Strict Susan
04-08-2008, 12:56 AM
A grisly little tale from an outline sent to me...
“Keep still,” she said sharply.
“I don’t have much choice,” he complained. “What is this stuff?”
He tried to grip the sticky threads between his fingers, pulling in an attempt to free his wrists from them. It was hopeless. Although it stretched slightly as he tugged at it, the thread was as strong as steel. Stronger. All he achieved was to wind more of around his hands and arms, and once it touched his skin or other threads it stuck fast.
“It’s my web,” she told him, a slight smile on her face. “Look...”
She reached forward.
“Hey! Don’t touch it!” he exclaimed. “You’ll get stuck too, and then we’ll never get free!”
She laughed. “It won’t stick to me,” she said as she caressed the threads lovingly, clasping them in her hands and drawing them tight to pull his arms towards the top corners of the bed.
“Stop it! That’s not funny,” he told her. “How do you do that?”
“How do I do what?” she asked innocently, running her hands down his naked chest to the top of his trousers.
“Get this stuff off me first,” he demanded as she unfastened his trousers and began to pull them down.
She shook her head. “You’re enjoying it,” she declared, pulling the trousers and his underpants off completely. “It’s quite a pity I don’t have any use for that.”
She flicked his hardness and laughed. He winced.
“Look at me,” she ordered, throwing off her flimsy top.
His eyes were fixed on her naked breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he told her.
“I know,” she said.
She bent forward over his feet.
“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm. “What’s that?”
“My web, of course.”
The sticky threads began to cover his feet and ankles, binding them tightly. He stared in disbelief as more and more of it came from her until his legs were completely covered and she started on his genitals. He screamed as it began to tighten.
“Hush,” she told him. “It is time.”
The flow of the web ceased and she knelt on the bed astride him, her long summer skirt loosely around him.
“Open,” she demanded, pushing her fingers into his mouth and forcing his lips apart before pressing down onto him.
It was a long sit. For him it felt as though it was for hours, and for her pressing and sliding on his face it was the climax of three long years of preparation. She was ready and inside her they were ready too, just waiting for this moment when that last burst of something from the mouth of that helpless human would make them whole and give them life.
Many times he thought she would suffocate him as he strained helplessly and the pain from the tightening web become steadily more intense. When finally she left him he was hardly conscious. He hardly saw the birth, and even when they were swarming all over him he had no real awareness of what was happening.
“My little ones,” she told him proudly.
“Let me go,” he whispered, not understanding.
“They will eat the web,” she said. “You will be free.”
She left him. In the long grass outside, still naked from the waist up, she sat and waited. Soon, she knew, they would come out and their webs would stretch as far as the eye could see. It would be good. It was the culmination of her deepest desires.
He neither understood nor saw anything. He still lay bound and helpless, her words echoing meaninglessly in his head, They will eat the web. You will be free.
And then he felt their teeth.
“Keep still,” she said sharply.
“I don’t have much choice,” he complained. “What is this stuff?”
He tried to grip the sticky threads between his fingers, pulling in an attempt to free his wrists from them. It was hopeless. Although it stretched slightly as he tugged at it, the thread was as strong as steel. Stronger. All he achieved was to wind more of around his hands and arms, and once it touched his skin or other threads it stuck fast.
“It’s my web,” she told him, a slight smile on her face. “Look...”
She reached forward.
“Hey! Don’t touch it!” he exclaimed. “You’ll get stuck too, and then we’ll never get free!”
She laughed. “It won’t stick to me,” she said as she caressed the threads lovingly, clasping them in her hands and drawing them tight to pull his arms towards the top corners of the bed.
“Stop it! That’s not funny,” he told her. “How do you do that?”
“How do I do what?” she asked innocently, running her hands down his naked chest to the top of his trousers.
“Get this stuff off me first,” he demanded as she unfastened his trousers and began to pull them down.
She shook her head. “You’re enjoying it,” she declared, pulling the trousers and his underpants off completely. “It’s quite a pity I don’t have any use for that.”
She flicked his hardness and laughed. He winced.
“Look at me,” she ordered, throwing off her flimsy top.
His eyes were fixed on her naked breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he told her.
“I know,” she said.
She bent forward over his feet.
“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm. “What’s that?”
“My web, of course.”
The sticky threads began to cover his feet and ankles, binding them tightly. He stared in disbelief as more and more of it came from her until his legs were completely covered and she started on his genitals. He screamed as it began to tighten.
“Hush,” she told him. “It is time.”
The flow of the web ceased and she knelt on the bed astride him, her long summer skirt loosely around him.
“Open,” she demanded, pushing her fingers into his mouth and forcing his lips apart before pressing down onto him.
It was a long sit. For him it felt as though it was for hours, and for her pressing and sliding on his face it was the climax of three long years of preparation. She was ready and inside her they were ready too, just waiting for this moment when that last burst of something from the mouth of that helpless human would make them whole and give them life.
Many times he thought she would suffocate him as he strained helplessly and the pain from the tightening web become steadily more intense. When finally she left him he was hardly conscious. He hardly saw the birth, and even when they were swarming all over him he had no real awareness of what was happening.
“My little ones,” she told him proudly.
“Let me go,” he whispered, not understanding.
“They will eat the web,” she said. “You will be free.”
She left him. In the long grass outside, still naked from the waist up, she sat and waited. Soon, she knew, they would come out and their webs would stretch as far as the eye could see. It would be good. It was the culmination of her deepest desires.
He neither understood nor saw anything. He still lay bound and helpless, her words echoing meaninglessly in his head, They will eat the web. You will be free.
And then he felt their teeth.