PRECIOUS CARGO

Copyright @1998, Maureen. All rights reserved.

Part 8


   Kathryn wanted with all her heart to rub her thighs together 
to stimulate her craving cunt. But Caitlin held her arms behind 
her back in a grip of iron, and he kept her moving along in 
front of him and Fodessa.
   They reeked of cat pheromones, musky with a hint of ammonia. 
She was willing to bet she reeked of fox musk, too.
   She was forced through a doorway and into a curious room, one 
with a black rubber-tiled floor and gray walls clearly designed 
for easy cleaning. Panels along the walls just under the ceiling 
provided gentle light.
   The ceiling was what really caught her eye, or rather what 
dangled from it in profuse masses of dully shining metallic 
coils. She couldn’t figure out what it was. 
   The room reeked of the pheremones of many different species, 
intense sex, the cold smell of metal.
   The black panther hustled her into the center of the room.
   “Stay there!” he snapped, releasing her.
   Before she had quite absorbed the fact that her paws were 
free, he stepped back. As she looked back at him, she saw that 
Fodessa had her back turned and was furiously pressing some thing 
or things at a big wall panel.
   A soft clicking noise behind her made her jerk her head 
around. She never had time to move, to react, let alone to 
escape: silver tentacles whizzed at her with blurry speed, and 
then her wrists and even her ankles were once again in bondage, 
wrapped in metal.
   Instinctively, she yelped and fought, struggling to free her 
wrists, but it was like fighting a dragon. The thick metal 
tentacles were flexible but as strong as enhanced steel, and she 
couldn’t even make them vibrate. Then she was forced to the 
floor, still thrashing -- pinioned spread-eagle on her back like 
a furry starfish.
   More metal tentacles were all over her now. They touched, 
pressed, prodded -- never hard, more the gentle caress of a 
lover. A soft stroking began, as their tips broadened like 
fingers, then moved over her body, working with the grain of her 
fur, exploring her counters.
   She went still, trying to understand what in Slaaneth was 
going on. She turned her head to look at the two felids, hoping 
for a clue.
   Caitlin was watching her intently, his yellow eyes bright. 
Fodessa was watching also, but one paw was still poised over that 
big control panel.
   The metallic fingers stroked her all over, and in a burst of 
insight, she realized they were learning the shape of her body, 
storing it in memory.
   The fingers were on her face now, exploring her cheeks, her 
muzzle, her lips. They weren’t cold as she expected; instead, 
they felt warm, almost like some kind of metallic flesh. Then 
they reached her eyes, forcing her to close them, but they seemed 
to “know” what eyes were and only lightly caressed her long 
eyelashes in passing. Their touch tickled her large pointed ears. 
She flicked them involuntarily, but suddenly she felt tips grip 
her ears and hold them immobile. More tentacle tips explored her 
nose pad. She was afraid they would go into her nostrils; they 
did, one tentacle into each nostril, but they narrowed themselves 
to no more than threads. She sneezed violently. The tentacles 
retreated.
   The tentacles at her ears probed slightly into the canals, but 
not very deep. Then they retreated, apparently satisfied, to 
explore the outer flaps. When they were finished, their grip was 
released.
   She gasped sharply as they probed at her more intimate places. 
Her pert breasts were now being gently held and massaged, and a 
single tentacle explored the nipple of each one, making them 
swell and tighten. One had discovered her anus, and was now 
feeling the puckered orifice. Her muscles tightened 
automatically, but something very thin yet strong was beginning 
to probe the slit. Another was at her vulva, caressing the small, 
neat labia, and then there were more clustering there, as if this 
orifice merited a more thorough examination.
   The tentacle at her anus slid in, narrowing as it forced its 
way past sphincter muscles. She shivered at the sensation; thank 
Slaaneth at least it wasn’t cold . . . But now one was slipping 
into her vagina, thickening, stroking along the walls, while 
others minutely explored the labia and at last the hood and 
clitoris, spreading her sex open like a flower.
   It was too much -- being violated by this metal stuff. Another 
burst of struggling seized her, taking control of her body, as 
her instincts demanded she escape these obscenely probing foreign 
tentacles. It was useless, of course; the tentacles didn’t budge 
an inch, and more of them seized her head, holding it firmly, 
though not cruelly.
   Somewhere she could hear Caitlin's exclamation of surprise and 
delight, joined by Fodessa’s laughter.
   She was lifted into the air, suspended midway between floor 
and ceiling, supported only by dozens of tentacles. They 
supported her flailing limbs, her head, even her back and 
shoulders and hips, comfortably and securely. The exploration 
went on. She gave up fighting and hung there, panting.
   The tentacles already inside her continued their work, 
probing, burrowing. One entered her mouth and began to explore 
it, too, feeling pointed teeth, tongue, palate. Another had 
discovered her urethra, and she tightened her urinary muscles as 
it briefly explored the tiny opening. She hated the sensation; it 
made her want to urinate. She didn’t feel the one that explored 
her cervix, but it burrowed in to investigate her uterus before 
retreating.
   Then the tentacle tips around her clitoris and hood began to 
work, gently massaging the roots of her lust.
   Soon Kathryn once again found herself gasping and moaning, and 
not only that but writhing slowly in the grasp of the Sex 
Machine, paws clenching and unclenching, tail gently waving, as 
it lifted her toward climax. She forgot about Fodessa and Caitlin 
watching; the occasional sound of their voices meant nothing at 
all, lost in the waves of sensation induced by those lecherous 
steely tendrils. More metallic fingers worked on her breasts now, 
softly kneading, squeezing, palpating her swollen nipples as the 
one in her asshole worked as well, stretching her, then 
narrowing, pulsating to give her still more sensations.
   The tentacle in her vagina swelled, turning into a metallic 
dildo that seemed to shift shape and size and fit itself smoothly 
to her counters, giving her vulva erotic friction and stretching.
   Her mouth worked in breathless inarticulate pleas, until the 
tentacle inside it formed into the shape of a penis, one big 
enough that it stretched her mouth as she instinctively sucked on 
it. There was no real taste, but that didn’t matter to her in her 
current state. What mattered was her own gathering lust and 
arousal as she neared the climax . . .
   Which never came. Just as she reached the very verge, the 
stimulation stopped, the tentacles going still and motionless.
   She whimpered frantically, sucked at the dildo-tentacle in her 
mouth, bucked her hips, squeezed her vaginal muscles around the 
other dildo, but it was useless. The tentacles remained 
motionless, leaving her hanging in helpless frustration and 
craving.
   Slowly, sense and awareness of the two watchers returned.
   Fodessa was at her side now; one paw reached out to stroke her 
heaving furless right breast, where the tentacles didn't cover 
it. Kate turned her head to look at her. She was smiling, a smile 
rich with cruelty, exposing those long clouded leopard fangs.
   “I think a night here will do real wonders for your attitude,” 
Fodessa said. “Enjoy yourself.”
   She turned her back and walked away, and both she and Caitlin 
left the room. Kate’s pleas were muffled by the tentacle in her 
mouth as the ones at her clitoris and nipples began to work 
again.


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