Message-ID: <43240asstr$1057363802@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Originating-Email: [monocle_o@hotmail.com] From: "Monocle" X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 04 Jul 2003 20:20:24.0595 (UTC) FILETIME=[B36FBE30:01C34269] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 04 Jul 2003 20:20:24 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Nightmares and Visions 51-55 by Monocle nc various caution Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2003 20:10:02 -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: hecate, RuiJorge _________________________________________________________________ Add photos to your messages with MSN 8. Get 2 months FREE*. http://join.msn.com/?page=features/featuredemail <1st attachment, "Mares_51-55.txt" begin> If you're under 18, this is not for you; skip or erase the file. Stay in school. Marry for love. Say no to drugs. The following is a work of fiction containing scenes of graphic sex of various kinds, most of which are nc, kinky, and/or downright weird. The actions depicted are not from or for real life. Content is my own (Monocle), copyright 2003, (as are the typos, and spelling & grammar errors). Any resemblance to persons or events living or dead or stories already written is purely coincidence. The reader is free and welcome to copy and circulate this file in free legal forums, as long as this disclaimer is included and no alterations to it or the content are made. Hope you like it. Monocle ---------------------------------- Nightmares and Visions (51-55) by Monocle nc various caution Short vignettes and scenes. Most have the darker elements of nc, bond, etc. =|;-{ Feedback to: monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com Other stories from Monocle can be found at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/ ----------------------------------- Nightmares and Visions 51-55 by Monocle Some time ago, I started receiving strange, short e-mails from anonymous addresses by parties unknown. I don't know who or what these people are, whether or not some or all are the same person. Most subjects read as "my nightmare" or "A dream I didn't tell to my husband" or "Vision Number 3". They start with little or no pre-amble, often don't really end. This marks the 50th piece in my collection. ------------- 51. I'm strapped to the exam table, ankles cuffed to the stirrups, like countless other gynecological nightmares. But instead of being able to plead and scream, my mouth is taped shut. Instead of a masked doctor, gowned-with-dick-poking-out, or hairy lower-half exposed, it an unmasked, attractive nurse enters the room. My querys and protests are muffled to little more than faint hums as she settles between my legs and examines with eyes and gloved professional fingers. No tools or swabs. Its not painful, but not paticularly pleasureable, especially with the ominousness of the restraints. She dips a long, thin middle finger into me and swirls it around, then takes it out and cleans the mucous-coated digit on a sample stick. In a few moments, a blue bar appears indicating that I am ovulating. I could have told her that much if she'd have asked me. She pulls up a small surgical tray, and hefts a large glass syringe. My eyes go wide in apprehension and I start squirming. The busness end of the syringe is not a needle, but a strange,almost organic-looking tapering. She take sit and dips it into a metal flask, then draws back the plugner, filling too-many inches of the graduated column with a whitish fluid. My heart starts pounding in fear. With the device fully loaded, she holds it in one hand, dipping a pointer into the flask, then taking the coated finger and smearing the liquid on my taped shut mouth. My fears are confirmed as the pungent odor of semen hits my nose. I strugle and squirm futilely as she cleans off the device with gause and alcohol, then coats it with a gel-like lubricant. Carefully, she places the end against my vulva, then slowly, gently pushes the the smooth glass shaft into me. It's alittle more than an inch thick, and warm with its fresh contents, so I can feel its pregress easily. A it goes deeper, she twists and adjust the syringe searchingly, until I exhale hard at the pressure inside. She has pressed the end of the shaft right up against my cervix. I watch her twist a dial near the end of the shaft, and feel something deep inside. I look, terrified, into her eyes and know what's happening. The device is forcing my last barrier open, ever so slightly. I'm straining to escape, but only succed in tiny uselelss motions in my lower body. I press as far back and away as the padded cushions let me - which is to say hardly at all, and tremble violently as our eyes lock for an instant. One hand is holding the shaft. The other is poised on the plunger. Then she pushes. I scream behind my gag as I watch the plunger push the prodigious quantity of semen directly into my womb. I can almost feel myself filling inside as I jerk and try to flail away. In ten, twenty, thrity seconds its done. After an opposite twist of the dial, she slides the glass out. A tiny stream of white fluid follows it. ------------- 52. I sat on a hard, cold floor with chains piled all around me. My clothing was gone, and metal bands encircled my wrists, ankles, legs just above the knees, and waist. Thick links attached the bands to the piles of chain. I could not see beyond the small pool of light that surrounded me. A loud ratcheting sound began, its echoes hinting at a large, barren room. started echoing through the chamber. I did not understand the noise until I noticed chain being drawn from the piles around me off into the darkness. Panic hit me as I made the connection and I struggled with the manacles, alternately calling out for help and demanding release. The wrist chains went taught first. They drew my arms up and apart, then took my weight and lofted me a few inches in the air, arms spread. I screamed as I felt my shoulders about to pop their sockets, but then the waist chains tightened, lifting up my lower body and taking some of the stress off. The sounds of the chains reeling in seemed to increased in volume and decrease in speed as the slack was taken from my legs. First my ankles were raised, so I was almost reglining suspended in the air. Then my knees were drawn up and apart. Each click of the chains now confirming my worst fears. I cried and struggled in vain, succeeding only in starting myself swinging like a pendulum. That motion damped down, though, as the slack was taken from more of the chains. The silence after the last metallic snap died away was just as deafening and frightening as sound had been. Suspended, exposed, utterly vulnerable, I was too scared to make a sound now. ------------- 53. A long soak in the hot bath after a hard day. I doze in the steamy, scented water. A low clanging and gurgling sound in the pipes, disturbing my repose, then the drain at the far end of the tub seems to erupt. I slide back, sloshing the water as something thick, shapeless and discolored surges out from the drain. I try to scramble out of the tub, but my movements are too fast and my feet keep slipping against the smooth porcelain in the bath-oil laden water. The ochre, gelatinous mass flows rapidly toward me under the water, under my kicking legs, sliding against my buttocks and lower back. It grabs me, or sticks to me, and yanks me toward the drain end of the tub, dunking my head in the water for a moment with the speed of its pulling. I cough and sputter, trying to keep my head above the water of the overflowing tub. The mass lifts my lower half as well, so I need to hold my arms down to raise my head to breathe. I recover my breath, only then to notice the cool feel metal against my vagina. The jelly-thing has raised my hips out of the water and pressed my mound up against the tub faucet. The smooth spigot is centered exactly between my lips. My legs are bent to either side, and flexing them helps me not at all. It happened too fast to be scared, but now, as the hot and cold taps begin to turn of their own accord, I begin to scream. No water pours. Instead, I hear more deep gurgling and banging of pipes. What finally comes out of the spigot is much worse than water... ------------- 54. It was almost impossible to discern one sensation from the next. I could barely put two thoughts together, but I knew was that something was horribly wrong. Touches were everywhere. Something warm, soft, unyeilding filled my mouth, muffling the sounds I tried to make. I breathed thick, damp air through my nose only. Opening my eyes yielded context-free shapes and patterns in a kaleidoscope of colors. I couldn't see my body, nor the thing or things acting upon it. Sounds like music, like moaning, like water, filled my ears with melodic cacophony. Something long and slippery-hot slowly fucked in and out of my cunt. The shaft was flexible and textured. It twitched, bulged and vibrated at irregular locations and intervals as it delved deep, or pumped shallowly. Around it gelid, stubby protrusions pressed my sensitized skin. They wiggled and stroked my labia and inner thighs to either side of my furrow, up to my clit and the whole of my pubic mound, and down to my perineum and the edge of my anus, where another sinuous intruder fucked my ass in contrasting rhythms to the thrusting in my pussy. Mouths, or mouthlike things, suckled on my nipples, alternately nipping or twisting them, teasing the aureoles while the rest of my breasts received more and less gentle caresses all over. Each of my asscheeks recieved simialr treatment. Tongues or wet finger-things pressed into and licked my underarms, the crooks of my elbows and knees, between my toes and fingers, around my neck, behind my ears. More groping, rubbing sensations stroked across my belly and back, up and down my legs and arms, my chest and scalp. Every bend and crevice on my body probed, every inch of skin caressed, constantly, insistently, sexually. I could move my arms and legs a little, flail and kick as if immersed in warm molasses, but I could neither close my legs fully, nor bring my arms close to touch or protect any part of my body. Every time I orgasmed, the symphony of stimulation worked to prolong the climax's duration excruciatingly, until I threathened to pass out. Then everything would slow and recede - though never completely stop - as my shuddering body recovered. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the teasing and tingling would ramp up again, starting in diffferent places on my body and moving one to the next, or adding to each other until my body was inexorably dragged toward another peak. I could barely think at all through the sensations washing over and through me. I couldn't feel humiliation at the betrayal of my body to unwelcome stimulation; there was no possible way I could have resisted for long, and I couldn't remember if I'd even tried, at the start. I couldn't muster fear about what was happening to me beyond a nebulous cloud of confusion, couldn't count the times I was forced to climax. All I could do was writhe, arch, pull, kick, and cum. ---------- 55. The devices drove me to another shattering orgasm. There were three of them, and they were tiny - two disks with odd bumps and projections just covered my aureoles and nipples, and a similarly irregular trapezoidal box encompassed my hood and clit. They were stuck fast to my skin, somehow. When I had awakened to their stimulation in the white, doorless room, I'd tried to pull them off, and was rewarded with an intensification of the sensations that wiped out the line between pain and pleasure. I'd stopped almost immediately, nearly physically sick with the intensity of it, and just as quickly, pleasure was all that remained. It radiated from the metal objects all across my body - like they were wired to my spine, even right to my brain, but the feelings were most concentrated right in those most sensitive areas. That first time, as I lay too scared to move lest I provoke the more extreme reaction, the orgasm came unbelievably quickly - faster than my own most horny masturbations. I screamed and shuddered on the small bed until the stimulation stopped and allowed me to come down, panting and sweaty. I rested for a time, still to scared to move, until the pleasure started again, not stopping until I'd cum again. This repeated more times; the time interval between each onslaught seemed to never be the same, never predictable. Exhausted and dehydrated after perhaps my sixth or seventh forced orgasm, the sharp, mechanical voice made me jump. "Eat. Drink," it said. Groggily I raised my head to see a small panel in the wall had opened. Slowly, I moved to take what was offered. It tasted good, and I ate ravenously. The machine-voice commanded me to return the used containers to the niche and closed the panel, setting off the devices as the door closed, and giving me two orgasms in rapid succession. I tried to explore the food delivery panel and the rest of the room for ways out, but whenever my actions became suspicious, the devices hit me with their lightning, as I quickly came to call it. It always resolved into orgasm inducing pleasure when I stopped the proscribed behavior. The devices randomly hit me with pleasure for an unknown time. I slept, ate, woke, and came enough times to lose count of it all. It was hard to think about much else in the bare room - even contemplate the hows and whys of my situation. Then, after yet another screaming climax, the panel slid open to reveal a large, realistic dildo. ------ Nightmares and Visions (51-55) by Monocle Feedback to: monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com Other stories from Monocle can be found at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/ <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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