“The Gauntlet: Part Two: Two is too much”
By Deviant Malificus

Her green eyes open, her long red hair tied back tightly in a ponytail. Feargirl looks down at her hands, fingerless gloves and gray nail polish. She feels stiff. She stretches and finds she is flexible. She begins to move automatically through a routine, easily lifting one of her long toned legs above her head, and then the other. She puts herself in a scorpion pose. She’s a yogi or a gymnast. On her feet are black ballet type slippers. Her body is covered by a one piece bodice, and zipper from the neck to the crotch. She realizes it’s muggy in the bare metal room. There’s a door in front of her and a door behind her. She unzips her bodice a bit; she isn’t wearing any under wear. Her breasts… were they larger before, or smaller? They are perky and perfectly round, but not huge.

Its déjà vu, she has just been here, and it was terrible. Without hesitation on her tip toes she moves towards a door that’s in front of her. She opens it revealing a gun metal gray hallway in front of her. She steps out lightly and closes the door behind her. It clangs shut and in the distance she can hear the Minotaur frustrated, move off for something else to occupy it’s time.

“Oh very good,” says the husky voice, the voice Feargirl vaguely knew to be the master of her torment. “You’d didn’t dilly dally and so there was nothing being crushed like a melon,” the voice laughs and takes on a tone of arousal, “Oh but you kicked those legs of yours deliciously, and begged so much. Mmmm, well it can only get better. Take a look around. This is the most peaceful this corridor will ever be.”

Feargirl doesn’t say anything but uses her senses to take in her situation. The hallway was metal and had no visible ceiling. The walls just go up into the darkness before vanishing, seemingly to reach the heavens or hells. The metal is smooth and cold, unearthly in its utter lack of welds or rivets, it is an impossible corridor. Feargirl suspects the corridor is ten feet wide and it runs before her seemingly into infinity.

She knows she is agile, and she knows she can fight. The cold floor soaks through the thin soles of her ballet slippers, her nipples become hard from the chill air and goose bumps begin to form on her bare legs and arms. It is all so distracting. But she must move quickly and she must be quick.

“Remember my dear, two is too many.”

Feargirl ignores the remark as she begins to walk on the tips of toes down the corridor. The air stinks of lubricants and industrial oil. A sharp and loud clang and massive scythe swings down at her. She rolls smoothly forward and it passes over her without harm. Instinct kicks in and she does a forward roll and moves immediately into a forward flip. Her instincts are right, and two blades at ankle level swing underneath her airborne body.

She lands and knows the danger has passed for the moment. She puts one hand lightly to her chest feeling her heartbeat. Satisfied, she begins to creep forward again and the strange corridor falls away behind her and rolls ever forwards. The smell of lubricants grows stronger. Off in the distance a woman moans and then screams.

Suddenly the voice returns, “Oh sorry my dear, some other business I had to attend too. I’m glad those traps didn’t kill you. That would have been such a bore.”

A grinding sound drowns out the last of the woman’s words. Feargirl leaps forward, takes two bounding steps and placing her feet on the left wall launches back across the hallway and lands. She is up and running again. Behind her brass tentacles with machine claws lash out blindly. She smiles, and looks back at the newest trap she just avoided, her instincts are serving her well. She walks forward still looking at the tentacles, feeling a growing confidence. A brass leg kicks her between the legs. She yelps and doubles over grabbing her crotch.

“Target found,” a deep mechanical voice intones.

“Proceed with test,” a higher pitched voice responds.

Feargirl stumbles backward evasively as the metal foot lashes out again and barely misses her face. She looks up and sees two humanoids.
Their chests are a cage of steel bars accented with gold and inside are gears and a strange glow. Their legs are sculpted brass below the knee joint. The feet are shaped to look like roman sandals with strong muscled calves. At the knee the leg becomes skeletal almost, brass clockwork gears and steel bones leading up to a solid crotch area sculpted to look like bulging codpieces. The arms are segmented and sculpted to look like those of weight lifters. The heads of the clockwork men are eyeless but have mouths that look like sinister leers etched into their faces.

She has been staring for too long and in a single stride the one who kicked her swings at her with a punch. He moves like a human fighter. She deflects the blow and steps back and then launches a side kick into its chest. Her ballet slippers add no force, but the clockwork man stumbles back anyway. She is in a fighting stance now. She sees a space between them as the first stumbles from her blow. She could spring off the wall and then leap between them. But Feargirl smiles and sends a round house kick at the one who hadn’t attacked her yet.

The clockwork man’s head flies off and he collapses to the ground. The first one is back at her and she sends a snap kick to its side with her right leg. With a jerky but quick motion the Clockwork man pins her shin against his cold steel caged side. His metallic hand is cold, and vibrates against her calf teasingly. She lets out a slight gasp at the unexpected sensation. She struggles to free her leg, but it is hopeless, the machine is too strong. It lets out a long deep metallic laugh. Using her leg the clockwork man yanks her closer to his body. He adjusts his height with a whirring sound, his cold cod piece is pressing against the soft deer skin of her blackbodice. “Uhhh,” Feargirl moans at the new sensation. She squirms to get away and can’t. The machine’s strength and her helplessness seem to increase the sensation for her.

Feargirl growls and ignoring the strange mounting pleasure between her legs puts her hands together and winds up to smash the thing’s head off with a hammer of a blow. But a metallic hand grabs them both by the wrist it and easily pulls her hands above her head. Feargirl looks: it is the other clockwork man, still headless. She hears high pitched metallic laughter and sees the eyeless face with its leer looking at her on the floor ten feet away. She struggles, and she squirms, “Let me go!” she yells.

The woman’s laughter fills the air, “I warned you that two would be too much.”

The one holding her leg begins to raise it straight up, despite Feargirl’s attempts to resist the motion she is soon in vertical split. Her foot is above her head. “Initiating involuntary pleasure protocol,” the machine announces. The one behind her grabs her small tight ass and presses her crotch firmly against the others cod piece. The vibration begins to grow in intensity. Warm moistness begins to form in Feargirl’s most intimate of regions. The pressure is perfectly against her clit. “Uhhhhh, no, you can’t do this,” she growls fighting back the urge for deep moans. Her foot arches, she struggles as hard as she can but it only intensifies the sensation. It feels incredible. “Oh oh oh,” she moans, the hand on her ass begins to direct her crotch around, change with spots of maximum pleasure. “God, it feels so-uhhh- god,” she cries unable to be coherent, ashamed at the sound of her own voice.

“Climax is approaching,” the higher pitched voice announces, “begin electro counter.”

Feargirl feels herself about to hit the biggest orgasm of her life then suddenly there is pain. Her body seizes, and volts of electricity race up and down her. She emits a high pitched scream, and then the pain is gone and the vibration begins again. Pleasure rises and then suddenly the pain is back. Feargirl is spread, defenseless and at the mercy of depraved robots. She realizes all of this and finds it turning her on even more. Then the electricity returns with new pain, and then it goes. The two extremes come and go. Feargirl finds thoughts slipping from her mind. She just wants release. An orgasm, and then to be let go.

The woman’s voice says, “You had a chance to run. But you didn’t my dear.”

“Please let me cum,” Feargirl begs over and over again mindlessly. Finally the robots oblige. The electricity does not return, just an ever increasing vibration and with merciless pleasure. Feargirl wails “Yes!” as the first orgasm rocks her body. She is exhausted, and over stimulated. But it does not stop; the pleasure is as tireless in its attack on her as the two clockwork men who are forcing it upon her. One orgasm and then two crashes through her, but then the numbers keep climbing. Soon she can’t take it, and she is begging: “Stop stop stop,” tears roll down her cheeks. “I’ll do anything!” But she is perfectly pinned between pervert machines, she is exposed for their purposes. Her words become an unintelligible babble of pleads.

“Terminate subject,” the high pitched head says.

With its free hand the clock work man in front of her grabs her neck and slowly begins to squeeze. But the pleasure does not stop. Feargirl squirms and orgasms and vaguely notices it becomes harder to breath as the Clockwork man chokes her. She does realize what is happening. She does not want to die.

“You’ve been made into their toy, and now they are bored and they are going to break their toy,” the woman’s voice says seemingly experiencing an orgasm of her own. Splotches appear in Feargirl’s vision, and suddenly the Clockwork man allows her to breathe again. Realizing she’s just been spared Feargirl gasps: “Thank you,” and she tries to say it again when the Clockwork man’s hand grabs her by the head and snaps her neck. The clockwork men let her lifeless body drop to the ground in a heap. They retrieve the one robot head from the floor and walk off laughing their chilling laugh.

“Oh that was so good,” the woman says, “we’ll have to try again.”

To be Continued…