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From: ladd@cs.unc.edu (Brian C. Ladd)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MNA: Little Firebug (ff cb wr ) 01/01
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Date: 21 Mar 1996 08:32:06 -0500
Organization: Mindnumbing Archive
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Reply-To: ladd@cs.unc.edu
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Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:141053
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Mindnumbing Archive Repost
=============================================================================
<V-CHIP RATING=ADULT>
The following is erotic in nature. If you are under the legal age of
consent in your local jurisdiction, stop reading now. If you are
easily offended, please stop reading now.
<SOAPBOX>
If you are offended by the government telling you what you can and
cannot view on the Internet and other electronic media, protest!
If you're an American, contact your Congress critters and let them
know you vote and find the CDA offensive. Do it now, today. This
posting would _NOT_ be possible under a fully-enforced CDA. Who
do you trust to choose what is decent and indecent for you?
Don't use the excuse that you don't know how to contact them: Go
to <A HREF="http://ast1.spa.umn.edu/juan/congress.html">Contacting
the 104th Cogress</A> maintained by Juan Cabanela. Phone, fax,
address, it is all there. Contact them early and often. Let them
know you are registered to vote (Getting the hint here? If you're
not registered to vote --- get registered!) and question their
vote to restrict your access to information on-line.
Check out <A HREF="http://www.eff.org/blueribbon.html>The Blue
Ribbon Page</A> for more information on what you can do to protect
free speech on-line. Remember the power is in your hand to simply
vote the bums out.
</SOAPBOX>
The curator of the MNA most likely did NOT write the story which follows.
Authors, when known, are acknowledged in the body of the file. Assemble the
various parts of related messages, removing everything outside the [BEGIN]
[END] markers and you'll have the "complete" story. See the MNA Index posted
to alt.sex.stories.d for chapter counts and synopses. Note that the MNA
posting counts and authors' chapter counts are completely unrelated.
If you have similar materials, please repost them, too.
Comments, encouragement, and additional material for the archive gratefully
received; flames, repost requests, and e-mail requests rapidly dispatched to
the void. There is no public archive of these stories that I know of; see
SOAPBOX above. I will no longer acknowledge messages asking for one.
If you're an author in the MNA and you do not want your story reposted:
Contact me at ladd@cs.unc.edu and I will remove your story from the
reposting list. If you're an author of an Unknown story and you want to
take credit for it, contact me as well, please.
[BEGIN]
From: sharon@interserv.com
Little Firebug 1 by IHCOYC XPICTOC
When Kara came to, she found herself completely nude, and lightly
shackled and immersed in a large wooden tank filled with what appeared
to be warm, briny water. Her first thoughts were of sly surprise.
Whoever did this to me must have surely underestimated me, if they
thought something as weak as these chains can keep me here for long.
No one else was in the chamber. She could see vaguely through a plate
of glassteel into an adjacent room where there was a similar vat,
containing a tall black-haired woman chained in a similar tub, who was
apparently also struggling to escape herself. Someone in the same
predicament, she thought; not an enemy from whom I would need to
conceal my departure from.
So Kara was greatly surprised when, preparing her arms to break apart
the shackles and escape the brine, she was unable to do so. She -felt-
as strong as she ever was. They seemed to be made of nothing more
substantial than vanadium steel. But she felt the edge of the cuff
pressing against her skin more painfully than anything like that should
have. And the muscles in her arms, once tensed, began to ache as if
being asked to perform a much greater exertion, begging to be returned
to a relaxed position.
At this futile effort, a loudspeaker broke in from behind her, as if
someone was watching her all the time and waiting for this moment.
"Relaxing, isn't it?" a female voice cooed. "The best way to get
through this is to just close your eyes and empty your mind, and let
the sensations seep into you, and wait for the second part of the
programme to begin. Don't try to resist with your mind. That will
only make it worse."
And with these words, the hum of machinery began to make the water
circulate and swirl around Supergirl. The warm, swirling brine would
not have been all that unpleasant, except for the fact that her
apprehension, her failure to understand what was going on, made her
unable to appreciate it.
One thing was obvious. The liquid in the tub contained some kind of
drug, or drugs, that was relaxing her muscles, making her unable to
muster her strength; and that was somehow increasing the sensitivity of
the nerves of her skin. And to her sensitized skin, the constant
swirling of the fluid felt like she was being caressed all over by
gentle and inescapable hands.
Her backbrain insinuated to both Kara and Kara how nice it would be to
simply let herself go, to revel in the sensations of the tub. Both
conscious minds within her sought sternly to remind her of the grave
danger in such a surrender to an unknown peril. But it became harder.
Then, at the bottom of the tank, two jets opened up, filling the fluid
full of myriad's of air bubbles. As she felt the first of the air
bubbles strike her skin, she gasped aloud. One airjet seemed to be
targeted at the area between her legs; the other aimed for the small of
her back; but the circling liquid carried the bubbles in complicated
patterns all over her body. Her sensitive skin seemed to report every
touch of an air bubble to her now severely over-stimulated brain.
Every one was a tickle, every one a kiss, impossible to ignore, and
rendering any further coordinated effort by her body all but
impossible.
It was also impossible for her to keep track of how long she was in the
tub. Probably hours. There was something about the device that
operated it that seemed to sense when she was getting used to one of
its patterns of operation, when it no longer surprised her and she was
growing accustomed to a pattern of tickles and caresses; for whenever
that happened, the flow patterns changed, leaving her as much at their
mercy as before. But throughout these strange sensations she was able
to keep reminding herself that she didn't know what was going on, that
it was dangerous to yield to the machine. The effort to keep reminding
herself of this only focused her attention more and more on the
hard-to-ignore sensations that the swirling fluid was giving her.
Eventually, a door behind her opened. Someone put a blindfold over her
eyes. By this point, her body was entirely limp; so she was unable to
struggle, even, as a woman picked her up and cradled her in her arms,
carrying her to another room. The woman said, half-admiringly, "You
are a fine catch, you are. You will fetch a fine price on the market
at Trondur. . ."
At the mention of Trondur, Kara shrieked in alarm, and began once again
to weakly struggle against her bonds. No use! her body was scarcely
under the control of either of her consciousness then.
She was taken and stretched out on a sort of plush table, and chained
at the head and the foot of it. Someone entered and began sponging her
nude body with the same drugged, briny fluid she had been bathed in
before, using the sponge to tickle her in all the most sensitive
places. Then, the blindfold was removed, and she saw two Arion women
standing above her.
The first was one she did not recognize; a small, mousy-haired Arion,
wearing an eyepatch, and no uniform; probably a rogue trader of some
sort.
The second was Kirrin! It was she who was holding the sponge which
even now was wetting her inner thigh with more of the briny drug.
"Glad to see you," Kirrin said. "Really. The price you bring me will
help my plans succeed despite your failure to cooperate. . ."
She also saw the device she had been attached to. There was indeed a
table to which her shackles had been attached now. Above her stood a
complex apparatus, bristling with electrodes, which had been lowered so
that the discharge arcpoints were just maybe a foot above her body.
One electrode pointed towards each of her breasts. The third, somewhat
larger, was targeted at her crotch.
"Oh, great." Kara thought. "The sensitivity drug was just so they
would have to use less juice when they tortured me." She attempted to
steel her too-relaxed body and prepare her mind for the withering pain
she felt sure to be coming next.
"This part is always fun to watch," the mousy haired woman told Kirrin.
"You might want to stick around for at least the beginning." The
mousy haired woman then threw a pole switch. A pale blue-green glow
formed around the electrodes of the device. Her body, starting with
the most logical energy discharge points, her nipples and her pubic
hairs, began to glow with energy in response. Then, first small and
then larger bolts of energy began to arc between the electrodes and her
body.
The expected agony never came. Kara even began to relax a little, as
she entertained the hope that even in her weakened state her super body
might be able to withstand the worst this device had to offer. All it
seemed to do was tingle a little.
In fact, her nipples were starting to get a little hard ---
And as that thought crossed her mind, she involuntarily sighed a
convulsive sigh. Hard ---- yes! in fact her nipples started feeling
like they were going to explode! As soon as her attention wandered
towards them, it was as if the sensations inside them had crowded out
just about everything else in her consciousness. She then thought,
involuntarily, of the state of her clitoris, with the equally agonizing
realization that it was going absolutely apeshit with excitement. Her
relaxed groin quivered with moist anticipation.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to get a grip on herself.
No use. Both Kara and Kara writhed in helpless horniness as her
utterly relaxed body had no choice but to open itself up completely to
the strange energy pouring into it. She tried once more to struggle,
to muster the strength to break free. The very act of trying to move,
trying to tense the muscles in her legs, brought her the first of
several orgasms, but every orgasm seemed inadequate, seemed only to
tantalize her further with the need for more and stronger relief,
relief which her shackles denied her.
The last thing Kara remembered was seeing Kirrin standing over her with
the feather of a large Terran bird. She was playing with the feather
through the energy field against Kara's skin, between her bellybutton
and her aching loins. Kara twisted and struggled, half to escape the
tickling feather, half to move her hungry clitoris within its reach;
but Kirrin kept it tantalizingly out of reach.
"Once your therapy is completed, the slug-miners of Trondur will look
as good to you as you will to them, and you will be out of my hair
forever" Kirrin purred. Kara could say nothing in response; by this
time she was unable to speak. Her breathing was a fast and
uncontrolled panting, like that of a greyhound at the end of a run.
She felt like she was turning to liquid inside. Every nerve on her
skin now seemed as ready to explode as her clitoris ordinarily would at
the verge of a climax; and the sensation in her clitoris itself seared
her consciousness like a white hot supernova. Worse, whatever was
doing this to her was apparently capable of keeping her in this state
of excited suspense indefinitely. The intensity of desire might have
overcome the relaxing effects of the drugs and revived her strength,
but for the fact that it also made it impossible for her to concentrate
sufficiently to coordinate her muscles against her shackles. She tried
furiously to block out the sensations, to think of anything else but
her need to be touched. Nothing worked.
Kirrin let the feather fall across Kara's belly, to tease her still as
she writhed. She then turned to the mousy haired woman and said,
"Come, let us consider the matter of payment." The two then left,
leaving Kara alone with the machine, and her thoughts of indescribable
excitement and frustration.
Her memories began to fade into an indefinite red blur.
Kara was the first to lose consciousness. Kara, her awareness of the
danger stiffening her will to a greater extent, soldiered on bravely
against the lust-agony a few moments more. But even her willpower
proved inadequate to resist the equally strong will of an
overstimulated super-body that had been reduced to a few of its
constituent parts.
* * * * *
The next thing either Kara or Kara remembers is coming to in a room
full of pillows. This seems to be a stone building. She is not on a
spacecraft. She is draped limply over the pillows. At least she is
free of those cursed shackles, she thought. There is a large Black
woman seated among the pillows between her legs. She gazed upon
Supergirl fondly but solicitously, with the concerned gaze of a nurse.
Supergirl herself felt utterly weak and exhausted, but despite her
exhaustion she could still feel the burning desire energy coursing
through her veins.
The Black woman is almost half again as large as Supergirl, powerfully
built, with broad shoulders, round eyes, and large hands. Her hair is
short and tightly curled around her head like a skullcap. She also is
nude except for two large silver bracelets she is wearing. Supergirl
lifts her head and sees other nude women scattered among the pillows
around the room. All of them are sleeping, apparently in exhaustion.
If these are the slug miners of Trondur, they aren't so bad.
The Black woman sees Supergirl stirring. "Hello, Little Firebug," she
says gently. "Welcome back to the land of the living. We almost
thought we had lost you. Can you tell us your name?"
Supergirl moans weakly. "I'm not sure," she answers honestly.
Even if she thought it wise to answer truthfully, the remaining spasms
of orgone energy still coursing through her body left her too confused
to know how to respond.
"That's OK," the woman replied. "Let's see if we can work a bit more
of this out of you, and maybe then you will be able to sleep, and after
you sleep you might remember." With that, she placed her strong hands
over the muscles of Kara's lower abdomen, and began to massage her
gently but deeply. At this touch, intense orgasms once again managed
to cut their way through Supergirl's exhaustion. They came rapid-fire,
one after another, until they came in an unbroken flood, without pause
for relaxation. Supergirl gasped, and she could say no more; and soon
her consciousness fell back into the hungry oblivion whence it had
briefly arisen.
Eventually, however, the power of exhaustion managed to overcome even
the orgone energy charge of Supergirl's body, and she passed from the
burning fog of her lust-madness into the healing mists of sleep.
* * * * *
When she awoke, she felt much stronger. Her first sensation was of a
ravenous thirst. Opening her eyes, she saw that someone had placed a
pitcher of cold water and a glass of water within her reach. She
almost immediately moved to seek it out.
The act of moving, though, shook some of the numbness of sleep from her
body. As she gulped down the water, the fire in her loins began once
more to burn brightly. She was so aroused that her back teeth ached
with lust. She let the empty glass drop and moaned aloud, and moved
both of her hands towards her melting thighs.
Her moan brought a chorus of female laughter from a pile of adjacent
pillows. She turned and saw four nude women peering over the top.
Three of them were laughing gently at her predicament. The fourth, she
recognized as the same large Black woman who had spoken to her during
her previous episode of consciousness. She was not laughing; she was
too regally seriousto allow herself to laugh at Kara's plight, though
she was smiling bemusedly. She gestured to the other three women to
remain where they were. Then, in a voice used to issuing commands, she
said, "Come to us, Little Firebug! Try and stand up, and walk over
here."
Something about her tone of voice suggested to Supergirl that it was a
good idea to try to obey. As the four women shouted encouragement's,
Supergirl attempted to coordinate her arms and legs and rise. This was
much harder to do than it sounds. Though her strength was all but
fully restored, and though the fires of the orgone energy had been
substantially relieved throughout the previous night (or nights?), the
mere fact that she was stronger and rested made the remaining
sensations all the harder to ignore. Her limbs still seemed slightly
stiff from long slumber, but the very act of moving them to shake off
that stiffness seemed to awaken sensual deliquescence that urged her to
remain.
But at the repeated urgings of the women and the commands of the
apparent leader, she struggled to her feet. She sighed and gasped as
she attempted to walk the distance of perhaps fifteen feet to the pile
of pillows where the women were waiting for her. She was aware as she
was never aware before, of the way the act of moving her legs in
walking pulled and pushed the muscles and tendons of her groin; and
these sensations from moving made her fear that she was about to lose
control once more. She made a few quick steps, and then collapsed
among the pile of pillows. But she had made it. The women who now
surrounded her cheered. "That's a good sign," the leader said. "You
are starting to regain control."
All four women fell upon her quickly. While the other three held her
arms and attempted to soothe her anxious excitement and confusion, the
leader grasped her firmly around her waist, pulled up between her legs
and placed her mouth between them. Her lips were large and
cushiony-soft, yet powerful, and she busily but gently nipped Supergirl
with her teeth and slid her tongue gently between her lower lips. By
this time Supergirl at least knew what to expect, and had resigned
herself to it even if she were able to resist.
Kara had at last managed to convince herself that, whoever these women
were, they meant her no harm. She allowed herself the luxury of
relaxing. Her eyes fluttered open; and her gaze met the eyes of one of
the women attending her. She smiled weakly at her, and the woman
smiled back, with a look that was - mostly- tender concern, but gave at
least a hint of sly jealousy.
This time, she was going to remain conscious enough to enjoy this. As
she gave herself over to the machine-gun orgasms, she shuddered in her
bones, and began to heal further.
* * * * *
Wrapped in her involuntary bliss, she had no notion of the passage of
time. She only knew that the four women were taking turns
administering kisses and caresses to her nether parts, while the others
either tried to sleep, or cradled her head, caressing her face, arms,
and breasts. As she became more aware of her surroundings, their faces
became clearer to her.
The large Black woman, taller and much more robustly built than Kara,
was apparently a leader of some sort. There was something about her
that reminded one of the regal air of a powerful and lean lioness.
The second was almost as large as the leader; she was a busty, frizzy
beach blonde with very muscular arms and shoulders. She sported a
shiner, and apparently had been in combat with someone or something
recently.
The other two could have been sisters. They were shorter than the
other two women, shorter even than Supergirl. They both had long curls
of brown hair that reached almost to their hips. One was built almost
as brawny as her larger comrades; she had a button nose and a shy but
impish smile. The fourth had a beautiful, Botticelli face, nipples of
a memorable purple colour, and a lean hardness about her that showed
her muscles meshing and turning beneath her skin no matter what
position she happened to be in.
All four women wore large silvery bracelets on both wrists, and no
more, at least for the time being.
* * * * *
Eventually they were joined by three more women. The first two were
naked as everyone else; but the third wore the only item of clothing
Kara had seen for some time, even if it were only a purple sash that
would not have been considered adequate covering on Earth. The first
two nude women were physicians of some kind. One carried a
stethoscope, the other a sort of electronic device that looked like an
oscillator. All heads rose when the woman wearing the sash came in,
but she quickly gave the directive, "Carry on." Kara could sense that
all of her companions were paying careful attention to this woman,
though.
"Are you making progress, General?" the sash-wearer asked.
The Black woman immediately spoke up. "Amazingly, yes. She must have
taken an extremely large dose. I was amazed when she regained normal
consciousness. But she has been able to walk, and even speak a little.
I think she's going to pull through this."
While the General was giving this report, the other two were examining
Kara with the devices they had brought. The woman with the stethoscope
was moving it all over her torso, and its cold touch brought a
different shiver that her body still managed to translate into an
intense pleasure. Meanwhile, the woman with the oscilloscope was
pointing a sort of scanner head at her, and looking at her screen, and
saying, "Amazing. She has incredible tissue density and energy
retention."
"No wonder this is taking so long," the frizzy blonde replied.
"They told me she is very strong," said the woman in the sash.
"This is the first time we have had to send a combat team rather than a
psychomedical team to assist in one of these recoveries."
"Don't I know it," the frizzy blonde remarked at this.
At this, the medical team and the woman wearing the sash left the room,
and the women (combat team?) gave Kara once more their undivided
attention. Kara turned to her Black companion, and between gasps and
sobs, asked, "You're a general?"
"Yes."
"Sorry if I didn't salute. . ."
The General chuckled. "You seem to be able to talk once more.
I think you have realized by now that you are not our prisoner, and we
mean you no harm. I don't want to have to keep calling you `Little
Firebug.' What is your name?"
"Kara," replied Supergirl. "But you can call me Little Firebug if you
want." She was uncertain even where she was. These peoples'
institutions resembled nothing she had seen on Earth before, and she
was uncertain whether she was in Earth or space. She decided not to
reveal her Terran identity immediately.
"Very good. I am, as you know, a general, General Damasippe, to be
exact. She --- pointing to the frizzy blonde --- is Close Combat
Specialist Colonel Solveig." The woman with the impish smile she now
learned was Weapons Specialist First Lieutenant Mikhailovna, and Miss
Botticelli's real name was Martial Arts Master First Lieutenant
Natalya.
Great, Kara thought. She was in the Army now, it seemed.
She was not sure what these women were, though. They each seemed
stronger than the average Terran female, although by no means her match
yet. She asked, "Where am I, and how did I get here?"
"Where you are, Kara, is the Island of Colchica. How you got here ---
we rescued you from a slave ship. They try to make you go nuts, so
that they can sell you as a nymphomaniac who will do anything."
These words triggered Kara's memories of her capture and mistreatment,
and Kirrin. The General continued, "We are members of a sisterhood
that is sworn to resist the mistreatment of women. You had been
captured by a space slave trader." The General obviously did not know
who sold her, and apparently had not met Kirrin. If she had it is
unlikely that even she would be here to tell the story.
"Was I sold as a slave?"
"Apparently not. You had not been branded, yet." This told her
nothing. It was unlikely that any conventional method of branding
would work on Kara.
Kara turned to Colonel Solveig. "Where'd you get the shiner?
Fighting the people who had enslaved me?"
"Actually, you gave it to me. You were thrashing around something
awful when we cut you loose from the orgone accumulator. As I told the
Queen, I knew that you were very strong."
"Oh."
"Are there any men here?" Kara asked.
The General laughed cynically. "Men? Men are weak. Even if there
were any here, in your condition you'd probably kill them, and they
would do little more for you than tease you." That wasn't what she
meant, Kara thought, but apparently no.
* * * * *
The rest of Kara's recovery was about as uneventful as a lesbian love
set lasting several days can be. Now, orgasms are enjoyable by
definition; but even they can start to get cloying after about the
sixteen millionth in a row. Shortly after she regained consciousness,
Kara could be brought to climax simply by stroking the back of her
hand; but as the hours wore on, the Combat Team found that it begun to
take a bit more effort on their part to get Kara off. Orgasmic
sessions began to buy Kara's body a bit more rest; she was able to
remain still, wrapped in post-orgasmic bliss, for a few minutes and
then for a few minutes more, before she once again began to get
uncomfortably aroused. This allowed her companions more time to rest.
She began to show an interest in things other than the state of her
pussy. Grapes and fresh fruit were sent for, and Kara began to realize
how empty her stomach was. A scented bath was brought in, and Kara and
the Combat Team enjoyed that very much together.
But the most encouraging sign was that Kara began to kiss back, and to
attempt to return at least some portion of the pleasures the Combat
Team was showing her. Whatever suspicion Kara had of the women she was
with had all but dissipated by now, replaced by the camaraderie that
inevitably arises between a Supergirl and four women who have gotten
her off about four million times apiece in the course of a few days.
Kara and Lt. Natalya were curled up among the pillows, and Kara was
gently nibbling on Lt. Natalya's fascinating nipple, which was the
colour of grape flavoured Pez. The lieutenant was beginning to coo
aloud with obvious relish. The General came over, though, and said,
"We'll have to take you off this detail if you start enjoying this too
much." Natalya disentangled herself from Kara, and went over to pout
in the arms of Colonel Solveig, while the General offered her own regal
breasts to Kara's fiery little mouth. Fortunately, all four women soon
learned that little Kara was more than enough for all of them.
* * * * *
It happened during a round between Kara and Col. Solveig. She now knew
much more about the four women's personal lovemaking styles, and Col.
Solveig was definitely the most physically aggressive of the four. And
this time, Col. Solveig felt even more excited than usual. Kara felt
the Colonel's nipples get hard as the Colonel kissed her forcefully,
pressing her deep into the pillows surrounding them, and wrapping her
arms around her to caress the small of her back and then to massage
Kara's whole body within her grasp with all her own hard muscles. This
treatment usually left Kara gasping but very happy, and it was starting
to have its usual effects this time. But it was perhaps a measure of
Kara's recovery that she was feeling as much mischievous as she was
aroused.
She decided to turn the tables, to flop Solveig onto her own back and
give her a taste of her own medicine. In an eyeblink, Kara was on top
and holding a surprised Solveig with equal firmness. Solveig grinned
with lust and surprise, and said, "So you want to play rough this time,
do you?" And Solveig once again rolled on top of Supergirl, and
attempted to pin her to the floor. But no one was more surprised than
Solveig was when she found that Kara was back on top in no time at all.
The General, observing these proceedings, cautioned Kara, "You might
not know what you are getting into. She was Colchica's wrestling
champion last year."
But last year's wrestling champion for the time being was going to
remain firmly pinned beneath Supergirl. Solveig had not been
overpowered by sheer strength very often before, and she was not at all
sure she liked it. Supergirl herself was awestruck to see Solveig's
grapefruit-sized biceps flexing as she struggled against her grip; and
even more surprised to discover that while she made only a slight
headway against her grip, she was making some. She had never
encountered a Terran woman this hard to hold down before.
Solveig, starting out confident that her size would allow her to
overpower Supergirl, continued to try the direct approach until she
realized she was getting nowhere. But, she did not earn her
championship on sheer strength alone. She had one free leg, and she
used it to kick away the pillow that Kara's left knee rested on. Kara
momentarily lost her balance, and that was all she needed to break
free. Solveig rolled out from underneath Kara and was on her feet in a
snap. She then let out a sort of a roar as she charged towards Kara,
picking her up and kissing her even more furiously, excited as much by
the sheer joy of physical exertion as by desire. Kara, seeing how
happy she was in victory, found this joy contagious decided to let her
have her way --- for the time being.
Solveig held Kara's waist tightly between her legs, and began to
vigorously massage Kara's firm, high breasts, massaging her with deep
strokes. As she did so, Kara felt a strange sensation in addition to
her sheer physical excitement. She looked down in surprise as she saw
her breasts were starting to glow with the same greenish energy that
had got her into this predicament in the first place. And then, the
energy began arcing out and into Solveig's body!
Kara knew what was happening. She knew that her breasts contained a
reservoir of energy. Apparently they had taken on a large orgone
charge, which Solveig's rough handling had managed to shake loose. Now
Solveig was in a milder version of the same predicament Supergirl had
been in beforehand.
Almost instantly Solveig's steely grip on Supergirl began to weaken,
and she fell beside her --- in fact, she collapsed. The look of
lustful aggression in Solveig's eyes had been changed into a look of
lustful pleading, as her eyes said, "Please. Help. Hurry!" Kara knew
what she was going through. But she was going to learn who was boss
first.
Kara picked up Solveig and, though the Colonel was much larger than she
was, Kara easily slung her over her shoulder. The other women in the
room were astounded to see Kara toss the Colonel almost across the
room, where she landed on another large pile of pillows. They were
even more astounded to see Kara take a flying leap at her, land
accurately, and pound her deep into the cushions.
Kara wrapped her arms and legs around Solveig and flexed her muscles,
to massage their hardness deep into Solveig's flesh. Solveig squealed
and yielded. It excited Kara more than she would admit to see this
powerful woman was her helpless prisoner. She worked her way down her
body with her hands and tongue, keeping her always in her strong grip.
Solveig panted, unable to speak, as she learned that the wine of
surrender can be as sweet as the wine of victory.
When Kara finally lifted up her head, Solveig was bruised and sore all
over, and a very happy woman nonetheless.
"That was quite a performance," said the General.
Kara sat up. She felt more herself than she had for the last several
days, as the dregs of the orgone energy had been discharged into
Solveig, who got quite a charge out of it. She said, "OK, then.
Who's -this- year's wrestling champion?"
"That . . . would be me," said the General. "If you are feeling up to
it, perhaps you would like your first lesson in Colchican wrestling?"
"Sure," said Kara. By this time she was starting to want to do
something -different- for a change.
The General got up and directed the other women to clear out a space in
the roomful of pillows, making a circle around twelve feet across.
Kara and the General faced each other in the circle. Natalya and
Mikhailovna watched with great interest, and even Solveig was able to
lift her head enough to watch this.
Anyone who didn't know Kara would have pegged her as the sure loser in
this match. General Damasippe was almost half again larger than Kara,
with great broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks. "There are two
ways to win. One, your opponent goes out of bounds, puts any part of
her body outside the circle. Two, his or her backside or shoulders
touch the ground. No punching or kicking. Apart from that, there are
no rules. Understand?"
Kara nodded her agreement to the terms of battle. The General faced
her in the centre of the ring, bowed incongruously, and then charged
her. Her first move was to use her incredible shoulder size to simply
press Kara out of the circle and win. The battle was almost over
before it begun, as Kara was surprised at the amount of sheer pressure
the General was able to generate. Obviously all of these women were
much stronger than the average Terran. But Kara caught herself before
she was forced outside, set her legs, and began to return the pressure.
The General began to groan in surprise and frustration as she saw
herself being pushed back across the circle. Before she reached the
opposite border, she dropped to her knees. Kara kept pushing. The
General's back and buttocks looked like an ebony mountain range as her
muscles strained to resist Kara's incredible strength. Kara pushed
harder. The General gasped, and faltered a bit more, but Kara could
feel her digging deeper, trying harder. She might be forced out. But
she would not ever simply yield.
Kara grew somewhat afraid of the punishment her strength was inflicting
on Damasippe's body, fearful that she might break her back. She knew
she could. The General would force her to do so before she simply gave
in. She began to understand that these women's strength of will was as
mighty a weapon as the strength of their limbs. Fearful that she might
inflict some injury in this sport, she gave up that direct approach,
released the General, and stepped back. A different strategy was in
order.
That was the break the General needed, and she knew what to do to take
advantage. Using the pent-up tension in her back and legs, she sprung
forward, her head and neck turning into a battering ram aimed directly
at Supergirl's stomach. Caught off-guard, Supergirl lost her balance,
and she and the General tumbled forward, both of them landing outside
the ring. This was a risky move, but after what Damasippe had learned
about how strong Kara was, it was the only right one. The spectators'
call was fair; it was clear that Supergirl left the ring a split second
before the General did. She had been defeated.
"By the gods, you are strong --- a lot stronger than I am," the General
told her. "Lucky for me I have been playing this game longer than you
have." This wrap-up seemed fair to both women. "With some practice I
am sure you could easily become next years champion. We really ought
to take you to see the Princess. Would you like to have a look around
the island?"
Kara was not exactly prepared for the sights outside the building. She
expected everybody to get dressed or something before they headed for
the door; nothing doing.
Outside it looked like a combination of college campus and boot camp
peopled entirely by nude women. Whoever designed this place must have
been heavily into Greek Revival. She half expected to see the girls
with Delta Gamma or Kappa Alpha pins stuck on their nude bodies, but no
such luck. The whole area was built like a park, dotted with statues
of heroic women, with cedar, olive, laurel, and pine trees interspersed
among grasses and fields of wildflowers.
Everywhere, groups of women were busy at the various activities that
make up the Strenuous Life. In the distance, a group of women were
fast marching in formation. Nearer, they saw groups of four or five
engaged in such things as fencing and polearm practice; climbing
obstacle walls, lifting weights, or practicing Tai Chi and martial
arts.
And everywhere, the women looked as if this was their chief occupation.
Kara could conclude that the women she was seeing along the way were
of ages that probably ranged from fifteen to sixty. A few even had
heads of silver-grey hair. The others, she could only guess at their
ages from their eyes and faces. But from the neck down it was hard to
tell; for each one of them was hard and muscular from the neck down.
Nothing stooped or sagged on any of them. If anything, the older women
were larger and harder than the young ones.
Kara again had to ask, "Are there any men here at all?"
The General replied, "No, not now. It isn't like you might have heard.
But we have little need of men here. They aren't good for much. They
just make a lot of mess and noise, and the only method yet discovered
to cure their attitudes makes them even more fat and useless. Most men
simply lack the stamina to please us. The stronger the furnace, the
hotter the fire, after all. Even if they are fit enough, the effort
burns them out after about four or five years. They age rapidly here,
though many beg to die that way. It seems the humane thing to do to
discourage them from coming. We both know that men never know what's
best for themselves. That much is certain."
As they walked through the compound, they eventually came across groups
of women who were practicing more civilized arts; harvesting olives and
fruits, repairing buildings, and simply talking. But these peaceful
interludes were soon shattered once more by the ring of metal against
metal.
They were coming to a park circled by large buildings, again in the
same relentless Parthenon style of the rest of them. The noise was
coming from this courtyard. A group of women had gathered 'round to
watch as four women attacked a fifth. The four women were at least as
large as Damasippe or Solveig, and armed with scimitar, broadsword, two
daggers, and a net and trident. The fifth woman was unarmed. She was
breathtakingly beautiful, with long raven curls that reached down to
the small of her back, broad shoulders, full breasts, and a muscular
back. She wore nothing but the silver bracelets, same as everybody
else around here. Kara wondered what she had done to merit being
attacked by these four others, who seemed bent on her destruction.
Kara was amazed to see her singlehandedly, with amazing speed, fend off
simultaneous attacks from all of her opponents. She was fast enough to
interpose her silver bracelets between every sword and dagger blow, and
strong enough that her opponents' blades gave ground rather than she.
The net-bearer, after many unsuccessful tries, managed first to snare
her in her net of woven steel links. It seemed, though, that the
encumbrance slowed her down only slightly. She kept the sword-carriers
at bay with swift kicks until she was able to tear apart the steel net
with her hands and break free. Within a few minutes more, she had
managed to disarm her four opponents, destroying their weapons with the
shock of the impact against her metal bracelets. Undaunted, they tried
one last attempt to subdue her, seeking to wrestle her to the ground
and pummel her with their fists. This was no more successful than the
armed attack, as the lone woman sprung upward, flinging each of her
attackers into the applauding crowd.
The lone woman turned to one of her attackers and said, "You are truly
improving. It took me almost two and a half minutes this time before
you were all disarmed. With more practice you should be able to beat
the record and last three minutes." Her attacker bowed and saluted
her, as if she had received an impressive compliment. Whoever she was,
she was obviously a warrior of great strength and skill, able to keep
four formidable women at bay, and setting such a high standard that it
was considered remarkable that they were able to stand against her that
long while unarmed.
The crowd began to disperse, and General Damasippe approached her
respectfully, bowing slightly. "Princess, this is the captive we freed
that I was telling you about. The one that is immensely strong. She
managed to defeat Solveig quite handily, and if the contest were of
sheer strength alone, she would have easily beaten me at Colchican
wrestling."
"And?" replied the Princess, her eyebrow arching quizzically.
"I was wondering, if you would be willing to vie with her at one of the
conventional tests of strength, to find out what her limits truly are.
If that is agreeable to both of you."
Kara wondered what was going on; she was partially relieved to see her
own skepticism partially reflected on the Princess's face. The
Princess turned to address her directly, smiling graciously. Kara did
as the other women did and bowed slightly before meeting the Princess's
gaze. The Princess said, "My friend and comrade, it is not customary
here for us to see our guests discomfited in public. Should you wish
to decline the challenge which our General has saw fit to make on your
behalf, you may surely do so without any loss of honour whatsoever."
It was apparently one of the features of this outfit, Kara thought to
herself, that they manage to know exactly what to tell you in order to
get a 110% effort out of everybody. Kara was by no means certain that
she wanted to get into a battle of strength with the Princess --- until
now. But at the Princesses' ultra-courteous invitation to back down,
she decided that she instead would meet the Princess at whatever test
these people could devise.
"I would be happy to pit my own strength against you, Your Majesty."
Being called "Your Majesty" made the Princess's eyes roll, and
lightened her face up considerably.
"Please, call me Diana."
"Thank you, Diana. . . But, I would like to make sure if possible that
our contest be one of strength, and not a game of strategy like
Colchican wrestling."
"I gathered that from what the General told me. Then again, she
wouldn't be where she is if she were not an equal master of ruse and
battle. But we both would learn very little from the outcome unless
the contest was one of strength alone."
"Thank you. It is true, I have not practiced any of your Colchican
games or martial skills, and people around here seem to spend a lot of
their time on just those things."
"You sell us short, perhaps; but there is much truth in your words."
With this, the Princess's eyes lit on a nearby marble pedestal awaiting
a new statue. She gestured towards the pedestal and had two benches
brought forward. Sitting on one, the Princess placed her elbow on the
pedestal and invited Kara to do the same. "I take it you know how this
one is played. There isn't a great deal of room for strategy here.
One arm against the other."
Kara found this match reasonably un-suspicious. She sat down on her
bench and locked her right hand against the Princess's. "On the count
of three, General," the Princess said. And beneath the steely but
impartial gaze of the General, the contest began.
The Princess's almond eyes widened with amazement as her arm was forced
almost to the bare stone by Kara's initial thrust. But then it was
Kara's turn, as the princess slowly but surely began to turn the tide,
until they both were roughly back where they started. Both women
glanced at each other briefly, as if to acknowledge that this was not
going to be as easy as either of them thought at first.
The Princess's bicep was a furrowed mass of living rock, fed furiously
by pounding blood vessels that seemed ready to burst out of her skin.
She grit her teeth, and began to force Kara's arm towards the surface
of the stone.
And Kara grit her teeth, now more determined than ever that the
Princess would not emerge the victor from this contest. She too set
her teeth on edge and decided that there was no holding back here.
Kara began to fight back towards the centre. Her bicep began to glow
inside faintly at first.
But the Princess was not about to relinquish the gains she had won with
so much effort. Kara was able to force her back up slightly towards
the centre. She grimaced and gasped, attempting to increase her
leverage. No luck.
By this time, a circle of spectators had begun to gather around the
pedestal. Kara became dimly aware that she faced a hostile crowd. One
of the women approached the Princess's bench. "Why are you toying with
her? Why don't you finish her off?" she asked.
"Shut. . .up. . .!" was the Princess's only response, her usually
elaborate courtesy all but forgotten in the midst of this battle. The
other women were cheering for the Princess. Kara, however, had Solveig
cheering her on sheepishly, despite the disapproving glances of the
other women.
Blood began spurting out of the Princess's fingertips, and trickling
down the back of Kara's hand. Her face and forehead were now lined
with pain; her backside was lined with rolling sweat, her teeth
clenched in a grimace of steel determination, as she rolled her eyes to
the heavens, as if she were praying for further strength. Her biceps,
already pumped with effort, turned first red and then purple with
blood. The burning pain of exertion turned to agony, and then to an
achy numbness. Her hand seemed like it was clutching hot iron. She
seemed to falter a bit. But not much, and not enough.
Kara closed her eyes in sheer concentration. The glow in Kara's biceps
was now noticeable, first turning red, and now at an easily visible
yellowish white. A faint but high-pitched whine seemed to emerge from
her arms and shoulders. Kara smelled an acrid smell. Her long blonde
hair had brushed against her arm and shoulder. It was singeing. The
spectators could see the air around Kara's body shimmering with heat.
Her shoulder ached and burned with effort. But each woman's effort so
far was being matched by her opponent.
There was a loud report! Both women fell forward, on opposite sides;
both immediately began clutching their arms in pain. Neither was sure
of what had happened, or who had won the battle. It became apparent
that the loser, in fact, was the marble pedestal. It had cracked and
shattered, unable to endure the force both women were putting into it.
The Princess moved her forearm up and down, and Kara shook her own,
both women uncertain as to whether their arms still worked or not. The
palm of the Princess's hand was blistered where it had touched Kara's
skin. But for all that, the Princess was on her feet and helped Kara
to hers. "You definitely made your point," was all she had to say to
her at first.
<You didn't think I was actually going to -resolve- this, eh?>
"Perhaps we shouldn't do this too often," was Kara's reply.
"It's hell on the furniture."
The crowd of spectators crowded around them, cheering. They were
cheering the Princess for being so mighty. But they were also cheering
for Kara, that she had proven herself a worthy opponent to the Princess
also. Everyone congratulated Kara for her efforts here. No one had
ever been able to go toe to toe with their Princess before.
The Princess invited Kara to dine with her that evening.
* * * * *
The palace was a place of splendor, but in the midst of the other
splendors of the island it seemed only slightly more elaborate. The
dining room, by contrast, was positively frugal. Fresh fruit,
vegetables, and game seemed to be the chief items on the menu. Kara
was surprised to see that the Princess and herself would be dining
alone.
They both reclined on couches to eat, as was the apparent custom here.
So much the better, this means I won't have to use my arm that much.
For Kara was still rather stiff from that afternoon's exertions. So,
for that matter, was the Princess; her arm looked sore and bruised.
The Princess approached her after their Spartan meal and, seeing how
sore Kara was, began to massage her arm and shoulder. No one for a
long time had been able to massage Kara's body the way the Princess did
for a long time; everyone else only managed to move around her skin a
bit, but the Princess's powerful grip worked deep, loosening up her
still somewhat sore muscles.
"If you would like to leave, we can arrange that; we can take you to
Earth or to space. But I would really like it if you could stay with
us for a while. Maybe even join our sisterhood. We fight to defend
the freedom and independence of women everywhere."
"We are all strong here on Colchica; but my own strength was a gift
from our goddesses. Never before have I met an opponent whom I was
truly able to test my body against. Our training could teach you to be
an even more effective warrior. And we could train together, becoming
both of us stronger as we find someone our near equal train with."
Kara met the Princess's gaze. Her eyes were all dewy, and her nipples
standing at attention. It was obvious that the Princess would like to
test her body against Kara's in more than mere tests of strength.
"Stay with us for at least a while, and I will show you why many call
this island Paradise. . ."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Sharon Best - aka 'Supergirl' (sharon@interserv.com)
"Writing is nothing to be ashamed of but do it in private
and wash your hands afterwards."
Lazarus Long - from 'Time Enough for Love'
"What's the point in ever doing anything if nobody out there's
watching?"
Suzanne Stone (Nicole Kidman), To Die For (1995)
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[END]
Brian C. Ladd, Curator, Mindnumbing Archive
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