Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (85 page)

"She's
good, isn't she?" she asked him as she ran her hand over his chest.

"God!"
was all he could exclaim as he let his head fall back on the couch.

Brie
grabbed Kay's hair and began to force her mouth up and down on his cock.
"Suck him, you little whore!" she hissed. "Show him how good you
are!"

Kay
groaned, released his cock from her mouth and began to sweep it with long laps
of her soft tongue, humming with pleasure. She held him in her hand and went
for his balls, licking them gently, then traced lower, lower, over his
perineum, till he felt the tip of her tongue at his asshole.

"Oh
Christ!" he cried as he felt her try and wiggle inside. He knew that the
only way she could reach so far was if she had an extensible tongue. She did.
So that little question was answered. Kay continued to jag him off as she
probed his anus.

"Enough!
Enough!" he said, pushing Kay away, and she fell sprawling as if he had
struck her on the side of the head.

"Gentle,
gentle!" Brie cautioned him. "No sudden movements. That's the balance
problem again. Just go slow and everything will be okay."

"Get
her on the table," Bram said hoarsely. "On her back. On the coffee
table."

Brie
didn't have to tell her. Kay got up as if nothing had happened, stripped off
her skirt and panties, and prepared to lay down on the table.

"Wait,"
Brie said. "Did you notice her body?" she asked him.

"Yes."
he said. "Very nice."

It
was nice. It was perfect. The soft spread of her hips, the subtle but muscular
curves of her stomach, the high, full breasts. No one could have asked for more
in a woman. But Bram was bored with perfection. He realized with sudden clarity
that perfection was a subjective judgment, not an objective condition.

He
had this perception, then he quickly forgot it.

He
had an urge to do something dirty to these women, or gynoids, or whatever they
were. Something obscene and perverse. Something very human.

"Play
with yourself," Bram said, and Kay obeyed. She slid a hand down to her
mons and began to stroke herself.

"Now
let's see how you suck cock," he said to Brie. "I want to
compare."

She
looked at him and smiled, then slid down his body and took his prick in her
mouth.

She
wasn't as intense as Kay, but he liked the way she struggled to take him in,
the way she worked at him, the way she enjoyed him, even enjoyed the discomfort
when she took too much and made herself gag.

"You're
bigger now than you were before," she said to him as she lifted her head
off his prick.

He
nodded dully, watching her lick her lips. Her real live lips.

"When's
the last time you had a man, Brie? I mean Shay? Whatever your fucking name is.
A human, I mean. Not counting before."

She
was pumping him slowly in her hand, watching his secretions drip over her
fingers.

"I
don't know," she said. "It's not something you do when you work for
SUS. It doesn't look good to fuck humans. I stick with androids."

Bram
reached down and picked her up by her elbows.

"Sit
on her face," Bram said. "I want her to eat you while I fuck her. I
want to see you come when a gynoid sucks your pussy."

Brie's
eyes met his. "All right," she said. "Sure."

Bram
waited while Brie got herself positioned over Kay's face, then bent her knees
slightly, bringing her vagina down to Kay's mouth. Kay moaned and opened her
jaw wide, and Bram saw Kay's tongue emerge eagerly towards Brie's pussy before
it was blocked from view as Brie sank down on it.

Brie
spasmed as if a shock had gone through her body and she reached out, grabbing
Kay's breasts for support. "Oh shit!" she said, "Oh God. That
tongue! Oh Fuck! She's in me."

He
saw Brie's thighs begin to tremble, her eyes close as she gave herself over to
the pleasure of Kay's tongue, and without any more preparation he took his cock
in his hand and sunk it into Kay's swollen vagina.

The
gynoid screamed, a sound muffled by Brie's pussy, and at once Bram felt Kay's
supplemental vaginal kinetics take over, milking him, humming around him. It
sent chills up his spine. Kay's hips began to grind against him in tight
circles, rubbing herself all around his cock.

He
groaned in pleasure. He looked at Brie squatting over Kay's mouth. "How
long is her tongue?" he asked her hotly.

"Oh
God! I don't know!" Brie moaned. "She's in me. She's in me deep. And
it feels incredible!"

He
liked knowing that they were connected by Kay's body, and he realized that Kay
was moving her tongue in Brie with the same rhythm he was using to fuck her.

In
his excitement he slapped Kay on the ass, again and again, making her scream
each time, the sound muffled by Brie's pussy rubbing over her lips.

Brie
looked at him through lust glazed eyes. Her stomach was trembling with the
intensity of what she felt inside, and her mouth hung slack. She leaned towards
him and said.

"Kiss
me! Kiss me Bram, I'm going to come. Oh my God I'm going to come so fucking
hard!"

He
kissed her. He kissed her as Kay continued to fuck him crazy with all the skill
she had, rolling and squeezing, throbbing, pumping. He met Brie's lips in a
desperate and hungry clash of delirious desire and excitement, tasted her human
taste, felt her lips respond to his need, his urgency, his intimacy.

Then
Brie opened her mouth wide against him and screamed, "Oh yes! I'm coming!
Oh yes! Oh God yes!"

And
Bram felt his own climax gathering with amazing force. The image of himself
with these two women was driving him wild, and he knew this orgasm would be
monumental. He braced himself as pleasure surged through him with electric
brilliance, every cell of his body tingling, and then he let go.

His
cock stabbed deep into Kay, stayed there in her trembling depths and his come
boiled up like ball lightening from his tormented balls, burning as it came. He
cried out, his body went impossibly taut, and with soul-wrenching whole-body
spasms he shot in into her, burst after scalding burst.

Now
Kay screamed too, as her body jerked in cyber orgasm, her pussy clenching
around Bram, her back arching as Brie and Bram clung to each other, letting Kay
take them both to orgasmic heights, using her as she pleasured them, her only
function.

Again
and again Bram shot into her until he thought his balls might fall off they
ached with such delicious pain. On the heights of his orgasmic release he even
imagined he could smell the heat and even smoke of his massive discharge, as if
his body was on fire.

He
clung to the edge of his frazzled consciousness and realized that he did smell
smoke. He smelled overloaded circuits; too much pleasure and excitement for a
wetware circuit to take. Hot silicon oil, overheat chemotropic elastomer,
meltdown.

He
fought for control and looked down at Kay in alarm even as he sent the last few
bolts of come into her.

And
Brie smelled it too. She too looked down at Kay in horror, but Kay seemed to be
all right.

"Oh
God!" Bram said as shocks continued to shoot through his body. He realized
dimly that he was the one. He was the one who was overloading. He was the one
who was facing meltdown.

"Oh
my fucking God!" he gasped as his neuro feedback circuits fried and he
lurched back, staggering, his arms stiffly out.

"What
the fuck?" he cried out as the main spinal bus breaker threw and the power
went out and he slammed violently into the wall as the sub-circuit controllers
in the long muscles of his legs lost their gate inhibitor current and contacted
to their natural state.

"Bram!
Bram!" Brie screamed in terror as he jerked against the wall again and
again.. "Bram! Oh my God! What's wrong? What's wrong?"

Even
Kay raised her head and looked at him. She hissed in alarm, her eyes wide as
she saw Bram convulse in inhuman contortions and finally sink to the floor,
still twitching, as one by one his bionics shut down and lost power and the
room filled with the stench of hot silicon oil and melting biopolymer.

High
voltage neuroaffectors sizzled, hydraulic fluid boiled and bubbled, and the
nauseating smell of burning hair joined the chemical smell of a unit meltdown.
A few minor gas explosions, the shrill whistle of micro hydraulic pump
failures, and then the only sounds was the continuing chatter of Bram's crudely
made molars and the white noise hiss of his voice box.

Brie,
her legs still shaking from her fright or her orgasm, she did not know which,
walked cautiously to the reeking pile that had been Bram North.

"An
android," she said. "He was a fucking android!"

She
stooped and picked up a small hydraulic slave cylinder. It was still warm.

"Genista,"
she said dully to Kay. "He was made by Genista!"

She
dropped her hand and stared at Kay, who seemed uninterested.

Suddenly
she understood. "He was a plant!" she said with wonder. "They
planted him in the press to tear us down! I'll be damned! An android
plant!"

Kay
looked at Brie and shrugged. "Genistas always fail like that. They don't
fail, but when they do, it's for good."

Brie,
eyes wide with horror, looked from Kay back to the smoldering heap of Bram.
"But, my God! They're good while they last!"

About
Elliott Mabeuse

Dr.
Mabeuse is an award-winning author with four books published by
Ellora’s Cave
, including
Overcoming Abigail, nominated for a 2005 Cupid and Psyche Award for BDSM from
the Romance Studio and A Game of Dress-Up, winner of a 2006 EcataRomance
Critic’s Choice Award. He’s also published with
Renaissance
,
eXtasy
, and made his debut
with
Harlequin
in May of this 2009.

Links
to his novels may be found on his
webpage
and he maintains an open
Yahoo group
. He
also publishes extensively at
Literotica.com
,
where he can often be found hanging around instead of writing.

Write
him at
[email protected]
. He likes
getting mail and does his best to answer.

Of
his biography, Dr. Mabeuse says: “Everyone connects to the world in some way,
and I seem to connect through sex. I’m drawn to the extreme and the
extraordinary in all things, and I like to explore the farther edges of passion
and desire in what I write. What interests me now is not so much the things
people do, but how they feel about what they do—male and female dynamics,
how we connect to ourselves and each other and to the world at large. I tend to
be intense and my writing shows that, but I really value my sense of humor
above all, and I expect it to sustain me should the fires of sexual passion
ever burn out.”

Encounters: The Mare

By
D.B. Story

INTRODUCTION

This story is inspired
by a friend who once mentioned a past life as a horse. It does not claim to
accurately represent that life.

It is buttressed by a
reader who reports an amazingly close relationship with a mare when he was
younger, one that was labeled as "unapproachable" by everybody else.

*
* * *

A warm, sultry wind from
seemingly nowhere in particular wafted over the farm, cutting through the cool
spring night in the dark at the witching hour when even the restless were
finally deep asleep.

The humans, all hidden
away in their artificial dwellings, noticed it the least, barely stirring at
all as it passed through with less than a whisper. An especially sensitive or
emotionally tuned one might have made a sign against The Witch everyone knew
about—and nobody ever saw—but only if awake and alert at the time,
and only halfheartedly. The Witch was an old legend at best, rusted by age into
something that mainly scared the children hearing it for the first time.

The animals, outside and
attuned more to nature's ebbs and flows were more affected, although none
actually awoke as the breeze playfully poked and prodded each obstruction along
its path before flowing deftly around it.

It hovered a long time
over one horse in particular that seemed to catch its fancy for no reason at
all, caressing this mare almost to the point of awaking her from her fitful
slumber, leaving her pawing the ground while still caught up in her dreams. It
observed with seeming delight how even light caresses across the bare equine
back caused angst, while caresses elsewhere caused something else entirely.

Soon it tired of its
play, evaporating like a wisp of transitory smoke, but leaving things behind
just a little different than before.

* * * *

The change for The Mare
first started to reveal itself the next day, on a sunny spring morning. Because
she was only a horse, neither she—nor the humans around
her—realized the ramifications of it for a long time.

The Mare didn't really
think of herself as having a name. She didn't really have any deep thoughts of
her own either. Her deliberations mostly related to her immediate needs, with
little attention to either the future, or anything outside of her immediate
view. It took her a long time to make her mind up definitely about anything.

She lived on a well-run
farm. She was one of a couple of dozen horses tended to by three stable hands.
She was nearly five years old, only now entering her full maturity. Had she
been either younger, or older, things might well have gone quite differently.

On this day one of the
stable hands—all male—had put her on a long lead for exercise,
slipping the light bit into her mouth as usual before she could form the
thought to protest.

Like all the horses on the
ranch, The Mare was exercised regularly to keep her healthy. This meant she was
either ridden, or placed on a lead and cantered around the corral enough to
work up a bit of a sweat.

The stable hands had
switched to using a lead exclusively during her recent pregnancy so that they
wouldn't have to cinch the saddle too tightly against her expanding belly,
which tended to upset her during that time. They'd stuck with it afterwards
when a sudden influx of additional horses led to correspondingly more work to
be done with less time available for each animal. A lead was quicker and
easier.

The Mare preferred it
this way as well, finding a lead highly desirable over having a man on her
back. Having had sufficient experience with it both ways, there were several things
she didn't like about having a person actually ride her—although her
views on this matter were never taken into account. She would be ridden any
time someone decided to ride her and could really do nothing to prevent it.
When she was on a lead there was no unwanted weight on her back. While she
didn't mind the weight in and of itself, she always felt much freer without it.

The Mare was strong
enough to easily carry any rider, but somewhere deep in her mind she'd never
liked being taken and controlled in that manner. Although she'd never fought
being broken to bit and saddle, nor being ridden afterwards, she especially
hadn't liked being tugged around by her tender mouth, or moved onwards by
heels, spurs, or a crop put to her sides. In fact, there was no part of the
experience that she
did
like. She'd accepted it as her inescapable lot
in life, right up until her first pregnancy when she was suddenly exercised on
a lead only. That had made the pregnancy a whole lot more enjoyable for her.

It had been quite a
shock to her when she'd been so casually saddled and ridden once more after
she'd finished nursing her foal. The more she hadn't been ridden during that
time the more she hadn't wanted to ever be ridden again. In her equine mind it
had been so long since there'd been a man on her back that it had been as
though that part of her life was over. Clearly it wasn't! Yet she was too
docile and well trained to protest.

Despite the slow way her
thoughts had progressed during the time while she was still thinking at
horse-speed, The Mare had become enlightened to the idea that she didn't need
to be ridden, that there were times when she wasn't ridden. That it wasn't
necessary that she be ridden—and how much better those times were for
her. She just had no ability to do anything about it.

By the time of her third
foal she'd come to associate the sensations of being in heat, being roughly
impregnated by a stallion of someone else's choosing, her pregnancy, and her
nursing of her foal—with being left alone otherwise. Unsurprisingly, none
of those other burdens impacted her nearly as much as being regularly ridden
had.

The nursing time had
always been the best. The pregnancy was over, but she was still free from
riders. The Mare's limited mind came to associate the already pleasurable
feelings of having her teats suckled with her freedom from oppression by a
rider. These two separate feelings would eventually coalesce in her mind into a
single, much more cogent, realization: t
hat her otherwise ignored teats were
a powerful source of her pleasure.
Without such a strong connection The
Mare might have never used her new ability.

Another benefit of
exercise on a lead was that they used a much lighter exercise bit than the
normal riding bits. That mattered a lot to her.

The Mare's mouth was
especially tender, which had never been taken into consideration during her
riding or exercise. On a lead she'd soon learned to avoid most of the
unpleasant tugging on it by cantering within the limits set by the man holding
her lead. This was contrary to having a rider when she never knew what they
might have her do next. Furthermore, when on a lead there was never the threat
of being kicked in the sides to encourage her to move along. Or even
worse—spurs!

With the lead attached
the stable hand starting her trotting in a circle with him in the middle with
just a small tug. Although he also carried a light whip with more reach than
the usual crop, she'd long since learned to make sure that he never needed to
use it on her.

* * * *

There was nothing
special about today. It was simply her turn in the rotation to get some
attention. When the stable hand felt she'd had enough exercise he washed her
body with a hose, rubbing her down with a soft, well-worn towel afterwards. The
soft cloth over her body always felt nice, it being the only form of affection
she regularly received.

Although she wasn't in
season again, her teats had remained tender from her last foal and her milk
hadn't dried up completely yet. Now as the gentle cloth passed underneath her
and brushed across those still engorged nipples, an extra nudge of pleasure
leisurely made its way to her mind. This was the first time she'd felt this
without her foal present and feeding and it was accompanied by a rare new
thought for her.

The Mare was enjoying
the sensations she was receiving and wanted them to continue. Like other horses
her thoughts were all one-track and focused on whatever held her attention at
the moment. This is how an unpleasant
twitch
pinching her tender nose
could distract her while her shoes were hammered on. Now as she focused on this
half-forgotten pleasure, the stable hand continued to give very desirable extra
attention to those teats.

The warm feelings The
Mare was experiencing continued to build, along with her strong desire for more
of the same. In response the stable hand started using his hands to fondle and
gently tug and squeeze her large nipples, releasing a trickle of milk in the
process. This is something she could have never done for herself, and something
none of her handlers had ever done for her before.

The Mare didn't really
understand exactly what was happening at the moment. No stable hand had ever
treated her this way before. It was just that when she thought about her desire
for pleasure in this particular way it continued to her satisfaction.

Minutes passed,
reinforcing this new thought pattern for The Mare. She was being taught how
this way of yearning for something brought about a desired result. The longer
it went on the more The Mare learned about this new way to focus her thoughts
on her desires. Her mind felt warmer and more active than ever before, while
the stable hand, his own eyes nearly closed now, continued to fondle her
exactly as she wanted it. By now he had his hands firmly around each teat,
giving them ever-stronger squeezing tugs.

This might have
continued much longer, but a shout from one of the other hands interrupted
them.

"Hey, Rick! What's
taking you so long?"

This jerked the stable
hand back to the present. He quickly finished rubbing The Mare down before
leaving to attend to the next horse. But not before The Mare had fully learned
this first new lesson.

* * * *

That night The Mare was
unusually restless. Her mind was humming along at a pace well above anything it
had ever managed before as it replayed over and over again the pleasurable
sensations she had received earlier, and what had intensified them beyond
anything in her experience up to now. The more she did that the more she wanted
to repeat them again. And the more she thought about them the more her
previously missing-in-action intellect struggled to emerge and understand what
had happened—and how could it happen once more.

While these were more
feelings than thoughts to her at the time, The Mare did have definite likes and
dislikes. It was just that her preferences in those areas had always been
heretofore ignored by those around her. She existed to be used by others as
they saw fit and her job was to obey the whims of others. While she had yet to
see any other options for herself, she had unknowingly put her first hoof on
the path of change for her before she finally fell asleep for the night.

* * * *

The next day the farm
ran along as usual with no apparent difference from before. The Mare's thoughts
from the night before had evaporated. Her mind just wasn't yet able to hold on
to forward-looking concepts and ideas. She had a vague memory that something
pleasant had happened, but didn't really recall any of the details. The part of
her mind that felt pleasure had awakened and grown significantly yesterday in
this ability as it had been called on to process more of it than it ever had
before, had gone completely back to sleep leaving her with only a vague itch
that she didn't know how to scratch yet.

Despite her experiences
yesterday, if nothing more happened then all of what she'd accomplished would
remain quiescent and eventually atrophy within her. It would take more than one
experience, no matter how excellent, to permanently expand and retrain her
mind. Fortunately for her at least, that next experience would arrive before
the day was over.

The Mare trotted around
the corral she shared with several other mares, but it wasn't her day in the
rotation for special attention and no one was paying any heed to her. By
afternoon she'd seen a couple of other horses exercised and washed down. Seeing
this done led her to again gradually became aware of her own tender teats, and
how nice the attention had felt to them. But none of the stable hands came over
near her. Only at the end of the day did Rick pass by and slap a hand on her
rump in affection.

His touch revived all
her memories from yesterday like suddenly remembering an elusive dream. When
that combined with her excitement at seeing the attention the other horses had
received this morning Rick's eyes suddenly glazed over. Without thinking about
it he reached under her to squeeze her teat.

But it was the end of
the day and food was much more on his mind as he suddenly jerked awake again,
slapped her one more time on the ass, and headed to the bunkhouse. Even this
small attention, however, provided additional reinforcement to The Mare's new
thought patterns—and to the foreign concept of getting more of what she
wanted.

* * * *

The next day Rick came
over to sit on the fence of her corral after lunch. He liked all his charges
and lately had felt especially close to Brownie, as The Mare was known to the
humans.