Message-ID: <24766asstr$961409405@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: anon.lcs.mit.edu!nym.alias.net!mail2news X-Original-Message-ID: <20000619001905.29370.qmail@gacracker.org> From: Author-Address: dr_mentor redneck gacracker org Administrative-Comment: Send comments to Mail-To-News-Contact: postmaster@nym.alias.net Subject: {ASSM} Alvi Daydreams 05010 <*> {Dr. Mentor} (Ff toys exhib dream caution bd sm tickle) Date: Mon, 19 Jun 2000 06:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw, english -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- - -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Alvi's Inspired Daydreams 05010 By Dr. Mentor First posted 11-Jun-2000 Reposting without X-No-Archive. Also the post to ASS never got to my news server (Drat!) This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. Please do not put on any archive, site, or distribution medium without written permission. Exception: www.asstr-mirror.org and Deja.com may archive this in their usenet archives. Similarly, exception is granted to other fully automatic electronic archiving machines. My e-mail is dr_mentor at redneck dot gacracker dot org (assemble it manually). If you think this story should be in a specialty newsgroup, please post a message to alt.sex.stories.d, and I'll handle it. You could post a spotlight in that group, but do let me know anyway. Here's a thank-you to the ASSTR folks for running ASSM. We appreciate it! Where can I send donations? Thanks to the folks at Potato Software and all the folks running anonymous remailers and nym servers. I wouldn't dare do this without you. I plan to write up more daydreams and I have more to say about Alvi and Robbyn. However, this is not a novel that is broken up into segments. These stories will be created right before posting; they don't already exist. Each is a separate literary work. The numbers that are part of the title may help us to someday understand the chronological arrangement of the stories. Please send any responses by posting to alt.sex.stories.d, and make sure to leave Alvi in the subject header. I'll find your comments by searching on Alvi. I search, not scan. WARNINGS & DISCLAIMERS This may count as a "stroke" story, or not. Actually, I deliberately started out to do that. The whole idea of the "Daydreams" was to have an excuse to write short, hot vignettes. The characters seem to be taking on a life of their own. In any case, I plan to have a high ratio of erotic content over character development and plot. Live erotically, and tell those who excite you that they do! The caution in the subject line is because this story includes women who have undergone surgical genital modification, though the surgical event is not described here. No knives, blood, or gore here. You just get to see the fun they have with it after it has been long healed. LEGAL STUFF: Is this story illegal in the jurisdiction you live in? I can't tell. Neither can you. You aren't the one who gets to decide whether it is obscene in your community. Some judge gets to do that. Are you worried yet? Keep in mind that the Police Chief, District Attorney, and Judge are probably all elected political officers. Those folks need to WORK to maintain their power. If they figure they can increase their chances of getting re-elected by putting you in jail. well, you figure it out! Be paranoid. Why do you think I post anonymously? Learn all you can about encryption and anonymity on the Net. Read at your own risk. Anyhow, if you are under 18, this story is quite likely illegal to read. And probably offensive. And it'll give you anti-social, perverted ideas and filthy habits, and probably bad jokes. Delete this message now and go read the biographies of Albert Schweitzer and Nelson Mandella. Those will do you more good than this will! If you keep reading this series long enough, I'll offend you, too! As to the toys and actions in this series: Don't try this at home (or if you do, proceed vewy, vewy quuuietwy, very carefully, very gently, and at your own risk). Some of the stuff these FICTIONAL CHARACTERS get away with would have harsh repercussions if you tried it, from legal action through death. Keep in mind: this whole series takes place on a fictional world where the laws and customs are different, human anatomy is different, the laws of physics are different, the deities are different, and these FICTIONAL CHARACTERS have the Author in their favor. (Perhaps God is watching us; be entertaining!) And the stuff inside Alvi's daydreams is even one more step removed from reality! Concerning the fictional world: Alvi and Robbyn (her older sister and guardian) live in the town of Sheauxville, a suburb of New Domington, in the province of Biyendee in the People's Republic of Genitamia. The PRG is an ally of both Perversia and the Essemian Empire, and hostile to Tyrranistan, welcoming refugees from there. Alvi and Robbyn are two such refugees. The PRG is officially neutral to the Prurinesian Island Conglomerate. All in Multiverse 915.807 + 836.808i /bis, now LIVE on the OmniversalRealityWeb. Alvi and Robbyn are nicknames the girls invented after immigrating here. Their real names in their native land of Prurinesia were Al'tklanvptavi, and Rob'writvaviin. The Genitamians weren't even getting close to pronouncing those names right, so the girls invented the nicknames. Generally, the Genitamians find these ruddy-skinned Prurinesian island girls to be exotic and beguiling, and the Prurinesians find the fair Genitamians to be striking and fascinating. The People's Republic is rife with half-believed stories of secret sexual skills and magic of the Prurinesians. And, yes, I sometimes use the term "girls" for adult young women. Get used to it! And I'm a sufficiently poor writer that I prefer to just TELL you all that stuff rather than spend a lot of effort working it into the stories. Memorize it as your homework, there will be a quiz in the morning! By now, you're probably wondering if we're ever going to get to the story. So am I! ======= ========== ========== ========== =========== ========== This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. Alvi was looking through her closet, looking at her clothes from a new viewpoint. On previous days, her concern had always been how she would look. On some days she wanted to look sweet, on others sexy, and on some days she just wanted to be inconspicuous. Today, she wanted something that would feel sexy, and bring her pleasure. Those nasty captioned pictures she had found in Robbyn's room had fired her imagination. Alvi was especially fascinated by the story of Karina, a woman who had been forced to undergo the surgical splitting of the hood over her clitoris. That had made the poor woman's clit completely vulnerable to the various torments applied by her abusive masters and mistresses. They had wound a rope around her waist as a belt, and then threaded more rope from that "belt" down through the crack of Karina's butt and up through her crotch and then attached to the "belt" in front. The next picture showed and described how a Mistress lovingly spread her victim's inner labia and fit the rope right in between them, making sure it snuggled right against her utterly defenseless clitty. Then, any motion, including walking, would cause the rope to scuff not just the tip of her clit, but the whole tender shaft, too! They then dressed Karina in a classy dress with a short hemline and sent her walking on errands around town, looking for all the world like a high-society lady. Alvi had been unable to put down the pages that described, in the lovely victim's own words, the erotic sensations as she strutted down the street. The friction of the rope sent a hot thrill through her with each step, and quickly aroused her libido to a demanding hunger for sex. As her clit became engorged and sensitized, the caress of the rope became overly intense. Karina tried to take the hip-rocking motion out of her gait, to reduce the delicious stimulation which was rapidly becoming prickling, almost painful. But, her body was responding to the stimulation and getting ready for sex, including accentuating the wiggle in her ass. Her body was going on automatic, and she was shocked to realize she was soon going to orgasm. Panicked, she looked hastily for some bit of privacy to have the orgasm she now needed so desperately. She was a screamer, and she knew she would totally humiliated to have a squealing orgasm right on the busy sidewalk. Karina had ducked into a dress shop, picked up the first dress she saw and desperately asked the teenaged sales girl where the dressing room was. She ran to the doorway indicated, trying to outrun her own passion. She barely got into the door and threw her hand over her mouth before she came, squealing, in a great convulsive climax, with every muscle in her body spasming or trembling. She sagged against the wall, quivering with luscious aftershocks of delight. She drew in great ragged lungfulls of air, wallowing in waves of erotic delirium that calmed slowly. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. Finally, getting a bit of control, she managed to walk out into the shop to hang the dress back up. In her first two steps, she discovered her situation had become worse. Now, her clit had become more sensitive after her orgasm, and would normally have withdrawn into the protection of the clitoral hood. However, poor Karina's surgically split hood provided no protection from caresses of the rope, which now seemed harsh to the point of erotic agony. She froze right after those first two steps, overwhelmed with sensations that merged pain and pleasure into a devastating experience. The salesgirl looked at her with a curious expression, almost knowing, and Karina felt the warmth of a blush that washed from the roots of her hair right down to her breasts. Alvi had been forced to hastily put the document away, as she heard the door open downstairs and knew Robbyn would soon be coming up to her room. Alvi had been distracted at dinner, her mind awash with increasingly wicked images. She gave up on studying, unable to concentrate on her schoolwork. Her sleep was disturbed by erotic dreams, as her mind rearranged images and words into increasingly twisted variations. She awoke hot and bothered, and took a cold shower rather than masturbate, suddenly ashamed that Robbyn might hear her. This morning, standing in front of her closet, Alvi was possessed by a perverse desire to feel something like that woman felt. Not so strong, but something that would be challenging by the end of the school day. She chose a pair of short-shorts which were loose and designed to be held up by suspenders. Once she had them pulled up she unclipped and adjusted the suspenders so that the both attached to the shorts in the front-center, right over her vulva. In back, she shifted the suspender clips to a point right over the crease of her derriere. She then tightened the suspender adjustments to make the shorts a bit tight in her crotch. She took a few steps around the room, and found she had been successful. The crotch seam of the shorts shifted over her lacy panties with each step, causing a slight scratchy vibration that she found tickly and teasing. She shivered slightly at the thought of experiencing that all day. A fuzzy pink sweater was next, for she already knew that it provided a tickling kind of caressing of her bare breasts and would thrill her all day. And the sweater was long enough to conceal the odd placement of the suspenders. In just moving about her room to get ready for school, it was all she could do to restrain herself from bursting into giggles at the lascivious tickling of her tender spots. Alvi scampered downstairs and skipped into the kitchen to give her big sister, Robbyn, a good-bye hug. She found Robbyn bent over the sink, doing the breakfast dishes. "Robbyn, turn around and give me a hug!" Robbyn turned, saw Alvi, and her heart skipped a beat. She loved her little sister dearly, but was becoming increasingly erotically attracted to her. She was having a hard time holding herself in check these days. But, she knew it would be very risky to let their relationship get sexual, especially in their new homeland where she wasn't so familiar with the social rules. And she knew Alvi just worshipped her, so it would be way to easy to get into a power-abuse condition. As Alvi's guardian, she had a stewardship to be honored. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. This morning, her little sister just took her breath away. Her shapely brown legs displayed beneath her short-shorts called to Robbyn. And the dance of her soft breasts under that sweater made it obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Alvi fairly leapt into Robbyn's arms, and gave her a big hug and a kiss. It was all Robbyn could do to restrain herself and not kiss Alvi passionately. She struggled to keep her lips closed and not assault her delicious sister. She was so caught up in her turmoil, she didn't even put her arms around Alvi. Alvi let go and backed away just to arm's length, with a look on her face of puzzlement and slight hurt. "Is everything OK, Robbyn?", she asked, a bit concerned at Robbyn's lack of response. Only her subconscious was taking in that Robbyn was panting and shivering slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just pre-occupied with some business and legal stuff. Sorry." "That's OK. Is any of it about the dress code?" "Yeah, though that's not my top priority, you know. Speaking of which, aren't you kinda pushing the limits today?", inquired Robbyn. "Aw, these shorts have become pretty popular, and the fuddy-duddies just frown, they haven't stopped anybody else yet." "And why aren't you wearing a bra?", accused Robbyn. "Oh pulllease! All my bras are too small, we need to buy new ones, they hurt. Besides, you can't see nuthin' through a thick sweater! Thorrrra! And those old fogies have already been busted in court on that one: they can't make girls wear bras. It was declared `arbitrary and capricious'. I just know you'll win on letting us wear our Prurinesian clothes," Alvi beamed. "Well, maybe. Their latest counter-attack is that those don't have the status of historical native costumes, and are just styles." "Hmmmph! They're just covering up the fact they can't handle dress that is a little risque," said Alvi. "Obscene is the word some of the newspaper edtiorials use. And worse. It seems there's a lot of prudes in the PRG, and they've got some clout in high places. Soooo. we may lose that one. Now, you run along to high-school, before you miss the bus," chided Robbyn. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. Alvi dashed out the door and ran down the street toward the bus stop. She was running too hard to pay attention to what her clothes were doing. As soon as she got close enough to see that the bus was not yet there, she slowed to a brisk walk. Then, she became quite aware of the friction of the seam of her shorts rubbing on her lacy panties. It generated a subtle vibration on her outer labia, just enough to be a pleasant tickling. She needed to pay attention to suppress a giggle. Now that she was paying attention to it, the vibration seemed to get stronger, inspiring her to imagine spending the whole day in a kind of tickle torture. She wondered, and almost hoped, that it would arouse her with a sexual hunger, so she could have the experience of the woman in the story. That imagined fate further fueled her erotic interest, making her both eager and nervous about her day at school. The tickling sensation was subtle, but seemed to be growing with time, and was already inescapably distracting. She began to wonder if she could or would have an orgasm, and how she could keep from making an obscene spectacle of her self. She thus created the psychic shift from ticklish to sexually aroused. The genital delight which the rubbing ignited in her crotch seemed to leap right up into her breasts, making them sensitive, and causing her nipples to get hard and engorged. Now the rubbing of her fuzzy sweater as her breasts jiggled about, set shock-waves of prurient delight racing out from her agitated nipples all through her body and especially back to her clit. The collision of that thrilling wave with the swell of erotic enjoyment in her crotch, driven by the rasping there, fed an escalating storm of lascivious joy and venereal need. Alvi began to become a bit frightened of losing control and collapsing in a loud squealing climax with the other school kids all around her. She slowed her steps and tried to get control her unruly feminine ardor, but it was all she could do to slow the rate of her sexual escalation. She could not stop it. She got on the bus, hardly saying a word to anyone else. It was all she could do to maintain some semblance of composure as she climbed aboard, as climbing the steps cause added a bit more friction of the crotch seam, and she thought she might go over the edge into orgasm. She stumbled down the isle of the bus on weak, trembly legs, struggling to hold back lusty moans. She made it to a seat and plopped down gratefully. Some of the other kids noticed she wasn't her usual bubbly, flirty self, and tried to ask if there was something wrong. Her aroused state made her even more appealing than usual, and the boys (and some of the girls) were drawn magnetically to her. She brushed them off with only a word or two, lost on her own world of lascivious turmoil, which was threatening to become outright torment. As the bus lumbered down the road, Alvi stared out the window and tried to calm her own disobedient passions. She was able to calm down only slowly. The vibrations from the bus's motor, transmitted through the hard seat, seemed to lance right into her pussy in a way she had never noticed before, keeping her own motor humming. Staring out the window and hardly noticing the scenery, Alvi drifted into reverie. ----- ------- ------- ------ ----- ----- This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. Teldara awoke to find herself naked and firmly strapped to a special padded rack. She became groggily aware of her surroundings, including the women standing over her. "So, our little spy is back from dreamland!", said Senecaa, one of the coppery-garbed executioners. "Spy? Me? NO! I didn't! I'm not!!" shrieked Teldara. She was getting panicky, for there were dreadful rumors of the punishments meted out upon the enemies of the Sisterhood. One of the Sisters giggled at Teldara's distress. Eugenia was decked out in copper-chain jewelry that dangled over her breasts and loins, offering tantalizing intermittent glimpses of her shapely titties and buns as well as her hairless sex. "You have been found guilty of letting slip one of the secrets of the Sisterhood. While we don't believe you are in conspiracy with anyone else, and probably don't think of yourself as our enemy, that is still an act of spying. Even simple carelessness must be punished so that you are motivated to be careful in the future." Said Nellena, a third executioner, arrayed in skin-tight copper-metalized mylar shorts and open blouse. The shorts were very skimpy and showed off her luscious legs and the lower curve of her buns. The blouse was tailored to be unable to close above her navel and offered teasing peeks at her firm young boobs. The costumes were all designed in line with the coppery styles favored by the S&M subculture, and gave them a very sinister appearance in Teldara's eyes. "What are you going to do to me?" "We are going to torture you, silly. Hmmmm., I like that! Yes, I think we'll torture you silly!" "Aaaaahhhh, no! Don't! Please!!! I'll be careful! Honest! I'll never tell anyone anything about the Sisterhood! Pleeeeeeease! Don't hurt me! Oh Thora, NOOOOOO!!!" "Jeez, what a whiner. We haven't even started! Put a gag on her willya?" whined Seneca. "No, I like to hear them beg. First for mercy, then for more!" said Nellena. She leaned close, her face suddenly appearing right in front of Teldara's eyes. "Stop! Be silent!" Nellena barked sharply and quite loud. Startled, Teldara fell silent, momentarily holding her breath in near panic. "Lighten up! We're not going to damage you, not going to leave any scars or lasting marks. We want you chastised, not crippled! The idea is to have you as a fully participating member of the Sisterhood. So button your lip and take your torture like a brave woman," snapped Nellena, wearing her best wicked, revenge-is-mine-now grin. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. Teldara was somewhat calmed by this, but still dreading the "torture" that the executioners seemed so eager to apply. She also silently resolved not to beg. "I wonder what she dreads most?" said Eugenia, carefully watching Teldara's eyes, while holding up a short braided whip in one hand and a feather in the other. She watched Teldara's eyes flicker and widen as she recognized the feather. Teldara tried to hide her reaction, but it was too late. Eugenia giggled gleefully, and decided to have some fun while checking her answer. Eugenia slowly waved the whip in front of Teldara's face, watching her eyes. Teldara found the whip a bit scary, but she noticed it was made of very light strands, which looked like yarn. They didn't look like they would tear up her skin and certainly couldn't cause deep bruises. She was almost curious as to how it could be torture to be beaten with such a flimsy thing. Her eyes flickered to Eugenia's face for a clue. Then Eugenia passed the feather before Teldara's eyes, which locked onto it and grew so wide they showed white all around. Teldara shivered involuntarily as a wave of near-terror washed over her. She was frightfully ticklish, and considered her own reactions to tickling to be shameful. When she was young, an uncle had abused her with a combination of tickling and erotic teasing, and had then mocked her for getting wild and losing control. He made her feel ashamed at her bodily reactions to his touch. So, she had a powerful shame reaction that did not come up to interfere with her love relationships, as long as her lovers did not tickle her. Now, as she found herself confronted by her most dreaded fate, her breathing became rapid and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her skin. She was desperate to find a way to avoid this. "Ohhhh, pleeeaase, no-no-no-no, not that! It's not fair! It's too cruel! Yoou Musn't! Please! I'll do anything! Just spare me that!" Senecaa, Nellena, and Eugenia all broke out into big grins. "Oh, she is going to be a lot of fun! It's been a while since we've had a ticklish one to punish. I can't wait to get back in practice. I've got some new tricks I want to try out." Teldara saw there would be no mercy here, and slipped near to despair. She began to whimper and blubber. "Oh is poor baby upset?" simpered Senecaa sarcastically, unwittingly agitating Teldara's shame button and adding to her distress. The three girls really didn't realize how hard they were stressing their poor victim. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. The three "executioners" went to work on their bound and helpless victim. They tickled her ribs with feathers and their fingers, bringing helpless gales of laughter. Teldara begged them to stop whenever she could draw enough breath to do so. Senecaa continued on her ribs while Nellena worked upward to work on Teldara's underarms with the vanes of stiff feathers and soft fuzzy plumes. When Teldara began to hiccup from laughing so much, they relented briefly. "Oh my, that was, , too much. I'm glad that's over!" said Teldara. Then she noticed a motion at her feet, and her eyes grew big with frightened awareness. For, Eugenia was selecting her feathers to go to work on Teldara's poor defenseless feet. "Oh no, no, please don't tickle my feet! Nooooo!" Teldara desperately tried to yank her feet from the path of the approaching feathers. The rack held her legs primarily by stirrups for her calves, with straps to hold her calves bound to the curvy metal frames. She could wiggle her feet wildly but not pull them out of the way. Eugenia simply brought a fuzzy plume up top each foot and held them motionless, letting Teldara tickle herself with her wild gyrations. One at a time, Senecaa took the feathers and fastened them into place with clamps that were part of the complex torture rack. Teldara broke into new gales of helpless laughter and increased her struggles, not realizing she was generating her own torment. As exhaustion began to set in, she involuntarily paused in her struggles, sagging in her bondage, drawing great ragged breaths. Then she noticed that the tickling torture had tapered off somewhat. She became a bit aware that the executioners had been cracking jokes about her abusing herself, which had not registered on her in her distress. She now strove to hold her feet motionless, and the tickling reduced to a quite subtle irritation, which slowly eroded her self control. Nellena took a flight feather and fastened it into another clamp below one of Teldara's knees, and slowly rotated it to just brush the back of her knee. Teldara jerked in uncontrollable reaction, setting off a new cycle of tickling her poor soles, accompanied by gales of unwanted, stressful laughter. When Teldara collapsed in exhaustion, they un-clamped and removed those feathers. By this time, Teldara knew better than to expect that this had anything to do with mercy. She was quite right, as they proceeded to reposition her legs, loosening some joints of the rack, moving her thighs pointed upward and wide spread, with knees bent. She was intensely aware of the exposure of her pussy, bottom, and anus. Cool breezes in the dungeon seemed to seek out her most sensitive spots, as though even the air wanted to tickle her. Like all initiates of the Sisterhood, her sex had been permanently denuded of hair, and was bald as a baby's. That just helped to project her mentally back to her childhood and its erotic shame. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. After only a brief rest while they did this, the three torturers began to focus on her inner thighs. They tickled her with the vanes of feathers, with quill tips, and with their fingernails. Poor Teldara again broke into storms of distressed laughter. Conveniently placed mirrors allowed to Teldara to see clearly how the cruel women approached her sex more closely with each pass. Teldara's struggles were again weakening, so Eugenia stroked the vane of a flight feather into the crease between one thigh and her outer sex lip. That intimate touch on one of her most ticklish and private spots pushed Teldara's buttons, invoking reactions of lust, of need to control herself, and of shame. The eruption of unwanted emotions set off Teldara's hormones, and her sex flower began to bloom open, exposing her most sensitive membranes to their callous attentions. The girls increasingly slid their feathers in the creases between a thigh and her vulva, or between inner and outer labia, for mind-blowing effects on her delicate, nerve-laden flanges. All the second-level initiates, including Teldara, had their clitoral hoods split apart, and the position of her legs in the rack caused her labia to part, exposing about an inch of her clitoral shaft. Now the heartless girls began to slide the feather vanes between her inner labia and dragged them upward right along her exposed clitoris. Whenever a feather slid along the shaft of her clit, the explosion of nerve-racking delight made her go into a convulsion. When the secretions from her sexual arousal began to wet the feathers and dampen their effectiveness, Senecaa stuffed a sponge up inside her pussy. This caused Teldara to gasp and whimper at the sensation of being invaded by the rough sponge. Nellena then proceeded to dry her labia and clitty with a blow-dryer. Teldara whimpered at the heat and tried to wriggle away, to no avail. They then renewed their attack with new, dry feathers and brushes. The teasing friction was enhanced on her dry surfaces, now even more engorged by the heat. The feelings induced by this abuse were so intense, she felt the top of her head would explode. Teldara was slipping into a trance, a fog, in which only tickling, laughter, and erotic passions existed. She was rising to an erotic peak and might have had a sexual climax, except she fainted first from her exertions and lack of breath. The three executioners were quite pleased with that outcome, and allowed her to rest, slumped unconscious, while they selected the tools for the next phase of her prolonged torture. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. When Teldara came back to consciousness, the three women put on their best evil grins. Eugenia said, "Welcome back. We let you rest a little so you can be more aware as we continue. Your sentence includes 4 more hours of tickling!" "Oh my Lady, NO, no, no. You can't! You musn't! I can't take it! I'll go insane!" squealed Teldara as she again began to struggle reflexively against her bonds, desperate to escape. When she paused to take a breath, Nellena interrupted, "Hmmmm. we know you have that big court appearance tomorrow morning for your inheritance, and you'd miss a lot of sleep if you stayed here in our tender care for another 4 hours. I tell you what, we'll offer you a deal. We'll let you out of this torture session now, if you'll agree to wear a nasty costume and walk home. You can take them off only when you get home, on your Sisterhood Oath. Do you agree?" "What costume?" asked Teldara. "It's a sun-dress, with burlap patches for your boobs, and you'll wear rope panties." This appalled Teldara, and she shook her head a little, restricted by the head restraint of the rack. The girls reached for the feathers. Senecaa slowly waved one before Teldara's face watching her eyes track it and the fear blossom. Teldara's will cracked, and she said, "All right! I'll wear your damn cruel costume! Just let me go home." The girls demanded that Teldara give the Sisterhood Oath, including admitting she was doing this as her own decision, to avoid the just punishment of the Sisterhood judiciary. "All riiiight!" said Eugenia. "You get her ready while I sew in the burlap." Teldara didn't like the sound of `get her ready', and her trepidation was promptly confirmed. Senecaa picked up feathers and immediately went to work right on Teldara's open and vulnerable pussy. Nellena went to work on her breasts, tickling from the underside curves right up across her nipples. While Eugenia sewed, she was treated to laughter, giggles and squeals from Teldara. This time, Senecaa and Nellena's caresses were more specifically erotic, for they wanted Teldara to be aroused, with her nipples, clitoris, and nether lips all engorged and sensitized. Their stroking was highly effective and provoked the most electrifying sensations in their helpless victim. Teldara's mind was buffeted by tickling and by irresistible, delicious thrills that drove her into an uncontrollable erotic spiral. Teldara became dizzy, her mind whirling among conflicting sensations, losing all power to resist. Meanwhile, Eugenia was sewing the burlap patches into Teldara's dress. She then rubbed fiberglass insulation wool into the burlap and into the clitoral rope of the prepared "panties", handling it all carefully with leather gloves. She knew that tiny glass fibers were breaking off and embedding themselves in the burlap and rope, and would give Teldara a nasty, itchy surprise later. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. The three girls unfastened Teldara from the rack. They gave her the sun-dress to put on. "The burlap is lightly tacked in with only a few loops of weak thread, and you can easily rip it out. It's up to you to keep your word," said Nellena. When Teldara felt the scratchy caress of the burlap against her milky, tender breasts and engorged, sensitive nipples, she immediately knew she was in for a rough time of it. She wanted to beg out, but she had given the Oath. She wondered if she would have the will power not to rip out the burlap part way home. This would really strain her integrity. When she saw the rope panties, her knees went weak from fear. There was a nylon rope `belt', and a hanging loop of coarse hemp rope, bristling with scratchy fibers, knotted to the belt. It had 4 other black hanging loops in parallel with the hemp one, two on each side. She trembled and whimpered and began to beg, but Senecaa merely hissed at her and she fell silent. Two girls had to support her as she stepped into the ring of the belt, for she could barely stand. Her fear was perversely enhancing her arousal and susceptibility to this obscene treatment. Eugenia tugged the rope belt up to Teldara's hips, where the stretchy nylon belt was a tight fit. For the next phase of the installation, they told Teldara to spread her legs and that she must finish tugging the rope belt up herself. She began to protest and whimper, while Eugenia knelt in front of her and began to pry apart her inner labia, thus opening her split clit hood. Teldara shivered at this intimate caress, knowing there was cruel intent in this love-making, and abhorred the involuntary, unwanted thrill that went right through her. The other two girls raised her skirt so she could reach the rope belt. Slumping in surrender, she tugged on the rope belt while Eugenia made sure the hemp loop fit between her inner labia and right up against her uncovered, defenseless clitty. The scratchy sensation of the bristly hemp rope scraping her tender inner labia and the whole length of her delicate clit flashed like lightning to her brain. She shrieked and collapsed to her knees, with the executioners' grip slowing her fall. "Oh, Thora, I can't do this. It scratches me! It's horrible!" "Now Teldara, you gave your Oath. Besides, you can't fool us. Each of us has worn the rope panties, so we know you can stand it. I've even done it voluntarily, on a dare. So, tough it out!" said Senecaa. She didn't mention the fiberglass, which was a new addition. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. They tugged on her arms, urging her to stand again, and Eugenia ducked under her skirt to finish the installation. She fit the 4 black rubber tubes into place. On each side, one fit in the crease between her thigh and her outer lip, and the other fit between her inner and outer labia. Each was coated with a high-friction material to eliminate slippage even when wet. The intent of these was to transfer the motion of her thighs to her inner lips, so they would be driven to scuff along the hemp rope with each step she took. Teldara shuddered uncontrollably in response to the pleasures and little stings of Eugenia's intimate handling of her tender flesh. They guided her across the dungeon floor, supporting her when her legs gave out in helpless response to the intense stimulation. With each step, her poor inner labia were driven to scrape against the coarse, fiber-festooned hemp rope, and the sensation was a perverse bastard child of pleasure and pain. She could hardly identify it, like a sound too loud to be identified. It made her knees go weak and trembly. A fine sheen of perspiration broke out over her whole body. Climbing the stairs out of the dungeon was even worse, driving her labia into stronger chafing against the scratchy rope, and escalating the feelings to ravishing agony. She began to blubber and plead to reverse her decision and go back on the rack, but Nellena merely said, "Your Oath", and she knew she was defeated. They walked her to the front door and let her rest a bit. She had become just enough accustomed to the weird abuse to think she might endure the trip home. "All right, here's where you earn the escape you bought from the tickling," said Senecaa. "Don't break your integrity now. Keep your word. We love you and want you to be a thriving member of the Sisterhood. Honor its values, especially integrity!" The three "executioners" kissed Teldara, then they let her out onto the sidewalk. Once out in the bright sunlight, Teldara discovered that the sun-dress was really quite sheer. She almost wished the burlap patches in the dress were larger, for the curves of her bosom were clearly displayed. She realized that if she broke her word and removed the burlap patches, her nipples would be quite brazenly displayed. The material of the short skirt seemed a bit heavier, leaving her uncertain whether anyone could tell she was wearing the weird rope "panties". She feared that the crease between her buns and maybe the curves where they met her thighs might be visible. She sincerely hoped that she didn't meet anyone she knew. By the time she reached the street she had another reason to hope she did not meet anyone. Walking was sending a waves of passionate fire from her vulva all through her nervous system. Each step was an inseparable combination of sexual delight and torture. She was helpless to control her facial expressions as the waves of agonizing delight twisted her features into a mask of depraved ardor. She quickly doubted her ability to walk the few blocks to her home without losing her mind. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. As she walked, she became sufficiently adapted to the sensations in her crotch to begin to notice the assault on her bosom. Her full young titties, unsupported by a bra, bounced and danced freely in her dress and chafed against the burlap patches. The burlap quickly began to abrade her engorged and sensitized nipples, adding an itching to the pleasure-thrills that were emanating from her lovely boobs. She had no idea that the itching was partly due to microscopic fiberglass fragment that were being gradually driven into the outer layers of her skin, provoking the nerves there. A demanding itch was also growing in her vulva as tiny glass spikes were transferred from the hemp rope to her tenderest spots. She hardly noticed this yet, as this effect was overwhelmed by the stinging pleasure that was inexorably driving her toward an erotic climax. She was a screamer, and knew that if she came to a sexual climax, she would make a spectacle of herself that would be the talk of the grapevine for weeks. The sidewalk was hardly crowded, but neither was it deserted at any time part of her trip. So she continued to walk, struggling against her own unruly feminine drives that threatened to consume her at each moment. She thought she would surely go mad. In a miracle of sheer self-restraint, she barely made it back to her apartment and collapsed just inside the doorway, helpless in convulsions as she wailed out her passions. She fainted in abused, pained ecstasy. When she came to, she realized she had not managed to close the door. She had no idea how long she had been lying in the open doorway, bare bottom toward the street, her exposed sex bulging around the perverted rope and rubber tubing. She had no idea how many people had seen her unbelievable lewd display, and how many knew her. She was mortified beyond description, yet had no idea that worse was to come. She struggled out of the rope "panties", then removed the sun-dress. All her tender spots still itched something fierce and she ran to take a shower to soothe herself. She knew it would be a bad idea to scratch those itches, but imagined that a warm bath would soothe them away. She couldn't wait out the time to run a bath, so she started a shower. She quickly discovered that the shower quieted the itch somewhat, but it remained, persistently urging her to scratch at her most fragile flesh. She crawled into bed, knowing she needed to sleep to be at her best in court tomorrow. Her inheritance was at stake, and she couldn't afford to be dull. Others were maneuvering to get her inheritance, and she would need to be sharp. But, as soon as she began to doze off, her self control would fade and her hands would creep to her afflicted spots and begin to unconsciously scratch her tender tissues. She would pop awake with wild sexual feelings rocketing through her body, and her tender tissues even more inflamed from the scratching. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. She applied some itch-relieving lotion left over from a camping trip, and took double doses of pain killers and sleeping pills. In the end she needed to carefully masturbate to release some of the sexual tension, and then bind herself with the love-bondage straps she kept tucked under the bed. Even so, her sleep was disturbed by haunting dreams of bizarre sexual torture. When she awoke, the itch was still with her, and her fingers itched, too. She was beginning to guess what had been done to her, and she fumed silently at the Sisterhood. Somebody was going to pay for this, "in gold". As she dressed, she began to contemplate just how difficult it was going to be to stand silently in court while all her sexual parts were plagued by this itch that seemed to grow like a weed whenever she stood still. Trying not to scratch made her twitchy. It nagged at her, nibbled at her self control, and even seemed to inspire a perverse erotic arousal. She couldn't keep her mind from turning to prurient and wicked images of turning the tables on Senecaa, Nellena, and Eugenia. She wanted them to experience all that she had, and worse. She got on the bus for her trip into court. The vibrations from the engine and the road seemed to make her itching even worse. She was so pre-occupied, she almost missed her stop. - - ----- ------- ------- ------ ----- ----- Alvi was snapped out of her reverie by Tokhail. "Hey aren't you getting off? This is our stop!" As she arose, she was aware of an itching and prurient pleasure in her own body. She felt that the itch had escaped from her daydream out into reality, and changed the feelings she was getting from her sweater and tight-crotch shorts. It seemed she was being erotically caressed with each movement, and she felt a sexual hunger growing. Alvi was at once delighted and frightened at the success of her plan to challenge herself sexually during a whole day at school. This story is owned and copyright 2000 by Dr. Mentor, all rights reserved. The end. ==== ====== ======= ======= ======== ======== ======== ====== If this inspires you to daydream, please write up your daydreams and post them to alt.sex.stories.moderated or a.s.s. Even a single paragraph would be appreciated. It is exercising your creativity, even if you don't think of yourself as creative. Most people die with their music still inside them. You don't have to be one of them. ==== ====== ======= ======= ======== ======== ======== ====== - -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: N/A iQEVAwUBOU1VIy9WMPdYMwItAQGEagf8DHS8oLBsjWb3wtmtSDiWOy7aKxhwfOAM yJGfMRAnBIZXs/ns6ZnQ1RK8rx9t77MrEApb0Esjzz1vZglG5sJIBobdwY2LHS9x TWeNZw2xpMLPkPWQrGa6OoqD2YQGzMkBb4FDhp3eHS5ledfKDazWF9ZV/Sk9VOyL pjrjLm2q3uZWXsQyomMoqDHGQda4rhoA6hIWrK7vJghFss21dPTjc4+y4V17GRNj XgAxsGfgObi9A9Yk+wy+E0uOvzNat+rsJr4xbxE6MvjASd5lpqO61FD8MnXH/+QR 91w89C4iiKDj+okpJVYt8glChmCPZguGs7+Wm1Sa4wNi3iDdo3XR9w== =IRFZ - -----END PGP SIGNATURE----- ~~~ This PGP signature only certifies the sender and date of the message. It implies no approval from the administrators of redneck.gacracker.org. Date: Mon Jun 19 00:19:01 2000 GMT From: dr_mentor@redneck.gacracker.org -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.3a Charset: noconv iQCVAwUBOU1m+JLupyyiz83tAQFtowQAoj16TgBW5wAmXjT8kEA1TuOvWo/dqLAm QndM8NeEYBtSWfPrYIe0YsvpapZU1Gx5ugoY9e5xM81W6i7FTrg37uYo38SU9Re7 hPvmw5hKu8hUDs44L2YPXTIxbYeQ0ets/zh5zAxIj2uUDHYGT5ClOLVMRGJL1vMb pgRcuq/dPuk= =ypwj -----END PGP SIGNATURE----- . -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+