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Subject: {ASSM} Arachis Hypogea by Monocle (F/other nc bond weird)
X-Original-Subject: Arachis Hypogea by Monocle, F/other nc bond weird
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<1st attachment, "Arachis_Hypogea.txt" begin>

If you're under 18, this is not for you; skip or erase the file.  Stay in 
school.  Marry for love.  Say no to drugs.

   The following is a work of 
fiction containing scenes of graphic sex of various kinds, most of which are 
nc, kinky, and/or downright weird.  The actions depicted are not from or for 
real life.

   Content is my own (Monocle), copyright 2003, (as are the 
typos, and spelling & grammar errors).  Any resemblance to persons or events 
living or dead or stories already written is purely coincidence.  The reader 
is freeand welcome to copy and circulate this file in free legal forums, as 
long as this disclaimer is included and no alterations to it or the content 
are made.

   Hope you like it.

   Monocle

   
---------------------------------

   Arachis Hypogea by Monocle  - F/other 
nc bond weird 

   Catherine comes face to face with her childhood terror, 
and it is everything she feared.

   
   Feedback to: 
monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com 
Other stories from Monocle can be found at: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/

   
----------------------------------

rose footfalls
cat pads through my 
dream
awakening

  ----------------------------------

Arachis Hypogea, by 
Monocle

1.
The slinky metal chain of his monocle traced its path, like a 
serpent around my left breast. I shivered at the sensation, but the tremor 
was lost in the greater shaking of my body. The trembling of fright. Fear 
had stolen my protesting voice the moment I'd opened my eyes to see the 
giant veined hull bent over my immobilized body. Someone else might have 
found it comical, but Mr. Peanut has always been terrifying to me. Being 
naked under his gaze was nearly paralyzing. And being bound, hands above 
head, with him standing between my bent, pried-apart legs was fear almost 
beyond imagining.

He, It, whatever, seemed to be examining my breast 
through his oversized lens, dragging the cool chain around over my aureole 
and nipple. Of course it stiffened in response, much to my chagrin, as did 
my left nipple when he turned his attention there. He raised his... head to 
look at me. That smile... the nearly opaque lens, and the other 
dispassionate eye. A whimper escaped me.

"No running away this time, Little 
Catherine." The voice was high, tinny. And I immediately hoped it never 
spoke again. The fact he knew my name only made it worse.

"Mmm. Soft. 
Sensitive..." Massive, white-gloved hands were on my breasts, making their 
ample size seem almost small. He squeezed and rolled them, catching my 
nipples between rubbing and pinching fingers. I gritted my teeth from both 
the physical and aural assault. The smooth leather was slick on my skin, and 
the pervasive odor of peanuts intensified as he rubbed the oil all over my 
chest and stomach, never leaving my breasts for long. It had been a long 
time since someone else had handled them so expertly, and I was extra 
sensitive now. But it couldn't feel good. I couldn't let it

"I hope you're 
not allergic," he said; then he chuckled. I wanted to crawl inside of myself 
at that sound. He continued handling me for minutes, as I squirmed, unable 
to avoid his warm touch. His oily hands slid down my ribcage to my 
hips.

"Hmmm. Not so little, Catherine, since we last met. You have a 
woman's breasts, and body," It would have sounded appreciative from a real 
voice. Here it merely sounded perverted, predatory. He leaned over my belly, 
and his giant top hat blocked his incessantly grinning face. All I could see 
was the chain dangling again, coiling in my belly button, then lightly 
dragging down across my skin as he moved his gaze and body lower. I could 
barely breathe, jumping despite myself as the links flowed directly over the 
top of my mound,  and down my slit. A shiver ran up my spine as I felt each 
individual link cross my most private area. Flexed my thighs and strained, 
but the bindings just above my knees and at my ankles let me do no more than 
wiggle. I was splayed so wide, I knew my labia were parted, exposing my 
flower to his lewd leer. The links flowed between my outer lips ticking just 
inside them as gravity dragged the chain down between my legs.

That chuckle 
came again, and I dreaded finding out what he found so amusing down 
there.

"You're wet." 

2.
No. Not only had I not expected him to say it. It 
couldn't be true. 

"No!" It was a croaked whisper, the best I could manage. 


He looked up at me, smile unchanging. It was supposed to be happy and 
friendly, but it had always been sinister to me. 

"Yes," he said, reaching 
past my left leg to grab something - a black glass cane.  It swished through 
the air in front of my face, then down. He continued to lock gazes with me, 
and I felt something nudge between my legs. Thicker than a finger, thinner 
than a penis, it slid up and down my slit once, twice, and was gone before I 
could even squirm. Then the straight end of the cane hovered before my face. 


"Look," he commanded. The tip of the cane was smooth and rounded, bare of 
ground-gripping rubber. It glistened with moisture.

"Smell." Through the 
thick peanut aroma, was a hint my own scent. My sexual scent.

"Taste." The 
cane touched my lips. Too frightened to disobey, I opened my lips and let 
the glass shaft slide into my mouth. I knew my own body, and tasted my own 
arousal. I shook my head, but could no longer deny the telltale molten 
feeling between my legs. How could I be reacting - to _this_?

"Yes, 
Catherine. Your body does not lie. And more truth yet before we are 
finished. You're going to cum for me. And cum. Then, we'll see.

"MNO!" It 
was almost a cry now, garbled by the cane still intruding in my mouth. I 
felt like I was sinking. A tear slid down my cheek.

He didn't argue. 
Instead, he pulled the cane back from my lips. He lowered the end he was 
holding - the crooked end - in his hand to the top of my pubic mound. The 
hook end was also smoothly rounded, and it pressed lightly against my skin 
and pubic hair as he drew it lower. It passed over the top of my pussy again 
and I gasped. The quick shock of sensation - of pleasure - implied my clit 
had emerged. I looked down my body, then up at his face. He bobbed his body 
as if nodding. Then the tip lowered between my legs and slid into my slit. 
He slowly angled the cane upward, curving the handle into me, one, maybe two 
inches. I squirmed at the unwelcome penetration. It didn't feel bad 
physically, but the other reasons for my discomfort were too numerous to 
count, not the least of which was how easily it was sliding in. My body 
flushed. I was very wet.

He moved the tip back and forth inside me, almost 
as if he was searching for...

"NO! - Guhh!"  

The spot. He found it. 

---
3.
"Oh, god, please..." I'd found at least some of my voice, but it was 
weak and I wasn't being articulate. He stood up between my legs again, 
holding the shaft of the cane in one hand, and alternately groping, pinching 
and massaging my breasts with his other hand. The curved tip of the cane 
twitched with his movements and dragged this way and that against that one 
wilding spot inside me. If it had been another time of month, my breasts 
wouldn't be so receptive, so responsive. It was almost painful now when he 
wasn't touching them. My hips kept shifting. I told myself I was trying to 
get the pressure off that maddening point, but effectively I merely rubbed 
it in different directions.

"It is all right Little Cat. I've waited so for 
this. We have all the time we need." Perhaps the tinny voice was trying to 
be gentle. It failed.

Puzzlement must have crossed my tormented 
face.

"Ever since we first met. In the market. When I looked into your 
eyes, before you ran away, I wanted you. You had to be mine. I knew you 
would be. You've thought about me. I've watched you for all these years. Now 
I have you."

My eyes had widened again in renewed horror as he spoke. It 
couldn't be! My mind flashed wildly back to the shivers I'd have whenever I 
saw his picture in an advertisement, the occasional flashes - paranoid 
suspicions of being watched for no reason... It all connected in some 
terrible logic now, bound by this single thread I knew was correct, but so 
utterly wrong.

"Noohhhh! Uhhhh." My protest turned into a moan as sensation 
raced up my spine. A finger had grazed my clit, multiplying the intensity. 
My hips ground down into the rubbing cane and I couldn't stop them. Inner 
muscles gripped the unyielding curved shaft. He gently pinched my right 
nipple as my own juices flooded me.

"Good, good girl. Very soon now, my 
Catherine." He sounded surprised. Pleased.

I tried to hold my lower body 
steady, but couldn't completely stifle the little humping motions. How could 
such a horror be having this affect on me? I wanted to smash the smiling 
face with a fist or a good solid kick. I would, given half the chance, but I 
could barely even twitch my arms and legs. Another moan escaped me as my 
control momentarily lapsed, and my hips surged into the relentless pleasure. 
I jolted again as the finger crossed my clit randomly.

"It's coming, 
Catherine. We both know it. There's nothing you can do about it. Best just 
to enjoy it." 

My breasts were getting a thorough going over, and the 
sensation in my pussy was a gathering storm.  I was not escaping it. It was 
maddening.

I knew I'd lost when the butterflies started in my stomach, and 
it frightened me even more, if that was even possible.  I gasped air, 
finding my eyes locked on the expressionless monocle. I heard a quiet 
"yesssss" hiss from him as the lightening spread up my chest to explode in 
my breasts first, then rocket down my spine to set my pussy alight. 

"N!-" 
My last protest died as my pussy clamped down on the cane tip and my entire 
body shuddered. My hips bucked, grinding the cane against my spot as orgasm 
consumed me. I almost could not recognize my own screams of terror fused 
with forced pleasure. The hand at my breasts never stopped, each pull and 
pinch extending and prolonging the agony of the climax. My back arched, 
stomach flexed, and limbs jerked in their restraints. It went on and on as I 
stared helplessly into the cloudy glass of the lens. It threatened to 
envelope me.

---
4.
Slowly, I did come down. As some of my senses returned, 
I realized he'd removed both his hand and cane from my sweat and oil-covered 
body. 

"That was very nice. Very good. Catherine. A very good 
start."

Start? I was too out of breath and deflated to react to that. I did 
sob, though. How could I cum for this horror, this childhood nightmare? How 
could my body betray me so?

"Now, raise your hips. I know you can. Arch you 
back and lift up," he commanded.

How could he? He wanted more? He wanted me 
to cooperate? I couldn't. I wouldn't.

"Now Catherine. You know I can make 
you." He could have sounded angry, impatient. He didn't. It was like he 
expected my recalcitrance. Desired it, even.

"All right, then," and the 
crook of the cane was digging back into my sopping womanhood. This time it 
was not gentle, though. He hooked the curved handle upward and began to 
pull. The rounded tip of the cane dug into the roof of my tunnel and pressed 
upward, quickly becoming uncomfortable. I had little choice but to try to 
follow it to relieve the pressure, and soon I was arching as much as I could 
to, holding my rear several inches above the soaked seat. I was already 
tired, and it was an effort to stay in this position using just my back and 
stomach muscles. But I tried to get even higher when I felt a thick, oily, 
glove finger trace from my tailbone to delve between the cheeks of my 
ass.

"Gggnoo!" was all I could manage between gritted teeth.

"Oh yes, 
Catherine," the reply was a little muffled, because his face was now below 
my line of sight. All I could see was the slightly moving oversized top hat 
between my spread legs. 

"I want to see, touch, and have all of you." With 
that, I felt fingers of his hand spread my cheeks apart, allowing a middle 
digit to trace up, down and around the ring of my anus. I tried to jerk 
upward, but whatever extra distance I could move was not great, and had did 
not alter the course of the digit circling the sensitive muscle guarding my 
rear entrance. The smooth end of the digit settled in the center of my 
sphincter, and I closed my eyes. The upward pressure in my pussy ceased as 
the cane was removed

"Now, let yourself down." More shock and surprise. He 
wasn't going to violate my ass. He was going to make me do it to myself! In 
a surge of unwise obstinacy, I vowed to resist again -that I would stay up 
like this until he gave up.

"I can wait as long as I need to Catherine, but 
you do need to obey." The voice was clearer now, with a little edge to it, 
and I opened my eyes. I saw him looking over my upwardly straining body; the 
straight end of his cane poised some inches over my pussy. I saw the cane 
flash down and up, and heard the slap of it against my skin an eternity 
before the sharp sting of the blow hit my brain. He had slapped the cane 
dead center on my post-orgasmically sensitive clit. I shrieked at the pain 
and automatically recoiled away from it - impaling my ass on the stiff 
finger.

5. 
"UGGH!" I grunted low. The fat digit popped past my protesting 
anus, maybe knuckle deep into my rear end. I tried frantically to reverse 
direction, unmindful of the consequence. I not only failed to dislodge the 
invading digit, but also was rewarded with another slap from the cane, which 
caused me to jerk down again and swallow more of the sodomizing finger. 

It 
was a battle quickly lost. Moments later, I lay breathless, by full weight 
on the hand extending a long middle finger into my back passage. During the 
struggle, the pointer finger of the same hand found it's way along my 
perineum, to my slit, then into my pussy. The thumb settled near the top of 
my vagina, just below my throbbing clit.

"Good girl, Catherine. That's 
right. It will be all right now. It will feel good. I've always wanted to 
make you feel good." 

I didn't believe him.  

"Time to make you cum again, 
sweet Catherine."

I shook my head in protest, but that was all I could 
muster. He'd already started rubbing his thumb around my clit - never quite 
touching it, and wiggling and sliding the digits trapped in the depths of my 
pussy and ass in sensuous rhythms. His other hand joined in, caressing my 
inner thighs, or my labia, or my mound just above my clit, or trying to dig 
in next to the finger already penetrating my sex. I don't know how much time 
it took for my body to start responding. It happened much sooner than it 
should have. It shouldn't have happened at all, but when I could look down 
once more I say my lower body undulating with the motions of the gloved 
hands. The muscles in my pussy and ass instinctively squeezed the fingers 
like they were little cocks, trying to make them cum.

This time my climax 
came more slowly. Slowly enough that I could feel myself fight its arrival 
and lose, fright-by-fright, sensation-by-sensation, and 
pleasure-by-pleasure. I sobbed as the spasms wracked my body, my pussy and 
ass milking the active fingers. The high, alien voice practically cooed with 
satisfaction.

6.
The fingers slid slowly out of me, dragging a moan from my 
lips. My inner muscles clutched at the retreating digits as if not wanting 
to let them go. I turned crimson at my body's betrayal. 

"That was very 
nice, Catherine. Very nice to cum for me like that." 

I hated him. It. 
Whatever. The smile, voice, spindly legs. I feared and hated each part and 
the monstrous whole. 

As I seethed, he surprised me by starting to release 
my bonds, first ankles, then knees then wrists. He was talking, but I 
couldn't hear him through the rush of blood. He thought I was beaten, that 
he could do what he wanted with me.  Adrenaline surged, and I fought to 
remain lethargic looking until my last limb was free. Then I moved, bringing 
my legs up for a savage kick to the middle of his shell. He staggered back, 
and I seized the moment to escape. 

I swung off the padded reclining 
chair-like contraption that had held me for so long, and jumped to the 
floor. My feet shot out from under me and I landed hard on my rear. Oil. On 
my feet, the floor, or both. The jarring landing knocked the wind out of me, 
and I gasped, almost passing out. I was too busy recovering my breath to see 
my advantage, my chance to get away, disappear. The oil on the floor seemed 
not to affect him. He was just suddenly there, grabbing my wrists and 
sliding me across the smooth floor.  

By the time I was getting enough air, 
I was restrained again, this time bent over a narrow bench. My arms 
stretched above my head again, secured near the end of the bench. My knees 
were knees spread wide, tied to the floor just above my calves. My own 
weight pressed my breasts and stomach into the padding of the bench.  I 
couldn't see him well any more - he was mostly behind me, and it was hard to 
crane my neck around from my new position. For a moment I thought I saw he'd 
taken off his hat. On the edge of my vision, it looked like he was reaching 
into it and pulling something or several somethings out. 

"You need to be 
good Catherine. That wasn't good."

I heard a whistling sound.

"SLAP!"
 
I 
shrieked as a line of fire crossed my buttocks. It was the cane!

"God, 
No!"

"SLAP!"

Another one, just below the first. I cried out at the sting 
of it.

"Be a good girl, Catherine."

"No!"

"WHACK!"

His open palm nearly 
covered my left cheek with pain.

It continued. Alternating slaps with the 
cane, with a hand. On my ass, my thighs, God, between my legs. I didn't know 
what being good meant. I didn't care. I gritted my teeth and wouldn't say 
it. I tried to wiggle way from the blows, but of course could not. Some 
times the cane would strike the side of a breast and make me jump anew. They 
came fast and slow, soft and hard. Not hard enough to welt or bruise me - I 
hoped - but every hit stung, and soon most of my backside was one tender, 
singing, throbbing sting. I screeched and cried out, and eventually, just 
sagged and took it. By the end, I only twitched at the harder bites. Finally 
he stopped. I breathed raggedly five or six times, before the next words 
made me choke. 

"You're wet."

7.

An accusation? An opinion? Of course I 
was wet after all this, I thought, maybe even bloody from... But no. No. No. 
No. I realized with utter mortification that I was dripping. My outsides 
were aflame, but my insides were like melted butter. My pussy was positively 
creaming. All I could do in response with was a despairing moan.

"Let me 
help you."

Help. I needed help. God, Help. He released my arms and I 
threatened to slide back off the bench. Then my pussy touched something as I 
sank back, and I tensed and stopped myself abruptly. Something blunt and 
round nosed between my labia. It was wider than the cane, or his gloved 
fingers. It was textured and hot, and I feared it, but had to grab onto the 
seat edge and bite my lip to keep myself from grinding down on it.

"Let me 
help you."

The repeated words buzzed in my ears as white-gloved hands came 
into view to either side of my head and settled on my wrists. Oily as they 
were, they easily pulled my hands free and forced them behind my back, 
holding my wrists crossed while something wound around them. Now only my 
legs kept me above the tip of whatever it was behind me. Even if I craned my 
neck all I could see was a great peanut-yellow shape behind me, and I 
couldn't turn too far, or I would end up lowering myself. More and more, I 
both wanted and desperately did not want that to happen.

"Let me help 
you."

Hands went to my breasts again, one each. Oil, rubbing, squeezing; 
gently pulling back. I groaned in protest, and in base, animal arousal, in 
surrender. I sank back. 

It was big. My lips flowered open around it, 
stretching to accommodate it. I grunted incoherent syllables as I descended 
onto it, sinking ink by inch. Its texture was oddly ribbed and veined, and I 
felt every bump and valley slide into my secret flesh, pressing and rubbing 
against my spot. It filled me completely. 

"That feels good, doesn't 
it?"

I could have said no. I could have lied.

"yesss," My voice was very 
small.

"I've waited, wanted for all these years. So have you."

"noo." I 
still would not accept or believe it.

"Yes you have. You know it deep 
inside. As deep inside as I am now." 

I couldn't imagine what he meant. His 
giant peanut form had been smooth between his spindly legs, no signs of 
genitalia at all. I groaned and weakly tried to lift myself up. The 
ever-working hands kept up their manipulations of my breasts- and they 
gentle pulling back and down. I raised maybe an inch or two up, and then 
sank down, trembling. It felt too good. If anything, I'd gotten it even 
deeper into me for my effort.

"You will see eventually. I know it. Now. 
Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me until you cum. One more time."

I couldn't. Even if I 
wanted to. Everything was gone. Strength, resolve, will. All I could do was 
kneel there, impaled by some giant peanut phallus while an obscene giant 
molested my tits.

"Let me help you."

8.

The great whit gloves released my 
breasts and slid down my sides, to my waist. My hip bones fit perfectly into 
the two palms, and I felt myself lifted upward, the great, textured cock 
shape slowly pulling out of me. He lifted me until the shaft was nearly all 
out, and then gently guided my back down. I tried to reach back with my 
bound hands to slow or stop my progress, but my fingers slid uselessly down 
the shell of his body. I moaned as I filled again, every nook of my canal 
stretched and rubbed, every internal nerve seduced by heat and texture. 

He 
raised and lowered me again, and again. I throbbed around the shaft, and 
felt it pulse in return. Heat flashed through my body and my legs flexed 
with the motions. Again. Again. I uttered sounds I didn't know I could make. 
The hands left my hips, and my own legs carried me up and down the shaft on 
their own once, twice. I only realized I was fucking myself when the hands 
returned to my body - one to my breasts, one snaking down my stomach, The 
hands pulled me back against the hull of his body, pinning my arms between 
us. My tormented skin stung at the fist contact, but I still rose and sank 
on the fat shaft, and the sliding of my backside against the warm, smooth 
texture massaged some of the pain away.

The hand on my stomach slid further 
down, a thick finger finally finding my clit.

"Guh!  UuuuuHHHH.." Sensation 
was all there was. Horror, fear, humiliation had all been honed into one 
edge of the sword. Pleasure, release, surrender was the other edge. I fell 
upon it over and over. My stomach lightened, almost queasy with 
butterflies.

"Yessss...Gooood.." His voice was right behind me. Its pitch 
was a different. Huskier, if that were possible. "Cum for me one more time, 
Little Cat. One more time for me. Just like I always wanted. Just like you 
always wanted."

And I did. I jerked up one last time, jamming my clit into 
his busily working fingers, my breast into his pulling, pinching hand, then 
fell down and down and down. I couldn't even scream. I looked up unseeing, 
mouth open, emitting some kind of sound, as my body exploded in complete 
release. Wave after wave of it crashed over me. I died, was reborn. I fell 
through the rainbow. My pounding and throbbing body heart defined ebb and 
flow of existence. Then he came in me. Through my storm, maybe because of 
it, I felt him swell inside me, then the pulse and hot surge of... I don't 
know what, erupting into me, with nowhere to go but deeper, into my very 
center. Once, twice, thrice, more, and more. He filled me completely, then 
more. It would have been uncomfortable if I weren't so far gone. Instead it 
only added to the savage, exquisite double cut of the sword. It went on 
forever.


9.
I drifted into myself. My head and upper body leaned on the 
bench. Something was happening with my arms. Release- they flopped down to 
the floor. Hands took my hips and lifted, and my completeness dissolved away 
as the cock? Nut? Fell out of me, followed by copious amounts of thick fluid 
cascading down my legs. I whined, protesting the loss. 

My knees freed, I 
slid and was caught. Warm dry arms cradled me like a child, carrying me. A 
soft bed beneath me. A great hand stroking my forehead, hair, shoulders. I 
sighed in utter exhaustion. And in so much more. Another warm hand stroked 
low on my belly. Intimate. Possessive. Satisfied. 

"Goodbye for now, Little 
Cat, " The voice again, "You were worth waiting for. You were very good. So 
very good."

 I opened my eyes and looked over the bed's edge. In my mind, 
in the cinema of memory, a little girl stared wide-eyed into the white 
circle of giant Mr. Peanut's monocle as he held out a sample package in his 
white-gloved hand. Nameless, reasonless fear gripped her stomach as she 
looked up at his looming form, and she ran as fast as her tiny legs could 
carry her to the other end of store.  It was yesterday. It was now. But now 
he had caught me. It was different. How I couldn't say. But I would find 
out.

-----------------------------------------

Arachis Hypogea, by 
Monocle

Feedback to: monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com 
Other stories from 
Monocle can be found at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/
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