Laura Croft and the Venus Thigh Trap

Laura Croft and the The Venus Thigh Trap

Plant/F, L Croft, NC, BDSM, Lact, Hum, Archaeology, Silly

All that legal guff about how you might be an innocent child, or living under a censorious government, puritanical legal system, your mother wouldn't approve, you should not be here, you really must stop now, etc. Sigh... What a fucked up world. Anyway, what follows is an explicit, graphic, extreme sexual fantasy. You have been warned. Leave now if not already corrupted.

This story was written by SensoryOverlord, and is Copyright 2006. You may copy and read for free. Reproduction of this work for profit is not OK.

Part 3 of ?

It is still early in the morning as Laura lies tied to the stretcher bunk, listening to the fading sounds of Harding and his companions heading off through the jungle, back towards the ancient ruins.

Just before leaving her, he had worked her to the very edge of orgasm by milking her freakishly lactating and sensitive breasts, then left her hanging, desperately aroused and frustrated. She can do nothing but look down her naked body, wishing she could bring her legs together to squeeze her swollen sex and throbbing erect clitoris, or reach her fingers to her rigid, aching nipples, still dripping with the milk he was drawing from her. Her body refuses to accept the futility of the effort, twisting and humping her hips against the still cool morning jungle air. Every time her hips buck up, she can see the thin black and white striped photo-scale rod, still lodged deep in her vagina with several inches protruding. Vance had used it to observe her internal contractions as she neared orgasm, thus judging to perfection the moment to stop and leave her. If she lifts her head she can watch it herself, as it flags the intermittent convulsive clampings of her cunt, wanting somethin!

g insi

de her, but barely feeling the thin rod.

She is *so* close! In her desperation, she thinks that perhaps if she hunches and clenches *very* hard, she might be able to push herself over the edge. And it does give her some stimulation - her clitoris does feel the light pressure of her spread labia rubbing as her hips thrust up and back, and shaking her breasts from side to side does make her nipples tingle a little. So close... so close....

It takes quite a while before she falls back, momentarily exhausted, eyes closed, panting with her exertions. Resting for a moment, feeling that tension in her insides ebbing back from the unreached edge of release, she realises that it isn't going to work. She is tied up for the day, and isn't going to be able to cum, no matter how hard she struggles.

By this time the air has begun to warm up too. She notices that in her exertions she has worked up quite a sweat, and lying there with her eyes closed she can feel the beads of moisture tickling down the sides of her body as well as on her face and back through her long hair. With the heat of arousal still so strong in her body, and her frustrated anger glowing through her mind, it is hard to think. One thought that does occur to her, linked to her angry frustration, is that it seems strange how persistently her sex remains achingly swollen and needy. She thinks to herself that she accepts that an orgasm is out of reach, and that she is in for a long day of boredom. She thinks that thought should be cooling her body's state of excitement. But it does not seem to. Her clitoris has remained exactly as rigidly erect as it was when Harding had her right on the edge. It is so hard, she can feel her own pulse in it - a tingling throbbing in time with her heartbeat. It is very dist!

ractin

g, and that adds to her anger with the fix she is in. It is _all_ very annoying - the aching swollen emptiness of her vagina and labia, throbbing clit, the tight fullness of her breasts, the rigid tingling of her nipples, the surprising sensitivity of her skin to the feel of sweat droplets rolling down the slopes of her body, the feel of that blasted catheter penetrating her, with its bulbs pressing both inside and at her sex. Every time the muscles in her vagina clamp down, that tube moves in her, and pulls the outer bulb harder in against her body. That is annoying too, for its maddening closeness to her untouchable clit. Close, but not quite close enough to achieve anything. Arrgh! She deliberately clamps down hard, and can feel the bulb press her labia, perhaps only a few millimetres below her needing clit. Its worse than useless, it is *taunting* her.

By now her mind is whirling in a circle of furious, angry thoughts. Furious with Harding, for doing this to her. Furious with herself, for getting caught in that ridiculous vine-trap. What was she thinking, impaling herself on that phallic altar?! So stupid, stupid! What a sex-starved, blind fool she was! What an idiot, to have even taken pictures of her shameful, animalistic moment! And now Harding has those pictures! That seems to her even worse than her present predicament, and the rapes. She thinks she will probably manage to escape at some point. But if she cannot get those pictures back, and Harding releases them...

Well, sells them to the highest bidder more likely, the bastard, she rages to herself. That will certainly put a dent in her professional career. She can just imagine delivering a lecture on Mayan Antiquities, with the entire audience sniggering loudly. An image comes to her, of standing in front of a lecture hall, attempting to ignore the leers of her students, only to turn to the projector screen to find that some bright spark has managed to hack her laptop and insert a photo of her, naked and orgasming atop the lingam, into her lecture foils.  The thought makes her cringe. Yet none of this has any effect - her body goes right on being desperately heated and aching for orgasm. The feeling is so intense; it is hard to tell if it is fading at all. Or even, she admits bitterly to herself, growing a little stronger as she thinks of the public humiliation she may have to face. No! It can't be! How could that horrible thought make her _more_ aroused?

She still has her eyes closed tight, angrily. It occurs to her that she is doing this, and decides to keep them closed. It helps her think, helps her to shut out... and she ends up thinking of it anyway. The other matter she has been avoiding. With her eyes closed, she can keep it pushed to one side, ignored as too hard. Too difficult. With her eyes closed, she can pretend it was some sort of dream, not happening, a fantasy. Not real. But she knows it really isn't. She knows what she will see when she opens her eyes. And now that she has thought of it, and realises her anger isn't going to help with her arousal problem, and as she clearly is tied here to a bed for the rest of the day, she may as well consider the reality. She opens her eyes, and looks down at herself again.

Yes, it wasn't a dream. Somehow, the incident with the vines, and their thorns, really has caused her sexual organs to grow larger. Ridiculously, obscenely larger. Quite apart from them seemingly becoming far more sensitive and persistent in their sexual response, they are now virtual caricatures of normal sized organs. She considers her breasts and nipples first, since without raising her head they are effectively blocking her view of the rest of her body.

Her breasts had been very presentable 36D's, before she'd entered that temple. With nipples that she'd thought embarrassing at times, when they hardened to about half an inch long. Long enough to be a problem if she was at the beach, wearing a thin bikini. Or at a social function, in a lightweight bra and blouse. But now! God, she hopes this isn't permanent. If it is, she'll have to have reduction surgery. If they can even do nipple reductions as well as breasts. Her breasts... she's not sure if there is a bra size made to fit breasts like hers are now. They appear to have about the same circumference around the base, but rise from her chest like... like... she can only think of those spherical radar domes. Mr Buckminster Fuller's invention, and why did the man's surname have to mock her bust size problem? Her breasts really are near spheres, definitely 'fuller', with at least twice their original volume. Somehow, they hold themselves up, perhaps because they are so tightly !

full. They feel full, anyway. Even after her milking this morning. The skin feels taut, straining to contain the new bulk within. What are they going to feel like when she stands up? She was still pretty groggy when walking back from the ruins, and the way they'd tied her had criss-crossed her breasts tightly with rope. So she wonders how she will deal with these ridiculous breasts.

'Ridiculous...' she thinks. Perhaps that word should be reserved for her nipples, since those are absolutely into the surreal zone. Nobody has nipples like this! She has become a freak! She guesses they must be at least four, maybe five centimetres long. About two inches, by Heavens, and as thick as small sausages. Thicker than her thumb, at least. Her aureoles have expanded too, perhaps with the stretching of her breast surface. In any case, where once they were bottle-top diameter, and didn't thicken much, now they are at least six or seven cm in diameter, and thickened up like pancakes - standing at least a cm out from the near spherical surface of her breast. She can feel them as well as see them, so there is no denying her eyes. She now has gigantic, impossible nipples. Which feel as hard as rocks, and look it too. They are so hard they ache. She wonders if there are any penises smaller than her nipples. Probably, she thinks. The feeling of Harding's fingers stroking fi!

rmly u

p and down her rigid nipples, and the feel of the milk squirting out under his pressing, comes to her mind. Is that what a penis feels like, when it squirts, she wonders? Arrrhhh! How her nipples ache. If only she could come.

She can see that her breasts are going to be a problem, from now on, until she can get to somewhere with modern medical facilities.

Lifting her head, she looks further down her naked body, to her sex. There she sees much the same story. Where previously she'd possessed reasonably normal looking labia, and a clitoris that was already unusually large when erect, now she is a freak. Her labia have fattened somewhat, to a swollen, dark redness that appears surprising but believable in a woman as aroused as she feels. It is her clit that shocks.  With her knees tied open to the sides of the stretcher bed, she cannot close them, and her swollen labia are parted somewhat, leaving a deep cleft between. From the top of which her newly outrageous clitoris stands like a finger, pointing upright as if to reprimand someone.

The growth has been more selective than with her breasts too, for her clitoral hood seems to have retained its original size. The fold of skin that used to protect her clit when soft, and still cover most of it even when erect, is now nothing but a tightness she can feel around the base of her rigid organ. It is such a shocking sight that she momentarily drops her head back, unwilling to face the stress. But the image is in her mind, and it seems to merge with the unstoppable torrent of sensation she is getting from her sex. It demands attention. She lifts her head again, straining higher, as well as tilting her hips up to see even more. Her handcuffed right hand is free enough that she can use it to support her neck, and that gives her a little better view angle.

There is her clit. It still looks like a clit, only magnified and free of it's hood. The end is a rounded, reddish pearly point that tapers back to a thicker body of the shaft. Overall, the shaft is fairly uniform in thickness, although it does seem to be a little thinner in its lower third. With a shock, she realises that the whole thing, including the portion resting down between her labia, must be at least six centimetres long. Longer than her super sized nipples! Not quite as thick though. It is more like a thin, little finger, than the sausage look-alikes on her breasts. It too aches with hardness and need.

Concentrating on the feelings coming from it, she realises that the 'tightness' she can feel around the base of her clit, where her clit-hood is stretched tight, is quite a significant contributor to the whole mess of sensations. It feels as if her clit has a tight ring wrapped around its base, that definitely seems to be contributing to the unrelenting throbbing rigidity of the organ. She recalls something she read once; about 'rings' men could place around the base of their penis to act like a tourniquet, trapping blood in the erectile tissue. Resulting in more or less indefinitely maintained erections. 'Terrific', she thinks. 'Permanently maintained clitoral erection. Just what I need today. A stick shoved up my pussy, a tube up my, my, uh urethra, and a permanently hard clit.' In anger and frustration, she clamps her muscles hard, and beats her hips violently against the cot. Which achieves nothing, except to add sensory aggravation to the image of her sticked, tubed, an!

d giant-clitted sex.

She lies back again, staring at the roof of the tent. Panting with her frustration. The jungle sounds outside intrude into her thoughts, and she realises the morning must be getting on. Perhaps, oh, an hour has past. Leaving still a lot of day to go. She swears to herself, and decides to at least eat the food they left.

Turning her head to look at the dish on the floor beside her, she makes a discovery. The tent has both a canvas flap and a mosquito net at the entrance. Previously, the canvas flap has been closed, except when the men were entering. But today, Harding has clipped the canvas up as he left, leaving just the netting across the end of the tent. So ever since he left, she has been fully exposed to view from the rest of the campsite. For a moment she panics, thinking someone might see her, naked and... like this. It takes her a while to remind herself that there is no one for hundreds of miles around, other than Harding and his men. She supposes she should be grateful, since it will prevent the tent becoming an oven later in the day. But still... unless she twists her head around, she cannot see outside. Supposing someone did creep up quietly, and watch her? She shudders, thinking of it. And this time, despite her already high level of physical arousal, she has to admit to herself!

  that

the thought does seem to turn her body's heat dial up a notch. But why?

She shakes her head, deciding to put that question aside till later. For now, she will eat. Maybe the distraction will help cool her burning desire.

Fortunately, she finds the handcuff chain is long enough to allow her to reach the food on the ground. At least Harding got that right, she thinks, cursing his name. The food is not bad either. Some dried, spicy meat, and an assortment of fried vegetables, nuts and already peeled fruits. She finishes most of it, leaving just a pile of nuts for a snack later. She drinks from the water bottle via the tube he provided. Then she lies back, considering.

Now her stomach is happy, but she was wrong in hoping the distraction might work to lessen her arousal. It didn't. She finds this quite inexplicable and strange. What is going on with her body? Is this an effect of the vine venom, or is there something about being tied naked here, awaiting evening and another round of vigorous rapes, that has keyed into some hidden part of her mind? Or have the physical changes to her body also had a similar 'enlarging' effect on her libido? She'd prefer to think it must be the venom, acting as some kind of powerful aphrodisiac - which will hopefully wear off soon.

Yet to be fair, she must admit to herself that thinking of herself in humiliating situations, like that image of the lecture hall, or imagining someone watching her now, does seem to make her feel more aroused. She recalls the incident in the British Museum, with the 'medical penis substitute', and the fantasies and persistent arousal that had plagued her for weeks after. She can't blame the vine for those, so that must be a real element of her subconscious.

'Oh god!' With the images from those shameful fantasies flooding back, she finds that her present arousal makes it very difficult to push them out of her mind. Impossible, in fact. She finds the details of the instruction manual, its illustrations and cool Victorian prose describing the 'medical' sexual tormenting of shapely young female inmates, all popping vividly into her mind. Together with her own guilty imaginings of herself as one of those inmates.

She feels her body responding again, as it had back then as she lay awake in her room at night, struggling against the heat in her sex, and the desire to abuse herself with her fingers to obtain relief. Often she had succeeded in resisting, and eventually drifted off into uneasy sleep filled with disturbing imagery. Then other times, she had succumbed. She recalls how disgusted she always was with herself the next day, and yet somehow, the needs would return, and thoughts of what she'd done to herself _last_ time would add to building the unwanted excitement.

And now... now she realises something else about those episodes. She recalls how she would be feeling like an unwilling receptacle for a sexual fantasy unfolding in her mind, and fighting against the physical arousal it would generate. And then there'd be a moment, when the arousal would become so strong that she'd _know_ there was no turning back, and she would eventually be helpless to resist bringing herself to a shameful climax while continuing the fantasy to erotic extremes. But even knowing what would happen, she would still resist touching herself for some time, as her fantasy grew ever stronger.

For somehow, knowing that she was going to do it to herself, was going to lie naked on her bed, thrusting fingers, or a candle, or whatever was handy into her vagina, while her hips bucked in animalistic lewdness, produced an extra tang of sharp sexual excitement to her fantasy. She'd imagine herself, there on her bed, being back in Victorian times, struggling with the same unladylike needs, yet fearing to do anything lest a maid or her father, or someone, walked into her unlockable bedroom. Finding her in shame, and packing her off to one of those 'asylums for young women of damaged virtue.' She'd imagine that Victorian girl becoming desperate, and losing control. Then being discovered. Herself... the shame and recriminations, lengthy physical examinations by parents and family doctors, restraints, further lapses, then the commitment to the asylum, and being immediately subjected to a regime of the most extraordinary 'medical corrective treatments'.

So she'd lie there, clothed and mostly motionless, pretending to herself to still be resisting, yet knowing all the while that she _will_ be abusing herself, she _will_ be filled with shame the next day, yet in future she _will_ find the memories of her actions and sensations darkly arousing. And that in a way, simply knowing that, was a form of masturbation - it aroused her more to think of how she _would_ be treating herself soon.

It all gets a bit too abstract for her, in her panting desire, and she loses her train of thought. 'But... but... here I am, and I _won't_ be masturbating, and it still turns me on?'

Suddenly the obvious occurs to her, and she realises how very similar her present situation is to the content of her most irresistible fantasies. Why didn't she see this before? In her fantasies, she was a captive, restrained, and subjected to sexually arousing, yet deliberately unsatisfying treatment. All intended to reduce her to a state in which she would do anything, cooperate in any humiliation, to obtain relief.

She knows how those fantasies affected her. She can feel the very same reactions in her body now, as she replays those fantasies. So, obviously the vine isn't entirely to blame - logically, she has to admit that a lot of her body's feelings are her natural response to... to situations like this.

The chief difference being of course, that where she is right now she can try or say whatever she likes, but no one is listening, and no relief is possible. She can fantasise all she likes, and it will only increase her frustration. And unfortunately for her, _that_ thought seems to be powerfully exciting, even though she finds herself getting annoyed again, considering how stupidly irrational that is. Why on Earth should she find the idea of being frustrated, exciting? Yet she does. She did in her 'Victorian' fantasies, and she does here too. Even more so here, since the prospect of frustration, and extended sexual abuse to come, is a certainty.

She sighs. It seems there is no fighting it - she is going to spend the day in a state of high arousal, like it or not. So she may as well pass the time in thoughts that fit the mood, and admit to herself that in a way, she finds the frustration itself, arousing. 'Or whatever' she thinks 'Because now I'm sure of it - my pussy is definitely feeling more needy now than it was before I started thinking about the Victorian stuff. Definitely, definitely, ohhhh, my that aches for a good hard pounding. Just as if, I'd... I was...

She imagines a small room, a cell really, and herself standing at attention by her bed, arms restrained in a tight Victorian straight jacket and her sex throbbing in long-frustrated need, as her keepers unlocked the door. "Oh, good morning Doctor, is it that time again? Yes, follow you?  No, doctor, I have been good since you treated me last week, no, I haven't had any impure thoughts. None at all, really! Oh, your medical examination room today, not your office? But doctor, I really haven't had any... Yes doctor, you are right, you know best. Oh, hello Nurse. Um... doctor, sorry, must she be... present... um please, it is so embarrassing? Yes doctor... yes. I'm sorry I asked, of course Nurse White must assist you. Its just... sigh. Ah, thank you Nurse, it does feel good to have my arms free of that straight jacket. Oh... oh! Must she remove all my clothing? Yes doctor, Sorry."

Lying on the cot, Laura has closed her eyes and drifts into one of her favourite fantasy themes. At this point, she sees herself standing naked in the middle of a large room, with a highly complicated examination stirrups prominent nearby, and various other contraptions around. The stern looking nurse has just finished stripping her, and is folding her few clothes into a neat stack on a chair. Laura stands still as the serious looking doctor, still wearing his coat, circles her, surveying her figure.

"Place your legs wide apart, Miss Croft." The nurse has turned back to her, and stands motionless, also considering Laura's naked form from the side. Laura does as instructed, although she knows there will be trouble. She can feel that her sex is puffy, and leaking wetness. She has been so almost every moment since last week, when the doctor applied her last 'treatment', that had left her gasping in shame and unbearably unfulfilled need. For the fifth time in five weeks, since she had arrived in this place. She is twenty four years old, and still a maiden - in theory. All her years she had lived with her well to do, but very strict parents, in a large mansion in London. Only a few months ago now, she had been suffering one of her 'flushes', that produced the strangest feelings in her private areas. She had retired to her boudoir, to rest. There she had dared to touch herself where the feelings were strongest, and found herself experiencing something she had never dreamt poss!

ible,

even though she was certain it was sinful.

Later she had confessed to the family priest, received some penances, and felt relief that was past. Only, it wasn't over. Two more times she had found herself overcome by 'flushes', and committed the same shameful act. Each time she confessed, and received increasingly arduous penances, which she performed dutifully. She did not notice her mother becoming very carefully watchful. So much for priestly confidence. What she did notice, was that those 'flushes' seemed to be recurring more and more often, and more intensely. She tried to resist, she really did.

The fourth time she proclaimed herself 'feeling weak' and retired to her room soon after midday, she had guiltily proceeded as before. Removing her bloomers, and lying back on her bed with her bodice open and her skirts rucked up to her waist. She had been quietly gasping towards the peak of her shameful act, one hand pressing into the liquid leaking slit between her legs, the other clasping a naked breast, when her mother walked in silently and unnoticed. She had only announced her presence after some minutes, and Laura's peak had arrived and continued for several long moments of whimpering, body rigid moaning pleasure.

There had been a terrible scene, involving both her parents and most of the servants, her own nakedness, tied with dew-smeared fingers and reddened genitals on display, spread over a table in her father's study. The arrival of the family doctor and a lengthy and mortifying 'checking her intactness' in the presence of her parents. On finding no barrier at her entrance, the doctor had gone on to perform an internal examination using a metal instrument that stretched her most private place mortifyingly and very uncomfortably open. Even worse, as her parents peered down into her exposed shame over the doctor's shoulder, he had methodically brought her to three more shuddering 'peaks', each one arrived at by a different and progressively more shocking manner of stimulation.

And each of which had far surpassed in intensity and duration her own self induced experiences. He had then, in her presence, listened to her parents relate the whole of her confessions to the priest, which had all been passed on to them once the priest had decided she was a repeating sinner. The doctor declared her non-intact, suffering an unnatural libido, sexual manias, and a compulsive masturbator. Her mother had fainted.

Servants were called and despatched to fetch comforts for her mother, and seemed to require repeated urging to be off, as they stood staring at Laura's naked, dishevelled and panting form on the table.

Her father had listened in stony silence as the doctor outlined various options for dealing discretely with her condition. After her mother was restored to consciousness with the salts, mother and father discussed the matter into the evening, still with Laura tied naked to the table on which the doctor had examined her. For some reason she didn't understand, during this time she again began to suffer 'flushes'. Her mother noticed the dampening and enlargement of Laura's genitals, and declared her an incorrigible harlot. Her father had felt briefly in her genitals, agreed she was sinning again, and declared that she needed to be taught a lesson. He had then used a leather belt to whip her breasts and thighs till they shone bright pink. By the time he finished, she was screaming and begging forgiveness, but unfortunately, inexplicably, her genitals had become even more obviously excited.

By that time it was mid evening, and her parents had skipped supper, each had a couple of fortifying glasses of port, and seemed to feel much less constrained in their discussion of Laura's sinning ways. Also her exposed bodily features, so clearly betraying her unnatural libido. Pretty rapidly, these discussions developed an element of practical affirmation of Laura's uncontrolled libido, in which both her mother and father repeated, as often as they felt necessary to the discussion, the methods of stimulation that the doctor had demonstrated. She lost count of the number of times she peaked.

The next morning, she was packed off to the asylum. Now she has been here five weeks, and is starting to wish she could be back at home, tied to that table. Humiliating as it was, at least she was allowed her pleasure. On the doctor's terse command, she spreads her legs wide, feeling the wetness between them cool as her slippery inner lips become exposed to the air. She just knows what is coming.

"Miss Croft, you claim you have had no sinful thoughts, yet your body betrays you. You are sexually aroused, _again_, I observe. As you have been on the occasion of _every_ examination as yet. Now, so far in your stay here I have prescribed only the routine coital focussing exercises, once a week. However, since these are not yet inducing any improvement in your attitude and sincerity, I believe we must now proceed to more drastic treatment. Nurse, if you will please arrange Miss Croft on the low bench, thank you."

The Nurse takes Laura firmly by the arm, and marches her quickly across the room to an odd looking piece of wooden furniture. It isn't like a 'bench' at all - more a kind of padded pyramidal structure. The leather-padded top is flat, but sloping upwards for most of its length to a rounded ridge about mid-thigh high, near one end of the affair. On the other side of the ridge, the top slopes down sharply, almost vertically, and widens in a sort of triangular wedge that must be five feet wide at the floor. All along the sides of the padded surface, there are various thick leather straps attached, their buckled ends hanging loose.

The nurse has Laura stand facing the triangular end, then places a hand firmly against Laura's naked derriere, and pushes her forward. "Lie down, laying yourself along the bench. No nonsense now!"

Scared, Laura puts her hands out onto the construction, and lowers herself down onto it. Her hips end up draped over the highest point of the surface, while her torso goes lower and lower, till she is lying with her head face down, in a kind of padded depression at the lowest extent of the padded top. She can't see anything, unless she lifts her face up out of the cavity in which it rests. She looks up and back, thinking of how undignified and exposed this position must look, with her rear highest, and pointing up as it is.

The nurse scolds her. "No, lie down fully, with your head in the rest, or I will give you a slap. Now, remain there, as I adjust the straps." In fact, the nurse _does_ give her a fairly firm slap as she speaks, right on the uppermost curve of Laura's rear. It stings slightly, but Laura understands the idea is that it could hurt a lot more with a 'real' slap. This is so embarrassing! The nurse must be able to see almost everything, up there between her legs. At least her legs are together, so she can retain a small sense of modesty, and not feel that the shamefully flushed and damp state of her private place is visible.

The first belt she feels, is one across the small of her back. The nurse pulls the buckle rigorously tight, pulling Laura's narrow waist hard against the bench. The next is across the back of her neck, with her long hair lifted out of the way. Now she probably couldn't lift her head even if she tried. Then her left arm is taken, and laid across the end surface below her head and almost touching the floor. Straps are applied at her elbow and wrist, then her other arm is placed beside the first, and also strapped. Laura by now is getting really worried - why all these straps? With the distressing 'coital focussing exercises she has had before, only her hands had been restrained, tied wrists to elbows behind her back. She doesn't like to think of what happened then...

Now she can sense the nurse moving back around behind her... and before she can begin to wonder what might happen, a hand grips her left ankle and pulls it sharply out to the side, to the very edge of the triangle of padding. It is pressed hard against the edge of the construction, and another strap gets wrapped around her ankle, buckled tightly. Laura is in shock, thinking of how this must display her secrets, when the same happens to her other leg, doubling her dismay. She realises that now, her most private place is once more totally exposed. Except this time, it is not only exposed, but together with the rounded globes of her rear, it is placed in total prominence, being the highest point of her body. She can feel the cool air touching right inside her inner lips, which are pulled open by the wide split of her long legs. Despite the cooling air, and her shame, she feels the swollen, hot flush between her legs growing more intense, and her inner wetness increasing. It is !

so dem

anding, so shaming! If only she could have that feeling of release, even if it is sinful. Even if those needs did bring her to this place. She anticipates that probably the doctor will be doing something to her... there. Perhaps this time, she can reach the peak, and relieve the need she has been suffering increasingly in the past weeks? The thought makes the flush flare up wildly, and she cannot help but clench her insides down on it, hoping.

She hears a "Hmmpf!" from behind her, as more straps are placed around her legs, at the knees, pulling her thighs even wider. The woman stoops down beside Laura's head, applying another strap across the girl's back. She mutters softly near her ear, so only Laura hears. "Filthy little slut. Just aching to get those nasty fingers into your dripping hole, aren't you? Missing your perverted habits so badly? Here just five weeks, and now all the time you can't stop thinking about how much you need to poke something big inside and stir it around in there. You can't lie - do you know your sex is all swollen up and red, like a bitch in heat? Can you feel the dribbles of your juice, running down the inside of your thighs now? Well, can you?" The nurse takes a pinch of Laura's under arm skin, and presses it threateningly.

In fact, Laura can feel the dribbling of her juice down her inner thighs. It had already been shaming her. Now she shudders, knowing she must answer or be pinched hard. She knows Nurse White can see it.

She answers softly, muffled in the headrest. "Yes... yes nurse, I can feel it. I'm sorry, I.... "

"Never mind sorry, you perverted girl!" the nurse hisses back at her. "I know what goes on in your disgusting mind. You didn't get like that from thinking about Jesus, or being a good wife. Well, you'll see. As long as you are here in our care, you are never, *ever* going to find opportunity to defile yourself with your sinful fingers and filthy thoughts. And all your base animal urges will be nothing but agonies of torment to you. Every time you let your desire rule you, and you tighten yourself down there, we can _see_ you do it. So, you will just have to learn to *control* yourself, won't you! Slut! You'll learn, you'll see..."

Laura hears the nurse stand up, and walk over to the doctor. She hears the nurse address him coolly "Doctor, as you observed, our patient is quite visibly sexually aroused, and lubricating very profusely. She seems mentally distant too, probably occupied with some vile fantastic imagining. If you wish, I could prepare her for your treatment with a session of her usual coital focussing exercises?"

There is silence for a moment, then a sound of a chair scraping and a drawer being slid open. "Thank you Nurse White, I believe that would be useful, yes. Here is the implement. I have a few notes to write up still, so you may take your time. I will observe from here. Of course, as usual, we do not wish to allow her to progress too far. Acute awareness of her pelvic area, and enhanced bloodflow to the organs- that will suit best for her main treatment today. Please proceed."

There is another chair scrape, and the nurse's footsteps returning. Laura heard it all, and from experience knows what 'coital focussing' involves. They are going to.. going to... The thought alone has her suddenly panting, shudderingly. Her hips do their best to jerk and thrust, but strapped as she is they barely move. Her body is reacting automatically in anticipation, as if looking forward to the experience. In fact it is. Her stupid body, forgetting that while this will feel very good at first, at the end it isn't going to be any fun at all. Her stupid mind too, she thinks. Even though she knows, she can't help the flare of desire, of hot excitement she feels. She had felt it back in her room too, when she had thought they were coming to take her for her weekly 'treatment'. And horribly tormenting though each treatment ultimately is, each week she has anticipated it more eagerly. She realises she is gasping, uttering short breathy grunts into the depression holding her f!

ace, a

s her body squirms and strains against the straps. This position, she is so helpless and open, and her shamed genitals so accessible... It seems far more awful than other times, when she only had to lie back on the doctor's couch, with her arms secured behind her, and her simple institutional skirt raised to her waist and legs parted somewhat.

There is a moment's pause, and she guesses that nurse White is standing behind her, glaring at her clenching buttocks and betraying sex. "Looking forward to this, are we? Like the slut you are." She hears whispered for her alone. Then she feels the familiar pressure of the blunt end of 'the instrument' pressing against her sex. This is the first time this procedure has been performed on her by other than the doctor, and it feels different immediately. The doctor had always simply thrust the thing into her, then worked it in and out in an even, pistoning action, varying only the depth of penetration as he coolly regulated her level of excitement to the desired fever pitch, then maddeningly slowed till she cooled somewhat, then drove her up to a maximum again. In each session he would repeat this cycle several times, till she was shrieking and begging him to go further. He never did. He simply lectured her on the sinfulness and harmful effects of self abuse leading to orgasm, !

in con

trast to the moral, social and health benefits of normal matrimonial intercourse, in which the female sexual climax served a beneficial service of emotional bonding and reinforcement of the husband's desire for his wife's services.

Nurse White, apparently, has a different method. The pressing end is stroking up and down Laura's slit, setting off sparks of sensation from the little bud at the front, and lingering teasingly at the opening of her vagina with each traverse. In Laura's few experiments while dealing with her 'flushes', she had never discovered the effect of directly touching that bud. But she knew it now - from that evening when the doctor had brought her to a crying-out peak solely by manipulating that tiny bud. And then, later that one evening, each of her parents repeating that shockingly intense process, several times.

But that was the once and only time she'd ever experienced that feeling, for since then she has been here, constantly in restraints and watched.

Now the nurse is doing it to her again, stroking her sensitive bud back and forth in the slippery juices flooding her slit. Her body responds rapidly, and Laura quickly loses any sense of composure she may have had. Her bud hardens to an aching point of desire, and her breathing deepens to long, moaning sighs. She feels a hand laid firmly across her left bottom cheek, which then strokes and kneads her spasmodically clenching orb. Inside, she can feel the flushing tension building, just as it did each time she ever began the rise to a peak of delirious release. Still the blunt object strokes her, and strokes her. She gasps and grunts, beginning to hope... perhaps... is nurse going to... to take her all the way there? Oh, how much she wants it... five weeks... each week brought so close, then left to suffer her aching, itchy flushes without relief the rest of the time. 'Oh... so strong....' "Ohhhh nurse... ohhhh yes... ohhhh... pleeese... please... I won't tell, please..." Her!

  voice

soft and muffled in the face cavity.

Behind her, the nurse seems to hear her, and alters her movements slightly. Where she was stroking up and down Laura's slit, with circling pressure on her clit at each stroke, now she quits the stroking, and holds the thing pressed against Laura's clit, circling it continuously, while pressing softer and harder. She speaks again, murmuringly low. "This? You like it here, do you? You want me to do this? Like this? Nice? Is it making you all tense inside? Yes? You want me to push it here, here... Hmmm? Round and round your naughty hard little spike? Mmmm, you want that, don't you. I can feel you shaking... you really need it badly don't you, you little whore. So tense, so much need. Five weeks, and you really need it now, don't you? They all do, all the nasty girls here. Would you like to come? Come on, thats it, feel the desire build. You can't help it can you? I can rub this and rub it, and all you can do is pant and shake, and feel the heat inside growing and growing."

She continues to stroke Laura's clit, but more softly now, exciting the girl more slowly.

"Sometimes... sometimes we do let them have their pleasure. It depends. If you were a _good_ girl, you'd hate me doing this, and ask me to stop. You want me to stop? No? I'll take that push as a no. Maybe you are a hopeless case, and will be here a very long time. Those girls... well, they are lost anyway, why not amuse ourselves with them? We let them come, sometimes. Are you a lost girl? Do you want to come? You can beg me if you want. Which, stop, or more?"

By now Laura is feeling extremely aroused, not far from coming. The nurse slows her movements down to the barest tickling touch around the throbbing clit. Laura is beyond wondering whether the nurse is deceiving her or not, she wants, needs, _has_ to come.  Gaspingly she pleads "Ohhh more, please, mooooree ohhhh please, please let me, oohhnnnnhhhh!Pleeese! ahhhhhhhhooooo pleeeese.... I want to come, please, please make me come, please..."

The nurse replies so low Laura can barely hear her. "Ah, yes, you filthy little slut, I know you want it. We'll see, we'll see..."

For a moment, she resumes the firm stimulation to Laura's clit, and the girl stiffens up, joyfully, thinking this is it, she's going to... But then the instrument is removed suddenly, and then makes contact again directly at the opening to Laura's vagina. This time it doesn't tease, but presses inward firmly, sliding in smoothly. It goes in and in, till it fills her, pressing forcefully against the very depth of her passage. Laura had been so focussed on the feelings from her clit, that for a moment she is confused - what happened? The thick cylindrical object fills her deeply, but is now motionless. She bucks her hips, and it moves with her, as though the thing is simply stuck inside her, nothing holding the other end. In fact, nothing is. The nurse has simply thrust it in, then let go and kneeled down beside Laura's head again. She speaks softly to the girl. "Yes, we'll see. But not today. Did you think I'd make you come, with Doctor right here, watching? Now, my job is to!

  give

you your coital focussing. So get ready to be focussed on coitus. Heh. Oh, and there are sluts here who have not had an orgasm for five _years_."

She stands, and returns to Laura's rear. A hand returns to her bottom, caressing the soft curves, and rudely tracing fingers down the spread cleft, over her crinkling anus, and along her swollen labia stretched around the phallic implement. They come close to her betrayed clit, but do not touch. The rod embedded in her sex shivers, as nurse grips it again, then evenly withdraws. And is thrust slowly back in. And out. In. And out. Mechanically, it slides back and forth in her sheath, each time pushing her depth limits at the stroke end, each time not quite fully withdrawing from her sex on the outstroke.

In Laura's state of burning heat and need, the sensations are intense, demanding, and certainly do focus her attention on her vagina. Yet, they do not seem to increase or satisfy the tension she feels. More a sort of juxtaposition, of an entirely different set of sexual stimulus, besides the throbbing need in her clitoris. The one maintains the other, but does not advance it. Among the whirl of sensory overload in her mind, she despairingly realises that perhaps today she is not going to reach her release.

After several more minutes of this, she begins to realise what a sly thing the nurse has done to her. The thrusting in her sex is totally maintaining her level of clitoral excitement, at near-orgasm level. In turn, her body's state of existing arousal is making the feeling of that shaft thrusting in her sex far more intense than it ever was when the doctor simply began doing that to her, from a barely aroused start. Combined, the painful closeness to clitoral orgasm, and the powerful, intense thrusting in her belly, are driving her to incoherent, panting, needing, desperation. It is simply too much to bear. She fears she will faint, or have a heart attack. And it never stops. The nurse keeps driving that big thing in and out, relentlessly, mechanically. Her vagina seems to like it, to judge by the way it positively dribbles fluid, and spasmodically clamps greedily on the shaft each time it bottoms out in her.

The rest of her though, is becoming frantic to escape the unbearable erotic deadlock. But there is no escape. No escape. Her vaginal pounding goes on and on, and her need to orgasm hangs like a vast unbearably heavy cloud, hovering in exactly the same spot. Worse, the nurse has taken to taunting her, both in words and touch, letting Laura know the nurse knows _exactly_ what she is doing to the young woman. Her other hand, the one not pistoning the dildo, caresses and teases around Laura's genitals. Always pretending to be working towards her aching frustrated clit, but always veering away at the last moment, just as Laura is sure she is about to feel a finger stroking her bud, giving her that last, small boost she so desperately needs.

Sometimes the nurse is almost chanting. "In, and out, in and out. In... your puss loves that. I can feel it gripping... and out. It hates to feel it pulled out, so empty! And in... thats right, clamp down... but you can't stop it pulling.. out... oh, oh, its gone, its gone! Your whore hole grips on nothing. Would you like it back.... _innnn_? And out... whats that? And in. ah, thats good huh? And out.. and in... its too bad you can't come from this, eh? Not many sluts can. And out, in.... But it really does keep that naughty not-so-little clit wanting, right. Out, and in, and out... regular, regular, not too fast.  Not too slow. Just right to keep you boiling. Hah, your pot is boiling over - all this juice everywhere, such a slut you are. In... out... I bet if I asked you if I should stop, you couldn't decide. Never mind. Not stopping. In.. out, in..."

Laura's mind simply can't take it any more, and she falls into a semi-faint, drifting for long moments, feeling detached from her body, unthinking. But when she starts to come back, not knowing how much time has passed, she finds... exactly the same situation. Her body is humming like a taut wire, so close to orgasm, yet impossibly far. The fat dildo still drilling in and out of her overexcited sex, which deluges her mind with the sensations. She wishes she could faint again. It goes on and on.

In reality, it has been only about half an hour before the doctor finishes his notes, and his chair scrapes back again. Laura hears him walk over beside the nurse, and he must be standing there, watching, as the nurse continues her steady thrusting of the dildo in Laura.

"She certainly is extremely aroused. Once again I am impressed at your method, unorthodox though it be. I am beginning to believe you may be correct in your assertion that the female clitoris plays a major role in female sexual response, even though my colleagues would ridicule the concept. Perhaps a rigorous study of the matter would be in order. A paper, perhaps. Though God knows where I might publish such a thing, even if it could pass review."

Neither the doctor nor Laura sees the nurse roll her eyes, and grimace.

There is a pause, during which the maddening, frustrating pistoning continues.

"Well, that should be sufficient. It appears that there is definitely a good blood supply to the area, and we certainly have her full attention. Thank you. Wipe her down too please, I don't want to stain the leather."

Abruptly, the dildo is withdrawn, leaving Laura feeling vacant as well as franticly frustrated. A few moments later, she feels a cloth being wiped vigorously around her genitals, and down the insides of her legs. Then nothing. Footsteps walking about, both of them. A peculiar snapping sound. Then the doctor's voice, nearby.

"Now Laura, I have been very unhappy with your absolute failure to exhibit any kind of self control over the desires of your body. It seems to me that you do not consider this attempt to cure your habits to be a serious business. Well, now I am going to demonstrate to you just how serious it most definitely is. Don't bother trying to answer, no answer is required. We will simply observe your ongoing ability to control your libido. In the expectation that once you realise you are here to be _cured_ of unclean thoughts, and that failure involves undesirable consequences, you _will_ progress. Now, you will find the remainder of today's session quite a trial. As intended. You may cry out if you wish, it makes no difference."

There is silence again, and she lies strapped to the bench, fearful, mystified and still unable to subdue the heat in her body. Her hips still thrust rhythmically, as her frustrated sex seeks an unavailable relief.

There is a 'whiiiff' sound, and her rear explodes in pain coinciding with a sharp 'thwak!' She goes rigid in shock. WHAT! OWWWW! Another, and a second burning stripe of pain, close to the first. Now she lifts her head, twisting to look back at what he is doing to her. The strap behind her neck prevents her - she can't turn far enough to see. A third slash across her buttocks, and this time she cries out "Arrrgh! NOoooo! OWWWWWW!"  But even as she is yelling, a fourth strikes. She screams again, in shock and pain, but the blows keep falling, regularly, moving up and down, distributing evenly across her upturned and now franticly jerking rear. Screaming and crying, she is sure the skin must be tearing loose from her agonised globes. She begs him to stop, begs the nurse to make him stop, to let her go... but it goes on and on. Her entire rear is one burning sea of pain, and then the strikes move down the backs of her thighs. It continues, with her screaming till she is hoarse. !

She ne

ver quite blacks out, but by the end is simply sobbing helplessly, almost silently for her throat has given out.

Eventually, she realises it has stopped. Her lower back, her buttocks, the backs of her thighs are on fire, and must be a shredded mess of broken, bleeding flesh. She is sure of it. They have destroyed her body, and now she will never... never... she weeps, limply collapsed on the padded restrainer. Somewhere at the back of her perceptions, she can feel that her sex is still intensely swollen and frustrated, but it seems a minor distraction now.

Some time goes by, she can hear voices talking, but they do not break through the walls of pain in her mind. Even when she feels her restraints being unbuckled, she still lies limply, hopeless and despairing. She feels so weak - it must be from blood loss. Perhaps she will die here, she thinks.

More voices, and she hears her name spoken, but pays no attention. She is too busy dying.

What does finally get her attention, is a flaming streak of tingling pain running slowly across her burning left buttock, that continues on inwards to her sex, where it transforms to the feel of a fingertip tracing across her labia (how swollen and hot her sex is!) then plunges on into her vagina. 'OH! That... !' The finger wiggles rudely around inside her, and she experiences a kind of perspective shift in her perception of the various feelings in her body. The pain in her nether regions seems to recede somewhat, as she becomes intensely aware again of her sexual state. Which surprises and dismays her - it feels much as it did before, as the nurse was tormenting her. Hot, needing, highly aroused. The finger jiggles in her vagina again, and she realises that she wishes it was just a bit more 'there'... Perhaps she isn't going to die after all.

Now she pays attention to the voice, which is the doctor's. "Laura! Get up Laura! Or shall I strap you some more?" The finger is joined by another, and she realises that if his voice is behind her, they are probably his fingers. She notices that her hips are lifting up to the teasing penetration, and that as her hips lift, the fingers are hooking inside her and pulling further up, urging her to rise. She summons some strength, and with her arms lifts her body up off the bench. His fingers follow her motion, till she is standing with her back to him, legs still spread as his hand works in her sex from behind. His fingertips are circling inside her, pressing forward onto the inside of her pubic bone. It is a strange sensation, not one she is sure she likes. And yet... she feels so frustrated, that anything feels good. Even... the sudden need to pee that she feels, and has to cramp down hard to suppress. Strange feeling.... its as if something inside just there where he is prob!

ing her, is filling up, swelling. ummm... uh... It is odd, but strangely exciting, causing that internal feeling of tension she already felt to start growing rapidly stronger. The burning of her rear seems to fade a little, as her breath slows and deepens. Ohh... ohh nice.... she thinks.

The doctor had been meaning to simply get her attention, and bring her to her feet. Once she was standing, he'd intended to unfinger her, and have her dressed and sent back to her room. Yet, her sex is so surprisingly responsive still, even after her strapping and the pain she is feeling. Remarkable. He wonders if it is just that this girl's libido is truly freakish and what that says of her potential for rehabilitation. Or is it a consequence of Nurse White's unusual technique of inducing what she calls a clitoral-vaginal sexual knot? He continues to finger her as he considers these questions, observing that she rapidly regains her pelvic coital reflexes, and appears to be reverting to her previous full-blown sexual heat. Perhaps he could spare the time to submit her to a second session of coital focussing, so that she may be sent back to her room to consider both her smarting rear, and her futile sexual arousal simultaneously?

Just as he is wondering whether his schedule could be adjusted to allow another hour of seeing to this patient, he becomes aware of an odd development in her vagina. At the angle of his hand, about all he can do is rotate his fingertip against the inner firmness of her pubic bone. Normally, a smooth area, with nothing significant to the touch other than the usual vaginal wall. But now he can feel that there is a lump. Odd, he is sure it wasn't there before. It feels as though an area of the membranes lining her pubic bone interior, shortly inside the vaginal entrance, has thickened... or engorged, he thinks, feeling the soft sponginess of the mass. And now as he rubs across it, pressing into the body of the mass, he notices that she reacts very sexually to this manipulation. How strange! What an odd young woman this is, full of unique surprises. As an experiment, he continues his manipulations of the site, while observing her carefully.

The nurse is waiting off to one side, with Laura's dress and straight jacket, ready to redress her. He glances at her. "A moment, nurse. I've found something quite interesting. Oh... perhaps you could put her jacket on now in any case. I don't like to see her hands free while she is excited." He continues fingering her, rubbing that spot inside. Which seems to be completely occupying Laura's attention now, and the nurse has an easy time simply guiding Laura's arms into the jacket, then buckling it around her shoulders and chest.

The jacket is a custom design, made especially for the young women's asylum. Made of light but strong and durable hemp cloth, it covers much less of the body than a standard one made for men's asylum's. The arms still cross in front of the lower chest, with the sleeves extending around behind in the usual fashion and tying together there, as well as to a solid tape attached at the centre of the back, and tapes from the jacket elbows, pulling the arms tight against the chest. The body of the jacket does not extend below the arm position, but instead ends with a drawstring just below the lower extent of the ribcage. When drawn tight and buckled, the jacket accentuates the feminine waistline rather than disguises it. At the neck, there is a buckled and locked collar, integral with the upper material of the jacket. While at the front, below the collar, there is a buttoned on flap that covers the entire area of the breasts. This flap is optional, and removable, leaving the breast!

s fully exposed. There is also provision at the front and rear, on the lower hem of the jacket, for attachment of a crotch and waist band, to prevent the more acrobatic and persistent inmates from endeavouring to work the entire jacket up over their shoulders - even though they would be left with their head effectively in a bag, still attached to their neck by the collar.

As nurse secures the jacket on Laura, the doctor asks "Oh, remove the chest panel would you please? I wish to be able to observe her nipples as we proceed here."

That done, Laura is left standing there in a 'skimpy' straight jacket, naked from the high waist down, and her large breasts fully exposed. She has her head back, eyes closed, and is shuddering slightly, panting, as the doctor continues to circle his fingers in her vagina.

"Yes, nurse, you'll notice that her nipples are fully erect, as is her clitoris. Would you say that she is apparently not far from orgasm? I admit that you seem a better judge of this than I."

The nurse stands close to Laura, considering her. She puts a pair of fingers against the girl's neck, feeling her pulse. Her other hand placed flat against the girl's lower stomach, just above her pubic mound. She waits some moments, then admits, sounding surprised "Yes, I think she is. Quite close. But why, what are you doing in there?"

"Well, its somewhat mystifying. I'm circling my fingertips against the inner pubic bone. At first it was just by chance, but then I noticed an unusual response - a small area there seems to have become engorged. Rubbing that now appears to greatly stimulate her. I'm not aware of anything like this in the literature. Here, you feel inside." He removes his hand, and the nurse kneels down in front of Laura. She moves to insert a finger.

"No, not that way, face your palm up. Press firmly against the fore wall of the vagina, about one and half inches inside. Do you feel it?"

"Hmmm.... maybe... yes, that would be it. My, it does have an effect on her, doesn't it. How strange... she is close... look at her panting. I'd better stop."

She removes her fingers. "I don't know. Never heard of such a thing myself. Could it be there _is_ a vaginal orgasm after all - at least in some of the more extreme cases of sexual overdevelopment. You'd be pleased. Perhaps you are right, a study... Some of the long-term patients...? Would that be possible?"

"Perhaps. I'll discuss it with the owner. For now, take her back. Oh, I think leave her skirt off for today, till her rear is less tender. I'll come and see her tomorrow."

"Very well doctor. Come along Laura."

And so Laura imagines herself being led, naked from the waist down, breasts exposed, arms tied in the straight jacket, her rear still fiery sore from being strapped, and sex burning in again-frustrated need. She looks at her rear, and is astonished to see that it is merely reddened, rather than cut to pieces. She imagines herself meeting others in the passageways, and suffering the humiliation of her nakedness, obvious sexual arousal, and thrashed backside.

But the fantasy has become pointless for her. What good is a fantasy, if even in the fantasy she can't come, but is merely tormented by unrelieved excitement? Why did it have that 'g-spot' stuff? She's read about that, but never experienced it herself. Maybe that is why in the fantasy, it looked like someone _else_ was going to get to experience it. She sighs, and opens her eyes, coming fully back to her tent, and other problems.

Problems, problems. She wasn't imagining the feelings of the girl in that asylum. They are right here with her, still. Why won't this unbearable arousal go away? If anything, it has grown worse. Her sex is positively aching, feeling swollen and hot. Her clit is still rigid, on the borderline of painfully so. Same with her nipples, and she can tell that her breasts have been filling up with milk again, feeling tighter than before. And it still isn't even midday yet. Angrily she has a drink of water. What she would give to be able to stand up and stretch! Or touch her crotch. Gods! Yes, it is definitely worse. Pointless though it is, she lets her hips strain back and forth, while vainly tensing her sex. Arrrgh! Who is she kidding... it takes a strong effort to stop her body humping after a few minutes of letting it have it's way. Even though all that threshing had absolutely no useful effect, the feeling of wanting to keep doing it is a powerful, nagging pressure.

"Uhhh!" She gasps in frustration, and again her hips buck upwards, straining at the air, completely without her mind's initiative. "ooohhh!" Annoyed with herself, she again forces her body to relax back to the bunk. What's the point! Just wasted effort, and even if no one is watching, she doesn't _really_ want to look like some sex-crazed nymphomaniac in heat. Does she?

'Do I?' she thinks again to herself. She pictures herself, lying on the bunk, a naked, tied, helpless, young and decidedly nubile female. A clearly aroused female, panting and jerking her hips in need. Imagines how this sight would appear to someone who simply walked into the camp, and intended to walk out again when they wished. Certainly, _they'd_ be happy to observe her being a sex-crazed nympho, she thinks. The more frantic hip shaking the better for them, she thinks. She has never seen another woman sexually excited in real life. In fact, now she comes to think of it, she can't even recall seeing another woman fully naked. The joys of a strict upbringing, and a fairly solitary childhood and teen years.

She has seen pictures of naked women, and was always struck by how much more pubic hair most of them seemed to have, compared to hers. Some quirk of ancestry, perhaps an Asian mix back there somewhere, has given her genes for an extremely sparse, thin growth of fine, dark hairs around her pubes. More like a child's bareness than any kind of modesty-providing cover. Which was one more reason she had always avoided potential nudity situations among her young friends. Her clitoris, so often prone to poke out unwontedly between her labia, had nothing at all to hide it - even standing, legs together, the front of her slit and protruding clitoris were completely visible.

Harding and his ruffians haven't mentioned anything to her about it, but why would they? Obviously they find her an appealing sexual object, and don't have to bother with any discussion of the matter. Lying here, considering how she must look, she visualises her own crotch, tied wide, swollen, barely even framed by her childlike minimum of pubic hair, and thrusting in desperation for something to penetrate it. The thought gives her a shivering thrill - yes, she is sure there isn't a human being alive who'd be unmoved by the sight. Why, even she herself.... would... would...huh.

Huh. This thought surprises her - what she'd do herself if she came across such a sight, out here, alone in the jungle. Surprises her, because she realises that the idea of _rescuing_ the bound woman, of immediately rushing to her and cutting her bonds, doesn't seem to appeal at all. Not at all. A dark churn of semi-formed ideas rises in her mind, imagining what she would do, could do. Might enjoy doing... very much.

At the very least, she's certain she'd try to watch for a while, secretly. Watch the tied girl thrust, enjoying the spectacle of a woman so desperately needing. Thinking this, she finds it tips the balance of her own control back again, and her body resumes it's writhing, open-legged thrusting. She imagines herself watching, becoming excited in turn, and it all feeds back, lessening any wish she might have had to stop her performance. She really lets go, allowing the burning in her body to drive her, letting her terrible frustration loose in the tossing of her head, straining against the bonds, the urgent groaning, panting and moans.

Even the discovery that she doesn't need to pretend, or act any of it, seems to turn her on more, to amplify her fantasy of watching herself slip into an abandoned sexual frenzy. Her body totally takes over, it really _is_ desperate and barely controllable. 'Barely'.... part of her mind still living the observer fantasy insists that the desperate woman on the bed is clearly _beyond_ controlling herself. And it is so. Laura cannot stop. The aching, demanding, primeval need in her sex, interlinked with the thought of watching herself as another as she humps and grinds, forms a kind of circular locked-up feedback in her brain. It just goes on and on, with her unaware of time passing. Too occupied with the image of herself, to carry on the fantasy any further. Just watching, humping, watching in her minds eye, the woman humping and grinding.

Time passes. If Laura Croft were not an extremely athletic woman, she would have dropped, exhausted, fairly quickly. If she'd been able to think clearly, she might have brought herself under control again, before reaching total exhaustion.

Yet she is supremely fit, and definitely unable to clear her mind if the consuming lustful fantasy that loops around and around, feeding back and forth between the unbearable frustration, and her voyeuristic fascination with the vision of her own frustration.

There comes a time, when her body, weary beyond movement, overheated and running with sweat, lies still for a moment. At some point back there in the long hours of sexual delirium, her mental view of her own spectacle had suddenly absorbed the reality of her newly outsize sex organs. When she'd started that fantasy, it hadn't occurred to her that she was seeing herself with her normal body self-image, ignoring the changes. Later on the correction had suddenly made itself, and she'd become an imaginary observer to a sight far more bizarre and erotic. Herself as observer had gloated, dwelling on the possibilities of that clit, those breasts and nipples. Dwelt on what the tied woman must be feeling, to behave so wildly. What must be the reason for her behaviour - has lust produced the outsize organs, or the other way around?

By the time exhaustion forces her to lay still a while, and the obsessive fantasy lets go of her mind somewhat, her thoughts on the cause and effect of her situation are even more muddy. The desire she feels is amazingly, now even stronger than before she began her sexual fit. It dominates her mind, making thinking very difficult, as if the incredibly intense sensations coming from her sex are mapping to almost her entire consciousness, not just the part of her body image between her legs. She can tell that her body's rest now, is entirely due to inability to keep moving. But once she is rested, she suspects she won't have a chance of controlling herself.

She still wonders how this all comes to be - is it the vine, or is she experiencing some kind of sexual breakdown resulting from long suppressed urges rising to the surface due to her situation? Considering the frightening power of her own fantasies to lock up her mind, and drive her into a frenzy, she suspects it's her. With assistance from the vine, and it's stimulated growth of her physical sexual attributes.

Yes, probably her own nature, coming out. After all, look at the incident with the Lingam. She did that to herself - clearly that was a complete loss of self-control. That could only have occurred with someone suffering some kind of deep sexual obsession.

She manages to concentrate long enough, and coordinate her movements enough to have a drink of water from the bottle, and eat the rest of the nuts. Thinks 'it must be after midday...' Her breasts are very sore by now, tight and aching. They have begun leaking some milk again, and the feel of the milk drops intermittently running down the sides of her breasts is as intense as the aching fullness in her mounds. Her idea earlier about a permanently erect clit, due to the tight ring of skin around its base, seems to be accurate. At least in effect - for it is still painfully rigid. Painfully.... she thinks - before it was just uncomfortable, now it's definitely painful. She lifts her head and looks at it again. There it is, looking much the same to her surprise. She'd half expected it to have gone blue from lack of bloodflow. But no, it's the same reddish pink, almost silvery red at the tip. Looks hard as a rock, and feels like it too. If rocks could ache.

If only there was something touching it, she could hump... at mention of their name, her rested hips do just that, starting a slow repeated thrusting, that feels so right she simply cannot even try to stop it. With her head still raised, she thinks how simultaneously ludicrous, and wildly hot, her thrusting sex looks, what with the photo-scale stick still wedged in her cunt, and the tube and bulb of the urinary catheter fixed in her sex just above the stick. Her imaginary observer could take those as indications that anything goes, even if they were not sure of that in the first place.

For about the thousandth time, she wonders if she came across 'herself' like this, if she (the finder) would take pity on the tied woman and help her reach orgasm. She can't decide. Or rather, she explores a hundred paths, yes and no, and never can decide if one way is better than the other. Only with every unfolding fantasy, the blinding power of her physical need seems to grow, and grow, till her thoughts are a scattered flock of birds, passing in disorder. More and more often entirely absent, as her body huffs and grinds futilely, the throbbing sexual pain of her clit, desperate emptiness of her cunt, congested heat of her belly, and sharp aching fullness of breasts and hard nipples, fully jammed into her mind, leaving no room left for anything else.

                         - - - - - -

Around three in the afternoon, Harding and the three Latinos return to camp.  While some distance away, Harding cautions them to approach silently. Which they do, and so gather outside the entrance of Laura's tent after having carefully set down their packs over at the fireplace.

Laura is as she imagined herself - an extremely erotic sight. By now she is a very, very tired girl, and her mind at this point has entirely lost the battle to stay focussed. Effectively, she is reduced to a consuming sexual craving, displayed in the slowed but still powerful strainings of her body. Her breathing too has slowed, to a regular sighing moan, in time with the rhythmic lifting of her hips.

For a while, Harding observes her closely, calculatingly. He seems pleased, rather than aroused. Several times he gestures 'quiet!' to the others, as they grin and gesture silently to each other, when it seems they might forget his prior demand that he must observe her silently for a time on their return.

Then, he gestures 'ok, enough' to them, and they burst out laughing crudely, at last able to joke loudly in Spanish about her whorish movements, and how much fun they will have with her tonight. Laura hears them, and dazedly twists her head around, seeing them. Something in Harding's manner tells her they have been watching for a while - but she is too far-gone, too tired, too overloaded to really respond to this. She finds that she can't even stop her body's continual twisting grind. She lets her head fall back, still moaning.

Harding enters the tent, after instructing the others to begin preparation for an early evening meal, and stow the day's finds carefully. He squats down next to her side, and carefully examines the state of her whole body, top to toes. Even now she cannot hold herself still, but does look away in a remnant of shame, though still moaning in heat.

After some minutes of this close and careful observation, during which he finds it necessary to adjust his pants but otherwise gives no sign he is anything but analytical, he takes hold of her chin with one hand, turning her head to face him.

"So, Laura, an uneventful, boring day for you. I'm glad you could find something to keep yourself occupied. Tell me, what is fourteen times six?"

Even looking directly at her arch nemesis, she finds it impossible to gather her thoughts. Sex, need, heat... her mind is full of those, almost as if she is drugged somehow. Drugged, she thinks, drugged by her own needs to be sexually controlled, like... she drifts off into her fantasy zone again, imagining.... Harding, as a prison doctor, after she is discovered masturbating in the showers. A machine, with a big rubber penis on a piston, and he'd....

"LAURA!" He shakes her head back and forth, lightly, to get her attention. What is fourteen times six? Pay attention, or I will do something you won't like."

She opens her eyes again, and sees him. 'fourteen... times... ohhhh... her sex, her aching sex.... please... sex, six, times sex... what does he mean, fourteen times sex? Why can't he see she needs... oh please.... sex, sex....' She humps her hips as high as she can, and sighs "Oooohhhhh... oh pleeese.... please fuck me.... please, fuck... fuck, it... its sooooo ohhhhh...."

He stares at her, intent. Then softly to himself "OK, I guess today isn't maths day." He holds up three fingers in front of her eyes. "How many fingers, Laura? LAURA! Pay attention. How many fingers?"

She had begun to drift off again, but then focuses on his fingers. 'Fingers... fingers, my sex, oh, ohhhhhh god, it needs some fingers' She tilts her hips towards him, hopefully. "Yes please, yeeeesssss... yes, please.... its sooooo empty, please.... put fingers... finger me... "

"Definitely not maths day at all, huh?" He lets go her face, and sits squatting a while more, still running his palm over her thighs and stomach. He avoids her sex, and she sighs sadly as his hand bypasses her need. He runs his hands over her breasts, feeling their tight fullness, and the trails of leaked milk down their sides. Gripping her nipples, for a moment she flares with pleasure as it seems like he will start milking her, and she recalls the orgasms that gave her last time. But he is only briefly judging their hardness. He smiles at an inner joke, and digs in a pants pocket, coming up with a length of stout, fine cord.

"Seems you have a bit of a leakage problem there Laura. Let me fix that for you." He takes one end of the cord, and holds it against her left nipple, right at the base. He begins winding the string tightly around the nipple, working outwards, and Laura moans as some drops of milk appear at the end as the nipple is compressed. Harding sees them and stops. "Oops. Thats not what we want!"

He unwinds the string, then starts again, only this time beginning near the very tip and working inwards towards her breast, tightly. After five turns, he ties a knot. Jerks the string, pulling at her nipple to check it isn't going to come loose. It doesn't, but Laura moans "Ohhhh!"

Harding grins "Yes, Ohhhh!, thats right. Your nipples are very 'Ohhhh!' indeed. Now, still leaking?" He grips the nipple below his binding, closest to her breast. Squeezes and strokes upward, as if milking.

Laura goes "Ooohoowwww!" and tries to twist away, which she cannot. Nothing comes out of her nipple. He tries the milking stroke several more times, each time with her complaining painfully. Then, satisfied his tie works, he runs the string over to her other breast. Pulls it tight between them, so her nipples pull the breasts together to about one third less than their freestanding distance. Then ties that nipple the same. He does the same leak text, and this one too passes, despite Laura's pained sounds.

As an afterthought, he deftly pulls the photo-scale stick from her vagina, wiping it off on her stomach. It goes back with some gear in the tent corner. Then he turns off the catheter valve, and disconnects the long tube from the fitting right at her sex. "I'll take the catheter out later on tonight... oh never mind. You are occupied, I see."

Indeed she is, for even the light touches to her sex have spun her off into hunching, dreaming mode again. He watches her a while more, then leaves the tent. She is quite unable to pay attention to the sounds of the various activities outside. Her fantasies are fragmented, more a churn of unconnected images fleeting among the few gaps in the overload of sexual need in her head. Her body twists, thrusts.

A while later, two of the latinos return, under orders, and carry her and her bunk outside, to near the fireplace and kitchen area of the camp. They set up the net canopy over her, then get back to work. Now everyone can enjoy the sight of her, as she deliriously thrusts and grinds. She, on the other hand, is far past paying them any serious attention, apart from a general awareness that they are watching her.

Shortly before dusk falls, Harding brings her some food to eat, and a mug of a warm broth. He helps her eat, since it is obvious she could not muster the coordination or attention span to manage it herself. After she has finished, he goes away again. She didn't pay any attention to the taste of the food or drink, although she did register that she was hungry, and then not hungry. Her sex aches and wants, her mind can fit little else. Her body burns, and struggles to achieve... anything it can, which is nothing but futile exercise against the ropes. A while after eating, exhausted, she falls asleep.

                   - - - - - - -

She wakes suddenly, alert. Aware. She is still on the bunk, near the fireplace, and the men are sitting around the fire close by, chatting in the flickering yellow light. Listening, she makes out that they are talking about the prize they found today in the ruins - that Harding apparently expected to find. He seems unusually pleased with himself, and expansive. She wonders what it was, but since they all seem to know what it is, they are busy talking and making jokes about how much it will be worth, and something about working copies, and... women - using them on women. Harding makes a joke in Spanish that she mostly can't understand, something about tingling pussies, and the latinos crack up, rolling around in fits. It sounded very obscene to her, but she can't quite... At that point it occurs to her that she is tied to the bunk, and the evening rapes are likely to occur sometime soon. A prospect she finds entirely repulsive and awful. At least they left her alone... today.!

..

Oh. Today. The day's events come back to her now. My god! What was wrong with her! Is she turning into some kind of sex-crazed lunatic? She shifts in discomfort, thinking of how she spent the entire day panting about the most outrageous and despicable sorts of things, and somehow worked herself up into some kind of sex-mad delirium. And now that she moved - how much her muscles ache! She feels like she has pulled every muscle in the backs of her thighs and bum, and... breasts? Her breasts are so sore too. Other than that, she feels normal again. Thank goodness, those animal lusts seem to have entirely gone, at last. She considers the sensations from her sex, and finds nothing much. The catheter is still there, but apart from that, no swelling, no ache, no rigid clitoris. A slightly odd feeling there... but no, nothing like before.

"Well! Sleeping beauty is awake at last! How are you feeling?" Harding must have spotted her moving, and has come to squat by her net canopy.

"Obviously, I could do with a walk around, preferably far away from you and your sidekicks. Are you ever going to untie me from this bed?"

"Ah _excellent_! Fully yourself again? Let's see."  He switches on a bright torch he carries, and slowly runs the beam up her body, making no bones about how long he lingers at her crotch, and then breasts. Lastly he shines it directly in her face, as she squints and complains. "Hey! Are you trying to blind me? Do you mind?"

"No, I don't really mind if you are blind. Everything else would still work. So, you really are... hmmm... Incredible. This just gets better and better." He pauses for a moment. "Hey, I really liked the way you were earlier today, I think that chick would do me fine. She had some real enthusiasm. What do you say, her and me?"

Laura nearly chokes. "Look Vance, I have no idea what came over me, but I _do_ know it isn't going to happen again! And the day that I voluntarily have anything to do with you, will be the day after the Mayan calendar's last day."

"Oh, darn, you've hurt my feelings, and you are out of sorts too, I can tell. Oh well. I suppose we'll just have to rape you for a few hours, to make up. Hey guys! Laura says hi, and she's ready. Oh wait, I forgot, the catheter. Do you need to go before we begin? And we mustn't forget your poor sore breasts, they must be really due for a milking by now."

He places one hand on her lower belly, and presses. The other over a breast, which also gets a squeeze. Which brings to her attention the fact that she _does_ need to go, and her breasts are indeed very full and sore.

"Uh... I suppose there is no talking you out of this? No, ok, you are a bastard, and I guess not. Well then, yes please, I do need to go."

"OK, be right back. Don't run off now."

He leaves, as the others come to sit around her, carrying lanterns. They lift up the net edges, and drop it outside their circle, as they all squat right up next to her. Grinning, they begin to feel her all over. Surprisingly softly for their rough looks.

After a few moments of this, by which time she is fuming and calling them all every name she can think of, Harding returns. He's carrying another tube, and what looks like a large plastic bag full of water. He holds it up in the lamplight for her to see.

"This here plastic bag, is full of water. Sterilised, plus a little something else. Now observe. I attach this tube here to the bag, like so. Then I attach the other end of the tube to your catheter, thus. Now, what do you think happens when I open the valve here? ... Never mind, I shall demonstrate. With the bag down here on the ground beside you, your pee goes into it... see? There, feel better?"

He presses down on her lower belly again. "Yes, all empty, and ready for rape." He pauses.... "Of course, there are always other fun things to do. For instance, observe."

He lifts the plastic bag up, a few feet above her body. Immediately, she feels fluid rushing back into her bladder. Shocked, she tries to clamp down her sphincter- with no effect of course. Her bladder keeps on expanding. She tries to push down on her whole bladder, and the flow slows down, and almost stops. He just laughs, and holds the bag higher, and the fluid resumes its inward flow.

"Of course, 'going' is a relative term. And its amusing, that here you experience the effects of 'head' of water pressure. I bet you never knew that receiving head could feel so... full-filling. Anyway, I can't stand around here all night holding this, so..." He hooks it up over the frame holding up the canopy net, a little higher than he was already holding it.

"Oh, and by the way. That's not enough pressure to harm you, but it is enough to be quite uncomfortable for you, if you just let your bladder take it all. Which, it can't, there is too much. So what you want to do, is keep pushing down hard, to avoid your cute little insides getting stretched painfully. You'll find this hard to do, but we, will find it very pleasant. Nothing like the feel of a pussy that is trying it's hardest to push down.

She is spluttering in fury. The disgusting, twisted perverts! She struggles against her ropes, glaring at him, wishing he was dead. Which unfortunately means she has forgotten to push down. She realises that her bladder is filling past the point of discomfort, and has to concentrate on pushing. By trying really hard, she manages to stop the flow, and even reverse it a little. But the moment she relaxes, it races back in. She grits her teeth, and pushes. Harding puts a hand on her belly again, feeling the swelling of her bladder.

"There, you see, you picked it up in no time. Smart girl!" He moves his hand down further, to cup her sex. "How are we going down here? Hmm, nothing doing, huh?" He has slid his finger into her cunt, feeling for her lubrication. There isn't much. "How about our little man up here?"

He runs his fingers up her slit, and teases her clitoris. Now she can tell what felt odd down there to her. Her clit is not hard, but neither has it shrunk back to its accustomed size. It feels more like he is pulling on and squeezing a soft projection of sensitive flesh, that even soft, still hangs out well past her labia. The odd feeling she had must have been it laying across the top of her catheter bulb. She wonders what it will look like in daylight, and how she'll ever be able to face her gynaecologist again. The fable of how the elephant got his trunk occurs to her, and she wonders if people would believe a crocodile pulled and pulled on her clit, till it grew so long.

Harding is stoking the thing quite persistently and the feelings are intense. But, the pressure in her bladder is distracting, and the whole idea of getting raped doesn't appeal. Even if she did fantasise about it much of the day, it isn't doing anything for her now.  She feels quite relieved - thank you lord, perhaps she isn't turning into a sex-crazed nympho after all.

Oddly, Harding doesn't seem at all disappointed when she doesn't melt into panting heat. He simply scoops up a dollop of something white, and applies it to her vagina, outside and inside. Meanwhile, she is busy with her battle against unceasing water pressure.

Harding stands up. "Well, lets get this party under way." He drops his pants, then removes everything else. So do the other men. Unlike the last night they raped her, this time she is fully alert, and can pay attention to their penises before they are inside her. All of them are solidly erect and eager looking. Harding's... she looks down at his feet. She'd never noticed that he had such big feet, but sure enough, large penis size does correlate with shoe size. Looks like a good eight inches, and thick too. She almost forgets to keep up her belly push. At least now she doesn't feel so bad for losing the orgasm-freedom bet with him the first time.

So then, that one there must be Yuan. She remembers that one - the really huge one that seemed to be close to ripping her apart the previous night. The cock on which she lost count of her orgasms. Not a lot longer than Harding's, but salami grade thickness, with a fat bulbous head. It occurs to her, that if one must be raped, at least let it be by men that can pound your pussy into massive, multiple orgasms.

The other two latinos have nothing to be ashamed of either, though they are more 'average' in overall size. One has a surprisingly large, flared glans on top of a thinner shaft. It looks like a  lamp on a lamppost. She remembers that one too - she could feel the ridge moving up and down inside her sheath quite plainly, and found that when she clamped she could gat a reasonable grasp of that fat head. Making him have to work to pull it outwards in her tunnel. Though, he could always seem to thrust it back in easily enough.

Meanwhile, Vance has arranged her catheter tube out of the way, then slipped a hand under her arse and lifted her hips high. He shoves a rolled up blanket under her rear, commenting

"You looked so romantic with your pussy stuck up in the air yesterday, I thought we'd go for that style again. Mmm yes, I like it. Our fuck-toy, Laura Croft. Hey, do you realise with this super thin bush you have here, you look like a little girl? Well, except for the gigantic clit, enormous tits, and water-sports  attachment.

He climbs onto the bunk, and manoeuvres his penis till it is nestling at her entrance.

"So, any famous last words? Nothing overdramatic now, like spitting or biting. After all, you are the one who will suffer the consequences, which I assure you, will be ten times worse."

What with the bladder pushing, and her overall lack of any suggestion of feeling aroused so far, she is feeling more than a bit annoyed.

"Yes, Vance, you creep. This is rape, and I _don't_ want it. You may be able to make me cum, but I still don't want it. One day, you'll all pay for this!"

"Ah well. As they say, filling out derelict pussies is a dangerous, thankless job, but someone has to do it. So..."

He thrusts firmly into her.

"Ahhhh! Oh yeah! Oh Laura, I didn't know you had it in you! A litre of water that is. Ohhhhh BOY thats tight. Oooahhhh! yeah! Ummmmpfff!"

He pulls out, and thrusts again. Again, and builds a regular in-out rate. Uhhhh uhhhh uhhhhh ooohhhhh uhhhh oh God! oh uuuhhh...

After a while of this, Laura has discovered two things. One, is that the thrust of his cock inside, in the tightness of her swollen-bladder, pushed down belly, the feel of his cock going so deep inside is distracting enough that she has great difficulty concentrating on pushing down on the water. And the more she slips up, the worse and more intense the whole thing gets.

The other, is that strangely, despite the whole thing being quite intensely sexual, and the thrusting of his penis inside her feeling much the same as it did the other night, when she was forced to an orgasm, and that the full bladder feeling makes it _more_ intense and erotic in many ways, she just does not feel herself getting turned on. Her pussy has lubricated a bit more, though not a lot. She can remember clearly how she felt most of this day - how she would have killed for a good solid fuck, and was left feeling empty and unsatisfied. Now, nothing. Well, _almost_ nothing. She does have an odd feeling of frustration at her lack of response, as if something should be happening, but isn't. She can feel his cock riding her insides, it feels very, very nice (she has to admit), but as for swelling labia, hardening clit, and general arousal, nothing. She doesn't even feel her breathing changing. Weird!

All the weirder, because the more she thinks about what is happening, the stronger her feeling that she'd _like_ to cum, to round of this day of desperately wanting to cum. Thinking of this seems to draw her attention to the feeling too, for it grows stronger. She clearly remembers being desperate the whole day, dreaming of ways to orgasm, or being barred from orgasm. Why not now! She really wants to come, she deserves it! But nothing happens! It feels like her pelvis could be a blow-up plastic love doll, for all the arousal she can feel.

And all the while she struggles with the water, and Vance grunts away above her, and the other's hands play with her body.

Maybe twenty minutes later, when Vance is clearly rising to his climax, she at last begins to feel a little something. Her clitoris is thickening up, and her vagina is giving an intermittent involuntary twitch now and then. But overall, she can hardly believe what is not happening. Strangest of all, she has developed an intensely strong mental desire to orgasm, but without the usual physical symptoms of arousal. She still isn't even breathing fast.

In the whole time, he hasn't spoken to her once. When she tries to speak, he shusses her impatiently, and one of his men applies some threat of pain, such as pinched flesh. She resigns herself to silent endurance of the strangely unresponsive rape.

Vance finally comes, and she can feel his thick load coat her insides. Since she has little to do but think, she wonders about pregnancy -but doesn't let it bother her. In a few weeks they'll be back in civilised parts, and she can have that problem deal with as well. The thought does cross her mind, that if somehow Vance is true to his word that he will be keeping her, then that whole issue could get complicated. Supposing he actually not only kept her, but kept her pregnant? There's no telling what the man might decide was a money making proposition. She shudders to think. He's not the kind of person who'd respect an expecting mother's right to keep to herself either. He'd probably turn the whole thing into some big, complicated production, involving daily humiliations and sexual mistreatment. Right up till she gave birth. Oh! And probably including the actual birth too. She recalled reading something in a magazine once, about childbirth supposedly being made easier if the!

  mothe

r was masturbated to orgasm during the birth. Very new age stuff, but convincingly written. She can just imagine Harding finding something like that, and warping it into an excuse to have her give birth at the centre of a room full of his no good friends and associates, while subjecting her to mind blowing mechanically induced orgasms every minute for an entire 24 hours before delivery.

The strangest thing is, that as she thinks these thoughts, just as he is pumping softly in her, enjoying his post-orgasm buzz, then pulling out, her body has finally started to wake up. Her clit is approaching hardness, and that tight feeling about the base, returning.

So naturally, as he gets off her, they all laugh again at her outsize clit, and hands reach to pinch and squeeze it. It still feels kind of strange, is if anaesthetised. If anything, their manipulations make it soften rather than harden. Vance is sitting beside her, observing her with a relaxed, but alert look. Yaun climbs up onto the bed, and wastes no time centring his huge member on her entrance. At least he forces entry with some care- for the first couple of strokes. Then its on for all, and he pounds her with a vengeance. She had been able to control herself well enough in the interval to push most of the water out, but Yuan's relentless and massive pounding of her deepest recesses plus the feeling of being split apart by his massive pole, rapidly makes her lose control. The result is that she is soon contending with both Yuan's huge prong, and a bladder that is filling past it's high water mark, and still rising. She feels as if her insides are going to explode out he!

r bell

y button or something. She tries to tell them its too much, between her gasping cries of pained pleasure, but they ignore her pleas. Instead Vance glances at the bottle, places his hand on her now swollen belly, and presses down firmly. Much to her dismay.

"Hey Yuan, fine work, she's really losing it. Wow guys, feel this - you can feel Yuan's dick in her right up here. He has one hand up just above her belly button, and the other still pressing low on the swell of her stretched bladder. The other two get in on the act, so she ends up with three pairs of hands pressing all over her belly.

Its highly uncomfortable, and humiliating, having them all feeling the movement of the huge cock inside her. But in a manner she's coming to recognise as typical, her body responds to this much more strongly than anything else after she woke up, and she feels herself begin to fuck back at her penetrator. That tension, down there among all the other intense feelings, is starting to grow.

But before she knows it, Yuan is huffing and puffing, then shooting his load. He didn't last more than ten minutes.

The next two are anti-climaxes for her, although they last well, and deliver what are definitely solid fucks. They have only enough effect to build her desire to orgasm somewhat, but not do the actual work of exciting her further.

After that, although the men remain naked, and sit around her playing with her body, it seems like there is to be at least an interval of rest before another round. Harding lowers the bag to a height that is easier for her to deal with the pressure, but leaves it connected. Her excitement declines quite rapidly, and within fifteen minutes she ends up feeling totally un-turned-on once more. For a while Vance amuses himself by having her relax her bladder muscles until her belly is hard and swollen, then expel the water again. He seems to get a kick from having his hand on her belly feel her swelling and growing tight, then pushing to empty. Once he has a good idea of how much water she can hold, he then lifts the bag up high enough that she cannot hold it back. He watches till she is squirming in discomfort, then closes the valve. Sitting down beside her, he toys with the tight swell of her stomach, as she groans and sighs with the feeling of being expanded well past her comf!

ort zo

ne. He also finds he likes feeling inside her vagina with one hand, while the other taps her belly sharply, causing her muscles to spasm.

Her state during this interval is surprising to her. Despite being calm, with almost no arousal, considerable discomfort, and trying to remind herself that she hates Vance and his men with a vengeance, she finds that somehow, she feels a kind or pleasure. She has to admit to herself that she _likes_ what he is doing to her. She feels that she _wants_ to be turned on, and thinks that their play with her body _should_ be turning her on, but... still nothing is happening. Even when Vance fetches another toy - a large battery powered vibrator - and leaves it shoved deeply into her vagina making her whole belly hum even as her bladder is still crying for relief, she still feels no sign of her arousal returning. The feelings are intense, and very sexual, but simply nothing happens. Only that strange, incomplete feeling in her mind alone that she'd really _like_ to cum, but somehow can't begin. When she wonders why, she simply can't imagine what is going on with her mind, and her b!

ody. More weird side effects of the vine poison

s? Or her own subconscious mind playing tricks with her, as it has been quite a lot these last few days?

All this time her breasts have been aching, swollen and full, with the string still tied around and between her nipples, pulling them closer together. So far, no one has done more than toy with her breasts, stroking and touching. She wishes they would - her breasts badly need milking and are growing more painful as time passes. Vance, after inserting the vibrator in her cunt, then chatting carelessly with his companions, has been keeping a close eye on her, though she doesn't realise it.

When he is satisfied that even the vibrator, her swollen bladder, and their overall body stroking are not arousing her, he switches to playing with her soft clitoris. He makes quite a job of it, trying all kinds of different manipulations, even bending forward and sucking on the soft finger for several minutes. For Laura, it is quite excruciating. All the powerful sensations combined are driving her mind to distraction, yet still there is no response from her body. She is sure she should be feeling at least as turned on as she was during the day... but no.

At this point, he speaks to her again. "Well Laura, you certainly are feeling cool this evening. Perhaps you tired yourself out today, hmmm? I guess we may as well give up on trying to tease you for the moment. But there is one thing I know you'd like to have done before we put you to bed for the night. Isn't there?"

He looks questioningly at her breasts, with their string-sealed nipples.

She nods, pleadingly. "Yes please, do. They are getting so sore, I thought you'd never ask." She is also thinking 'and the last time they were milked, I came and came and came. Maybe it will work this time again?'

"They certainly do look full. Astonishing development in so little time. Do you know I think they have become quite a bit firmer since your milking this morning?" Saying this, he has placed his palms around the bulk of her left breast, and squeezes solidly. She squeals in discomfort - that really hurt! "Yes, much firmer. Now, lets see..."

He unties the knot on her left nipple, and unwinds the string. The tip of her nipple had gone quite dark, though not blue since he hadn't tied the loops tight enough to entirely cut of circulation. Nonetheless, as the blood rushes back into the sensitive tip, she groans.

He unwinds the other one, with the same result. Laura is squirming with the pain from her nipples mingling with all the other discomforts - bladder, vibrator, and breasts over full. He watches for a few moments, and sure enough, pearly drops of milk begin to appear on the tips of her nipples.

"Hmm, look at that. Must be a pretty high pressure in there. Thats the good news. I guess the bad news is that I don't like to see it going to waste, and so the tied nipples are going to be a constant from now on. But let's get a bit more scientific with this. One moment."

He goes off and returns in the one moment he promised, with a metal cup and a measuring tape. Firstly, he measures her chest and bust size as typical. But then he proceeds to take measurements enough to make a volumetric estimate of her bust. Circumference of the spheres in two different planes, and the circumference of the intersection of the spheres with the surface of her chest.

Then he places the cup below and over her left nipple, and begins to milk her. In only a few minutes it becomes clear he has underestimated her production, as the cup nears full. He asks one of the others to fetch him an empty water container, and by the time they return he  has had to stop because the cup is full. Emptying it into the clear plastic two litre container, he continues.

Meanwhile Laura is finding that if she thought the strange 'ghost arousal' of her mind but not her body was intense before, she was mistaken. She is shaking her head from side to side, frantic with certainty that the incredible sensations in her breasts _should_ be sending her body into orbit. They do send her mind into orbit, and she can almost feel the signals going out to her body to respond, and she can sense the place where her body should be returning feelings of intense physical excitement, but somewhere the chain is disconnected. Even with the buzzing in her crotch, no news of heat comes back from there.

Harding watches as he milks. "Intense feeling huh? No sign of action in the furpatch though. What passes for a furpatch in your case. Yesterday and this morning this really hit you in the spot, didn't it. Not now. I wonder if the vine effects are wearing off, or entering a new phase? Too bad if it has permanently damaged your sensitivity, and you can never come again."

She looks at him, aghast, speechless.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm sure thats not the case. I mean that - I am _sure_ it isn't the case. Trust me." Still milking, he pauses a moment, then bursts out laughing, resuming milking. "Ha ha ha! Trust me! Oh, I crack myself up sometimes. 'trust  me' ha ha ha! Ahhhh Laura, if you knew... But anyway, no, I am sure you are OK, and things will become clear soon enough."

The output from her left breast has diminished by now, and he switches to the right. Another two tin cupfuls later, he is done, and rebinds her nipples as before, except this time the intervening string is a little longer. Once again he goes through the breast measuring procedure, taking notes in his pocketbook.

Finally, he pulls out the vibrator, and sets the waterbag on the ground, so her bladder can drain fully. Then sits contemplating her again. After a few minutes he seems to come to a decision.

"I'm going to show you something we found today. I probably shouldn't but I can't resist showing it off to someone who'll appreciate it."

Moments later he comes back with a solid carry case, about the size of a shoebox. He places it down where she can see it, and opens it gently.

"This was also mentioned in the writings I found about this place. You know, its actually very old. At least five thousand years, if not more. And this (he gestures at the contents of the box) is the oldest known electrical device in the history of mankind. It predates even the Baghdad batteries, by at least double."

He very carefully lifts two corroded, obscure looking metallic objects from their packing in the box, and places them on a cloth.

"The first one here, is a galvanic battery stack. Probably produced about ten volts, and by the thickness of the metal plates, would  have lasted a fair while under load.

The second object here... ah now this is the amazing part. It's a coil, of copper wire, around a rough iron core. And there's a thing here at the end, also of iron, that appears to have been on a spring, mounted here. This thing was the most protected relic in the entire temple - far more significant to the builders than that oversized solid gold dick. And do you know what it was for? You'd never guess. I had found some quite lengthy scripts discussing it before we set out on our little mutual adventure, so I have a very good idea of what it was. Tell me, what is every new technology always used for _first_?"

She is looking at the objects, feeling that deep sense of awe she always feels in the presence of something manmade and extremely old. Looking back at him, she answers easily, since its a commonly known joke.

"Sex. New technologies are always used first to provide some kind of sexual benefit to somebody."

"Good! Head of the class! Now here we see another iconic example of that. Because what we have here, is a very simple vibratory interrupter. The coil energises, pulls in the sprung metal lever. The lever breaks the circuit to the coil. Lever springs back, remakes contact. Cycle repeats. Giving both vibrations, and a pretty nasty shock if you put your fingers across the contacts, and get the flyback spike from the coil.

Now, the outer casing on this thing was probably wood, and has entirely gone. But notice the dimensions... its long and narrow, roughly round. Put a finely made wood cylinder around it, and it would fit... yes. Inside a vagina. A tight fit, but definitely possible. You behold the world's earliest known vibrator.

But wait! There's more. The writings, ah the writings. We are talking high priesthood here. Dudes with agendas, and some very heavy issues with the temple maidens, or whatever. So was this thing used for pleasure? Of course not! This was a _torture_ instrument. Because according to what could have passed for a user manual I read, the thing had a few intricacies in the finer details. Specifically, the wooden cylinder was made in segments, with an internal spring so they would expand apart slightly. And if something were to _squeeze_ that construction gently, a contact would be made inside which connected the coil interrupter contacts with small metal pads on the outside of the cylinder. Do you see? Five thousand years ago, and some warped genius invented an electric combined vibrator, and orgasm preventer!"

He shakes his head. "Amazing. Especially considering where we find it- the Temple of Phali - residence of the Seeker of Nectars, the vine. More than that I won't say, for now."

He packs the items back in the transport box, reverently, looking a little incongruous since he is naked, with an erection. Takes the box back to it's place in the gear pile, then returns to her. The Latinos are still sitting around nearby watching her, nude in the hot evening air, by now all sporting erections again.

"Well now. Thats the end of the history lecture. Time for some more sex-ed class practicals for you, young miss. After that it will be time to put you to bed. Heh. So, I'm going to let you up, but first.."

He disconnects the long tube from her catheter, and turns off the valve. The he undoes both her wrists - the left that is tied to the rail above her head, and the right that is handcuffed with some movement. He helps her sit up, then handcuffs her wrists behind her. Then he unties her ankles. For the first time since yesterday evening, she can stand.

"Come over to the toilet area." With a torch, he leads her around some bushes, to a place with a small pit in the ground, beside a log. There is a large plastic jug of water, with a pour spout, tied up to a tree branch so the jug can be tilted for easy pouting.

"Now, maybe you can take a crap, maybe not. We are going to do this the instant way, which frankly, I'm going to enjoy doing more than you. Come here." He pulls her to the jug, then has her turn her back to it.

"Now, bend over with your legs apart. Stay that way." She feels him around behind her. Something slippery is wiped on her sex then arsehole, and then a finger works it into each of her holes, as she complains "Oh, no, not.." There is a sharp, loud smack on her bottom, and she takes the hint to be quiet. Then something hard slides into her vagina, and she guesses it might be the water bottle spout. A sudden jet of tepid water tells her she is right. The spout pulls out, to be replaced by several fingers working around inside her. Water runs down her legs, then the spout is thrust back in, deeper this time. From the sudden force with which more water expands into her, she thinks he must have squeezed the plastic jug. It is pulled out and again several fingers twist around inside her, more water runs down her legs.

Then the spout is pressed against her anus, and pushed a couple of inches in. More water gushes inside her. Bent over as she is, it gurgles down into her bowel, mixed with air from the bottle. She thinks that it is a very large jug, and he seems to be taking his time - is he going to fill her with all of it? Then the nozzle is pulled from her arse.

He slaps her rear again. "Stand up, stay spread, keep that arse tight." Walking around her, shining the torch in her eyes and over her body, he comments. "Laura Croft, Laura Croft. Fine figure of a woman, especially naked, but a mighty big pain in the arse at times. And so, you can expect some pains in the arse yourself from time to time. Now, running on the spot! Hop to it!"

He flicks her arse with a frond from a bush. She starts running, to the rumbling of water in her bowels, and the aching muscles in her legs from he day's contortions on the cot. He gives her several minutes, then has her sit over the log, arse above the hole, and let go.

Then he has her bend over again, pours some more water into her rear, and repeats the sequence. And one more time.

Then he takes a rag hanging off a branch, wets it from the jug, and runs it all over her body, cleaning her of the day's sticky sweat, if not exactly deep cleansing her pores. With that wipedown repeated twice, she feels much better. She notices that his erection is still standing proud, as he leads her back to the tent area by the string between her nipples.

This time, they take turns fucking her on a canvas sheet spread on the soft leaf litter near the fire. Apart from her hands cuffed behind her back, and the small catheter bulb still resting between her labia, she is unconstrained. Which turns out to mean, they have more variety of positions available to them. On their second go for the evening, they all take much longer to finish. Harding once more goes first, and takes her from behind as she kneels, arse up, head down on the canvas. He fucks her cunt roughly for a considerable time, during which he first smacks her arse hard until she is thrusting back in time to his satisfaction, then later when he is nearing orgasm, he slips one then two fingers into her arse and massages his organ through the thin separating membrane.

Next Yuan and Carlos, the one with the ordinary sized dick, take her together, with her standing between them, Yuan's huge cock in her cunt, and Carlos' up her arse.

Initially, she still has the same strange detachment from physical excitement that has been troubling her all evening, and the sandwidge rapidly rekindles her mental desire, or rather frustrated wish for desire.

By the time those two are done, both her cunt and arse are feeling very well used, and her mental desire has met with a slight echo returning from her previously silent body. Her clit has erected to its full hardness, even though it still feels strangely distant and dull.

Franco has the last turn, and stands her up, and walks around her several times, tracing his fingers over her body, considering his preference. He plays with her clitoris for a while, testing it's size and rigidity. It seems likely that it has firmed up for a while. His penis is rock hard, and looks kind of weird, with the longish skinny shaft, sporting a glans at the end that would look right on a cock three times as thick. On his it looks like a knob stuck on the end of a pole. The piss hole at the end of his knob matches the size of the knob, not the shaft.  He gets a devilish grin on his face, and faces up close to her. She thinks he is going to fuck from the front, standing up. But instead he grips her clit, and the head of his penis, bringing them together. He places the tip of her clit into the opening of his head, and gently pushes forward. One of the others makes a crude sounding comment in Spanish, and Franco waves it off, laughing.

At first it looks like the thicker end part of her clit won't fit. But then it suddenly pops in over half of the way, and Franco pushes the rest till his glans is nestled in between her labia, all of her clit down the inside of his urethra.  Franco laughs again, and pulls back, then pushes again.

Laura is almost in shock. There is still some kind of barrier in her system against physical arousal, but the sensations from her clit pour into her brain and clatter around in there. She has most of the normal feel of her hard achey clit, plus an incredible sensation of it being wrapped in a silky smooth, warm, slippery tight channel, that is pulling back and forth on her organ. It is an unbelievable, electrifying, super-good feeling, that needs somewhere to go. It keeps looking for the door marked 'stairway to orgasm' in her mind, and not finding that door. She can feel it getting frustrated, and starting to firmly kick on the doors it does find. Doors like 'beg for more', 'sell your soul', and 'fall in love'.

She lets her head fall back, eyes closed, and pushes her hips forward, delicately.

Franco winks at the others, and develops a rhythm with his hip, moving only a few centimetres back and forwards. For him, the sensation is merely amusing, something he'd do for a lark. But from her reactions, he has a pretty good idea of how it feels to her. He supposes that it feels even better for her than it feels for a woman to receive head. He is absolutely right.

He reaches out and grips her tied nipples in his fingers, pulling her with him as he steps back a small pace. She follows, as if in a trance. For a couple of minutes he builds her, letting her hump her hips and clit into his penis. She becomes more and more flustered and short of breath. When she starts to moan 'Uhhhhh oooohhhh uuhhhh...' with each thrust of her hips, he decides she has had enough of a taste. He pulls his dick free, which actually hurts him a little, since her clit has swollen even larger and the thickest part barely fits through the constriction in his urethra just in from the opening. That makes him angry, and he lies down on his back, pulling her down with him.

"Suck my dick, you bitch! She has her hands cuffed behind her, so as he forces her dazed head onto his cock, she unbalances forward, impaling her mouth on the upstanding shaft. He grabs her head, and starts pounding her head up and down, fucking her throat.

By the time he comes, she is coughing and spluttering, short of breath. They laugh at her discomfort, as she is quickly bound back on her bunk bed as before. They carry her back to her tent, reconnect the catheter, and leave her for the night.

                     - - - - - -

She wakes early after sun up, with her body once more beginning to climb into unexplained turgid arousal. She lies there considering the intensifying feelings, trying again to identify the cause, and once again failing to understand what is going on with her body. The situation, the vine, or her own subconscious? Some combination? Whatever it is, she suspects that today could turn out very similar to her frustrating day in the tent yesterday.

A while later, Vance enters, and watches her for a bit. Then lets her pee, removes the catheter and fucks her, though seeming to be quite detached and more interested in observing her responses than enjoying the fuck. He deliberately finishes before she cums, and leaves her hanging. Then he brings breakfast - some porridge-like stuff, and a cup of broth.

As she eats, he brings up the topic of his finds of yesterday - the battery and interrupter coil vibrator - and gloats about how much they will be worth on the black antiquities market.

She is furious, but so aroused by she cannot help but be drawn into his musings of how the device was used on sacrificial maidens. Some of the things he says he read in the ancient scripts are very hard to believe, and she also gets an impression that he isn't telling her everything he knows. But the images he relates... they are extremely erotic. She fumes, at the thought that she is finding Vance's stories so physically exciting, on top of the frustrated state he left her in earlier. But the fire in her body which had been present even when she awoke, and which reached fever heat while he fucked her, grows stronger and stronger, till she finds herself begging Vance to let her cum. He refuses, and walks off, laughing.

Soon after that, she is relieved to find her frustrated arousal fades away quite suddenly, almost unbelievably fast. One moment she is lying on the bunk, cursing her aching sex and racing pulse, then all the symptoms of lust seem to nosedive together, leaving her calm, alert and feeling kind of detached.

With her senses once more free of internal distraction, she realises the sounds outside are of the men breaking camp. She is relieved - at last, she'll be free of this dammed bunk. She looks forward to the trip out, and the probably opportunities for escape.

She is not so relieved, when she is presented with her 'travelling attire'. She had no idea Vance could be so despicably kinky. It is based on her slightly shrunken leather suit. Except he, or someone, has cut out the crotch and breasts, replacing those areas with bulging stiff open wire meshes. The long zipper is replaced with a zigzagged laceup, with a small padlock closure. There is also some sort of lumpy rubber thing loose inside the crotch, with thin tubes extending down inside the leggings.

He instructs her in putting it on, and sure enough, the lumpy rubber object has to go inside her vagina. With the suit on, she finds it tight, but comfortable enough with the laceup fairly open to compensate for the suit's shrinkage. It is the object in her pussy, with the tubes coming out of her and down the legs, that she worries about, since he has not seen fit to explain what it is for. Something awful, she expects.

Then he has her sit, and puts her own walking boots on her bare feet. Except, there is some kind of spongy rubber insert inside each boot sole. He joins the tubes from these to the ones extending from the leather suit at her ankles, then leering at her, flourishes a large syringe. He fills it with water, and inserts the needle into the tube-joining gland at her ankle. Squirts in the water, and she feels a swelling under the soles of her feet, and inside her puss. He repeats this several times, till she is feeling quite full inside, and her boots feel a snug fit. Then he has her stand up, and take a few steps.

She is shocked to find, that each time she puts weight on either foot, the fluid displaced from the boot inserts makes the thing inside her swell and flex. So as she walks, it vigorously churns and twists inside her. It is a very disturbing feeling, and she fears it will become quite arousing, even though she isn't feeling anything pleasant at the moment.

He laughs at her dismayed look, and fastens reinforced leather gaiters over her ankles, locking them on and so placing the tubes beyond her reach. He has her walk some more, gloating at her. He mentions that since the incident on the train, he has often thought of the day he would have his revenge for her insolence, not to mention her stupid destruction of that most valuable relic.

As he talks, she discovers that if she stands still with her weight on both feet at once, the thing inside her expands gradually to an extremely uncomfortable extent, and then... ouch! It feels like it is jabbing her insides with sharp skewers! She shifts to one foot, and the sharp points retract again, but slowly.

He grins. "Yes, you've discovered another of it's features, sort of. Actually, it is quite capable of perforating your sheath, and then out here, without medical aid, you'll die of peritonitis. Better listen carefully. What happens, is that there are little one-way valves, so the water goes _up_ easily, but _down_ only slowly. Now, if you were to try running fast for some reason, you'd very quickly pump the inside bulb up till the spikes stick out, and stab you. So, my dear Laura, take care to only walk, and carefully. Got that? *NO* running. Especially, no running away. We'd only have to follow you till we heard you stopped and yelling in agony. Or maybe there would be no point following, since we don't have the medical facilities to deal with a perforated vagina. And you'd soon be no good to fuck, what with the gangrene and vomiting and pus oozing from your puss. So we'd just leave you. Best not to run, don't you think?"

He lets that sink in for a moment. "I'd keep your hands bound and a leash on you, but as you know, the journey is rough, and I can't be bothered mummying you over every obstacle. Too slow. So you can fend for yourself. Just remember - NO running."

By now, the other men have packed everything, and are waiting to go. Vance puts her own pack on her back, though it seems to contain little of her own gear. He locks that in place too, while mentioning that there is nothing in there she'd need to survive. She's just carrying some of the weighty camp gear.

They set off, with Vance having Laura walk just in front of him, two of the latinos in front, and one behind. Vance remarks that he's going to enjoy the view this trip... the view of her fine arse. He gives her arse a sharp slap with the flat of his machete to illustrate his point. Even through the leather, it stings her butt, and she turns to glare at him, fists on her waist. He just stares back, his eyes laughing at her. "Ah Laura, I do like those wire grilles, they make your assets look so... caged. So... mine!"  She glares harder, but he laughs "Shouldn't you be shifting your weight a bit? As in, turn around and walk, bitch!" As he says it, she feels the first sharp prick inside her - sure enough, she has been standing on both feet for too long. Fuming, she huffs and turns back to follow the other men. Vance gives her another blade slap on her rear, a bit harder even. "I own your arse, woman. And I'll spank it when I feel like. Don't forget it." She walks, the stinging i!

n her

cheeks adding to the twisting and pulsing object in her cunt. She expects it will be turning her on. She thinks she can feel it starting a little already. That bastard Vance...

An hour later, she is sweating and sticky. The leather suit, even with its non-original ventilated areas, has her dripping with sweat. One thing that does surprise her, is how little effect the setup with the tubing, boots and twat-twister, has had on her. She can feel it constantly shifting inside her sex, but she seems to once again be in one of those 'distant, asexual' moods she has experienced lately. Some parts of her mind find the sensations quite disturbing, and seem to keep expecting her body to become excited, but it doesn't happen. Her sex just seems to accept the flexing intruder as an unimportant distraction, to be ignored. She has to admit she is relieved. It would be terribly demeaning if simply walking were to drive her into sexual heat. Considering that they will be walking for weeks.

She spends her time considering the matter of escape, and how she might accomplish it.

To be continued....