The Princess and the Pod

Zeeta next to her was just as frantic. The orb was now up to her sternum, and she had been shuddering with need for hours. "Please, your highness. Play with my breasts," she begged, making an unprecedented request of her master.

"Keep playing with mine," Sela ordered as her blonde slave whimpered in frustration. Looking at Zeeta's large pale pink areolas, Sela suddenly felt a desire for them, not to help the slave woman but to stimulate herself. She reached down and pulled hard on Zeeta's large nipples as Zeeta did the same to hers. The women stroked and kneaded each other in a partnership of desperation as their unrelenting and unsatisfying pleasure continued.

And Honnie? Poor Honnie. The orb had closed over her completely. It had sensed her breathing and had left a tube open for air flow, but otherwise she was completely buried inside the translucent green orb now, held motionless. Her face and mouth were mashed into Sela's vulva, and Sela could occasionally feel the girl's most epic struggles in her most sensitive areas, the micromovements as the girl struggled in her living prison. The thought of being fully enveloped terrified Sela.

"Rokal," she called.

The general was sitting nearby, watching from a safe distance.

"Yes?"

"You have to get this thing off of me. I can't do this."

"You have no choice, your highness. We have to wait for it to cover you over and harden. We'll get you out as soon as possible."

"You don't ..." Sela stopped and shuddered, slapping and pushing at the inhuman organism that was sexually torturing her. "You don't understand. I really can't do this."

Zeeta moaned. She could no longer dry hump Sela, but her pussy was trapped against Sela's thigh. Sela could feel the blonde's breath tickling her neck, and felt the fullness of two fingers that were now trapped inside her clenching anus.

The blonde bit Sela's nipple, sucking it hard. Sela threw her head back, moaning in pain or pleasure or both, and when she opened her eyes again, she swore that she saw the general smiling. In a fit of rage, she spat at him. "Mark my words. If I survive this, General Rokal, you shall not!"

****

Morning broke early for Rokal as the light filtered into his tent. He rolled over and pushed away from Insala, who had pleasured him so well during the night. She had amazing skills with her mouth and her lower harbors. Maybe he would elevate her position once this was over and done with. He pulled on his boots, leathers, and armor, and strolled outside to see the progress.

The camp was in full relaxation mode now. Good fortune had placed them near food and water, and little work was required to support the caravan. Bacon was sizzling over a campfire, and he even smelled the wonderful aroma of bread. In the distance, he heard the hammering of dulcenite from a nearby lode. In the short term, life was good.

He strolled to the middle of camp. The Secondskin was quite large now, an orb over six feet long and four feet tall. Honnie was completely engulfed, as was Zeeta. He could see the silhouettes of their still forms inside the creature, like insects in amber, frozen in the subservient sexual positions they had taken three days ago.

Sela was engulfed up to her chin. She was no longer screaming and cursing, thank god, but had moved to the next stage. Screaming was when you were still externally focused, trying to get help. She has now wheezing, moaning in a deep, low animalistic manner, the sounds one makes when the external world no longer matters. It was her against the creature now, as she tried to maintain her sanity during a neverending torture of teasing and denial.

Giana was standing watch. She was a captain in the guards, a lithe, strong woman with a toned body that filled out her leathers nicely, and she was a great leader on the battlefield. He stood next to her out of Sela's earshot. "Any news to report?"

Giana glanced over. "The pretty little princess screamed all night. She hates your guts, by the way. Blames you for picking the campsite."

Rokal shrugged. "Maybe if she wasn't making her royal hostages eat her pussy, the Secondskin wouldn't have found her."

Giana smiled. "I always thought she was doing that. Poor servant girls."

"We all suspected it. That's why she claimed them as personal servants, even though the kingdom had much higher uses for them. The king should have overruled it, but he didn't."

"I guess I can't completely blame her," Giana laughed. "Royal chastity would be a challenge, and those girls are gorgeous. I might use them like that too if I was in her position, and I am a man's woman through and through."

Rokal laughed with her, even though his thoughts strayed to Honnie while he did so. Everyone who laid eyes on her wanted the little captive princess. Everyone.

Rokal paused to listen to Sela's moans. "The rule that royals may only consort with royals is a particularly cruel one during an era when we have no alliances."

"Well, whose fault is that?"

Rokal shook his head in sad acknowledgement. "The king was well meaning, but he had been a doddering fool for too long. We all knew it. I initially thought we had valid reasons to fight those nations, and my duty was to protect the kingdom. But the old fool was being manipulated by Sela."

Giana nodded toward the large green orb, and the regal redhead shrieking and gasping as it enveloped her. "We declared war on the Lainians and the Ice Kingdom solely to capture pussy lickers for the princess as far as I can tell. Was there any other reason?"

Rokal flushed with anger. "Nothing notable. The reasoning I was given, the reasoning in the official declaration of war, was untrue. Honnie and Zeeta told me the truth even as I transported them to their fate. These wars were a huge mistake. They've shattered alliances and trust across all of our borders."

"And that's why we've been away from our homes at war for the past three years."

Rokal knew little of Giana's home. But that was not his information to have. He nodded toward the Secondskin. "Zeeta is fully enclosed, it looks like."

"Yeah, about 9:00 last night. It looks like her breathing hole formed properly, so I think she's okay."

Sela's voice was a bit garbled now, as she couldn't move her chin. She had apparently detected Rokal's presence. "Get me ... OUT OF HERE!" she shrieked in a breathy voice.

Rokal and Giana exchanged glances and conspiratorial smiles. They both knew that the spoiled princess wasn't getting any sympathy in camp.

Rokal called out from his safe distance. "Soon enough, my princess."

"I will have you boiled in oil once I get out of here!" Her voice was guttural and livid.

Rokal exchanged glances with Giana. "Methinks that the princess is in no position to threaten," he murmured quietly. She laughed.

Giana had been through the wringer with Rokal, leading a battalion in three full military campaigns. She spoke quietly to ensure that only Rokal's ears heard. "There are whispers...that the kingdom would be better off if the Princess did not escape the Secondskin."

Princess Sela let loose a guttural moan of need and desire, followed by curses that would embarrass any soldier.

Rokal nodded. "You are not the first to have this idea, and I doubt that you will be the last."

"She's cruel and short-sighted. She will not serve the kingdom well. She has no knowledge of external threats, and she'll send our armies into bad situations. She will drain the treasury on statues of herself."

"I recognize all of this."

"So will she escape from the Secondskin?"

Rokal listened idly to the moans of the wretched princess. "There are two problems with such a plan."

"What are they?"

"First, there's no rightful heir after her. She's young and unmarried. She has no siblings, cousins, or children. If there is not a coronation next week, there will be civil war."

"Is that worse than a Queen Sela regime?"

Rokal shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But the second problem is bigger."

"What is that?"

"My honor. I have a military pledge to protect the royal family. Princess Sela, for all her faults, is the rightful heir to the throne. We have a system of government, and I will not go down in history as the person to destroy it."

Giana's smile glinted in the flicker of the fires. "You're a better subject of the crown than I am, General."

Rokal looked at the giant orb, with its feminine shadows frozen within. There was another reason, more personal, to free the women as well, but he would never tell it. "When do you think we can start cutting them out?"

Giana picked up a stone and threw it strongly. It bounced off the Secondskin as if it was hitting a castle wall. "The shell is forming in the back, down near Princess Honnie's feet. If we wanted to press our luck, I think we could possibly start cutting from that end pretty soon."

Rokal picked up his own stone and confirmed with another strike. "If anyone touches an active piece of Secondskin, though, we're screwed. I don't want to wait another week if someone else gets caught up in it. Let's wait until it's completely swallowed our annoying little princess."

"Gladly." The two soldiers exchanged chuckles.

Rokal studied the shiny orb for a moment and decided to take a minor risk. He approached it from the back, down near the feet of the once-trysting women. Giana followed, both of them treading carefully to avoid any issues. Rokal looked through the translucent green material, straight into the ass and vulva of Honnie, that gorgeous tiny ass that was so taut and round. Looking up, he could see through the slight haze to see the fold of Zeeta's hip where her leg met her pussy. And further up, peeking around Honnie's trapped head, a thatch of the copper-colored pubic hair of the future queen of the realm.

"What do you think she's feeling in there?" Giana asked, nodding toward Honnie.

Rokal shook his head. "She's going through hell. I've talked to a survivor of this thing, a camp concubine who got cut out of one. It's torture by pleasure, constant stimulation while you're held in stasis but with no final pleasures. It's a particularly cruel method of attack."

"It doesn't seem worse than a typical animal attack." Giana was studying the stilled nude bodies that were essentially statues now.

"I think it might be. Imagine being unable to move, and then held on the edge of orgasm for the rest of your short life. That's what happens to these victims."

As they watched, he swore that he could see Honnie's body shiver just the slightest bit, and instinctively knew that she was making a herculean effort to cum in her gelatinous prison. If she had been camping alone, this would be her fate, orgasm denial torture until she eventually died of thirst. Fortunately, her ordeal was public and a solution, albeit a slow and uncomfortable solution, was known.

I will get you out, he mouthed silently.

He turned to Giana as he rose and walked away. "Do we have the cutting chisels ready?" he asked.

Giana nodded, following him. "As soon as you give the order, we can start cutting this thing off of them."

"Excellent. Maybe in 48 hours." He lowered his voice. "As soon as her highness stops making noise."

The two soldiers split up, leaving the mewling future queen to her agonies of pleasure.

****

The light went out for Sela in the early afternoon. The green orb rose over her eyes and she closed them, and then they wouldn't open again. She couldn't scream, couldn't see, couldn't move. She could only breathe and accept the agonizing torture of perpetual sexual arousal without release.

Her entire body was aflame with sex. The Secondskin hummed imperceptibly against her body, gripping every square inch in sensual bondage. Her nerve endings were universally alight with pleasure -- pleasure on her hips, her stomach, her breasts, pleasure on her throat, and particularly pleasure between her legs. It was neverending, and she dwelt eternally on the razor's edge of orgasm, too much sensation to resist, not enough to tumble over the edge to ecstasy. She tried to struggle, tried to escape, tried to get those last few sensations that would push her to orgasm, but she was helpless. Her world was narrowed to an eternal instant just before orgasm, that instant before the explosion, never moving, never changing.

They said that they would get her out. Rokal promised that he had a solution. But she wasn't sure she could survive until the solution was in place. Physically and mentally, she was beyond her limits without respite. She would have the man killed once she was released, hero of the realm or not, and she would take vengeance upon everyone who watched her humiliation from the perimeter. Every guard, every cook, every concubine. She would destroy them all.

Oh, how she wished she could scream.

****

The rescue party gathered around the pod. It was now huge, nearly eight feet tall and nine feet long. Buried within, Rokal could see the figures of the three stilled women, frozen in their inopportune moment of sexual servitude and dominance.

Rokal knocked his boot on the edge of the orb, not far from Honnie's extended toes. "Hard as dulcenite," he said. "Are we ready?"

The foot soldier, Breen, and Insala the concubine were on site as experts, and several of the battalion's most brawny soldiers served as the quarrying squad. Giana was overseeing them. "We're ready," she said.

Rokal gave the go-ahead, and two of the men placed dulcenite chisels onto the orb. Hammer blows rang, men grunted, and strategies were assessed and negotiated. After ten minutes of work, the first tiny piece of the Secondskin chipped and dropped off, half the size of a baby's fist. "This is harder than you'd think," one of the men remarked, sweating with his labors.

It took four hours to break off enough shell to work inside, and then another two to dig out the first tiny globs of the thick gel that lay underneath. Eventually, though, their efforts were rewarded, and a bit of skin appeared as the sole of Honnie's left foot felt sunlight for the first time in a week. With the tiniest of flexes, they had proof of life, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Rokal surreptitiously sighed with relief as he gently lay a palm against her sole, a signal that he was coming for her, that he was going to rescue her from her plight.

The work became much more careful now, sculpting her out of the surrounding thick material. Given that she had been captured in a face down position, the sole of her foot pointed up. She had been lifted from the ground as the orb grew, so her sole was easily four feet off the ground. Rokal gave it another light stroke, marveling at its softness.

"Talk to her," he ordered, and Insala went to work. With a small stylus, she began slowly tracing letters onto the sole of Honnie's foot.

"She was trained in the code as she went under," she said as she worked, "but she may be too overstimulated to follow the letters. It's almost impossible to think in there. But it worked when I was encased. I eventually figured out what the letters were without any training, so she should recognize them much more easily."

The labor was slow and tedious, and Rokal went to dinner. When he returned hours later, he was delighted to see the entire underside of a foot free of the green material. The toes were continuously moving and flexing.

"She's sassy!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a grin. "Excellent work, people!"

Insala was still scribing letters onto the wriggling foot. She looked up and smiled proudly. "She understands," she said. "We're communicating. She can give me yes and no answers by moving her toe in a particular way."

"How is she?" Rokal peered through the green at the trapped and still body, so lifelike and yet so motionless.

"She's scared," Insala said. "She's certainly exhausted. But she's alive and she knows that we're getting her out."

Rokal shook his head. "The poor thing has been in there for almost a week now. Unimaginable."

"You don't know the half of it," Insala said, and gave the foot a reassuring squeeze.

"How long until we get her out completely?" Rokal addressed a husky guard who was chiseling.

The man gauged the situation and shook his head. "At least another week. It's hard as hell to crack this thing, and it also keeps getting bigger as we go, so we're racing to gain ground on it."

Rokal acknowledged the difficulty and clapped the man on the shoulder in the way of soldiers. He sympathized with the women inside, but also didn't mind a delay to Princess Sela's release. Such were the balances of a general.

Breen, the guard who had dealt with a Secondskin before, motioned to Rokal. "Sir, can we have a word with you?"

"Certainly."

Breen motioned Rokal away from the workers, and beckoned Insala and Giana to join them. The four stepped away to a relatively quiet spot. Breen unexpectedly deferred to Insala. "We'd like to ask something," he said.

Insala seemed uncomfortable talking about it. She started and stopped a couple of times before Giana forced the issue. "Just say it, girl!"

Insala cleared her throat. "I was in a Secondskin, you know, and Breen rescued a woman from one. And we both saw the same thing that we had to do."

Rokal gave her a questioning look.

"Well," Insala said, "we're freeing them from the bottom up, Princess Honnie being first. In a few days, we'll have her legs freed up, which will open up her nether regions."

Rokal suspected that he knew where this was heading. "And?"

"At that point, we can greatly ease her suffering by pleasuring her, sir. By fingers or tongues or penises or something else. When I was captured, it kept me from going insane while they were freeing me."

"Is she really that desperate?" Rokal glanced back at the stillness of the giant orb. It seemed incomprehensible that such a still and silent scene could harbor so much struggle.

Insala nodded emphatically. "I can't even describe the agony of not being able to cum inside that thing."

Breen interjected. "I told you," he said to the group. "When we had the girl in the Eastern Moors, she was begging us to fuck her. We fucked her nonstop for two weeks. Fucked her, buggared her ass, everything, and she always pleaded for more. The Secondskin, it makes them insatiable."

"So you're advocating that we ... sexually service Honnie ... once her lower regions are freed and her upper regions are still trapped?"

Insala nodded urgently. "All three of the women eventually. But Honnie first since she's the closest to being revealed. It would mean the world to her. You'll see."

Breen nodded. "The soldiers would be glad to help. And we can bring in some of the camp concubines to pull the overnight shift. They're accustomed to servicing women."

Giana thought for a moment. "And perhaps if we did it for Princess Sela, it would give her a reason to take mercy on us." She looked into Rokal's eyes. "Sir, we're all concerned that she will wish to erase this incident from the royal history. And that does not bode well for the people in this camp."

Rokal considered it for only a moment, then shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no. You're all forgetting something."

"What?" Giana asked, but all three looked to him.

"We can't do that," Rokal explained. "All three of these women are royals. Even if two of them are captives, they still receive the granted rights of a royal. A commoner cannot participate in sexual consort with a royal. It is simply not allowed."

"But she'll want it, sir. She'll be begging for it." Insala's eyes were sympathetic, yet determined.

Rokal thought about the tiny pussy of the Lainian princess. Women from the Lainian Isles were notoriously tight and gripping, the preferred concubines of rulers around the world. His cock took notice of his thoughts and began to swell. For the very reason he was now stating, though, he and Honnie had never lain together during their time in the general's tent.