Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One Read online

  Manassa was presently initiating a tumble, one of the more boisterous games employed in the regular competition to determine Mark’s bed partner. A buoyant tubular chassis outfitted with an array of cuffs and thongs, the tumbler was frequently seen about the hot pool.

  Ione released Emma just before climax. “Let’s go watch the game. You’ll enjoy it more in an aroused condition.” Emma winced at this calculated deprival, looked like she was about to beg. Ione stared at her lover, waiting.

  “Asshole,” Emma finally laughed.

  “No more than you deserve,” she grinned.

  “Yeah, maybe…”

  “C’mon,” Ione smiled, forgiving all, and they swam over to be near the action.

  Manassa saw the first woman installed within the tumbler, pulling limbs till she was stretched wide, bound at each extremity to its chassis. “Roll it!” she ordered.

  The tumbler was spun by eager hands to put its first occupant on top, facing down. The second woman was secured immediately under her such that their bodies were joined all along the front, nipples and lips matching intimately.

  “Roll it!” Manassa called again, and the tumbler was maneuvered so that the women were now side by side.

  “Open up,” she directed, and Ione watched as the slippers arched their hips apart to allow a long, knobby, double-sided dildo between them. Manassa positioned a head at either vagina and it was promptly swallowed from view on a chorus of raunchy threats.

  “Suck it in, slip!”

  “That’s how she likes it!”

  “The pussy and for wide she takes!”

  Ione chuckled, appreciating the steadily improving intelligibility of the women all the more for the flagrantly amphibolous communications they occasionally generated.

  Manassa ordered everyone back to allow the tumbler room to move. “Kiss!” she ritualistically enjoined the slippers. They did as required.

  “Round one… go!”

  Ione saw the contest commence on a zealous wave of erotogenic gumption. The tumbler pitched wildly as the trussed contestants jacked the phallus into each other, shifting back and forth to tactically minimize the advances of the enemy, yanking at the cuffs, rolling the frame one way then the other in an attempt to get on top. One of them managed to accomplish this before too long.

  “Get her Helia!”

  “Screw her till she begs!”

  “Fuck, you bitches! Fuck!” someone screeched to their collective amusement.

  The woman facing down took immediate advantage of her leverage to hammer the phallus into her competitor, who was now forced to reciprocate against the oppressive drag of gravity. This was a tiring proposition, and the bottom-lying slipper did her best to sublimate the other woman’s furious penetration into a sensual, whole-body undulation, spastically hauling on her thongs all the while, rocking the tumbler till it splashed sideways again. The crowd screamed encouragement to both contestants.

  “It’s exhausting just to watch them,” Emma grumbled, though Ione knew she loved the tumbler, usually woke in time to catch the last few rounds at least.

  The game quickly reduced even the most physical slippers to a heaving, wheezing copulation. Ione laughed, soaping Emma’s tits in good humor as the women vented their competitive energies on each other, lips brushing between shouted insults.

  “Look at that big, fat penis in you!”

  “Take it, you slipper!”

  They fucked in alternation as the tumbler rolled one way then the other, temporarily granting each woman the advantage of being on top. A sex or more of amorous slippers frolicked around them, enjoying the show and gathering intelligence on potential rivals.

  One of the contestants finally got the advantage, managed to time the churning waves, hauling the tumbler up and around with desperate skill to put her in the superior position. It was obvious the other woman lacked the strength at this point to change their orientation again.

  “Don’t let her trick you…”

  “Give it to her nice and slow, Helia.”

  And she did. Ione watched, caught somewhere between arousal and laughter as the woman on the bottom finally accepted what was going to happen, locked eyes with her conqueror as she built the rhythm of penetration from a measured, twat-clenched boffing to an irresistibly kinetic bounce. No one looking on was unmoved by the sight of their reddened genitals rhythmically kissing around the sturdy girth of the phallus, lips on lips.

  The submissive contestant bleated, an abject sound almost smothered by the variously cheering and jeering onlookers, and Emma whistled appreciatively as she surrendered to the other woman, climaxed on her authority, limbs fluttering in the thick rubber cuffs. The winner made sure to thoroughly redeem her opponent of lusts, and the helpless slipper was left with a love-smitten expression that Ione recognized—more than a few couples had discovered each other on the tumbler.

  “We have a victor!” Manassa called as the chassis was emptied of flesh and readied for another contest.

  Ione and Emma were shortly joined by Mark, trailed by a trix of women with near-term expectations of service. Ione flung him a sympathetic glance as she drained nectar from a tapered flute in a long gulp.

  “What’s up, big guy?”

  “Manassa tell you already?” he grinned.

  Ione was instantly intrigued. “What?”

  Mark stared pointedly at the slippers crowding them and Emma shooed them away.

  “We think there’s a way up to the surface,” he whispered, huddling close.

  Ione met Emma’s glance, looked quickly away. They already knew there was some means of ascending to the Laplands; it was a secret entrusted to the doyennes. But they had been unable to find it despite a careful if clandestine survey of the Lap’s various neighborhoods and apartments.

  “Where?” Ione demanded, squelching her annoyance before it told Mark anything.

  The exit to the world above turned out to be located in the hot pool itself. “It’s a fair way down, but there’s a tunnel leading off,” Mark explained.

  “Follow me.” He took a huge breath and dove. Emma grinned in excitement, and they hurled themselves after him together.

  Cautious of Mark’s kicking legs, Ione descended through his turbulent wake, squinting in the faint pink glow from above. They dove farther than she had ever ventured, reaching a point where it was barely possible to see. The narrowing well was riddled with inlets breathing air and heat from some deep source. Mark felt for an oval passageway, larger than the others though barely wide enough to admit his burly shoulders. Ione followed him in and they swam around and up, emerging in a narrow, rounded flue.

  Emma rapturously inhaled when they broke the surface. “Ione, smell!”

  She could faintly detect fresh air spilling silently from high above, bearing a vital, living odor. A gnarled passage led up into blackness, pocked with oval, fist-sized fissures.

  “What do you think?” asked Mark.

  “You found it, alright,” Ione confirmed.

  “How, exactly?” Emma wondered.

  Mark shrugged. “Nothing brilliant on my part. Annie dropped her favorite mirror and I was just trying to be gallant.”

  Ione closed her eyes to concentrate the effect of fresh air in her nostrils. “Alright,” she finally decided, interrupting the fervent speculations of her friends. “Let’s get organized. We’re going up.”

  They returned to the Lap and set about assembling some adventure gear; blankets, soap and juices, plus a few toys and accessories Emma hid in the rucksack when she thought Ione wasn’t looking.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” Emma fretted, trying to decide on a lubricant.

  “No. But we’re going anyway. The only thing that really matters is starting well-rested. And we are.”

  “And Mark and Manassa are both coming?”

  “Yes.” Ione had considered the situation more carefully than her brusque reply suggested. She couldn’t imagine leaving Mark in solitary control of their society, most
ly because he would be mobbed by women. It wasn’t a matter of trust—that was the reason she wouldn’t leave Manassa in charge.

  “You think it’s daytime up there?”

  “No way to know,” Ione shrugged, shutting the front door to the doyenne’s apartment. “Hope so.”

  “Did you tell the janes what’s really going on?”

  There were four women who were regularly trusted to coordinate the whistle-equipped slippers patrolling the various neighborhoods of the Lap. This was not due to their superior language skills and physical charisma. Annie, Celestia, Astrid and Val had reached a distinct midpoint between slipper and doyenne—they were psychologically endowed to construct society from self-image. Unlike slippers, janes could consciously negotiate the world around them from the standpoint of their own identity. This resulted in an obviously elevated wit, and Ione counted each one a great success. She hoped to bring more slippers to the jane mentality soon. And in time there would be more doyennes…

  “I told them we might be gone for a while, but not where we’re going. We reviewed all the contingency plans. Annie’s in charge.”

  “Good. She’s the right one. Hopefully we’ll return before any problems arise, regardless.”

  “Hopefully. You better get going now,” Ione gestured to the hot pool. “Be discreet. I’ll see you in a bit.” Emma nodded and left.

  After a little Ione followed her to the hot pool and dove to the oval aperture Mark had found, taking care to be certain she was unobserved. She swam through and clambered out of the narrow passage to find her lover waiting with the adventure bag.

  “You okay?” she whispered.

  “I guess. It’s creepy in here. I still think we should try to drag a glow gnome with us,” Emma distractedly advised as she squeezed her blond locks dry.

  They argued about this till it was clear the others were late.

  “What’s going on?” Emma worried. “Mark should have been here by now.”

  “Why him first?”

  Emma was confused. “I told Manassa to watch him. Like you keep asking.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I pretty much told Mark the same thing,” Ione admitted.

  “Great,” Emma winced.

  “Shush! Someone’s coming.”

  Mark burst through the tunnel, splashing them. He peered about, then turned to Ione.

  “Look, I followed her around as best I could, but I had to dodge the slips and she managed to elude me. No idea what she was doing, if anything.”

  “It’s okay.” Ione shrugged to cover their duplicity. “Think we can do this?”

  Mark examined the fibrous shell of the cramped flue enveloping them, felt into one of the numerous openings they expected to use as hand and foot holds. His arm disappeared to the elbow. “Seems alright for climbing.”

  Ione was about to go check on Manassa when she surfaced without warning.

  “Hi!” she giggled, clambering into their midst, ready for anything.

  “Hey,” said Emma, smiling uncertainly. They fell silent, crowded awkwardly close in the passage.

  Ione gazed up into the veering black tunnel they would imminently ascend. What were they doing? Suddenly nothing made sense. “Everyone good?” she bluffly inquired, trying to stall a fierce apprehension. Emma squeezed her hand, signaling fear and anticipation.

  “Let’s climb,” Mark grinned.

  Ione realized he was looking forward to the relative peace and isolation their adventure offered. She felt an almost comical relief on his behalf, found her courage restored by the notion that they were leaving danger and confusion for something milder.

  She took a deep breath of fresh air, gathering her vitality for what looked to be a prolonged exertion. Securing one hand then the other in a pair of oval fissures, she found a third with her right foot and proceeded to haul herself up.

  “Mark goes last,” she called back. His great physical strength granted at least a chance he could halt a slipping woman.

  “Not a problem,” he cheekily deferred, staring up appreciatively.

  Far above, Ione called for a respite, their third.

  “Okay!” Emma tiredly acknowledged. The passage was momentarily crowded by echoes, then fell eerily quiet as they all ceased moving at once. Mark answered from somewhere farther down, well removed from the plunging detritus Emma generated as she struggled to find purchase with hands and feet. She could barely resolve anything by the endlessly bounce-propagated glow reaching from below, just a hallucinatory outline of their route.

  Manassa was a warm, fragrant presence above her. Emma had kept close to the bigger woman the whole way, frightened of any isolation that might develop in the twisted inscrutability of the tunnel—which she had eventually decided was a huge, hollow root. For a moment she was overtaken by a shapeless, cringing trepidation; the product of her absence from the Lap and its safety rather than the blinded immobility of her present circumstances. It passed before long, leaving her to grapple with a wake of more objective fears. It was unlike Ione to take chances like this, and Emma wondered if her companion was being subtly manipulated somehow. Or was Emma herself being maneuvered in some tricky, triangular scheme? By whom, and to what end? These were calculations Ione customarily fielded—she was usually three steps ahead of everyone else, including Emma. But now her lover was totally out of sight, and Emma’s pulse faltered in fearful sympathy for her lonely obligation to lead where the darkness would go.

  After a little she could hear Manassa’s breathing, deepened from the steady exertion of their labor, a calm susurrus on a silent river of black air. She shifted her position, trying to find a better combination of handholds and her fingers brushed the other woman’s ankle.

  Manassa chuckled at this—Emma had been “accidentally” feeling her up the whole way.

  “C’mon.” The big woman reached down, tickling about her shoulder, inviting her to pass. Emma sighed, guessing she was tired of these attentions, and limbered herself up, forced for a moment into Manassa’s intimate embrace by the claustrophobic radius of the tunnel.

  She was sensually enveloped by the size and stability of the other woman, found her head braced in the extravagant valley of a huge bosom. Emma’s lips hovered in inadvertent conjunction with a thick nipple and she drew it into her mouth without thinking. Manassa could only giggle at this presumption, inhibited by their precarious circumstances from an inhibitory reaction.

  Emma instantly recognized the unique opportunity this represented and licked her stocky tit with a totally natural devotion, swirling the nipple like a sweet berry. It responded vigorously, stiffening to a thick, fleshy thimble that played with her tongue. The other woman exhaled deeply from this ardent connection. Her thick tresses brushed luxuriantly about Emma’s brow, a soft and fragrant cloud.

  Forgetting everything, she lowered herself to Manassa’s crotch to confront the flawless nudity of her vagina. Closing her eyes she inhaled, filling her throat with a mixture of womanly musk, a faint soap aroma lingering from the hot pool, and fresh air drifting down from above. She ran a dexterous tongue along her vulva, proceeded to kiss her in mindless disbelief. Her lips shaped themselves about the huge woman’s clitoris, the first time she had made contact with this exquisite stud—the most sought-after flesh in the Lap. She felt an unmistakable response. Manassa was wet.

  Emma settled her tongue on the other woman’s pertly distended clit, proceeded to lick and suck this sticky, ticklish stem, savoring its frustrated desire.

  Manassa’s great thighs braced her neck and shoulders, clenched and relented in little spasms, imprisoning her in their muscular bulk. Emma never wanted to leave, felt all conflict depart her mind as she committed herself utterly to the other doyenne’s pleasure, consummating a need to submit that had flowered from their awakening kiss. She left it to fate whether Ione heard this helpless treachery. Manassa’s glorious womanhood subsumed Emma’s loyalty to anything else.

  Her
lover exhaled sharply as she delivered a tongue-twisting thrill to her clitoris, clutched Emma with an intensity that for one aching moment bespoke a timeless desire. Emma’s seething vulva was fantastically roused by their tryst, needed only a brief visitation of fingers to bring climax. They would come together…

  “Emz…” Manassa whispered urgently, shifting a little.

  Emma let one hand down, commenced to rub herself with a clenched determination as she exultantly served Manassa’s wondrous femininity. But a moment later she felt her equilibrium shift, realized they were slipping, too few limbs at anchor…

  “Oh fuck–

  Manassa threw her weight back to a more secure posture, grabbed Emma by the arm and hauled her to a higher position, one hand lingering sentimentally on her ankle.

  “What’s that sound? What’s happening?” Ione demanded from above.

  “Nothing,” Emma groaned. “Nothing at all.”

  “Are you ready? I think we’re close…” her companion reported.

  “I know I am,” Mark lustily croaked from just below them. Emma squeaked in surprise at his unsuspected proximity.

  Not long after they ascended into a faint, tear-inducing brilliance, plainly revealing to estranged sight an environment only their hands and feet had known. They drew closer together.

  “It’s just ahead!” Ione whispered, awestruck by a radiance to overwhelm any gnome glow.

  They completed the climb as quickly as their weeping orbs would permit, reached a foliage-choked exit at last. Then they were clambering up into a copse of giant, aromatic flowers.

  “We made it!” Emma whispered in disbelief.

  “It’s the sun,” Mark wonderingly confirmed, holding out his hands as if to cup its gold emanation.