Hormonal Hell
(c)2000 by Virago Blue


Firelight gamboled against the gray stone walls of
Virago's keep.  She was waiting for a guest this
eve, a caller she was most looking forward to
entertaining.  Discarding the afternoon's practice
armor from her healthy frame, Virago entered her
private bedchamber with a smile.  Her sword
she lovingly enshrouded in blue satin and placed near
her curtained bed.  She delayed her bath a 
moment to rub her temples.  "Goddess, not yet."

She stripped the remains of her suede tunic and
leggings and eased her aching body into steamy
lavender scented water.  Lavender had a magic about it,
an ability to soothe her taut nerves.  Immediately she
felt her tension easing away with each stroke of the
rough washcloth over her full breasts and muscular
thighs.  

"Madame?  That young man is here to see you."  Her
maidservant bowed from the room, leaving
Virago with a feeling of foreboding.  Shaking her head,
she continued her bath.    

"Show him to the library, will you dear?"  Virago
called out to her maid.  

"Yes m'lady."  

Virago stepped from her bath and blotted water from her
long legs.  She paused to study herself in the floor
length mirror.  She peeked at her backside and noticed
with relief the marks of last month's activities had
faded to scarcely recognizable bruises.  The other
tell-tale sign had yet to show itself.

After slipping a midnight blue sheath over her naked
body and securing an erotically detailed breast plate
over her chest, she fluffed her waist-length hair.  She
payed distinct attention to the top of her golden head,
turning upside down and brushing the shimmering locks
furiously before throwing them back behind her
shoulders.  Satisfied the top of her hair was charged
with body and still soft to the touch, she tousled the
rest in a vampish way.

Last but not least she bound a dainty chain mail girdle
about her waist.  Tiny bells and jewels
jingled and twinkled as she walked, the long end of
golden chain brushing against her bare thigh
as it peeked through the slit of her gown.  A jeweled
sheath completed the picture, in which her
warrioress's sword hung with dignity.

Virago traversed the cold and dank halls of the
mysterious castle.  All furry vermin dare not make
a nest in her home, for there was a seething evil
beneath the floors of this castle, a horrific rumor
many denied existed.  But it did.

Virago once more patted the top of her hair and felt
down her buttocks before entering her
library.  A gentleman waited for her, sipping a brandy
and admiring her collection of books.

"Ah, Madame Blue, we finally meet."  The gentleman
approached, lifting her work-weary hand to
his lips, kissing her skin with an old world charm
Virago had long since missed.

"Perkins.  How delightful to finally meet you.  Please
have a seat."  Virago motioned for him to
be seated, offering him a plate of chocolates.

"Thank you, Madame Blue."  He reached for a chocolate,
Virago's hand reaching for one after he had made his
choice.  

"Virago.  Please call me Virago."  Virago smiled,
reaching for a few more chocolates.  Her nerves
were beginning to pull taut once again.  She knew
without a doubt that to sit still would be
impossible now.  She drifted to a window and turned
back to Perkins, her silhouette intimidating
against the backdrop of sunlight and iron bars.  "Where
shall we begin, Perkins?"

"Tell me about the Battle of Duncinalia.  I find that
story fascinating."  Perkins removed a small
tape recording device from his satchel and clicked it
on.  A notepad sat balanced on his crossed
knee.  

Virago studied him. Bookish and charming.  He wouldn't
last long but he would be fun for a weekend or two. 
She watched how he pulled his earlobe every now and
again, as if he were trying to listen more intently. 
"What journal do you write for, Perkins?"

"Uh, pardon me?  Oh, Modern Warrior."  

"Oh.  Hmmffff.  Warrior is it then?"  Virago dismissed
the last comment and began her tale.  She
would pause briefly, catching Perkins examining her
naked leg or the finely crafted details of her
breast plate.  His expression began to change, growing
pensive and concerned.

"--and so you see, once the villagers realized their
strategy wa---what is it?"  Virago stopped mid-
sentence and glared at Perkins. "What?"  

"Nothing."  Perkins shook his head vigorously, looking
away from the top of her head.  "Please 
go on."  

Virago paced behind the man, peering over her books. 
Finding the book she wanted, she handed
it to Perkins, diverting his attention away from her
hair for the moment.  "I think you will find
some interesting artist renderings regarding that
little skirmish in this volume."  She stood behind
him, resting her hands on his narrow shoulders.

Perkins began thumbing through the pages, trembling
slightly.  "Amazing actually."

"Amazing?  What do you mean?"  Virago's hands caressed
his shoulders.  She felt her need growing.  "The
pictures?"

"No, not the pictures."  Perkins laughed.  "The fact
that you took a town of barbarians, you were
outnumbered 2 to 1 and you're a woman!  Must have been
some nasty PMS, surely."

Virago's hands lifted from his shoulders.  She stepped
to her desk, back to Perkins.  Nervously she wrung her
hands together, careful he didn't notice.  She leaned
on her desk to steady her shaking.  "What did you say?" 
She tried to say it quietly, somehow it didn't work. 
The scraping of the chair against the slate floor drew
her attention.  Apparently he had stood and was walking
away.  She felt her head then felt the bottom of her
spine above her buttocks.  It was too late.

"Perkins, I repeat, what did you just say?  Answer me." 
This time her voice sounded icy and demanding.  She
closed her eyes as she heard a strangled groan from
behind.

"I...I said...m'lady...that surely Premenstrual
Syndrome must have fueled your anger."

Virago's shoulders slumped and her head lowered to her
chest.  "Fine, then, Perkins.  PMS.  I'm
so sorry you just said that.  I have no other choice
now."  Virago straightened and threw her
shoulders back.  She turned to face Perkins, regret
written all over her face.  "This will be a story
of a lifetime.  Unfortunately you will be unable to
tell it, only live it.  Again, let me reiterate my
apologies for having to do this to you."

"Wh--wha---whatever do you mean?"  

He sounded frantic now, desperate and afraid.  He
continued backing toward the double doors
leading to the main hall.  

Virago shook her head.  "I'm truly sorry for you
Perkins.  Truly.  I liked you."  

Perkins shrieked when two hands clamped down on either
arm.  Long, red snakelike tails wrapped
around his torso and waist.  Each tail was tipped in a
large bloodthirsty point, razor sharp and
deadly.  He turned, gasping with recognition at the two
women that held him.  "No!  No!  Not
you!  But these...."

"Yes, I know, you recognize them.  You're bound to
recognize many more by the time you are
settled in."  Virago said.  

"Settled in!  Where are you taking me."  Perkins
struggled futilely against the women as they
walked him down the long corridor.

Virago followed, shaking her head.  "To Hormonal Hell. 
Where else?"

"NO!  You can't do this!  You will never get away with
this!  Such a place is a myth, doesn't
exist, you said, you PROMISED!"

Virago shrugged.  "I lied."

They walked for what seemed like miles, twisting and
turning through torch lit corridors, down
stone stairways and through barred doors.  Virago
removed a key hidden in her jeweled sheath
and unlocked the carved wooden door.  Moans and screams
greeted them from within.

"Please.  Please, no.  I'll make it up to you somehow,
someway.  I will rally against chauvinists
for you, I will pledge my life to making pigs see the
evil in their ways.  I will, I swear it!"  Perkins
pleaded in desperation.

Virago turned with a gleam in her eye.  "Perkins, do
you think I make the rules in this place?" 
She shook her head sadly.  "I only enforce them."  She
pushed the door open, a wave of steamy heat wrapped
around them.  "I am only one of the Bitch Goddesses."

Perkins stood, mouth agape.  Nothing could have
prepared him for the absolute size of the place. 
Miles of shackles and pits, barred rooms and torture
devices stood, some empty, some holding
whimpering beings.  

"Perkins, since I like you, I will give you a once in a
lifetime tour of the place before finding your
accommodations.  Being a journalist I'm sure you will
be fascinated."  Virago took his hand in
hers and patted it gently.  Once again he was staring
in horror at the top of her head.  She patted
the top of her head and felt her horns peeking through
her golden waves.  "Getting close."  Her
own tail sprang free from under her gown and teased the
back of Perkins thighs.

Perkins jumped in horror.  

Virago sighed and began their tour.  It was a sad
sight, all these men, probably well-meaning and
kind in their own way but one slip of the tongue and
they can very well serve the rest of their days
here.  

Naked women cavorted in front of the shackled men,
taking turns teasing each prisoner. One red-
headed vixen was happily bouncing away on one man's
cock, tugging at her tight nipples and
screaming out in pleasure.  Before the victim had a
chance to find release she had hopped off,
working her way to the next prisoner.  Each one never
had a hope in reaching a climax.   

Virago shook her head.

"What the devil's name is that?"  Perkins pointed down
into a pit of naked teenage boys.  A
pornographic movie played from several screens in the
pit.  Most of the boys were crying, shaking
red and blistered hands in front of them.  

Virago nodded.  "Yes, sad isn't it?  But they have
hope, the other's do not.  You see, that is the
juvenile detention holding pen.  Each one of those boys
made some kind of disparaging comment to a young woman,
whether it was to his mother or to a young girl in his
school.  Good news, though..."

"Good?"

"Yes.  They serve only a year or two, hands covered in
a cayenne lubricant while watching those
movies.  Of course, they can never masturbate, the pain
would be too much.  That's probably why
some of them are weeping.  But they will be free soon,
able to continue with a normal life, free of
the cayenne cream and hopefully learning an important
lesson.  It gives a little hope to future
generations, don't you think?"

Perkins was white as a ghost.  "And what of him?"  He
pointed to a woman happily sucking and licking a young
man's cock, the man a bewildered yet happy look on his
face.  Another woman stroked him lovingly, offering the
man one of her nipples to suckle.  

"Once in a while we find a lad lost in the thick woods
surrounding the keep.  We bring him in for
a few days and play with him in front of the others. 
He is allowed to orgasm as much as he wants
but at the same time he is shocked by what he is
experiencing.  He will invariably be sent back to
his village and become a good citizen with a healthy
respect for women."

Perkins nodded, whether in disbelief or agreement she
couldn't be sure.

"Another thing, some women caught in the throes of PMS
develop an insatiable appetite for sex. 
The lucky males who know this benefit nicely.  That's
why all these women in here are enjoying
themselves."

"All of these women are suffering with PMS?"  Perkins
asked in astonishment.

"Yes.  Even me."  Virago winked, her tail once more
tickling Perkins between the thighs.

"I didn't know."

"Yes, well, many think it is funny to joke about such a
thing when they really have no idea what
they are talking about."  Virago cringed at the
cracking sound of a whip.  "Of course some
women get a little moody, that's not unnatural."  She
pointed to one of the torture chambers.

"Oh my God!  That's--that looks like---!"  Perkins
screeched.

Virago pulled him away.  "Yes, well, on with our tour. 
You don't want to catch her eye just now."

Perkins whimpered.  "But I always thought she was so
sweet and timid."

Virago chuckled.  Just then another naked woman handed
Virago a clipboard.  Virago's bluegreen eyes scanned
down the columns before handing the clipboard back. 
"Thank you, dear.  Tell me, when should we expect the
next chocolate delivery?"

The woman curtsied before answering, her breasts
bobbling obscenely.  "He's on 'is way Madame
Bitch Goddess, ma'am.  The last batch went like hot
cakes, they did."  

Virago nodded.  "Very well.  Find me when they are
delivered.  I'm having one of those powerful 
cravings."

Perkins was beginning to feel clammy to the touch.  "It
seems we have an opening right down this
way.  I'll personally see that you are settled in and
that your meals are delivered to the proper
specifications."  She smiled over at him.  "We're not
barbaric, you know."

Perkins shook his head in bewilderment.  Suddenly he
stopped in his tracks, pulling Virago back. "It cannot
be!  Tell me that's not HIM!"

Virago rubbed at the growing tension in her forehead. 
Her eyes settled on the man, THE man of her wildest and
not so wildest dreams.  Tears immediately filled her
eyes.  She bit into her clenched fist to stop the sob. 
It didn't help, her sobs poured forth loudly as she
clutched Perkins' hand to her breast.  

"I was horrified myself.  I worship the man, absolutely
worship him.  Those brown eyes, that devilish brogue,
even his balding head held an ungodly attraction." 
Virago turned away from HIM for a moment to compose
herself.  

"But it can't be...I refuse to believe it.  Sean?" 
Perkins eyes bugged with disbelief.

Virago nodded, her eyes glistening with tears.  "It
happened the fateful night of the Barbara Walters
Special.  He started his downward spiral with the
mention of how a woman may need a slap or two to calm
her down, or some such nonsense.  Of course we all were
shocked.  NO! we cried in unison, NO, not our Sean!" 
Virago gazed on the God, closing her eyes before
turning back to Perkins.  "Then he stepped into an
interview with one of us and she continued to ask
questions about his...about his...duties as a man.  He
finally made a dire mistake by mentioning the
folly of PMS.  His fate was sealed."  Virago wiped at
her tear-stained cheeks.  "Please.  No more. 
He was my biggest disappointment."

"Of course.  But...if HE's here, who is the other one?" 
Perkins asked curiously.

"A clone.  That is taken care of down the hall.  All
these men can't just disappear without raising
some sort of suspicion.  We must cover all our bases."

Perkins nodded.

"Well, here we are Perkins."  Virago unlocked a door
leading to a twelve by twelve chamber with
sparse furnishings.  "We start off with mild
punishments.  If you tolerate those well your mistress
will decide your next step.  I'm really sorry to do
this to you Perkins but, well, you asked for it." 
Virago kissed him on the cheek.  "Say hello to--"

"But that's--!"

"Yes, it is.  Be nice to her for she holds your fate in
her hand...er hands now."  Virago patted the
cute little blond on her bare back as she busied
herself with undressing Perkins."  

Virago paused outside the chamber door, rubbing her
temples once again.  Her back now began
to hurt.  "Where the bloody hell is that chocolate?" 
She screeched before striding to the main
chamber.  "And bring me . . . " She held out her
pointed finger, scanning the growing group of
lads found wandering in the forest.  ". . . no.  No. 
Nuh uh. . . Not him either."  Virago tapped her
foot impatiently, finally settling on her victim of the
night.  "HIM!"

She made herself comfortable in a chair in the chamber,
carefully removing her chain mail and
obscenely detailed breast plate and quickly ripped the
fine midnight blue sheath from her already
heated body.  "You."  She pointed to the stranger.

"Me?"  He asked.

"Yes, you.  BITE ME!"  She uttered loud enough to draw
an audience, settling her body in the
chair.

She tossed her unruly mass of hair behind her shoulders
and waited.  The man looked her over,
obviously confused.  "Well?  Go on.  What are you
waiting for?"

"But, m'lady, I . . "

"Alright, alright!  You'd think you've never bitten a
woman before.  Sheez.  You may start with
nibbles and I'll tell you when to get a little harder." 
Virago rolled her eyes and reached for an
offered chocolate, exposing more of her hip to the
stranger.  She smiled as his nibbles started . . .