Chapter 14: Goddess of the Pit
Rani, Living Goddess of the Pit, Queen of a Thousand Bound Souls, Bringer of Organsmic Bliss, sat back in her silky, bejeweled finery upon her splendid dais. Her crown shimmered with rubies, a diamond glimmered from her navel. And her arms, all six of them, jangled with hoops of gold.
The three sets of arms wavered and swayed to the delicate eastern music a nearby cluster of female musicians played, sensuous and flowing. Her fingers fluttered and traced erotic patterns.
Olivia, Megan and Kiyoko could only stare and the beautiful yet alien being.
It was the diplomat who first saw how it had been done. A slender boom descended from the ceiling, fastened to Rani's back by straps which blended with what little clothing she had. This formed the mount-point for the four robotic arms which gestured and danced in living parody. Clearly the design programs of the Pit, able to create snakes and plants, were fully able to create realistic limbs as well. No doubt the boom helped support the weight of the arms and supplied them power. Likely the Pit controlled them directly, choreographing their movements to match her needs, responding as required, just as with the puppet-servants.
If one did not focus on the technology, Rani did appear to be a goddess.
At her feet lay the bound and oiled manni, fearfully looking up at her like a fisherman facing a lustful octopus in female form. Had it not been for the trio's interruption, at this very moment he likely would have found himself gracefully lifted into her total embrace, pinioned, pinched and probed by Rani's numerous arms, worked over until he was seconds from explosion. And then, with graceful and methodical practicality, she would take him inside her, gripping him in her total embrace, using him like a clockwork toy. His subjugation would be total, as it had been the two prior times she'd feasted on him.
"I had been expecting the three of you," she said with a flowing voice of confidence. "Darling Sybil was very complete in describing your abilities and objectives."
"We saw what you did to her," Olivia stated with level diplomatic tones, with what little dignity her nudity afforded.
"It was exactly what she did to me," Rani countered. "I knew she would return to the Pit. I knew Lady Goldwaith would have to send her; after myself, she was the most qualified. So I built a copy of the machine she'd placed me in, back when she was the angel, and awaited my revenge. And once my snake had regurgitated her and I had her strapped into place, I simply questioned her until she revealed all."
One of her slender arms gestured to a small Indian girl, a shy looking lass, so demure and lovely in her golden sari. Long feathers jutted from her tight black hair-bun, giving her the vague appearance of a wild American native.
"Sakujna assisted me with my inquiries. She was quite the find, a timid little servant girl to some English lady, until I discovered she was an accomplished tickler. So many complaints from the girls in the harem. Honestly, she could coax laughter out of a statue."
Sakujna nodded in introduction, her brown fingers playing with a long peacock feather as if it were an assassin's dirk.
"She tickled poor Sybil until she could hardly breath. Spread on her rack, she couldn't move as Sakujna played across her soles and flanks. She screamed and twisted, but we'd belted her in far too snuggly for it to be of any use. In the end, she was weeping out her secrets. I rewarded her, of course, by hooking up her machine and letting it run. She's been in it for days now." A cool little smile. "I am not sure if she is sane at this point."
The goddess then clapped one set of hands. "Enough of this. Attendants, we have guests. Take this manni away. Toss him to my harem and let them tussle over him. Enough music. And bring some appropriate settees for our guests."
The three intruders stepped aside as the manni, eyes rolling in tight-breathed expectation, was carried to his fate by his lustworthy bearers. The musicians retired. The only girl who remained was Sakujna, twirling her deadly little feather at her mistress's side.
"I represent Queen Lilla of England and Miss Pitinna of the Pit," Olivia stated. "Her Highness wishes you to cease and desist your mass kidnappings and sexual depravations against her subjects. Miss Pitinna seeks relief from your bondage. You cannot continue tormenting so many women."
"Pitinna," Rani drolled. "Such an innocent sentient. So easy to trick. I've got her locked in that little garden of hers, as locked as if I'd roped her into a ball and padlocked her into a steamer truck. Somewhere in my MI machines, known only to me, I have a punch card that holds her in my captivity. Physically I've sealed her off as well, but somehow you reached her anyway. Of no matter. She is mine to tease and molest as I please. I can send her data feedback and set her to quivering. I can send her orgasium output levels and make her moan. But every time she gets close to a full data reset, her equivalent of a climax, I cut her off and leave her in the dark. How unfortunate that you three were able to fall into her clutches and provide her relief. Now I shall have to start her training all over again."
"All she wants is for you to love her," Megan blurted. "She just wants you to treat her nice and give her a little pleasure, you meanie."
"And I gain pleasure from keeping her trussed and deprived. That is what gives me a Nirvanic glow. Since I came to this cold land, everyone used me to their own advantage. Sybil tormented me when she could. The laboratory girls always sought my captivity - how frantically I dodged them. Nobody ever granted my desires and submitted to my appetites. Nobody ever allowed me to dominate them. Even Lady Goldwaith - she always tied me up and played with me for hours. How cruel she was."
"Did she ever invite you to her rooms and not tie you," Olivia asked, playing off the countless rumors she'd heard concerning the Royal Scientist.
Rani blinked at that. "Yes. Many times. It confused me. She did not seem to have any reason behind the summons."
"And were there coils of ropes on a nearby table? A ballgag, perhaps? All laying there, neat and tidy and ready."
"Yes. I had fears they were for me."
"They were," Olivia said sadly. "It was a hint for you to tie her up, a signal you failed to read. Had you picked up a rope, Petunia would have fluttered. Had you advanced on her, she would have retreated into a corner, trapped and flustered. A few quick turns of ropes around her wrists and she would have been yours. Then you could have tied her completely up at your leisure, however you wished, in a chair, across a bed, on the floor. She would have wiggled and moaned and begged, but she would have been yours, for hours, for an entire night, perhaps even a weekend. She would have been your carnal slave. And in the end, when you were both exhausted, nothing would have been said of it."
"You lie!"
"Lady Goldwaith is as honorable as she is amorous. While she likes to be in control, she also craves submission as much as you do dominance."
Rani's green eyes flashed. "It matters not." Actually, it did, and she wasn't fooling anyone. "Here are your settees. Let us see you comfortably settled."
Several demure puppet girls pushed three large circular pieces of furniture into the room. They were upholstered in black leather with an X-shaped depression in their centers, the size and shape of a spread-eagled female torso. Equidistant around the rim, golden manacles yawned, hungry for wrist or ankle.
And then Olivia knew. Again, diplomacy had failed. As it had in Greater Japan and in the subterranean garden, the person she had faced desired not agreement or understanding, but her captivity.
A second later, two dozen puppet girls whirled down from the ceiling where they'd crept into place in the darkness, supported like spiders from their wires. Two landed near Megan, three around Olivia. The remainder dropped around Kiyoko for she was the most dangerous member. Beneath Sakujna's feather, Sybil had been very specific about this.
Olivia tried to push past the exotic woman surrounding her, to help her outnumbered partner, yet warm brown fingers locked on her arms, a girl to each. The third, her face narrowed in sexy glee, hooked down to fetch up her knees, lifting her up, her hips brushing inside Olivia's thighs in a parody of intercourse. The diplomat wiggled and demanded to be freed but of course she was ignored. Laughing gaily, her three attendants dropped her neatly onto one of the cushioned platforms, its cool surface sucking her heated naked flesh into its concavities. The girl who'd held her legs trailed her fingertips wickedly along Olivia's thigh, knee and shin in catlike play, catching her ankle and snapping the manacle around it. A second later, the other ankle was also locked down. As her hands were locked over her head, the girl before her grinned down and ran a long brown finger along her bare foot, forcing a convulsion, a promise for what was to come. Olivia threw herself once at the bonds holding her spread upon her padded platform, then gave up in hopelessness.
Megan, seen as the lesser threat, was quickly latched onto by two Indians. She twisted her shoulders, squealed, then remembered who she was and focused. A moment later her assailant's fingers flew open from her forearms, pried away by invisible forces. Before she could take advantage of the freedom, Sakujna strode quickly over, a pungent rag gripped in her hand. She stepped close to the naked little witch, looping one arm around the small of her back, forcing her backwards as if they were dancing the tango. The other hand clamped the rag over the young woman's face. Megan tried to struggle, tried to focus, tried to push the dominant eastern woman away. But Sakujna simply held her as if she were forcing medicine into an unruly child, the rag still clamped firmly. A few breaths later, Megan stopped struggling, her back arching deeper, her pert breasts jutted higher, her nipples rising. Her fingers gripped the air blindly.
The two woman who'd originally grabbed her locked onto her again and this time, instead of protesting, she moaned, her face angelic. With ease, she was lifted up and dumped onto her own circular bed where she helpfully settled her wrists and ankles into the waiting clamps. Drugged with Goldwaith elixir, she was all too happy to allow herself to be locked down.
Kiyoko, alone, stood fiercely free, her nimble body tensed, her long legs splayed. Nine women stood between her and Rani, the remainder flanking her sides and rear. These she ignored - no consequence. Instead, she hooked two of her scarf-weapons together into one greater band which she brought into whirling motion over her head like a gyrocopter's blade. The Indians before her tensed. She might take one or two of them, but not all nine. Impossible!
She snapped her weapon out with a crackle - not at the women but at their slack puppet wires. The banding snapped around the lot of them, cinching them up, the weighted end spinning around the line, forming an impromptu lariat. With her bare feet braced wide, she hauled back on the line. The wires twanged into a bundle and her sultry opponents tumbled into a heap, an orgy of flailing legs and womanly squeals. Still gripping the strip, she swung nimbly over the struggling heaped womanflesh, landing lightly in the clear. Without a pause, she flicked her hands repeatedly at Rani, launching six blurring disks of weighted cloth.
Any normal woman would have been helpless before this assault. She would have found herself flat on her back, her arms trussed neatly to her sides, her legs banded up. Before she could even realize what had happened, Kiyoko's neat foot would press into her chest, pinning her down, a clear display of dominance. Then she would be flipped over, face indignantly pressed into the floor, and the spin-twist ends would be retied into true knots. With hair hanging in her eyes, this hypothetical victim could only lay in helplessness, sensing Kiyoko's slender fingers making everything nice and tight, wondering what plans were forming behind those inscrutable oriental eyes.
But not Rani.
She had time to toss a smirk. Then her four artificial arms, controlled directly by the MI with its literally lightning-fast reflexes, flashed out. Six blurs. And then Rani was standing there, smiling sweet as honey, while her fingers opened and the intercepted sheet-strips dropped to the ground.
Kiyoko did not blanch, gape, groan, or display any other sign. She leapt, her slender body arching through the air, her long black hair fanned out behind her. Her sensei had trained her in hand-to-hand arts, the prelude to binding. If she could close...
Rani hardly moved but a moment later the boom was flexing slightly under the momentumed weight, her four enhanced arms spread wide.
Kiyoko hung in her mechanical grasp, arms wide above, feet wide below, wrists and ankles manacled by steel-strong fingers. The orchid threw the hair out of her eyes, twisted her tawny naked body one way, the other, then hung in helpless defeat.
Rani, with her natural arms crossed before her, smiled up at her opponent panting at arm's length.
"So strong," she said, her eyes appraising her captive. "So beautiful. So delicate." She let a natural arm reach out, gently cupping a breast. Kiyoko turned her head away. A finger traced the line of her slender neck, the other worrying a nipple, all while Kiyoko hung like some virgin offering.
Rani took her time, slowly tracing the line of the narrow ribs, the convexity of strong thighs, the approach to her silky sex. She hooked a finger into the crotch before her, tasting it like an attentive chef. A swelling nipple was pinched. A firm buttock was squeezed like a toy. Around them, the Indian maidens stood beneath their drooping strings and watched as Kiyoko was slowly felt up, shuddering as Rani lazily examined her proud body. Likely half the onlookers wished they shared Kiyoko's predicament, the goddess/mistress exploring their every secret. The other half wished simply for six arms.
Kiyoko's head lulled back, eyes closed, mouth clamped, attempting to resist reacting to Rani's finger-tracings. But there was really no resistance possible, not when pinioned opened and exposed to the Indian's point-blank caresses. If it continued, Kiyoko would be shamed by a disgraceful climax at the hands of an enemy, a stain upon her honor. She shook her head in desperate frustration as her traitorous passions mounted.
But this was not in Rani's plan, not yet. She looked over the woman suspended in her augmented grip, smelling the musk on her fingers, touching the thrusting nipples, sensing the passions that were swelling beneath the flesh before her. She broke from her caresses, crossing her arms in a gesture of finality. Then, as if strolling through a park, she walked slowly across the carpeted floor, the orchid still suspended before her like a limp sail. With gentle firmness, she settled her victim into her own dais, clapping the manacles in place. Kiyoko groaned as she twisted her bonds, feeling her body sink into the leather trenching. She was trapped, totally and inescapably.
Rani stepped back to gain a better view of her three captives. Kiyoko, cooling towards expressionless calm, her face set. Olivia, straining helplessly at her manacles, her expression spilling anger at this violation of diplomacy. And Megan, her face soppy and sweet, drifting in her elixir dreams, unable to free herself from her manacles or her passions.
"Handmaidens," commanded Rani. "Depart the room. No, not you, Sakujna. You remain here with me."
The compact Indian servant girl bowed, the feathers in her hair wavering at the motion.
21.02.10
story continues in Gai Shift - Pit 15: Invasion Plans
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