by Susan Strict For the lover of femsub this is a story of a woman’s battle to find her submissive side.
For the lover of femdom this is a story of a society ruled by dominant women and focused on their sexual desires.
For the lover of science fiction this is a story of another planet and another society, hundreds of years ahead of us and yet in some ways still in the dark ages.
For others, it may simply be an adventure into a highly erotic alternative society, with its advantages and pitfalls that may be delightful or terrifying.
There are no longer enough males available to satisfy the lusts of the female population, but to Shardine the answer is simple: society must change its ways. It is no longer practical for males to be bound and abused regularly by all the local women for their amusement and sexual gratification. Too many are being damaged and becoming useless.
Shardine’s reports her findings to the all-female Council, but unfortunately few are willing to give up the traditions of centuries and her report arouses deep resentment, virtually making her an outlaw. Powerless to change anything on her own, she teams up with a Council member who appears to share her views, but Shardine soon begins to discover more about herself than about the unfortunate males she had intended to help.
Shardine’s journey is an exploration of dominance and submission, in which she experiences extremes of each. Her quest to find a solution to the abuse of males turns into a quest to find her own true nature – with disastrous consequences.
Shardine attended more than thirty scortiums over the next six days. All were different, yet the end result was much the same. At nearly all of them the flinker was either damaged beyond much hope of being any future use, or simply did not survive.
It was the tenth scortium that stood out in Shardine’s memory more than the others. Here, unusually, there were no nagolds present at all, and only three matogles. Shardine saw the uncomfortable looks she was given as she walked in not long after they had started, but no one said anything. It was, after all, every female’s right to join any scortium and to take her turn on the flinker, even though these days most scortiums were already overcrowded.
As she was clearly the senior matogle present and there were no nagolds, Shardine took charge. She spoke quietly to the scramper, a young and athletic-looking vixling, warning her of the risks of damaging the flinker. The watcher and the lifters too she warned, stressing the importance of making the right decisions and acting swiftly if there was any real danger to the flinker. They nodded in agreement with her as tradition demanded, but she was sure she caught the muttered words “flinker lover” as soon as she turned her back.
The first five vixlings on the flinker were wild and enthusiastic in their use of the flinker’s face. Three times the watcher told the lifters to raise a vixling from him, and hold her wriggling in the air above him while he recovered his breath. As the last of the five finished with a long wail and a deep shudder, the flinker had nothing worse than a very red, sore face and the usual look of total terror in his eyes.
By this time, Shardine herself had decided it was time for her to be more involved. She strode from her seat towards the flinker, ignoring mutterings from the vixplings who had not yet come forward. Shardine had, of course, already removed her clothing and left it in the lockers provided in the entrance to the benglion. It would not have been proper to enter a scortium fully clothed.
The lifters stood back as she climbed onto the table in the centre of the benglion and knelt astride the flinker’s face. “Well?” said Shardine looking at the lifters. “Attend.”
The lifters look startled. “Surely,” said one of them, “You don’t want us to…?”
“Of course,” answered Shardine a little crossly, “Anyone can lose control, even me. You must always do your job.”
The lifters came forward on either side of her, close enough to take her arms at any signal from the watcher. Shardine, satisfied, lowered herself onto the flinker.
He was, thought Shardine, one of the best. His face was not unpleasant even to look at, and as she touched him he immediately opened his mouth and started a discreet yet effective licking and sucking at her with his tongue and his lips. She held her position, not pressing down too heavily while she enjoyed the sensations he was creating within her. She sensed the impatience from all around her as the vixlings wanted her to get on with it. Reluctantly, but fully realising she must set an example of how proper scortium behaviour should be, she pressed down firmly over his mouth and nose. As his air was cut off, she could still feel his tongue although he was unable to move his lips properly on her. With the pressure of his face against her and his tongue and open mouth correctly positioned, Shardine started the rocking and gentle back and forth motion that would bring her swiftly to her climax…
Her body was quivering as the climax approached, and already she knew this would be one of those shuddering, earth-moving explosions. She had spend most of that day and, in fact, most of the last two days watching vixlings, matogles and nagolds all using flinkers for their own gratification. In watching, Shardine’s own urges has built up to the point at which release was undoubtedly going to be rather more than a polite little squeak and an inconsequential shiver.
The flinker’s tongue worked frantically at her. No doubt he was well aware that the watcher and the lifters were unlikely to stop the smuntering when she was so close to climax, and equally that she might still take several minutes before she reached that point fully. It was in his interests, indeed it was quite probably his only hope of survival, to hasten her towards the point at which she would move at least enough for him to breathe.
Shardine’s eyes were closed. Everything she had told the others earlier and everything she was so anxious to campaign for, was completely forgotten. All she cared about was that sensation of the flinker’s face under her and reaching the explosion of ecstasy she so badly needed. She did not see the watcher peer down to check on the flinker exactly as she had instructed, nor the lifters reach their hands towards her in preparation to lift her from him if the watcher gave the word. She was too close.
It came in a mighty upheaval of shuddering muscle and an explosion of stars in her head. Shardine screamed in a voice that echoed around the benglion, reverberating from the walls and roof in a cacophony of rebounding sounds. The weight of her body, already pressing down on the flinker, focussed on that single point between her legs as her strong thighs clamped together in an uncontrollable spasm on either side of his face. She felt the gush of fluids from her as the convulsions of her thighs forced her upwards a fraction. At the same time she heard the flinker’s sharp intake of breath that gurgled as his mouth and nose filled not with fresh air but with the liquids which for a brief second flowed so copiously from her. Still she was not in control of herself, and still her muscles shuddered and convulsed as wave after wave shook her. The tiny, fluid-filled gap between her and the flinker closed again, sealing him under her once more.
Her body slumped, exhausted, unable to move. The flinker too had stopped moving. Shardine, her eyes still closed, managed to marshal her thoughts just enough to whisper “Lift me.”