erotica Minorikawa's Journals

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

Hey there folks. Every so often I get inspired and decide to write a short story. So, while I have the time and inspiration, I figured I'd put together a thread for some such stories. I have one or two others I wrote some time ago I might post here later, but for now I'll start with a brand new one.

Note that I don't enjoy roleplaying as the opposite sex, largely because I'm never sure I'm doing it right. However, I find it more interesting for my solo stories to try and get into the head of the female character, to experience the world through her eyes. So, don't be surprised if many of the focal point characters are women instead of men. In addition, feel free to provide feedback in this thread. Comment, critique, what have you.

***

NEVER A BRIDE

The strawberry daiquiri was supposed to help deafen Eliza to the pulsing of bass in this dimly lit reception hall. The fruit-flavored rum drink instead seemed to amplify the pounding beat within her skull, the sounds reverberating throughout her cranium only to slam in the back of her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her chin and cheeks within her palms propped up by her elbows, staring at the succubus in the mirror of the open bar. A pair of red horns poked through her neatly combed blonde locks, the golden hair cascading over her shoulders and nearly concealing her obnoxiously large E-cup breasts squishing against the counter-top.

Eliza had no clue why Stephanie had seen fit to invite a succubus to her wedding. True, they were co-workers, each a secretary at the Goldman & Bergenstein Associates law offices. Stephanie was perhaps one of the only cordial women Eliza had ever known, in fact. Yet she was a gossip, and that meant she no doubt dished plenty of insults and stories behind the demon woman’s back. They were co-workers, acquaintances, occasional drinking buddies after wasting their Friday nights in the office, but they weren’t friends.

Despite all that, Eliza still sought out a dress that could somehow fit her five-foot-five hourglass frame, going so far as to get it tailored so it wouldn’t showcase too much flesh. It had a halter-top design to it, leaving her shoulders and upper back bare, but required modifications so the sides of her heavy bosom wouldn’t be exposed. This is nothing to say of the smaller waist yet still generous hips and thighs. Trying to conceal her natural assets without wearing a potato sack of a dress cost quite a bit of money, and as usual, no shortage of glances and side-eye from the staff.

It had been three years since all the succubi had been cast from the underworld, exiled to the human realm like some devil king’s discarded trash. None of them even had a clear memory of the hell or hades they’d been booted out of, let alone why. It had caused quite a stir at first, especially amongst the world’s various religious groups. There was even a moral panic not just at the existence of demons, but sex demons at that. Yet they’d managed to find themselves a little home in this world, though one which treated them like second-class citizens. Though adorned with a set of horns and a prehensile tail, their physical attributes were often enviable by the artificial modifications of porn stars. Naturally heavy breasts, slim waists, and asses you could bounce a silver dollar off of, let alone a measly quarter. At least the nasty looks from other women could be ignored, though. It was the men that were most irritating. Any social interaction was overshadowed by the stench of their lust, viewing each of the demon women as an opportunity for pleasure.

Eliza trembled as if from a chill, but it was more akin to a stomach growling. It had been almost seventy-two hours since her last feeding, leaving her very bones feeling somewhat hollow, as if they could hardly support her fleshy body. Her throat felt as if it were lined with cotton, absorbing any moisture and leaving her thirsty for the thick cream of a cock. Her sex seemed to pulse like a radar, pinging for dicks that might yearn to take a plunge. Her thighs closed and she suppressed a groan as she stared at herself in the mirror. Most of her demoness friends had taken up jobs working in legal brothels, strip clubs, or pornography. Some of them even made a career out of the amateur scene. Eliza did not want to be defined by her hunger, but it was moments like this that she regretted her decision to take on a more “respectable” career. The green dress she wore looked good on her, tasteful yet with its own appeal, but it felt wasted here at this wedding reception filled with older couples, children, and the occasional drug addict or two that happened to be her age.

“And what the Hell is this ‘macaroni’ song, even?” she grunted out loud, watching as the other invited guests had formed a series of rows on the dance floor, hands stretched forth then back, then on their hips before waving their asses side to side. A pop song of sorts that had hypnotized regular people into a ritual dance of butt shaking nonsense. It had become too much. She needed to get some air.

Slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, Eliza stepped from the bar stool, swaying slightly in her clacking heels. Normally she could hold down a single strawberry daiquiri much better, but her hunger clearly left her more susceptible to the rum’s mind altering properties. She took a second to steady herself and then proceeded to walk the perimeter of the dance floor, avoiding eye contact and keeping her tail as concealed beneath the dress as she could. It wouldn’t prevent the light from glinting off her horns, but those still managed to attract less attention.

Within moments she was stepping outside, flinching and squinting her eyes at the still bright sunlight. “Ah,” she grunted, holding her hand up before her eyes.

“I know,” a deep voice spoke beside her, “really stings after coming from inside that PG-rated rave party.” Almost immediately the polluted scent of cigarette smoke assaulted her nostrils, causing them to flare in distaste. Her hand waved before her reflexively to send it away, allowing her eyes to readjust to the light.

“Sorry,” the man said with a smile, placing the cigarette back between his lips. He continued his bad habit, but stepped across to the other side of her, the subtle breeze carrying the smoke away from where she stood.

“It’s no problem,” she shrugged, beginning to cross her arms just so she could do more than hang them at her sides. Trying to cross them in front of her breasts was just… awkward, so she settled for crossing them beneath, turning herself away from the stranger so that his eyes wouldn’t immediately be drawn to the manner in which her bosom lifted beneath her arms. He had a nicely trimmed goatee from what she could tell, giving him the look of a classic devil. His brown hair was curled but cut short, eyes piercing blue. The light gray suit he wore padded his shoulders, giving him a more imposing appearance despite the light pink of his tie.

“I can’t stand weddings either,” he smirked, taking another drag on his cigarette. She turned her head towards him, giving him another look. This was actually her first time attending one. Succubi weren’t really invited, and they most certainly weren’t viewed as the sort to vow a permanent and exclusive bond with another.

“The music is too loud for me,” was all she responded, her eyes turning out towards the parking lot. The breeze blew a bit more strongly, the air chill compared to the stuffy warmth of the reception hall. She could feel the goosebumps rolling across her flesh, her fingers lifting up to caress her arms.

“I prefer something with double-bass and relentless rhythm guitar myself,” the man spoke behind her. She could hear the soft clack of his shoes against the pavement, the soft rustle of a garment. Before she knew it the thick and heavy jacket of the man’s suit was placed upon her shoulders. She turned her head reflexively, looking up at him, smelling the nicotine from his breath and his clothing. He smiled at her like a villain in a Disney film.

He wants to fuck me.

“I’m Curt,” he said with a smile, his fingers remaining on the shoulder pads of the jacket, letting his presence be known.

“Eliza,” she said softly.

***

She moaned deeply as her tongue caressed the taut flesh of his rock hard cock, lips pulling up its thick stalk towards the sensitive glans. Her fingers gripped the base and stroked upwards after her mouth, smearing her saliva along the length. Somewhere within her mind she was shouting, angered and outraged to be giving into yet another man looking to use her for his pleasure. Yet it seemed to her, in this moment, that the flesh of a cock never tasted so good in her mouth as it did now.

“Just like that, Eliza,” Curt gasped, leaning his head into the back seat of his SUV. It was rather odd looking, both of them still clothed, his jacket still draped over her shoulders, yet the dress hiked up her thighs to expose the smooth flesh of her legs, prehensile tail lifted up and swaying side to side in joy. Her heavy breasts crushed against his thigh, squishing out and in with each dip of her head into his lap. His erect cock burst upright through the fly of his pants, her tightly gripping fist careful to catch any loose spit so that it wouldn’t ruin his clothing. She moaned again as she dove down, her throat welcoming that bulbous tip with a tight embrace, “gag reflex” a foreign and unheard of concept to a succubus such as herself. She turned her head, twisting her throat around the crown before immediately pulling up. She swirled her tongue around the ridge once, twice, thrice before flicking at his slit. His thighs spread further apart, his muscles tensing as his abdomen clenched from the pleasure. Then, her lips popped free, her hand continuing to pump along the rock hard pillar of lust, twisting her wrist so that her palm rubbed his crown with each jerk.

“Cum for me,” she commanded, her chest heaving with deep breaths. He nodded, one hand resting between her shoulder blades, fingers flexing and trembling as her fist moved in a blur over his throbbing dick, the other pressed to the car door. She began to lean back down, lips opening back up to take the length once more before pausing. “Oh, and make sure to keep an eye out.”

She didn’t wait for any acknowledgement on that last part. For many humans there was an excitement to being watched or caught, but for her it’d just be another reminder to the human race that she was a demon of sex. “Slut” wasn’t an accurate enough word to describe her. Sluts didn’t hunger as she did. Sluts had a choice.

The salt of precum smeared along her tongue, alighting her taste buds on fire. Her nostrils flared and she moaned in whorish delight as the cock slid back into her throat. She twisted and turned her head from side to side, reveling in the thirst-quenching feel of the precum against her throat. She almost didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath, his hand sliding down to grasp hold of her ass. Eliza had told him that was off limits, touching her ass, her breasts, or her head. This was about her hunger, not his pleasure. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. All that mattered now was that seed.

She wrapped her thumb and forefinger into a ring around his base, keeping it steady as her head began to bob rapidly up and down his shaft. She opened her maw with each dip down, swallowing as she pulled back up, the vehicle filled with the sound of slurping and swallowing as he panted more and more heavily. His hips began to buck, pushing back into her mouth, his crotch slamming a bit uncomfortably into her teeth behind tightly sealed lips. It didn’t matter. She could tell he was close. Her remaining fingers reached down, caressing at his scrotum through the pants, moaning a plead for them to release their wonderfully satisfying cream.

“Oh shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, his free hand grasping the coat hanger handle of the car. His back arched, body quivering. She immediately dove her head down and held herself there, even before his hand broke the rule once more and curled through the locks of her golden hair. Warm, thick, salty semen splashed into her throat, immediately swallowed before another burst flooded in. She just continued to swallow and swallow, moaning between each burst until it became a steady trickle. Beneath her his body relaxed, his thighs and abdomen loosening up and his hands falling to his sides.

“Oh-ho shit,” he moaned softly, her head beginning to slowly, softly bob on the thick, upright member. It would begin to soften shortly, but before then she wished to savor it a bit more, her tongue tracing every vein she possibly could, flicking against the frenulum, softly cooing as he trembled at her pleasurable ministrations. The more she caressed that crown, however, the more swiftly it began to soften, until each tug of her lips stretched the member. Finally she released him with an audible pop, letting out a sigh of appreciation. Already her bones felt less hollowed out, the dry thirst of her throat gone. There was still a bit of a quivering eagerness within her sex, but that could easily be ignored.

“Thanks for the meal,” she said with a light smile, wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. Curt smiled that confident smile and nodded, his fingers deftly slipping his cock back into his pants. She watched, neither glad to see it concealed once more nor upset to see it gone.

“My pleasure,” he sighed, one hand reaching into his pocket to fish something out. She quirked an eyebrow for a moment, expecting him to withdraw his wallet. Wouldn’t be the first time a man thought it “polite” to pay her “for her service”. She was ready to roll her eyes when instead they widened, a wedding band withdrawn instead. He fit it snuggly back onto his ring finger. “My pleasure,” he repeated, the grin still on his face.

Eliza swallowed once more, the look of shock a fleeting moment lost in a blink. She put on a smile as her stomach felt like a ship tossed about in the middle of a typhoon at sea. “Well, I’d best get going,” she nodded, peeling his jacket from over her shoulders.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “probably best no one sees us go inside together, right?” He winked at her. “Don’t worry, I know how these things go.” His hand reached out, taking the jacket as she slipped it from her smooth shoulders.

“I’m sure you do,” she replied softly, hoisting the strap of her purse back over her shoulder before opening the car door.

***

“HEEEUUUURRRRAAAUUGGGHH!!!”

Eliza stared into the bowl of the toilet, panting heavily, the adulterer’s cum floating about the water with the red and pink of a strawberry daiquiri and some of her own bile. She could feel the trail of tears rolling down her burning cheeks, her stomach and chest heaving with each deep breath. The flavors of salted rum and acidic strawberry burned her taste buds and caused her lower lip to quiver.

That should be all of it, she thought to herself. Reaching forward she flushed the toilet, lifting herself back to her feet. She wobbled, light-headed once more, but not from the strawberry daiquiri. The hollow feeling returned to her bones, and her throat was not only dry, but burned as well. As she stepped out of the stall another woman stepped into the bathroom, pausing in absolute shock at the now disheveled succubus.

“Oh honey, you look like a mess!” the middle-aged woman exclaimed. She looked to be in her fifties, a bit heavy set, possibly a grandmother by this point. “What happened?” Her expression and words spoke of concern, but her eyes glanced at her horns. She kept her distance.

“Just a bit too many drinks,” Eliza smiled, her nose a bit stuffed up. She approached the mirror, her mascara running down her cheeks and strands of her blonde hair standing frazzled above her head. She twisted the knobs of the tap, letting the water run a moment as she slipped her purse from her shoulder. “Nothing a bit of freshly applied make-up and a tylenol won’t fix.”

“Well, just be careful on the way home, dear,” the woman nodded. “If you need to, be sure to call an Uber. Better to be safe than dead on the side of the highway, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Eliza chuckled half-heartedly, “no doubt about that.” The middle-aged woman stepped into a stall, taking a quick glance back before closing the door. Eliza let the smile fall from her face, her gaze watching as the water poured through her hands. She looked upon her own ring finger, bare. Her hands trembled. A chill climbed up her spine, causing her to shake. Her body felt so heavy, weighing down hollowed out bones.

Immediately her hands began to wash the water over her face. She’d find a gloryhole on the way home. She didn’t like it, especially as she didn’t have a change of clothes and this dress was too nice for such a place, but she needed to feed. If she went another night without eating she’d wake up delirious. No, better to please a stranger she couldn’t see than a mortal devil like Curt again.

Eliza paused, looking into the mirror. Thinking of herself on her knees, sucking on some random cock through a hole in the wall, wondering if a ring would adorn that man’s finger as well.

She sank her teeth into her lower lip and bit back her tears. Not worth thinking about. Out of sight, out of mind.

Just… get yourself some food, Eliza.

After several minutes of face washing and mascara mastery, she found herself back out in the reception hall. She’d have a dance or two. Put on a fake smile for Stephanie and congratulate her on her union. Make small talk.

But first, she’d need another strawberry daiquiri.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

This is my first attempt at a Tell Me a Story challenge. Lesson learned: I need to follow the K.I.S.S. principle. Keep It Simple, Stupid. I ended up with a lot of story here, enough to be considered self-indulgent. Plus, if I were to critique my own work, it would be filled with logic issues designed to create the opportunity for the story to happen as it does (hand-waving excuses for just one guard, for example, an unclear method of infiltration, not enough focus on an escape, etc.) All of that aside, though, I had a lot of fun writing it.

I don't imagine many reading it, but those that do, I hope you at least enjoy the character and sexual interactions to be found within. I've split it up into several posts in case reading it in chunks would make it easier to digest over time, rather than a whole bunch at once.

 

TELL ME A STORY: THE VESSEL (Part One)

The leather of Lenny’s gloves creased as he stretched his interlocked hands out, the knuckles cracking loudly in the otherwise silent hallway. He tilted his neck, another violent-sounding snap that would have caused any nearby to have flinched in assumed pain. Instead, there was no one to be found in the dimly lit subterranean hallway, and the loud crack was instead followed by a groan of satisfaction. The guard’s heavy boots echoed with each step, reverberating against the blank, pale walls as he continued his patrol route. The cap on his head bore the symbol of Adamah Corporation Security, a golden emblem in the shape of a shield with skyscrapers etched upon it and crossing swords behind. Beneath his thick, heavy bulletproof vest bore a similar golden badge with a single star at the emblem’s bottom. It denoted his status as a Senior Security Officer of the corporate campus…

...and yet he was here, pacing the hallway like some common rent-a-cop scrub.

His fingers patted the holstered pistol at his side, thumb circling the button fastening the leather case closed. The only thing on this floor, three basement levels below the surface of the headquarters, was an elevator. The only elevator that went to the lowest floors and therefore the most secure projects. Though Lenny was performing a task that any of his subordinate officers could perform, the bosses seemed intent on someone with experience. You’d think they’d want at least one other officer, but there was a celebration going on upstairs and he drew the short straw.

Adamah had not only shipped their latest project, but they reported record earnings of the fiscal quarter. This product launch would guarantee them continued profits into the next quarter, if not the next year. So everyone was up in the main hall, getting drunk and celebrating. Most of the security force was ensuring no idiot drunks found themselves falling out the window or breaking the company property. The highest ranking officers? Playing bodyguard to the highest paid executives and making sure no photographs were taken as they snuck their intoxicated employees back into their private offices and bathrooms for a bit of private partying.

The only reason Lenny was even pacing so much was to kill some time. It’s not like anyone was going to try to sneak in. There were way too many people in the building, way too much attention from paparazzi trying to sneak a scandalous NetVid outside, and anyone entering the basement would immediately arouse suspicion and-

DING!

Lenny went stiff, fingers pausing over his pistol, the hairs of his mustache bristling from the slow exhale. The common elevator down was right around the corner, and as if to prove him wrong, the sound of the doors sliding open filled the hall like a roaring engine. He continued to wait, listening for anything. He heard a clack upon the cement floor, then another. A pause. Then two quick clacks.

“Shit,” a female voice cursed. One more clack and he saw a short-haired woman wearing a studded leather jacket stumble into view, her gloved hand scrambling for the wall. Her feet tilted to the side, her ankles tilting in her high-heeled boots as she stumbled against the gray surface.

“State your purpose,” Lenny grunted, thumb circling the button of his holster. He knew appearances could be deceiving, and he wasn’t sure he was buying a young woman dressed like that not only being invited to the party, but somehow coming down here by mistake. Why would anyone willingly head to the basement.

“Oh, hi,” the woman said, trying to stand upright, her legs wobbling a little. Dark locks fell before her eyes. She reached up, fingers combing them back, revealing a bright set of eyes. They widened, her gaze scanning him up and down, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “Oh, hi,” she repeated, though this time followed by a giggle.

“State your purpose,” Lenny said once more, though his hand began to ease away from his pistol. She was certainly behaving like a drunk, but that wasn’t enough to explain why she was down here. He kept his stance as her hand rested against the wall, her wobbling legs carrying her closer.

“I was supposed to meet some guy down here,” she chuckled, pausing a moment to swallow. She took a breath, steadying herself once more. “But he certainly wasn’t as… big as you.” Her eyes scanned him once more, her giggling grin flashing pearly white teeth, like a jungle cat gleefully spotting their prey.

“You’re no employee here,” Lenny stated. She most certainly wouldn’t be in that outfit. Too casual, and even at a party, the Adamah employees would be dressed far more formally than this. Still, his eyes couldn’t help but watch the manner her breasts wobbled with each shaking step, as if any bra she wore underneath was for decoration than practical purpose.

“I’m one of the hired girls,” she said casually, fingers running through her hair again. The locks simply fell back before her gaze. Her other hand left the wall, trying to take a few confident strides forward. “Paid to ensure Adamah’s employees are kept quite ha-ah!” Lenny’s arms reflexively reached forward as she stumbled, her face planting into the padded vest over his chest, his strong arms reaching beneath her own. Unfortunately his physical protection kept him from feeling the soft spread of her breasts against him, but he could certainly feel her delicate fingers sliding up his muscular arms as she regained her balance.

“Mmm, thanks stud,” she said with a smile, keeping her body pressed to his own. Her lids were half-closed as her eyes gazed up towards him, her frame a full foot shorter than he was even with her heels. She kept her body close, wrapping her hands beneath his arms. He could certainly smell vodka on her breath. “Y’know, I don’t see that other guy anywhere around, and, well…” Her tongue began to trace her upper lip, her hand pulling back from behind him so her finger could draw circles over his chest.

“Are you sure he said he’d meet you down here?” Lenny asked. He knew he should release her, but he instead kept his arms wrapped about her waist. There was a light throb in his crotch, his lust awoken.

“Yeah,” she said softly, her finger tracing downwards. “He said level B2…”

“Well that’s your problem,” he stated plainly, keeping his eyes on her own as her finger continued to trail down. “This is level B3.” Her grin widened as her eyes turned back up towards him, her finger leaving his abdomen while her hand continued to slip lower.

“I guess I’m more think than I drunk I am,” she giggled, flashing those pearly whites up at him. His mouth opened to respond, but instead a shocked grunt emerged as her fingers clasped around his growing member, the inner thigh of his pants beginning to bulge out from her close proximity. “And you are certainly… bigger… than he seemed to be in every way.” Her palm gently slid down, fingers curling over the crown, his length seeming to stretch out with her caress. His chest lifted, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. “Mmm, and still more room to grow…”

“Why don’t I escort you to the security office on this floor,” Lenny stated. His voice was firm, but beneath that vest his heart was pounding with excitement. He knew this could still be some sort of trick, an effort to get him away from his post. It had been some time since he got to “enjoy” himself, however, and this drunk whore of a woman was certainly getting him excited. His own hands reached down, thick, strong fingers wrapping around the curve of her ass, squeaking slightly as they dug into her tight leather pants. She gasped, her fingers squeezing onto his hardening member even tighter. Then her giggles resumed, mouth forming that smile once again as her fingers gently stroked up and down.

“You need to… process me?” she asked, her middle finger circling over where his crown was. His back arched slightly, the tight confines of his pants and the boxer shorts beneath growing increasingly uncomfortable. His fingers loosened on her pert rear, only to spread further apart and dig right back into the soft flesh, the squeeze almost lifting her onto her toes.

“And it might even take all night,” he groaned softly. His fingers finally released her ass, grasping her hips to turn her about. She wasted no time pressing back into his groin, letting that rounded posterior glide against his aching erection as it began to prod more intently against his pants. His hand slid to the small of her back, helping lead her towards the office. Her arms wrapped about his bicep, cradling it against her heavy bosom, leaning heavily on him as her steps still wobbled.

The cement floor echoed with the stomp of his boots and the clack of her heels, amplifying the emptiness of the third basement floor. They walked down to the end of the hallway before turning the corner, and steadily the echo of their shoes faded into silence. There was a stillness left behind, an absolute quiet and emptiness to the hall that left it as abandoned as a tomb.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

TELL ME A STORY: THE VESSEL (Part Two)

It was minutes later that an odd, metallic echo could then be heard. Slowly it grew louder, until the sides of the air ducts above began to ripple and bend, the metallic pang reverberating down the hall. Were the guard to have continued his patrol he’d have heard it clearly. Instead, the sudden clang against a grate in the vent went unnoticed. Another clang and a corner popped free. Then with a final clang a hand had pushed it through, the grate clattering against the cement floor below.

There was another series of metallic ripplings in the duct, followed by a pair of booted feet slipping down. Jared, a young, blue-haired gentleman, grasped tightly onto the duct above him as he softly dropped to the ground, almost silent as the rustling grass in the breeze. Crouching, his eyes scanned his surroundings. He had landed in the middle of a hallway, what should have been the Eastern branch. This floor was largely just a square, with the standard elevators throughout the building on the southern end, the security officer’s station in the north-eastern corner, and a doorway to the central elevator on the north and south sides.

He perked his ears, listening for any sound of boots pounding into the ground. He made a lot of commotion getting in, but if all went according to plan then Caitlyn had already knocked the guard out back in his office. Satisfied, Jared stood and creeped forward, moving in close to the wall before peering around the corner. Ahead he could see the elevator back up, climbing towards the highest point of the skyscraper. Excellent, he had landed in the correct spot. He turned and made his way back towards the way he came, only he continued to sneak like a feline stalking a rat, all the way down the hallway. As he peered around the corner he could finally hear some sort of sound, a commotion from within the security guard’s office on the opposite end of the hall.

Crouching down, he slipped to the far wall and made his way along it, trying his best to decipher the ruckus in the office. There was a banging, the sound of a smack here and there, and a few very loud grunts. It sounded as if it could be a fight going on, but given that this was Caitlyn he was talking about…

He managed to sidle himself down beneath the windows of the office. If he lifted his head he could peer inside, but anyone within would just as easily be able to see him. He heard something get knocked to the ground, objects on a desk scattered to the floor and a feminine grunt. Holding his breath, his fingers flattened to the wall as he prepared to peer through the window and see if his partner needed assistance.

The sudden pounding of flesh into glass caused him to fall backward onto his rear, gazing up wide-eyed as Caitlyn’s bare breasts squished into the window. Her fingers spread apart, palms flat to the surface as her eyes rolled back into her head, mouth open in ecstasy. Her shirt had been tugged down to expose her hefty bosom, her jacket removed and her pants pulled down to her mid-thigh. From this position Jared couldn’t see the security guard, but the manner in which Caitlyn kept getting shoved into the now rattling window made it clear that she was getting pounded pretty fiercely from behind.

“Don’t stop,” her muffled voice cried, “don’t stop!” Her eyes lowered, spotting her partner on the ground, causing her moaning mouth to spread into an even wider grin of pleasure.

All she had to do was knock him out, Jared sighed internally. Shaking his head, he pulled himself back to his feet, keeping his crouched position as he crawled beneath the window towards the door. He peered slowly around the corner, getting a full view of the pantsless security guard grasping onto Caitlyn’s hips tightly, his teeth grit as he thrust himself as fast as he could, his balls swinging like a pendulum and clapping into her crotch with each push into her. The combination of smacking flesh, her moans, and his grunts were deafening. Unfortunately, as distracted as the guy was, Jared wouldn’t be able to sneak on over to the desk without being seen. It was perpendicular from the opposing wall, the guard’s pants crumpled at the foot of the office chair. No doubt Caitlyn had intentionally begun her task on her knees in order to remove his pants, though it didn’t seem to last long considering all the papers and decorations that were once on the desk now scattered across the floor.

Caitlyn’s hair flourished through the air as her head spun, turning to face the other way, towards Jared once more. Her eyes met his for a split second, and without hesitation her arm reached towards the back of the guard’s head. For a second Jared had expected her to finally inject the cocktail into the man’s neck and finally knock him out, but she instead arched her back, her breasts bouncing around more wildly as she pulled the guard in for a kiss.

Whatever, it was all the break Jared needed. He dashed from the doorway to behind the desk, the moans muffled by the locked lips and intertwining tongues of his partner and the guard. He immediately fished in the pockets of the pants for the guard’s key fob, a pale stick that contained all of his employee information and permissions upon it. Peering over the desk to make sure he was still unnoticed, he reached his fingers into his pocket to pull out a handheld electronic. It had a single screen, a keypad, and what seemed to be a flat, blank surface on its back. He held the key fob over this blank surface, transmitting all of its data onto the handheld decryption device. Streams of binary flashed by as it interpreted the information on the key fob, copying the information into something that could not only be used, but examined and modified.

Beyond the desk Jared watched, the flesh of Caitlyn’s rear and thigh rippling with each powerful impact of the guard’s cock inside of her. His hand reached forward, beyond her hip and up her waist, fingers reaching beneath her large breast, squeezing it tightly, hefting it before his palm slid further upwards. Their kiss broke, his teeth tugging at her lower lip, fingers spreading around her neck. Caitlyn’s mouth parted wider, but the high-pitched noise that emerged was delighted. Her fingers clutched onto the hair on the back of the guard’s head, her other hand smacking against the window as her eyes clenched shut tight. The guard’s other hand slipped forward, fingers reaching between her thighs and towards her clitoris.

Shit, Jared thought to himself. He’d seen that look before. She was nearing her limit, which would no doubt slow things down. He looked back down at the handheld, the binary digits passing by like cars speeding past on the highway.

“Ah!” she squeaked, mouth spread wide open, her fingers trembling against the window as she tried to pull the guard’s face into her neck, his own grip still firm on her throat. The guard growled something into her ear, but Jared couldn’t hear it over the sound of clapping flesh and more squeaking gasps from Caitlyn. The screen on his handheld flashed just as a high pitched scream burst from her, every inch of her body trembling, the smacking of flesh on flesh becoming more wet. All the data interpreted and copied, Jared shoved the key fob back into the guard’s pants pocket. He glanced up, watching as the guard’s fingers released their grip on Caitlyn’s neck, easing back down towards her breast. Immediately Caitlyn’s hand pulled at the man’s hair, pulling him into another kiss.

It wasn’t meant as a distraction this time. She was high on her orgasm, yearning to ride it out further if she could, expressing her satisfaction by wrestling her tongue about his. Yet it was all Jared needed, dashing from behind the desk and out of the office, clinging to the wall beneath the windows once more. He took two steps before there was more commotion. He risked a glimpse, and could see that Caitlyn, though her body still trembled from the high, was shoving the guard onto his back on the desk, peeling her pants off completely before hoisting herself up on top of the man.

She must really be enjoying this guard’s dick.

Jared just shook his head, creeping himself down the hall back towards where he came. He’d need to reach the elevator from the opposite side of the basement floor, away from where the guard might notice. Caitlyn was proving to be an excellent distraction, but there was always the chance the guard would notice some movement out of the corner of his eye. Would have been better if she had just knocked the guy out, but the drug only lasted about twenty-to-thirty minutes. This method at least bought them a bit more time, even if it came with its own risks.

Jared completed his circuit around the basement, reaching the large set of metallic doors. “CLASS-A PERSONNEL ONLY” was written across them, a panel to the side designed to scan key fobs. Pulling the handheld device from his pocket once more, Jared punched the commands up that would allow it to imitate the guard’s key fob. He then held the flattened part of its surface towards the door scanner, and after a brief moment a red light flashed green. The doors slowly parted, revealing a small room that contained nothing more than a clear, cylindrical tube. The elevator down.

He didn’t know who had hired them, but they certainly had the correct blueprints of this building. Jared punched a few more digits into his device and confirmed that all security cameras on the third basement level and below were streaming recycled, empty footage. Satisfied, he marched towards the elevator and pressed the lone down button.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

TELL ME A STORY: THE VESSEL (Part Three)

Neither he nor Caitlyn knew what it was they were stealing tonight. The man who hired them had only gone by the name Masquerade, his distorted face a collection of polygonal fragments that created little more than a pixelated abstraction of the human form. He simply informed them that it was indicative of the depravity that Adamah Corporation was willing to sink to. With such little information he and Caitlyn would have normally rejected the job, especially considering the dangers it posed. However, the man was able to deposit a vast sum of money as an advance, enough that the two could have just taken it and fled.

The problem was that they’d never given him their account information. They hadn’t even used their real names. He found them real easy, and if he could do that as payment, then he’d be able to find them wherever they ran.

So he stepped inside of the elevator and pressed the button to descend. The trip took longer than he expected, indicating that it was far more than just a single floor below. Whatever they were working on, they wanted to make sure no one could access it through traditional means.

The sinking feeling had halted, a soft ping echoing and the doors opening. Registering sudden movement, the lights to the lower laboratory began to activate. Jared stepped forward, the room filled with tubes that looked to contain a variety of human organs and body parts. Oh, I so hope this isn’t what we’re stealing, he groaned, a sudden churning developing in his stomach. Beyond the chamber of floating limbs and innards was another door, one that opened automatically at his approach. Within this chamber were several computer terminals, all forming a circle around another cylindrical tube in the center.

Only this one didn’t just contain body parts or organs. It was a whole human. A woman, looking to be in her early twenties, seeming to slumber within the clear tube filled with a blue liquid. She had a tube hooked into her mouth, her naked breasts rising and falling steadily, as if in complete slumber.

“The Hell…?” Jared whispered, standing in complete confusion at first. She just floated there, suspended in the fluid, naked, her form everything a healthy man with an appetite could want from a woman. Which was, to Jared, the problem. Why was she here? Why was she naked? What was this all for?

...what… was he here for?

Immediately he lunged towards a computer terminal, fingers attacking the keyboard with a ferocity as his eyes scanned any and all text that appeared on the monitor. He breathed a sigh of relief as the organs and limbs weren’t harvested, but were in fact based on stem cells. Some attempt to assemble a person? Not quite a clone, but something… hollow.

“Adamah Corporation Report number 47, Vessel E,” a man with a smokey voice spoke. Jared pulled up a video featuring a man with a receding hairline and a salt and pepper beard, his voice rasping slightly as if he hadn’t had a drink of water for a long time. “We may have finally created a successful body capable of housing a human consciousness. See our documentation on Vessel A regarding failures for the body to assemble whatsoever, and Vessel B report 21 and Vessel C report 33 regarding the complete collapse of internal life systems. Vessel D report 37 observes the corrections made to ensure the body remains whole and functional, yet report 41 chronicles the Vessel becoming self-aware, resulting in a panic attack and ultimately led to cardiac arrest.

“Vessel E, however, remains in a coma. There is enough brain activity to indicate a possible consciousness, a self-awareness that could awaken, but we have managed to keep the subject in a coma-like state until the personality transfer is complete. We believe that, within twelve days time, we will be able to insert the personality of the President’s late dau-”

That was enough of that. These people had created a human being, yet they were just going to overwrite its individuality. Jared didn’t really get it, didn’t understand how you’d put someone else in another body, but he did know that if someone were to rip him from his own and replace it with another, he’d be…

Well, it’d be as good as being dead.

So his fingers sped across the keyboard in a blur, popping open a terminal window and selecting shortcuts to seek and discover any programs he could use to wake this “vessel” up. With a stroke of a key the lights on the cylindrical tube lit up, the sound of fluid rushing through pipes filling the chamber as the liquid suspending the woman began to drain out. He then cut the gas flowing into the mask that was keeping the woman unconscious, though ensured her oxygen supply would continue. As the fluid lowered, so did the woman, her body beginning to slump against the glass of the tube. He pressed a key releasing its locks and then leaped from the chair, rushing towards the rising glass so that he could wrap an arm around her body. Carefully he reached for the mask, releasing the clasps so that he could slowly slip it from her face.

He paused, the full view of her gorgeous face stunning him into hesitation. Jared shook his head slightly, examining her lips and nostrils, noting that she continued to breath in on her own. He lowered the mask to the floor, removing his gaze from her for just a moment. When he turned back, her eyes were open and upon him. He paused, going rigid, swallowing nothing as he prepared for her to begin thrashing, screaming, or something. Yet she never did. She simply looked into his eyes, as if waiting. Then her gaze lowered, seeming to take in the shape of his jaw, the strands of blue hair that fell down around his ears, the collar of his coat. Her eyes continued to wander him until she finally began to sit up, fingers reaching out to run down along his pant leg. They paused a moment, pressing into the loosened section of the material, feeling his solid calf beneath.

She then immediately stood up, looking about the room, not at all seeming to mind how naked she was. Jared attempted to keep his own cool, but he couldn’t resist a quick examination of her backside, so perfectly shaped. Whoever put this woman together was clearly a horny fellow, that was for sure.

“Hey, Jared?” Caitlyn’s heavily panting voice chirped over his ear piece. The sound must have carried through the silence of the laboratory as the woman looked over her shoulder, eyes back on him. Jared reached upwards for the ear piece, tapping the button for transmission.

“I’m here,” he said, though his eyes remained on the young woman.

“Guard’s out,” Caitlyn sighed with satisfaction. He imagined her laying back on the officer’s desk, her clothing still a disheveled mess. The young woman -- the “vessel” -- reached up with a finger to her own ear. When she found nothing there her gaze shifted, looking straight ahead, no longer taking in visual information as her mind clearly began to flood with questions and curiosity. “Almost thought I wasn’t going to need the drug, but he began talking about needing to do another patrol.”

“That’s fine,” Jared nodded. “We, um… we have a bit of a… thing.” His fingers flexed and balled into fists as he continued to watch the young woman, opening her mouth, a light noise escaping. Did she even know how to speak? Did she have any knowledge of language?

“Don’t tell me I gotta fuck another security guard,” Caitlyn sighed, exasperated. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, this dude got me to orgasm twice and I loved it, but even I need a breather, ya know?”

“Not like that,” Jared shook his head. The young woman began to slowly walk the perimeter of the room, pausing every so often to look at a monitor, or the blinking of lights on a panel. “We’re um… I think we’re supposed to steal a woman.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. “What, you mean, like, kidnap a lady scientist down there or something?”

“No, I mean, what they were building down here,” Jared began, watching the young woman continue walking the room. She reached forward, her finger tapping on some keys to a terminal. “They built a person.”

The silence continued. Jared stepped forward, reaching out gently as the vessel kept pressing keys. His hand wrapped around her wrist, gently urging her hand away. Her eyes turned to his, no objection, no question, just… studying him.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Caitlyn said across the comm. It sounded as if she had a cigarette in her mouth as she spoke. The pause indicated she was lighting it. “You don’t build a person. Are you sure it isn’t a really, really convincing fuckbot or something? And who would pay us so much to steal something like that?”

“She’s not a machine,” Jared said. There was no way someone would program such behavior into an android and forget to give her speech capability. No, her behavior was something all too different. Especially now, as her fingers suddenly rose, tracing over his lips. She opened and closed her own mouth, making no noise, but seeming to experiment with her lips and tongue, soundlessly trying to create speech. “This is definitely a person, albeit a… strange one.”

“That can’t be right,” Caitlyn groaned. “Are you sure you got the right floor? And that’s not just some really, really, really, really convincing fuckbot?”

“Look, just-” Jared began, almost gagging as suddenly the vessel’s fingers reached inside of his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. He jumped backwards, pausing only to watch as the woman’s mouth spread into a smile, a light chuckle causing her chest to bounce up and down. Immediately she plunged her fingers into her own mouth, only for her eyes to immediately widen before lunging forward, a gag spilling from her mouth.

“Yeah, not so great, is it?” Jared coughed, wiping his arm against his mouth.

“It was!” Caitlyn objected. “You’re totally ruining my orgasm high with this fuckbot shit.”

“Not you,” he grunted. The vessel stood back upright, but there was still a big grin on her face. At least, for a moment. Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked towards Jared’s chest, then down at her own. “Look, do you think you could sneak upstairs and find a woman whose clothes you could steal?”

“Are you fucking shitting me?” There it was, Caitlyn’s angry voice. Things weren’t going according to plan, they had to improvise, and improvisation was an inconvenience. Especially when she was experiencing that post-coital relaxation.

“Look, our best bet,” he began, pausing as the vessel’s hands suddenly reached forward to pat down his own chest. “Our best bet is to get this woman clothed and hope you can walk out with her, two hookers arm in arm.” The vessel’s fingers went back to her chest, gripping it, bouncing it slightly, an expression of curiosity wiped away by mild surprise as her fingers discovered her own hardened nipples. She looked up at Jared, almost awestruck, as she continued to caress and feel the buds.

“You owe me for this,” Caitlyn groaned. “I’ll meet you out front the elevators for B3.” With that her radio was off. Jared let out a sigh, reaching for his own ear piece to deactivate.

“Well, that’s tha-AH!” The vessel’s hands suddenly reached forward for his shirt, trying to strip it up his torso. “Hey, no! No!” he objected, reaching for her hands and pulling them away. She looked up into his eyes once more, though this time with clear confusion on her face. Jared sighed, his gaze back into her own, trying his best to figure out what he ought to do.

“Okay,” he began, then placed his hand on his own chest. “Jared,” he stated. She watched his motion, and when she failed to respond, he repeated it once more. “Jared.” She watched once more, then took her hands to her breasts, bouncing them in her hands.

“Ja-red?” she questioned back. He shook his head, waving his hands.

“No, no,” he groaned. He then patted his chest once more. “Jared,” he stated, then pointed to her. “Eve,” he named her. Vessel E, Eve, it seemed to fit.

“Eve-uh!” she repeated, but bounced her breasts once more.

“No, dammit!” he shook his head. “Would you stop it with the tits?” He reached out once more, holding her wrists to get her to stop bouncing them around so much. Of all the times that I’d love a woman to be showing her tits off to me like this, he groaned inwardly, this is not it. He then began to pat her head, her shoulders, arms, hips, doing his best to avoid looking towards her private parts or touching anything too sexual. “Eve!” he repeated over and over. “Eve! Eve! Eve!” He stood upright, pointing at her one last time. “Eve,” he said, then placed his own hand on his chest. “Jared.”

She had been watching him with a blank expression, watching as his hands patted down her body, as he stood back up and declared their names. There was another moment of silence before her mouth spread into that wide grin of hers. Her hands reached out, palms cupping his cheeks.

“Ja-red,” she stated, then reached for his own hands. She wrapped his palms around her own cheeks. “Eve-uh!”

I guess that’s good enough, he thought to himself, and nodded. “Yes,” he repeated, taking her hands and placing them back on his cheeks. “Jared,” he said, then placed his hands around her cheeks. “Eve.” She grinned once more, just as satisfied to have discovered some form of common communication as he was.

“Now let’s go,” he sighed, exasperated. The longer they were down here the longer they risked getting caught. Eve let out a startled yelp as he pulled her along, but soon kept up with him as he walked her from the laboratory. Once they began to pass through the chamber filled with tubes of organs and limbs, however, she slipped from his grasp. He turned to watch her stepping from cylinder to cylinder, eyes bright as they observed the different things within them. She finally paused at one that seemed to contain an arm, her fingers spread over the glass, looking between it and her own arms.

“That’s not-” he began, reaching for her hand once more. He kept his gaze on the arm himself, however, letting out a heavy sigh. Even if she knew how to speak he’d be struggling to explain this. Not that he really understood it himself. “Let’s just go,” he said softly. There was a new expression on Eve’s face. It wasn’t blank as before, nor did it have the curious furrow of the brow. Yet her eyes studied him intently, absorbing some sort of new information.

They stepped onto the elevator and Jared hit the button to ascend. He closed his eyes, leaning into the cylinder, trying to calculate the odds of them being able to escape. The security cameras were taken care of, but were there alerts regarding the use of the elevator? Or even emptying that tank? There had to have been other security measures they weren’t aware of and their employer hadn’t taken care of.

He was tugged from his thoughts as Eve suddenly lifted his hand, her eyes seeming to examine it closely. She spread her palm against his, examining how his fingers were larger than her own.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

TELL ME A STORY: THE VESSEL (Part Four)

Then the elevator reached the top, her attention drawn away from his hand and towards the opening doors. He took her hand in his once more as they stepped out of the elevator and towards the exit, where he momentarily jumped. There was Caitlyn, a skimpy looking dress in her arms and a foul expression on her face. An expression that shifted to shock and then absolute outrage.

“She’s fucking naked!” she harshly whispered.

“Ah!” Eve exclaimed with a grin. She lunged forward, hands out and grasping at Caitlyn’s now covered breasts, her clothing back on.

“The fuck?!” Caitlyn exclaimed, stepping backward as Eve grasped and bounced the woman’s bosom. “Get the fuck off me!” the dark haired woman cried, shoving Eve’s arms away. The vessel stepped backwards, looking up towards Jared with an expression of fright.

“Look, calm down,” Jared growled, stepping closer. “I just had a Hell of a time trying to get her to figure out names, all right? She’s…” Jared took a look back at her, that blank expression having returned as she studied the exchange between him and Caitlyn. “She literally doesn’t know anything.”

Caitlyn’s eyebrows rose and she shook her head. “Whatever,” she sighed. “I take it this is why you needed a dress?”

“Yeah,” Jared nodded, gesturing over to Eve. “Just… get it on her, would ya?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caitlyn sighed, stepping towards Eve. “C’mere, toots.” The vessel looked towards Jared, but he turned his back. It wasn’t right that he’d been able to see her full body this whole time, and it was amazing that-

“It’s amazing you didn’t pop a hard one walkin’ around with her,” Caitlyn commented, completing his thought. “Even I can tell she’s a look- she’s a loo- would you quit moving?” Jared risked a look over his shoulder, watching as Eve was far more interested in examining the dress and its fabric than putting it on. He smirked, glad to see someone else join in his suffering.

“I named her Eve,” Jared noted. “She was referred to by the lab coats working here as Vessel E or something, so…”

“Creative,” Caitlyn sighed, finally making headway into the dress fitting. “So what’s your plan?”

“Pretty much the same,” Jared replied. “I creep back out through the vents, escaping the same way I got in. You gals stumble on out like a pair of drunk prostitutes.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Caitlyn yelled. “What makes you think she’ll play along?” The dark-haired woman gestured towards the vessel, who then grinned.

“Eve-uh!” she smiled, patting herself on the collar bone. She then stretched her hand out towards Jared. “Ja-red!” she exclaimed. Her hands then clasped onto Caitlyn’s cheeks.

“What th-?!”

“Caitlyn!” Jared shouted, jogging to the pair. The dress wasn’t fastened onto Eve, but it at least was covering her up. “Her name is Caitlyn.” The leather-clad woman’s eyebrow rose, glancing over to Jared in search of an explanation.

“Kay-lin!” Eve grinned, then released her cheeks, leaving the woman flabbergasted as she looked between Jared and the vessel woman.

“Right,” Caitlyn sighed, “we’re getting out of here, I’m getting a stiff drink, and then I’m getting a stiff dick…”

“Again?” Jared asked reflexively, trying to help finish zipping Eve up in her dress.

“Trust me,” Caitlyn sighed, pushing Jared aside so she could take over the final fittings. “I’m gonna need another.” Eve’s eyes widened as the dress suddenly fit a bit more tightly, gazing downwards to watch as it lifted her breasts together before clinging around her stomach. Her fingers slid down the slick red material, shifting her legs as she observed the sway and caress of the material against her. She peered back over her shoulder as Caitlyn stepped away, reaching down to the floor where there was a matching pair of red high-heel stilettos.

“I don’t think-” Jared began.

“I know,” Caitlyn curtly nodded. She took one of Eve’s hands in her own, hooking her fingers around the back of the heels. “I’ve got to make it look like she’s walking around tired of wearing heels while carrying my drunk ass out of there.” Eve examined the heels closely, ignoring the manner Caitlyn took her arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Hopefully the security guards up there are idiots enough not to question why she’s walking around barefoot without at least having some sort of stocking or something on.” Eve continued to examine the shoes, giving them a quick sniff before looking at Caitlyn. The two women gazed into each other’s eyes a moment, and then the vessel gave a big grin. “Jesus, help me…” Caitlyn groaned.

“Well, it’s the best option we got right now,” Jared sighed. “I’ll meet you two on the outside, back at the hideout.” He reached for his goggles, pulling them down over his eyes. “Good luck,” he finished, jogging off towards the air duct he had crawled out of.

“Gonna need more than that,” Caitlyn growled over her shoulder. With a heavy sigh, she reached forward and pressed the button to summon the elevator. She gave another exasperated look over to Eve. “You ready for this?”

“Eve-uh!” the woman grinned, tapping her collar bone with her hand gripping the shoes. She then leaned forward, touching her nose to Caitlyn’s. “Kay-lin!”

***

Caitlyn wasted no time. Once those elevator doors parted she lunged forward, hooting, almost dragging Eve down with her. The woman’s eyes spread wide in shock, barely holding the dark haired renegade actress up. Caitlyn then flung back, a hearty laugh bursting from her mouth and almost causing the two of them to fall backward. It was just enough to confirm their surroundings, which fortunately was nothing more than a single rent-a-cop level security officer and a few employees.

“What a pa-party,” Caitlyn mumbled, her feet shuffling. She was supporting Eve as much as the speechless woman was supporting her, but somehow they managed to make it look as if the girl in the stolen red dress was more sober. “Lesh keep goin’.” She finished the slurring statement with a hiccup, a brief pause as if she were keeping her drink down.

The two managed to stumble around the corner, away from the elevators and into the lobby. It was not the center of the party, but there were plenty of revelers from the company here still. As the two hobbled and wobbled their way towards the entrance a group of more heavily armored and equipped guards approached. Shit, Caitlyn thought, what if they know what whatever she is looks like?

Fortunately that did not seem to be the case, as the soldiers marched right past. Eve, unfortunately, was curious and decided to turn and watch, at which point Caitlyn pushed off with her foot, making it seem as if she were the one wildly swinging about.

“Them’s a nice asses, eh?” she slurred loudly. The spin continued, and she nudged into Eve slightly, causing them to march diagonally towards the front door. “Eh? Y’know what I mean…” As they reached the front door she saw one of the security guards speaking into a walkie-talkie. This one seemed to be of similar rank to ol’ Lenny boy sleeping downstairs. It looked as if an alarm had certainly been flipped, and they had been getting out just in time. They just needed to continue selling it.

“You are pretty good lookin’,” she said, nearly stumbling into the guard. His jaw clenched, fingers gripping his walkie talkie, clear irritation on the man’s voice as he was interrupted. Caitlyn tried very hard to make it seem like Eve was tugging her away. “You should come pa-part...party with us,” she stuttered between restrained hiccups. Finally the two were through the door, though certainly being watched still. “C’mon girl, lesh get us a caxi tab.”

She continued the act as they descended down the concrete steps, imitating a close call or two as she wobbled down towards the sidewalk. Eve seemed to spontaneously giggle at their antics while simultaneously pausing to just look at all the bright lights surrounding, nearly leading Caitlyn to stumble for real. They finally reached their destination, Caitlyn waving a taxi down.

With a heavy grunt she managed to shove Eve into the back seat of the cab. The woman seemed desperate to keep looking around, exchanging a rather displeased look with Caitlyn as she settled into the seat. However, that look soon turned to curiosity once more as she immediately began to examine her new surroundings.

Okay, Caitlyn sighed internally, the tough part is over for us, at least. She allowed herself one single glance back at the building. You’d better make it back to the hideout, dork. Caitlyn then stepped into the back of the cab and instructed the driver of their destination.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

Gaian Spring

It had been an interesting few decades of first contact with the Earthlings. Analita, of course, was only a civilian and therefore witnessed most of the events through the video herald networks. In her younger years it had simply been a fascinating, yet frightening, development. After all, there was life beyond her home world of Gaiefrel! A curious race that appeared not too dissimilar from her own Gaiefrelen species, though with shorter, rounded ears and a tragically short lifespan. This limited longevity seemed to impact their perspective on life in a curious manner. In some ways it was like the Gaiefrelen's own Youthdance, the period in which the otherwise calm and observational species became rowdy, rambunctious, and most of all, lasciviously hungry. However, while such a time frame usually only made up about ten or twenty years of a Gaiefrelen's total life, such actions and activities seemed to dominate the entirety of the Earthling existence. Many were against establishing further contact once it became clear how riddled with violent conflict this species was.

In fact, it's likely they would have broken contact, were it not for one particular issue: the male population of Gaiefrel was diminishing. It wasn't due to any sort of viral outbreak or other targeted attack; it was simply a curious biological trend. In the already low birthrate of such a long living species, the number of men born had begun to drop drastically. Analita's, in fact, was the first generation to see such a massive plummet, resulting in a generation whose female population greatly outnumbered the male. It was imperative, then, that positive yet careful relations be established in order to see if this nearly identical race -- physically, at least -- could help save the natives of Gaiefrel.

After initial tests had proven successful and shown that a healthy Gaiefrelen child could be born from such a coupling, the worldwide governments of both planets had begun to arrange a method to encourage interaction between the populace. It was difficult and took many years, seeing as not many Gaiefrelen were too excited at leaping to a world filled with unpredictable and violent creatures such as these Earthlings. Many Gaiefrelen were also hesitant to bring the violent and impulsive Earthlings to their own home world. In the end, however, a set of rules and conditions were agreed upon. Men of Earth that had passed through very thorough examinations and background checks would be permitted to visit Gaiefrel during certain windows of time, portions of the exotic world treated as a resort for the visitors that would simultaneously make for a destination of young Gaiefrelen women in their Youthdance.

The first round of visitors were perfectly timed. Analita was but a mere child, even in Earthling years, when that first contact was established, and over the decades she saw what few males her age she had known become betrothed to wealthier, noble families. Even the less attractive ones were swiftly swiped up by far more entitled Gaiefrelen girls. Now, in her forty-second year of life, she could feel the Youthdance coming on. It was a strange impulse that beat in her core, causing her thighs to rub together as if on their own accord, her fingers to begin softly caressing her own flesh just delicately enough to raise her hairs on end. Knowing this time would be coming, she had spent the last several years studying Earthling language and culture, particularly their mating habits. They were mostly not too dissimilar from the Gaiefrelen, though curiously more readily broadcast. It was such a strange thing, treated as taboo yet openly desired, celebrated, and even sold. What an inconsistent race of creatures. Yes, the timing was certainly perfect, for the Youthdance would also be when Analita was at her most curious, and she was certainly curious about these Earthlings.

She inhaled deeply the salty air of the ocean before her, the cool breeze carrying its scent along the wind. A smile spread wide across her face, her dark brunette hair tossing about in the breeze like waves of their own. She had chosen a hat not unlike one Earthling women seemed to wear, a similar purpose of shading from the sun, and Analita certainly required it. Even for her own race her flesh was rather pale in complexion, and without proper care her ears would certainly burn red from the rays. Yet in this moment, the breeze bringing cooled air in from the water and mingling with the heat of the sun on her skin and sand between her toes, it was a delightful conflict of sensations that appealed to her newly heightened senses. She was already beginning to understand why so many of her elders would reminisce of their own Youthdances so wistfully.

Nonetheless, she had scheduled her own week-long vacation for a purpose. The men from Earth had arrived and were already spread across this beach resort town, seeking out pleasure in all of its forms. Analita had decided to begin her own search for a mate on the beach, though she was certainly not alone in that thought. Plenty of other Gaiefrelen women were scattered across the pale sands and in the shallow waves, their scantily clad forms beckoning the Earthlings with their siren song of luscious curves and soft flesh. It would seem most of the Gaiefrelen women had come in groups, a decision that had not even occurred to Analita as an advantage. As most of the men were also in groups, it made it easier for them to come together and then pair off.

Analita was not typically one to work in groups. She enjoyed working in isolation and only gathering with others for relaxation and socialization. In hindsight, perhaps treating this vacation as relaxation would have been a better idea. Instead, since she had a goal in mind, she sought to tackle the problem on her own. It would not deter her, however. She simply needed to seek out a new, less crowded location.

***

“Well this just blows,” Vincent groaned. His thumb tapped and pressed on his language app, a light ping informing him it was ready to record. “One, uh… blue one, please,” he said, then held it up to the bartender before him. It spat his order out in their native Gaiafru… Gaiefle… Elvish, though the bartender’s eyebrow seemed to quirk up condescendingly at the order. Her eyes went from the phone to him before seeking the curved and hand-blown glass bottles behind. She poured him a small tumbler of the almost luminescent blue alcohol, a fermented beverage that the Internet said had a delightfully fruity flavor. Normally he wouldn’t drink something of the sort, but they didn’t seem to have as cheap an equivalent to beer or something as familiar as whiskey or vodka. It was all based around flavors, like wines or mixed drinks, only more natural. His eyes then roamed above, the roof seeming to be a collection of large leaves native to the tropical trees on this planet, shaped and held together by a metallic material that blended in like branches. It was an open bar in the sense that there were no walls. It was outdoor and exposed, allowing the breeze to come in off the ocean and bring its salty scent into the cool, shaded hideaway.

Unlike many of the other fellows that had flown all the way out to this planet, Vincent was just a regular middle class shlub that had happened to win the lottery to be a fortunate passenger. He hadn’t told any of his friends or family he was putting his hat into the ring as it was kind of like admitting you were going to another world to get laid, but he also never expected to be one of the lucky winners. Most everyone else paid their way into the trip, and even if you won passage on board the ship, it didn’t guarantee you’d have the cash to pay for your lodgings or meals. Lucky for him he had a decent job fresh out of College and the announcements were made months in advance. He was able to sock away some spare cash into a savings account while simultaneously saving up paid-time off to help cover costs during his stay.

Of course, it seemed that all the human guys were getting steep discounts in order to encourage more visits. That was, perhaps, the one thing that had Vincent feeling a bit strange about it all. He was basically here to try and get alien women pregnant, to have a bunch of one night stands and then be off. What moral compass Vince had still struggled a bit with that concept. For the Elven women, it was a bit of a lottery themselves. Which male will help them conceive, and if they do conceive, will they give birth to another male to allow their species to remain self-sufficient? It was a question he’d proposed to many of the other passengers aboard their ship to Gai… uh, Gaia, but one they weren’t concerned with or did not wish to think about. While there was the occasional wealthy young son of a celebrity or tycoon that had never taken responsibility for their own actions, many were disciplined and hard working enough that this truly was a vacation for them. They were able to cut loose just enough without crossing the line to what may discomfort the planet locals. However, they didn’t want to think about responsibility or consequences since it had already ruled so much of their lives.

No, Vincent’s real weakness was in lacking any knowledge of the local language. Cripes, he couldn’t even remember their proper name. He just referred to them as “Elves”, as most of the Earth populace had taken to due to their appearance and longer life. He had no time to suitably learn their tongue, whereas all the other rich boys were assured a place on the ship to this place and were properly educated or purchased classes to learn the language. At least, enough to get by. That Vincent was alone and unable to communicate was proving to be a surprising weakness.

He took hold of the glass of blue liquid, giving it a quick sniff before pulling back somewhat. It smelled strongly of something akin to blueberry, yet there was also something… else. Something he couldn’t describe. Not foul like waste of any sort, but certainly strong. With a sigh, he took the glass to his lips and sipped. At first it was a delightfully fruity flavor that seemed to tickle his tongue, but as it flowed down his throat he felt a sudden spice to it, almost like a thick carpet of powdered cinnamon ran down only to be followed by a coffee-like bitterness tinged with strawberry. He coughed and sputtered a bit, arm wiping his lower lip to keep his spittle in check.

“Is drink not to your likeness?” a soft voice spoke. He looked up, expecting it to be the bartender, but she had already turned away to help a group of human men and Elvish women all cuddled and snuggled together. He then caught motion in his periphery, turning to his left to spot a pale-skinned Elvish woman gently smiling at him, leaning forward slightly, her own left hand running soft brown locks over her shoulder. His eyes followed the gentle spill of hair down towards her chest, hanging somewhat due to her angle.

“Um,” he stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden approach. “No, no. I mean, I don’t like or dislike it.” He looked back to his drink, swirling it slightly. “I’m just, uh… not used to it.” He looked back to her, her large eyes seeming to study his own. She was quiet a moment before broadening her smile.

“You are… cute? Is that the word?” she asked, then sat beside him. “You don’t mind, my seating with you?” She kept her eyes on his own, and within them he saw a dare. His own glance to her bosom would have been obvious, and now it was if she was challenging him to keep his eyes locked onto hers.

Well, screw that. He smiled back, allowing his eyes to more slowly flow down her body, the serpentine curve of her back into a supple looking rear, smooth thighs crossing just as his gaze began to trace their length. As he looked back up, he took another look at her breasts, watching them rise slightly with her own breath.

“Yes, you can sit there,” he nodded. He then held his glass. “Would you like a sip?” It was not an offer he’d typically make to a stranger, but, well… these weren’t typical circumstances.

“Sip?” she repeated, her fingers delicately reaching for the glass. Her soft tips gently caressed against his own before she took firm hold of the tumbler. “This is not a word I know. Does it mean drink?” She held the glass to her own nose, though as her eyes closed it reflected a sense of pleasant enjoyment.

“Sort of a small drink, yeah,” he nodded, observing her mannerisms. She had a bit of an accent, but it was tough to pin down. Or rather, it seemed like a combination of accents from home. Somewhat Russian, somewhat French, and somewhat Asian. She was surprisingly good with her pronunciation, however, though she clearly was still learning some of the vocabulary and grammar. He watched as she placed her lips to the glass, allowing a small amount to pass through her lips. She seemed to be finished only to tilt the glass back one more time, allowing a bit more to pass through. She swallowed with a smile, gingerly handing the tumbler back.

“It’s a good drink,” she said as he took the glass back in his own hand. “But you need two of these sips to, um… smooth the… harsh?” Her brow furrowed slightly as she pondered her word choice and description, but Vincent nodded.

“I think I get what you mean,” he said, placing the glass back to his own lips. He took a sip and, mimicking her, took another just as he swallowed the first. Instead of that dry sense of powdered cinnamon running down his throat, it felt as if a cool mint and strawberry explosion passed right down. His eyes widened in surprise, drawing a giggle from his new compatriot. “That’s much better,” he said with a smile.

“I am glad,” she said, turning her body towards him in her seat. She leaned forward, causing him to lean back only somewhat slightly, her eyes closing and her nostrils flaring with a deep inhale. “Hmm, you have… an interesting scent, you human men.” She spoke the words as if a sigh as she leaned back in her own seat, but her eyes suddenly widened, a light blush coloring her cheeks. “Oh, I am sorry! I have not even named myself to you. My name is Analita.” She then thrust her right hand out, fully rigid, almost extended across Vincent.

“Vincent,” he said with a smile, taking her hand in his own but helping to position it better between them. He turned his own seat towards hers, giving her a firm but simple shake. “It is nice to meet you, Analita.”

“The pleasure is mine, I believe is your saying?” She grinned, unable to suppress a soft giggle. Her eyes then roamed down to their hands, the shake slowing, her mouth hovering open as if to speak. Her other hand then reached out, taking Vincent’s in both of her own, allowing her fingers to gently intertwine with her own while also feeling along his forearm, lifting it between their bodies. She scooted closer to the edge of the seat. “I have been studding your popular language,” she said softly, the cadence of her speech allowing her tongue to noticeably play against her teeth and lips. “I find some words… strange.”

“Oh really?” Vincent nodded, his heart beat beginning to quicken as he felt her gentle finger tips tracing along his arm and hold onto his hand. “I haven’t been able to study yours much, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” she nodded back, though she seemed to ignore his last statement. “In Gaiefrel tongue, we name things based on feeling or result. Like this…” She then took his hand with both of her own, pulling it forward, spreading his fingers and pressing his palm directly to her breast. “Ahn!” she softly gasped, mouth slightly open before spreading into a smile. “See, ours are quite sensitive, so we call them ahnha, after sound we often make with surprise touching.” Her hand then pressed his own more deeply into her breast, shifting it slightly, the lids of her eyes lowering slightly as she gazed into his own with a sultry smile.

“Ahnha,” Vincent nodded and repeated, and hesitantly allowed his fingers to softly grip her bosom. Her lips parted further, her chest lifting from a sharp intake of breath. Licking his own lips, he allowed his thumb to gently rub against the rounded shape of her breast, palm lifting the soft flesh upwards as his fingers squeeze, moving his hand in a somewhat rotational manner. “It is certainly a more feminine sounding term for it.”

Analita nodded with a moan, releasing her touch from his hand now that it was working her breast as desired. Instead, the fingertips of her right hand traced along Vincent’s forearm, past his elbow, and along his arm to his exposed chest. “Men do not have ahnha,” she said, allowing her finger to press between his pecs before descending down his abdomen. “No, men have something different.” Her voice became lower, filled with moaning and lust as Vincent continued to caress and grip her breast in his hand, feeling her nipple poke against the material of her swimsuit and roll along his palm. He was so mesmerized by her speech, moans, and breast that he didn’t realize her finger was now going to a rather obvious bulge in his swim trunks. He jumped slightly, back straightening, as her fingertip grazed right along the concealed head.

“This,” she whispered softly, leaning forward, her eyes still tilted down towards his bulging trunks though her lips neared his own, “this is what we call uhnha.” Her pointer and middle fingers joined as they slid along the outline of his member, just softly pressing against the rigid length. “Can you say why?” As she asked, her fingers wrapped fully around his member as best they could, giving it a delicate stroke, allowing the covered crown to be caressed from palm to tips.

“Ungh!” Vincent grunted, his hand squeezing onto Analita’s breast more tightly. She squealed and grinned in response. “That is why,” she whispered, leaning in towards her neck. He expected kisses, licks, or nips, but instead she seemed to continue sniffing at him, and her ensuing moans seemed to indicate she certainly enjoyed his scent. He jumped again as he felt both of her hands grasp the waistband of his trunks, tugging them down, his hardened member springing upwards into the air. He opened his mouth to protest, eyes immediately glancing over to the bartender and her customers, but another grunt emerged as she immediately took hold of his cock in her grip. The strength at which she squeezed and stroked it caught him off guard, his body leaning back in response.

“Hm,” she moaned in both pleasure and curiosity, leaning back enough to give his cock an examination. She squeezed it again, tilting it to look at the underside before then pointing it towards herself, fingers tracing the veins that pressed against the taut flesh. “You do not have the…” she trailed off, her finger tracing over the bulbous head. It was almost a ticklish graze, causing his spine to straighten and his hand to finally release her breast from his grip.

“Yeah, that’s a, uh…” he breathed deep, hoping to regain some composure. He looked around a bit more, but no one near or far seemed too interested in the fact that his cock had been exposed to the world. “Y’know, I guess it started as a religion thing?” he said curiously, not having really thought about his circumcision before.

“Do not worry,” Analita said, her other hand now softly cupping his scrotum, the caress of her fingertips subtle and gentle, “Sex is not so taboo on Gaiefrel. No one will look.” Her eyes then turned towards the ceiling in a moment of thought. “Well, some might, but they will like looking.” She then released his cock from her grip only a moment, removing her hat and placing it upon the bar. “Enjoy your drink,” she smiled, her fingers giving his cock one, two, three strokes before dipping her head downwards, the brunette head diving into his lap, the silky warm touch of lips surrounding his crown.

“Ungh!” Vincent grunted in surprise. His left hand fell worthlessly at his side as he leaned back, watching as Analita’s head now lay itself in his lap, feeling her tongue and lips gently probing at his crown, as if to test its flavor. With a sigh he grasped the tumbler, putting it to his lips, taking one sip just as she slip her mouth experimentally down beyond the crown, then the next sip just as she pulled up, the sound of lip smacking or kissing punctuating the air as she pulled off of his erection.

“Hmm,” she muttered in thought before giving his cock a deep sniff. He opened his mouth to ask her a question only to groan as she dove back down, but this time more fervently. Her head began to bob, lips passing along half of his length, tongue tracing and licking against his hardened flesh. Vincent leaned back in his seat, taking two more sips, feeling the alcohol climb along his spine and into his head. His left hand reached up, fingers combing through Analita’s hair as her head continued its rhythmic bob, light slurps occasionally emerging alongside the soft, delighted moan. For some reason, it was now that a thought occurred to him.

“If your, um… ahnha is called ahnha, and the uhnha is… uhnha, then what do you call, um…?” He wasn’t sure what vocabulary she would be aware of for anatomy, yet it all seemed very important. In response, Analita’s tongue swirled about his crown before pulling off his cock, her hand swiftly stroking his cock in a tight grip, the wet sounds of her saliva against his flesh and her palm causing it to echo somewhat.

“I will tell you all the names in time,” she smiled. She turned her head so his hand resting in her hair shifted, caressing against her cheek, which she in turn caressed back against her palm. With a devilish grin and gleam in her eyes she then glanced back to his own gaze before dipping back down, mouth taking his member right back, bobbing even faster than before. The suction of her lips on every upward pull caused her cheeks to pull in and caress along his shaft, his hips beginning to buck on their own. He went to take another sip of his drink only to find it empty, setting the glass down with a light thud to the countertop.

Vincent closed his eyes and leaned his head back, the alcohol in his mind causing each sweep of Analita’s lips to feel like a wave of the ocean crashing over his whole body, delivering so much more ecstasy than a dip in the waters. He can hear a startled moan as a gasp of his lips is accompanied by a thrust, pushing near to her throat, but she seems to waste no time adjusting. Her lips are speed, her tongue is desperate for his taste, and her suction seems eager to pull him deeper and deeper into her gullet.

He is only brought out of the moment by a sudden unfamiliar tongue, spoken flatly and with disinterest. Opening his eyes as if waking from a dream, his mouth gapes open, unable to respond as the bartender looks at him expectantly whilst Analita’s brunette head continues to swiftly bob in his lap. “Um…” is all he can utter before Analita pulls off his cock with a noisy slurp, eliciting a groan from him. The two Elvish women speak in their native tongue, and the bartender nods and walks off.

“What was that about?” Vincent asks, catching his breath, his head still swimming from the combination of pleasure and alcohol. Analita’s strokes were now slow and gentle, careful not to touch his crown or the sensitive ring around it too much. She wiped some saliva from her lips and chin with her free hand, looking into Vincent’s eyes with a combination of innocence and sultriness he didn’t think possible.

“She asked if you want more,” Analita responded. “I said we are done here.”

“We are?” Vincent asked, suddenly wondering if he had done something wrong. Analita nodded, but with a smile.

“Yes,” she answered emphatically. “We are go to my room. I will teach you more words. Now, you pay.” She tilted her head to the side, nodding to his glass and the counter before placing her hat back upon her own head. Sitting up slightly he reached for the wallet in his coat, fishing some of the local currency from its folds, and with a shrug putting what he knew was a generous amount. The moment his wallet was back in his jacket Analita had her hands on his cock, giving it enough of a tug to pull him off his seat. “Come,” was all she said, stepping backwards and away from the bar.

Vincent could only smile, curious if she knew another meaning to that word. He grasped the waistband of his trunks, pulling them back up and over his cock.

“No,” she stated softly but firmly, a command spoken gently enough it almost sounded like a request you’d be ashamed to deny. “Keep that out. I want to watch it when you walk.” Her grin was devilish once again, and though he flushed slightly at the prospect, Vincent shrugged slightly, slipping his trunks down enough that it’d bounce in the cool ocean breeze as he walked.

“Well, lead the way,” he said with a smile back at her.

[Minorikawa Deactivated]

Master's Choice

Edgar leaned back in his office chair, his fingers rubbing against his eyes, desperately needing to pull them away from the three computer monitors on his desk. His career ladder had been an interesting one, going from most of his time spent as his desk, to most of his time spent in meetings, to now having most of his time spent both in meetings and at his desk. There were a lot of salaried employees griping about unpaid overtime in the lower ranks during the busy season, completely ignoring the holiday bonuses they earned every year to coincide with free vacation time, yet they were similarly unaware of just how much overtime Edgar himself was giving up for free year round. Being Chief Financial Officer was exhausting enough that Edgar was considering early retirement, but if he did such a thing he had no clue what he'd do with himself. You don't get to be Chief Financial Officer of a company by your mid-40's because you enjoy sitting still.

Nevertheless, he was going to need out of this position. He was getting too old, too swiftly exhausted, and like it or not, the clock of mortality was going to be closing in.

But not quite yet.

Pulling his fingers from his eyes, Edgar jabbed at the quick-dial to his secretary, taking in the three monitors before him and studying the spreadsheets, reports, and meetings before him.

"Yes Mr. Kervechik?" the secretary picked up on the speaker phone.

"Call my house," he instructed, "tell them to have three picked out and prepared for my arrival at 8 tonight."

"Yes sir, Mr. Kervechik," the secretary replied, and then hung up. Edgar was going to need some stress relief tonight. Most of all, however, knowing a delightful prize awaited him back at his estate would help to motivate him to get through this remaining work. He needed to get the company's financial affairs in order, and knowing he had an award waiting for him back home only emboldened him to put his 110% into the tasks before him. No, he couldn't solve everything in one night, but he'd be able to find the money sinks and schedule the appropriate meetings while also preparing potential solutions. Yes, he was going to figure out which projects, departments, and managers were proving most effective and efficient and which were the drain, and deal with them each accordingly.

Leaning forward, his mind dove right back into his work.

***

Many of Edgar's employees believed he lived in a mansion, and he supposed they were right. While it was not the largest among the executive leadership, or even in this neighborhood of celebrities and business elites, he supposed it was rather large for a single man to live in. Yet he enjoyed entertaining guests and visitors, to have rooms dedicated exclusively to reading, lounge games, and his true guilty pleasure, his very own karaoke room. Yet it was quite a bit of upkeep, which is why he employed an excellent staff of top notch maids to keep it clean. Unfortunately, he had to recently replace nearly all of them. Nonetheless, the head maid knew his tastes, and therefore he was certain the three girls ready for him this night would be... well, it would be a delightful selection.

Speak of the devil, as soon as he entered his own abode he saw the flaming red hair of Eliza, head of his maids, approaching.

"Welcome home, master," she said, immediately stepping behind to take his coat. Though it was swift and almost business like, the manner in which her gloved fingers caressed his neck at the collar and carefully removed his jacket left a sensual shiver against his flesh. He had half a mind to turn around and press his lips to hers, lunging his tongue into her mouth, one hand grasping those wonderful breasts while the other dove beneath her skirts. Yet he knew she went to such trouble for his current selection, and no doubt she herself was exhausted from a hard day of work.

"Thank you, Eliza," he smiled, loosening his tie at the neck as he stepped into the lobby. "I trust they're prepared?" Eliza nodded as she folded Edgar's coat and held it in her arms.

"Yes, sir," she said with a hint of amusement. "They all did excellent work today, and so I feel they earned a potential... bonus." She gave a wink.

"I can always trust you to treat me best," Edgar smirked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

"Oh, no, master, it is you who treats us the best," Eliza shot back. There was a hint of mockery there, but a friendly, gentle ribbing sort of way. In truth, Edgar had given Eliza the opportunity multiple times to work elsewhere and earn more, but she truly did appreciate Edgar's treatment of the staff. He was friendly, generous, and often invited them to enjoy some of his more expensive vacations and excursions, in the rare event he could afford them. More often he'd treat them all to a group trip to a spa, allowing them days to bond, relax, and simply enjoy themselves.

"Thank you as always, Eliza," Edgar said with a sincere smile. "Have a good night, and drive home safely." Eliza gave a smile and curtsey before turning, taking Edgar's coat to the closet before departing. Edgar went his own way, climbing up the steps towards his bedroom. He was feeling a curious mixture of exhaustion and energetic impulse, such as that of pinning Eliza to the wall. Perhaps that mood would impact his decision.

Opening the door to his chamber Edgar saw three maids standing almost at military attention, eyes forward, already waiting for his arrival.

"I hope I didn't keep you long," he said with a smile, keeping the bedroom door open as he stepped forward to examine each of them.

"No, sir," two of them responded, the silver-haired ones. With a light jump, the brunette stuttered. "N-no, sir!" Edgar couldn't help but smirk. Two of them were clearly experienced maids, with the third being new to the job. Yes, his mind might already be made up, but he still had tests he wished to perform. He stepped close to the maid in the middle, not much of an expression on her face. He circled her, reaching his hand forward, fingers grasping onto her posterior and giving a tight squeeze.

"Was today your first day?" he asked them all.

"Yes, sir," she replied flatly. This one, the tallest of the three, did not respond to his grope. No gasp, no stiffness of the body, no moan, nothing. From both appearance and the feel of the material he could tell her uniform was store bought. She was clearly experienced in this element of the field, and treated it as nothing more than part of her tasks. She'd be excellent for a blowjob during a late night international call, a little pleasure during business that would otherwise not distract him too much, but for this evening's purpose she simply would not do.

"You may go," he nodded. "Enjoy your evening." The maid simply nodded and began to exit the bedroom. She did not seem insulted, nor did she seem relieved. She simply accepted her dismissal and was off, her heels clacking along the hard floor. Edgar turned then to the shortest, most stacked of the three maids, a bit of extra flash throughout her whole body and a sort of energy inside of her that she seemed to be struggling to suppress. Without even touching it he could tell her outfit was custom made, indicating a passion for this work... or simply the desire to show off her own assets. "And you?" he asked her as he approached.

"Oh, yes, sir! My first day was wonderf-ahn!" She thrust her chest out the moment his fingers surrounded her bosom, closing her eyes to immediately enjoy the feel of his hand grasping and squeezing onto her breast. She was certainly an eager one to serve, and no doubt she enjoyed -- perhaps even favored -- this portion of a maid's duties. He allowed his hand to softly knead her breast, thumb caress along her cleavage to tease her, taking a moment to glance over at the third maid. She continued to look forward, but her body fidgeted, her fingers clasping and unclasping.

"I'm glad to hear that," he smiled at the short stacked maid, pulling his fingers free. She let out a satisfied sigh, a smile on her face, body relaxing, only to open her eyes in a startled fashion and straighten up again.

"Sorry, sir!" she said. "I didn't mean to lose composure!"

"It's no problem," Edgar chuckled. "What's your name?" he asked before turning towards the third maid.

"Cecilia, s-...sir," she replied, at first energetically, then with a mild confusion as he turned away from her. Edgar now stood before the third maid, her stature somewhat between the other two, a slim and attractive brunette whose eyes seemed to struggle not to look away. She looked straight ahead, at his chest, a light blush coloring her cheeks. He couldn't tell what was going through her mind yet. She was clearly nervous and not used to this situation, but he was unable to tell what she wanted quite yet. Did she desire to be with him? Or was she, in fact, afraid of being with him? Slowly, he reached his hand forward, pushing against her apron and skirts, sliding his finger between her thighs. The moment the fabric touched against her sex she gasped, thighs closing in reflexively on his fingers. However, her eyes gave him the response. No fear, just excitement. He smiled.

"You may go, Cecilia," Edgar said with a smile. Cecilia's composure dropped with her shoulders, the disappointment and sadness of rejection plain on her face. Yet she was experienced enough to cover it up. "Yes, sir," she replied, and began to step out of the bedroom, though a bit more slowly and with less confidence than the first.

"Cecilia," Edgar said, stopping her. She turned to him, a curious expression on her face. "Has Eliza explained the... 'alarm clock' duties to you?" Immediately Cecilia's face brightened, and she gave an energetic nod. "Yes, sir!" she said enthusiastically. He grinned back. "I expect you here, early in the morning to perform such duties." With the light returning in her eyes, Cecilia gave a nod with such fervor her breasts bounced slightly from the motion. "Yes, sir!" she said, and turned to depart with a bit of a skip in her step. Yes, she'd do well at such a task. Edgar knew that, after the events of this evening, he'd no doubt awaken with some severe morningwood, and Cecilia was the sort of made that would grasp hold of such a task with both hands... and lips. It would be a wonderful way to wake up.

The bedroom door still open, Edgar turned once more back to the final maid, whose face was flush red. She knew she'd been chosen. Edgar smiled, taking her hand in his, walking her towards the corner of his room. There were several mirrors there, a corner where he'd change into his suits, examine himself from all sides, and even have Eliza take measurements for adjustments and modifications. "What is your name?" he asked her, leading her before the mirrors and stepping behind. He could see her expression reflected in each mirror, smiling as he got to see how every inch of her body would respond to him.

"Valerie," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. His fingers glided along her neck before looping beneath the straps to her apron, the shiver up her spine visible from his touch. He lifted the straps, slowly slipping them over her shoulders and down her arms, allowing it to drop and expose her attire beneath. She swallowed deeply, and her chest began to rise higher with deeper breaths.

"How was your first day, Valerie?" he asked, his fingers slipping beneath her arms and around to her front. His digits did not touch her flesh, but they slipped to her collar, slowly unfastening it before moving to the next button.

"Well, i-it's... not over yet," she stuttered, her eyes almost mesmerized by the reflection in the mirror, watching as his fingers slowly began to open her maid's dress. He couldn't help but smile at her response, his own eyes watching as he unfastened the first button to reveal the tops of her bosom.

"I suppose not," he said with a smile, leaning a bit closer. He pressed his chest to her shoulders, his crotch to her lower back, leaning his head down so that his breath cascaded against her brunette locks, ear, and flowed to her neck. She trembled again, but allowed him to continue working his hands. "This is your first day as a maid, isn't it?" he asked.

"H-how'd you-?" she began, startled. Her face flushed a brighter red, watching as each unfastened button allowed her breasts to separate a bit further, exposing more of the pale flesh underneath. "I suppose it's obvious, then?"

"It's certainly charming," he said with a smile. Feeling her outfit, the buttons, the material, it was certainly store bought, but she had put her own touches into making sure it fit just right. She had no bra on beneath, the dress itself designed to tighten and cinch alongside the apron to provide her with support. It was clever, but also sexy. She had a mind for service as well, but did not have the same confidence or experience that Cecilia clearly had. His fingers stopped unbuttoning, allowing her breasts to almost be fully exposed. Now, however, he wrapped both hands around her breasts, pushing them together, squeezing them tightly as she let out an audible gasp. Her back arched, her rear pushing back against him, eyes closing. His lips leaned further in, kissing against her ear before letting his tongue trace the lobe. "Are you enjoying your new job?" he asked, lips wrapping around the lower lobe and giving it a light suckle.

"Uhn," Valerie moaned softly, her hands reaching up to hold onto his forearms. Her fingertips trembled, her hips hesitating to grinding and buck up against him, seeming to impulsively press to him while simultaneously trying to keep herself still for his use. "Y-yes, sir," she sighed. His strong hands continued to push and pull at her breasts, rubbing them in a circular motion, his member beginning to grow thick and long along his inner thigh. Bulging out from his slacks, each slight rub of her posterior caressed and nudged at his growing erection, only encouraging her body to move and grind more.

He did not respond this time, just allowed his lips to trail down her neck, leaving soft kisses before gliding his tongue back up towards her ear, teeth gently nipping the lobe before his lips surrounded and suckled upon it. His fingers pulled at her dress now, popping a button free, allowing him to peel the fabric to either side of her breasts, exposing them fully. Her pants and gasps grew louder, fingers digging into his forearms, her hips unable to restrain themselves, pressing and rubbing and grinding up and down his constrained hard cock.

She yelped when his hands suddenly gripped her arms, spinning her around to face him, her breasts jiggling and bouncing with the sudden motion. He reached down, digging his fingers into her soft rear and lifting her up. He pushed forward, her back striking against the mirror, causing her to yip in excited fright. She began to moan immediately once his face lunged into her bosom, however, tongue tracing against her soft flesh before his lips wrapped about her hardened nipple. Fingers digging into her ass, it was now Edgar's hips that were thrusting and pressing against her sex, the fabric of each of their clothing providing extra friction to their sensitive cores. She lifted her legs, wrapping them about him and locking her ankles together, her arms lifted to her sides somewhat limply. He could feel her skirt dampening from her heat, in turn causing his own slacks to grow damp as they rubbed together. His teeth pinched onto her nipple, tugging slightly, tongue flicking against the caught nib, her voice calling out loudly enough to echo in the hallway outside of the bed chamber. Her heels dug into the small of his back, pulling his thrusts closer, urging his hardened length towards her eager sex only to be stopped by their clothing.

"Please," she suddenly gasped, her eyes shut tight, and then she moaned again as his teeth bit down onto her other nipple, tugging and stretching it slightly, his fingers digging deep into her rear end. Her arms wrapped about his head, pressing him into her soft bosom. "Please!" she moaned. Edgar began to increase the speed of his grinding hips, groaning as his own cock was becoming eager for her moist, warm entry. His teeth nipped upon her breast once more before looking up to Valerie's pleasure stricken face.

"Please what?" he asked with hints of amusement and cruel teasing.

"Please master!" she shuddered, her arms pulling his head into her breasts and nearly suffocating him. With a grin, however, his hands lowered her against the mirror, his body pulling away from hers and his face breaking from her chest. Her legs wobbling, unable to get her composure, he spun her around once more, this time pushing her front into the glass mirror, her breasts squeezing up against it, her palms flat to brace herself. She caught her breath as Edgar swiftly unzipped his slacks, reaching in and struggling somewhat to pull his full, lengthy cock free of the fly, the tip already smeared by his own precum and what wet desire of her own had passed through their clothing. He lifted her skirt with a flourish, an act that drew a sharp intake of breath from her, the cool air suddenly surrounding her bare buttocks. It wasn't just a bra she had failed to wear, it was also her panties. Edgar grinned and his cock twitched at the sight, and, grasping his stalk with one hand whilst pressing his palm to her pale ass cheek with the other, he stepped forward, plunging his rigid member directly into her sex.

He was so hungry he hadn't even considered whether Valerie was a virgin or not. He grunted at how tightly her cunny wrapped around him, almost fighting back instead of welcoming him in. Her back arched and head threw back, her cry a mixture of pleasure and startled pain, her fingers pressing into the mirror as he forced his girth into her. No, this was not her first time, but she wasn't as experienced as most of his hired help had been. He considered stopping, slowing down, resting a moment, but she immediately pressed back into him. With a wide smile he grasped hold of her hips with both hands, pulling himself back only to thrust hard again, pulling her into his plunging cock, drawing another loud moaning gasp.

There was no going slow, taking it easy. He held onto her hips tightly, pulling her into each of his hard and swift thrusts, his hips clapping loudly against her ass, each push causing the flesh of her ass and thighs to ripple. She leaned further forward, pushing harder back, her eyes opening slightly to watch herself in the mirror... at least, when her breath wasn't fogging the glass before her. Yet Edgar could see in the additional mirrors her expression of pleasure, watch as her breasts swayed and bounced with each thrust. She reached back with one hand, grasping onto his wrist, holding it as she continued to pant, gasp, and groan. In turn, he reached his spare hand forward and wrapped it around the brown locks at the base of her head. Her eyes widened in surprise just the moment before he pulled back, forcing her back to arch further, seeing her pale neck fully exposed in the mirror. She cried out, both hands once more bracing against the mirror. He gave another tug, pulling her body more upright, a perfect curve as one hand of hers own reached up towards her hair, but did not fight his grip. Her hand wrapped around his, the other still pressed to the glass. Edgar's spare hand now wrapped around her thigh, slipping between her legs, his fingers seeking her sensitive clitoris out. It was quite easy for a man such as himself, swiftly pinpointing and circling that sensitive nub. Valerie's moans turned to cries, both hands now reaching behind her, grasping the back of his head, pulling him close. There was now less room for him to pull his waist back for thrusts, but her body was performing its own uncontrollable dance, grinding, pressing, circling back into his cock even if the rhythm failed to match his thrusts.

Edgar finally released her hair, reaching around to grasp a bare breast as his lips kissed and licked against her neck, feeling her quickened pulse as his palm slid up towards her neck, fingers surrounding her throat but not gripping. His fingers sped their teasing circle over her clit, and with a loud cry Valerie trembled, her ecstasy pouring over his cock and drenching his slacks. He did not stop, though. The soaked tunnel of her cunny was all the more pleasurable for Edgar, even as it quivered and gripped against him. He felt his own bulbous tip excitedly tremble with pleasure, each pass sending an electric bolt of delight up his spine. His sense began to deafen, all lost to that tingling crown, driving into Valerie as his hands grasped, caressed, and squeezed down to her bosom again, lips suckling and teeth nipping her neck.

There it was! That last push, the signal of ultimate ecstasy. He pulled himself free, cool air suddenly surrounding his cock as Valerie gasped in shock. With one more thrust between her thighs, Edgar ejaculated, the thick white hot cum shooting towards the mirror and what skirts draped over his wrist. The gooey pleasure of his smeared against the glass and stained into her skirt both, their bodies trembling together, Valerie blinking as if recovering from memory loss while Edgar simply caught his breath and his senses. When he felt Valerie's body begin to loosen and relax, her trembling subsiding, he began to pull away.

"Master!" she whispered, pulling his head close and tilting her own so that her lips met his. Her tongue pushed through to his own, wrestling with his, groaning into the kiss. He was startled for a moment, but closed his own eyes, letting his own tongue dance with hers, letting his middle finger lift and trace along her jaw. Yet he finally broke the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connecting their mouths dropping between them, Valerie's eyes shining brightly. Then, with sudden realization of her impulsive action, she pulled away, her hands immediately going to straighten her skirt and button herself back up, squeezing her breasts back into the tight fitting uniform.

"Um, p-pleased to be of... of use, sir," she said, her fingers combing her hair rapidly before stooping down for her own apron. "Is there, um... anything else I can be of... of use for...?" Her voice trailed off, her apron back on, trying to position herself to be standing in proper maid fashion. Edgar could not help but chuckle throughout the ordeal, his softened but soaked cock still hanging out of his pants, the slacks now damp with a mixture of fluids, and his own hair looking ragged.

"Not tonight, Valerie," he said softly, leaning down, his fingers cupping her chin and tilting her lips upward. He closed his eyes and gave her another soft kiss, his tongue gently tracing her lower lip. When he pulled away her lips were still parted, ready to kiss deeply and passionately once again, only to blush a deep red and try to keep a professional composure. "You are free to go home and get some rest. After all, you'll be doing the laundry tomorrow." He gave her a wink, and for a moment she blinked in confusion.

"But laundry wasn't on my..." she said softly, glancing down. However, the downward glance allowed her to catch sight of not just his spent cock, but the damp of his slacks. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and blushed realizing it wasn't just his pants, but her own skirt as well. With another realization dawning upon her face, she turned and looked upon the mess of cum on the mirror. "Oh! Oh, no, I have to clean that up before-"

"Don't worry about it," Edgar said, taking hold of Valerie's arm. "I can take care of it."

"But, sir," Valerie began to object, "it is my duty to-" Edgar silenced her with a finger to her lips, the smile still on his face.

"You've worked exceptionally hard today," he said, "and fulfilled your duties in exemplary fashion. But if I let you work yourself to exhaustion, you'll find your spirit to fulfill said duties diminished. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, master," Valerie nodded as he pulled his finger away.

"I'll inform Eliza of your excellent performance and shift to laundry duties," Edgar nodded. He finally reached for his tie, loosened earlier but now able to be slipped from around his neck. "I'll also inform her that you'll be permitted to begin an hour late." Valerie looked up in surprise, seemingly about to object, but a simple glance at Edgar's face told her there was no changing his mind.

"Yes, master," she nodded again.

"Then you are dismissed," Edgar smiled, beginning to unbutton his vest, and then his shirt beneath. "Have a good night."

"Thank you, master," she said with a bow. "Good night, master." She turned and began to make her way out, pausing at the doorway to the bedchamber a moment, looking back to watch as he himself was now turned away, peeling his shirt from his shoulders to reveal the rippling muscles of his back. She bit her lower lip, drinking in the sight for a moment before turning and leaving. Edgar, of course, had seen this in the mirror, smiling to himself.

Valerie, eh? He expected great things from her.