"The Flinker" is set in an alternative society where men, the flinkers, are no more than objects for the pleasure of the females. This extract from the beginning of the novel sets the scene for the rest of the book, which follows the misfortunes of one female, a "matogle", who starts to worry about the fate of the flinkers but whose efforts to do anything about it lead her further and further into deep trouble. Her own particular sexuality and desires become her overriding consideration, and finally prove to be her downfall. The full book is available from A1 Adult eBooks.
"The Flinker"
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It was his turn to be the flinker.
He had been dreading it for months, although he knew perfectly well it was inevitable. He also knew that it was likely to be worse than last time, for now there were fewer males there would be more women at the scortium.
He dragged his feet as he walked, knowing that to be late would be unthinkable yet still reluctant and wondering if there was any way he could avoid it. There was not, of course.
He was met at the door by two of them, and instructed to disrobe. Miserably he left his clothes in a pile, and entered the benglion.
As he expected, there were more of them than ever. At least, he told himself, the majority were vixlings which would make it easier for him to keep the slambold when they demanded it, but there were a fair number of matogles and nagolds too. It made little difference, he told himself, the energy of the vixlings always seemed inexhaustible and although the matogles and nagolds might be less energetic their requirements were always quite as demanding.
All of them turned to look at him as he walked in, some of them rising from their comfortable chairs to see him more clearly.
He heard a voice, “Not very pleased to see us, is he?” A ripple of unpleasant laughter went round the benglion, setting the tone for the session.
A vixling asked “What first?” so this was clearly her first time. He heard a matogle reply in a low voice, but could not catch her words. He did not need to hear them anyway, he already knew.
Four of them advanced on him, two took hold of his arms while the other two stood in front and behind him. Why they bothered with the ritual was always a mystery to him. He knew where he needed to go and what he needed to do without them forcing him. He had done it many times before, and would continue to do it until, one day, at one of these sessions… he shuddered and put the thought out of his mind.
He heard a nagold giving instructions. “Harlia, watcher. He’s not to lose consciousness. Jilnira and Manglia, lifters - just in case. Make sure you listen carefully to Harlia’s instructions. Granchen, scramper. If Harlia instructs you, and ONLY if Harlia instructs you then make him scream once and then stop. Are we all ready?”
There was a question from the back of the room.
“Ah yes,” said the nagold. “Time limit.”
There was complete silence in the room.
“I think,” said the nagold slowly, “That on this occasion there will be no time limit.”
There was a gasp, an excited gasp from all of them.
“We’ve waited some time for this,” continued the nagold, “And I don’t intend to rush it. If we’re here for days, weeks, then so be it. Let it commence.”
No time limit! Surely, with so many of them, they could not possibly do that to him? Surely he would not survive it?
He had no more time to think about it. He was, as he knew he would be, pulled down onto his back on a wide padded table in the centre of the benglion. His ankles were buckled into place, and then his wrists. Granchen grabbed his gelkins and squeezed painfully in demonstration and to test what pressure would be needed to make him scream. She recited the rules: “Teeth, and you scream. Lack of effort, and you scream. Any attempt at avoidance and you scream. Make the required effort and all will be well.”
The first, a vixling, was already clambering eagerly onto the table. Kneeling with her legs either side of his head, she raised her short skirt and lowered herself gently onto him. Obediently he started to kiss and lick, well aware that Harlia was watching closely and ready to give Granchen instructions if he failed to perform in any way.
“Don’t rush it,” advised a nagold who was standing close to the table. “You’ve got all the time in the world to enjoy it, so make the most of it.”
The vixling pressed down onto him, smothering him completely for a few seconds but no longer. Yet. He knew, as she did, that Harlia was watching for that too, and that Jilnira and Manglia would lift the vixling immediately on her command if he started to lose consciousness - although he also knew that it would only be long enough for him to breathe enough to remain conscious, and then it would continue. He knew too that feigning unconsciousness simply was not worth the risk with Granchen holding him ready to squeeze at Harlia’s command.
The vixling started a slow back and forth motion on him. Slow. Very slow. She had taken the nagold’s advice not to rush. It was not going to be quick.
And there were at least fifty of them in that room...
"The Flinker"
