"The Unbirthing"

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Susan Strict
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"The Unbirthing"

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"The Unbirthing" is a new novel I've recently finished editing and partically rewriting for an author known as "Bill", and it has now bee published.

It's a sexual horror story, and it's rather different from most of the books I've published.

I hope you enoy this extract:

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She jumped, her knees pointed downwards, and she landed on him hard, solid. How did she do that? Werner went down on his back. His head banged against the clock table with a loud thud. She was on top of him, her hands clasped around his neck and her legs around his stomach to latch behind his back. She squeezed, putting her head on his shoulder to avoid his franticly whaling swings. He gave a long involuntary sigh as the air was forced out his windpipe. Her strength was shocking, like a wild animal.

Not knowing anything better, he reached for her hair and pulled. There was no sound. She did not scream. It was creepy, but she did not scream. He pulled hard, and still she almost seemed to laugh although now she yielded, and the pressure around his neck ceased. His arm pulled her head back to bring her face into his field of vision, while the other desperately tried to get him up off the floor. As long as she was on top of him, she was in control. She countered his movements with her legs. Those powerful thighs were not done yet, and Werner felt a shooting pain consume him around his stomach and around his ribs.

It was just the two of them now. Only a few seconds after the whole excitement started it was a fight for survival. The pulling of hair; the squeezing of ribs; first one of them and then the other; one and then the other. One would give. Eventually. In excruciating pain as his head was pulled back and his gaze shot skyward, his eyes focused on the bullet hole in the wall and then on nothing at all as the pain was too intense. He let go. He had to.

Both his arms now went for her legs; hitting, scratching, pulling, anything that would get them to loosen their grip. Still they squeezed. They squeezed harder, and harder, and stars began to form in his eyes.

“You fucking little man.”

And then she flex ed her muscle, and an agonizing scream filled the room. She smiled, looking at him and understanding his pain; reveling in it. His hands and arms twitched and wavered like he was in the jaws of a vicegrip. She jolted him, and squeezed again. His whole body shook. He howled, “Stop!” in a yell that almost sounded like a laugh. If it were not for the blueness of his face she would have laughed along with him. She rolled on her back and carried him on top of her, squeezing once again with all her strength.

“Arrh!” His head fell on her breast, pulled up, and then fell again. With the pressure on his ribs he was unable to get any air into his lungs. He was suffocating, asphyxiating, and she was enjoying herself. The power in her legs latched on with bone-crunching determination.

Minutes rolled by. From the bedroom window, all anyone could have seen was two men, one in a fetal position and the other being latched onto by gorgeous legs around his middle section. He was squirming like a worm, desperately seeking oxygen, and the space to breathe it.

As if out of nowhere, an intriguing force filled the room. It centered on his right hand, suddenly controlled and capable of deciding its own actions despite the vice that gripped and squeezed and forced Werner’s body into unnatural contortions. The hand closed into a fist and swung accurately and powerfully.

The air came back in a sudden flood. He gasped for it, moaning with relief. His whole body found new space as she let go. With his head still resting on her chest, he spotted the gun underneath the bed. He went for it, grabbed it, then sat up on top of her, and pointed it at her face...

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slave alexander
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Re: "The Unbirthing"

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She sounds scary, in a good way!
Looks good tho :wave:

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Susan Strict
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Re: "The Unbirthing"

Post by Susan Strict »

Oh, she's scary in a very bad way!!

I can't post TOO much of it or Bill will shout at me (no one will buy the book if they've read it all here!), but here's a slightly longer chunk of it:


Peters was a big man, over two hundred pounds. She grabbed him by his arms and dragged him to her bedroom. That was not too difficult on the smooth hardwood floor once it was dry. She pulled off the bedcover, and then little by little, torso then legs, she heaved Peters onto her bed. It was as though she was pulling a rag doll around, with no power of movement of his own and nothing in his body to resist her movements. She set two pillows by the headboard, turned on her TV, and then went to her kitchen to get a pitcher full of water. She was becoming aroused again. She could feel it in her pants. And Peters would need another dose soon, or he would die.

When she returned, Peters’ stomach was jerking and twitching more frequently. She knew it was a sign that his body was suffering from a lack of oxygen, so without delay she took off her jeans and sat back down on his face. She did not need to think about anything else. Her body knew what to do and what he needed, as, perhaps, a mother would know instinctively or a doctor would know from experience and without needing to think about it.

She pressed down over his mouth and nose, and held still while more oxygen-rich fluid was forced into him. Then she began to rub, making long and slow rubs at an angle, rather like a pump. Up and down she rubbed, and from side to side but never losing contact with him. Noises like puckered kissing echoed the room.

Peters was completely oblivious to all of it. He remained fast asleep as she circulated her sex throughout his system and refreshed his oxygen supply. Keeping her meal alive.

Then she was off him again, smiling as if flirting with a watching camera. She pulled his arms so that he lay on his belly, up closer to her so she could lie back against the headboard. Her tee shirt was soaked over and around her nipples, the milky secretions spreading through the think material. She removed it and lay back, gently stroking her breast with one hand, and putting his head between her legs with the other. It had to be perfect. It had to be just the right position. And it was.

With her long beautiful legs resting on his back and on his shoulders, she began to rub. Her breathing became heavier and heavier. Orgasm came only seconds after. And then another. And then another. Fluid spilled down all over the bedsheet but that was all right, her mind told her. Make it slippery.

She enjoyed herself. It was exquisite. It was a never-ending climax. All her senses came to life and, like a flower, they began to bloom. From inside her womb the hunger had awakened. It began to move.

She felt it make its descent from deep inside her stomach downwards. It was like a hot poker, yet warm and soft at the same time. It was her femininity; her femaleness; her sex; her being. It was what she lived for, and it was on its way to its prey.

She instantly felt his flesh. It was distinct. Electric. Her cells registering meat, and sent signals of approval through her. Excitement. Ecstasy. Climax. Reward. And at the microscopic level they grasped to reach their meal.

It was a thin, soft, tube-like snake. It was slipping down the fluid filled tunnel. It was sliding down his throat.. It was fragile, almost a gelatin. It was soft, but fiery to the touch. It reached half way down the tube, split, and then it began to dig.

She screamed with pleasure, putting her hand to her mouth and sucking the lemony fluid from her fingers like a Popsicle. Milk dripped down the sides of her breasts, almost gushing. Her stomach undulated like a wave on the sea, its muscles calculating precise internal movements that pumped fluids with absolute precision. Around Peters’ lips and nose, the fluid had hardened to a cocoon-like shell that glued to his facial skin and to his day old beard, pulling him with her movements and with every quiver of her excitement. His face had fused to her. His mouth, his nose, and her vagina were now one. Now, nothing was spilled. Nothing was wasted.

Mid afternoon came quickly, and so did Peters’ dream. When he woke he could see her plainly from the bottom up. The light outside was still bright. By her bed was a clock that registered a little after five. It was only ten that same morning he had first met Adams at the front door. Or was it the same day? He had no way of telling. It took many seconds for his eyes to focus in the near view. He gazed, cross-eyed, downwards, and saw her feminine hair. He saw his nose buried in something that tugged at his face, but that was the limit of what his eyes could see. It pulled his left eye partway open at intervals, and as he looked up to see her belly and its long, slow movement, centered on her navel, his mind screamed. It was the only part of him that could scream, and yet she heard him. She smiled and looked down. Her hand brushed his hair gently.

The rest of the afternoon went quickly, too quickly, for Laurie. It passed slowly, far too slowly, for Peters. She was kind of angry with him for his investigation and for the result, for what he did to Adams. So she tortured him. She had the power to control what he felt, and she also knew the limits of men. She knew how much they could take before it killed them. She knew that she could easily throw her ecstasy into shock, never to be heard from again, and so with a twinge in her belly she turned it off. And the screaming stopped. The torture ceased. And she climaxed.

Tears rolled down Peter’s face. His body had abandoned him, but he felt every inch of it. His heart pumped at times like he was in a sprint, only to feed her sex. It was beyond humiliation. It was like he was no longer Peters. He was her. He was a part of her. He was part of a monster that was masturbating at his expense. He was, somehow, like being a forgotten limb; unwanted but essential for the most basic of sexual gratification. He was just an extension of her own body.

He screamed again.
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slave alexander
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Re: "The Unbirthing"

Post by slave alexander »

Wow!!
Superb, beautifully written, a roller coaster of emotion; thanks for the extra segment hope you don`t get in trouble.
Much appreciated,
slave alexander

P.s. I just missed a phone call because i was so engrossed in re-reading this haha
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