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Subject: {ASSM} RP. Asteroid, Mine by Dino (part 1/4) (ScFi, M/F, F/F, BDSM, barefoot) - asteroid.1-2 [1/1]
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 STANDARD DISCLAIMER:

 The following story is a work of fiction intended for a mature
 audience. It contains sexually explicit scenes, course language and
 violence. Parental guidance is advised.

 Feel free to distribute this work freely, provided it remains
 unchanged, with credit given to the author. Please download and enjoy
 it! All I ask is that you e-mail myself with comments or questions. I
 can be reached at dino@canoemail.com

 [part 1/4]
		   --=--

 Asteroid, Mine. [preface]   C/W Dino Dave Dec.1999

 This story takes place in the year 2300 to 2400, something like that.
 It could happen sooner than we think. Humanity has fouled it's nest,
 pushing itself, and all life as we know it, to the brink of
 extinction. Earth is now populated by a handful of dedicated
 researchers salvaging artifacts of human history and trying to restore
 something of our once beautiful world.

 Our technology has served to rescue our civilization. Not the over
 engineered, unreliable technology of today, but a simpler, more
 conservative technology, systems based on efficiency and reliability.
 Mankind has reached the heavens, discovered new worlds, gone forth and
 multiplied. Greed, mismanagement, exploitation, have been left behind.
 Now humanity works together for progress, for the betterment of all.
 Resources from space are developed, not for profit for a few, but to
 benefit all. Life is once again good.


 Asteroid, Mine  [chapter 1]

 The big machine bucked and rocked. I nudged the control stick to
 center the irregular shaped nodule in the massive claw, evening the
 balance. I made the adjustment automatically, without taking my eyes
 from the story I had been reading. The Marquis had Pauline's nude body
 stretched along a ladder, her wrists and ankles tied tightly to it's
 sides. The cat whistled through the air, striking her bottom again and
 again, her screams of pain and ecstasy filling the basement room,
 echoing off the cold stone walls.

 My hand reached down to finger the controls of the operators chair to
 deflate and harden the seat cushion while I rocked my hips forward,
 pressing my clit down, letting the vibrations of the digger work on
 me. The machine strained to carve out another huge nodule from the
 trench, rocking slightly as it transferred it to the ore belt. The
 banging from the jaws, the vibrations of the machine transferred
 through my bare feet, up my legs, and more directly through the seat
 to my pussy, pushing me closer to the edge. Pauline's ass and back
 were criss-crossed with angry red welts as De Sade continued to slash
 his whip across her helpless form.

 The engine roared as the huge digger bit into the ground. My foot
 lashed out at the E-stop bar as the cabin tilted up, my clit ground
 harder into the chair, and my orgasm crashed through me. The roaring
 both outside and inside my head eased off. As the power from my cum
 tapered away I slumped back in the chair even as the machine gently
 slumped back into the trench, it's power winding down. I'm going to
 have to do more blasting here, I thought, as I opened my eyes to see
 what I knew I'd see, the ore highly concentrated here, too much for
 even the power of this machine. At least we'll get a good yield for
 the week.

 For the past eight years I have worked for the Intra System Asteroid
 Mining Company, I SAM for short. Fresh out of grad school at Rigel 4,
 oh, I had grand ideas of taking my diploma and landing some cushy high
 credit job at Eden or Olympus, where the money and the life was easy.
 But a girl has to eat, and after ten months with no prospects I
 signed on with I SAM for a year. I started in the shop, machine
 repair. The work was hard, dirty, even dangerous. But damned if I
 didn't enjoy it. After that first year I re-upped, five weeks training
 in electronics and machine controls, then back at it with cleaner
 work and more credits to bank. Work was work but I SAM took care of
 it's workers. There was none of the bull shit that infests a lot of
 jobs, you were trained how to do things, then left to do it. Your
 needs were taken care of and the pay was better than good. And the
 people I worked with were the greatest.

 I powered up to disengage the claw from the massive boulder it had
 tried to eat, then set the drive to back up along the trench. I had
 still another hour in my shift so I could get most of the charges set
 before Jim took over. Unlike ore retrieval, which the digger could
 pretty much handle on auto, setting a blast was manual work so
 Pauline's plight would have to wait. I stowed my reader in my pack,
 then guided the machine up the ramp and across the surface again to
 the head of the trench. Five holes, five plasma charges, then retreat
 a safe distance. By then Jim should dock and I would be free for a
 four day off. I tapped the comm to send a report to opps, then got to
 work.

 I had finished setting the last hole when I felt Jim's shuttle locking
 into the dock. A few moments later his head popped through the aft
 hatch and he dropped his helmet on the couch, shucking his bulky suit
 off. Digger op was a dangerous job but it paid the most so that's why
 I had gone for it. I'm Twenty nine now and this will be my last year
 with I SAM. With the credits I had in the bank I could take a year or
 two off, then find something else. There are plenty of opportunities
 for someone like me in this system. I met Jim a few years back and we
 had a torrid fling, for a while. He had been a spacer with the
 Imperial fleet, and had moved up in I SAM to operator quickly. He gave
 my shoulders a squeeze when he came up behind, and I pointed out the
 charges I had laid.

 "Good metal down there." I said. "Should make the old man happy."

 "You're off now, right?" Jim asked.

 "A four day at Crydon," I said. "Might pinch an extra shift, I hear
 the baths at Landon are heavenly." I stood and stretched, giving Jim
 the chair.

 "You might as well book off the extra day now," he told me. "The baths
 are wonderful. Drop by the Lambda Bar on Fleet street while you're
 there, you might find it fun."

 I was pulling on my pressure suit and my ears perked up. Jim knows
 all too well my tastes. "Fleet near 23'rd? I'll have a look." I said.

 Jim gave a short bark of a laugh as I grinned back at him. I had heard
 of the Lambda bar and that was actually my main destination this trip.
 I grabbed my helmet from the rack and said "See you next week."

 I cycled the dock air lock and climbed into my shuttle. The company
 gave me this ship when I was doing service calls four years back. You
 could buy your ship at the end of your career, if you wanted, and I
 planned to do just that. The ship was old when I got it, not
 luxurious, but it was solid and that's what counts when you're ten K
 cels from nowhere. I knew it from stem to stern, having worked on it
 enough times and with the mods I have made it will do 50 cel out of
 system. That's five thousand times light speed, in the old measure.

 I blew into ops to clock out, then went to quarters for a quick
 shower. I was back out less than an hour later, heading for Crydon, De
 Sade on the screen. Although I studied earth history in school it was
 only lately I have come to appreciate the valiant salvage operation
 that followed the Big Disaster. It was not just genetic material and
 early technology that was spirited to the colonies, but music, art,
 books on human history, and literature, such as the one I was now
 reading. That a tale written so long ago could move me so strongly now
 I found amazing. Times change, but people are still people.

 I had shucked my heavy pressure suit minutes after departure. I sat
 relaxed, curled in the chair in an over size tee shirt, nothing more.
 But in my mind, I was tied tightly, spread across Sade's heavy wood
 dining room table, the flickering candle light casting ominous shadows
 on the dark wood panelling of the room. Pauline strained at the thick
 ropes on her wrists and ankles, but there was no give in the
 unyielding hemp that streached her hands and her feet away from her
 naked form on the table. She slumped back in her bonds, a tear rolling
 down her cheek. She (I) looked up at a sound, the door opening behind
 her and a shadow moved into the room. I shivered as my fingertip
 brushed over my clit. My other arm raised to my chest under the shirt,
 touching, then squeezing the stiff buds there as the text continued to
 scroll on the console screen.

 Pauline moaned as the man came to her and tenderly stroked her
 tortured back. Her body jerked when he placed his hand between her
 spread thighs, cupping the folds of soft flesh there. His finger
 traced her slit, the lips parting, inviting. I slid in one finger, my
 thumb pressing the little nub against it. She arched her hips up
 towards his hand, mashing her breasts against the hard wood of the
 table. De Sade pushed in deeper, savouring the heat, the wetness, the
 girl's anticipation of what was to come, bringing her closer to the
 point, that moment of sweet, burning pleasure-pain, and the flood of
 release that would follow.

 Using his hands he drove the girl ever onwards, up the steep slope to
 a point where she was writhing and moaning her need. De Sade's hands
 abruptly left the girl's body leaving her momentarily stunned, lost,
 without the stimulation he had been providing. As Pauline bucked and
 moaned on the table De Sade reached down to unhook the whip at his
 belt. A moment later it whistled through the air, striking poor
 Pauline square across her upturned bum. She (I) let out a sharp cry as
 the sensation triggered the first wave of her (my) crashing orgasm.

 I closed my eyes, the reading program freezing the display in
 response, as I squirmed in the chair, lost in the power of the cum I
 was experiencing. I almost fell out of the chair, not a real tragedy
 in the low gee of the craft, imagining the feeling of that whip
 striking my back. I once experienced a stim-sim of a whipping program,
 modeled after something like in De Sade's book. It was in a red light
 district of Nexis, far out in the Sigma quadrant, before I worked for
 I SAM. It was a good simulation, leaving me sweaty and breathless but
 like all sims it couldn't substitute for the real thing. I would have
 never considered it in my younger days, but lately I have been having
 desires to drive myself, or more accurately, be driven, further into
 my more deeper fantasies.

 I opened my eyes and switched the display to navigation. Half hour
 to go. I switched back and read the rest of the chapter. After her
 whipping, Pauline is carefully untied and carried to her bed, retied
 there for the night. De Sade tenderly locks the cuffs on the wrists
 and ankles of his most treasured possession, the chains at the ends of
 the bed a little slack, giving her some freedom of movement for the
 night. He kisses her lips softly as he whispers goodnight, then rises,
 to blow out the candle, leaving Pauline alone with her thoughts.

 There has been no one in my life who could tame and inflame my
 passions, I thought, as I made ready to land. There have been men,
 yes, who I sometimes let come close, but often they were either too
 weak to just take me like I yearned for them to do, or they lost their
 nerve upon finding out I was one of the tough and rough breed of
 asteroid miners. I am one of those breed, can tear down a mass
 converter in my sleep. Yet sometimes, the fragile little girl in me
 peeks out, then begins to lead me off in a direction I don't know but,
 when I get a glimpse of, know that I want to explore farther.

 I met a programmer once, worked with him doing some mods in the
 smelter. We got to know one another pretty well that week. The sex was
 all that and more. After we had discovered a shared interest, our true
 passions, he offered to take me to a friend's place over on Quarrk.
 During the flight his ship lost it's drive and we were being pulled
 down the gravity well of a gas giant. He freaked out. Rather than
 continue in my demure female character and meet an untimely demise, I
 tore open an access panel and yanked the plasma flow shift valve.
 Singed my finger tips a bit, and broke a nail, but I re-machined the
 slides with a small file and greased the actuator with some butter
 from his galley. Then I jammed the valve assembly home before the
 unmodulated plasma could blow the compressor to bits and reached over
 his sobbing form to stabilize the engines. We pulled away from the
 planet and made the first nearby port safely to effect a more
 permanent repair.

 My companion was grateful I had saved his scrawny neck, but there was
 a definite cooling of the relationship. I had assisted him in his work
 at the smelter, but when I had taken over on his ship I had crossed
 some line that said he was the male and girls can't understand
 machinery. This was how it was in olden times yet even now some men
 still cling to this absurd notion. I grabbed the next commercial
 flight back, canceled my vacation and reported back to work. My
 supervisor noted my mood and assigned me light duties for a few days.
 In the end I was glad that I saw the fellows true character, before
 wasting too much time on him.

 Traffic was thick around Crydon, it being a most hospitable planet.
 Much like old Earth would have been, before things started to go bad.
 Oxygen rich, warm climate, and water everywhere, cool, clean water.
 Rivers of it, lakes full. One could scoop up handfulls anywhere and
 drink your fill. I got my vector from control and swooped under the
 cloud cover. Water beading against the view port. It was raining! I
 touched down in a grassy field near the hotel I was booked into.
 Wearing just my tee shirt I exited the craft. Bare feet on the soft
 wet grass, water soaking me at once. It was heaven. An electrical
 discharge flashed from the sky, down to a point several klicks east. A
 moment later the sound boomed across the field, a low rumbling in the
 pit of my stomach and the soles of my feet. I stuck out my tongue to
 catch the water as the rain washed away all of my stress.

 I saw a land vehicle detach from the hotel to circle around, then head
 my way. When it came nearby, the window opened and the man inside said
 "Miss Rytell?"

 "That's me." I replied.

 He slipped a beat, staring at me standing in the rain. My shirt had
 become almost transparent with the soaking I was getting.

 "I can give you a lift to the hotel, if you like." he said.

 I reached into my shuttle to grab my bag, then closed the hatch. The
 man opened the LV door for me and I sat down. By the time we reached
 the hotel the rain was starting to ease up and he let me off under the
 canopy in front. The man at the front desk was more subtle, snatching
 quick glances at my chest when he thought I wasn't looking, the chill
 of my wet shirt causing my nipples to stick out underneath. I logged
 in, then an attendant showed me up to my room. The room was nice with
 a door leading out to a balcony and fresh air, the smells of greenery
 revitalized from the rain. I tipped the attendant, then, when he'd
 gone, I stripped off my wet shirt and grabbed a towel to dry myself
 off. I sat at the terminal to book a time at the famous mud baths,
 then I punched to the Lambda bar's site.

 I had seen this page before but I hoped the local net contained more
 details. I was right. Daily listings, retro rock and roll band in the
 upstairs lounge and in the cellar, level two, S&M 201, an "interactive
 lecture". Yumm.

 But first things first. I pulled out a shirt and my ankle length skirt
 from my bag. I had brought a pair of hiking boots, but didn't expect
 to need them. I prefer barefoot whenever possible and this planet was
 perfect for that. Even when I'm operating a machine I found that I
 could sometimes detect a change in vibration through my feet that
 might alert me to trouble I could have missed. Plus I just like the
 feel, and I have noticed some men seem to like the look of a barefoot
 girl. I wiggled my toes in the soft carpet of the room. My two little
 silver titanium toe rings twinkled at the hem of the cotton skirt, a
 gift from me, to me, on my twenty fifth birthday.

 I went downstairs to the hotel dining room. Fresh and fresh are the
 key words to describe the food on Crydon. The planet doesn't have a
 season, it's summer all the time at this latitude. Nearer to the
 equator it is hotter. Every type of old Earth crop and plant, those
 that were saved that is, flourishes here. I stuffed myself with the
 bounty of fresh vegetables and fruit that the restaurant had to offer.
 After lunch, I was off to keep my appointment at the baths.

 One could hire a LV if you wanted privacy but there was little point.
 The planet, being a popular vacation destination, had a wonderful
 public transport system. I caught the subway train in the basement of
 the hotel, then changed trains in the city. A short hop on a quaint
 surface trolley took me to the mud baths near a small lake, just south
 of town.

 I had been to these baths about five years ago. Water from the lake
 percolates through faults in the planet's crust, finding it's way deep
 where the pressure and heat is great. The water picks up minerals from
 the rock, then is forced back up to the surface. The heat powers this
 complex as well as much of the town, while the thick mineral mud forms
 the sticky pools which people find so relaxing to wallow in. Some say
 that the minerals are absorbed by one's body to promote good health,
 and that may even be true, but the feelings of well being after a long
 soak in the warm ooze can not be denied. While I waited for the
 receptionist to check me in I could feel the low rumblings of the
 forces at work under the building.

 They had a new pool set up this year that the brochure described as a
 "confiningly orgasmic experience." When I stepped up to the desk I
 asked the girl there about it. She explained that a polymer was added
 to an indoor pool which thickened the mud considerably. If one was to
 lay still enough it would become quite hard around you. Once you
 started to move around, however, the mud would slowly begin to soften
 again. There was also a thumper in the pool which would set up
 standing waves of vibration in the mud. The girl lowered her voice a
 little, and I noticed her blush a bit. "If you position yourself just
 right," she said, "it can be a real mind blower."

 I told her that I might enjoy blowing my mind a bit and asked if there
 was a time limit. She said no, you can stay in as long as you can
 stand it. Then you just start flexing and moving a bit so the mud
 softens around you and you can get out. Sounds simple enough. She
 swiped my card and I was off. A short walk later I pushed open the
 door to the pool and stepped inside. The lighting was low but I could
 make out the shapes of three other women, their heads that is, their
 bodies below the surface of the mud. The room was large, the air
 smelling primordial. I saw an area lit from a skylight above, tall
 leafy trees and smaller ferns, around a waterfall, for washing
 afterwards. There was an attendant sitting at a desk near the door who
 smiled at me as I walked past. I unbuttoned my shirt and stepped out
 of my skirt, folding the clothes to place them on a shelf along one
 wall.

 I crossed over to the pool and tested it with my toe. The mud was just
 slightly cool to the touch. The big thumper was on the far side. I
 could see the waves from the vibrations rippling along the surface of
 the mud. One of the women nearby let out a low moan, her eyes screwed
 tightly shut. I stepped down into the pool, my leg slowly sinking in,
 to find a ledge around the edge. I eased myself into the pool. When my
 pussy dipped below the surface I felt the pulsing from the thumper
 much more clearly. This should be interesting, I thought. It took some
 effort to swim through the thick goo but I positioned myself where I
 had noticed the waves were crossing, reflecting off two sides of the
 pool. The dense mud was buoying my body up, but I managed to keep in a
 slightly crouched position long enough for the mud to harden around my
 feet. I was then able to straighten a bit so I was on a 45 degree
 angle, sort of. I leaned my head back and parted my thighs a little.
 As a last thought I eased my hands behind my back and grasped a wrist
 in each hand.

 The pulses from that crazy thumper were starting to effect me. The
 more the mud thickened around my body, the stronger the vibrations
 became. I had found the right spot all right, with the vibrations
 coming at me from three sides. The main pulse and one reflected pulse
 hitting my front, with the second reflection flowing down my back and
 butt. I could sense the slight delay as the main pulse tweaked my
 clit, then flowed up my belly to tickle my nipples. The mud around me
 had become almost hard now and I couldn't hardly move at all. I heard
 one of the other women let out a long, low yell but when I tried to
 turn my head I couldn't, the goo had hardened around my chin and the
 back of my head. I started to flex the muscles in my legs, and I did
 panic a bit, until I felt the mud soften a little. I spread my thighs
 a little more, then settled back down. I pulled hard with my arms but
 the grip was like steel. Yet if I slowly flexed my fingers, in a few
 moments the mud around them would get softer. Slow movement. That is
 how the mud stays soft, the pulses of the thumper are tuned to the
 polymer. The softness of my body dampened the pulses to allow the mud
 to bind together in a hard mass around me.

 With understanding came a calm which was quickly overtaken by a lovely
 little orgasm. I then noticed another feature of this pool. During
 that first cum my cunt muscles had contracted a few times, in the same
 slow rhythm as the vibrations flowing through me. I could feel that I
 had opened a little down there, and some of the mud had been drawn, or
 pushed inside. I flexed my inner thighs a little, slowly, yes. Yes,
 there was something going on down there. I relaxed into it and was
 soon in the throws of another cum, this time defiantly stronger and
 longer. On the next one I pulled and struggled, my arms pinned solidly
 behind my back, my feet and legs, every part of me firmly entombed in
 the hardened mud. And now more of the mud had found it's way inside my
 cunt, a noticeable amount, transferring the pulsations of the thumper
 inside me.

 It was my steady breathing that was keeping a reserve of mud liquid
 around my belly. Each time I came, my deep breathing would push some
 of that mud down to fill my cunt a little more. Then when the cum
 subsided what was in me would get hard again. Each time I came, and I
 was up to six now, I would get filled a little more. I really started
 to let my subconscious take over as I lay trapped in the mud, getting
 fucked by an ever growing cock, which was relentless, and never grew
 tired. Another cum, this one making me reel with the intensity of it.
 I strained to move but I was held fast in cement. I could only open my
 mouth a little with the mud gripping my chin, to moan loudly. Even at
 my ass a small finger of mud was pressing, probing to gain entry.
 Another cum, the strongest yet, my clit thrashing in the goo
 surrounding it, the vibrations pounding deep within me, all around me.

 My cunt felt full now, but not painfully so. The crest of another cum
 caused me to gasp and moan as I rode it out. My orgasms were coming
 quicker now, leaving me almost no time to recover before another
 started building in me. The firm pounding of that thumper was pressing
 all around, and deep inside, to my very core. Another massive cum,
 each time a little stronger and lasting a little longer than the
 previous one. I couldn't move at all, could only ride it out, gasping
 breathlessly even as another cum started to grow. This was heaven and
 I'm going to die, I thought. This is it. I rode the rush to the peak,
 then hung there for what seemed like an eternity. My clit was on fire,
 sending massive shock waves throughout my nervous system, charging my
 body to overload. I may have screamed, I don't know. I didn't know
 anything at that point. My muscles started twitching all over, the
 nerves firing seemingly at random. My entire being exploded in such a
 massive release that I actually blacked out.

 It was several minutes before I began to stir, coming back to ground.
 I was laying in a very comfortable bed, I thought. I raised my arm to
 find I was covered with some sticky substance. When I looked I found I
 was floating in the mud pool, it's density pushing most of me above
 the surface. I flexed my feet to break up the clump of mud surrounding
 them, then I rolled over and paddled to the edge of the pool. It was
 later on that I found out if one stays in long enough, their body
 takes on the rhythm of the thumper, becomes tuned to the frequency
 that reverts the polymer back to a liquid. Then you simply float up to
 the surface. I reached the edge and tried to pull myself out of the
 mud. I discovered I didn't have the strength. The attendant saw me and
 whispered that I should relax a few minutes, that I would be all
 right.

 On the second try I was able to push myself up to lay on the deck for
 a moment, before standing on shaky legs to move towards the waterfall.
 As I walked I could feel the clump of mud inside me break up and
 dribble past my pussy lips to run down my legs. I slumped down on a
 bench to let the warm water cascade over me, washing all the mud off
 as I caught my breath. One of the other women was sitting at the base
 of the waterfall and she smiled at me when I looked up.

 "Wasn't that wild?" she said.

 Her face and chest were flushed, her breathing quick and her eyes were
 sparkling. She was using a small hose to rinse out the mud from inside
 her. "Quite the trip." I answered. I sat under the water for a while
 until my strength returned, using one of the bubbling hoses on myself.
 Then I dried off and got dressed. I followed the signs leading to the
 bar and settled in one of the big comfy chairs. I ordered a brown cow,
 fresh creamy milk with a chocolate liqueur. The milk, lovely and
 refreshing, the alcohol, the bite I needed to bring me back to the
 land of the living. I had another, then left, feeling wonderful, to go
 take a massage.

 The masseur used handfulls of that special mud, mixed with oils and
 lightly scented, skilfully rubbing it into my tired muscles. He worked
 the slippery goo deep into my back and shoulders, down my arms and
 legs, into my hands and feet. Then he had me roll over to do my front,
 gently on my aching nipples and feather light over my throbbing clit.
 He hosed the mud off me off with a gentle warm spray. I felt the
 masseur's fingers moving my rings a little, flushing the mud out from
 beneath. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. It's good when
 you find some little pleasures in your work. He used a small stick to
 clean the mud from under my toe nails and finger nails, then he
 directed me outside the building to a big pond of clean steaming
 water. This was the hot, mineral enriched water that had finished it's
 trip inside the planet and now bubbled up, seeking the light of day
 once more. I splashed around and swam out to the center. The water
 over the vent was almost too hot to bear. I don't think I had ever
 felt so good.

 After my swim I dressed and left, catching the tram to the center of
 town. I had a big meal in a nice little restaurant, fresh salad with
 bread rolls hot from the oven. Then fish with sweet potatoes and
 little carrots, followed by melt in your mouth apple pie with real ice
 cream. Damn, you miss that working on an asteroid eleven months of the
 year. After supper I walked around an open air market taking in the
 sights. I picked up another long skirt, a deep green with a leafy
 design printed on it. Soft and not too heavy it was a hemp cotton
 blend, the vendor assuring me it would wear well. It came with a
 leather belt but I saw a black nylon weave one that I preferred, you
 never know when an adjustable cinch might come in handy to hold
 something together. In the end I bought the leather belt too. There
 was something about the feel of it, and the smell, that I found
 strangely attractive.

 It was quite late when I arrived back at my hotel, dead tired yet
 never feeling so alive in years. I watched some news on the terminal,
 then crawled into bed and slept like a rock.

 Asteroid, Mine  [chapter 2]

 I slept in late the next day, luxuriating in the full gravity, the
 fresh clean air, the big soft bed. Finally, around noon, I roused
 myself to go down for something to eat. After lunch I went back to my
 room, showered, and dressed in my new skirt, a nice blouse, and caught
 the train back to town.

 Fleet street runs the length of the city. I walked from the lake,
 taking in the sights and shops along the way. There was a concert in
 the town square which I stopped to watch for a while before making my
 way past 23'rd street and to the front door of the Lambda bar. The
 building's front was done in gray stone, in an imposing gothic style.
 Inside, the door opened to a huge room with a long bar the length of
 one wall. The lighting defined different areas, a big dance floor,
 clusters of tables, cosy niches. Glass doors led out the back to a
 jungle area lush with trees and plants, tables set amongst the
 greenery. I ordered a beer at the bar and purchased a ticket for the
 lecture that night, then followed my ears upstairs to the heavy beat
 of old time rock music.

 The second floor had high ceilings and another bar. A band played on
 the stage, belting out tunes from the late 20'th century. I loved
 those old songs, as did many people, judging from the crowd up there.
 I sat and listened for a while, danced a bit, got hit on, and danced
 some more with a few guys. But I wasn't here to find a date. Usually
 when a man gets persistent I tell him I'm an asteroid miner and they
 back off. There is still that stigma of rough miners that most men
 can't seem to handle, especially in a woman. However this time a guy
 became more interested and started asking me questions about life on a
 lonely asteroid. He was good looking, tall, about my age. He said his
 name was Mark Anderson and he lived on the Mars colony. He told me
 that he worked on the Earth reclamation project.

 I told Mark that I was going to have dinner here and he asked If he
 could join me. Downstairs in the garden I insisted that I pay for my
 own meal to which he replied, well ya, did I think he would pay for
 me. That broke the ice and I laughed. We talked through out dinner,
 mostly about our work. Mark was here on Crydon, partly on holiday, but
 mainly to see how a planet so beautiful worked. He was hoping to gain
 some new ideas to try out on old Earth. The planet had been seeded
 about a hundred years ago with genetically engineered bacteria to try
 to clear up the worst pockets of pollution and radioactivity. But it
 would still be a long while before it would support life again as it
 once did.

 Mark kept glancing at his watch and I asked him if he had to go
 somewhere. He said that there would be a talk in the auditorium
 downstairs that he didn't want to miss. I showed him my ticket.

 "This one?" I asked.

 "Well, ya." he drawled, lifting his from his shirt pocket.

 I smiled, and actually blushed a little. Our conversation took a
 definite turn at that point. Mark had also read some of De Sade's
 works, as well as other stories I was not familiar with. I listened as
 he described a story he'd found about a group of men who owned a
 riding stable on old Earth. But rather than training horses they
 trained women who had come to the farm to be treated like, and trained
 to become like horses, or as near as could be. Mark told me about the
 story, how the women were made to wear a leather harness on their
 bodies and had a harness for their heads with a leather covered bit
 that went in their mouth. I had been fingering my new leather belt and
 when I casually brought my fingers to my nose and sniffed, the smell
 sent a small chill down my back.

 By the time Mark had finished describing the story of the pony girl
 farm I was glad I had worn panties for a change. I had become rather
 wet down there and I excused myself to go to the ladies to freshen up
 a bit. Afterwards, we talked for a while longer, then it was time for
 the lecture to start. I let him take my arm as we went down the stairs
 to the dimly lit basement and found seats in the auditorium.

 The price of the tickets was not much, more of a formality to keep the
 idle curious out, I thought. I looked around the room and saw all
 kinds of people, young, old, wealthy, and not so. I had half expected
 to see mostly men, but about a third of the audience were women,
 perhaps wondering, like I, where these feelings were coming from when
 they lay in bed at night, on those nights when sleep would not come to
 still their desires. On the stage was a stool in front of the curtain
 and a microphone on a stand. At the appointed time an elderly man
 walked out onto the stage, set a glass on the stool, then took up the
 mic. He announced himself as Doctor Richard Kendrison and said he was
 a psychologist who had studied the relationships between people who
 wish to have control over another, and those who wish for another to
 have control over them.

 The speaker seemed to know his subject, perhaps a little too well. He
 spoke at length about the dynamics of three types of sexual
 relationships which were distinct, he said, yet often interrelated.
 Sadism and masochism which is the giving and receiving of pain.
 Bondage and discipline, the physical taking control of another person.
 And domination and submission that he described as a more spiritual
 type of control over another.

 "People have a need to freely explore their sexuality," he said, "in a
 way which seems right to them. Without someone else telling them that
 their thinking is wrong, that they are not normal. How one person
 derives his or her pleasures from their sexuality can be distinctly
 different from that of another. Because of these varied differences,
 humans have frequently found difficulty in finding a compatible
 partner to share their most inner feelings with. Many people do not
 wish to explore their secret desires or they internalize them, keeping
 them hidden, sometimes even to themselves. Then there are those, like
 you in the audience tonight, that wish to learn, to better understand
 the basis for those thoughts and fantasies that you have."

 When Doctor Kendrison had finished I did indeed have a better
 understanding of why I enjoy so much the thoughts I seemed to have so
 often. It was announced that there would be a short intermission,
 after which there would be a demonstration of one of the topics from
 the lecture. Mark said that he had to go since he was flying off early
 in the morning to do some tests. The lecture was to continue the next
 evening and I asked if he would return. He said that he would try to
 make it, and surprised me by giving me a little kiss before standing
 up to go. I waited for the demonstration to begin.

 After a while the curtain on the stage opened and I saw a heavy wooden
 apparatus mounted in the center. Two wood beams were in an upright X
 shape, supported from the rear. There was a small table a little ways
 away from the cross. Soon the house lights dimmed and spotlights
 highlited the center of the stage. A man and a woman walked out to the
 front of the stage. The man was wearing black pants with a short black
 vest, the woman was naked. He introduced the woman, a beautiful girl
 who looked to be perhaps a bit younger than me, as his wife, and told
 us that he would bind her to the device behind them and use a whip on
 her.

 "My lovely wife here has been whipped before," the man said, "by
 myself, and others, so she knows what to expect. Since this is only a
 demonstration I will not be as hard on her as she has had it on other
 occasions, however she will feel the pain, and her reactions will be
 quite genuine. If there are any of you that are a bit squeamish, you
 may wish to leave now."

 I looked around the auditorium. No one got up and left. With out
 further ado the man guided his wife to the wooden cross, a St. Andrews
 cross, he said. She stood facing it and spread her legs wide, her feet
 at the base of each beam. Her husband picked some wide padded cuffs
 from the table, then bent to secure her ankles to the posts. She
 stretched her hands up as he used a second set of cuffs to fasten her
 wrists high up over her head. Her golden hair spilled down her back,
 to the bottom of her butt when she tipped her head back. Her husband
 gathered the hair up, pinning it in a bun on top of her head. I
 watched in awe as he ran his hands lovingly down the pale flesh of
 her back and bum, then dipped a hand between her outstretched thighs
 to give her sex a tender squeeze. The girl looked back, their eyes met
 for a brief, knowing moment. It was time.

 The man left his wife to move to the table and select a whip. He chose
 one which was long, black, leather I guessed. It had a short stiff
 handle with the length of supple leather hanging down about a meter,
 touching the floor. He swung the whip over his head and snapped it in
 the air, the loud crack echoing around the silent hall. He snapped it
 a few more times. I felt my skin crawl at each crack.

 "A single strand whip such as this one can be rather dangerous for a
 novice to use," he said. "Snapping a whip like that could easily do
 permanent damage to flesh. A better technique is to swing the strap in
 an arc, letting the whip make flat contact without dragging it across
 the skin. Like so."

 He stepped closer to his wife to position himself on her left side. He
 then swung the whip in a wide arc towards her bum. The strap contacted
 her flesh with a sharp splat sound. The whip seemed to stick to her
 for a moment, then fell away to reveal a bright red line across both
 her cheeks. I saw the girl shudder a bit, then settle. Her husband
 swung the whip again. Crack. Another bright red line, this one an inch
 above the last. The man went to her and turned her body a little to
 show that the whip had struck her skin evenly, nearly from one hip to
 the other. I saw the couple lock eyes for just a second before he
 moved away again to take his place to the side of her once more.

 He began slowly, slashing his wife with the whip, then giving her a
 moment to adjust to the pain before hitting her again. Each time the
 whip struck, the girl would jerk and press her body against the wooden
 posts she was bound to. Then she would move back again, ready to
 receive the next blow. Her husband worked the whip up her bum and
 upper back, the strap leaving angry looking red lines, evenly spaced,
 to mark it's progress. I saw one blow, the end of the whip coming very
 near the girl's breast. I could hardly believe my eyes, on the next
 stroke she turned her body just a little, allowing the tip of the whip
 to caress her nipple. She moaned loudly and slumped down, hanging by
 her arms. Again the whip wrapped around her body, the tip delivering
 another dose of stinging fire to the poor girl's nipple. She jerked,
 then her legs spasmed. A glistening wetness appeared on her inner
 thighs and I knew the girl had orgasmed solely from the whipping she
 was receiving.

 The man delivered one more stroke of the whip, more gently this time,
 the end of the whip flicking between her legs, a firm caress to the
 center of her pleasure. Her hands grasped air and she screamed loud
 and low as she shook with the force of her cum. The man put the whip
 down on the table. His loving wife lay limp in her bonds as he moved
 to unlock her wrist cuffs from the cross. She melted into him as he
 carefully helped her sit, then he unlocked her ankle restraints. The
 audience began to applaud as the man helped his wife stand up. Her
 eyes had a glazed, far away look, but she managed a weak smile before
 being led off the stage by her husband amidst cheers and applause from
 the crowd.

 I stood to go. The crowd filed out of the auditorium and up the
 stairs, to the main floor of the bar. I needed a drink, badly, so I
 went to the bar and ordered a double Sarcusian Brandy, with a beer
 chaser. There was a band on stage there, playing music by a twentieth
 century group called Pink Floyd. The sound had a techno overtone, but
 a rich and deep undertone to it.. You couldn't exactly dance to it, but
 I soon found myself becoming caught up in the melodious music and
 stood, swaying gently to the sound. I snagged a stool at the bar and
 ordered another brandy 'n' beer. The complex chord changes, the
 alcohol, plus the show I'd witnessed downstairs had me so keyed up I
 could hardly bear it. I noticed a rather young fellow staring at my
 bare feet perched on the rail of my stool. I hiked up my skirt a
 little, then I wiggled my toes. He looked up at me, then away,
 embarrassed to have been caught. When he looked back at me I smiled at
 him. He took that as encouraging and a minute later came over to sit
 beside me.

 "Mind if I join you?" he asked. "My name's Peter."

 "Donna." I said as I nodded to a recently vacated chair beside me.

 "Do you like the band?" he asked. I shook my head, yes, and he went
 on. "I'm really into Floyd these days. Got all their old albums at
 home."

 So easy. "These guys are pretty good." I said. "I'd like to hear the
 originals some day."

 "We could . . . uhh. . . ."

 Comon buddy, don't loose your nerve now.

 He tried again. "I live not too far away. We could go over and I could
 play some for you."

 So Welcome, Tooo, The Machine. The haunting lyrics from the stage
 drilled into my brain. "Why Peter, I'd like that." I downed the rest
 of my beer. "Let's go."

 Peter was so sweet. He took my arm to lead us through the crowded bar
 and outside. We walked to the corner and caught the surface bus for
 the short ride across town, to his apartment. On the ride he kept
 glancing down at my feet. With all the walking around I did that
 afternoon they were quite dirty, but that didn't seem to deter him
 from devouring them with his eyes every chance he got. When we arrived
 in his apartment he asked me if I wanted a drink. "Beer is fine, if
 you have any." I said. I used his bathroom to pee, then I cleaned up a
 little, washing most of the grime from my feet, and freshening up a
 bit, down there, ditching the panties in a pocket of the skirt

 Peter handed me a cold one as I sat down on the couch beside him. The
 sound of sheep bleating came from the big speakers of his player.
 Melodious notes of a synthesiser. I lifted my legs up and turned,
 planting my feet across his lap. Peter's hands immediately were on them,
 the poor dear looking like he had been given a most wondrous present.
 I relaxed into the end of the couch, sipping my beer. Peter gave me a
 lovely, long foot massage. I could feel him playing with my rings,
 sliding them up and down a bit, turning them around on my toes. Then
 he bent to softly kiss my big toes. I opened my eyes to meet his, and
 I smiled. He raised my foot, parted his lips, and gently drew my big
 toe into his mouth. The tempo of the song abruptly dropped, sheep
 again, in the distance. I closed my eyes, letting the soothing
 rhythm, and peter's talented tongue, take me away.

 I could feel an immense bulge in Peter's pants so I rubbed it with my
 other foot, making him groan with pleasure. After he had lovingly
 sucked all ten of my toes and licked all over my feet he stopped to
 look into my eyes once again. "Would you like to move to the bed?" I
 asked. He took my hand and we stood. He led me to the next room and
 his bed. We undressed slowly, savouring each other's bodies as they
 were revealed. I lay down on his bed. Peter lay on top of me, his
 hands on my breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He took one nipple into
 his mouth and sucked gently while fingering the other. I ran my
 fingers through his hair and down his back. His head moved lower, soft
 kisses down my belly, to sniff the musky sent from between my legs.
 Then his tongue flicked out to brush my clit, making me jump, my need
 apparent.

 I opened for him as his tongue licked along my slit. He tickled that
 little nub, then sucked it into his mouth to drive me wild with
 desire. My thighs began to quiver and I grabbed his head to push his
 face harder against me, then pulled, dragging him up to me, to roughly
 kiss his mouth, smelling my own scent on him. He reached down to run
 his cock head along my wet pussy, then began to push himself into me.
 I writhed beneath him, bucking my hips up to draw his length in
 deeper. He started pumping in earnest then, we rutted like animals. In
 a short time I was on the verge of a major cum, then moaning loud as
 it crashed through me. Peter slowed, riding me out, then picked up
 speed again, pounding me, clutching my shoulders to drive deeper into
 me. I felt the muscles of his back tighten, his motions becoming
 slightly erratic as he swelled inside of me. Then his seed burst forth
 in a massive flood as he came and came inside of me, triggering
 another flood of release which shook me to my very core.

 After a while, after we basked in the afterglow of our sweet
 lovemaking, Peter got up to change the record while I used the
 bathroom again, to clean up. I then joined him on his couch. The disc
 he'd put on was called Dark Side of the Moon, music from a time long
 ago. Man's first tentative steps to reach beyond his planet. We
 snuggled together to let the music work it's magic once again. I heard
 the song that the bar band had been playing when I picked up Peter. I
 brought my head down to his lap, then took him into my mouth. Welcome
 my son, welcome to the machine. Peter was perhaps eighteen, twenty at
 most. I glanced up to look at him. His eyes were closed, he was in
 heaven. I continued.

 His hand gently stroked my bum. He slid his hand down my crack,
 between my legs, pressing, exploring with a finger. I took him deep
 into my throat and hummed along to the song whole he moaned the bass
 beat. He fingered my clit, sending shockwaves up my spine. I was
 ready. Peter, more so. I got up and knelt over his legs, pressing and
 rubbing my nipples on his face. He licked, then nibbled as I reached
 behind to guide his stiff cock into me. I slid myself down his
 throbbing shaft, impaling myself on it. His lips sought out mine and
 we locked in a passionate kiss. Then I started a slow, teasing, up and
 down motion on him, enjoying him, and his reactions to me.

 My tits were smacking his chin as my tempo increased. He pressed the
 fleshy globes against his cheeks and started thrusting his hips up to
 meet mine. Peter then gripped my waist, hugging me close, pushing down
 to drive deeper into me. He reached farther down to grip my ankles,
 then to caress my heels, and finally, the soles of my feet with his
 fingers. I ground myself against him, then threw back my head and
 howled as the power of my orgasm washed through me. Peter squeezed my
 feet hard as he lifted up a bit, pushing in deep to fill me with
 another load of his hot cum.

 The record finished as I held Peter's head against my shoulder. I got
 off him a while later, to go wash his cum out of me. He made us a
 snack of fresh bread and sweet strawberry jam, green tea. I looked
 through his music collection while he played a few songs from other
 old Earth groups. Then we went to his bedroom to get some sleep. At
 some point in the wee hours I was a wakened by tender caresses along
 my back. Peter and I made gentle sweet love once more before he
 dropped off into a deep sleep. I woke again, the early dawn light
 streaming in the window, the birds singing outside. Carefully, I got
 up, put on my clothes, and left.

 Outside, walking in the fresh morning air helped clear my head. A few
 streets over from Peter's apartment I caught the subway train back to
 my hotel. I slept the sleep of the dead, the well fucked dead that is,
 waking in the early afternoon to shower, get dressed and go. I wore a
 pair of tight faded denim jeans, my black tee shirt with the i-sam
 logo emblazoned on the front, a big digger perched impossibly on a
 small asteroid, a star field behind. Nothing more. Then I went down
 and took the train back to town.

 [End part 1/4]

-- 
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