Message-ID: <29590asstr$985731004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <peterpan@888.nu> From: "Peter Dee" <peterpan@888.nu> X-Original-Message-ID: <web-22960620@MauiMail.com> Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Q and A {bugsex} (ScFi F+F FF bd nc) Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2001 17:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/29590> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw, gill-bates ____________________________ peterpan@888.nu www.freeadult2000.com/bugsex _____________________________________________ Get Your Free Email from http://www.888.nu/ <1st attachment, "interog.txt" begin> --------------------------------- Do not read this tale if you are under 18 years of age. This tale contains explicit sexual content with non-consensual and bondage themes. It may be a crime for you to read it. On the other hand, there is no significant sadistic element and no snuff. (I hate reading tales in suspense of how much yuck they will decend to) ______________________________ Please write or visit! peterpan@888.nu http://www.freeadult2000.com/bugsex ______________________________ Q&A. Copyright of Peter Dee, 2001 Love, betrayal and electrostimulation among lesbians in the far future; all made possible by some very bad language. Here I am, Anna Jane. Intrepid investigator. My first time. I knew the wires were secure, the microphone taped between my breasts heard everything and a dozen TerraPol officers would be instantly on hand if things went bad. There was nothing to be afraid of. TerraPol doesn't abandon it's own. This was my first time though. I had worked so hard to be accepted but, till tonight, I had been stuck behind a desk. That is one of the reasons I leapt at the chance of this assignment without really considering the sense of it. Maybe it was all some sort of initiation prank. The whole thing had seemed pretty unprofessional at the time. But I had to follow orders. And I wanted to be accepted at any cost. So here I was dressed in jackboots and latex hot pants, leather leggings and a leather jacket that didn't reach my navel. A young crewgirl of the ship I was meant to infiltrate currently had her hand around my waist and her fingers tucked into my belt. She was called Red. She was some sort of pirate. I already had plenty of evidence. She was practically bragging about how many crimes she had committed against the human race. It seemed to me her verbal admissions alone were plenty to justify a search warrant of her ship right down to and including a cavity search of it's captain and crew! Why play this out any longer? I had intercepted her in a spacedogs bar. She was a loose-lipped drunk and easily manipulated into promising a tour of a real spaceship in turn for unspecified fun. TerraPol would step in before I had to make good on my side of the bargain, I hoped! Giggling like this was a schoolgirl prank, Red had sneaked me onboard and maneuvered me through the labyrinthine engine room, attempting to avoid the other crew. We almost made it. We were almost at her cabin when around the corner came the captain, flanked by four crewgirls. How confidently they swaggered! Pirates, and they looked the part. No, that is not entirely true. The captain had a careworn, rather than carefree, look to her. The crewgirl to her right, however, would have made a fine young pirate captain in any trashy romantic eyetickler. Not that I peruse such pulp. It would certainly be frowned upon for a TerraPol agent. Illusions aside the facts were these: we upheld the law and protected humanity. They spat on both. My life would not be worth much if I were discovered-- and if there were not a dozen highly trained TerraPol ready to whisk me to safety at the first sign my cover was blown. Still, I took the time to commit her rather tasty image to memory. At home, in bed, in my mind, she could be as nice or nasty as I wished. Red stopped and saluted. The captain nodded, then her eyes swung to me. "Quite a catch there, Red. Set you back a bit, I suppose." Her tone was casual, her face was casual but she was suspicious. Her eyes had lingered on me a bit too long. Red laughed. "Nah. She's free. Practically threw herself at me. Never seen the inside of a spaceship." "Don't you go showing her anything outside the inside of your cabin, Red." Cautioned the heroic looking girl on the captain's right. First mate, I guessed. I'll call her Spikey. She had short spikes and a hard expression; aimed at Red right now, not me. I wasn't far wrong as it turned out. "Never intended to," Red replied with childish slyness. I believed her. Help! Where was my backup? Spikey ignored the innuendo and smiled chivalrously at me. Something glinted in her eye. "You must really have wanted to see the inside of a spaceship, girl." This was getting too sticky for my liking. I tried to look as cheap as possible. "Bet you could show me more than a cabin, sweetheart." Spikey snorted. My gambit had worked. That glint was gone from her eye, replaced by disdain. They were going to ignore me after all. They would have ignored me, I would have got away with it. They would not have discovered me and all that was subsequent would not have happened to me IF.. ..IF at that instant a grainy voice had not rang out from a hidden speaker, dripping with gloating sadistic glee. "She makes a convincing slut, doesn't she." It came from under my shirt. From the microphone my fellow officers had helped me tape there. "Almost as good as her impression of a TerraPol officer, wouldn't you say..." It felt like being punched in the gut. I wanted to be sick. My pulse was deafening in my ears as my brain tried to absorb the fact that I had just been murdered. And I knew that voice. It was the smiling voice of the same sergeant whom had told me not to work so late, not to waste my life chasing discrepancies in paperwork filled out by illiterates.. The same, whom had came into my office only hours ago and congratulated me on finally getting what I had been asking for. A chance at a real mission! I remember being so elated, and so annoyed. I had suspected them of giving me that desk job to bore me out of the force. Though it bored me to tears I had approached it like a detective. And found discrepancies. I knew who and suddenly I knew why. The pirates had recoiled as if I were plague itself. They were looking at me with horror and disgust. This wasn't the way it was meant to end! Even if the villains killed the heroine here, weren't they meant to praise the heroine for her tenacity first?, or say something like "You and I, we are the same.." That is how it always worked in the EyeTicklers. Instead they looked as if they might stamp me to death rather than touch me with their hands. As one might kill a cockroach. It was not enough. I had not lived enough life yet. No one spoke. After a gap the voice began again. "Hmmm.. This thing IS working isn't it?" I don't know why I gave him the pleasure of answering. I looked around at the ring of hate filled faces. "It is working, sir" I answered quietly. As if my words had broken a spell, they lunged for me. I got in only glancing blows before my arms were pinned behind me, the last of the rest of my life that mattered spent. Spikey strode forwards with ice in her eyes. She ripped open my shirt to expose the concealed mike taped there, and the wires winding around to the transmitter between my shoulderblades. "You should have known your place girlie," the voice tutted smugly, " You should have known your place." The captain strode forwards as if to hit me. The blow never struck but it may as well have. "What is the meaning of this?!!" she demanded, almost shouted at me in her fury. I couldn't get any sound past my lips. But it wasn't me she was speaking to after all. "We had a deal. I have just delivered on my part of the bargain." "The bargain was for information." "She has it. When she isn't out looking for a good hard fucking she works in records. A bit too nosy for her own good." "So you decided to kill two birds with one stone." "I decided to feed one to the other." The voice disappeared with a click. "Kill that," the captain said casually, gesturing to my breast. The mike was ripped off me and crushed under a booted foot. "Damn him!" she exploded the instant it was done. "This is less than we paid for; and I hate being played......Still..." A slow smile took her as an idea occurred. "A captured Reich agent..... " For a second she inspected me, then she spoke to me. I did not really understand her at the time. " All their lives this crew has lived in fear of people like you. Fear paralyses, girl. You are learning that right now aren't you.. Well they won't be afraid of you soon." She turned to Spikey. "First mate, get the information out of her. That is your first priority. But the crew will find out we are entertaining a Reich agent and that could cause problems. Tell them she will be turned over to them AFTER we have the required information. I want a Full Channel feed of the interrogation sent to my room." "Secured?" Spikey asked, puzzled. "Unsecured!" "Vassy and Sal will be circulating Ticklers of it before it is even over," protested Spikey. "Jonesy will probably have it playing live in the mess-hall before we have even started!" "Exactly." The captain turned and strode away, leaving me in the hands of her crew. At the corner she stopped and turned back to us. "Oh, and Red, escort yourself to the brig. Stay there till further notice." Then she was gone. *** They pulled my jacket back, trapping my arms behind me. Forced me to kneel as stuncuffs bound my wrists, then my ankles, then wrists to ankles with a third pair so I was hog-tied. Tension on the links drove cotton-wadded spasms up my arms and legs. I grunted involuntarily. "Morons!" I cried, finally regaining my voice, "I'm TerraPol. They'll get you within the day". Gravity twisted. The ship was lifting! Spiky spun me round by my flapping shirt, bunched the collar in her fists and pulled my face to hers. "TerraPol sold you to us. For services rendered. Who is going to miss you?" "You're lying! It wasn't TerraPol. TerraPol doesn't sell its officers." "Like it sells it's citizens?" She twisted her head to one side, revealing the faint silver bar-code on her cheekbone. A slave scar. "We have all been sold. You're just a tiny piece of payback, sweetmeat." "I'm not your meat! TerraPol doesn't sell it's officers." But it sounded weak even in my ears. I had only been in the force a few months and never felt accepted. At Spikey's command they tugged me to medbay and strapped me into the examination couch. Arms clamped behind me. While two held my legs she removed my belt and peeled the leathers down to my ankle-boots. "I won't tell you anything!" I spat. She raised one eyebrow but said nothing. Her confident smirk said it all. The ship had put to space. That probably meant they didn't need my information until they reached their destination. One month, if they hadn't changed their flight plan. They strapped my legs tightly into the stirrups, below the knees and above the ankles. The pants still bound my naked legs together, and the stirrups were currently together but, this couch could support a woman giving birth, among other things. The sanctity of that moment had nothing to do with where I was now. I felt the press of cold metal against my temple but before I identified the instrument the act was done. For a moment the drill's buzz shook my teeth in my skull but I didn't feel the actual penetration. They had just shot something into my brain. Spike ran her hand over my thigh possessively. Her skin was dark against mine. It made my flesh look like coveted fine china. To her it was. I shivered involuntarily. "If you could see how you looked in my eyes... If you knew the things we are going to to you.... You wouldn't be struggling." Her face slid up to mine. I could feel her breath on my ear. "You'd have fainted dead away." I tried to bite her. Her lips hovered just out of reach. I spat. She dodged easily and the spittle arced back, slowly in the weak gravity. She did not let it hit me. She caught it in her own hand, then licked the hand dry. Why? why didn't she let it fall on me? "Because I like you." she replied simply. She read my mind! Or did she just guess?. The screen behind her flickered to life. There was a jumble of images that were familiar somehow, but one window was filling with text that would change as it scrolled. One of the lines said <WHY DIDN'T SHE LET IT FALL ON ME> "That nanoware we shot into your skull. One of it's functions is to decipher your verbal-symbolic thoughts. So you see, you don't need to tell us anything; just think it." Nothing! I thought, and the text was dutifully produced. Nothing! Nothing! nothing! "It appears to be working satisfactorily. Mute her." A black studded collar was placed around my neck and switched on. It paralyzed my vocal cords and the muscles in my neck. I could move my jaw, but weakly. "It's for your own protection. Don't want you biting your tongue off." <DAMN YOU> My jacket had already been lost when they had strapped me to the couch. Spikey had already ripped the buttons off my shirt when she had removed the TerraPol microphone. Not content with that she now ripped it so thoroughly to shreds that only the cuffs remained, and slid her hand under my bra to cup one breast. The nipple was surprisingly, painfully hard. I grunted, tried to pull back. She was only playing. The bra was rolled off my shoulders and down to my waist. My breasts jutted ridiculously, sharp and conical in the low gee. I could do nothing but think curses as she rolled the nipples in her fingers, applying some sort thick grease from a tube. When had it become so hot in here? <WHY AM I SO HOT?> The machine betrayed my thoughts. They laughed at me. My cheeks burned red with shame. Why should I care what they thought of me? they were going to torture me for information and just plain sadistic amusement. A month to die in. I began to sob, from the lungs because the collar paralyzed my voice. So it came out sort of like laughter. "We're not gonna hurt ya." Spikey stated firmly. "What we got in mind is much more fun" I didn't know what she meant. It didn't sound good but, simultaneously, I had already expected the worst I could imagine. How could any surprise not be a pleasant one? Spikey flicked my right nipple, hard. <Ouw!> "Sorry," she smirked lopsidedly. "Just calibrating the hardware." Someone patted electrodes to my aureola. Specially designed for just that task. Rubberized wires terminated in thin floppy rings that let the greased nipple poke through. The grease must have been conductive gum. A nice even contact. At least that would prevent spot-burns, my engineering knowledge reported inanely. Spikey held a remote pointed at my chest. "Ready for your pleasant surprise? Lets have a countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight..." So this was how it began. This was their "'not gonna hurt ya' pleasant surprise". The fuckers. I tried to shake the contacts free. I shook my chest violently, swinging my breasts to and fro, up and down, to no effect other than to set them bouncing idiotically. "Seven, Six, Five, Four.." I cursed them as I fought, filling up their damn printout with unprintables. "Three,.." I went still. breathing deeply. Glaring at Spiky with hatred and betrayal. "Two" she said, smiling gently. My lip trembled involuntarily, mouthing the word. "One." Click. Current arced through my breasts. Sensation ripped through my aureole, my arms, danced over my lips as I threw my head back and mutely screamed, as I arched my chest forward in a primitive mindless need to present as much skin as possible to the exquisite pleasure arcing, crackling across my nipples. It ended. I collapsed in my bonds. Seconds passed before I could take a breath and release it. Panting, head lolling, mind reeling in confusion, I turned my eyes to Spikey; but I have no idea what was in them. I watched unresisting, as if from a distance, as she bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. My lips were scratchy dry. I moistened them with my tongue. "You WILL tell me everything." she whispered. "Wha... what.. was that?" I gasped out in silence, before I thought better of it. "Pleasure," she replied with a pitying smile. "Has it really been so long?". They had rewired my head. Shorted my pain sense directly into the pleasure centre of my brain. But there had to be a payback. I remembered a study where an electrode was stuck into a labrat's brain, into it's pleasure centre, and it would keep pressing this button, zapping it's brain till it starved. I remembered pleasureheads, giving themselves cigarette burns, pushing safety pins through their flesh. Would I end up a drooling pleasurehead? "No," Spikey said. "The difference is, you're bound into this nice comfy chair. Your arms are clamped behind you. Your legs are clamped into these stirrups, with the comfy-est firmest straps. You CAN'T hurt yourself, so you can't pick up a habit like of hurting yourself." Sudden pleasure scorched my breasts. "You also don't control this button." "Now, here are the rules. I am going to ask you questions. I am going to zap you. Don't go looking for patterns, that's my job. There are no rules about what I ask, when I reward, or how much." "First question. Are you a virgin?" Before I had even absorbed the question, mad spasms wracked my body as she pressed the remote once, twice, four times. Warm dampness flooded my underwear and I clenched my thighs together. <FUCK YOU> "What is your login" <LICK MINE>. Pleasure arced through me. "Where do you like to be touched." <UP YOUR ARSE, CUNT>. Every question she asked, I responded by filling my mind with obscenities and curses. I never knew I had so many in me. Spikey was patient, zapping me after almost every answer, till the times when she did not felt like emptiness, void, a lover's disapproval. But there was no pattern that I could see. Occasionally she would stop and wipe my breast and brow with a damp sponge. Sometimes this was just a trick and instead she would buzz me so long that she would have to blow air into my lungs to stop me passing out. All I gave her in return were descriptions of all the obscene things I would do to her if somehow she were ever as helpless as I was. Yet my emotions were so misused that I also thought myself in love with her, towards the end. Don't try to understand, because you couldn't possibly. She didn't know. If she had just invited one of the other girls to kiss her I might have snapped then and there and told her anything to keep her mine. Instead, I just couldn't bear to break in front of her and have her secretly disappointed in me. Love is a fucked up thing. I could actually feel it when I finally tore in two. Things got easier after that. I came out of a fugue to find she had stopped. I glanced at the screen. Good. Just junk. Did I really say all that stuff? Only then did I notice my legs spread in the stirrups, new wires attached to my inner thighs and to bits of me I won't mention. When had all this happened? I could still feel the warm afterglow of current induced pleasure in my twitching extremities. Even bound like that I had still managed a slouch of total exhaustion. Thinking back, I could remember it all dimly, as if it had happened to someone else. We now had full gravity. The ship was well underway to whatever it's destination. That was my only clue to how much time had passed. Spikey was washing herself down. She was facing the wall, frowning in that sort of intensely thoughtful way she did. She was naked above the waist. I could see her muscular back and one firm breast as she raised her arms above her shoulders, rubbing her face and pushing back her short spikey hair so it stuck to her scalp like a seals'. Her drawstring cotton pants were sodden and clinging down to her knees. No underwear. The translucent cloth followed every curve of her tight butt. Imagine her crawling towards me like that. Head down. Back arched. Small breasts jostling and that butt just peeking over her shoulders. I wondered if she had tired of the game. <QUITTER, LIMPDICK> said the scrolling transcript of my thoughts. "Damn you," She lay her head down on my chest. "You win. I wanted to do this all in one session. Then I would have helped with your withdrawal. Worked you through it. I even imagined keeping you, like a friend, sort of." Her expression hardened. "But we need certain information and you're just not playing. I said I wouldn't use pain on you. I promised, but now that is going to have to be a lie. And you will hate me." She bit her lip. "I'm not going to help with your withdrawal. Unless you help me. No more jolts. Your going to lie here, begging for contact, just normal contact, while your body comes to grip with the fact that it's over." "Withdrawal; it's painful," she spoke as if from memory. "It's lonely. I'm sorry." I had won, and she knew it. The withdrawal would hurt, and maybe they could hook me again, and make me go through it a couple of times before my month was up, but they had reached the limit of what they were prepared to do to me. I had won, not betrayed my oath. Kept my honour. How I wished I were weaker. <NO.> "No more. Not even talk" Spikey replied, but then continued herself "It was fun though, You were funny. The things you said. Damn you said some sick things. I almost wet myself. Damn you have a sick mind, Jane." <I AM NOT JANE, CUNT> Spikey's mouth dropped. So did mine. I hadn't said that. <BUT I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT JANE KNOWS> <FOR EXAMPLE. YOUR FIRST QUESTION. SHE IS A VIRGIN. SHE HAS NEVER BEEN TOUCHED. NO ONE WOULD EVER TOUCH HER. EXCEPT YOU. SHE LIKED THAT.> Where were those words coming from? It had to be a trick. So I had never been touched like Spikey had touched me. They could have guessed. It was obvious. Someone was typing those words in from somewhere. "This is a good game," spike laughed. "Now tell me something I don't know, Jane." <I AM NOT JANE. BUT I KNOW HER.> After a pause Spikey obviously decided to play along. "Then what is Jane's login." <HER LOGIN IS 2FINGER> How did they know that? Spikey found a laptop and typed something in. "Truth.... You are speaking truth now. What's the password?" I struggled in my bonds slamming my head from side to side, as if I could shake the other off me. <THE FIRST DIGIT IS NINE..> Not Fair! I howled (mutely) and writhed in my bonds as if Spikey had me under the electrodes again. <REMEMBER HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE WAS WRITHING IN YOUR MACHINE. COMPLETELY AT YOUR MERCY. SHE WANTS YOU TO DO IT AGAIN.> I shook my head vigorously, even though I was lying. Yes, I wanted her to do it again, and more, but I wasn't going to tell her anything. <THE SECOND DIGIT IS SEVEN. TRIPLE ZERO..> I screamed in anger, betrayal. Trying to blot out the digits appearing in the terminal. <THREE, SIX, NINE>. There was a pause. <SHE CHOSE THE LAST TWO DIGITS HERSELF>. Somehow, even through the slave-collar, I managed to emit a thin drawn out squeak. Not Fair! Spikey was into my personal files. My diary. She browsed. <SHE WRITES PORNOGRAPHY TOO. LOOK UNDER 'REVIEW ANALYSIS NOTES'> I almost blacked out through shame. Spikey pressed a few keys and scrolled through page after page after page. She read the whole thing while I had to watch. Finally she finished, closed the laptop and stretched. "I'm not after personal stuff.." Oh yeah?? "How do I log on to the org's database." <INTERROGATE HER AGAIN.> "What?!! ha! Now I get it. You just want more juice. Good try but no Juice." <I AM NOT JANE> <I'LL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO TO HER. WHAT SHE WANTS. I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO MAKE HER SQUEAL.> "I don't believe you. Jane is too strong. Jane won't say anything." Hearing Spikey say it made me proud. Like Spikey was taking my side against the other. <I KNOW. BUT SHE CAN SQUEAL. AND SQUEAL AND SQUEAL AND SQUEAL. YOU REMEMBER HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE WAS, WRITHING AND ARCHING HER BACK, PANTING AND MOANING AFTER EACH TIME. MAKE HER SQUEAL AND I WILL TELL YOU THINGS ABOUT HER.> "Tell us how to get into the Org's database." <I DIDN'T SAY IT WOULD BE EASY, FUCKER.> "So what do you want me to do to you?" <TO HER. CONSIDER ME A VERY PARTIAL OBSERVER. TO FIND OUT SOMETHING LIKE THAT, IT COULD TAKE DAYS. BUT WE HAVE DAYS DON'T WE. WEEKS. START BY ASKING LITTLE THINGS. SNEAKY THINGS. LIKE BEFORE. FIRST THING I WANT YOU TO DO: TURN DOWN HER COLLAR VOLTAGE A BIT. SO SHE CAN MAKE SOME NOISE IF SHE REALLY TRIES.> <DID YOU KNOW SHE IS TICKLISH? VERY. SHE LIKES TO STROKE HER BELLY AT NIGHT, FEEL THE MUSCLES SHIVER, PRETEND IT IS SOMEONE ELSE. HOLDING HER DOWN AND STROKING HER. SHE ALSO LIKES SURPRISES. TURN THE SCREEN AWAY FROM HER.> They took me out of the chair. I struggled, but they put slaver collars around my upper arms and thighs so that my limbs flopped loosely. The same scene was in my porn. The gang-rape scene. They placed me spread-eagled, on my belly, on some furs. Two of them took a foot each and began to stroke and tease. They were enjoying this game. I was the one chewing the fur and moaning, grasping the fur with my feeble fingers as my toes clenched and unclenched, unable to escape their nimble fingers. Their fingernails delicately raked the arches of my feet, sometimes the hollow behind my knee, or simply stroked from ankle to knee. These two hadn't read the porn. They were wearing earplugs and listening to speech synthesized from the text, telling them how to make me squeal. I was overcome already and they hadn't even trespassed above the knee. Hadn't asked any questions. Spiky hadn't touched me yet. She was just savouring my predicament. She was crouched at my head, her face only inches from mine. Her eyes glowed as she watched me squirm, like this was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She asked me questions. I couldn't answer. I could tell someone was answering her though. Spikey kneaded the knotted muscles of my neck and shoulders, stretching forward down to my waist as the two worked up my thighs, stroking, kneading, nipping with their teeth. One vanished as the other spread my buttocks, tongue darting and teasing. The other returned and they rolled me over onto my back. She had a chrome probe in her mouth to warm it, holding it in one hand like a popsicle as they explored my body between them. They pushed one of my feet up past my head, where Spiky held it stretching me wide open. "Tell me where she wants to be touched" Spiky whispered in my ear. I felt the chrome probe stroking from vagina to anus. eni-meani-myni-mo. I knew which it would be. I felt it ease slowly into my arse. In and out, finally held there by the light pressure of a palm. Fingers lightly explored my pubic hair. Keeping the probe there they rolled me onto my front. Gloved hands pulled my butt up, now on my stomach puppy-dog style, and a pelvis was ground into mine, pushing the chrome probe a little deeper inside me, a fake phallus easing in and out, as the wire hung down between my legs. Spikey slipped her legs beneath me as my shoulders were pulled back in a policeman's hold by the girl who penetrated me from behind. My spine was arched back but my head was thrust forward and I was forced to watch from between my out-thrust breasts as she pulled on chromed latex gloves. Now her hands looked like liquid metal and every inch conducted pleasure. I tried to pull back but had no strength in my arms or thighs, my back was arched like a bow and struggling only drove me more firmly onto the chrome probe, and the pelvis of the girl who held me so taut and exposed. I was sure Spikey would zap my nipples first. I am sure that was her impulse but the voice instructing her knew me intimately. She splayed her fingers on my taut belly and current arced through me, unstoppable tendrils of ecstasy from the probe in my arse to where her fingers gripped the muscles of my stomach. I keened in unbearable pleasure, thighs spasming, as she explored my body with her hands. My butt, my waist, up my sides to my armpits and finally flowing like molten metal to envelop my breasts, tease my aureole with two circling fingers as I fought and begged. Then just the nipples, each rolled between thumb and forefinger as she interrogated me. This lasted almost long enough that I reached a plateau. The sensation was pleasure beyond bearing, unbearable triple ice stars where the chrome held me, penetrated me, shaped me. Then they would start again. A different scenario from my porn. Some mock violent some mock civilized, until I was nothing but a joyous whimpering writhing animal skewered on Spikey's finger, unable to play any other roll. "Enough!" She finally called. There was a pause as the terminal argued with her. It had many more scenarios to play, many more secrets to trade. I shook my head feebly. "Tomorrow" I heard her say before I fainted. I woke, or dreamed I woke several times that night. I was floating entangled with one of the girls in one of the zero-gee bunks. She was gently massaging my cunt through the cloth as she held me, held the blanket around us, and whispering that she thought she loved me. It was not Spikey nor the girl who had ground the electrified probe into my arsehole and cunt. I guessed it was the third one. The one who hadn't done much except hold me and lick my arse once. I barely remembered her. "That's sad," I murmured. Her hold of me weakened. Like a child, slipping, I griped tighter. She gripped me back, then resumed the slow massage till I fell asleep again. *** When I woke, I found I had lost my voice. The day before seemed distant and impossible though I was sore enough. All the muscles in my torso ached. My hands were cuffed behind me when I woke, dragged out of sleep, out of the zero-gee bunk and onto the hard floor. My legs had plenty of strength but I couldn't stop from folding in the middle so they had to support me. 'They' were the girl from last night and the girl with the probe. They called each other curly and mo'. Mo was the gentle one who slept with me. She was bald but for a straggly-thick mohawk. Curly was totally shaved, so I don't know what she was named for. I was wearing pajama bottoms and an unbuttoned pajama top. Also the slaver collar and the cuffs. They escorted me down the corridors. They were taking me back to the medical bay. I fought at the door but I was spent. I stumbled to my knees on the fur rug, collapsed onto my face immediately. The soft fur against my cheeks made me remember yesterday and I whimpered helplessly. I had to make them understand. I would tell them anything. I was terrified of the vague dream of a voice that knew everything about me, that had manipulated them into doing things to me, everything it wanted. Things that made me squeal and whimper for more. "So how is my dirty talker?" It was Spikey. Strong, dominant, wise, beautiful. She would understand. If only I had not lost my voice. I began speaking before I knew I was speaking. My lips began moving all by themselves. "She likes you. She wants you to know her inside and out!" I could not stop the words coming out. It wasn't me speaking. It was the voice from last night now blabbing my most personal secrets out loud. "She wants your weight like a blanket while your fingers.." I struggled and kicked like a lunatic in my panic but the voice went on. The puzzled crewgirls had to hold me down. "Make her squeal. I have lots more to tell you. Lots of things to try." Spikey spoke angrily but I knew it was to cover her growing consternation. "No more treatment girl. Get over it. We got what we needed from you last night. While you were sleeping it off we were making sure. No more juice, ever. No more interrogation. Pull yourself together." The words relieved me but drove the voice into a frenzy. "YOU CUNT! YOU LIED. YOU TRICKED ME!" I could almost laugh at it's helpless rage as it wore out my vocal cords with imaginative threats and pleas. The crewgirls were not laughing though. The openmouthed expression on Spikey's face was hilarious. I began to giggle. I could because it was mainly in the lungs I think. The voice came out as chokes and gargles as we tried to shout and giggle at the same time. We sounded ridiculous and insane. That made me laugh more. Someone shot something into my arm and I slept. *** I think I was awake a long time before I realized I was awake, just floating there in a zero-g bunk in the dark. In my dreams I had been doing nothing in particular but sucking a thumb, and enjoying it as much as sex. In my dream I was curled foetally around the unreal pleasure in my lips as one might cup a hand around a candle flame. This was no dream. It was not my thumb in my mouth. It was something like an electric baby's pacifier stimulating my lips whenever I sucked, and my thumb was hooked around the ring. I made to pull the pacifier from my reluctant lips when a voice and a finger stopped me. "Wait, Jane." It was Spikey, sitting in the dark with me. Not so dark now that my eyes were open. She was sitting on a chair pulled up to the bunk and she had a finger to my lips. "Leave that pacifier in for the moment. I've got stuff to say." I looked at her a moment, still sucking mechanically on that thing, then shrugged and rose into an "I'm listening" posture. "Firstly," she began, "when you pull it out you are probably going to start spouting obscenities again, and scare yourself silly." Yes. On some level I knew this already. I nodded to say I understood. "You don't need to be afraid of the voice. I can explain what has happened to you. There is no one else in your skull. Just you. You always had that voice, whispering away in there, telling you to seek pleasure. It is just one of your many subconscious advisors. An important one that you cannot do without. It can't want differently from what you want. It has always been in charge of telling you what you want, and still is. Just think of it as a sort of tourette's syndrome. Thoughts that are not meant to be voiced short-circuited straight into your speach-centre. " I saw a notepad by her chair and realized she had brought it for me. I demanded it with a gesture and scribbled in block letters: "FIX ME!" Spikey looked at the notepad much longer than it could have taken to read it. "The second thing I wanted to tell you. I am so, so sorry." And she was. She really meant it. "You will always be able to communicate via that notebook, or by using a keyboard. There is nothing progressive about your condition. But, the part of you that tells you what you want has extended itself into your speech centre. You are using those neurons for thinking now. We could prune your mind into a more conventional shape, but that is all we would be doing. Lobotomy." I scribbled on the pad again. "What happens to me now?" "We can't drop you off on a colony world. Not in your condition..." She didn't mention what the colonials would certainly do to me if they ever discovered I had worked for Reich police. "... and you will have been listed as a race traitor by the Reich authorities. We have voted on it. There wasn't a single dissenting vote. You are now an official member of the crew. Lowest possible rank of course.. " She continued on hurriedly " That's like being a citizen of your own country. You'll be as protected as any of us." "WHAT IS LOWEST RANK?" I scrawled back. "Um.." Spikey looked embarrassed. "Ships Pet, but.." My mouth dropped. The dummy fell out. "BITCH. WHORE. Kill you for this!," I howled before I could get the plug back in and return to that obsessive sucking. I glowered at her to let her know I meant it. "This isn't a Reich battleship," she protested. "We are all women here for starters," Like THAT had made a difference! "When I suggested it.." I had my hands around her throat. I knew that she was stronger but scribbling a vicious note just wasn't enough right then. The conversation did not continue until she had me pinned to the floor in some sort of wrestling hold. "Look. What do you expect? Fire control? This ship is really too small to justify the position but we used to rotate it between the fresher crewgirls. I was it for a couple of months when I joined. There is a lot of hierarchy on a star-ship. Being the one person at the absolute bottom, it sort of makes you special. Believe me." If Spikey had done it then somehow it couldn't be the job I thought it was. She felt me relax and released me. She tapped a key on my notebook to bring up the contract and took me through it. "The only commands you absolutely have to obey, from anyone, are follow and sit. Informally, you do anything they ask and they don't ask anything that you won't do. It's not a full time job by any means. Still an important one." She held me as I read and reread the contract, sucking thoughtfully on the dummy. I didn't have any real choice. I trusted Spikey with every thing I had, which wasn't much, so I would trust her about the rest of the crew. Finally I thumbprinted the contract and signed it with an A for Anna, my first name. Spikey added her thumbprint by mine and added a Q for 'spiQ'. All along I had guessed her name almost exactly right. Q, and A. "I know you have brains. You will learn other duties in time. For now I suggest you take the time to rest, and learn the ship. Not just the engines but the crew." For a few minutes we just held each other. I didn't know what was next, but I didn't want to be alone yet. I felt that the moment Spikey left some stranger would enter and say "Anna Jane, follow". She wasn't finished yet though. "The medical officer tells me there is a good chance the condition will reverse itself in time. You will have to let it talk though, so your speech skills don't atrophy. You'd end up with some sort of oral fixation anyway, if you kept using that thing." Spikey held out her hand for the pacifier. I didn't want to give it to her. Not just because it felt good. The voice would start telling her everything I felt. I would be so ashamed. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Anna Jane. I do. Because here I am looking at you and thinking how exciting it will be to own a girl who cannot lie, cannot obscure her feelings. That is the sort of thing I might blurt out if I had your condition. I might tell you that I would do it again for the information we needed. That part of me would enjoy it as much even knowing the result. Especially. Or that I would have tortured and killed you to get that information, if it had been the only way to save my crew. I have reason to be ashamed." "Anna Jane, I interrogated you for hours. I know you better than you know yourself. Everyone on the ship has probably viewed the Full Channel feed of your interrogation by now. 48 hours ago you were a Reich agent they wanted to flush out the airlock. Now half the couples have disappeared off into their cabins, and half the unpaired are writing love letters to you explaining why they think you might be their soulmate. You have a shipboard dropbox already, you know. Anna, you don't have any shameful secrets left. Turns out you never had any at all." Spikey had been holding out her hand all this time. Maybe she really didn't know. Maybe I wanted her to know anyway. Finally I spat the dummy. Not into her hand but onto the floor where it couldn't be retrieved immediately, by her or I. I faced her defiantly. "Stupid. Stupid Cunt. Hate you so much. You talk so fine and still she waits here. Roll her over and fuck her. Make her love you. Use it all against her. She would. put YOU in that machine and watch YOU holler. You would, And would and would and would. Blanket her with your weight and claim her with a finger. Make it forever." My voice ran on and on but Spikey hadn't reacted yet, even as tears of shame rolled down my cheek. Had she really not known or was she rejecting me after all she had said? She started to laugh at me. I needed not to care. Failed. My hand slipped up to stop the words in my mouth, suddenly filthy. Spikey's hand caught mine. She was smiling. "I love listening to your voice. I really do love it Anna Jane. I could lie beside you and listen to it for hours." "But," she continued. "It just struck me. You're pretty much a virgin. You haven't done any of these things. You are just imagining things you think you would like but don't know. But I know secrets about you that you don't even have the words for." *** So she made love to me. It was better than anything I had imagined, and while it lasted all my voice could think to say was please and thank you and do that again. END ______________________________ Please write or visit! peterpan@888.nu http://www.freeadult2000.com/bugsex ______________________________ <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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