science fiction – Page 6 – Contemplating the divine

These aren’t the femdom captions you’re looking for

Move along.

Love is…

… savage and cruel and it shines like destruction.

Or at least, I’ve always found it to be so.

I usually deal with it by shrieking like a little girl, thrashing helplessly against the bonds and frantically begging for forgiveness. I guess everyone has their own way, huh?

She shouldn’t worry about a thing. He’s really good at toppling over onto his side.

Yes, I suppose that would be very special.

Well, that’s a bit last-minute isn’t it? Honestly – that Raoul! He does make me cross sometimes, he really does.

Letting daylight in on industrial light and magic.

Making babies together

Hey there! Morning
tiger! How ya doing?

You want to ring a doctor? Oh! Why? Is something wrong?

Awww… not too personal to tell me, surely honey?

Not gonna tell? OK. Let me guess. The end of your prick has swollen up and it’s
red and sore, right? And you’re feeling
kinda woozy?

Uh huh. Well, I know
what that is.

What!?? No! It is NOT a sexually transmitted
disease. Honey!

No, it’s much more beautiful
than that. We’re going to have a baby!
Well… I am. But you’re going to
hatch it.

Remember when we fucked last night, and you felt a sudden
sharp sting at the end of your cock?
Well, that was me! And it wasn’t a sting, it was an egg-laying
proboscis. And right now my lovely
little daughter is all curled up inside your cock, ready to grow.

No…no, don’t try to leave, honey. She wants to be with her Mommy. And if she senses we’re growing far apart,
she’ll release more of the paralysis toxin.
The only reason you’re conscious is that I’m here. She only needs to do that for a few days,
though. She’s got filaments spreading
along your nerve fibres, and when they reach your brain she can take
control. You’ll be free to move and
speak and stuff, but she’ll be in charge.
That way she can keep you safe as she incubates and feeds. It’s like being carried around wrapped in a cushion
of your favourite food!

Hmm? Oh, about nine
months, rather like you humans. She’ll
burrow up into your torso in about a week or so, though, there’s not enough
flesh in your cock to sustain her for more than a few days. She’s got feeding
tendrils that’ll spread throughout your body… muscles, liver, lungs. She’ll take a little from everywhere, try to
keep you alive as long as possible. Your brain’s probably going to be last on her menu – it’s kinda yummy but if you eat it up too quick, the host dies too soon.

Anyway, have some of this fruit. You’re probably hungry,
right? That’s her as well, trying to
fatten you up. I’ll fix breakfast. You want some
pancakes? I can do pancakes, the old-fashioned way. With maple syrup!

Like lovers do

Sex..?. Don’t talk to me about sex. I tried it once – not tryin’ that again. Nearly got me ‘ead stuck!
Joke copyright Alexei Sayle.

It’s wilful impertinence on your part. So’s being too early, obviously.

Scurry scurry scurry…

Don’t worry. She’s quite sweet, really. When she’s not in a bad mood.

In space, no one can hear you sigh with hopeless romantic infatuation…

More unpleasant things

…of the usual sort.

Don’t worry, she always reaches orgasm eventually. She won’t give up.

(The lovely, Divine, Mistress Heather.)

If you pay extra, she’ll do tease and denial too. That’s where she asks you if you’d like to come, before telling you to fuck off.

Actually, she does get occasional complaints. But they’re always retracted, with a heartfelt apology, before the end of the session.

Technology… oh dear. As if I wasn’t already obsolete enough.

In space, no one else can hear you scream.

Outer space now belongs to…

Anne! And it’s got some stupid title but anyway it’s the Anne in space film!

Here are some publicity photos, and a sneak preview of the dialogue – well, monologue – from one of the best scenes.

Houston? Crewmember
Brand here for Janus 9. We have an
emergency. Oxygen levels are now at 43% nominal and dropping fast. I am in my suit and my status is green, but
Commander Cooper and Crewman Benlow are out of their suits. Please advise, over.

Negative, Houston.
The Commander and Crewman cannot en-suit at this time, because they were
engaged in sexual congress and the Commander cannot disengage. Over.

Yeah – it’s kind of a forced bi thing I was making them
do. We’ve had a bit of a femdom scene
going on up here, and I thought it would be funny to make the Commander fuck the Crewman up the ass. They begged me not to, but I’m in charge in here. Over.

What? Well sure it’s relevant to the emergency, dickbrain! Ahem, sorry, the Commander’s sexual organ appears to be
unusually engorged, Houston, probably due to the sudden drop in capsule pressure. Consequently he cannot disengage from the
Crewman. Over.

Houston, do you copy? Oxygen at 31%. Rate of depressurisation constant. Over.

Negative, Houston, the Commander is unable to join this conversation. It’s just on my suit channel. I’m not broadcasting it through the cabin, Houston, because they’d be really embarrassed and they might hyperventilate. Right now they’re breathing fast and shallow, like we did in training for emergency depressurisation.

Request permission to detach
the Commander’s penis from the rest of his body and thus enable both
crewmembers to suit up. Over.

Houston, do you copy? Over.

Houston, awaiting response.

Over.

Glad you’re back, Houston. You went kind of quiet there. You want me to say again?
Sure. Can I castrate the
Commander? He really doesn’t want me to
but I think it’s the only way. I’ve got
a scalpel right here. Oxygen now at 23%
nominal. Over.

Say again, Houston?
Turn the oxygen back up? No, I
don’t know how to do that. I’ve heard
it’s kind of complicated. Over.

Negative, Houston. I
can’t see a dial that looks like that.
I could look for one, but it would take a long time. But I’ve got the
scalpel. Right here. Please advise, over.

Oxygen levels now at 19% nominal, Houston.

Your call.

Resistance is futile

Utterly futile.

I love the way a recent article in the Guardian about science fiction on British TV just *happened* to use an image from this episode featuring whip-wielding dominatrices to exemplify the series Space 1999.

That’s only fair, because you’re not in fact safe.

The awesome Jean Bardot.

Aww… look at that little pout. Isn’t she sweet when she’s cross? Better do what the little woman says, hmmm? Just to humour her, you know. You can assert yourself later, I expect.

If you want a picture of the future, imagine a sweaty trainer stamping on a human face — forever*.

I do.

Mistress Francesca Harding, prepared it would seem to help with life-long learning experiences.

*Test time! What is the slightly garbled literary reference? Hmm? Anyone? You! You at the back – hands out of your pockets, boy! – what’s the answer?

Cashless society

A silly little tale. But could it happen in reality? You decide.

Sometimes Dennis wished he’d been born a hundred years
before. ‘I mean, what was wrong with
just using money anyway?’ he asked himself furiously, as the line in front of
him to the check-out slowly shortened.
Or cheques, he thought. I could
really be good with cheques. Just sign
your name – done.

The man in front of him reached the checkout desk. He wasn’t buying much – just a couple of
pairs of socks. Dennis, in contrast, was
laden down with clothes of all descriptions. He tried to buy as much as he
could each time.

“That’s £8.25, thank you sir.” he heard the shop assistant
say. “If you’d like to just place your
penis into the scanner for ID verification.”

Dennis surreptitiously glanced past the man’s broad back, to
see a large pink object being deposited in the half-cylinder on the counter,
with an audible thwack. After a few
seconds, there was a quiet ‘beep’ and the penis was put back inside the man’s trousers and he zipped up. A small green light was winking on the device
on the counter, with two red lights beside it.
Two red lights! Dennis stared with horror. The WR-20s only had one red light. This must be one of the new VC8000
models! He’d only come to this shop
because he was confident it still used WR-20s.
At least those usually worked after the third or fourth try.

He considered running, but it was too late. The man in front had taken his socks and
gone, and the sales assistant was smiling vacantly at him.

“All these is it? Do
you have a storecard with us at all?”

Dennis shook his head sullenly as he wondered why sales
assistants all had that strange way of speaking.
Why put emphasis on the ‘have’?
And what on earth is ‘at all’ supposed to mean in that context?

But he couldn’t distract his mind for long from his
impending fate, and soon enough the assistant was saying “That’ll be £458.75
altogether, please. If you’d like to
just place your penis into the scanner for ID verification.”

Taking a deep breath, Dennis opened his flies and pushed
himself as hard as he could against the edge of the counter. His penis, looking smaller and more
shrivelled even than usual, just managed to cover the first inch or so of the
VC8000’s black length. Nothing happened.

“Just be a moment” the shop assistant said, apparently to
the air beside her. “Sometimes it’s a
bit temperamental.” They waited a bit
longer.

Eventually, she seemed to snap out of her shop assistant
trance and notice that something wasn’t right.
She pressed an elegantly manicured finger to a button on the side of the
VC8000. Three red lights flashed angrily
in response.

“I’ve never seen it do that before.” she said,
uncertainly. “Maybe we could try another
– “

“My penis is too small to activate the scanner”, Dennis
said, very fast and low. “Please – it’s
OK, you can take a manual ID verification instead. You’ve done it before.”

“Eh?” the assistant replied.
“Shall we try another scanner?”

Dennis swore inside.
“No” he said through gritted teeth.
“My penis is too small to activate the scanner. It won’t work in any of them.”

“Oh.” the assistant said, looking a bit worried. She turned to the lady next to her and spoke
in a singsong conversational voice: “Gentleman says his penis is too small to
activate the scanner, Mrs Dawes.”

The older lady looked dismissive. “Oh no – just shove it a bit further up. They’re very good these days.”

“Could you shove it a bit further up for me?” the assistant
asked brightly, and Dennis made a show of pressing his groin even more firmly
against the edge of the counter. Christ,
his balls hurt. The base of his penis
moved perhaps two millimetres further onto the counter. The skin wrinkled ever so slightly, the tip
moved not at all.

Now several of the sales staff were involved, standing
around and staring at the problem. Dennis didn’t dare turn around to see how
many customers were in the queue behind him, but he could hear some shuffling
feet and the occasional ‘tsk!’.

One of the ladies looked up and called right across the shop
“MISS MARKHAM! GENTLEMAN’S PENIS IS TOO
SMALL TO ACTIVATE THE SCANNER!” Dennis
felt as if he would die.

A tall blonde lady, dressed all in black strode over. Dennis estimated her age as mid-thirties and her attitude as lethal. She fixed him with a
cool stare.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

“Well, Miss Markham, the gentleman…” began one of the
younger assistants.

“I asked the gentleman here!” Miss Markham snapped, giving
her a murderous look. “Well?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“My er,…” Dennis began, staring shamefacedly down. He looked up and into the most piercing blue
eyes he had ever seen. She was holding a
pen, which she started to tap steadily against her clipboard. Her lips pursed.

“Small penis problem, is it?”

“Erm, yes. You see I
-“

“You have a penis that is too small to function properly,
that is all I need to see” Miss Markham snapped back. Several of the sales staff tittered.

“But if you can’t verify your identity, I’m afraid we’ll
have to deal with you as a criminal” Miss Markham went on, the merest hint of a
smile on her ruby lips. I’ll have to
take you off to our holding room and investigate the matter thoroughly.” One perfectly lacquered fingernail pushed
firmly against the clip holding the papers to her clipboard, forcing it all the
way down and then letting it snap back with savage force.

“Unless of course, you can produce an adequately sized penis
right here and now” she went on.
“Adequate for ID verification purposes that is. I hardly think that it
would ever be suitable for anything else.”

She leaned forward to whisper in Dennis’s ear.

“And I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. Please pass on my condolences to your
wife. You might want to let her know
that our ladies department has a line of very discrete vibrators. They come in lots of different sizes… all a
lot bigger than that.”

(Yes, I know this scene has nothing to do with the story. But isn’t she wonderful?)

“The gentleman was saying as how he could manually – “
Dennis’s original assistant ventured, but Miss Markham just held her gaze to
his in silence.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary” she murmured.

They looked down.
Dennis’s penis was no longer resting on the VC8000. On the contrary, it seemed to have become
self-supporting, waving uncertainly an inch or so above the scanner. It had also become at least an inch longer.

Miss Markham smiled and lowered her clipboard, concealing
the awful sight and firmly pressing Dennis’s cock down onto the black plastic
surface. He gasped with shock and
pleasure.

There was a quiet beep and a light turned green.

Epilogue

Dennis’s wife, Mary came home to a room full of bags and
boxes. “Oh darling!” she gasped. “Whatever have you been buying?”

“Anything I like!” Dennis replied, proudly. “Well, as long as it’s available at De
Lacey’s – but they sell everything under one roof, so why would that matter?”

“Oh darling!”, Mary remarked again (as ladies on this blog
are inclined to do). “But, erm… what
about paying for them? You know – your
little problem?”

“Not a problem any more!” Dennis beamed. He had a sudden thought “Oh – and I got you
this.”

He handed her a gift-wrapped package and stood back.

“For me?” she asked.
“Oh you shouldn’t have”. And
quickly she unwrapped the ribbon and paper to reveal a long cardboard box. She gently eased off the lid, to expose a
long, plastic object nestling on crepe paper inside.

“Oh darling” she said, running her finger lightly along its
length, gently stroking the ribbing, resting the tip on the buttons at the base. “My
sweet, silly darling.”

“Did you think I didn’t have one already?”

In this absurd story, the part of Miss Markham was played by the fabulous Mistress Eleise de Lacey. When I started writing the story, she wasn’t involved but she just arrived halfway through, and took over.

However, no resemblance of the characters to any person living or dead is intended. Except the character of Dennis, who is very precisely based upon Servitor in all significant, and several insignificant, respects.

Any flavour except vanilla

… or raspberry ripple. I really hate raspberry ripple.

Goodness, I hope none of the dommes with whom I have the honour of serving from time to time read this blog and find out my little secret. They might force me to eat raspberry ripple ice cream in session. How awful that would be!

‘We’ are indeed trying. Fortunately, only one of ‘us’ has to succeed, doesn’t she?

You ever had one of those dreams? When you’re naked, surrounded by a hundred jeering, mocking beautiful women? And you can’t speak and you can’t seem to run, but then you have to do a little dance for them and… and then you wake up. And realise it was only a dream? Always such a fucking disappointment.

She’s been working too on a better recovery system. Crashing into a net is fine but it’s just not very… fetish, you know? So she’s been working on something involving combining an aircraft carrier’s ‘arrestor hook’ system, with various anal toys. All top secret just now, I’m afraid, so I don’t know any more details than that.

This is the divine Mistress Ezada Sinn, if you didn’t know that already