Chapter 10: Sybil's Trap
Once Sybil had been untied and everyone had enjoyed a light breakfast (not necessarily in that order) the four subterranean explorers continued on their journey. Spirits were high and teamwork solid.
"Look, Sybil," Megan pleaded, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I was all tied up, and your... well... your muffin was right under my nose. I couldn't resist."
"You could have kept tongue-in-cheek," Sybil groused back. "You flickered it inside me like a party favor."
"It was the drugs. The ones in my system, that Goldwaith elixir. I couldn't help myself. It was like I was someone else."
"Yes, someone like a nymphomaniac."
"I'd sympathize with you more, Sybil," Olivia said from behind where she walked at Kiyoko's side, "if you hadn't done the same thing to countless women when you flew as the Knightsbridge Angel. You'd spray them with elixir, getting yourself a good dose in the process, then tie them up and use them shamelessly. I've read all the accounts in the tabloids, how you would brush your wingfeathers across their roped, steaming bodies. How you would lean over them, licking and gnawing like a piglet, driving them mad. How you'd steal orgasms, one after the other, leaving your victims in roped and racked ruination. So it's hard to feel pity on you when we let Megan borrow your charms to burn off her passions."
"But, Ma'am," Megan started. "I feel so awful about..."
"If you keep this up," Olivia warned, "I shall order Kiyoko to gag you."
"It wouldn't stay," the little witch pouted.
"It did last night. Didn't you notice? You stayed bound for the entire... session."
Megan looked up, eyes flashing in wonder. "I thought Miss Kiyoko was holding the knots in place or retying them or something."
"No, Kiyoko was seeing to Sybil, fingering her so her reactions to your efforts would be true. Trust me, I watched her, closely and in detail, while I was spanking your little behind. She was using both hands on Sybil. Stoking, pinching, caressing..."
"But I ended up untied afterwards."
"After the elixir burned off. After you produced orgasium."
"But why...?"
"As near as I can figure, your magic is largely a mental process. Somehow your mind affects forces we cannot sense, directing them to untie knots and unlock locks. I'd guess the elixir affects the part of your brain controlling your magic. When you are under the influence...."
"...taking advantage of bound, naked, helpless maidens...," Sybil muttered.
"...you lose your magical abilities. Simply put, the elixir jacks up your sexual hungers yet leaves you unable to untie yourself, or anyone else."
Megan, hearing this revelation of an unknown Achilles' heel, a critical weakness in her powers, took it quite well. She masked her smile and did her best not to skip.
They passed two extraction stations over the next hour. In one, women lay on rough-hewn racks, their widespread limbs straining under the ratcheting pressures, sweat beading across their taunt bodies. They moaned in a rippling chorus, their outthrust limbs trembling. They could only roll their heads and beg the passing women for release. Megan felt concern until Olivia pointed out the tubes drawing off orgasium from trembling twats, the flashing eyes, the moans - not of pain - but of coerced pleasure. Clearly such rough play heated their passions.
In another, women hung in tight clear sacks, ones so cramped they looked like hams under cellophane. The heat of their trembling bodies turned the interiors into pressure cookers, their sweat steaming up the sacks like shower curtains. Unable to move, they could only suffer their unyielding discomforts. The respirator-gags clamped tightly over their faces supplied elixir-scented air, and small tubes penetrating the sack's bulging bellies carried off sweat and orgasium to a separator. Several of the sacks rocked in slow internal agitations as their contents found bliss in their sweaty womblike bags. Oddly, it was Kiyoko who took the greatest interest in this, pausing to look back twice before they exited the chamber. If anything, the Oriental girl was even more silent than before, seemingly haunted by the visage of heated womanflesh.
They also stopped for Sybil to tap the pneumatic tubelines, to read over the Pit's commands. Unseen by the others, her lips curled into a tiny smile as her eyes ran over the perforated cards.
After a brief lunch, they continued, Sybil in the lead, followed by Kyoko and Olivia, with Megan in the rear.
Which is why Megan was quite surprised when strong hands latched onto her shoulders from behind, lifting her into the air. Before she could cry out, a second set of hands snapped a wide cloth gag over her lips. With her dangling sandals unable to touch the floor, she found her arms gripped and pulled behind her back, to be laced neatly into a box, wrists to elbows. The binding was snug and efficient, and applied with inhuman speed. Confirmation came a second later as those same fingers, shiny and metallic, reached down around her thighs to collect her ankles. The hands blurred like a spinning drill and Megan was left blinking down at her bound and cinched feet. A long strand was left from the cinch, and first Megan thought the MI's had overestimated, but no, they simply looped that same line up and over her shoulders, then back down to her pinioned ankles. A quick pull and instantly the whimsical witch found herself in a tight balltie, knees under her chin. With care, the four-armed trussbot settled her onto the stony floor to balance upon her taunt buttocks. Megan could only watch as four trussbots, their skeletal frameworks hanging from the overhead tracking, their two sets of arms reaching out, glided towards her unaware companions.
Megan collected her thoughts and projected them. Her gag popped off. "Look out!"
Kiyoko whirled, her feet braced wide, her trim waist a pivot-point, her hair a black fan. The trussbot's shadow was falling over her but she flicked her hand out as if gesturing at the danger. Instantly, a bead-weighted sash flickered around the trussbot, snarling its four bot hands in its silky coils.
She ducked a second one and gestured; a second bot hung bound, as confused as any dominant who finds herself unexpectedly rope-trapped. A third bot grabbed up Olivia, lifting the trim middle-aged woman aloft, forcing her arms to her sides, its rope-spool whirling out line. But then Kiyoko had leapt aboard it, long legs launching around its central pole, snatching up its own rope, wrenching it around the poor bot's multiple wrists, binding them all up neatly beneath it. Tied thusly, it could only wiggle its fingers like a captured chambermaid, totally dominated by the svelte Oriental.
She was just dropping down when the last of the bots turned from Sybil to her. Twin scythes of silken belt whirled before her like a translucent shield, and the trussbot, too stupid to realize the danger, attempted to reach her. With a grim smile, she let the weighted belts whirl around the exposed wrists, binding them up with neatly effortless motions. Megan could only marvel as she simultaneously knotted each set of pinioned wrists tight, each one-handedly.
In the space of seconds, the four trussbots had been roped and scarved into immobility, impotently hanging from their ceiling-tracks as if placed in suspension by some cruel mistress. Megan, watching their wiggling struggles, felt sorry for the poor robots, so effortlessly bound by the willowy silent orchid. She thought of how she'd been bound by the same woman the night prior and felt a deep flush play over her girlish cheeks. If only there had been a mirror...
Olivia, too, looked up from where her lanky body had fallen, taking in the ever-calm Kiyoko as the flower of the orient checked her captive's knots. With her, bondage was all business. Olivia remembered back to their small apartment at the Lambeth Terraces, of the occasionally nights she dared play Cho-Han against Kiyoko, and the dreadful thrill of winning. Silently, the orchid would direct her to remove all her clothing, for to an orchid, true captives lost modesty along with freedom. Then Olivia would settle on the rough matting of the "prisoner-room", to feel the first of the silk bandings take up her wrists. Her breath would shorten until she was in a state of wispy hyperventilation, feeling the delicious fear as Kiyoko's complete and clever lashings dominated her body. The Oriental always added the gag early, to save Olivia the indignity of begging as the bands grew tighter, the position more severe. And then, after an eternity of sinful sashes and knowing knots, Olivia would be left alone in her room as the tawny shadow of silent Kiyoko departed. And she knew, as she sobbed in sexual frustration at her inability to touch her tenderest places, that she was in for the long haul. Kiyoko did not believe in safewords or rest-breaks. Her captives were hers for as long as she desired.
And so Olivia looked at the struggling bots, confused in their bindings, helplessly snarled by the lithe Oriental, and felt sympathy for them, as the inward Kiyoko had none.
Megan, too, was thinking of ropes, but in a different way. She focused and her bindings dropped neatly away. She stood and smiled sadly, dusting off her jumper.
"Merciful mistresses," exclaimed Olivia, looking past her. "What is that thing?"
Megan whirled to see a long slender form, two feet thick and seemingly endless, slithered into view around a nearby corner. And slither was the operative word for it was a snake, as large as the largest Amazon anaconda, its scales gleaming in the disjointed lighting. Megan had to look close to realize that this thing was artificial, a construct. Its eyes, for one, were not beady reptilian eyes but happy toylike ones that goggled the women with cheery yet sinister intent. Its tongue flickered, tasting the femininity in the air, its huge jaw smiling in a most unsnakelike fashion.
"Megan, get back," Olivia cried. The little witch slowly backed from the threat until Olivia could reach out and yank her to safety. The snake watched them with goofy eyes, collecting its coils beneath itself, rising into the air.
Now that Megan was behind them, Olivia looked to Kiyoko. To her dismay, her Japanese companion was standing with scarves loosely grasped, her keen dark eyes blank with confusion. Facing creatures with limbs, women and mannis and even trussbots, Kiyoko could bind them at her pleasure. But this snake, this new Pit thing, she simply had no ideas. How could one bind a living rope?
"Run," shouted Olivia. The four turned and dashed up the corridor, Sybil leading. Behind them came the sound of cold-blooded pursuit, the hiss of scales over stone.
Sybil skidded to a stop at a fork. "To the left," she gestured, "Go to the left." She lightly slapped each girl as they dashed down the corridor she directed.
Megan's sandals skidded to a stop on the hard flooring, Olivia and Kiyoko behind her. "It's a dead end!"
And sure enough, it was. A blank wall faced them, featureless save for a square metal access plate bolted soundly in place.
"Where's Sybil," Megan cried, looking back to see the grim yet grinny snake slowly filling the corridor behind them, its eyes rolling from maiden to maiden, its tongue flickering like a hungry diner savoring a three-course dinner.
"Where is Sybil," Olivia echoed, her voice tight with fear yet heavy with suspicion. The snake slowly rose.
While the orchid school does not condone violence, Kiyoko gave the plate a solid kick, nearly breaking her foot.
"Oh, here, I've got it," Megan called, focusing. Instantly the four heavy bolts backed out, clattering to the floor. "I'm good with jar tops, too." The plate fell with a heavy clatter.
A pipe, slick and shiny, much like the ones new Pit arrivals were sorted into, descended into the unknown darkness. Olivia and Kiyoko exchanged a long glance, as long as they could afford given the huge snake looming overhead. It was Megan who moved first, bravely leaping past them, sliding feet first down the long tube, her skirt riding up to show her cotton bloomers. In all likelihood it lead to some grim fate, one involving being stripped of all clothing, strapped tightly down, forced to ingest aphrodisiacs before being rogued by pitiless machines until she cried out in guttural passion, screaming for the climax that would tear her erogenous zones apart. And when she climaxed, it would come in scarlet waves of gratuitous pleasure that would leave her little more than a moaning, senseless moppet, to be washed and fed and stored away in a padded box, her only future more of the same. And even against all this, the plucky girl still took her chances, sliding with keen eyes and fluttering heart into the darkness.
Olivia forced Kiyoko in next. As the white robe vanished into the darkness, she gripped the upper lip of the tube and threw her own feet in, expecting any moment to feel the enfolding grip of merciless coils. Then she was dropping down the throat of the pipe, swallowed whole into the gloom, fearful yet aroused at the thought of what might await them.
=< O >=
Sybil giggled to herself as she dashed down the other fork. She loved when she was clever. She'd predicted the left passage was a dead end, given the fact that the trussbot overhead tracks didn't bother with it. And she knew the snake would go after her companions for it was an artificial thing driven by programming, and so it would logically pursue three targets instead of one.
What she hadn't figured on was her teammates quickly escaping down a bolthole. Or that the snake, once deprived of three targets, would literally double back on itself to pursue her. Suddenly, the serpent's head shot past her on the right, arcing around to face her eye to eye. She skidded to a fearful stop. With its rolly eyes still on her the snake drifted around her as if to view her from all sides, leaving a halo of coils in its wake. She could only turn to watch its head, completely isolated within the floating bands.
"It is you," it said, startling her. Clearly it could not speak with forked tongue; the voice was coming over some interior speaker. But the voice was melodiously feminine, English clipped and correct and carefully measured. And hauntingly familiar.
She was just trying to place it when a loop of coil suddenly snapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled but could feel synthetic muscles tightening, holding her fast. To her discomfort, the head eased over her, nipped the back of her shirt, and with a quick yank tore shirt and bra away. So started was she by her exposure that she could offer little resistance as serpentine lips clamped on the back of her shorts and yanked them off, her panties as well. With a parody of a loving touch, the great head pulled away her sandals, completing her nudity.
"Let's get you settled now, shall we," the cool voice said as coils were fed into her captivity, adding to the heavy loop that gripped her. Where there had been one sinewy ring, now there were two, then three. Sybil gasped as the advancing bands frictioned across her standing nipples. She felt her crotch heat within its enclosed space as her legs were methodically buried. As the coils fed in, as she was slowly spooled up inside the muscular grip until only her head and feet protruded, the snake hovered over her, watching.
"I have delicious plans for you, darling," it told her. "I was cross with you after you'd locked me in that machine of yours, back when you were the Angel. But after you were sentenced to the Pit, I lay in bed each night and dreamed of your mocking touch and horrific devices. I hungered to reverse our roles, to see you stripped naked and strapped down, with your nipples locked up, your pussy packed and your anus plugged. I wanted to see how you would cope over the hours. And now I have you. And I have access to Lady Goldwaith's files, including the designs of that MI molestation-rack machine you used on me in the bakery basement. I'll have one built, just for you. It will be so very, very amusing."
"No... please..." Sybil begged as the coils snuggled up against her chin. The vast clutch of synthetic snakeflesh lifted her, leaving her milling toes unable to touch the floor. She was now suspended fully a tube of coils, trapped like a wiggling grub in a tight fist.
"You're still a bit headstrong," the shake chided. "We've simply got to make you a little more subservient." With that the coils tightened around the misguided ex-programmer, pressing in. Her captured heat seemed to roast her sweating flesh as if she were inside an oven. She couldn't move her head, sunk as it was within the pillowing embrace of the topmost loop; she could only grit her teeth and try to breath. Below, her toes milled in space. Another shuddering pressure wave crushed in, forcing away a moan of breath she could ill afford to lose. Stars flashed around her vision.
Suddenly she saw a moment of her past, when she was a young maiden just turned eighteen. Her mother, dominant and uncaring, would often keep her inquisitive daughter rolled in rough carpeting, belted tight. Enfolded within its harsh embrace, her naked flesh abraded to erotic tenderness, she could do little to pass the long hours save pleasure herself with gentle shiftings deliberately executed. Somehow, either by catching a whiff of womanly excitement or spotting a blush that could not be explained by constriction, her mother would realize her daughter's distraction. With this realization, a high-heeled boot would brace against her mummified form and each belt would be drawn up a further notch, locking her down all the more. And thus young Sybil would spend her long afternoons and endless nights, rolled up tight as a drum in the gloomy basement, alone and unloved.
Coils squeezed her, constricting her sweating body in their unrelenting grip.
"Momma..." she croaked. "Momma..."
"Comfy?" the snake asked tenderly. "I suppose we'll have to store you away now, for transport." Dazed, Sybil did not realize she was being lifted into the horizontal, her limp pink feet now level with her flushed face, that the snake's maw was yawning wide, its jaw automatically unhinging. She looked up and saw darkness. Slowly the coils shifted her forward. Without resistance, she was fed down the tight throat.
To the dominated Sybil, she simply exchanged one total captivity for another. It was dark and close as she slid headfirst down the greasy tube, arms still at her side. At first, the passage had been fairly smooth but her sensitive flesh began to detect the passage of tiny nubs which caressed her passing flesh like indecent fingertips.
After the ruthless constriction she'd endured, she gasped the steamy air of the snake's interior, her voice rasping in the darkness. At first she thought it was her deprivation that made the air taste so sweet and her head spin. Then she recognized it - from her time as the Knightsbridge Angel! It was Goldwaith elixir in aerosol form!
As she slid deeper into total darkness, her passions mounting, the nubs that troubled her from all sides were gradually replaced with cilia. She shivered as each one passed slowly along her body, trailing into her crevices, toying across her sweaty flesh. Her breath was coming quickly now, an excited bark, echoing in the sweltering stygian darkness. A cilia played across her nipple and she cried out, trying to bring up her hands to protect herself, but they were jammed down along her flanks. Three of the teasers curled, with sinister randomness, through her twat, trailing off with sticky maidenly juices. She tried to kick in frustration but the snake's muscles had contracted the tube around her legs, the tiny tentacles licking around the edges of her feet, behind her knees, against every sensitive spot. "Please!" she cried, a long wail that echoed around her. "Please! I can't stand this!"
Then the artificial muscles around her pinched her off, holding her in a tiny compartment. The cilia pressed in from all sides, daring her to move or shift, her flesh tingling at their touch. With every gasp, more elixir as added to her bloodstream, forcing her nipples to expand and her pussy to weep. She fought down an urge to throw herself at her tormenting cocoon, knowing it would drive her towards irresolvable madness. She had to keep a clear head against this rising lust.
With her flesh trembling, she sobbed in the darkness at her sins. Yes, she'd tipped the Pit off to their presence. Yes, she'd wanted her three companions to find themselves in precisely the same terrible place she now found herself packed into. Once they'd been carried off, she would have been able to continue on her original plan, to try to hack the Pit and figure out if it could be controlled. If such a playground could be directed, she would find heaven on earth. She could bask in wondrous sensuous servicing, getting what she craved, not what the machines directed.
And laying in the belly of a vast snake, pinned and crimped and trapped, was not what she craved, not at all. She didn't dare move, not with countless ticklers rasping against her flesh, aiming directly at her psyche. She had to remain still, perfectly still...
And then the snake began to slowly slither back the way it had come, returning to its distant mistress. And midway down its long form, a bulge in its belly denoted Sybil's resting place. And as that bulge was twisted and bent with the snake's serpentine movements, frustrated screams muffled from within, the cries of a woman on the verge of sexual breakdown, oversensitized, unable to climax, trapped and doomed to this madness, and the madnesses that would follow.
20.01.10
story continues in Gai Shift - Pit 11: Pitinna's Garden
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