Message-ID: <42631asstr$1053936603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Originating-Email: [monocle_o@hotmail.com] From: "Monocle" <monocle_o@hotmail.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <BAY7-F1047QY9zK4unn0000dc2c@hotmail.com> X-OriginalArrivalTime: 26 May 2003 03:41:11.0777 (UTC) FILETIME=[A6A97510:01C32338] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 26 May 2003 03:41:11 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Arachis Hypogea by Monocle (F/other nc bond weird) X-Original-Subject: Arachis Hypogea by Monocle, F/other nc bond weird Date: Mon, 26 May 2003 04:10:03 -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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/42631> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw _________________________________________________________________ The new MSN 8: advanced junk mail protection and 2 months FREE* http://join.msn.com/?page=features/junkmail <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/ <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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