Message-ID: <46138asstr$1073531403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Originating-Email: [monocle_o@hotmail.com] From: "Monocle" X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 08 Jan 2004 00:31:22.0162 (UTC) FILETIME=[BDB16120:01C3D57E] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 08 Jan 2004 00:31:22 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Nightmares and Visions 61-65 by Monocle nc various caution Date: Wed, 7 Jan 2004 22:10:03 -0500 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, hoisingr _________________________________________________________________ Enjoy a special introductory offer for dial-up Internet access -- limited time only! http://join.msn.com/?page=dept/dialup <1st attachment, "Mares_61-65.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. Abstain. 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 2004, (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 (61-65) 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: Web: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/www/ ftp: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/ ----------------------------------- Nightmares and Visions 56-60 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. ------------- 61. I kneel, knees held to the floor by hard leather straps tied to anchored metal loops, forcing them wide apart. More leather binds my wrists together and to my ankles wrists bound to each other, and another strap connects them to my crossed, tied ankles, keeping me from moving or bending too far forward, though I can look down at the small dark hole in the floor between my knees. Shiny metal clamps, fastened to the floor in front of me by short chains, hold my nipples and clit gently but firmly. They pinch, but it's not too uncomfortable unless I try to pull up or lean back or to the side. A rising, sliding sound draws my attention downward, and I carefully look down to see a smooth, rounded shaft rise from the hole, up to me and effortlessly impale my vagina. It is cool and slick, and rises in me until it presses against the end of my passage. It is already sliding its way out of me when I start screaming, and has disappeared into the hole by the time I instinctively jerk away from it, making the clamps bite my nipples and clit, and making me shriek louder and fight to still my reflexes. Tears trailing from my eyes, I finally get my movements under control, though I'm trembling all over now. The sliding sound starts again and my eyes lock on the hole as my entire body tenses up. I'm screaming before the shaft even appears... ------------- 62. The crosstown foot traffic is heavier than usual. Ten blocks to go and almost every step I bump or jostle against the people moving in my direction or against it, or crossing my path at some angle. I keep my eyes fixed on the next intersection, waiting for my building to come into view, pausing for the walk light when necessary. I move slowly but steadily - the lights are going my way and I flow on with and in the crowd. Only gradually do I realize that the constant small collisions with other people are almost always against certain parts of my body. I barely see the perpetrators, but my chest, and legs, and rear end get the most prods or brief sweeping contacts. I'm never sure if hands are reaching for me intentionally or whether it's all simply coincidence. I keep pushing forward resolutely, trying to quicken my pace. I almost trip and fall the first time a hand reaches between my legs to press briefly against my crotch before sweeping up and away, I whip my head around to see who did it, but all I see are more nondescript faces coming and going. I'm gently but firmly pushed forward by hand cupping the left cheek of my ass. I stumble forward casting the other direction to see who did _that_, and find only people going this way and that, ignoring me or treating me as if I were just another obstacle to get around. Fingers brush around my left breast over my blouse and try to pull me forward by a quickly pinched nipple. I barley catch a hand retreating into the crowd as I propel myself forward. The touches become more bold gropes and pokes. I can avoid or deflect some that I see, but others get through, especially the attacks coming from behind. I try to break through, but he crowd doesn't let me get off to the side of the sidewalk or move faster than a brisk walk. My blouse has come un-tucked, and hands have made it underneath to rub against the skin of my sides, back, and stomach. Block after block, the fondling gets more aggressive and intimate. Halfway to my destination, I hit my first Don't Walk pause, and stand for a few moments pressed in a near gridlock of people - half waiting to cross the street, the other half wending by right to left with the light. It is here I feel a hand press against my lower back and slide rapidly downward, under the waist band of my shorts to pinch my rear through my panties before disappearing. I almost can't turn to see the perpetrator, much less stop him, but as my eyes cast about for him, another hand caresses up the inside of my right, into my shorts and almost digs under my panties before I flinch away. I have nowhere to escape except my final destination. I've got to make it there! ------------- 63. I run through the overgrown forest. I don't know what I am trying to escape, only that I must get away. I don't see what makes me trip as I tumble headlong into the dense thicket of vines. I struggle to get out, but only entangle myself further. They - my pursuers? - emerge from the undergrowth and I'm not sure at first why I've been running. The female forms are smaller than I - almost child-size, but their nude bodies are clearly womanly proportioned. It is hard to tell from the canopy-filtered light, but their skin, and their dark, flowing hair, looks green. They surround me as I try to free myself, talking lightly in a language I don't recognize. Their arms make sweeping gestures, and the vines move around me in response. Green coils wrap around my arms and legs, spreading and holding them apart, lifting me bodily above the forest floor. I fight to get loose, but can't overcome the green snare. I yell at them to stop. I call for help. More graceful hand-motions from them and a thick vine gags my mouth. I try to bite down on it, but it is tough and woody. My heart pounds as I realize just how helpless I am becoming. One of the creatures - Dryads? Pixies? produces a long, nasty looking thorn knife. She points it at my chest and I flinch, but instead of cutting me, she slashes down my shirt from collar to waist, cutting my bra as well. Another slice rips my pants and panties from waist to crotch. Before I can so much as squeal, my clothes are shredded from my body. As this distressing turn of events concludes, another of the green girl-creatures pulls back a leafy curtain of plants to reveal a broad shrub adorned with strange fruits. My stomach twists as I watch her pull one from its branch. The yellow-green fruit itself is gourd-like. At first it is soft and shapeless like a water balloon, but as her fingers play over it, it stiffens into a more coherent shape. Soon it is all too phallic in appearance, size, and apparent purpose. The nymph plays with it, licks it, even takes it into her mouth as I watch in fearful fascination. After a minute or two of vegetable fellatio, she pops it from her mouth and strokes it quickly with her hands. The tip of the stalk begins spewing bright green fluid. Still caressing the shaft with one hand, the girl directs the stream of liquid onto the five other pods now held by her companions. The ejaculating stem coats its brethren as its bulb visibly empties. The stalk itself deflates as the last thick drops fall. I'm trembling with fear, but unable to otherwise move as one of the five elfin forms approaches me. She does not meet my searching, pleading eyes, looking only at the junction of my forced-apart legs. She reaches out and parts my labia with the warm, wet fingers of one hand, while the other brings the tip of the slick shaft to my sex and slides it in. I scream into the vine gagging my mouth. Though painless, the violation is both shocking and unwelcome. The body is hard, and... _alive_. I desperately want it out of me, but my desires are not being considered. The small woman presses the shaft all the way into me, and I am filled as if by a lover. Holding the bulb, she pulls it part way out, then pumps it back, repeating slowly. She fucks me with it, and I cannot stop her. Both she and I feel the pod throb, and she pushes it all the way inside me the instant before it discharges. The hot, flooding sensation fills me as I scream, trying and failing to jerk my lower body away. The delicate looking hand, cups the bulb, holding it against my vagina as it empties completely into me, until her small palm is flush against my mound and the last, oozing gush flows in. The withered pod looks like a used, empty condom as she slides it out. I don't see what, if anything she does with it, as another fairy-woman takes her place and pushes a second stalk inside me... It is only as the third drained husk is removed that I realize nothing - not a drop of any kind - has come out of me. I look down, my terror finding new heights. Is that a bulge in my belly? Is there now a green cast on my skin? What is that churning liquid awareness inside me that will not go away? Help! ------------- 64. (62b) The light finally changes and I try to charge forward through the crowd, succeeding only in pushing into hands that grope my breasts. They retreat as I try to swat at them. Meanwhile, questing fingers reach between my legs, pressing firmly into my cleft and rubbing back and forth before disappearing. My face burns as I claw and shove my way through the resisting mob. Three blocks to go and my flailing defenses become useless as hands are on me from all sides, reaching into my clothes, touching my body in ever more intimate places, lingering longer. I never manage to get eye contact with anyone, nor can I ever truly link one molesting hand or arm with the face of its owner, even when I've managed to pull a limb away from my body and hold it briefly. It always slips away before I make out a connection, and while I've been distracted several more have taken its place. I'm left to fight the best I can and push onward. Two blocks, and somehow a finger worms its way underneath everything to briefly touch my slit before vanishing. No longer concerned with how it might look, I try to cover my crotch and breasts with my arms and bulldoze through, but hands still slide in under my loosened clothes, and reach from below and behind. At the last intersection, I finally see my building. Just ahead, the Don't Walk sign flashes on, and I let out a frustrated cry as the sea of people around me grinds to a halt. Touches, strokes, pinches, and caresses swarm across my body, and my clothing offers virtually no protection. I push and kick at the people around me, but they just melt away to be replaced by others. Someone pinches my nipples from the left, as a stiff finger slides the length of my slit - even pushing slightly inside me - as another gooses my rear end. I rise up on my tiptoes in reaction, pulling hard against the fingers tweaking my nipples. I can't stand it anymore when the light finally changes. I lock on the building entrance, ignoring the constant assault. I'm almost there, fighting to get to the side. Thirty feet, then twenty. Another hand comes around my waist from behind, dives under my clothes to my mound, unerringly finding and cupping my sex. Fingers vibrate roughly against me - against my clit, and I seize up. My body bucks and thrashes as sensation explodes through me. I'm cumming! I've grabbed at the arm and pull weekly, but my body will not be denied, and other hands are still at my breasts and thighs. I'm still moving forward. I'm even with the building entrance, then past it, forced forward by the crowd as the orgasm holds me in its grip. The door disappears behind me as more hands invade my clothes. My spastic legs won't obey my commands, and my body won't come down from its climax as the throng moves ever forward, with me helplessly intertwined in the multitude's grip. ------------- 65. The window-walled conference room was full for the meeting, and I took my notebook computer to my accustomed place to the left of the CEO to record the minutes. As expected, I already knew the names of the visiting corporate officers and their roles, and had prepared shorthand cues for all of them. My chair was missing, which sometimes happened, and I moved to step out the door to grab one from the vestibule, but the meeting was already being called to order, and one look from the head of the table told me to forget it. I quickly set up at my place - standing bent over slightly to start typing quietly and quickly. It was awkward, but I'd handled worse. Mr. Marckus started things off, then handed it off to the Plan Chair who came to the front of the room to talk to the projected charts. Instead of sitting in his chair at the head of the grand table, the CEO stepped back behind me looking over at the presentation. A jumped a little when I felt the palm of his hand press against my rear end. I kept typing the questions and answers of the Plan Committee as a second hand joined the first, pressing and squeezing my butt through my skirt. From behind me, Mr. Marckus introduced Finance for the next section as he reached down to the hem of my skirt and pulled it up, exposing my ass to him. Why wasn't I wearing panties? Why was I still typing? My face flushed hot. Surely anyone who cared to look could see what was going on, and Mr. Peters talking at the front had an unobstructed view. Mr. Marckus' hands caressed and kneaded my bare skin, sliding along my thighs, up between my legs. I shuddered and repressed all sound as he touched my pussy for the first time, fingers slipping assuredly along my slit, encountering moisture there, spreading it around. Why was I wet? I shuddered, and continued to work. Peters moved into Q&A while one, then two, then three fingers fucked me with increasing force. My note-taking remained flawless. I heard every world with crystal clarity, and transcribed faithfully. The Transition Team lead's introduction was accompanied by the sound of an opening zipper. As he came up, the head of Mr. Marckus' cock found my slit. Mr. Ferrigold liked to poke the screen with the pointer whenever he hit a new bullet. The first expected thwack on the screen came almost as an echo of the slap of Mr. Marckus' body against mine. I inhaled in a quiet gasp, my body jerking with the the sudden penetration, but my fingers kept flying over the keys. The transition details ticked off one after another, and the cock thrust in and out of me in time to Ferrigold's singsong voice. Body aflame, I came halfway through the presentation, though only Mr. Marckus could tell, from the way I squeezed him inside. He came as Transition was finishing up, slamming hard against me and pumping his cock dry deep inside. I shivered almost uncontrollably as Mr. Marckus withdrew, zipped up and called his opposite number from the partner company for his side of things. Mr. Andersson moved immediately behind me, leaving the audiovisual for his assistant, and began speaking as soon as his thick cock was buried in me. I typed, cumming again after only a few sharp thrusts. A glance at my computer clock showed a forty minutes of the two hour meeting had elapsed. My ears and hands banished the distracting thoughts from my attention as Andersson's cock swelled up and spewed inside me. Motrona's technical presentation was next... ------ Nightmares and Visions (61-65) by Monocle Feedback to: monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com Other stories from Monocle can be found at: Web: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/www/ ftp: 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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