting. She hadn’t worked to intentionally piss him off in a while. The sex was always enormously satisfying for them both…despite the journey getting there. Still, the Spring weather was getting her dander up. And she was feeling neglected. Work was so busy for him. She tried to be understanding, she really did. But nice gals finished the day with a blowjob and a few ass swats. Bad girls got whooped. The grin that crossed her face was feline, crafty, a promise of naughtiness.

Besides, they would be out in public. How bad could it be when there was always a promise of a vanillabean walking by? She giggled to herself as she made her way to the bedroom. She perused her sexy clothing carefully, finally choosing a black latex-look miniskirt, and a crimson bustier to wear over it. Not exactly picnic wear, but it was stunning. She drew on a pair of thigh high stockings, being certain that the seams up the back were straight. Sliding her feet into mile-high stiletto’s, and wrapping the straps up her thighs, she felt incredibly sexy. Gawd how she enjoyed being his slut.

She flirted with herself in the mirror a moment, lifting her tits to set them enticingly in the demi-cups of the bustier. There. She grinned, looking at the display. ‘A rack of tits, coming up, Sir, ‘ she thought with a grin.

She went to the toybox. Damn how she hated the lexan cane. Hated, hated hated the fucking thing. She lifted, instead, the many stranded flogger she’d gotten him for his birthday last fall. She loved the smell of the leather, the feel of the strands playing through her fingers. She didn’t recall him using it but that one time, and it had been heavenly. Stingy and yet so wonderful. Yes, this would be her “hated” item.  She laughed aloud. For her favorite item, she chose the nipple suckers. They hurt a bit, but they made her nipples swell to wonderous proportions. And they were so sensitive, for hours later. Definitely a favorite item. She hemmed and hawed over the third item. Blindfold? Cuffs? Butt plug? Vibe? Since she was ambivalent about any of the last choice, she put them on the bed, mixed them up with her eyes shut, and grabbed one. Vibe. Okay, she was set!

She refreshed her make up, then went downstairs to add the chilled bottle of wine to the basket. Placing it by the door, she knelt there. Her  hour was nearly up. As she settled in place, her phone chimed.

“Turn your back to the door, slut.” The humm of the disconnect sounded in her ear, but she hurriedly complied. The door opened behind her. She felt his hand slicking down her hair. Then a blindfold going across her eyes. She heard him walk in front of her, retrieve the basket. Heard his footsteps recede as he took it to the car. Her cell beeped again.

“Get up. You’ve passed the first inspection.”

She stood a bit awkwardly, high heels and blindfolds made nervous sluts. The door opened again, and his hand took her by the elbow, steering her out the door, and down the walk. He put her into the car.

The drive was silent but for the strains of Vivaldi playing on the radio. She did love the Four Seasons. She relaxed into the seat, silent as he preferred.

She felt his hand on her upper thigh, a short slap all the order she needed to spread them apart. His finger, gloved, ground down over her slit, over her clit. The slickness of the glove and firmness of the stroke made her gasp aloud. She received another thigh slap, this one much stingier than the first.

The finger raised to her mouth, glided along her lower lip, leaving a small taste of her own juice.

She shuddered, need grinding inside of her. Gawd, she loved when he was like this.

The car glided to a stop, tires crunching on gravel. He came around to her side, helped her out.  He guided her across the gravel strip, not the easiest of things to negotiate in heels, and leaned her against a tree. Before he went back for the basket, she felt his mouth on her nipple. Taking her hands, he pulled them up, over her head, silently commanding her to keep them up there. He mauled her tits. First biting, then sucking so fucking hard she wanted to die and cum simultaneously.

Then his hands. So strong. So vicious. Slapping and pulling, squeezing and flattening, his hands worked over and around her reddening breasts. He paid special homage to her nipples, and she whined and whimpered, until she was sopping wet, and began begging for release. He drew away, leaving her panting, posed, and exposed against the tree like a wood nymph.

She heard the crunch of his shoes on the gravel walkway, the opening of the trunk, the faint scrabble as he took the basket from it, and slammed home the lid.  He walked past her, and again she heard the thunk as the basket was set upon something. Then he returned.

A finger in her bustier began to pull her forward.  He pushed her faceforward over a picnic table, and she felt his hands begin to explore her ass, a finger gliding down the crack, giving her a shivery tickle. That same finger glided up her slit, and danced over her clit, softly. She needed more. Trying to move her hips lower to create more pressure only made him move his finger away. She heard his low chuckle as she moaned in frustration.

His cock was buried to the hilt before she could take another breath. Her moan this time was one of need, of passion, as she felt the incomparable feeling of having her cunt invaded, filled with the throbbing heat of his cock. He paused a moment, and she swore she could feel him pulsing inside of her.

“Pleeeeeeaaassssse…”  she moaned at him, raising her ass up a fraction to snug him deeper inside of her.

He responded by withdrawing, then slamming home. He fucked her hard, thrusting so vigorously that she grunted with the force of each one, her tits mashing against the table, the table groaning underneath her pinned body.

“i’m cumming, ” she called out as she spasmed around him. Her fluids leaked around his cock, and the squelching sounds added to the cacophony of their sex, her squealing cries of orgasm, his grunts, the slap of flesh on flesh.

As she came down from her high, her cell phone rang.

“Answer” he grunted, pushing her hand towards the phone where it lay on the table, all the while continuing his stabbing thrusts into her.

“W-wha? h’lo?” she whispered into the phone, in short, staccato grunts.

“Enjoying dessert?” He said.

Screwed at Solaria Minor (2.)

read part one first. Go to 3/21/10 for part 1. Warning: nonconsensual, alien sex ahead. proceed at your own risk. nilla

The alarm began to blare, the door sealed with an audible “puff” of air as backup air generators went online, and Madeline began to scream as the gelatinous goop that was “Charlie” began oozing up her leg.

Sven and Zachary pulled away from her, attempting to shake the ooze off of their legs, but as with Madeline, the ooze continued up their legs, sliding up their flesh faster than either had ever imagined.  The two men froze as one. They looked at each other, nodded, and grabbed at Maddy. Despite her frantic screams and pulls, she was held tight, and borne to the floor.  Charlie had oozed to her upper thigh, and her legs were feeling very twitchy and tingly. She tried to wiggle her legs free of the goop, but there was Zachary, kneeling between her legs, pulling them up and open. The goop  was sliding towards Maddies exposed cunt, and as the first of the ooze landed on her lips, it stopped, quivering, waiting for more of the mass to gather there. 

Her head twisting from side to side, she could also, in the scientific part of her brain, observe with detachment, the undulations within  her two male counterparts’ pants as the ooze climbed ever higher. Zach suddenly threw back his head, moaning, and began thrusting his pelvis forward. The ooze had captured his genitals, and was doing something to him. Something obviously pleasurable. Still, his grip on her ankles only intensified, even as he fucked the air between her legs. His head thrown back, eyes closed, he grunted and thrust. She could see the knot in his pants where his cock bulged, observe, again in that clinical way, the writhing of the ooze stroking the maddened flesh under Zachary’s clothing. 

The same thing was happening to Sven, as he knelt on his hands and knees behind her head, pinning her hands to the floor. With a gutteral groan, both men thrust hard and came synchronously.

At the exact instant that they released,  the knot of Charlie forming on Madelines mons  pulled itself into a vaguely phallic shape, and began probing between her swelling cunt lips. She felt shivery, hot and cold simultaneously. The sounds of the men panting, one between her legs, the other by her head filled her head, and she felt…swirly. Dizzy. She swore she felt the pinprick of a dozen stars entering her flesh, the heat from the alien invader, his thickness, causing intense arousal. Her cunt responded to the myoelectric stimulation, sending Maddies natural lubricant down through her channel. Charlies response was unexpected.

Even as the ooze slid inside of her, more slid up her body, and in a very short time, she was coated with a thin sheen of goo. Her breasts swelled, nipples flared, and she felt the tingling touch of Aurilis everywhere. He continued to grow on her, surrounding her, up her neck, across her lips, into her mouth, her nose, covering her eyes and ears, filling her every open orifice. Yet, she could still see, still hear, still breath. He was porous enough to allow her body to continue living. And yet, he filled her. Melded with her. And began fucking her.

He learned. Learned what she liked. Learned, from the men he had captured, and nullified, about what a male of her species needed to mate with her. Even while filling her tight cunt with a representative cock, his membranes attached ever firmer to her chest globes. “tits” the males had called them.  He pulled them tight, tighter still on the little tips. Flexed and released, milking them, each squeeze painfully tight. And yet, she responded to the pain with pleasure.

He absorbed her moans, had his men hold her more open to him. He took from her. Absorbed her fluids, and grew stronger. Continued the “fucking” that sent her into a frenzy, until she exploded and poured copious juice into him. He absorbed it, wanted more of it.

The fuck lasted for several hours. Long past the point of consciousness for Maddy. She would rouse, feel the fucking, the tingling, the unbelievable pleasure of the creature, and as he pulled another orgasm from her body, she would faint again.

Aurilis felt her vital signs begin to slow. He sent the man “Ssss’  to gather water from the silver reservoir, to carefully tend to the female. He left his matter on the males, slowly absorbing into them via their skin, changing them, merging fully with them.  As for the woman, “Maaii”,  He pulled himself from her, slowly, reluctantly, becoming more solid from his feasting on her fluids.  He  shapemorphed, becoming a small, vaguely humanoid form, as he carefully watched the men caring for his feeder-woman.

******                              *************                                         **********

They left the small colony by negotiation. A lone woman and her two male consorts. What had happened in the lab was a mystery. The vid cams had all been shorted, the air lock would not respond to the rescuers. Three days after the alarms went off in the observation hall, the three scientists had emerged, apparently none the worse for their experience. They had desired to leave the colony, explaining that three days with the organism had filled them with desire to learn more, to be more hands-on in their search for intelligent life forms. They had been transformed, they had said, and despised the isolation of the colony. The Charter did allow for this, they pointed out, and they would not take much by way of supplies.

Chris had pleaded fruilessly with Madeline, who repeatedly had to rebuff his passionate pleas, his attempts to dissuade her from going. He tried to kiss her, grabbing at her shoulders, but an unpleasant tingle from her body ran up his fingers, into his hands and forearms. Quickly he released her.

“I must go. Enough.” Her tone, firm, no longer the soft woman he adored, but someone hardened by an experience he had no knowledge of. She pushed him away, then turned and went to Sven and Zachary. As one unit, they left.

What happened to the life form that had lived in Cube 3 was unclear to those that remained in the colony, although the scientists had said that they had removed the creature, that after it’s last escape, they had electroshocked it, and evacuated the goo via the Haz-chute.

Those that remained behind watched the threesome move off to the one rover they were allowed by Charter. Many wondered what had transpired between the three in that room. Knowing glances, and ribald comments between some of the men were bandied about.

“Gonna start a new colony…” chuckled one bearded leader. Little did they know, buried deep inside Maddies womb, resting, waiting, and growing stronger, was Aurilis.

FFF 3/26/10 Plane Jane (201 words)

Enrique was the best erotic photographer on the East Coast. She’d been trying for years to get enough cred for him to consider shooting her. She’d posed for several of the big mags, and was building a rep as a good model. Not moody, no shitty behaviours. A real pro.

She found this message on her work line.

“Lyme Air Field. Bay 3. 9 a.m. sharp.”    Enrique!!  She clapped her hands with glee.

He’d set her up in the leather bustier, fussed with her hair, even had an assistant shave her bush to resemble a “landing strip”.  He was unsatisfied, take after take.

She suggested the parody…the cone of the plane so resembled the cone of her tit. Perhaps a little pun would humor him.

Slowly she unlaced the first 5 holes of the bustier, then pulled it apart just a bit, posing just so.

“FUCKING GENIUS!!!” he roared, shooting take after take.

Later that evening, he let his cock  glide across her landing strip, until it found it’s own tight hanger to land in.

“fucking genius” she murmured as he sent her over the edge of rapture.

When the photo’s hit the magazine circuit later that year, both of  their careers took off.

The Farm (pt 3, fini?)

She came to an awareness of her body, slowly. Like rising from a foggy night, she found herself again. Sliding her hands down her nude form, she re-acquainted herself with herself. Her tits felt bigger, firmer than before, and tender. Her nipples had that feeling of bruisy-ness, like after a night of hard sucking.

Her belly was gently rounded. Her mons was shaved smooth, but tender to the touch.

Man, she was going nuts! Had she gone out with her boyfriend and gotten totally blitzed?  She sat upright, rubbing sleep-sand from her eyes. Stretched. As she went to swing her legs from the bed, she felt the tug on her ankle.

She was cuffed to the bed.

A bed that was not the one in her loft, nor her boyfriends studio apartment. What the fucking hell was ….

A lightning fast series of memories assaulted her then. Abe fucking her over and over, then Max having his turn as well. Both men rutting on her throughout the night. Then the device. She remembered struggling as Max pushed it inside of her, to help hold the cum inside her, he’d said.  The bed tilting up so the foot was higher than the head. And of being strapped down so she would not slip forward or off the bed. She also remembered the bed lowering, the device coming out.

And more fucking.

The sheen of a needle as it was placed carefully against her flesh.  A grinning Abe sucking on her nipples even as Max slipped deeply inside of her, bucking and moaning until he unloaded his cream into her waiting pitcher. 

How long had she been here? She felt dizzy, nauseous. She hung her head and began to cry softly.

“Don’t cry, kitten,” came his voice. It was everywhere. She looked around the room, no Abe. She spotted the small cam across the room, the speakers in the four corners. “I’ll be up with your breakfast in a few minutes.”

*************

She wanted to throw it at him, but she was so hungry she all but fell on the tray he placed on her bed.

“You have questions.” It was a statement. She stopped eating, chewing, for just a moment, glaring at him.

She nearly growled at his calm smile.

“It’s okay. I know you’re pissed. You’re also 3 weeks pregnant.”

She hissed out a breath….”what???”

“You caught very quickly. We’re still enjoying fucking you, but it’s for pleasure now, not just for work.”

“Fuck YOU!” she spat at him.

Calmly he slapped her across the cheek.

“Control yourself,” he cautioned her. “You could still be drugged, but we chose to bring you out early. There is plenty to occupy your mind here.”

“Cows?” She sneered at him, her hand still cupping her reddened cheek. Even she had to admit that his slap had been fairly gentle, all things considered.

“We have nothing to do with the dairy farm, sweet kitten. The farmhouse used to be owned by that family, but when it burned, they decided to sell the land parcel. We rebuilt here. Quiet, rural. We don’t see much of them, they don’t see much of us.”

She was confused. “You told me that ..”

“I know. And you will be helping us with a product. In fact, you’ll be producing it. A very small, very exclusive group of partners enjoy a very rare form of milk. Female breast milk. Human breast milk. Every couple of years, we find a new girl to be our…” he paused a moment, thoughtful.

“Cow?” she interjected acidly.

“You would wish for me to call  you a cow?” he asked, amused. She dropped her eyes, answered sullenly.

“no. I’m not a fucking cow.”

“You’re a fucking knockout, kitten! And we both enjoy fucking you. And you have enjoyed being fucked. You have had many orgasms, much pleasure, and will continue to.

For the next two years you will live here with us. Supply us and the partners with milk, and as a sexual partner, too. You will be well paid. All your needs will be taken care of. $500,000. for two years of work is a nice fee, wouldn’t you say?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. On the one hand, being used as a human milk machine was …immoral. Outrageous. Heinous. On the other hand, it would solve all of her financial worries.

“I-i can’t just …disappear. I  have family, friends…”

“If you left here for Singapore, you would have had  to leave all that behind, correct?”

How the hell had he known that her only solid job lead was with corporate Sony in …

“You’ve been stalking me?”

“No, our selection process is very particular. Trust me, Lissette, you are perfect. And who knows. After two years, you may wish to become pregnant again and work with us for another two years. Our contract only allows for 3 consecutive 2-year terms, but first your milk must be taste approved by the board. After that, we’ll go on a term by term basis.”

Jeebus Fucking Neatherthal Christos. What had she gotten herself into?

“What if I say no?”

He smiled at her patiently.

“I mean it! What if I say NO FUCKING WAY YOU SICK PERVERTED FUCK!!”

He rose from the bed, walked to the dresser across the room,  withdrawing a hypodermic and a small vial of fluid. He turned to her, making as if to withdraw fluid from the vial.

“Then we go on as we have done for the last 3 weeks, Lissette. You will be lightly drugged, sexed out of your mind, and blissfully unaware. If that’s what you prefer…” and his voice trailed away, an expectant smile on his pleasant face.

“I need to think!” she cried out, despair in her voice.

“No, Lissette, little kitten. You need to choose.”

Unsexual

*********you know who you are…who i wrote this for…just coz…yannnoo..that’s what friends are for….love ya…nilla*********

“Strip”

His disembodied voice came from the monitor on her desk. She’d been reading, He’d been called away almost as soon as He came online.

“Master?”

Strip, slut. Slowly. Like the little fuck toy you are. Entice me. Make me want you.”

“You don’t want me?”

“Am I not speaking clearly enough, slut? Did ever I say I didn’t want you? Stop over thinking and START OBEYING.”

Although His voice hadn’t raised, even a bit, it had firmed, chilled. She felt the goose-flesh rise on her arms. She had managed to piss Him off. Again. She sighed. She was not feeling it.

Despite the recent weight loss, despite the successes in her work, despite it all, she was not feeling sexy, or wanted.

She turned to face the monitor. His expression was grim. Solid, like granite. The planes and angles of his face made even more stark in the dim light from his monitor cam. Fuck Him. She was going to make Him so fucking hard He’d blow it all over his fucking keyboard!

Anger spurred her, to look at his face dead on, and then turn her back to him. She reached up and slowly pulled the clip from her hair. The burnished copper tresses  fell from her updo down to her shoulders, and a bit past. Slightly curly from her twisted style that screamed “business woman”, the heavy mass of it enticed. Arching her back, she ran her fingers through fistfuls of it, bunching, pulling and playing with it, massaging her sore scalp, and letting the light glint and play with her lovely locks. She heard Him ‘hmmm” through the open microphone, and smiled to  herself.

Turning for a 3/4 profile, she began unbuttoning her sensible business suit jacket. One button, then the second, and third. Slowly she eased it off the shoulder furthest from His view. Twitching her arms, it fell to rest in the crook of her arms, before she  shrugged it off completely. Though her breasts had diminished in size somewhat from her weight loss, the profile view of them was just fine, and she turned just a bit more to entice His eyes. Glancing over her shoulder to gauge His reaction, she saw that His eyes were taking in the view of His tits. She lifted her hands to the buttons on her blouse, and turning a bit more towards his sightline, she began to unleash herself from her nine-to-five life.

She left her bra on, then slid down her hose. Barefoot, wearing only her black lace bra and panty, she slowly turned her back to the cam. His eyes traced a trail from her beautiful back, down to her well turned ass. The g-string panties slipped between her asscheeks, and for a moment, He envied those panties. He imagined pulling those cheeks close to His face, burying His nose deep in that cleft, and tonguing his way down to where He knew she was tender and moist.

She reached behind and released her bra strap, then slipped the wee strands of the panties down and down and down. Over the hips, down her thighs, until they dropped to the floor at her feet. A single shrug brought the bra from her shoulders to her forearms. She was nude.

Turn”    His voice was harsh, gutteral with His need to see. To see all of her, His slut, in her naked glory.

She revelled in the sound of it. The need throbbing in His voice. An answering throb was beginning to beat inside of her. She felt her cunt heat, then moisten. Suddenly, she didn’t feel unsexual at all. A wave of heat ran rapid-fire up and down her body until she felt flushed, woozy with it.  Her nipples responded to Him, and rose, even as she turned to fully face Him.

At His command, she lifted her leg onto the bed, opening her delightful assets to His roaming gaze. She felt Him looking at her. Again, at His command, she raised her tits to him, pinching the nipples out towards Him. She moaned, felt the need begin to build in her.

She wanted Him to hurt her. Needed Him to want her, to want to do this to her.

As her desire began to coat her inner thighs, she realized she’d become unfrozen. No longer sad, no longer uncertain, she knew, unequivocally, that she was His.

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