[Episode 126465] [Episode 126465]The setting sun shed its last rays on the field of battle. Two large armored forms and a medium furry one formed the points of a triangle around another form, lying on the ground with the sort of awkward splay of limbs associated with rag dolls.
Arisa sent a few more paralyzing bolts into the sprawled form of the oni, just in case it was faking. Kyoko followed her lead while Nuku Nuku went over to sooth the feathers of her blue playmate, both of them perched on wreckage that had been a graceful bridge over a winding stream not long ago. The spiky-haired monster just lay there with its face in the dirt, not even twitching, though Arisa could hear some growling. Arisa extended the whip again, and applied it to the bare buttocks pointing at the sky. That produced some twitching and low moan, but nothing that indicated voluntary movement.
The use of the lash also drew cries from the crowd outside. It had been a good fight, full of action, drama, shifting balances, and shapely female forms in action. But the audience was all worked up and they wanted more, a big finish, a payoff. Arisa could understand and accommodate that, she wanted payback. The grounds were trashed, the garden was a cratered wasteland, the house now had a tunnel running through it, and her armor had dents all over it!
Arisa pointed to the limp form in the churned dirt while looking at Kyoko and saying, “Get her up.”
Kyoko hesitantly approached the prone form, then lifted it by the chains on its wrists. Ryoko hung limply, head lolling down on her chest. As she was lifted into range of the draining systems in the blue armor, a solitary spark was drawn into those metal mammaries. Kyoko held the prisoner with arms spread, facing her, the limp body and legs forming a “Y” shape of bare skin.
The paralyzing effects of their weapons were specifically designed not to paralyze the heart, lungs, or other parts of the body necessary for life. Arisa had already determined that Ryoko could groan when the whip was applied. Now it was time to see if she could scream.
When the lash struck Ryoko’s back, sparks few and a little excess voltage arced into Kyoko’s metal nipples, prompting her to shut the draining system down. Ryoko did not scream, but did emit a louder groan that before. Encouraged, Arisa repeated the experiment, cracking the tails of the whip across more areas of the dangling body. Shoulders spasmed, firm buttocks twitched, and long shapely legs danced to the crack and hum of the sparking whip. Over that rhythm, Ryoko’s cries became clearer and louder with each strike. It couldn’t be called a melody, but it was music to Arisa’s ears.
While operating the armor, it became Arisa’s body, cutting off most of the sensations and awareness of her fleshy form bundled in the armor’s chest. On the other hand, her connection to the armor’s spirit was forged through mutual lust and hunger, and sensations relating to those aspects of the body were actually enhanced. Thus, Arisa could not really feel her mouth and throat working as she cackled over the oni’s suffering, but she could feel the control rod thrumming deep inside her and her own juices dripping down around the rod as she delivered her retribution. She could also feel the hunger and pleasure of the spirit in her armor at this successful conclusion of their battle.
Her pleasure in her work lessened a bit as she realized the cries she was hearing did not match her expectations. Screaming? Check. Groaning? Check. Sounds of distress? Not quite. Begging for mercy? Heck no. Instead she heard the following:
Zmmmmm. CRACK!
“Ohhhhhh!”
Zmmmmm. CRACK!
“Ooooooo!”
Zmmmmm. CRACK!
“Oh Yeah!”
While this was not quite to Arisa’s tastes, the crowd outside grew more excited, conveying that feeling with more cheering and energetic action among those who had decided to express themselves more physically. Not everyone in the audience had been as enthusiastic about the flogging as Arisa, but most everyone could appreciate someone having a good time, and some of them had been rooting for Ryoko earlier anyway.
Having Kyoko turn the captive around so her front could be worked on did not alleviate the problem. Then again it was only a problem in Arisa’s eyes.
Ryoko’s life experiences had given her a different view of pain than that of most people. As means of coping with and gaining some pleasure from her former existence, she had come to find many forms of pain stimulating, provided things did not exceed certain thresholds. As she could withstand blows and attacks would turn ordinary humans into paste or burn them to ash, those thresholds were very high.
On top of this, she had been immersed and bathed in the energies of the tree Funaho as part of her imprisonment. Funaho itself had been working tendrils of its power into the spiritual energy flows of the world to bestow blessings of long life and good health on the populace. As a side effect, that population had developed a higher incidence and level of magical talents. Due to effects on the birthrates and gender balance of the populace, those talents had largely been put to use in ways pertaining to sex and gaining sexual partners. Most cultures on the planet had developed or adopted forms of sexual slavery, which became central pillars of those societies and mystically-talented members of those societies were encouraged to turn much of their spellwork towards that application.
Natsume Kyusaku was a shining example of all of these genetic and cultural trends. A few centuries of dedicated work by people like him had, in turn, had influenced the mystical energies of the world, which fed back into Funaho and, by extension, Ryoko.
All of which meant Ryoko was having a pretty good time dancing on air as she convulsed under the touch of Arisa’s electric lash.
An average Earth human from an average Earth timeline, feeling the charged tails of the whip crack across her skin and pour current into misfiring nerves and spasming muscles, would have been shrieking in agony and sobbing for mercy.
An average woman of this version of Japan would have cried out in pain under each strike and begged for the opportunity to please “Mistress” Arisa in whatever capacity she wished, but would also have had a certain appreciation for the lingering sting and tingle following those strikes.
Ryoko interpreted each blow as a caress. The blows came faster and harder as her tormentor’s frustration grew. Her skin reacted to the blows, showing a growing lattice of crossing red stripes, but the throbbing, burning, and stinging of those marks were positive things in her mind, matching the growing heat and throbbing of other sensitive areas.
As the forked tongue of the lash worked its way towards those sensitive areas, pleasure and pain become one. Sprays of sparks were joined by splatters of her juices, flung from her with each jerk and spasm. When at last the lash licked her where those juices came from, she screamed in elation rather than agony. She shouted in joy at being out of the cave and able to feel something besides the cold. Most of all she screamed the name of a young man on her mind.
Arisa, as a good slave, had continued the show for the audience, even after it became a mockery of what it should have been. The crowd loved it, and Mistress Akiko always stressed the importance of good relations with the neighbors. That didn’t mean that she appreciated being robbed of the opportunity to work out her frustrations properly. But there was more than one way for her to get satisfaction. It was time for the serious pacification measures.
The molding of her armor included the appearance of regular, if skimpy, armor, including a sort of metal G-string. That section of the armor retracted and folded away inside, making way for a new weapon in the arsenal to emerge. A weapon often associated with that location on the female form, but not pointed in the outgoing direction. The rod, slightly curved and patterned with smooth ridges along its length, was of truly epic scale for such weapons. The knob on the end, with smooth studs, added to its fearsome appearance. It hummed with power, in tune with the rod inside the armor that occupied the slick channel of its operator. Arisa pumped it in and out a couple of times, both rods moving in unison. Yes, she though this would be very satisfying.
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(Posted Mon, 06 Dec 2004 04:17)
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