0 comments/ 30244 views/ 6 favorites The Pink Ch. 1 By: AnonOne Eric looked down at the brown-speckled pill in the palm of his hand with guilty indecision. The "vitamin" was one of the last dozen or so that he had. He started to pick the herbal supplement up from his palm and then hesitated as he stared at his hands. He felt his body tremble slightly with the small step of betrayal he was about to take. These were the same hands that just moments ago had been sliding along the smooth skin of his mistress's writhing body. These fingers had been interwoven with hers as they had made love in a rush of fantastic desire. Their bodies had been entwined in a complicated maze of arms and legs. They had lost themselves in a thrusting embrace of unbridled passion. The fact that their tryst was a forbidden love that broke new protocols and old taboos had made the experience even that more delicious. As Eric continued to look at the little pill he licked his lips briefly and could taste her lust on his still wet lips. He shrugged off the guilt with a dedication to gender survival and quickly swallowed the pill. He cracked his knuckles and sat down at the computer in Lady Shann's well appointed den. He booted up the computer and looked about the room reflecting on the masculinity of the leather and oak. He chuckled remember that the word masculine had been struck from most orthodox dictionaries over two years ago. It helped him with his struggle when he thought of the dictionary. Eric knew he was a good "muppy" and felt really bad about what he was about to do, but it had to be done. "I can barely remember what life was like before the revolution. My vaguest memory is of the jokes I once heard about how PMS would have been cured a century ago if men had to experience it. PMS was cured two years ago, not because men had to experience it, but because women have seized control of every facet of society, including medicine." Eric's fingers stumbled across the keyboard. He was out of practice. He counted himself lucky that he could even remember how to boot the computer up, much less sign onto the net and hide his manifesto in an encrypted HTML code. He became angry with his dulled mind and clumsy fingers. He knew it would take time for the pill to counteract the effects of the "PINK," but he also knew time was short. He could feel his nerves and muscles protest this act of rebellion. His hands seemed to think that they were far more suited to bringing Lady Shann pleasure. They seemed to ache to touch her; to roll about the soft rolling hills and valleys of her small, tender, round body. He had been her "houseboy" since the revolution. He had secured this position months ago when she had discovered that he was highly trained in Tantric and Shiatsu massage. He had always brought her great satisfaction and relaxation during their sessions. Of course her bedchamber slave, Blayless, had always enjoyed the true effects of his ministrations, until this afternoon. Before today, Eric's skilled fingers would coax Lady Shann to the brink of bliss and then she would dismiss him and summon her bedchamber slave who appeared to be carved out of Onxy by Micheangelo himself. Today had been quite different, and Eric could not help but to wonder if her humiliation of the ebony Adonis at dinner was because she had discovered a new toy for her bedroom. He leaned back in the chair and looked at the words on the screen. He wondered how much of this innate desire to please her was artificial and how much of it was deep seated in his soul from a far earlier time, when he had known her in a totally different context. Thanks to the numbing effects of the "PINK," he could not really be sure. Eric heard some laughter coming from upstairs. It reminded him of the urgency of his mission and he went back to work, his fingers moving a little more smoothly. "The Eugenic war had occurred four years ago. It seems odd that it is even called a war. It lasted less than the blink of an eye. The entire superstructure of society had been overturned when a radical feminist group known only as Amazon 6, had unleashed an unholy biological and genetic war. While most people would agree that women deserved equal treatment and fairness, I do not think anyone, with the possible exception of radical feminist groups such as Amazon 6, would have wished this on our world. I even recall that on Pink Tuesday (this is what the women chose to call it and when they use this term it is always said with knowing smiles and giggles, but no man has yet to understand the private joke) I had been eating lunch with a few of the lady teachers I work with and we had been discussing the television show Seventh Heaven. The female characters on that show had been involved in political action for the horrible treatment of women in Afghanistan. Women in that country were treated worse than animals. Now worldwide, men have become pets for women. Men are forced to please them and serve them in every way imaginable. What is ironic, a few weeks before "Pink Tuesday," most of the population had been worried about something called Y2K. No one saw this ironic twist of fate coming." Eric leaned back into the leather of Lady Shann's plush desk chair. It smelled faintly of her. The Lady's scent was imprinted on him at a deep level. So was her taste. It caused the memories of the afternoon to race back to him. He had brought so much pleasure to her with his skilled touch during the massage that he had begun to smell it rising from her loins. He had tried his best to ignore her writhing thighs and the fantasy images of thrusting his shaven head into her lap and clamping his lips on the excited folds of her flesh. His tongue had tingled with the anticipation of dipping into the very center of her essence and sampling her sweetness. In the midst of his lurid thoughts a very powerful invasion entered his thoughts: It was not his place. He had shook the visions from his body several times and had tried to focus on massaging her. His hands tried to roll along her twisting body, but he found no safe place. She was fully aroused beneath his gently squeezing hands. She rolled slightly and the towel slipped from her ample breasts. The buds of her nipples were fully erect and she was breathing in quick little shudders. He had carefully replaced the towel and tried to move down her knees and shins to her feet. It had been too late. Pleasuring her with his gripping and swirling fingers had caused him to also become lost in the intoxicating orgasmic joy that seemed to splash about the bed chamber. He had hid his pleasure from her as best as he could, until, in the throes of her passion, she had reached for him. Her eyes had grown wide when she touched him as a lover for the first time. Eric had gazed into her eyes waiting for either instruction or invitation. He tried to read her expression and found a confused mixture of surprise, need, desire, and hunger. She seemed to look slightly worried about losing her self-control in the presence of her house slave, but her arousal quickly asserted itself over protocol. He felt her fingers wrap around his own excitement in rather decisive, but curious motive. He closed his eyes as she stroked him, a rush of lust swirled in the very depth of his soul as fantasies, from both before and after the time of the "PINK" were fulfilled. He waited, wisely, for Lady Shann was infamous for teasing and torturing her servants. It could be both foolish and fatal for a man-slave to assert himself. Women were the dominant species now, and it left a generation of men confused at all levels of existence. Remembering his confused state of arousal and shame, Eric pushed forward in the chair and resumed typing. "To this day, no one is really sure if the pathogen was airborne, or if it was in the water, but 90 seconds after the chemical had been released into the environment, women became instantly superior to men in both strength and mental capacity. It only took a few days for the incredible cultural upheaval to take place. Before long, men were seen about town serving women in every capacity. They seem to do this with dumb smiles on their faces. It was reminiscent of the old "Stepford" movies of the late seventies. The crueler of the women masters took to the fad of humiliating the male species by parading their favorite man-servants about town in collars with leashes. Often they even made the men sit at their feet and took to stroking their hair and patting their heads. Soon the term "Muppies" became trendy." Eric smiled at the word "muppy." Lady Shann had clearly lost her control under the effect of his touch. Because he had been taking the secret pills he had found for a few weeks, he felt like the old idea of a man. When Shann had wrapped her fingers around his manhood and gazed up at the length and surge of his excitement with surprise, it took every ounce of reserve to not show his true self. He had struggled to remain in a near-eunuch state despite his desire to possess her and command her as she rolled about on the bed. He had looked down at her frenzied hand on his cock and without thinking he had started to move his stiffness towards her face. He caught himself before she sensed his desire to see her gurgle and struggle to control his maleness in her mouth. It was then that he realized overcoming the "PINK" might be possible. He seemed to recall a Greek play (Lystria or something) that had themes of gender control and the battleground had been the bedroom. He cursed his dulled wits as his fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard. His diminished intelligence gave him inspiration to continue on the manifesto. "I guess I am one of the lucky ones. I am merely a domestic servant. I have meant men with worse roles. Lady Shann had actually been a co-worker of mine before the revolution. We had taught in the same high school for years. While we were not intimately close friends, we had always shared mutual respect and a casual bantering sarcasm. Even with the influence of the "PINK," at times it was easy to forget the new structure of society. It was difficult to call her by her Hyster name. Most women in this now matriarchal society refused to return to even their maiden names. Most women simply took a title based on their first name. Without exception, women everywhere became more dominant, but not all women were vicious and cruel. I suspect that Lady Shann had also remembered the past for she was actually very kind to me. Her previous husband Shawn suffered a worse fate, and I do not even want to think of the duties, Blayless now suffers through. I had in fact been eating lunch with the madam as the change occurred. Most men ended up becoming "pressed into service" by the female they were nearest to when the revolution began. Shawn had the poor misfortune of being only three feet from his mother when it all happened. Gene had just come in to the area we were eating lunch in and had been teasing the madam-I guess she got her revenge. I am not sure why I got so lucky, maybe it was because I always tried to treat my previous co-workers with respect, or maybe it was because I was always and excellent cook and homemaker for a male, either way, I am glad to be a simple "houseboy muppie." Believe me, there are worse fates." Eric had always satisfied her with his massages, but this time he had gone beyond the task. He had wondered what this event might mean. Would he be promoted from houseboy to chamber slave? What would happen to Blayless, the Lady's ebony lover? Had he performed better than Blayless? Eric felt his lap twitch as he remembered what it was like the first time he had entered Lady Shann's writhing body. She was soft and pliable on the outside, but a grinding, edgy inferno on the inside. Her body seemed to gyrate around each of his thrusts. His hands slipped under her buttocks as he rammed into her. She yelped and whimpered at each of his powerful jabs and it had drove him insane to move inside her. He could barely contain his desire to command her. He pulled out of her steamy excitement and scooted down her body when he sensed he was about to become even more aggressive and assertive as he made love to her. He pretended to be meek and submissive as he lowered himself along her body to her feet and kissed her toes in humble worship. She teased him with her feet and he sucked at her toes compliantly. She commanded him to pleasure her orally and he quickly complied, a secret plan unfolding in his mind. Eric gently spread her thighs as he kissed her ankles. He drew butterfly licks and nips along her shins and his tongue flutter over her knees. Then he dipped his face to kiss first the insides of her knees and began to dart his tongue along the insides of her soft white thighs. He brushed his nose into her wet excitement and then began to pleasure her relentlessly. He searched out her clitoris with his flickering lips and probe deeper inside her with a waggling finger. He found her G-spot almost instantly and she cooed with pure giddy joy. He gave her a number of small orgasms and was planning on taking control of her and using her desire as a weakness but she shocked him when she commanded him to roll over on his back before mounting him and using him with reckless abandon. He remembered looking up at her closed eyes and grunting face. He could see this was not intimate lovemaking, but rather lustful accommodation. He felt used, and then realized his own gender had been objectifying women since the dawn of time. That did not make it any more palatable. Spent, she rolled away from him, not caring about his satisfaction. It was impossible to read what Lady Shann was thinking. She had dismissed him without making eye contact. She rolled to one side, made a small murmuring sigh and fell into a light slumber. Eric left, and decided to take advantage of the time that she would be sleeping. "At first, people thought it was a mild side effect or an odd cosmic event that would pass in time. That was four years ago. I do not think the condition will be passing any time soon. In fact, I am beginning to wonder if things are actually continuing to spiral downward. My memory is becoming fuzzy. It seems I am becoming less intelligent as time passes. I no longer care to do the things I once found so exciting and adventurous. Learned helplessness is setting in. I care about little else than bringing satisfaction and joy to my master. I shook some of the effects off because I was lucky enough to happen upon a supply of male vitamins and potency herbs that have rejuvenated some my "old-fashioned" maleness. It was enough to also open my eyes to the diabolical reason behind the female edict that all men are to be vegetarians-a diet of meat and cheese helps reverse the effect of the chemical and genetic effects of the "Pink." My eyes also opened when I witnessed a very disturbing event. I have decided to record my thoughts just in case the next generation of men manage to discover a way to break free from this genetic yoke of oppression. I have had access to Lady Shann's new computer, because I am in charge of keeping her home spotless. When I am not preparing food for her or seeing to her daily massages, I have the freedom to roam the estate as long as I am keeping it clean and tidy. Little does she know, that while I clean the home thoroughly paying great attention to detail, I clean fast. This allows me a few precious moments to sneak in here and type my manifesto each day on this removable disk I keep hidden. My supply of vitamins is wearing out. I need to record as many of my thoughts as possible, but I need to also be careful. I shudder to think what will happen if she discovers my conspiracy. Just yesterday, she had paraded Gene Blayless in front of the other man servants. He was forced to wear lingerie and to pantomime embarrassing things. He was told to act like the old idea of a sexy woman in front of all of us. I excused myself from the scene when she made him wear a collar and beg like a dog before her feet. I was afraid that my fury, thanks to the vitamins, would cause me to slip and reveal my secret. What bothered me more than anything is that Gene seemed to like it. It was watching this horrible act that made me realize something: The chemical change did more than make women more intelligent and physically superior-it made men dumb and animal like. We are becoming simpletons. We are lower than subservient; it has made us asexual. What I find interesting is that sociological theory (something I once understood, but can now barely pronounce) has been set on its collective ear. Oppression is not merely something that is caused by immorality or injustice-it is caused by power. Power corrupts. The moment women became super intelligent and super strong-they oppressed men. All of them did. They were pathological and quick in this action. It was as if years of penned up frustration at gender inequality was unleashed instantly. Many men did not even survive "Pink Tuesday." Vast numbers of them were executed immediately. The rest of us were tortured into serving the nearest woman's every whim and impulse. It will always be burned into my brain that 90 seconds after the "Pink" hit us, I was licking the shoes of a woman co-worker, and asking what I could do for her next. No one had to talk them into taking advantage of the men around them; they did it with great gusto. I feel like that astronaut in the old sci-fi flick "Planet of the Apes." The world is topsy-turvy, and I am even becoming seduced by it. I find myself nearly trembling with pleasure to clean and slave away for Madame Froehle. On one level it disgusts me, on another I take great pride in being her slave. I will do anything just to hear my new master whisper affectionate things to me and pat me on the head. I am her favorite "muppy." I feel myself desiring to be ordered around by her, wishing that she would . . ." Eric needed to stop this. The manifesto was supposed to help liberate other men. At one level he felt a small victory in making love to Shann, but on another, he was paranoid. What if Shann had let him discover the old Viagra and male herbal supplements, just to prove her dominance of him, while also making another love slave? The doubt was distracting. He started to lose his purpose. The power of the "Pink" flowing through his veins was incredible. He had managed to hack into the FEM-NET using her code and password, but now that he thought of it, it had been rather easy. Eric looked down at the words he had just typed: "I found what I think is the secret chemical equation in the pathogen. I am trying to think of a way to reverse it, but the idea seems to beyond my reach. What is haunting, is this nagging sense that I once was smart enough to do this, but that each passing day, the answer becomes more elusive." Just below those words he saw the faint smile of a Cheshire cat appear. It had an evil grin on its face. Suddenly his juvenile encryption failed and the words vanished. He heard a number of giggles come from the other room. Then a voice: "Perhaps Eric and Blayless would like to dance for us, ladies. Should I call him out here?" To Be Continued... The Pink Ch. 2 Eric looked down at the words he had just typed: "I found what I think is the secret chemical equation in the pathogen. I am trying to think of a way to reverse it, but the idea seems to beyond my reach. What is haunting, is this nagging sense that I once was smart enough to do this, but that each passing day, the answer becomes more elusive." Just below those words he saw the faint smile of a Cheshire cat appear. It had an evil grin on its face. Suddenly his juvenile encryption failed and the words vanished. He heard a number of giggles come from the other room. Then a voice: "Perhaps Eric and Blayless would like to dance for us, ladies. Should I call him out here?" Eric decided that he would beat her answer to the punchline. He strode out through the double doors of the den into the lavish living room. He had planned to confront them, but he felt an odd tremor shiver through him. The effect of the PINK was suddenly stronger than he had ever recalled it being, He looked at the women and grew very weak. He nearly collapsed when he saw the women standing in the room. She had flaming red hair and strutted about with great confidence. He nearly feinted when he realized that Cassandra, the Red was standing before him. Her ability at breaking even the strongest muppy was known through out the land. Without thinking, he assented and before he could react she bent down and placed her big hands around his waist, her long, powerful fingers almost completely encircling his waist, and straightened, lifting him easily. She strode out the French patio doors to the pool and patio area and the entourage followed. Her long red hair flowed behind her like flames. Her green eyes glowed like emeralds. She tossed him in the water from the patio then dove in after him. While he was still dazed she swam underneath him and grabbed him from behind lifting him out of the water and then continued to lift him until she was holding him high in the air, almost at arms length above her head, but tilted forward so that she could have a full view of his little body. He was gasping for breath and struggling helplessly in her grasp, but she was more interested in another reaction of his body; the telltale bulge in his trunks of a throbbing erection. She laughed and said, "You must like being picked up by girls," and, as he reddened with embarrassment, playfully tilted him forward and down so that she could plant a light kiss on the tip of his nose. Then, holding him at arm's length again, she said, "I wonder if you're ticklish. Most little fellas are. I adore little men who are ticklish--they're such fun to play with." He started to protest, but she was already shifting her grip to that she could reach the sensitive areas of his ribs with her fore and middle fingers. As she began to tickle him, his body reacted with violent spasms of screaming laughter and giggling and he thrashed wildly about, ineffectually tearing at the probing fingers which were administering such delicious torture to his sensitive ribs. She laughed delightedly and continued to tickle him unmercifully, noticing, as she did so, that his erection was throbbing more than ever. Finally she stopped and examined him as he hung, limp from exhaustion, in her hands. "Dollbaby," she told him, "you're perfect! I'm going to just love playing with your little body!" She lowered him until his eyes were just below her own and, bringing him to her, slid one big hand down his back to cup both his buttocks and mash his pulsating erection firmly against her hard, flat stomach. Her other hand reached up behind his back and grasped the back of his head. He gasped, "What...what are you doing?" She chuckled. "Can't you guess?" she asked. "N-no!" he cried, and strained backward with all his might, struggling to move his head back away from her advancing mouth, but was unable to overcome her powerful, immobilizing grip on his head. He placed his hands against her shoulders and tried to push himself away from her, but the pressure of her forearm against his back was irresistible as she slowly and inexorably pressed him against her. In desperation he closed his mouth tightly, but a painful squeeze of his buttocks made him cry out and her lips captured his open mouth in a crushing French kiss. Although he continued to struggle, his feet thrashing about helplessly in the water almost a foot off the bottom of the pool, she slowly increased the pressure of her forearm against his back until he was barely able to breathe, while her tongue hungrily probed his mouth. Finally he went limp in her arms, and she relaxed the pressure on his back and permitted his head to fall back away from her lips. He was conscious, and his mouth was open as he desperately gulped air into his tortured lungs. Waiting until he had recovered his breath, she slid the hand holding his buttocks between his legs until his entire crotch was imprisoned in the firm grip of her big hand, her long, powerful fingers reaching out to capture and bend his throbbing erection, bringing a gasp of surprise and humiliation from his lips. Lifting him until his shoulder was securely tucked under her armpit she carried him out of the pool and into the adjoining weight room. Although she was carrying his entire weight in the palm of a single hand, she showed no sign of any real effort. Grinning down at him, she murmured, "I find most men get real docile when I carry them around like this." This comment was more directed at the ladies that followed her around than to Eric. He was still dazed, but realized he was the main act in her dog and pony show. Cassandra was known through out the region for her garden party training session. She took great pride in empowering other women by showing them how to break in a muppy. The pill that Eric had taken to lessen the effects of the Pink was wearing off, but he still mustered enough rebellion to realize how wrong this was and tried to resist. A gentle squeeze of his testicles conveyed her meaning, and immediately quelled any thoughts of resistance in his mind. In the weight room, she seated herself on a stool and placed him on her lap. He was openmouthed but speechless at this further demonstration of her incredible strength. He looked up at her--even sitting on her lap his eyes were still slightly below hers--his face a silent question. She chuckled and kisses him lightly on the nose. "Before we get serious," she told him, "Cassandra's going to show her little doll baby a few more tricks. But first, in case he's thinking about trying to run away, Cassandra's going to take off his panties--I don't think he'll want to go traipsing around in public stark naked. Besides," she added, "it's about time we freed up that little dingus of yours." He was still too exhausted to offer more than a verbal protest as she lifted him off her lap with one arm and with her other hand slid his swimming trunks down over his knees and off, exposing a penis that, although respectable in size, was now completely limp. "Hmmm," Cassandra murmured. "Well, at least you're big enough in the right places. I guess I must have been a little too rough on you in the pool. Not to worry, though. I know how to bring your little dingus back to attention when I'm ready for it." She continued to hold him on her lap, cradling him in her arms and playfully nuzzling him and fondling him, but being careful to permit him to rest until he had recovered his strength. She then set him on his feet and rose to her full height to tower over him. Red with embarrassment, he tried to cover his crotch with his hands, but Cassandra bent down, gripped him firmly by his buttocks with one big hand and turned him away from her, pointing him to a large barbell with four large weights on a short bar about a foot in length which was sitting on a mat several feet away. Indicating the barbell with her other hand, she asked, "Think little lover cookie can bring that barbell over to Cassandra?" He looked up at her in surprise, but responded to her gentle pressure on his buttocks and walked over to the barbell. Straddling the barbell with his feet, he reached down and tried to lift it, but was unable to budge it. With a puzzled look on his face, he tried again, this time straining with all his strength, with no more success than before. Finally he examined the weights and a look of frustration came over his face. "My God," he blurted, "what are you trying to do to me? This thing weighs four hundred pounds! I can't lift half that much!" a startling thought whispered in his mind that he could not lift that much even before the effects of the Pink. Cassandra feigned amused surprise. "You can't lift that little thing? And here I thought men were supposed to be the stronger sex! Why, half the girls I know wouldn't have any trouble at all getting that off the ground." Eric gave her a disgusted look. "Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, but the only reason you or any other woman can display such strength is. . ." Eric tried to lower his anger and not reveal just how much he knew about the Pink conspiracy. Cassandra arched one eyebrow at him curiously and he remained silent. The women watching the show grew silent and stared at him. Eric stammered and muttered trying to cover his gaffe. ". . .well, there isn't one girl in a million who could lift that much weight." She laughed, walked casually over to him and eased him to one side. "Well, then," she told him, "I guess I'm that one girl in a million." Smiling down at him, she reached down and grasped the barbell in the center with a single hand and with a mighty heave lifted it straight up above her head, the massive muscles of her arm and stomach tensed and bulging from the effort. Slowly she lowered the barbell to her shoulder and then heaved it up over her head again, repeating the maneuver several times. Then she lowered it to the mat, stepped over it and repeated the exercise with her other arm. "I like to equalize my workouts," she explained. "I don't want one arm too much stronger than the other." Eric was aghast and, for the first time, really frightened, and his face showed it. "My God," he thought, "this girl can lift more than twice as much with one hand as I can with two! She's 4-5 times stronger than I am! She could crush me by accident without even meaning to! I've got to get out of here before she kills me!" His body betrayed his mind and he started to tremble and, forgetting his nakedness, he put his hands up defensively and backed away from her. Cassandra saw his sudden fear with satisfaction--that was exactly the reaction she had been seeking--contorted her lovely face into an animalistic snarl, hunched and bulged her massive shoulder muscles, flexed her mighty biceps and, rising to her toes, her huge thighs and calves, and tensed her stomach muscles so they stood out in bold relief. The effect was awesome; she was a towering mass of incredible muscularity. The effect on Eric was equally devastating; he cowered in abject terror, stumbling backward as she slowly advanced toward him. Small growling sounds came from her throat as she moved forward. Eric desperately looked around for a way out, but she slowly maneuvered him into a corner of the room. He spied a large, Halogen lamp to his right, reached down and gripping it with both hands tried to lift it. It was almost too heavy for him, but with a strength borne of desperation and terror he finally managed to get it off the floor and swing it clumsily at her. She caught it easily with one hand and, with a casual twist of her wrist, tore it from his grasp, flipping it up end over end and catching it expertly and then contemptuously tossing it aside. She resumed her advance on him. He was now hopelessly trapped in a corner. Stopping directly in front of him and standing on her toes, she loomed over a foot above him. Desperation generated bravado, and Eric put up two small fists and stammered, "G-get away from me! Get away from me or I-I'll hit you!" The women who had slid into the room to watch giggled. Lady Shann watched quietly from the wall she was leaning on over at the other side of the room. Cassandra relaxed her menacing pose and almost laughed outright. She brushed her red locks from her face and put her hands on her curvaceous hips and smiled. Looking down at him with unconcealed amusement, she said, "Go ahead, little man. Give it your best shot. I won't stop you. I could very easily, but I won't." She even stooped slightly so that he could reach her chin more easily. Instead, he brought his fist back and smashed it with all his strength into her midriff, just below her navel. It was like hitting hard rubber; his small fist didn't so much as dent her rock hard stomach muscles, nor did it have any apparent effect on her as she continued to smile down at him. His face disintegrated into hopeless terror as he realized that he was incapable of hurting her. Tiny mewing and whining sounds came from his throat as she slowly and deliberately bent down and put out a huge hand, palm up, toward his groin. Realizing what she was about to do, he grabbed her wrist with both hands, but was unable to so much as slow her advance as again she captured his crotch in her hand, her long fingers curling up almost to his buttocks her thumb hooked securely around his limp penis, his testicles again securely encased in her palm. "D-don't...p-please don't" he begged her, but she was already lifting him effortlessly off the floor, her free hand holding the back of his neck for balance as she tilted him backward and slowly brought his open mouth up to hers for another, crushing French kiss. To Eric, the sensation of being held in midair in the palm of this beautiful teenage giantess while her hungry mouth relentlessly sucked his dry was too much. The women smiled and talked rapidly among themselves watching as Cassandra put on quite a show. One of them began stroking Blayless absently. He stared on as if he were a powerless eunuch, indifferent to the plight of his friend. He was held firmly in place by the power of the PINK. It was as though a screw was being turned in his loins, changing him forever into something different than he was before. He suddenly realized that he LIKED what she was doing to him. Without realizing it, his body went lax in her hands, his back arching to the pressure of her kiss, his arms rising to slip around her neck as he unconsciously surrendered himself to her. His reaction did not go unnoticed. With a low, triumphant chuckle, her lips released his, and, still holding his weight in the palm of one hand which firmly encased his crotch--and his now throbbing penis which was straining against the restraint of her hand to come erect--she carried him to a heavy mat in the middle of the weight room. "One might say, lover, that I have you well in hand," she laughed. The other women smiled and chuckled. Lady Shann remained impassive. "And if you think you like this, wait until you see what I'm going to do to you next! But first, I think I'm going to have to teach you a little lesson for trying to hit me with that lamp." Cassandra brushed her flaming red hair back and then grabbed a hold of him yet again. She set him on his feet and then proceeded to put him through a series of wrestling holds, beginning with a bear hug lift off the floor with just enough pressure to show him how easily she could crush his chest, followed by a headlock and then a full nelson, after which she lifted him onto her broad shoulders for a dizzying airplane spin. He was as helpless as a rag doll in her hands and he knew it. He offered no resistance as she slid him off her shoulders and, holding him upside down with his face held tightly against her, down her body until his face was buried in her crotch, held securely in place by the pressure of her thighs. Holding him there for only a few seconds, she told him, "This is one way you can give me a thrill, lover, but I've got lots of others, and you're going to learn them all!" The women seemed to lean in and take notes as they watched Cassandra break Eric. They smiled and nodded as she demonstrated how easy it was to make a wild stallion into a gelding. Several of the women passed Blayless around so that they could practice the techniques. Lady Shann continued to stare at the scene impassively. Cassandra took him down to the mat, shifting her thighs into a head scissors and then working her legs down to his waist to encase him in a body scissors, applying just enough pressure to demonstrate the futility of resistance. Finally, when she had him completely exhausted, she put him on his back, encased both his wrists in the powerful grip of her right hand and, holding his arms fully extended above his head, settled down on one hip beside him, trapping his legs between the massive muscularity of her mighty thighs. Held in this way, he was unable to do more than wiggle helplessly in her grip, while her left hand was free to explore his naked body at will. She chuckled as, after a few momentary struggles, he relaxed. Cupping his chin with her left hand, she forced him to look up at her. "That's right, lover," she said approvingly, "you're finally learning how silly it is to try to resist me, that I can do anything I want to with your soft little body. Now you're about to learn something else--namely, that I can make your soft little body do just about anything I want it to." Cassandra smiled down at him and tossed her red tresses over her shoulder triumphantly. Her green eyes flashed like the fire of goblins. He looked up at her, frightened, and then began to buck and squirm, laughing and giggling uncontrollably as her free hand began to travel over his body, her fingers lightly tickling his armpit and then running deliciously down his side and over to his stomach. For what seemed an eternity she toyed with him, first tickling him, then subjecting him to mild discomfort by squeezing a buttock or a nipple on his chest and then arousing him by fondling him intimately, gently massaging his testicles and his inner thighs and finally his penis itself, only to resume tickling and carry him through cycle once again. His body was her personal playground, reacting exactly as she wished to the delicious torture she was inflicting on him. Finally, she leaned down to engulf his mouth with her own in a crushing French kiss, as she whispered, "Time to get down to business, lover." His eyes widened with horror as she took his penis firmly in her free hand and began to masturbate him, and he gasped, "N--no, please, not that!" But she gave a low chuckle and continued to massage him, and his whining protests became moans of excitement as she brought him to the brink of orgasm before gripping his penis tightly and pressing her thumb down over its tip to prevent him from climaxing. The desire ebbed from his loins, his penis went limp in her hand, and his moans became a sob of disappointment, and then a gasp of amazement as she resumed massaging him to bring the pangs of desire flooding back through his body. "Wha--what are you doing to me?" he sobbed. She leaned over him and began to nibble on his ear and neck as she continued to work his penis with her free hand, murmuring, "Can't you guess? But don't worry, baby, when I finally do let you come, it'll be the best you've ever had." Her words hit him like a blow to his stomach. When she let him come...She was not only getting ready to rape him, but she was showing him and the women in the room how easily she could control his body in the process. And then his mind was submerged in desire as she again brought him to the brink of rapture only to shut him down again. By this time the tears were running down his cheeks and he was crying like a baby, "N--no, please! Don't do this to me!" But she was already masturbating him again, this time bringing him quickly to full arousal before slipping out of her leather outfit and settling over him, the soft folds of her womanhood enveloping his penis as she took him inside her. The Pink Ch. 2 By all rights he should have exploded in her then and there, but somehow she manipulated his body to prevent him from climaxing. Now it was her turn to writhe in ecstasy as her body worked up and down on him, reaching one plateau of pleasure and then another as step by step she approached the pinnacle of passion. Then she climaxed, the folds of her womanhood convulsing over his penis as she took him with her, carrying him to heights of ecstasy that flooded his entire body with an intensity that he had never known before and held him there for what seemed forever. He was dimly aware of her gasping cries above him that were all but drowned in his own, and then it was over, and he was lying supinely beneath her, enveloped in her body as she milked the last drop of pleasure from his body. Finally she was finished, and, looking down at him and taking his head in both hands to kiss him warmly, she whispered, "That was great, baby! I think I may just keep you, after all. How was it for you?" He could barely talk. "Cassandra, I..." He looked over to the other side of the room past the other women and fixed his eyes on his owner, Lady Shann. "I belong to. . ." "You belong to me now, little muppy." Eric started to protest, his eyes pleading with Lady Shann. Cassandra cut him off with a crushing French kiss, and he felt her hand slide between his thighs to again cup his crotch firmly in her palm. "Never mind, baby," she whispered. "All I have to do is look at you to know how it was for you and that you belong to me, now." "W--what?" She chuckled. "You heard me. You're mine, now. I've taken your little body and made it a part of mine. You belong to me, my little playtoy, for as long as I want you, which, if you keep performing the way you did just now, may be for a very long time." A slight tightening of her fingers around his testicles emphasized the point, and then she stood up, put her lower bikini back on, and reached down to gather him up in her arms, holding his small body against her tightly. "I'm taking you home with me. From now on you'll work at my estate as my assistant--we can use some bookkeeping help, and you'd be perfect for that. And we'll have a place set up in the back so that you'll be instantly available to me whenever I want your little body. Who knows? I might even decide to keep you permanently." He squirmed helplessly against her. "Cassandra, please, I..." She gave a low laugh and, pressing him against her with enough force to take his breath away, raised his lips to engulf them with her own, while her hands gently caressed him until his budding erection told her that he was, indeed, hers. Looking down into his eyes as he lay cradled in her powerful arms, she said, "Put your arms around my neck." Almost without thinking, he did so. It was his final gesture of surrender, and, with a triumphant laugh, she carried him past the women, pausing to nod at Lady Shann, then out of the weight room, past the pool, and into the house as the entourage followed. Lady Shann seemed as if she were about to say something, but simply followed with the others. To Be Continued...