From anakha@clara.net Sat May 10 10:31:25 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!feed1.news.erols.com!disgorge.news.demon.net!demon!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!insnet.net!backpost.satin.net!eros.clara.net!news
From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - After 1/? (bondage, mf, nukes)
Date: Sat, 10 May 1997 14:31:25 GMT
Organization: ClaraNet
Message-ID: <5l1tg8$mr0@eros.clara.net>
Reply-To: anakha@cl#ara.net
NNTP-Posting-Host: du-441.clara.net
X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82
Lines: 313
************************************************************************************
Hi,
I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't
really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to
repost the stuff I have.
There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who
have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were
originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them
first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever
increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups.
The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage
orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a
little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't
be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the
stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still
apply.
I hope you enjoy whatever I do post.
Bye for now.
Anakha
*************************************************************************************
This is a work of pure fiction (as will be obvious), containing
bondage and sexual themes. Anyone under 18, or anyone who would be
offended by such a story, should skip it and go on to the next
article.
Copyright 1995 by ero-tales. Do not reproduce or re-post without
permission.
AFTER - Part 1
David picked his way carefully over the rubble. He avoided large piles
that might collapse further. Pausing for the hundredth time to listen
for sounds of other life, he soon resumed walking. He had no idea
where he was trying to walk to. The thought of "getting out of town"
put a momentary smile in front of his generally stunned expression. He
wished there was still a
town to get out of.
He couldn't believe it. After all the warnings, the scary false
alarms, he had come to think the war would never come. Those damned
Canadians. He swore foully. At least we're probably giving it back to
them. Eat fallout, mounties! He amused himself again mentally
pronouncing "fall-ote" in a Canadian accent.
He altered his path again to avoid another body. Looked like everybody
who'd been outside had been incinerated by the flash and blast.
Everyone inside had been crushed under collapsed building materials.
Except himself, it appeared. He'd been retrieving a lost billiard ball
under
a heavy pool table, and suddenly the world made no sense. When his
body stopped spinning, followed by his mind a few minutes later, he
and the table were leaning against a wall
that had been in another room. The table had given him protection as
the ceiling fell in all around him. His hearing seemed to come back
slowly. It was hard to tell; by this
time there wasn't much to hear. The useless air-raid sirens had long
since stopped. He'd ignored them. Lot of good it would have done if
he'd paid any attention. Maybe his decision not to seek shelter had
saved his life.
He had pushed the rubble away, finally, that surrounded the table, and
walked a few steps out into daylight. A large, angry cloud a little to
the east was starting to disperse under the ministrations of the winds
aloft. Somehow the cloud made it seem real. Never mind the collapsed
city all around; there's a mushroom cloud! It had really happened.
He had started stumbling down the street. That had been twenty minutes
ago. He had thought at first he should see if he could find some
rescue operations going on, maybe help out. Sirens were one of the
things he was listening for: they'd help him figure out where to go.
Meanwhile he wandered aimlessly.
He wondered briefly about radiation. Probably enough to kill me, he
thought, except I understand it takes awhile. Possibly he had a week.
Who knows what could happen in that amount of time. Maybe they'll find
a cure.
A lot of the surroundings were still smoking. In fact, he could see a
number of fires going, still fairly confined. He started heading in a
direction where there seemed to be less smoke.
Good thing it was a warm day. Indoors, he'd been walking around in his
boxer shorts, nothing else. He hadn't anticipated walking down the
street that way. As it was, it was comfortable
enough.
He was entering a nicer section of town, where the piles of rubble
were a little farther apart, separated by smoking brownery that had
recently been greenery.
Trees on both sides of the street were burning. He moved out into the
middle of the street, and froze when he heard a muffled moan.
He waited at least a minute, convinced at last that it must have been
his imagination, before hearing it again. There, in that house to the
left. It had collapsed like all the others, but someone was alive in
there. Running widely around some smoking shrubbery, he reached the
foundation of the house and listened again.
There was a wall, what was left of it, about five feet high around
twenty feet in front of him. The moaning was issuing from just the
other side of it. He picked his way through what may have been a
livingroom, towards an opening in the wall.
There was a bed, a large brass arch at its head to his right, a large
section of ceiling now leaning across the foot of the bed and the
arch. In the narrow triangle formed by the ceiling, the bed, and the
arch, a woman lay, struggling.
She was lying on her side, facing away from him. At the sound of his
footstep, her head spun around towards him, her body not able to
follow.
He gulped and nearly backed around the corner, apologizing, before he
realized her modesty was probably not a major concern at this point.
She was naked, and from all appearances had been involved in some sort
of sexual game at the time of the blast. Her wrists were handcuffed
behind her, and thick metal shackles held her feet together. A short
chain, only a few inches long, connected the handcuffs and shackles.
She looked at him in terror, straining every part of her
body to try to escape from the bondage that had been a game until a
short while ago, and was now a horrifying handicap in a world where
there were no games any longer.
She tried to talk to him, possibly to beg or plead, or explain, but
her gag prevented it. It was a cylinder of plastic, her lips a wide O
around it, held in place by a chain that ran through
holes in the front of the cylinder and wrapped around her head.
He wasn't sure how he could tell, maybe from his eyes tracing the
lines of her face and his brain mentally reconstructing how she would
look under normal circumstances, but his impression
was that she was an exceptionally pretty girl. In spite of her face
being coated irregularly with what he assumed was tear-streaked
plaster-dust, her short brown hair being matted with sweat and tears,
he felt she could easily play a leading role in his sex-fantasies. It
was purely an intellectual observation; he didn't have sex on his mind
at the moment.
The smell of smoke was getting stronger, accompanied by a crackling
sound. He couldn't see flames at the moment from where he was
standing, but he remembered clearly there were some nearby.
He looked back at her. "Are you hurt anywhere? Can you move?" She just
stared at him, and he realized belatedly he was going to have to keep
it to a single yes-or-no question at a time.
"Are you hurt?"
She looked towards her knees, which seemed to be wedged in the
narrowest space between the ceiling section and the mattress.
"Do you think anything's broken?"
She shrugged, and shook her head.
"Can you get loose by yourself?" He felt hesitant to touch her; it was
enough of a violation of her privacy just to be looking at her.
She renewed her attempts to tug herself free, but gave up in a minute
and looked back at David, the tears flowing again, and shook her head.
"Look, don't worry, I'm going to try to get you out." He stood upright
and surveyed the wreckage. He thought he might be able to lift the
ceiling section off, but as he got his shoulder under it and pushed
upward, nothing happened. He looked towards the front of the bed:
jagged pieces of the section seemed to be wedged within the upright
supports of the brass arch. He might pull the section outward away
from the bed. . . no, then it would slip down and might be heavy
enough to crush her, and anyway, there was too much fallen junk at
that end for him to get over there.
He could see flames, now, from the next yard over. His stomach flopped
around and sent chills through his body. Shit, he thought, I can't
spend much time fooling around here. Lucky for her she wasn't in a
position to see the fire yet.
"I'm going to have to try to pull you out. I think I can push the
mattress down a little and get your knees free. I --- I'll have to
touch you, you know." With as little time as there was left, he still
felt he needed her permission.
She closed her eyes and shook with an apparent spasm of pain. Opening
them again, she nodded at him.
He bent down and reached into the small space next to her knees. He
couldn't seem to find anything that worked: reaching in from the side
like that, he couldn't manage to push down very hard once he got his
hand next to her knees, and for him to actually touch her knees
required that he get his head in under the ceiling section, and there
wasn't quite room for it. He gave up for the moment and looked into
the yard again. Flames still closer. Muttering, "Shit, shit, shit. .
" under his breath, he tried the only other thing he could think of
that might work. There was more room under the ceiling section towards
the head of the bed. He crawled in underneath it towards her. There is
no other way, he told himself, to get a firm enough hold on her. He
wriggled his left hand between her thighs, pushing through until he
felt her crotch against the crook of his elbow, drawing his forearm
flat against her stomach. He reached with his other arm under her
head, bent it around her shoulder, his right hand reaching to clasp
his left just below her breasts. He bent at the waist then, pushing as
hard as he could with his thighs against the edge of the bed, trying
to pull her towards him. She whimpered with pain as her knees were
slowly drawn out of their trap, the skin on the side of her left knee
scraping
painfully against the ceiling. Suddenly she was free, and he backed
out of the small space with her in his arms.
He set her on the floor, and looked at the scrape on her knee. "That's
going to hurt awhile, but it's not too bad. I'll try to clean it
later." The rush of success had momentarily driven the fire out of his
mind, but he glanced behind him and saw it creeping towards the house.
"Keys! I'll get you out of this stuff as soon as I get a chance, but
there's no time right now. We'll
take the keys along with us. Where are they?"
She gasped with her first unobstructed view of the rest of the room.
She jerked her head towards the impossible pile of rubble beyond the
foot of the bed.
"Jeezus. They're under there somewhere?" She nodded, starting to cry
again.
"Look, we'll have to try to come back for them later. It's. . .
ohmigod." He had just noticed a puddle of blood seeping out from under
the wreckage. Somebody was under that. There was no way he was alive.
Chalk up another point for Canada.
Flames had reached the house and were starting to creep around it.
"We've got to get out of here. Sorry, this won't be too comfortable."
He reached down to help her onto her knees on the floor. His first
intention was to rest the weight of her legs and back on his arms, but
her hogtie prevented her from bending much at the waist, and he'd have
to keep his arms too far apart or else risk having her fall out to one
side or another. He decided he'd have to carry her upright. Reaching
down, he put his hand between her thighs again, and grunted as he
picked her up, her crotch resting on his forearm, and he wrapped his
other arm around her to steady
her as he started to pick his way out of the house and into the yard,
away from the fire. She let out an inarticulate screech as she saw the
flames for the first time, and he saw her close her eyes. She pressed
her head against his, and he could feel their hearts thundering
together.
There was still a clear path out to the street, and he chose that
instead of going into a wooded area behind the house --- he had a
feeling the fire could get through it faster than he could. Reaching
the street, he started walking down it, grunting periodically and
trying to shift his burden without taking the time to stop and put her
down for a better grip.
The street was a cul-de-sac. At the end, an area had been cleared for
the homes that would go there --- would have gone there, would never
now be built. He suspected property values hereabouts had just about
hit rock bottom.
Behind the clearing, the land dropped off abruptly into a ravine. He
looked back in the other direction: fire was creeping ahead on both
sides now, slowly. It wasn't a towering blaze; the area had had
several inches of rainfall in the last week, and the vegetation was a
little
too moist to burn very well, but burn it did. It seemed possible he
might be able to wait this out if he stayed in the middle of the
street.
He laid her down carefully on her side, and sat down next to her. She
had momentarily stopped crying, and simply lay looking stunned. He
stroked her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Down
the street, the house she had been in was now engulfed in flames.
"Did you live there?"
She shook her head tiredly.
"Did --- Do --- Ah, did you know him?"
She glared at him with a what-do-you-think-I-am kind of look, then her
face seemed to crumple as
she began sobbing louder than ever. She nodded her head, and kept
nodding and crying.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I just. . ." He couldn't decide whether
touching her now would seem the ultimate boorish manuever. But she
just seemed so lost and alone, and he shuddered as his imagination
succeeded, just for an instant, telling him what it would be like to
be alone, helpless, naked, and chained in the middle of a street in a
world gone loony. He lifted her upper body off the ground and wrapped
his arms around her, holding her tight and stroking her back gently,
as he crooned, suspecting it to be the most whopping lie he'd ever
told, "Everything'll be allright. Everything's okay now. Don't worry,
we'll get out of this." He continued stroking her as she sobbed,
sensing it was time to shut up. Her skin felt soft and warm next to
his, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder and pressed herself
harder against
him, he let his mind drift and go blank, as he watched the
late-afternoon sun gradually sink below a horizon notched with
vertical bars of smoke all around.
[continued]
Anakha.
http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/mellon
*******************************************************
If you want to reply to me by Email then you will need
to manually amend the 'reply to' address in the header
to anakha@clara.net.
******************************************************
From anakha@clara.net Sat May 10 10:31:31 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!feed1.news.erols.com!disgorge.news.demon.net!demon!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!insnet.net!backpost.satin.net!eros.clara.net!news
From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - After 2/? (bondage, mf, nukes)
Date: Sat, 10 May 1997 14:31:31 GMT
Organization: ClaraNet
Message-ID: <5l1tgi$mr0@eros.clara.net>
Reply-To: anakha@cl#ara.net
NNTP-Posting-Host: du-441.clara.net
X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82
Lines: 491
************************************************************************************
Hi,
I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't
really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to
repost the stuff I have.
There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who
have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were
originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them
first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever
increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups.
The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage
orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a
little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't
be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the
stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still
apply.
I hope you enjoy whatever I do post.
Bye for now.
Anakha
*************************************************************************************
This is a work of pure fiction (as will be obvious), containing
bondage and sexual themes. Anyone under 18, or anyone who would be
offended by such a story, should skip it and go on to the next
article.
Copyright 1995 by ero-tales. Do not reproduce or re-post without
permission.
AFTER - Part 2
It was getting hot, there, as David crouched holding the girl in the
big asphalt circle at the end of the street. He thought about
retreating into the cleared area behind him, in the cul-de-sac, but
there was enough dry, dug-up brush scattered around it that he didn't
feel sure the fire couldn't spread into it. The sun was down, now, and
in the absence of electricity, they would have been in total darkness
in the moonless night if it hadn't been for the eerie light of the
fires. He was afraid to go back up the street, as the narrow asphalt
strip gave less room between the flames on both sides than he had in
the circle, but he thought he might be forced to make a run for it
later. It would sure be better if she could run on her own.
In the wavery light he examined the chains holding her closely for the
first time. The handcuffs were fastened tightly, with no chain between
them, just two thick interlinked metal rings allowing the cuffs to
twist independently, but not allowing her to get her wrists more than
a half-inch apart. The ankle-shackles were particularly daunting,
metal strips at least an inch wide circling each ankle, held together
by a strong hinge, with a locking mechanism too well-hidden within the
metal for him even to find, let alone release. The chain running
between the shackles and handcuffs was attached by padlocks at either
end. He wished he could at least get the gag out. The chain got in the
way of putting his finger down it to check how long it was. He tried
for several minutes to somehow tease it out of her mouth, but it was
held too tightly.
"Have you done this kind of thing before? Are you familiar with these
particular cuffs and things?" She nodded her head, coughing slightly.
"Well, is there some kind of trick release I'm missing? Maybe you
could get out of them without keys?" She closed her eyes as the tears
started again, and shook her head, afterwards coughing again at
greater length.
Oh, God, he thought, the smoke. And she can't even close her mouth! If
I don't get her out of here, she's going to die of smoke inhalation.
He looked up the street once more. He couldn't run that gauntlet of
flame, not carrying her.
He looked down at the only possession either of them had: his boxer
shorts. Bingo, he thought, but it still took some nerve to take them
off in front of her. Only fair, he decided. We might as well both be
naked. He slipped them down his legs, trying to hide the erection
that, despite his fear, he couldn't seem to get rid of as he looked at
her. It wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary to slip them over her
head, but he decided he'd feel a little better, and she'd feel a
little safer, if she couldn't see how turned-on he was getting. She
seemed to panic a little as he pulled the shorts down over her eyes,
but he reassured her, "Shh, it's okay, you need to breath through this
so you won't choke on the smoke. Hold still and I'll hold it in place
for you." She subsided, and he pressed the fabric against the hole in
the gag, and let it cover her nose a little more loosely, keeping it
in place with his hand across her forehead.
They were both sweating freely as the heat built up. He kept thinking
how much he wished the bomb had gotten him in the first place, rather
than going out this way. His heart was pounding, and the only thing
that kept him calm was the thought that he needed to seem brave in
front
of her. She leaned against him, whimpering with fear, unable now to
see whether she was about to be engulfed in flames. The smoke was
getting to him now, and he put his head next to hers inside the
shorts, filtering his own air through the fabric.
It must have been at least an hour later that he chanced a look at the
world beyond his shorts. At the far end of the street the flames
seemed to be dying down, a phenomenon that gradually spread down the
street towards them. He allowed himself to think for the first time
that they might manage to get through this.
In another hour the fire had more or less burnt itself out, at least
as far as their immediate surroundings were concerned. He couldn't
tell from where they were, but he assumed it had gone looking for
greener pastures. The light was quickly dying, to be replaced by a
blackness
deeper than any he had ever seen in a lifetime of city living. They'd
have to wait until morning to start finding what they needed to stay
alive. He gently lowered her to the asphalt to lay on her side, and
then he lay down in front of her, drawn to her not by sexual feelings
now but wanting to stay close to the only other person in his entire
universe. He put his arms around her and felt her breasts pressing
against his chest. When he put his knee between her legs he thought
she might object, but she snuggled closer to him, and raised her head
off the ground to rest it on top of his. Exhausted, he mumbled,
"G'night, whatever your name is," and she responded, "Mmm-hmm." Sleep
evaded him for a time, but he inevitably found a way to catch up with
it.
* * *
He awoke not remembering for a moment where he was, and his
surroundings weren't a big help: there was nothing that looked
remotely familiar to help him get his mind in gear. He thought at
first he was locked in an embrace with his ex-girlfriend Lisa, but a
look down both their smoke-darkened bodies reminded him finally of
what had happened yesterday.
The sky itself seemed heavily cloudy, but it may have been smoke. With
the lack of sunlight it was a little cooler than yesterday, but still
comfortable.
He gently untangled himself from her as she began to stir, standing up
and retrieving his shorts, lying next to her head.
He felt tremendously thirsty, and could only imagine how much more
intense the feeling must be for her, after breathing through her open
mouth for the last twelve hours or so.
She tried to stretch her muscles and started struggling against the
cuffs and chains, probably as disoriented as he had been. She stopped
suddenly, remembering, and looked up at him.
"Morning, Sunshine. We made it through." She nodded, and her lips
seemed to approximate a smile around her gag.
"I need to see if I can find us some water. Do you know this
neighborhood very well?" She looked around a little, and finally shook
her head.
"I don't suppose you know which ones of these homes have pools, do
you?" That was the best bet, he figured. He had doubts that any of
these burnt-out shells would still have working plumbing. She
shrugged.
"Would you be okay if I left you for a little while to look around?" A
look of alarm grew on her face, and she shook her head vehemently,
wiggling along the ground now to get closer to him, making scared
noises.
He sat next to her, stroking her shoulder. "No, you'll be okay,
really. There's nobody around here to hurt you." She was still shaking
her head. "Are you afraid I won't come back?"
She stared him full in the face for several heartbeats, and finally
gave him a tiny nod.
He picked her up and held her close to him. "I'm not about to leave
you. I haven't gone through all this just to leave you lying in the
middle of the street." She was crying again, and a way to reassure her
of his intention to keep track of her occurred to him. He bent his
head and kissed her breast, darkened with soot like the rest of her
(and him, for that matter), then took the nipple in his mouth and
started gently sucking.
Her breath caught in surprise, but she didn't try to pull away. Her
eyes closed, and the sucking seemed to calm her. After a few minutes,
he stopped, and she opened her eyes to find he was looking at her. He
said quietly, "You know I don't plan to leave you, don't you?" She
gave him a tiny smile and nodded. "I won't be gone very long. We both
need water. As soon as I find some
I'll come back and get you. Okay?" After a few seconds she nodded,
finally.
He let her back down to the street. As he patted her and started to
walk away, it occurred to him she'd probably be a lot more comfortable
on the plowed-up dirt in the vacant lot behind them than on the
asphalt. The fire hadn't managed to find enough fuel in the clearing,
and the area looked pretty much untouched. He picked her up and
carried her to a particularly soft-looking mound of overturned earth,
not too far from the edge of the plot overlooking the ravine. She
wiggled to form a depression in it to cradle her comfortably. As he
backed away from her, saying, "It'll probably take me ten minutes, at
the most," she smiled and raised her hands slightly to give a little
good-bye sign from behind her back.
Even through his boxer shorts, she must have been able to tell he had
an erection. She didn't seem to mind.
He walked quickly up the street, looking back frequently, glancing
into each yard as he passed for some sign of water. The second house
around the corner on the left had a pool. He nearly missed it: the
surface was completely calm, and darkened to the same hue as its
surroundings,
but a tiny glint from a stray reflection managed to catch his eye.
Picking his way through the yard, he decided he really didn't care
much for the look of it, but it would have to do.
The thin layer of dust on top wouldn't be too tasty and was presumably
radioactive, as if anything else around here wasn't, but he was in no
position to be too particular.
He started back towards her, and was startled to hear the sound of an
engine.
Instinctively he ducked down behind the remains of a wall of the
house, now about three feet high. A floater came into sight, its top
down, the driver with an arm draped casually along the top of the
door. He stopped a couple of times and stood surveying the landscape,
appearing to be trying to get his bearings in a neighborhood stripped
of any familiar landmarks.
David crouched indecisively, not sure whether to call attention to
himself. He didn't really care for the look of this guy. The long
hair, the sleeveless muscle-shirt, the weed-stick
hanging loosely from his lips. David could hear one of the latest
sex-music hits coming from the floater's speakers, probably a disk; he
doubted there were any radio stations broadcasting. The rear bumper of
the floater sported a bumper sticker, "Born to PARTY!" David's heart
jumped into his throat as the floater turned the corner and headed
down the cul-de-sac. Their street.
Maybe he wouldn't see her. He'd back out of it as soon as he saw it
was a dead-end.
The floater slowed as the end of the street came into the driver's
sight. He stopped and stood once more, surveying the horizon.
Shrugging, he sat and started forward again, towards the turn-around
at the end.
David could see the girl on her mound, not able to get out of sight,
probably not knowing whether she should or not. The floater reached
the end, and swung into a wide turn. Halfway through, the driver did a
double-take. He'd spotted her.
David looked around himself frantically. A pole, about twelve feet
long, undamaged, lay next to the pool. It'd be awkward to carry, but
it might be the best he could do.
He retrieved the pole and looked to see what the driver was doing. He
had gotten out of the floater, and covered about half the distance to
the girl. He stopped at that point to look around, possibly suspecting
some sort of trap. David kept low, starting towards the end of the
street after the guy returned his attention to the girl.
He was standing over her now, laughing, talking to her. David could
only imagine the conversation, but the girl was shaking her head and
trying to back away from him. As David drew closer, the other let down
his pants. David was about twenty feet away by now, and knew there'd
never be a better opportunity.
The guy heard David's final rush and turned quickly --- too quickly,
and he fell in a heap, his feet tangled in his trousers, managing
thereby accidently to avoid the pole as it came whipping through about
eye-level. He rolled to the side quickly, and David tried to gather
himself for another rush. It was tricky getting the pole back under
control, and meanwhile the other was hurriedly pulling his pants up.
David swung as his opponent was rising, catching him just below the
shoulder and knocking him back down again as the pole broke in the
middle. David quickly reached down to pull the loose piece out of the
way, before it could be used against him. The edge of the ravine was
now just to his left, and he tossed the broken piece over the edge.
The other was rising again, staying warily back from the now-jagged
stick David was thrusting towards him. Suddenly he reached for it and
took hold of the far end, pushing it towards David. David, expecting a
pull, fell backwards and landed heavily on his side just a foot from
the edge. As the other rushed him, David put his arm out along the
ground just before the man landed on top of him. Wrapping his arm
around the other then, he rolled to his left and forced the man beyond
the edge. About a fifty-foot drop.
For at least a minute David continued looking over the edge. He hadn't
wanted to kill him; there'd been enough death already. And he'd wanted
those clothes.
A grunting behind him caught his attention finally. The girl was
squirming across the dirt towards him. He quickly reached over to
scoop her up and take her in his arms. She nuzzled against his neck
with her hair, and gently pecked his cheek with the front end of the
gag, the closest she could come to a kiss.
"Come on, let's go get a drink." He put his hand between her thighs
and stood up wearily, holding her upright as before, her crotch
resting on his forearm.
"At least we don't have to walk. Unless the keys went over with him."
No, there were the keys, still in the ignition of the floater. He put
her down on her side across the back seat and got in to drive.
Not a long drive, just up the street and around the corner, to the
house with the pool. He carried her to the edge and set her down,
wondering as to the best way to get her a drink.
It's amazing, he thought to himself. She's a baby trapped in an
adult's body. She's as naked, as helpless, and nearly as
un-communicative as a newborn, but with an adult's store of memories,
and to call it a source of frustration for her could hardly be an
adequate description. It
must be why I'm being such a gentleman, he thought. It was hardly
something he was noted for. Lucky for her I found her first, and not
that asshole. Lucky for me, too.
"You can swallow, can't you?" She nodded, looking longingly at the
water.
"Okay, turn your face upward. I'm going to dribble it in slowly, so
you don't choke." He brushed at the surface of the water with his
hand, clearing away the thin layer of soot on the surface. He cupped
his hands, then, and drew out an ounce or two of dusty liquid, holding
it over the opening of her gag and letting it in a few drops at a
time. He reached in again, making progress with maddening slowness.
Finally she grunted and wiggled a little closer to the pool, putting
her head over the edge towards the water that was just out of reach.
"Wait! You're about to fall in. You can't get it that way. Wait a
minute --- maybe I could just put you in the pool, and you could
drink it from there. Is that what you want?"
She nodded eagerly. He picked her up and took her to the other corner
of the pool, where the steps were. Gingerly, not wanting to drop her,
he walked down into the pool with her. They both gasped as the chill
of the water took their breath away, and he waited until she nodded
she was ready to go farther. The safest way to hold her seemed to be
putting his leg through hers and letting her crotch rest on his thigh
as he sat on one of the steps. His head just out of the water, he
carefully let her down lower until the water finally rushed into the
opening of the gag. He quickly lifted her up, not wanting her to get
too much, and let her down again for more.
When she seemed satisfied, he scooped some water into his hand and
patted the side of her face, washing off the worst of the grime. She
sat patiently, and a lovely face emerged from behind the soot. He
smiled at her, conscious of his own face probably looking like a
chimney-sweep the way hers had. "You ready to get out?" She nodded,
and he lifted her out of the pool and lay her on her side on the deck.
My turn, he figured, as he got back in and took a long, desperately
needed
draft of dusty-looking, burnt-smelling, heavenly water. He ducked his
head under the water and washed himself off, not expecting to make
himself as pretty as she was but determined to be presentable anyway.
He carried her back out to the floater, finally. "What do you say we
go for a ride?"
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her body and frantically
shook her head, obviously
frightened by the prospect of being seen by any great number of
people.
"Look, I know it's scary, but we've got to get out of here. There's no
food around here. Maybe we can find an area that wasn't burned out,
and there'll be some food in the houses." He thought about
radioactivity again, remembered being told not to eat the food in a
contaminated area. What he couldn't recall was just what he was
supposed to eat instead.
Maybe canned stuff will be less dangerous. Anyway, the subject was
moot as long as they stayed in this neighborhood.
By this time she had sighed and nodded, and he deposited her in the
back seat. He wished he could somehow set her free, and suddenly
realized that he now had possession of a floater, and floaters carried
tools.
He took the key out of the ignition and opened the trunk. It was full
of a random assortment of useless junk. He pawed through it briefly
and slammed the trunk closed in disgust. He leaned over the door and
opened the glove compartment, sifted through the owner's manual and a
few other papers, and threw it closed with a snap. His anger building,
he opened the side door and knelt down to look under the seats.
Nothing of any earthly good, and he used a lot of unnecessary force
slamming the door.
The back of his mind froze him, trying to tell him something.
Something about the door. He looked at it again, opened it and slammed
it again. He bent down to look at the chain connecting her cuffs and
shackles. Yeah, it might work.
"I want to try something. I think I can do something about this chain
here. It might be a little dangerous, but I think it'll work. You want
to try it?"
She nodded excitedly, willing to do anything if she could just somehow
get loose.
He reached in to pick her up, and set her down on her side across the
opened rear window, just behind the front door, facing the rear of the
floater, her upper body inside the vehicle, her legs outside. It took
some experimentation to get her more or less balanced there. Holding
her steady, he opened the door. While he was doing it he almost lost
hold of her. He pressed his hip
more tightly against her, further steadying her, as he carefully slid
the chain down into the gap left by the opened door.
"I better tell you what's coming. I'm going to slam the door hard. I
think it'll close on the chain with enough force to break it. You
ready?"
She grunted, "Mmm-hmm," probably afraid nodding her head would make
her overbalance one way or the other. He took his time getting ready,
trying mainly to make sure her feet were out of the way, and finally
threw the door closed with all the force he could manage. He heard the
sharp clink as it closed on the chain, but the chain remained in one
piece.
"Want me to try again?"
"Mmm-hmm."
The door didn't seem to want to open at first, but the mechanism
finally released it and he bent to inspect the chain. A couple of the
links were flattened and, he thought, probably weaker than before.
Again watching out for her feet, he threw the door closed again.
"Still not working yet, but I think we're getting somewhere. Oh,
shit!" He was yanking on the door-handle now, but the door seemed
completely jammed. Great. Now she's still chained up, and caught in a
door. And I can't drive with her like that, and I can't leave her
alone perched up there. Shit. Open, damn it!
She trembled with the strain of trying to stay balanced on the narrow
doorframe, and whimpered a little, sounding scared and obviously aware
of what was happening. He patted her hip reassuringly. "It's okay,
I'll have it open in a minute. I've just got to get a better angle
on it."
He climbed over the door to try to kick it open from the inside. His
arm across the seat holding
her by her upper arm, he lashed out with his foot, twice. He realized
the door probably wouldn't open that way even without a chain jammed
in it, not if he didn't hold the door-handle out at the same time.
Still holding her, he reached over the side of thedoor with his other
hand, pulled up on the handle, wondering what he could possibly do if
this didn't work, and struck outward with his foot again.
With a great scraping sound, the door opened outward, and the girl
gasped as she felt the chain part and cried out in pain as her legs
straightened for the first time in. . . had to be twelve hours or so.
"I got it! You okay, honey?" A part of his mind heard himself call her
that and wondered at it.
Still moaning, lying draped over the side of the car, she responded,
"Mmm-hmm."
He picked her up and lay her across the back seat. She squirmed onto
her back and lay with her eyes closed, pumping her legs slowly back
and forth.
"I still don't know what I can do about the handcuffs. There's not
enough space between them. Or the shackles either." Or the damned gag.
She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Still on her back, she
parted her knees, her ankles crossed. From behind her butt he could
see her reach through her crotch with an index finger, tapping it
against her labia, poking it slightly inside her.
He felt a warm feeling rising inside him, and something else rising in
his shorts. He pulled them off. Getting too crowded in there.
As he lay on top of her, inside her, conscious of her legs wrapped
around him, her breasts pressed against his chest, and all the other
places their bodies touched, it seemed to him he'd loved girls before,
and had sex with girls before, but somehow they'd never been the same
ones. Before.
[continued]
Anakha.
http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/mellon
*******************************************************
If you want to reply to me by Email then you will need
to manually amend the 'reply to' address in the header
to anakha@clara.net.
******************************************************
From anakha@clara.net Sat May 10 10:31:42 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!ais.net!news.idt.net!disgorge.news.demon.net!demon!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!insnet.net!backpost.satin.net!eros.clara.net!news
From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - After 3/? (bondage, mf, widespread devastation)
Date: Sat, 10 May 1997 14:31:42 GMT
Organization: ClaraNet
Message-ID: <5l1tgp$mr0@eros.clara.net>
Reply-To: anakha@cl#ara.net
NNTP-Posting-Host: du-441.clara.net
X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82
Lines: 326
************************************************************************************
Hi,
I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't
really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to
repost the stuff I have.
There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who
have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were
originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them
first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever
increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups.
The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage
orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a
little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't
be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the
stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still
apply.
I hope you enjoy whatever I do post.
Bye for now.
Anakha
*************************************************************************************
This is a work of pure fiction (as will be obvious), containing
bondage and sexual themes. Anyone under 18, or anyone who would be
offended by such a story, should skip it and go on to the next
article.
Copyright 1995 by ero-tales. Do not reproduce or re-post without
permission.
AFTER - Part 3
He lay on top of her for a long time afterwards, his head next to
hers, feeling her nuzzle his ear from time to time. A stomach rumbled,
he couldn't tell whose, reminding him of an uncertain
future -- where should he look for some food?
She sighed as he pulled his spent cock out of her, and he untangled
his legs from her and sat up on the seat beside her, stroking her arm
as he said, "We've got to drive around. There's nothing to eat around
here. You want to sit in front or in back?"
She thought a moment, and twisted in the seat so he could see her
cuffed hands, her finger pointed towards the front of the car. He
picked her up and lifted her into the front seat, and walked around
the floater to get into the driver's seat next to her. As he started
the engine, she nudged him, and made an incomprehensible gesture with
her head.
He turned the engine off. He knew the communication problem was
frustrating, and he wanted to help her out, but he couldn't think even
of a category of questions to ask her. She repeated the gesture, a
pleading look in her eyes.
"You want to go back to the pool?"
She closed her eyes and shook her head. She drew her knees up,
struggling to get her feet up past the dashboard -- probably would
have been a lot easier without her ankles being shackled
together -- and straightened her legs upward so that her feet brushed
the top of the windshield. She tapped them against the metal frame,
and twisted in her seat to look towards the back of the floater, doing
her best to repeat the head-gesture again. Finally it clicked.
"Oh, the top! You want me to put the top up." It should have been
obvious. Not many girls would have wanted to ride around naked in an
open convertible, especially with the kind of nuts that were probably
wandering around out there, spiritual brothers of the owner of this
car who'd been about to do God-knows what to her. David searched the
dashboard, thinking he'd probably feel better, too, with a little
protection between him and the outside world. There, that button
there, with the silhouette of an enclosed floater pictured under it.
He pushed it, and an electric motor began whirring as a telescoped
metal canopy began rising from the back, passing over their heads to
eventually lock against the top of the front windshield with a
secure-sounding click. A bank of toggles set in the driver's door
raised the windows all around. It began getting warmer immediately,
but the air-conditioner started taking care of that once he had
started the engine.
She grunted again as he put the floater in gear. This time she looked
a little embarrassed. She looked at him as if wanting him to guess
what she wanted without her having to tell him.
"I don't really have anything I could cover you up with. I'd let you
have my shorts, but I can't get them on you." He hadn't put them back
on yet; they lay wadded up on the floor in front of the rear seat.
She shook her head. Rising a little off the seat, she put her hands a
little further down behind her butt and tapped her crotch with her
index finger. He'd seen that gesture before. He smiled quizzically.
"Yeah, I'd like to do it again, but. . ." He broke off as she rolled
her eyes and glared at him. She tapped her crotch again, this time
following it with a gesture in which she dropped her fingers downward
as she wriggled them.
"Ah. . . oh! You need to. . ." He stopped, now embarrassed himself. He
was starting to get the same feeling in his own bladder, but hadn't
given it much thought yet. He hadn't thought ahead enough to realize
his responsibility for her was going to extend that far. Mentally
shrugging, he got out and came around to her side. The door was
locked, of course. All the doors locked automatically when the engine
started, a feature they had started putting in back during the
car-jacking craze of the nineties. He'd forgotten to unlock hers
before getting out. "Can you
reach the toggle, there?" She twisted around and unlocked the door for
him, and he lifted her out of the floater and stood her next to it.
He thought for a minute. She was probably going to need to sit down,
at least assuming she didn't want to pee on her feet. He helped her
sit, leaning against the side of the floater. "Do you want me to leave
you alone a minute?" She nodded, and he walked around to the other
side of the floater. He let his mind wander, trying to ignore the
depressing scene of charred remains of homes on both sides of the
street, and in a few minutes he walked back around to her.
He could tell she hadn't been able to pee, although the frustration on
her face as she looked up at him told him how much she wanted to. A
lifetime of conditioning can make it nearly impossible to exercise the
bodily functions in any but the socially-approved settings, and she
seemed to be having some sort of block preventing her from peeing as
she sat on the ground, outdoors.
"Do you think sitting in another position would help?" She closed her
eyes, obviously wishing she could be anywhere else doing anything
else, and responded at last with the tiniest nod.
He looked around. The only thing she could sit on in anything close to
the normal posture was one of the seats in the floater, and since it
wasn't his he wouldn't really mind, but she probably would have the
same amount of trouble trying to pee on the upholstery as she was
having now.
He knew he'd have to create the nearest approximation to a normal
situation. He squatted down and pressed his back hard against the side
of the floater, making a chair out of his legs, then lifted her up to
sit on his lap. "Close your eyes. You're not outside, you're in your
bathroom
at home, sitting on the pot." He almost giggled as he congratulated
himself for remembering to leave the seat down. He decided not to say
anymore, not wanting to break the spell. It still didn't seem to be
working.
One last thing to try: he'd heard once it was a little easier to make
yourself pee if you heard some running water. He couldn't have done
it, under the circumstances, if his penis hadn't still been limp after
the recent sex, but he pointed it down and started peeing. At least
this'll take
care of me, if it doesn't work for her. As he finished, he could hear
the dribbling sound continuing: it had worked, finally, and she was
peeing between his legs. She sighed as she finished, and twisted in
his lap to press her cheek against his.
"You ready to go?" She nodded, and he helped her back into the
passenger seat. She scrunched down so only her head could be seen from
outside, and he finally put the floater in gear and sped off down the
street, in a spray of gravel and charred wood kicked up by the
floater's jets.
David wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go, except that he felt
he'd have more luck driving out of town than into it. He wanted to
avoid the nearby Interstate; it was probably clogged with derelict
vehicles that the few survivors would be trying to navigate around,
some of them more than a little crazy. He drove through the
neighborhood until he came to a decent-sized boulevard, and turned
south. Downtown was north. At first he had to do a fair amount of
weaving around, picking a path through randomly scattered floaters,
some overturned, some burned, along
with a few bodies that by now were starting to smell.
It got easier as he went farther: the city was thinning out. Even the
obsolescent gas stations, rarely used these in these days of fuel
cells, at the edge of town were burned out. They had probably all gone
up together as their underground gasoline tanks ignited. He couldn't
have used the gas, but most of the stations included convenience
stores to help them make ends meet, none of which were still standing.
As the last sign of the former civilization faded out of view in his
mirror, David felt mixed relief at not having to look at any more of
that, and uncertainty of where in hell (aptly put) he was going to
find what was needed to support two lives.
By now there were no vehicles, coming, going, or stopped. He wondered
how far he'd have to go before he saw another human.
It was fifteen minutes before he saw the signs for the country store
approaching on his right: Sam's Best Foods, the hand-lettered
billboard proclaimed. As he pulled into the parking-lot, the girl sank
further down into the seat, her head now below the level of the
window. David reached into the back for his shorts. It didn't look
like the sort of establishment that catered to the naked.
There were no other cars or floaters parked in front of the store.
About fifty feet away and a little farther back from the road there
was a house, an ancient pick-up truck parked next to it. A bell
jingled as David pulled the door to the store open. There was nobody
at the counter in front.
"Hello?" There didn't seem to be anybody inside. He couldn't see why;
there wasn't any visible damage. "Anybody here?"
He waited at the door, uncomfortable at entering an unattended store.
Got to start getting used to this, he told himself. There's a lot
fewer people and, he suspected, a lot fewer rules now.
Speaking of rules: money! What was he going to use? He remembered
suddenly seeing a couple of credit cards in the floater, belonging
presumably to its late owner. He won't miss it, David figured, and
anyway he owes me for trying to kill me.
He finally nerved himself to go behind the counter and pick out a
paper bag from a pile of them. First things first, he decided: I'll
look around later and see if they've got anything like bolt-cutters,
which looked unlikely, but they needed food no matter what, and there
was certainly plenty of that here.
He realized he'd need to think about what she could eat; she couldn't
handle anything she'd have to chew. And he didn't have any way of
cooking anything. He found himself in front of several shelves full of
baby-food, which seemed just the thing, if she didn't find it too
humiliating. She was probably getting too hungry to care by now. He
filled half the bag with tiny bottles in all the flavors he could
find. For himself he settled on a couple of bottles of Planter's
Peanuts, a couple of loaves of bread, and filled the rest of the bag
with an assortment of fresh fruit. On his way out he saw some enormous
bottles of distilled water, and shifted the bag to his left arm so he
could gather up one of the bottles with the other. That's about it for
one load, he thought. Have to put this out in the floater and come
back.
Halfway to the floater, he froze and nearly dropped the bag when a
voice from the direction of the house called out, "You! Hold it right
there!"
Turning his head towards the voice, he nearly fainted when he saw a
shotgun: quaint, antique, and pointed straight at his head. The owner
of the voice and shotgun was a grizzled, pot-bellied man looking about
seventy: evidently, Sam. The voice continued on without a waver: "You
can just put them things down and come over here."
His own voice sounding like the old man's should have, David said, "T
- There was nobody inside. I thought maybe the place was deserted. I -
I can pay for this. Got a credit card in my floater."
"Don't take credit cards here. Wouldn't take one from a thief anyways.
Put that bag down right where you are," he repeated.
"If I put it down can I go?"
"And sneak back later and try it again? Not on your life. I know what
happened in the city, I seen the cloud. 'Spect I'll see more guys
like you. Jail's big enough for all of ya. Rita?" he bellowed. "Got
the Sheriff on the wireless yet?"
"Can't get through," came a voice from inside the house. "Still too
much cracklin'. Phone's still dead too."
The old man gestured at David with the gun. "You come inside with me
then."
David hesitated with uncertainty. What about the girl? How much more
trouble was he going to be in if they thought he'd kidnapped her? And
raped her? God!
He heard the hammer cocked on the gun. Involuntarily his feet started
dragging him towards the old man.
Both their heads turned at a noise from the floater. The top unlatched
from the windshield and started slowly folding itself towards the
back.
"Ya got somebody with ya? Let's walk on over there and see. No, wait.
Rita!" He turned towards the house. "Get yer gun! You cover the car
while I keep a eye on this 'un." A stout old lady emerged from behind
the screen door, her own weapon ready.
David's eye was attracted back to the floater by a movement in the
front. The girl's head appeared from beneath the side door, and
slowly, she stood.
David was struck speechless. She was standing upright in front of the
seat now, exposed to mid-thigh, presenting her breasts, her bush to
the stunned trio of onlookers, and she turned slightly sideways now to
show off her handcuffs.
David tore his gaze away and glanced at the old man out of the corners
of his eyes. He was staring at her, his jaw hanging open, the muzzle
of his forgotten weapon drooping downward.
He was close enough. David struck outward with his foot into the man's
ample belly, and the man dropped to the ground as his breath whooshed
out of him, the gun falling off to the side as he started coughing.
There was a blast from the porch, followed instantly by a snapping
sound as the pellets fired by the gun whipped past his face.
He shouted, "Get down, now!" as he started sprinting for the floater,
knowing he'd be a difficult target from that distance and glad the
barrel wasn't sawed off. The twin barrels told
him she could get one more shot off before reloading. Possibly Sam
might also recover and get to his weapon. David tossed the bag and
bottle into the back as he jumped over the door and settled into the
driver's seat, hearing the tiny bottles scatter as he gunned the
engine, ducking down in the seat as low as he could. As they began
moving he heard a second blast, and the floater shook as the pellets
peppered the side. He stuck his head up just enough to watch where he
was going, shaking her shoulder as she lay on her side next to him.
"You okay? Are you hit?" She raised her head and looked up at him,
shaking her head, leaving him wondering which question
she was answering. "Are you okay?" She smiled at him and nodded, and
squirmed forward to lay her head in his lap. He drove down the road,
out of range of the firepower behind him now, absently stroking her
hair as his thundering heart gradually slowed.
[continued]
Anakha.
http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/mellon
*******************************************************
If you want to reply to me by Email then you will need
to manually amend the 'reply to' address in the header
to anakha@clara.net.
******************************************************
From anakha@clara.net Sat May 10 10:31:49 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!feed1.news.erols.com!disgorge.news.demon.net!demon!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!insnet.net!backpost.satin.net!eros.clara.net!news
From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - After 4/? (bondage, mf, widespread devastation)
Date: Sat, 10 May 1997 14:31:49 GMT
Organization: ClaraNet
Message-ID: <5l1th8$mr0@eros.clara.net>
Reply-To: anakha@cl#ara.net
NNTP-Posting-Host: du-441.clara.net
X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.0.82
Lines: 690
************************************************************************************
Hi,
I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't
really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to
repost the stuff I have.
There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who
have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were
originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them
first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever
increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups.
The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage
orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a
little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't
be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the
stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still
apply.
I hope you enjoy whatever I do post.
Bye for now.
Anakha
*************************************************************************************
This is a work of pure fiction (as will be obvious), containing
bondage and sexual themes. Anyone under 18, or anyone who would be
offended by such a story, should skip it and go on to the next
article.
Copyright 1995 by ero-tales. Do not reproduce or re-post without
permission.
AFTER - Part 4
The day was growing a little cooler as the sun wandered West. David
continued sticking with backroads, and at least twenty minutes passed
without his catching sight of another soul. There didn't seem to be
any damage out here; the absence of people may have reflected a
general desire
to get out of range of the spreading radioactive cloud, if possible.
He had wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and
any potential pursuit by the duly constituted authorities in the form
of the sheriff, assuming Sam could get in contact with him, but hunger
pangs started forcing him to look for a place to stop. Beside him, the
girl had been quiet, occasionally squirming briefly in her seat to get
a little more comfortable. He had put the top up again, knowing she
still probably didn't want to be seen from the road.
A buzzing from the dashboard called his attention to the power level,
which until then he hadn't really paid attention to. He saw with alarm
the floater was nearly out of power. He had no idea where the nearest
store or charging station might be, but it didn't look like he could
get to one.
As if to mock his concern, the floater picked that moment to expire.
He coasted off the road, his attention drawn to a small, pretty
clearing off to the right. The floater sank to its
auxiliary wheels and rolled silently to a stop in the clearing,
surrounded by tall, leafy trees that whispered in the now-quiet
afternoon, sheltering the vehicle from view from the road.
"We're out of power, for now. I hope this guy has an emergency cell
somewhere in here. The law says he's got to, but I don't know if
that'd mean anything to him. But anyway. . . you hungry?"
She nodded her head emphatically, with a sigh.
He opened the doors on either side, and as the floater cooled in the
cross-breeze he reached into the back and started picking through the
scattered bottles and other edibles. "Um, you know, I. . . well, I
wanted to thank you for what you did back there. Do you. . . ah, do
you show yourself off like that pretty often?"
Her eyes widened as her lips curled upwards around the gag, and she
seemed close to laughing as she shook her head. He smiled back at her,
and fished a selection of three tiny bottles from behind the seat.
``What do you think about strained peas, apricot, or mixed fruit?''
She wrinkled her nose and inclined her head towards the fruit bottle.
As he opened it he suddenly wondered just how to feed it to her. He
hadn't gotten any spoons, and he couldn't have easily gotten a spoon
into her mouth anyway. Meanwhile she rose to her knees on the seat,
put her hands over the back of the seat behind her and pointed towards
the water bottle.
``Yeah, you're thirsty, I know. But I don't have any drinking cups
here, and if I tried to pour it straight down your throat out of that
bottle we'd probably lose most of it. Look, after you finish the. .
'' he didn't want to call it baby food, ``the fruit, we can start
using the empty bottle as a drinking glass, okay?'' She sighed and
nodded. He dipped a finger into the mushy fruit mixture, and carefully
slipped his finger into the side of her mouth, down the side of the
gag. ``You getting any?'' She swallowed with effort and nodded, ready
for more.
He gradually fed her the whole bottle that way, then poured some water
into the bottle, not wasting any trying to rinse it out, and gradually
took the edge off her thirst before asking
her, ``Want another bottle?''
She nodded towards the stewed apricots this time, and he slowly fed it
to her. She eventually decided strained peas didn't sound so bad
either.
``Still hungry?'' He wanted to save the remaining baby food, not sure
when he could get more. ``Want some bread?'' He thought he could break
it into pieces small enough to swallow. She nodded, and he fed her
three slices in tiny bits before she finally sat back, apparently
satisfied. He gave her one more drink of water before making himself a
meal out of peanuts, a couple of apples and some bread. As he ate she
lay her head in his lap. closing her eyes and giggling as his stomach
rumbled.
The light was fading as he finished. She roused herself from her
snuggle within his lap, and looked around for a moment. Before he
quite realized what she was doing she sat up, put her feet out of the
floater and on the ground, and awkwardly stood up, swaying slightly,
trying to keep her balance. She tried for a moment to walk forward,
able only to slide each foot barely two inches ahead of the other,
before realizing she could make much better progress hopping. She took
a couple of tentative bounces away from the floater, stopping and
swaying again.
``Hey! Where are you going?'' He was stunned at the thought she might
be trying to get away for some reason. She looked towards him and
pointed towards her crotch in a gesture he'd seen before. Evidently
she needed another potty break.
``Wait up. I'll help you.'' She shook her head as she looked ahead
once more to try to resume her progress, waving him away with a short
hand gesture, still concentrating on staying upright. Obviously she
wanted to try to do it herself.
He hesitated. He didn't like the idea of her getting out of his sight,
as she probably intended to do. He realized that the loss of her
privacy and all ability to take care of herself had to be getting to
her, and by now it wouldn't be surprising if she was desperate to
reassert some sort of adult-ness and take back some responsibility for
herself. He felt a lot of sympathy for what she was trying to do, at
the same time afraid of what sort of disasters it could lead to. She
was about ten feet away now, nearly to the closest trees. Everything
male in him responded to the sight, as the naked girl hopped carefully
away, her hands held out somewhat stiffly behind her in the handcuffs
as she used them for balance, while everything protective in him
shouted at him not to let her do this. He nearly ran over to catch
her, and suddenly a feeling washed through his mind of what it would
be like --- what it would really feel like to be her right now.
Probably only a tenth as strong as it really did feel to her, but
enough to send his
mind reeling. He knew he had to let her do it.
``Ten minutes, okay? Then I'm going to come bring you back.'' She had
reached a tree by now and was leaning against it, looking back towards
him. She shook her head again.
``Come on, you don't really expect me to sit here forever not worrying
about whether anything happened to you. Okay, fifteen, all right?''
She hesitated, and finally nodded, turning away once more. A few more
hops took her around the tree and out of his view.
He wished she could have done this earlier. The light was nearly gone
by now, the sky a deep, royal purple. After about ten minutes he stood
outside the floater, straining his eyes in the direction he'd last
seen her, trying to pick up signs of movement. He closed the door on
the far side but left the near one open; the power in the fuel cell
was insufficient to run the engine, but there was still plenty of
juice to run the dome and dashboard lights, which now stayed on
as the door remained open. He was about to leave the floater to go out
there and find her, and leaving the lights on was the only way he'd
find his way back.
Just five minutes more, he thought to himself, just before hearing a
muffled, alarmed grunt and a crashing sound. Shouting ``No!'' he
sprinted for the trees, having to slow as soon as he entered the woods
when he lost the light completely. He shuffled ahead, calling out,
``You okay? You need to make some noise so I can find you. You out
there?'' He considered using the floater's headlights, but it wasn't
facing the right way and he couldn't turn it. ``Say something please.
Please?'' Finally she hummed from a little ahead and below. Feeling
ahead with his foot he discovered the ground dropped off in front of
him, he couldn't tell how far. She
hummed again, maybe ten feet away now, and he sat and felt his way
down a gentle slope towards the sound. His eyes were finally adjusting
to the darkness, and he could just make her out,
her white skin reflecting a sliver of moonlight as she lay back,
upright against the side of the small gully they were in, the wall
slanted at about a forty-five degree angle. The rippling sounds of a
tiny brook came to him from a little farther below. He slid the rest
of the way down and impulsively put his arms around her. ``You all
right? Are you hurt anywhere?'' She grunted
non-committally and he knew he needed to be a little more specific. He
patted her feet, her shins. ``Does that hurt? That? What about here?''
She responded negatively each time. He let
out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Sliding his hands
along her back, he pulled her gently away from the ground to look for
possible scrapes. There didn't seem to be any bad ones in the dim
light. He continued his inventory. ``This hurt?'' He felt her chin,
cheeks, forehead.
His head was close to hers. She leaned towards him and nuzzled his
neck with the top of her head. He kissed her cheek, smiling as he
asked, ``That hurt?''
She giggled as she said, ``Hmm-mm.'' She wriggled a little closer to
him.
He bent down a little farther and kissed her breast. ``That hurt?'' He
let his hands wander down her body, rubbing her butt, letting his
fingers explore her bush, each finger slipping
momentarily inside her like children taking turns peeking into a wet,
warm cave. ``That hurt?''
In response she turned slightly, putting her manacled hands within
reach of his thigh. She stroked it gently with a fingertip.
He licked her neck as he slowly moved to put first one leg between
hers, then the other. As he cupped her butt in his hands she lifted
her legs and drew them tightly around him. He pressed his body against
hers, inside her now, his upper body fully pressed against hers,
feeling their hearts alternating beats, her breasts crushed firmly
against his chest. With each thrust against her she was more firmly
cradled in the soft earth of the gully. Not able to kiss him or hold
him in her arms, she expressed herself in the rhythmic tightening of
her legs around him until they shook together in an explosion that
seemed no less atomic than the one that had brought them together.
He let them both slide a little farther down the slope, still coupled
with her, until they were on level ground and, with his arms around
her, they slept.
* * *
He woke first, feeling the chill, hearing her sleep-breathing next to
his ear.
Tapping gently at her shoulder, he whispered, ``Hey. We ought to get
back to the floater. It'd be warmer in there.''
She yawned and stretched, cat-like, her arms straight out behind her.
As he sat up she struggled to do the same, shaking her head at his
offer of help. The moon, nearly down to the horizon now, shone in her
face and he could see the smile as she succeeded in sitting upright
next to him.
``It's funny, I don't even know your name. This isn't something I'm
really in the habit of, you know, sleeping with girls I don't know.''
Her eyes grew wide as she grunted suddenly, and slid a little ways
forward, turning her back towards him. Somehow he thought he'd
offended her, but understood as she reached back and
traced the letter W on his chest. He said it out loud, and she nodded,
going on to trace an E, followed by N, D, Y.
``Wendy? You're Wendy?'' She turned back towards him and smiled,
nodding again.
``So hi, then, Wendy. I'm David. Maybe I told you that, I don't
remember.'' She quirked her eyebrows at him in a gesture that had a
greeting quality to it.
``Let's go back. Here, I'll help.'' He doubted she could get up out of
the gully on her own, as much as she might want to. He gathered her in
his arms and started backing awkwardly up the walls of the gully. He
had to set her down and rest as he got up to level ground, then
started to pick her up again. She shook her head and backed away from
him.
``Look, I know you want to make it on your own, but --- I'm sorry,
look what happened the last time. There's less light now than there
was then.'' The moon was nearly down to the horizon by now. She sighed
plaintively and continued shaking her head.
He sighed himself. ``Okay, I'll help you stand up, anyway. Just be
sure and follow my path exactly on the way back.'' She nodded, and he
helped her up.
He felt his way carefully through the trees, looking back whenever he
could to make sure she was hopping right behind him. He wished, for
several reasons, there was more light, not the least of which was that
he wanted a better view of her breasts and the rest of her naked body
as she
tried to move as well as she could in the chains. Ahead, he could just
make out the outline of the floater, no longer putting out any light:
after hours of heroic effort, the last of the available electricity
had finally given out, not even able to keep the dome light glowing.
He'd have to start looking for that spare fuel cell in the morning.
The last sliver of moonlight disappeared now, and he had to direct
himself from memory of where the floater had been. He
reached behind him and took her by the elbow. She allowed him to guide
her direction, probably realizing he would have done so even if she
could walk.
He felt ahead with his hands and nearly stumbled into the floater
anyway. ``I'll get in and move the seat up. We. . .'' Even though he
felt the answer should be obvious, he hesitated to ask whether she
wanted them to sleep together, in the back seat. As independent as she
seemed to be getting, he wasn't sure he wanted to take anything for
granted. He shrugged invisibly and got in to adjust the seat.
He heard a sudden squeak of alarm and jumped as the door slammed
closed immediately afterward. She must have lost her balance and
fallen against the door. ``Wendy? You okay?'' He heard a resigned,
muffled ``Mmm-hmm'' from about ground level outside the floater. He
tried to open the door, and it seemed stuck. The door on the other
side wasn't working either. The window
toggles had no effect on the windows.
As he struggled with the mechanisms, slowly it sank into him that they
shouldn't be called, purely, mechanisms. They were electronic, damn
it! The days of car doors and windows with physical mechanisms running
the through the door panels were as long gone as engine cranks and
internal combustion; to outward appearance they looked the same as the
old twentieth-century cars, but electronic gadgetry had made floaters
a lot harder to break into. He knew about the legendary wire
coat-hanger strategy of entering locked vehicles, but you had to find
a pretty
ancient vehicle these days to try that on. And even if your floater
ran out of power, it still had plenty enough juice to run the
auxiliary features like lights, windows, and doors.
Unless you were a total idiot and ran the fuel cell stone dead.
David seethed inwardly, consequences rushing into his head like late
guests to a party. At least his head pounded like there was a hell of
a party going on in there somewhere. He wished he'd been invited,
instead of being stuck here in. . .
Concentrate! How do I get out of here?
He could feel the floater rock gently as Wendy slowly struggled to get
back upright outside. God, what do I tell her?
``Wendy? Can you hear me?''
``Mmm-hmm.''
``Look, I. . . well, I can't open the door right now. It works
electronically, and there's no electricity. It's probably only two or
three hours till sunrise,'' judging from the moon. . . they'd slept
most of the night away already, ``And I can get the doors open then. I
need to look in the owner's manual, but there's no way to see it right
now. We'll be okay in the morning, but. . .do you think you'll be okay
out there for a little while?''
Through the door he could hear her increasingly agitated breathing.
Claiming a little independence for herself was one thing, but with no
access to him, she was alone in the dark, miles from anywhere, naked
and chained, more helpless than ever. She whimpered a little with
each exhalation, gradually a little louder each time, close to panic.
``Wendy, Wendy, listen! We'll be okay, it's just a couple of hours, I
swear! We'll just rest for awhile, and everything'll be okay in the
morning. I'll be there for you as long as you need me. Wendy, do you
trust me?'' He felt like an asshole, asking for her trust when he was
lying through his teeth, having no idea whether things were going to
be okay and no plan of what to do in the morning, but it seemed
automatic to give first priority to reassuring her, getting her calmed
down.
Slowly she did seem to quiet down. ``Wendy, I'm going to try to get a
little rest myself. I'll be right here, just a few feet away. You get
some sleep too. Okay?'' He listened for her response. At last she
grunted, ``Mmm-hmm,'' and he felt a slight rocking again as she let
herself down the side of the floater. He leaned back in the seat,
staring in whatever direction that was where his sightless eyes
happened to be looking, and tried to empty his mind.
He wasn't sure whether he slept. With nothing to hear or see, it was
pretty hard keeping tabs on his consciousness.
After some timeless time, the horizon to his left pinked, and as the
light grew he looked out to see where Wendy was. She must be a more
trusting person than he felt was fully justified; he really had
managed to talk her into a calmness that made sleep possible, and she
lay now on the ground next to the floater, curled in a half-fetal
position, her upper body slightly twisted so she could rest her head
on her shoulder. Quietly, not wanting to wake her until he knew what
to tell her to do, he opened the glove-compartment and fished around
in it for the manual.
He flipped through the pages, and his lips twisted in a snarl as his
eyes focussed first on a warning printed in red: ``DO NOT LET FUEL
CELL RUN DOWN COMPLETELY!'' A lot of good the warning had done him,
and he felt like driving straight to the factory and giving a lot of
shit to the engineers. The fact that the factory was probably a
smouldering ruin by now gave him a mild satisfaction.
According to the manual, there was a small compartment in the trunk
for the spare fuel cell. His stomach tightened as he wondered whether
there was any way to get into the trunk. He fumbled with the trunk
release under the dashboard, and, contrary to all expectations, he
heard the trunk latch click as the trunk slowly opened. Apparently the
designers were less concerned with trunk security than making the
passenger compartment fast against unauthorized attack.
Beside the car Wendy stirred at the sudden noise. She stretched
groggily and slowly manuevered into a sitting position.
*She* could replace the damned fuel cell, if he could get the hood
opened as well as the trunk. He pulled the release, and the hood
slowly opened on its front-mounted hinge. His spirits rose. Well, it
was up to her now, if he could talk her through it.
He felt thirsty, but didn't want to take a drink in front of her if he
couldn't get any to her. The inside of the floater was beginning to
warm, and he realized with a start that he was in more danger than she
was --- with the sunlight starting to stream in it was going to get
unbearably hot inside the closed-up floater in very little time,
probably less than an hour. He futilely tried the doors again, the
windows, the retractable roof, anything that might let him out of his
prison. If there was some way he could get himself out, it wasn't
obvious to him.
She heard him now and twisted to look expectantly at him.
``Wendy, could you do something for me? Look in the trunk and see if
you see. . . wait, let me show you this. See the picture, here?'' He
pressed the page of the manual against the window. She leaned her back
against the side of the floater and worked herself up to a standing
position, then looked in intently at the photograph on display. ``Look
for a compartment in the floor of the trunk that looks like that, this
little door here. Okay?'' She nodded and hopped back towards the rear.
He called out after her, ``When you open it up, bring back the fuel
cell inside it. I'll tell you what to do with it after that.'' He
could hear her start to rummage around in that junk-filled trunk. He
held his breath: if the jack-ass who owned this floater didn't carry a
damned spare. . .
He could feel the rear of the floater depress as she sat in the trunk,
still trying to clear the floor enough to spot the little compartment
that supposedly carried the spare. Finally she hopped back around to
the front, triumphantly
displaying the flat energy-pack behind her.
Vehicle propulsion having come a long way, what was now referred to as
a ``fuel cell'' would probably have been called a ``battery'' in the
old days, but it would have been hard for a visitor from the twentieth
century to reconcile the difference between what he thought of as a
battery and what served the purpose these days --- almost infinitely
re-chargeable, producing
an order of magnitude more chemical energy than anything of a similar
size would have been capable of a generation ago. David marveled at
the human ability to figure out how to make things work and then make
them work better. And then cursed the same humans who never did find a
way to keep from blowing each other to bits. Well, he thought, maybe
we'll all be replaced by an improved version of the human animal. The
present breed is obsolete. Like internal combustion.
``Okay now, look at the engine, and look for the fuel cell. It looks
just like that one you're holding, and it's up at the top on the near
side, with cables attached at both ends. See it?'' He waited as she
hopped towards the front and peered into the engine, afterwards
looking back at him and nodding. She seemed puzzled by something, but
merely looked at him steadily now.
``Okay, you'll need to unscrew the cables on the one in the engine and
attach them to the one you're holding.'' Her puzzlement started
spreading into alarm now. She hopped back towards him, pointing from
behind her back towards him and then the engine. She was willing to be
helpful,
but drew the line at messing with an engine. She must not have ever
done anything like that before. She tried the door handle now, turning
towards him afterwards with a pleading look.
``Wendy, I really am stuck in here. I can't get out until after you
replace the fuel cell.'' He'd thought she understood that, but maybe
she had been shying away from full comprehension
of the idea. He looked again at the engine, and it became easier to
see the reason for her resistance to the idea of doing it herself. The
fuel cell was about a third of the way across
the engine, easily in reach of anybody who had their hands free ---
but it wasn't easy to see how she was going to get to it. At the least
she was going to have to climb into the engine
and sit on it.
``I'll talk you through it. I'll be right here, and I can see
whatyou're doing.'' The inside of the floater was continuing to get
warmer. He could feel beads of sweat starting to form under
his hairline.
She was looking back and forth between him and the engine. Taking a
deep breath, she finally hopped back towards the front, and settled
back with her back towards the engine, her butt resting on the fender.
She used her hands to lift herself up and sit on the fender, looking
uncertainly at the power plant behind her and back towards him for
instructions and reassurance.
``You're doing great, hon. Can you reach the cell from there?''
She leaned back and let her fingers walk their way carefully along the
upper surfaces of the engine, towards the fuel cell and the cable on
the near side leading into it.
``Turn it counterclockwise. Is it turning?'' He could see her
grimacing, evidently having trouble unscrewing the cable. Inside it
was continuing to get hotter. Droplets of sweat were starting to run
down his face.
Suddenly, with a grin of satisfaction, she displayed the loose cable.
``Great! Okay, the other one now.'' The other lead to the fuel cell
was on the far side. She tried to stretch her arms back towards it but
it was just out of reach as long as she was
sitting on the fender.
``Move farther in. It's okay, you can sit on the engine. You won't
hurt anything. It's just a little grimy, but we can wash you off
later.'' At least it wasn't one of those twentieth-century
combustion engines, with so many more moving parts. The floater's
engine, though, left a gap between itself and the fenders on the side.
Leaving the replacement cell perched on the fender,
she carefully shifted her weight back onto her hands and let her butt
slide off the fender towards the upper surface of the engine. There
was no comfortable place to sit between the edge of the engine and the
cable.
``Wendy, move on past it and sit on the other side. That'll be
easier.'' As he watched, she slid a little further back, bringing her
feet over to the engine now, and carefully scrunched herself
to get turned around. She manuevered herself to sit just in front of
the fuel cell, and started working on the cable. This one seemed to
have been screwed on even tighter than the other. She stopped several
times to rub her raw fingers, trying various surfaces on her fingers
and palms to loosen the connection.
As the minutes went by, David could feel butterflies getting loose in
his stomach, practicing their dive-bombing techniques. His entire body
was covered in a slick sheen of perspiration, and
he was feeling a little light-headed. If he didn't get out of here
soon. . .
All he needed was a little damned electricity running through the
wires! There's got to be some way. . . hey! Maybe this would work.
``Wait, stop. I think connecting the cells in series would work.
Connect the positive pole of the new cell to the cable you got loose,
and then touch the terminals of the two cells
together. See what I'm saying?'' Uncertainly, she shook her head.
``Look, just get the other cell. I'll tell you one step at a time.''
She looked behind her at the replacement cell still lying on the
fender. She slid back a little towards it, reaching back for it. It
was a long stretch, and she couldn't slide much farther back. He was
about to suggest she turn around again and move towards it feet-first.
She managed to lean far enough back, finally, to reach the fender. It
appeared that just at that moment her butt slipped slightly on the
uneven surface, and she instinctively brought her hands towards her
slightly to steady herself. Her fingers lost their grip on the fender
and her hands and arms slipped downward into the gap between the
engine and the fender, as she fell back on her back and her head
cracked hard against the fender.
``Wendy! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you look at me?'' Her head
turned slowly towards him, her eyes brimming with tears of pain. She
jerked suddenly, and again. It looked like she was
trying to sit up, but her handcuffs were caught on something down
below.
He tried to get a view of what the trouble was, pushing his face
against the windshield and moving around to find some place where he
could see down where her hands were, but they were just out of sight.
She was jerking more frantically, almost convulsively, close to panic.
``Wendy, stop! Just freeze. Do you hear me? I can help you get out of
it, but you've got to stop moving around. Listen, listen to me!'' He
hesitated before plunging on. ``Wendy, I could die in here if you
don't stop.'' That did it, finally; she stopped suddenly and looked at
him in shock.
``Just take a deep breath. Calm down. Try to look down. Can you see
what you're caught on?'' Her head turned to the side, she was
obviously trying her best to turn it farther, but her hands were well
beyond the limits of her peripheral vision. She shook her head,
streaked with sweat and tears.
``Okay, stop moving again. Try to relax. I've got a picture of the
engine in the manual here. As soon as I see what's down there, I'll
tell you how to get loose, okay?'' She closed her eyes and he could
see she was trying to follow his advice, breathing slowly and deeply.
He turned to the page with the picture of the engine. There, that had
to be it: the intake valves, through which air entered to be
afterwards blown out through the bottom to provide the cushion on
which the floater floated, stuck out about seven or eight inches from
the base of the engine on either side. She had to be hung up on the
one on that side. He tried to look down towards the real one again. It
puzzled him that she couldn't just slip the cuffs off the end of it.
``Wendy, just slide your hands back a little ways. You're caught on a
pipe that sticks out of the engine. Slide the handcuffs back past the
end of it.''
Her face contorted in pain as she obviously tried to do what he said.
Her arms, though, were already held far out from her back at a painful
angle, and she couldn't seem to force them back any farther. In the
confusion of falling she had gone through a contortion she couldn't
voluntarily reproduce.
``Can you slide yourself back a little? Move. . . look where I'm
pointing. Move your body back that way.'' His shorts were on the seat
next to him, and he used them to wipe his eyes to keep the sweat out,
but it wasn't doing much good. His eyes stung constantly, and he was
finding it hard to concentrate on the problem.
He could see her flexing and relaxing muscles all over her body,
trying to wriggle back towards the fender. He classified it
intellectually as incredibly sexy, but he was just too hot to
really appreciate it right now. Her head was resting on the fender,
but her shoulders were just a little below the edge. She couldn't seem
to get them up any higher, and until she got them up
over the edge she wasn't going to be able to move in that direction.
As he watched he could see her strain her neck muscles, trying to get
her shoulders to clear the barrier. But she couldn't get her shoulders
up onto the fender until she got her hands loose, and she couldn't get
her hands loose until she moved farther back, and she couldn't move
farther back until she got her shoulders up. He swore briefly, and
stopped when he decided it was using too much energy. He
couldn't imagine which of them was more frustrated: she, because her
body was trapped, or he, because he couldn't do anything about it.
``Wendy, I think you're going to have to let your head slip off the
fender.'' She shook her head, wide eyed, obviously terrified of
falling head-first into the little crevice.
``It's the only way, Wendy. Do it really slowly. You won't fall in,
there's not enough room in there.'' Was that reassuring? It could be
taken either way, he guessed. ``You'll be able to
slip the handcuffs off the end of the pipe.''
Slowly, an inch at a time, she bent her neck and forced her head
towards the edge of the fender. Her eyes scrunched so tightly that she
must have been seeing stars, her stomach steel-tense
with held breath, she let her head skid down off the edge. He could
hear her squeal in fear, and immediately her butt slid a few inches
back along the engine, and then stopped.
Flexing muscles now in her arms, hips, and legs, she squirmed in the
opposite direction. She must have got a grip on the valve, he decided,
and she's using it to push herself up. Finally, her stomach muscles
quivering with the strain, she slowly sat up, and regained a sitting
position on the engine, free at last. Or as free as she'd been in the
last few days, anyway.
She sat for several minutes, facing away from him, her shoulders
heaving as she breathed in great gasps.
``Wendy? You're okay now. We still need to get me out of here.'' His
head was pounding.
She turned towards him, giving him a weak smile.
``The other cell, remember? You need to get it and hook it to the
cable. Wait, turn around first. Move towards it feet-first.'' She got
herself turned, and in a couple of minutes was back
sitting on the fender next to the cell.
``Look at the cell, see the end of it with a plus on it? Screw the
cable onto that.'' Obviously it was hard on the over-stretched muscles
in her arms and shoulders to lean back once more, to fumble with the
cable and, at last, get it attached to the appropriate pole.
``Now, touch the two terminals together. Be careful, there's a lot of
power in there.''
As she brought the terminals in proximity, she was startled by a great
sparks that jumped between them, and she immediately jerked them back
apart before he could reach the door handle.
``It's going to work! It's going to spark like that, that means it's
okay. Put them back together.''
With one more deep breath, she joined the hissing, sparking terminals.
He yanked the doorhandle and threw his weight against the door,
wanting to act before she lost her nerve again, and found himself
flying out into the cool, cool outside world. He lay there, gasping in
deep lungfuls of fresh, almost cold-seeming air, then scrambled to his
feet and threw his arms around her waist, lifting her off the fender
and squeezing the skin of his sweat-soaked body tightly against hers.
[continued]
Anakha.
http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/mellon
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From anakha@clara.net Sat May 10 10:32:03 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!feed1.news.erols.com!disgorge.news.demon.net!demon!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!insnet.net!backpost.satin.net!eros.clara.net!news
From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - After 5/? (bondage, mf, nuclear aftermath)
Date: Sat, 10 May 1997 14:32:03 GMT
Organization: ClaraNet
Message-ID: <5l1thh$mr0@eros.clara.net>
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Hi,
I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't
really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to
repost the stuff I have.
There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who
have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were
originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them
first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever
increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups.
The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage
orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a
little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't
be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the
stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still
apply.
I hope you enjoy whatever I do post.
Bye for now.
Anakha
*************************************************************************************
This is a work of pure fiction (as will be obvious), containing
bondage and sexual themes. Anyone under 18, or anyone who would be
offended by such a story, should skip it and go on to the next
article.
Copyright 1995 by ero-tales. Do not reproduce or re-post without
permission.
AFTER - Part 5
David wanted to lay on the ground next to her, holding her tightly
against him, but an overpowering thirst together with hunger pangs
told him he'd better see to some more basic
needs first. There was still plenty of food left, all of it too hot to
be pleasant. He pulled the sack out into the shade of the floater,
along with the bottled water.
"You want some of this, or go down to that little creek?" Wendy looked
towards the small shaded grove that hid the rippling brook, looked
back at him and jerked her head in that direction.
He gathered a few baby-food bottles and a little food for himself, and
helped her to her feet. "You want to get there yourself? I can carry
you if you want."
She looked as exhausted as he felt. She leaned towards him and nuzzled
his shoulder, which he took to mean, oh, alright, you can carry me
just this once.
"Um. . ." His hands were already full. "Here, you take a few of these
bottles." He pressed them into her hands, and gathered her in his
arms, staggering a little in fatigue as he carried her into the trees
and carefully down the short slope to the creek.
His intention was to set her down in the creek itself. As soon as her
feet touched the water, though, she squeeked and pulled her feet up
quickly, almost causing him to drop her as her weight shifted. He
stood her on the damp earth just beyond the reach of the water, and
reached down to feel the water. It was very cool, almost cold. He
didn't know where it was coming from, but runoff from the mountains
seemed possible. At any rate it was pretty obvious why she didn't want
to sit in it.
By this time she had laid down on her side parallel to the edge of
the water, and was wriggling closer, eventually thrusting her face
into the current to take a mouthful of cold water, gulping with
difficulty around the gag. He could see this was another thing she
wanted to do herself; shrugging, he knelt next to the water and took a
drink himself. The coolness spread slowly through his limbs, and in
the pleasure of the moment began to feel for the first time that
survival was not only possible, but even desirable.
He sat afterwards with his legs around her feeding her lunch, or
breakfast, whatever it was, and had his own after that. The exhaustion
of their earlier efforts and a night of little sleep caught up with
both of them, and he curled himself around her as they lay back
against the muddy bank, and grew less conscious of the hushed swishing
of leaves and quizzical twitterings of
birds, as they drifted to sleep and the rest of the morning passed.
* * *
"Hey! Anybody out there?"
David jerked awake, a little surprised at finding his nose buried
between Wendy's breasts after a dream in which people he knew had one
by one inexplicably disappeared. He held her tightly against him to
make sure she, too, didn't disappear, and felt her stir sleepily
against him as the voice called out again. "Whose floater?"
He felt Wendy stiffen in surprise, so no, he wasn't imagining it. He
quietly untangled himself from her and put his finger to his lips. She
cocked her head at him and rolled her eyes, opening
her lips briefly against the gag, as if to say, you idiot, what was I
going to say anyway? He patted her and whispered, "I'm sorry," and
crept up towards the top of the bank to try to catch sight of whoever
was doing the yelling.
A woman was standing by the floater, her back to it, turning her head
to survey the horizon. She was dressed in faded denim shorts, a white
T-shirt with a brown vest and a back-pack, her long brown hair parted
in the middle, her legs unusually muscular. From where David was she
looked about thirty or so, and looked understandably puzzled that a
floater should be sitting in the middle of nowhere for no obvious
reason. He was hesitant to present himself, since his shorts were, as
usual lately, back in the floater. He cursed himself for leaving the
door standing open again, and the keys in it. He couldn't see any
vehicle she might have arrived in, and from her rumpled,
sweat-streaked look she had probably been walking. If she couldn't
find anybody to go with the floater she would undoubtedly decide,
reasonably enough, that it was hers.
Hell, he decided, she's old enough to have seen a few naked men
before. At least, he found, he wouldn't be approaching her with a
hard-on. He'd had one just a minute ago, and wasn't completely sure
what had become of it, but there did seem to be something about the
woman that reversed the natural flow of his male anatomy.
He slowly climbed to the top of the slope and stood. The woman's head
jerked towards him at the movement, and her jaw dropped, as she looked
away for a moment and then back towards him. "This
yours?" she asked, indicating the floater behind her.
"Yeah. Is there a problem? You live around here?"
"No. Been out hiking a few days." Neither made a move to get any
closer, and the conversation took place at about a thirty-foot
distance.
If there was some kind of camp nearby with lots of people around,
David imagined it would be nice to know where it was, so he could
decide whether to join it or avoid it. Maybe he could get some clothes
and get Wendy loose.
"You out looking for other survivors?"
The woman looked puzzled. "Survivors? Of what? That earthquake? How
bad was it?"
David shook his head in wonder. Could she have been so completely out
of contact that she didn't even know? "You know about the war, don't
you?"
"War? Here? Don't look like a war to me."
His incredulity beat his sensitivity to his voicebox. "Well, you ought
to see what's left of the city if you don't think it looks like a war.
Those were bombs, not earthquakes." His voice shook
as he remembered everything he'd been trying to forget. "Probably not
much left of North America."
She glared at him. "You're bullshitting. There's never going to be a
war. That's all scare talk."
He shook his head again. "You got a cellphone?"
She snorted in disgust. "Damn thing's broken. Can't get anything on it
anymore."
"It's not broken. There's nobody to call anymore. It's. . ." It
finally sank into him that he was telling someone that everyone she'd
been close to was dead. Hell, though, what did it matter, it was too
big to grasp anyway. He knew he didn't believe it yet himself.
Her eyes narrowed. "Why're you saying such crap? You a Canuck spy or
something?"
He threw his hands up. "Look, I don't know how to prove it to you.
You'll find out eventually. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For whatever you're going to go though. It won't be fun, finding out.
I'm sorry, that's all." He looked towards his right, in the direction
he thought the city was from there. There was no smokerising anymore,
so he wasn't sure.
"You alone?"
David's mind tried to short-circuit the reflex that made him look
behind him, failed.
"Somebody back there?" She suddenly pulled a knife out of a sheath at
her belt he hadn't noticed. "Come out where I can see you, whoever you
are."
"What's the knife for? Nobody here's going to hurt you."
"Yeah, right. You're standing there talking like a crazy Canuck and
somebody else is hiding in the trees, and I'm supposed to think we're
all friends here. Come out!"
David hoped Wendy had the sense to stay out of sight, maybe get a
little further downstream. He cautiously crept closer to the woman,
whose attention was still on the trees. At a closer view
she seemed a little older, maybe thirty-five.
The woman froze, apparently sensing some movement in front of her.
"You, right there. Stop!" David felt his stomach churn as he waited
for the other shoe to drop. He and the woman both
crept forward, approaching the creekbed from different angles.
Watching her intently, he saw her jaw drop, followed by a nearly
breathless "Holy shit!"
The woman whirled on David. "You ARE a Canuck! You got a woman
prisoner down there in chains." She glanced back towards Wendy,
squinting, then back towards David. "For God's sake, she's naked
too. What was you doing, raping her when I came along?" She edged
closer, brandishing the knife, the edge traveling in tiny circles.
David held his hands outward, open palms towards her. "It's not like
that! Wait! Look, you can see I don't have a weapon, so you can afford
to give me time to explain, right?" He crept backward, trying to stand
his ground yet still somehow manage to maintain most of the distance
between them.
She stopped, uncertainly, glancing back at Wendy once more, who was
standing, trying to hop up the steep slope of the bank by the creek.
David started towards her as she lost her balance and
fell heavily to her knees, and stopped at a motion from the woman.
"Okay, I bet this'd be worth hearing. Start talking."
He took a deep breath. "It's all true, what I was telling you. The
city got bombed a couple of days ago. Maybe a lot of other places too.
There's a few survivors, not many. Just some of us who were lucky," he
grimaced inwardly, "If that's what you want to call it. I walked
around a long time, and then I heard Wendy crying for help. She and
her boyfriend had been. . . well, I guess this was how they had fun.
You know." He searched her eyes for some sort of understanding.
At least now she looked puzzled, which was an improvement over
murderous rage. "So you just decided to keep her that way?"
"Look, I don't think you get what it's like yet. You can't just go out
to your garage or the hardware store and get some tools. The toolbox
is gone. The garage is gone. The hardware store is gone. Do you get
what I'm saying?" David himself was starting to get a feeling for the
enormity of it. I'd better stop talking about this, he thought. "I've
been trying to get her loose. I even got part of it undone. She was
worse off than this to begin with. But I haven't found anything I can
do with all that metal stuff. What am I supposed to use, my bare
hands?"
He looked back towards Wendy, who had wriggled up the bank on her side
and was now working herself upright against a tree. He thought about
helping her, but realized his only hope of convincing the woman would
be if Wendy came over to him spontaneously, as if she wanted to be
with him. It had to look like it was all her idea. He tried to somehow
pass the thought to her telepathically.
He could see the woman struggling with her doubts. One more bit of
evidence might help.
"Has your phone been out of order the whole time, or just since. . .
well, when did it stop working?"
"Um, yeah, it was working a couple of days ago. I tried calling some
friends yesterday. Never got a signal." She closed her eyes and looked
down.
Wendy started hopping towards them now. The woman looked up at the
sound, and motioned her over to her, but Wendy shook her head and
hopped to David's side.
As he put his arms around her and she nestled her head against his
shoulder, the woman finally seemed to relax. At least until the
thought completed itself.
"You mean, it's all true? Bomb, war, everything?" She seemed on the
verge of tears. David just nodded. The woman sat abruptly, her face
buried in her hands. David took the opportunity to look Wendy over.
"How you feeling? Did you hurt yourself back there? Any cuts or
anything?" He reached down to brush off the mud caked on her shins.
"Do you want to sit down?" She shrugged, and finally nodded. "Let's go
over to that tree. I'll help you when we get there." He knew by now
she'd at least want to travel there under her own power.
He could hear her hopping behind him, and turned when he reached the
tree to help her sit. She shook her head and leaned back against the
trunk, letting her hands slip slowly downward until
at last she was sitting, leaning back against it. He joined her next
to the trunk, and looked again at their visitor.
"Can I do anything for you? We've got a little food, if you're
hungry."
The woman raised her head and took a deep breath, obviously making an
effort to appear as if she'd weathered the storm. In a voice a little
too loud, she said, "No, I'm fine. Got a lot of stuff with me here."
She jiggled her backpack.
"Um. . . say! In that case, maybe you could help us. You got anything
in there that would cut through these handcuffs?"
"Lemme check." She shrugged off the pack and started picking through
it. After a minute she nodded and pulled something out. "Would this
help? Best I can do, I think." She held a nail-file
out towards David. He came over and took it, looking it over
skeptically.
"Maybe. I'll see if I can do anything with it."
He brought it back and showed it to Wendy. "What do you want me to
start on? Feet, hands, or mouth?"
She thought a moment, then bobbed her head, thrusting her jaw towards
him, seeming to indicate the gag.
"Yeah, I was thinking that too. That's the one thing that's really
getting in the way the most; it's been hard getting enough food and
water into you. Okay, sit still, let me see what I can do." He spent a
minute examining the links of the chain running along her cheek. They
all seemed about the same thickness. He shrugged and picked one, and
carefully started sawing with the file across the outer surface of the
tiny loop of metal. He had to avoid jabbing her face with the sharp
point of the file, so each back-and-forth motion didn't cover any
great distance. It was obviously going to take awhile, if it worked at
all.
As he worked, he saw out of the corner of his eye that the woman had
stretched herself out on the ground, using her backpack as a pillow.
She seemed to be shaking her head slightly and mumbling to herself.
After about fifteen minutes his muscles were starting to ache from
sitting hunched in one position. He paused to examine his work. The
link was now displaying a roughened, flat shiny surface. He sighed in
exasperation; at this rate it would take at least another hour.
Meanwhile, the upper portion of the file was being rubbed smooth.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I'm kind of wrecking your file. Should I stop?"
Her arm across her eyes, the woman just waved the other one in a
dismissive gesture.
"It's okay?"
She just waved again. Shrugging, he went back to work, using the
lower, still-rough surface of the file.
After another twenty minutes or so Wendy shifted as if she just had to
move the muscles that were aching from sitting so patiently in one
position. She looked at him with a questioning
expression and jerked her eyes in the direction of the link he had
been working on.
"Let me look again." At a rough guess he thought he might be halfway
through. He tested the link with his fingers, trying to see if there
was any give that might be encouraged into a break. He carefully
thrust the file into the loop and gave it a twist. Nothing yielded,
and Wendy grunted and glared at him.
"Sorry. I don't know, maybe another half-hour. Except. . ." He
examined the file critically. "I don't think this is going to get us
there. The whole thing is starting to get worn smooth. I don't even
think it's been doing anything the last few minutes. . ." He broke off
as Wendy squeeked in alarm, her eyes wide viewing something beyond his
shoulder. He turned in time to see a backpack swing towards his head.
In the split second of consciousness after it struck, he relived the
instant of the explosion.
* * *
His head ached as he slowly swam back towards consciousness. The
thought of the bomb remained with him; that and the confusion of his
limbs not functioning the way he wanted them to.
The woman was just putting the finishing touches on a knot that left
him hogtied on the ground. His field of vision was filled with a
slanted horizon and the woman's backpack laying in front of him. Must
have had rope in it for rock-climbing or something, he thought, as he
jerked against the bonds and twisted onto his side.
She slapped him, mumbling, "Now you know what it feels like. Doing
that to a poor little girl."
He spat grass out of his mouth. "I told you I found her like that. You
saw me trying to cut through the gag."
"First time I saw you was when you was coming back from raping her.
You just now was threatening her with that knife. Loved scaring her,
didn't you? You men are all the same. Bet you had a Rape and Pillage
class back in Toronto."
"I am NOT CANADIAN, dammit. And it was a file, not a knife, and you
gave it to me. Look, you saw she wanted to be with me, didn't you?"
About thirty feet beyond her he could see Wendy struggling to get to
her feet against the trunk of the tree. The woman must have dragged
him over here to get him away from Wendy.
"Guy raped me with a knife once. I swore I'd get him back someday.
Never found him, but you'll do." She patted her own knife in its
sheath. His entire skin surface felt as if tiny electric currents were
traveling over it. This lady was functioning in a different reality
now, he knew.
Within minutes she'd probably be confusing him with *her* rapist.
Wendy took her first hops towards them. The woman heard her and
turned, started walking towards her. "You come with me, honey. He
can't hurt you anymore. . . WHOA!" She backed away from
Wendy hurriedly. As she moved out of the line of sight between him and
Wendy, David could see Wendy had turned her back towards the woman and
was waving the file back and forth at about waist level.
The woman was circling her slowly, presenting her hands towards her,
empty palms forward. "I don't mean to hurt you, sweety. We're both on
the same team. Let's go over to the floater and get you tucked away,
then I'll take care of this guy." Wendy, watching her over her
shoulder, managed to keep her balance as she turned with little hops
to keep her back towards the woman, holding the file menacingly. As
the woman continued to circle, Wendy now started to hop towards David,
getting herself between him and the woman.
The woman stood with her hands on her hips now, a somewhat glazed look
in her eyes. David hoped her reality was shifting in some less
dangerous direction. She took a few tentative steps forward, as Wendy
continued retreating towards David. About five feet from him she
stumbled and fell heavily to her knees with a squeek of alarm, but
held onto the file and continued pointing it at the woman. She
shuffled the remaining distance towards David on her knees, clearly
ready to hold a defensive position there for as long as it took. The
woman began circling again, and Wendy twisted on her knees to keep the
file pointed at her.
The woman shook her head, her eyes closed. Finally she said softly,
"That's a good idea, honey. You watch him and make sure he doesn't get
loose. I'll drive into town. I've got friends there who can help you."
David sighed with relief and exasperation. The immediate danger was
past, but they seemed to be about to lose the floater. He wondered
what she'd do at her next reality check, when she saw the city.
Probably explain it away somehow. People only ever believe what they
want to, dammit.
He watched as she walked around the the driver's side of the floater,
glared at him and said, "I'll get you later, asshole." The rush of the
engine sprayed gravel and knocked over the grocery bag standing next
to the floater as she slammed it into gear and the vehicle hissed away
back towards the road.
Wendy rolled to her side, finally, her eyes closed, breathing in
audible heaves. He struggled with the ropes a few minutes, and finally
said, "Um. . . Wendy?"
"Hmm?"
"I could use a little help here."
She looked at him, and a tiny giggle escaped her lips. She smiled.
"Hmm-mmm."
"Come on, Wendy. This is no fair." She raised her eyebrows.
"Okay, maybe fair's not the right word. But you still need me loose.
We can't both be tied up."
With a sigh, she came around behind him and started worrying the knot
on the rope binding his wrists and ankles together. As she worked it
loose and he straightened his legs in relief, she hooked her own legs
around his head and started passing the loop of her legs down his
body.
"Wendy, what are you doing?" Twisting, she made him lie on his back.
Her ankles were crossed under his lower back, and he had to prop
himself up with his elbows behind him to get more comfortable. Sitting
now on his stomach, she slowly slid a little further back, towards his
crotch.
"You're not untying me, are you?" She grinned and shook her head,
feeling behind her for his penis. With an effort she raised herself up
and over it, and guided it up into her.
He closed his eyes as she began rocking in a gentle rhythm on his
hips, and he could feel himself growing to fill her more completely.
"You'll untie me afterwards, huh?" Her own eyes closed, sighing softly
to herself, she shrugged. He stopped asking.
[continued]
Anakha.
http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/mellon
*******************************************************
If you want to reply to me by Email then you will need
to manually amend the 'reply to' address in the header
to anakha@clara.net.
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