Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One Read online

  Emma circled his balls with one hand and clamped them in place. The skulk reflexively thrust his other arm through the cage, waved it about menacingly, inadvertently clipping Ione on the tit. With an enraged shriek she swatted him away, found her wrist gripped by a giant fist, and hurled forward instinctively to pin the man’s forearm back as Manassa had done; the only means of establishing leverage against an overpowering strength.

  There was an instant of stunned silence, then the skulk hauled violently. The cage shuddered and the women rocked about, almost flung loose by the maneuver. Emma held on as the last peckerman’s strength was exerted back and forth, threatening to surpass their tenacity with each lunge.

  In desperation Emma clutched his testicles with both hands, fixing them to the wooden lattice of roots. The skulk went instantly still and the subterranean world took a long, cryptic breath.

  “Finish him,” Ione whispered.

  A mean energy rose in Emma. She closed her eyes, brought her nose to the skulk’s voluminous testes and smooched them with a dreamy, spit-splattering affection, then ventured up his enraged manhood, tongue playfully fluttering about. With a noisy slurp she engulfed his fist-like head, and the skulk solemnly exhaled.

  “He likes that,” Manassa reported, shuffling for better leverage on his right arm. “Never been forced before.”

  Emma caught the elusive perfume of her vaginal excitation.

  “Make him work for it!” the big woman pugnaciously advised, bared vulva gleaming unselfconsciously.

  The skulk struggled experimentally, but found himself competently secured; arms pinned to the cage, manhood moored below by the same means, cock trapped in Emma’s treacherous teeth.

  She began to hum gently on his penis, pushing it in a little bit deeper, chugging with the middle of her mouth, tongue flattened by its unyielding girth. The skulk was breathing hard, angrily aroused, and she pulled suggestively at his testicles, engaging the swollen, aching sac. She slapped them playfully and he jerked but did nothing foolish to escape, bound now to the destiny of the act.

  Emma set to fellatio with a grim ambition, cyclically battering the back of her throat, letting him slip free for a momentary presentation of his spittle-drenched boner from time to time, neck moving with rubbery facility as she forcibly seduced him. All caution gone, she jammed his cock to the far cincture of her throat, pushed hard.

  It dilated with a sweet ache and the skulk’s head slipped into the sanctuary beyond. Emma slobbered around it noisily, tits jacking to and fro, thighs muscularly at service, sexing him with her whole body. She withdrew, slurped him back into her throat, lips reaching higher and higher, chugging the penis with every art.

  But the sensual lunacy of the act provoked the skulk to a new defiance, and it became clear before long that they were not to succeed. The peckerman champion had mastered them in the end.

  That was the final insult.

  Her anger erupted suddenly, sent her teeth clamping down hard on his penis. He shouted, flailing cataclysmically in their grip as Ione and Manassa desperately clung to his pinned limbs.

  Emma’s right hand rose to spank his testicles hard. The skulk hauled maniacally at the cage, but Emma would suffer no further complication. She recommenced fellatio, cuffing his genitals with unfeigned antipathy, tormenting him by this extreme alternation of pleasure and pain. Desperate to end the confrontation, his penis stiffened to a final rigidity.

  “He’s gonna blast!” Manassa bellowed.

  Emma’s teeth fixed on the base of the skulk’s pecker, clamping tight as she savagely swatted his balls. With a great cry he erupted in her mouth. Gouts of hot ejaculate pooled from a trio of fast shots before she managed to swallow the first mouthful. She almost choked, gulped helplessly as his manhood spat a thick interval of long-cultivated essence down her throat.

  “Mmmssss,” she drooled, abandoning herself to the flow, lost for a term to its salty conduction within her body.

  “Emma…”

  She felt Ione shaking her, opened her eyes at last and sagged back to blearily regard the skulk’s lowering shaft. Nobody moved as exhaustion claimed them all for a time.

  But unlike his predecessors, the last peckerman did not retreat on fulfillment, simply stood where they left him. Emma saw him move finally, looking down to regard his glistening member. Then his silhouette straightened.

  “So. Um, maybe you could invite me to the party next time?”

  Emma gaped at the sound of his intelligently commanded voice, almost didn’t understand what had been said for her amazement, though the words issued in a clear baritone.

  “Anyone receiving this?” he continued after a moment, concerned now. “Anyone wanna say something?”

  “Hi!” Manassa belatedly replied.

  The peckerman chuckled, obviously relieved at her response.

  “Hey. I’m Mark.”

  Ione hesitantly introduced herself and her lover, saving Emma a thick-throated rendition of her identity—hardly the first impression she wanted to make.

  “So…” Mark trailed off, obviously confused by their situation. He took in the view beyond them for the first time, registering the other alcoves. “Um, do you hang out here a lot?” he wondered.

  “No,” said Ione. “Not by choice. Can you get us out?”

  Mark backed away uncertainly, retreating to the rear of the alcove into darkness. Once again they were alone.

  But before long they heard a shouted invitation from the direction of the well and swam out to see him standing carefully at its perimeter. At the first clear sight of him Emma forgot to tread for a moment.

  A new sound issued from back in the grotto—a fresh skulk clambering into an alcove, ready for another game.

  “Hurry!” Ione whispered.

  Mark thrashed about and found a thick vine, tore it forth to swing the free end within reach. Ione grasped it and their rescuer pulled her up in an easy display of strength till she stood breathlessly at his side. They helped Emma ascend next, then labored in concert to liberate Manassa.

  For a moment the four of them regarded each other by the distant green glow of the gnome; one satisfied man and three desperately aroused women, all confused as to what would happen next. Emma swallowed, helplessly stirred by the recent memory of her service to the brawny creature before her, awed by the revelation of his beauty. He had been a skulk until moments ago, and she knew the perilous possibility of that creature was preserved somewhere in his psyche, but for now all she could do was stare at the man.

  Their new friend was as tall as Manassa and comparably thick; his densely muscled physique verified the colossal energy they witnessed back in the lair. His short black hair lay in a state of easy dishevelment, framing a masculine visage rendered exotically attractive by the intelligence glinting in his dark eyes. His demeanor bore the imprint of their bizarre introduction—a wary fascination and confusion that Emma guessed would linger for a while.

  Another skulk entered the peckermen lair below them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ione ordered.

  Mark ceded leadership of the party with a shrug, evidently mystified as to their surroundings.

  Ione scrambled over to a tangled tract adjacent to the grotto where the earth slanted up to the cavern ceiling, forcing them to crawl. They followed this cramped terrain for a while, moving as quietly as possible away from the peckermen lair, and eventually reached a gallery of passages overlooking a broad waterway.

  “Look!” Emma pointed exultantly. A line of bedboats drifted in the distance—the rear part of their convoy, apparently still at liberty.

  The Lap

  Shortly following their encounter with the peckermen they were reunited with enough of the women to feel a kind of security and purpose return. The rear half of the convoy had drifted so far behind it missed the fracas with the skulks completely, though it took time for Emma to make sense of their confused reports.

  It fell to her and Manassa to integrate Mark in their wid
e-eyed company. They couldn’t leave him behind—not like some ordinary skulk that would just forget about them. He represented no physical threat to a group of their size, but Ione made it policy to watch him at all times for any possible collusion with other men nearby. Within that restriction Emma was free to socialize with him and took every opportunity to do so.

  They were now in a territory of waterways close to the Lap sanctuary, recognized by their unidirectional flow and the scarlet radiance of gnomes lighting the route. The water was tainted by a soapy adulteration, an ominous sign, but Emma couldn’t tell how far away the substance had been dumped, or when. The Lap reservoir was supposedly impossible to contaminate, so the skulks were likely blighting the currents that ranged outward from there to the rest of the underworld. Aware of this possibility, they had acquired fresh water where it was still plentiful.

  As they drew closer many more boats and women had been recovered from the depths, so densely clustered in places as to raise truly alarming questions about their final moments. But from among the drowned slippers they had failed to recover any of the doyennes, women who could talk and think like themselves, leaders harboring a collective lore that included secrets pertinent to their current situation.

  The women had been paired up as they were found, which didn’t always work. But Manassa took her role as peacekeeper seriously enough to discourage all but the boldest from making trouble, and for the moment things were mostly under control. The bedboats were tightly packed and readily defended by oars, safe from the ambition of anything less than a small army of men.

  Their route took them relentlessly upstream now, and the women were forced to row for long periods. Emma was quickly exhausted by this activity and paired up with Mark to take advantage of his overcompensating physicality. This he ungrudgingly delivered, and it kept them close enough to confer out of earshot of the nearest boats behind them. She strictly adhered to safe topics, mostly just elaborating on things he could see for himself. Everything said was being audited by Ione, who had lectured her stiffly about secrecy, pointing out that he could easily be a spy of some kind, a tool of the skulks. They were already indulging one risk of that kind, she periodically reminded Emma with a dark glance to Manassa. On some purely rational level they all knew it would be safer to leave Mark behind. But they didn’t.

  After a while Ione probably guessed that her oaring was mostly a mummery of exertion, but her lover had more critical considerations to occupy her attention and Emma suspected she was being used as an agent in Mark’s evaluation anyway. She would be thoroughly debriefed when they were alone at some point, and Ione would learn or guess more by this canny triangulation than would have been obtained by bluntly questioning their mysterious male companion. Emma doubted they would abandon him based on that conversation, though. Mark claimed to remember nothing before meeting them, and it was hard to develop dark theories about a man who had no past, especially when his future with them looked so interesting…

  They finally reached a massive circular current fed by several sex of fast streams issuing from the hidden aquifer they sought. Ione and Emma both remembered the locale from the migration. Soap was strongly concentrated in the water now, merrily wafting in little bubbles from their churning oars.

  They circled the Lap twice, and Ione halted their flotilla at what she deemed to be the most strategic location available; a shadowy pond lying just off the bustling waterway, spacious enough to accommodate all the boats in one place without any obvious logistical complications to threaten a fast departure. Emma was soon dispatched with Manassa to settle the fleet, and they deftly jumped from deck to deck, conveying simple instructions to the women by a constantly reformulated theater of speech and body language.

  The darkness and distance from Ione granted a rare opportunity to misbehave. Emma made the most of it, blatantly ogling the big woman’s bountiful flesh, fingers and nipples brushing her opportunistically as they navigated the cramped bedboats till they were both laughing at her insolence.

  “So what do you really think of Mark?” Manassa wanted to know, casually changing the mood between them.

  Emma considered. In the time they had journeyed together his personality had emerged as intelligent and apparently sincere. Emma could fully express herself to him, where even the most social slippers could barely manage to converse comprehensibly, and then only in very structured situations like bathing or sex. Much to her frustration, there had been no further opportunity for intimate contact with their handsome new companion; it was impossible to be private in their current circumstances.

  Manassa leered down at her, following her subconscious trail. “You got the hots for him?” she goaded, playfully poking Emma’s left tit.

  “Who doesn’t? Everyone’s jealous I got to talk with him the whole way. And that he’s on our boat in the first place.”

  “Not much choice about that,” Manassa wryly remarked, absently swatting a pertinacious slipper off her crotch.

  Emma knew this was true. Without their protection Mark would have been mobbed by the other women, who likely imagined themselves equally entitled to his company. In point of fact, they were only deterred from aggressively pursuing him because their leaders visibly refrained from doing so.

  “Still, the time we spent jawing away is gonna count when we’re safe in the Lap,” Emma cheerfully speculated. “He knows I accept him.”

  “No arguing there. He put a ballsload of jizz in your jaw to make sure,” Manassa smirked. “Saw it myself.”

  Emma snorted indignantly and smacked Manassa’s ass in happy retribution. Giggling together, they made the jump to the next boat. “I’m looking forward to the total ‘Mark experience’, I have to say. First chance we have I’m gonna get my twat crammed.”

  They dealt with a few more slippers, then Manassa turned serious for a moment. “How is it that you can trust him after what you told me about skulks? And everything that’s happened to us, just getting here?”

  “Well…” Emma trailed off, wondering how much to disclose. “Me and Ione have memories of real men. People like Mark. His kind do exist, but it’s just too confusing to remember when and where. All mixed up in my head.”

  Manassa pondered this for a while as they got more women organized for watch details. “So we’ll really be safe in this Lap place? There won’t be any way for skulks to get in?”

  Emma realized Ione would need to know about any further conversation on that topic. It would be treasonous not to report Manassa’s interest in anything related to their security, actually. “Don’t think so, but they’re unbelievably cunning…” she deflected, and they moved on to the next boat.

  When Emma returned Ione explained to Mark and Manassa she had some personal business with her partner.

  “Yeah? Like what?” Mark grinned, not really expecting an answer. “Haven’t been alone in a while, eh? Need a little release? What’s the scenario?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Emma teased.

  “Of course,” he laughed. “Will there be Bondage? Spanking? Toys?”

  Ione stared impassively, trying to balance the grim reality of their situation with a seething desire to get with the naked figure lounging on the mattress in front of her. “Everything but men. I’ll say that.”

  Mark accepted this rebuke gracefully. “Fine. Be that way. But I don’t have to bring the whole gender package. If you just want something long and hard and mindlessly devoted to duty…” he tantalized, penis rising suggestively.

  “Then we’ll grab an oar,” Ione grimaced, wondering how much he suspected about their activities.

  Mark chuckled. “Alright. Maybe another time.” He scanned the flotilla, nodding to the many women staring hungrily in their direction. “Um, not to be dramatic, but there are a lot of slippers circling…”

  Ione stolidly acknowledged this. “I trust you’ll do nothing to provoke them?”

  “No way. Things are dicey enough as it is without losing control of that horde,�
� he winced. “But what if they rush me or something?”

  Emma chewed her lip. “That’s a real risk, Ione.”

  She reconsidered the situation for a moment, was about to suggest a compromise when it abruptly occurred to her that Mark might be challenging their departure as an oblique gambit to acquire more information; it was starting to look absurd that she and Emma would invite a serious risk to their collective security in the name of pleasure alone. She stared at him, forcing eye contact, but couldn’t read anything sinister in his gaze.

  “Maybe he should come along,” Emma recommended with a sidelong glance in her direction. “He might be useful.”

  “Useful? Okay, now I really am curious what you’re up to,” Mark admitted.

  Ione was too vexed to indulge any further speculation. “Let’s go,” she muttered to Emma.

  “Well, be careful,” Mark advised, waving them off with a thoughtful look. Behind him Manassa nodded covertly, acknowledging her obligation to monitor his activities while they were gone. Ione was grateful for her formidable reputation among the slippers, guessing the big woman would hold things together till they got back.

  She and Emma made their way through the society of the camp to a fast bedboat at the perimeter. Emma reassured the slippers on watch with a few words, but they stared suspiciously as the vessel slipped away.

  Rowing quietly they settled into the middle of the current orbiting the Lap, fighting its continual drag to the right. Ione was keenly alert for skulks, who would not hesitate to approach them in this vulnerable state. She would have felt better with more women along, but the secret of their excursion was best kept between Emma and herself. Manassa was technically a doyenne and should have been told, but it didn’t matter in this case anyway—little as Ione trusted her, she was the only person left to watch the flotilla and would have stayed there either way.

  A stream exiting from the Lap appeared on the left, one of many feeding the circular channel they negotiated. Two more emerged soon after that, then a dox in quick succession. They guttered from a maze of flooded tunnels carrying water out of the reservoir at high speed, and while some of the passages could be navigated all the way back the source, they were gated from within, impossible to pass. Ione wouldn’t have even considered trying to enter the Lap by random exploration—even the strongest swimmer would be quickly disoriented in the utter darkness of the twisted and narrowing fissures and drowned before returning. The Lap was thus secured from infiltration.