Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 **********ADULTS ONLY**********
   The Machine
   (C) by Erotin Thraller
   Sometimes an argument between an engaged couple can bring strange
results.
Codes: bond, voy, oral
   The Machine
   My head was spinning.  I tried to think, but my mind was mushy.  Yes, my
name is Leticia.  But where am I?  What happened?  What is that awful
smell?
   Then I remembered the rag.  The smell was on the rag.  And it had been
pressed against my nose.  Tight.  Into my mouth.  The odor was awful.  It
was all I could smell.  I held my breath for as long as I could, but I had
to breathe.  Finally.  And after that...
   Slowly I came more awake.  Where am I?  Wherever this is, there's a new
smell.  A bad smell.  It's musty.  It's old.  Damp.  Dismal.  Like a
basement.  And it's dark.  I tried to see, but there was no light.  None
anywhere.  Feeling around in the dark, I discovered that I was lying on a
bed.  At least it felt like a bed.  I was on a mattress.  No covering, just
a mattress.  An old mattress, which smelled half-rotten, like it had been
in the basement a very long, long time.
   Straining my eyes, I looked harder, but there was no light.  No windows.
Just darkness.  And silence.  A terrible, foreboding silence.  I held very
still, listening carefully.  Nothing.  Not a sound.  Except for my pounding
heart.  I decided I must be alone, wherever I was.  So I sat upright and
started to swing my legs around to get up.  My right leg found the edge of
the mattress.  Then came a loud clank.  Something jerked against my left
leg.  Feeling around in the darkness, I found my left ankle was chained to
the foot of the bed.
   Panic attacked me from within.  Obviously something had happened to me
since the time the rag was pressed against my face.  What was it?  Drugs?
No, was it ether?  Probably.  I had heard that ether could be used to
render people unconscious when they were being kidnapped.
   Kidnapped?  Was that what happened to me?  Was I being held for ransom?
Or worse?  Was I a captive, maybe by some maniac?  Some pervert who
would....
   I tried to remember.  Before the rag...  Yes, I was going home.  I had
just opened my car door.  And I was getting ready to leave, when....  Oh,
yes!  I remembered the argument.  Sam and I had argued.  Sex.  That was why
we argued.  He wanted sex.  We were lying together on the couch in his
apartment.  Watching TV.  He had removed most of my clothing.  It had been
fun, and I had played along with him.  He was naked, too.  It was not the
first time we had been naked together.
   Several times we had explored each others' bodies, fingering each other,
and kissing a lot.  But we had never actually done it.  You know: IT.  He
wanted it.  He said he wanted me.  I guess that I wanted him, too, but
something held me back.  Why couldn't we wait until we were married?  That
was only four months away.
   We were already buying a house.  At least, we put money down on it.  A
lovely house, and it was at such a wonderful address: 97233 Libido Lane. 
It was at the far end of the cul de sac, so there would be lots of privacy.
   Once we were married and moved into our new home, then we would really
do it.  That would be a first for me, virgin that I am, so we would have a
real honeymoon.  But oh, no, he was insistent.  He wasn't' going to wait.
If we could buy a house while we're engaged, then we could screw with each
other, too.
   Finally, I agreed to compromise.  I jerked him off.  You know, a hand
job.  I thought it was terribly messy.  And weird.  But he enjoyed it.  At
least, he appeared to enjoy it the first few times I did it.  I even let
him put his finger up inside me while I massaged and pumped his erection. I
guess I could have learned to like doing that, but he kept wanting more. 
That's when we argued.  He said if I wouldn't screw him, then I should
bring him off in my mouth.  The very idea.  It was disgusting.
   No way!  I'm not putting his thing in my mouth.  Why, that thing is what
he uses to pee!  He pleaded.  I refused.  We argued.  He tried to reason
with me.
   Finally, I just got up.  I pulled on my dress.  And I left.  I grabbed
my purse, stuffed my underwear in it, then went straight to my car.  That's
when I felt the rag.  And smelled it.
   My panic returned.  I ran my hands over my body.  Yes, I was still
wearing my dress.  But that was all.  Nothing under it.
   Then I remembered how I had been so angry when I left Sam's apartment
that I didn't take time to put on my underwear.  I left his place wearing
nothing except my dress.  My underwear was in my purse, but where was that?
Once more I ran my hands over my body.  All seemed in order.  I decided
that at least I had not been abused or taken advantage of while I was
unconscious.  Apparently, I had simply been brought here, chained to this
bed, and left in the darkness.
   I felt around on the mattress.  I could touch the end of the bed, but I
couldn't feel anything else.  So I swung my legs to the left and found the
chain which bound me was long enough for my leg to touch the floor.  Now I
was able to sit up on the edge of the bed.  Then I reached out into the
darkness, groping about as far as the chain would let me, but still I could
feel nothing.  So I stood.  Experimenting.  As much as length of chain
would allow, I took a couple of steps, fumbling around and feeling about. I
found a post.  Maybe it was a column, for it seemed to reach from floor to
ceiling.  I felt all around, moving in the half-circle allowed by the
chain, but I could feel nothing else.  The floor felt slimy and cold, so I
returned to the bed and sat on it.
   That's where I was still sitting when the spotlight came on.  Without
warning, in a flash, the bed was illuminated with a brilliant light.  I
guess it seemed so bright because I had been in total darkness for who
knows how long.  I covered my eyes to shield them.
   From somewhere in the darkness, the voice spoke.  It was a man's voice.
Low.  Soft.  Not unpleasant.  Nor was it at all like Sam's voice.  No, this
voice was different.  In fact, under any other circumstances, I would have
found the voice appealing.  Almost seductive.  Even so, I had to strain to
understand what he was saying.
   Missing the first part, I heard him clearly when he asked, "Are you
comfortable?"
   "Comfortable?" I exclaimed.  "Of course not!  I'm chained to a bed in
some awful place, and you ask if I'm comfortable?"
   "Now, now, you must not get all worked up.  You had a nice little nap.
And you must admit it is quiet down here.  No sound can come in here at
all. Of course, that means no sound can get out either.  I'm telling you
that so you won't bother screaming or calling for help.  No one can hear
you."
   He still had not come into the light, so I could not see who was
speaking.  I strained my eyes, but no one was visible.  I could see that I
had been correct about the bed.  In the light, the bare mattress looked
well used, although not especially dirty.
   And there was nothing within reach of the bed, except for the post.  It
was apparently a support column for whatever building was above this
basement.  Then I noticed the ring.  It encircled a rod, which was attached
to the top of the column, up near the ceiling, a rod which ran across the
room to a second column closer to the wall.  Somehow that ring brought a
strange foreboding to my still-blurry mind.  I thought of the chain on my
leg and wondered about the ring and the post.  I shivered at the
possibilities.
   "What do you want?" I asked, even though I was afraid of what the answer
might be.
   "Do you really want to know?" He paused, then continued, "Maybe it be
better just to let things happen.  I'm going to get what I want, regardless
of what you think.  So you might as well relax and just go along with the
flow.  Who knows?  You may enjoy yourself."
   I shuddered, partly from the chill of the room, partly from the fear of
what I was facing.  What terrible ordeal was in the mind of this beast who
held me captive, chained to a bed.  I realized that I was trembling, not
from cold but from outright terror.
   "Well?" the voice asked again.  "Do you really want to know what's going
to happen to you?"
   "No, I guess not," I whispered.  "I just want to go home."
   "Oh, you'll get to do that.  Later.  I promise you.  Right now I want
you to stand up."
   So I did, wondering if I was being too obedient.  Perhaps I should
argue. Or refuse.  But somewhere I had heard it was best for a kidnapping
victim to identify with the captor.  Perhaps I could gain sympathy if I
cooperated.
   "That's a good girl," he said softly.  "Now turn around and look behind
you."
   Again, I obeyed, but there was nothing in sight.
   "No, higher up.  Look up.  See the shiny reflection?  That's the video
camera.  We're recording all that happens, all you're going to experience.
Later on, if you like, I might even give you a copy of the tape."
   That sounded terribly ominous to me, but at least he was holding out
hope that I would eventually escape from this hellhole, wherever it was. 
Perhaps I would survive and live beyond whatever he had planned for me.
   "Now," the voice continued.  "Keep looking at the camera.  Smile.  And
remove your dress."
   "No way!" I blurted out.
   "Oh, but yes you will," the voice said with a laugh.  "You can do it the
easy way, or I can do it for you.  And if I do it, I assure you that you
will not find that nearly as enjoyable as I will."
   "Tell me what you want!" I demanded.
   "Did you see that ring by the post near you?"
   "Yes."
   "Which would you prefer, to have one leg chained to the bed, or have
both your hands chained to that ring?" He waited a moment for my answer,
and when I didn't speak, he said, "We can do it either way, so come on. 
Which do you prefer?  You choose."
   I considered how tiring it would be to stand against that column with my
arms raised.  And I also considered how helpless I would be if he fastened
my arms up like that.  So I responded, "I'll stay with the bed."
   "All right, you can stay with the bed, at least for now, but to do so
you must remove your dress." Again he waited, and when I made no move, he
snapped, "Do it!  Now!"
   I've always been proud of my body.  It's in good shape, and Sam often
tells me that I am beautiful.  My breasts are full and erect with just
enough sway to make things interesting.  My stomach is flat.  My tush is
not, thankfully.  I've kept my pubic bush, just trimming it a little bit,
only enough to keep it neat.  So it was not out of shame for my body that I
resisted.  I just didn't want to strip in front of a faceless voice, not
under these circumstances.  Not when someone said I must.  Not when I was
wearing nothing under the dress.
   "Do it!" he commanded again.
   I looked over my shoulder at the post, then up and the ring.  "Oh, all
right," I muttered.  Reaching back over my shoulders, grasped my dress and
pulled it up and over my head.
   "Roll it up and toss it as far as you can beyond the post."
   I hesitated a moment, knowing if I obeyed it would be beyond my reach.
The chain would never allow me to retrieve it.  But I obeyed.  And that
worried me.  I was becoming far too obedient.
   "That's a good girl," the voice said approvingly.  "You're learning."
   "Do I have a choice?" I asked bitterly.
   "Oh, yes," he said.  "You always have a choice.  You can choose the easy
way or the hard way, but either way I'll get what I want.  Please remember
that."
   "Oh, I will," I assured him.
   "Good.  I'm glad.  It makes my job a whole lot easier, and you will find
this day will be a lot more pleasant for you." He paused a moment before he
continued, "Now that you have undressed, we can proceed to the next step.
Would you like to see what's next?"
   "Uh, I guess so," I admitted.
   "Good.  I want you to turn around and sit on the edge of the bed."
   I did, and that's when finally he materialized out of the darkness,
slowly coming into the light.  At first he appeared like a headless body.
Then I realized he was wearing a black leather mask which covered his
entire head.  That's all he wore.  There were holes for his eyes and for
breathing and speaking.  Other than the mask, he was naked.  His body was
muscular, well built.  He was certainly much larger and stronger than Sam.
My eyes focused on his erection.  I was amazed, for it was stupendous. 
Huge!  Almost rotesque.  Never had I seen a penis so large.  And I got a
really close look at it, because he moved quickly across the room until he
stood right in front of me.  Close!  I had to lean back to keep from being
poked in the face by that huge, erect penis.
   "Suck me," he ordered.  "It's time for you to have a drink of man milk."
   "Never!" I screamed, as the full impact of my recent argument with Sam
flooded my mind.  That was not a pleasant memory, not any more than the
nearness of the enflamed erection poking at my face.
   "Open up," he demanded.  "Take it into your mouth and suck."
   "You cannot make me do it.  If you try to make me do it I'll bite you!
I'll bite off your thing."
   "Yes," he laughed, "I bet you would.  Well," he added, backing away, "we
can do this the easy way.  Or the hard way.  I guess you just chose the
hard way."
   He was doing something behind his back, but I couldn't see what it was.
Then came that odor.  It smelled the same as before.  It was the same rag.
The same feeling as he pressed it against my face, and...
   My arms ached.  They were raised high above my head.  I tried to lower
them, but they were fastened tight.  My feet could scarcely reach the
floor. It was then I realized I was, in fact, standing on my toes.  As my
head began to clear, I remembered the ring.  Looking up, I could see that
indeed my hands were pulled high, nearly to the ceiling.  Both my hands
were grasping the ring, and tape was wrapped around them so that I could
not turn loose of it.  I looked around, then down.  I was naked.  That's
when I remembered removing my dress.
   Stupid!  Why had I done that?  Why had I obeyed that voice?  The fog
continued slowly to clear from my brain.  I remembered taking off my dress
so I would not be tied to that ring.  Yet, here I was, totally naked, and
tied up to it anyway.  I promised myself that I would remember that. 
Whatever that voice demanded, I would refuse.  Whatever he threatened, he
would probably do it anyway, if not then, perhaps later, regardless of
whether or not I cooperated with his demands.  So I would defy him all I
could.
   I stretched upward, thinking I might work the tape loose and free my
hands.  Instead, I lost my footing and fell forward.  Not far, for my hands
were bound tight to the ring.  But the ring slid a short way across the
rod, making a loud scraping sound.
   "Ah, so you're coming around, are you?"
   The voice was back.  I shuddered, wondering what horror I would face
next.
   "I took off my dress," I began, "so you would not fasten me to that
ring, but you went and did it anyway."
   "Oh, don't blame me," said the voice.  "You made your choice when you
refused to obey me."
   "But I did obey.  I took off my dress."
   "Yes, and that was a good start.  I thought you were going to be a good
girl." He paused, then continued, "But instead you clammed up.  You decided
that all you would use your mouth for was to talk.  There are other better
ways to use those lovely lips.  You made your choice?  Remember?"
   I did.  But I resolved that was the way it was going to be.  I could
stand here all night, if I had to, because no way I was going to put his
awful thing in my mouth.  I wouldn't do it for Sam, and there was
absolutely no way I would do it to a total stranger, especially a brute who
kidnapped me, stripped me, and now had me tied up in this dismal basement.
No way!
   "You know, lady, you're really quite attractive.  Many might say you're
downright beautiful.  Naked like you are, you're especially pretty.  I'm
glad I'm getting this on video."
   He came over to me, and I couldn't help but shudder.  He ran his hands
over me, and I couldn't restrain myself from trembling.
   He began in the small of my back, then traced one hand around in front,
across my stomach, then upward.  Taking one of my breasts in each hand, he
squeezed them.  For a moment, I was afraid he would hurt me, but he was
quite gentle, surprisingly so.  He traced one hand downward across my skin,
poked likely at my navel, then on down over the swell of my belly.  For a
few moments he twirled a finger amidst my pubic hair, and then he reached
underneath and groped around the folds between my legs.
   I tried to squeeze my legs together, but in the process once again I
lost my balance.  He stepped back.
   "Why don't you dance for me?" he asked.
   "No," I refused.
   "Oh, I really think you ought to dance for me.  And the camera. 
Remember the video?"
   I remained silent, defiantly.
   "Okay," he said, "just to teach you to do as I say, I'll tell you once
again to dance for me."
   "How can I with my hands tied up like this?"
   "Oh, good dancers often raise their hands above their heads.  It accents
the body, and you really have a beautiful body.  You should use it more. 
So I'm telling you once again: Dance!"
   Stubbornly, I remained still.  And silent.
   "Oh, by the way, my dear," he said.  "Did you happen to notice the
carpet beneath your feet?"
   Automatically, I looked down.  Yes, there was a carpet there, and it was
wet.  It ran directly beneath the bar to which I was attached, from one
column to the other.  Even if the ring were to slide along the bar, I would
still be standing on the carpet.
   "That carpet may feel strange," he said.  "And just in case you're not
familiar with such things," the man laughed mischievously, "water conducts
electricity.  And that carpet is hooked up to an electric current, which I
can control with this little dial." He paused, as if to let this
information soak into my still-foggy mind.  After a moment, he continued,
"Now, are you certain you don't want to dance for me?"
   Remembering my resolve not to cooperate with his demands, I continued to
remain silent.
   "All right, lady," he said slowly.  I watched as he reached for the dial
on the little box he was holding.  He turned it only slightly.  Immediately
I felt the tingling in my toes.  And also in my hands, where I grasped the
ring.  Fear struck me along with the shock.  He was going to electrocute
me!
   "Don't worry, my dear," he laughed.  "I'll not kill you ...just give you
a little jolt.  And when it gets too uncomfortable, all you have to do is
lift your feet, kick up your heels, and dance." After a moment he said,
"Well, go on.  Try it."
   He turned the dial a bit more.  I felt the current surge throughout my
body.  Especially through my toes.  There was the crackle of electric
sparks around my feet.  Automatically I responded by lifting them up off
the pad.  The relief was instant, as soon as the connection was broken. 
The sparking stopped, but I couldn't hold up my feet for very long.  My
arms were already tired from being tied up in this awkward position.  As
soon as I sagged back downward, my toes made contact with the pad, and the
sharp crackling began again, as sparks jumped from my toes to the pad. 
Each shock hurt, burning my feet.  I jumped, jerking my feet up and away,
swinging again from my arms, but as I swung back again my feet touched the
pad, and once more the crackling came.  The sharp pain of electrical sparks
on my toes seemed unbearable.
   Apparently I screamed and jerked away.  That's when I realized he was
applauding.  Laughing and clapping, and saying, "Go, girl.  Go!  Dance for
me!  Dance!"
   If he wanted to call my desperate lunges dancing, then so be it.  I was
merely trying to keep off the electric pad, but doing so put a terrible
strain on my arms.  Much too quickly I tired, so much that eventually I was
spending more and more time in contact with the pad as the current surged
through my body.  The pain was excruciating.  My nipples hardened.  My eyes
blurred.  My nose ran.  My clit also hardened, and I could feel my female
juices running down my legs.  Or had I simply voided the pee from my
bladder?  I jerked upward again.  The crackling sparks snapped again
against my toes.
   "Had enough?" the voice asked.  "Would you like me to turn it off?"
   "Please...," I begged.  "Please." And then it all stopped.  The electric
current was gone.  Thankfully, I allowed myself to hang limply from my
overly tired arms, giving them as much relief as I could by trying to put
my weight on my feet.  It was such a relief to have the electric current
stop.  I gasped for air.
   Once more he was standing before me.  I looked down, and there was his
huge erection.  He stepped up close to me, and I felt the stiffness of his
rod against my stomach, against my legs, against the very entrance between
my legs.  I pulled away.
   "Oh, don't worry," he said reassuringly.  "I'm not going to rape you.  I
just want you to feel what I have in store for you.  Remember?  You are
going to take my little friend into your mouth and make him feel real good.
You will lick him and suck him until he produces man milk.  Do you hear? 
Are you ready now to do that?  Or do you want to dance for me a little
while longer?"
   "Neither!" I snapped at him.  "I want you to let me go.  Let me out of
here!"
   The electricity surged again through my feet.  Never had I felt so much
pain.  This time I was too weak to lift my feet, even to avoid the
connection.  My body convulsed in terrible spasms.  My entire body
stiffened.  My back arched.  I gasped for breath.  Then the smell returned.
It was that same smell...  That same rag against my face...
   The bed was too short.  I was lying on my back, and I was very
uncomfortable.  When I tried to move my arms, I couldn't.  My legs would
not move either.  Slowly my head cleared.  My eyes began to focus, and I
could see my knees were raised with my feet pulled up tight to my hips.  My
hands were grasping each ankle and were bound there by duct tape.  I tried
to raise up but then realized there was tape around both arms, just below
my shoulders, holding me firmly down against the bed.  I was able to move
my feet somewhat, enough to find that my feet were resting on the very end
of the bed.  That's when I realized this was not the same bed.  This one
was short, like a doctor's examination table.
   "Oh, good," the masked voice said, as he appeared out of the shadows. 
"You're awake.  Remember that I told you we could do this the easy way
or... Well, anyway, you made your choice when you refused to do what I told
you.  Like I said before, you are going to have to learn to take orders."
   He stepped up to the end of the bed, and it was then I realized that my
position totally exposed my genitals.  Indeed, to keep my arms comfortable,
I had to spread my knees wide apart, and that opened my private parts wide.
He could see everything.  And there was nothing I could do to prevent him
from doing whatever he wanted.
   "Oh, in case you forgot during your little nap, it'll do you no good to
scream.  You may find it feels good to scream, but no one is going to hear
you but me." With that, he pulled another little table up alongside him. 
"Now," he continued, "let's see if we can help you to enjoy this little
exercise.  After all, we don't want to harm you.  Or do any permanent
damage."
   I strained my neck to lift my head, hoping to see what he was doing, but
I could not.  Then I felt him.  His fingers were warm.  No, the salve was
warm.  It was some kind of grease.  I jerked when his fingers touched me,
and then I realized he was coating my labia with warm salve.  With one hand
he held the folds open while with the other hand he worked the salve deep
inside me.  He was very gentle, almost too gentle, I thought, because the
way he was going at it actually stimulated me.  It was that provocative. 
He certainly knew what he was doing, and he was very generous with the
salve.  I could feel my folds become completely coated, so much that it was
several moments before I realized he had inserted at least two of his
fingers deep inside me.  Pushing even more of the salve up inside me,
coating me completely.  Softly he said, "We don't want to irritate your
tender flesh any more than is really necessary."
   Sam had toyed with my private parts previously, but he had never been so
perfectly gentle.  Nor had he used any lubricant.  His hands had been
rough, and I had resisted, not feeling anything but frustration.  This
time, in spite of all my fear and anger and humiliation, I found myself
responding to the touch of this masked man.
   "Relax," he said softly.  "Enjoy the feeling.  And just in case you're
worried, I assure you once more that I am not going to rape you.  At least,
technically, I'm not." He paused as he wiped his hands on a towel. 
"Instead," he continued, "my plastic friend here is going to do the
honors."
   He held up a plastic dildo, bringing it up very near my face, close
enough for me to see it.
   "Feel how soft it is," he laughed, rubbing it against my cheek.  "It's
pliable.  It's gentle.  It won't hurt.  So relax and enjoy it." With that,
he resumed his position between my legs and there was nothing I could do to
prevent his sliding the dildo inside my lubricated slit.  It was larger
than his fingers had been, but I was so well greased that it went right on
in.  I caught my breath when I realized how deep inside me he had pushed
that plastic penis.  He laughed.  "Now, doesn't that feel nice?"
   I gasped as he slid the artificial penis into me even further, suddenly
realizing that I had just lost my virginity to, of all things, a plastic
dildo.  He backed it out a bit, not quite removing it.  I wondered if I was
bleeding, but there was no way that I could find out.  Then he pushed the
dildo back in, then pulled it out again, in and out, in an out, several
more times.
   Because of the way he had massaged me with his fingers previously, I was
already quite sensitive.  I couldn't keep myself from responding to the
probing of this dildo.  My body took control over my brain, and my hips
lifted of their own accord.  My abdomen twisted in response to the movement
deep within me.
   "Ah, so you do like that," he laughed.  "Well, let's keep it going." But
he didn't.  All movement stopped, and I raised my head as best I could,
trying to see.  He was moving the little table up to the end of my bed. 
Suddenly, I felt something bump against the dildo inside me.  "Ah, that
should do it," the voice said.  "Hang on.  Here goes."
   There was a soft hum.  The dildo moved ever so slightly, in, out, in,
out.  I could feel it push far up inside me, then retract until it almost
pulled completely out.  There was something about the movement that
startled me, but it felt good.  Once again I allowed my abdomen to move in
harmony with the plastic penis.  As I moved, so did the penis.  The hum
increased in volume.  The movement became more rapid.  In and out, in and
out.  I found my body was synchronizing itself with the rhythm of the
dildo, and much to my disgust I realized I was actually enjoying the
feeling.  Never had anything felt so good.  How could something feel so
satisfying, even while I was completely captive?  Was I losing my mind? 
Was I sick in my head?  How could this happen to me?
   My body took on a life of its own.  My muscles contracted.  How dare my
feminine hormones take control.  I was a victim.  I was not supposed to
feel this good.  How dare I enjoy this...  this...  machine that was
probing my privates!  But I couldn't control it.  I lost complete control.
I came!  My hips rolled and bounced as I thrust myself against that
mechanical raper.  I burst into an orgasm such as I had never known.  I
came.  Then I came again.  And again.  I caught my breath.  I gasped for
air.  I thrust my pelvis up as I begged for more.  I screamed.  I thrust
harder.
   The machine kept on pumping, in and out, in and out.  I came again.  And
then, suddenly, it was enough.  I could no longer stand it.  I hurt.  My
insides felt raw.  My vagina burned.  Oh, how I hurt.  Stop!  Quit, I
demanded.  That's enough.  I can't take any more!  But the machine just
kept pumping that dildo into me.  In and out, in and out, in and out.  In
spite of the pain, I was still aroused.  The machine had stimulated every
nerve between my legs.  My clit cried out for relief.  My G-spot throbbed,
and in spite of the pain, I found myself begging for more.  I held my
breath.  I came again.  Orgasm after orgasm burst upon me, and every muscle
in my body ached.  The strained position in which I was bound allowed me no
room for release, no room to thrash about.  In fact the discomfort of that
position seemed to intensify each orgasm.  All the while, that dildo kept
on pumping in and out, in and out.  And I kept having one orgasm after
another...  until...  finally...  I guess I passed out.
   I'm falling!  I have to pee!  That's how I felt as my head began to
clear.  Slowly I returned to reality.  Never had I ever felt so
uncomfortable.  My shoulders ached.  My breasts hurt.  When I tried to
move, I realized my breasts were compressed against the bed.  I was on my
knees, so I pushed with my hands and raised myself to relieve the pain,
only to realize that I could not move my hands.  No wonder I felt I was
falling.  I was kneeling crosswise on the exam table with my hands taped to
a railing low down on the side of the bed.  My head was hanging down over
the edge of the exam table.  My knees were drawn up under me; at least,
they would have been had they not been spread wide apart so that my naked
bottom was sticking up in the air.  Anyone on the other side of the table
would have a clear view of my crotch and easy access....
   I tried to move, but the tape on my ankles held my legs immobile.  By
pushing my elbows down against the edge of the table, I could lift my head
and shoulders a few inches.  That was the only movement possible for me. 
Several times I experimented this way until I determined I was not actually
going to fall, but it was such a strain on my arms and neck that it tired
me out after just a couple of tries.
   Finally, I simply collapsed back on to the edge of the table.  That's
when I realized I really did have to pee!
   With my rear end raised high in the air, much higher than my head, there
was no way I was going to release my bladder.  Not without allowing the
urine to run down all over me.  Why, it would probably even run down onto
my face!  But how long could I hold it?
   "Well, I see you're coming back around." There was that voice again. 
The masked man was back.  "Are you comfortable?"
   "You know I'm not!" I snapped.  "Why are you doing this to me?"
   "Remember what I told you earlier?  I'm going to get what I want.  And
you'll either do it the easy way, or I'll do it the hard way.  Your choice.
So far," he laughed, "you've chosen the hardest way possible."
   "I assume that's what you really wanted anyway.  Otherwise, you would
not have had all this stuff ready to use on me."
   "Oh, I'm always ready," he laughed.  "The question now is how ready are
you?"
   "For what?" I demanded.  "How ready am I for what?"
   "For this," he laughed.
   Raising my head, I looked up.  There it was.  Just like before.  Huge
and erect.  Gross and awful.  Protruding from its hairy base, it stuck up
toward my face with its one eye open.  He held it between two fingers and
flipped it back and forth, causing it to touch my nose, my cheeks.  A bit
of moisture dripped from the opening.  The smell was musky, strong,
overpowering.  I couldn't move away, but I turned my head as much as I
could.
   "Well, go on," he demanded.  "You can move enough to reach it.  So go
ahead.  Raise up!  Take it in your mouth.  Suck it." He continued to diddle
his erection in front of my face.
   "No-ooo!" I gasped, lowering myself back down to the table, ducking my
face, I tried to put distance between me and that awful thing he pressed at
me.  "No, I won't."
   "All right, then we'll do it the hard way," he sighed.  "Just remember.
You made your choice." Then he moved away.  A moment later I realized he
was behind me.  I raised my head and twisted my shoulders, attempting to
see what he was doing, but there was no way I could strain far enough to
see him.  Then I felt his hand touch my hip.
   "Listen," I demanded, "I really have to pee!  Please don't make me do it
in this position."
   "Oh, you really don't have to pee," he laughed.  "You've had nothing to
drink for several hours, so I doubt you have much in your bladder.  What
you're feeling," he added, "is this."
   Something moved within me, and I understood.  And screamed.  The
pressure on my bladder was not urine.  I had something in my rectum.  It
was...  Oh, no!  He had inserted the dildo deep inside me.  Not in my
vagina, as it had been earlier, but right up inside my butt.  He must have
inserted it while I was unconscious.  I licked my lips, tasting the
remnants of the ether.  He must have used it on me while I was passed out,
keeping me unconscious long enough to move me on the table.  And put that
awful thing inside me.  Now here I was, taped down in this awkward
position. I hurt all over.  My pussy still burned like it was raw from its
previous workout with the dildo.  Now it was up my ass.
   He twisted the dildo and slipped it part of the way out.  The pressure
on my bladder eased a bit.  Then he pushed it back in, farther this time.
It was such a surprise that I screamed in spite of myself.  It was not that
it was all that painful.  It was just that never had I felt anything like
it.
   "Well, you do have feelings in there, don't you?"
   "You're disgusting!" I retorted.
   "And you're beautiful," he replied.  "You have two beautiful
ports-of-call opened up here for my inspection.  Here, let me show you." I
twisted again, trying to see over my shoulder, but then I realized it was a
figure of speech.  I was not to see anything, but to feel it.  He
completely removed the dildo from my anus and almost as quickly inserted it
in my vagina.
   "Oh, that hurts!" I cried.  "Don't do that.  It's sore!"
   "Yes, you did get quite a workout, didn't you...  It was lovely watching
your orgasmic revelry.  Hopefully you enjoyed your little plastic friend.
But that's enough for there right now."
   Suddenly, he pulled on the dildo, and it came out with a squishy pop.  I
realized I was still coated with lots of gel or grease.  Or maybe he had
added more.  Then I felt him push the dildo against my rectum.  My muscles
contracted automatically, trying to reject the intrusion, but he had
lubricated me too well.  The dildo slipped right in, and I felt the
pressure on my bladder return as he pushed that plastic penis deep inside
me.  This time he held it firmly in place.  Something bumped the table, and
a moment later I heard that familiar hum begin.
   "Oh, no!" I cried, "Not that machine!  Not again!"
   It was.  He had re-attached the dildo to the machine, and it was once
again sliding back and forth inside my rectum.  I tried to pull away from
it, but my hips would not move that far.  I pushed back, thinking I could
dislodge the machine and pull myself free, but there was no use.  Instead,
it pumped away, in and out, in and out, over and over again...
   "I'll leave you for awhile and let you enjoy yourself.  I'm told some
women can actually have an orgasm when their rectum is screwed like that.
Maybe you'll be lucky.  If not, remember you chose to do it the hard way.
And sooner or later you're going to suck me off.  Sooner or later, you're
going to drink my man milk.  I guarantee it.  So think about that while you
enjoy the machine."
   This time there was nothing erotic about my predicament.  Previously,
when the machine had pumped away on my vagina, I had found myself
responding, actually thrusting against the mechanical beast.  The memory of
the orgasms I had previously experienced came back to me, but this time I
felt nothing except a massive discomfort.  And pain.  When he inserted the
dildo into my vagina, it had hurt really bad.  I wondered if any serious
damage had been done.  I recalled hearing how girls who had been gang-raped
sometimes were torn up inside.  I really needed to be in a hospital right
now, not tied to a table with a plastic dong machine surging in and out of
my rectum!
   My thoughts were interrupted by the discomfort of my breasts.  Trying to
get away from the machine in my bottom, I had pressed my chest hard down on
the table.  So I raised myself as best I could on my arms, trying to
relieve the pressure, but my shoulders were aching so much I couldn't hold
myself up for more than a few seconds.  Oh, I was tired.  And sore.  And
cramped in this awful position.  And all the while that machine kept
pumping in and out, in and out.
   Something tickled my stomach.  I flinched.  There it was again.  Only
now it was near my navel.  Then I realized the greasy lubricant he had
smeared on my bottom had liquefied and had now become a little rivulet.  It
was running downhill and, because of the awful position in which my butt
was hiked high in the air, the grease was proceeding from my navel toward
my breasts.  If it continued, it would soon reach my collarbone, then my
neck, and drip off my chin.  I could smell my own juices blended with the
aroma of the lubricant.  It was another odor adding itself to this horrible
experience.  But these momentary distractions could not hold my attention
very long.  The machine kept pumping away on my bottom, in and out, in and
out.  How could I forget that?  How could I endure it?  And for how long?
   Then I remembered the camera.  He had said he was video taping all that
happened.  And he had turned me around so that my bottom was pointed up
right at the camera lens.  How humiliating!  And how painful.
   By then I had lost all sense of time.  How long I had been here?  How
many times had I been knocked out with ether?  How long had I been
unconscious each time?  How long had that infernal machine been pumping
inside me?  How long must I endure this?  What is going to happen to me?
   I screamed.  Again.  Over and over again.  Finally I totally collapsed.
   The smell of ether clung to my nose.  My head was beginning to clear.  I
was back on the mattress.  Lying on my back.  Everything was dark.  All my
muscles ached.  Slowly I tried to move.  My hands were free.  The chain was
back on my left leg.  I ran my hands over my body and was surprised how
clean I felt.  All the grease was gone.  Apparently while I was unconscious
I had been bathed.  That's nice, I thought.  If I been awake, the bath
might have been something I could have enjoyed.  But why?
   Was I being prepared for release?  Was my captor finished torturing me?
What next?
   "Oh, I see you're awake again," the voice said in the darkness.
   "If you want to call it that," I snapped, then regretted it.  I was
sorry not only for what had said, but also for how I had said it.  My real
fear was that he might inflict some new plague upon me.
   "I hope you had a good rest.  Once I got you washed off, you slept
rather nicely."
   "Thank you," I replied, as politely as I could muster, inwardly cringing
at having had my most personal parts inspected and touched so intimately,
especially while I was unconscious.  That was probably something else he
caught on the video.  Perhaps, I decided, it was best that he had done that
while I was unconscious.
   The light came on, and I was once again in the spotlight.  I raised my
head and looked down at my naked body.  How long had I been naked?  It
seemed like ages since I had voluntarily removed my dress.  Had I known
what was going to happen, would I have removed it so readily?
   "Sit up," the voice ordered.
   This time I did not argue.  I pushed myself up and swung my legs to the
left, the only way the chain permitted.  "Now what?" I asked.
   "Stand up."
   I did, slowly, carefully, bracing myself against the foot of the bed.
   "Look over here," he instructed.
   There was a little table.  On it sat a small motor with a belt which
turned a contraption attached to a long rod.  Attached to the rod was the
plastic dildo he had showed me earlier.  I couldn't believe he had actually
rubbed it against my face.  And this must have been the very tool which had
pumped inside me for who-knows-how-long.  It seemed like it had been hours.
   "It doesn't look any worse for wear, does it?" the voice said, still
hidden somewhere in the dark.  "Apparently it can take a lot more than you,
my dear."
   "Apparently," I agreed.
   "Now, the question is this: Do you want some more?"
   "Pardon me?" I asked.
   "Do you want to suck me off?  Or do you want to spend more time riding
my little machine?"
   "I'm too sore to do that any more," I complained.  "Please don't make me
do this."
   "It's your choice, the easy way or the hard way."
   "Let me get this straight," I bargained for time.  "If I refuse, you're
going to stick that thing back inside me.  Correct?"
   "That's right.  I think I might put it back in your hole where we first
started.  You've probably had enough rest that you could enjoy a few more
orgasms."
   I shuddered, knowing I was still extremely sore.  If he did put that
dildo back in me, it might truly do damage to me.  So I asked, "But what do
I get...  if I agree to...  to...  do your thing?"
   "If you 'do my thing,' as you call it, and you do it right, you'll
receive a big mouthful of man milk, and I imagine that would taste really
good right now, because you're probably getting mighty thirsty after all
this time.  Am I right?"
   "Oh, I'm thirsty, all right, but that's not my idea of something good to
drink."
   "Lady, that's my only offer.  Milk me in your mouth or I'll put you back
on the machine and watch you bounce to its rhythms.  What'll it be?"
   The pain had completely defeated me.  All fight was gone out of me. 
What more could I endure?  I had no choice but finally to agree.  "I'll do
whatever you say." I mumbled, unable to speak such humiliating words
audibly.
   "You're sure?" he asked.  "I don't want you to start something and not
finish it.  And if you bite me, I'll put you on that machine and leave you
here until next week.  You understand?  I'll put it in you and let it run
until you're completely reamed out raw and bloody."
   "I understand."
   "Deal or no deal?"
   I was trembling all over.  The thought of more pain was too much.  I
agreed.  "Deal." Suddenly my legs were shaking so hard that I sat backward
on the bed.
   He came out of the shadows, and I watched him approach.  I wondered how
he looked under that mask, because the rest of him was really quite
handsome.  This time, perhaps because of my forced decision, his giant
erection seemed less grotesque than before.  Yes, it was because I had made
my decision.  I had caved in to his desires.  Sucking him, I told myself,
would be easier than struggling against that awful machine.  And that's why
I finally agreed to do the dirty deed I had refused to do even for Sam,
even though I loved Sam and enjoyed what he did to me.  Yet now, here I
was, trying to save myself additional pain by agreeing to....  I still
couldn't say it.
   Then it was time.  The inevitable had come.  He was standing there,
right in front of me.  I tried to convince myself it would not be as
horrible as I had thought.  He placed his hands on my shoulders and pulled
me forward.  I opened my mouth and took the head of his member between my
lips.  It was hard, yet pliable.  It tasted a little salty, but not
evoltingly unpleasant.  At least not as much as I expected.  Even so, I
pulled away, but he pulled me forward.  This time I used my tongue to lick
the shaft, then the head, and finally opened my mouth again wide enough to
accept him deep inside.  That's when I realized I really didn't know what
to do next.  He was inside my mouth, but did he expect me to do?
   He said, "Go on."
   I leaned forward, slipping him in and out of my mouth a couple of times,
experimenting.  Then I remembered the machine, how it had thrust into me. I
pretended this rod in my mouth was that machine, and it was pumping in and
out of my mouth.  I wondered if that's where he would inserted the machine
if I had refused to do as he said.  I wondered if I was doing what he
wanted of me.  Then I heard him gasp.  Suddenly, I realized I must be doing
something right, so I moved my head up and down on his shaft faster,
harder, sucking to provide more pressure against his erection, running my
tongue around and around, and all the while keeping him going in and out of
my mouth.  In and out, in and out.  He was the machine.  And I was...  No!
It dawned on me then.  He was not a machine.  He was a man.  A mere man. 
And I could wear him down.  I was the machine.  I could outlast him.  I
would win this battle of mind and body.  He would cave in.  Once he
climaxed, his erection would wilt.  Collapse.  I would have conquered him.
It would be as if I had castrated him.  I would emasculate him.  Then I
would be the winner.  I would beat him at his own game.  I was the machine.
I would make him come.  I would do it.  I did.
   He did.  In my mouth.  I would have gagged, but I was expecting it.  I
had looked forward to it, and I knew something of what to expect because I
had seen Sam spurt when I did him by hand.
   This was different.  I felt him come inside me, and I felt the rhythms
of his contractions, his thrusting as he expelled the thick fluids.  My
mouth filled, but I refused to swallow.  Some ran down my chin, while I
continued to pump, in and out, again and again, until I felt his erection
soften.  A brief moment later he was flaccid and limp.  His erection was
gone, and it fell from my mouth, spent, shrunk and totally useless.
   My energy was exhausted too.  And I fell backward on the bed. 
Everything was spinning.  My mouth was still full, and I gagged, but I was
too tired to lift myself.  The only way to dispose of it, at least the
easiest way, was simply to swallow.  I gagged.  It went down.  Then I ran
my tongue over my lips, realizing that, for the moment at least, my thirst
was quenched.  My mouth was no longer as dry as it had been.  There came a
strange quiet within me.  My body began to relax.  Deliberately, I tried to
turn off the memory of what I had just done.  Instead, I pondered what be
next.  What more could this monster do to me?  He promised not to rape me,
but what else could one call what that machine had done?  At least, I
thought, I was not going to get pregnant from a machine rape.  It struck me
funning, and I laughed at the idea of birthing a little machine.  That's
the last thing I remember.
   As I awoke, I was surprised by how soft the light was.  The bright
spotlight was gone.  My body still ached.  And I was hungry.  How long had
it been since I had eaten?  I was so stiff.  And sore.  I ran my hands over
my naked body.  Yes, I was still naked.  One leg was once again chained to
the bed.
   "Well, good morning," the voice spoke from the shadows.  "You took quite
a little nap."
   "I guess," I replied.  "Although I'm surprised I can sleep under such
conditions."
   "Oh, you can get used to anything," he told me.  "In fact, that's what
I'm going to prove to you."
   It came back to me then.  I remembered what I had done to him before
falling asleep.  Turning to look at him, I saw he had a partial erection.
Turning my head brought pain, and I realized how stiff I was.  How long, I
wondered, have I been confined here?  Is anyone looking for me?  Probably
not.  Sam will wait for me to apologize, so he won't call.  And there's no
one else.
   The aroma of food prompted me to look around, and I saw a small table at
the bedside.  On the table were grapes, an orange, a large hamburger,
chocolate cake.  Quickly I pulled my legs around and sat up on the edge of
the bed.  My stomach lurched within me, and the food looked so good.
   "Is this for me?" I asked.  Perhaps this was the beginning of something
better for me.  Maybe this man, whoever he was, would take care of me.
   "It's all for you, little lady." He gave me a crooked smile.
   "But it comes with a price."
   "A price?" I asked.  Something deep within me knotted up.  "What kind of
price?"
   "You can have any one of those items on the table," he explained, "the
cake, the burger, the grapes or the orange.  Take your pick.  But you can
choose only one item."
   I chose.  "I'll take the hamburger," I said, reaching toward the table.
   "Hold it, lady!" He slapped my hand away.  It was the first time he had
struck me, and while it did not really hurt, the mere fact that he struck
me brought a new level of fear.  "You see, you can have all the food on the
table, but each item has a price."
   "You said that before.  So what's the cost?"
   "If you want the burger, you have to suck me off." He grinned.
   "You'll notice there's nothing to drink on that table.  That's because
all you can have to drink is me.  You can drink man milk.  Mine!  And I get
to enjoy your milking me dry every time you're thirsty." He stepped up
close to me.  "Now, you said you want the hamburger.  All right, start
sucking." With that, he pushed his erection toward my face.
   "No, not that again," I screamed.  "I'll go hungry before I do that
again."
   "You did it before, and it wasn't so bad.  Now was it?" he asked.
   "It was a mistake.  I was tired and hurting, and that's why I gave in."
   "So now that you're rested you're too good to have a little fun?"
   "Putting your thing in my mouth is not my idea of fun."
   "Well, I guess," he said slowly, "I guess we will just have to make it
my appealing."
   I looked up at his face, hoping to understand his implications.  Then
came that awful smell I had come to despise.  "Oh, no," I thought.  "Not
again." That's all I remember.
   Slowly I faded back to reality.  It was not that I woke up.  I simply
became slowly aware of my surroundings.  I was lying on my back on the bed.
Everything was the same, it seemed.  As in the past, I ran my hands over my
body to make sure all was right.  That's when I found the belt around my
waist.  It held a leather strap between my legs.
   "What's that?" I asked, speaking out loud without really thinking.
   "That little belt is to hold your equipment in place, just in case you
try to remove it."
   "Remove what?" I asked, starting to sit up.  With that movement, I
realized there was something inserted in my bottom.  The dildo was back. 
No, there were two of them.  One up my rectum.  One filled my vagina.  And
that strap held them up inside me.  Gross, I thought.  That monster had
been busy while I was unconscious.  And he had taken mighty big liberties
with my private parts when I could do nothing to stop him.
   The smell of the ether was beginning to fade, and once more I caught the
aroma of the food.  It was still there on the table beside the bed.  My
stomach growled, and I looked wistfully at it.
   "Hungry?" he asked.
   "You know I am."
   "That's a fresh burger," he smiled.  "I ate the other one and got you a
new one.  And you can have it just as soon as you drink your man milk."
   "Go suck yourself," I snapped.
   "Oh, I wouldn't say such things if I were you, lady.  Remember what I
told you at the beginning?  You can do this the easy way or I can make you
do it the hard way.  And just to show you what I mean, let's do a little
demonstration." He picked up what looked like a TV remote and pressed a
button.  The dildo in my rectum sprang to life, vibrating gently.  The
sensation was not pleasant, but neither was it painful.  "If that doesn't
really bother you I can always pick up the speed," he explained.  "And the
batteries will last for several hours." He pressed another button, and the
vibrations suddenly became more violent.  Too much for me to remain seated.
   I lay back on the bed, mostly to take the pressure off my bottom. 
"Stop! Please, stop," I pleaded.
   "All right," he laughed.  Immediately the vibrator stopped.  I caught my
breath and tried to relax.
   "Now, just to finish our little demonstration," he continued, "I can
also do this." With a jerk, the vibrator in my vagina began to surge and
shake.
   Still tender from the previous intrusion of the machine dildo, the
vibrations brought more pain than pleasure.  But I quickly realized that
the vibrator was positioned within me just right to produce an eventual
erotic effect.  I would not be able very long to ignore this stimulation,
in spite of my pain.  My body would respond.  And the end result would a
series of climaxes bring obvious additional pain.
   "Enough for now," he said, using the remote to stop the vibrator.  "So
much for our little demonstration." He came back up close to the bed and
pulled me up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.  His erection
bounced near my face, as if eager awaiting my attention.  "Are you ready
for man milk now?"
   "Forget it!" I snapped, almost without thinking.
   The vibrator began to bounce about in my vagina so violently that I was
thrown backward on the mattress.  I spread my legs, attempting to relieve
the pressures I felt within me.
   "Well, isn't that pretty!" the voice said above me.  "I do so enjoy the
benefits of my job.  Not only do I get you to suck me, but I get to watch
your orgasms." He stood for a moment without moving, as the vibrations
continued within me.  Then he turned to leave.  "Have fun."
   I fought the feelings all I could, but the vibrations eventually wore me
down.  Or maybe I should say they worked me up.  Though I struggled against
it, I soon began to move with the rhythms of the vibrator.  My juices began
to flow.  An orgasm began deep within and flowed down through my hips, then
surged upward into my crotch.  I felt my legs flailing for something to
grip against, to push.  My hips rose from the bed, and I thrust, and
thrust, and thrust, like before with the machine, and there was no relief.
The vibrations continued without stopping.  And I came again.  And again.
Wave after wave rolled through me.  I became weak.  Having gone so long
without food, my stamina could not handle such effort very long.  And when
the next wave rolled over me I blacked out.
   Something was different.  I awoke in panic.  My bottom was on fire.  My
rectum was alive.  The vibrator inside me was pounding away, and the pain
was intense.
   "Stop!  Quit it!" I shouted.  "Enough already!  Please!"
   "All right," he said, coming toward me.  The vibrations ceased, and all
was quiet within me.  "Your food is right here, awaiting you, and there's
no need to endure the vibrators any more.  All you need to do is sit up and
drink your man milk."
   He pulled me up into position and pushed his erection at my face.  In
sheer desperation, I opened my mouth and sucked it in.  He thrust deep into
my mouth, and I almost gagged as I felt him go all the way into my throat.
Suddenly I recalled my previous resolution.  I am a machine.  I can outlast
him.
   Somehow, I turned off my feelings and began to suck him, absorbing his
thrusts, and sure enough in only a few moments he came.  His fluids
squirted down my throat, and his erection wilted.  I sucked the last few
drops of fluid from him as he pulled away, and then I caught my breath.  A
feeling of accomplishment came over me, and I suddenly felt satisfied that
I had actually done it.  And I was still alive.  I was still me.
   "That's a good girl," he spoke gently.  Then he handed me the hamburger.
"Here.  Enjoy yourself.  You've earned it."
   The food was delicious.  As I ate, I began to realize how famished I
really was.  All too soon, it was gone.  And I was thirsty.  Then I
understood.  The meat had been extra salty.  I craved water.
   "Thirsty?" he asked, grinning at me.
   "Yes," I admitted.
   "Well, you can have more man milk, if you want.  I'll have to admit," he
laughed, "that it may be hard for me to produce again this quick, so you
may have to work harder to get man milk this time."
   "I'll wait," I told him.
   "So can I," he answered.  Pulling a chair up near the table, he sat.
   "Well, are you just going to sit there and watch me?" I asked.
   "Why not?  You are a very pretty lady.  And I like how you are dressed."
   "Undressed, you mean.  Whatever happened to my dress?" I asked.
   "It's hanging up right over there." He pointed to a post across the
room. Sure enough, my dress was neatly arranged on a hanger.  "It's waiting
for you, once you learn your lesson."
   "Lesson?  What lesson?"
   "Man milk.  It is your nourishment.  It satisfies your every thirst.  It
fulfills all your cravings.  It's everything you ever wanted.  And you can
have it any time you want.  In fact, every time you hear the words 'man
milk' you will reach for the nearest erection and suck for a new supply."
   "You're sick!"
   "No, you're stubborn.  You know what you like.  You like man milk."
   Rebellion rose within me, and I regretted having touched his erection. I
should have held out against him.  I should never have...
   The vibrations began again.  He had pushed the button, and my vagina
came alive.  I was so tender there that it didn't take much to set off a
mixture of pain and pleasure which overpowered me.  I fell backward again
on the mattress.  Almost immediately my hips began thrusting into empty
air, attempting to reach satisfaction.  There was none.  There was no
conclusion.  He was regulating the speed so that I could not come.  The
vibrations left me hanging.  I pleaded with him, "Please, let me come! 
Please!"
   "Only if you make me come," he replied, rising to stand by the bed. 
"Now, tell me that you want me.  Ask for man milk." He paused.  "Go on, say
'man milk.'"
   I struggled against the vibrator, helplessly tearing at the belt holding
it in place, but it kept bouncing inside me.  I rolled on my side.  My head
was near the edge of the bed.  He stood there, with a semi-erection,
grinning down at me.
   "Say it," he ordered.
   Helplessly, I muttered the awful words: "Man milk."
   Immediately, before I could even close my mouth, it was full.  He was
inside me.  Limp but still huge, his maleness filled my mouth.  Several
minutes passed before I was able to restore his erection.  Then I sucked
and stroked for what seemed like ages.
   Finally, he began to respond to my rhythms.  I was already so tired that
this time I did not feel like a machine.  I was simply a tired-out woman
sucking for her life.  Sucking to create juices.  Sucking for man milk.  I
wanted it.  I needed it.  I was desperate.  I was hooked.
   When he came, I held the flow in my mouth, swishing it around, relishing
the moisture.  I licked my lips and applied pressure with my tongue, making
sure I acquired all he could produce.
   Somehow I seemed that if I had to suck him, I needed to get my full
reward.  I didn't realize it then, but now that I look back on it, that was
the beginning of my addiction to sperm, or as he called it, "man milk."
   "Oh, that was good," he gasped.  "You're beginning to get really good at
sucking." He sat on the chair and smiled, watching as I sat up.  My mouth
was still full, as I relished the load he had ejaculated.  He watched
intently as, finally, I swallowed, emptying my mouth of his sperm.  He
smiled, "You didn't think you could do it, but you did, and you deserve my
highest compliments." He paused a moment, then asked, "Now, which do you
want, the cake, the grapes, the orange?"
   I had forgotten the food, and only then did I realize there were no
longer any vibrations within me.  In fact, I was not sure when he turned
them off.  I had been so focused on sucking him to a climax that I
completely tuned out what was happening within me.  How could that be? 
Where was my head?  What was he doing to me?  Had I been brainwashed?
   "Well, which do you want?  You do want your reward, don't you?"
   His question was confusing to me.  Something within me said I had
already received my reward.  I had my man milk.  What more did I need? 
Then I groped for reality, frustrated at my thoughts about his sperm and my
needs.  It was several moments before I could speak.  When I did speak, I
could scarcely muster more than a whisper.  "Orange.  I'll take the
orange."
   "Good choice," he said, as he handed me the fruit.  "You need the
vitamins."
   The problem was that sucking him off had left me too weak to remove the
peeling.  Eventually, he took pity on me and peeled the orange, even
breaking off the slices and feeding them to me.  I sat obediently as he
placed the orange slices in my mouth one at a time, then waited while I
chewed and swallowed.  As the juices flowed through me, I almost laughed at
the though of what a scene this was.  Here I was chained to an old bed,
sitting totally naked on a bare mattress, while a monster of a man, who was
also himself naked, very delicately fed me orange slices.
   Who could believe it.  I could hardly believe it myself, except that I
still felt the pain in my crotch where the vibrators had so recently
irritated the tissues which had been violated by the mechanical dildo.  Why
was he doing this to me?  What was next?  Would he ever let me go?  Was I
becoming his sex slave?
   "There's still the cake and the grapes," the man smiled, once I had
eaten all the orange.  "You can have them whenever you want them, but I
suggest you give me a few minutes to recover before you ask to suck me
again."
   Ask him?  Did he say "Ask him"?  Why would I ever ask to suck his thing?
   With the orange now all gone, I lay back on the mattress and closed my
eyes.  The stillness and quiet were pleasant, and I had a good feeling in
my stomach.  The food had refreshed me, and in a few moments I was asleep.
   "Wake up!" The voice echoed through my head.  I was still in a fog.  How
long had I slept.  Once more I felt about my body.  I still wore the belt.
My crotch was still stuffed with the vibrators.  My mouth was dry.  "Wake
up," he spoke again.  "It's time."
   "Time for what?" I asked, stubbornly refusing to come fully awake.
   "Man milk." That's all he said.
   Something snapped within my.  Since then I've read about Pavlov's dogs
and the experiment he performed on them with a bell, teaching them to
salivate every time he rang the bell.  The term "man milk" was my bell. 
And I was the dog.  I was obedient without realizing what I was doing. 
Without thinking, I rolled over to the edge of the bed and opened my mouth.
   "What do you want?" he asked.
   "Man milk," I replied.  "I want my man milk."
   "Say 'please,'" he ordered.
   "Please," I obeyed.  "Please, may I have my man milk?"
   "You certainly may, little lady.  Here you are."
   Immediately he stuffed his erection into my mouth, and I began sucking
and stroking, desperately seeking to acquire his ejaculate.  The compulsion
was so strong that I did not even think about the vibrators.  There had
been no need for them.  Nor did he even need to threaten me with them.  I
had an addiction.  A craving.  I needed him to come in my mouth.  And I was
willing to go all out to bring him to complete climax.
   "Yes," he groaned.  "Do it.  Do it." And then he came.  My mouth was
filled once again with that sweet life-giving fluid.  It was the gift of
life for me.  I loved it.  I held it in my mouth, not wanting to lose it. I
felt a thrill throughout my entire body.  I had done it.  I had brought him
such satisfaction that he had unloaded his gift into my mouth.  I had what
I needed.  It was all I ever really needed.  I love man milk!
   For a few minutes I rolled on to my back and lay still.
   Suddenly, I realized he was unfastening the belt from my waist.  I held
still, but kept my eyes closed, wondering what was next, almost afraid to
move for fear of what he might do to me.  Then he removed the vibrators. 
My vagina felt suddenly empty, and no longer did I feel the need to void
myself.  He was very gentle, so I held perfectly still.
   "This will make you feel better," he explained, and I felt his fingers
rub a soothing lubricant around my irritated orifices.
   I didn't even object when his fingers probed by anus or deep within my
vagina, spreading the gel.  It was very soothing.  When he was done, I felt
clean and warm.  And strangely calm.
   "Thank you," I said.
   "Grapes or cake?" he asked.
   "What?  Oh, the cake, I guess," I replied, not really caring.  Not
really thinking, for when I had eaten the cake I was terribly thirsty.  The
cake left my mouth very dry.
   "I'm thirsty," I told him.
   "What do you want?" he asked.
   Without thinking, I replied, "Man milk.  May I have some, please?"
   I'm still surprised that he could produce again so soon.  On the other
hand, I'm surprised that I had the strength and endurance to bring him to
climax again, because it seemed to take forever.  Once more, by the time he
came, I was totally exhausted.  I gulped his ejaculate, swallowed it as I
lay back on the bed, and then....  I don't know if I slept or if I simply
passed out.
   I was sitting up, my head tipped back.  I was comfortable.  As my mind
cleared, I looked around.  Everything was dark, but not completely.  There
was enough ambient light to see that I was seated in my car.  Behind the
steering wheel.  My purse was on the seat beside me.  And I was wearing my
dress.  Even more surprising, I was in the parking garage where I had left
the car that last time I had been with Sam.  How long ago was that, I
wondered.  Was it last night?  No, it must have been several days ago. 
Everything felt like a dream.  How long had it been?  Had I really
experienced so much?  Had I actually done...?
   Pulling my skirt high on my legs, I ran my fingers between my legs.  The
soreness I felt quickly confirmed that I had not been dreaming.  I had been
reamed out mechanically.  I might technically still be a virgin, but not
really.  I had not known a man, but I certainly knew what it was like to be
had.  I had been had hard and long.  And I had given oral sex.  To a man.
Without ever seeing his face.  I had sucked him to a climax.  Many times,
over and over again.  I had forgotten how many times.
   Suddenly I was overwhelmed by two sensations.  I was too shaky to drive.
And I was terribly thirsty.  How long, I wondered, has it been since I had
something to drink?
   Realizing I was in no condition to drive home, I thought of Sam.  I
wonder what he will say if I tell him what happened?  Will he let me in? 
Maybe I can get something to drink there.
   Even if we did have a fight, I'm sure we can make up.  After tonight, I
thought, I can handle anything.  Even Sam.  With that, I gathered up my
purse, climbed out of the car, and headed upstairs toward Sam's apartment.
   He smiled and invited me in when I arrived.  When he saw I was unsteady
on my feet, he guided me to the couch.  How long, I wondered, had it been
since we had been there together?  The couch is where the argument started,
I thought.  So the couch is a good place for it to end.
   "Please," I began.  "May I have something to drink?"
   "Certainly," Sam replied.  "Just a moment."
   When he returned, I looked up, surprised to see he was totally naked. 
His erection waved in the air, stiff and hard.  "Want some man milk?" he
asked.
   Without thinking, I pulled him to me and swallowed his erection. 
Eagerly I began to suck.  Then something clicked within my mind.  A burst
of reality defused my confusion.  How did he know about man milk?
   Suddenly, I knew.  I totally understood.  Sam!
   Looking up at him, I caught the gleam in his eyes.  For a brief moment
he smiled.  Then he screamed as I bit.  Hard.  Right behind the head of his
shaft.  My teeth went all the way through.  Blood filled my mouth.  It did
not taste like semen.
   That's right: Semen!  I was cured of my brain-washing.  My addition was
broken.  It was semen, not man milk.  I was free!
   As the elevator doors closed behind me, I could still hear Sam
screaming.
   The End
   You will meet Leticia in other Libido Lane stories, such as "Beyond the
Egg."
   Your comments are invited.  erotinthraller@gmail.com
   
  
The Machine