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At the initial slightly-slimy contact, a soft whimper escaped her lips, and her heart leapt in anticipation.

Less than a minute later, her upper torso felt as if it were encased in slimy tentacles, yet none of them had attempted to enter her body. Instead, randomly, the tentacles squeezed her briefly, or slid across her skin with tiny and nearly-imperceptible movements. This time, the young adventurer felt absolutely no fear, no panic, no urge to fight or scream.

She did, however, hope that no one would come find her now and interrupt this most unusual of interspecies coupling.

Underneath the mass of slimy alien flesh, Yanari tried to move her hands, and the tentacles yielded briefly. Other tentacles suddenly wrapped around her wrists and gently pulled her forearms back behind her, effectively thrusting her chest forward as the momentarily-bare skin was again covered by slippery exotic extremities.

In her mind's eye, Yanari imagined herself now as one of the women in her brother's many films, bound in some manner, surrounded by horny men waiting to spew their seed both upon her and within her. The thin sheen of slime from each of the tentacles encasing her must certainly feel similar to having some fifty men emptying themselves upon her, she reasoned.

Before, such a thought would have horrified her, sickened her. Now, the thought absolutely thrilled her, as indicated by the involuntary quivering south of her navel and the growing moistness inside her.

Almost instinctively, the willing captive began to struggle sensually, putting on a show of mock resistance for the fifty men she imagined surrounding her. Soft moans escaped her lips as the tentacles continued to squeeze her and move across her skin. Still kneeling in the river as she moved, her torso careened like a spinning top nearly ready to tumble. Deep in her subconscious mind, something gave a tiny token protest at the inhuman assault upon her body, but Yanari was truly conscious of only one thing:

She wanted - and needed - more.

"Walking" on her knees, Yanari slowly turned herself around and approached the bank of the river. The tentacles each adjusted position accordingly, moving her forearms up and behind her head before binding them together. For a brief moment, she opened her eyes, and reveled in the sight of more than a dozen tentacles on the shore, each writhing seductively like an Old Earth belly dancer, each vomiting short bursts of bluish alien seed into the air.

Her need was now almost desperate, and her knees moved forward a little faster. Yanari did not feel the occasional stones on the riverbed as they pressed uncomfortably into her knees and her legs. She was aware only of the growing sexual energy radiating deep within her core and bubbling toward release.

She imagined a black-clad Mistress standing just beyond the bank, a wicked bullwhip in Her hand, ready to strike. Moving even faster, Yanari longed to feel the bite of the whip, the pain of the impact with her tender flesh. She wanted her anguish to bring delight to the imagined Mistress.

Her clitoris throbbed more intently now.

Reaching the shore and slowly emerging from the water, Yanari closed her eyes again, savoring every sensation. As the slippery tentacles around her chest loosened and retracted, she softly pleaded for them to remain, but when she felt the first strike across her breasts, she understood why they had extricated themselves from her body.

New tentacles grew up from the ground around her, quickly encircling her ankles and legs, snaking up her thighs like fast-growing vines. Deliberately, they dragged her legs apart as the beating of the young adventurer's chest caused her to grunt and pant loudly, each impact renewing her body's instinctive "fight or flight" struggle.

"Yes!!!" A single tentacle stroked Yanari's dripping womanhood, adding its own thin layer of lubrication to that which was already seeping copiously from within her.

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