Irkutsk Ch. 22

My Goddess was lying there, naked, a smile on her face. Her skin was glistening, her nipples erect. I looked at mine and they were in a similar condition. I moved to cover her, and gently slid my chest around on her breasts. Whether because of the situation or something the ladies had done to me I don't know, but the sensation was unimaginable. The touch of her chest on mine was sending a direct message to a spot lower down. I looked at my Goddess and I could see she was sharing a similar experience. I repeated the nipple wrestling and the sensations were repeated, if anything even more intensely.

I lowered my head to her and slowly moved down her lovely torso. I left an unbroken string of saliva along her thigh, her hip, her chest, her breast, and then back up to the peak of a nipple. I could see her react to the dampness, and as I looked back down I could see her responding with her own fresh trails of moisture pooling on the silk.

I turned my gaze back again to her face, and saw her expression had moved from ecstasy to desperation as she looked back and said just one single drawn-out agonised word "please". I moved against her and slid just the tip into her. She seemed to start the throes of her passion even before I was inside, but once I was starting to enter her she reached up and took my hips with a grip of iron, thrusting herself violently against my hips. She immediately rolled me over on my back, with me still deep inside her, and started thrusting hard against me. Her face became a rictus, teeth bared and nostrils flared. Her eyes seemed to be boring a hole into the distance.

Every few moments she would lean forward and touch her chest to mine, rubbing her nipples side to side against mine while forcing her hips against mine impaling me as hard as she could. Now there was no in and out motion, just a constant pressure and a rhythmic squeezing with her muscles taking me to, then over the edge. This time, however - there is no other way to describe it - I simply stayed "over the edge". The sensation of coming did not peak and then fade, as it always had in the past. Despite some slight pulsing, the height of my passion simply continued.

As I lay on my back losing myself in the pleasure of being used by my Goddess I tilted my head back and caught a glimpse of those in my line of sight, an in the throes of what seemed one combined, silent, motionless orgasm. Marina was closest to me, but I don't think she'd have noticed if I had slapped her in the face - she was so deeply involved in her own private pleasure.

I noticed that she was reacting in time with my own sensations, except that she couldn't have been - her eyes were closed and she couldn't see me. Then it hit me. They were all reacting to my sensations even though their eyes were all closed. There was no sound for them to hear, and they weren't touching me. It was as if they were having my orgasm - or perhaps I was having theirs?

With the minuscule part of my brain not consumed with lust it finally drifted in to me that I - we all - were having the orgasm of a woman. But which woman? I looked up at my Goddess: she was smiling at me and clearly knew I had been enjoying the sight of a row of other beautiful, naked women while I had been making love with her. As sex regained the last corners of my brain and as I lost the ability to think my final thought was of my Goddess's acceptance of the involvement of the other ladies. Then once more my entire being was consumed by the fire within us.

Time ceased to exist and I lost myself in the shared pleasure and love. I wanted us all to be able to enjoy the pleasure that I was experiencing, but I was no longer aware of the forty three ladies being in the room with us. I was only vaguely aware of the woman atop me. There was, however, a very clear awareness of all my fellow brigade members in my brain (whichever brain it was that I was using at the moment).

As finally physical exhaustion took over and the intensity of my sensations slowly faded like an ebbing tide, I again became aware of individual personalities, not separating from me, but becoming apparent as parts of our whole. Even the pleasure of post-orgasm was taking on a shared aspect.

At about the same time that I noticed my Goddess was lying beside me with her head on my chest and was still gently thrusting herself against my very wet thigh, I felt as if I could see us from all around, as if I could see through Marina's eyes, Irina's eyes, Maria's eyes, and those of many others. And then I was dreaming, floating through space feeling relaxed and loving and peaceful and - fulfilled. The blackness that followed was both complete and welcome, as if I knew my day was complete.

I think I must have been the last one awake. I had a little discussion with myself as to the difference between male and female orgasms. I must have been the only man on the planet qualified to compare them. I don't think female orgasms were any more intense, perhaps just a little less at their peak than the absolute peak for a man. However, they lasted much longer than any man could dream about. Except, again, for lucky me. The much longer period at that high intensity level was very physically draining. And perhaps that was why I had slept longer than anyone else.

A young lady came and sat beside me, placing her hand on my chest as I lay there. I recognised her as Anya, the first Lady who had given me her name. I decided to ask her.

"How did that orgasm last night compare with others?" She lay her head down on my chest, looking up at me.

She merely breathed her reply, "Last night I learned that I had spent all my previous life not knowing what loving was." And then her face crumpled. I suddenly rebuked myself for being very insensitive of her emotions, highlighting to her the reliance she had upon just one forty-fourth share of a man for her satisfaction. And then I rethought what I was watching - she had instantly returned to her sensations of last night, reliving them afresh. Anya was not in the grip of pain, emotional or physical: she was ruled again by orgasm.

My duty was clear. I must give intensify this orgasm to maximise her pleasure. I rolled her on her hands and knees, pressed my face between those pert little mounds and went straight for the centre of pleasure. No need for foreplay - she was already orgasming.

Instantly Anya flopped down onto the bed and it was only my grip on her thighs that enabled me to continue my tongue-work. Anya was rolling around, so sometimes she was atop me, and at other she was underneath, but I kept my face pressed firmly into her sex.

Anya started making a low humming sound, almost like a monotone Gregorian chant. And then suddenly she went silent as my face was covered in a thick, sweet fluid. She had come and gone at the same time, and now she was unconscious. Unconscious from an excess of pleasure. I had to change my theory now in the light of this evidence. My ladies were enjoying a dramatically greater pleasure from sex than before, just as I was. The reason I was more affected afterwards was obvious - I was much less fit than they were!

I moved around so Anya was resting with her head on my chest, but was interrupted by the door busting open. It was Tatiana (aka Betty-Sue), but she collapsed just inside the door. She got up again and made it close enough to the bed so when she fell a second time she was half on the bed.

She cried out one word. "Stop!!" And then collapsed a third time. Anya was now awake and sitting up. I quickly got up and lifted Tatiana into a sitting position and held her up. She woke again and cried out again: "Yulia says please stop!!"

I recalled Slava collapsing in Vladivostok and remembered that these ladies were sexually linked. Anya had collapsed from orgasm: had everyone else? I sat there, now with Anya and Tatiana leaning on opposite sides of me, both slowly recovering.

Over the next few minutes all the other ladies squeezed into the room.

Chris spoke first, "We need to organise something to prevent us from collapsing every time Michael decides to let the ferret out for a run."

I looked at her, about to speak, but she got in first.

"Don't take it as criticism Michael. No-one dislikes it, but it can be inconvenient. I was talking to the Captain when I collapsed and wet myself. We'll have to think of a story - I can hardly tell him that my collapse was caused by the man he married me to yesterday taking one of my ladies to the very limits of pleasure now, can I? Do you think he'll believe that it can have been period problems even though I am over fifty?"

...

Just this once it really happened as they say in the books. I awoke as if peering through the blackness to just the vaguest pinpoint of a lessening of the blackness. I couldn't even call it light; it was just not quite as black as everything else. I didn't know who I was or even what I was. I didn't know anything except the blackness that was complete except for that tiny spot. For no reason at all I focused on the spot and moved towards it - or was it moving towards me? Eventually it spread to a faint light and I realised I was a very lucky man who had been saved by the most unbelievable series of coincidences from a lifetime of beige, and who was now awake but dozing in the dawn light.

I opened my eyes and looked at the beautiful woman still resting her head on my chest and with her sex still pressed wetly against my thigh. I kissed the top of my fiancé's head and then, as she awoke and looked up, her lips. We looked around and saw all our ladies, asleep or just waking. Some were on the bed and others were lying on sheepskins or quilts on the floor around the bed. Yulia was one of the first awake. She came and sat beside us on the bed and looked into Chris's eyes for a very long moment, and then into mine.

Chris was the first to speak. She said "He has been the best thing that happened to us. First he provided the sex that we thought was all we needed. Then he started providing love and emotional support. Then he reunited our divided group - a division that was not his fault. Then he started a process of giving us a respected place in society - a process that I am sure will be successful. But now he's gone beyond even that. He's a full member of the Ladies Brigade - not just the most important member, but a member in every respect. I thought it was impossible, but he's completed the process. He's all male, but he's a ... Lady." She pronounced that last word with a capital letter, which took away some of the strangeness of the statement.

I looked from Chris to Yulia and back. Yulia explained. "During the first years of our exile we were thrown together physically and emotionally. With one exception we have never been sexually involved with each other, but in other respects we are closer to each other than I can describe. Our periods have synchronised. We have a pair of identical twins amongst us, but in fact we are all as close to each other as are most twins. We think alike, and we are distressed when any one of us is distressed, even if we don't know why, or which one of us is the primary source of that distress.

We don't have sex with each other, but when one of us is sexually aroused, we are all aroused. And I can tell you what I have suspected for some time, but could not confirm until last night, that you share all these things with us, except for the physical manifestations of periods.

You shared our orgasm last night, and our orgasms took on a new element. Last night, for the first time, we all felt a man's orgasm from a man's point of view. Your orgasm had a new element too, didn't it?" I nodded. "You're stuck with us now. Even if you left us you'd still be one of us, even ten years later. But you don't want to leave do you?" I didn't need to answer that one. Instead I kissed her, and then Chris. I felt a sense of belonging that had eluded me all my life. Until now. I had never thought becoming a Lady, even if possible, would be like this.

The three of us got out of bed, dressed and went to the kitchen. We needed sustenance of a very practical nature.

I heard an unusual sound, and wandered out of the kitchen down a companionway to ascertain the cause. Suddenly rough hands grabbed me. I opened my eyes, but I could not see. It felt like hessian over my head. This wasn't my ladies, this was men. I was lifted to my feet and half carried, half pushed down a corridor.

A moment later I felt a breeze on my skin. I was outside on the deck somewhere. Then I was placed in a stretcher and told in a strong Russian accent to lie still if I didn't want to fall into the sea.

I swung around for a while, bumping a few times against what was obviously the hull of the ship. And then down into a small boat, which quietly puttered through the water. I could hear the gentle thrum of the ship's engines fading into the distance. Now I was really worried.

After a while my hessian hood was removed and I could see - well, just a little. I was on a small boat at sea, along with four others. I tried to look back to see the ship, but one of the men told me to sit quietly and not to move. There was a strong sense of hostility.

There was little I could do except wait for a chance to escape. Right now, in a small boat at sea, there was none.

It seemed hours later we reached a large motorboat, and I was roughly bundled aboard. Once on board I was met by more men. These were no more pleasant, and I was escorted down a companionway, along a corridor and into a small cabin. My captors remained outside, slamming the door behind me.

I was alone in a cabin with a bunk, a small bathroom, and a fridge with some food in it. I wasn't hungry at this point, but clearly I was not to be starved. I was, however, tired, and climbed into the bunk and fell asleep. I might as well be rested when I had to deal with whatever was awaiting me.

I must have had a long sleep, and awoke to notice that the engines had stopped. I could hear only a gentle slapping of water against the hull.

Two of the men came into my cabin and dragged me back on deck, then along a gangplank onto a small island. I was taken along a path to where a sleek jet aircraft was waiting. The two men forced me aboard and sat me in a seat towards the rear, cuffing one wrist to the seat frame. I was given a pair of headphones. We took off and continued our journey to an unknown destination by a new mode of transport. The trip lasted for hours. I was not near a window and could see very little outside.

Most of the time there was just one man with me - the other would go into a room at the back. I think there was a kitchen there, and perhaps a bed too.

Eventually we landed. My captors undid the cuffs, helped me out of the plane and into the back of a covered truck. I had just a brief look at what I had come to know as typical Russian scrub. However, it could just as much have been any one of several other countries. My cuffs were undone and passed around a steel tube and I was left there. A moment later I felt the truck move off.

I had travelled by plane, by road and by boat) and I wondered if a train was next, but when, eventually, the truck stopped and one of the men undid my cuffs, he nodded to the tailgate. I was now thoroughly intimidated and terrified. I alighted from the truck and saw the other man nodding towards a low stone building with a barred door open in front of me. I walked in without a word.

A man followed me inside, closing the door behind. He looked familiar, and I recognised him as someone I had dealt with briefly in Irkutsk. He looked at me for a long moment, and then spoke.

"So. You think to steal Russia's best athletes?"

Ah. This was what it was all about. I decided he needed to be told. "No. Russia rejected them, twice, and I have helped them find the place in society that Russia - you - refused them."

He glared at me. "Well, you can't have them."

I was seriously angry with this excuse for a patriot. "Maybe not, but Russia has lost them, just as Russia deserves."

"We'll see about that." He turned and left, locking the door behind him.

I went to the door and watched the truck drive back down the road. The view through the bars was now bleak and desolate, just sparse low scrub as far as the eye could see, with a round parking area and one road extending to the horizon. This hut was on a dead end, so I had no hope of rescue from someone passing by.

My new (but, I hoped, temporary) home was a small stone hut about ten feet square and eight feet high. The floor was made of large square slates and the ceiling looked to be just rough logs. There were no other windows, but there was a little dry food on a wooden bench, a straw paillasse with a pile of blankets and an open toilet. The water pipe leading to the toilet included a tap which seemed to be my only access to water. I looked around for means of escape, but found nothing encouraging. I sat on the rough mattress and pondered my position.

I was now depressed. My own future seemed bleak indeed. And I started to worry about the future for my Ladies. Perhaps without me, the Australian authorities might decide not to allow them in. I lay down with my thoughts as black as I could remember. It seemed my efforts had been wasted. My Ladies would be worse off than when I had found them. I have no idea how long I lay there in despair before falling asleep.