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Message-ID: <48213asstr$1087053003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Virgosun" <virgosun@internode.on.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Saskia's Pride 4/4 {virgosun} (mf rom cons mutant)
Lines: 492
Date: Sat, 12 Jun 2004 11:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "saskiaspride04.txt" begin>

*Saskia's Pride*

by virgosun (c) 2004

(Part 4 of 4, MF)

***

We kissed ferociously all the way there, uncaring what 
the cabbie saw in his rear-view mirror. At last I 
touched Martin's splendid form, feeling thick round 
muscles tightening his jacket, running my hand down his 
corded neck beneath his collar. There was no telling 
where one kiss ended and the next began. Hot hands 
caressed my shoulders and back, kneading as he stroked, 
a gorgeous sensation I could not have imagined. Our 
tongues wrestled between parted jaws. We were both 
starving hungry, our appetites voracious.

When the vehicle pulled up, Martin drew away only long 
enough to mutter to the driver to charge the fare to 
ENCOMM. His grip strong around my wrist, he drew me from 
the car and straight back into his mouth. Dim 
streetlight, chirp of crickets, scent of cut lawn; all 
were secondary to my desirable companion. Now that we 
were standing, I could hook my thigh around his hip, and 
rock my pelvis up against him. His hands closed around 
and beneath my rump, slowly squeezing, and he lifted me 
to meet that hot secret tantalising my belly.

I stiffened when my feet left the ground, utterly 
unprepared for his easy strength. Deep chuckles shook 
his chest. "I've got you," he murmured.

Something happened within me, some reflex that made my 
body relax. I lay suddenly limp, like a ragdoll cat, as 
we started moving. His footsteps scraped concrete, and 
we rose up a short flight of steps. He let me slip down, 
his groin teasing me. When my feet touched the ground I 
took my weight again, finding my strength while he found 
the door key. By the time he got the panel open, I had 
managed to push his jacket half-off.

Never had I wanted someone so much. We burst into the 
darkness of a living room. I glimpsed a few dim 
reflections from glassy surfaces. Martin filled the rest 
of my senses, his musky scent, the rustle of his 
clothing, taste of wine. As the door clicked shut, he 
bore me hard against the wall as I pulled at his shirt 
buttons. Between his mouth on my throat and my writhing 
for pleasure, my dress had worked its way down my 
shoulders, so far that it was trapping my arms by my 
sides.

His every kiss sent electric shocks through my body. My 
skirt rode up as I parted my thighs, inviting him in. He 
rocked his pelvis in a profound primal rhythm, making 
deep thrusting motions, rubbing his swollen crotch 
against mine. Hot hands felt beneath my hemline to the 
tops of my thighs, to my underwear and buttocks. His 
fiery erection seemed so large that he would pierce me 
there, through the remaining layers of fabric between 
us.

I could barely speak for excitement and exultation. 
"Martin," I gasped in delight, "this is...my...first..."

He stopped as though jolted, and pulled back. I threw my 
arms around his neck to keep him, wailing inwardly at 
having said what I'd said.

"What?" he whispered.

"No, don't stop!" I begged, utterly without pride.

"And I was going to screw you in the doorway," he 
muttered. "No, not like that. Not for the first time."

My plunging spirits soared when he swept me into his 
arms and carried me along a hallway. I was lowered onto 
a satin bedcover. Martin turned away and a bedside lamp 
clicked on. His gaze feasted upon me.

"Have you any idea how desirable you look?" He ran one 
hand, lightly, along the full length of my body - down 
my shoulder, lightly over the arc of my breast, trailing 
from my hip down my thigh. I felt like a pouting child, 
lipstick surely blurred by our passion, strands of hair 
unbound and wispy. "I cannot resist what I am being 
offered this night," he purred, unbuckling his belt.

With full-length mirrors on two walls, I could see him 
from every angle as he let the belt fall to the floor. 
He squared his shoulders as he deliberately unbuttoned 
his shirt the rest of the way, unveiling his beautiful 
body. To see him in photographs, static, was one thing - 
to see him moving, flexing, with his natural grace was 
another. Magnificent as his chest and torso were, the 
tent in his trousers was riveting.

He smiled a secret lovers' smile as he followed my gaze, 
and unzipped. My eyes must have been like saucers, for 
the pouch of his briefs was not containing him, and he 
whipped everything else off swiftly. His meat was dark, 
purplish-claret and engorged. 

His eyes were upon me, as he knelt upon the bed. My body 
arched into his grasp as he opened the back of my dress, 
and eased it from my body. His lips lingered as he held 
his torso back from mine, driving me crazy with need. He 
tongued my nipples, and just barely tapped my throbbing 
clit with something far hotter than Plastic Martin had 
ever been. I reached for him, stroking his shaft between 
both hands, and begging for him.

"Please, Martin. Please, you beautiful man!"

"You see," he murmured, running a fingertip lightly over 
my mouth, "because I am so strong, I have to be gentler 
than most."

"I don't care if you hurt me!" I hissed. Nothing could 
possibly hurt as much as... I lost that pain by focusing 
on the now, the weight of his body as he lowered himself 
upon me, and the tenderness in his eyes. On the heat of 
his skin, and that wondrous pressure opening me below. 
His tumescence entered, sliding deeper, and deeper. Long 
and slow, he was an irresistible force of love and 
wonder.

And when I didn't think it could get any better, he 
started to move, a slow beat to and fro, our skins 
sliding upon each other inside and out. With every 
thrust the pleasure increased, summing to stupendous 
joy. There was no pain, not in this. The pain was behind 
me. In his strong arms was the safest place in the 
world.

He took me to the breathless heights of orgasm, then did 
not let me down. Beyond the plateau, his thrusts picked 
up urgency, carrying me with him to a second, even 
higher peak. When he came his rod throbbed and jerked in 
a way that pushed me over the edge in unison. We lay, 
fused, for a long time afterward, limbs tangled in a 
loose knot as the velvet aftershocks faded.

"It's been too long, far too long," he sighed, lips upon 
the hollow of my shoulder as we drifted into sleep.

***

"I've got you," said the man kindly. He was big and 
strong, so much larger than me. He didn't tie my wrists 
with hard, numbing cord. He was wearing a uniform, a 
policeman's hat. There were others, and flashing lights, 
but I couldn't see properly. I could hear Mum sobbing, 
and my whole head was aching...

...aching...

_Give good face_...

I didn't flinch as the pretty point of light came 
closer, gold and orange and red, heat on my face. Then 
the sickening sound, the smell. And the pain.

My limbs jerked in dream freefall. I must have called 
out, for warm arms answered, gathering me close, a deep 
voice murmuring my name.

A bright spear of light falling across my face woke me, 
a ray of morning from between bedroom curtains. Someone 
had placed a sheer sheet over us in the depths of night.

Martin's eyelids were pale pink seashells in the moment 
before they blinked open, uncovering ocean-coloured 
eyes, their darkness startling in his scarlet face. He 
smiled, cupping my head in his big hand and drawing me 
into a good-morning kiss that dived deeper and deeper. 
His hot tongue and the hardness pressing along my thigh 
told of his desire, and stirred mine to wakefulness.

I traced his extraordinary features with a fingertip 
when we surfaced for air; the pearlescent sheen of his 
mutant skin, the pinkish-white where his bones shaped 
his face, his red mouth. "You gorgeous man," I breathed.

"We made love in the dark," he murmured. "Would you love 
me by daylight?"

My torso clenched with need, clitoris abuzz as I ran my 
hands down his body, feeling his curves and heat. "I 
want to see all of you," I vowed, trailing my fingers 
through his smooth, hairless groin, then along his rigid 
cock. His lids fluttered shut and he sighed, cheek 
twitching as he mastered himself with pure willpower. 
Then, drawing away from me, he pushed himself up from 
the bed.

Before the mirrored corner, he raised his arms and 
flexed, body coming alive, muscles swelling into shape. 
This was the private show I had long dreamed of, and so 
much the better for two things - his magnificent penis 
that almost stole the scene, and the smile that lit his 
face. It was not an enigmatic camera-smile, but a smile 
for me, intimate and knowing.

I rose up on my hands and knees, and he waved a finger. 
"No, no touching, not until I say!" In the mirror I 
glimpsed a laughing woman before him, rosy-cheeked, hair 
dishevelled, a stranger who lounged on her stomach to 
enjoy the performance and anticipate the finale.

And then, his expression changed. He glowered past me to 
the bedhead, lips pursing and thinning. Although naked 
and aroused, he became ENCOMM manager again. I looked 
around, at the time display on a futuristic digital 
clockface.

"Brain," he announced irritably, "why was I not woken at 
six-hundred as is customary?"

I wrapped myself in the sheet and glanced around the 
room looking for a camera.

A light, mischievous chuckle came from a speaker grille 
below the clockface. "Martin, when I established you had 
feminine company overnight I anticipated you may wish to 
spend a morning in leisure pursuits of a private nature. 
I apologise if I was in error. However my records state 
it is well in excess of five years since..."

"Yes, very well," Martin snapped, cutting him off. 
"Thank you Brain."

"Can he, er, it see us?" I whispered.

Face relaxing, Martin smiled, and sat on the bed beside 
me. "Not in here, no. He does keep a camera on my 
doorstep though, for security reasons, so he knows you 
are here and has deduced the rest." His face relaxed, 
and with a teasing smile he tugged the sheet away. 
"Which means you don't need this."

My nipples hardened from his gaze alone. I reached for 
his body, needing to feel his skin against mine, and we 
glided to the bedding, limbs entwined, kissing and 
stroking. 

Every part of him demanded exploration, from the taut 
and translucent waxy peaks of his nipples to the silvery 
vellum of his scrotum. As I touched him in wonder, so 
did he touch me, fondling my breasts as though 
rediscovering some treasure he had put out of sight and 
mind. His fingers strayed to my wet vulva, slipping 
around the bulb of my clit. I moaned and rocked against 
his touch, seeking to drive his fingers in more deeply. 
Chuckling deep in his chest, he took them away so that I 
groaned frustration.

Then he stood at the bedside, extending his hand. "Come, 
Saskia. Wrap yourself around me. Let me carry you."

As I rose he gathered me up, lifting me so that my legs 
wrapped around his waist, and his face was between my 
breasts. I cradled his silken skull in the circle of my 
arms. Beneath my rump I felt his thick thighs tensed and 
braced, taking my weight. He arched his back. The hot 
point of his cock tapped my clit. I shifted my weight 
willingly, emitting a deep groan of pleasure as I 
slipped fully onto his shaft.

His pelvis rocked, making deep, rolling motions, driven 
by superhuman strength. Even as climax stretched my 
back, thighs clamped aching-tight around him, he kept 
the motion going, lifting and thrusting. He only paused 
when his own orgasm gushed within, when his whole body 
shivered while his rod jerked inside me. I panted within 
his embrace, held securely as our bodies relaxed. Our 
mixed fluids made a hot flood when we finally, slowly 
disengaged, sliding to the bed again.

With our needs sated, we lay together wordlessly, 
touching, connecting. With locked gazes we explored each 
others' hearts and minds, while our hands mapped each 
others' bodies.

"I was supposed to be working today," I said at last.

"So was I," he agreed.

"May I borrow an office?"

"If we were to attempt to work together, no work would 
be accomplished today," he declared, caressing my inner 
thigh. "We will need to go our separate ways." His 
heavy-lidded gaze softened the sobriety of his words.

All the same, reality's cold breath chilled me. "I wish 
I were one of your kind. Then I could stay longer."

"Enabled, you mean?" A small, bittersweet smile quirked 
the corner of his mouth. "You could never be one of us, 
Saskia."

Was he rejecting me? Was this the moment when a one-
night stand ended? The pain in my heart echoed the cold 
ache in my eye socket. I bit my lip, trying to find 
something sassy to say, some fiery rejoinder, some form 
of denial.

It was the Brain who spoke. "That may not be entirely 
true, Martin."

His brow blackened. "For how long have you been 
listening to us?" he snarled at the machine.

"I have just now opened the comms link in order to 
report the results of the Class Four datasearch you 
requested."

"This is most definitely _not_ the time for the outcome 
of a low-priority request to be delivered!" Martin 
declared irritably.

"On the contrary, I believe it is most opportune," 
replied the Brain, unperturbed. Martin rolled his eyes. 
"I have turned up some archival material that you are 
certain to find very interesting in light of your 
present company."

Me? I was skewered, transfixed by the Brain's voice and 
Martin's gaze. His face smoothed to an emotionless mask. 
"Go ahead then," he said tonelessly.

"I located this article in the archives of the Listol 
City Times, dated some fifteen years ago," the Brain 
commenced in a conversational tone. "The police rounds 
included a report of a violent home invasion. A woman 
was bound and sexually assaulted. Her six year old 
daughter, although spared this treatment, showed 
extraordinary courage throughout the ordeal, even though 
the attackers put her eye out with a red-hot poker."

_This relates to me how?_ The lie died before reaching 
my lips. I faced Martin, unblinking. I wanted to put him 
on my blind side, but the mantra of my life kept me 
square.

"Always give... good face," I croaked at last.

His eyes searched mine, studying the lump of glass in my 
right socket. "And the child's name was Saskia Limarre," 
he murmured. It wasn't a question.

"So it could be said that Saskia has carried a 
difficulty for most of her life and adapted, becoming 
stronger for it," the Brain continued pleasantly. 
"Therefore your former statement, Martin, inferring she 
could never qualify as Enabled is not only misguided but 
patently in error..."

"Enough, Brain! Thank you."

My back was straight, my shoulders rigid. But, for the 
first time in fifteen years, I let my head droop, my 
arrogant gaze fall. "They didn't rape me," I mumbled.

"Did you see it happen?" Martin's voice was gentle.

"No. They had her in the bedroom. I heard." I spoke 
harshly, quickly, loudly to block out the muffled 
whimpers of memory. Martin's calm, grim face steadied 
me.

"So, now I know. Now I understand."

"Do you?" My voice was brittle. I felt like an empty 
shell of a person.

"I thought you were invulnerable," he mused. "It's 
little wonder you're so proud, given what you have 
endured. You keep people at a distance. I wondered if 
any man stood a chance with you."

We sat in a comfortable bedroom, warm with morning sun 
and light. The past was just that, past, a child's 
nightmare. I was naked before Martin, and afraid no 
more. "You're not just any man, Martin. Only you could 
carry me."

I said it like an admission. He smiled, tenderly, and we 
reached toward each other.

***

We spent a long time that morning simply cuddling. He 
was the first person I had allowed so close without 
stiffening or freezing. My body melded softly to his 
warmth and strength. We bathed together, kisses 
deepening as we caressed each other.

Breakfast sated our need for food. Making love was the 
merest appetizer for satisfying our hungers of the soul. 
He revelled in my genuine adoration of his appearance, 
unable to keep a dazzling grin from his face as he 
watched me watching him.

At last, we acceded to longstanding working habits, 
acknowledging that, if we put in several hours intense 
work, alone so that we would not be sidetracked, the 
evening could be ours. Martin drove me back to my motel 
room.

"Hey, keep your eyes on the road."

"I keep having to remind myself this is really 
happening," he smiled.

"You know," I admitted, "for the first time in my life, 
I'm reluctant to move on. Oh I will go on, but I'll want 
to come back. And keep coming back."

"If you wish to count yourself Enabled, you'll have to 
call ENCOMM your home base."

"And you boss?" We braked for an intersection, and I 
went willingly to his kiss. "I don't think I'm too proud 
to do that."

"Pack your things," he said. "And let me carry your 
goddamned bag."

Thus we were laughing as he parked at the motel, and he 
came with me to the room. I unlocked the door and he 
followed me in. What was the first thing we saw? Plastic 
Martin, laying in wait in the middle of the bed.

Of course I blushed, but I also faced up, turning to 
meet whatever Martin would say. One corner of his mouth 
turned up, and there was humour in his eyes as he strode 
silently past me. He picked up the dildo and eyed it 
critically. Then, his gaze challenging me to stop him, 
he bent the stiff plastic artefact cleanly in half, so 
that the polymer slowly split and peeled apart. My jaw 
sagged at the easy strength with which he destroyed my 
self-sufficiency.

"Too small, and too soft," he said dismissively, tossing 
the broken rubbish into a wastepaper basket.

"I, ah, couldn't agree more!" Then I sidled over to him, 
into the circle of his arms, linking mine around his 
neck. "But where," I sighed, "am I going to get a better 
one?"

"Hmm, indeed." He drew my body close against his, by way 
of demonstration. "Maybe Allen would have some idea. 
Perhaps it's him I should send away on errands, not 
you."

I kissed his mouth hard, and felt him chuckle 
appreciatively before responding. "Don't be too harsh 
with Allen," I paused to whisper, nipping his ear. We 
had slipped down to the bed, and Martin's hands now 
roved over my tingling breasts. "He knew what he was 
talking about."

Martin drew away far enough to be able to caress my 
brow. He scowled the question, and I explained.

"The first day I met you, do you know what he said to 
me?" I touched the handsome, unique face of the man I 
wasn't too proud to fall in love with. "'You don't know 
how lucky you are.'"

***

(end)
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