Teasing Tilly (4 page)

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Authors: Kaitlyn O'Connor

BOOK: Teasing Tilly
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Then he left.

Tilly stared at the newcomer, feeling her belly knot.

He stared back at her intently, as if trying to decide what he wanted to do, but whether she guessed that correctly or not, there was definitely more to the stare than she’d anticipated.

The suit she was wearing …
reacted
—as if under his mental command. 

The area around her breasts tightened as if her breasts were being squeezed by giant, invisible hands.  After a moment, so quickly she thought, at first, that she’d imagined it, the tension eased, but then it began again, a milking sort of motion that was echoed much lower—around her clit.

The fluttering sensation in her belly became a strange combination of anticipation and fear that she was about to experience far more pain than before.

He walked around her, studying her from every angle.

A tickle joined the milking motion of the suit, centered directly on her nipples and her clit.

In a few minutes she realized the repetitions were getting closer together and the tickling was more of a sizzle.

“Now you obey every command immediate—no hesitate, no argue—no run.

“Nano-suit control you body—I control nanos.  Dis suit control every nerve—all sensitive places.  Can give greater pleasure than you hab ever known—or more pain.  Can make you come—or prevent it—dis way
I
command your pleasure or pain—and your release.  You only come if I allow.

“You feel pleasure I commanded?”

She did.  She definitely did, but she was uncomfortable about admitting it—so she lied.  “No.”

His expression hardened.  “No?  Just no?”

Tilly swallowed a little sickly.  She had a bad feeling that mistake was going to cost her.  But how the heck was she supposed to know that all of them were expecting to be called master?  She’d thought the commander was her master.

Serious mistake.  “No, Master.”

He considered her for several moments.  “Get on de bunk.”

Tilly’s eyes widened.  She hesitated.  She couldn’t help it even though she’d been warned about questioning orders.  Her belly knotting even tighter with nerves, she lay down on the bunk.

He studied her and she felt the suit begin to pull at her legs.  They were drawn upward and spread so wide the tendons began to complain. 

He sat on the bunk, stroking one thick finger along her cleft.  “Me, I like human female genitals.  Much appeal to me—like bright pink color, soft little petals.  Like taste, as well.  Enjoy sucking on it and put tongue inside to collect the cream almost as much as driving cock dis tight little ting.

“You feel de pleasure I command now?”

Tilly absolutely did not want to admit she was stimulated by the suit, but it had aroused her to a level that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and she was worried he would make it worse.  She swallowed with an effort.  “Yes … Master.”

His eyes narrowed. He tilted his head to study her. “Me tink I like to taste dis little flower—but the commander lef his seed.  You clean for me taste.”

The pull on her legs abruptly relaxed and she got up.  She wasn’t sure whether that was a command from her own mind, however, or the suit. She felt like a puppet, though, as she headed toward the bathroom.

He followed her.

She knew he was commanding her every move when she was drawn down into a wide legged crouch that spread her entire cleft wide.

Something hot—almost painfully so—began to pound against her genitals—like a hard stream of water.  She couldn’t believe it was, even though it felt wet, because she’d bathed already and the shower definitely hadn’t produced water.  Then the hard jet moved to the mouth of her sex and she felt it driving inside of her—deeply.  Thankfully, it was brief.  The air drying followed—and that was almost worse.

When it stopped, she stood up and returned to the bunk without volition, lay down and resumed the position of before—much like before.  This time the soles of her feet were brought together to allow her knees to be pushed outward further—further than she’d thought she could spread her legs without unhinging the joints.

Her ‘master’ settled between her legs and began to explore her keenly sensitive genital area with his mouth and tongue—and teeth. 

She would have writhed with the sensations if she could’ve moved.  All she could do, however, was endure, pant and moan and groan.

She didn’t come.

She couldn’t.

He stopped, sitting upright so that he could stare at her face. 

“I leave now.  You tink about rebel and how I do tings to rebel.”

That comment evoked indignation and fear, but she couldn’t think of anything she might say that would appease him.  If she’d been able to, she would’ve tried.

She wanted to beg him not to leave when he hadn’t given her the release she desperately needed, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually do it.

She was almost relieved when he left—which just went to show that she hadn’t really assimilated what he’d said to her—any of it.

She cooled as the moisture from his probing interest dried.

Nothing else did.  She remained feverish with the heat.

Because she could still feel the stimulation.  It went on and on until she wanted to claw herself to make it stop.

But she couldn’t move.  It was as if she’d been glued to the bunk.

She tried to close her mind to the pleasure that intensified until it began to feel like pain.

And just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore and she was going to start screaming, the suit formed a mask over her face, sealing her into her torture.  She could breathe, but she couldn’t see or hear and she couldn’t open her mouth to scream.

She couldn’t do anything but moan and endure and pray for release—or death. 

Chapter Five

Tilly was ready to weep with relief when the torment finally stopped.  How long it lasted, she had no idea.  She only knew that it lasted right up until the moment the suit retracted the mask and she was able to see and hear once more.

Everything on her body was throbbing so hard she wasn’t sure, at first, that the torture had stopped.  She could still feel phantom squeezes and pulls as she slowly sat up and rubbed her aching thighs.

She saw that food had been delivered.

That, she supposed, was why she’d been released from her torment.

They didn’t want to starve her to death.  They wanted to keep her alive to torment her!

She was tempted to ignore the food, but there was no ignoring it.  She was starving—proof if she needed it that her ‘punishment’ had lasted well over an hour—possibly as much as two or three.

She felt nauseated when she’d taken the tray and settled on the bunk with it, but she ate slowly and the nausea vanished.  When she’d eaten and drank all she could, she returned the tray to the drawer and headed into the bathroom to relieve herself.  She studied the shower, but she had no idea if she could take the suit off since she had no idea how it had been put on her.  He’d just touched the dang thing and it had curled around her.

She decided she didn’t care if she couldn’t get it off.  She wanted a shower.

And if it short-circuited the dang thing—oh well!

To her disappointment, she discovered the shower didn’t seem to have any effect on the dang suit!  It did make her feel refreshed, however, and more relaxed.  It banished the last echoes of the stimulation that had tormented her and although she was left with a residual shakiness and tension inside and a vast sense of disappointment because she hadn’t climaxed, she still felt better.

She lost control of her body when she stepped out of the bathroom again.

She crossed the room and climbed onto the bunk and resumed the position of before.

Dismay filled her, but no amount of resistance had any effect.  The suit controlled her as if she was nothing but a puppet.

The torment resumed, starting lightly, building until she was on fire with need once more, so tormented by the pleasurable sensations flooding her that it became more pain than pleasure.  She was so delirious with the chemicals bombarding her mind that she had no awareness of when she ceased to be alone until she felt something huge pressing against her sex.

She would’ve jumped if she could’ve moved.

She would’ve struggled to see what it was if she could’ve lifted her head, opened her eyes.

She could do none of that, however.

She could feel the strain of her flesh increase as the huge thing pressed relentlessly against her.  Despite the moisture generated by the constant stimulation, the object was so large the skin began to burn as it was stretched beyond its limits.

Despite the discomfort of his entry and his pounding rhythm, Tilly felt her body rising toward climax, burning for it until she could hardly catch her breath.

And yet she never reached the pinnacle she was striving for.  Despite the fact that the pounding went on and on until she was nearly mindless, it brought her only to the precipice and held her there until he reached his own crisis and spilled his seed into her.

She wept when he withdrew and she felt certain that he’d left.  She wept because her body was aching and throbbing for relief.

She’d been disappointed—quite often actually—because she’d had sex and almost got off and then didn’t make it.

She was usually only mildly disappointed, however, and the discomfort went away fairly quickly. 

The difference now was like comparing a wave on the beach to a tsunami. 

She couldn’t just dismiss it because her body never completely returned to normal.  The stimulation stopped completely, she discovered, every hour or so and then built her back up to fever pitch. 

Whenever one of the aliens came into the room, the suit blinded and deafened her with the mask, covering even her mouth—to prevent her from screaming if she’d been so inclined?

Or maybe to prevent her from catching a decent breath—because she panted until she nearly passed out.  There were times when she thought she actually did black out at least briefly.

It was rough—raw sex without even lip service of ‘making love’.  Not like anything she’d ever experienced before or even thought she might want to experience.

Which made it all the more incomprehensible to her that she began to crave what they did to her in very short order. 

She knew—was almost completely certain—that days passed in this manner.  Maybe a week.  It was hard to track the time, but there were ‘rest’ spells.  There were times when she was allowed some respite and fed, allowed to use the facilities for her needs.

She wasn’t actually allowed a rest period for sleep.  She knew she reached such a point of exhaustion after a while that she would grab snatches of sleep here and there, simply pass out for minutes or maybe as much as an hour before she was awakened again either by one of her masters who’d come to torment her or by the suit itself.

All of those things added to the ‘encounters’ seemed to add up to many days and yet they also seemed to blend together as an unending chain of events.

Somewhere along the time line, however, she began to notice that the deep itch created by the almost constant stimulation of the suit eased slightly when the men would expend their own desires on her.  It was actually far worse for a while afterward, because she either wasn’t allowed to climax or she simply couldn’t achieve completion.  But she still craved those moments when it seemed they were appeasing the itch.

She was dismayed, frightened, and excited all at the same time when she reached that point.  How could she crave something that only made the itch much worse afterward?  True, it did
almost
appease the ache, at least briefly, and the increased intensity of the throbbing afterward didn’t last long, but there was no real reward. 

It was scary that she’d gotten accustomed to being used this way so quickly that she wanted it.

Maybe there was something about the suit that affected her mind?

Or maybe it was the ‘reward’ system that affected her mind? 

Sexual stimuli made the brain produce chemicals, she knew, and it was possible because of that to become addicted to sex in much the same way some people became addicted to the adrenaline rush from taking deadly risks and others from the ‘highs’ they got exercising.

To say nothing of those who got addicted to non-biologically produced drugs.

But was it possible it could happen in such a relatively short length of time?

Roughly a week later, she entered the second phase of her training and realized they truly were in complete control of her and that it wasn’t likely she would ever be the same again.

Chapter Six

The commander was waiting for her when Tilly emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed after hours of ‘performing’ for the alien giants. 

Not that she actually did a lot of performing, she thought wryly.

Basically, she was posed by the nano-suit and held down while they rammed into her with the giant members that went with their giant everything else.

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