BARBARELLA’S RAPTURE:

RETURN TO THE EXCESSIVE MACHINE II

by Wingman

Barbarella tensed as another orgasm shook through her. She had lost count of the number of times she had come today. She was unaware of how long she had been in the machine. It felt like it had been days. She pulled vainly against the bands that held her restrained inside the machine. But they held her fast inside the machine, helpless before the relentless onslaught of pleasure. The Excessive Machine pulsed and hummed, driving her to orgasm again and again. Barbarella was slowly being driven to exhaustion. Finally she blacked out.

When she regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the cot in her small, bare cell. It was where she was kept when she wasn’t being subjected to sexual torture, or allowed to walk the corridors to keep up her strength. Two months ago, Barbarella had been sent to the remote Andromeda Station to investigate the communications blackout with the personnel. Upon arriving, however, she discovered an elaborate trap had been laid for her by her old enemy, Dr. Duran Duran. He captured Barbarella, and then placed her inside his most diabolical invention, the Excessive Machine. Three years ago, Barbarella had burned out Duran Duran’s first machine on the distant planet Tau Ceti. Now, he had rebuilt it sturdier than before, and far more powerful. His stated intention was to torture her with sexual ecstacy until he broke her will. He then subjected her to a half hour which proved far more intense than her first session.

Over the following weeks, Duran Duran subjected her to several more of the devices he had invented and built; devices intended for sexual torture. He strapped her to a table fitted with metal tentacles which penetrated her every orifice. She was bound to a chair with vibrating dildos set in the seat. He sealed her in a cylinder and used water jets to stimulate her. But always, she would return to the Excessive Machine. Each session was longer than the last. Her will had not broken yet, but she could feel her strength wearing down with each session. Soon, she feared, she would wind up like Duran Duran’s accomplice, the Great Tyrant: dazed and broken. Barbarella fought valiantly, but even her endurance had its limits, and Duran Duran was methodically testing them, pushing them. Her only breaks were when she slept undisturbed in her cell, during meals, and during the daily walks around the complex she was permitted. Duran Duran wanted her to remain fit, so she was With a sigh, Barbarella rose from her cot, and walked over to the cell’s small shower stall. Soon, steam rose around her as she let the hot water flow over her. Her cell was small, but not cramped. It was comfortable, but it was still a cage. She enjoyed the shower, though, because the water felt good, and it restored her spirits somewhat, as if she was washing away the effects of the machines. And while she was in the shower, she could think clearly; she could plan her escape. Unfortunately, resourceful as she was, Barbarella could see no escape at the present. The guards were too vigilant, and too numerous. She spent her time watching their routines, trying to get a sense of their patterns, looking for breaks, flaws, any opening she could turn to her advantage. So far, she had discovered none. And her time was running out.

Before their last session with the Excessive Machine, the Great Tyrant had teased Barbarella with the knowledge that Duran Duran planned to return to Earth soon. And he planned to use his weapon, the Positronic Ray, to conquer the planet. She had to escape, to warn the Earth. But there was no relaxing of the guard surrounding her, and she could feel her resistance slipping with each passing day. She had to do something, and soon. She turned the water off, and reached for a robe. She was walking back to her cot, when the door to her cell swung open. Duran Duran stepped in, flanked by two guards. He leveled his pistol at her.

“Come with me, my dear. It’s time for the end game.” Barbarella wordlessly stepped out and followed Duran Duran.

He led her back to the chamber that held all of his devices. The Tyrant was standing next to the Excessive Machine.

“It’s ready for you, pretty-pretty,” she said wickedly.

“Get inside, Barbarella,” Duran Duran gestured with his pistol. Barbarella shrugged off her robe, and climbed into the machine. Padded restraints closed over her wrists and ankles, locking her into the machine. Duran Duran held his fingers poised over the keys.

“You’ve put up an impressive struggle, Barbarella,” he said to her. “But I can tell your resistance is weakening. I dare say that this will be our final session.” He gently began to stroke the keys. The machine hummed with power.

“My vengeance is complete. And now I shall return to Earth. The planet is helpless against the incomparable power of my Positronic Ray.” He gently pressed the keys, and the arms began to undulate.

“<gasp> Ooooohhhhhhh!” she breathed, as exquisite pleasure washed over her. The machine’s intensity was undeniable. No matter how many times she was placed inside the machine, she was never prepared for how good it felt, how intense it was. Duran Duran played slow and light, letting the pleasure wash over her like the water in her shower. Then, without warning he would quicken the tempo, causing a jump in the feeling. He would bring her to the brink of orgasm, then back slowly off, leaving Barbarella panting with arousal, and frustrated at the orgasm that demanded release, but was denied. Then, he would slowly build the speed and intensity, building the pressure in her, allowing it to grow, bringing it to a fever pitch. Sometimes, when she was at the peak of pleasure, ready to topple over into orgasmic bliss, he would again back off, trying to get Barbarella to beg for release. He knew she liked the pleasure, wanted the orgasm, but was try Finally, he let the machine push her over the edge into climax, and she shuddered with blessed release. She sagged back in the machine. Duran Duran rose from the keyboard, having switched it into its automatic mode.

“I would dearly love to stay and witness your inevitable breaking, Barbarella. I’m sure that your spirit is just ready to break. Unfortunately, I’m under rather a tight deadline, and I must return to Earth. As its conqueror. Farewell, my dear. When I return, you will serve me quite willingly.” He blew her a kiss, turned, and strode frm the room, his cloak billowing behind him. As the door slid shut behind him, the machine kicked into a higher gear. Barbarella moaned as another orgasm rolled over her. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. The machine continued the pattern of bringing her to the brink of climax, backing her off, pushing her to the edge again, only to cast her over when she least expected it. Harder and harder, the machine pushed her, and her orgasms grew less frequent, but more intense. Finally, the machine began to push her to what promised to be a mind-numbing orgasm. But it kept her just on the edge. The intensity Barbarella groaned, as much out of frustration as the pleasure. She was so tempted. Please, would be all she would need to say. Please. Then she would receive her orgasm. She was sure of it. Just say it, a part of her said. Her lips closed, prepared to form the word. She fought with herself, rallying her failing resolve. Then, without warning, he machine gave her an orgasm. He pressure that had built up within her exploded. Her body tensed, she cried out in surprise and relief. The pressure surged through her, and she shook as waves of ecstacy pounded over her. As the orgasm subsided, Barbarella became aware of the fact that the machine had cycled off. She swallowed, and struggled to catch her breath. With a “clank” the restraints opened. She was free.

“Hurry, pretty-pretty. We don’t have time to dawdle,” a velvety voice spoke from just behind her. Barbarella began to climb out of the machine. Standing at the head of the machine was the Great Tyrant.

“Come on,” she urged. “Quickly!” Barbarella scrambled out of the machine. Her knees were still wobbly, but she could stand.

“What are you doing?” she asked the Tyrant.

“Helping you escape, now come on!”

“Why? Why should I trust you?” Barbarella demanded.

“Because you don’t have any choice, and little time if you want to get to Earth before Duran Duran, now come on!” The Tyrant grabbed Barbarella’s arm, and pulled her towards the door. They paused at the door.

“I’ve disabled the tractor beam, and there are few guards in the hangar, but you’ll need to act as if I’m escorting you through the halls, if we want to get by the guards.” Barbarella nodded, not sure what to make of this turn of events. They strode through the halls, Barbarella being led by the arm. She was still stark naked, but nearly every guard had already seen her nude; and in any case, she had never been uncomfortable with people seeing her naked. They threaded through the corridors, finally coming to the hangar. There were no guards in sight. The Tyrant opened the bay doors, and peered in. Still no guards. They hurried across the flight deck, towards Barbarella’s silver ship, the Alpha 8. Barbarella quickly keyed the entry code, and the hatch slid open. They scrambled inside, and Barbarella sealed the hatch.

“Quickly, in here,” Barbarella waved the Tyrant toward a small alcove set in the wall. The Tyrant stepped inside, and Barbarella activated a force field. The Tyrant was sealed inside.

“What?”

“Now, I want some answers. Why are you helping me? Why should I trust you?” The Tyrant glared at her.

“You’re wasting precious time, pretty-pretty...”

“Save it,” Barbarella interrupted. “This is the fastest ship in Earth’s fleet. And I know a few shortcuts he might not. But I still want to know why you want to help me.”

“Because,” the Tyrant began in her deep, velvet voice, “Duran Duran usurped my power. I was the ruler of Sogo. But he betrayed me. And when he found me on Earth, he had the audacity to try and make me his slave!”

“How did you resist the machine?”

The Tyrant smiled. “We are opposites in many ways, pretty-pretty. You burned out his machine on Sogo because he underestimated your endurance. He failed to break my will because I have subjected myself to unspeakable pleasures. His machine is delightful, but I have built up a... resistance , you might say. He would have needed to have me in that machine for far longer a time to break me.”

Barbarella stared at the Tyrant for a few seconds. “So you want revenge.”

“I do.” Barbarella considered this.

“Al right, I believe you. But I still don’t trust you.”

“I wouldn’t trust me, either, pretty-pretty. But we must depart if we want to stop him.”

Barbarella looked at the Tyrant for a minute. Then she turned to the control console. She keyed up the power systems. Her viewscreen flickered to life.

“Well, well, my dear,” it was the voice of Duran Duran! He had left a recorded message in the memory.

“I must say, I’m impressed if you made it this far, Barbarella. But I’m not going to make catching me that easy.” Barbarella toggled a few switches. Main power was still offline.

“You’ll find playing with your console quite hopeless, Barbarella. I’ve rewired your ship. If you want to start the ship up,” at these words, a wall panel slid open, revealing a strange contraption hidden in the wall. “You’ll have to play another way.” The contraption rolled out into the cabin. Barbarella gasped. It was a mini version of the Excessive Machine.

“Good luck, my dear,” the recording flickered off. Barbarella studied the cables trailing from the sides of the machine. They fed directly into the main power grid. Obviously, to get main power back on line, she would need to play the machine. But she couldn’t pilot the ship while inside that thing. Besides, she thought, you’re still not recovered from that last session. If the Tyrant hadn’t intervened, she might have given in. Then, Barbarella had a marvelous idea.

“Get out here,” she said to the Tyrant as she shut down the alcove’s force field. “I’ve just found a way for you to help.” She marched the Tyrant over to the machine. The Tyrant looked back at Barbarella, a surprised and amused look on her face.

“You don’t mean...”

“I can’t pilot the ship from in there. And I’m the one who knows the shortcuts.” They stared at each other for a few seconds.

“We’re wasting time.” Barbarella said. The Tyrant shrugged, reached down, and undid her belt. She slid her cloak off her shoulders, and slipped her skirt to the floor. She pulled off her thigh high boots. Barbarella couldn’t help but admire her figure. The Tyrant was tall, taller than Barbarella, and slimmer. Her body wasn’t as toned as Barbarella’s; hers seemed better suited for more pleasurable pursuits, while Barbarella had to meet the demands of space flight. But she was nonetheless quite attractive. But she had an air of danger to her. The Tyrant climbed into the machine.

Barbarella seated herself in front of the keyboard. Like the one on the station, this one could be set on automatic. She toggled a few switches, then let the machine go. It hummed to life. The Tyrant gasped as familiar pleasures rolled over her. The machine eased back on its intensity, generating a gentle tickle in her body. She giggled and squirmed as the intensity began to build. Barbarella turned from the console, towards her command console. Power was still not on. The Tyrant began to moan softly. The pleasure was building faster now. Barbarella had not set the machine for any subtle torture, like she had endured, but for sheer intensity. Static charges generated by the undulating arms crackled into the diffusing film in contact with the Tyrant’s body. They were directed into her, stimulating her. The clitoral stimulator raised into position. Static charges began to strobe across her now swollen clitoris. She arched her back, crying out as her first or Barbarella had not been entirely truthful with the Tyrant. She could program Alfie to steer the fastest course to Earth, and to navigate the journey. She was only needed if an emergency arose. So, with the ship underway, she decided to get a little revenge on one of her tormentors. She quickly donned one of her many form-fitting suits, then snuck over to the console, and eased the intensity up a bit. The Tyrant arched her back and responded with a powerful climax. Barbarella switched the machine into manual, and began to play with the keys, speeding up and slowing down as the fancy struck her. The Tyrant whimpered and groaned as she was brought to the brink of orgasm, then pulled back at the last minute. Then, suddenly she was launched into orgasmic bliss, her boy tensing with the climax. Barbarella played the Tyrant from one orgasm to another, and actually began to feel a little jealous. The machine, despite its intensity, was a wonderful experience. But, for the tim After nearly an hour, Barbarella finally let the machine ease down, and powered it off. The Tyrant sagged in the machine, sweaty, exhausted, with a glazed look on her face. Her breathing was deep and heavy. Beads of sweat ran freely down her body. Barbarella released the restraints. Slowly, the Tyrant gathered her wits, and eased out of the machine. She looked up at Barbarella.

“Did that make you feel better, pretty-pretty?” Barbarella arched an eyebrow in response.

After a few days in flight, the Alpha 8 pulled into Earth orbit. Barbarella pulled into the planetary air traffic, and made her way over to the presidential tower. She docked the ship, and the two women hurried for the President’s office.

They halted outside the doors, and Barbarella pressed a key which chimed the intercom.

“I’m Barbarella. I need to see the President immediately!” The door slid open. Barbarella charged in, but before she could open her mouth, she halted, stunned at the sight before her. There was Duran Duran, calmly seated at the President’s desk. He was wearing his wickedest smile, and pointing a pistol directly at her. President DeAnthus was standing just behind him, a brown-suited guard hovering nearby. The doors slid shut behind her, and Barbarella turned to see two more guards flanking the entrance. And the Tyrant also had a pistol leveled at her.

“Well, done, my pet, well done,” Duran Duran said as he rose and circled around the desk. “I assume she followed you with little objection?” The Tyrant nodded.

“She was suspicious, as you predicted, but I managed to press the urgency of the situation. She did, however,” and she glared at Barbarella with vengeance burning in her eyes, “put me in the Excessive Machine you wired into her ship. She kept me in there for an hour.”

“Well, we’ll just have to pay her back, won’t we?” Duran Duran holstered his pistol, and toggled a switch on the president’s desk. Barbarella tensed when his back was to her. She considered rushing him, maybe grabbing his pistol. Maybe she could catch the guards by surprise. But no sooner had she thought this, then the guard covering DeAnthus raised his rifle in her direction. She was out of options.

“I wouldn’t try anything, Barbarella. These pistols and rifles are miniaturized versions of my Positronic Ray. And they are quite effective, I assure you.”

“You won’t get away with this, you monster!” she cried out.

“But my dear, I already have. I wanted you to follow me to Earth. That is why the Tyrant let you out of the Excessive Machine. I have had agents secreted in this very building for years. They have carried out every instruction they have been given, from reconstructing the Positronic Ray, to monitoring your beloved president. I wanted you to see how completely I have outmaneuvered you at every turn. I wanted you to see that I have beaten you. And now...” his voice trailed off as he toggled one more switch on the desk. The spacious, high-ceilinged office began to shift. Walls and floors slid open, and a platform emerged. The ceiling opened, and a machine descended onto the platform. Barbarella recognized it. Not again she thought.

“Let’s finish what we started.” A new Excessive Machine settled into place. Duran Duran gestured at Barbarella with his pistol. Undoing the clasps on her top, she climbed into the machine, both dreading and anticipating what would come next.

The Tyrant secured her wrists in the restraints while Duran Duran seated himself at the keyboard. Without looking at Barbarella, she tapped her shoulder, pointed at a small niche near her hand, a niche hidden from Duran Duran’s direct line of sight. She had tucked her pistol there.

“Now, you’re all nice and snug, pretty-pretty,” she said. Then she winked at Barbarella.

Without warning, the mighty Excessive Machine surged to life.

“<GASP> OOOOOOHHHHHHH!” she cried out as a powerful wave of pleasure crashed over her. She could feel the suction of the machine pulling her suit off. It slowly slid down her body. As more of her naked skin was exposed, the more intense the feeling grew. Finally, the suit slid off completely. She was once again completely naked, and defenseless inside the insidious device.

“Mmmmmm. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” Barbarella giggled as the machine generated a gentle tickle throughout her body. Months of time spent inside the machine had revealed to Duran Duran that Barbarella was quite ticklish. He frequently used the machine to tickle her, then suddenly veered her into a zone of intense pleasure.

“Ohhhhh! Oh goodness!” again the pleasure began to build. The clitoral stimulator clicked into place, and gentle static charges strobes across her swelling clitoris. She arched her back and rewarded Duran Duran with a long, deep groan.

“OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

She clenched and unclenched her fists unconsciously. She was beginning to writhe inside the machine. The machine was sweeping her toward an orgasm.

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” She was just on the brink. With a few deft keystrokes, she plunged over the edge.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNN!” She shook involuntarily with release. The orgasm was long and powerful, the longest she had yet experienced. But the machine wouldn’t let her rest.

“Ooohhhh! Ohhhh! Oh no!” Another orgasm surged through her. She could feel her strength ebbing. Not long ago, Barbarella would have been able to endure longer stretches of time in the Machine. But after two months of constant sexual torture, Barbarella’s endurance had been pushed to its limits. Duran Duran brought her to two more orgasms, each more intense than the one before. Then he eased the intensity back a bit, building her to her next climax slowly. Higher and higher she climbed, the pressure in her body building. But he kept her just out of reach of an orgasm. Barbarella recognized the tactic. She had been subjected to it during her last session in the machine. He was building her to an orgasm, but just keeping her from it. He wanted her to ask for it. It would be a first step, but she knew if she gave in, he would have gained a hold on her. He would have a small victory. She needed to hold out. Pleasure surged through her, brin “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” she cried out as a fresh surge of pleasure flooded her. Not enough for a climax. Enough to drive her to the edge. She so wanted to fall into the orgasmic bliss. But Duran Duran eased her back again. She nearly called out “please”. She was aching with need. She needed to climax. But she had to hold on a little longer. The pleasure spiked again. She danced on the edge of an orgasm. It felt so good! Patiently, Duran Duran again eased her back from an orgasm. He was determined to finally break Barbarella’s spirit. He had reviewed every second she had spent under his torturous control. He had seen how far they could push her limits. He had even been watching her last encounter in the machine while he was en route to Earth. She had very nearly broken. If the Tyrant had not freed her, he was certain she would have asked for an orgasm. And, he could tell, she was so close now. He would break her.

Again and again, he drove her to the edge, then brought her back. Barbarella knew she couldn’t take much more. She figured she could take maybe two more pushes before she could no longer help herself. She steeled herself. Deftly he worked the keys. Barbarella felt her body respond.

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!” Still she would not be allowed to come. She knew, the next one would break her. She willingly gave in, on her own terms, before he could force her will.

“Please!” Duran Duran eased back, his heart leaping.

“Excuse me my dear? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“P-p-please!”

“Please what, Barbarella?” He was edging her to the edge of orgasm. She squirmed inside the machine, aching for the climax.

“Please let me climax. Let me come.” Music to Duran Duran’s ears. The machine roared as Barbarella thundered with orgasm. Her head snapped back. She screamed. Her body tensed. She came harder than she ever had before in her life. She lost all sense of space and time. She was unsure how long the orgasm lasted, but it felt like days. Finally, mercifully, the feeling began to fade. She could feel her body again. She felt her pulse racing, her chest heaving. She sagged back in the machine, drained and spent. She felt the restraints on her feet release. The Tyrant released the restraints on her hands, and helped her out of the machine. She quickly palmed the pistol. The Tyrant helped Barbarella down, keeping her steady. Her legs felt like jelly. DeAnthus was speechless.

Duran Duran rose from the keyboard and walked over. Barbarella met his gaze.

“Now you belong to me, Barbarella,” he said.

“Never.” Barbarella raised her pistol and shot Duran Duran. A green aura enveloped him, and he vanished from sight. Barbarella’s legs gave out, and she collapsed. DeAnthus and the Tyrant helped her back up, and over to the chair behind the desk. DeAnthus swept his cloak off and covered Barbarella. The Tyrant turned to the two guards.

“Wait outside.” They nodded and left the room. Barbarella looked at her.

“Thank you.”

“Why?” asked DeAnthus. “I thought you were his ally. Why did you help?”

“You know, don’t you pretty-pretty.” Barbarella nodded.

“You wanted revenge on him for usurping your throne on Sogo.” DeAnthus looked at the Tyrant.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I have no interest in your planet, or in my former concierge’s weapons. All I want to do is go back to Tau Ceti.”

“I’ll take you back. I owe you. I couldn’t have beaten him without your help.” Barbarella slumped back in the chair. She would need a vacation. And she also wondered what would be done with all those Excessive Machines.

Duran Duran tumbled through a long, bright tunnel. He finally fell to the ground. He raised his head and looked around. He found himself near a vast forest. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he knew he wasn’t dead. Barbarella has shot him with his own Positronic Ray. The Positronic Ray deminimalized its victim into the fourth dimension. Time. He had basically tumbled through a focused tunnel of time. He didn’t know where, or when, he was. But off in the distance, he could make out the outline of a small city. He walked towards it. He had escaped the Mathmos, and had survived his own weapon. He would rise to power again.

THE END