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Subject: {ASSM} Arachis Hypogea by Monocle (F/other nc bond weird)
X-Original-Subject: Arachis Hypogea by Monocle, F/other nc bond weird
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<1st attachment, "Arachis_Hypogea.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 freeand 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
---------------------------------
Arachis Hypogea by Monocle - F/other
nc bond weird
Catherine comes face to face with her childhood terror,
and it is everything she feared.
Feedback to:
monocle_o@NOTTHIS.hotmail.com
Other stories from Monocle can be found at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Monocle/
----------------------------------
rose footfalls
cat pads through my
dream
awakening
----------------------------------
Arachis Hypogea, by
Monocle
1.
The slinky metal chain of his monocle traced its path, like a
serpent around my left breast. I shivered at the sensation, but the tremor
was lost in the greater shaking of my body. The trembling of fright. Fear
had stolen my protesting voice the moment I'd opened my eyes to see the
giant veined hull bent over my immobilized body. Someone else might have
found it comical, but Mr. Peanut has always been terrifying to me. Being
naked under his gaze was nearly paralyzing. And being bound, hands above
head, with him standing between my bent, pried-apart legs was fear almost
beyond imagining.
He, It, whatever, seemed to be examining my breast
through his oversized lens, dragging the cool chain around over my aureole
and nipple. Of course it stiffened in response, much to my chagrin, as did
my left nipple when he turned his attention there. He raised his... head to
look at me. That smile... the nearly opaque lens, and the other
dispassionate eye. A whimper escaped me.
"No running away this time, Little
Catherine." The voice was high, tinny. And I immediately hoped it never
spoke again. The fact he knew my name only made it worse.
"Mmm. Soft.
Sensitive..." Massive, white-gloved hands were on my breasts, making their
ample size seem almost small. He squeezed and rolled them, catching my
nipples between rubbing and pinching fingers. I gritted my teeth from both
the physical and aural assault. The smooth leather was slick on my skin, and
the pervasive odor of peanuts intensified as he rubbed the oil all over my
chest and stomach, never leaving my breasts for long. It had been a long
time since someone else had handled them so expertly, and I was extra
sensitive now. But it couldn't feel good. I couldn't let it
"I hope you're
not allergic," he said; then he chuckled. I wanted to crawl inside of myself
at that sound. He continued handling me for minutes, as I squirmed, unable
to avoid his warm touch. His oily hands slid down my ribcage to my
hips.
"Hmmm. Not so little, Catherine, since we last met. You have a
woman's breasts, and body," It would have sounded appreciative from a real
voice. Here it merely sounded perverted, predatory. He leaned over my belly,
and his giant top hat blocked his incessantly grinning face. All I could see
was the chain dangling again, coiling in my belly button, then lightly
dragging down across my skin as he moved his gaze and body lower. I could
barely breathe, jumping despite myself as the links flowed directly over the
top of my mound, and down my slit. A shiver ran up my spine as I felt each
individual link cross my most private area. Flexed my thighs and strained,
but the bindings just above my knees and at my ankles let me do no more than
wiggle. I was splayed so wide, I knew my labia were parted, exposing my
flower to his lewd leer. The links flowed between my outer lips ticking just
inside them as gravity dragged the chain down between my legs.
That chuckle
came again, and I dreaded finding out what he found so amusing down
there.
"You're wet."
2.
No. Not only had I not expected him to say it. It
couldn't be true.
"No!" It was a croaked whisper, the best I could manage.
He looked up at me, smile unchanging. It was supposed to be happy and
friendly, but it had always been sinister to me.
"Yes," he said, reaching
past my left leg to grab something - a black glass cane. It swished through
the air in front of my face, then down. He continued to lock gazes with me,
and I felt something nudge between my legs. Thicker than a finger, thinner
than a penis, it slid up and down my slit once, twice, and was gone before I
could even squirm. Then the straight end of the cane hovered before my face.
"Look," he commanded. The tip of the cane was smooth and rounded, bare of
ground-gripping rubber. It glistened with moisture.
"Smell." Through the
thick peanut aroma, was a hint my own scent. My sexual scent.
"Taste." The
cane touched my lips. Too frightened to disobey, I opened my lips and let
the glass shaft slide into my mouth. I knew my own body, and tasted my own
arousal. I shook my head, but could no longer deny the telltale molten
feeling between my legs. How could I be reacting - to _this_?
"Yes,
Catherine. Your body does not lie. And more truth yet before we are
finished. You're going to cum for me. And cum. Then, we'll see.
"MNO!" It
was almost a cry now, garbled by the cane still intruding in my mouth. I
felt like I was sinking. A tear slid down my cheek.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he pulled the cane back from my lips. He lowered the end he was
holding - the crooked end - in his hand to the top of my pubic mound. The
hook end was also smoothly rounded, and it pressed lightly against my skin
and pubic hair as he drew it lower. It passed over the top of my pussy again
and I gasped. The quick shock of sensation - of pleasure - implied my clit
had emerged. I looked down my body, then up at his face. He bobbed his body
as if nodding. Then the tip lowered between my legs and slid into my slit.
He slowly angled the cane upward, curving the handle into me, one, maybe two
inches. I squirmed at the unwelcome penetration. It didn't feel bad
physically, but the other reasons for my discomfort were too numerous to
count, not the least of which was how easily it was sliding in. My body
flushed. I was very wet.
He moved the tip back and forth inside me, almost
as if he was searching for...
"NO! - Guhh!"
The spot. He found it.
---
3.
"Oh, god, please..." I'd found at least some of my voice, but it was
weak and I wasn't being articulate. He stood up between my legs again,
holding the shaft of the cane in one hand, and alternately groping, pinching
and massaging my breasts with his other hand. The curved tip of the cane
twitched with his movements and dragged this way and that against that one
wilding spot inside me. If it had been another time of month, my breasts
wouldn't be so receptive, so responsive. It was almost painful now when he
wasn't touching them. My hips kept shifting. I told myself I was trying to
get the pressure off that maddening point, but effectively I merely rubbed
it in different directions.
"It is all right Little Cat. I've waited so for
this. We have all the time we need." Perhaps the tinny voice was trying to
be gentle. It failed.
Puzzlement must have crossed my tormented
face.
"Ever since we first met. In the market. When I looked into your
eyes, before you ran away, I wanted you. You had to be mine. I knew you
would be. You've thought about me. I've watched you for all these years. Now
I have you."
My eyes had widened again in renewed horror as he spoke. It
couldn't be! My mind flashed wildly back to the shivers I'd have whenever I
saw his picture in an advertisement, the occasional flashes - paranoid
suspicions of being watched for no reason... It all connected in some
terrible logic now, bound by this single thread I knew was correct, but so
utterly wrong.
"Noohhhh! Uhhhh." My protest turned into a moan as sensation
raced up my spine. A finger had grazed my clit, multiplying the intensity.
My hips ground down into the rubbing cane and I couldn't stop them. Inner
muscles gripped the unyielding curved shaft. He gently pinched my right
nipple as my own juices flooded me.
"Good, good girl. Very soon now, my
Catherine." He sounded surprised. Pleased.
I tried to hold my lower body
steady, but couldn't completely stifle the little humping motions. How could
such a horror be having this affect on me? I wanted to smash the smiling
face with a fist or a good solid kick. I would, given half the chance, but I
could barely even twitch my arms and legs. Another moan escaped me as my
control momentarily lapsed, and my hips surged into the relentless pleasure.
I jolted again as the finger crossed my clit randomly.
"It's coming,
Catherine. We both know it. There's nothing you can do about it. Best just
to enjoy it."
My breasts were getting a thorough going over, and the
sensation in my pussy was a gathering storm. I was not escaping it. It was
maddening.
I knew I'd lost when the butterflies started in my stomach, and
it frightened me even more, if that was even possible. I gasped air,
finding my eyes locked on the expressionless monocle. I heard a quiet
"yesssss" hiss from him as the lightening spread up my chest to explode in
my breasts first, then rocket down my spine to set my pussy alight.
"N!-"
My last protest died as my pussy clamped down on the cane tip and my entire
body shuddered. My hips bucked, grinding the cane against my spot as orgasm
consumed me. I almost could not recognize my own screams of terror fused
with forced pleasure. The hand at my breasts never stopped, each pull and
pinch extending and prolonging the agony of the climax. My back arched,
stomach flexed, and limbs jerked in their restraints. It went on and on as I
stared helplessly into the cloudy glass of the lens. It threatened to
envelope me.
---
4.
Slowly, I did come down. As some of my senses returned,
I realized he'd removed both his hand and cane from my sweat and oil-covered
body.
"That was very nice. Very good. Catherine. A very good
start."
Start? I was too out of breath and deflated to react to that. I did
sob, though. How could I cum for this horror, this childhood nightmare? How
could my body betray me so?
"Now, raise your hips. I know you can. Arch you
back and lift up," he commanded.
How could he? He wanted more? He wanted me
to cooperate? I couldn't. I wouldn't.
"Now Catherine. You know I can make
you." He could have sounded angry, impatient. He didn't. It was like he
expected my recalcitrance. Desired it, even.
"All right, then," and the
crook of the cane was digging back into my sopping womanhood. This time it
was not gentle, though. He hooked the curved handle upward and began to
pull. The rounded tip of the cane dug into the roof of my tunnel and pressed
upward, quickly becoming uncomfortable. I had little choice but to try to
follow it to relieve the pressure, and soon I was arching as much as I could
to, holding my rear several inches above the soaked seat. I was already
tired, and it was an effort to stay in this position using just my back and
stomach muscles. But I tried to get even higher when I felt a thick, oily,
glove finger trace from my tailbone to delve between the cheeks of my
ass.
"Gggnoo!" was all I could manage between gritted teeth.
"Oh yes,
Catherine," the reply was a little muffled, because his face was now below
my line of sight. All I could see was the slightly moving oversized top hat
between my spread legs.
"I want to see, touch, and have all of you." With
that, I felt fingers of his hand spread my cheeks apart, allowing a middle
digit to trace up, down and around the ring of my anus. I tried to jerk
upward, but whatever extra distance I could move was not great, and had did
not alter the course of the digit circling the sensitive muscle guarding my
rear entrance. The smooth end of the digit settled in the center of my
sphincter, and I closed my eyes. The upward pressure in my pussy ceased as
the cane was removed
"Now, let yourself down." More shock and surprise. He
wasn't going to violate my ass. He was going to make me do it to myself! In
a surge of unwise obstinacy, I vowed to resist again -that I would stay up
like this until he gave up.
"I can wait as long as I need to Catherine, but
you do need to obey." The voice was clearer now, with a little edge to it,
and I opened my eyes. I saw him looking over my upwardly straining body; the
straight end of his cane poised some inches over my pussy. I saw the cane
flash down and up, and heard the slap of it against my skin an eternity
before the sharp sting of the blow hit my brain. He had slapped the cane
dead center on my post-orgasmically sensitive clit. I shrieked at the pain
and automatically recoiled away from it - impaling my ass on the stiff
finger.
5.
"UGGH!" I grunted low. The fat digit popped past my protesting
anus, maybe knuckle deep into my rear end. I tried frantically to reverse
direction, unmindful of the consequence. I not only failed to dislodge the
invading digit, but also was rewarded with another slap from the cane, which
caused me to jerk down again and swallow more of the sodomizing finger.
It
was a battle quickly lost. Moments later, I lay breathless, by full weight
on the hand extending a long middle finger into my back passage. During the
struggle, the pointer finger of the same hand found it's way along my
perineum, to my slit, then into my pussy. The thumb settled near the top of
my vagina, just below my throbbing clit.
"Good girl, Catherine. That's
right. It will be all right now. It will feel good. I've always wanted to
make you feel good."
I didn't believe him.
"Time to make you cum again,
sweet Catherine."
I shook my head in protest, but that was all I could
muster. He'd already started rubbing his thumb around my clit - never quite
touching it, and wiggling and sliding the digits trapped in the depths of my
pussy and ass in sensuous rhythms. His other hand joined in, caressing my
inner thighs, or my labia, or my mound just above my clit, or trying to dig
in next to the finger already penetrating my sex. I don't know how much time
it took for my body to start responding. It happened much sooner than it
should have. It shouldn't have happened at all, but when I could look down
once more I say my lower body undulating with the motions of the gloved
hands. The muscles in my pussy and ass instinctively squeezed the fingers
like they were little cocks, trying to make them cum.
This time my climax
came more slowly. Slowly enough that I could feel myself fight its arrival
and lose, fright-by-fright, sensation-by-sensation, and
pleasure-by-pleasure. I sobbed as the spasms wracked my body, my pussy and
ass milking the active fingers. The high, alien voice practically cooed with
satisfaction.
6.
The fingers slid slowly out of me, dragging a moan from my
lips. My inner muscles clutched at the retreating digits as if not wanting
to let them go. I turned crimson at my body's betrayal.
"That was very
nice, Catherine. Very nice to cum for me like that."
I hated him. It.
Whatever. The smile, voice, spindly legs. I feared and hated each part and
the monstrous whole.
As I seethed, he surprised me by starting to release
my bonds, first ankles, then knees then wrists. He was talking, but I
couldn't hear him through the rush of blood. He thought I was beaten, that
he could do what he wanted with me. Adrenaline surged, and I fought to
remain lethargic looking until my last limb was free. Then I moved, bringing
my legs up for a savage kick to the middle of his shell. He staggered back,
and I seized the moment to escape.
I swung off the padded reclining
chair-like contraption that had held me for so long, and jumped to the
floor. My feet shot out from under me and I landed hard on my rear. Oil. On
my feet, the floor, or both. The jarring landing knocked the wind out of me,
and I gasped, almost passing out. I was too busy recovering my breath to see
my advantage, my chance to get away, disappear. The oil on the floor seemed
not to affect him. He was just suddenly there, grabbing my wrists and
sliding me across the smooth floor.
By the time I was getting enough air,
I was restrained again, this time bent over a narrow bench. My arms
stretched above my head again, secured near the end of the bench. My knees
were knees spread wide, tied to the floor just above my calves. My own
weight pressed my breasts and stomach into the padding of the bench. I
couldn't see him well any more - he was mostly behind me, and it was hard to
crane my neck around from my new position. For a moment I thought I saw he'd
taken off his hat. On the edge of my vision, it looked like he was reaching
into it and pulling something or several somethings out.
"You need to be
good Catherine. That wasn't good."
I heard a whistling sound.
"SLAP!"
I
shrieked as a line of fire crossed my buttocks. It was the cane!
"God,
No!"
"SLAP!"
Another one, just below the first. I cried out at the sting
of it.
"Be a good girl, Catherine."
"No!"
"WHACK!"
His open palm nearly
covered my left cheek with pain.
It continued. Alternating slaps with the
cane, with a hand. On my ass, my thighs, God, between my legs. I didn't know
what being good meant. I didn't care. I gritted my teeth and wouldn't say
it. I tried to wiggle way from the blows, but of course could not. Some
times the cane would strike the side of a breast and make me jump anew. They
came fast and slow, soft and hard. Not hard enough to welt or bruise me - I
hoped - but every hit stung, and soon most of my backside was one tender,
singing, throbbing sting. I screeched and cried out, and eventually, just
sagged and took it. By the end, I only twitched at the harder bites. Finally
he stopped. I breathed raggedly five or six times, before the next words
made me choke.
"You're wet."
7.
An accusation? An opinion? Of course I
was wet after all this, I thought, maybe even bloody from... But no. No. No.
No. I realized with utter mortification that I was dripping. My outsides
were aflame, but my insides were like melted butter. My pussy was positively
creaming. All I could do in response with was a despairing moan.
"Let me
help you."
Help. I needed help. God, Help. He released my arms and I
threatened to slide back off the bench. Then my pussy touched something as I
sank back, and I tensed and stopped myself abruptly. Something blunt and
round nosed between my labia. It was wider than the cane, or his gloved
fingers. It was textured and hot, and I feared it, but had to grab onto the
seat edge and bite my lip to keep myself from grinding down on it.
"Let me
help you."
The repeated words buzzed in my ears as white-gloved hands came
into view to either side of my head and settled on my wrists. Oily as they
were, they easily pulled my hands free and forced them behind my back,
holding my wrists crossed while something wound around them. Now only my
legs kept me above the tip of whatever it was behind me. Even if I craned my
neck all I could see was a great peanut-yellow shape behind me, and I
couldn't turn too far, or I would end up lowering myself. More and more, I
both wanted and desperately did not want that to happen.
"Let me help
you."
Hands went to my breasts again, one each. Oil, rubbing, squeezing;
gently pulling back. I groaned in protest, and in base, animal arousal, in
surrender. I sank back.
It was big. My lips flowered open around it,
stretching to accommodate it. I grunted incoherent syllables as I descended
onto it, sinking ink by inch. Its texture was oddly ribbed and veined, and I
felt every bump and valley slide into my secret flesh, pressing and rubbing
against my spot. It filled me completely.
"That feels good, doesn't
it?"
I could have said no. I could have lied.
"yesss," My voice was very
small.
"I've waited, wanted for all these years. So have you."
"noo." I
still would not accept or believe it.
"Yes you have. You know it deep
inside. As deep inside as I am now."
I couldn't imagine what he meant. His
giant peanut form had been smooth between his spindly legs, no signs of
genitalia at all. I groaned and weakly tried to lift myself up. The
ever-working hands kept up their manipulations of my breasts- and they
gentle pulling back and down. I raised maybe an inch or two up, and then
sank down, trembling. It felt too good. If anything, I'd gotten it even
deeper into me for my effort.
"You will see eventually. I know it. Now.
Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me until you cum. One more time."
I couldn't. Even if I
wanted to. Everything was gone. Strength, resolve, will. All I could do was
kneel there, impaled by some giant peanut phallus while an obscene giant
molested my tits.
"Let me help you."
8.
The great whit gloves released my
breasts and slid down my sides, to my waist. My hip bones fit perfectly into
the two palms, and I felt myself lifted upward, the great, textured cock
shape slowly pulling out of me. He lifted me until the shaft was nearly all
out, and then gently guided my back down. I tried to reach back with my
bound hands to slow or stop my progress, but my fingers slid uselessly down
the shell of his body. I moaned as I filled again, every nook of my canal
stretched and rubbed, every internal nerve seduced by heat and texture.
He
raised and lowered me again, and again. I throbbed around the shaft, and
felt it pulse in return. Heat flashed through my body and my legs flexed
with the motions. Again. Again. I uttered sounds I didn't know I could make.
The hands left my hips, and my own legs carried me up and down the shaft on
their own once, twice. I only realized I was fucking myself when the hands
returned to my body - one to my breasts, one snaking down my stomach, The
hands pulled me back against the hull of his body, pinning my arms between
us. My tormented skin stung at the fist contact, but I still rose and sank
on the fat shaft, and the sliding of my backside against the warm, smooth
texture massaged some of the pain away.
The hand on my stomach slid further
down, a thick finger finally finding my clit.
"Guh! UuuuuHHHH.." Sensation
was all there was. Horror, fear, humiliation had all been honed into one
edge of the sword. Pleasure, release, surrender was the other edge. I fell
upon it over and over. My stomach lightened, almost queasy with
butterflies.
"Yessss...Gooood.." His voice was right behind me. Its pitch
was a different. Huskier, if that were possible. "Cum for me one more time,
Little Cat. One more time for me. Just like I always wanted. Just like you
always wanted."
And I did. I jerked up one last time, jamming my clit into
his busily working fingers, my breast into his pulling, pinching hand, then
fell down and down and down. I couldn't even scream. I looked up unseeing,
mouth open, emitting some kind of sound, as my body exploded in complete
release. Wave after wave of it crashed over me. I died, was reborn. I fell
through the rainbow. My pounding and throbbing body heart defined ebb and
flow of existence. Then he came in me. Through my storm, maybe because of
it, I felt him swell inside me, then the pulse and hot surge of... I don't
know what, erupting into me, with nowhere to go but deeper, into my very
center. Once, twice, thrice, more, and more. He filled me completely, then
more. It would have been uncomfortable if I weren't so far gone. Instead it
only added to the savage, exquisite double cut of the sword. It went on
forever.
9.
I drifted into myself. My head and upper body leaned on the
bench. Something was happening with my arms. Release- they flopped down to
the floor. Hands took my hips and lifted, and my completeness dissolved away
as the cock? Nut? Fell out of me, followed by copious amounts of thick fluid
cascading down my legs. I whined, protesting the loss.
My knees freed, I
slid and was caught. Warm dry arms cradled me like a child, carrying me. A
soft bed beneath me. A great hand stroking my forehead, hair, shoulders. I
sighed in utter exhaustion. And in so much more. Another warm hand stroked
low on my belly. Intimate. Possessive. Satisfied.
"Goodbye for now, Little
Cat, " The voice again, "You were worth waiting for. You were very good. So
very good."
I opened my eyes and looked over the bed's edge. In my mind,
in the cinema of memory, a little girl stared wide-eyed into the white
circle of giant Mr. Peanut's monocle as he held out a sample package in his
white-gloved hand. Nameless, reasonless fear gripped her stomach as she
looked up at his looming form, and she ran as fast as her tiny legs could
carry her to the other end of store. It was yesterday. It was now. But now
he had caught me. It was different. How I couldn't say. But I would find
out.
-----------------------------------------
Arachis Hypogea, 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/
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