Chapter 11: The Sister with the Forward Tail
The late afternoon sun filled the jungle clearing with a warm glow, casting the grass in gold. There was no silence, just an ongoing chittering from monkeys and the squawk and flutter of exotic birds. Eden had returned to Earth.
Then a vast shadow fell over the grasses, and a thundering rumble stilled the animal's chatter. A moment later, a rope spun down into the grass. A woman, clad in a rubberized suit, slid down the line with expert dexterity, followed by another. The two moved quickly, looping its end around the stump of a long-fallen tree. This done, one of them waved, signaling their accomplishment.
A rope ladder spooled down, dropped from the gondola of the idling Unbound Pleasure. Captain Zana Hoffsteder descended with two of her crew, the captain's sky blue eyes taking in the tree line with watchful intent. Then came Chief Officer Constance Drummand, who took a slow measure of the field, alert for ambush. And finally, Lady Petunia Goldwaith, all giggles and cheery excitement, fully enjoying the adventure.
She looked to her two companions, taking a fashion-conscious evaluation of them. The good captain had swapped her usual rubber flight suit (which would quickly overheated in the tropical jungle) for a casual set of ship overalls. Petunia smiled at this; the captain with her exotic dark looks and sky blue eyes could make any costume alluring.
Constance was back to her usual police uniform, white blouse, leather skirt, and boots. Petunia sighed at this; she'd had the pleasure of seeing Constance naked only this morning, strapped down to a bunk. In her natural state, with her strong limbs and scarlet hair, she was like some sort of Viking princess. Her sharp nose and features only added to her magnetism, a magnetism that had drawn Petunia to her. Settling on the bunk next to her, she'd enjoyed singing a little lullaby to her red-haired baby, one hand clamped over the policewoman's mouth, one swirling around a hardening nipple. How delightfully cross she'd looked as Petunia had had her way with her. If only that beastly Petra had not chosen that moment to burst in. All those nasty straps, and that gag with the dripping water. Merely thinking about it made Petunia want to pee again.
She, herself, was immaculate, ready for the big adventure, her shapely torso clothed in khaki shirt and shorts, a pith helmet capping her blonde ringlets just right. She'd spend quite some time before the mirror, making sure she looked her best.
Meanwhile, an air-holed box was lowered from the cargo bay, containing the gift-boy for the jungle queen. They would trade this manni for information, specifically to determine how the Gai-Shift had affected this remote tribe.
"This might be a little late in asking," Captain Zana drolled, "but do we have anyone who can speak their language?"
"I do," chirped Petunia.
"You speak an upper-Andes tribal dialect?" Constance looked at her was disbelief.
"Of course I do, Silly Connie," Petunia replied. "I learned it from a book. Took only a month." At the uncertain stares, she explained, "You see, back home I'd have my maids strip and secure me every night. One of them would hold my book, the other a small cane. The one with the book would read a word, and if I translated it correctly, I wouldn't get a crack on my tush. It was a little hard to sit at first, but eventually I got it down right. That's why I love learning new things." A giggle. "For the challenge."
"Well, you'd better start taking," the airship captain noted. "We've got company."
A small group of women slipped cautiously out of the tree line, their attention divided between the strange visitors and the massive airship overhead. They were wiry, with teak skin and loose black hair, their scantly-clad bodies adorned with earrings and necklaces of gold. Over the shoulders of most were compact bows. They moved with an easy and sensuous grace.
"Hello gals," Petunia greeted, using a common variant of their tongue. "My, aren't you just dolls! We come from afar, with gifts, yadda-yadda. Look, can we meet with your queen?"
The natives looked from one to another. Finally, the leader grunted, "Come."
Zana spoke low to one of the crewmembers at the mooring rope, "Tell Petra that regardless of what happens, the Unbound Pleasure is not to be placed in danger." The girl nodded. With that, Petunia, Constance, and Zana followed the natives into the shadowy jungle, with two airshipwomen carrying the boxed Bart51 on portage poles.
They passed through a mile or so of jungle, with the bronze amazons casting furtive glances at their strange visitors. Eventually they reached a village of clean, pleasant huts huddled in the shadow of the tall trees. Native women looked up from their various chores to behold the strange visitors.
"Oh, look," Petunia bubbled. "Isn't that cute?"
Several stakes had been driven into the ground. Against each, a naked woman had been bound. The cords holding them had been knowingly applied, pinching twats and nipples, doing as much to secure as they did to excite. Bit gags made of polished wood muffled any exhausted complaint. Petunia paused before the erotic line, studying each girl as a general inspected her soldiers. She even noted where one rope had slipped from a throbbing nipple and made to adjust it but Constance slapped her hand away.
"These are girls chosen by the queen to suffer the day's torment," the leader of the escort said. "They will hang in their bonds, enduring the casual caresses and tickles of passersby until nightfall."
"And then," asked a very curious Petunia.
"Then anyone who fancies them may cut them down and carry them off, to do upon them whatever she desires."
"Is this only open to native residents," the scientist queried. To Constance's concerned look, she replied, in English, "It's a rather involved social concept. Think of it rather like your Metropolitan police force."
Zana narrowed her eyes, looking at where one native, bound upright but with her legs cocked up behind her, suffered prolong tickling upon her pale, upturned soles. What caught her attention was not the erotic torment but the nature of the tormentor; while she shared the garb of the natives, she was clearly of European stock, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Clearly the traders that vanished every year into this region were being fully integrated into the tribe. She said as much to Petunia, who passed the translated query to the guide.
"Outsiders who are made to join our nation go through a rigorous training program," the hard woman replied. "They spend much of the next five years bound. They are forced to serve any woman who desires them. Trussed tightly, they are used as bed warmers. Bound in the manner of pigs, they clean our feet with their tongues. Corded on their knees, they gratify our pleasure holes, bringing us lengthy delight. Daily, they might be buried to their necks in the warm sands, placed in stocks for the girl-children to tickle, or bound up to hang from a branch like a banana. And after five years, they might be permitted to enter our tribe."
Petunia nodded at this and to Zana observed, "You know, I might consider retiring here."
As twilight fell, they reached the main hut, adored with coil after coil of rope. Zana ordered Bert51's box to be lowered just outside the doorway, then sent the two airwomen back to the ship. This done, the three adventurers entered, Zana and Constance now carrying the crated manni.
A large collection of women covered the floor of the hut, clearly awaiting the visitors. Here and there, non-tribal-members were bound into bundles, forced to support the buttocks of their captors. One woman in the back was being passed between three natives, who took turns settling on her face, cooing at her efforts. When she flagged, pinched nipples and tickled feet would reenergize her. Petunia wondered if it would be considered impolite to cut in. Before she could pursue this, the queen entered at the far end of the hut.
She was a tall, lanky beauty, her face wolfishly lean, her lips thick and sensuous. Thick gold loops hung from her ears, encased her neck, and looped around her limbs. Her heavy breasts gleamed in the torchlight. With a feline smile, she settled upon a ball-bound woman and gestured for the three to approach.
Petunia advanced, flanked by her two companions who carried the crate between them. As she neared, the queen bade her to sit. A moment later, two natives lugged another cruelly bundled woman forward and nestled her behind the scientist's knees. Petunia glanced down to behold a web of tight cords, naked female flesh, and a white gag sealing the lips of woman with Castilian features. The poor inductee grunted feebly. With a care, Petunia seated herself on the bundled form, feeling the ropes and warm flesh beneath her thinly shielded buttocks. She settled, then squirmed a bit, surprised at how comfortable it was. She'd have to consider employing her maids thusly back home...
Meanwhile, the queen smiled as a golden cup was produced and given to her. A servant filled it from a gold jar. Another cup was handed to Petunia. The queen smiled across to her and explained, "Before negotiations, we pour each other a refreshment, the custom of 'waters between daughters'. I see you have a canteen, from which you can furnish me a draught. Once we have completed this custom, we may commence with the purpose of your visit."
Petunia blinked at the cup she'd been handed. Then she mentally shrugged, unstopping her canteen and dispensing a liberal helping. She'd meant for its contents to be a trade good, or perhaps a gift, but if the queen wished it, so be it. With a sparkling smile, she passed over the cup of her processed elixir, the drink that filled women with unquenchable lusts that could only be fulfilled after hours of frenzied activity. If anything, it would make their discussions livelier. And besides, every gal could use a boost.
Standing behind her and to either side, Zana and Constance missed what she'd done.
The beverage the queen gave Petunia was a fruity concoction. Moments after she drank it, she felt her own pussy stir and a wondrous sense of arousal pass through her. She realized that Queeny had also felt an aphrodisiac was in order. Well, turn-about was fair play. Over the rim of her cup, Petunia watched the queen drink deeply.
"I have a gift for your majesty," Petunia explained, gesturing to the crate between her companions. "It is a thing of great value. I shall give it to you in return for a recount of what occurred to your people during the Rise of Woman, known to us as the Gai Shift."
The queen complied, explaining how in the time of their mother's mother's mothers, her people had been ruled by ones known as the 'Sisters with Forward Tails'. Life for them was nothing except abuse and servitude. And then came the change, and gradually the evil sisters faded to nothing. Now life was happy and good.
Petunia mused that life was certainly good for the queen right now. Even from here, she could see how the queen's nipples were hardening. The dark royal hand idly stroked the bound rump supporting her, causing the female supporting her to meekly moan at the attention. Her laughs were taking on a husky edge, and her eyes shimmered like stars. It was exactly the same with Petunia's maids when she forced them into her experiments with the formula.
Petunia knew she, herself, was riding a wave of boosted sensuality, thanks to the queen's own elixir. Her hand slipped down to pat the bound buttocks of her own living seat. Without thinking, her slender finger slithered into the roped crack that divided the twin orbs of tanned flesh, toying with the fleshy wetness within. From somewhere below came a muffled prayer in Spanish.
The queen's retelling of the legend settled the scientific question that Petunia had been sent to answer. The Gai Shift of 1922 had swept the world. Whatever had caused the phenomena had caused it to be universal, from the largest cities to the most isolated communities. Women across the globe had taken control of their wombs and world, and Man had become little more than a beast of burden.
Petunia had other questions, smaller ones about the tribe's day-to-day life. "May I ask," she put forward, "if you satisfy yourself on a nightly basis? In studying your people, I see that you have a slave class, and a temporary punishment class, but they don't equal the number of your people. If there are not enough snuggle-honeys to go around, what do you do?"
The queen smiled and gestured to a wall Petunia had first thought contained nothing but clubs. Then she realized what she was seeing - hundreds and hundreds of ornately carved dildos. Some of them were of great age, nearly worn smooth though desperate use by desperate women. Others were new. But the evolution of function was apparent. Things that worked well on the older models were enhanced and developed in the newer generations. Some of the later versions, shimmering and shiny in newness, took Petunia's breath away. In her heightened state, she had to grip the ropes of the captive beneath her to keep from tumbling to the floor in agitation.
One thought tickled her mind-the tribe had not seen a manni in generations. As the women no longer remembered them, they no longer conceived them. And their hand-crafted love-shafts were simply the codifications of a distant memory.
Finally the queen settled back on her suffering settee, a hungry smile wide on her sensuous lips. "I have answered your questions, golden visitor from afar. Now, what delight have you brought me."
Petunia climbed shakily to her feet, trying not to rub herself the wrong way. She gestured to the box behind her and announced, "I bring you something you do not have. Something better than all those wooden tools that adorn your wall. A treat, a delight, and a passion! Behold!"
Captain Zana Hoffsteder stood still, having noticed that Officer Drummand had been frantically giving cut-off signs to the babbling scientist. With all eyes upon her, she coughed and said, "Um, Lady Goldwaith, I think maybe we should get a better gift from the ship for her Majesty. I don't think the one here will do."
"Oh, Posh," chipped Petunia. "Open the box! They'll love it!"
Constance exchanged a wary look with Zana. "Okaaay...." With that, she clicked open the latches and flipped the lid aside. And then she and the captain raised Bert51 into view.
The airship's doctor had done a good job prepping the manni. He'd been bound with blue ribbons, trussed up like some holiday treat. Torchlight glowed across his oiled flesh. One ribbon held a wad of cloth in his mouth, gagging his useless manni comments. And a final ribbon had been looped, methodically and with cunning utility, around his swollen member, displaying his gift for all to see.
The queen leapt to her feet. "The Sister with the Forward Tail! You have brought the very devil back to us! You have brought the evil past back to us! Take them! Bind them! Make them slaves for life!"
"I knew where this was going," Constance snapped, grabbing Petunia's arm and hauling her back. "Come on, we've got to get out of here!"
They turned and ran, leaving Bert51 behind, dashing through the swarm of women who were still startled by the visage from the past (many of them not unfavorably). However, some of the guards were quick enough to get to the doorway first, blocking their exit. Petunia dropped her canteen and grabbed up one of the graven dildos from the nearby rack, her eyes wild.
"Good idea, girl," Constance shouted, grabbing a similar weapon. Zana followed suit. Petunia looked after them, confused. A weapon? She just wanted one of these cute native bang-sticks, just in case they managed to escape.
Very rarely did Constance, in her role as a police officer, have to rely on violence. Only three times (all nasty domestic disputes) had she had to use force. Still, her training did her well that day. She swung with exact sweeps, striking arms and hips (never the head. Never ever the head). At her side, Zana thrust with her own shaft, driving the guards back. And then they were piling through the portal and into the night. "Run for the ship," bellowed Hoffsteder.
There was a bad moment near the punishment stakes when two women who were unbinding a third for transport to some nocturnal glade attempted to check the fugitive's flight. Zana took one, Constance the other. There was no time for niceties, just a quick loop of cord around struggling wrists and a shove into the bushes. Petunia, watching from the sidelines, was tackled from behind by the woman who'd just been freed from the punishment stake, her legs still roped in tight coils. She struggled with the strange apparition, finally rolling free. The woman tried to grab after her, but Constance and Zana grabbed the scientist's arms and bolted down the path. From behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew.
On the trip in, while Petunia had been delighting in colorful butterflies and the hard coppery orbs of the native's exposed buttocks, Zana had been noting the trail with deliberate attention. Dashing headlong through the night, she guided them unerringly towards the airship glade, the scientist right behind her, Constance in the rear, occasionally turning to fend off a scout that got too close. Yet dark shapes crashed through the woods to either side, flanking the fleeing trio. A hundred women pursued them through the darkness, coils of ropes in their hands, cold hunger in their hearts.
The three burst into the glade. The Unbound Pleasure hung in the darkness overhead, a line of lit portholes against the cloudy night sky. At the anchoring stump, two crewmembers leapt to their feet as the captain's party burst from the foliage, a wave of natives at their back.
"Lift ship!" shouted Hoffsteder. "Lift the ship now!"
"They've got bows," Constance shouted. "Lots of them."
The airship's general quarter alarm echoed overhead. One of the crewwoman poised an axe over the cable, ready to cut the airship loose. And, distinctly, Petunia heard the queen's shrill cry from the ranks behind them.
"Their Sky Cloud! It is a giant symbol of the Sisters with Forward Tails! Train your arrows upon it!"
This settled things in the native's mind. Certainly the queen was enraged, and certainly they had hunting bows, but could they expect to actually aim their arrows at another human? Such would be unthinkable. But the Sky Cloud was not a living thing. Without guilt, they drew and released.
Zana heard the flight hum overhead. There came a patter of arrow heads ringing off the gondola, the thump of the envelope being holed, and the smash of a bridge window breaking. Faintly came Petra's cursing about 'indigenous running dog imperialist hussies' and the clatter of the supercharged engine spooling up.
Constance looked to where the rope ladder hung, a crewmember steadying it, the other still poised over the mooring line with her axe. In her heart, she knew it was still too far. Then she saw Petunia turn and look back, and saw fear cross her innocent features. Constance turned to follow her shocked gaze.
Fire pots had been produced, and living flame was being passed from arrow head to arrow head. The entire line of forest flickered with brilliant pinpoints. And then they jolted up as a hundred bows were raised towards the hydrogen-buoyant airship.
"Lift the ship now!" Zana screamed.
The axe cracked down on the line which parted with a loud snap. The girl who'd wielded it grabbed the line and hung on for dear life. Her companion wrapped her limbs around the ladder. Both were drawn into the air as the airship rose.
A hundred bowstrings hummed, launching a stream of fiery pinpoints into the air. Burning arrows rang off the airship's hull, puffed into sawdust against the props, and knocked out two more windows. But it was the dozen that jutted, still burning, in that canvas envelope that brought a scream of rage to Zana's lips.
The airship's engines bellowed, its fire quarters alarm yammering. It lifted quickly, yet Petunia could already see the small figures of women playing fire extinguishers from the windows against the flickering flames. Then came a roar of water as if an ocean had fallen from the sky, hammering hunters and hunted to the ground. Unbound Pleasure had blown her ballast tanks and climbed into the clouds like a rocket. A moment later, she was gone.
Petunia lay face down in the mud, swirling about, trying to get her bearings. There had been no explosion, so she could only assume the airship had escaped. On the other hand, they had not. Then there came a pounding of bare feet and a dozen women fell over her. Angry hands ripped her foreign clothing away. Vengeful fingers looped coil after coil of rope around their limbs, encasing them in a web of painfully tight bonds. Petunia could do nothing more than lay face down in the mud, feeling the knots hiss into place around her body.
There would be good and bad things about being a sexual slave for life, she reflected.
30.03.09
story continues in Gai-Shift 12: Bert51 to the Rescue
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