Another Sunset Ch. 01

She watched me start to masturbate. I started with my clit, but not gently, I went right to circling it with one finger, then shaking it obscenely between my index and middle fingers, having my first orgasm of the night right there and hiding it. Breathing heavily, looking from my busy fingers to my sex captive, I slid in one finger, then two, pulling my whole hand against my clit with my fingers hooked against the spot inside. Nova had whispered in my ear that that was my "Sweet Spot" two hours into raping me that first night, introducing me to my own anatomy at the same time. I can never remember the name of the funny thing that hangs down the back of your throat after being told seven times in class and writing it down another fifty, and I still remember the lesson about where my Sweet Spot is and what she named it, even through a mind-crumbling orgasm. I've certainly had more use for the Spot then than I ever did for my uvula.

Jeepers, I remembered.

I my legs were in the air now, I was cumming. I've heard a lot of orgasmic moaning, each unique to the person I'm violating. Mine, if you're wondering, is more of a rhythmic "ah." Anyway, this is the sound I was making, watching my slave watch me. Then came the other optional step. I manage this sometimes when the experience is really rewarding. I tilted my hips back and, in a phenomena that always surprises even me, I started squirting. Pulsed streams of the same stuff my captive was weeping from her loins. I made sure to have the presence of mind to hit her. Her feet and legs, a bit of her waist was all I could get from those eight or ten feet away, but it served to heighten her sense of sexual bewilderment. Most people have never seen this, especially during acts preceding forced lesbianism, and some of them come completely unhinged at this point. Some even think I'm urinating on them until they smell it, the ones that have later squirted themselves are unmistakably sure.

I kept on as long as I could without interfering with the gushes. This is harder than it sounds, usually amounting to "spanking" my clitoris with one finger. Finally, end it did, and I allowed myself to collapse as gracefully as I could onto my back.

I think I passed out that time. I often do. It didn't stop Nova. The Slavers of The Pitt and Paradise Falls use exploding collars to control their livestock. With me they'd just need vibrating underwear. Eventually, though, I raised my head, and my eyes found her. Still watching. I must have been smirking, she looked more horrified than ever.

She was next.

She probably expected me to leap on her like a Yao Guai and devour her there and then, but my time out here has made less merciful stuff of me, and my recent satisfaction had replenished my patience. I like to molest first. I picked up the shock baton as I stood.

She "backed away" as best she could manage given the circumstances. So I trained her. I corrected her breasts to stop her form struggling. I shocked her bottom to thrust her hips forward, her inner thighs until her knees were fully spread. Finally she stood completely open to me again. She was soaked. It was all over her inner thighs and her calves. I took a moment to look at this, but before long I couldn't resist the urge to touch.

I let her watch me step one foot forward, and ever so softly brush my thigh against her. She twitched, tensing, but held still. My whole leg was wet almost instantly from touching her. I let her get used to the idea that she was being molested by a woman, and that it was giving her pleasure. Then I reached up and took hold of her nipple. I was pleased to find that she was not only ready to obey, but her mind was trying to anticipate my whims to avoid further correction. So when I gently tugged her nipple a few times, her body followed so before long she was ever-so-slightly rubbing against my thigh, which I left her to do for a while. I watched her move, her hips thrusting like evolution had programmed them to do, instinctively aiming her sensitive parts at my skin, still in disbelief at what was happening to her. And finally, I heard it. It sounded like a whimper. I wanted to masturbate some more but it would have to wait.

She didn't turn away this time, when I bent down to put my mouth on her nipple. Mmmm. It was long and and stood up obediently when the warm tickle of my lips hit it. Another noise in her throat. I rested it on my tongue and circled it around until a slightly higher-pitched, more pronounced squeak came from her. Then she felt my teeth. That produced a moan, and more wetness from me. She moved on her own, more intensely now, her body taking over, her mind helpless.

Come on. More.

I was rapidly abandoning my pretense of calculated civility. My mouth was all over her breasts. I can't tell you how I wanted them. And I was slowly giving them to myself more and more. I was again pleased to see that when I withdrew my thigh, she chased it, this whimper more frustrated. Yes. Mine. I stepped around behind her as she convulsed for a moment before I wrapped my arm around her chest from behind to freely sample her with one hand, while the other found her clitoris. She must have realized I'd gotten the better of her, and what I was about to do, because it was then she started rebelling again. But I wasn't subtle this time. I started masturbating her, clitoris between my middle and index, shaking vigorously. Two flicks and she was already in orgasm. Most women haven't experienced sensations this strong, and it tends to paralyze them into a rigid, wide-eyed torpor. I was licking her neck before long, listening to her try to scream through the bit gag, my body pressed into her back, feeling to her senses crumble.

She was one of "those," a the kind who experiences one long, uninterrupted orgasm as long as they're given attention, which to her anguished despair, I punished her with for the next half hour. I hooked two fingers inside to her "spot," my palm on her clitoris, switching hands when my arm got tired, but never letting up. Twenty minutes in she passed out, which didn't deter me. Her limp body kept quivering, of course, but otherwise she just hung there, squirting a little sometimes.

I didn't let her rest long. I awoke her with the shock baton. When that didn't work, a splash of water did. She woke to me with my tongue inside her, and the baton between the cheeks of her behind. I experimented with the lower settings for a moment, and within a few seconds found I could shock her to climax. What fun. Then I was ready to start the tongue-fucking.

I try to control my language. But that's what I was doing; tongue-fucking her. I slid noisily in and out. She dared not move. I didn't even have to activate the baton anymore, just a nudge pushed her hips toward me. To my delight, the less-intense stimulation had her back to her senses enough to feel violated again, as indicated by the conquered mewling sounds. I worked on her for as long as I could force myself to remain on my knees like that.

Then I just obliterated her.

I sucked her clitoris into my mouth and right against my tongue. Two fingers inside and she was screaming once more. Low-grade shocks in time with my fingers, constant tongue-lashing and attention to her sweet spot had her hanging limply again. I worked on her for another fifteen minutes I think, until my neck was tired.

She woke on her back, on a mattress I also salvaged from the immediate area. Her wrists were now chained to her ankles, the spreader bar remaining.

I nudged her with my toe to get her attention. I was sitting on the desk over her. She coughed. The bit gag was out. Her eyes found me, the rest of her too exhausted to move. I was still naked, smiling sweetly, legs slightly apart, still shiny with wetness. It was my turn. I stepped down, making sure a few drops of my juices landed on and around her face. I also made sure she saw I still had the baton as knelt over her, facing her legs.

One of the things I'd made sure to tell her while she was entranced was that her jaws were too weak to bite me. I'm glad I came up with that one, I'd be missing something if I'd had to learn through experience. If she'd tried to take a chunk out of my anatomy, she would have found her teeth just couldn't quite come together. But she didn't try. What she did do was try to avoid me as I lowered myself over her, until she felt the bulb of the shock wand rest on her womanhood, threateningly. She stuck her tongue out with a yelp. No foreplay. I was hungry enough just preparing the meal, chaining her up had me aroused already. The tip of the rod resting on her clitoris, she began the inglorious task of learning to perform oral sex on a woman under duress. Somehow an unskilled mouth is even more enticing to me than a seasoned one. I'm not hard to work on, I'll put the part I want taken care of on your tongue. It's how fast they learn, transforming into something less innocent than they were yesterday. Even if she's just afraid of feeling a sharp tingle in her most sensitive place.

Which she did.

This sparked her to real greatness. I remember catching myself on her knees as I half-leaned half-fell forward to give her a better angle. She was making it up as she went along, but worked. I was even rewarding her, rubbing her clitoris with the threatening-tool, the fear or pleasure, one of the two, inspiring her further.

I was having orgasms already. But I kept her on task. Her breasts were mine to grab, her thighs mine to lick, I'd even inserted the vaguely-phallic baton into her vagina as an incentive, which I was not too ashamed to leave on its lowest setting as I steadily fucked her with it. She was cumming. I remember feeling some of the electricity on my hand as she squirted on it. It didn't stop me. Or her. Her tongue found its own way now, to my clit, inside me, to other places...and everyone thought the Raiders couldn't get more depraved. And now I was steadily cumming too.

I lost track of how long this lasted. I think the sun was coming up by the time I'd finally dismounted.

I drank back all the fluid I'd squirted out, stood my slave up and "helped" her do the same. I noticed a little more appreciation for it this time. I somehow felt absolved. It meant I could afford my last sin.

Pride.

I can't count how many offenses I've committed in the story thus far that violate every religion and societal rule that no one cares about anymore. There are about seven of them in this ancient fiction book my mother liked, not nearly enough to truly level proper condemnation. But this last one always sticks out in my mind. If you asked me now I couldn't tell you exactly why I do it. But before I released my catch, I had to do it.

My last tool. I think it was a soldering iron once. Now it just served to heat the steel plate I'd rigged up to it, with which I pressed to the inside of the girl's ankle before she could regain her strength.

I kind of felt bad, so I threw water on it and tied a bandage around it, but as I lifted her defeated self up, dragged her to the door, unchained her limbs and tossed her into the wild, I knew it wouldn't be long before the dressing came off and the scar I'd branded would read clear as another sunrise.

"101."

Another sunset.

I watched the world through a lens. Enclave. Well-armed. Power-armored. Precise. Arrogant. Doomed.

I scanned, counting. One, two, three, four, five...ah. An officer. Unarmored, observing the wastes rolling away in all directions, glowering at it as if the Enclave still owned any part of it. Oblivious to being the centerpiece of my targeting reticle, a diagram of harsh reality.

I smirked.

No. Not you.

I shot the man next to her.