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It is a perfect day to go to the beach. There is a nude beach not far from where I live. I pack my beach bag with my sunscreen, towels, blanket and my book. I pack up a cooler with water and food. I put on my bikini and my cover up. I pack the car and drive over there. The beach is not too far away.

I find the perfect spot and lay out the blanket. I take off my bikini, and rub the suntan lotion all over my body. The beach is crowded. Some people have bathing suits on, and others are nude like myself.

I lay down on my back and start to sunbathe. The sun is beating down on my body. My skin is feeling very hot. I get up and walk to the waters edge. I stick my toes into the water. I walk further into the water. The water is very cold, but my skin is so hot from the sun. I am deep enough in the water and start to swim. My nipples are hard and erect.

The water feels so good against my nude body. I swim all around. The water is calm, with a few waves. I walk out of the water, and continue to just have my toes in the water.

Suddenly, a man walks towards me. He is in his bathing suit and starts to talk to me. We are talking about all sorts of things, and we are getting along well. He is very handsome. As we are talking, I notice his bulge is growing in his bathing suit.

He asks me if I would like kahramanmaraş escort to take a walk over to where he is sitting. I tell him that would be great. We go to the area where I was, and gather my stuff. We walk over to a more secluded part of the beach. He is sitting near a cove.

We sit down, our backs are against a wall of rocks along this cove. We are in front of each other but a distance from each other. He now has removed his suit. He asks me if I would like a beer. I take it, and we start to drink. As we are talking, we find out we are both nudists. We tell each other, that we like to masturbate in front of people.

He tells me that he took a vacation at a nude resort. I tell him that my lover and I have been nudists awhile now. We have a lot in common and the conversation is flowing.

He tells me that his girlfriend lives about an hour away. I tell him that my lover and I live together. We are telling each other stories about our lovers and our lives. We have this interesting connection. We don’t want to have sex together, but to mutually masturbate in front of each other is very arousing.

We have now had about 4 beers each. His cock is about 8 inches long. He is clean shaven. He is stroking his cock from his base to his head. He is moving his flesh with kastamonu escort each stroke. His one hand is fondling his balls, lightly squeezing them. He then changes hands, and starts to play with his nipple. He is rubbing his nipple between his index finger and his thumb. He is moaning. He is looking right at me, while he is masturbating.

My breasts are firm, and my nipples are erect and hard. My legs are spread, and I am rubbing my fingers along my clitoris. I slowly insert my index finger into my vagina. I have it up to my knuckle, and I am moving it all around. I am moving my fingers in a circular motion around my clitoris. My other fingers are deep inside my pussy. I am very aroused, masturbating in front of this stranger.

Our breathing is changing, as we are both getting each other off. He is stroking his cock faster now. His hands are holding his cock firm as he jerks it. He is moaning a little as he is playing.

I start to play with my left breast. I am pulling on my nipple, and pinching it between my index finger and my thumb. I am moaning a bit, as I insert four fingers into my wet pussy. My fingers are deep within my pussy. I am so wet as I play with my wet cunt.

He is stroking his cock faster and faster. His balls are now hanging, and he is cupping them in his kayseri escort hands. His pre-cum is oozing down his shaft. He swirls some on his fingers and tastes his cum.

I am leaning against the wall of rocks. My legs are now bent, as I am working my fingers faster and faster inside my pussy. I am moaning. I change hands and start to play with my other breast. I am twisting my nipples and rubbing my breast. My fingers are deep within my pussy. I am sliding my fingers into my pussy over and over again.

We then tell each other that we are minutes away from climaxing. He is working his cock fast in his hand. His breathing is now heavy, and his voice has changed a bit. I am working my fingers faster and faster inside my pussy. We look at each other, and we begin to climax. He starts to moan as his cum shoots out of his hard cock. He continues to jerk his cock until all his cum is out of his cock. He then licks some of his cum that was on his hand.

I start to moan. My body shakes, as I start to cream onto my fingers. My juices pouring out of my wet bald cunt. I am moaning, as my fingers are now coated with my cream. I take out my fingers and slowly begin to suck them.

We both smile, and say that was awesome. We walk back to the water and start to swim. We are laughing, and having a good time. We don’t talk anymore about what had just happened.

We only shared our names with each other. We are both in relationships. We are not looking to meet ever again. We get dressed and say our goodbyes and leave the beach.

Once inside my car, I laugh and think to myself that was really wild.

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Licked, Loved, and Fucked by a Nun

Greetings perverted friends and friendly perverts.

This short story is a follow up to Orally Worshipped By A Nun. This will make more sense if you read that one first.

All characters in this story are grown adults over the age of eighteen.

As with most things that I write, this series takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don’t worry about std’s, or the need for birth control.

IsabellaEmily

~~

From Orally Worshipped By A Nun:

We were both still, except for her soft lips kissing my inner thigh and my chest heaving as I gasped for breath.

Eventually the room stopped spinning and I was consumed with two thoughts, arriving one after the other.

I voiced the second one first.

“I didn’t know.” I whispered. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“It was so amazing.” She whispered back, her tongue flicking against my thigh. “You are so deliciously intoxicating sweet Emma.”

“Sister Millicent?” I asked shyly, switching my concentration to the first thought that entered my head even as orgasmic aftershocks rippled deep in my cunt.

“Yes sweetheart?” she answered.

“Can we try it again sometime?” I asked softly.

“Anytime you want sweet Emma.” She said. “I’ll do this for you anytime you want.”

And so she did.

And not just that afternoon.

Every fucking chance I got I let that kindly nun lick, kiss, suck, tickle, finger, and worship my cunt.

~~

Three months later:

“May I ask you a question Sister Millicent?” I asked, as I hooked my bra.

“Of course my dear.” She said, handing me a pair of panties from the dresser drawer. “You may ask me anything at all. Would you like a cup of tea or some water? Do you have time to sit for a few minutes?”

“Water would be great.” I said. “I am pretty thirsty.”

She reached out and patted my shoulder as I stepped into the new panties.

“It’s no wonder Emma.” She said with a smile. “You were awfully vocal this afternoon. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

We had just finished what had become our normal afternoon routine, as many times a week as we could arrange it.

We were in a small bedroom at the back of her house, just off her living room. It was the same room she had used to make my friend Julie orgasm several months ago while I sat out in the living room and listened.

Later that same afternoon she had taken me into that back bedroom, and with my legs spread she had demonstrated to me just how amazing orgasms caused by a loving mouth and tongue could feel.

The next day I could think of nothing else and at Julie’s urging had come back to see Sister Millicent once more, letting her make me orgasm over and over until I had to physically push her away.

Since then I had returned as often as possible, and our visits always went the same way.

Sister Millicent would meet me at the front door and lead me to this back bedroom, where she would take my clothes as I undressed, folding them, and putting them on a small nightstand in the corner, with my shoes underneath.

She would hand me a knee length plaid skirt from the top of the dresser and, still wearing my panties, I’d pull it on. She had given me the skirt on my third visit, telling me she’d bought it for me and would like me to wear it during my time with her.

When I decided that I would be visiting her regularly, she requested that I lay down on the bed sideways, with my head almost against the wall and my knees draped over the edge.

The meant that Sister Millicent could sit in a chair and lean over me, and spend all the time she wanted orally worshipping every inch of my inner thighs and sensitive hole, without either of us being uncomfortable.

And I had discovered that the more time she spent gently teasing and kissing and touching and tickling me down there, the better it felt when she actually began to finger my hole and lick my clitoris.

And if she did those two things slowly enough and for a long enough time after a long build up to them, my orgasm would not only be earth shattering, but I could have several orgasms in a row, each one more intense than the one before.

And even though having several orgasms was different every time, they all ended with me smiling at the ceiling while trying to catch my breath, whether the explosions of physical pleasure had made me gasp, weep, scream, or get dizzy.

And since she told me she preferred to spend as much time as she could with her head between my spread legs, I could think of no reason to debate her about how exactly she preferred to do that.

It was the same with the skirt and panties.

She preferred to roll the skirt up over my thighs and bunch it around my waist while she licked me, and in exchange for that sort of pleasure I could certainly wear it.

And we always started with my panties on because she liked to start teasing me while I was wearing them. Once they became drenched with arousal, she would peel them off and sniff konya escort them, joyfully inhaling the scent of my needy cunt.

And then later, after I’d reached the point of physical exhaustion and couldn’t orgasm again, she would gently wipe my pussy and thighs with those panties. She would then put them into her pocket and keep them.

When we were finished, she would take a new pair of panties out of package she kept in the dresser and have me wear those home.

Now I finished dressing and stepped into my shoes before following her into the living room. She had my drenched panties in the pocket of her sweater.

“What was it you wanted to ask me Emma?” she asked, handing me a bottle of water. “Please sit down.”

She had a cup of tea with her, and I sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“It’s sort of weird question.” I said. “And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“You may ask me anything and I will give as truthful an answer as I can.” She assured me. “Our relationship might be unique and unorthodox, but it will remain best if we are always honest with each other.”

“I appreciate that.” I said. “And I know it’s none of my business, but are you, I’m not sure how exactly to say this, satisfied?”

“Satisfied with you my dear?” she asked.

“No, uh…well, I mean….sexually.” I stammered, suddenly nervous. “You take such great care of me, I just wanted to ask if someone takes care of you?”

“Oh.” She said.

“I know it’s none of my business, and if you tell me to shut up, I’ll never bring it up again.” I said quickly. “But I like you. You’ve done something for me that I could never thank you for, and you just keep doing it. I get wet every time I think of coming over here.”

“First of all you don’t have to thank me for what we share together.” She said, reaching over to pat my knee. “I enjoy that too, and it pleases me to know that you are enjoying it.”

I felt myself blush, and she smiled.

“And that you look forward to it so intensely is also a treasure for me.” She continued. “I appreciate you allowing me to enjoy it the way I want to. You’re very sweet Emma.”

I took a long drink of water, hoping I hadn’t offended her by prying.

“And,” she went on, “you’re very sweet to ask about me like this. It means a great deal that you care about my sexual release. I do experience pleasure from what I do, and that helps me enjoy pleasure on my own with my fantasies and memories.”

“That’s good.” I said. “I guess I just felt like I should ask….like I should offer to help you somehow if that was something you needed. I mean I don’t know that I would be any good at it, but if it was something you really wanted…after all you’ve done for me…. I would try.”

I looked up into her eyes before finishing that thought.

“For you Sister Millicent I would try.” I whispered.

I held eye contact with her, and for several long seconds we looked at each other like that, and it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It didn’t feel specifically sexual, it just felt calm and safe and nice.

“You would, wouldn’t you sweet girl?” she asked with a friendly smile. “I can’t tell you how much that offer means to me. You’re very kind, and you are very dear to me Emma.”

“Thank you Sister.” I said. “You’re….I don’t know how to say it without it sounding strange….I feel very close to you. I like you an awful lot.”

“My dear girl,” she said softly, “it’s quite possible to care for, or even love someone, especially if you have shared intimate pleasures with them, without it meaning that you are in love with them. And I assure that I feel the same towards you.”

“I just don’t want you to ever think that I just come here to…..well to cum….and that I’m not appreciative of what you do and what it means to me…or of you.” I said.

She smiled brightly.

“Thank you, Emma.” She said. “I have never once felt unappreciated by you. You just made a very special afternoon even better. Perhaps someday our relationship will shift and there will be more. But that doesn’t have to happen unless we both want and need it to.”

“If you want…or if you need it to…please tell me.” I said softly. “Because I’m ready to learn more. If you want me to.”

“I will certainly think about it my dear.” She said. “Was that all you wanted to know?”

“There is something else I want to ask.” I said. “A really large favor that I’d like you think about, even if you can’t do it.”

“By all means ask.” Sister Millicent said. “And whatever it is, I promise I will at least think about it.”

I swallowed nervously before continuing with my favor request.

“It’s pretty big, and I’m only asking because I can’t stop thinking about it.” I admitted.

I took a long sip of water.

“I’d like to have you make me cum.” I said, “But at night. In the dark, and then I’d like to fall asleep afterwards, dozing off while I feel all exhausted and tingly.”

I took a sip of water, trying to calm myself konya escort bayan down. For reasons I couldn’t explain I was nervous to ask for this extension of our relationship. But it was something that had been on my mind for weeks and that I couldn’t shake.

“That would mean I’d have to spend the night here.” I finished. “I could leave in the morning without having to disturb you, but I understand if it’s too much or too weird.”

“Oh Emma I don’t have to think about that.” She exclaimed. “I would adore that!”

“Really?” I asked.

“Absolutely!” she said, putting her arm around my shoulder and squeezing me tight. “It wouldn’t be too much for me at all. You could stay the night in the bed we use. It would be very special. For both of us.”

“You’d like it too?” I asked.

“Of course I would!” she said. “I would enjoy it more than I can explain. I care deeply for you and would do anything to make you feel good.”

“Anything?” I asked softly, feeling my body respond to the closeness of her body as she hugged me.

“Yes.” She said, looking me in the eyes. “Anything.”

“Because just talking about it….right now….I could….if you….” I was suddenly stammering, feeling sexually greedy as my heart started to pound.

“Yes?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry Sister.” I said softly. “It’s just that thinking about staying the night made me…I just suddenly got…and we already…it would be greedy to ask for more.”

“Do you want to orgasm again sweet Emma?” She asked me.

“Could I?” I asked softly, nodding.

“I would very much like to taste you again.” She whispered. “Come with me.”

Suddenly I found myself naked again on the bed, wearing the skirt but with a clean pair of panties that I’d had on for less than a half an hour.

Sister Millicent pulled the chair away from the window and sat in it, staring at the yellow cotton panties.

“There’s a wet spot.” She whispered, pushing her finger against the fabric. “You really are needful again already, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sister.” I said. “I’m not sure why.”

“You poor thing.” She whispered, leaning forward and closing her eyes. “Your needy scent is just heavenly.”

Her fingers pushed against my slit, and I felt the wet cotton shift as she moved them gently up and down.

She licked along my inner thigh and I shuddered, dropping flat on my back as I lifted my knees.

She helped guide my bare feet to the edge of the bed, and I felt her hot breath along my other thigh, and her fingers pulled at my panties, moving them to one side instead of taking them off.

“Oh wow.” I said softly.

My voice seemed loud in the quiet room, and I felt her tongue push into my hole and begin to lick up and down along my lips.

Her fingers slid over my clitoris, and I grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread and raised my head, surprised at the speed of my approaching orgasm.

“You need this so badly.” Sister Millicent said. “Just let it happen my dear.”

I felt her fingers begin to push into me, while her tongue began to lick quick circles around my clit, and I closed my eyes and rocked my hips, trying to push myself against her face.

“Oh! Oh!” I gasped.

She gave a groan of satisfaction and started to lick me harder, and I felt the orgasm suddenly take control and burst against her tongue.

“I’m cumming already!” I shouted, feeling my thighs shake as I twisted on the bed. “It feels so fucking good.”

The orgasm went on and on, and then ended with a surge of pleasure that made my nipples tingle so deliciously that I began to rub them with my fingertips to prolong the sensation.

And then she bit my clit and I screamed, and another unexpected orgasm slapped into me.

I pinched my nipples and rode with the waves of pleasure, screaming and moaning until I realized that it was over, and I suddenly slumped back onto the mattress, the silence in the room interrupted only by her lips kissing my thigh.

“I liked that Emma.” She said at last. “You always taste so delicious when you’re really ready.”

“Thank you Sister Millicent.” I murmured. “It was lovely.”

“Yes it was.” She said with a gentle laugh.

I sat up and looked at her, suddenly realizing she was tugging at the panties I’d forgotten I was still wearing.

And as she pulled them off me, I was aware that they were more than wet. I had somehow exploded a flood of wetness, and the panties were soaked along with the skirt.

“It’s wet.” I said. “I’m so sorry. Did I wet the bed? I’m so so sorry!”

“Don’t be.” She said, bringing the panties to her nose. “I love that this happened. I love that we shared this.”

~~

Friday evening I knocked on Sister Millicent’s door.

I had my usual backpack with me, but instead of it being stuffed with college textbooks, I had a change of clothes in it and a toothbrush. My parents thought I was going out with my friend Julie and then staying the night at her apartment.

“Right on time Emma.” Sister Millicent escort konya smiled at me as she answered the door. “Come in.”

As I went past her, she closed the door and then reached out and put her arms around me.

This was a bit unusual.

For all of her oral attention to my body, she usually wasn’t over demonstrative with physical touching or affection outside of a sexual situation.

But as surprised as I was it felt nice, and I closed my eyes and hugged her back.

“I’m sorry.” She said, leaning away from me. “I’ve just been looking forward to this all week.”

“So have I.” I confessed. “It’s been all I could think about.”

She led me into the dining room.

“Have you eaten?” she asked me. “I know I said I would cook, but we never really confirmed if you were going to eat here or not.”

“I was too focused on the rest of the evening, to think about food.” I confessed. “But I haven’t had anything to eat yet.”

“I have some homemade bread and some vegetable soup.” She announced. “If you’d like to join me, we could eat now.”

“That sounds good.” I said.

I put my backpack on the sofa and helped her set her small kitchen table and we settled down to eat.

“This is delicious.” I said.

“I love to cook.” She said. “It’s one of my passions.”

“What else are you passionate about?” I asked.

“All things that provide pleasure.” She said. “Good food. Good music. Stimulating conversation. Pretty scenery.”

She reached over and put her hand on my arm.

“And you already know the other one.” She said softly.

I felt my belly tighten.

“Yes.” I said with a giggle. “I think it’s your passion for that that I appreciate the most.”

“I’ve been ready for tonight for hours.” She said. “And now that you’re here all I want to do is get right to it.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” I laughed. “I can hardly sit still.”

She stood up suddenly and took my hand.

“Then why wait?” she asked. “I don’t just want to taste you, Emma. I need to taste you. I need to feel and hear you orgasm.”

She pulled my hand, and I stood up and followed her silently from the kitchen to the hallway, as she turned off the kitchen light.

I was aware of my heartbeat as I silently followed behind her, feeling my sopping arousal spread along my inner thighs with each step.

She turned off the living room light as we went past it, and the thought of sharing this in the dark excited me for reasons I couldn’t explain.

I’m not sure what I expected when we got to the tiny bedroom, but the first thing I noticed when she pushed the door open was that the shade on the window was pulled down, blocking out the dark night sky.

Then I saw that there was a tiny votive candle on top of the dresser, already burning. The soft light in the otherwise dark room was thrilling.

I’d already had so many orgasms in here, and now I was going to experience those same feelings without worrying about what time my next class started or what time I was expected home.

Sister Millicent was holding my hand, which was a change as well. She was always affectionate with me, but until recently there had never been a romantic component to our relationship, except for the rare hug.

“I left my bag in the living room.” I said stupidly, suddenly realizing that I might break the mood by returning for it.

But I didn’t want to leave it till later.

I sincerely wanted to not only experience orgasms in the dark with her, but I wanted to drift off to sleep in my post-orgasmic haze and not have to move for several hours.

“That’s okay sweetheart.” She whispered. “Tonight, things can be different. I think we’re both ready for a change.”

She pulled at my t-shirt, and I raised my arms as she pulled it over my head and dropped it on the nightstand in the corner of the room. She reached behind me and undid my bra, and then pulled it off my arms and dropped it on my t-shirt.

She had always folded my clothes for me as I undressed, and sometimes gave me a hand with a sweater, but she had never actively helped me undress.

But now she was, and it thrilled me.

I stood in front of her topless, and she reached out and touched my breast softly, and I gasped out loud as she pinched my nipple between her fingers.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked softly.

“No. I….it…..it feels good.” I groaned, as she continued to gently rub my nipple.

“I’m glad.” Sister Millicent said. “You have beautiful breasts Emma.”

She bent down and put her mouth on my breast, her tongue circling my areola and I gasped again, and my knees went weak.

She had never touched one of my breasts before, and even though she’d had her face buried in my cunt more times than I could count, this sudden touch seemed so intimate and loving that my senses were on overload.

I felt myself start to sway, and I put my hand on her shoulder just as her arm circled my waist and she eased me gently backwards onto the bed.

Her mouth continued to work on my nipple, and I shivered as I felt my body respond to her loving mouth.

I began to rub her shoulder, unsure if touching her was something she would enjoy or not since she’d never encouraged me to touch her when we did this. She’d always assured me that our interactions were about my pleasure.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

– Alright, I tried without an editor and you guys quickly let me know that wasn’t a good idea. So thanks to Jedi_Khan for the excellent and fast editing to help me get this back up.

-Okay guys, I have to tell you up front there’s no actual sex in this one. SORRY, but I couldn’t figure out how to add it without making it sound forced and I needed this for characters and plot. Don’t worry, Chapter 4 is done and hot on this one’s heels, it should be much better.

*****

CH-3

Jack finished loading the last of his dishes into the cabinet that hung on the wall above the stove in his kitchen and looked around. It had taken all day yesterday, and a good bit of the morning, but finally he nodded with satisfaction at the job he had done setting up his apartment.

He wasn’t overly obsessive about keeping everything orderly, but he knew if he didn’t get it done now, he would keep putting the job off, and never get it done. That and the mindless activity had been just what he needed to straighten out his mind, which had seemed scattered ever since he had shown up here a few days ago.

Looking around, he realized that he was happy with the way everything had come together. When he had first moved in, the place had seemed so bare and uninviting, but the addition of even the fairly inexpensive furniture that he had purchased appeared to make all the difference. The soft wood tables and chairs, along with the softer suede couch that focused around the fireplace in the corner — rather than the usual TV set, since he hadn’t bought one yet — made the place seem more like a home.

He could feel a pleasant breeze circulating around the room from his air conditioner, having finally broken down and turned it on while he was setting up and moving around his new stuff. Letting his head roll back on his shoulder, he felt his neck pop a little and he let out a contented breath.

Outside of his living-room window he could see through the opened slats in the blinds that it was rapidly turning into another beautiful day. The bright sunlight cast dappled shadows on the glass window pane as it passed through the leaves on the large poplar tree that was planted just beyond it. Jack felt the sudden urge to be out there, having been cooped up for quite a while. He definitely had earned a little bit of a break.

Walking into his bedroom, Jack stripped off the ratty t-shirt and comfortable lounge pants he had chosen when he got up this morning and exchanged them for nice pair of shorts and a light button up shirt. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but hey, he never knew.

Slipping on a pair of flip-flops, he grabbed his keys but left his cell phone sitting on his dresser; he wouldn’t need it. Heck, he didn’t think he had even used it once since he had moved in, a definite sign of how his life had drastically changed. Before he had left the army, he wouldn’t have been caught without it; never knowing when he would get a frantic phone call to deal with the latest crisis at work.

He let out a brief sigh and headed for the front door. It would be nice to have someone not work related to talk to occasionally though. He was very aware on how much his social life had been limited by the choices he had made, and his sex life had been relegated to spying on the neighbors from the shadows of his balcony. If he didn’t get himself out of this rut soon, he feared he was in danger of joining a monastery.

Opening the door and stepping out, he turned and used the key to slide the dead-bolt into position. The incident on his first day aside, Jack really hadn’t seen anything that suggested this was a bad area, but he figured it was better safe than sorry.

As Jack went down the stairs and headed out of the front of the building he noticed a definite sense of peace that seemed to blanket the area. A quiet breeze was blowing through trees of all different types that appeared to be planted everywhere around the community.

He had always been shocked by the sheer amount of color in the landscapes of Georgia. Having grown up in southern Colorado he was used to the deep, dark greens and browns of the mountain pines and the sandy grays, tans, and yellows of the high desert. After he had enlisted, the army had moved him around a lot, from one barren area of the US and the world to another. The army was more interested in secluded and unpopular areas, in order to give them plenty of elbow room for training, than it was in the scenery. Jack always found himself pleasantly assaulted by the bright greens, the rainbow assortment of flowering plants, and the luscious red-clay soil when he came here. It always gave him something he felt was missing from his life.

Natural looking paths crisscrossed between the five apartment buildings. At first, Jack had been fairly annoyed by the lack of parking near the front of his apartment, which had made moving in that much more difficult, the only driveway and parking being a small loop on the outside of the buildings just this side of the stone wall. But as he looked around, he karabük escort could definitely see the appeal.

The soft green grass ran all the way to the edge of the small lake, broken only by the widely spaced trees and the almost unnoticed pathways that seemed to blend into, rather than divide, the area. Each apartment building had a small path leading to a bridge that spanned over the water to a small island in the center.

Jack knew that his apartment was the furthest south, being all the way on the back end of the complex. To get out he would have to drive back up to the office building and pass through the large wrought iron gates that shut the community off from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the city. He set out in that general direction, not really wanting to get anywhere, just enjoying the feeling of stretching his legs.

Looking around as he walked, he was startled to see that he was not alone. Everywhere he looked people were strolling lazily along the paths, some in groups of two and three, while others walked by themselves. It was an odd sight, especially for a time of morning when most people usually had to be at work. As he passed them whatever conversation they had been having would stop and they would all turn to look at him. Every one of them smiled politely, some even looking a little amused, but Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched like a hawk.

As Jack neared the lake he noticed the tiny island in the center of it. Around its edge there were five small benches, only two of which were occupied so he set out across the bridge to claim one. He was feeling the sudden need to get away; the stares of the people he had passed starting to disturb the calm sense of peace that he had felt when he started out.

Stepping onto the island, Jack moved to the nearest empty bench and sat down, and took a moment to calm himself. When he felt better, he glanced around at his surroundings. Across the way he saw two young, teenage girls talking to each other in excited whispers on the far bench. Every once and a while they would glance quickly in his direction, but then immediately they would go back to their hushed, giggling conversation. Jack just rolled his eyes and glanced over at the other occupants of the benches.

Sitting just to his left were two small children, a boy and a girl, probably no older than five or six. They were probably the only two people who he had met today that where totally ignoring him. They were both way too busy with the ever important task of skipping the smooth, flat stones that littered the edge of the island across the mirror-like surface of the lake. Jack had to smile. He was glad at least someone had a normal life.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. The breeze on the little island was refreshing, having cooled slightly as it traveled over the water before circling around his body. Riding on that breeze came a myriad of scents to fill his head. He could smell the cool clean water next to him; with it he could smell the enticing aroma of lilacs and cherry trees, as well as the heady scent of the grass and dirt beneath his feet. As he concentrated on the breeze, he felt the sense of calm and peace flood back into him.

He almost fell asleep sitting on the bench, but then something in his unconscious tingled and he realized that there was someone next to him, staring. Cracking his eyes open to slits, Jack looked over and right into a pair of intense, silvery eyes, staring at him from the other end of his bench.

“Whatcha doin’?” The boy asked in a sing-song voice.

Jack felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Trying not to fly away.” he said, sounding as serious as he could.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack said gravely. “If I don’t hang on to this bench, Poof!” He shot his hands up to simulate taking off, then quickly grabbed back on to the stone bench, as if he was afraid to let go.

“Nu-uh,” the boy looked at him suspiciously, his eyes as big around as saucers.

“It’s true,” said Jack, forcing down a chuckle and putting his most serious face on, “gone.”

“Cool!” the boy suddenly beamed. “My mommy says I can’t fly till I’m older,” then his voice lowered down into a conspiratorial whisper, “but I can already.”

Jack leaned in and nodded, fighting desperately to keep the grin he felt from showing on his face. He had no idea why kids flocked to him, but they always did. It was alright with him, he loved it. Something about their innocent outlook on everything. Adults could be so cynical about the world; but to a child, everything was all so simple. It was refreshing.

He had thought about having his own kids before, but it had just never seemed to be the right time. So when Kelly had proved to be less than enthusiastic about the idea, he hadn’t pushed her. A little precognition on his part, he guessed.

“Wanna see?” asked the boy, his eyes looking back and forth secretively.

Uh-oh, Jack thought. He didn’t want the kids’ imagination osmaniye escort to get the better of him. He could just imagine the boy launching himself off of the bench, falling and hurting himself. Maybe little girls never did that sort of thing, but boys; well, Jack had one or two not so fond memories from his childhood that might have started something like this. Better not…

“Where’s your mom?” Jack asked, looking around nervously for the boy’s benefit.

“Oh, yeah,” said the boy, just remembering that he his mom was watching. He waved in the general direction of a group of adults standing on the other side of the bridge. “She’s over there.”

“Mmm,” Jack said to him, “better not then. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Yeah,” the boy said, sounding unconvinced. In typical kid fashion though, he was crestfallen for about three seconds flat and then he looked up at Jack, eyes beaming again. “Wanna throw rocks?”

Jack laughed out loud. “Sure.” he said, and watched the boy run to the edge of the water to look for a few good rocks.

Smiling to himself, Jack leaned back and looked around again. Across the lake, back towards his apartment building, a group of adults milled around. As he watched, the crowd parted and a woman passed thought the center. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead of her as she stormed in his direction.

Jack couldn’t help but stare. She was wearing a light sundress that flowed down her body and clung to every curve as she moved, her perfectly formed hips swaying from side to side, unconsciously seductive as she walked. The sheer dress dipped low enough in front for him, even at a distance, to catch tantalizing glimpses of her deep cleavage, and it ended a few inches above her knees giving him a peek at her flawless alabaster skin. It was obvious from the way her not too large breasts jiggled with every step that the single strap style of the dress did not allow for a bra.

Her long auburn hair was pulled tightly back behind her head in a pony tail that swung freely down her back, allowing him a good view of her face as she drew closer. Holy… Wow, was all he could think when he caught sight of her face clearly as she started over the bridge.

When Jack had met the Britt girl a few days prior, he had thought that she had possessed the single most beautiful face he had ever seen. But this woman had her beat hands down, only in a different way. Where Britt’s exotically dark skin and almond eyes had virtually oozed sexuality and the promise of forbidden pleasure, this girl had a sweetly innocent beauty to her that Jack could not resist. Even with her brows knit together under the obvious cloud she had hanging over her head, his heart wanted to jump out of his chest at the sight of her. Not even knowing what had her upset, he had the strongest urge to jump up, run to her side and comfort her.

As she came to within a few steps of him her head suddenly came up and she caught sight of him. Instantly she stopped in her tracks, her intensely bright, steel-blue eyes widening in apparent shock.

“What are you doing here?”

Jack was taken aback by the cold metal in her voice. For a moment all he could do was stare into the deep pools of her eyes, at a loss for what to say.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, louder this time, glaring down at him.

That brought Jack back to himself. Something in the tone of her voice put the steel back in his spine and he glared right back up at her.

“Well,” he said, lacing his voice with sarcasm, “I’m pretty sure I was sitting down.” He watched as her eyes flashed with angry lightning.

“And,” he continued “the boy and I were planning on skipping rocks on the lake here in a minute, if it’s any of your business.”

The woman shifted her intense gaze to the others on the little island. The two teenage girls were still sitting on the far bench, but there chatting had stopped and now they were staring with wide, astonished eyes at Jack. As she looked at them they immediately jumped to their feet and, dropping a small curtsy towards the woman, they hurriedly left using the far bridge.

Who the hell does this woman think she is? thought Jack.

“Ryan,” she said, softening her voice a little with obvious effort, “Why don’t you run and help you sister.”

The boy was frozen in place, mouth hanging open and a small collection of stones still clutched in the little pocket he had made by folding up the corner of his shirt. He glanced fearfully back and forth between the two of them and then turned and ran across the bridge, stones making a trail behind him as he went.

When he was gone the woman whipped back around and, putting her finger right in his face, she hissed. “What are you thinking? You are not supposed to be here!”

Oh, that’s quite enough of that, thought Jack furiously as he drew himself off of the bench and towered over her. He had reached the end of his patience with this woman.

“I think,” he growled, marmaris escort his voice rising with his anger, “that I pay rent here just like everyone else. So I think, that I’ll go wherever I damn well please. Thank you very much.”

For a long moment they faced each other. Impossibly she had somehow managed to draw herself up and gave the impression that she was glaring down her nose at him. It was definitely an impressive feat, given that he had at least eight inches on her. He could have sworn she wanted to stamp her foot at him, but instead she simply turned away from him abruptly and stormed off, leaving electric bolts of anger in her wake.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment and tried to calm himself. It wasn’t often that he lost his temper, but she had hit a raw nerve he hadn’t known he had inside of him. What the hell was her problem? He let out a long, slow breath. God, he hated it when he lost his control. He definitely should have handled that differently.

So much for a nice break, he thought glancing at her retreating form which, he noticed despite himself, still looked incredibly appealing. Shaking his head, he headed the opposite direction back to his apartment. All the people that had been out enjoying the day seemed to have disappeared.

When he was most of the way back to his apartment, a thought suddenly struck him and he whipped around and gazed back the way he had come. Idiot! That voice, the one he remembered coming from behind the big guy on his first day. That was Jennifer, he thought, suddenly putting the two voices together in his head.

Great, Jack, just great. Like you don’t have enough problems already.

Jack started back towards his apartment again, fuming. He did already have enough problems with his neighbor, now this. And to top it all off, when Jennifer had stormed away from him it looked like she was heading for the office. If she hadn’t reported his part in the fight here the other day yet, she was probably on her way to do it now.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the one at fault for the fight. He was the new guy here, and he knew that the management was more likely to side with her, unless she had a history of problems. Landlords always liked it quiet, so they preferred to get rid of any possible trouble-makers as soon as they could.

Thinking furiously as he started up the stairs, Jack totally missed seeing the man in black barreling down the stairs until he had was already crashing into him. The man let out a small scream as he fell backwards, landing flat on his back against the concrete steps.

Cursing himself for not paying more attention, Jack looked down to apologize and was suddenly looking into the same steel-blue eyes that he had seen a few minutes earlier on the island. This time however, they were attached to an admittedly handsome man in his mid twenties. At least, Jack figured the guy would have been handsome, if his face had not been contorted with a look of rage and pain. He was dressed smartly in an expensive looking black silk three piece suit that seemed extremely out of place, considering the weather.

Worried that he might have really hurt the guy, Jack reached out to give him a hand up but the man just shrugged him off and jumped back to his feet, clutching one hand to his chest in pain. Mumbling to himself darkly he bolted away from Jack, quickly dashing down the stairs and was gone in a flash, disappearing around the corner. Jack was left standing on the stairs, staring after him with a dumbfounded look on his face.

What’s with these people? Jack thought, shaking his head. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he did have to find a new place to live after all. With the exception of the kid on the island, Jack didn’t think he had met one normal person since he had signed the lease. He knew he really couldn’t afford to move out; even if he could even find another vacancy in town, the cost of moving all his stuff and setting up again would drain him. Of course, at this point, he might not have a choice in the matter.

Turning, he headed back up the stairs to his apartment. When he reached the landing he pulled out his keys to unlock the door. He stopped, arm extended, when he noticed that it was standing slightly ajar. Confused, Jack looked around him. He could swear he remembered locking the door when he went out; in fact he was sure of it.

Every nerve in his body suddenly went on alert. At the same time though, he felt a strange calm descend over him that while familiar, seemed totally out of place here, so far removed from combat. He could feel the blood pumping faster through his body and his mind becoming unnaturally alert to everything going on around him as years of training and experience took over. Something was wrong here, he could feel it.

Wishing he had a weapon; something more than a set of keys anyway, Jack nudged open the door to his apartment, his body bracing for an attack. There was a calm, detached part of his brain that was picking up every small detail of his surroundings. Everything was examined and logged away for later use. He noticed quickly that there was no sign of forced entry on the door, and also there seemed to be a strange smell that tickled at the back of his mind, he wasn’t sure why. When the attack didn’t come, he moved slowly into the room looking around, still alert for any danger that might show itself.

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As with the second chapter, this third installment into the missions of the Temporal Management Agency’s most unusual agent is more story than sex. But I hope you will still enjoy.

***

This is the night,Dylan thought as he moved through the crowd in the ballroom. Every step he made was deliberate, calculated to keep him within range of his charge. The weight of the pistols seated rather comfortably beneath his belt at the small of his back reminded him constantly of the deadly and serious nature of his mission. He could not fail, he knew. There was no option for it.

Louis Armstrong grinned on the stage as he swayed on his feet, powerful lungs belting out a guttural rendition of “Heebie Jeebies,” replete with the requisite and rowdy scat. Women danced in ‘flapper’ style; the young and spoiled guest of honor, ‘Kitty’ Hutton, was getting quite a bit of attention from her antics. Dylan might have let himself enjoy the moment, had he not been so devoted to his mission.

All day long, he had been tracking Mr. Michael Craig, virtually watching the man as a tiny blue dot on the screen inside his cigarette case, watching the red Walkers as they remained close, but never too close; it was akin to being a passive voyeur in a slow-moving video game. Waiting for the moment to jump in and turn the tide.

That moment was nigh, Dylan felt. His nerves were on edge. Adrenaline was pumping steadily, but not to excess, keeping him alert and ready to act. It was that sense of ‘delicious anticipation’ that he always relished. The fierce, yet quiet, calm before the maelstrom.

He spied Betty, making her rounds as expected, small round tray topped with flutes of bubbly balanced upon a fine-boned hand. She remained close, yet not obviously so; she had learned quickly, Dylan felt, or perhaps she simply had an instinct for subterfuge. Her eyes caught his, briefly, and she smiled slyly. He gave her a quick, almost imperceptible nod, her silent cue. Betty’s smile remained, albeit with some anxiety, and she set down her tray.

She enjoys this,Dylan thought, watching Betty slipping from the room.Stepping into the fantasy of a dangerous life, living out the melodrama that had only been shown to her on a shimmering, black-and-white screen. For her, the truth of the matter is of no consequence. It is only the fantasy.

“Dear friends!” shouted a middle-aged man, stepping up onto the stage after Satchmo had finished his song. He waited out the applause heaped upon Armstrong with an amiable grin, shaking the stocky black man’s hand. “Dear friends!” he cried again, and the hubbub faded. The eyes of the man – Mr. Hutton – glittered with mirth. “And not so dear friends . . . .”

Scattered laughter drifted through the crowd as everyone faced the stage. The debutante herself gave her father an annoyed look, coupled with a forced, expected smile as she clapped lazily. Dylan, however, was not watching the deb’s father; he kept his eye on Michael Craig, who beamed with false effulgence. The foppish man’s bodyguards lingered several steps away, preoccupied with plates of food from the buffet. Dylan doubted they had been hired in their capacity for any other reason than for their size.

Mr. Hutton continued: “In all seriousness, folks, I am very touched that you all turned out for my little girl’s debut. Kitty, come up here! Come on!”

More applause sounded, but it fell like an inconsequential shower around Dylan. His eyes darted from Craig for a moment, to the cigarette case he slipped from within his jacket. His eyes narrowed, jaw set in stone as he read the numerous red blips of the Walkers moving closer. Dylan snapped the case closed, returned it to his pocket. He was able to guess where the Walkers were in the crowd, and spotted a few of them rather easily. Their expressionless faces and blank stares gave them away.

Dylan did not think about what he was doing. He reacted on instinct combined with the intricacies of his training and experience, already visualizing what was about to happen even before it occurred. Pushing his way through the crowd, he felt for one of the pistols, fingers curling around the butt of the weapon.

Tactically, Dylan marked the positions of the Walkers, even though he could not see them all. If Craig was at his twelve o’clock position, then the Walkers approached from two, five, and ten. And they were approaching fast.

“Mr. Craig,” Dylan said, stepping before the slender, effeminate man, blocking his view of the stage.

Michael Craig frowned, looking almost disgusted. “Excuseme, sir, but—”

Dylan grinned crookedly, slipping the pistol free. “Get down,” he said in a calm voice, quickly settling a hand on Craig’s narrow shoulder. The weapon he produced made Craig’s eyes widen in fear and shock, making it easier for him to fall to his knees as Dylan pushed down. Around the two men, women shrieked in fear and startlement, men gasped and stepped back, pushing their wives, mistresses and lovers behind them.

As Craig dropped, Dylan sighted along fethiye escort the slide of the .45, aiming for the closest Walker. The man stumbled a moment, then reached inside his jacket. Dylan did not wait to see what the man would withdraw; he squeezed the trigger once, resulting in a thunderclap that made those around him wince, cry, and shout in alarm.

The target of Dylan’s deadly aim shuddered once, his blank face grimacing a moment before it fell. He expelled a single breath, wavered on suddenly weak legs, then glanced down to his chest. Hands ripped open the vest beneath his jacket, revealing a dark hole in the middle of his crisp white shirt, around which was rapidly growing dark red stain.

The man looked back to Dylan, eyes suddenly wide and wondering. He emitted a single grunt, then collapsed to the ground, already dead.

Chaos erupted, then, as Dylan had hoped. The uproarious cacophony that filled the ball room made for better cover than a bodysuit of kevlar as Dylan scooped up Michael Craig and casually hoisted him upon his left shoulder. As men and women ran in all directions, confounding the other Walkers’ attempts to reach their target, Dylan stepped over the corpse of his foe, heading swiftly to one of the service exits. He kicked open the swinging doors, startling a young man on the other side, whose eyes flew open wide.

“Get out,” growled Dylan. The kid – maybe seventeen or eighteen – almost tripped on his own feet before darting past and into the ballroom. The doors swayed and flapped behind him as Dylan increased his speed, almost breaking into a jog. Craig, he figured, was either monumentally submissive, or – more likely, judging by the way the man’s arms flapped against his butt and legs – had passed out.

As he rounded a corner within the service hallway, Dylan nearly trampled a rotund man in a chef’s uniform. “What the Devil-oh!” the man exclaimed, stumbling back.

Hard eyes stared into the chef’s. “The door to the loading dock,” he said with a hard edge in his voice. It was a command, one the chef – of appropriate age to have served in the Great War – quickly responded to. A quivering hand pointed the way, through stainless-steel swinging doors.

Dylan’s mouth twitched for a moment in what could have been a smile. “Thanks,” he said, then headed toward the doors.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

Dylan reacted with quick, almost inhumanly fast movements, whirling around and extending his arm, sighting down the slide of the .45 toward the two hulking, burly men that bumbled on their feet in the corridor. They stopped about thirty feet away, fear and wonder on their faces, holding pistols that seemed too tiny in their beefy hands. Michael Craig’s ineffectual bodyguards. Dylan gave them a look of disdain.Amateurs.

“Put the irons on the floor, gentlemen,” Dylan growled. “I won’t ask twice. Take a shot at me, and you’ll not only kill your boss, but get your next paycheck delivered to a pine box.”

The two brutes hesitated, sharing anxious looks.

Dylan cocked the hammer on his pistol. “Three . . . two . . .”

The two men fidgeted under Dylan’s intimidating stare, and quickly set their firearms on the floor.

“Kick them to me,” Dylan ordered.

Dutifully, like mindless soldiers, the men did so, making the pistols scrape loudly across the floor toward him. One banked off the wall and spun about in place in the hallway. Dylan glanced to the chef, still immobile with shock and wonder.

“Pick them up, bring them to me,” Dylan directed. He never let his eyes leave the two men, never lowered his weapon. Peripherally, he watched the chef move, then stumble into his field of view. Quickly, the man retrieved the pistols and brought them to Dylan, who took them quickly. “Thanks,” he said snidely, then turned and headed through the swinging steel doors.

The two bodyguards regarded each other in confusion. “Whatta we do now?” one asked. The other simply shrugged.

***

The rear door of the loading dock, beside the large, closed, scrolling portal through which deliveries were taken, flew open harshly, slamming against the wall amid a shower of pulverized concrete. Dylan took the steel steps to the ground, approaching a dark-painted sedan as it idled. He jerked open the rear door and deposited the stunned body of Michael Craig within.

“You should go,” he said to the young woman behind the wheel.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide and anxious. “But . . . I thought you wanted me to help!” Betty declared.

He glanced to her beneath a hard brow. “And you have. But you’re not trained for this. I won’t have your death on my conscience.”

Betty gritted her teeth, thinking for a moment. “I wanna help you, Dylan.”

He shot her a look. “You don’t know what—” he began.

“And I don’t care!” she shouted vehemently. She took a breath, steeled her eyes. “I’m not gettin’ outta this car.”

Dylan softened a bit, imploring her with alanya escort his eyes. “I can’t let you get hurt,” he said with more meaning than she would know.

She smiled then, an inscrutable expression that momentarily made Dylan wonder if this girl understood more than he had assumed. “You won’t,” she said, her accent suddenly sweet and endearing once more. “You promised me, remember?”

Just like that, and the matter was settled. Dylan could have argued with her, he knew, could even have threatened her. But he did not. There was a part of him that wanted this sweet, voluptuous young woman at his side. The same part that had felt that strange, powerful, and undeniable attraction upon their first meeting.

“Fine,” he snapped as he slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed. He did not look to Betty. “Get us away from here. The more secluded, the better.” Dylan was following Corinna’s basic plan, to get away from a public place, to create a battlefield in which he had the upper hand.

“There’s a place, about half an hour away,” Betty said as she turned the wheel, bringing the sedan around. “Just a broken-down old house. We’ll be safe there.”

Dylan watched the girl as she drove, admiring the fierceness on her face, the obvious concentration. They were traits he had seen amongst the best officers and agents in his day. “Are you sure?”

She winked briefly, with a tug at the corner of her mouth. “It’s getting to be off-season . . . no one goes there now.” She chuckled at Dylan’s wondering look. “It’s a place we go to, to . . . well, you know. Mess around.”

Dylan pursed his lips, then looked to the back seat as Betty drove the sedan. “You all right back there, Mr. Craig?”

The effeminate man sat up, giving Dylan a look of abject fear. “A-are you going to kill me?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, I’m saving your life. There’s a man named Foster Reece after you. He—”

“Foster Reece? I know him!” exclaimed Craig, his face a mask of consternation. “He just made a contribution to my company! Why would he invest in me if he was going to kill me?”

“Because he wanted to gain your confidence,” Dylan answered. “It’s a classic tactic. I’ll bet he offered to have lunch, too.”

“Eh, well . . . he suggested drinks tonight, after the party. You know . . . private.”

Craig’s skittishness made Dylan chuckle. “I don’t care that you’re homosexual, Craig,” he said. “Believe me, I won’t tell anyone.”

The millionaire shifted uncomfortably and touched his chin, glancing out the window. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Right,” said Dylan, turning back around. He caught Betty giving him a little smile before she returned her attention to the road.

***

The house was not much to look at; it had obviously lain abandoned for a number of years, judging by the overgrowth surrounding the unlit windows. It was a tiny building, little more than a shack, with cracked boards on the porch and glass missing from one of the front windows.

“How many rooms?” asked Dylan as he pulled Craig from the car.

“Just three,” Betty responded, having changed into simple flat shoes. She still looked – Dylan had to admit – delectable in the bust-revealing dress she wore. “Only one bedroom. They ain’t much to look at, but they’re mostly clean. Water works, but the lighting don’t.”

“Probably a good thing,” muttered Dylan. “I don’t suppose you have a key for the place?”

Betty chuckled and bounded onto the rickety porch, avoiding the weak boards. She twisted the handle and pushed the door open. “Don’t need one,” she said. “Only people who ever come here are those of us from the resort.”

“You don’t think any of them will be coming tonight?”

Betty shook her head. “Nope. We always talk about it first, since only Max has a car.”

Dylan nodded, not really caring who ‘Max’ was. It was enough to be more or less assuaged in his anxiety that other innocents might become involved. With Michael Craig before him, Dylan headed into the house. Betty lead the way, taking them through the spartan house. There was little furniture, all of which showed signs of disrepair and blatant vandalism. The main room sported a couple of well-worn mattresses and numerous blankets, scattered sheaves of newspaper, and more than a few empty rum and bourbon bottles. Melted candles and candle stumps were set upon the rickety coffee table, or upon pieces of wood or cinder block.

“This place is disgusting!” exclaimed Craig, gingerly stepping through the rubbish. “I can’t believe you brought mehere.”

Dylan fixed the effeminate man a look. “I could always take you back,” he said in an ominous tone. “That would make it easier for Reece.”

Craig stared back. “At least I would have more protection,” he said. “My bodyguards are—”

“They’re clumsy bruisers with no training and no nerve,” Dylan said quickly. “You want to live through tonight, you’ll do as I say.”

Craig scoffed. manavgat escort “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“Tough. Get used to it,” Dylan snapped, then pushed the man – albeit gently – ahead of him. Over Craig’s head, he saw Betty’s bemused face, which she tried to hide. The girl opened a door to what Dylan presumed was the bedroom, as evidenced by the large, four-poster bed and relatively intact dresser and vanity.

“Well . . . it’s not too bad,” said Craig. “At least the bed looks somewhat . . . clean.”

“Good. This is your room, then,” declared the agent. He glanced to his pocket watch –four hours, he thought – then addressed Betty. “I’m going to need supplies to cover the windows. Wooden boards, planks, anything.”

Betty shrugged. “There’s wooden boards all over the place,” she said. “I think there’s even some tools in the attic.”

“What? You’re going to board up the windows?” gasped Craig. “Trying to keep me from getting out? You don’t trust me?”

Dylan faced the smallish man. “I don’t want to risk anyone shooting you through a window, much less crawling in to slip a knife in your neck while you sleep,” he said firmly. “And no, I don’t trust you.”

Craig sputtered, but said nothing. Dylan addressed he and Betty. “Come on, you two. We don’t have much time to get this place secure.”

***

The tools Betty had mentioned consisted merely of a couple of rusty hammers, a screwdriver, and thankfully, a handful of stout iron nails. Pulling boards from the floor in the kitchen, and cannibalizing the front porch, the three of them had the bedroom windows covered in little time. Finding a ball of twine in a kitchen drawer, Dylan lay tripwires around the house, just inches above the ground, hidden by leaves and underbrush and attached to bottles balanced upon wooden stumps.

Craig complained throughout the entire hour it took them to more or less secure the house, mewling like a child when he caught a splinter in his finger. Betty consoled the man somewhat, but she was quickly growing tired of his whining. More than once, she rolled her eyes at the man.

After helping their charge pick out the splinter and wash his hands in the master bath, Betty returned to the main room, finding Dylan seated upon one of the mattresses, an array of weapons before him. Aside from the four firearms, Dylan had found rusty knives in the kitchen. Not the most formidable of weapons, but they would do in a pinch.

“I, uh, think Mr. Craig’s gonna lick his wounds for a while,” she said, leaning against the doorway. She watched as Dylan field stripped the four pistols. “You, um, seem pretty calm.”

Dylan shrugged indifferently. “I’ve been in many situations like this before,” he said. “It almost becomes a formula.”

She took a hesitant step closer. “But, um . . . you look really young. I mean, I guess you were using makeup or something earlier, you know, to play the part, but . . . you ain’t much older than me.”

Dylan lifted his head with a wan smile. “Clean living,” he joked. “I’m a lot older than you think I am.”

Betty shuffled a bit on her feet, toying with the hem of her skirt. “Well, I don’t care if you’re twenty-five or thirty-five, or even forty. You’re, uh . . . well . . . .” she trailed off, blushing, her eyes glittering in the near lack of light. “Um, I think I’ll light some candles.”

Dylan watched her a moment as the girl moved about awkwardly, kneeling beside candles and producing a box of matches to light them. Dylan had no doubt whatsoever that what he felt radiating from her was arousal, desire. Seven decades of life had shown him a few things about reading women, after all.

“You know, when I first started in law enforcement,” Dylan said as he cleaned the slide of one of the pistols. “I had this romantic idea about it. Save the innocent, protect the weak. Help people.”

Betty sat upon an adjacent mattress, her features turned a soft, amber hue by the flickering glow of the candle beside her. “Isn’t that what you do?”

Dylan shrugged. “I guess if you boiled it down to simplicities, sure,” he said. He smiled ruefully. “But there are always politics involved. Now more than ever. There are things I can do, and things I can’t, even though I want to.”Such as warning you that you’re going to die on Valentine’s Day in just over a year . . . .

Her brow furrowed, strangely making her face seem even more young and innocent. “I don’t understand.”

Dylan chuckled. “No, I guess not,” he said. He assembled the pistol he had been cleaning, loaded it with a smooth rack of the slide. He smiled upon her. “It’s not important.”

Betty curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. She did not seem to mind that, the way she was sitting, her nearly-naked thighs framed the slim strip of fabric that covered her sex. “Dylan.”

He took up another pistol, detaching the slide and taking out the barrel. “Yes.”

“How close were you? I mean, with your . . . your partner.”

He regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t we talk about this?”

Betty’s eyes flickered in the candlelight. “Did you love her?”

Dylan thought a moment, working his jaw. “Cory was special. She was . . . different,” he said. His eyes dipped. “She saved my life, and that opened a whole different realm of emotions for me. But love is . . . that’s a complicated thing.”

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All rights reserved. Copyright July 9, 2008 by Ardor. The following story is intended for personal use by adults only. No reproduction either digitally or in print is permitted without the expressed written consent of the author. By downloading this story the reader professes to be an adult and that the material is legal in the area in which the reader resides.

*

The three naked girls about to take part in the ritual stepped into the forest clearing. The large group of mages, all naked as well, that were gathered in a circle around the clearing turned to look at the the girls as they came close. The circle parted and the the girls stepped forward until it closed around them. It was night time and the clearing was lit by three fires that hovered magically high in the air. Beneath each fire was a couple having frenzied passionate sex. They were locked in a magic sexual coupling that fueled the fires and stirred the energies needed for the ritual. It was visible in the air surrounding the clearing as a translucent cloud of swirling mist that changed colors. The mist hovered in the air all around them but centered at the top of a small three sided step pyramid in the center of the clearing. On each stone step was mounted a gleaming bronze phallus. The phallus at the first step was modest in stature. At six inches in length it was hardly what a boy before reaching manhood would carry. The second step not only had the phalluses grew to eight inches in length and three inches in girth but also sported a second smaller phallus behind the first one. It was a meager two inches in girth by six inches in length. The third and final step not only had the front phalluses grew to ten inches in length but the back phallus was nine inches in length and three inches in girth.

The three girls then each went to one of the couples. Mirai stood in front of a male and female couple. The female was laying on her back with her legs spread widely as he thrust deep into her. Mirai looked down at them and said, “You who light the fires are the base of all knowledge please fill me with that knowledge.” Then Mirai turned around and squatted over the woman’s face pressing her pussy to her mouth. After she did that she leaned forward, so that her face and shoulders were on the ground, and she reached back to spread her behind. The male of the couple pressed his face between her cheeks and they both breathed the swirling mist deep inside Mirai.

At the same time Liana stepped up to the second couple and said, “You who light the fires are the base of all knowledge please fill me with that knowledge.” This couple was two male mages. One male was sitting on the ground while the other male sat on his cock facing him. Liana stepped between them. Both batman escort men quickly pressed their faces into her and filled her with the swirling mist.

Amia stepped up to the last couple and said, “You who light the fires are the base of all knowledge please fill me with that knowledge.” This last couple was two female mages. They were both laying on their back fucking each other with a double headed dildo. Amia stepped between them and the two women sat up until their faces were pressed deep into her. Then they breathed the swirling mist into her.

All three girls had just come of age and in preparation for the ritual were kept virgins. No easy feat on a world such as eros. They were young, pretty and all had the large breasts and noticeably prominent clits of a female mage. Female mages are often dealt with carefully and even seen as dangerous but there are few who wouldn’t take the opportunity to bed one. All three girls were dedicated to the ritual though and hadn’t so much as masturbated in the long years since puberty. Now they were standing in a large circle of people and being penetrated magically. It was a powerful initiation into the both the sexual and magical realms. After years of denial their bodies felt things that they could never have imagined. All three shuddered and moaned in the first of many simultaneous orgasms. When the last wave of pleasure had passed through their bodies they each pulled themselves from the couple beneath them and, mist lightly flowing from their openings, they walked to a side of the pyramid. As they each looked at the steps they would have to climb a pretty female mage with long flowing white hair stepped forward and said, “Do you three willingly choose to climb the three steps to heaven?”

As one Amia, Liana and Mirai say, “Yes, we do.”

“Then step forward and climb the first step.” The white haired mage said and then returned to her place in the circle.

The three girls stepped forward together. They walked to the base of the pyramid and then turned around and stepped up on the first level. Their feet were on either side of the gleaming phalluses that pointed up at them eagerly. The base of the pyramid was wide enough that the girls could just hold hands. They each reached for their sister as the white haired mage said loudly, “Let us chant sisters and bring forth that which would ease their journey.”

The mages that were circled around the three girls started a low chant, which sounded more like seductive moaning, after which the tips of all the phalluses started to drip. Amia, Liana and Mirai gently lowered them selves down until they were sitting just behind the phalluses. Then they thrust their hips yalova escort forward until the base of the phalluses parted their lips and pressed up against their clitorises. All three moaned as they ground up against the phallus in front of them. The lubricant coming from the tip of the phallus in front of them dripped down the shaft and covered both them and itself. The phalluses above and behind each girl dripped forming a slow river that eventually flowed down. Before long each girl was practically covered in slick shiny lubricant. The girls were now sliding up the phallus bringing the head closer and closer to the entrance of their pussies. Mirai was the closest but she sensed the other girls weren’t ready yet so she held back. A few more strokes and they all slipped up the length of the shaft and then slowly down over it until they each had a phallus deep inside them. They slowly fucked themselves to the rhythm of the chanting mages circled around them. Getting closer and closer to orgasm with each stroke. As the mages started to quicken their chant the girls quickened their pace. The mist swirled faster in the air over the pyramid, the couples fucking beneath the fires became even more passionate, the chanting became louder and faster as all three girls came moaning.

When they had strained and moaned the last of their second orgasm, when they were able to relax the tightened grip on each other’s hands they paused for a second, but only a second, before moving up to the next step. This phallus was noticeably larger then the first. The girls had been warmed up enough that they could rub the head between their lips and slowly ease it in. As they moved down a few inches the second phallus poked at them from behind. Each girl made a slight adjustment widening her stance and shifting her weight a bit so that the second phallus could slide into her. As it did the mists churned even faster, the couples beneath the fires screamed with pleasure that didn’t seem to end. The white haired mage saw through her chanting that the girl’s eyes had glazed over with the shimmering mist. The chanting grew to a fevered pitch and as the girls came for the third time mist leaked out of their open mouths like water flowing gently over a fall.

The frenzied sexual magic filled the very air each mage breathed as the girls lifted themselves up above the final phallus. As they moved downward taking it inside they each moaned loudly. It was no longer a human moan. It contained an other worldly echo. A resonance of things beyond what normal mortals, even a mage, could see. They sunk down on the long thick shafts taking them both to the very hilt. The girls were closer now that they were at the top of the pyramid. They linked ordu escort arms at the elbows and each grabbed her own large heavy tits squeezing them and lifting them skyward. Their legs spread wide touched at the thigh and calf exposing to all the base of the gleaming bronze phalluses buried deep with in them. The couples beneath the fire came hard in body wrenching spasms as the fires above them exploded. At the same time the girls threw back their heads and came themselves. A bright shaft of light shot up from them into the sky and an other worldly moan shook the very ground knocking all that were standing off their feet.

Then there was silence.

The forest was dark, lit only by a pale sliver of the moon. The mages slowly gathered their senses after having been knocked on their backs, legs strewn apart, slowly stood up obviously shaken. The white haired mage quickly ran to the side of the clearing and lit a torch. As she walked closer to the pyramid she saw exactly what she knew she’d see. Still, it brought a tear to her eye. The four girls were no longer flesh but dark stone. Their last moment atop the pyramid, frozen for all time, in a screaming climax. As mage after mage came near with a lit torch it only became clearer that the ritual had worked and that they were a perfect monument. The gleaming bronze base of the phalluses shown brightly from between the stone lips of what used to be three young pretty mages. Once all the mages circled around the pyramid the mist swirled above it and an image of the three girls formed. It was as if they were floating in water swimming around each other like clinging snakes.

“Aurik do not cry for your daughters,” a ghostly voice echoed from the clouds saying, “we are beyond life, beyond death. We are what we were meant to become. The Oracle of Eros.”

“I know, ” Aurik said with a smile as she wiped the tear from her eye.

“Let each mage go back to his land and spread the word that the Oracle has returned,” the voice from the swirling image commanded.

“Yes my daughters, you will bring wisdom and blessings to the world of Eros,” Aurik said proudly.

“Let each man know that in order to obtain our wisdom and blessings he must sit upon our breast and be virile enough to place his offering in each of our mouths. Let each woman know that to obtain our wisdom and blessings she must take joy in all three of the second steps.”

“It will be known my daughters, my Oracle,” Aurik said bowing slightly.

“Be well mother, we will, watch over you,” the ghostly voice said as the cloud faded into nothingness.

Aurik looked at the statue that had once been her daughters for a few moments longer. A strong feeling of pride welled up inside her that they would be willing to give so much for so many. The light started to fade as other mages wandered off taking their torches with them back to their own lands. She turned to walk away feeling as if someone was looking over her shoulder. They would indeed keep their promise and make a good Oracle for the world of Eros.

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Golden sunlight poured into a golden room through pink tinted glass, casting a bright glow over crimson curtains and ruby colored sheets. A crisp, gentle morning breeze blew in from the spacious balcony, stirring the aromatic presence of roses and lavender, and bringing with it the fresh smell of oak and pine . . . but along with the vigorous scent of nature there was also the arousing stench of pleasure, sex, and wanton bacchanalia. Slowly life stirred within the comfortable, fragrant sanctuary, as the firm and nubile bodies of several healthy young maidens roused from sleep, all of them either naked or clad in the skimpiest of lingerie. Their skin tones mostly ranged from pale milk to golden tan, and the flawlessness of their bodies was marked only by the aftermath of lust, their smooth breasts and long legs still sticky with cum.

The first of them to erect her blossoming proud body was also the youngest. Her form was slender but athletic, like a runner or an acrobat, and her promising chest was perky but not as greatly endowed as her sisters and cousins. Realizing she was naked, and that her pink nipples were becoming remarkable erect in the cool air of the morning, she covered herself with a blanket and wrapped it around her body like a dress. She crept to towards the bathroom to wash up, smelling that her long blonde hair still stank of sex.

“Nicolette,” a nasally voice came from the bed, stubbornly dragging herself from sleep. “Fetch me a glass of wine.”

“You shouldn’t drink in the morning,” Nicolette shyly reproached her cousin. “And I think you drank enough last night, Chancy.”

Chancy rose from the bed all breasts and hair. Unlike her slender younger cousin, Chancy was a woman with the soft, generous curves of an hourglass, and head of curly yellow hair that was as big as her ego. She was incredibly beautiful, just as all the women of the Belladonna family were, but she was also selfish and lewd, even now her impeccable looks were marred by a thick coating of dried semen that clung to her breasts and chin. Two of her lovers from the night before slept next to her, one a human male with dark skin and bulging muscle, the other a green orc that was even larger. Neither was handsome, but Chancy rarely looked for beauty in her lovers. She preferred big, fat cocks attached to stupid, aggressive men to anything else, especially personality.

“I said get me some fucking wine, or else I’m going to find the biggest dildo in this room and shove it up your tight little ass,” Chancy growled.

Nicolette looked around the floor and saw several dozen dildos large enough to hurt, so she grunted and handed her nasty cousin a pitcher of wine and a cup, allowing her blanket to slip down her naked body. Chancy disregarded the cup and took the pitcher straight, tilting it to her succulent lips and chugging it with the expertise of a professional reveler. Only a single splash of wine escaped and spattered onto her breasts, mixing with the sticky residue of semen and running down her milky white tits to her navel.

Nicolette grunted in disgust, which she did not think was hypocritical at all. She had participated in last night’s orgy as well, but she had spent the night either masturbating or making gentle, respectful love with the handsome boy she had brought with her. Chancy on the other hand had acted like a raging slut, sucking every cock and clit in the room, burying her face in a pillow, and allowing anyone who wanted to take a ride on her. Nicolette slipped into the bathroom to wash up, and left Chancy to her hedonism.

Chancy belched with most unladylike demeanor, and dropped the pitcher to the floor, rolling out of bed on unsteady legs. Her vagina and anus still ached from the pounding she had taken from the many, many cocks the night before, but it was a pleasant ache, the kind of ache she had learned to love. Once, several years ago, she had been more like Nicolette, and showed some civilized discretion in her debauchery, but then she had met the witch Nadia Méchant, and everything changed. Chancy had been tasked with arresting Nadia, and they had fought, but Nadia had won, and with her victory came many long hours of brutal, incessant, mind-breaking sex for Chancy, as Nadia used her and broke her like a cheap, perishable sex-toy. Chancy was left humiliated, ravished, and half insane, but she recovered from her ordeal as most of Nadia’s victims did, albeit with a new, insatiable depth of sexual depravity. Even Nicolette had been a bashful virgin when she and Nadia had fist battled, and now she was just a slightly shy slut.

Chancy hated Nadia, she hated her so much that the though of the witch’s long red hair and poisonous green eyes made her want to scream.

But Chancy banished the thought of that redheaded harlot, not wanting her morning to be ruined by that foul whore’s memory. Instead she paced around the massive bedroom and surveyed the damage the orgy had left, and she was very proud to say that it was substantial.

Furniture bahçelievler escort was broken, sheets were stained, dozens of wine bottles had been emptied, and hundreds of sex-toys lay discarded and sticky. Some of the participants had already left, but the floor was still littered with unconscious revelers exhausted from a night of wild sex. Chancy nearly stepped on her young cousin Amber, a pretty freckled girl with a flat chest but a pair of puffy lips fashioned by the goddesses for sucking cock. This had been her fist orgy, and Amber had gone a little too hard perhaps, her tight pussy gushing with cum. Chancy also recognized her aunt, Josephine, sprawled over a couch, her mountainous breasts pooled over the hard chest of the boy who had fucked her so thoroughly the night before, his young cock still semi-inflated and wedged in the juicy groove of her vagina.

It had been a good orgy, one of the best in months, and Chancy had been to so many that she could barely recall whose cock she sucked in whose bed. There was nothing unusual about this type of thing, not in the kingdom of Hedonia, where nothing was valued more than pleasure and power, and life itself was nothing more than the pursuit of those two goals. Those very words had become something of a motto for the Hedonian nation, especially the Belladonna family, of which most of the girls in the room were members.

“Pleasure and Power.”

Chancy chanted that to herself as she admired her curvaceous shape, massaging her large breasts and tenderly touching her swollen pussy. She was a woman built for sex, but beneath those soft, sexual curves there was a litany of muscles, and even the feint outline of battle-scars. Chancy, like Nicolette, were Paladins, the most elite knights and priestesses of the Hedonian Court, and the bodyguards of Queen Nymphoria herself, the Goddess of Pleasure and Power Incarnate. They were as powerful on the field of battle as they were in the bedroom, channeling their battle-magic and sexual energy into the same force. Hedonia was a powerful nation, and it made lesser countries submit to its will in more ways than one.

Chancy’s mother was none other than the Arch-Paladin, the woman tasked not only with commanding the Paladin Order, but also keeping the Queen’s bed warm at night, and enviable position, but Chancy knew that the woman who Queen Nymphoria wanted more than anything was the bitch: Nadia Méchant. Capturing Nadia as bringing her to the Queen had been the principal of the Paladins’ lives these last few years, and Chancy was really starting to hate it. If it was up to her (and if she was the one to corner Nadia it would be) Nadia would be having a nasty accident long before she could return to Hedonia and work her sexual wiles over the Queen again. No, Chancy wanted Nadia to slip and break her neck, or fall on a dagger, or accidentally stumble in front of dozen arches practicing with poison arrows, or even mistakenly walk into a cave filled with hungry, man-eating ogres; horny ones, who would fuck her, kill her, and ear her; and not necessarily in that order.

Chancy giggled at the thought of Nadia’s death. It excited her. It made her want to masturbate.

The large golden doors to the room swung open, and in glided a woman of the most angelic and erotic beauty. She was tall, possessed of long slender limbs, but her bust and buttocks swelled with sexual hyperbole. Her shining golden hair cascaded down her back in artful curls and feathers, her blue eyes sparkled like electric sapphires, and her puffy lips were naturally golden. Her only clothing was a diaphanous and transparent golden robe, the perfectly circular rims of her golden nipples plainly visible. Around her thighs and waist was strapped an unusual garment of silver, gold, and studded jewels. Time slowed as she entered the room, the sunshine intensified, and musical singing of the birds outside became almost orgasmic in tone.

Chancy groaned, years of jealousy and inadequacy poisoning her mood. “Hello . . . sister.”

“Good morning sister Chancy,” the golden goddess said through a superior smirk. “You look . . . soiled. Did you have fun demeaning yourself last night like a filthy gutter-slut?”

Chancy sneered. “More than you. See?” Chancy asked, leaning back over a cushioned footrest and spreading her legs, flashing her sister with the sight of her battered, cum-stuffed, hairless pussy, her vulva and clit still swollen from the beating she had taken. “Nothing better than getting fucked by a dozen fat cocks all night long . . . not that you would know anything about that . . . Adelaide.”

Adelaide Belladonna, eldest of most beautiful of the Arch-Paladin’s daughters, sneered in her own jealous contempt, but even her frown was perfect and beautiful. Unconsciously she reached at the elegant metal plate covering the mound of her vulva, a perfectly shaped covering made of gold and silver, studded with bağcılar escort a ludicrously large diamond directly over the site of her clitoris. Tight but comfortable chains of adamantium and mithril wrapped around her faultless curvature of her buttocks instead of digging into the cleavage of her ass. The metal loin-garment was so expertly shaped to her body that it almost looked as though it had been poured over her vulva while molten liquid. The metal undergarment was not a pair of panties though, or a thong, or a sex-toy of any sort.

Adelaide Belladonna wore a chastity belt.

“I’ve been fucked up the ass,” Adelaide said, the vulgar words oozing from her refined accent like melted chocolate, thick with guilty pleasure.

“So have I,” Chancy scoffed in her bratty, nasally voice.

“And my mouth,” Adelaide said. “I’ve tasted every inch of a man’s body, and a woman’s.”

Chancy scooped out a slimy finger’s-worth of cum from her vagina and sucked on it, moaning loudly with exaggerated pleasure. “So have I, sister. I’ve done everything . . . EVERYTHING, and despite all the sex that you’ve been pretending to have, you still haven’t felt what it is to be a woman, something even the ugliest whore knows about. Pathetic. You’re almost thirty, and you’ve never, ever, ever been penetrated. Hell, even shy, timid, spineless little Nicolette’s gotten more cock than you.”

Adelaide’s flawless body was shivering with rage. She looked around the room and surveyed the sloppy aftermath of her sister’s orgy, noticing the dozen or so males and their deflated, pussy-soaked cocks. Painful shocks of girlish curiosity and womanly need shook her body, causing her breasts to jiggle and crystal tears to come to her eyes. From the tight confines of her chastity belt gushed a small amount of feminine liquor that trickled down her firm thighs. Chancy saw this and smirked.

Adelaide was furious with her prissy little sister, and she knew just how to get her revenge. Stepping forward, she reached down with her elegant hands and cupped Chancy’s juicy breasts in her palms, squeezing down on the nipples slightly.

“Wait!” Chancy squealed, knowing what was about to happen. “Don’t use your magic on me, I’m-” Chancy suddenly inhaled as an orgasmic wave of energy bolted through her body like a stampede of horny stags. “AAAAAAAGGHHH!”

Chancy came, her pussy erupted with a violent gush of liquid, a literal waterfall of cum draining her body to the point of dehydration, and wracking her fragile mind with a series of orgasms so powerful that it left her nearly concussed.

Adelaide let her sister go, and Chancy slipped to the floor in a puddle of her own sexual mess, lifelessly gurgling into what would be a brief coma. The expression on her face was a extremity of sexual bliss that it made her look semi-retarded. Adelaide shivered with barely sated jealousy, her fingers tingling with only a small portion of the magical energy she had unleashed upon her sister. Unsatisfied, the elegant and desperately horny woman turned on her heels and strutted out of the room.

#

Queen Nymphoria, the Goddess Incarnate, was lounging in her pavilion by a large swimming pool that was fed by fountains fashioned into the erotic shapes of nymphs and lesser deities, each holding onto vases overflowing with warm water. A few herculean shapes glided through the steaming blue waters of the pool, perfect specimens of masculinity and beauty, the Queen’s male concubines. Some were dark skinned, some black, and others pale and blonde, each hand-picked from the most expensive slave breeders in the world, but they were all in perfect health, peak physical condition, and possessed extraordinary sexual stamina. Any one of them was athletic enough to pleasure a small flock of young girls to the point of exhaustion, but it still took at least three of them to keep Queen Nymphoria entertained.

The cinnamon-skinned Queen was not being entertained by one of her male lovers at the moment though, but instead by one of her warriors. A tall, strong woman with flawless features and long blond hair knelt between the Queen’s open legs, skillfully worshiping the monarch’s pink pearl until her honey flowed freely and stained the expensive silk pillows beneath her. The warrior-woman has a stern, intimidating face, with clear, cruel blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones, but there was nothing about her that was not enticing as well. The armor she wore was made of gold and mithril, and it elegantly coated her arms and legs, but left her torso and crotch completely naked. It may have looked foolishly misguided to leave the most vital parts of the body so exposed, but the armor of Hedonia’s Paladins was valued for its magic, not its physical function.

The Queen moaned in deep, blissful satisfaction at the efforts of her Arch-Paladin, the Lady Severine, who was her greatest lover save for one . . . but Nadia had not been with her for several ümraniye escort years now.

The Queen’s relaxation was intruded upon by the sound of high-heeled shows chipping away angrily at the marble tiles around the pool. Nymphoria looked up to see Severine’s daughter Adelaide strutting over, her long legs impaling the ground with aggravated impatience, and her beautiful face marred by a furious frown and stubborn tears. The lovely girl looked tensed and anxious, and Nymphoria knew why. Sunlight danced upon the reflective metal of Adelaide’s chastity-belt, and upon the sticky residue of her honey that stained her inner-thighs. The Queen giggled to herself and pushed Severine’s face deeper into the swollen folds of her pussy.

“Lady Adelaide!” a handsome young blonde stud greeted the distressed woman as he rose out of the pool, clear rivulets of water cascading done his sculpted chest and abs. He was nervousness but excited, as all men where in the presence of the Arch-Paladin’s most beautiful daughter. “I didn’t know you would be-“

“Out of my way, concubine,” Adelaide growled with disdain, pushing the young man’s face away with her palm, shoving him back into the pool. The touch only lasted the briefest of moments, but it was enough to send a penetrating shock of magical energy through the stud’s body, igniting a spontaneous orgasm that had his handsome cock spurting thick robes of semen as he fell back into the pool.

“Your Divine Majesty,” Adelaide presented herself, shivering with impatience and thrusting her full bosom out. “I . . . I demand you unlock this belt you put on me!”

“Adelaide!” her mother Severing gasped angrily, coming up from between Nymphoria’s legs with sex smeared all over her solemn face. “How dare you speak to your Goddess with such impertinence! You are next in line for the office of Arch-Paladin, you should-“

Severine was interrupted by Nymphoria, who forcefully grabbed her sexual subjugate by the hair and pushed her back into worship. “I didn’t say you could stop, Severine. If your tongue has the strength to scold your daughter, then it has the strength to eat more pussy. Now,” Nymphoria leaned back and regarded Adelaide with amused condescension, “what’s all this about, sweetheart?”

Adelaide huffed childishly and collapsed into the pillows next to her mother, kneeling between her Queen’s open legs and resting her cheek on Nymphoria’s inner-thigh. The Queen bit her lip as a small shock of sexual energy coursed through her body, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Nymphoria was the earthly incarnation of the Goddess of Pleasure and Power, she could handle any amount of erotic-magic from any sorceress or nymph . . . except that of her lost love; Nadia. That red-haired demoness had been the only lover to ever dominate her . . . ever.

“I’m twenty-eight years old and still a virgin,” Adelaide bemoaned, her hand gliding over her Queen’s naked thigh. “It was ten years ago that you put this stupid belt on me, and ever since then I’ve watched my little sisters and cousins become women. I’ve had to listen to them giggle and gossip about every cock in the kingdom; about who is the biggest, and the fattest, and the hardest, and who cums the most. I can’t stand it anymore. Anal doesn’t satisfy me. Nothing satisfies me. I can’t even sleep a full night without wetting the bed, and some days I can barely walk. It isn’t fair. It’s torture.”

Nymphoria sighed sympathetically, and cupped Adelaide cheek in her hand, wiping away a single tear with her thumb. She pulled Adelaide up until the young woman’s firm breasts rolled over her own, and their erect nipples playfully jousted. Nymphoria kissed Adelaide, and for once it was Adelaide who was shocked by a bolt of sexual energy, as her own wild, chaotic power was overcome by the Queen’s erotic divinity. Adelaide whimpered and fidgeted against her monarch’s cinnamon-skinned body, grinding her metal-plated crotch fruitlessly against Nymphoria’s soft thighs. The Queen grabbed the younger woman’s buttocks and squeezed, playfully tugging at the tight chains that held the chastity-belt in place, causing Adelaide to almost scream with tortured excitement, and her pussy began to gush cum all over her mother’s head..

“Adelaide,” Nymphoria whispered, breaking away from the kiss. “Look at what you did to that poor boy.”

Adelaide bit her lip and turned. The blonde concubine she had touched was laying unconscious by the side of the pool, his muscular chest beating like a drum, and his erect cock still twitching painfully with a dry orgasm, his testicles’ full worth all ready exhausted. He probably would have drowned had his fellow concubines not fished him out of the warm water. She had left her sister Chancy in a similar state of devastation. A single touch, and even a talented sexual warrior was left as helpless and broken as a yearling mare mounted by a dozen wild stallions in a row.

“It’s been like that since the day you were born,” Nymphoria whispered through a smile. “Your mother’s screams of labor during your delivery were not out of pain, but of excruciating pleasure. You were birthed during a flood of orgasms the likes of which my own mother suffered when I was born. You’ve been blessed by the Goddess, your body is filled with her righteous power, and it radiates from you like the light from a star.”

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ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE THE AGE OF 18

—————————————–

I woke to a whiteness so blinding it took several moments before I could do anything but squint. My eyes eventually adjusted to the pain enough to open fully, but the brightness never dimmed.

I found myself on my back, looking up at what should have been a ceiling, or the sky, or …well, something. Anything. Instead, all I could see was an unbroken field of white.

Was I awake? Maybe I was dead. I felt disembodied, and there were several failed attempts by my brain to send signals to my limbs before I could finally recognize the existence of them.

“Okay,” I thought, “so I’m not dead. I’m still in my body. And I don’t think I’m dreaming. But that doesn’t mean anything. You always think a dream is real until you wake up.”

I tried to sit up but couldn’t. Pins and needles wracked my body as numbed nerve endings slowly came back to life, once again providing sensations.

With an effort, I managed to move my head. The whiteness where the ceiling or sky should have been continued on forever. There were no curves, no edges, no corners that I could see. Not a single crack or flaw to provide any sense of depth or scale. It was unnerving. I felt nauseous, my head spinning out of control.

Without warning, the blinding white went black as I slipped into unconsciousness.

I had no idea how long I was out. When I regained consciousness, I felt more solid and whole in my body, no longer floating in nothingness. But when I opened my eyes, the endless white space remained.

Feeling less lightheaded, I tried to sit up, in the process discovering I’d been laying on some kind of flat platform, similar to a bunk or shelf. It was the same white as the ceiling, but, as my eyes focused, I made out its edges.

Cautiously, I lifted myself into a seated position, easing my legs over the edge of the platform, unsure there would be anything to rest my feet on until they made contact. The floor was as white as everything else. I couldn’t see where it met a wall, or a wall made way to a ceiling. It was utterly disorienting, and I once more felt my head spin.

My head between my knees, I took several deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. When the spell had passed, I sat up and again tried to comprehend my surroundings.

It was a physical space, that much I could decipher. I could feel the floor under my feet, and the platform I was sitting on. Putting out a tentative hand, I made contact with the wall my platform connected to. The seam where they met was the only thing that gave me any sense of solidity. My hand slowly traced the edges to where it ended in a rounded corner.

Looking down, I saw my feet; felt the solid surface beneath them. But my brain still couldn’t grasp that there was a floor, nor could I see where the floor ended and the wall behind me began.

I tried to stand up and felt yet another wave of nausea. As solid as the floor felt, my mind still refused to acknowledge its existence. I sat back down on the only surface I trusted to exist, the platform.

It was only then that I realized I was completely naked.

“Where…the hell…am I?” My voice was a shaky rasp.

That’s when the screaming started.

Startled, I instinctively covered my ears and closed my eyes. It took several moments to realize the screams were not my own.

Opening my eyes, I was shocked to find a young woman lying supine directly across from me. She at first appeared to be floating on air until I made out the shape of the platform beneath her, exactly like the one I’d woken up on.

Had she been there earlier? Had she just appeared? I had no answer. But she was there now, solid and whole, a physical thing my mind could focus on and help ground me to reality.

She was as naked as I was.

“Hey! Hey!” I tried to speak, to get her attention, to calm her cries despite my own sense of panic.

Her shrieks suddenly ended. She, as I had done upon waking to this madness, had blacked out.

The room was now deafening in its silence. I listened for a sound, any sound; a creak, a rustle, the hum of electricity, anything. Yet there was only the whisper of my breathing, and that of the young woman’s.

Focusing on her gave me a better grasp of the room. She appeared to be only several feet away. It would have been impossible to judge the scale of the all white space without her as a focal point.

I tried my feet again. Keeping one hand against the wall that supported my platform, I slowly started to traverse the space. There were no corners, only the gentle slope of the surface, guiding me in an eventual half circle, where I paused near the unconscious woman’s side.

She appeared to be in her late teens, perhaps early twenties. Her long hair fell in random strands around her expressionless face. It was only the gentle rise and fall of her chest that told me she was still alive, her breath slow but steady. I felt a twinge zonguldak escort of embarrassment when I again noticed her nudity, instinctively averting my eyes.

Not yet having the courage to move without a constant grip on the wall, I continued my journey, moving past her along the surface of the space, eventually coming back around towards the other side. I’d pause every few steps, feeling for a door, a seam, or anything that might hint at a way out. I found nothing.

Arriving back at my original starting point, I collapsed on the platform, exhausted. I estimated what I now understood to be a circular, enclosed room at about ten, maybe fifteen feet in diameter. Not very big at all. Still, I felt like I’d just run a marathon.

Now having some sense of scale, I found it easier to look more closely around the room. There were no lighting fixtures. Whatever was illuminating it appeared to be coming directly from the solid surfaces of the room itself. There were no power outlets, no switches, no air vents.

Every surface I touched felt the same; solid, yet soft. Pushing against the wall, it gave slightly. I hit it, gently at first, then several more times with increasing effort. It withstood the pounding with no damage. In a sudden rage I punched the wall with all my strength. If it had been any other surface, I’d likely have broken my hand, but there was barely a sound, and I felt no pain.

Testing the floor the same way, I stomped my feet with all my might. Both the energy and sound were absorbed by the strange surface. I sat back down, trying desperately to shake off the fear now gripping me.

“Hello?” Her voice was timid, meek, barely above a whisper.

The young woman was sitting up, her face a mask of confusion and horror. Her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, hugging herself, not, it appeared, from any sense of modesty, but from fright.

She was looking directly at me. “Hello? Who… who are you? Where am I? What’s going on???” Her voice trembled, the pitch rising higher with each question.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my own nerves before responding. “My name’s Nick. I’m sorry, but I have no idea where we are or what’s happening either.”

Her body trembled uncontrollably. “Did… did you bring me here? Why are you naked?” Looking down at herself, she finally realized her own nudity. With a wail, she curled up into the fetal position on the platform, futilely attempting to cover herself as she cried.

I tried to reassure her. “Listen, I didn’t bring you here. And I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just as confused and afraid as you are, okay? But I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Just try to relax.”

She gave no indication she’d heard me, only lay there, holding herself, weeping uncontrollably.

I had no idea what to do. Going over to try and comfort her would only make things worse, especially given my nakedness. She’d probably think I was attacking her. She was simply going to have to come to grips with this as I had.

I lay back on my platform, eventually dozing off to the sound of her continued sobs.

—————————————–

When I woke, I found the young woman again sitting up, looking at me.

She still looked frightened, but she made no move to cover her body, even as I sat up to face her.

“Where…are we?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I have no idea. This is the most impossible room I’ve ever seen. If you can even call it a room.”

“It… hurts my brain,” she grimaced. “I can barely look at it. If you weren’t here to focus on, I think I’d go mad trying to comprehend it.”

Silence hung heavy for several moments before she spoke again. “I’m Chloe.”

“Hello, Chloe, I’m Nick. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” I gestured at our surroundings.

That brought a small smile to her face. “How did we get here?”

“I have no idea. The last thing I remember is…” I paused, struggling to actually recall my last memory before waking up here.

It came back to me slowly, in fragments. “I was… home. Cooking dinner. A steak, I think. I remember hearing a humming noise coming from my yard, and seeing a bright light through my kitchen window. I thought maybe a power line had gone down or something. I remember stepping out on my patio to investigate, and then…and then I woke up here.”

Chloe nodded slowly. “I was just getting home from shopping. I was struggling to open my front door with an arm full of groceries when I heard the noise. A loud humming. I remember seeing a light coming from behind me, which was strange because it was very sunny. I thought something odd may be happening to the neighbor’s house across the street. I turned around to look, and… and then I woke up screaming.”

I’ve always been a rational, logical thinker. Our stories were both very similar, and I put my mind to work, trying to figure it out. “So neither of us recall being attacked or abducted. We were both alone, saw bursa escort and heard the same thing. Where are you from?”

“Sacramento, California. You?”

“Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Opposite end of the country. It’s not like we were close enough to be taken by the same person. This may seem odd to ask, but do you remember what day it was? The date and time?”

Her face twisted in thought. “It was… Friday. September 10th. I don’t remember the exact time, maybe 4pm, 4:15? Why?”

My brain did some quick math. “That sounds about right. Same day for me, somewhere around 7pm. It’s a three hour time zone difference.”

Her eyes went wide with comprehension. “We were taken at the same time.”

“Yeah, but that’s impossible. Unless…”

I stood, shouting upwards at the white nothingness. “Hello? Is there anybody out there? Can you hear me? Where are we? HELLO?” There was no echo, and silence filled the room as my voice trailed off.

“WE ARE HERE.”

The pure shock of the voice sent me reeling, my head hitting the platform as I collapsed in a heap to the floor. I felt no pain; both the platform and floor had cushioned my fall, and I sustained no injury at all.

At least not to my body. My mind, however, was a different story. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, yet nowhere. My brain felt like it was swelling.

Chloe was screaming again.

A buzzing sound rang in my ears as a wave of warm energy enveloped my body. I immediately felt a sense of peaceful calm flow through me, erasing all fear and panic. Chloe’s screams had ceased, and the room was again quiet except for the hum.

My body started to move, lifting itself up off the floor, although not under my control. I felt like a puppet, someone pulling my strings.

Suspended midair, my eyes opened to find Chloe, also floating, enveloped in a beam of soft blue light, projected from the ceiling or the floor, I could not tell. I was bathed in a similar luminescence.

Energy surged through every cell of my body; calming, relaxing, peaceful, yet also giving me a sense of vigor I’d never known before. It felt like being reborn. I sensed my blood flowing through my body, could feel every molecule of oxygen pass through my lungs and into my bloodstream. It was intoxicating.

Every nerve ending in my skin, from head to toe, tingled with a mix of sensations; the warmth of the sun, the coolness of a gentle breeze, and the comforting pleasure of a gentle caress all at once.

Across from me, Chloe’s eyes were closed, her face no longer terrified, but relaxed and peaceful in pure bliss.

The Voice came again from nowhere and everywhere. “We are here. Do not fear. You will not be harmed. We will care for you. We are here.”

The Voice was softer this time. It wasn’t exactly human, nor did it sound robotic or computerized. There was no gender to it, speaking in static tones that weren’t quite emotionless.

Whoever was behind The Voice must have been able to read my mind, because it answered my unspoken question.

“We are from elsewhere. We are to observe. We are to help you. You are to help us.”

I managed to find my voice. “Why… us?”

“You are compatible.”

“Compatible? What… what does that mean?”

“You are compatible,” The Voice repeated.

Before I could question it further, the wave of light energy shifted from blue to red. The pleasure level in my body increased tenfold. It felt like multiple soft hands caressing my skin. I would have been shaking uncontrollably if my body could actually move.

Waves of sexual stimulation built within me, beginning in my loins. My penis quickly swelled to full erection, twitching as it grew. Somehow it was my only body part free to move, expanding to a hardness I’d not known since my youth.

Imagine receiving a blowjob, a handjob, and being deep inside the warmest, wettest, tightest vagina you’ve ever felt, all at once. Meanwhile, the rest of you is being massaged erotically by a dozen pairs of sensual hands. It still won’t come close to the sensations I was experiencing.

Chloe’s light had also changed, and she appeared to be taken control of by the same pleasure waves.

I could not help but now focus on her nudity. Her breasts heaved in time with her hitching breaths, her hips gyrating rhythmically.

Her legs were parted enough to expose her vulva. It looked swollen and flushed under her patch of soft pubic hair, with a sheen of moisture glistening over her sex.

Her low gasps grew to moans of lust, and her eyes now fixed on me intently. But not on my face. She was focused on my cock. And she was drooling.

I sensed my orgasm building, slowly but steadily. My cock stopped twitching, going fully rigid as my climax hit, my semen shooting out in what felt like an endless stream of long, thick strands. It was the most intense orgasm I’d ever felt.

Chloe’s moans matched mine in intensity, enthralled malatya escort in her own orgasm. The scent of her sex was strong in my nose, and I saw the trickle of moisture from her pussy become a stream, dripping small puddles on the floor. She squealed as another wave took her, then went silent, her head drooping towards her chest. I couldn’t tell if she was still conscious or not.

My own orgasmic waves now subsiding, my still erect penis forced the final drops from the tip to join the mess I’d already left beneath me.

The lights went blue again. My breathing slowed, my body relaxed. Chloe and I were guided by invisible hands back to our platforms, laying us down gently. The lights blinked out, and the humming ceased.

Again able to move, I turned my head to find Chloe lying on her platform, relaxed and peaceful. In that moment, I found her indescribably beautiful.

I watched while her hand caressed her inner thigh, smearing the wetness that lingered there. Gathering some on her fingers, she brought them to her nose and inhaled, sighing contentedly.

Chloe turned to face me and smiled. Her eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep.

I smiled back at her sleeping form, then fell into slumber myself.

‐————————————————–

I woke, energized and alert, to find Chloe already up and about, exploring the walls in much the same way I had earlier.

Noticing I was now awake, she smiled. “Good… morning? Evening? I have no idea what time it is,” she laughed. “How are you feeling?”

Sitting up, I detected none of my earlier nausea. “Fine. Great, in fact. I’ve never woken up feeling this refreshed or energized before.”

“I know, it’s crazy, right? I should be terrified after… that, but all I feel is…” Chloe paused in her thoughts, then shrugged. “Great. I feel great.”

Chloe sat beside me on the platform. She seemed completely comfortable and uninhibited by our mutual nudity. Although I suppose after our experience under the lights, it would be ridiculous to feel embarrassed about it at this point.

Still, as she sat beside me, our hips touching, I felt my pulse quicken, causing a stir down below that I struggled not to focus on, lest things get out of control.

It took a moment to realize she was speaking. “So I’m assuming you heard the voice too, and felt… what we felt, right? It’s not just a case of me dreaming, or going mad?”

“No, you’re not mad. That, or we both are. But yeah, that …happened.” Looking at the floor, I saw that the mess of ejaculate I’d released was gone. How, I had no idea. But I could smell Chloe’s scent still strong on her, the sticky remnants of her juices now drying on her thighs still visible.

Noticing my gaze, Chloe blushed, but made no move to cover herself. “This is crazy. I should feel embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated. I should feel violated, raped. But I don’t. All I know is that was the most incredible pleasure I’ve ever felt, and…

I want… I want to feel that again.”

“Me… me too,” I stammered. “Jesus, what did they DO to us?”

Chloe’s hand found mine, and we sat in silent wonder.

—————————————–

Time was impossible to gage in the White Room, but we passed some by sharing each other’s story.

I learned Chloe was 21, a sophomore in college, and hoping to someday become a pediatrician because she loved children. She was single, sharing a rented house with her best friend Lily. She enjoyed yoga, cheesy romance novels, and preferred beer over wine.

She learned I was 42, divorced and living alone. I told her about my career as a commercial voice actor; mostly radio commercials for various businesses in the Philadelphia market, but occasionally branching out with a few nationally run spots for big name clients. It didn’t pay as much as people thought it did, but I lived comfortably enough, and it sometimes allowed me to travel around the country, although I’d never been to Sacramento. I made a promise to come visit if we ever got out of this.

That led our conversation towards our predicament. “So, you think we WILL get out of here?” Chloe asked.

“Well, sure,” I said, “I mean, we have to believe that, right?” She nodded without conviction.

“It’s…it’s gotta be aliens, right?” She looked almost embarrassed to say it. “I mean, what else could it be?”

“Well, perhaps hypnosis, or mind altering drugs, or…” My voice trailed off, not really believing my words. “…but yeah, probably aliens. Or some interdimensional beings. Or one of us is dreaming. But none of this feels like a dream.”

“Plus, normally,” I paused, shaking my head with a laugh. “No, nevermind.”

“What? Come on, finish your thought,” Chloe insisted.

“Ok, but it’s kinda embarrassing. Normally, when I have a, you know, a sex dream, I wake up before… before the good part,” I finished sheepishly.

Chloe burst into peals of laughter. “So that’s how you know this is real???” Her laugh wasn’t cruel or mocking, merely finding humor in the absurdity of our situation. I grinned at her and shrugged.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye as she caught her breath, “I wasn’t laughing AT you, just…”

“It’s okay, I get it. I’m happy you CAN laugh. Better to laugh than…”

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The Time War

By Gary LM Martin

Chapter 13: The Fine Dutch Whores of Arlington, Virginia

It was the second anniversary of Marion’s death. Usually, on this dreaded anniversary of her death, he thought about her, and he did, but he also thought about another date, much more recent in his mind. Calle shifted restlessly in his bed, remembering the day he had joined the Continuity Service….

“I’ll join you, but under one condition,” Calle said.

“Name it,” said Strayker.

“Marion.”

Strayker leaned back and wet his lips. “Marion Thomas. The love of your life. Died in a tragic air car accident in New Paltz, New York, on…” he read from a Pad, “March 3, 2050.”

“You didn’t just research that now, did you?”

“No. We’ve had our eye on you for a while, John,” said Strayker quietly.

Calle paused. “Well, that’s my price. Go back in time, and save her.”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t,” said Strayker. “The entire purpose of the Continuity Service is to prevent changes to the timeline. Not to cause them.”

“But this is such an incredibly small one!” said Calle.

“If we brought Marion Thomas back to life, it would have a profound effect on her parents. It would have an effect on her fellow students. It would have a pronounced effect on you, as well as everyone she came into contact with. People would make different decisions in life. It would cause a great ripple effect which could radically change the timeline.”

“She’s just one woman,” Calle whispered. He paused. “Wait a minute. I’m not asking you to change the past. Go back, right before the accident, and bring her now, to the present.” He saw the reticence on Strayker’s face. “Why not?”

“We can’t do that either,” said Strayker sadly. “She would change the future.”

Calle made a face. “Change the future? The future hasn’t happened yet!”

“Yes it has, and we’ve seen it,” said Strayker. “We are only one part of the timeline. It’s our duty to protect not only what has happened, but what will happen.”

“Who is to say that the future would be a better place without Marion than with her?”

“We don’t make value judgments,” said Strayker. “The minute we start making value judgments, we start changing the timeline. The only way to keep everyone safe is to never make any value judgments. That means we don’t prevent wars, or famine, or genocides from happening… and we don’t save fiancées from tragic car crashes. I’m truly sorry.”

********

“He was killed by the Luddites,” said Daniel.

Calle stifled a yawn. He hadn’t slept well. He never did, on the anniversary of Marion’s death. But the minute Daniel spoke, he sat up in his cafeteria chair, and was suddenly wide awake. “Are you sure?” Calle asked. “How did it happen?”

Daniel was telling him the story of how John Collier, Calle’s predecessor at the Continuity Service, had been murdered by the Luddites. The same Luddites, presumably, who had had the chance to kill Calle on his last mission… and didn’t.

Daniel frowned. “The Luddites were trying to prevent the invention of the transistor. We went in to investigate. John went into a lab, we heard the sound of a compression pistol, and when we got there, he was already dead.”

Although Donna hadn’t killed Calle when she had the chance, that didn’t mean her fellow Luddite fanatics wouldn’t have shown the same restraint. And yet….

“What’s wrong?” said Daniel. “You look like you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Calle said reassuringly, even though he didn’t believe Daniel at all. For one thing, Doctor Vladek had told him that John Collier had retired due to stress issues, and Calle didn’t think he meant the stress of being shot in the chest with a compression pistol. Perhaps Doctor Vladek had merely been trying to conceal John Collier’s unpleasant fate. Or… perhaps something else was going on at the Continuity Service that they didn’t want him knowing about.

Calle felt that he was being observed. He always felt that Doctor Vladek was watching him, taking mental notes, as if he were the subject of some great experiment. And when Colonel Strayker looked at him, he wouldn’t merely make eye contact, but would glare at him. Calle quickly learned that the Colonel was an impatient man, but he never seemed to smile in Calle’s direction.

And then there were the little things. One time Commander Strayker made reference to Maine being an independent country at one point in time. When Calle called him on it, he said he meant to say Texas. Another time Doctor Vladek seemed to imply that the tallest memorial in Washington DC was the Grant Memorial. When Calle said that it must be the Washington Memorial, Vladek had quickly agreed. It was almost as if his coworkers had slightly different memories of history than he did.

Calle had to admit that given how rapidly timelines changed back and forth that it was üsküdar escort easy to get confused. But it also started him wondering. Perhaps the Continuity Service hadn’t been fully successful. Perhaps there had been some efforts to change the timeline that had succeeded. And the worst part of it was, if these efforts had been successful and the Continuity Service didn’t know about it, then no one would ever know.

********

The Black White Supremacists:

Ken Larson loved playing golf. He couldn’t smell the grass, of course, but he loved the big, open spaces of the Monterey Golf Range, and the company of his very white male golfing partners, Addington Fitz III, Walter Remington, and Blase Hampton II. Golfing was such an incredible, wonderful sport… such a wonderful white sport.

Ken loved talking with his good friends about thoroughly civilized, white topics. He chatted with Fitz about his favorite white wines. He talked to Remington about their respective stock portfolios. He smiled as he and Hampton shared their love of literature written by the smartest white men. Ken was enjoying himself so much that he lost track of time.

“Dad, you’re late for your own meeting,” said Jamal, entering the golf course through the front door.

Ken frowned and checked the chrono. He hated to leave a game before he had finished. “Sorry guys, got to go. We’ll have to finish this later.” His good white friends smiled at him knowingly. Then Ken looked up and said, “Computer, save program. End.”

The golf course vanished around him, leaving him and Jamal in a bare room. “All right,” Ken sighed. “It’s time to save the planet again.”

********

The Black White Supremacists had a new plan to change the timeline. They had tried and failed to end the slave trade in the year 1708. But Ken had a new scheme to thrust a dagger deep into the heart of slavery in the New World.

“My friends, I give you… pussy!” said Ken, revealing a holographic image of an 18th century woman wearing a very revealing dress which showed off her large, Dutch breasts.

To his side, his wife Velma frowned. But Kevin Myrtle smiled and Mel Watts, their financier, actually clapped aloud.

“What is this all about?” Roy asked.

“Dutch whores,” said Ken, speaking in a low voice. “The finest whores in the world.” They all nodded in agreement. “My friends, Dutch whores are going to save all our black brothers and sisters from the foreman’s whip.”

“How?” Mel asked.

“My friends… why did white people in the Deep South create large cotton plantations? Was it because they were in love with cotton?”

“No,” said Mel Watts. “They wanted to make money!”

Ken’s eyes widened and he pointed at Mel excitedly. “Exactly! But… what if they found a way to make money, a lot more money, other than by growing cotton?”

Mel started to understand. “You… you’re going to encourage southern plantation owners to switch from growing cotton to running whore houses?”

“Exactly!” said Ken. “Isn’t it brilliant?” He looked around at the mixed expressions. “It is brilliant!” he said with resoluteness, answering his own question.

“Dad, where are you going to get these whores from?” Jamal asked.

“From the very place where prostitution was born, my son: the Netherlands!”

********

Nelly Van Houten was intrigued by the black man who spoke perfect Dutch.

“How much do you make here?” Ken Larson asked. “Four guilders per customer? Five?”

“Sometimes nine or ten,” said Nelly, raising her chin. Ken Larson had been closer to the truth, though, but Nelly was loath to admit that.

“A woman of your charm, of your class, of your sophistication, making only ten guilders per trick?” Ken said.

Nelly felt a chill go down her spine. What a charming black man! Truthfully Nelly had never even seen a black man before, certainly not wearing European clothes and one who had such a gifted tongue. She began to wonder about what other skills he might have.

“There is a lot of competition here, sir,” said Nelly.

“But what if you were in a place, a warmer place, where there was little or no competition?” said Ken. “Here there are ladies less skilled than you, packed to ten every block. What if I could take you to a place where you would be the only… woman of your kind for miles? You would have your pick of the litter. You would be able to turn away customers.”

Nelly’s jaw dropped open. To be able to turn down customers was a luxury she could never afford, no matter how fat or ugly they were, no matter how smelly their penises were, Nelly always had to ignore her revulsion and suck it in to make a living.

“Where is this magical place, sir?”

Ken said exactly four words which made Nelly smile. “In the New World.”

********

It didn’t take long for Ken to fill a ship full of willing Dutch whores eager gaziemir escort to climb their way to a higher place on the supply/demand curve for prostitution and gifted pillow talk. Ken wanted to name the ship “I Love White People”, but realized that would be too conspicuous, so instead named it “The Whitest Smile”.

The ship was Captained by Ken himself, and crewed by his own people: Kevin Myrtle, Sharice Robinson, Roy Beck, Turner Alston, and a few others. Including his own son Jamal.

Ken had wanted Jamal to accompany him on the voyage. He knew that his son didn’t fully embrace his venture as much as he did. He had hoped that the fresh sea air and the sun and wind on his face would evoke some enthusiasm from him. He put an arm around Jamal as they set sail.

“Just think, son, we’re going to be like Christopher Columbus,” said Ken.

“Columbus? How?” Jamal asked.

“We’re opening up a new world, a brave new world,” said Ken.

“It’s already open, Dad. There are people there already.”

“Yes, but son, prostitution is in its infancy in the Americas,” said Ken. “Experienced whores like Nelly can take it to an entirely new level. We’re pioneers like Columbus, opening new lands, or Neil Armstrong, setting foot on the moon.”

“Helping Dutch whores set foot on virgin territory,” said Jamal glumly.

“Virgin territory–I like that!” said Ken, hugging his son. “There’s hope for you yet!” His smile grew broader. “Just think of it! We’re the vanguard of a mass migration of whores seeking freedom from oppressive pimps for sexual freedom in the New World. Son, all these white women in the cargo hold… we’re taking them to America, to have sex with white men. Think of how many white people we’re going to make very, very happy!”

“Is that what gets you off, Dad? Helping white people fuck each other?”

“Yes, Son,” said Ken. “You know what happens when white people fuck each other, don’t you?”

Jamal looked quizzically at his father.

“They create even more white people!” Ken saw the expression Jamal’s face. He sighed. “Someday, son, when you’re older, you’ll appreciate white people like I do. White people gave us the light bulb. White people gave us the airplane and the rocketship. White people gave us vanilla ice cream. We owe them so much, Son.”

But the voyage wasn’t without problems. A number of the whores got seasick and could be seen on deck, throwing up over the side. Others hadn’t laid in nearly enough sanitary products for the journey to the Promised Land, and were forced to use cut up pieces of sea sponge, which didn’t work nearly as well for them. And then some of the whores became… restless… in the ways that whores sometimes do.

They started to sniff around some of the men, Ken, Kevin, Roy, Turner, and even Jamal. Ken felt compelled to give Jamal strict instructions not to sleep with the cargo.

Nelly whined with frustration over her inability to score some interactive penis on the long sea voyage.

“You’ll have more than enough to make up for it when we get to the Promised Land,” Ken assured her.

“It’s not just that,” said Nelly. “It’s… it’s like a muscle of a blacksmith. If we don’t use it, it starts to get weak.”

Ken didn’t really understand that. Nor did he need to. He just smiled and assured her that she would be getting all the hammering any blacksmith could ask for once they reached the New World. In the meantime, he ordered baby cucumbers from ship’s stores to be distributed to every passenger belowdecks.

********

But one evening, a week later, even a baby cucumber didn’t do enough to satisfy Nelly’s needs. She prowled around on the deck shortly after sunset, looking for a likely target.

What she found what Ken’s 16 year old son, Jamal.

“The night is dark and full of terrors,” said Nelly, grabbing him by the waist.

Jamal jumped instinctively. “What?”

Nelly smiled, removing her hands. “I’m just being, how you say, friendly?” She spoke in a heavily accented Dutch. “You are the boy of Ken, are you not?”

Jamal nodded.

Nelly ran her hands over his arms. Jamal shivered. “What a fine young black thing you are. Tell me, have you ever been with a woman?”

Jamal shook his head.

Nelly smiled. “Dutch women are the best. You know what is said, ‘Once you have gone Dutch, you will never like other girls nearly as much.'” She leaned closer to Jamal. “Would you like me to teach you how to polish your shiny black wand? I have very skilled hands.” Her hands moved down… down… down…

And were pulled away by a new pair of hands. Ken stood there, looking furious. “What are you doing?”

“Just talking,” said Nellie.

“Talk to someone else.” He glared at her as she went belowdecks. He had never been so angry with a white person before.

He turned to Jamal. “Are you all right, son?”

Jamal nodded. “Dad, is she really going sancaktepe escort to make love to white men in the New World?”

Ken nodded. “Yes son. A whole lot of them.”

********

They reached landfall in northern Virginia 44 days later. “Virginia is for lovers,” Ken grinned, as they made landfall. Step one of his plan was now complete. It was time for step two.

********

Two days later, Ken was speaking before a group of white plantation owners. It was times like this that he wished he were white. He knew he would have more credibility. But they listened, politely, at least, while he made his pitch.

“So let me see if I understand this correctly, Mister Black Man,” said one of them, who was the spitting image of how Ken always imagined Samuel Clemens must look like. “You want us to abandon our fields, our livelihood, and open… whorehouses?”

“It sounds extreme, I know,” said Ken. “But cotton is a very volatile commodity, is it not? You never know what the price will be from year to year.” There was murmuring of agreement. “The North, which controls the supply lines, manipulates prices.” More agreement. “And the British also manipulate the price with their own suppliers.” Even more agreement. “And for all this uncertainty you have to spend so much money, invest so much backbreaking labor to grow a plant.” He could see he had their full attention now. “But gentlemen, there is no deep pocket investment with whores. All you need are a few tiny bedrooms, and the money pours in. Crops fail. Whores don’t. Crops get bitten by Boll weevils. Whores don’t. Cotton dies during droughts, or floods. Whores don’t. Cotton only makes money once a year, when it’s sold. Whores make money every hour. Whoring is the world’s oldest profession… won’t you at least give it a try?”

The white people were almost literally eating out of his hands. Ken had such natural charisma, he realized he was wasted as a Galactic Physicist. He could have been a politician.

They launched a test brothel. Word spread quickly. Within days there were long lines of shy faced men waiting to use their services, and even Nelly had more business than she could handle.

Ken put his arm around Jamal, as they stared at the long line of men waiting to get into the whorehouse. It was one of those special father and son moments he would relish forever. “Son, look at all the white people, having sex and relaxing. White people really need to get out and have more sex and enjoy themselves. Doesn’t it make you feel proud, Son?”

Jamal watched a white man leaving the whorehouse. He looked around nervously as he adjusted his pants. Then he smiled and marched to his horse, walking with an unusually wide stance.

“I guess,” said Jamal. “But can a hundred whores really replace all these plantations?”

“A hundred whores?” Ken chuckled. “Son, this is only the beginning.”

********

“I’m getting fucking tired of this!” said Major Reynolds. “I was in bed with Sue-Ann last night, you know, being… intimate, and then she just disappeared right from under me!”

“It seems black people have once again disappeared from the United States,” said Sarah, sifting through the holochannels rapidly. All the faces on it were… white. Reynolds winced as he saw a hoverball game where all the players were white.

“Well, get to the bottom of it,” said Strayker, glaring at Sarah to help encourage her. An Indian woman with long black hair and juicy buttocks handed Strayker a cup of atomic coffee, and he stood there, sipping at it, while tapping his foot impatiently.

********

Two hours later, Sarah had answers. Some of them, anyway.

“As you know, our Time Shaft can only allow us to go back to the early 18th century, which is also the limit of our monitoring ability. We know that slavery in the colonies started in the late 17th century, and that seems to be the case now as well. But something happened in the early 18th century, something which caused Southern farmers to abandon plantations, and obviate their need for slaves.”

“What happened?” Strayker asked.

“I don’t know,” Sarah.

“Well, let’s send a team in to find out,” said Strayker. He looked at Reynolds. “Major?”

Reynolds nodded.

********

“Are you ready to have sex with me?” Sarah asked Calle. He stood in the control room with Erica Green and Daniel Acton. They were waiting for Major Reynolds to start their journey to 18th century Virginia.

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m about to go on a mission,” said Calle, with a quick glance at his companions. Sarah seemed totally, totally unembarrassed to have the others listening in on their increasingly public conversation.

“We can make them wait. It won’t take long.”

Calle looked at Sarah.

“I can be very quick,” Sarah promised. “Especially for our first effort.”

“Why are you pushing this so hard?” Calle asked.

She came close to him, and played with his collar. “It’s that vision I had in the Binochi Corridor… I have a feeling it’s going to happen fairly soon… your hair was parted in exactly the same way it is now.”

“My hair is always parted the same way,” said Calle.

“Exactly,” said Sarah, smiling at him.

Major Reynolds marched into the control room. “All right, are we ready? Sarah?”

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“Six Two Five One is ready,” Dr. Lake said.

“Let’s pair him up with Five Three Two Nine,” Dr. Andrews replied.

“Care to wager on the outcome?”

“You lost the last five in a row! The male always goes for it.”

“Dr. Andrews, getting fucked by you isn’t really losing…”

——–

Six Two Five One, John, as he called himself, was led to a nondescript bedroom. Having spent the first 18 years of his life receiving free education, food, and health care along with other boys in the study, he had never seen or heard about girls. Today, he would meet a girl for the first time, and the hidden cameras would record their interaction.

———

Five Three Two Nine, Ashley, as she liked to be called, followed a female staff member down a featureless corridor. The first 18 years of her life were spent with other girls in the study that had never seen or been told about boys. Today, she would meet a boy for the first time.

———

John was sitting on the bed. The door to the room opened. He looked up as a strange looking boy entered. Something compelled him to stand up.

———

The maltepe escort door opened, and Ashley went inside as she had been instructed. A strange looking girl stood before her. The door closed and locked behind her.

———

“Hello,” he said. “I’m John.” He stuck out his hand.

“Hi. I’m Ashley.” She shook his hand. “Your voice is so… deep. Is that the right word?”

“I… guess. Yours… isn’t. I’m sorry, do you know what’s going on?”

“No. I guess you don’t either?”

“Nope.”

They sized each other up.

“You don’t look like the other boys.”

“Boys?” she asked curiously, not understanding what he meant.

They explained their upbringing, which led to them discussing their bodily parts.

“You have some… lumps on your chest. Are you ok?”

“These?” she asked, cupping her boobs. “These are my breasts. Where are yours?”

“I don’t have any.”

John sat on the bed; Ashley did the same.

“Wow, you smell really nice,” he said.

“You… too. You have such large muscles,” she observed.

“May manavgat escort I see your… breasts… did you call them?”

“Sure, I guess.” She bared her torso for him.

John gasped wildly and grabbed her boobs quickly; Ashley was unprepared for this, so she didn’t stop him, nor did she after he began groping her.

“That feels so good… Show me your chest.”

He did.

She felt him up, moaning as she did so.

“Show me the rest of yourself,” he said.

“I don’t know… something seems weird about this.”

“We’ll both do it then.”

She seemed hesitant. “I… I just don’t know. I feel like… Well, even though I’ve never feared anything, I feel like I should protect myself, if that makes sense.”

“I feel like I desperately need to see you naked.”

“You’ll really get naked with me?”

He nodded emphatically.

“Well, ok. On three?”

He counted to three, and they stripped completely.

She gasped; he growled and threw her on the bed and mounted her as she grasped his erection. Her face şişli escort was blank shock; his was carnal desire.

John smelled her feminine scent. He kissed her chest and belly until he got to her slit. He kissed that too and licked it repeatedly. He noted the incredible taste as she moaned underneath him.

Glancing at his erection, he looked to her slit and back, then grasped himself and rubbed the head of his penis against her… non-penis.

“Ooooohhh,” she cried breathily, making no move to stop him.

John continued his advance, sliding in between her… pelvic lips… until he met an obstruction. Desire consumed him; he forced his way past, slipping himself inside her until he met another obstruction.

“Oh! Wait,” she said. “Well… Just do it.”

He pushed forward until he was clear of the obstacle; she grunted.

“Wait,” she pleaded. He growled; after a moment, she nodded.

John filled her and she cried out.

“You ok?”

“Wonderful.”

He pulled back, then thrust again. Back, and forth, in, and out.

Their breathing became erratic. John’s penis felt like it was exploding into Ashley; she tensed up below him and they moaned together at the strange new experience they shared.

They panted heavily together and stared at each other, then he collapsed on top of her and put his lips to hers, then his tongue in her mouth.

———

“I guess I lost,” Dr. Lake said, smirking at her colleague.

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Author’s note.

1). Feedback from my readers is my fuel to keep writing. If you enjoy my work, please take the time to let me know in the comments. It does wonders for my motivation to write. Without it, my pacing usually suffers a lot.

2). If you read the chapter, please take the time to rate it. It’s just a few clicks of the screen.

***

All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above…

***

Chapter Forty: A servant…

“I AM NOT MARRYING THAT FREAK!” these were the last words that Shalia shouted before running out of the room in tears.

Nalia calmly watched her daughter’s escape before turning to her spouse. The bear of a man was fuming. From the bulging vein in his temple and the way his fingers kept clenching and unclenching, it was clear that the issue wasn’t done with, not by a long shot. The question of her daughter marrying the strange young boy they’d visited a month earlier was one that she herself wasn’t sure how to feel about.

On the one hand, she could understand her daughter’s reticence. What young girl doesn’t dream of falling in love with a dashing prince? To be told that they should marry a disfigured commoner would cause many a girl to balk at the idea if not outright rebel. As such, she could sympathize with her daughter.

On the other hand, however, she knew why her husband was trying to set up this marriage between Shalia and Roka. One doesn’t remain in power for as long as her husband had without making enemies. The fact that he’d made enemies, in and of itself, wasn’t that much of an issue as far as either one of them was concerned. The real problem was that her husband was slowly losing his power. He had hit the peak of his power and now, he was on a steady decline. Within the next three to five years, he’ll be no more powerful than any average man in the town. He might be able to keep up pretenses for a year or two past that, but in the end, the truth will come to light.

To most in the town, the Town-head and the three families seemed to be peaceably coexisting. She, however, was perfectly aware of the knives being sharpened in the dark, ready to be drawn as soon as any opening revealed itself. The reason her husband was still in power was because the three families feared him. As soon as that was no longer the case, they wouldn’t hesitate to gut him like a common three-tusk boar. Much as Shalia may not like it, this union needed to happen if they hoped to survive the fallout of her husband losing power. Despite being standoffish and not involving herself with the leadership of the town or the three families, the healer was a force that none of the three families wished to cross. Even the hint that she might move against a certain family would be enough to get that family to back off. That’s why getting the boy to be on their side was so important.

A small smile crossed her lips as she walked over to her husband and took his face into her hands. “Give the girl time,” She spoke softly to the man, her voice soothing to the ears and assuaging her husband’s rage. “In due time, she’ll come around,” she urged.

“We don’t have that time,” The man snapped back. This time, however, it wasn’t anger, but frustration and a hint of fear. “Valla, Aria, and Ember aren’t stupid. They too can see the pivotal role the boy will play in the power dynamics of the town. The only reason they haven’t made any moves to win him over thus far is because I haven’t tried to win him over to my side. If they can, they want to keep all the power to themselves without having to share any with him. But if I try to bring him over to my side, they’ll be willing to also make overtures of their own to make sure he doesn’t get in their way. The only way to ensure he stands firmly on our side is by ensuring he’s permanently tied to us,” The man laid out his logic.

“I know Jarfa,” She replied, continuing to keep her voice level and soothing. “But you’ve been young and rebellious as well if memory serves me,” She countered with a smile. “I remember a young man that wouldn’t back down no matter how many times my father said no,” She stated, causing a roguish smile to cross the man’s lips.

“How could I when you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” He said wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her even closer.

“Well, suffice to say, the girl took after her father’s stubborn nature. Much as you may wish for it to be different, trying to be forceful with her won’t work, just as it didn’t work with you. Let me talk to her, perhaps the softer approach of another woman will do the trick,” She offered. “And as for the boy, don’t worry, I’m sure there are ways we can win him over to our side, with or without Shalia,” She assured, quietly thanking the spirits that her husband had no idea just how wet her pussy was at the thought of the young man.

***

Greg and Olivia walked up to the guard standing at the gate to the Town-head’s compound. Along with the dark pants that Olivia had had him buy, he was decked out şişli escort in all the title items he could get his hands on. The CHARMING mask was merged with his face under the normal wooden mask that he had on. The TEMPTING pendant around his neck, the ADDICTIVE, and the SENSUAL TOUCH bangle on both his hands. The DISCERNING ring on his right mid-finger next to his storage ring. The only title items that Greg didn’t have on were the VIRILE and STERILE rings. Having millions of lust points, Greg had already bought the two final title items. They were now safely stored away in his storage ring. Greg wasn’t as yet sure which of the two he should have on. The rational part of his mind told him that he should always have the STERILE ring on at all times. He, however, would be lying if he denied the fact that some deep, dark, part of him wasn’t turned on by the idea of impregnating someone’s wife and leaving the poor sod to take care of the little bundle of joy he left behind.

Deplorable? Yes. Sick? Yes. Twisted? Also yes. Still, it had long since become clear to Greg that he was no saint. It would be all too easy to blame the system for warping his desires. Greg, however, knew that if he was ever going to develop the third level of willpower that Olivia had spoken of, that is, self-willpower, he’d have to be completely honest to himself about who he was. This was a new life, and while he wouldn’t abandon all his morals, he also wasn’t going to limit himself the same way he would back on earth.

Given the extremely low crime rate in the small town, the man served more as a doorman than a guard. Even the few men that patrolled the Town-head’s compound served more as sentries to raise alarm if something was up, as opposed to an actual fighting force. The man was enthralled as soon as his eyes landed on Olivia. If he left the familiar there and walked past the man, Greg doubted he’d even notice. Loudly clearing his throat to get the man’s attention, Greg spoke. “We are expected for dinner,” he said.

“I… uh… I was told to expect one guest,” The man countered, seemingly caught between doing his duty and leering at the seductress smiling warmly at him.

“My friend visited me from afar, it would be rude of me to leave her on her own to go visit someone else, wouldn’t you say?” Greg easily offered up the explanation they’d chosen to go with. Given how small the town was, there was no way that Greg could pass the familiar off as a distant cousin. It would be a short-lived lie as it would soon fall apart after even a little scrutiny. Neither his late father nor mother had any relatives who lived outside of the town. Not to mention any with a daughter anywhere close to being as attractive as Olivia. While it was rare, it wasn’t unheard of for people from other towns to occasionally visit. After all, the one road that led in and out of the town didn’t end in the woods. If one follows it for about two to three weeks, depending on their speed, they’ll come to a town on the plains at the foot of the mountain. Before the healer settled in their town, the townspeople would make the long trip to this town when members of their family fell ill. Greg knew this because he could remember being taken along on the trip by his parents once when his sister fell ill.

The man eyed Greg with a critical eye for a few long moments. Greg could tell that he was trying to make him squirm and perhaps reveal anything he might have been hiding. The effect, however, was ruined by the fact that the man couldn’t keep from casting leering glances in Olivia’s direction every few seconds. “I’ll escort you up to the house,” The man finally asserted, acting as if Greg was some sort of security risk. Greg knew that if he’d been on his own, the man wouldn’t have bothered. The only reason he wished to escort them was because he wished to ogle Olivia even more. Greg didn’t mind. With a smile, he and Olivia moved past the guard and started toward the Town-head’s house.

Greg noted the diverse reactions he got from the three hosts standing by the door. From the town head, there was a look of surprise as he took in the young beauty that Greg had brought to the dinner. This was followed by a scowl as if Greg had somehow thrown a wrench into some plan he was hatching. The man’s wife had an even more curious reaction. The slight hint of jealousy, Greg could understand. Comparing oneself in terms of looks to the familiar wasn’t good for any woman’s self-esteem. What Greg couldn’t understand was the slight look of unease that crossed her expression every time she looked at Olivia. It’s almost as if something about the familiar bothered the woman on a fundamental level. Last in line was Shalia and while the girl had never once been happy to see Greg, this time there seemed to be a deep anger and resentment in her eyes as she looked at him. It’s almost as if Greg had kicked her pet or something.

Offering a small bow before getting up once again, Greg was first to speak up. “Forgive tuzla escort my impertinence, Town-head. I really did want to honor your invitation much earlier than this. Training, however, turned out to be far more intense than what I’d initially anticipated,” He explained. This time Greg didn’t bring up the healer. He knew that Shalia had probably already conveyed his reasons for not having come thus far. To bring the healer up a second time would make it seem like he was flaunting his new status. Something he didn’t, in any way, feel inclined to do.

“No need, no need,” The Town-head spoke up waving his hand dismissively at the apology. “Instead, why don’t you tell me who this beautiful young lady is?” he asked. Much to Greg’s surprise, the words had a water-on-hot-oil effect with the two women beside the man. Greg knew that the man only meant it as a light compliment and nothing more. Greg could see it in the man’s eyes that he was preoccupied with whatever plans he was trying to come up with to rope Greg to his side. His wife, however, first looked at his husband as if he’d betrayed her in some way, then turned to narrow her eyes at Olivia as if she’d suddenly become her enemy.

Shalia who’d so far been glaring at Greg like he was her archenemy, was snapped out of her glare-fest as she suddenly became aware of the fact that there was someone else present. When she caught sight of Olivia, the look on the girl’s face immediately soured even more. It was as if she’d been personally affronted by the very fact of Olivia’s existence. Just like the mother, the look that Shalia was sending Olivia’s way was not even remotely friendly. And if Greg had noticed this, then Olivia almost certainly had as well. Still, acting like nothing was out of place. Olivia mimicked Greg and offered a polite bow to the Town-head, putting her ample bust on display for a second before rising to stand upright once more.

“My name is Mika,” She said in a cheerful, bubbly voice that lifted one’s spirits just by hearing it. “I’m a friend to Roka, from the town of Aran down in the plains. It seems that I chose to visit at an inopportune time, I apologize for intruding on your plans,” She offered politely.

“Nonsense,” The Town-head countered. “We’d be more than happy to accommodate Roka’s friends. Tell me, how is Fena doing?” he asked conversationally.

There was a pause as Olivia regarded the man. Greg grew nervous as he feared they’d be caught in a lie. Greg had no idea who Fena was. He, however, suspected that it was someone from the little town in the plains, Volta, as it was called.

“From what Roka has so far told me, you have a far better healer in this town as compared to the old herbalist we have in our town. So, do you really care how the old woman is doing or are you just testing me to see if I’m lying?” Olivia asked.

Greg’s eyes went wide as the memory came back to him. He had been young back when they visited Aran. That’s why the name Fena didn’t ring any bells with him. When the familiar mentioned that it was an old woman who was also a herbalist a memory had indeed been shaken loose as Greg remembered an old wrinkly woman who smelled strongly of herbs tending to Tayani who’d been sick back then. He must have heard her name back then as there was no other place for the familiar to get the information from. Greg couldn’t help but thank all his lucky stars that the Town-head had asked about the one person that he had locked away in his memories. Anyone else and she probably would have slipped up.

Calling the Town-head out so plainly might have been considered rude, but from the look on the Town-head’s face, it was clear that Olivia was right on the mark with her assessment. A fact that left the man unsure how to respond. “Why don’t we head inside,” The Town-head’s wife intervened at this point. “As beautiful as the night is, it’s getting a bit chilly and the food is getting cold,” She added before turning around and looping her arm around her husband’s and walking forward. Shalia glared at the two of them for a second longer before turning around and walking after her parents with her nose high in the air.

‘Interesting,’ Greg heard Olivia’s voice ring out in his head, her eyes fixed on the two women walking before them.

‘What’s up?’ Greg inquired likewise mentally.

“That woman,” Olivia answered, nodding towards the Town-head’s wife. “She has the bloodline of a nymph,” She revealed.

It was a good thing that the three before them had their backs to him as Greg wouldn’t have been able to hide his eyes going round as saucers at the revelation. ‘What? She’s a bloodline mage? I thought you said that there weren’t any mages in this town?” Greg mentally questioned.

‘I didn’t say that she was a bloodline mage. If she was a bloodline mage with the nymph bloodline, you wouldn’t even be able to string two words coherently in her presence,’ Olivia calmly replied. ‘She’s likely a sixth or seventh-generation descendant pendik escort from the actual bloodline mage. Her nymph’s bloodline is very weak but has not completely disappeared. No wonder this man seems to be completely under her charm,’ Olivia commented with a glance at the Town-head.

‘What is a nymph?’ Greg found himself asking through their connection.

‘Humanoid monsters that primarily take the female form. Their usual means of attack is through charm and enticement. They love to lure especially powerful men in, causing them to fall deeply in love with them. Once they have their hooks in, you’ll believe them to be your soulmate and would be willing to do anything for them. You’ll fight and kill anyone that they command you to, even if said person is trying to save you by breaking the bond between you and your captor. In fact, especially if they are trying to break that bond. You’ll be completely convinced that they are trying to take your place at the nymph’s side. While most nymphs you meet will be between tier-one and tier-three in terms of strength, there have been a few instances where they attained a higher tier. The strongest nymph to have ever lived managed to attain the eighth tier in terms of power before it was killed by a ninth-tier mage.

While the enslavement is bad, the real danger in a nymph is that they get stronger by feeding on the vital essence of the men they ensnare. The more powerful the man, the more power they gain from the drain. If you’re lucky, they might use you to impregnate themselves to bear powerful offspring. For most, however, they are solely drained of their essence. A process that, while not lethal, will leave you as a shriveled husk of a man with barely any strength and life force. The really scary part is that even after they have completely drained you, you won’t hate them, if anything you’ll grow more and more in love with them. Most of the husks they leave behind die within a year of being let go. Not because of the draining, but because of the abandonment. Without the nymph, they grow depressed and see no reason to go on living and so they kill themselves!’

Greg could feel a cold chill creep up his back the more Olivia spoke of the nymphs. Memories of how the Town-head had acted when she thought there was something wrong with his wife flashed in his mind, only this time, they were in a very different light. While it was normal for a man to care for their wife, in this small and very patriarchal town where public displays of affection weren’t even looked upon positively let alone the norm, the man’s behavior had been odd. With Olivia’s explanation, however, things suddenly made sense and not in the way that he wanted. Like the fact that she looked almost a decade younger than she should be. Greg had assumed that it was because she led an easy life being attended to hand and foot by all the servants that her husband had employed. Now, however, Greg couldn’t help but wonder if the actual reason for the woman’s youthful looks was because she was slowly draining her husband’s essence.

A part of Greg wanted to turn and run out of the Town-head’s house. Olivia’s giggle, however, sounded in his mind as she assuaged his fears. ‘A bloodline mage and the beast are two very different things. While a few do get overwhelmed by the potency of the bloodline they’ve imbibed and lose themselves to the nature of the beasts, most bloodline mages are no saner or crazier than mages from other schools of magic,’ She allayed his fears. ‘Besides, this woman isn’t a bloodline mage, she is the far-removed descendant of one. I doubt that even she is aware of her bloodline let alone the effect it’s having on her husband,’ Olivia said causing Greg to almost stumble and fall. The familiar had in one breath told him that he had nothing to fear and in the next told him that his fears were indeed taking place.

‘How long have they been married?’ Olivia asked mentally.

Greg paused to think about it for a second before mentally replying. ‘They’ve been together as long as I can remember, probably from since before I was born.’

‘While the man is physically imposing, to a nymph, the Town-head wouldn’t take longer than half a season, perhaps even less, to completely drain. To a true bloodline mage with the nymph bloodline, it would take a little under a season to finish the task. This woman has been with her husband for almost twenty cycles plus and still hasn’t drained him to any significant degree. And what little she has drained, is not a conscious act but her bloodline following its natural instinct. Unless you plan to hang around her for the next twenty to fifty cycles, I think it’s safe to say she doesn’t pose any real threat to you,’ The familiar laid out.

‘Why did she seem wary of you?’ Greg posed as they approached the table where they’d be having the dinner.

‘By nature, Nymphs are solitary beings. Their biggest flaw as far as I am concerned. If they could band together, they would be a formidable force to contend with. Alas, that is not the case. Even their young are only raised by their mothers for the first year of their lives before they are cast out to either sink or swim on their own. When two nymphs meet, if they are close to each other in power, they will fight to the death. If one is much stronger than the other, however, they’ll just avoid each other…’

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