Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls

The question that plagues me with speculative erotic fiction is what is the driver, the speculative part or the erotic part?

I think the answer is that they should be like two blades of a pair of scissors. An erotic story in space suit doesn’t make it speculative fiction. A great idea with no sexual heat doesn’t make it erotic.

In “Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls” sex is at the centre of what has changed in the universe. The role of men is fundamentally different. The impact of this is that sex is also rather unusual but I think it is authentic in the context of the story.

The universe in “Yoshi And The Shibari Cowgirls” is one that I’ve been playing with for a while. I have the outlines for threee more stories set in this environment. Let me know what you think of this.

I’ll post the others here as I complete them.

* 1 *

As I’d been taught, I lifted my mouth from Fem Julia’s labia the moment she touched the back of my head. I stayed kneeling between her thighs, my head close enough for her to feel my breath, my eyes obediently focused on her sex, waiting for her instructions.

It is Fem Julia’s custom to take her pleasure silently but I had enough experience between her thighs to know that she had achieved bliss at least twice before she had asked me to stop. Her outer labia are short and dark and swell prodigiously when she is aroused. On previous occasions, when her mood was right and my timing was fortuitous, I had provoked her into a copious spray of pleasure that had flooded my tongue and nostrils with a slick spicy honey of lust that made my cock shiver with pride. But on this afternoon, although I had been diligent, I had not gained her full attention.

“Thank you, Yoshi. That was very nice.”

The use of my name meant that I could sit back on my heels and look up at her. I noted with pride that her breasts were pink with pleasure.

“Please stand, Yoshi. Let me see your tribute.”

I stood and positioned myself next to the Fem’s head so that she could inspect me without having to sit up. I kept my eyes straight ahead and tried to keep my face dispassionate while she studied my erection. I hoped she would be pleased.

“Yoshi, Yoshi, Yoshi,” she said softly, “My little delight.”

She pulled my erection away from my belly, testing the upward curve of the tip between her thumb and finger.

“Such perfect form in such a small package. Such focused arousal. I have enjoyed you so.”

Later I would wonder if her use of the past tense meant that she knew what would happen later that day. I like to think that she did not. The Fem had always treated me with affection.

But such thoughts were far from me on that day. When Fem Julia ran her thumb across the tip of my cock it was all I could do not to cry out. She smiled up at me, appreciating my control, pulled my cock forward a little and then released it. We both heard it slap up against my flat belly.

“Come over here, Angelus,” Fem Julia said. “Yoshi deserves more than the milking machine today.”

This brought a smile to my face; I was to be allowed a measure of bliss. The milking machines are painless and efficient and there have been times after I have been left too long, either through neglect or as a punishment, when the machine have been a welcome release from the pain of a throbbing cock and swollen balls, but there is no pleasure to be had from them.

Angelus is a handsome man, older than me by a few years, still youthful in appearance, blond and pink, but heavy in the way of neuters. He is Fem Julia’s Secretary and constant companion. All of her orders are channelled through him. I was honoured that such a senior neuter was to pleasure me.

Michael says that neuters resent being used in sport by Fems, especially when they are used to service a potent. He says it is beneath their dignity. I wonder whether perhaps it is because it reminds them of all they cannot be. Whatever the case, Angelus would not meet my eyes as he knelt before me.

Fem Julia rose from her couch and stood behind me. We were the same height, she and I, but she was perhaps twice my weight. She wrapped an arm across my torso, the palm of her hand pressing into my nipple and pulled me back against her. My hands, bound behind me with a small thumb-lock, pressed into the folds of her soft belly. Her large round breasts compressed against my shoulders. I felt safe and valued.

“Today is an important day, Yoshi,” she said quietly into my ear. “We have important guests. I want you relaxed and focused.”

Angelus was positioning the sperm-catcher, thin and incredibly soft, over my glands, so that nothing would be wasted. His touch was light and gentle but it was still almost more than I could bear. When the ‘catcher was secure, Angelus extended his tongue and licked his way down my shaft in one smooth motion. When he sucked my balls into his generous mouth, I closed my eyes to savour my joy.

Without distraction, I would surely have come after only the slightest manipulation by Angelus. I wanted to relish the honour the Fem had paid me so I distracted myself by reviewing Fem Julia’s statements about the day’s importance. We heard little of the outside worlds within the sheltering walls of the House but even I knew that it was the first day of the bicentennial celebrations of the Mothers’ Blessing. Any ship that could would make planet-fall for the festivities. The richest ships would come to Earth and the richest of those would come here, to Fem Julia’s House.

Angelus was managing to hold both of my balls in his mouth, pushing at them with his tongue while working the base of my shaft with his finger and thumb; small, ungentle strokes that made my cock bulge and seemed to demand that I come. To hold off the moment I turned my mind to Michael.

Michael is the newest import to the House. He is old for a potent; more than thirty I think. Old enough that, when I shave his pubis and his head each morning, I can see that the some of the stubble is gray. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His eyes have the sky in them; his skin is pale to the point of transparency and covered with a galaxy of freckles, too numerous to catalogue. But the most extraordinary thing about his is his voice. When he sings, all the world stops to listen. Fem Julia listens to his voice more often than she uses his body.

Michael is my bondmate; we keep each other clean and presentable. Although it is against the rules of the House, most bondmates also bring each other bliss when they can. Michael does not allow this. On the first opportunity after his arrival, I offered Michael my mouth. I wanted him to feel welcome and, if I’m honest, I wanted him to return the favour.

Michael said, “I don’t need that, Yoshi and neither do you. A man has the right to control his own body; he is more than a pipe of blood-engorged meat.”

This was foolish talk. Everyone knows that a man cannot control his own body; he will turn feral, lose himself in the beat of the rut and be a danger to all who encounter him. I did not want to hear such foolishness so I tried to stifle it by kissing Michael. He was still bound by the thumb-lock but he managed to struggle aside. I lost my balance and fell to my knees in front of him. His cock, which is veined and fat although not very long, was directly in front of me. I could see from the way that it pulsed that it had been more than a day since he had been milked.

“Watch, Yoshi.” he said, “Watch and learn.”

To my astonishment, Michael’s cock softened before me, deflating with the careless grace of a cat settling to sleep. From the evidence of my eyes, Michael could have been a neuter. I could not understand what I was seeing; ever since the Mothers’ Blessing this has been impossible and yet I could see that it was so.

“Don’t be afraid, Yoshi. Watch.”

This time, Michael’s cock unfurled like a fern in the morning sun until it was back before me in all its glory.

“You want to know how it is done, Yoshi. I can teach you. A small modification to your diet, a little training, and you too can do this.”

But Michael was wrong. I hadn’t wanted to know how; I’d wanted to know why. Why would anyone reject the Mothers’ Blessing?

Fem Julia, perhaps sensing that I was stretching the moment, brought me back to the present with a sharp bite on my earlobe. I stiffened in anticipation of what would come next. It was a dangerous, but oh so pleasurable, game.

Angelus had both hands on my shaft now, milking me from base to tip. My balls were resting against his soft pink cheek. With perfect timing, Fem Julia covered my mouth with her hand and then pinched my nostrils closed so that I couldn’t breathe.

“Now, Angelus.”

Angelus took one hand from my shaft and forced his thumb up into my anus, lifting me onto the balls of my feet.

Pressed against the hot sweating body of the Fem, impaled on a neuter’s thumb, and starved of oxygen, when I finally spewed forth my come it felt as though the space behind my eyes had exploded, expelling not just my sperm but my very self.

The Fem did not remove her hand. I could not breathe. As I slipped from consciousness I heard her say, “My poor, sweet, little Yoshi. The Shibari Cowgirls will eat you up.”

* 2 *

I awoke in the chamber that Michael and I shared. I was leashed to the bed by my collar but my hands were free, as they usually are after a milking. Michael was sitting on the bed, unleashed but wrists bound to the straps on his thighs.

“Be very careful of them, Yoshi.”

“Careful of whom?”

“The Shibari Cowgirls. You kept repeating their name while you slept.”

“They will be our guests tonight,” I said. “From the way Fem Julia spoke, I think we may be visited by the Mothers’ Tongue herself.”

Michael’s face set into a scowl that seemed powered by some deeply felt hatred.

“They are dangerous, Yoshi. The “Shibari Cowgirls” is a Dark Ship. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course. It means that these Fems service the Mothers who protect our worlds. They serve a noble purpose…”

“… and they are cruel vicious bitches driven more than a little mad by the company that they keep.”

I was stunned into silence. I held my breath, imagining that such a statement must bring immediate retribution. Without meaning to, I edged away from Michael as if he were the source of unwelcome heat.

Michael watched me closely, as if trying to decide something.

“Today marks the celebration the Mothers’ Blessing, Yoshi. What is it that you think is being celebrated?”

I couldn’t see the link between this and the Shibari Cowgirls but I was eager to move away from the blasphemy Michael had expressed.

“Two hundred years ago, the Mothers returned to us after an absence of ten millennia. They found that the race they had seeded here had strayed. By some evil twist of fate, men had become the dominant gender. They had established societies that oppressed women, pillaged the planet, and retarded the progress of the species. When the Mothers announced themselves to the world and pointed out the problem, the leaders of the men resisted the truth. Even so, the Mothers were merciful, instead of destroying the race and reseeding the planet, they gave us their Blessing to set things right. That is what we celebrate.”

I was proud of my recitation. I had remembered every word of what I had been taught.

“If my hands were free, Yoshi, I would applaud,” Michael said. “You tell the story with such conviction that I could almost believe it is true.”

“It is true,” I said.

“Do you feel blessed, Yoshi?”

“I am proud to be a potent. I am blessed with the ability to bring pleasure and to seed life.”

“You mean you’re constantly hard and your sperm is sucked into a machine that the women control, just as they control everything that you do?”

“It is a woman’s place to control, Michael. A potent is not suited to such a role. You are a potent, you must feel the call in your blood to fuck and fuck and fuck until only the next come matters. Without the women we would all be ferals.”

Michael laughed sarcastically. “And what a terrible thing that would be,” he said. “Where I come from we call it The Bitches’ Curse not the Mothers’ Blessing. The Curse they released killed fifty percent of the males on the planet within ten days. Most of those who survived where rendered impotent. Does that feel like a blessing, Yoshi?”

The Curse made a permanent change in our DNA so that eighty percent of men are born as neuters: impotent, corrupted copies of what a man should be; while the remainder are a locked into a permanent state of arousal that makes them little more than roosters. This was no blessing, Yoshi, it was a brutal act of war.”

These were the most shocking words I had ever heard. I was familiar with the numbers of course, but Michael’s suggestion of malice seemed insane.

“Your words are twisted Michael. The Mothers love us. We are their children. Why would they make war on the race they seeded on the planet?”

“That is the biggest lie of all. We are not their children. They are aliens with some resemblance to humans. They tried to exploit that to buy the whole planet for some glass beads and few bottles of rum and when we wouldn’t trade, they killed the men and stole the souls of the women.”

I had no idea what Michael was talking about, but I was disturbed by his agitation. I tried to bring him back to reality.

“What does this have to do with the Shibari Cowgirls, Michael?”

“It tells you who they are, Yoshi. The Dark Ship Mothers are the ones who released the Curse. They are fierce; the enforcers of their people.

“What do you think it does to our women to share a ship with these aliens?  The women don’t crew the ship. They are the Mothers’ pets. Did you think the title “Mothers’ Tongue” was only about being the Mothers’ representative? I’m sure that, on the long voyages through space, it takes on a more literal meaning.

“Dark Ship Mothers like their pleasure laced with pain and you can bet that they pass this taste on to their pets.”

It seemed to me that Michael was trapped in some kind of paranoid fantasy. Yet it was clear that he believed what he said. I wanted to calm him so I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll be careful, Michael.”

He didn’t look as though he believed me but at least he stopped his crazy talk. I patted our bed and said, “We should rest, Michael. We will need to be at our best this evening.”

I gave him my brightest, most welcoming smile and moved across the mattress so that he could lie down in the warm spot I had created. Michael lay on his back with his eyes open. I curled up next to him. He even allowed me to rest my hand on his sex, something that always made me feel safe and content. After a while, I fell back to sleep.

* 3 *

The strangeness started when Angelus, rather than our usual handler, came to prepare us. He placed us in our steel dress-collars and cuffs, with a long chain running from cuff to cuff through a ring on the collar. This gave us freedom of movement but still met the House rules on restraints. It took Angelus some time to fix Michael’s collar. I assumed at the time that he was simply unfamiliar with the task. I would never have guessed the true cause of the delay.

Angelus led Michael and me into the playroom on our leashes. I was proud that we were the first couple to be displayed, but I almost lost my footing when I saw that the room had been filled with pain-toys of every description. Michael took hold of my hand and prevented me from falling. “Smile,” he said, under his breathe.

I smiled as best I could. After all, I knew that most of the pain-toys were more for show than use, but the sight of them, so soon after Michael’s warnings, unnerved me.

Three Fems stood in the centre of the room. It was immediately clear that the one in the front of the V shape that they formed was the leader, probably the Mothers’ Tongue herself. I was excited to see that she was Japanese and astonishingly beautiful. I showed my admiration by letting my gaze move slowly from her thick, well-rounded thighs, through a forest of dark pubic hair, across her strong, wide hips, up over the folds of her soft belly and on to her long heavy breasts. I smiled when I my gaze reached her broad, face crowned with raven black hair, threaded with silver. She was the perfect image of womanhood.

The two women behind her were plain by comparison: one was white and the other brown but both were too slim and too well muscled to be truly attractive, and too young to be really experienced. I hoped that the Mothers’ Tongue would choose me but I would, of course have done my best to serve any or all of the Fems.

Angelus pulled us rapidly towards the centre of the room. He held our leashes high above his head and kept his eyes downcast. I had to hold my head up high and walk at a pace that made my erection sway before me.

Angelus knelt at the Mothers’ Tongue’s feet with Michael and me standing shoulder to shoulder behind him.

The two junior Fems moved silently to positions that placed us in the centre of a triangle made up by the three women. They looked like predators, practiced in hunting as a pack, stalking their prey. The Mothers’ Tongue took our leashes from Angelus without looking at him and then stepped towards us. Her pack-mates closed in behind us.

I was afraid. I knew I shouldn’t be, but I was.

When the Mothers’ Tongue spoke, her voice was deep and strangely accented, as if she was unpracticed in speaking in English.

“So, my dears” she said, speaking to her mates, not to us, “Julia is starting our evening with a brace of exotics: a young Japanese and mature Celt with a golden tongue. So few of either breed survived the Blessing, something to do with the type of men they were, perhaps?”

She reached out to stroke my face. Her fingernails were long and looked sharp, like small knives. It was all I could do not to flinch. I’m sure she saw the fear in my eyes.

“Delicious,” she said and smiled. I shivered.

“Stool the older one and thumblock the Japanese,” she said, speaking to Angelus for the first time.

I was shocked. Stooling is usually reserved as a punishment for potents who have lost themselves to the rut and have to be reminded of the need for control.

The stool built low to the ground and has a long thin phallus at the centre a seat that slopes forward. With your ankles tied to the back legs of the stool you are held in place only by the phallus upon which you are impaled. The phallus curves so that the pressure on the prostate is continuous and acute.

I saw Angelus and Michael exchange glances. Some understanding passed between them and then Angelus pushed Michael down on to the stool. Michael grimaced with the discomfort but made no sound.

“I thought that might make him sing for us,” the Mothers’ Tongue said. “How unusual to find a potent who has at least some control.”

Her words sounded like praise but her tone suggested displeasure. It was as if she had wanted to damage him with the stool. Surely she must have been aware that we oil each other thoroughly as part of the preparations for this kind of evening?

When Angelus left Michael and came to lock my hands behind me I was puzzled to see that, although Michael’s legs were wrapped around the stool, his ankles did not seem to be tied.

Angelus manhandled me roughly as he put on the thumblock and it seemed to me that he was trying to turn me away from Michael, although he made it look as if he was pushing me closer the Mothers’ Tongue.

The tall brown pack-mate moved to the Mothers’ Tongue’s side and said, “May I play with him, Mother? I’m sure I can make him sing.”

“Of course you may play with him, Maya, but don’t break anything. Not yet. Later we will see how well he screams. Meanwhile, Trish and I will sample the Japanese.”

I had time to see Maya straddle Michael, one leg over his shoulder, her sex against his mouth, all of her weight pressing him down onto the stool before the Mothers’ Tongue grabbed my head and turned me towards her. Her fingernails were pressing into my cheek and I thought she might rake my face.

Again, she checked for the fear in my eyes, then without looking away she let go of my face and wrapped her fingers around my erection, pressing the head into the palm of her hand.

I sighed, partly from relief, partly from pleasure.

“It’s been a long time since I had a Japanese,” she said, working her palm in a small circle. “The last one was on a Feral Hunt. The Houses hadn’t been established then and without training, many potents went feral. Our job was to hunt them down.”

I wondered how it was possible for the Mothers’ Tongue to have been on a feral hunt. The Houses had been established more than a hundred and fifty years ago, surely she could not be that old?

“Most of them we just shot but I always kept the Japanese alive for a little longer. I liked to make them suffer before they died.”

Suddenly she squeezed my cock so hard it took my breath away then she let go and stepped back.

I didn’t see the blow coming. Trish, the white pack-mate, hit me behind the knees with something long and hard. With my hands locked behind me I wasn’t able to do anything to break my fall.

“Roll him over, Trish. I want to ride him while you work.”

I was very afraid now. I didn’t mind the pain or being ridden but my mind screamed with fear at the kind of “work” Trish might do.

I was hard, despite my fear, and the Mothers’ Tongue had no difficulty sliding me inside her. She was wet and not very tight, but it felt good to have her weight on me. I tried to lift my hips to give her more pleasure but she wouldn’t let me move.

“Do you know what time dilation is? No, of course not. No man with a prick this hard could master physics; too much of their blood is drawn away from the brain for them to think straight. All you need to know is that, for me only twenty-five years have passed since the Blessing. I remember the old world. I remember how men who looked like you used to treat women like me.”

She sounded angry and not entirely sane. Instinctively I turned my head to try and see what was happening with Michael. Maya was fucking him in a way designed to cause him pain. She was squatting with her back to him, pressing back on his cock, pushing him down onto the phallus in the stool. I was amazed that he was able to remain silent. He must be in great pain and yet he seemed more focused on my plight than his.

“I have the Smarthread, Mother. Where shall I use it?” Trish asked.

“Put it under his armpits, the top of his thighs and around his neck above his collar. That should make him wriggle.”

Trish laced the thread around my body quickly and efficiently. It felt sticky and warm and unpleasant.

The Mothers’ Tongue slapped my face.

“Pay attention to me, little man. I want you to know what is happening and why,” she said.

I began to understand that the Mothers’ Tongue might indeed be a little mad and that I was at her mercy.

“When I was a girl,” the Mothers’ Tongue said, “Men like you used to tie me with rope before they fucked me. They were proud of the knots they tied and the pain they caused. They referred to the tying as an art. I think it excited them more than I did. They called the art Shibari.”

Trish knelt on either side of my legs behind the Mothers’ Tongue, leaning into her back, head over her shoulder, hands massaging the Mothers’ Tongue’s breasts.

“When the Mothers came and the world changed, I served with devotion. The Mothers have rewarded me. Part of my reward is Smarthread. Can you feel the heat of it? It’s reading the signals from your nervous system, drawing energy from it. It uses the energy to pull itself tighter. Fear, pain, excitement, all of them feed the thread and increase the pace at which it tightens. As it tightens it cuts into your flesh and, eventually, through your muscles and bones.”

I was going to die and die painfully and slowly.

“A potent like you is ruled by your prick. The men who took me as a girl where also ruled by their pricks. When you orgasm, the Smarthread will slice so deep that every beat of your heart will wash this floor with blood. Yet we both know you will soon be hard again, that you won’t stop even though you are fucking yourself to death.”

Trish was licking the Mothers’ Tongue’s neck. The Mothers’ Tongue was rocking on my cock. I couldn’t help but be excited and that excitement was going to kill me.

“Please,” I said, “don’t hurt me.”

But the Mothers’ Tongue wasn’t listening. She was kissing Trish. Both of them had their eyes closed. I think that is what saved my life.

Potents are trained to be triggered by the sound of a woman’s pleasure. Even in my fear I had been aware of the grunts and groans Maya was making as she rode Michael. They were one more thing pushing me towards orgasm and mutilation.  Perhaps this is why I noticed that the sounds had stopped even though the Mothers’ Tongue and Trish didn’t.

I looked up to see if further harm had befallen Michael and I couldn’t help but call out at what I saw.

Michael was half standing, the stool still attached to him. Maya was in his arms, blood streaming from the cut in her throat. In each hand, Michael held a curved blade that I slowly realized was made from the two halves of his collar.

When I cried out the Smarthread tightened enough to draw blood.

Trish and the Mothers’ Tongue were still kissing but Trish opened her eyes to look at me. When she saw the blood, she broke off from the kiss to dip her fingers into the cut at my thigh. She was reaching to push her bloody fingers into the Mothers’ Tongue’s mouth when Angelus killed her. He didn’t use a blade; he broke her neck with a move that looked well practiced and efficient.

The Mothers’ Tongue still had her eyes closed. Her cunt had been tight on my cock for some seconds and I knew she was ready to come. When she came, I would come also and the Smarthead would cut my throat open.

The Mothers’ Tongue’s eyes shot open at the sound of Trish’s neck breaking. It was obvious that she knew exactly what she was hearing. She struggled up off me immediately, but I could feel the cum in my balls getting ready to fly.

I tried to sit up; to make it stop. Then Michael’s fist connected with my jaw.

* 4 *

I woke in a bed with clean linen and a warm duvet. The sensation was comforting and familiar but something was missing or different but my mind was fuddled and I couldn’t figure out what.

Of course! Now I knew what was missing: I had no bondmate to share the bed and for first time since puberty, I had awoken without an erection. This last news so disturbed me that I had to reach down and check that I was still in one piece.

“Lost something?”

I looked up, still half asleep, hand on my still-dormant genitals and saw Michael standing at the foot of my bed. At least I thought it was Michael. His head was covered in very short hair; he had a light beard and was wearing clothes – some kind of coverall with badges on it.

“Michael?”

“My real name is Brendan, Yoshi.”

Real name? What did he mean, “Real name”? Then I remembered everything.

“The Mothers’ Tongue…”

“Is our prisoner, Yoshi. She is why I was there.”

Michael sat on the bed and took my hand in his.

“When Angelus told us that the House had a Japanese, we knew that you were bait that the Mothers’ Tongue would nibble at for her bicentennial celebration. I’m sorry, Yoshi, but it was an opportunity we couldn’t afford to miss.”

“Angelus betrayed the House?”

“Angelus is a brave man who serves the Alliance well, Yoshi. Thanks to him I had the weapons to kill that bitch, Maya.”

This was too much information too quickly. It seemed that nothing I thought I had understood had been true. I thought that Michael liked me and yet it seemed I was just the cheese in his mousetrap. I felt like crying but I didn’t want to do that in front of Michael. I let myself get angry instead.

“You hit me,” I said. I sounded petulant, even to my own ears.

Michael laughed. “Don’t sulk, Yoshi. It was the only way I could stop you from triggering the Smarthread.”

I did start to cry then. I had been about to die. And Michael, no Brendan, had saved me. And two Fems were dead. And the Mothers’ Tongue was kidnapped. And nothing, nothing at all, made sense.

Michael/Brendan held me, rocking my head gently against his chest.

“It’s the shock, Yoshi. You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

I let him hold me for a while. Then I asked the question that I most needed the answer to. It was the hardest question I’d ever asked.

“Am I a neuter now?”

Michael/Brendan looked puzzled.

“It’s just that I don’t have an erection and I should have one and I wondered if maybe I couldn’t have one anymore?”

I was babbling but Michael didn’t laugh.

“You’re in the Alliance now, Yoshi. We’ve developed ways to combat the Bitches Curse. You can have an erection but you don’t have to have one. Try it out. Think of something that excites you.”

I closed my eyes and summoned up the image. My cock stirred in response and I felt a peace settling on me. I didn’t know what the Alliance was, or what would happen to me next, but at least I was still me.

Michael stood up. “Get some rest, Yoshi. You’re still weak. I’ll be back to see you later.”

He was right. I was weak. I let myself fall back onto the soft pillows as soon as he left the room. I was still erect. I decided to do something about it. I recalled the image to my mind, something that I had imagined many times but never experienced. Then I let my fingers work. I had masturbated before, some Fems enjoy watching a potent bring himself to release, but I had never masturbated alone, focused entirely on my own pleasure. I should have felt guilty at wasting sperm in this way. Instead I felt… free.

After I came and before sleep claimed me, I had time to wonder if Michael’s lips would be as soft in reality as they were in my imagination.

 


© Mike Kimera 2004 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk


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