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From: "Samantha" <samanthak@fastmail.fm>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sam - Part 12  (FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
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Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2006 06:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Sam - Part12.doc" begin>

Sam - Part 12

by Samantha K
(FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
[comments welcome: SamanthaK(at)fastmail.fm]

I woke up in the morning to three pleasant things.  First, I had
been having a vivid dream where I was a gorgeous redhead being
fucked mercilessly by a hugely-hung guy that looked a lot like
Jim.  When I opened my eyes, I found that it wasn't a dream.  The
redhead was Neeka and she and Jim were just picking up where they
left off the night before.  I was just feeling her climax being
broadcast from the room next door.

The second thing was Bud's morning wood.  It was a magnificent,
rock-hard erection that made me hot just looking at it.

The third was Jolene sliding her mouth up and down the shaft
while Bud rubbed her pussy with his fingers.

"Good morning, you two," I said.  "Looks like we're getting an
early start this morning, hmmm?"

Bud just grinned.  Jolene stopped licking long enough to say,
"You know what they say   the early bird gets the worm.  I think
this is a pretty big worm I've got here.  Can you give me a hand
with it?"

I got down at the foot of the bed and crawled in between Bud's
legs.  I licked and sucked his balls and tried Jolene's trick of
sucking them into my mouth.  They were too big to get both of
them in at once, so I had to do them one at a time.

Bud seemed to appreciate it.  It didn't make his cock any harder,
but it did seem to make his balls swell up to have me suck on
them.  I thought it might make a difference in the volume of his
usually prodigious load.

After a bit, I moved up and took over from Jolene on his shaft,
while she moved up to the shiny head.  I tried to get him as wet
as I already was from sharing in Neeka's last climax.  Jolene
lapped up the precum as it oozed out and spread it around to make
his cock slick.

When I was ready, I crawled up and straddled his chest.  I put my
ass in the air and positioned my pussy where he could reach it
with his cock.  Jolene picked up the big slab of meat and pointed
it between my legs.  I pushed back and got the head planted into
my opening.

While Jolene watched, Bud pushed down on my shoulders to force
his cock into my pussy.  She gasped when the head popped in and
slid inside several inches.  I gasped too.  That feeling of my
body being invaded by something that big, of being impaled on a
cock that felt like a fence post, was something I would never get
used to.  My eyelids fluttered and my pussy started a reflexive
contraction.  I had to wait until I could get calmed down before
I could take any more.

Jolene tried to help out by licking the junction of Bud's cock
and my pussy.  That made me hotter, but it didn't actually
improve the situation.  I certainly wasn't going to tell her to
stop, though.  She was entitled to participate in this in any way
she wanted.

When my pussy got used to its lodger, I was able to slide down a
few more inches.  Jolene stopped licking to watch my progress. 
She seemed fascinated that something that large could fit into a
hole that small.  I felt her hand on my abdomen as she felt the
slight bulge that Bud's cock made as it pushed into me further
and further.

Finally, she couldn't contain her curiosity any more.  "Doesn't
that hurt?" she asked.

I laughed sharply.  "No!  Oh, no!  It feels wonderful.  It only
hurts until you get used to it   until you get stretched out
some.  After that it's just this fantastically great feeling. 
Remember what Connie said?  It's like being a glove.  You can
feel it everywhere!  And all at the same time!"

Jolene was trying to experience this vicariously through me, so I
decided to get her as involved as I could.  I put my hand over
hers on my abdomen and moved it around to show her the depth to
which Bud had penetrated.

When I had taken another couple of inches, I said, "That's as far
as he can go in my vagina.  See how there is still a few inches
still to go?  Now for my trick.  You may not be able to do this.
I only found out I can do it by accident and it just about killed
me the first couple of times."

I leaned back to line my cervix up with his huge shaft.  I
wiggled around to center it and then I concentrated on relaxing
one specific set of sphincter muscles.  The sensations from there
were more of pressure than anything else, but I knew I had done
it when I felt it dilate and the head of his cock started to push
inside my womb.

"He's going inside my uterus, Jolene.  This is the only way I can
take his whole cock inside me.  Feel the top of the bulge here. 
You can probably feel the outline of my cervix around his cock. 
I'm probably going to cum like crazy when he gets it all the way
in."

Sure enough, when I slid down all the way and my clit hit his
pubic bone, I went off like a cherry bomb.  I smiled when I heard
a surprised shriek from Neeka as the powerful mental waves from
my orgasm hit her.  'Gotcha back!' I thought.  Then I was lost to
anything but the pure, all-encompassing sensation of pleasure.

I vaguely became aware of Jolene embracing me, holding me
upright.  As awareness returned, I put my arms around her and
pulled her tighter to me, crushing her against my boobs.  To keep
from falling over, she swung a leg over Bud, putting her pussy
right in his face.

Never being one to look a gift pussy in the mouth (sorry, I had
to say that), Bud used his tongue where it would do the most
good.  I felt her jump and then shudder in my arms when he licked
her clit.

The three of us made a perfect triangle with Jolene and I
straddling Bud and kissing each other like mad.  I rode up and
down on Bud's cock while Bud licked Jolene's clit and stuck his
tongue as far into her pussy as he could.  Jolene had her hands
on my nipples and pulled on them as gently as if she had been
raised on a dairy farm and had lots of experience handing teats.

Our three-way sex had me seriously hot and I was having orgasm
after orgasm.  My nipples were big and stiff and my clit was
straining out and up.  It had gotten big again and I was having a
hard time getting enough friction on it in my position atop Bud's
cock.  Jolene eventually noticed my hugely swollen clit and left
her place on Bud's face.  Instead, she wrapped her legs around my
hips and planted her pussy right where I needed it.

The wet, slippery feeling of going between her labia was
wonderful and the hot velvet sensation of penetrating her vagina,
even by only a couple of inches, filled me with such an intense
sexual heat that I was nearly out of control.  I grabbed Jolene's
ass with both hands and started to fuck her rapidly with my stiff
clit.  I moved her up and down with my hands and rocked my hips,
thrusting into her as deeply as I could.  I went faster and
faster, looking for greater and greater stimulation.

Jolene started to cry out, "Ah! Ah! Ah!  AAAOOOOooooouu" and I
knew she was cumming.  She tensed and clung to me tightly as her
orgasm wracked her body.

Bud must have been having a tough time holding out with all the
wild jerking around I had been doing.  Hearing Jolene cum was the
last straw for him and I felt his legs tense as he arched his
back and blasted his load into me.

Feeling him drench my insides brought me to a marvelous peak. 
With Bud inside me and me inside Jolene, and all of us climaxing
together, it felt like I was having more than one orgasm at the
same time.  Waves of intense pleasure caromed around inside my
body from my toes to my head.  I wavered in and out of
consciousness as the different waves came together and reinforced
each other.  I felt like I was being torn apart and put back
together.



The three of us stayed like that long after Bud had run dry and
his cock had retreated from my womb.  Long after my clit had
shrunk back and left Jolene's pussy.  And long after Jolene's hot
breath had slowed from steam-engine speed to a slow, deep - if
ragged - tempo.  Jolene and I were still wrapped in each other's
arms, holding and supporting each other, when the connecting door
opened and Neeka stuck her head in.

"Excuse me," she said, "but I had to come see this with my own
eyes."

"You've outdone yourself, Sam," she told me, mind to mind.  "I
felt it, but I didn't understand it.  It felt like you were
giving and getting at the same time.  You've learned to play both
sides of the net at once, haven't you?"

"Yeah.  And it's wonderful!"  I tried to be more expressive of
how I felt, but words failed me, even mentally all I could manage
was a lopsided, leering grin.

I looked behind her, expecting to see Jim.  She saw my glance and
said, "Jim went back to sleep.  We were up and down all night. 
I'm wiped out too, but I had to come see what new kind of sex you
had discovered."  She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked
to see if she was in Bud's way, but he, too was asleep and had
begun to snore softly.

Jolene was draped limply over my shoulder, either asleep or
passed out from the intensity of her climax.  I pried my hands
off her ass and eased her back on the bed to lie next to Bud. 
There were red imprints of my hands on both her butt-cheeks from
here I had gripped her so tightly.  I hoped I hadn't bruised her,
or if I had, I hoped she would think if was worth it.

Neeka and I pulled the sheet up over the two sleepyheads and
snuck out of the room to let them catch some Zs.  I briefly
worried about Jolene waking up in bed alone with Bud, but I
remembered what a joyous feeling it had been for me and I decided
that it was worth the risk to let Jolene experience the same
thing.

As we approached the door to my own room, the giggling sounds we
heard from inside alerted us to the fact that Bambi, Connie, and
Janice were awake as well.  A bit more than awake as it seemed. 
When we opened the door, we saw that the room was a wreck.  There
were pillows and covers and sheets everywhere.  The bottom drawer
of the large chest was hanging open and several toys were
scattered about on the floor.

Bambi, Connie and Janice were all on the bed.  Janice was on her
back with  Bambi's face in her pussy, while Connie humped
energetically away at Bambi with a large black strap-on dildo. 
This was clearly just the latest permutation of something that
might well have been going on all night.

They were all so involved in what they were doing that Neeka and
I backed out of the room and quietly pulled the door shut so as
not to disturb them.  Instead of using my bathroom, we went
downstairs to Bambi's.  I had planned on a hot shower, but the
opportunity to take a bath in Bambi's big whirlpool tub was too
much of a temptation for both of us and we soaped and soaked
ourselves pruney.

After lavish use of what we both hoped were not the most
expensive toiletries on the shelf, we cleaned up after ourselves
and replaced the plush towels we had used with fresh ones form
the closet in the hall.  Leaving the bathroom more or less as we
had found it, we went downstairs to get a start on breakfast. 
After all the energy being used by everyone this morning there
would probably be a houseful of hungry people.

We were both still naked.  My clothes were all up in my room and
I hadn't wanted to go back up there and interrupt the party. 
Neeka could have dressed from the closet in 'her' room, but she
didn't because I didn't.  Since cooking in the nude is a somewhat
hazardous proposition, we both got aprons off the hooks in the
cupboard.  Neeka's looked terribly cute on her.  You couldn't
tell it was all she had on until she turned around and showed her
darling behind and her sleek legs.  Mine looked positively
inadequate.  It only covered my cleavage and left the outsides of
my breasts exposed.  My nipples peeked around the edge of the
fabric like curious puppies peeking around a fence.

I was trying to keep them corralled when Neeka saw my problem and
laughed.

"That's beautiful!" she said.  "Stop trying to hide.  It's
pointless and you're just messing up the excellent view.  Just
let me cook the bacon, OK?"

I blushed anyway.  I was getting so used to prancing around in
the buff that trying to cover myself up felt strangely wrong.

"It is wrong," Neeka said, tapping my surface thoughts.  "You are
one of the few people for whom it should be a crime to wear
clothes.  It's like painting a moustache on the Mona Lisa.  And
don't you need to go feed the dog, anyway?"

She reached up to take the big frying pan down off the hook.  I
admired the way her rear bunched up and the muscles in her legs
stood out under her creamy skin.  I thought that her comment
about not being allowed to wear clothes could certainly apply to
her as well.

It didn't take any extraordinary mental ability to know what she
intended to do with the frying pan once she had the handle in her
hand.  I barely got out of reach before she swatted my behind
with it.  I kept going and made it out the side door before she
could take advantage of her longer reach and connect the flat of
the pan with my rear.

The morning air was cool but not chilly.  The concrete felt cold
under my bare feet.  A mild breeze from the west was bringing
moisture inland and the result was heavy dew.  I learned this
when I got to the bottom of the wooden stairs and walked across
the grass to the garden shed.  By the time I got to the door my
feet were drenched.

There was no sign of Brute as I went inside the shed.  I washed
his bowls and filled them with food and water.  I carried the
food out first and put it in its usual place.  Then I brought out
the big bowl of water, being careful not to slop it on me.  I had
just bent over to set it beside the other bowl when the sneaky
dog nosed my bare ass.

I jumped three feet in the air, managing to let go of the bowl so
it didn't spill.  At the apex of my jump I pushed off the trellis
so I would not land with my feet in the bowls.  I came down about
six feet away with my hand on my hips and a glare in my eye.

"Very funny, dog.  Very funny."  I mellowed when he looked at me
with those big eyes.  Maybe he was just enjoying the new scent I
was wearing and hadn't meant to startle me after all.

"All right, I forgive you," I told him, smiling to show I wasn't
mad.  

Brute looked at me and took a step in my direction with his
tongue sliding out of the side of his mouth in the doggy version
of a smile.  Then he stopped and looked back at the bowls of
fresh food and water.

"Come on," I said, "Make up your mind.  Eat or play."

Brute looked back and forth once more and then turned to the food
and began to eat.

"OK.  Maybe later, then."  I stood up and walked back to the
steps, my toes kicking up a spray of water with each step.  As I
climbed back up, I looked back.  Brute still had his head in the
bowl, eating like it was his last meal   which was how he usually
ate.  That dog never did anything leisurely or halfway. 
Certainly not eating anyway.

The dew made grass clippings stick to my feet, so I had to scrape
them off on the cocoanut-husk doormat before I went inside. 
Neeka had the bacon sizzling in the pan and was studying the back
of a box of pancake mix.

"What's four times one and three-quarters?" she asked.

"Seven."

"That was quick."  She sounded suspicious about how I had come up
with the answer so fast.

"Break it down," I said.  "Four ones is four.  Four halves is
two.  Four quarters is one.  Four plus two plus one is seven. 
Don't give yourself a headache trying to solve the big problems,
break it down into small, easy ones."

"Hmmm.  I was about to say that's cheating; but that's kind of
the way computers work, too.  Only they break it down into
binary.  You know, just ones and zeros."

I wanted to ask her about how she got interested in computers,
but I was afraid the answer might veer off into technical stuff
and I was too buzzed to get my head around anything complicated.
Doing her Practical Math problem for her had about pushed me to
the limit.  She glanced at me and nodded her agreement before
going back to something less mentally challenging.

"That was certainly a hot scene you were in upstairs," she
observed.  "Are you starting a career as a sexual intermediary?"

"Yep, that's me   Sam Kramer, Sexual Facilitator...Expeditor...."
 My vocabulary dried up.  All the blood that was supposed to be
in my head must still be somewhere else.

"How many times did you cum?"  The idea of a threesome seemed to
fascinate her.

"Who knows?  I lost track.  Who counts?"

"Me.  But I guess I'm just into numbers.  The more the better."

"The bigger the better, too!  'Quality has a quantity all its
own.'"  As soon as I said it, I thought I had probably futzed the
last one.  Fortunately, Neeka wasn't going to let me sidetrack
the conversation into an analysis of aphorisms.

"Would you like to do the same thing with me and Jim?"

That was pretty direct, especially for her.

"Sure!  I'd love to.  Middle?  Top?  Bottom?  Anywhere you want
me."

"Great!"  She was thoughtful for a second, then she went on. 
"All this is just, you know, really mind-blowing.  I thought of
myself as something of an introvert with these hot fantasies. 
Now, we've gone so far past the stuff I used to fantasize about
it isn't funny.  You're empowering me."

"I'm what?"

"You're making it possible for me to be someone I only dreamed of
being."

I had thought I had seen some changes in Neeka over the last few
days.  Now she confirmed it.

"The sex is pretty good, too.  I'm just as high on it as you
are."

"You mean that 'seriously fucked' feeling?" I asked, helpfully.

"More like 'terminally fucked'.  I have so much jizz in me, I
feel all squishy."

"I know the feeling.  Nice, isn't it."

"Heavenly!"

She put down the spoon she was using to stir the batter and
lifted her darling little apron.

"I stopped in the bathroom on the way, but I don't think it all
came out.  I'm not leaking, am I?" She asked, opening her legs
and peering down.  Her little red strip was matted down, but
there wasn't anything running down her thighs.

 "Nope," I said.  The idea that both of us were so full of cum
that we might leak was terribly exciting to me.  I lifted my own
apron and patted my tummy where Bud had squirted me so full.  I
pushed it out and sucked it back in again, like a belly-dancer.

Neeka imitated me and we shared the experience while thinking
nasty thoughts back and forth.  The mental feedback intensified
our arousal and made both of us hot all over again.  We forgot
all about making breakfast and let ourselves get carried away.

When my pussy got sloppy-wet enough I flexed my muscles and
forced some of the juice out.  Before it could run, I squeezed my
legs together, spreading it over my pussy and my bottom.  If I
was going to be a bitch in heat, I wanted to smell like one.  Of
course, Neeka noticed what I had done.  Pretty soon, her rear-end
was wet, too and the room was ripe with the smell of sex.  We
pranced around the kitchen with our bottoms in the air, trying to
out-scent each other and having a great time seeing how turned on
we could get.

I don't know where we thought we were going with all this, but
when the door swung open we were both so startled that we jumped
and yipped like startled puppies.  

"Well, what's going on in here?" Bambi asked, as we scrambled
guiltily to look like we were doing something constructive.

"We just thought we'd help get breakfast started," I said.  

Neeka was about to bust out laughing, which would not have helped
our credibility one bit.

"Thanks!  I was worried about running late," she said, stifling a
yawn.  "I got very carried away with Connie and Janice.  They are
both very enthusiastic girls and we were up and down all night. 
This morning we just got carried away."

She looked tired, but very happy.  I started to tell her that we
had looked in on her when she noticed our outfits.

"What on earth do you two have on?  Turn around here and let me
see.  Oh, aren't you just darling!  Those aprons look so cute on
both of you."  Her nose twitched.  She smelled something hot that
wasn't bacon.

"Come over here for a second, you two.  Now bend over the counter
here."  She tapped the marble countertop with her fingernail and
we obediently put our hands down and assumed the position.

"Ah!  I thought so.  Spread those legs.  Get those butts in the
air.  Come on.  On your toes!  Bend over further.  I want to see
those pussies.  Show me what you've been up to."

We obediently dropped to our elbows on the countertop, swayed our
backs, raised our tails as high as we could and spread our legs.
In this position, both our pink and juicy slits were fully
exposed.  Bambi wasted no time.  She put a hand on each of our
steamy pussies and stroked us from front to back.  We both almost
fell face first onto the cool countertop, moaning with pleasure
at her soft touch.  She used our juice to wet her fingers and
then she put two into each of us and wiggled them around.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you two have been fucked today. 
You're both as loose as they come.  Have my boys been making you
happy?  Hmmm?"

"Oh yes, ma'am!  Very happy!" I gasped as Bambi pushed in past
the second knuckle.  Neeka mumbled something incoherent.

"Well, maybe they didn't do a very thorough job of it if you two
are still running around with sopping-wet cunts."  She pushed her
fingers all the way into both of us and pulled up so we were
forced to the tips of our toes.

I was gasping for air like a carp out of water.  Neeka wasn't any
better off.

"So you're a couple of horny sluts who need a nice hard cock in
your little cunts."  She pushed her fingers into us roughly as
she said each phrase.  We bounced on our toes; pushing our butts
in the air as high as they would go so she could reach further
into our pussies.

"That's it!  Show me how much you want it.  Show me how you're
going to offer your hot cunts to the first boy with a stiff cock
to come along.  Come one, tits down on the counter, asses in the
air!"

My hard nipples mashed onto the cool marble.  There was a
scattering of flour on the counter from where I had started to
make biscuit-dough and my breasts and my face were rubbed in it.
Bambi fucked us deep and hard, just the way we had been dreaming
of.  We were really getting off on her treatment of us.  I was
ready to do anything she told us to.

"Come one, now!  Show me you want it!  Show me how much you want
a big hard cock.  Show me how much you want to be filled up with
cum.  Grab those cheeks!  Spread them wide and high.  I want to
see all of you.  Turn yourselves inside out!"

I grabbed my butt-cheeks and pulled hard, raising my ass and
spreading my pussy as wide as I could.   Bambi took her hands
away to judge how well we were obeying her orders.  I pulled even
harder, stretching my hole wide open until I cold feel the air up
inside me.  My juice was running in streams down the backs of my
legs.  I hiked my butt up as high as it would go, but Bambi just
stood watching us.

"I'm not convinced," she said, "If you want to get a cock in you,
you are going to have to beg for it like bitches in heat.  Let's
hear some whining!"

We whined.  We whimpered.  We panted.  We pulled our pussies wide
and we waved our butts in the air.  I ground my nipples into the
countertop.  I was so hot I thought I would die if I didn't cum
soon.   

When she was satisfied with our display, Bambi stepped up and
stroked our open pussies with her hands, playing with them until
our whining became truly pitiful.  Then she plugged our holes
with her thumbs, using her fingers to roll our stiff clits
around.  The sudden stimulation after all the begging made us
both cum right away.  We hunched onto her hands and came like
there was no tomorrow.  It was glorious!  I lay limply on the
counter with flour coating my face and twitched as she expertly
rubbed her fingertips across my clit.

We hadn't begun to recover when Bambi slapped our butts and said,
"That's enough play for now.  Let's get going on breakfast."

We all washed our hands and then got to work, wobbling on very
unsteady legs.  I made the pancakes.  Neeka scrambled eggs.  And
Bambi rescued the slightly overdone bacon and started another
batch.  By the time the rest of the gang came downstairs, we were
all ready.

When we served our guests and the rest of the household we got
several nice compliments.

"Wow!  You really went all out," Janice giggled, looking at the
flour that was still smeared on my and Neeka's faces.

"Yeah, and I really like the uniforms the cooks are wearing," Jim
said, eyeing Neeka appreciatively.

"Almost wearing," Connie agreed, looking at my breasts, which
were no longer even partially hidden by the apron.  

I glanced down at my flour-covered nipples as Bud said, "Oh yeah!
 Please pass the pancakes.  I'd ask for the recipe, but I can see
I'm not equipped to make them like you did, Sam.  Did you use the
good milk in these, or just the regular?"

My mouth dropped open at the impertinent question, phrased so
that his meaning would go over the head of anyone who didn't know
of my ability to lactate on demand, which at the moment only
meant Connie, but he didn't know that.  I was about to come back
with some snappy comment, when the idea hit home.

I had started to be offended at the suggestion that my milk was
in the pancakes, but when I thought about it, it seemed a
wonderful idea.  I probably could have contributed enough to the
batter to make a difference in the flavor and the thought of
feeding my friends and family the product of my own body gave me
a very warm and domestic feeling.  It also reminded me of my
earlier plan to start harvesting my milk.  I had deferred that
for reasons that seemed good at the time, but things had changed.
 My abilities made it possible for me to do things in my own time
and my own way.

"Maybe next time," I told Bud.  "We'll see."

I noticed that Bambi was studying my expression closely.  She
raised an eyebrow and smiled.  I smiled back and shrugged, "Why
not?"

"Would anyone object to having the 'good milk', as Bud so
tactfully put it, served with a meal?" I asked.

I got a few blank stares until everyone had a chance to analyze
the question.  Then it was a mixture of shocked expressions,
followed by nervous titters, then by lots of head-shaking denials
that anyone objected to the idea.

Connie just looked blank.  I walked over beside her and bent over
so my breasts were only a few inches from her nose.  I wiggled
them and said, "mooo".  At first she still looked blank.  Then
her eyebrows shot straight up and her eyes went wide.  Her mouth
dropped open and she turned to look around the table to see if
she was being put-on.

"No, she's not kidding," Jolene said, her accent growing even
more deeply Southern than usual as she spoke.  "She can, she
does, and it's delicious.  If you ask nice, I'm sure she will let
you have a taste.  Why have you been depriving this poor girl,
Sam?"  The way she drawled out the word 'depriving' as
'deeprhaaahvin' almost gave me the giggles.  I have an accent,
but hers was positively syrupy.

"I didn't think of it," I said.  "It's not something that comes
up in conversation   'Hello dear, how are you?  By the way, I
give milk?  Would you like to try some?'"

"But I thought you had to be..." Connie began.

"A common misconception," Bambi said, the voice of authority on
milk production.  "You can lactate even if you aren't pregnant or
haven't just given birth.  And you can do it as long as you want,
if you're in good physical shape."

"Yeah, Mom let us breastfeed until we decided to stop on our
own." Bud said.

There was a momentary chill that went up my spine, but no one who
didn't already know who he was referring to so much as batted an
eye.  Jolene suddenly developed an interest in Bambi's chest, but
managed to tear her gaze away before anyone noticed.

Bud jerked his head up when he realized that he had almost let
the cat out of the bag.  He tried to make amends by turning it
into a compliment.

"I remember those times very clearly and very fondly," he said. 
"I didn't really want to quit, but Jim already had, and he talked
me into it.  He said we were big boys and we shouldn't be sucking
on breasts.  Little did I suspect that several years later
breasts would be even more interesting!"

That got a laugh from everyone, which Jim tried to top by saying,
"And we're certainly in the right place today!"  Jim glanced
around the room, checking out the talent while chewing a piece of
toast.  All the girls suddenly corrected their posture and Jim
gave everyone equal time, which I thought was sweet of him.

As the first group finished eating and cleared off to the family
room or upstairs to freshen up, we cooks took their places at the
table.  Connie dawdled over her plate, so she was still there
when I sat down to eat.  I noticed her looking at me while I was
stuffing my face with a piece of toast.  She seemed to find my
breasts particularly interesting.  I knew she wanted to ask me
something, but I didn't want to embarrass her by assuming that I
knew what it was.

Eventually, she got around to it.  She had chased the last bit of
egg three laps around her plate before she said, "Am I really the
only one here who hasn't...you know?"

"I guess.  If I missed anyone it was an oversight, really."

"Oh no!  That's not what I meant.  I just wondered what, um, I
mean, how...oh shit!  What I mean is, my mother and my aunt pride
themselves on being so modern and everything.  No one in my
family was breastfed.  We were all bottle babies.  I just always
wondered what it would be like to...to lactate."

"Oh?  I thought you were going to ask what it tasted like.  I
guess I was hoping to add you to my list of customers.  Well,
your breasts get warm, then they fill up with milk.  This can be
a pleasant feeling or if you don't get some relief it can hurt. 
Actually nursing someone is one of the most intense bonding
experiences you will ever feel.  It just can't be described any
better than that."

"I thought you had to do it every few hours or you would dry
up."

"Well, that's true, normally.  But I'm special."

"That, I had noticed!"

"I can lactate voluntarily.  Being suckled also brings it on
involuntarily.  And I can make quite a lot, once I get going."

"It sounds like you have a potential career as a wet-nurse."

"Maybe I'll do that as a hobby; but I think I have another career
ahead of me."

She looked around to see who might overhear.  The only people
left in the vicinity besides the two of us were Bambi and Neeka.
She leaned over to me and whispered, "You mean the undercover
work you do for the Sheriff?"

I nodded and held a finger to my lips.  Her misunderstanding of
the situation was the best I could hope for without outright
lying to her.  If pressed, I could indeed claim to be an
undercover officer.  I could even produce the credentials to
prove it and the Sheriff's department would confirm it.  It was
even the truth, as far as it went.  I was still uncomfortable
with the amount of dissembling I was forced to do.  I kept
reminding myself that it was for their good as well as my own,
but it still left a bad taste in my mouth.

Connie had nothing further to ask; which was a slight
disappointment.  Thinking about it had got my glands going and I
could already feel my breasts getting slightly heavier as the
milk accumulated.  The sensation of fullness and weight wasn't at
all unpleasant, so I let it go on for a while.  

At some point I was going to need to be milked and I thought it
would be amusing to put myself in the position of admitting to my
problem and asking for help.  I pictured myself holding my
bloated, sagging breasts   milk dripping from my nipples and
begging for relief.  The image stimulated me even more and I had
to focus to stop the milk production before my fantasy became a
self-fulfilling prophecy.

After Connie left, Bambi came in from cleaning up the kitchen and
sat down with me.  She smiled at me and put her hand on mine.

"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I'm sure I know what
they are already," she said.  "Would you like to start
collecting?  We'll need to get you tested for several diseases
that I'm sure you don't have before you can donate."

"You sound like you've been doing some research," I said.  

"Yes, well, I have to confess I've been trying to get a jump on
our little contest.  I have been following the protocol for
inducing lactation and I have a hospital-grade electric pump on
order.  It should be here in a few days."

"So you were going to go ahead even if I decided not to do it?"

"Yes.  I looked up the uses of donated milk and then I read some
of the case histories."  She hesitated and swallowed several
times before she went on.  "They were...very moving."  Her voice
came close to cracking as she spoke.  Obviously the stories had
affected her deeply.

Composing herself, she said, "You have enough on your plate,
honey.  I didn't want to put anything else on you.  Would you
like me to make you an appointment with Dr. Bonner?  He's an
OB/GYN who I have gone to for years.  He can do the blood tests
and give you a complete physical at the same time."

The word 'complete' got my attention.  I started to wonder if a
doctor could tell anything about my 'special gifts' and if it was
worth the risk.

Bambi was ahead of me again.  "You need to get established with a
doctor anyway," she said.  "You told me you didn't want to go to
the same one Yvette had been taking you to, and Dr. Bonner was
nice enough to give me your birth control pills just on my
promise to bring you in for a check-up before too long.  If you
are worried about going, I want you to remember that Frank Bonner
has been my doctor since I was your age, he does respect
doctor-patient confidentiality; and the new Federal laws
concerning disclosure of a patient's records are quite strict. 
If he does discover something, I am sure it will never leave the
room."

She seemed to trust Dr. Bonner, and if he was good enough for
her, he was good enough for me.  To turn this down would be to
say I didn't trust her judgment, which I certainly did, and I had
no intention of insulting her.

"You're right.  I need to get checked.  OK, whenever you can get
an appointment for me, I'll go."

"Don't sound like it's something unpleasant.  I think you will
like Dr. Bonner.  He has a sense of humor and he doesn't think
he's God.  I hate doctors who know what's wrong with you before
you open your mouth."

"The doctor Yvette took me to acted like he used to work in a
concentration camp.  He always treated me like he thought I had
something really nasty and it was my fault for catching it.  That
might have just been the ugly things Yvette had been telling him,
though.  Anyway, I guess I have a poor opinion of doctors because
of that."

"I'll call first thing in the morning.  I'll get you an
appointment for one day after school.  I'll pick you up and we'll
go together.  How's that?"

"Great!  Are you going to tell me what you said to him to get him
to prescribe those birth control pills?  I mean the extra-strong
ones."

"I hoped you hadn't noticed the switch.  When you first started
to...make changes in your body, and I saw how what you were doing
put such a strain on you, I worried that you might be burning up
the hormones along with all the calories.  I called Dr. Bonner
back and told him you were very sexually active.  He called in
the new prescription right away."

"So he'll also need to do a pelvic exam?"

"Of course.  Why are you worried about that?"

"I'm afraid he would think I was abnormal."

"You're certainly unusual.  Let's leave it at that."

"No, there is something specific that I haven't told you about."
I paused to think how to explain.  She looked at me supportively
while I thought it out.  "It's just been happening for the last
couple of days.  You see...stuff goes in, but it doesn't come
out."

Bambi got this really puzzled look.  I described my
disappearing-cum trick in detail.  She seemed interested, so I
went into more detail about how it happened and how I felt about
it.  The more details I went into, the stranger her expression
got, until she finally put up a hand.

"Stop!" She said.  "I'm about to cum just listening to this."

I said, "You too?  I'm so wet, I'm making a puddle on the
chair."

"Let me see."

I turned the chair and slid my butt to the edge, pulling the
apron up to expose my pussy.  I spread my legs so she could see
how hot I was.  My clit was big and hard.  It was sitting up and
begging for some attention.

"Oooo, this is new," Bambi said, getting down on her knees to
look at my clit at close range.  She decided it looked good
enough to eat, so she put her lips on it and let it slide into
her mouth, where she licked it with her tongue.

I lost it right there.  Nobody is as good at oral sex as Bambi. 
She had me creaming almost instantly.  We heard a loud crash of
silverware hitting the floor in the kitchen where Neeka was
loading the dishwasher, followed by a muffled, "Oh God!" as she
climaxed with me.

My legs started jerking on their own and I had to pull my knees
up to my chest and hold them with my hands to keep them from
jerking me right off the edge of the chair.  Bambi kept on
licking my big clit, teasing it into ever-greater paroxysms of
orgasmic delight.  She was merciless.  I wanted to beg her to
stop and I wanted to beg her not to.  By the time she let me
coast to a stop on my own, I was so pleasure-saturated that I was
almost delirious.  I had to hold onto the table to stay upright.
From the kitchen we heard a low moan, followed by more silverware
dropping as Neeka tried to get up too soon.

"Does she always do that?" Bambi asked.

"Yeah," I slurred.  "If we are within a few hundred feet of each
other we cum together.  The closer we are, the more intense it
is.  When we're together, I can't tell whose climax is whose. 
Remember yesterday, up on the deck?  We got lost in each other. 
I felt like I was in her body."

"Amazing!  So if both of you are in the same house, I can make
both of you cum by making either one of you cum?  That's great!"
She grinned a very evil grin and I knew what she was planning.

"But what have you been doing to this?" she flicked her talented
tongue across my slowly shrinking clit, sending me into another,
smaller, orgasm.

"I made it bigger," I said.

She opened her mouth to ask, 'why' and then decided that was a
dumb question.  Instead, she asked, "What have you been doing
with it, now that you made it so big?"

"Mainly fucking virgins," I said, and she knew exactly what I
meant.  "I haven't had a chance to explore all the possibilities,
yet."

"I can think of a few things," Bambi told me.  

"I bet you can."

"Mostly I think I'm going to enjoy sucking on it.  It's just the
right size for that and it feels so good in my mouth."

"Next, you're going to say I taste like chicken," I laughed,
crossing my legs to get the morsel under discussion out of
sight.

"No, you definitely taste like girl.  Sweet, succulent,
delicious, frequently juicy girl.  Nothing else tastes quite like
it."

"Hush!  You're going to get me hot again."

"I'm doing my best.  But you're right.  We shouldn't neglect your
guests."

"Our guests," I corrected.  "They like you just as much as they
like me.  Some of them even more.  Jolene, for instance.  She
likes you a lot."

"I'm flattered.  And I like her, too.  You know, when I first saw
her, I thought she was kind of plain.  But she has an inner
beauty that shines through like sunlight through clouds.  When I
look at her now, I see a lovely young woman.  I definitely
understand what Bud sees in her."

I was about to make a smart crack about mothers-in-law, but I had
done my bit to promote Jolene's agenda and I didn't want to spoil
it by making a joke of it.

Bambi noticed my hesitation.  "What?" she said.

"Jolene is very...." I started, but couldn't finish.

"Nave?  Unsophisticated?  Immature?  Inexperienced?  Honey, these
are not character flaws.  They are part of her charm.  I hope she
can hang on to her innocence for a long time.  It's a rare
quality nowadays."

Hearing Bambi defend Jolene told me everything I needed to know
about how she felt about her potential daughter-in-law.

A low hum from the kitchen announced that Neeka had finished
loading the dishwasher and had turned it on.  Bambi and I
belatedly went in to help her clean up.  As we came in, Neeka was
just wiping off the counters with a paper towel and a bottle of
spray cleaner.

"My word!" Bambi said.  "This is cleaner than I could have gotten
it.  I'm sorry, honey.  We should have been in here helping."

"Not a problem," Neeka said.  "Don't forget.  When it comes to
cleaning up kitchens and tables, I am a professional!"

"So you are.  But we still shouldn't have left it all to you."

"Oh, that's all right.  Besides, I got my reward," she said,
smiling.  "I just wish I had more warning.  I don't think the
flatware was damaged."

"Yes, Sam was just telling me about that.  That's fascinating
that you two are so connected.  I was just getting used to the
idea that you can share thoughts.  It never occurred to me that
you could share orgasms, too.  Sam said that you can feel it all
the way up the street."

"When I'm over at my house, it's not as strong.  More than a few
hundred feet away and I'm not usually overwhelmed by them.  Only
a few feet away and I feel what she feels, exactly."

"And this close," I said, putting my arms around her, "it's like
we're one person."  I hugged her and bathed her with love in my
mind.  She responded in kind.  We took a moment to hold each
other and experience the sort of purity of emotion that only two
people as connected as we were could have.  Something of what we
were doing must have shown on our faces.  Bambi watched us with
an expression of awe and a little jealously.

"Wow!" Bambi said.  "I wish I had a camera.  This is beautiful."

We each held out an arm to her and she joined us in a group hug.
We tried to extend our sharing to her, and I think we might have
succeeded a little bit.  She sighed deeply, and then she made a
soft cooing sound.  We put our heads on either side of hers and
stepped up the volume as far as we dared without breaking the
mood.

"Oh!  I feel so warm and good!" Bambi said.  "Is that it?  Is
that what you're feeling?  It feels like...heaven."

We eased off a bit and Bambi took a deep breath.  We had fallen
below her threshold.  "It's possible!" I sent to Neeka.  "She's
just on a different frequency.  She's getting a little bit of it
when we focus on her."

"We have to try again later," Neeka sent.  "I want to try to
reach her.  She deserves to be included."

I gave a mental nod.  "Yes," I told Bambi, "that's it.  That's
the feeling of being loved.  That's what we both feel for you." 
I heard Neeka agreeing enthusiastically in my head.

"Thank you," Bambi said.  "You're both so wonderful.  I love you
both so much!"

Neeka and I reaffirmed our decision to try again later to make
contact with Bambi.  There had to be some way to tune into her or
her into us.  We both kissed her and then each other and then
Neeka and I hung up our aprons and we all went downstairs to see
what everyone else was up to.

The others were relaxing on the sofa, reading the paper and
talking.  Connie, Janice and Bud were wearing baggy t-shirts and
Bud had on a pair of cotton shorts as well.  Jolene was still
naked.  I think she was planning on staying that way every second
she could from now on.  It suited her, too.  She could be naked
and innocent at the same time, which is a neat trick, but seemed
perfectly natural for her.  I wondered if she would try to
continue the practice at home with her family.  If she did, they
were in for a shock.

We all piled onto the big L-shaped sofa, which held all of us
very comfortably.  There was even room to spread out, but we
squeezed in together to be as close as we could to each other. 
After the previous day and night we all felt much closer and were
very much at ease with one another.  When I looked around, I
noticed that everyone had an arm around someone and there was a
lot of spontaneous smiling and a friendly kiss being exchanged
now and then.  It looked like everyone was glowing with happiness
and satisfaction.  Right then I declared the party a great
success.

We spent the rest of the time just being together and chatting
about things we found in the paper.  One by one, my friends
collected their stuff, said their goodbyes and left.  Connie had
been the first to arrive and she was also the first to leave.

"This has been the best party I have ever been to," she said.  "I
had a great time.  I had more orgasms than I thought was possible
and I feel fantastic!"  She lowered her voice and said in a
confidential tone, "...and I learned a lot about myself, too. 
Coming here has really helped me get my head together.  I'm going
back to school next term, for sure.  And when I get there,
there's going to be a lot more studying and a lot less partying.
I hope you will give me some more study tips."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it.  And I'll be happy to help you study if
you like.  Maybe working with you will help me get prepared for
when I go to college."

"That'd be great!  Thanks!"

"I want to take the most advantage of the opportunities I have to
be the best I can be.  To tell the truth, High School isn't
really challenging me right now.  I'm curious to see what
college-level material is like."

"Right.  Damn, girl, you're unbelievable.  OK, you've got a deal.
 I never had a study-partner.  This will probably help me keep my
nose in my books a lot better.  Well, gotta go."  I held the door
for her as she walked out to go to her car.

"Connie?  Call me.  I want us to be close friends, but my
schedule is crazy.  So give me a call and we'll get together,
OK?"

She stopped and looked back at me.  She broke into a big smile
and said, "I'd like that.  I need a friend   a real friend. 
Thanks!  I'll call you later.  Bye now!"



When she was ready to leave, Janice kissed everyone goodbye,
lingering the longest on Bambi.

"I hope you will decide to stay in town," she told her.  "I'd
really like to see you again.  Last night was great.  You are
really wonderful."

To me she said, "I'm going to tell Shirlene that she better watch
out.  She's going to have some serious competition as an adult
film star.  I won't tell her this, but I liked your version of
the film way better."

After seeing Janice to the door, I went back downstairs.  I
remembered that I might owe Jolene an apology.  She was sitting
between Bud and Bambi and looked happier than anyone had a right
to be.

"Jolene," I said, getting right to the point, "I hope you weren't
upset when you woke up this morning and I wasn't there.  You
looked so peaceful that I couldn't bear to wake you up and drag
you away."

"Oh, no!  It's OK.  At first I was just so happy and excited to
wake up with Bud right there that I didn't even think about being
alone with him.  It wasn't until later, after I realized that you
hadn't just gone in the bathroom for a while that I started to
get nervous.  Then we just got up and came downstairs with
everyone else and I was fine.  It really helps to have a lot of
friends in the house.  I feel like there is always someone right
close by, so I'm much more comfortable.  I think I'm really
making progress.  Bambi was just volunteering to chaperone us so
we could be together more.  Isn't that wonderful?"

I grinned from ear to ear to hear this news.  It was all I could
do not to laugh.  My opinion of Jolene went up several points. 
She was easy to underestimate, because she was just so darling
and childlike, but she was an intelligent young woman who had
managed to get herself into a win-win-win situation in the
Reynolds' house.  She wanted Bud.  Bud wanted her.  I wanted her.
 I wanted her to get together with Bud.  Bambi thought she was
too adorable for words and wanted them to be together.  Now Bambi
was going to get to chaperone them when I wasn't available, which
was a win for her and one for me as well, since it meant I could
hand the job off to Bambi when I had to go to practice or
training, or to work with my faithful and gorgeous red-headed
assistant ass-kicker and chauffeur.  (Raspberry from the peanut
gallery at that one.)

The topper was that she knew who Bambi was, but she was keeping
it to herself and using it to her advantage.  On the face of it,
this sounded like rank manipulation, but her goal was to endear
herself to her potential mother-in-law, so she would hardly put
herself in a position to be seen betraying a trust.  No one who
looked at that innocent and open face would ever think that
Jolene could be capable of dissimulation or harboring an agenda.

"Does she remind you of anyone we know?" Neeka asked via
brainwave.

"Of course, she reminds me of me.  That's what impresses me so
much.  You remember she said I was her role model.  You thought
that was funny, but she's doing it.  She's playing this
perfectly.  If there is a bad outcome on the horizon, I can't see
it.  If it were me, I would probably be taking a risk somewhere
that might come back and bite me later."

"That's because you're an adrenalin-junkie.  You like danger."

"You know me too well.  But you're one too."

"I learned it from The Master.  Do you still want to go to the
park this afternoon?"

"Yes.  It's a long-shot, but it's worth doing.  The park is the
center of activity.  All the abductions happened in or near
there.  It's a good bet that all the victims who weren't taken in
the park had been there shortly before.  It may be where the
kidnapper picks his prey."

All this took only a few seconds at the speed of thought.  I was
still smiling at Jolene's announcement and thinking of some way
to congratulate her without tipping her hand.

"Yes, it's wonderful.  She can probably do a better job of
coaching you than I can, too.  She has more experience and I can
say with complete honesty that she has taught me a lot about
lovemaking.  You're a very lucky girl, Jolene."  There, I did it.
 Jolene would understand, but the comment would go right under
everyone else's radar.

Almost everyone.  Bambi was looking at me funny, as if she
suspected something.  I just continued to smile, trying to mimic
Jolene's natural innocence.

She stayed as long as she dared, but eventually Jolene had to go
home, too.  Bambi and Bud and I saw her to the front door and it
was hugs and kisses all around before she opened the door and
stepped out into the morning sun.

We had all got so used to it over the last several hours that it
wasn't until I was closing the door behind her that an alarm bell
went off in the back of my head.  I pulled the door open again
and stuck my head out to watch Jolene's cute behind as she
skipped down the front steps to where she had parked her bicycle.
 Her cute naked behind.

"Jolene!" I called.  She turned to see what I wanted.  "Forget
something?"

"I don't think so," she said.  "I didn't bring anything...."  She
looked down at herself by reflex and it registered on her that
skin might not be appropriate for her bike ride home.  She
blushed and looked around toward the street to see if anyone
might have seen her.  I stepped down to join her in case she
became upset.  It was a thin rationalization and I knew it.  I
just didn't want her to have all the fun.

The front yard was as beautifully landscaped as the rest of the
lot, with lots of bushes and small trees to provide framing for
the front of the house, as well as screening from the neighboring
yards.  However, since it was at the very end of the cul-de-sac
and on a slight rise, our house had a view straight down the
street for over a block and a half before some older trees and
the lay of the land obscured it.  I could see a few people out
for walks and one man a few doors down was on his hands and knees
working in a flower bed.  The only one who was facing in our
direction was a man out walking his dog at the end of our street.
 He was a little under 200 yards away and approaching at a slow
walk.  He looked like he might be coming all the way to the end
and before looping back the way he came.  He had on a
brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt, a pair of cutoff jeans shorts
and leather sandals.  He was in his mid-thirties and had short
blonde hair.  The dog was a greyhound or a whippet.  When it
stopped to salute a fireplug, I could tell that it was a male.

As I continued to pick out more details about the man   he had a
pair of sunglasses in his shirt pocket   Jolene tried to follow
my gaze.

"What are you looking at?"

"The man with the dog."

"Where?  Oh, I see him.  Way down there on the left.  What about
him?"

"What color hair does he have?"

"I dunno.  It's too far to see."

"What kind of shoes is he wearing?"

"I can't tell.  Why?  He can't possibly see how we're dressed
from way out there, not unless he's got telescopic vision or
something."

"Yeah.  Telescopic vision."  The man wasn't wearing any rings and
I could see a palm tree logo embroidered over the breast pocket
of his shirt.  It looked like Bud hadn't been kidding after all.
It was my eyes, not his, that were different.  I could see things
much further away and with greater clarity than I could before. 
It had happened so gradually that I hadn't noticed.  Chalk up
another enhanced ability.

"C'mon inside," I told her.  "We'll find your nightshirt.  I
still don't believe you wore that all the way over here.  You got
balls, girl."

"Why thank you kindly!  I think.  I didn't let my folks get a
good look at me when I left.  It was fun riding along with the
wind blowing up my shirt.  I did get some looks from a few
people.  One guy pulled up next to me while I waited for a light
and just stared and stared.  I pretended not to notice him.  When
he drove off I found that my shirt had ridden up on my hips all
the way to my waist."

"You enjoyed that."

"I surely did.  It made me so hot that I could hardly ride my
bike the rest of the way.  I kept sliding around on the seat."

What could I say to her, 'don't'?  'Be careful'?  I probably
would have given the guy even more of a show.  I had no moral
authority here.  What could I say?

"Good for you!  Don't get caught."  It sounded dumb, but it was
the best I could do.

"Right.  Thanks."

Neeka and Bambi had already found the missing nightshirt. It had
been mixed in with the rest of the dirty laundry that wouldn't be
washed until later.

"I found you something else to wear, honey."  Bambi said.  She
gave Jolene a short Roman-style tunic with a simulated rope belt
and helped her into it.  It looked darling on her.  The hem was
almost as high on her thighs as the nightshirt had been, and it
had side slits that would show her legs all the way to her hips
when she was on the bike.  The bodice draped lower on her than it
was designed to, revealing a good bit of cleavage.  It looked
like a cross between a party costume and a designer dress.  The
label was a well-known New York fashion house.

"Wow!" Jolene said, as she fastened the belt around her narrow
waist.  "It's lovely.  Thanks, Bambi.  I'll bring it back soon. 
Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worried.  Keep it.  It looks good on you.  Next
time, I'll find something that fits better."

Jolene and Bambi shared a big hug and a passionate kiss.  For a
moment, I thought the dress might come off again as they pawed
each other, but they recovered their composure in due course and
Jolene took her leave for the second time.

She had just pedaled her bike down the drive and into the street
when Bambi turned and gave me the same look she had earlier.  The
one that said, 'something is fishy here and I think you know all
about it'.  As before, I tried to impersonate Jolene   innocent
as a babe.  I must have been getting it down pat because she
didn't question me; she just put an arm around me and hugged me
tight while we walked back downstairs.



***



Since we had eaten a big breakfast fairly late in the morning,
lunch was very light, just a half a sandwich and some fruit. 
Afterwards, Bud and Jim went upstairs to study and Neeka and I
had just started to go down to the workshop when the phone rang.
I picked it up and said, "Reynolds residence."

A voice said, "Hi, can I talk to Sam, please."

"Hi, Joey!  This is Sam.  How are things with you?"

"Great!  You said to call and let you know how I was doing."

"Did you do what I suggested?"

"Yeah.  And you were right.  The next time she got in my way and
started to get me mad, I sat down with her and we talked.  I
don't really remember ever doing that before, talking to her, you
know?  Anyway, I told her I was sorry I had been short with her,
but that I was having a hard time living with a sister who was
becoming such a pretty girl."

"What did she say to that?"

"She cried.  She looked so unhappy that I put my arm around her
and tried to tell her what you told me, that she was just
confused by the changes she was going through and that it was OK
and I understood, and all."

"What happened then?"

"She kissed me on the cheek and told me I was the best brother
any girl could ever have.  It was really sweet.  I felt like I
was ten feet tall.  I didn't expect that.  I didn't expect that
having her like me was that important, you know?  It changes
things."

"So what now?"

"I dunno.  I guess we keep talking.  Now that I understand what
the deal is, I feel like I should be taking care of her, you
know?  Until she gets past this part about changing and
everything."

"And maybe even after that?"

"Yeah.  Maybe even after that.  Listen, I got to go now.  She
wants to show me some clothes Mom got her at the mall.  I dunno
why she thinks I know something about clothes, but if it makes
her happy, that's cool.  Thanks for explaining things and stuff.
You're a real pal."

"Anytime, Joey.  Bye now."

Neeka was smiling at me like she wanted to kiss me.  "You ought
to get an award for that," she said.

"I think I just did."



Neeka took it easy on the ride to Ponce de Leon Park and I was
able to keep my eyes open some of the way.  I saw that we got
several heads turning when we drove by.  I couldn't tell if it
was us or the big motorcycle that was responsible.

She parked on the top level of the parking garage, both to keep
the bike from drawing attention and to give Neeka a wide field of
view of the park.  If anything happened, she would be as close as
the space between my ears, anyway.

Instead of the fighting suit, I wore a cute little jogging outfit
that Bambi had picked out for me.  I had on a pale blue jogging
bra, a short pleated skirt that bounced up over my rear when I
ran, and matching headband and socks.  The blue had been chosen
to go with my eyes.  Everyone agreed that I looked irresistible.
Maybe the kidnapper would see it that way too.  Just in case, I
also wore the fanny pack with my badge, my plastic cuffs, and all
the rest of the equipment except for the climbing gear and the
throwing stars.  Besides being heavy, that stuff tended to clank.
 Not the sort of thing I wanted to be doing while jogging in the
park.

Neeka wore a grey sweatsuit and had a pair of binoculars hung
around her neck.  On this trip she was supposed to stay
inconspicuous and watch.  I had made her promise not to do
anything without my say-so.  I vividly remembered what happened
when Deputy Murphy had tried to come to my rescue during the
grocery store holdup.  I was determined that there would be no
more near-fatalities because someone tried to intervene.

Neeka understood, and when I was sure that she did and that she
wouldn't do anything without my consent, I left her on the roof
of the garage and went for a jog around the park.

The weather was great.  It was a wonderful spring day and flowers
were out all over.  Even so, there were only a few people in the
park.  The news reports hadn't emphasized the park's connection
with the kidnappings, so that couldn't have been keeping them
away.  The place was crowded on weekdays, being so close to
downtown.  On Sunday all the stores and business were closed, and
I guess people had better places to go walking that were closer
to where they lived.  It was good, anyway, because too many
people would have meant the kidnapper would be more cautious. 
Maybe the small number of people who came here on weekends was
what attracted him.

I jogged slowly along one of the paths that wound through the
picnic area near the lake.  Off on a separate path I saw another
girl out jogging, too.  There was something odd about her, so I
stopped and pretended to adjust my shoelaces while I scoped her.

She wasn't a girl at all.  In fact, she looked close to thirty. 
She was an athletic-looking brunette with a nice face and a
classic profile.  She looked very serious and she kept scanning
left and right as she ran.  The odd thing was that her outfit
would have been suitable for a younger girl.  It was very close
to mine, but instead of a jogging bra she wore a crop-top that
let her boobs bounce freely on her chest.  That, too, was
unusual.  It looked damn sexy, but it must have been hurting her
to have them loose like that.  She wasn't someone for whom a bra
was optional equipment.

I started running again, keeping track of the brunette out of the
corner of my eye.  She changed paths and started following me,
which set off all kinds of alarms in my head.  I had been
thinking in terms of a male perpetrator, not female.  Maybe there
were two of them working as a team.  Maybe I shouldn't let my
imagination run away with me.  This could be just someone looking
for a running companion on a day when there were very few runners
in the park.

I kept my undemanding pace and she caught up to me quickly.  As
she drew abreast I saw that she had a fanny-pack too.  Hers
seemed heavier than mine and I wondered what she could have in
there that would make it slap her on the butt so hard when she
ran.

She looked like she wanted to talk, so I stopped.  She blew a
couple of deep breaths and tugged at her top as though she were
embarrassed for me to see how it looked on her.  She said, "You
may want to find another place to run.  This park isn't real
safe."

She reached back into her pack and I tensed.  If her hand came
out with anything more threatening than a comb, I was going to
rip her arm off and beat her senseless with it.

The object she produced made me relax as soon as I saw it.  Lumpy
leather wallets get real familiar to those of us who carry them.
She flipped it open and I read that she was Det. Sgt. Gail Adams
of the city police force.  Her shield bore the same design and
much of the same lettering as mine.  They had both probably been
purchased by the same metropolitan purchasing office for both the
city and county law enforcement agencies.  She was, by courtesy
and by fact, a sister officer.

I smiled and nodded when I was satisfied with her credentials. 
They also explained the heavy pack.  She probably had a piece of
heavy artillery in there.  I would have bet that she was an
expert marksman with it too, and probably skilled in unarmed
combat as well.  Suddenly, I wanted to get to know Gail Adams,
and not just for the insight she could give me into local crime.

"Tell you what," I said.  "I'll race you to the boat house on the
other side of the lake.  If you win, I'm out of here.  Fair
enough?"

She could have pressed the issue on the strength of her authority
alone.  Then I would have flashed my badge and asserted my right
to be here and things might have escalated to higher command over
a jurisdiction issue, which would have been unfortunate.  She
didn't though.  She noticed my matter-of-fact acceptance at her
introduction and decided to accept my challenge.

My idea of 'fair' wasn't very fair at all.  I could have left her
in a cloud of dust and laughed all the way to the boat house.  I
was going to win the race, but I wanted her to respect me for it,
not hate me.  

We started together and I let her get ahead at first so I could
see what her speed was like.  She was a good runner and in
excellent shape.  If she hadn't had her tits flying all over, she
probably could have gone much faster.  It was clear to me now
that we were here on the same mission and that her outfit had
been chosen with that in mind, but it had probably been selected
by a man and not Sgt. Adams herself.  I hoped whoever it was was
having a great time watching her.

When we were halfway there, I closed the gap and ran beside her.
She tried to regain her lead, but I stuck right to her.  As we
approached the boat house, I edged ahead.  Nothing flashy, just a
two step lead.  I hung right there as we passed the closed gate
and gradually slowed to a stop.

For her benefit, I bent over and took several deep breaths, just
as she was doing.

"You're fast!" she said when she got her breath back.  "You don't
look like a runner."  She meant most girls with huge knockers
can't run three feet without falling over and I should have been
in that category.  I smiled as I considered her diplomatic way of
putting it.

I was about to introduce myself when I 'heard' a shriek of fear.
Someone was in trouble.  Someone close by.  My head went up and
my eyes went wide as I scanned the area.  Gail stared at me as if
I was crazy.

"Help!"  Someone screamed.  A hundred yards away I spotted a
woman having a tug-of-war with a man in a yellow t-shirt and
baggy khaki shorts.  They both had a grip on her handbag and he
was winning.

I took off like a shot.  This time there was no calculated
attempt to avoid hurting Sgt. Adams feelings.  Someone was in
trouble and I needed to get there as quickly as possible.  Even
if it was just another darn purse-snatcher, I had learned the
hard way to treat no crime casually.  I didn't know anything
about this guy.  He could easily have been the reason Gail and I
were here and what we were seeing was a kidnap attempt gone
wrong.

Instead of avoiding obstacles like signs and benches, I simply
leaped over them.  I hurdled a low sign cleanly, but I misjudged
my approach to bench and took off on a short flight.  I hate
being a ballistic object.  It means I have no control.  I was
going to take a certain path through the air and land in a
certain spot at a certain time and nothing I could do would
change that.  If my feet were on the ground, at least I had the
option to dodge, to stop, or something.  All the stuff you read
about superheroes bounding through the air in great leaps to get
from place to place is a bunch of horseshit. It makes you a
perfect target for anyone capable of handling a skeet gun.

By the time I reached the scene, the perp had won the tug-of-war
and was high-tailing it with the purse in his hands.  Even though
his shorts were about to fall down to his knees and trip him, he
was really hauling.  Anyone else might have had a tough time
catching him, but I was there in a flash.  

I was pissed at my crappy performance in getting there and
instead of being polite; I simply ran right up his back and rode
his sorry ass to the ground.  I didn't even check to see if he
was hurt before I pulled one of the plastic restraints out of my
pack and pulled it tight over his wrists.  I even pulled it
through one of his belt loops to further restrict his movement. 
It would also help him keep his pants up.

While I waited for Sgt. Adams to arrive, I checked the perp for
weapons and advised him to remain perfectly still with his nose
to the ground until further notice or I would kick his balls up
into his throat.  He was still stunned from being slammed into
the ground by a hundred pound cannonball, so he followed my
instructions perfectly.  There was no place for him to go even if
he decided to get up and run, so I stepped out of earshot of him
to meet Sgt Adams, who I was sure would have a question or two
for me.

She was winded when she arrived, so Gail Adams only could only
get her first question out one word at a time.

"Who...are...you?"

I produced my ID and held it out for her with what I hoped was
the same flip of the wrist gesture that she had used.  For a
second I thought I was holding it upside down, but fortunately I
got it right.

"Special Deputy Sam Kramer," I told her, trying my best to sound
professional and casual, as if I introduced myself that way on a
regular basis.

She caught her breath quickly and gave me a hard look as I put my
badge away.

"'Special Deputy'?  I don't...Oh!  I get it.  You're the one they
call The Dragon.  I heard about you.  Some of my squad and I were
having a drink last night when the SWAT guy Grogan came in.  He
got to talking about the holdup at the Big Star up on 15.  He
told this bullshit story about a spook who was working for the
Sheriff.  At least I assumed it was bullshit.  After what I just
saw, I guess I was wrong."

She paused and looked me up and down.  Mostly down, since she
towered over me by a good nine or ten inches.  Her eyes lingered
briefly on my chest, and she got the same look of envy and
fascination that most women did.  

"I thought you'd be bigger," she said, then she blushed as she
realized that her statement was blatantly Freudian.  "I
mean...."

"Damn, Gail!  I can hardly see the ground as it is," I said,
hiking my breasts up with my hands.  "How much bigger do you want
them to be?"

She laughed at my joke and I joined her.  That seemed to break
the ice pretty effectively.  She smiled and I said, "This is your
collar.  I'd appreciate it if you would minimize my presence here
in your report."

"Sure.  But don't you want..." She trailed off as the victim came
up.  I retreated to a guard position on the perp while Gail took
the details from the victim and returned the purse.  After she
got her bag back, the woman hurried off to tell her friends about
her adventure and Gail pulled a cell phone from her pack and
called her partner.

From listening to her side of the conversation, I gathered that
he couldn't see us from his vantage point and hadn't seen me take
down the purse-snatcher.  She told him to get the car and get his
ass over to our side of the lake, pronto.  She seemed upset with
him and I guessed that it was because he was the one who had
talked her into wearing the crop-top to run in.  I noticed that
she made no mention of me.

When she hung up I said, "Thanks.  Listen, I guess we're here for
the same reason, right?"

"The Torturer?"

"Is that what you're calling him?  The person responsible for the
kidnappings around here?"

"Yeah, him.  We're pretty sure there have been more than have
been reported officially.  Maybe as many as ten in the last
eighteen months.  I've seen what he does to them.  It's pretty
sick.  You got backup?"

"Yeah.  Over on top of the parking garage.  But I can handle most
things by myself."

"I heard that!  Look..."

"Sam."

"OK, Sam.  Even if you are twice as tough as Grogan was saying,
be careful.  We don't know anything about this guy, except that
he likes to brutally torture young women.  He has some kind of
weird dungeon setup that he takes them to.  He keeps them there
for hours while he...he does things to them.  All the victims
have needed psychiatric care afterwards and some of those will be
in institutions for a long time.  Many of those who are well
enough to walk around are so messed up in the head that they're
going to be worthless in court.  Some have refused to cooperate
in the investigation and it's a safe bet that they won't testify,
either.  Why are you smiling?"

"Sorry.  I was just thinking how I'm tired of nailing petty
crooks.  I've been looking for a challenge.  I hope this goon is
ten feet tall with fangs and claws.  I want some red meat."  I
got worked up talking like that and without thinking I flashed
the Dragon across my face just for an instant.

Gail backed away from me so fast that she almost tripped over the
perp on the ground.  I startled her more than I thought I would.

"Holy shit!" she said, recovering her composure and coming back
over to me.  "Grogan wasn't kidding, was he?"

"Grogan's a case of terminal testosterone poisoning.  He doesn't
know squat."  I kept my tone low and confidential.

"Hah!  That's Grogan all right.   How did you do that with your
face?"

"Sorry, that's a 'don't ask' subject.  A girl's got to keep her
makeup secrets, you know."   

"OK."  I could tell I had only made her more curious about me. 
All she could think of was questions she knew I probably wouldn't
answer.  She was starting to look at me like I was a freak.  I
tried to think of a way to get her back to relating to me as a
person.

"Look, Gail, I'm required to keep a lot of things secret, but I
also have a lot of freedom of action.  I'd like to help out where
I can.  The Sheriff and I have an understanding about that.  I'd
like you to know that it's not exclusive.  If you need me you can
call me and I'll come running.  And you know I can run."

"No shit.  OK.  How do I reach you?"

I hadn't thought about that.  The city people weren't on the same
communications network as the county, which seemed dumb to me.  I
supposed that was some political turf thing.  But it meant she
couldn't call me on the radio without going through a dispatch
relay.  After thinking about it some more, I wrote my home phone
number on one of her business cards.

"If I'm not there, anyone who answers can be trusted with a
message."

"You ought to get a cell phone," she said, handing me a card to
keep.

"Next thing on my list.  I swear.  This is early days for me,
here.  I'm still getting the equipment sorted out."

'Equipment' to her meant only one thing.  She asked, "What sort
of piece do you carry?  Or is that a question you can't answer?"

I grinned and looked around for something destructible.  A few
feet away, there was a temporary barrier fence around a work-site
where they were putting up another one of those granite benches.
I walked over and picked up a five-foot long steel fencepost that
was lying on the ground beside some building materials and went
back to where Gail was standing near the still-horizontal perp.

"See this?" I asked, holding the fence post out to her.  She took
it and hefted it in her hands.  It was a standard fencepost, with
a W-shaped cross-section and a coat of dark green paint.  She
handed it back and I did my trick and turned it into a big
pretzel in one smooth motion.  I dropped it on the ground, where
it hit with a dull thump.  The ease with which I did it surprised
me.  Apparently, in addition to the recent improvements in my
eyesight, I was still getting stronger as well.  That also
explained why I had gone airborne while jumping over the bench.

Gail stared at the twisted post and then she stared at me.  She
blinked like she thought there might be something in her eyes
that was affecting her vision.  While I waited for her to say
something, Neeka put in her two cents.

"You show-off!  You love doing that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do.  I enjoy seeing their faces.  It's like they suddenly
wake up and find that the world is a different place from what
they thought it was.  Right now, Gail looks like she just found
out that Santa Claus is real after all.  Wait a sec, where are
you?"

"Still in the garage with the bike.  And yes, our range does seem
to have increased.  I haven't been able to read you this far away
before.  We've been together all weekend, so I don't know if it's
a sudden thing or if it happened gradually."

"Maybe it happened Saturday, when we...merged."

"More likely it's just part of an across-the-board improvement
you're having.  It seems to come in spurts."

"Don't talk dirty.  Did you hear Gail talking about The
Torturer?"

"Yeah.  It must be bad if a veteran cop like her can't bring
herself to describe it."

"We can only hope."

"Hush!  You be careful!  I think you're getting cocky."

"He, he!  Must be all that testosterone in my system."

"You think you're kidding.  Maybe you're not."

"Oh, no!  I hadn't considered that!  I'd just been happy not to
have an itchy pussy every two hours.  You think all this
boy-juice in me might be affecting my behavior?"

"Too much of a good thing?  It's a possibility."

It was true.  I was feeling a little jazzed.  I had been very
quick to show-off for Gail, like she was a girl I was trying to
impress.  Actually, that's just what I was thinking at the time.
I hadn't been trying to get her to like me as a person as much as
I had been trying to impress her with my speed and my strength  
just like a boy.

I thought back to yesterday when I deliberately turned my clit
into a small cock, and then used it to pleasure a girl.  I
remembered the exquisite feeling of thrusting my organ into
Jolene.  I remembered the heady feeling that penetrating her gave
me, her expression when she felt me enter her, and the feeling of
power it gave me to make her cum.  Could all of that been due to
male hormones?

I was so deep in reflection that I missed what Gail said to me
when she got over being impressed by my macho display.

"Hunh?" I said.

"I said, 'if I hadn't seen it, I never would have believed it'. 
That wasn't a trick, was it?"

"No, it was real," I said, apologetically.  "Please excuse me.  I
shouldn't be showing off like that.  It isn't ladylike."

"Not ladylike, she says."  Gail picked up the ruined fencepost
and turned it over in her hands.  "It's warm," she said.

"It's the atoms of the metal being rubbed together.  They are
momentarily being forced to behave like a fluid and when the
metal stops moving the energy gets released as heat.  It's
conservation of energy, the first law of thermodynamics."  I
suppose that's what I get for paying attention in Physics class.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Gail said, "but are you
from this planet?"

I started to laugh out loud at that one.  It was the first time
someone had accused me of being an alien from outer space.  I
stopped in mid-chuckle when I saw she wasn't kidding.

The temptation to spin a yarn for her about me being from the
planet Zygnxx-Prime in a galaxy far-far away; being stranded on
Earth when my flying saucer crashed; and having to wait ten years
for an intergalactic tow-truck to pick me up was almost too much
to bear.  I managed to resist, but a smile fought its way to my
lips.

"Somewhere else you might ask that," I said.  "But I think you
mean, 'you ain't fum 'round heah, are ya?'"  I put on my best
Southern drawl for that and it came out perfectly.

Somehow space aliens and Southern drawls just don't go together.
Gail laughed so hard her eyes began to water and tears rolled
down her cheeks.

"OK, I guess that answers my question," she said.

A car so plain it had to belong to the government pulled up in
the boathouse parking lot.  Sgt Adams collected her prisoner and
marched him off.  Since I was already halfway around the lake, I
decided to keep going in the same direction.

As I jogged along, I was still smiling over the story I had been
about to tell Gail.  It sounded just dumb enough to be plausible
and I wondered if I might be able to use it on someone later on.

There were even fewer people in this section of the park than
there had been near the garage and the picnic area.  I didn't see
anyone other than a Sanitation worker with his trash-barrel on
wheels and his broom.  He was sweeping up some trash on the path
ahead of me, so I slowed to a walk so as not to trip over the
broad-headed broom.

He glanced up as I stepped past him and I nodded as I went past.
I had only gone a couple of steps further when a hand clamped a
cloth over my face and yanked me off my feet.

For an instant I was too startled to react.  Since he seemed to
be threatening to smother me, I took a deep breath to get some
oxygen.  I knew as soon as I did so that it wasn't a good idea. 
The sickly-sweet smell from the cloth told me he had dosed it
with some sort of drug intended to render me helpless.

"I can deal with that," I thought.  "I just have to crank up my
metabolism and I'll burn it off before it can take affect.  I
just...."  At that instant, everything went black.



I woke up with Neeka screaming in my head.  Her lovely voice had
acquired a distinctly unpleasant shrillness and I wished that she
would be quiet and let me wake up without being screamed at.

"Sam!  Sam!  Thank goodness!  You were...."

"Unconscious?  Yeah.  Thanks.  I got that part."  I swam closer
to wakefulness and examined my most recent memories for clues to
my condition.  "Some guy chloroformed me.  I just woke up.  Ugh!
How long was I out?"

"About an hour.  I was so worried.  I could hear you, but you
weren't thinking or even dreaming.  It was just black.  Are you
all right?"

"I don't know.  I haven't opened my eyes yet.  My eyelids feel
like lead.  Hold the line a minute."

"'Hold the line'?  I was woozier than I thought.  I concentrated
hard, took several deep breaths and dumped adrenalin into my
bloodstream to try to neutralize the drug.  In books, everyone
wakes up from being drugged with a bad headache.  I seemed to
have a more considerate kidnapper.  Whatever he used left me with
only a dopey feeling and a bad taste on the back of my tongue. 
While I concentrated, the fog parted and the fuzziness faded. 
Soon, I felt able to peek out at the world and see what was going
on.

From the moment I opened my eyes, I knew I was in deep shit.  The
wooden beams, the rock walls, the glowing brazier, the smell of
charcoal, hot iron, stale sweat and other, more disgusting
things; all of this told me that I was in the hands of someone
truly dedicated to his hobby.  What kind of person builds his own
medieval torture chamber?  I was afraid the answer to that was
obvious   the kind of person who is really into torturing
people.

"Where are you?" Neeka asked.

"In a dungeon, as far as I can tell.  A very authentic-looking
one, too.  It's got rock walls and torches and there's a big iron
thing with hot coals and what looks like branding irons in it. 
Where are you?"

"Riding around the park, looking for you.  I can't get a fix. 
You could be anywhere."

"In an hour, he could have taken me just about anyplace."

"Maybe not.  You faded out when I got more than a mile away from
the park.  You're probably still in the area.  He wouldn't risk
carrying his victims very far, would he?  I bet you aren't more
than a few blocks away from where he grabbed you.  Can you move?
Can you get out?"

I tried to sit up.  I tried to raise my arms.  I tried to lift my
legs.  It was all a no-go.  I could move my hands and feet, but
not my arms or legs.  I could raise my head, but I could not sit
up because there was a wide strap across my upper chest and
shoulders.  I felt another one across my hips and there seemed to
be one on each thigh and each calf and both my upper and lower
arms.   I was pinned very effectively to what felt like a metal
examining table.  There was worse news, however.

"Neeka?  I'm naked.  He took my clothes.  I can lift my head, but
that's about it.  It feels like I'm strapped down on a big metal
table.  I can just see the edge of it.  It looks like it's made
in the outline of a person."

"Is he there?"

"Not at the moment.  I can't see behind me, but I don't hear
anything but the fire burning in the brazier.  You might look for
the smoke.  With all the fire, it's pretty warm in here.  It
feels like being at the beach in July."

"Can you get free?"

I tried.  I tried very hard and I tried harder than that, but I
got nowhere.  The straps looked like the nylon webbing stuff that
seatbelts are made of; only these were at least six inches wide.
Regular seat belts are made to hold against thousands of pounds
of pull.  These straps didn't even need to be very strong,
because I could not get any leverage to push or pull against
them.  It seemed like the restraints were there as much to keep
me from hurting myself as I struggled as to keep me from getting
free.  I tried to decide what that implied about what was going
to happen to me, but I was still to groggy from the drug to think
clearly.

"No.  I'm strapped down so tight, I can't move an inch."

"Do you want me to call for help?"

I thought about it.  Help would be nice.  Rescue would be
wonderful.  For a moment, I indulged in the luxury of hope. 
Then, the reality of my situation sunk in.

"No.  Unless we can figure out where I am, it would be useless. 
Remember, they've searched before and found nothing.  He's been
at this for long enough to feel safe and maybe he's so well
hidden that we'd have to turn the whole city upside down to find
him, but maybe he has also gotten complacent.  Maybe he'll make a
mistake and I can get free.  I'm OK so far.  Let's just wait."

"OK, it's your call.  I'm going to park near where you were when
he attacked you.  I'll be ready if you need me."

"Thanks."  It was with a great amount of reluctance that I cut
off our mental contact.  But I knew that my best chance of
getting out of this alive would be to focus completely on my
situation and exclude any outside distractions.  Neeka understood
this too, and while I was certain she listened in to what I was
thinking, she kept perfectly quiet so as not to distract me.

I experimented by trying to move in various directions to see if
there was any slack that I could exploit.  The table shifted
slightly as I struggled.  It seemed to be hinged in various
places to allow it to bend and the legs to pivot independently,
but I could shift it only a fraction of an inch in any direction.
 Whoever built it had gone to a lot of trouble and taken his time
doing it.  This guy was very detail-oriented.

I tried twisting my head around to see more of the room.  There
were wooden trestle tables with what looked like tools on them. 
There were also boxes and bins.  A row of pegs on the wall held
an assortment of whips in various lengths and types.  I hoped
that those were just set dressing, like I hoped the brazier of
hot coals with its cluster of metal rods sticking out the sides
was also just a prop.  With my head turned as far as I could get
it, I noticed that there was a big bellows-thing on the floor
under the metal brazier.  It looked like it could be operated by
foot to blow more air into the glowing bed of coals.  Apparently
red-hot wasn't good enough for this guy.  He needed things
hotter; and that was another bit of information that I could have
gone without knowing.

As much as this place looked like a movie set, I kept remembering
that whoever built it was not into play-acting.  He had done some
very real and very nasty things to some very unlucky girls, and
now it looked like I was going to find out for myself just what
those nasty things were.

If this were a movie, that would have been the bad guy's cue to
come into the room.  This wasn't a movie, however, and I had a
long time to wait.  A knot of fear grew in the pit of my stomach
until it threatened to crawl up my throat and choke me.  I
started breathing so hard I almost hyperventilated myself into a
faint.  With a certain amount of difficulty, I got control of
that before I passed out.

It came to me that maybe I wasn't as smart or as brave or as
strong as I thought I was.  I had fallen into the same trap as
every other girl this guy had captured and now I was stuck on his
working table, waiting like a fly in a spider's web for him to
come along and devour me.  Neeka was right.  I had gotten cocky.
I had lost much of the fear of things that I should have stayed
afraid of and now that looked like it might just be a fatal
mistake.  The thought that I might die in this awful place scared
me almost as much as the fear of being seriously hurt by some
lunatic and I started hyperventilating again.

While I was working to control my breathing, I became aware of my
heartbeat.  It sounded like a drumbeat inside my head.  The more
I listened to it, the louder and faster it got until I felt that
my heart would explode in my chest.  That brought on another bout
of paralyzing fear, since I knew I was quite capable of doing
things to myself that I might not be able to undo before it
killed me.  That was humiliating.  If my captor didn't do me in,
I might let my own fear do it for him.

The understanding that I was falling victim to my own
psychosomatic reactions was a nice intellectual victory, but I
still had to fight to regain physical control.  Every time I
thought I had managed to get on top of things, something else
distracted me.  The sound of the coals cracking and metal popping
startled me each time it happened.  I imagined that I heard
things crawling and slithering around me, just out of my sight. 
The flickering light from the torches made everything in the room
seem to move and I jerked my head left and right, expecting to
catch something in the act of creeping up on me. 

When I heard the door open behind me, I jumped in surprise and
almost screamed with both terror and relief.  At last I would get
to see the person behind all this.

When he stepped into view, I didn't know whether to scream or
laugh.  He was dressed completely in black leather with black
metal studs all over.  His head was completely enclosed in a
leather hood with a studded flap across the mouth, and he wore
heavy leather gauntlets on his hands.  If he held his head at the
right angle to the torchlight, I could just make out his eyes
through the rectangular slits in the mask.  He was the perfect
image of Hollywood's version of a medieval torturer.  It was
almost funny, but very disturbingly real.

"Where am I?" I asked, more to get him to speak than from any
hope that he would really answer the question and I could tell
Neeka where to send the cops.

He said nothing.  He went over to the table and opened a box and
reached inside.  he came over to me and held something up in
front of my face.  It looked like a big ring with straps on it.

"Open your mouth," he said.  His voice was soft and high-pitched.
 It didn't go at all with the leather and the studs.

"Why?" I asked, trying to keep him talking.

Instead of an answer, he reached out to the brazier and pulled
out a short metal rod with a sharp point on it.  The point and
about three inches of the rod was glowing cherry red.  He held it
directly in front of my eyes so I could get a nice close look at
it.  My face prickled from the intense heat and my eyes started
to tear up.  It was a very convincing argument for my cooperation
and I opened my mouth wide without making any further comment.

He put the hot iron back into the brazier and held the ring in
front of my mouth again.  I strained to open my mouth wider, and
then wider still when he didn't move.  Finally, with my jaws
about to unhinge, he dropped the ring into my mouth, where my
teeth closed on it by reflex.

He fastened the straps behind my head, pulling the ring even
further into my mouth.  Then he bent over and looked through the
ring into my mouth   what for I had no clue.

"Rules," he said, tersely.  He had a slight lisp as well as a
high voice and the hiss was starting to creep me out.  "You may
not talk.  You may scream if you like.  I expect that.  If you
try to talk there will be pain.  Do you understand?"

Without thinking, I said, "Ah unuhhanh" and realized that I had
just broken the first rule.  Now I was going to suffer the
consequence.

He went back to the table and brought over several instruments,
which he placed out of sight behind my head.  He held up one of
them, a pair of pliers with wide flat jaws, and said, "Stick out
your tongue."

I thought it over too long, and he put out a hand in the
direction of the brazier.  Immediately, I stuck my tongue out
through the ring.  For my compliance, he was very gentle with the
pliers.  He gripped the end of my tongue and pulled only as hard
as necessary to get it stretched out as far as it would go.  I
had been afraid he would rip it out by the root.  As it was, it
was still pulled out to the limit, which was far enough that I
could easily see what he did next.

He placed a big clamp onto my extended tongue and tightened it
down so it would not slip.  He released the pliers.   He took
another instrument and placed its jaws around my tongue so that
it pressed into the center and through a hole in the clamp's
jaws.  He squeezed the handle and I felt something sharp pierce
my tongue straight through from top to bottom.

The pain was bad, but it was over quickly.  I didn't scream and I
couldn't flinch.  I had no choice but to lie there and let him do
whatever he wanted to me.  When I opened my eyes again and
blinked away the tears, I saw that he had pierced my tongue with
a metal sleeve the diameter of a pencil through which he inserted
a steel rod that was longer than the diameter of the ring gag in
my mouth.  My tongue was trapped.  I could not pull it back into
my mouth.  The sleeve staunched the blood and kept the rod from
pulling the hole wider.  There would be no more talking from me.

 "Good girl," he told me, talking as though I were a pet dog that
he was training.  "Do you see that cooperation is important?  I
can make you comply with my instructions, but I would much rather
have your cooperation."

I hesitated, then I nodded my understanding.  I was helpless.  If
I resisted, if I failed to obey instructions, it would be worse.
If I cooperated in my own torture, I would be spared some of the
more unpleasant treatments.  It was a real deal with the devil  
damned if you do and damned if you don't.  

"Excellent.  Then we have an understanding.  Now, I will answer
some of the questions that you can no longer ask.  First, we are
in a place that I have spent a good bit of time and no small
amount of money making completely soundproof.  You may scream
until your lungs burst and your vocal cords are torn apart, but
no one will hear you.  Please scream for me now, so that you will
know that this is so."

I didn't want to know what the penalty was for remaining silent.
I screamed.  The gag limited me, but I screamed as loud as I
could.

"Not very convincing, I'm afraid," he said, and went away.

I was immediately terrified.  This was obviously a game he played
with each victim   get them to scream and then teach them how to
do it properly by giving them a reason to do so.  I had a bad
feeling that he had a way to motivate even the most reluctant
vocalist.  Even as terror rose up inside me, so did a certain
anticipation of what he would do to me next.  The tongue piercing
and trapping had been unexpected and creative.  Clearly he had
put a lot of thought and preparation into this.  He had had
plenty of opportunity to practice on other victims and as far I
knew all of them had survived the ordeal.  

The only things that seriously worried me were the words
'mutilation' and 'institutionalized' in the crime summary and Sgt
Adams' reluctance to go into any detail about what he had done to
the other girls.  I would probably be alive when he was finished
with me, but what condition I would be in was still a very large
unknown.  I began to doubt there was much security in knowing
that the other girls had survived.  I imagined some things that
would make survival less than a happy outcome and the vividness
of the images fed my fear until it became like a living thing,
anchored deep in my gut.

He came back with a device that was a wooden box with dials and
knobs on the front.  Attached to the box by a wire was shiny
metal cylinder about eight inches long and two inches in
diameter.  Two other wires ended in copper alligator clips.  He
sat the box on a rolling stand and pushed it up beside my table.
Reaching under the table, he started fiddling with a control of
some sort.  Slowly, I felt my legs being forced apart as the
table split in the middle and pivoted apart just under my butt. 


When he had my legs at a 90-degree angle and my knees slightly
elevated, he reached up and put his gloved hands on my breasts
and started to fondle me.  Even with the clumsy gloves, he was
good at it.  His touch was firm, but gentle.  Although I kept
expecting him to hurt me, he didn't.  He squeezed and stroked my
breasts purposefully for several minutes until my nipples swelled
up and out, eager for more stimulation.  As soon as he saw that I
was becoming aroused, he moved on to my sensitive nipples and
started stroking and tugging them.  My traitorous flesh responded
to his touch and they became stiff and hard under the rough
leather of his gauntlets.  

My state of sexual excitement stood out in stark contrast to the
terror I felt.  My body welcomed it as an alternative to the
unbearable tension of fear and I felt myself quickly rise to
pitch of arousal despite my determination to resist.

When he saw that I was breathing harder and trying to squirm
against my bonds, he went around the foot of the table and stood
between my spread legs.  I jerked when he touched my pussy, the
terror of what might happen to me at any moment leapt to the
front of my mind and jibbered horrible things in my ear.  The man
only stroked my quivering sex softly and I gratefully relaxed and
gave myself over to the rapidly spreading lust that his fondling
was generating in my body.

He spread my pussy lips apart with his thick-gloved fingers and
pushed one inside me and pulled it back out again.  I saw him
hold his hand up in the light.  His glove was wet with my juice.

He picked up the metal cylinder, put it against my pussy opening
and then pushed it slowly but firmly inside.  Penetration by
something that large made me tense and strain against the straps.
 At first it felt cold, but it quickly warmed once it was in
contact with my vaginal walls.  As I got used to its presence, I
relaxed again and waited for the next step.

He took the alligator clips and, spreading them as wide open as
they would go, pushed them over the ends of my distended nipples.
 He let them go with a snap that sent the sharp teeth deep into
my tender pink flesh and made me scream from the sudden pain.  

My eyes were watering and I whimpered from the pain of the clips
biting into my nipples while I watched him turn a dial on the
front of the wooden box and then put his hand on one of the
switches.

"Now, my dear.  Let's try that scream again."

He flipped the switch and a bolt of the most horrible pain I had
ever felt seared through me from my nipples to my pussy.  My body
arched involuntarily against the straps and I screamed so loudly
that I thought I would rip my vocal cords right out of my throat.
 I screamed so hard that I thought my ribs would crack from
compressing the air going out of my windpipe.  The charge of
electricity running through my body made the muscles in my
abdomen and chest contract so tightly that I thought they would
be torn apart.  For the first split second, even though the
majority of my consciousness was set afire with the incredible
agony, some distant part of my mind recognized that this was the
real reason for the strength of the straps   they weren't
designed to resist my attempts to escape, they were designed to
hold me in place even though my muscles were contracting hard
enough to rip me apart.

I bit down on the gag viciously.  If it hadn't been there I
probably would have bit my tongue off or pulverized all my teeth.
 As it was, my mouth was held open so wide that I couldn't get
enough leverage to do anything of the sort.

I have no idea how long he let the current course through me. 
The intensity of the pain made time seem to stand still.  I was
in an infinite amount of pain for an eternity.  Pain was all. 
Pain simply was.  I think I screamed the whole time.

At last I heard a click as he shut off the switch and the pain
vanished as quickly as it had come.  Nevertheless, I went on
screaming until my body was sure that the suffering was really
over, then I slowed to a raspy groan.  I was suddenly grateful
for his permission to scream.  Not to have been able to scream
would have meant going insane in a matter of seconds.

"Very good.  You have a fine voice, although I doubt you will be
using it for a while after today.  You impress me.  Many of my
guests have passed out by now.

"Now where was I?  Oh yes, you understand that there will be no
rescue and no escape no matter how much you scream?"

I nodded, jerkily.  Tears flowed from my eyes in a steady stream
and ran down the sides of my face and into my ears.

"And you realize that you must cooperate with me, that if you
fail to do so I will give you more pain that you ever imagined?"

I nodded again.  My abdominal muscles were still convulsing where
the electricity had overloaded the nerves.  My breasts were taut
and hard on my chest because the muscles under them were cramped
tight.  My nipples felt like they had been burned to a crisp by
the current.  My vagina was clenched tightly around the metal
cylinder and I thought it might be fused to my flesh. 

He removed the clips from my nipples and I was very relieved to
discover that they still had nerves left in them and they had not
been burned into charred lumps by the machine.  He had no trouble
removing the cylinder either.  It came free with no trace of the
seared flesh that I had expected to see.

"Good girl.  Now I will let you in on a secret.  This," he waved
his hand to include the whole torture chamber, "is not what it
seems.  Nor am I what I seem.  No, no, no!  Granted, I started
with little more than a desire to take revenge on girls, to
punish them for spurning me, for laughing at me, for humiliating
me!"  

His eyes became wild behind the mask at this point.  I was afraid
he was about to lose control and I didn't want to think what he
might do to me then.  He took several deep breaths and calmed
down before resuming his speech.

"No.  I had a better idea.  I decided that simple punishment was
not the answer.  I found that, after a while, sweet revenge
turned to ashes in my mouth.  I looked for a more positive
solution.  And I found it!  Think of today's events as a test. 
I'm sure you've had to take tests in school that you found to be
disagreeable.  Well, I will be subjecting you to a series of
rather unpleasant tests that will help me to determine if you
should be returned to the world in an improved version of your
former self, or if you should be branded a failure as a female. 
I have here a tool that I designed specifically for that purpose.
 I am sure you will find it interesting.  The other girls who
were unlucky enough to make its acquaintance will certainly never
forget it."

He went to the brazier and turned one of the iron rods while he
pumped the bellows with his foot.  The temperature in the room
went up sharply and the pool of sweat in my navel overflowed and
ran down my abdomen and between my spread legs, where it felt
like a drop of boiling water, scalding my tender parts as it
rolled through the valley of my sex.

After pumping that bellows for what seemed like a long time, he
pulled out the iron he had been working whose end was buried
under the coals.  He knocked the ash and coals off and held it up
for me to see.  The end of the rod was a foot-long, two-inch
thick cylinder with a rounded knob on the end.  It was an iron
dildo that shone brightly with incandescent heat and it instantly
commanded my undivided attention.

I was as transfixed by the rod of glowing iron as a rabbit might
be when finding itself within striking distance of a deadly
viper.  I dared not breathe or blink.  I could not look away.  My
breathing quickened and my heart raced.  I was horrified at the
obvious use for this crude metal device that gave off such
intense waves of heat that I could feel from five feet away.  

I tried to swallow, but my throat was already bone dry from
having my mouth held open by the gag.  I was petrified at the
thought that I might be receiving the brutal affections of this
hideous device.  At the same time I felt a flash of heat in my
abdomen and my stupid pussy started contracting wildly, as though
it couldn't wait to embrace the metal monster that would be the
last fuck it would ever get.  

As I stared at the branding iron I felt a horrid compulsion seize
me.  It took hold all of a sudden and I was shocked at how
quickly and thoroughly it crushed my self-control.  As the heat
of it radiated through me, it sapped my strength along with my
will and I felt weak and helpless to fight off the dreadful
feeling that came over me.

I felt myself drawn irresistibly to the glowing phallus, yearning
for it against my will and against my judgment.  My legs strained
against the straps, not to close protectively, but to spread my
pussy open wider in eager anticipation of the ultimate act of
copulation.  The inevitability of this unnatural intercourse fell
over me like a leaden shroud.  I felt I had been sentenced to the
same ghastly fate that had been cruelly meted out to those who
had been here before me and that I must resign myself to that
fate and even meet it willingly.

Having given myself permission to crave ruination, I did my best
to try to seduce my destroyer, to entice it to enter me so that I
could enfold its heat and its power, to merge with it, to be
subjugated by it.  I was driven by an overpowering lust, fueled
by crippling fear, to sacrifice my sexual organs to this
monstrous phallic idol.

My breathing became rhythmically labored and my breasts heaved as
I stared at the hideous thing.  I was mesmerized by it   fixated
on it.  Its outline was blurred by the wave of heat that it gave
off, making it seem to move and wriggle hypnotically.  It seemed
to radiate an awesome power that pushed my arousal beyond my
ability to resist it.  

He moved the nearly white-hot iron over me and I cringed at its
rapid approach.  I could feel heat radiating from it as he passed
it over my face and then down to my breasts.  I watched,
transfixed with mounting terror, as he lowered the glowing knob
closer and closer to the tip of my right breast.  The searing
heat was strong enough to be painful and brought me partially to
my senses.  I strained against the restraints in a futile attempt
to shrink away from the horrible thing.

My traitorous nipple swelled under the influence of the intense
heat.  It seemed to reach out for the hot iron, willfully seeking
its fiery destruction.  The heat reached through my breast and
rekindled my arousal.  The fear of being burned by the glowing
iron changed into a perverse longing for its touch, for its
intense caress; heedless that the most tender of kisses from my
iron lover would mark me forever as its slave with an imprint
that would be forever insensitive to another's touch.

Just as I thought my nipple was about to be consumed by contact
with the iron, he pulled it away, leaving me intensely stimulated
and powerfully frustrated.  I dropped my head back on the table,
bursting with unsatisfied lust and crazed with the warped desire
to see my nipple branded.

After granting me a reprieve, instead of replacing the iron in
the brazier, he slowly moved it down my abdomen, tracing a
wandering path just barely above my skin.  He paused every few
inches and teased me by lowering it to just within contact,
making me choose each time if I should thrust my stomach up
against the hot metal and willingly burn myself in a
demonstration of my submission to its power.

Each time I barely managed to resist the temptation and
eventually he reached his goal and held the thick shaft
lengthwise between my thighs with the fat knob just in front of
my pussy.  The tender skin on the insides of my thighs felt like
it was being baked by the extreme heat and I renewed my efforts
to spread my legs further apart, both to escape the heat and as a
gesture of submission to my despoiler.  

With excruciating slowness, he moved the glowing knob closer and
closer to my swollen labia, which curled themselves open lewdly
as if to welcome the fiery intruder.  I could feel my internal
muscles contracting furiously as they pulled my vaginal walls
apart, opening my channel and preparing it for my final
penetration.  The heat from the knob radiated down the open
passage, reaching deeply into me and enflaming what was already
boiling with another kind of heat.  My belly undulated obscenely
as my vaginal muscles flexed again and again, flaring the mouth
of my pussy, making it seem to beg for obliteration.  

Both kinds of warmth made my lubricating juice flow copiously and
I could feel it running out of my pussy and down across my
puckered anus to puddle on the table.  Lubrication would do me no
good today.  It might ease the passage briefly, but once inside
me the iron cock would scald and then sear my vaginal walls,
cooking the flesh and then charring it.  When it withdrew after
it had done its grisly job, it would tear itself from my ruined
organ leaving behind a gruesome wreck and a lifetime of agony and
regret.  None of this made the slightest difference to me.  I was
consumed by lust and driven by terror to surrender myself to
devastation.  My one thought was that any second he would quench
the glowing iron in my pussy.  The anticipation of that instant
drove me into a state of sexual heat like I had never left
before.  My hips jerked forward again and again, as my body tried
to reach the glowing shaft, driven to enfold it by a perverted
lust so strong that it drove all other thought from my mind
except frustration at being denied the thing it craved.

My fatly erect and sensitive clit was poised over the red glowing
knob and so close that it felt like it was being roasted as it
danced wantonly in the rising heat.  The sensation was like
nothing I had ever experienced.  Waves of pain and pleasure
coursed through me simultaneously.  The fear and lust had
destroyed my reason, leaving only the irrational desire for
unnatural intercourse with the iron phallus.  If my tongue had
been free, I would have begged him for consummation.  I would
have pleaded with him to shove the hot iron cock through my pussy
and plunge it deeply into my body, destroying my sex utterly and
driving me instantly into what my body was convinced would be the
most cataclysmic orgasm I could, and would, ever experience,
leaving my body and my mind totally destroyed.

The tension itself finally broke me and I climaxed while
imagining the flaming iron ravaging my pussy.  My vaginal muscles
flexed violently and forced a stream of liquid to shoot from my
spasming pussy and splash onto the glowing iron rod, showering it
with hot juice that flashed instantly into a cloud of steam.  

The feeling of relief was incredible.  The orgasm poured through
me like a flood in the desert, rushing into the dry, thirsty
places and instantly saturating them with a refreshing torrent. 
I rolled my eyes back into my head and surrendered to the
overwhelming sensation.  My body shook and quivered all over with
the sudden release of the intense sexual tension that had built
up inside me.  The only thing that kept me conscious was the hard
ball of fear that remained in the pit of my stomach.  

Without making a sound, my captor watched me moan and twitch in a
glorious fit of ecstasy.  He watched, motionless, while I
performed my dance of lust, shaking and straining convulsively
against my bonds while I climaxed shamelessly, brazenly showing
him the degree of control he had over my body and my mind.  When
I finally stopped quaking and ran down to an exhausted lethargy,
he returned the now-darkened iron cock to the brazier, where he
carefully covered it in glowing coals to allow it to recharge its
heat.

"Marvelous!  You are the best specimen that I have been fortunate
enough to find in some time.  Your breasts are magnificent.  Your
skin is golden.  Your face is beautiful.  You burn with a sexual
heat that outshines the coals.  And yet, there are still
improvements to be made!  You will see.  You will see.  I have
learned a thing or three since I started.  You just wait and see.
 Now, let us begin."

He rolled the stand with the electrocutor on it out of the way;
but still to hand, I noticed.  He replaced it with another wooden
box that he sat behind me before I got a good look at it.  He
reached over my head and brought down two clear plastic funnels
attached to tubes that went back to the box.  I guessed what the
contraption was even before he showed me the quart-size
collection bottle.

"One job of the female is to provide nourishment for her
children.  You will demonstrate to me that you can perform this
function.  If you do not, or cannot, I am prepared to help you."


He held up a large brown bottle of fluid.  All I could make out
on the label was "metaclopromide", a word I remembered from the
pamphlet on milk donation.  It had something to do with
stimulating lactation, but if I remembered right, it was part of
a treatment that took days to work as the breast tissue hormone
levels increased.  I had no idea if injecting girls with this
stuff would make them lactate instantly and I was highly dubious
about being subjected to the treatment.

He rubbed some greasy white stuff on my nipples and they
immediately began to swell and itch.  They got warmer and warmer
until they felt like they were burning up.  They grew so large
that I could easily see them poking out on the ends of my
breasts.

My tormentor watched and giggled as my nipples turned bright red
and swelled to the point of bursting.  When they stopped growing,
he put the funnels on them like little party hats.  He pressed
them down and they stuck to the cream, making a seal.  He then
turned on the machine, which made a loud rhythmic thunking noise.
 It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't identify it at
first.  When I felt the suction pull my nipples up into the
funnels, I remembered where I had heard that sound before   it
was the sound the vacuum pump in the school Physics lab made when
it was pumping the air out of a bell jar.  His homemade breast
pump wasn't going to take Empty for an answer.  

"You have five minutes to begin producing milk.  If you cannot,
the machine will continue to run and your breasts will rupture
and you will give blood instead.  Either way, I will take no less
than a pint.  Milk or blood, it is your choice.  I give you the
option of having the injection to assist you in this task.  If
you want the injection, nod your head."

At that moment, the pump sucked all the air out of the wide part
of the funnels and my nipples were sucked up into the narrow end,
making me jerk.  He interpreted this to mean I was asking for the
drug and he picked up a syringe with a long needle and filled it
from the bottle.

When he had the syringe filled, he jabbed one breast with it and
then the other, shooting a massive dose of the drug into each
one.  He wasn't as gentle or as careful as Bambi had been when
she had injected my breasts with her serum and it hurt like hell.
 He did sterilize the needle and the injection site each time,
for which I was grateful.  When he finished the first dose, he
immediately filled up the syringe and gave my poor breasts a
second dose from a different angle.  Each injection was as
unpleasant as the last.  The pain was annoying, but sufferable. 
It was the idea that some foreign substance was being put into my
body without my consent that bothered me the most.  I wondered
what the effects had been on his other victims and I had an
unsettling thought - was he crazy enough to continue to use a
treatment that did not produce the desired effect?  If not, then
what would be the effect of the drug on someone whose hormones
were already geared to milk production?

I braced myself for agony, but the drug seemed to have no effect.
 I felt nothing but the insistent pull of the pump on my nipples,
through which something was going to be sucked very soon now, as
the vacuum built up in the machine.  If I didn't do something
quick, it was going to be my blood that the device sucked and
that was going to hurt one awful lot.

I closed my eyes and reached for the trance state.  Given the
situation, I expected that it would be very hard to achieve
anything like a meditative mood, but I had done it so many times
that I slipped right in.  Once there, I got to work concentrating
on making milk as quickly as I could.

I visualized the process right down to the smallest level.  I
summoned the feeling of warm milk filling my mammary glands.  I
imagined the creamy white fluid flowing through me.  I felt my
breasts swell and my nipples open and fluid begin to flow out of
me.  Slowly, I opened my eyes to take a peek.  It was happening.
Fluid was being sucked up the tubes, and it was milk instead of
blood.  The suction eased as the liquid filled the machine and
was pumped into the bottle.  I went into 'cow mode', letting my
body yield to the demand of the pump attached to my breasts.

"Wonderful!  Marvelous!  You continue to impress me.  Many girls
fail this test and the result is most unfortunate.  You seem well
suited to this task.  Your voluptuous proportions are functional
as well as extremely pleasing to the eye."

His praise felt good, even if it was only the ravings of a
lunatic.  I relaxed and let nature take over.  My breasts were
keeping pace with the pump, now.  The milk was flowing smoothly
and the level in the bottle rose steadily.  I closed my eyes
again, happy to have a momentary break from the torture that I
knew had not ended, even though it was very welcome after my bout
with abject terror.

While I relaxed, I worked on metabolizing the drug he had
unnecessarily injected into my breasts.  Just because there had
been no sensation or immediate reaction to it didn't mean there
would be no effect at all, and I didn't want anything sneaking up
on me later when I might have other things on my mind.  Since the
drug had been injected directly into my breasts, I focused on
them, increasing the flow of blood and accelerating all the
biochemical processes.  

I had developed a wonderful rapport with my body.  In the trance
state, I could extend my mental control over just about any
aspect of it that I chose.  If I could visualize it, I could do
it, as long as it was possible, didn't require more energy than I
had available to spend on the task, and I understood enough of
what was happening to activate the proper biological systems.  My
mental analogy of being a general who commanded an army of
soldiers was a good one, but the catch was that I needed to know
what had to be done and I had to know who to order to do it, at
least the first time through.

The skin-changing business that I was so fond of was a good
example.  I had become very familiar with my epidermal cells and
how to get them to move pigment around to get the effect I
wanted.  I had fooled around with my 'makeup' enough to make the
whole thing almost a reflex.  Once I had learned to put on the
Dragon face, it was easy to learn how to animate it.  Once I
learned to make it move, it was easy to make it more realistic. 
Each effort resulted in better-trained troops who could carry out
complex operations with minimal orders from me.  If this sounds
absurd, think about how complicated a process speaking is and how
each of us nevertheless learns to do it at an early age.  No one
thinks 'I must breath like this, or hold my tongue in this
position, or open my mouth just this far'.  It all becomes a
programmed action, so we don't have to think of the details or
worry about the complexity of the action, we can just open our
mouths and say, "You want fries with that?"

The catch was in dealing with the unknown.  If I didn't
understand what was going on, I was more or less helpless to do
anything about it.  I knew next to nothing about molecular
biology or biochemistry, so I was helpless to do anything about
being dosed with a complex drug like metaclopromide except to try
to burn it up as quickly as possible.

I was 'going with the flow' with the homemade, but effective,
breast pump and was starting to enjoy being milked.  The
sensation was a very primal one and reached deeply into my mind
to produce a state of contented euphoria.  The only other thing I
knew of that could reach that deeply was sex.  Indeed, the two
activities seemed to share the same primitive pleasure-center in
my brain and one sometimes stimulated the other.  Lactation
sometimes made me horny and sex sometimes made me lactate.

Sometime later, I was floating along on my own private cloud when
I became aware of a growing feeling of fullness in my breasts and
a feeling of increased weight on my chest.  Annoyed at having my
reverie disturbed, I opened one eye to check on conditions in the
external world.

By accelerating the rate at which I metabolized the drug, I had
inadvertently thrown gasoline on the fire.  The stuff had
stimulated my milk production enormously.  'Enormous' was a good
word for it, too, as that was what my breasts looked like.  

I had gotten largely accustomed to having big tits.  I had been
well above average in the breast department when I was still a
D-cup.  The process to turn me into an HH-cup had been traumatic,
but very rewarding, and I would not have gone back for anything
in the world.  The inconvenience they caused was more than made
up for by the pleasure they gave me and the way they fascinated
my lovers and admirers.

The large dose of the drug and my attempt to burn it up quickly
had combined to swell my breasts to prodigious proportions.  They
sat on my chest like huge milk bags and my flesh was stretched to
the limit to contain the large reservoir of liquid in them.  The
sound of the pump had fallen off to a soft purr as the amount of
fluid available increased beyond its demand.

I began to feel pain.  A sharp ache was developing in both
breasts as they threatened to grow beyond the ability of my skin
to contain them.  Something had to be done and quickly.

I turned my head to look at my captor.  He was sitting at a table
in the corner, fiddling with another of his torture devices and
was unaware of my situation.  The risk of more punishment seemed
small compared to the inevitable damage I was about to undergo. 
I cried out to get his attention,

"Heeeuuh.  Heaaaa!" I managed to force a raspy croak from my sore
vocal cords.

Surprised that I would break Rule #1 and risk further punishment,
he turned immediately and took in my situation.  He knocked over
his chair in his rush to come to my aid, his concern evident in
his speed and his body language.  I was touched.

"My goodness!  That's incredible!  You've exceeded my
expectations!  Here, let me turn up the pump.  You're overloading
it."

He thought I was doing it on purpose!  He thought I was inflating
my breasts to the point of rupture because I was trying to please
him.  I didn't know whether to be furious with him for putting me
in this situation or pity him for being so clueless and
self-centered.

He reached behind my head and I heard the noise of the pump motor
rise to a higher pitch.  He replaced the full collection bottle
with an empty one and set it back where I could see it.  He
turned the pump control some more, coaxing it to an even faster
speed and watched closely to see if it had an effect.  After a
few seconds of watching me suffer steadily increasing pain, he
turned it up some more, and then again a few seconds later. 

It wasn't helping.  My eyes started to cross from the pressure
and the pain.  My captor took another look at my face and turned
the pump up all the way.

The pump raced to its top speed with a horrible clatter before
settling into a loud rumble.  The pulsing suction on my nipples
became a steady pull.  The pressure started to ease off almost
immediately and the pain slacked off shortly afterwards.  I
breathed a deep sigh of relief when my vision cleared and I
dropped my head back on the hard metal with a thunk.

The crisis over, I slowly drifted back to my state of bliss and
resumed my examination of the similarities of different types of
pleasure.  It was going to take some time before the accumulation
of milk in my breasts could be sucked out and even longer before
the effect of the drug wore off and I would be able to turn off
the tap.  I found the courage to smile to myself when I
remembered that this was one of the horrible things Bambi had
thought of to scare me into a compliant state.  My breasts had,
indeed, been turned into udders overflowing with milk.  The
difference was, I loved the feeling now instead of being
terrified of it, and I was terrified then when I should have
loved it.

My captor sat by my side this time instead of wandering off to
tinker.  He stood ready to swap out the collection bottles when
necessary and to reduce the pump speed when that looked to be
advisable.  His attentiveness told me that he was ashamed of
violating the terms of our implied agreement   that I would
cooperate and he would do me no serious harm   or at least no
unintended serious harm.

It was that gray area as to just what each of us thought of as
'serious' that bothered me.  To some people, having a
quarter-inch hole poked in the middle of your tongue would be
serious.  To others, it might even qualify as mutilation.  To me,
it was an interesting bit of piercing.  Several girls at school
had had something similar done to them.  They happily showed off
their metal studs and their colored beads to anyone who was
curious.  Mine was unusual in that it was a larger-diameter hole
held open by a hollow sleeve instead of a solid stud.  It looked
like I might have some trouble eating soup, but that was the
worst inconvenience I could foresee.  I was already thinking of
ways I could show it off. 

I wished that I could pull my tongue back into my mouth so I
could explore the piercing. It had been pulled out so long that
the muscles had been stretched and it was no longer
uncomfortable, but it had dried out from being exposed to the air
and the warmth of the room.  My whole mouth felt dry and I
realized that it wasn't just from being held open by the gag.  I
was losing a lot of fluid to the milking and I was becoming badly
dehydrated.  I needed a drink in the worst way.

I decided to risk appealing to my leather-clad tormentor again. 
Perhaps he was inclined to be more forgiving of transgressions of
his rules now that he had failed to take adequate care of me.  I
rolled my head over and waited until I could catch his eye.  When
he did look at my face, I wiggled the tip of my tongue around to
show how dry it was.

He watched my tongue dance for him, but he didn't get the
message.  I tried to talk but my throat was so dry all I could do
was make a hoarse breathing noise.  It sounded like wind blowing
through dry leaves.

Finally he got the point.  He looked around the table at the
collection of full milk-bottles and calculated that I had put out
a goodly percentage of my bodily fluids and I needed refreshment.
 Fortunately he seemed prepared for this.  He slipped the rod out
of my tongue so I could withdraw it into my mouth.  Then he
reached under the table and came up with a length of plastic
tubing that he poked into my mouth through the ring gag.

I wondered how he expected me to be able to suck on the tube
without being able to close my mouth.  I was trying to illustrate
my difficulty by waving my recently freed tongue around when he
slid the drinking tube through the hole in my tongue and poked it
against the roof of my mouth.  Reflexively, I clamped my tongue
over the back of my throat.  Of course, this did no good as far
as keeping the tube out of my throat because it was already
through my tongue, but it did tip me off as to how I could drink.
 With my tongue sealing my throat, I could suck on the tube.  I
tried it, and it worked like a charm.  Water flowed through the
tube and I swallowed greedily.  It was another example of my
captor's ingenuity that he had thought of this.

He must have had a big tank of water down there, because I sucked
up at least a quart of it in no time at all.  As fluid got into
my system, I felt better.  Shortly, the symptoms of dehydration
went away and I only needed to suck in to replace what was being
sucked out.  Again, I relaxed and went back to being a contented
cow.

Sometime later, I drifted back to reality when I heard the pump
slow down.  I was running dry and he was adjusting the suction
accordingly.  I watched him as he gauged my output against the
pump's demand and gradually brought it to a halt.  I felt
drained, in both senses of the word, but wonderful.  The knot of
terror that had been growing in my middle had eased to a dull
ache.  

"Remarkable!  Truly remarkable!  You produced almost three quarts
of milk.  No other girl has even come close to this.  Most of
them, I am sad to say, could not provide even a single drop.  Of
milk, that is.  Those who failed were still required to provide a
pint of blood.  I used to require more, but I discovered that
taking more than a pint made them less responsive to the other
treatments."  

After removing the plastic funnels, he carefully wiped off the
grease with a damp cloth.  The sensation of the cloth on my
engorged nipples was awesome.  From the incredible feeling of
cold, I guessed that the cloth must have been soaked in alcohol.
I rolled my watering eyes and took several shallow breaths while
he attended to me.

Again, he misunderstood what was happening.  "Oh, you like that,
do you?  You like having your nipples rubbed?  Well, I have
something else that you might like even more."  He chuckled
happily as he went back to his table of gadgets.  I thought I had
never heard a more ominous sound than that chuckle.

He came back quickly with another prepared tray of instruments. 
I peered over at them and tried to guess what they were for.  He
saw me looking and held up one while he enthusiastically
described what he was planning to do to me.

"You like jewelry?  Of course you do.  All girls like jewelry. 
Well, I am going to give you some nice jewelry as a reward for
passing my test with such high marks."  He held up a tiny silver
bell about the size of my thumbnail.  It was attached to a chain
about an inch long.  He shook it and it rang with a high clear
note.  Then he held up its twin and shook it as well.

I was just thinking how the two bells would make nice earrings
when he picked up a clamping tool with a wicked-looking spike
beside the jaws and took hold of my right nipple with his other
hand.  Apparently my ears were not going to be sporting the
little bells after all.

If I could have squirmed I would have.  The straps held me firmly
and all I could do was watch helplessly as he rolled my nipple
between his thumb and fingers, looking for the best spot to drive
the spike.  When he found it, he positioned the clamp and
squeezed the handle.

The jaws pressed my nipple flat between them, crushing it so hard
that I wanted to scream.  I saw him looking at me expectantly and
I figured that that was what he wanted, so I let loose with a
loud one.  At the height of my scream, he triggered the spike and
it shot through my nipple so quickly that my scream cut off in
shocked surprise.  I was more surprised at how little it had
actually hurt.  I had expected terrible pain.  What I got was a
sharp stinging that was already fading into a dull throb.

He withdrew the spike and mopped up the few drops of blood that
had oozed out before looping a rather large ring through the
fresh hole and the end of one of the chains.  He then put on a
pair of dark goggles and picked up a small device that trailed a
heavy electrical cord behind it.  I barely had time to close my
eyes before he touched it to the ring and, with a crackling noise
and an intense flash of blue light, welded the ring closed.  He
removed the clamp and moved the bell around so I could see it
dangling from the ring through my nipple.

I was so fascinated by my new pendant that I almost missed my cue
when he pierced my other nipple.  I had just opened my mouth and
let out the briefest of squeaks before the deed was done.  He
attached the other bell and fused the ring closed the same way as
he had done the first one and I was now the bearer of two
permanent pieces of jewelry that would announce my presence
whenever I moved.

He shook my breasts and we listened to the bells tinkling in
harmony.  I wondered how many of the other girls had been
rewarded in this way.  He had praised me for my performance as a
dairy cow, so maybe he was being as nice to me as he had been
horribly cruel to the others.  I thought about what the penalty
could have been for failing that test and my stomach lurched
toward my mouth.

"And now, the next test.  If you pass it, I will liberate you
from the tyranny of the flesh," he announced, and I knew that the
time for more unpleasant things was at hand.  "Females have few
advantages over males.  By and large, you are smaller, weaker and
more timid.  Your physical frailty belies your inner strengths,
however.  You are by nature more ruthless and more vindictive
than men.  Few females are ever allowed to hold positions of
power for this reason.  A war waged by women would have no
victor, only casualties.

"I believe that this difference in temperament is because of
something that psychologists call penis-envy.  I do not use this
term in the traditional Freudian sense   Freud didn't grasp the
true essence of the phenomenon.  No, I mean that females have a
basic flaw in their sexual configuration, one that limits their
free expression of their sexuality and condemns them to a
lifetime of envy of the male sex organs and all the neuroses and
pathological psychoses that arise from those years of living with
constrained genitals.  Do you understand what I am saying?"

I didn't have clue-one what he was saying.  Some of it almost
made sense, but truly understanding it would mean having more
insight into his warped mind than I really wanted.  He was
looking for some sort of response from me, however, and I was
pretty sure that 'no' would be the wrong answer, and probably a
punishable offense, so I nodded my head.

"Excellent!  I'm so glad that you understand, since that is the
final test, that you grasp the significance of what I am about to
do for you.  Now that you have passed all the tests with such
high marks, you will now receive the prize.  I will release you
... not from these puny bonds, but from the bonds of the flesh. 
You will be a fully-realized sexual being for the first time in
your life.  You will be envied.  You may even be the one who
leads other members of her sex into the light of freedom after
all these millennia of bondage."  He was getting wound up again,
but I still didn't know what the fuck he was going on about.

"I am gratified that you have chosen to undergo this
transformation willingly.  I must tell you that you are the very
first one who ever participated to this extent.  I have great
hopes that your transmogrification, your conversion, your
metamorphosis will be a great and marvelous turning point in your
young life and that you will leave here with a new outlook.

"You know, it is indeed unfortunate that those who have undergone
this change before you did not see it for the liberation that it
is.  It is my deepest regret that most of them disappointed me
deeply and forced me to give them a failing mark   a rather
permanent one, I'm afraid.  Some of them did so poorly that it
was necessary apply one of my irons in such a manner as to render
them incapable of sexual arousal.  Some of them never stopped
screaming after that.   But you won't do that will you?  You're
different; I can see that.  I shall free you.  I shall emancipate
you and you will be perfect.  You won't disappoint me.  I know
it."

I still had no idea what he was raving about, but his threat to
burn off my clit if I failed to adequately appreciate what he was
going to do to me was perfectly clear.  He had already shown me
that he was perfectly serious.  However comical his behavior
might be at times, I needed to remember that there were many
girls who had been in my position who had not lived up to his
warped expectations and who would spend the rest of their lives
disfigured, sexless, and insane.  Gail Adams' reaction to the
details of what he had done to his other victims now seemed
perfectly understandable.

I needed to keep focused on reacting properly, so I could get out
of there with my clit and whatever remained of my sanity intact.
I was prepared to do whatever it took to make him happy.  His
iron cock had had plenty of time to come back up to a cherry-red
glow and if I failed to satisfy him in some way I could still
find myself on the receiving end of its horrific affections.  

The idea of making love to a foot-long dildo of red-hot iron
still excited me tremendously, but I hoped that I had regained
enough of my senses to see beyond the act and to grasp the full
nature of consequences.  Still, having been seduced into
self-destruction once already by the opportunity to match my
sexual heat against the infernal energy of the iron cock, I knew
I would have to be on my guard if the chance were offered again.
I realized that Bambi had been quite right to warn me about the
danger of turning into a pain-slut.  At the time, it seemed
absurd to think that I would ever willingly put myself at risk
like that.  Now, I had stared into the face of the beast and
discovered that I could be weak enough to surrender willingly,
even eagerly, if I were offered an experience that promised
enough mind-shattering stimulation.  I knew then that I was a
sensation-junkie, and it was quite possible for me to overdose on
it.

The man fiddled with the table some more, and raised the back to
a reclining, rather than prone position.  Then he elevated my
knees, so I was held in a tilted chair.  He cranked the legs
further apart, until my legs were so widely spread that the
tendons were pulled tight and they protested with pain.  He
produced a small pillow, which he placed behind my head.  If it
was meant to be comfortable, it missed the mark.  My neck was
bent so that I was forced to look down my body.  My breasts were
in the way, as usual, but I could still see through the narrow
gap between them, although the view was only of my groin.

He traded equipment again, this time standing between my spread
legs with the table on the outside of my right leg.  He picked up
another of his custom-made tools, a pair of locking-jaw pliers
with a slightly curved bit of metal extending out a couple of
inches from the lower jaw and a matching top-piece that was just
the outline of the bottom.  The entire center of it was open. 
When he released the lock and opened it I could see that the
workmanship was different from the rest of his instruments.  This
one appeared to be factory-made.

"This is the one tool that I did not make," he confirmed,  "I
bought this one in a medical supply store in Tampa and you will
be interested to learn that I am using it for its intended
purpose.  A fact that should reassure you that what I am about to
do is a recognized medical procedure, although not practiced
nearly as often or done nearly as early in a girl's development
at it should be."

Putting his free hand on my pubic bone, he pressed and pushed up,
forcing my clit to ride up on the bone, putting it within easy
reach.  At that instant, I had an intense flash of fear.  Visions
of nasty things went through my head.  Visions that only got
stronger and more vivid as he moved the pliers toward my precious
clit.

Holding the pliers open, he put the lower jaw directly on top of
my clit.  The cold of the metal and the fear of what might happen
next made it shrink even further into its protective cave of
flesh.  Despite the warmth of the room and the radiant heat from
the brazier, I shivered.

He slowly worked the curved metal into the tight space between my
clit and its hood, gradually driving it deeper.  As he forced it
into a place that nothing was ever intended to go, I felt intense
pain as the tender tissue binding my clit and hood was stretched
and torn.  I wanted to scream, but with my head bent forward, my
larynx was compressed and I could not make a sound.

Deeper and deeper he drove the pliers into the part of my body
that was the most sensitive.  The pain was horribly intense and I
felt a wave of nausea building in my stomach.  I fought it with
everything I had, because I knew if I vomited now I would
probably be asphyxiated.

When he was satisfied that the lower jaw was deep enough, he
closed the handles and the upper jaw clamped shut, trapping my
clit-hood in the device.  It was at this moment that I understood
what he meant with all that ranting about 'tyranny of the flesh'.
  The lunatic was going to cut off my hood!

Her clit is the most supremely sensitive part of a girl's body. 
The hood protects this most delicate bit of flesh.  The idea of
having it cut away was terrifying.  If you take the hood off  
what?  I realized that I didn't know.  This was entirely outside
my limited experience and insufficient learning.

I had time to ponder the question.  The maniac with the strange
pliers was amusing himself by stoking the coals of the iron
brazier, leaving me to say goodbye to a small but treasured part
of me that would soon be gone.  

Minutes passed.  I didn't know if he was deliberately torturing
me by prolonging this or if he had some other motive.  All I
could do was sit, wait, and stare at my hood, stretched tightly
over the metal jaws, clamped into position to be cut away by a
flick of a knife in the hands of a raving madman who had
threatened me into bending to his will.

At last he came back.  To my horror, he was holding a rod with a
knife-blade tip that he had heated in the brazier until it glowed
white-hot.  Without a further word or opportunity for me to
protest, he lowered the blade and ran it around the rim of the
pliers' jaw, vaporizing my poor hood and destroying it forever.

The most shocking thing was that it didn't hurt.  I would have
thought having a highly sensitive part of your body burned away
would hurt like hell, but aside from feeling the radiant heat
from the closeness of the knife, there was no sensation at all.

The compression of the pliers must have shut off all the nerves,
deadening them to the immolation of my flesh.  I steeled myself
for the moment when he would release the pliers.  That would be
plenty painful, for sure.

It wasn't.  When the pliers came off, I felt a slight sting as
blood tried to rush back into an area that no longer existed, but
the edges of the wound had been cleanly cauterized and there were
no nerve endings left to protest.

I stared at the site of the destruction because I could not do
anything else.  Even if I had not been bound and gagged and held
into place by bonds that were many times stronger than even I
was, the sight of my totally naked clit would still have
transfixed me.

First, it was larger than I thought.  I suppose I had grown
accustomed to the fact that most of it was hidden from view and
only the part that could extend past the hood should be counted.
When I enlarged it, I hadn't considered that most of it would
still never be accessible.  Now, it was bare to the world.  I
didn't know how to relate to it.  It was like meeting a family
member you had never seen before and wondering how to act.

Second, it was much more sensitive.  I suppose I had expected
that, but I could actually feel the micro-currents of air in the
small room wafting over it.  I could only imagine what it would
feel like to touch it.

I quickly became obsessed with the thought of touching it.  My
restraints became a damnable inconvenience as I imagined running
my fingers over my fully naked clit for the first time.  At the
moment, all I could do was look and dream of what if would feel
like.

I don't know which had more affect, the looking of the dreaming,
but shortly after the idea of touching it came to me, my clit
started to swell.  I watched closely as blood rushed into it,
filling it, making it grow larger second by second.  As I had at
the party, I became fixed on the idea of seeing it as big as it
could get.  I wanted it to stand tall and proud, a queen of
clits, a monument to self-engineering and a hellacious sex-drive.


I was getting my wish.  As it swelled, it twitched.  It moved. 
It strained to grow up and out.  It struggled to rise from its
mooring like a miniature blimp.

"Come on," I thought to it, "do me proud!  Grow for mommy!  Show
this madman that you are not afraid of him and his infernal
instruments! "

Grow it did.  The larger it got, the more I could feel the
slightest movement of air on it.  This miniscule amount of
stimulation and my burning desire to touch it, to rub it, to
welcome it to a new world, were conspiring to make me as horny as
a toad on a hot road in July.  Sexual heat once more ignited in
my pussy and spread like wildfire through my body.  It flared up
in my breasts and rose to incandescence in my nipples, where the
new rings swung slowly with my breathing, making a wonderful new
feeling as they moved back and forth inside my flesh.

Freed of its straightjacket, my clit grew even larger than it had
the day before.  It stood high and hard; now almost three inches
long with a slight recurve that pointed the tip away from my
widespread groin.  I could feel it pulsing with my heartbeat and
each throb was a fresh wave of erotic pleasure and heightened
arousal.  I bucked my hips the fraction of an inch that the strap
allowed and my clit bobbed slightly.  I grunted and bucked again
and again, trying to stimulate myself.  Juice dripped from my
pussy and saliva drooled from my mouth.  I was so hot and so
frustrated that I was degenerating into an animalistic state.

My tormentor returned with yet another collection of gadgets, but
this time I had no interest in them.  He took in my slack
expression and the line of spit running down my chin.  He
followed my fixed gaze to the place between my legs that held me
entranced and he gasped with surprise and delight.  This time I
felt a rush of pleasure at having impressed him.

"My goodness!  My goodness!" He said in his peculiar, almost
squeaky, voice.  "That's it!  That's what I told you about.  I've
freed you.  No more penis-envy.  You've done it!  You're perfect.
 My, my, I need to reward you.  Here, just a minute.  My
goodness, I wasn't prepared.  Just a minute though.  I'll be
right back."

If I hadn't been so preoccupied, I might have laughed at his
antics.  He was so overjoyed at finally getting one of his
victims to respond to his 'treatments' that he had dropped even
his feeble attempt at playing a big, bad, leather-clad menace and
was mincing around like he had been absent the day the male
hormones were handed out.  Later, I realized that it was an
important clue to his psychological problem.

After puttering around out of sight, he came back with the most
ungainly and odd-looking machine I had ever seen.  It was a mess
of wheels and gears and pistons and sliding arms.  Rube Goldberg
would have loved it.

He moved the thing between my legs and clamped it to one of the
supports of the table.  I still could not figure it out.  It
looked like the model of part of a steam locomotive we had in the
Physics Lab.  When he attached the lifelike silicone dildo to the
end of the sliding arm it all became clear as crystal.

As I watched him fussing over the machine, tightening,
lubricating and checking this bit and that, I hoped that his
skill at building gadgets had been brought to bear in full force
on this one.  I needed to be fucked in the worst way and this
looked like just the device to do the job.

Finally, he had it ready.  He swung the long sliding arm over and
inserted the tip of the business end into me.  I moaned at the
touch of it, more out of anticipation than stimulation.  He
flipped a switch and it started up with a clatter.  The maze of
gears and wheels came alive and the arm pushed the dildo into me
and pulled it out again.  

In and out, in and out it went, making me a very happy camper. 
The thing was crude enough and loose enough that it took a
slightly different angle and penetrated to a different depth with
a different speed on each stroke.  This gave it a wonderfully
realistic feeling, not at all like how the fucking machines in my
fantasies behaved.

In his haste to setup the machine, he hadn't adjusted the table
or thought to remove the pillow from behind my head, so I was
forced to watch the machine fuck me.  This turned out to be
highly arousing.  The sheer inevitability of each stroke was a
great turn-on, since the machine did not tire, did not need a
bathroom break, and did not need to change position to stay hard.
 It just kept on fucking, in and out, in and out, in and out;
making me wetter and hotter and more excited with each wonderful
stroke.

On each inward stroke, my clit was pulled down to meet the dildo
as it slid into me.  The contact sent powerful bolts of pleasure
through me that quickly turned into a series of mini-climaxes. 
Soon, I had abandoned myself to the fucking machine in the same
way as I had earlier to the milking machine.  I just let it have
its way with me and relaxed into a marvelous state of acceptance
and arousal.

I was so turned on that it after only a few minutes of being
mechanically raped; I was cumming all over the dildo.  My nervous
system seemed to be trying to make up for my immobility because
my first orgasm was a soul-wrenching experience that nearly
rendered me unconscious.  As my eyes uncrossed and my abdomen
stopped twitching, I saw Professor Gadget reach for the switch on
the machine.

"Hunhunh!" I said, shaking my head, oblivious to the potential
consequences of trying to speak. 

Confused, he took his hand away and let the machine continue to
run.  I settled back into passive acceptance of the plunging,
driving arm and let it again drive me back up the slope toward
the top of Mount Orgasm.

I think the second climax took longer to reach than the first. 
But I have no idea how long that was.  There was no visible clock
in the room and I had little interest in the passage of time. 
All I know is that it was damn good and I enjoyed it even more
that the first.

Again, with the hand on the switch, and again I gave a shake of
my head.  Again, he let it run, and again I settled back for
another round of pop-goes-Samantha.

My third orgasm with the mechanical fucker was better still.  It
took less subjective time to reach than the second, but my
time-sense was probably just as well-fucked as my pussy by that
point, so I can't say for sure.  I do know that it seemed to go
on for a very long time, and by the time it coasted to a stop; my
cheek muscles were sore from trying to smile around the gag. 
This time, the guy in black kept his hands to himself, which I
took to mean I got to decide when I had enough.

Sometime after that, I lost track of the number of orgasms I had
and how long they were.  I lost track of where I was, what day it
was, and even my name.  I was so overstimulated that I just
slipped into a state of one continuous climax that seemed to go
on forever.  Somewhere during that time, I passed out.

When I came to, the machine was off and my captor was standing
there with two pieces of the main gear in his hands.  Seeing me
awake, he said, "You wore it out.  It couldn't take the strain of
such prolonged operation.  I'll have to order some new parts."

I wanted to say I was sorry, to apologize for breaking his nice
machine, but I wasn't sorry at all.  I was proud.  I was happy. 
I felt an irrational sense of glee at having fucked the machine
to death.  I tried to giggle, but with the gag in my mouth I
could only gurgle.

He thought I was strangling.  He pulled the pillow from behind my
head and removed the gag.  He had a very tough time getting it
out of my mouth, because my jaws had locked down on it in a
death-grip and didn't want to let go.

When it was out, it took me quite a while to get my mouth to move
again, and the pain of moving the muscles couldn't have been less
than if my jaw was being ripped off of my face.  It very
effectively put an end to my giggling fit.  Eventually I was able
to work my mouth again and I realized that there was something I
wanted very badly to say.

"Cuwa me goo ga freeechica gushgang gagig?"  I said.  That wasn't
close to what it should have sounded like.  I tried again,
"Coowmegoowgarekrischasheegagn?"  Still wasn't happening.  I was
making him curious about what was so important for me to say,
though, he was bent over listening intently to me try to speak.

I worked my jaw some more and managed to get it loosened up.  I
swallowed repeatedly and cleared my throat before I tried to
speak again.  This time I sounded close to normal.

I smiled as winsomely as I could manage with my face twitching
and I said, "Could we do the electrical machine again?" 

Behind the mask, I could see his eyes blinking, but that was all.
 He didn't speak and he didn't move until I added, "Please?"

"Uh.  I suppose.  Sure.  Just be a second." He said, in a small,
confused voice.  He fumbled with the clamps of the mechanical
fucker and got it dismounted and hauled away.  He brought back
the electrocutor and hooked me up with jerky, uncertain motions.
I guessed he didn't get many requests from his victims; and
certainly not for the one device that delivered the greatest
amount of pain; but more important to me, the greatest amount of
stimulation.  I suppose I could have asked to fuck the branding
iron, but that was looking less and less like a fun thing as the
day wore on.  In a way, I think I wanted to do the electrocutor
again because it offered the most sensation with the least
physical damage. 

The nipple clips were more comfortable with the metal rings in my
nipples because they didn't bite as deep.  The additional metal
should give them a better contact-area, too.  As soon as he put
the metal cylinder in me, I grabbed it with my vaginal muscles,
which startled him and then amazed him when I sucked it deeply
into my willing hole with no further assistance.  I settled it
comfortably and took a firm grip on the slick tube.

He almost turned the machine on without putting the gag back in
my mouth.  I reminded him by clearing my throat and holding my
mouth open for it.  He put it in, but left the straps loose,
which was fine.  I just needed something to bite on to keep from
hurting my tongue or breaking my teeth.

When I was ready, I nodded to him and he threw the switch.  I
snapped against the straps as the current slammed through my
body.  This time I noticed how the metal table groaned and
squealed under the load my tortured muscles put on it.  Also,
this time my screams were just as loud and just as piercing and
just as heartfelt, but there was a note of something else in
them, too, something of exultation at feeling myself driven past
pain, past agony and past human endurance.  Perhaps other girls
could take this amount of torture, but I would have been willing
to bet anything you could name that not a one of them enjoyed it
like I did.

This time when he shut it off, I felt positively rejuvenated. 
There was still the twitching and cramping and I still had the
impulse to keep on screaming my lungs out, but I knew the effects
were only temporary.  I had lost all fear of the electrocutor. 
It was now just a great way to experience absolute sensory
overload.  And it didn't have the unfortunate aftereffects that
being fucked with a branding iron would have.  I was having a
hard time putting that out of my mind.  I suppose I was scared
that I still might weaken and ask him to do it to me.

He pried the gag out of my jaws and I immediately asked another
question, "Does that thing go any higher?"

"No.  I didn't think it would be this popular, so I didn't
provide for adjustments," he said.  He sounded disappointed.  I
wondered if it was because he hadn't foreseen the possibility
that someone might like it or if he were just stung by the
criticism that he should have done a better job with it.  I
decided that, since I had him in a talkative mood, I would say
what was really on my mind.  He seemed to think I had earned the
right to speak.

"Listen, there's something I need to know   would you really have
put that hot iron in my pussy?"

"Well, I...why do you ask that?"

"Because it made me so...excited to think that you were going to
really do it.  I can't stop thinking about it.  Did you really do
that to the other girls?"

"No.  I never did that," he confessed, reluctantly.  "It might
have killed them, you see?  I wanted to teach them a lesson.  I
wanted to teach them they could be better than they were.  I
wanted them to live.  The injuries were accidents.  I wasn't as
careful as I should have been.  Some of my equipment wasn't fully
perfected.  But no one was seriously hurt.  The vacuum pump
doesn't really suck hard enough to draw blood, but it does feel
that way.  The piercings will heal if you take them out   even
your tongue.  The clitoridotomy is the only permanent thing I did
to them.  And that only to those whom I felt deserved it, like
you.

"No, the branding iron was a way to frighten them, to make them
comply with my instructions.  Some of the others reacted to it as
you did, driven to lustful seizures by the thought of being
ruined by the hot iron.  Some of them went crazy and begged me to
do it to them.  They pleaded with me, and offered me all kinds of
things if I would burn them.  I'm afraid some of them were never
able to get over the desire for it, even after I released them."

That was both reassuring and frightening.  It helped to know that
I wasn't the only one who had self-destructive urges.  It also
told me the reason why many of his victims would not testify  
they could not risk anyone finding out that they had such
perverted desires, or they were grateful for having their sex
organs upgraded and didn't want to have to declare that publicly,
either.  The unfortunate ones would have to have been put into
straightjackets to keep them from hurting themselves.  Some might
not have been diagnosed quickly enough.  Those might have
succeeded in some form of self-mutilation.  That was the real
horror that the police report kept secret and that had bothered
Gail so much   that they could be made to do want to do things
like that to themselves. 

Everyone's worst nightmare is to be turned into the thing that
they fear most.  In this case, they had become their own
torturers.  I found myself sympathizing with the torturer as well
as the victims.  

"Time to go, now," he said, clamping the noxious cloth over my
face again.  "You were the best.  No one could be as perfect as
you.  Certainly no one ever enjoyed this as much as you...or at
all."

He thought he had caught me unawares again, but he was wrong. 
This time I didn't suck in a lungful of the vapor right away. 
This time I held my breath and worked furiously to run my
metabolism up to a high pitch.  When I was almost burning up from
the fire I had built in my body, I took a deep breath.

I rolled my eyes, slumped back on the table and let myself go
limp as the vapors saturated my brain, making me woozy.  This
time, though, my head cleared as soon as he took the cloth away
and I burned off the soporific drug almost immediately.

I lay there and played possum while he cranked the table back
down.  He had a hard time with it, since it had been warped by my
attempts to escape and especially from my electrically-induced
convulsions.  When it jammed before reaching its original
position, he picked up a wrench and bent down to try to free it.
He must have realized that it would take too long to repair,
because he dropped the wrench back into the box and then undid
the straps holding me down and stepped away from the table.  I
almost jumped up then, but a quick peek showed me that he had
just gone to get my clothes.

He dressed me gently and carefully, treating me as if I were an
antique doll that might break if he handled me too roughly.  I
thought that was so sweet that I started to have second thoughts
about turning him in to the cops.  He even refastened my fanny
pack, which he had apparently never opened, or he would have seen
my badge and I might have woken up in a ditch the first time.  It
wasn't until he had picked me up to carry me to wherever he
intended to drop me off that I gave any hint of being awake and
aware.

"It's too bad," I said, startling him so badly that he almost let
me fall.  "If it had been just me, I might ask if you could see
me again next week at the same time.  But there are all those
other girls, you see.  You said yourself that none of them
enjoyed it as much as I did and I am afraid that some of them are
very unhappy with what you did to them."

He released me and I dropped to my feet.  He made no move to
attack or to escape.

"But it was for their own good!  I did it to make them perfect. 
I did it for them!  It's their fault if they failed to see that!"
he whined, too wrapped up in his rationalization to think of
trying to get away.  Still, I watched him closely.  Even the
meekest of beasts will fight when cornered.

"I understand," I told him reassuringly.  "Really.  But you know
what they say about the road to Hell being paved with good
intentions.  You took a chance and it didn't work out.  Now you
are going somewhere where they will keep you from doing this to
anyone else.  I hope they let you have a workshop.  You are very
good at making those toys.  I really like the electrocutor and
the mechanical fucker.  Those are real works of art."

"Thank you.  It's good to hear compliments on my work.  None of
the other girls understood, you know.  They all struggled and
screamed and cried, and that was fun for a while, but none of
them appreciated what I was trying to do for them."

"I know.  It's tough to do something that you think will help
someone when they fight you every step of the way.  People can be
so ungrateful, can't they?"  I was scaring myself.  I was
starting to understand him.  He had started off hating girls for
rejecting him when he was younger.  He had got into playing
Torturer as a way to take his revenge on them, but he never
actually stopped liking girls.  Being in contact with them, even
in this perverted way, had brought out those good feelings.  The
problem was that he couldn't change himself.  He could only
change his justification for what he did, and in a small way, how
he went about it.  The little bells were certainly not something
your average torturer of girls would think of.

"It's a shame.  If you had put an ad in the paper, describing
what you wanted, you probably could have had girls lined up
around the block waiting to have you try some of this stuff on
them.  Some of it, that is."  I looked askance at the brazier
with its load of hot irons.  Those would never be really popular.
 It was certain that they would not generate as much repeat
business as the unique piercings or the other things.

"Really?  I never considered that."

"Yeah.  Look, if they let you off on some technicality or
psychiatric grounds or something, you might want to try that. 
There are a lot of people who are into this sort of thing
nowadays.  I guess I must be one of them."

"OK, I'll give it some thought."

"Good.  Now I'm going to have to tie you up or something while I
go for the police."

"I'd rather you didn't.  That would be embarrassing, to have
everyone know that I had let myself be tied up by a girl."  

He was shifting his feet like he was thinking about resisting.  I
had to think of a way he could save face so I wouldn't have to
hurt him.  I spotted just what I needed lying in a corner of the
room.  I picked up a six-foot length of the iron bar stock that
he had used to make the irons that he heated in the brazier.

"How about if I tie you up with this?"

"You're kidding.  That's half-inch iron.  You could drive a truck
over that and not bend it."

"Right."  I bent the bar into a big circle, leaving a small gap
between the ends.  I put it around his waist and ran the end of
the bar behind one of the support braces under the table.  Then I
pushed the loop closed and snugged it tight so he could not slip
out.

His eyes bugged out behind the mask.  I thought I might have made
the bar too tight.

"Is that too uncomfortable?"  I almost laughed at the absurdity
of the question.  He had been torturing me for several hours and
now I was concerned for his comfort.

"Can you get out of there?" I asked, changing my mind about his
comfort.

He struggled convincingly, pushing on the ends of the bar and
twisting in the loop.  It looked like it would hold him for long
enough.  He settled down when he was satisfied that no one would
think he had submitted to a weaker opponent.

"Thank you," he said.  "That was very considerate of you."

"I'll go you one better," I said.  "I won't be here when the
police come.  You can tell them anything you want about how you
were overpowered and tied up and no one will be able to say
anything different.   The police will make the case without me
and you will never see me again."

"That's terribly kind of you.  But may I ask you something before
you go?  You obviously aren't a normal girl.  I guess I should
have realized that while I was... well, I should have suspected.
Who are you?"

I debated whether to spin him some yarn or maybe to just not
answer the question at all.  I decided that since he was being
cooperative, I owed him something.  I stepped close to him, so he
could see me clearly in the dim light and I showed him my best
face.  The fire-breathing monster must have been especially
convincing in the flickering, reddish light of the room.  When he
shrieked and tried to jerk away from me I said simply, "I'm The
Dragon."

I turned and walked out of the room briskly, to leave him with
the best parting impression I could.  The crude-looking wooden
door opened into an ordinary kitchen, filled with ordinary
appliances and cabinets.  He had built his dungeon in his garage.
 The rock walls were most likely painted Styrofoam over several
layers of soundproofing.  It had looked pretty real, and I hadn't
had any idea where I really was.  Now that I was no longer a
prisoner in it, I could appreciate it for an excellent bit of
set-decoration.

I walked through to the short hallway and then out the front door
of a house that looked perfectly ordinary as well.  Standing on
the front steps, I could see the trees by the edge of the park at
the end of the street.  Even though it was mostly dark by this
time, I could also see the street sign.

"Neeka?" I called.  "Would you come to 104 Garden Way?  It's a
street running away from the park to the south, I think.  I'm
finished here."

"On my way," she said.

I went back inside and used his phone to call Sgt Adams on her
cell.  She sounded happy to hear from me.  She sounded even
happier when I told her she was about to get the credit for
arresting The Torturer.  I gave her the address and said I hoped
we could get together sometime and talk shop.  She said she'd buy
me a drink.  When I told her I didn't drink, she couldn't think
of anything else to say and I had to hang up before I giggled and
ruined her respect for me completely.

Neeka announced her arrival by revving the engine on the bike.  I
went back outside and hopped on.

"Let's go home.  I'm bushed," I said and put my arms around her
waist and hung on tight as she roared off down the street.



***



Neeka had just shut off the bike when Bambi came through the door
to the back stairs like she'd been launched from a catapult.

"Honey, are you all right?  And don't give me any BS about how
you can't be hurt, either.  You've been gone all day and I've
been worried.  If Monique hadn't called to let me know you were
on a stakeout and wouldn't be back for a while I would have been
worried sick.  You are all right, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mom.  I'm fine.  I just spent the afternoon being tortured
and mutilated by a lunatic, but I'm OK, really."

"Well, that's good.  I'm just happy you're home in....ah, what
did you say?"

"I said I'm OK, really.  I'm just tired and pretty hungry, too. 
It was a tough day at the office, that's all."

"No, the other part."

"I'm fine."

"The part in between, smarty-pants.  The part with the words
tortured and mutilated."

"Well, these things happen.  You spend your day fighting crime,
you have to expect that, at some point, crime will fight back."

Bambi looked to Neeka for more information than she was getting
out of me.

"Don't get me into the middle of this," Neeka said.  "She just
spent all day on the rack.  I doubt you will be able to coerce
any details out of her until she thinks you have calmed down
enough to hear it.  She's also giddy with fatigue.  I doubt
she'll be awake much longer."

"All right.  I know when I'm beaten.  I'll go warm up your
dinner, honey.  We didn't know when you'd be back so the rest of
us have already eaten.  You get cleaned up and when you come down
I'll serve you a plate of the nice leg of lamb with mint jelly
and scalloped potatoes.  I think there is some green bean
casserole left as well and maybe there's still a piece of
chocolate mousse pie.  Of course, if you are too tired to
eat..."

"Stop!  I'll talk!  I'll talk!  That lunatic has a thing or two
to learn about torture from you, Mom."

"I'm glad you've decided to be reasonable.  Now let's hear it."

"Well, it may be a good thing that soup is not on the menu."

"Intriguing, but not informative.  Why no soup?"

I wanted to try to break things to her in stages.  I didn't want
her going ballistic on me.  That's why I was trying to stretch
out the story as far as I could, so she could get used to it in
small bits.  I was still wondering what part I should leave for
last. It was obvious what part I could never tell her.

I picked up a wooden pencil from the desk and started tapping my
lips with it.  I had an idea.

"Watch this," I said.

"Uh oh," Bambi said.  "This is going to be bad."

"What?  Why?" I asked.

"You know the most common last words of a redneck, don't you? 
It's 'Hey y'all, watch this!'"

Even though I had heard that one before, it still made me laugh.
Laughing made me feel better and it was something I could sure
use at the moment.  I was sore, tired, hungry, and I had been
abused for hours by a man who had had some bad life experiences
and just couldn't handle them.  He wasn't evil, he was just very,
very sick and I hoped he would get the help he needed after the
hooraw calmed down over his capture.

"OK," I said.  "Here's a magic trick."  I held my hand over my
mouth and stuck my tongue out between my fingers.  It seemed to
be a lot longer that it had been.  That figured, since it had
been pulled on for quite a while.  I wiggled my tongue and waved
it around.  Bambi and Neeka watched attentively.  Neeka knew
where this was going, so she kept glancing at Bambi to see what
her reaction was going to be.

With the end of my tongue in plain sight, but my lips hidden, I
took the pencil and put it through the sleeve in my tongue.  From
my audience's point of view, the pencil seemed to be passing
right through the middle of my tongue.  Which it was, of course.
The trick was that there was no magic.

"Da daaa!" I said, still hiding the hole in my tongue.

"That's marvelous!" Bambi said.  "That's a wonderful trick.  How
did you do that?  It looks just like the pencil went right
through your tongue!"

"Weah, dads becauh id did," I said, taking my hand away and
showing both of them that the pencil was indeed passing through
my tongue.

"EEEEEEEEEEKKK!" Bambi said.

"Oh, my God!  That is so cool!" Neeka said.

Both comments were exactly what I expected from each of them.

"There's a hole in your tongue!" Bambi said.

"A big one, too.  I see what you meant about the soup," Neeka
said.  "That is just so cool!"

"But there's a big hole in your tongue!"

I pulled the pencil out and dropped it back on the desk.

"Yes, Mom.  There is a hole.  And it is in my tongue.  And I
think it's pretty cool too.  See, there's a metal sleeve that's
sort of crimped into the hole to keep it open.  Oh, and I can
drink through a straw with my mouth open.  I bet you can't do
that."

"I'm sure that will come in very handy, honey.  But doesn't it
bother you t have a big hole in your tongue like that?"

"Maybe you shouldn't show her the jewelry," Neeka advised,
facetiously.

I stuck my tongue out at her for blowing my next secret, making
sure that the hole was far enough out of my mouth to be visible.
Neeka laughed and I knew I had a great way to freak people out at
school.

"Jewelry?  What jewelry?  You got jewelry?  Where is it?  Can I
see it?"  Bambi's mood switched away from horror to curiosity
instantly at the mention of jewelry, and I knew Neeka had been
right to mention it.

"Little silver bells on silver chains," I told her.  "They ring,
too."

"That sounds darling!  Where are they?"

"Uh, have a seat over here," I told her, guiding her to the desk
chair.  I really didn't have any idea how she was going to handle
this.  When she was sitting down and her eyes were just level
with my breasts, I pulled off my jogging bra and shook my
shoulders to make the bells ring.

The sound was beautiful.  It was a faint tinkling that reminded
me of wind chimes in the distance.

"Oh, how lovely."  Then she saw the rings they were attached to.
"Ah, Sam.  How do they come off?"

"Actually, they don't.  They're welded on.  See, the rings go
right through my areola, in the meaty part behind the nipple. 
They're pretty secure."  I smiled, but it was a false smile and I
think she knew it.

"Well.  They are very pretty.  I didn't know we had anyone in
town who did this sort of thing since the tattoo parlor by the
bowling alley closed down a couple of years ago."

"Actually, the guy who spent the afternoon torturing me did it."
She was taking the nipple rings better than she had handled the
tongue piercing.

"Well, he certainly did a good job.  That is some nice
workmanship.  I can't see the spots where he welded them at
all."

"Yes, he was quite a craftsman.  He had some toys that were very
well made."

"Oh?  Did you bring any of them home with you?"  Toys were
something else she understood.  Ben used to bring home toys all
the time.

"No.  The police needed them for evidence, you see."

"Oh.  Of course."  I could see the wheels turning behind her
eyes.  She was just beginning to assimilate some of this.

"Sam?  The man you were with.  Was this the same man who I would
have heard about on the news in the stories about the girls who
were kidnapped?"

"Yes, Mom."

"And he kidnapped you and tortured you all afternoon?"

"Yes, Mom."

"And he put a hole in your tongue and pierced your nipples with
rings and welded little bells onto them?"

"Yes, Mom."

"And then you captured him and turned him over to the police?"

"Well, yes.  But I made him torture me some more first.  He had
this great electrocution machine that he hooked to my nipples and
my..."

"That's nice honey," she interrupted, just as I was about to tell
her about my favorite part. "I've decided I don't really want to
know all the details.  I'm just happy that you're all right...and
I'm glad you had a nice time being tortured.  I think I'll go
warm up some food for you two crime fighters.  Hurry and get
cleaned up before it gets too dried out to eat."

"Yes, Mom.  Thanks, Mom."

She left to go back upstairs with a kind of fixed smile on her
face.

"There are some things that Moms are not meant to know," Neeka
said, sagely.

"She's finding out that this job isn't all adventure and
heroism," I said.  "I guess I am too.  I went out there expecting
to kick some butt.  Instead I meet some poor guy who's just
messed up.  I was more heroic taking down the purse snatcher."

"Look, Sam.  Heroic or not, no one else could have done what you
did today.  Don't beat yourself up for enjoying it.  Think about
what would have happened if he had grabbed some other girl out of
the park and wheeled her off in his trash bin to torture her all
afternoon."  She shuddered as she picked my brain for some of the
nastier things I suspected he had done to them by accident.  I
realized that she had backed off when the real pain started to
avoid being exposed to the same level of stimulation that I had
enjoyed so much.

"Yes, I did. I ran like a scalded dog," she told me.  I had to
watch her lips to see if she was speaking or not.  I decided that
it didn't matter at the moment.

"You are made of sterner stuff than me," she said.  "Hell, you
are made of sterner stuff than just about everybody.  And I
thought I had a chance to keep up.  Silly me."

"Dearest love, don't worry about keeping up with me.  Just be the
best you can.  It's all any of us can do.  Now let's get a bath.
I'm incredibly sweaty and the stink of fear makes a lousy
perfume."

We went upstairs and got cleaned up.  The luxurious bath I wanted
turned into a shower and a friendly backscrub when I decided that
the reason I was feeling down was because my blood sugar was low.
 I needed to learn to watch that.  Anytime I used energy quickly,
like racing my metabolism, rapid healing, body mods, or giving
quarts of milk, I would need to replace it or I was certain to
crash and burn.  If I kept on doing a lot of this stuff, I would
need to learn to monitor my blood sugar as closely as a diabetic.
 It was too bad that there wasn't a glucose meter like those
power-gauge indicators in video games.  That would be cool.  Then
I would know where I stood and how much more I could do without
running out of juice and keeling over in a faint.

When we were putting on some comfortable shorts and loose-fitting
t-shirts, Neeka mentioned that she intended to stay with me all
night and that made me very happy.

"Thanks!  I need a big long hug and some warm arms to sleep in."

"I have an even better idea," she said.  "Let's both of us sleep
with Bambi."

"That is a better idea.  But, let's make it a surprise."

"Like showing her your naked clit?  You haven't let me look at it
closely, yet."

"Because I know what that will lead to and I just don't have the
energy.  I must have cum a hundred times today."

"Girl!  I don't think it was the cumming that wore you out.  When
he started in on you with that electric thing, I had to get as
far away as I could to get out of range of our telepathy.  That's
how I found out for sure that you were still in the area.  I went
straight away from the park and after a mile you started to fade.
 

"I stayed as far away as I could and still keep track of what was
going on.  When it looked like you would be tied up for awhile  
sorry   I called our Moms and let them know we would be home
late."

"I appreciate you covering for me.  It must have been hard to sit
there all afternoon and not be able to do anything."

"I was worried at first.  But when he hit you with that electric
thing and you had an orgasm I knew you would be OK."

"I what?"

"You climaxed.  Right in the middle of screaming and everything.
I must have been far enough away to feel it through the pain by
then.  You may have been too close to it.  For you it was masked
by the pain."

"Any other time, that might be interesting.  Right now, I am too
hungry and too tired to think.  Let's go eat."



Bambi's roast lamb and fixings were delicious.  Meals like that
were going to spoil me for the meat-and-three   anything you like
as long as it's fried   tea so sweet it could have been mostly
Karo syrup   kind of food that was what Yvette and I had been
eating.  I said as much to Bambi when she sliced me a second
helping of lamb.

"Thank you, honey.  All compliments cheerfully accepted.  But I
plan to spoil you just as rotten as I can, so be ready."

"Well, as long as you're in a spoiling mood   can I have a cell
phone?  I promise I won't spend all day yakking with my friends
and stuff."

"Well, I don't know.  I hardly ever see a girl without one
clamped to her head.  You might find it to be irresistible.  But
what brought this on?"

"The city police detectives use them instead of radios.  And I
had a situation today where I had to go find a phone to call
them.  It's something that would be useful to have in my
fanny-pack."

"Oh!  Well, in that case it's a professional expense, then.  I'll
see about one first thing in the morning."

"Thanks!"

She looked at me like she wanted to say something that was on her
mind.  She got as far as opening her mouth, but shut it again
with her lower lip between her teeth.  I had seen her do that
before when there was something she wanted to discuss, but
decided that it wasn't the right time.

She was right to wait.  The food had started to revive me from my
wasted condition, but I was still too tired to think clearly. 
Whatever it was could wait until I had recovered.  Neeka even had
to propose the night's sleeping arrangements because I was
nodding off in between bites of dessert.  I remember Bambi being
happy about the idea but after that I lapsed into a half-asleep
state where several minutes seemed to pass each time I blinked.

I was sitting at the table, staring at the last morsel of food on
my fork.

[Blink]

The fork was no longer in my hand and the table had been
cleared.

[Blink]

I was leaning over the bathroom sink with both my hands on the
countertop while a toothbrush was going over my teeth.  Even
though it wasn't my hand on the brush, it went just where it
needed to and withdrew just when I needed to spit.

[Blink]

I was holding my arms up while a nightgown was pulled over my
head.

[Blink]

I was sitting at my vanity table while Neeka brushed my hair.

[Blink]

I was crawling into bed.  Two warm soft bodies cuddled up to me
on both sides and kissed me goodnight.

[Blink]

I was having a wonderful dream in which Bambi and Neeka were
making soft, slow love to each other.  In my dream I was playing
the part of Neeka.

[Blink]

I was having an orgasm.  It was lovely.  I was so relaxed.  I
smiled and drifted on a cloud for a bit before I went back to
sleep.



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