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From: "Monocle" <monocle_o@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Nightmares and Visions 61-65 by Monocle nc various caution
Date: Wed, 7 Jan 2004 22:10:03 -0500
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<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/
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