Instrument
by
Thea Hutcheson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Lilac Moon Books on Smashwords
Instrument
Copyright (c) 2005 Thea Hutcheson
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Instrument
Tina flexed her muscles so that the flow of fat and nutrients slowed. Rus'l moaned, "Not now, Tina. Just let me eat. I'm starving. They kept us in meetings all day, niggling and debating terms and inconsequentials." Tina sighed and relaxed onto Rus'l's camouflage suit dick and let her master feed.
He had set her favorite macro for the dick. She'd never decided if he liked to fuck her while he fed or whether he did it because he knew she enjoyed it. Either way she was being used most pleasurably, the way an instrument like her should be.
The feeding points of Rus'l's twin mouths were set solidly into her belly and her left breast. The tingling of the anti-coagulant and the sharp points was as good or better than knife play or clothespins, and usually the endorphins would have been sent her straight to subspace. But this slave to the master of the world thing had begun to pall. Rus'l's magic puppet and instrument of many pleasurable means wasn't as important as she had been.
He concentrated those latex fingers on her nipple now. Ordinarily the rich smell of his camouflage suit really set her latex fetish going, but with her current mood, it wasn't going to be enough to bring her off. He read her thoroughly, pervert expert on alien sexual practices that he was, and picked up the vibrator, brought it to bear on her clit and that was the end of any resistance. She came in a gush, all over the floor.
He released her and went into the bathroom to clean up his suit. She let herself fall onto the couch in the living room of the quarters he had settled her in after she'd given herself to him. The apartment was sterile, just a couch, an easy chair, the kitchen table, a bed with a nightstand and a chest of drawers for her clothes. No pictures, no art, no windows. He had offered her the opportunity to bring her own decorations, but everything there had been Dustin's and she'd just let it go. She hadn't left the apartment since she'd come here nearly a year ago. He would probably let her get something.
But she hadn't thought of it until recently and when he was actually here, he kept her too busy to think about asking. So here she was in a plain suite of interior rooms done in muted tans and creams, her reward for betraying humanity so the Canro could successfully invade and conquer Earth.
After the unfortunate demise of Dustin, her beloved former master, followed by several run ins with men who mistook her for a meat puppet and hurt her for their personal fun instead of any mutual gain, Rus'l had been a real treat, kinky and innocent all at once.
"Open your shirt one button," he'd said when he'd invited her to join him for a beer at the bar she'd stopped in to forget Dustin again.
The pleasure of that had taken her a moment to remember to breathe. He'd taken it for hesitation.
"Why not? You enjoy me watching you."
A blush had slid across her face, down her chest and across her back at the same time a spasm of pleasure pierced her.
"You see? Don't deny it. If you enjoy it wouldn't you want to encourage it? I want to see, you want me to see, what's the problem?" He smiled. He had totally understood the problem (or she'd thought he had then) that anyone looking would have also seen her expose herself and she was risking not only being bad for him but socially incorrect. And because he understood (he really did once he got the hang of what was going on) in exactly the same way as her former master, Dustin, she had wanted to be bad for Rus'l too, to be made to struggle, to push the boundaries between pleasure and shame.
When he had revealed that he was an alien that wore a latex camouflage suit and that what filled out the suit arms were two long necks terminating in short, flexible tentacles tipped with clear points like cat claws only straight, not scimitar-shaped, it didn't seem to matter compared to his puppet mastery and her miserable post-Dustin life.
But in practice, there were social and species gaps between her that she didn't think he would ever bridge. If he did, would he leave her here alone most of the time? And when you got down to it, really what did she have common with a blue-green mottled alien with his thick trunk, and those huge eyes, ears and breathing orifices in the center of it, two short little legs, two little short arms that ended in four long, multi-knuckled digits, and the two long necks that ended in little hollow claws? Well, besides the fact they were both kinky perverts.
Rus'l was taking his time cleaning up in the bathroom. She used to follow him in and wash his latex suit before she'd gotten something wet inside and made him angry. It was too bad.
She smiled remembering the thick polymer smell of the suit and the way she felt like Pavlov's dog when she got near it even though it wasn't exactly Earth latex. The suit was a wonder of electronics and gears and hydraulics inside based on hours and hours of watching human TV, especially human biology documentaries. His trunk and arms fit into the body, his legs fit on little stilts that came up to the knees and his necks, strong from months of exercise, acted like his arms.
She listened to the water run in the bathroom and let the lethargy of the orgasm overwhelm her and she woke several hours later, smelling her musky come with a hint of his suit on her skin several hours later. The apartment was dark and he was gone again. The invasion of humanity was complete and the management negotiations between the Canro and the humans were more important than pulling her strings.
Getting up, she ate several doughnuts, took her vitamins and drank a glass of whole milk. She preferred two percent, but Rus'l wanted the fat, saying it gave her better flavor.
"Better flavor," she said to herself. "Better flavor so you taste good when he eats you. That's sick." Eating her wasn't as appealing as feeding, which had a distinctly Draculian eroticism, a socially accepted eroticism. And it wasn't like he was consuming her completely. No, he kept her on a diet designed to keep her plump and tasty without stressing her health.
"The feel good diet, indeed," laughed Tina, rubbing those tingling bumps and her clit at the same time. And, of course, she wasn't the only one who enjoyed the idea of those points piercing flesh, injecting the anti-coagulants that allowed the fat and nutrients to flow. Virginia Mayland had Haro Chon, one of the Canro's original scouting team. Together they'd bought a cruise ship and had been offering feel good diet treatments to wealthy women on the QT for a long time before the Canro had completed their fact finding missions and begun the invasion.
She knew she didn't love Rus'l like she had Dustin and she also knew that a lot of the attraction was her latex fetish she loved the smell of his suit thick and sharp in her nose and on her tongue, and kind of tacky to the touch. The rest was his evil genius in manipulating her (What will you do for another finger, slave Tina?).
But he just wasn't around enough anymore. And she and Dustin had been together, a couple. She had become just a snack, something special Rus'l looked forward to.
She wasn't having second thoughts about betraying humanity either; humans had done a lousy job of running the world and themselves, and if the Canro thought they could do a better job and came prepared with galactic management references, she thought they should get a try.
No, she just wasn't being used the way she thought a magic puppet of her caliber should be. Rus'l had said he wanted to explore human kinks, but, except for using her, the only thing he had acted on was to set up her with another woman. And he hadn't even been there to watch. Didn't he know that a good sub wanted to know that she was doing good? Had she told him or had she assumed he would know? She wasn't sure.
Virginia turned out to be a skilled dominant, as wicked as any top Dustin had given her to at parties. She knew that good subs needed coddling, petting, praise when they did well, but Tina found she had lost her taste for flogging and paddling, preferring plain old bondage and Rus'l's latex suit and the sharp pleasure of his feeding points as they penetrated her.