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Message-ID: <50776asstr$1111565402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 22 Mar 2005 16:09:34 -0600
From: "Elf M. Sternberg" <elf@drizzle.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Aimee II: The Ritual (MF anal)
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Date: Wed, 23 Mar 2005 03:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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The Ritual

The sun had almost touched the mountains this time as Aimeé looked out
the window. Despite the warmth of the late summer day, she found
herself shivering, wondering about Darynn's warning as he had dressed
that morning. "The Ritual is a time of licentiousness and danger for
this city, Aimeé. More children are born nine months from this day
than any other, even from the depths of winter. Uncontrollable
energies and the darker urges are released tonight, and it is only
through the Ritual that we channel those urges away from mayhem and
bloodlust, while harnessing those energies for our own ends. Stay
indoors. Be alone and lock the doors. Stay away from men."

It had taken her time to appreciate what he was trying to tell her.
She resented being held back from the Ritual, but she was only an
apprentice, and not a very good one. For that matter, she was not a
citizen of Pyu Rika and not qualified for the rites they were to
perform here. Still, since Darynn had left that morning to prepare for
the Rite she had felt adrift in the palace. She had ignored offers
from Asmah of baths, massage, and other care by the servants, eaten
very little at the noontime banquet held to honor Talen Silisto,
herself, and Mage Hektor, and failed miserably to attend to her
studies in the afternoon. All of which would have shocked Darynn who,
she believed, believed her to be selfish in all things, food, baths,
and studies especially.

The sun sank into the crotch between the two tallest peaks, the last
ray of light striking skyward, pointing at the palace like an
accusation. She blinked the brightness from her eyes and, following
Darynn's advice, crossed the room and locked the doors.

She felt bored. Nothing was really happening. The city was quiet this
evening, even more quiet that it had been the night before, as if it
were holding its breath. All day throughout she had heard the sounds
of carpenter's hammers and mason's carts creaking through the streets.
The smell of baking bread had reached her nostrils in amazing volumes,
as if the entire city were making one giant loaf. Massive wagons laden
with barrels had labored past her window. But now, there was only
silence and the coolness of night.

Then she felt-- something else. She could not describe it quite. It
was almost a sound, a deep, reverberating sound that thrummed and
echoed in the chambers of her heart. It started out faint and quiet.
She heard a scream from somewhere outside her window, a shriek
followed by feminine giggles and the low groan of a man, and then the
quiet returned. In its stillness she gave attention to the magic
swirling about her.

She was tempted to try a small cantrip, but Darynn had forbidden her
from doing any magic at all this night. She so wanted to categorize
the power, to see it and hear it, but she would have to live with her
raw impressions and not those processed through the synthesisia spells
she knew.

It welled up inside her and gripped at her. She felt it in her heart,
and it seemed to hold her at the waist. She followed it, carefully,
attending to it even as her focus left the outside world. The
thrumming in her soul became insistent, a massive drum being beaten by
unworldly drummers. It was dripping down inside her belly, down into
her hips, pooling about her womb. She could not imagine magic feeling
so tangible, so liquid, without the help of some outside spell, but
this magic felt so, and it had her in its clutches.

She worried for a moment that it had chosen her and decided that she
was somehow special. Darynn had warned her against such thinking.
"Everyone feels that way about it. It's not real. It just wants you to
believe that so that you will do what it wants. If you think you're
special, you believe you can get away with the acts it wants of you."
He had smiled at her after saying that, then said, "In many ways, it's
like believing in a god."

She looked out the window once more, across the magnificent city with
its gleaming architecture, the tall towers peppered with windows. She
glanced down at the great thoroughfare and the oval pool that rested
right before the temple, and for a moment she imagined the towers to
be gigantic rectangular penises, the pool an equally large vulva into
which they would plunge. The idea aroused her in ways that Darynn had
warned her against, beastly ways, ways that she could indulge only
when she wasn't practicing magic.

Well, she was not allowed to practice magic this night. She tore
herself away from the window, crossed the room and threw herself onto
the bed. Before she had even thought about it she had pulled up her
skirt and shoved a hand into her drawers, touching herself in ways she
had long ago learned to enjoy. But tonight it was not mere enjoyment.
There was something more to it, something resembling need. She had
never before felt it as need. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion, respite--
those she had felt as need. But lust was something she wanted, like
maple candy, like wine.

Need. Her hands slid between the lips of her vulva and found the
little point of her sex, the intense pleasure stabbing into her belly,
demanding more. She bit her lower lip with need. It was too much, too
much. Even as she rubbed herself harder she knew she needed more.

She came with a soft whimper, barely registering any sense of
satisfaction. She kept touching herself, demanding more of her sex,
demanding that she come again. She plunged two fingers into her deep,
wet sex, up into her body, touching herself in places that only she
knew about. "More," she whispered.

She turned over on the bed, presenting herself to... to whom? She
wanted to be taken, to be used, to be ravished. One man would not do.
She needed two, or three, or more. She needed an army of men to come
and service her, satisfy her.

"No!" she shouted at the room, wide-eyed terror gripping her heart as
she realized what she was being coerced into doing. The lust and the
hunger stalked within her, throbbed between her legs, in her belly, in
her mind, but for the moment she crushed it down with that force of
will that had saved her once before. She understood Darynn's warning
all too well now. She would not be thrown over into mindless abandon.
She had enough thesledown in her and could not get with child. She had
access to the finest of healers and could not be torn with disease.
But as she looked at herself in the mirror, at the black curls of her
hair cast in wild disarray, at the narrowed eyes that regarded her
with lust, at the animal within that seethed with anger at her
unwillingness to let it loose, she swore she would not let unknown
strangers have at her, bruise her and overwhelm her. She would choose.

She rose and brushed back her hair, then pulled her apprentice's robe
across her shoulder like a talisman, a shield. The hunger pulled her
towards the door, but she reined it in, controlled it, told the animal
Aimeé to behave for a moment. She walked across the hall. A scream, a
laugh, a moan-- the hallway filled with each in turn, then silence.
Then more laughter, a woman's, which turned into a shriek that Aimeé
prayed was more pleasurable than it sounded.

She looked around, hunger driving a sense of panic, then found a
familiar door. She opened it.

"Hektor?" There was no answer at first. "Hektor, are you in here?"
Something, some niggling sense told her that he was. She cast about
the room, looking for him. She heard a frightened whimper, a delicate
little noise she could never have made herself, come from behind the
door. She peeked around it.

He was crumpled in the corner, naked, his hands clawing at one of the
lintels of the door. There was blood on one hand, a ragged fingernail
broken off. What had he been doing?

"Hektor!" She reached down for his shoulder, pulled him around, looked
at him.

"Stay away!" he shouted, his soft voice pitched terrifyingly high.
"Stay away from me!"

"Hektor, it's me! Aimeé!"

"Ai... Mage Aimeé?"

She chose not to correct him. "Yes, oh yes, Hektor. What happened to
you?"

"The sight, Aimeé. The sight. I saw... I saw... horrible, fearful
shapes in the dark, gigantic terrible ravishing... Oh, Aimeé, we must
get out of here!"

"Hektor, no," she said. "We cannot leave. Not tonight. No magic works
tonight. Nobody crosses those mountains on foot. We cannot go."

"Aimeé, please. Help me."

"Help me, Hektor." She looked at him, his uncomprehending eyes, then
threw aside the robe. "Help me, Hektor. Help me."

For a moment, those eyes stared, and then narrowed, and then Hektor
leaped to his feet. They became two beasts clashing there on the
marble floor, his hands grabbing her hips, pulling her against him.
"Yes, Hektor," she gasped. "Oh, yes." She pushed him away, scrambled
to her feet and raced for the bed. He came after her. For a moment,
she wondered at her choice, the thin, reedy boy with the red hair and
the unsure smile suddenly transformed into a rapacious creature, like
some desert haunt, all skin and bones and erection and ravenous need.

Her need was equally strong. As he tossed her back onto the bed, his
cock pressed against the flesh of her lust-swollen sex, then slid into
the wet, murky depths of her body. She gasped and arched her back,
pressing her flesh up to meet his, pressing her chest to his body.
"Yes, Hektor!" she screamed.

He was loose, a force beyond control, a man beyond civilization. His
cock pounded her, bruised her swollen lips, made her hips ache to be
parted so wide, demanding more depth from her. His cock was average,
and perhaps only small, but it was filling her with what she needed
and wanted, what her body told her she needed more than anything else
in life at that moment. "I'm safe," she whispered to the animal, and
the animal whispered back, "Yes, you are."

She came with a scream that rattled windows, but as a sound it
disappeared into the wild, clanging, banging, impossible night. It
ripped through her from stem to stern, made her hair stand on end,
made her feel satisfied. Hektor's own cry of pleasure told her that
she had distracted him from whatever it was that had frightened him.

No restraint lived anywhere in the city. Aimeé understood: greed,
envy, wrath-- all were loosened by the Ritual. Darynn's role was to
channel them all into one, and that one would be Lust. It was safer
than any other.

Hektor lay atop her, panting like a dog in the summer heat, a droplet
of sweat hanging off the tip of his nose. She looked down and saw that
his cock was sweetly curved, long but thin. She pushed him aside and
looked at his face. His eyes were back to normal for a moment, and he
blinked a few times to clear the fog in his mind. "Apprentice Aimeé?"
he said.

"You remember my title this time," she said with a smile.

"Are you... are you injured?"

"No," she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "I am quite well after
all that, thank you, Mage Hektor."

"I never... I would never have..."

"I know. And if I have wronged you, forgive me, but I was not myself."

"Nor I, I think. And I still feel..."

"Yes," Aimeé said. "I do as well. I think I know what it is, but I
would probably betray a trust to explain it more. We have a few
minutes-- a 'refraction,' I think it is called-- before it grips us
again. It will probably be with us until dawn."

"Dawn!" he said. "I cannot be like this until dawn! I will die of an
exhausted heart, or hurt you, or..."

"You cannot hurt me too badly," Aimeé said. "And I would rather be
with you, safe in the arms of a fellow mage, however much a stranger
you may be otherwise, than out there in the grip of gods know whom and
how."

He nodded. "I understand. At least, I believe that I do." Aimeé looked
down and saw his erection standing up again. The hunger filled her
once more. She dropped her head to his lap and seized his erection in
her hands. She wondered if this way would satisfy them both.

She ran her tongue along the length of it. She tasted her own juices,
the musky flavor of her sex strong on its length. She wanted nothing
more than to lick him clean and then swallow him whole. She leaned
down and caressed his balls, admiring the red, thick fur that covered
them and kept them warm.

"Oh, Aimeé..." The sigh of pleasure from Hektor warmed her somewhere
other than her heart; she felt the slimy patch between her thighs slip
as she rubbed her legs together, seeking one more second of her own
stimulation. She caressed Hektor's balls with her tongue, slid up the
length, and took the head of it down, down into her throat. She was
amazed that she could do so, as she had gagged the few times Darynn
and she had experimented with this, and before-- she tried not to
think about before. She swore to remember this experience, if only so
that she could repeat it with Darynn later.

Instead, she was swept away by the joy and the power of the cock
between her lips. She had Hektor, and she had the power to give him
pleasure with her tongue, or pain with her teeth, and she was here to
give him pleasure. She slid her tongue along the smooth length of
flesh, sucked it deep. He trembled. "Aimeé, Aimeé, Aimeé..." he
gasped, his desire strong, his self-control the sure sign of magehood.
Aimeé was sorely impressed with his iron will. His hands caressed her
hair, held her down, but neither forced nor threatened, as she slid
her mouth along his shaft.

His body trembled like a harp string and she knew he was close to
release. She took his long cock all the way to the base, and that was
all he needed. With a loud groan he came, his body bucking hard, his
cock throbbing as he shot his load into her throat. Aimeé had never
enjoyed the taste, but this time she made no attempt to be rid of it,
instead swallowing it all. She looked up and saw him lying on the bed,
trembling. "Oh, Aimeé," he gasped.

"Hektor?"

"I cannot tell you how wonderful that was!"

"Yes, you can," she said. She lay beside him, her hips close to his
head, and parted her thighs, With her fingers she spread open the lips
of her sex, exposing the pink, wet inner parts to his eyes. "See this,
here? This nub? Kiss me, there."

He looked up at her, and then down at her cunt. "You want me to-- ?"

"Kiss me, Hektor. Kiss my sex, as I pleasured yours."

He looked unsure, but then without pause buried his face between her
legs. His beard was scratchy against her thighs, but that was only an
extra pleasure added to her joy as his lips, and then his tongue were
pressed into her service. She moaned aloud, "Oh, yes, just there, like
that." The pleasure from her tiny button soaked deep into her body,
spreading through her. She could feel her toes curling with the force
of her pleasure and couldn't hold back. "Hektor!" She held his head in
place and felt his teeth sink just a little into her flesh, his tongue
roughly caressing her clitoris until she came, every muscle in her
belly and thighs expressing her release, her voice screaming his name.

It was his turn to look up. "Did I... do it right?"

"Oh, Hektor, you did it more than just right. You did it perfectly.
Wonderfully." She pulled him up between her legs, felt the firm touch
of his cock against her thighs. "By the thick thighs of drunken gods,
are you really hard again?"

"I-- I suppose I am."

"Then fuck me, Hektor. If you have the strength."

"Not as much as before, Apprentice, but..." He slipped his cock into
her sopping sex, sliding in easily until it nestled deep inside of
her, pressing its randy head against the mouth of her womb. Each
sighed with pleasure at their union. Rather than let him set the pace,
Aimeé pushed over until she was on top of him. She had practiced this
several times with Darynn, and it was still an awkward and
uncomfortable maneuver, but they did manage it with him slipping out.

She smiled down at him and began the act on her own. He had expended
much of his strength on her behalf, and it was time to return the
favor. She rose up smoothly, then descended, his cock entering and
leaving her sex like some strange machined rod in its casing. She
giggled for a moment, thinking of a beating wheel for laundry, then
returned to the serious business of making Hektor climax.

His hands reached up. "You have such beautiful breasts," he said as
his fingers found her nipples. "Such lovely tits." His hands caressed
them with enthusiasm.

"Pinch," she gasped.

"What?"

"Pinch my nipples," Aimeé said, her own concentration on the warm
feeling in her thighs, the sweetness in her cunt. His fingers
tightened about her nipples and the pleasure stabbed through her
uncontrollably.

She wanted more, more! The Ritual's effects gripped her and she began
to beat herself upon his shaft. He was pushing back with every thrust,
his hands still on her nipples, twisting, scratching at the skin about
her breasts. He was a man and could not lie passively while she did
all the work, not in lovemaking. She knew. She appreciated him.

She came first, blissfully, but did not leave him until he had shot
himself off, coming inside her again. She moaned softly and fell
beside him. "I am spent."

He laughed. "As am I!" He nuzzled up close to her and kissed her hair.
"You are a beast!"

"Do not expect this of me when the ritual is done."

"I will try not to expect anything of you once we are free of this
spell. But it will give me memories to last a lifetime. Just don't
tell your young guardsman."

"Filo?" she said. "He will understand. He knows he cannot expect
fidelity from an eromancer. But I would have thought that
nephromancers would be more... conservative."

"I am discovering much about my skills that I did not know." He kissed
her cheek, nuzzling her gently. "Thank you, Apprentice Aimeé."

Aimeé felt a curious kind of annoyance at his nuzzling, but also
pleasure. She felt he was being male, and trying to show his affection
for her now as only he could, but with her satisfaction she now wanted
nothing more than to sleep. To rest. "Are you tired, Hektor?"

"I am deadly so." He yawned to emphasize the point.

She reached over for the crystal pitcher by his bed, poured a glass of
wine for each of them. She handed one to him. "Drink, then. Let us go
to sleep peacefully and pass the night."

"Yes," he said, drinking deeply as she did. Then they curled up on the
bed together.

Aimeé awoke in the pitch blackness of night. The candle had long since
died out. Two things she knew: she needed to relieve herself, and she
needed Hektor. Again. Her dreams had been wild and lascivious, and the
hunger in her belly still lived.

She was a civilized mage, and the impulse to waken him and take him
now was strong, but she was hardly going to soil her bed in the act.
She shook herself, rose, and walked to the privy, where she took care
of her business, closing the closet behind her. She took a step and
ran into him. "Sorry," he said.

"Apology accepted," she chimed, her hand reaching down to find him
stiff and ready. "Don't let that drop too much."

"I will not." He opened the privy closet door and quickly shut it
behind him. Aimeé walked back to the bed and sat down. She caressed
her sex gently and discovered, to her shock, that it was bruised to
the point of pain. She could hardly believe that they had been so
vigorous and violent, yet the evidence was clear. Her lips were pushed
closed by the swelling. She parted them, the pain clashing with her
want for more.

Hektor joined her on the bed. "Aimeé?" She could see him through the
pale moonlight coming through the window well enough to know that he
saw the look on her face and mirrored her concern. He leaned his
shoulder against hers, the deep ache inside him visible on his face.

"You have used me well," she said. "Oh, Hektor, we could... but I am
afraid it would hurt."

"Let me see if I can soothe that ache." He pushed her gently back to
the bed and eased between her thighs, but the scratch of his beard and
even the lightest pressure of his chin against her sex made her cry
out in pleasure-strangling agony.

"No," she sighed. "No." She grabbed for his shoulders, pulled him to
her. "You have used me up."

"I am sorry. I--"

"I want you," she breathed. "Gods, but I want you so badly, Hektor. I
cannot believe my body would give out so, give up so. We only did it
twice."

"You pride yourself on your eromancy, Aimeé, but I suspect you are not
so used to it. I-- I want you, too, Aimeé, but not so much that I
would want to hurt you." He held her tight, his hard cock pressing
against her thigh. "Oh, Aimeé, to be frustrated on this night is more
than we should bear."

"Hektor," she breathed. "Hektor... Maybe you could... "

"What?"

"I cannot let the night go without once more being under you, feeling
the thunder of you against my body. I want you to... to..."

"Aimeé?"

"Hektor," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I want you to
sodomize me."

For a moment, he did not move, perhaps not even to breathe. Then he
said, "You are serious."

"Yes!" She turned to look at him. "Yes, please."

He looked at her with worry, then smiled. "I will do as you ask. Have
we something to make it... easier?"

"Massage oil! In my room! Asmah brought it to offer me." She rose and
left him, sneaking out into the hallway, over to her room, then
returned. "See?"

"You..." He held her and kissed her. For the first time that night,
they pressed lips to lips, and the ragged intimacy of it, even in
their spellbound moment, was a pleasure that rang like a temple bell
deep in her soul. "Oh, Aimeé," Hektor gasped.

She opened the bottle and dribbled it down over his hardened cock. She
closed her hand about the greasy shaft and stroked him until he
clenched his teeth and growled, "Continue and you will not get what
you want!"

She giggled and let him go, then spilled more oil onto her hand,
caressing it between her legs, between her buttocks. She found the
tiny hole and pressed oil into it, deep. "I think... I think I am
ready for you."

"Oh, Apprentice Aimeé," he said as he smiled. "Maybe you think so, but
it is not so easy, I suspect." He took the bottle from her hand and
smeared some onto his own fingers, then put it on the table. He
reached down and pressed a finger to the cleft between her cheeks,
then inwards until he found her most private opening. She moaned at
the new sensation, welcomed him, invited him in. But he teased at her,
touched her, made motions that shot sensation through her like a
knife. His touch was unsteady but striving to be gentle.

Then one finger pressed inward. She let it into her, her body and mind
at ease with his penetration. One finger inside her rear was enough to
make her swoon, and yet what she craved was his cock, his hard cock,
the cock she could just barely see in the moonlight. "Hektor, please!"

"I may not be one of the sodomites, but I know that this is nothing to
be done harshly," he said. He caressed her hole, each motion sending
rivers of pleasure snaking up from her belly to touch her heart.

"I don't know if I can take much more," she gasped, "before I go mad!"

"You shan't," he said. "I promise you." He placed a hand on her hip
and pulled her over until she lay face-down on the bed. "Now, Aimeé,
let us see if you truly want what you are asking." He spread his legs
over her thighs, mounting her as she lay there, suddenly helpless.
Fear, thrilling, desperate fear, the fear that he would hurt her, the
fear that he would not, both fighting for attention in her soul.

He steadied himself with a hand upon her rear cheek, then she felt the
tip of his cock nosing its way down into the cleft of her willing ass.
He pushed, and she pushed back. He went slowly, agonizing her with his
patience, until in one painful spasm her ass opened up and allowed the
head to pop in.

Both gasped with the realization of what they had accomplished. "So
big," Aimeé gasped. "Oh, gods, so big. More," she moaned. "More."

He slowly fed his cock into her willing body. His long shaft found
room within her, made room if had to, penetrated her deeply until she
felt his hips against her rounded rear and his belly against her back.
"Yessss..." she hissed. "Yes, I can take that."

"Oh, Aimeé, Aimeé," Hektor moaned. "What is it like?"

"Like nothing else in the world," she said. "It is pleasure, and pain,
and trust, and fear, and wonder, and the body fighting such unnature.
Ohhhh, to be under you, Hektor. To be held down by you. Fuck me,
beloved mage, fuck me."

He slid out, and for a moment Aimeé was afraid he would leave her, but
then he was deep inside her again. He filled her and emptied her, over
and over. It was almost enough. "Harder," she whispered.

"I would not hurt you."

"Damn hurting me!" she swore. "Fuck me!"

He took her seriously and put more force behind his hips, ravishing
her backside, each stroke coming down and using her buttocks as the
stop. He no longer held back, and for Aimeé it was as if paradise had
opened and threatened to swallow her whole. It was like the first time
of the night, only he lasted so long. It was like a beautiful storm,
lovemaking so powerful she was willing to brave the lightning to have
it. He pounded her into the bed, she shoved back with her hips. Her
body was full of need, full of pleasure, so overwhelmed that she was
going to burst like a summer's levee. And when she came, she screamed
so loud that it hurt her ears and made her head buzz with relief.

Hektor was but a heartbeat behind her, his solid cock inside her guts
throbbing hard. Incredibly, she could feel the thrusts from within,
the jerking climax of his own cock even as he stopped himself,
collapsing on top of her.

Breathing. It was all she thought about now. She could hear her
breaths coming, ragged and wet, through lips flecked with foam. "I'm
rabid," she said, and she giggled.

"Aimeé?"

"Ohhhh... Hektor." She turned over to look at him, her eyes wet with
tears. "Oh, that was the most wonderful thing I have ever felt. Oh,
Hektor, Hektor..."

Then, curiously, she felt cold and alone. She looked up at him, and he
at her, and she knew he had felt the same thing. "The Ritual," he
said.

She nodded. She understood. The spell had ended. She looked out the
window and saw the first fingers of sunlight reaching up over the
mountain that shielded Pyu Rika from the sea.

And yet, something remained. Some small part of her was still touched
by the way he seemed concerned for her, even as he blushed and looked
away. "F-- forgive me," he said suddenly. "I-- I did not know what I
was doing."

She touched his arm. "Yes, you did." He turned further away. "Thank
you, Hektor."

"I-- I-- I hurt you!"

"No. Look at me, Hektor. You did what I asked of you. What any woman
in the grip of that spell might have asked of you. And you did it very
well." She didn't feel the hunger, but now there was concern. "You
proved yourself to be a man, Hektor, and a chivalrous, caring, decent
man at that."

"You-- you mean that."

"I do," she said. "I do. Thanks to you, I found a way to survive the
Ritual without casting my lot into the hands of palace guards and
strangers. And I found a way to comfort you in your fear and your
need. The Ritual ends with my having gotten more than what I brought
into it."

He smiled then. "I-- I feel the same way."

"Then we have made a fair trade." She kissed his cheek. "Stay here,
tonight."

"It is my room."

"So it is," she said. "Mage Hektor, may I spend the night here, safely
in your arms?"

He looked about the room for a moment as if worrying that spies were
watching. "Yes," he said. "Let me clean myself." He reached down and
grabbed the hem of the robe he had worn earlier, passed it to her.
"You first."

Aimeé took a moment to get clean, then passed it to Hektor who did the
same. Somehow, even in the cold, lonely moments after the spell had
passed, she found it in her heart to admire him. They were trying,
together, to make sense of what had happened.

Even as dawn broke the exhaustion took her. They lay together his
chest pressed to her back, and even as she fell asleep she felt his
chivalry slip, just a little, as his free hand caressed her breasts.

--
Aimee II: The Ritual is Copyright \uffff 2005 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.

This work is distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 license.  You are free to copy,
distribute, display, and perform the work under the following conditions:

 o Attribution. You must give the original author credit.
 o Noncommercial. You may not use this work for commercial purposes.
 o Derivative Works. You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the license
terms of this work.  Any of these conditions can be waived if you get
permission from the copyright holder, Elf M. Sternberg (elf@drizzle.com).

--
Elf M. Sternberg, Immanentizing the Eschaton since 1988
http://www.drizzle.com/~elf/  
"The apocalypse may be closer at hand than even John Derbyshire thinks:
what the hell is Elf Sternberg doing reading Derb's columns?"
		-- Charles Murtaugh

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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