Message-ID: <3901eli$9709081120@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Bookman Archives Subject: RP: The Lady mf, oral, historical Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <341327F3.51C7@wolfenet.com> (Note: I am not the author, only the archivist. The following story contains scenes of explicit sex. If you're not old enough to be here, you're not old enough to read it. Scram. I am missing the center part of this three-part story. I'm posting it because the other two are able to stand alone. If anyone has part 2, or the complete story, I'd love to have it to complete the archive.) The Lady, Part 1 ROBIN part 1 The young woman's lightly freckled skin, so little exposed to the sun, is mottled with goosebumps. The fire in the hearth across the room crackles likes boots on fall leaves, but the damp November chill still permeates the heavy stone walls. She has slept finally, exhausted, after the long trip, gagged and blindfolded. She is tied to the bed, arms stretched tight and legs spread wide, and a thick silk scarf covers her eyes. The muffled echo of the hoofbeats in snow had been unable to drive from her mind the terror of grey-coated men, little more than peasants, rushing into the room and rounding up her parents, brothers and sisters. Two had grabbed her arms and pulled her through the door to the sunroom where she had spent so many hours sitting with her Nana, doing her needlework and listening to the old woman's tales of times past. At the report behind her she whirled, and saw her father slump to the floor. She remembers her scream and the barrel of the pistol ascending to her forehead with an audible click of the hammer. Her memory there ends; she knows she must have fainted - or was she, too, slaughtered and now living in some licentious afterlife? Yet, the bruises from the carriage ride and the burning of the strong but flavorless spirit given to warm her remained all too real.Sharp too are the memories of her torn dress being gently removed from her, and her clawing efforts to maim these faceless abductors, surely accomplices of her family's assailants. A soft gown had been handed to her with instructions from a soft but firm feminine voice to don it. The girl had responded by kicking out and screaming at each voice, each set of anonymous hands, until they had restrained her, naked, on the bed and forced yet more of the liquor down her throat, apparently to soften her fright. Now she was very awake, and somewhat drunk for the first time in her life. The priests had forbade her use of intoxicants, although her mother's frightening monk had tried to offer her a cup or two when others were not around. She shuddered; that mad, mesmerizing man... But now, the alcohol coursing through her system as would a small blaze, each inch of her uncovered flesh bared to sensations of flickering heat, alternating with cool zephyrs, she drifted with new sensations, undistracted by sight. Would the touch of a gentle man's rough hand on her budding breasts and rosebud nipples - perhaps Serj, her father's handsome adjutant - cause them to harden as now? Would the feel of his breath on her thighs, bring about the river she now felt flowing in, and from, her downy sex. She trembled; Serj's eyes always looked for hers entering a room she was in. Oh, how he would react if he were to see her as she was now! Would her nakedness cause him to fling off his clothes to be as bare as she, his passion to bring him as erect as the men in the naughty tales the governesses told each other at night when they thought the children could not hear? She imagined that he was in the room now, gazing at each hillock, each curl, each secret fold of her form. Maybe he in fact silently was sitting before her now, his hand hovering to touch her at any moment. Her hips involuntarily rose, as if to meet an outstretched hand or.... as in the salacious tales - a pair of lips? What would they feel like, softly, wetly tugging down where... Footsteps! A soft, obviously feminine tread came toward her. What must this stranger think, with her youthful, hairless cleft moist with lust, her hips perceptibly writhing? The knot holding the blindfold loosened, and then - oh the light! Even the dim fire in the hearth hurt her eyes, but soon they adjusted and took in the large bedchamber, with brocade curtains framing a view of falling snow, and ornate French furniture, including the four-poster bed to which the silk kerchiefs attached her limbs. In front of her was a young, dark-haired serving girl, with large dark eyes and flawless small features. Her brief, tight blue dress typed her as a maidservant, a chambermaid. Wordlessly, the maid swept a thin white silk coverlet over the tied young woman, from mid-thigh up to the upper swell of her breast. The liquid touch of the fabric further distended her passion-betraying nipples. A heavier tread drew her gaze to the chamber door. A tall, lithe man, in his late thirties, gracefully entered. His blonde, trimmed beard matched the light hair uncovered as he doffed his carefully blocked black top hat, which he handed to the maid with his snow-strewn great coat. His fairness suggested he was from the West; a Latvian? An elegant waistcoat with impeccably tailored trousers placed him as a man who traveled in circles of wealth and refinement, as she was accustomed. He approached and smiled. The audacity of the villain! She screamed, "Why have you abducted me? You will be hanged before dawn for this outrage." Her shaking fury loosened the coverlet, and it dropped to uncover one perfect swelling mound, and its pink- tipped bud. He reached over and slid the white silk sheet up to her shoulder. He spoke, with a soft, sympathetic tone, a slight Scandinavian lilt. "Oh my Princess, I see your confusion. But you see, at great risk, I've saved your life..." Her confusion was mixed with wariness. "But the men who brought me here were with those who..." Suddenly the memory of her father's assasination flooded her thoughts, and tears began to well. He nodded, "I knew the attack would come, and had my men there to act as part of the mob. Do you recall them taking you from the room with guns drawn?" She nodded, still uncertain. "My agents pretended to kill you just out of the view of the throng, and spirited you away. Had they not, you would have been dead within seconds." He paused; his voice lowered. "I am sorry... The rest of your family...there was nothing I could do." She was silent. She had had many hours to accustom herself to their likely passing. The strangeness of her situation, his caring manner, the spirits, and her nakedness and no-longer-quiescent lustful thoughts all served to numb her mourning. That time too would come. For now, she must adjust to this reality: her life never again would be as before, and none could know who she was. He reached up to her scarf-bound wrist, wrily chiding, "I guess that I can release you now. My servants perhaps need no longer fear your ire." "No!!" Her cry stopped him, puzzlement in his eyes. Her firm voice barely betrayed the vodka she had downed. "I can only surmise what woman I now am destined to be, what guise I must adopt to survive the forces that have swept away my family. I must learn to navigate these new currents in a channel never charted by an mapmaker. I barely know myself, my feelings; yet, my confinement has shown me some that I had before heard only whispered about." She sat up as much as the bonds would permit, allowing the coverlet to slide to her hips. His breath caught at the vision of her breasts exposed in the red glow from the hearth. A flick of her hips pooled the fabric at her side, exposing the wet, engorged petals of her virginal sweet lips. Across the room, the auburn-tressed maid gasped aloud, her own tongue wetting her lips and her breathing growing heavy. On the bed, the girl's green eyes fastened on the blonde aristocrat. "I now can control nothing, and must know what that means. Rid yourself of your attire and come to me, and do what you will to slake your lust - and to teach me of mine." With those words, she felt the river in her loins again flood with passion, seeping onto her thighs. Slowly, he removed his clothes, handing each garment to the stunned maid. The fair captive gasped as she saw each of the manor lord's striated muscles come into view. Finally, nude, he approached her. Her eyes fixed on his thick, enlarged male sword; her mouth grew dry. He sat next to her, his scent filling her. One strong hand gentle stroked her cheek, and then descended her neck, brushing her nipples. He drew it down her side, over her taut young buttocks, and along her pale thighs. Her dewy, succulent mound again rose from the bed. She panted, "Please, caress me, touch me... there!" "Yes, Your Highness, I will pleasure you... my Princess Anastasia..." She shuddered, knowing that this might be one of the last times that she could be addressed by the name giving her by her royal parents. Many were the enemies of the aristocracy among the peasant revolutionaries. Her gaze went to the window. Yes, she thought, I will now be forced to wander, rarely lighting for more than a moment, hoping to survive the chill of the despotism of the masses. In a moment, her eye was drawn to a small, dark bird, resting on the bare branches of an alder just outside the window, resting stoically in the frigid November air ruffling its orange-red chest feathers. Its head bobbed, then froze, its eyes locked to hers. For a heartbeat, their souls embraced, danced, shared much of life and survival in the unforgiving chill. Its beak dropped and grabbed a grub, and then the bird looked at her one final time, in almost a salute to another brave flier, and then it alit. "That's me," she uttered in a tone of recognition. The blonde man and dark nurse stopped in uncomprehending astonishment. "I'm Robin now", she explained, "and I will survive, and flourish... and experience.. everything." This moment of joyous self-knowledge rose to one of epiphany as - for the first time - she knew the touch of a man at the portals of her private place. His soft, highborn hands probed at her nether lips, and his middle finger slipped inside as it stroked. Her eyes closed and her loins again leaped up to capture the digit, drawing it up her tight tunnel, until it struck her taut maidenhead. Her hips churned, so as to feel his soft, stiff finger in every corner and as far up into her moistening young pussy as the membrane would allow. She smiled up at his handsome face with a grimace of passion. "I want. . ." she started, but could not find the words. He smiled back, and brought his lips to hers, and then drew them down her throat, nibbling at her reddish-blonde hair cascading along the pillow, and along the swell of her firm, teen-aged breasts. Her pink nipples swelled in excitement, and then were devoured by his mouth. The roughness of his sucking and slight scratchiness of his beard reminded her how helpless she was in front of his masculine onslaught. His finger withdrew from her damp slit, and again lightly, teasingly stroked her fully engorged labia. She moaned, wishing her hands were not bound to the bedposts, so that she could force his hand back inside her. To the extent the bonds permitted, her body swayed side-to-side, so as to force her young tit further into his slavering mouth. The newly self-named Robin, former Princess Anastasia of Russia, turned to the dark-haired maid, who was running her hands up the sides of her own firm, uniform-covered breasts. "Please, Miss," Robin implored, "I beseech you; do not let your master torture me with his teases. Draw a sword on him if you must, but make him bring me to the pleasure that he promises with his touch!" The maid turned to the aristocrat, who raised his lips from the girl's chest long enough to nod and state in reply, "Yes, come join us, Sonya." As she began to shed the uniform, the man's head descended further down Robin's torso, nibbing and licking along her flat stomach. His teeth playfully clamped along her light pubic hair. The now nude slim maid rushed over. "No, Count," she teased in her accent from the southern areas, "our guest has said that you must give her pleasure now." With that, the dark maid grasped the top of his head with both hands and pressed his face into Robin's loins, his lips firmly attached to the wet lips of her cunt. The sudden rush of ecstacy from his touch nearly caused Robin to burst the strong bonds in her passion. The kneeling man between her thighs pursed his lips and lightly sucked at her clit through her virginal pink pussy lips. The waves of pleasure burst up her spine, and she spread her thighs even wider, if that were possible. Glancing down her body, she saw the maid leap onto the broad bed, duck her head under the Count's body, and capture the tip of his erect rod between her lips. He reflexively bucked forward, driving the phallus into the young woman's mouth and down her throat. The Count then passionately drove his own tongue between Robin's thigh and up into her sweet tunnel, probing and tickling her passion hole. The maid permitted the man to drive his hard, fleshy cock several times deep into her mouth, and then removed her tousled head from underneath him. She ducked her lips down Robin's thighs and down alongside the Count's licking mouth. She lightly tongued the edge of Robin's furred lips, and then pulled at the blonde hair of the Count. "Yes, milord, she now is ready!" As he pulled his lower body up between Robin's legs, Sonya grasped his thick cudgel, and probed along the blonde girl's sopping pussy. As Robin waited apprehensively, the Count pushed forward... ------------------------------- Robin held her breath, her teeth clenched, as the fleshy tip spread her portals, then stopped, resting just inside. She shuddered in excitement, and then felt his thickness again press forward. A weight lifted from the bed, and she saw the nude maid come around behind her and entwine her fingers in those of Robin's outstretched, bound hands. As the heavy cock pressed up against her intact maidenhead, Robin squeezed the younger girl's hands. Without warning, the Count pushed forward and Robin felt a sudden stab of pain in her loins, and the sudden realization that he was through her hymen and halfway into her newly stretched pussy. Just then, raven- tressed Sonya leaned over and harshly sucked her right breast into her mouth. The competing sensations offset one another, and the blonde felt herself drawn into a maelstrom of intense pleasure, sensation and sharp but fading agony. Amidst the rush of feeling, an overriding thought rushed through her overwhelmed mind: I am now truly into my new life, no longer a girl living a pampered life of regal splendor and regimented societal convention, but a woman with intelligence, indomitable spirit, and ...she could not help giggling to herself, a hell of a huge cock in her fully stretched young cunt! The Count withdrew his glorious organ and paused, then rammed it back in, farther than before. Slowly he drew back, and then began the to-and-fro motion that Robin had always imagined but now was experiencing in all of its wonderful reality. Some pain remained, but rather than running from it, Robin determined to push through it, lurching her loins up to his, at first tentatively, but soon in abandon. A recurring "Yes, yes," escaped from her lips. The maid pulled her mouth up briefly from Robin's breast, and seeing Robin's pleasure-contorted features, smiled at the princess. "The Count, he is no longer teasing you?" Robin smiled back, and Sonya impetuously leaned down and clamped her lips onto Robin's own. Robin had kissed other girls of the royal court before - such was the accustomed greeting of her time - but this new sensation, added to the thrills of the stroking rod in her pussy, was more of a thrill than she could have expected. She warmly responded to the kiss, and met Sonya's exploring tongue with her own. As they noisily kissed, Robin realized that the sensations in her loins now began to take on a more intense, pulsating cast. She groaned into Sonya's mouth, who pulled away and grinned. "Is the Count bringing you to a cum?" she asked. Robin nodded, half in confusion. "I think so," she responded. "Whatever is happening, it is glorious beyond all measure." Suddenly, an electric thrill started at her loins and began to run up her spine. Her loins jolted forward, and she began to jerk. With a single, loud, "Goddddddd!" she froze, and an indescribable sensation swept over her..... her first, unbelievable orgasm.... (Part 2 missing) THE LADY, PART 3 (of 3) (Where our heroine, Princess Anastasia, learns to adjust to her new life as a commoner, "Robin", on the grounds of the estate of her mysterious savior, the mysterious Count.) After two weeks of idleness in the Count's lavish castle,"Robin" began taking longer strolls past the well-kept gardens and out to the fields of the estate. The Count had left again on a business trip to England, and Robin needed time to ponder what type of relationship she had with her benefactor. Since the furious orgy in her room with the Count and his maid, the man had seemed almost shy around her, and had neither raised nor sought to reprise the lustful event. One chilly morning, she found herself drawn to the large, grey barn at the edge of the inner curtelage of the estate. Her boots crunched at the thin layer of snow leading up to the grey-weathered structure. She peered through a cracked door. Hunched over a blacksmith's anvil was a large, broadbacked man with dark, coarse hair. He was clad in dark rough trousers held up by suspenders. He wore no shirt to cover his heavily muscled torso, as the heat thrown off by the rough forge stove heated the room. A light coat of sweat and grime covered his chest and roughhewn face. His large hands worked at the tongue of a wagon, his hammer poised to pound at the pig iron. Looking beyond him, she could see that the remainder of the barn was filled with hay, to see the estate's horses through the winter. She stepped inside, her shoulder brushing against the door. Its rusted hinges creaked. The hulking figure looked up, and his ebony eyes peered through the gloom toward her. He was younger than she first guessed, perhaps about 30. His gaze examined her without wavering, scorching her chilled skin. As a princess, she had never experienced a commoner's gaze, as such eye contact was forbidden. Now she felt defenseless against his probing examination that unabashedly swept from ankles to head. He grunted with a smile, as though he had reached a satisfying conclusion as to her past, and as to how he should classify her. He returned to his work, lifting the heavy hammer as if it were a toy, and striking at the heated, malleable iron. Robin's face flushed with indignation at his dismissive air. She started to turn and leave the barn, but something about the scene - the crackle and oily smell of his fire, the almost unearthly bulge of his workman's muscles, perhaps the grey light of the overcast morning - drew her further in. Her light tread brought her to within ten feet of him. He pretended not to notice her entrance. She cleared her throat, albeit in ladylike fashion. "Hello, I'm Robin. I'm a guest of the Count." Her voice faltered. Robin blushed again, feeling like a schoolgirl. He nodded curtly, silently, and then resumed his pounding. After a few strokes, he held the metal tongue up to his eyes and examined it for flaws. This time, she searched his face, finding a surprising intelligence, in an artistic sense, in his dark eyes. With a sigh - as though recognizing an obligation to the owner of the estate - the man finally responded. "Ivan." The voice was soft, but a bit gravely, as though unaccustomed to much use. Ivan reached down and picked up several rolled bars of iron, and turned to take them to a larger pile against the wall. Robin stood transfixed at the sight of his pectorals and back muscles lifting and clenching as he moved the heavy iron. When he returned to the fire, he found her standing next to his small work table. He stopped only a foot away from her, as though his overwhelming presence would suffice to reclaim his spot and compel her to move. But, she did not move, but looked up at his weathered face. His powerful scent of sweat and soot did not repel her, as it was not really unpleasant, but rather seemed fully appropriate to the setting and her unexpectedly growing desire. Her gaze dropped to his chest. She placed a slim hand on his sternum, brushing lightly against his mat of dark hair. A forefinger traced his striated, developed pectorals. Robin was enraptured. Certainly she'd known large men in the palace in St. Petersburg, but those giants were soft, little used to muscle-hardening work. Ivan was unlike any of them. She looked up again, at his blank eyes, at his mouth. Still, he did not move. Was he waiting for some sign from her? She paused, and then her other hand slid up his shoulder and around to the back of his thick neck. She pulled his head down and turned hers to the side, bringing his lips to the side of her neck. Finally, she felt a response, his mouth opened and began an insistent nibbling at her throat.The huge hands clasped her waist; one continued around to encompass, to almost surround, her slim buttocks in its grasp. As his slavering lips and teeth descended from her throat, she moved her fingers to the front of her dress and quickly undid the buttons, guiding him down almost to her waist, his lips kneading the silk slip underneath the frock. His hands clutched at the top of the slip, and gently but firmly tore it neatly down the front, exposing her taut, pert breasts. Even with the fire's warmth, her nipples were rigid with excitement. Ivan dropped to one knee, and his hungry mouth began attacking each orb in turn. He sucked, then tugged at them. Rough, he was - almost painful, but he eased up when she yelped. Her loins began a slow churning as they filled with her dewy passion. He rose, retracing his lips' path up her slim chest to the hollow of her throat. A quick nip at her chin, and then his mouth found hers; his tongue trying to probe between her cherry lips. Robin froze. What was this type of kiss with the tongue? Further, it seemed a bit familiar and unpleasant, this grimy beast in her mouth that way. Her lips stayed together. Robin could feel his muscles tighten, then his face pulled away. He raised her into the air by her bare shoulders, did a half pirouette, and flung her at least ten feet through the air onto a large stack of loose hay. She fell heavily on her back. As he began to turn away, she blurted, "I'm sorry! It's not you!" Ivan stopped and looked back at her - dubious and wounded. "Please, come here. You see, I'm just not used to that ... and I wasn't sure of the taste and..." His hurt look darkened, and she understood that she had insulted him. And then, she realized that she did want to taste him, intimately. She looked at his crotch and saw for the first time that his trousers were tented with an extraordinary bulge. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Suddenly, Ivan bent down and grabbed the top of her dress and her shredded underblouse - both of which now were bunched at her waist - and pulled them down over her hips, bringing the remainder of her dress and her silk pantaloons with them. Lifting her legs, he pulled her clothes off her legs and flung them aside, leaving her wearing nothing but a silver choker around her neck. She felt the scratchy but silky straw against her back and ass. All of her senses - particularly that of touch - seemed heightened in her excitement and passion. The cool draft tickled the hair on her inner thigh and ruffled the pubic hairs guarding her until- recently virgin vagina. The crackle and burning tang of the forge's fire further added to the rawness of the scene. "Sit up!" he growled, stepping forward. The red-headed girl rose to her knees, her head bowed. His hands reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling it back to raise her eyes to meet his. "Well?" he asked. She understood his question. She nodded slowly, and her gaze dropped to his stained trousers, still-inflated by his blood-engorged pole. Her slender hands traced the outline of his cock. Her chin quivered; she had no idea that they got so big! One hand slipped up to his waistline and tugged at one suspender. Ivan took the hint and slid them off his shoulders. In the meantime, she busily undid the buttons of his trousers; as the last went, the pants slid down to his ankles. The glow of the fire cast a reddish glow on his mammoth member as it bobbed into the light. Robin slid a hand around its girth, the tips of her thumb and forefinger barely meeting. She pulled the loose skin up and down slowly, and then increased her pace. "It's so.... God, it's incredible," said Robin. She briefly looked up at his face. "I would like to ... taste you. I mean, to taste IT." She wetted her lips with her tongue, then leaned forward. Pursing her red lips, she planted a kiss on the tip of his member, allowing her tongue to slip out and lap gently at the tip. She worked it around the end of the cap, then slid it along the side. She nibbled, then feasted along the broad shaft, savoring his flavor, his aroma. As she worked her way back out to the tip, his hands once again reached down toward her face. This time, however, he place his palm on her forehead and pushed away. She gaped in shock. "But I... didn't you like it?" she sputtered. "Did you?" he responded. "Of course, but..." Then Robin recalled her resolve to truly sample life, not as a spectator, watching from its periphery, but as a full, unabashed reveler at the center of the festival. Yet, she recognized, she was merely - and literally - nibbling at its edges. She sat up again, and renewed her stroking of his throbbing organ, noting his manjuice seeping out of the tip. "Ivan, I truly do want to taste you, your cock and your..." She paused, searching for the word. "My cum? Do you want to know the taste of a man's cum?" Robin blushed, but nodded. Her stroking of his engorged organ increased in tempo. She saw his pre-cum bead at the end. Impetuously, she threw her face forward and captured the red cap between her lips. Her cheeks hollowed as she drew in the essence. His seepage tasted of cream, and salt... and life itself. She drew her mouth further up his stalk, her tongue moving along the underside of the fleshy cudgel against which it was pressed. As Ivan's tip reached the opening of her throat, Robin gagged slightly and drew back to catch her breath. Her heartbeat quickened as his hands lightly cupped the back of her head and pushed it back into his groin. Again he stopped at the entrance to her throat, and she grew slightly more accustomed to its probing. He allowed her to draw halfway out, and then forcefully pushed her forward, pressing her lips against her hands which continued to grasp the base of his cock. Establishing a tighter grip on her now disheveled red hair, Ivan guided Robin's mouth with more vehemence, pushing his prick deep inside, so that her hands were flattened against his stomach. To and fro he pulled her, now entering her throat with an audible gagging sound. Robin momentarily tried to push away against his hip, but soon realized the futility of resisting the oral assault of this musclebound hulk - she might more easily take meat from the grasp of a hungry badger. Ivan's strokes into her mouth lengthened in distance, starting just outside her slightly parted lips, driving quickly through them into her wet maw, and deep into her helpless throat. On withdrawing, his cock exited from her lips with an audible sucking. Robin tried diligently to maintain the tension of her sweet lips throughout his passage. Now, all of Robin's senses were bursting with sensation, from the sight of his muscular loins, to the smacking and slurping sounds of her lips, to the pungent taste of his dribbling pre-cum that filled her mouth and dripped from her lips. Each sensation drew her closer to a feeling that she might soon pass out, her heart pounding out of excitement and not a little fear that the increasingly deep thrusts down her windpipe might cut off all air. Still, she syncronized her sucking to capture all of the sensations of this near-rape of her mouth and to bring him to his explosion. Suddenly, Ivan gave three quick jabs into her mouth and then held her mouth about halfway down his now still cock. Her lower lip felt a pulsation along the vein on the underside, and then her mouth exploded with the taste of his sperm jetting into her surprised mouth. Ivan grunted, then literally roared his release. Robin pursed her lips and groaned once and again, as though keeping time with each burst of his juice. Her eyes flung open to see his face as he jetted out his ecstacy; to her surprise he saw his gaze fixed on her lovely face as she accepted his cum into her mouth. Just then she realized that she could not hold all of the essence he was releasing, and a stream of the white lava gushed out of the corners of her mouth, down her chin, and onto her white breasts and passion-taut nipples. She quickly began swallowing, savoring each tangy drop of this mammoth man's offering. Her hand returned around the base of his still shooting stalk, and as though by instinct she resumed her stroking in order to milk him of all of the cum he had to offer, and her tongue was once more covered with his semen. In a few more moments, his shots were reduced to a dribbling stream, and his stiffness began to wilt slightly. She sucked firmly on his tip twice more to extract what remained, and then she pulled her mouth away. Ivan dropped to one knee, drained. Robin fell to her back on the straw, and stared at the barn's roof. Her cum-flecked lips smiled in triumph... ========= Author of the erotic science fiction tale "I Think *=TRANE=* I Scan" - part of the Circlet Press anthology ========= *Selling* *Venus*, to be released in July 1995. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /