CLICK CLICK

THE CLICK CLICK CLICK MACHINE
by ANTHRO
(C) 2006

There was a slow, faint introduction of pale light. Being removed from the eternal darkness it took long moments before Elle could affect some sort of focused vision as protective, stinging tears ran down her cheeks.
The room was now outrageously bright and seemingly illuminated by the glaring walls themselves, an enclosed, six sided cube of mirrors no more than six feet square. Elle tried to straighten upright, or at least as much as she was able, and vainly shuffled her spiked heels upon an upwardly adoring, mirrored floor.
There, in the middle of the room, stood an old Victorian kinescope. A gaudy, metallic, red beast squatting on four spindly, steel legs and whose fading paint only barely allowing the words 'What the Butler saw' to be read. Its cycloptic eye gaped leeringly, but also seductively, as it coyly hid Elle's body from her own scrutiny, condemning her to catch mere glimpses of herself as an almost 1920's flapper ; bobbed hair, pearls and tight silk stockings pinching her flesh just above the knee. Aside from these accessories, she felt herself to be naked.
Her neck stung a little as her binding collar and chain resisted her every movement while binding her to the one eyed automaton. All of Elle's body could feel the tight restrictions of the strappings which bound her to the machine. The leather bound wrists, ankles and neck, with legs spread apart and held open to a widened position that was almost like a parody of the steel legs of the red machine itself.
Bright light poured out from the gaping eye, growing in intensity as Elle noticed a faint scent shifting through the tiny mirrored room. And then, without warning, the machine mysteriously clicked and her chains were drawn tightly into the kinescope like a lost lover. Now her face was forced against the viewing port that poured out a harsh, white light and moulded itself around her entire scope of vision until the only thing she could see was what the machine dictated on its screen.
The sound of heels echoed softly, but Elle could see nothing but the light before her. Then there was the metallic noise of a coin tumbling into the pay slot and falling deep within the mechanism ; the machine clicked in its automatic response and the hard white light became a flickering source of tones as a scratchy film entitled 'Charlotte' began.
Bright grey, black and white light flickered out as Art-Deco titles introduced the film with a series of names that meant nothing to Elle. The jerky film began with a thin, pretty flapper danced in an antiquated style before a backdrop of shadowed curtains and palm plants, her hair held in check only by her sequinned headband. Coyly the girl began to tug at the side of her Chanel-like dress, sweetly turning her back as the pale blue, silky material tumbled from her shoulders, gliding to the floor as it slid over an anaemic blue silk slip. She faced the lens and fluttered her wide, painted eyes as the camera tightened in on her thin and cool face. Next the camera slowly pulled back to reveal her covering her breasts and crotch with her hands, now being stripped down to nothing more than a lace camisole which stopped some inches short of her silky, flesh coloured, knee stockings.
Elle giggled mentally at this almost innocent and mildly erotic slice of nostalgia, her own body held quite rigid and vulnerable as she became a slave to the moving image. As the film jumped again, the girl was now nude except for her stockings, heels and pearls, revealing an abandoned mass of tangled pubic hair, the thickness and abundance of which Elle had never seen before ; much more distracting than the rather amateur 'Vamp' impression Charlotte was giving as she glanced about herself as if waiting for instruction from some unseen, off-camera director.
Little Charlotte ran her small hands over her rounded, fleshy mounds, touching them cautiously as if they belonged to someone other than herself and then plunging both down into the dark, tangled triangle dominating the tops of her thighs. As her fingers dragged and probed she occasionally revealed a quick flash of jutting vaginal lips. All the while she was mouthing something, a mute call of who knew what?
The captions which came up were in some strange and indecipherable language. Watching Charlotte's mouth and disposition it seemed to Elle that some of the words were quite apparently coarse blasphemies. It was wholly incongruent.
A man, dressed in a dark dinner suit appeared from stage left and Charlotte knelt down before him, childishly opening his fly and ably removing his olive skinned, flaccid penis. Her nimble, little hands released him as she touched her own small breasts once again, rubbing and sliding as she became more forceful in the stimulation of her own flesh until she tugged wildly at her stubby nipples.
Elle was helpless to do anything but watch and become more aware of the dampness which had begun deep inside of herself and was now oozing out of the wet vaginal lips to moisten the insides of her own naked thighs.
The man in the film began to stroke his stiffening penis, slowly peeling the skin back and forth until he was quite hard and tossing little strands of lubricant from the end of it. All the time he watched the luscious little Charlotte as she, coquettishly, stimulated herself more and more.
Elle's mouth dropped open in shock as the camera revealed the man and Charlotte in profile, surprised by the unexpected cascade of urine rushing from the directed erection and splashing all over Charlotte and the frenzied mask of ecstasy which now painted her face. She appeared to find the act to be no hardship, tossing her head about the steaming shower and licking little streams with her flickering tongue. The faceless man smiled widely and continued the long release as his steaming, urinary flow, saturating her face, body and hair as she appeared to masturbate herself wildly, violently bucking and twisting her kneeling body as she simultaneously stretched her pouting mouth wide to accept the glittering shower into her sweet mouth. Charlotte let the hot flow fill her mouth, spraying back out like a fountain as it splashed over them both. Then her widened lips covered the head of the thick, exuding penis and no more liquid escaped the hermetic seal as she swallowed deeply, rolling her eyes in a guise of pleasure. The girl in the film thrust her right arm up and down vigorously between her kneeling thighs as her other hand tugged her breast far out from her chest in a mutant fleshy point. For a few more moments this tableau continued until it became apparent that Charlotte was about to perversely achieve her own orgasm very soon. The sopping little body jerked and pressed upwards as her mouth opened widely allowing a dam-burst of liquid to backflow as the look of orgasm slowly appeared in her face.
Then the film stopped. There was no sound. Nothing mechanical, no footsteps, nothing. There was no sound from anywhere, merely absolute silence. It was then Elle noticed the volume of her own fast heartbeat and the flush of blood gushing through her own flesh, the sound of her own breathing : always familiar, but always a little disturbing.
She waited.
It took some time to recognise the sound of someone else's silent breathing, mimicking her own.
"Who's there?" Elle demanded.
There was no reply. There was nothing but the enforced darkness before her eyes, staring up from the blankness of the cycloptic, mechanical eye.
Elle jumped visibly as she reacted to the unexpected, cool touch of a rubber covered hand, gently stroking the rise of her arched spine. The bonds which held her in the darkness did not allow any information or impression of the identity, or sex, of her silent companion, the only sound was the echoes of measured footsteps slowly moving about her.
"Say something...who are you? Are you for me?" Elle asked of the other, but there was no reply.
"Let me see you! " demanded the captive girl.
Elle felt the harsh stroke of a hand smack against her yielding buttock and heard its resounding echo. It made her squeal a little.
For a time there was a cowed silence. The cool fingers appeared again, stroking and pushing her inner thighs apart, rising upwards ever so slowly. The cool rubber caress made her flesh tingle and her skin chill with its sensual touch. It took long minutes until they finally met at the top of her quivering thighs.
Elle moaned softly to herself as her hanging wet lips were parted by slowly advancing thumbs. There was almost no embarrassment as she felt a little trickle of vaginal fluid run out from the dark hole leading to her moist interior as her internal sex was exposed and pulled open by the stubby, outer lips. For moan inducing minutes the rubber fingers pulled, teased and stretched the extraneous flesh of her sex, sometimes pulling her widely apart and other times dragged it up or down. The exploratory digits tickled the puffy clitoral hood, teasing the swollen flesh beneath the jutting skin. The rubber fingers felt clinical as they probed, squeezed and kneaded the erotic bud, forcing it harshly against the unyielding pubis. Elle moaned in pain and pleasure, equally unwillingly.
Head inside the mute machine, Elle stood craned over, arse high in the air and revealing the most private and intimate apertures of her finely defined torso crevasse. She could well have been a living exhibit for a 95 year old sheep molester, but it didn't matter to Elle ...all she could feel was the forbidden bliss of clitoral stimulus defining her entire fibre of being.
The fingers became more cruel in their ministrations and in their extracting of her pleasure. And yet the more the fingers twisted and nipped her delicate nipple of pleasure, the more she moaned in a rapture of progressively unrestrained joy. No matter how she tried she could still not move free of the machine's restraints, just as she could see nothing more than the blinkering shield of the solitary, dark mechanical eye.
The machine clicked and lit up again as Elle's wide eyes struggled to take in visual sensory information over and above the harsh, erotic pleasures she was overdosing on. 'Relativity' flashed on and off the screen repeatedly.
Elle's dark eyes initially saw n empty whiteness, then a tall woman in lacing knee boots and clinging, leather leggings march across a tiny room. The cropped blonde head with its exotic, cruel eyes and exaggerated eyebrows was as powerfully commanding as the large, bare-chested torso with its thick leather braces and undulating fleshy breasts whose thick tips pointed upward towards the ceiling.
The captive girl felt a congregation of fingers at her half yawning orifice, fluttering and sharing the oozing moisture amongst themselves as they turned like a multi-fingered drill bit.
With a long "Ooooooohhhh!!!", Elle felt three fingers pushing simultaneously inside her weeping body, quickly widening her sexual opening with their expanding girth.
On screen the harsh blonde stood beside a figure arched over...the same type of machine SHE herself was presently viewing.
As the fingers touched the girl's spine Elle recognise the unmistakable vision of her very own body. Onscreen she observed the long, powerful, stocking clad legs nipping in just above the knee and the, gently captivating, hanging breasts in a fluid, fleshy shape. The metal machine was like a tethering post in the film, locking the pretty woman by her wrists, neck and ankles straps leaving the crouched body in a vulnerable and quite exposed position.
In the real world all the digging fingers were now well inside her submissive sex, the knuckles widening her outer muscles until she felt her flesh agonisingly spreading to accommodate the unnatural intruder until it wetly tumbled over and swallowed the penetrating obstruction inside herself. The tension of the ordeal passed onto distorted pleasure as she mentally imaged the scenario as if she had just ingested a stainless steel bowling ball into her tiny vaginal capacity. She could do no more than release a pained "Grnnnnnnmmmmaaaahhh, aaaaahhhh, ahh!!"
The screen had caught up with the real world and she watched herself being fucked in a way that was entirely new to her. Her mind realised that it was difficult, if not inexplicable, to explain how all this was being done but at the same time it was strange to see herself appear on the flickering format of a primitive and juddering film. The real black fist was invisible to the camera's gaze, but she could feel the reality of it pressuring every millimetre of her oozing, gasping cunt. Only wordless sounds escaped her lips as she felt the balled fist inside her expanding and exploring as if trying to open her from the inside out.
Elle watched the captive body on screen jump, as the powerful arm thrust up between the open thighs to disappear into the dark gash above as the cropped blonde woman smiled savagely from her half crouched position.
The insides of her vagina were tingling with electricity as the erotic bliss of massive internal stimulation peaked into harsh physical obstructions that moved her entire captive body in shock waves of fleshy motion. But even her groans of pleasure and pain revealed the exciting thrall she was held in...the fact that she was watching herself being manipulated on screen like a sexual exhibit, like Charlotte in fact, only made her sexual hunger and thrill grow with each cunt bending, fist fuck.
Onscreen the tormenting woman rammed the black fist up and down like a vertical piston, wet juices glistening and flickering with highlights as it momentarily pulled back a little before plunging back in to shift and compress the tender internal flesh again. As the thrusting continued the slippery glow became a creamier, foam flecked band which continued to grow and develop just as it progressively began to slither and contaminate more and more of the black gloved arm.
The relativity of a large object in too small a place was only apparent on a conscious, practical level. Elle's sensations and shifting emotions precluded any theoretical surmisal.
The machine showed her tormentor pulling the, still clenched, sopping fist out from the pummelled sex, although Elle was still benefiting from the plunging vaginal exercise in the machine room. The enormous intruder within was plunging faster as Elle's screams became indeterminate and she felt the stretched sexual cavern collapse in on itself as her first vaginal sourced orgasm reduced her to a grunting structure of rippling, undulating flesh. The muscle locking grip of the orgasmic throes made her pull savagely at the unyielding machinery she was tied to as her flesh tingled from head to toe and succulent little bubbles of igniting perspiration broke free from every pore on her pale skin. Her throaty moans pulsed in time with the gasping shudder of tender, clenching vaginal tissue trying to contract about an obstruction too large to allow it to do so. The hanging breasts quivered in an echoed, rippling motion throughout the shock waves that emanated from a wide fleshy glove which could only be entered from between her thighs. Elle'e eyes were tight shut and she was just able to stay upright as the unusual sensations elated her whole body. Even the sounds of her own penetrated wetness was sensory stimulus which enhanced the body gripping pleasure of climactic release.
"Jeezusgod! I've never...it was ooooohhhhHHHHH!!!" she muttered as she felt and heard the black fist pulling out from her, sucking the widened sex walls behind it in the vacuum drag of fistular withdrawal.
The sound of licking and finger sucking was quite apparent and Elle could see a thrillingly horrifying sight unfolding before her renewed gaze. Her own sweet frame was being impaled, it was the only possible word which was appropriate to her, upon an enormously wide and amply lengthed phallus. Even more incredible was the sight of it emanating from the cruel leather woman's pubis.
Elle was helpless but to watch in fascination and fear at the sight of her own body being the recipient of the inordinate intrusion. The camera focused on the twisting movements of her distorting body as the monster rotundity of the head pushed into the intimate cleft to widen the fist opened aperture to new heights of exaggerated sensation. Elle was shaking as she watched the flesh of her upper thighs and the symmetry of her pert buttocks distorting significantly as the immense organ dragged her very flesh inwards in its monolithic onslaught. The agonising twisting of her cinematic Doppelganger was horrifying as she watched, in insatiable curiosity, thinking about the sensations which the visual actions influenced. The fear thrilled her. Despite the haunting pain of a sex organ penetrated and widened to a point greater than nature's engineering considered feasible, Elle was still heavily aroused. Even gasping with orgasm drained exhaustion and feeling the omnipresent sexual hunger it was the unknowing, subordinated sensations which were so perfectly enhanced and courted by the tingling fear...of things unknown, of things yet to come.
Something cold pushed widely between her parted thighs and Elle instantly started screaming in precognitive alarm.
"NonononononoNo! No don't please, please, please...DON'T !!"
No matter how hard and aggressively she tried Elle could not escape of alleviate the forceful, binding grip which controlled her position and ability to move. Like a raving Banshee she tossed her offered torso about to save herself the terrifying ordeal she had just witnessed beginning on screen. The taste of excitement had now become a real and tangible fear which she had never known before in the real world. The worst aspect was that no matter what she did, there was no escape. The cold thickness stayed exactly where it was despite her rabid muscular throes.
The enormous phallus was already spreading and parting the slithering wet outer lips into a wide 'O' that gasped and choked in a super smooth ring of strained red flesh. All the while the coldness remained within the object as it slowly negotiated the comparatively tight vaginal neck which determinedly tried to gather fanatically to deny access to the monolithic intruder. Inevitably its power defeated the resistance effortlessly leaving only gaping and yielding flesh which spread and wetly slipped the rounded head more and more access to the besieged, vaginal chamber. Elle's outer lips were beginning to move down towards the base of the sphere on a stick, whilst inside all the available space seemed to have been taken and transmogrified elsewhere before the full capacity of the penetrator had been achieved. At the same time she felt her internal control slip away in fear and painful distortion as a quaking, hot yellow flow escaped unbidden, tickling her jutting clitoris enough to unexpectedly teeter on a familiar orgasm.
There were far too many sensations and confused neural messages for Elle to understand what was actually happening to her own body.
Meanwhile the giant organ forced the flesh about it as a path was finally achieved through the most tender and intimate canal of female anatomy until the mammoth pull of the phallus head was fully docked within her hyper-stretched vaginal chamber. Inside everything seemed to have been moved, her kidneys, bladder, and even her bowel. All the while there was a schismatic and intense pressure that vacillated between absolute discomfort and bizarre sensory stimulation. Elle's thighs were unnaturally parted, her entire vulva lifted high into the recesses of the pubic bone and her crotch seemed to be too wide to keep her legs adequately in their sockets. The pressure of the enormous hard core within her vagina continued to force the teasing spits of her bladder's golden juice with the most insignificant of movements. By the point her sex had started its uterine spasm followed by its vagio-muscular throes that were incapable of compressing the monolithic intruder Elle's own pissing, from the distortedly aimed urethral opening, had stimulated the bloated, blood flushed clitoris to an almost simultaneous and unexpected orgasm. The cold phallus impaled her easily as her physical control was reduced to negligible as her flesh harmonised the orgasm of interior and exterior orgasms.
Elle's scream of release was totally unidentifiable as erotic or painful as wave upon wave of spectacularly draining sensation wracked her collapsing frame. A fire burned between her thighs and her half stretched vagina contracted and alternated with the hot, gold liquid overflowing from the shaggy brown mass of pubic hair. Sweat exploded all about her skin and her breathing became strained as Elle reached her own limits of sexual endurance and torture. Only the high pressure intruder seemed to keep her standing as the unnatural vaginal and clitoral orgasms alternated with distorted natural functions and everything seemed to be wet. Cold rubber hands gripped her hips and rolled her useless and orgasmic body about the impaling phallus making Elle squeal, squeak and moan like a gravity powered crying doll. The sensations were beyond comprehension as hosts of unused sensory data mixed and simultaneously amalgamated with themselves. The only enduring thing was the enormous pressure and sense tingling spreading of Elle's sex.
A host of scrambled images blasted across the screen before her shifting eyesight, all the while she felt her insides being widened and stimulated more and more by the most un-natural means conceivable. Her orgasm and pain was not subsiding but hanging on like an erotic fog and even growing in intensity.
Unbelievably she felt the sensation just keeping on and somewhere in the darkest corner of her mind she wanted even more, wanted to feel things beyond reality and sensation. A part of her mind was a willing victim as the phallus began to push in further, impossibly trying to get even more if itself inside her hopelessly inadequate vaginal chamber. Elle's eyes were suddenly wide open in a mute copy of her screaming mouth, screeds of random images running faster before her eyes like random thoughts from the mechanical erotica viewer.
The cold object was beyond manageable boundaries and its gargantuan thickness was spreading stretched flesh further than its capacity until Elle thought her insides and outsides were beginning to rip...and all the while the unnatural sensations tried to induce her to go on, go further, ride this deranged perversity to its conclusions- to ignore the body's impulses and to follow the dark side of her mind.
On screen Elle caught occasional glimpses of herself in a collapsing, liquid motion impaled, opened and with vast inches of cold phallus consumed far up inside herself. Her heart was beating too fast and she could no longer get breath...the pressure of her sex and climax was melting her mind...all the while these visions and thoughts kept blasting through her mind until :
'SENSORY DATA OVERLOAD:SHUTDOWN DIGITAL VIRTUAL REALITY SIMULATION.... CLOSEDOWN RANDOM D. V. R. S. . . . . . . . . . EXIT.'
The clinging, hi-tech rubber body suit sucked against her wet skin as she felt the computer controlled speculum allow her flesh to return to its normal construction. The cool blue light of the cyclopic eye before her relaxed Elle tranquilly as the last waves of sexual pleasure slowly ebbed away as a strange, but fulfilled, emptiness took hold.
She lay akimbo on the bed, used up and empty, used by herself and drained by her own imagination and digital visual trickery. Elle was helpless in her state of self submission, nothing was ever like this to her in the real world.
It was the way her own imagination and programming intertwined, playing with digital visual samples of herself in varying guises with random, interactive options to create something new and outwith her own control and imagination, that provided the thrill that usually required the input of a 'someone else'. Its autoerotic technology was like a mirror-twin extension of herself, making Elle tingle a little in perverse, excited amusement at being both the audience and performer in her own theatre of the erotic. The uncontrolled and drained state of her bleached body was manifest proof of her theory that personal relativity was the true key to the harmony of (Wo)Man and Machine. By a balance of technology and imagination she was doing something no-one else had been able to do for her before, giving herself some of the greatest fucks she'd never had.
Elle lay in the dark, wet, satisfied, happy...and quite alone.
The machine remained, impassive, waiting.

***** THE CLICK CLICK CLICK MACHINE *****

* * * * * * * * * I M P O R T A N TN O T E .* * * * * * * * * **

ANTHRO SHOULD LIKE TO DRAW YOUR ATTENTION TO THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION

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THIS WORK IS INTENDED AS ENTERTAINMENT FOR BROAD MINDED ADULTS ONLY.

IN NO WAY DO WE CONDONE OR SUPPORT ANY ACTIVITIES WHICH INVOLVES COERCION, A LACK OF CONSENT OR RAPE.

NO REPRESENTATION IS MEANT TO DEPICT ANY FORM OF UNDER-AGE PARTICIPANTS OR COERCIVE ACTIVITIES.

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT IN ANTHROWORLD AIDS, H I V & V. D. DON'T EXIST, BUT THEY DAMN WELL DO ON PLANET EARTH,

SO BE SAFE, USE A CONDOM AND PRACTISE SAFE SEX.

PEACE, ANTHRO.