Need and Redemption
It had been more than three weeks when she finally sought out the Adhal.
Three weeks.
A long time; not unheard of, but long. And it was the Adhal who managed things,
who controlled the day-to-day lives of the slaves. Maybe they only needed a
reminder.
Three weeks.
Maybe.
Because she didn't know, honestly, if a reminder would do any good. No one
understood the Adhal, for they were and remain even today inscrutable. Despite
the intimacy of your training they had revealed only what they wanted you to
know about themselves; their epics, their commands. Why they were here, and why
they had brought you here, to Vandhaqa, these things were mysteries.
What they had brought you for, however, was clear.
Three weeks.
She felt the burning, the need, and did what she could to appease it. The other
Taiyiha in the enclave had begun to notice, though it was not considered polite
to mention such a thing, but they did notice and respond, perhaps with a small
act of kindness, that extra smile at mealtime, that privacy given in the
evenings when you did what you had to do.
Though it was not enough.
They knew this too. They too had been remade in the cocoon, long ago.
It had been more than three weeks, and Susan's body needed the touch of an
Usahar. She needed to be used.
So none of the other Taiyiha took much note when Susan emerged from her cell
that day, the day the Adhal came. They watched her approach it, watched as it
turned to her. It was, like all Adhal, tall, its head broader than its body,
which flared up beneath it, and beneath its head the multitude of tendrils
emerged, moving slowly, like thin seaweed in the tide.
Susan did not kneel; had it been an Usahar she would have. The Adhal spoke.
"Yes, Susan?"
"Have you come for me?" she asked.
It took a moment and regarded her. She could feel its gaze despite its lack of
obvious eyes. The Adhal, she knew, saw much more than you might at first glance
believe. What they were, and how they could do this, was yet another mystery.
But they had power.
The Adhal extended a tendril, touched her bare breast. Susan moaned softly.
It had been more than three weeks.
The touch of an Adhal is more than a touch. There is energy to them, and you can
feel this at their proximity. Susan felt her nipples stiffen, her collar and
bracelets and anklets suddenly frozen in place, holding her there. The tendril
caressed over the soft mound of her breast, wrapped around it and squeezed
gently. She moaned again, her skin suddenly flush.
"You are warm, Taiyiha," the Adhal said.
"Yes," she moaned. "Please."
It had been more than three weeks. She was Taiyiha. This meant, of course, many
things. It meant that you had been taken, brought to this world as a slave. It
meant that you obeyed the Adhal and the Usahar, pleased them as they desired. It
meant that you had been taught the Adhal epics, the stories of their world, of
Vandhaqa, and it meant as well that you sat with other Taiyiha and recited the
laments. But more than this it meant that you had been remade, that your body
now betrayed you with needs and passions and hungers that brought joy and shame.
Such was the embrace of the Usahar, who were not men but were like them.
Like them and more.
Susan moaned again as the Adhal fondled her.
You needed the Usahar, here on Vandhaqa. You needed their touch, their commands,
the release that came in their arms, and more than three weeks without one was a
very long time.
Too long. Inwardly, silently, Susan begged.
Take me. Use me. Do me.
The Adhal had not moved, and now another tendril caressed over Susan's belly.
She gasped softly as it moved down, over the soft bit of hair at her mons, then
between her thighs. She felt as it pressed against the two outer lips of her
sex, her body quivering at the energy of it, becoming moist with arousal.
"Please..." she whimpered now, as it pressed a little way into her. "Oh, God,
please..."
It held in place for a moment of delicious agony, the energy of it flowing into
her, her vagina wet and alive, the tendril just touching her clitoris. And still
the Adhal touched her breast, this tendril then moving across her slender body
and over her back. She was still held by her bonds, her hips moving as much as
they could, both trying to escape the tendril and welcome it.
"Not warm, I think," said the Adhal. "Hot, rather. Tell me, Susan, what are you
for?"
She moaned the ritual response.
"I am for the pleasure of the Usahar."
The Adhal moved its head, just a bit.
"Very good, Taiyiha," it said. "And so you will wait until they are ready for
you."
It released her, and Susan ran to her cell, tears of need mixing with her tears
of shame.
* * * *
Your toy helped; it was the one thing you possessed here, the one thing that was
yours. No one disputed that. You used it when you had to, and as well you used
it to keep limber, to keep strong, down there. As Taiyiha you were frequently
taken for the pleasure of the Usahar, and being strong made this easier.
But the relief a toy brought was not, in the end, enough.
Four weeks, now, at least.
She wondered why. They all did, from time to time. But it was hard, among the
Taiyiha, to talk about this, hard to ask questions for which you knew the others
had no answers. Vandhaqa was a mystery, and why you were taken and used was a
mystery. Were they random, the attentions of the Usahar? Certainly they seemed
to be sometimes, when they would raid the enclave to take girls back to their
villages nearby. Other times it was obviously planned, your use, as when the
Adhal would prepare you in makeup and lingerie or a bondage harness and take you
up to the palace.
Susan sat now, outside the entrance of the enclave, looking up at that palace.
It was built on a ridge in the low valley, the one feature you could not ignore,
massive. Two years ago, when she had first been brought here, she had asked an
older girl what it was, that great building.
"The palace of Ekakhallar," the girl had said.
"Who's that?" Susan asked.
"He rules here."
"Is he an Usahar? An Adhal?"
"We don't know."
But it was a palace; Susan had been up there many times since that day, taken
from the enclave to work or be used. Yet though she knew the place, this was
still only partial knowledge, only what she needed to know.
Which as a slave was very little.
Susan lowered her head into her folded arms, sighed. Some Taiyiha said there was
a reason, when a girl was made to wait. Others said no. Last night Annette had
recited the Lament of the Taiyiha, and one stanza in particular had remained in
Susan's mind.
I beg.
Do you hear, Usahar? Do you know my plea?
Do you? Can you?
Do you know what it is, to be Taiyiha?
Do you know the need that burns inside me?
To feel your touch?
There was more than her need, though. This would normally be answered regularly;
as slaves, the Taiyiha had no control over when and where they were taken and
with this loss of freedom came a loss of responsibility for their needs. You
served and you obeyed, that was all.
All.
But now?
Why?
Other feelings were growing in Susan; her hunger had spread, dominating her
thoughts. To kneel, naked, before an Usahar, to take its cock into your mouth.
The taste of its cum. Feeling it hold you, hold you hard so you couldn't escape,
and spread your legs and fill you.
Use you. Again and again.
I need this, she thought. I want it.
She shuddered.
Because that was the one thing you didn't want to say, the thing you never said
to another girl. You all knew it, but it was wrong, what the Adhal and the
Usahar had done to you, what they had made you feel. They controlled you through
your needs, made you a whore.
A whore. Wanton, helpless. You did things, as a Taiyiha, things you had never
thought you would do. How many times have you squirmed and begged as they fucked
you? she asked herself. You could, right now...
She shook her head. No. Don't think about that. Don't.
* * * *
But Susan did. Slowly the idea grew in her, through that day and the next. The
Adhal appeared again and she watched it, afraid to get too close, but hoping
deep down that it had come for her. When it left with Cassie, Susan sat down by
the door of her cell and watched the small courtyard of the enclave, her arms
wrapped around herself, rocking slowly.
Annette came over to her.
"Susan?"
Susan looked up.
"I don't want to intrude, but can I help?" Annette asked.
Susan shrugged. "I don't know."
Annette sat down beside her, her knees up.
"I don't know if I've ever seen anyone go this long," she said. "I think they
must..."
Her voice trailed off. Susan watched her. She knew what Annette was thinking.
This isn't an accident. It isn't random. They have some reason for it.
"Why?" she asked softly. "They must know..."
Annette said nothing. There was nothing she could say, and they both knew it.
Finally Susan asked, "Will you tell me the Hymn to the Lost Moon?"
"Sure."
The words, haunting, telling of home, these helped a little. And in time the day
passed and evening came, and through their meal Susan said nothing, even as the
idea returned and played itself again and again in her mind.
Had this ever been done before? Would a girl admit it if she had?
God, this is insane. We dream of freedom, of escape from the Adhal and the
Usahar, and you think about doing this? What are you, Susan? What kind of a girl
are you?
The answer came that night as she lay alone in her cell, her body hot beneath
the thin sheet atop her bed. She had tried with her toy, again and again, but
its satisfaction was not enough.
What kind of a girl are you?
I am a Taiyiha. I am a slave. I am a whore.
Oh, God... Please, no...
Sleep came finally, and with it troubled dreams.
* * * *
Like all the Taiyiha who lived on this estate, Susan had an intimate knowledge
of the area around her enclave. There was the palace, dominating the valley, and
the paths the Taiyiha took when they were brought out to the valley rim to pick
fruits or spices or simply to exercise. There were the other enclaves, too,
whose girls you sometimes saw or joined for one of these hikes, and in one place
near the edge of the valley a set of ruins that the Taiyiha were never allowed
to approach.
And there were the Usahar villages.
Two were not far from Susan's enclave; she knew them well, having been taken to
each after Usahar raids. This was a sport among the Usahar, its meaning unclear
to the slaves, something their masters did on occasion, without warning. These
villages were spartan places, and like the Taiyiha enclaves they were built
around a central courtyard, several buildings made of living plastic. There was
food and water in each village, and a pool. The Usahar could keep you there for
a long time.
So it didn't matter, really, which one she chose.
Still Susan hesitated, the shame in her strong as she ate breakfast with Annette
and the others, then as she bathed alone in the enclave's pool. What would the
other girls think, if they knew? Was she betraying them?
Was she betraying herself?
As well, Susan hesitated in the hope that an Adhal or an Usahar would come for
her and there would be no chance to actually carry out her idea. There would be
no guilt then; this would vanish along with her ability to choose.
But midday passed, the warm sun high overhead, and the enclave was quiet.
Finally, her heart pounding, Susan slipped out the exit.
Save for her collar and anklets and bracelets she was naked, as Taiyiha usually
were, a pair of living plastic soles flowing over her feet to protect them as
she stepped outside the enclave. And as Susan moved down the low rise to the
east of her enclave this struck her as fitting; she did not deserve modesty, did
not deserve to be covered. When the Usahar village appeared ahead she hesitated
again, standing for a moment, the low grass that surrounded the village tickling
at her ankles.
No, she thought. I have to, and with this her body became suddenly warm, flush.
This reaction surprised her. She was accustomed to arousal, to her body's
betrayal, to its need. But this was different; this was her, Susan, choosing.
But more than this it was the knowledge of what she was going to do, the shame
of it, and the sudden, urgent, intimate moisture that she could feel between her
thighs.
There would be no holding back. When her resistance fell, when the Usahar
brought it down, she would be all that she feared to be.
Susan stepped forward.
* * * *
The entrance was unguarded; as masters, what would the Usahar fear? As she
stepped through Susan wondered if there might be other girls here, perhaps taken
in a raid, serving.
Does it matter? she thought.
No.
Into the courtyard. Quiet there.
Then she heard the movement behind her, and turned.
An Usahar stood there, strong and muscled in its kilt. It had stepped into
place, blocking her path to the exit, and was regarding her. Without thinking
Susan slipped to her knees, her thighs together, as she had been trained.
"Greetings, Taiyiha," the Usahar said.
"Greetings, Usahar."
The Usahar stepped toward her, and Susan trembled slightly as it did. And as she
did, other Usahar began to emerge from the buildings, these also watching her,
even as the first stopped a few feet away. She felt very small here, suddenly
afraid.
And as she held her thighs tightly together, she could not deny the moist,
burning shiver she felt in her belly.
"This seems an odd place for a Taiyiha to come," the Usahar commented.
Another moved close. "Indeed," it said. Susan felt as it reached out and took a
few strands of her long hair and then let them fall from its fingers. She drew
in a sharp breath as it grazed her neck slightly with its touch. Her gaze fell
as it stared.
"Why have you come here, Taiyiha?"
Her heart racing, Susan struggled to speak, her response a whisper.
"Please... I need..."
They watched her. Others had joined the two, were standing now in a circle
around her. The one let its fingers toy with her hair again.
"Need? What do you need?"
She swallowed heavily, her mouth dry. Her voice seemed almost not her own as she
answered.
"I need use."
All around her, the Usahar moved now, one much like the others, these things
that were not men but that were more than men. Susan kept her head down, her
arms at her sides, her hands settled atop her thighs. She had been trained to
kneel like this, those years ago. She had been trained to be sensual, sexual, in
every motion, every pose. She had learned well that she was a woman, and that on
Vandhaqa she was a slave.
"Do you, now?" an Usahar asked. "Presumptuous little thing, aren't you?"
Susan whimpered.
"She is attractive," another Usahar said. "Her breasts are shapely."
"And she has a pretty ass," noted a third.
The Usahar before her chuckled. Then its voice hardened. "Look at me, Taiyiha."
Susan raised her head.
"What is your name?" it asked her.
She whispered her answer. The Usahar reached down and ran its finger over her
lips.
"Are you a hot Taiyiha, Susan? Do you beg to please us?"
Her voice shook with fear. She had never felt this alone.
"Yes."
The Usahar's finger pressed against her lips, and Susan parted these, taking the
digit into her mouth. Gently, piteously, she suckled it, moaning, her tongue
roaming over it. She was shaking slightly, the warm moisture between her own
thighs overpowering her with its urgency. Around her the other Usahar still
stood, some moving closer, and she felt as one ran a finger down the middle of
her back, pressing gently where the two globes of her bottom met before
withdrawing. At last the Usahar drew back its finger from her lips, and with it
guided her chin and face up so she must look directly into its eyes.
"You will serve, then," it said. "All of us. You will please us as we command,
Susan. Afterward, if you have performed well, we will let you return to your
enclave."
So close, each of them. The world itself seemed to have drawn in to itself;
there was only her, and the Usahar. Susan whimpered again, and nodded in her
need and her shame.
* * * *
The sun, overhead, was warm. They moved around her, taking their time, just
watching her. She could feel their gazes, the way they roamed over her, hungry.
They would be patient. Usahar usually were.
"Display yourself, Susan. Begin on your hands and knees. Let us see what we
have."
She obeyed, moving forward, feeling her breasts below her as she raised her
bottom high, her hair falling forward off her shoulders. It was a classic pose,
one taught to her long ago. Be sexual, the trainers had said. Know your bodies;
be intimate in your familiarity with them. And know that how you feel is how you
are.
Female. Slave.
Ours.
Forward now, to her belly, Susan looked up at the Usahar before her. She brought
one calf up, leg bent at the knee, the other still extended, her toes pointed,
and as the Usahar nodded she moved to her side, extended her arms over her head.
"Lovely," she heard.
"I think she will squirm well."
"Indeed."
Her breath was short as she moved back to her hands and knees, and she gasped
softly as she felt a hand on the small of her back, her body tensing.
"Good girl. Don't move."
She obeyed, remaining still. The hand roamed over her back, then her buttocks,
down the backs of her thighs, caressing behind her knees and calves before
moving upward again. A whimper escaped her as a finger pressed between the lips
of her sex, feeling her intimately. She sensed another Usahar before her, saw as
it knelt, then felt its hands on her cheeks, guiding her face up. As the one
behind her continued to stroke her labia, this one spoke.
"Who do you serve, Taiyiha?" it asked.
Susan moaned, her answer coming within another whimper.
"I serve you."
"How?"
"As a slave girl."
"Do you beg to serve, Susan?"
"Please... yes..."
It pulled off its kilt, its cock rising, hard, long. She gasped at the sight of
it, at its proximity. The Usahar smiled.
"Kiss it, Taiyiha."
Susan brought her head forward, felt the wide crown against her lips as she did.
The hands had moved from her cheeks to her hair and now these guided her
forward, holding her. It was stiff, engorged, perfect, this cock, and she
shivered as she felt its power against her lips and tongue, its taste, the taste
of the bit of moisture that had gathered at its end.
Between her thighs, she felt a finger press into her moist sex, and she began to
rock against it.
"Beg, Susan. Let us hear your need."
She trembled. This was a thing she feared, a thing they all feared. Not to be
aroused, for that they could not help; their masters had seen to that. But to
say it, to admit you were a slave, a Taiyiha, and to admit your weakness and
your helplessness, to say what you felt, this was shame. They had once, each of
the Taiyiha, been free. They knew freedom and remembered it.
But you did beg, with the Usahar. Always. Perhaps this aroused them, to see you
so degraded. Perhaps. But it was more than this, too. Because Susan knew what
the pleas did to her, how they made her feel. They were hot, erotic. They were
that ultimate surrender to her feelings, that last release. To beg for cock, for
use, to beg to taste the cum of an Usahar, to beg to be taken hard, they were
the loss of self.
They were Taiyiha, what it was and meant to be Taiyiha.
The Usahar spoke again, touching at her clitoris.
"Beg, Susan."
She moaned, the rush of pleasure and urgency overwhelming her. And there came
her voice, her own voice, as though from far away.
"Please, use me... Please take me... I want cock... I need cock..."
The crown at her lips pressed forward, and it silenced her as it filled her
mouth. She sensed motion behind her, cried out around the crown as she felt
another push gently against her wet, swollen labia.
The cock in her mouth drew back and she moaned.
"Beg," she heard.
She was held now, hands on her hips, others in her hair. She sensed the Usahar
all around her, watching, waiting. And she knew they heard as she moaned again,
as the words came.
"Please fuck me... Please use me... I want cum... I need cum... I need Usahar
cock..."
Her breath drew in sharply and exhaled with a cry as the Usahar behind her
thrust forward and deep. Her body accepted the penetration gratefully, spasmed
around the sensation of it as it filled her, as she felt the hands move from her
hips to her bottom, clenched hard against her supple flesh. She was still
rocking, slowly, hungrily, even as the Usahar before her drew her head up and
looked at her.
"You are a pretty little thing, aren't you, Susan?"
She tried to catch her breath, her moans now soft and weak.
"Please... Please..."
The Usahar smiled. It knew its power over her. Susan trembled as it brought her
face to its cock again.
You obeyed the Usahar. You did not deny them. They were different from men,
powerful in a way you could barely imagine a man to be. With their touch they
overwhelmed you, and even now, as she sucked eagerly on the Usahar's phallus,
tears of pleasure and need flowing down her cheeks, Susan shivered at the
sensation of the other Usahar within her, riding her, its thrusts now merciless.
She was its slave, totally, completely. She was a whore, a whore to it and all
the others, those who watched, who spoke among themselves now, spoke about her
and how deliciously she writhed, how they anticipated using her.
Then the Usahar before her tensed, groaning with sudden satisfaction. She felt
its hot, tart semen explode into her mouth, tasted it as she swallowed, even as
it drew back, a second explosion catching her lips and chin, her tongue wet with
the thick, white cum even as the Usahar ejaculated again.
"Ahh," it said, caressing at her hair, and it let her lick at its cock. She
found it hard to concentrate, the taste of it still fresh, as waves of pleasure
rolled through her from below. Her moans and whimpers were now incomprehensible,
overwhelmed by sensations, by touch and smell and taste, by the large phallus
still buried in her vagina and the one that she now took again into her mouth,
even as the Usahar's hands went from her hair to her breasts, teasing these.
"Pretty little cocksucking Taiyiha..."
She came then, with these words, screaming out around the cock in her mouth, all
the world fading suddenly with her orgasm, her body spasming in pleasure as she
felt herself ridden, taken. Deep inside her belly she felt the Usahar come,
filling her as she rippled hot and wet against it. She was she, was Susan, was
female and joy and pleasure, the Usahar perfect in their taking of her. That was
all, now, all that could be, even as she climaxed again with a cry, held tight
as her body and soul seemed torn asunder.
* * * *
It was later, and she knelt. Outside the door, the nebula that marked the night
skies of Vandhaqa shone down on the little village. The Usahar had not been
gentle with her, had given her no quarter. She was Taiyiha, slave. Even now, as
she held the Usahar's cock and licked at it, Susan knew that what respite would
come would come only at their leisure.
They had bathed her once, cleaning her, masturbating her to orgasm even as they
did. And then, still wet from the pool, they had laid her back and used her
again, thrusting her thighs apart and mounting her, first one and then another,
roughly.
And each time she had cried out, unable to help herself, screaming as she
climaxed, as she begged them for more, her words lascivious, hungry.
Take me. Fill me. Use me.
Her desire never seemed to end.
Whore.
She trembled now, licking and sucking at the large, swollen crown. This Usahar
was silent, caressing her hair as it let her attend to its pleasure. There were
two others in the room and she knew that they would take her next, perhaps on
the floor, perhaps on the low bed.
With a soft growl, the Usahar drew her head back. She looked up at it.
"Do you hunger, Taiyiha?"
She moaned as it came, wet, hot, and sticky against her lips and chin, the cum
dripping slowly from her face to her breasts, her hips squirming. The smell and
taste were vibrant, alive. They aroused her.
It made her wipe the semen up and lick it from her fingers, watching her as she
did. And as she did, as its taste played off her tongue, Susan shuddered, her
thoughts coming to her unwanted.
To be Taiyiha, of course, meant to be used. The shame in that was mitigated by
the fact that you did not ask for use but that it came at the whim of your
masters. No matter what she might do or have done to her, this fact remained.
But here and now, in this village, the guilt was not on the Usahar, not at all.
It was her guilt, her shame. She had come to them, knowing what they were and
what they would do. Indeed, she had come seeking this very thing, to be opened
and used and taken, to taste the richness of them.
When she finished licking up the semen another Usahar took Susan's arms and
locked her bracelets behind her, and then thrust her to her back on the bed.
Large and masculine it stood over her, naked, its cock free and erect. Susan
moaned, then gasped softly as it knelt between her thighs, reaching up to play
with her breasts, her flanks, and finally lowering its head to kiss and lick at
the moist, swollen lips of her sex. A gasp escaped her as it did, a shiver
running through her.
It did not hurry.
She wanted it to hurt, wanted to be sore from the many times the Usahar had
taken her today, wanted the pain to calm her, to restore her sense of reason.
But what pain she felt was only a part of the pleasure, for her sex was still
moist, still ready, and she shivered now at the Usahar's attentions, crying out
as it lowered its face to her sex again and teased her clitoris with its tongue.
"Oh, God..." she moaned, spasming. It held her as it worked, as its tongue
teased her into climax, her body shuddering with the pleasure of it, hungry for
air. At last the Usahar rose and knelt above her again.
"You are a hot little thing," it said.
Susan only watched it, her gaze falling to its cock without thought.
You wanted this, she thought suddenly to herself. So beg for it. Be the little
slut you are. Be the whore. Annette, Cassie, the others, they aren't whores. Not
like you. What are you going to say to them when you get back to the enclave?
How will you explain what you have done?
She felt herself redden. The Usahar noted this as well. It reached forward with
its free hand and caressed at her neck, its fingers lingering over the thin
material of her collar. Then, without another word, it leaned forward and
penetrated her, eliciting a moan and then a cry.
"Oh, God, please...!"
"What are you for, Taiyiha?" it whispered softly.
The words came without thought.
"The pleasure of the Usahar!" she screamed. "Your pleasure!"
It chuckled and thrust again. She cried out.
It was not merciful. It was not quick. In her shame and joy Susan writhed
beneath it, struggling against her bonds, unable to help what she felt, how she
felt. She spasmed quickly in orgasm, but this did not matter to the Usahar, and
nor would it, in due course, to her.
In her ecstasy Susan drifted for a time into unbeing.
* * * *
It was there, much later, that she lay on her side between the two Usahar,
feeling their strong bodies pressed close against hers. The cock of one, softer
now, was pressed between her thighs, up against her wet sex. This one held her
from behind, its hands at her breasts. The phallus of the second was up against
her belly, and it held to both her and the other Usahar, pinning her between
them. Her hands had been released and were now pressed against its chest.
They did not move. Perhaps they thought she was still asleep. Susan closed her
eyes, her breathing soft and regular. She knew why this was, why she was so
calm, so comfortable.
Relief. She knew that her time here had only begun, that she would pleasure many
more of the Usahar in this village, that they would be as good as their word.
But her immediate, urgent need, the one that had driven her here, was satisfied.
She had been well taken, well used. The need was still there -- it always was --
but for now the pain of it was gone.
The Usahar behind her stirred a bit, its hand clenching gently around her
breast.
It felt good.
Should I be ashamed of this? she wondered. I came here to be used, but am I
really a whore?
Perhaps.
Or not.
She had not thought of this other thing, not while consumed by her hunger. They,
the Adhal and the Usahar, they had made her what she was. They had made her need
what she sought. And it was good, in its way, to be taken by an Usahar. It felt
good, beyond measure. It was wrong, yes, to make her a slave, and it was wrong
to abduct her and use her as they had, but was it wrong to seek out pleasure?
Why do I feel guilt in doing what I had to do?
She could think of no reason, no answer. She was Taiyiha, both an answer and a
question. And so she moved then, surrendering herself to the mystery of her own
being, reaching down and stroking the cock of the Usahar before her, even as she
began to rock her hips to masturbate the one at her back. She felt this one
move, awakening, even as the one before her did likewise.
"Fuck me," she whispered, her body warming and growing moist at the sheer
brazenness of her words. "I want to suck your cock."
The Usahar smiled even as she felt its fingers migrating to her pubis. Gently
but firmly the two Usahar positioned her on her hands and knees between them,
the one lying back so she could lick at it intimately, the other holding her
hips and mounting her deeply from behind as she cried out in submission and joy.
She was Taiyiha, a slave girl remade for their pleasure. But she was also Susan,
a woman, and it was as a woman that she sought her own.
(c) copyright 2004 by Karen Anne Mitchell
All rights reserved
