7

Humiliatrix

Written by Mr. K

When I battled Earth Mother, she froze me. She collected a blizzard around me, as I rushed at her on a rooftop, and turned me into a sculpture of frost. She concentrated the cold between my thighs first, making me shudder and scream, then spread it across my whole body in an instant. She left me standing as an ice sculpture on that roof.

Rakshasa turned me to stone when we battled in space before this episode on the space station. He absorbed one blow after another as we floated above the wreckage of an old Russian space station. He laughed, raised a finger, and I was a floating piece of space debris. He disappeared, and I drifted in space.

On Tasmania III, at the hands of the Wizard, I turned to stone. There was cold, and then darkness. That was all I remembered of being turned into a statue. I watched Humiliatrix’s films with interest; now I could see what happened while I was dead to the world.

“Look at what they did with you. I love it!” she laughed. She clapped her hands and giggled like and overjoyed school girl. She pointed at the image of Gold, Cutlass and me standing stock-still as grey, stone statues. Three busty stone women. Three curvy sculptures.

I watched as a sea of hands surged and washed around us. For a moment it looked like a pagan tribe worshipping their goddess idols. They lifted each of us, and again we were being crowd surfed. This time, though, we were objects, plain and simple. They could have smashed us, or jettisoned us out to float in space forever. Hands still palmed our tits and ass, but they touched only cold stone and lifeless hardness.

“They debated over who would own each of you. The Congregation got you,” said Humiliatrix. She laughed at how they enjoyed carrying me upside down.

“They kept you like that for only an hour or so,” she said. ”They had the power to turn you back.”

“When I was turned back to flesh and blood…they had me.”

There was a shot of me in a narrow, tight capture tube. They had me bottled in a holding tube so tight that my big tits were pressed together and my thighs were pressed together tightly on my mound. I couldn’t move a single exhausted muscle.

“And they made you watch the other redhead, Mystic. She was entertaining them,” said my hostess.

My mind shifted to Mystic. I remembered seeing her purple body stocking , green stocking boots, and shocking red hair amid the crowd of captors . “No. She was a prisoner of some of the Congregation. There were…there were about ten members of the Congregation there, and they had her.”

“Like I said, she was their entertainment for the evening.”

It was the first time I’d ever encountered the Congregation, aliens who had visited Earth over and over to indulge in the hedonistic joys of being human. They were beautiful people, Their skin was beautiful. Their hair was perfect. They wore designer clothes. I was mesmerized by how utterly perfect they were.

“And they had Mystic?” asked Humiliatrix.

“You know they did.”

They had her on her back. She was barely resisting, her hands up in the air in a dazed sort of attempt to push them away. Somehow, I think that she could barely see them. They were taking turns. When I woke up in that tube, one of them, a burly male model-type had her down on a metal table, and he was kneeling over her. She was a lean, large-breasted woman with solid athletic muscle, not a frail woman, but she seemed dwarfed by his naked bulk. I looked at his big, thick cock hovering near the smooth contours of her thighs and crotch.

“I thought he could probably split her open.”

Humiliatrix was playing with her hair, “You know, she was a guest of mine once. Did you know that? She also has a thing for a woman with a cock.”

She ordered me to get back to the story.

“He ripped her costume off, didn’t he?” laughed Humiliatrix.

I remembered the way her big red nipples seemed to glow against her snowy, white skin as the alien exposed them. She just lay there, vacant eyes staring up at the rivets of the ceiling as the big man tore the upper part of her body suit apart. He made it a point to tear it down to her crotch, the thick, firey plume of unshaved pubes flashing as he pulled away the purple material.

“He ripped her costume open.”

“And he just shoved himself into her. His cock was already hard and primed,” she said.

“Yes. He practically jumped on her and just shoved it in. Jammed himself into her. Stuffed his cock into her. Her head snapped back. They all took hold of her…her legs, her arms, her hair…”

“Men and women.”

“Soon, I couldn’t see her below them.”

Humiliatrix moved around me again.

“They were all over her, huh?”

Again, my eyes were fixed on that massive tool that Humiliatrix wore. The image of Mystic’s gang fuck played through my head as I looked at its girth. A woman with a cock. How did she know about something that I only encountered in my imagination? How could she know so much about me?

“Tell me about what they did,” Humiliatrix said. As if a silent cue had been given, she and her henchwomen moved forward and touched the sleek material of my costume with their strap-ons. My whole body trembled, and I flushed with embarrassment when I realized that they felt my vibrations. I was soaking wet again, and squirming.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you Night Star?”

It was coming from every part or me at once. My big nipples were enflamed, and it felt as though my pussy lips were trying to speak. It was like they were straining against my sheer costume to show the world just how big and thick they were. They seemed to move in time with the tingling that shot up from my ass over and over again.

“She’s gonna’ cum.”

I bit my lower lip.

A dildo touched my mound.

She would show me a film of my orgasm later in my captivity. My cumming was so powerful, so complete, that I could not scream. I would see how my eyes were wide, and how my mouth gaped open with this gasping desperation. My whole body shook, and, with the blood pulsing through me, I felt the kiss of a needle bite into the big vein in my neck.

I passed out for Humiliatrix again.

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