Here is Installment 5 of my free erotic sci-fi adventure.
Enjoy and don't forget to leave me some comments.
Note it is unedited, so any snafus are entirely mine.
Mikala’s Tiny Tease.
Evac from Lusty Seven
By Mikala Ash
© 2007
A Sci-Fi erotic serial for the readers of Mikala’s Missives.
Installment Five
I awoke to butterfly wings caressing my naked flesh. My battledress was gone and I was lying on a warm, oily surface that undulated beneath me like a live thing. The only sound was a faint murmuring, a soothing whisper that accompanied the breathless lips that brushed my neck.
The hard nubs of my nipples ached, longing for a touch. The occasional breeze, stirred by some unseen movement above me, set them alight with throbbing desire. My skin shivered with each contact of the smooth dry lips and I imagined the fine hairs of my arms standing erect like a forest of cilia.
The juncture of my thighs was wet with desire and my clit throbbed with the beat of my heart. My stomach felt hollow and a perverse thought hammered at my brain. I wanted a cock inside me to fill the desperate void; a hard throbbing cock that would batter my cunt with unremitting thrusts of primal lust.
I struggled to open my eyes but the lids were heavy, so heavy. My arm wouldn’t lift when the rational part of my brain, that tiny corner so far unaffected by the flux’s sensual caresses, sent commands to brush away the insistent lips. My arms lay there like pipes of lead, the muscles dead but the flesh singing. Curious, I thought. My nerves are alive with sensation, but I can control nothing.
I remembered the wraith attack. My last conscious act had been kicking Weapons Specialist Robson before he could pull the trigger of the pulse rifle that he held to the Colonel’s head.
Mental note: the hypnotic influence of the flux is most potent when subjective levels of fear are at their maximum.
I replayed the scene. The wraith had me on the ground, its imaginary bulk upon me, smothering me like a heavy bear. I struggled against its malignant intent. When I looked into his slate gray eyes my futile resistance collapsed and I opened my thighs to the phantom’s knees. It was my Colonel who looked down at me, his luscious lips smiling; the scar on his cheek a livid white.
Robson was about to kill my lover and instinctively I lashed out. The marine cursed and fell. The wraiths pounced.
I saved the wraith! My rational mind screamed the accusation even as I moaned under the apparition’s gentle caress.
I am suddenly drawn back to the here and now, though that is surely a relative term. On both sides of my throat, finger tips graze the flesh, trailing down to my straining breasts. I shudder in anticipation. My nipples are burning and I inflate my chest hoping those fingers will end the agony. Cruelly they skirt the swell of my breasts, down my quivering flanks, into the dip of my waist and then over the flare of my hips. Behind those fingers my skin is a trail of liquid fire.
The agony of expectation releases a rush of juice in my waiting cunt. Instead of quenching my inflamed desire, the molten heat inside me adds to the furnace. My muscles are screaming to move. I want to writhe, to squeeze my thighs together, to curl into a ball, anything to end the agony of wanting something I cannot have.
The fingers inch their way towards my inner thighs. I want to open my legs to them so my clit can invite a touch but I cannot move. Possessing a power I no longer have, the fingers dig into my inner flesh and part my legs.
The cool air fans my dampness and in my imagination I see the Colonel’s elegant fingers glide over my sweating skin, moving inexorably towards my pussy lips. My sex is waiting, engorged with blood, pulsing with desperate longing.
And then there are lips encircling my nipples whose need, as I focused on my cunt, had become, like a toothache, a dull presence in the back of my thoughts. But now, the faux pressure of the wraith’s lips sent spasms of electric sensation through my chest.
Two sets of lips!
Instead of assuaging the agony, those lips and… yes, I can feel the tip of a tongue, no, two tongues now, flicking the very apex of my hard nubs, have actually increased the pain. I fear, nonsensically, that my nipples will explode.
The fingers have crept closer to my inner lips and again my awareness switches from my nipples to my pussy. My cunt is awash with my juice, the air a sultry miasma of sex. I want to thrust my hips forward to meet those advancing fingers, but I am still an immobile lump.
I moan involuntarily and a shudder sweeps through me. I try to speak but my vocal chords are frozen still. Curiously I have no idea what I intended to say.
Both sets of fingers are working in concert now, peeling open my outer lips sliding over the dewy flesh with ease and confidence.
I groan from deep within. The sound forces itself past my useless vocal chords through my throat and between my immobile lips.
The fingers push inward, knuckle deep inside the liquid pool my cunt has become. Their fingers slide against each other as they fight to find that spot within me that will send me into oblivion.
One finds it, rasps against the upper wall. I scream, soundlessly, because to really scream I’d have to be able to open my mouth.
I am falling as if the surface on which I lie is spinning. It is like a whirlpool and I am being drawn within its hungry vortex.
Inside me the fingers are battling to give me the most pleasure. They plunge deeper, reversing the angle so that they can fit even more fingers. My cunt is full, overflowing with juice and fingers.
A great spasm rips through my helpless body. I convulse in sheer ecstasy. My body is shuddering uncontrollably, not that I want it to stop, for the singularity of the whirlpool’s depths has strangely reversed itself and ejected me like some coral spore so that now I am soaring on the crest of a wave that will surely take me to heaven.
I am dying, I think.
The lips and tongues slide from my nipples up along my neck to my mouth. They force my lips open and the tongues enter me. I moan into their mouths and a crystalline explosion sends shards of actinic light to the very center of my being; opening me up like a cadaver on a spinning slab.
Mental note; the collective unconscious has an obsession with the desire for sex and the fear of death, our two most powerful motivators.
And suddenly they are gone. The tongues and fingers have left me and I am drifting downward like a feather on a dying breeze. It is so comfortable and safe I could stay here for the rest of eternity.
But it doesn’t last. I’m back on solid ground. I can feel it pressing into the flesh of my back. My eye lids fluttered open and I saw a strange fluctuating scene, like looking out on a mountain vista through thick glass with rivulets of rain distorting the images into wavy incoherence.
The Colonel was gazing down at me, his expression one of subdued excitement. Beside him is Weapon Specialist Robson, he is a little sad and I want to say sorry for kicking him in the knee. Behind him is beautiful Katja, naked as usual.
“Why?” I asked, not recognizing my dry raspy voice. “What do you want?”
They gaze dumbly back at me.
I know they are wraiths, products of my flux enslaved amygdala. How the flux, the bio-chemical manifestation of this strange world’s libidinal field works on the human mind is a mystery and, most regrettably, my mission. I’m the one responsible for finding out what makes it tick. It is my failure that has allowed so many to die.
Yet I live.
Why?
What does it want?
The Colonel smiles and his lips move slowly like an out of sync movie. “Everything, my little one, everything.”
To be continued.
© 2007 Mikala Ash
