Chapter 12: Pitinna's Mission
Megan, the little countryside witch, yawned around her smile.
True, her situation should have filled her with great concern. She was laying on her trim belly within a tight roll of bed sheets, head out one end, petty feet out the other. She lay across an orderly stack of similar rolls, neatly arrayed on a small railcart. And other than this cocoon of white linen, her trimly girlish body possessed not a stitch of clothing.
Her surroundings were also sinister; bare stone dripping with whatever drainage found its way four hundred feet beneath London's streets. Illumination came from flickering gaslights.
But she was sated and happy. Two days ago, she'd jumped into a pipe to escape that goofy snake. Dropping into total darkness, she'd been plucked up by some sort of tentacle, rudely stripped of her clothing and tipped headfirst into what had felt like great slurping lips. As she was ingested into the steamy pitch-black pocket, as her flesh had been coated with slimy secretions, she realized this was what it must feel like to be a manni's wanger.
Then her head started to swim; elixir! Pinned fast within the soft confines, she couldn't move as tendrils explored her young body. Her little nipples each acquired pressuring bands, her maiden's lips an exploring bulb. Above, something gently played across the soles of her feet, a maddening presence. She giggled and squealed as her blood pounded and her delights mounted, trapped and massaged, pumped and squeezed. After ages of hanging on the teeth-clenching edge of an orgasmic rush, it had been granted; how she'd shuddered within her wrappings, shivering and squealing and gasping. Afterwards, she'd rested in the gooey darkness, her head spinning from the aphrodisiacs filling the close air, her body and mind unable to resist. And so it had happened, again and again, until she lost count of her sexual seizures, until she couldn't even remember her name.
She vaguely remembered being removed from the great puckering bulb which had held her, trailing its synthetic saliva as if she were some sort of living plug-gag. Clever tubes had washed and cleaned and fed her, and then she'd been wrapped in sheets and deposited atop these rolls.
In her dreamy state, she had no complaints.
A short time later, the pretty oriental Kiyoko was lowered by a claw next to her. She, too, was wrapped tightly in linens. The girl's hair was wet, her face flushed. But her usually emotionless poise had been replaced by a small satisfied smile. Megan couldn't be sure but she believed the woman warrior had been in a bulb next to hers the entire time, suffering (if it could be termed that) the same indignities as she. And now they lay beside each other, their flesh radiating pinkish good health, their sexual zones purring from their ordeal. Megan snuggled her roll closer to her companion, comforted in the muffled contact they shared.
Eventually there came another ratcheting clatter and Olivia, similarly sated, was deposited on her other side. She blinked her gunmetal eyes as if awakening from a sordid dream.
"Did you have fun?" Megan chirped.
"Fun?" Olivia shook her head, unsure how to respond. Spread-eagled, she'd been unable to ward off Pitinna's graceful rapine. With her head locked down and her arms and legs outthrust, the MI had had its way with her, tickling and teasing, fornicating and fulfilling her. Powerless to resist, only to react, Olivia had cum and cum until she'd fallen into a semiconscious state. While she'd rested, Pitinna had hovered over her, stroking and cooing, so protective of her precious plaything. When Olivia's striking eyes fluttered in wakefulness, the drugging, the molestations and depravations began again, filling the low chamber with her warbling cries and the gentle suck of the extraction tubes..
"Well, I had a nice time," Megan answered for herself. "Maybe we can come back."
"You seem rather cheerful," the diplomat noted. "In fact, you seem hardly drugged at all. So how are you...?"
"Staying wrapped up?" The optimism slipped the tiniest bit from the witch's face. "There seem to be some sort of clockwork clasps holding the sheeting tight. You can see them on Kiyoko's bundle. Mine popped off a while ago."
"Then why aren't you...?"
"Didn't you ever experiment when you were younger? You know, dreaming that some great lady had noticed you and had ordered her maids to roll you up in blankets for her dark purposes? Well, I used to play that game - bundling myself up on the floor after everyone had gone to bed. It's nice and tight and cozy. Really, it was the only fun of that sort I ever had. And now, like then, I could easily unroll myself. But I don't." A sigh. "It's nothing more than a little girl's game."
Olivia knew well the game, typically among the first solo experiments of awakening sexual desires. She pictured sad, lonely Megan lying on the floor of her bedroom, wrapped in sheets, desperate to belong to someone, to be owned by someone.
Well, she was owned now. She'd just spent two days locked in sexual depravity and seemingly had thrived in it (Olivia had to be truthful - it had been nice). And even though Megan lay in voluntary and unsecured bondage, she was still owned by Pitinna, who was owned by Rani. It was like layers and layers of ropes.
The diplomat was pulled from her musings when a nearby speaking tube crackled. The issuing voice was feminine, calming yet firm. "Greetings, Olivia of Her Majesty's Government. Greetings, Megan, Witch of Sheepish. Greetings, Kiyoko of the White Orchid Order. I am Pitinna."
Megan frowned. "Who?"
"The Pit," Olivia hissed.
It continued. "I have chosen you for this mission to capture the human women known as Rani and Sybil. They are to be secured and given to me. They represent dangers that cannot be permitted to remain unchecked."
Megan scowled with concern. "You aren't going to..."
"I plan to keep those women as my pets. They will be treated fairly, exercised and entertained, fed and fulfilled. This way, they cannot attempt to seize my capacities as Rani has already done and Sybil had planned.
"This laundry cart will carry you into Rani's palace. Once you arrive, the clasps will release, freeing you. You can then attempt to capture these women. Once that is done, you shall free me."
Olivia silently nodded. Bundling them into the linen rolls was a good way to smuggle them inside. But Pitinna was clever; securing them in the rolls ensured they wouldn't have second thoughts. They would be forcefully transported to Rani's fortress and once there, they were truly committed. It would end either in victory or endlessly degrading servitude.
"What do we get if we succeed?" Megan asked as if bartering in a marketplace.
"If you succeed, Megan of Sheepish, I shall grant what you truly desire. I shall bind you in comforting straps and suspend you by your heels. Three woman of amorous, explorative natures will attend you, armed with feathers, ticklers and teasers. Clockwork dildos, geared to run slowly, will be settled into your womanly pockets. Soft pressure clips will be attached to your nipples. And you will hang in the midst of their attentions, unable to resist, only able to experience and react."
"And if we fail?"
"Much the same thing," Pitinna noted. "But with prolonged execution and delayed resolution."
"Oh."
The briefing now over, the cart rumbled out of Pitinna's secret garden, bearing the three women on their mission.
For a mile or more, there was little to see but the passage of endless corridor walls. Tucked between the two women, Megan could close her eyes and imagine she was at a slumber party that had gone horribly wrong. How easy to fantasize that she'd been stripped of her nightie by the other girls (girls who bore strong resemblance to her coven) and rolled into a sheet, bundled nice and tight. Olivia and Kiyoko, warm pressures on each side, had been tasked with chaperoning, an effort that had miserably failed. Now all three lay stripped and bundled, helpless, where somewhere nearby, the giggling, domineering girls played simple games to determine who would own whom. Rolled as they were, they would be able to offer no resistance to a tickling finger-stroke or to soft lips stealing sweet kisses. Pinned in their crisp, tight sheets, they could only await the attentions of their wicked young mistresses...
Such a nice dream.
Occasionally the cart rolled across trestles spanning great caverns. Some contained the boilers and machines needed to run this mechanized empire. Others contained sleep-boxes, each with a moaning maiden dreaming scarlet dreams.
And some of the spaces were devoted to processing.
One of them caused Olivia pause (if she'd been able to pause, laying as she was in blanket bondage on a rattling cart). A wide belt led under something that looked like a huge press. On the belt in an evenly spaced line lay naked women, strapped tightly down on their backs, feet forward, legs together, arms at their sides. Over wide leather gags, rolling eyes peered forward over wiggling toes.
The first in line was now moving forward, stopping just under the huge fearful press. Then, with an exaggerated clanking, it descended. The poor woman beneath it shook her tangled gypsy hair, watching as the thick metal base descended to squash her.
Olivia gasped in shock before seeing the trick of the thing. Yes, it looked like a huge metal press to which the line of strapped women was being fed. But actually the press's base was made up of thick foam which would warp and conform around each trapped woman. No doubt it felt like a great pressure, probably enough to compress breasts and ribs and force the last innocent gasp from their lungs. Certainly it would give the sensation of being crushed. Beneath the pressure, their bones would creak and lights would flicker behind their closed eyes. They would see their lives flash in their imagination, specifically their greatest sexual moments. This would spark a massive orgasm, one that would shudder through their supposed deaths, throwing them against the belts and the unyielding pressure.
No doubt the pressing foam would have a suction capacity, permitting it to draw off their orgasium. Once they'd been sucked dry, the plate would rattle upwards, gloriously cool air would swirl around them, and they would be borne off to their sleeping boxes, to sleep in lamblike grace.
Olivia found it strange, this passion some woman had to orgasm before a simulated death. But then again, the passions of the women of the Gai-world were diverse. A great manni writer, in the twilight of man's dominance over this world, had written how men and woman had different tastes and delights, often changing before mood and whimsy. Who could say what really was normal? Before the Gai-Shift, the logical concepts of bondage, of playful dominance and sweet submissiveness, so clearly sexual nature in balance, had been viewed as freakish. Thank goodness the world had changed for the better. It would be a sad place, indeed, if people were chastised for such tastes.
Then suddenly they rattled into a great space, and Olivia beheld wonders that swept her musings away like cobwebs before a brisk broom.
The cavern was huge, its far end almost lost to darkness, filled with a great milky-white lake. In the center, standing on a low island of rock, stood an ornate structure that Olivia recognized as a scaled down (yet equally opulent) version of the Taj Mahal, its lights flickering like gems over the calm, creamy waters. They rattled over a spindly bridge, one of many that converged on the stately structure.
Rani's palace. Clearly, she saw herself as a goddess.
Only then did Olivia notice the musky scent coming off the white waters below. She frowned as she noticed countless pipes jutting from the rock walls. White liquid trickled from them into the still waters.
And with a start, she realized that this great subterranean lake, every gallon of it, was orgasium. Here, visually before her eyes, she could behold the literal end product of a million orgasms, a few drops in isolation, a massive body in collection. Every belted-down, trussed-up, suspended-high, balled-tight woman who yielded her passions to the tireless, immoral machines added to its rolling sum. It was a cavernous sea made up by the moans and screams and cries of writhing womanhood.
Given the industrial benefits of orgasium, its ability to boost steam engine output ten-fold, it represented an enormous resource. If England could tap into this, she would become an energy-exporter. And with such a ready source, all sorts of secondary applications, previously rejected because of cost, could now be developed.
It was critical for her to report back to the crown.
But first, she would have to succeed in her mission. With gathering apprehension, she watched as they rolled through a secondary gate. Now, she was within the realm of a goddess, a domineering sexual goddess who preferred her subjects tightly bound and basely used.
10.02.10
story continues in Gai Shift - Pit 13: Rani's Palace
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