index


Message-ID: <38218asstr$1031440202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: 23 Jul 2002 17:53:02 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} [sapphic] Virtual Seduction (classic) (6,779 words)
Date: Sat,  7 Sep 2002 19:10:02 -0400
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

This festival has only been made possible by the hard work of Kelly Adams
and the moderators of ASSM, who ensure that the world is a better, more
sexually charged place than it might otherwise be. If you wish to ensure
that the world continues to be a better place, then feel free to contribute
to ASSTR. To find out more, click on the URL and liberate your plastic:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html <http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html> .


Story: Virtual Seduction


In Classical Greece, sapphic fantasy would be metrically scanned and
beautifully orated. Nowadays, we can surf to such sapphic delights on the
World Wide Web. In the future such will be progress in virtual reality, we
can be who we want to be, go where we want to go, and all without leaving
our living room. Maybe in real life, we barely tolerate a sexless marriage
and are too frightened to declare our true sexual desires. In the virtual
world we can be the lesbian sex goddesses of our innermost dreams. We can
indulge in the delights of virtual sex, virtual conversation and virtual
seduction.

"Virtual Seduction" has been posted to ASSM, Stories OnLine and Literotica.
It is about the rewards, the risks and the sensuality of lesbian love on a
much broader broadband with a much better realised virtual reality than
would be possible today even on the soon-to-be much enhanced Katie McN, Diva
or Oosh websites. 


For More Information: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www


Virtual Seduction
=================

Selena could imagine only too well the scenario in which she 
was participating. After all, she was wholly responsible for it. 
One small, but large breasted, girl was applying her wide-open 
mouth to Selena's own. Another girl, very similar in appearance, 
if not virtually identical, was licking and sucking and chewing 
her smooth and hairless vagina. Selena found the taste of 
saliva and teeth almost sweet, slightly salty, and strangely 
convincing. Her fist and most of her forearm was embedded 
deep within the vagina of a third girl, who differed only in 
appearance from the other two by virtue of the colour of her 
hair. All her eyes could see was the smooth white skin of the girl 
she was kissing, but she knew that the one whose vagina she 
was so brutally violating had canary yellow hair. And, 
correspondingly, a very hairy canary yellow crotch. 

Selena liked her girls to have hairy crotches. She didn't know 
why, but the combination she somehow liked best in her girls 
was that they should be short, big breasted and with very thick 
pubic hair. The girls' faces were mostly fairly identical: 
impossibly smooth and blemish-free. Just like her own face. 
Their straight hair was cut level to their chins and coloured, in 
these cases, yellow, blue and red. The hair colour was almost 
the only thing that could positively distinguish the three girls 
who were so passionately making love to her.

"Do you like it, bitch?" snarled Selena, in that erotic comic book 
style she'd once never believed she'd ever adopt.

"Yes, mistress!" said the yellow-haired girl, who demonstrated 
her ecstasy by cries of joy. She was hot and sticky and 
remarkably life-like. 

In fact, all the girls were remarkably life-like. Even Selena. She 
had placed many full-length mirrors about the extensive garden 
where she mostly spent her virtual life, so that she could admire 
herself as she walked, played or made love under the steady, 
unchanging, midday sun. As she observed her reflection in a 
nearby mirror set into the trunk of a large oak tree, she saw the 
image of herself in the passionate company of three short 
voluptuous girls, with skin so ivory smooth and perfect. The 
larger, taller, slim, but massively breasted figure who was naked 
in the midst of these girls was herself. Not involved in the 
action, but available at a moment's notice, was any number of 
similarly identical girls, with the self-same hairstyle coloured 
green, purple, black, gold or whatever. 

The girl who had been kissing her mouth transferred her 
attention down to her breasts and planted her thick luscious 
blue lips on their perfect aureate nipples. A drool of saliva fell 
out of her mouth, and rolled in a deliciously erotic flow down the 
lower contours of her huge mammary endowments and 
gathered as a puddle in her navel. Selena pulled her forearm 
out of the yellow-haired girl's cunt, dripping as it was with 
vaginal juices, and placed her lips and mouth on the well-
delineated folds of her labia. The perfectly proportioned clitoris. 
The two folds of vaginal lips. The vagina itself that was capable 
of stretching to hold any sized object of approximately the right 
shape and dimensions. As was the almost equally 
accommodating anus. 

If only real life were like this. Not that this wasn't incredibly 
realistic. Indeed, in terms of taste, feel, smell and sight, it was 
actually more vivid and more credible than reality. But the 
nature of cyberspace is always to be a more lucid, more 
convincing and more tangible than the real world. And also a lot 
more accommodating to the fantasies that Selena or any other 
visitor to cyberspace might have. In the real world, of slow 
rather than accelerated time, of mundane rather than hyper real 
sensation, of aches and pains, of people who would not obey 
her every whim as her short, large breasted girls would do, in 
that world, Selena was a middle-aged, maybe even past 
middle-aged, woman, of slightly frumpish appearance, who had 
given up dying her hair, and whose skin showed only too well 
the creases of age, and whose waist-line was forever 
disobedient to her dieting plans. 

It was also true that she was a successful scientist, in the 
unfashionable field of organic chemistry. And blessed by an 
equally successful marriage, at least in terms of durability. And 
she earned an income that was the envy of both her peers and 
her own fat and balding husband. But in cyberspace she was a 
large breasted lesbian nymphomaniac. 

And maybe this image of herself that had evolved over many 
years of logging in to the virtual world and which she had 
created for her own pleasure, maybe this image was the real 
Selena that was hidden behind the thick lens of her glasses and 
her never very flattering clothes. Maybe she was meant to have 
enormous breasts, a slim waist, full thighs, and legs that went 
on forever. Rather, that is, than to have been a plump, grey-
haired, middle-aged woman with several moles scattered on her 
face that grew larger at the same rate as they lost their youthful 
colour. Which one was the real Selena? Chemistry department 
Selena? Or sapphic sex goddess Selena? Selena was an 
expert in chemistry, not metaphysics. She had no answer to 
questions like that at all.

Selena paused in her lovemaking, and her three lovers paused 
also, but continued to stroke, kiss and cuddle her in the way 
she liked so much. Her personal avatars were so perfect. They 
matched her mood exactly and without question. Climaxing 
when she climaxed. Relaxing when she relaxed. Never 
complaining. Always ready and willing. Always there. But at this 
point the capacity of their Artificial Intelligence reached its limit. 
There was never any conversation possible beyond that of 
Selena's sexual desire and their own need to satisfy it. They 
had no experience upon which they could reminisce. No 
knowledge on which to pursue a conversation. And their roles 
were entirely circumscribed by her original intentions when she 
selected their avatar specification parameters.

So, she was delighted to see Angela, her closest friend in 
cyberspace, appear in her garden. Angela was not a virtual 
creation, except in the sense that the full-breasted, long-legged 
Selena was a virtual creation. Selena had no idea what the real 
Angela was like. No more than Angela knew about Selena's 
successful career in academia. The Angela that Selena knew 
was very slender, almost breastless, smooth-skinned, with a 
bare vagina and long straight black hair that came down to her 
buttocks. A contrast indeed to Selena's much more voluptuous 
virtual identity. And she tasted so very sweet. Her vagina, her 
small nipples, the ream of her anus, was so pleasant and sweet 
to the tongue. Quite unlike the rich smells and tastes with which 
Selena flavoured her body. 

Angela was different from a pre-programmed avatar not only by 
virtue of her appearance. As a real person with her own volition 
she was able to express herself in ways that were so much her 
own and not those of her designer. She had her own desires, 
her own sexual tastes, her own perversions, quite unlike 
Selena's and somewhat unpredictable. Although she could do 
what she liked with her own creations, Selena needed to be 
much more sensitive with Angela. If Angela wanted fisting then 
Selena could fist her. But if Angela were not in the mood for 
that, then Selena would have to find other ways to entertain. 

And it wasn't only sexually that Selena and Angela could 
engage with each other, though of course this was the original 
excuse that had brought the two together. They could also chat 
and discuss the world and their worries. They could just stroll 
together, hand in hand, either through Selena's virtual world of 
gardens, forests and grassland, or, when Selena exchanged a 
visit, in Angela's virtual world of mediaeval castles and 
eighteenth century manors. It was on those visits that Selena 
probably got to find out most about her cyber lover. 

The fact that they shared sapphic fantasies was given. After all, 
it was in a sapphic chat room that the two had first met. This 
particular chat room, with the cheesy name of 'Women Who 
Love Women', was actually quite tastefully done. Beautiful 
velvet curtains and upholstery, huge portraits of women making 
love to other women, comfortable leather and velour sofas and 
divans, and, in all this, a milling group of women, or what 
Selena hoped were women, in their fantasy virtual avatars 
looking either for as real a love as they could find in cyberspace 
or just for friendly company. 

At first, Selena hadn't been that attracted to Angela. She had no 
real taste for slim or small-breasted women, but they got to chat 
by the huge fireplace, just below a portrait of three women 
enjoying rather extreme sex, and soon found that they had 
more in common with each other than they had with the other 
women whose company they shared. A taste in sapphic sex 
that, although not necessarily sadistic, was still quite refined 
and cruel. And both of them were pleased that here they were 
in a world where they could indulge in their sexual fantasies, 
even to the most extreme prejudice, and it would have no real 
deleterious consequences. 

The nature of Angela's own fantasies was very clear in the 
choice of sexual avatars that populated her virtual world. These 
were no nudists, unlike Angela who never wore a scrap of 
clothing on her virtual body. They dressed in the tightest latex 
and leather; often with their shaven vaginas or their stern 
pointed breasts squeezed through the straps and constraints, 
with the highest stiletto heels at the end of the longest 
attenuated curved legs. And what Angela particularly liked was 
for her avatars, when not serving a specific purpose, to be tied 
up or chained or otherwise constrained in ways where they 
showed the pain and suffering which they could feel only as 
distinctly as the pleasure they got when Angela would choose 
to make love to any of them. Much as Selena enjoyed her time 
with Angela, her own tastes were rather less dark and 
disturbing. They might make love together in either Selena's 
virtual world or Angela's, or even in one of the many other 
virtual worlds that were freely available in cyberspace, but 
Selena always preferred to return to the world of her own 
creation. Angela's obsessions were just a little too dark and 
dangerous for Selena's taste. Just as Angela found Angela's 
world a little too kitsch and Disney-like.

As Angela strode towards Selena across the lawn, three of 
Selena's avatars who were not engaged in pleasuring their 
mistress made their way to approach her and offer her the kind 
of loving they had learnt that she enjoyed. At that moment, 
Angela wasn't interested in sex as such, but she put her arms 
around two of them, one with purple and the other with jet-black 
hair. Selena was pleased to see her friend, but it wasn't totally a 
surprise. It wasn't necessarily that easy to ensure that both she 
and Angela were on-line at the same time, so she kept a diary 
of the best times when Angela was likely to log on, so that they 
had a better chance of meeting up. Angela would never have 
been as organised as that herself. She tended to drop in 
unexpectedly at any time, and sometimes logged off abruptly 
when something or other reminded her that she should be 
doing something in the real world. And when that happened, 
her avatar simply vanished without warning. Sometimes mid-
sentence. Selena suspected that in the real world, Angela did 
not have the same level of responsibilities and duties as she 
did.

"I've just seen that prudish Delia again!" sniffed Angela, as 
always launching into the subject of her discussion without a 
preamble. "She was sniffing around the chat room. And when I 
tried to sniff her tight little cunt, she just fucking brushed me off. 
God! I hate that stiff little cow! But I did get an invite to her home 
site and what's more, Selena..."

"Yes?" wondered Selena, as Angela paused for dramatic effect, 
while the black-haired avatar desultorily stroked her smooth 
vagina.

"I found out what Delia is in the real world. You'd never believe. 
Not in a million years."

Selena had to be careful here. She didn't want her suppositions 
to somehow hint at what she was in the real world. She sensed 
that Angela would be less than impressed to find that her 
beloved Selena was a rather busy head of department in one of 
the less romantic universities of the world. Not that she had any 
idea whether Angela's own real life role was any more 
glamorous. "I could never guess, Angela. What is it?"

"She's only a fucking nun! So, in the real world she's some kind 
of fucking virgin. What do you think? Do you think she's a 
cyber-virgin too?"

"I'm not sure that it's the same thing. You aren't physically 
altered by sex in cyberspace."

"That might be so, but it's often much better here than the real 
world. I can tell you! I was talking to Delia. And I got to ask why 
she was so reluctant to have sex. You know, why else do you 
go to a dyke chat room? And she confessed that she didn't 
want to because she was a nun. And that she'd made her vows. 
And that she wasn't going to have sex in cyberspace any more 
than in real space. Fuck! What a hypocrite! If she's so fucking 
virtuous, what's she doing going into places like 'Women Who 
Love Women'? And I'm told she's been seen in 'Radclyffe Hall' 
and 'Femme F te' as well! So you can't say she's just stumbled 
in by chance."

"Not very likely," agreed Selena, who recalled the physical 
manifestation of many of the other avatars in the sapphic chat 
rooms. Some were extraordinarily strange. The appearances 
that she and Angela had adopted were relatively modest 
compared to the women with penises, the women with 
impossibly large breasts and the women who resembled furry 
animals. However, not all were outlandish, and several were 
relatively normal, although their skin was necessarily smooth 
and immaculate. Delia's avatar wasn't that much out of the 
ordinary. She'd even chosen to wear clothes. There was a hint 
of Delia's vocation, though, in her appearance. She had long 
ringlets of golden hair that cascaded down to her waist and long 
white flowing robes to her ankle. Slim, tall and very pretty. Just 
like some kind of angel. All she needed were some wings and 
she'd be properly appointed.

"Well, anyway, Selena, I got an invite to Delia's home site. Her 
own little love nest. And she's almost certainly there now. So, 
let's go. Come on."

"What? Where?"

"To Delia's site. It's called, (you won't believe it?), 'Delia's 
Home'. How naff can you get?"

Selena blanched. Her site was originally just called 'Selena's 
Home' before she became more sure of the lie of the land and 
renamed it 'The Well of Loveliness'. "So. Why are we going to 
Delia's site?"

"Why? To get inside her prissy little panties. What do you 
think?" sniffed Angela. "If that coy little cow thinks she can keep 
me away that easily she's going to find out differently."

Selena sighed. Angela was incorrigible. When she got an idea 
in her head, she'd obsess about it for ages. She'd often gone 
on about Delia. Selena had met the woman a few times, but 
she wasn't the sort of woman she usually went for. She didn't 
really have the patience for resistance. And anyway, she 
preferred to see the wares fully displayed, rather than hidden 
under gowns and cloaks. But Selena remembered Angela's 
other obsessions. The woman whose avatar resembled some 
kind of squirrel with a correspondingly huge bushy tail. The 
woman with all those strange tattoos and chains. The couple of 
girls who went around together dressed as nurses. This 
obsession with Delia was no different. But Selena worried about 
the real woman behind the virtual image. Did Angela really 
believe that the real Delia, who might even be known as Delia in 
real life, didn't have feelings and emotions? More likely though, 
Angela was fully aware of this and actually rather relished the 
idea of causing damage that would extend beyond 
cyberspace's altogether too perfect sphere.

The journey to Delia's home site was via the navigation portal 
that always discreetly followed Selena around her own site. She 
had chosen the skin of a blue twentieth century telephone 
kiosk: one of the more commonly selected choices, although 
Selena had no idea of its significance. Angela selected a 
destination address which she carried as a bookmark inscribed 
on the back of her hand, and when the two of them exited the 
door of the navigation portal, they were in a world which from 
the first few glances appeared to be quite appropriate for what 
they knew of the woman.

Angela spun around, her slender girlish figure twirling almost 
innocently in the brilliance of the bright sun that shone on the 
well-tended lawns. "This place is a bit like yours, Selena 
sweetest!" she exclaimed.

"It's got more of a religious theme, though," remarked Selena, 
though recognising that there was indeed a similarity in the 
taste for gardens, trees and lawns. But then garden settings 
were statistically amongst the most commonly chosen site 
designs in cyberspace. She'd visited quite a few others like this, 
but not ones with so much marble statuary of the Blessed Virgin 
Mary and so empty of anthropomorphic avatars. There were a 
few frolicking lambs and swooping birds in the landscape. Fluffy 
clouds drifted overhead. There were fountains and flowerbeds 
and garden benches and other features. Selena suspected that 
Delia was probably a keen gardener in real life.

"Ooh! Can you hear that?" laughed Angela wandering over to 
one of the pious statues of the Virgin Mary. "There's some kind 
of tune coming from it."

"Oh yes! It's 'Miserere' by Allegri, I think."

"You what? I've never heard of that group before."

Selena didn't elaborate. She guessed that Angela might 
actually rather despise people with too much culture. "All these 
statues have tunes coming from them!" she commented, noting 
silently the Bach cantatas, the vocal works of Pergolesi, 
Palestrina and P rt, and other devotional music emanating from 
the gathered marble figures.

"Nothing decent though. Nothing you could dance to," Angela 
complained. "Anyhow, I can't see any sign of Delia here. She 
might be in that little cottage there. What do you think?"

Selena nodded. The cottage was the only building in the 
landscape. Quite small and compact, with a puff of smoke 
emerging from the chimney above the thatched roof, and 
pebbledash around the pretty little windows. However, the 
cottage was empty when the two women got there. This was 
odd in a way, because most home sites were populated by the 
avatars of companions, servants or lovers. Only lambs and 
garden birds appeared to inhabit Delia's site.

"You'd have thought Delia'd have some angels or the like, 
wouldn't you?" Angela commented.

"Like cherubim and seraphim!" laughed Selena.

"Yeah! Those too!" Angela agreed. "This is one weird place. 
And hey! Would you believe it! The bitch has got shrines and 
altars all over the place. Just like a church or something. And 
here's a bible. And here's a kind of prayer book. And all those 
pictures. Rather a lot more Virgin Mary than Jesus Christ. 'Cept 
for him on the cross there. That's one real wicked image. I got 
one of my avatars to pose like that for a week. It looked really 
convincing. Blood and everything!"

Selena was rather less keen than Angela on these more 
extreme fantasies. "You wouldn't think Delia was the sort to go 
to lesbian chat rooms, would you?"

"I dunno. Some kind of repressed shit. You know. These nuns 
must be real weird to begin with. No sex or anything. And 
wearing those funny black outfits. I bet this Delia's just always 
wanted to fuck women in real life and just been too scared to do 
anything till she gets to be anonymous in cyberspace. Anyway, 
in real life, she's probably an ugly cow. No one, male or female, 
would probably want to touch her with anything shorter than a 
barge pole. And she spends all day worshipping the Virgin 
Mary. Well. It's only natural you'd want a taste of what's on 
offer."

Selena was sure that Angela was right, but she was 
uncomfortable talking about the real world. She probably 
wouldn't like Angela if she ever met her outside cyberspace. 
Not that it was very likely. It could be she was a mining engineer 
on the Moon. Or a shop assistant in Wellington. Or a customer 
services clerk in Denver. But she was sure she wouldn't be the 
sort to hang about with Chemistry professors. 

"At least Delia's got a bed!" she said, jumping onto the huge 
mattress just by the window and with a view on the garden and 
a distant orchard. "And a pretty firm one, too!"

"It needs to be fucking firm when you're on it!" laughed Angela, 
crawling onto the bed: a pale, slender, sinuous figure. "The size 
of your fucking boobs!" She placed a hand on Selena's 
shoulder and her other cupped one of Selena's breasts while 
her lips pursed on Selena's nipple. The sensation rippled 
through Selena's body, heightened as always by the preset 
parameters, electrifying her nerves and making her gasp. 
However, unlike the avatars of her own creation, Angela's 
avatar had a mind of her own. It was always so much more 
delicious to have Angela make love to her, rather than an 
avatar. You never quite knew what she was going to do.

And in this case, Angela was feeling a little brutal. She bit quite 
hard on Selena's huge nipple, which would nearly have choked 
a corporeal mouth, while her hand first stroked, then fingered 
and, so soon, fisted her large welcoming vagina. However, 
Selena was not a sub by nature, although she quite enjoyed the 
femme role. She liked to give quite as much as she liked to 
take. In real life, of course, she mostly just took when her 
husband ever remembered that a woman had needs too which 
had to be satisfied. Which wasn't very often. But in cyberspace, 
as now, Selena reciprocated Angela's passion with as much 
force as her cyber lover. Her fingers gripped the inside of 
Angela's smooth vagina, so wet and sticky inside, and already 
giving off that strange musky perfume that her lover preferred 
around her groin. Her thumb slid into Angela's anus, which 
easily opened to take the violation, and was just as slippery and 
wet as her cunt, with none of that slightly unpleasant smell that 
Selena associated with her few real-life anal intrusions. She 
licked Selena's body from her long neck to her smooth vagina 
travelling over the flat terrain of her chest, the nipples the 
merest mounds on her childlike body. 

All the while, she could feel Angela's tongue, teeth and fingers 
caress, cajole and worry her own virtual flesh. Tugging and 
pulling at her huge nipples. Soaking her clitoris in saliva. 
Probing deep inside her vagina. She knew that Angela had the 
whole of her fist inside her cunt. This was her friend's favourite 
activity, and she was glad that her avatar had the ability to take 
the strain, whilst the sensation of her pleasuring was 
transmitted risk-free to her corporeal senses. Her vagina was 
bubbling with liquid passion, which dripped down the inside of 
her large thighs and eased Angela's digital penetration. She 
twisted around to face Angela, whose perfect, blemish-free 
expression beamed at her, lost in the ecstasy of their 
lovemaking. At that moment, she felt a flush of emotion, almost 
of love, but she knew better than to express this to Angela. Her 
virtual lover was not someone who could be described as being 
at all romantic. In fact, she mostly sneered at any expression of 
passion that was not for pure physical gratification.

But that didn't prevent her from bursting out in cries of ecstasy 
that thankfully would not be audible to anyone near her in the 
real world. But they were certainly loud enough to anyone in the 
virtual world to hear, and they were mingled with Angela's own 
rather less full-throated and slightly wheezy cries of passion. 
And the vocal accompaniment reinforced the passion and 
pushed the two of them to liquid ecstasy, wet and sticky and 
urgent, shivering and trembling with the heightened, sharpened 
sensitivity of their virtual selves, somehow more real than reality 
itself.

And then Selena became aware that she and Angela were no 
longer the only ones in Delia's cottage. At first, Selena thought 
it was one of her avatars. Or even one of Angela's. But as her 
vision recovered from her passion, and the bits and bytes 
reorganised themselves with clarity, she could see that it was 
Delia, standing rather nervously by a leather armchair, her long 
golden tresses flowing down over her white gown, and a face 
expressive of so much where in cyberspace a face normally 
expressed so little. 

Angela also became aware of Delia's presence, but she kept a 
fist inside Selena's vagina, and placed her weight on her elbow, 
as she turned round to face the mistress of the home site they 
had entered.

"What are you doing here?" Delia asked, her dialect-free voice 
expressing all too well as complicated a set of emotions as 
those on her face.

"What does it look like, Delia?" smiled Angela. "We took 
advantage of your kind invitation and came to visit your home 
site."

"And very nice it is too!" agreed Selena, putting a comforting 
arm around Angela's sharp angular shoulders. "A very pious 
tribute. I just love the music."

"That's not the point," Delia struggled to say. "It's not that you've 
visited my site. And, yes, when I gave Angela my address, I 
was quite happy for her to visit. And you too, Selena. It's what 
you're doing here. This is my home site. I didn't expect you to 
desecrate it with your... your... your..."

"'Fucking'?" Angela remarked. "Is that what you're trying to say, 
Delia? 'Fucking'. Or is it beyond your tight-assed prudishness to 
use words like that? I've been 'fisting' Delia's 'cunt'. And it's 
been fucking great! If there's nothing I don't like more, it's 
fucking. Do you want to join in? Is that what you want to do?"

"Mary Mother of God! What do you think I am? I didn't ask you 
over here so that you could insult my site. I know it's not very 
professional. And I'm sure it's not wholly to your taste. But I 
didn't expect you to come here and behave in such a... such 
a... disrespectful manner."

"'Disrespectful'? You hear that, Selena?"

"Yes. I heard it."

"If it's so fucking disrespectful two women making love with 
each other. Enjoying each other's company. Expressing the 
love they feel for each other." Angela kissed Selena tenderly on 
her cheek. "If it's such a 'disrespectful' thing, then why do you 
visit dyke chat rooms? What do you think dykes do when 
they're not chatting? Praising the lord? Singing hymns? 
Reading the fucking bible?"

"Really!" exclaimed Delia. "This is too much! I can't allow you to 
visit my site and behave like this. I'll just have to ask you to 
leave and I'll revoke your visiting rights. This isn't right. You 
shouldn't come into my site and talk to me like this and force me 
to question my values."

"But, Delia," remarked Selena, in a soft reassuring tone, "you 
surely understand that when you visit a lesbian chat room that 
you are advertising yourself as sort of being available to other 
women. That's what they're there for. This may not be what 
you've consciously asked for, but it must be what you secretly 
want. After all, why do you visit lesbian chat rooms?"

"Yeah, why?" chipped in Angela. "You some kind of peeking 
perv, Delia?"

Delia looked a little subdued as she regarded the naked bodies 
of her two visitors. "I don't know why I have to answer questions 
like that."

"But you do understand that it's a legitimate view," continued 
Selena who, despite herself was rather enjoying the discomfort 
she was inflicting on Delia. Would she have been so bold if she 
were talking to this nun in the real world? Very unlikely. But 
here in cyberspace, normal rules of etiquette could be so easily 
circumvented or ignored. Anonymity was such a wonderful 
thing. "You could visit plenty of chat rooms. There are very very 
many that do not concern themselves with lesbians or permit 
lesbians to meet each other. There are many more where 
women can meet men and men can meet women..."

Delia made a face: an expression that was curiously almost 
mirrored by the intensity of its disgust and aversion by that on 
Angela's face. Not for the first time, Selena felt sure that the 
Angela in the real world was just as much a lesbian as the 
Angela in cyberspace. Delia shook her head. "I couldn't go 
there. Not as a nun. My vows."

"What fucking difference is there in fucking women rather than 
men?" Angela spat out. "Your vows aren't that fucking gender-
specific are they?"

Selena chose to ignore Angela's outburst. "But Delia. That's not 
the point. There are many chat rooms that have nothing to do 
with sex." Selena knew this was true. She'd even visited a few. 
But they weren't as popular as the sex or erotic chat rooms. 
And, as far as she was concerned, not nearly as much fun. And 
when she went to a chemistry or pedagogical chat room she 
had to select an avatar that wasn't as sexually explicit or 
freakish as the one she normally adopted. That would just be 
inappropriate. "You could have chosen to visit a religious chat 
room. Or a musical one. Or one for nuns. But you choose to 
visit lesbian chat rooms..."

"Yeah," agreed Angela. "Not just 'Women Who Love Women'. 
I've heard about the other ones."

"The other ones?" gasped Delia, with an expression akin to 
fright. 

"Yeah, the others. You know the ones I mean."

"Honestly, I've only been to that one and 'Sapphic Literature' 
and..."

"And 'Radclyffe Hall' and 'Femme F te' and God Knows what 
else! You can't shit us, Delia. You're a fucking whore for chat 
rooms!"

At this, Delia suddenly burst into tears. She leaned back against 
the armchair, supporting her weight by the length of her arm, 
while her face fractured into a look of total misery. This sight 
fascinated Selena. She'd never seen an avatar cry before. Well, 
not one that was guided by Real rather than Artificial 
Intelligence. When Angela's latex-dressed avatars burst into 
tears, Selena couldn't really feel sorry for them. They only 
existed for Angela's pleasure. And if suffering was part of her 
pleasure, then so be it. But here was Delia, crying and weeping 
in cyberspace. 

Selena stood up and strode over to Delia. She put her arm 
around Delia's shoulder and let her tears drip onto her still hot 
and sweaty flesh. A lachrymal trickle made its way down her 
chest and flowed over the massively contorted contours of her 
bosom. It felt warm and strangely pleasant. But Selena wasn't 
just comforting Delia for the benefit of feeling the trickle of her 
tears on her flesh. She was also genuinely anxious to console 
her.

"Lay off, Angela!" Selena admonished her cyber lover. "You can 
see that Delia's upset."

Delia sobbed. "I guess you're right. I have been to other lesbian 
chat rooms. And I've watched the films. And watched other 
women. But honestly, I just haven't... I thought, it's one thing to 
watch and another thing to..."

"Don't worry, Delia," said Selena softly. "We've all had to start 
somewhere. It wasn't easy for me to begin with, you know." She 
looked at Angela whom she could see was about to contradict 
her, but she frowned at her to indicate that she should be silent. 
"But after a while, the watching isn't enough. Nor is the flirting. 
Then it's time to follow your feelings. And as you know, in 
cyberspace nobody can hear you scream in pleasure. It's all 
totally free of consequence. And therefore it's free of guilt."

"More's the pity!" Angela mumbled.

Delia put her head on Selena's shoulder. Clearly she was 
enjoying the heightened feelings that were available in the 
virtual world. Just as Selena could feel the enhanced warmth 
and passion of Delia's firm soft body rather better than had they 
met in reality. Who was to know what the real Delia was like? 
Nuns weren't necessarily pretty, but her avatar certainly was. 
And she was pleased to see Delia's resistance dissolve so very 
quickly as she slowly undressed the woman under Angela's 
prurient gaze. She watched her friend finger herself, her crotch 
already dripping with the juice of her earlier passion, while she 
let the gown fall off Delia's body to drop gently onto the thick 
rug. Delia was wearing no underwear, but in cyberspace this 
was the sort of detail that often didn't occur to people when they 
were designing their avatars. Especially when they weren't 
expecting to take their clothes off very often. But Selena wasn't 
convinced that in Delia's case this was simply to do with 
forgetfulness as Delia had taken some care in other aspects of 
her body design. No exaggerated contours like Selena's own, 
but rather the soft delicate lines of a Victorian nude. She had 
clearly enjoyed some pleasure in planning her body design. But 
just as clearly had no further agenda to pursue in taking the 
design to the extremes that Angela and Selena had with their 
bodies.

Selena pressed her lips on Delia's lips, which opened quite 
unresistingly but nervously, uncertain as to how wide she 
should open her jaws, while Selena's tongue gained access 
and slid across the perfect white ivories of her virtual teeth. 
Selena was almost disappointed to discover that Delia's body 
had the default smells and tastes of avatar design: very much 
like the real thing but heightened ever so slightly and also a little 
too pure. Not like Angela and Selena, who'd manipulated so 
many of their tastes and smells to fit the fantasies and desires 
they wanted to project. But Delia was quite innocent of the 
further refinements available to her.

Delia responded by running her hands down Selena's 
voluptuous frame, both wanting to, and frightened to, 
investigate Selena's crotch; but happy to explore Selena's 
nipples and breasts. Selena was delighted that Delia had so 
quickly cracked, but then it had almost certainly been something 
like this she'd been hoping for when she'd granted Angela 
permission to enter her site. And it was Angela now, seeing that 
all was going well, who appeared behind Delia and began 
licking her neck and shoulders with that oh! so flexible tongue of 
hers. Delia gasped with delight. And it was with even more 
delight she let the two friends guide her back onto her own bed, 
so firm and comfortable and large, and lay beside her, busy 
keeping her senses clouded with kisses, cuddles and caresses.

And it was Angela who first breached the crotch. Delia had 
already been emboldened by the two women's directions to run 
the palm of her hand over their crotches, so smooth and hot, 
and even tweaked the clitoris, with a sense of wonder and 
nervousness, while guided by Selena's own hand. Selena loved 
the feel of fingers on her clitoris, and Delia's were deliciously 
long and slender. If only her husband had ever shown as much 
attention to her real clitoris as her cyber lovers did to her virtual 
one. But Delia was clearly somewhat alarmed by the 
reciprocation, as Angela's tongue and fingers explored the 
contours and shape of Delia's own bare crotch. Selena 
wondered whether Delia had left her crotch bare because it was 
the default for the Victorian nude model that she had adopted. 
Or whether, like Angela and herself, she rather liked the 
sensitivity of a perfectly hairless vagina. Either way, her initial 
response to Angela's attentions was to sit up straight and pull 
herself away from Angela's grasp. 

"This isn't right. This is a step too far. This is not only 
contravening my vows, but is also contravening the natural law 
of relations. Can the Lord God forgive me?"

Selena was startled by Delia's sudden change. She was also 
worried that Delia might suddenly choose to disconnect from 
cyberspace and at the same time throw Angela and her out of 
her site. This could be very disconcerting. She had several 
times been dumped in this very abrupt way, suddenly dropping 
into her default home site with none of the comforting 
intermediaries as a telephone kiosk portal. This was one of the 
hazards of cyber-seduction. If the other person changed her 
mind, it was much easier to disengage than in the real world. It 
took some skill to prevent this happening.

However, Angela had just that skill. Whatever she thought of 
Delia, she would be damned if she wasn't going to get what she 
thought were her just deserts after all the energy she'd put in to 
this endeavour.

"You have a very beautiful clitoris, you know," Angela said 
kindly, turning her face towards Delia, smiling in such a sweet 
angelic way that no one would ever suspect the way she 
maltreated her avatars. "My desire for you just got to be too 
much. I should have asked first. In my selfishness I was thinking 
only of my desire and not yours. Have I your permission to at 
least touch your clitoris?"

Delia relented, as Angela knew she would. "Just touch it. 
Nothing else. And then I really must be going. It must surely be 
time for matins."

'Matins'? Selena wondered in which time zone the real Delia 
must be. She watched as Angela returned to her duties. Her 
tongue lashed and inveigled itself on Delia's labia and clitoris. 
And soon Selena's lips and tongue were there too. And soon 
their fingers were in. And pushing. And stroking. And 
scratching. And all the while, as more and more barriers were 
broken, Selena wondered whether Delia would realise how far 
she was being taken. But clearly passion was getting a hold of 
her. She was slippery and sweaty and sticky, as the two lovers 
probed and insinuated and lubricated and incited her. 

And not just in the bed. As the passion took hold, they moved 
about the room. They made love on the rug. On the sofa. In the 
bathroom. In the kitchen. Under a portrait of the Virgin Mary 
who looked down on the three lovers with her quiet gaze of 
spiritual peace. Angela studied the picture, while Delia licked 
the smoothness of her chest and Selena's fist pushed deeper 
into her anus.

"That Mary bitch set a piss poor example didn't she?"

Delia paused in her licking, while Selena's other hand pinched 
the labial folds of her crotch. "What do you mean? About the 
Blessed Virgin?"

Angela looked at Delia pityingly. She was about to pursue her 
argument further, as she'd often done when she had argued 
with Selena about anything which in any way differed from her 
view of the world, but Selena could see that this wouldn't be a 
very good time to push the issue further. Selena still wasn't 
done. And in any case, she wanted to see whether she'd be 
able to persuade Delia to open her arse as wide as she had 
already done her vagina.

"The Blessed Virgin Mary gives help and succour to those who 
need it," Selena argued. "Just as you do, Angela, in your own 
very different way."

Angela nodded. This was the sort of answer she liked. "Yeah," 
she said to Selena, kissing her affectionately on her cheek. "I 
guess in this world we're like Gods, aren't we? We can do what 
we like. And we can enjoy ourselves however we choose."

And just like Gods, Selena thought to herself, as she put her 
lips on one of Delia's pale pink nipples, we have responsibilities 
and duties to our creations and the others who inhabit this 
world. She glanced at Angela with a slight frown. Virtual space 
might be empowering, but it still doesn't absolve us of our moral 
and ethical liability.


======== The End ============



Reflections on "Virtual Seduction"
==================================

I have often wondered what will happen to the Internet and the World 
Wide Web in the future. It's obvious that it won't stay as it is today, 
but it's difficult to know where it will go. Certain science fiction 
authors have guessed at what it might be like, notably William 
Gibson, Jeff Noon and Iain M Banks. This will be a future of avatars, 
portals and hallucinatory reality. But it will also be a place, I think, 
where people will be able to live out their fantasies. And these 
fantasies are not always going to be especially wholesome.

This is a tale of lesbian first love, but in a virtual world. A world 
where people can hide their real selves behind an avatar, rather as they 
currently can in on-line games such as 'Quake'. But, like all my 
stories, it is also a satire on present day concerns. It is, of course, 
impossible to know the future. Most science fiction writers merely 
extend present trends into an imagined future. This makes science 
fiction the perfect vehicle for satire, although astonishingly few 
authors take advantage of this, such as Kurt Vonnegut, Philip K Dick 
and Doris Lessing. Maybe there is something too literal-minded in the 
Science Fiction scene.

Why does this story belong in the Sapphic festival? Well it's a classic 
(I think), it's a tale of first love (that of the nun, Delia) and it is very 
much concerned with the future of lesbianism on the Internet. I have 
scattered references throughout the story to lesbian icons, such as 
Radclyffe Hall. And made some sly jokes on the scene as it currently 
exists. My guess is that the lesbian scene, far from integrating with the 
heterosexual scene as many imagine, will become an increasingly 
distinct identity. And this will become especially so in the 
compartmentalised vista of massive choice that is the World Wide 
Web.

The story has been criticised for being rather rougher and less 
romantic than it need be. Most women's experience of sapphic love is, 
after all, a tender and life-enhancing one. But here the focus is really 
how in a world where people can be what they want to be, and do 
what they want to do, they are also free to be cruel, deceitful and 
shameless. When we can act as gods, will we really act with 
responsibility and compassion? 

I'm afraid I think the answer is very much 'No!'



For More Information: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+