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The Conqueror Nymph of New Cairo (mf,ff)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: The Conqueror Nymph (F/m, F/f)
Date: Tue Jul 4 21:34:48 1995
Disclaimer: This story is science fiction with a sexual theme,
involving a woman's sexual domination of a man and
sexual/physical (non-consensual) domination of another woman.
The situations are severe and malicious, and cross into a
pathological realm. (Remember, it's FICTION.) If such a
subject might offend you, or if you're under the age of consent for
your locality, read no further.
I am the author. Send comments to
102332.512@compuserve.com
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The Conqueror Nymph of New Cairo
by Barry
Under the make-shift awning that extended from his tent,
Jarran sat in the cool, white sand and surveyed the camp. People
were cooking, loading exchangers, going about their affairs
almost normally now. The sense of emergency had disappeared--
or at least become subtle.
It had been over a month since the quake, and finally the
casualties were dead and buried. The grief was passing, and there
was some collective confidence that everyone who'd survived this
long had a solid chance to make the trip home when the transport
arrived in two more months. Still, there were no guarantees: the
last week had seen two of them develop what looked like viral
symptoms, and everyone was again reminded of the precarious
state of their lives on this planet.
But unexpected illnesses and accidents, however horrible
and cruel, were only secondary concerns for most. Dangerous
possibilities were less threatening than dangerous certainties;
while one could hope to avoid a virus or an act of God, no one
would avoid the nature of the planet itself:
Summer was coming. Certainly, expectedly, relentlessly,
the days were growing longer and warmer, and the afternoon heat
was becoming oppressive. By early summer--just a few weeks
away--their area of the planet would be receiving twenty-nine
hours of continuous sunlight each day, taking the surface
temperature as high as 120 F. And for many, that would be the
end. With no air cooling systems, the old and the ill had little
chance or hope of surviving, and a deficit of the latter had already
begun to show. In contrast, the younger and healthier members
of the camp were steeling themselves for the summer with
confident determination. A few more weeks of hell and it would
all be over.
Of course Jarran and his wife, Rona, intended to survive
too. They were in their late thirties and healthy. But the younger
had a surer chance and seemed, to Jarran, to flaunt their superior
odds. An arrogance personified by his nineteen year-old tent-
guest, Capei.
It was Capei more than anyone who had come to
symbolize for Jarran the defiant strength of the survivor. Young,
free and fearless, she seemed perfectly suited to thrive under any
condition of humanity, no matter how difficult. But beyond her
youth and relentlessly potent beauty, she was a unique and
mysterious element of all this, almost magical. It didn't seem odd
that she appeared just as he was thinking of her.
"What-cha doin', Jarr," came the distinctively soft,
resonant voice that raised his pulse-rate.
"Hi, Capei," he said with a start, turning to see her
kneeling in the sand just a few yards away, dressed in tight shorts
and a brassiere and holding wet clothes over a washboard. "I'm
just relaxing," Jarran answered a little nervously, "just taking it
easy for a minute."
His eyes were fixed on her a second too long, and she gave
an almost condescending smile. With some effort, he shook
himself free of the trance, embarrassed at showing such obvious
interest. He had to remember their relationship--as it was
supposed to be.
"I'm getting some water," she announced in a girlish-sweet
voice that seemed to forgive his lechery. "Want some?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine." he said weakly.
Capei got up and headed toward the supply tent. Jarran
released a long breath, venting exasperation at his own lack of
self-control. It was so irresponsible of him to behave this way,
unfair to both himself and Capei, who needed a guardian more
than another hapless admirer. She was, after all, the daughter of
his now deceased boss; he and Rona had known her since she was
twelve, and they felt obligated to look after her. They had even
discussed having her live with them on Earth after they were
rescued. But Jarran worried. Since she had been with them,
Capei hadn't gotten along with Rona and obviously resented her
attempts to exercise parental-style authority. And for that matter,
Jarran had his own problems with their young border--of
distinctly non-parental nature.
When they first came to New Cairo, Capei was just a girl--
a pretty pre-teen brat who would occasionally pop by her father's
office when she was restless. As she grew older, she apparently
found more interesting ways to pass time. Jarran hadn't seen
much of her in recent years, until they were re-introduced by the
quake. Now she was an adult, and a truly exceptional woman.
Maturity had given her a fine, classical beauty that drew
countless appreciative stares. Her face was smooth and perfect,
a graceful symmetry of high, softly angled cheek-bones, thin,
pouting lips and the most delicately sculpted nose. But her magic
was in her eyes. Rich with mysterious power, they were the
weapons by which she teased, haunted and captivated.
And Capei's full form was no less impressive--a
masterpiece of nature's art. Her physique was tall and slender
enough to support womanly curves without yielding anything in
physical grace. And what womanly curves they were!
Voluptuous and sweet, her breasts were high and perfectly round,
and they rose and fell noticeably with her every breath--an effect
brought out by her exotic, tight-fitting clothes. Her legs were
likewise perfect. Her thighs, exposed to view more as the weather
grew hotter, were just the right composition of muscle and
softness, and tapered smoothly into dimpled knees, sloped calves
and dainty ankles. She was sumptuous in the hips as well--and in
the ass especially. Her buttocks were full and distinct, the
swollen globes pressed together and bulged deliciously outward
under their constant strain--and there wasn't a hetero male on the
colony who hadn't been obliged to pay that a lingering stare.
Capei was a wet-dream in the flesh, and Jarran didn't
know how much he could deny--how much he could ask of
himself. But he'd given up the high road--trying to put himself
above it. He knew now that it wasn't realistic. The fact was that
Capei was as alluring as any woman Jarran had ever known. It
was silly to pretend that he could ignore that.
And now again she was approaching...testing...
"I brought you one anyway." She smiled as she stepped up
directly in front of him, stopping only a foot or so from where he
sat. "Drink it."
"Uh, thanks," he said, accepting the glass and immediately
taking a drink to cover his loss for words.
Over the lip of the glass, he saw her smooth, tan thighs,
inches from his face and glistening with a light sheen of
perspiration. As he struggled to resist the beginnings of an
erection, she adjusted her stance, raising one knee just slightly,
bringing her sculpted perfection to life. Jarran was beside himself
and straining painfully to hide it. For all the times he had gawked
at her as she laid in the sun, for all the times he had secretly
watched every luscious roll and twist of her ass as she walked
away from him, never before had he been so close to Capei. It
was almost overwhelming.
Stunned by her, defeated in his effort to keep his
composure, Jarran now found himself in the predicament of being
unable to stand without exposing his profound vulnerability to
her body. Still, he had to concentrate on keeping the facade of his
position: on being her guardian. So it was with careful effort that
he lowered his glass coolly into the sand and tried to appear
unaffected by her closeness.
"See, you were thirsty, weren't you?" she baited.
"I guess I was. Thank you, Capei." Jarran said, trying to
sound patronizing, but too self-conscious to bring it off.
"Well, you owe me a favor now, and since you're just
sitting around anyway, come put some sun-shield on me. Okay?"
"Uh, I really have some things I should be doing..." he
muttered nervously.
Capei's features sharpened into a near scowl. "Come on,
Jarran!" she chided. "Can't you do me a little favor?"
His face showed his surprise. "Okay...sure, " he conceded,
once again at a loss for a way to deny her. Capei smiled broadly.
"I'll get the sun-shield," she said. Then as an afterthought:
"Let's do it inside though. It's getting pretty hot out here."
Capei started for the tent looking smug and satisfied to
have gotten her way, leaving Jarran bewildered in the sand.
The situation had gotten complex. Suddenly he was losing
the ability to resist his attraction to her. And, ashamed of having
become vulnerable to the girl's whims and confused by his sense
of panic at the prospect of angering her, he felt like he was losing
his footing on a very slippery hill. He had tried so hard to be
authoritative and fatherly--to resist her undeniable appeal--but
now it seemed that she could control him simply by raising her
pretty brow in disapproval, that she could punish him with the
vague insinuation that he might be banished from her circle of
confidants. There would be hell to pay if Rona came back to the
tent and found him rubbing sun-shield onto Capei's scantily clad
body, but graceful options were few. Even as he stood looking to
the sky for help, he was distracted by the sight of Capei walking
around the tent. The sight of her strong, young buttocks twisting
inside her tight shorts filled him with a lust tinged with awe. He
felt helpless.
He needed to gather his courage and say "no" to her--even
if that meant having to tell her why. But he couldn't do it. He
could only imagine her reaction: the victory of a young femme
fatale over an experienced man. He could have faced the
humiliation of being made a fool to satisfy her egotism; it was her
precious attention, her sexy smiles, that he could bear to lose,
even if they were only to tease him.
"Come on!" Capei called from the tent.
Her voice startled him a little. He got up in a trance:
mouth dry, body stiff and heavy as he walked toward the tent..
Inside, the main space of the tent was empty. She was behind the
sheet that separated her "room" from his and Rona's, so Jarran
sat down and waited for her to come out.
"Jarran, are you there?" she called.
"Yes, I'm ready to start."
"So am I, come on in."
He hesitated at the thought of further compromising the
appearance of all this, but the image of Capei lying on her cot
inside her little cove of bed-sheet construction was too much to
deny himself. He parted the mysterious sheet that had, until then,
always protected her privacy from his eyes; beyond it, he found
her looking too much like he had so often imagined as she lay
face-down on her cot, her young body sprawled in repose.
Her arms were draped above her head, hugging the sides
of the pillow, and her beautiful face was partially hidden by her
upper arm. Her shoulders and back were bare to his awe-struck
eyes; bra straps lay on either side of her. With eyes closed, she
whispered:
"Start at my neck."
Tentatively, Jarran went to the cot and picked up a jar of
sun-shield beside it. There was no chair, and the cot was just a
foot off the sand "floor", so he knelt beside it as he worked the
warm cream onto his trembling hands. He thought about the
risk, about the trouble this could cause between he and Rona,
who was well aware of the unusual allure of their young border.
But that just made it more exciting--made Jarran more
appreciative as his eyes wandered her body, relishing this privilege
for which half the men of New Cairo would have risked their
lives. He wondered how many of them had dreamt of touching
her like he would now.
Kneeling beside her, Jarran felt an electric rush pass
through him. The thrilling closeness of her body made his heart
pound as he parted his lips to allow needed air. Shaking now, he
gingerly touched her right shoulder with his cream covered
fingers, and as he felt the texture of her skin for the first time, his
cock responded with a lurch. He knew that he'd better get this
over with quickly.
"What's taking so long," she said in a whiny tone, shaking
him from his reverie.
"Nothing." Jarran responded in a whisper, hoping to
conceal his springing passion, the level of which alarmed him.
He began to spread the white cream over her perfect
shoulders, back and neck, as he tried to calm his desire enough to
concentrate on applying the sun-shield as she had asked. His
cock grew harder as he moved around the slender curves of her
upper back, arms and shoulders. He moved his hands down her
body to the small of her back, and the high slopes of her ass
entered his vision. As he spread the cream, he couldn't help
looking at her ass from this closeness. The sight of her full,
slightly fat globes, straining the fabric of her shorts, was so
delicious that he almost forgot what he was doing. Of course his
cock was getting even harder, but he was in a trance, helpless to
pull his eyes away.
"What are you doing?!" Capei's voice boomed back to
him. "Are you looking at my ass?!"
Panic surged through him. "I--I was looking at, uh,
something down there," he said, implicating to indicate some
unnamed object on the floor beyond her feet.
"Don't lie to me, Jarran," she said, looking over her
shoulder.
"Capei, please...I was, uh--"
"Looking at my ass!" she insisted. "Maybe I need to have
a talk with Aunt Rona." She was sounding amused now, having
never called either of them "Aunt" or "Uncle".
"Oh, God. Capei, please don't do that! I'll never look at
you that way again, I swear."
"Jarran!" she laughed in astonishment. "Relax! God, I
was just playing around." She burst out with laughter then,
openly ridiculing him for his supposedly uncalled-for confession.
"Look, why don't you just do my legs and we'll be done. Okay?
I'll sit up."
Speechless, Jarran agreed with a nod, hoping that his
dignity would survive the rest of this. Capei moved up on the bed
and sat upright with her long legs extended to his side. Her
breasts, covered only by her unfastened bra, which she now held
against her with one hand, were at Jarran's eye-level as she sat
posed above him. Then he realized that Capei could see his whole
body as he knelt there in the sand--a fact which presented him
with another humiliating, but this time involuntary confession.
Sure enough, her majestic eyes quickly found the obscene
bulge in this pants and widened dramatically. She fell to fitful
laughter.
There was nothing Jarran could do. He had desperately
tried to avoid getting a full-blown erection, but now his cock was
lifting the front of his shorts to an obvious peak, maintaining its
infatuated allegiance to Capei in spite of his dignity. He was at a
loss for a way to avoid this new extreme of embarrassment; there
was no way that his condition would pass, not like this, and if he
tried to leave--or even stand--she would see it even more
prominently than in his kneeling posture.
Confronted with the no-win scenario, Jarran's panic
settled into despair for his foolishness at having fallen into this
trap. He had behaved like an idiot--like an impetuous teenager
who'd let his glands get the best of him. But it was done now; he
had forsaken common sense for the sake of moments in heaven,
and he decided that he may as well enjoy them. His sadness, guilt,
fear and arousal blended into hedonistic resolve, and he
committed himself to the quiet worship of Capei's divine beauty.
j And as he knelt there, even her laughter seemed intoxicating.
"Oh, Jarran!" she began, trying to recover from the seizure
of laughter. "I had no idea you liked me sooo much!" --more
laughter. Then she abruptly stopped and took on a determined
expression:
"But really, I think this is kind of a serious little happening,
Jarran," she said, using her big toe to point at his hardened penis.
"After all, you're married and way too old for me; it's not right
that you're acting like this--showing me your erection and
everything when all I wanted was some sun-shield. You'd better
pray that I don't tell Rona--or anybody else."
I'm so sorry, Capei," he moaned in shame, "but I can't
help it."
"No, I guess you can't," she observed casually. "Shit, I
didn't think an older guy like you could get it up that well. I
mean, I knew you had it pretty bad for me, but I had no idea you
were so out-of-control--so weak. But you really do have it bad
for me..." She leaned in and bore into him with her intense,
persistent eyes: "Don't you?" she demanded.
Jarran took a deep breath. "Yeah, I do."
"Let me see then. Take your shorts off," she said,
sounding more authoritative.
"Capei, please--"
"Take your fucking shorts off, Jarran!" She said in a mean
voice, though she didn't truly sound angry. "I want to see how
hard your little cock can get."
But Jarran hesitated. "Look, Capei, we can't do this--"
"Should I call for Rona right now?"
Jarran stared blankly back at her, stunned. "No. Please
don't do that," he said woodenly.
"Then do what I tell you, Uncle Jarran," she answered with
scalding sarcasm.
Standing to remove his shorts, he quickly unbuttoned
them and threw them down, denying her the spectacle of a strip-
tease. Then he stood before her, naked and humbled, but despite
his fear and embarrassment, his cock was still as fully erect as it
could get.
"Get back down on your knees." Capei said meanly. He
obeyed instantly.
Though worried by her abusive attitude, he was glad to
assume the posture and lessen his exposure to her view. Capei
leaned back voluptuously on her cot, resting the weight of her
upper body on an elbow and still holding her bra to her chest with
one hand.
"Does it get that hard with Rona?" she teased.
"Capei, don't be cruel."
"Cruel?" She laughed. "I'm just asking you a question.
And I'm even being nice to you." She stretched one long leg out,
placing a bare foot right between Jarran's thighs and gently
making contact with his erection.
He jerked, feeling his excitement becoming more urgent as
she began to increase the pressure and friction. In his entire life
he had never been either so aroused or so humiliated, but he could
say nothing as the pressure became harder, and then almost
painful. Finally, an anguished, involuntary moan escaped his
throat, and Capei's soft voice called to him with a mocking,
girlish inflection of his name:
"Unn-cle Jarr--annn, look at meee..."
And as his unfocused eyes raised to obey, she dragged the
thin bra across her chest and away from her bountiful breasts.
They were stunning: more, and more perfect than he'd ever
imagined. And suddenly Jarran's body could take no more. He
heaved spasmodically against her foot, coating it with a cream of
its own.
***
Days passed, and the heat grew oppressive. On Sunday of
that week, the communications tower measured an unseasonably
hot 111 degrees Fareinheit, but such readings wouldn't be unusual
for much longer. Everyone in the camp was frightened and
irritable and lethargic. Even Rona was fighting heat exhaustion.
"Jarran, why are you doing those dishes?" The tired, sour
tone of Rona's bitching burned in his ears. "That's supposed to
be Capei's job--and it's not as if she has a lot of other work to do
around here."
Jarran's hands stopped ;moving in the water, and he
leaned back in his cross-legged position on the floor. He'd been
waiting for her to say something. Recently, Rona had shown
signs of resentment toward Capei, and was closely but discreetly
watching her. Jarran suspected that his wife was also keeping a
keen eye on interactions between Capei and himself, and so he
was not totally unprepared for her snipe.
"I guess I just feel like doing it; I'm a little restless tonight."
Rona seemed to weigh his explanation for a moment, then
looked up to cast enquiring eyes at him, one brow raised just
enough to hint at skepticism. "That's interesting," she finally said.
"You seem to be 'restless' a lot lately I guess doing chores,
Capei's in particular, is good therapy, huh?"
"Maybe it is." Jarran answered defensively. "Maybe it's
to release the fucking tension of being under your watchful eye all
the time--"
"That's shit!"
"Not shit, Rona," he said, more angrily now, "and I really
don't care if some little task I pick-up is supposed to be Capei's
chore."
"That's not my point."
"Well don't bother making it, Rona. I'm sure that Capei
doesn't mind that I'm doing the dishes. I don't know why you
should."
Jarran was ready for the confrontation to escalate, but
Rona's still casual stance indicated that she wasn't fully joining
the battle--at least not then. Too hot and exhausted to argue, she
seemed content simply to survey him, measure his posture,
expression, voice--all of which reinforced her skepticism. And as
she stood there sweating, with her arms crossed cooley under her
ample breasts, Jarran could help but think that she looked sexy.
Rona could still get to him, but as she walked out of the tent, a
mere thought of Capei obliterated her from his thoughts.
He returned to his dishes, and barely a minute had passed
when he heard another familiar voice:
"How's it goin', Jarr?" Capei asked carelessly. "Where's
Rona?"
"Just left. But listen," he began apologetically, "she was
kind of bitching at me--making an issue out of me doing you
dishes. I think that maybe you should go back to doing them for
a while."
Capei turned to face him directly. Her skin shone with
perspiration and she almost seemed to glow as she stood there
with her hands on her hips and a cute scowl on her exquisite face.
"You know I don't like to be bothered with such trivial
shit, don't you Jarran?" she said in a mix of pout and lecture.
"You said that you'd do anything I asked if I let you keep seeing
me--and for that matter I could easily get pissed-off and tell Rona
that you've exposed yourself to me. You wouldn't want that,
would you?"
"But Rona can see that something's going on!" Jarran
gasped in desperation.
"I don't care. You can make something up or whatever,
but you will do what I ask, Jarran. I don't want to be bothered
with shit-work or your stupid excuses. Just keep the bitch off my
ass, or you'll both be sorry."
"But--"
"Shut up. I could come right out and tell her ya know. I
could tell her all about how you stare at me all the time, how you
got so hard just by looking at me. You get it?"
Jarran looked up at her, his eyes dull with remorse. "God
I regret--"
"I don't doubt that you do, 'Uncle'. I don't doubt it a bit.
Being in love with me is going to be a rough life style," she
laughed. "now that I've seen how you lose control over me. It
must have been really humiliating for you in my room that day.
Now I know--we both know--that you want me desperately, all
the time, and that I can make you beg for me anytime I want. I
could make you beg me like a puppy right now, couldn't I?"
Jarran looked down at the dishes. "Please don't," came his
whimper.
"Why not, Baby," she teased. "Isn't it fun? Don't you like
lusting after my body?"
"I don't like being treated like a fool," Jarran said stiffly.
"Then you shouldn't act like a fool, you fucking jerk!"
Even now you're being a big baby, whining about how I treat
you--a grown man shouldn't have to whine to an eighteen year
old girl. I'd bet you'd give anything to fuck me, wouldn't you?
Well, forget it. I'm not interested...but I might play some little
game with you..."" Capei giggled, hugging herself at the waist:
"God, it's so unbelievable that I've got you by the balls like this,
don't you thin? I mean, I could make you lick the dust off my feet
if I wanted to...couldn't I?"
Jarran just looked down a the dishes, not realizing that
Capei was actually waiting for him to answer.
"Well, couldn't I?" she repeated, leaning back against a
huge mound of sacked beans and nudging his chin with her dusty
toe. But Jarran gave no answer. He could neither agree or refute
her.
"I can't hear you, Uncle...maybe I'll have to give a
demonstration of some kind."
Jarran looked up with fearful eyes, but Capei was
unaffected.
"Lick!" she shouted.
He knew that Rona could return any second, and that
Capei didn't care, but there was no denying his young goddess.
He had no choice with her but to obey. Leaning toward the
daintily extended foot of her outstretched left leg, he touched his
tongue to the skin there. There were fresh giggles and a light jerk
of her leg, but then she was still and expectant. He laid his tongue
full and flat on the soft under-arch, and licked a broad path up its
slope and across the ball of her dirty little foot. The dust on his
tongue was bitter and gritty, but he persevered and repeated the
gesture again and again. It wasn't long before her slender foot
was clean, but she continued the humiliation nonetheless. Then
he heard her voice a above him:
"Good puppy," she giggled evilly. "Do a nice job and I
might let you go higher."
Her remark made Jarran think of her calves, thighs, and
her sex--what heaven that would be, to kiss and lick her there--to
make love to her with his mouth. The thought made him
redouble the effort of his tongue, and Capei's giggles bubbled out
again.
After a moment, she moved her foot downward, bringing
her ankle to his lips. Jarran ravished it with impassioned kisses,
then moved to her salty, sweat covered calf. Thrilled with what
she was allowing, he moved to her pretty knee, and then to a full,
luscious thigh. He held her by the back of the thigh and pressed
his face into her firm, muscled flesh; he felt her sweat on his face,
and for a moment he though he would come just then.
He licked madly at her thigh, feverishly pushing his mouth
along the span from her knee to the fray of her shorts. Capei
gasped lightly in response, and clenched at his scalp, using his hair
as reins by which to direct him.
Inflamed with a passion such as he'd never before known,
Jarran surged forward to kiss and lick her higher, even licking at
the cloth of her shorts. He wanted to sex her, to make love to her,
even if she would only allow his mouth.
"Don't be greedy, Jarran. You haven't earned that
privilege," Capei crooned.
"Please, I'll do anything," Jarran heard himself say,
wishing his memory would black-out for a while. She grabbed
him under the chin and dug her nails cruelly into his face, lifting
his head and as she spoke:
"If I let you, if I give you this, you'd better by my absolute
fucking slave from now on, Jarran--and I mean that! No more
pouting or arguing, and no whining about your fucking bitch
wife! If you ever even consider putting some complaint of hers
above my want or even my whim, we're though. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, Capei...anything."
"You're damn right, 'anything'. As a matter of fact, I
might just have you get rid of old Rona. Would you do that for
me, Jarran?"
Capei dug her nails deeper into his chin and fresh blood
oozed freely from the little wounds she'd made there. Like prey
in the talons of a magnificent hawk, Jarran was powerless to do
anything but kneel there as tears of guilt and debasement rolled
down his cheeks and mixed with the dark drops of blood. There
was no question of what his answer would be.
"Yes..."
Satisfied, Capei released him and stood, brushing his
sweaty and tear-stained face with the crotch of her shorts.
Slowly--as if to tease him still more--she pulled open the magnetic
fasteners of her fly and bent forward as she stretched the
waistband and wriggled her hops out of the tight shorts. Jarran's
eyes widened as the soft hollow of her lower belly came to view.
Then, as she bent with her legs still tightly together, her dark
patch of fur could just be seen in the shadows of her thighs and
stomach. But finally the damp shorts fell heavily to the floor, and
Capei stood up, straight and proud above him.
Now she displayed her nude body proudly to him, and
Jarran reeled with the all-consuming lust that had brought him to
this point. Her sex was somehow even more beautiful than he'd
imagined: tight curls of pubic hair shining from moisture, barely
obscuring the swollen lips of her sex. With a hand on her thigh
again, he inched forward. Her scent hit him like a drug, seeming
to intoxicate him with its sweet pungency. And as he brought his
face very near her, he felt the heat of her sex; looking into her
wetness, enslaved by her seductive vagina, he was in heaven.
So entranced, Jarran felt almost unable to move, and
perhaps Capei could sense this. He felt her nails in his scalp
again, digging viciously, and then his head was pulled forward
and his face mashed into her hot young cunt. Jarran licked
desperately at her hair and her lips, sucking the wetness out of her
vagina itself, and then he bobbed his tongue against the swollen
nub of her clitoris. She moaned and pulled harder at his scalp; he
swallowed, gasped for breath, and renewed his effort at
consuming and pleasing her all at once. A shrill noise came like
a dream to his ears--Capei calling his name, then slaps at the
shoulder, and he was pulled away. But not by Capei.
"Oh, God," Jarran moaned, seeing Rona's red face twisted
in anger above him.
"You fucking asshole! How could you?! With this fucking
slut who's almost young enough to be your daughter!"
Still standing there, nude, Capei interrupted the marital
discussion: "What did you say, Rona?"
"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, you little whore!"
"I've got some news for you, Rona. This is my tent now."
Capei sounded oddly casual as she stood fully nude before them.
"For that matter, your house back on Earth is going to be mine
too. You see, Jarran belongs to me, body and soul. Isn't that
right, Uncle Jarr?"
Jarran sat motionless on the tent floor between the two
women. He wanted to pinch himself, wishing that it were all just
a nightmare from which he could awaken, but this was real. The
real result of his failure to control his infatuation for Capei now
stared down on both sides of him. His worst fears had been mild
in comparison to this, and the nightmare was just beginning.
"Yes," he groaned in answer to Capei's question.
Rona screamed and sent a flurry closed-fisted blows down
on his head and shoulders, but the blows suddenly ended with a
loud crash behind him. Jarran looked up to see Rona sprawled
on a now disheveled pile of supplies; Capei was standing over her.
"You BITCH!" Rona cried as she lunged for her younger
and more fit rival, but Capei easily side-stepped her and tossed
her to the floor as she passed. Except for a profuse glaze of sweat
that made her nudity unbelievable in its radiance, Capei seemed
almost unaffected by the heat. Rona was already panting and her
eyes looked dull from exhaustion and despair--the physical
exertion was well beyond her. Even so, Rona raised herself up on
rubbery legs, her mouth gaping for air, and again she lunged with
open arms at Capei. The girl evaded her again--more easily this
time--and caught her around the neck, throwing her mercilessly
backward so that she fell on her ass. Rona struggle to get back to
her knees, but Capei stepped forward and delivered a shocking,
hard slap to her face. Then came another, and another. Rona
was helpless to defend herself, but it wasn't until she stopped
trying--until she conceded--that Capei finally put a foot on her
chest and shoved her down onto her back, where she stayed. To
fully declare her victory, Capei stepped across to straddle her
victim's prone body.
"Well, Aunt Rona, you fucking bitch, it looks like I'll
finally get to show you who's the real head of this little
household." She lowered herself down onto Rona's body, her
knees resting directly on her chest. "Now I think I'll have you
finish what you interrupted."
Rona gave a loud, piteous moan, but there was nothing
she could do as the younger, stronger woman lowered her
victorious wet cunt onto her face. Capei rode her for just a
minute before Rona passed out--probably for lack of air--then
told Jarran to strip her naked and throw her on the bed.
***
Rona spent days lying on her cot, half delirious in the
sweltering heat as Capei took control of her home and husband.
She could only watch as Capei ordered Jarran about the tent like
some kind of clown and played her teasing, sexual games with
him only a few feet from where she lay. When she was better,
Capei tied her down and refused to let her leave the tent,
announcing her intention to "break" Rona to her will. And day
after day, Jarran watched as Capei made sport of his wife by an
array of torturous games, such as slapping her breasts until she
cried, or sitting bare-assed on her face until she tongue-kissed her
ward's tiny anus.
The "breaking" didn't take long. Capei ensured Rona's
submission by taking a few hours of video in which Roan did the
most embarrassing things. She wanted to be sure that, when they
returned to Earth, Roan wouldn't contest the divorce or ask for
any kind of settlement.
But neither was Jarran's plight much better. Though he
had given up everything for her, Capei seemed intent on keeping
her pledge never to let him fuck her. As if to demonstrate this and
her otherwise unconditional control of him, she began to entertain
young men in the little space of the tent that had been sectioned
off as hers when she moved in. And so she tormented Jarran with
the sounds of her fucking as he sat outside with his back to the
tent, while Rona heard even more clearly, though plausibly with
more satisfaction.
And as Jarran sat listening to the savage grunts and moans
of Capei and the teenaged boy from across the camp, he searched
for understanding. This was where the search for survival had led
him, to a place where all his fears and desires had been realized
and surpassed.
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