Blaise- Doppelganger-3000

by Alice Coldbreath

  It was nightfall by the time she returned. As soon as the door slid shut behind her she felt uneasy.

  “Lights,” she ordered in a clear voice that sounded suddenly too loud. Somebody had been here. She turned and scanned the small living space where the the lounge-diner and kitchenette all occupied one space. There was barely anything to move in the minimalism of the place. And yet… the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Something wasn’t right. The apartment lacked the sophisticated security system of her previous home. It was pointless asking the comm panel for a visitor’s log as in cheap properties like this they weren’t synched. She moved hesitantly forward, dropping her purse and heading lightly towards the kitchen area. That was when she heard it, a footfall to the right coming from the bedroom. When she turned her head with a muffled cry she saw her intruder standing huge and looming in the bedroom doorway. Blaise. The attempted scream died in her throat as she shrank back against the wall. It couldn’t be! She stared in wordless horror as he pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered towards her. Her brain stalled taking in his appearance. He was dressed in a scuffed up brown leather jacket and tight pants. She could never mistake that knowing leer for 302. This was the real deal. Always so light on his feet, he moved with a panther-like grace until he stood before her. He couldn’t know what she’d done – could he? Her face filled with colour. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. He couldn’t! Crispus Pomponius had assured her complete confidentiality. He’d promised! Her racing thoughts sputtered to a complete stop when a muscled arm shot out and dragged her up against him. One heavy hand clamped across her mouth and she jumped as recognition clashed with shock. Familiarity. She knew this big, hard body she was pressed against. Knew it intimately. Her eyes flew to his. He gave her a nasty smile.

  “Really Poppaea,” he said in a low mocking voice. “A nun? I’d say if the last two weeks had taught you anything it’s that you’re ill-suited for celibacy.”

  She gasped behind his fingers as he shifted his stance so his leg now pressed firmly between hers, propping her up as she sagged against him. She was going to faint, she thought in disbelief as dark spots swam before her eyes. She’d never fainted in her life! She tried to push away from him, but his grip was like iron. Struggling only resulted in her being plastered up even closer to his huge body. She whimpered softly and his smile became even more evil if possible.

  “Did you miss me?” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear making her shiver down to her toes. “That was such a sweet kiss you gave me when you thought it was goodbye.”

  Her head jerked back to look at him.

  “You’re .. wait, you’re not…?”

  He ignored her struggle to comprehend the situation and carried on.

  “See I’ve thought about it sweetheart and I’m not ready for you to end our arrangement just yet just ‘cos you feel like taking the veil and sticking me on the scrapheap.” His hand slid down from her waist to her hip. “Although I do think it’s time we switched things around.” He winked at her.

  “What?” she croaked.

  “I think it’s your turn to play the sex slave now babe.”

  Poppaea’s stomach flipped and the bottom fell out of her universe. Oh my gods she thought with shocked certainty - 302 and Blaise were one and the same!

  Blaise could tell the exact moment realisation struck.

  “That’s right,” he rumbled deep from his chest. He skimmed one palm back up the length of her spine, just because he wanted to, glorying in the feel of her. Then he palmed her terrific ass. Damn. They didn’t have enough time for how he wanted to savour her. His ship was flying in twelve hours.

  “But you can’t be,” she stammered. When he said nothing, too caught up with the direction of his roving hands she grew bolder, placing both her hands to tug on his forearm and catch his attention. “How?” she asked. “How is it possible?”

  His brows snapped together.

  “Oh no Poppaea,” he hissed in his silkiest voice. “You don’t get to make any demands now. You only get to attempt to please me.” He pushed down on her shoulders. “Now get on your knees like a good little slave.”

  Her eyes went wide at this but after only the tiniest hesitation she sank down onto the floor in front of him then looked up expectantly with those melting violet eyes. He almost groaned.

  “Unfasten me,” he said gruffly, angling his hips towards her and watching as she hesitantly complied. Her cheeks scalded with colour when she found him hard. He inhaled sharply when she pressed one hand to his turgid length before freezing and looking up at him.

  “Shall I..?” She was panting slightly.

  Shit! He drew a shaky breath.

  “You can pet him,” he told her his voice significantly steadier than he felt. He watched as she gently manoeuvred his cock out of his tight pants until it sprang up before her face in all of its swollen glory. Her face aflame she wrapped her two hands round his considerable girth and caressed him, softly at first and then, when he rocked into her grasp, more firmly.

  “Lick your palms,” he told her and felt himself grow even harder when she licked first one and then the other with her pink tongue and then put her moist hands back on him. “Now lick my dick” he added harshly, his voice thickening with lust.

  She gasped slightly as she lowered her head.

  “No,” he interrupted her. “That’s no good. Go lower. I want to watch your face as you do it.”

  Her chest was rising and falling as she contemplated this. He watched through narrowed eyes wondering if she would refuse. Suddenly she angled her head and then she licked him from base to tip and he rocked onto the balls of his feet in delighted shock. She dropped her head so he could just feel her shaky breaths on his throbbing cock. He took a deep breath to stop himself from pleading.

  “Do it again,” he said huskily. “Slower. Do it slower this time.” He watched enthralled as she licked him with her exquisite tongue, her eyes drifting shut to spare her blushes. Not fucking good enough. “Again, with your eyes on me.” Her eyes sprang open and she swallowed. His lust spiked. Fuck, would she? That was what he wanted. Maybe if she swallowed it all down like a good girl he could let her go and be on his way to the Outworld leaving her to her vows and her chastity. Maybe. He wound one hand into the soft brown curls at the base of her neck, dragging her mouth exactly where he wanted it, down to his balls. “There, lick me there.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Take one in your mouth.” She was so careful, he didn’t have to tell her as she gently sucked on one and then the other. He was panting now like he’d gone three rounds in the ring. She wasn’t hesitating now or waiting for his commands. Instead she licked and placed her open mouth over his cock up and down the length of it wherever he guided her. “Lick the tip,” he told her tensely. Wordlessly she wrapped her fingers around him again as she laved at the slit at the top and tasted his pre-cum. She gave a faint moan. Did she like it? “Put me in your mouth Poppaea,” he urged her throatily. She did hesitate just for a moment, and then he was forced to grit his teeth as he felt her warm, sweet mouth engulf him. Not as much of him as he would have liked, but hell it wasn’t half bad for her first blow job. Her last if she was hell-bent on entering a frigging convent. “Suck,” he growled. “Suck on it.” Without conscious thought he exerted pressure on the bank of her head, dragging her further onto his cock. She spluttered.

  “Shit, breathe through your nose baby.” He relaxed his grip but she didn’t retreat, instead he felt her start to steadily suckle and he almost lost it. “Poppaea!” he groaned as he fought against the urge to thrust his hips into her face. Oh that was good. “Harder,” he grunted. “Suck me harder.” He wrapped his hands in her hair and swore under his breath as she answered the subtle promptings of his body to bob her head as she sucked, tearing deep groans from his chest.

  “Fuck, yes,” he snarled, his fingers tightening and relaxing against the roots of her hair. He drew a shuddering breath. “Poppaea, any minute now, I’m
gonna give you my cum baby. Do you know what I want you to do with it?” She didn’t miss a beat but he could tell she was listening. “I want you to swallow it, every drop. You understand?” She hummed a noise of agreement around his cock which finally tipped him right over the edge and with a roar he exploded, shooting ribbons of cum into her waiting mouth. He pushed the hair back from her face and neck so he could watch in awe as she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, taking everything he had to give her. His chest was heaving now and the muscles in his legs and buttocks were straining in their repeated clench-release. “Lick me clean,” he told her haltingly, watching enthralled as she placed her palms on his thighs to do a thorough job. Finally, he grabbed her by the hair at her nape and pulled her head back, staring down at her glistening lips and slumberous eyes. At this point he realised he should spout some arrogant shit about what an obedient slave she was, but other words were trying to force their way past his lips and he was in real danger of forgetting the name of the game. Instead he swore long and crudely and sank down onto the floor beside her where they both lay panting in silence. Holy shit. What had he done? He grimaced, shutting his eyes. She’s not for the likes of me, he told himself savagely. So what if she was fucking beautiful? So what if he wanted her? They were from two different worlds and were travelling in two different destinations. His head was whirling like he was drunk. He was bound for a different life, a hard life, eking out an existence, working the land. It wouldn’t work. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt her place one hand on his chest and roll into his side, her hot face pressed into his bicep. She was trembling. Almost hesitantly he turned onto his side and rolled her onto her back so he could look at her face. She stared back at him as if rocked by the same realisations. That they were doomed. He didn’t want to admit it as his eyes roamed over her creamy abundant flesh. She was such a succulent peach, he could feel his cock stirring against his thigh in interest. He propped himself on one elbow and let his eyes roam down her delectable body. She was shivering but whatever else her shitbox apartment lacked, the heating was fine. On sudden impulse he slid his fingers between her thighs. She was so wet he groaned aloud.

  “Fuck baby, did you like that? Did you like sucking me off?” he asked dirtily.

  “Yes,” she whispered taking him by surprise. Always. She met his gaze shyly. He was riveted. His cock went from half mast to full rig in seconds. He pushed two fingers up inside her and she gave a hot little moan and arched her back.

  “Tell me,” he ground out.

  “I liked it,” she whispered.

  “My cock in your mouth,” he prompted.

  “Your cock in my mouth.”

  “And..?”

  “Your cum. Your cum in my mouth.”

  “Fuck.” He drew a ragged breath. “What else?”

  “Your fingers. Your fingers inside me,” she moaned softly and gave his fingers a squeeze with her inner muscles.

  “In your tight little pussy you mean,” he corrected her slowly.

  She licked her lips.

  “Your fingers in my pussy,” she panted. “Please Blaise.”

  “You want me to bring you off with my fingers?” he asked pushing an experimental third blunt digit into her.

  “Oh please!”

  “Oh baby,” he told her darkly. “I am going to ruin you for your vows. You know why?”

  She mewed, bucking against his fingers, desperately trying to get the rhythm she wanted. That she burned for.

  “Because this pussy’s mine,” he growled. “I own it and I’m gonna make it weep for me every night you’re wearing that fucking hairshirt. You can lie there trying desperately to think good thoughts, but this pussy’s gonna pine for its master and want me every goddam night of its life.”

  Poppaea sobbed with need as he rolled away from her and lay on his back, his eyes screwed shut.

  “Get over here,” he intoned tightly. “You’re going to ride me now Poppaea. And it’s gonna be our last ride so you’d better make it a good one.”

  She rolled onto her knees whimpering and then swung one leg over to straddle him.

  “How ..?”

  He grasped her hips in his big hands and brought her down over him roughly thrusting up into her wet warmth.

  “Unhhhh Blaise!” she keened as he impaled her.

  “That’s it, you can take me,” he ground out, circling his hips before thrusting up again.

  “You feel so deep,” she whimpered, sinking down another couple of inches.

  Fuck, he nearly went cross-eyed.

  “Mmm, so good,” he rasped. “My pussy feels so good baby.”

  Her head dropped back and she gave a deep dirty groan as he slid the last couple of inches home. Balls deep. Shit.

  “You can’t come until I tell you,” he cautioned her. “Understand?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were glazed. She was too damn close. He smacked one ass-cheek in warning which made her gasp then clench him tight. She stared in confusion and he laughed softly.

  “It’s a damn shame we don’t have time to explore each other properly Poppaea,” he said clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Really bad timing baby. You should have climbed in my cage years ago and told me what you wanted.”

  She gave him a shaky smile which nearly undid him considering their position.

  “Are you saying you would have obliged me,” she asked uncertainly before shaking her head. “No, you wouldn’t have…”

  “Don’t be so sure,” he said tensely, locking his jaw to stave off the pleasure rolling over him. “Now move. Roll your hips. I want to feel you owning me,” he groaned. “Owning my cock. I’m your sex droid remember? Built to give you pleasure.”

  She moaned and rocked her hips experimentally and gasped at the slap of their flesh which sounded like a whip cracking. Both their bodies were now slick with sweat.

  “I don’t…” she bit her lip and groaned. “I don’t understand how you’re both him… my … my Doppelganger-3000 and yet… you’re also you… Blaise!”

  “Fuck now, talk later,” he growled, pumping his hips, although he realised he did like listening to her voice as he fucked her. Which was unusual for him, he was usually single minded in his pursuit of a climax. “It’s a scam,” he ground out after a few seconds of listening to the wet sounds of their mating. “The Doppelganger-3000 angle.”

  “What do you mean?” she gasped breathily. “Mmmm, Blaise!”

  “Pomponius contacts the original,” he said tersely. “Asks them if they’re want to make a little money impersonating a sex-bot..”

  She gasped.

  “That’s so wrong!” She dug her fingers into his shoulders as she ground her hips against his sensuously. “How could he do that? Betraying people’s trust – oh!”

  He gave a short laugh.

  “Hells, I’m not complaining…”

  “That’s not the point Blaise,” she protesteded, her stroke faltering as she tried to concentrate. “It’s the principle of the matter…”

  “Gods, don’t stop. Don’t stop Poppaea” he begged her, forgetting who was the slave, who was the master in the whole situation. “Just … for the sake of the gods woman!”

  She then took pity on him and fucked his brains out on her bedroom floor.

  Poppaea groaned and rolled onto her side, her mouth was dry and her limbs heavy. Her eyes sprang open as she felt her apartment lurch beneath her. What the hell? She sat up with a yelp to find herself on a hard bunk in a strange room. She stared in gathering consternation as she found herself in completely strange surroundings. She lurched out of the bed still clutching the scratchy sheets to her chest. She stared down at her clothing to find that wasn’t even hers. For a moment she’d thought she was wearing the novice robes she’d had hanging in her wardrobe, but although this was also a long white linen gown it was far more figure-hugging than the modest habit. She’d never seen this dress before. She lifted up her arms to look at the wide sleeves. Nope, no recollecti
on. And then she felt that lurching sensation again. She was on a ship she realised with growing astonishment as she peered out of the small window of the functional cabin. And a pretty low-grade, basic freighter at that. All she could see out the window was palettes with machinery all bundled up for delivery and it looked like heavy duty machinery. Farming or mining machinery she frowned. It slowly dawned on her that she was on an Outworld ship bound for the barbarian provinces outside of Nova Byzan’s boundaries. She drew in a sharp breath. There would be other passengers on this ship, ex-slaves and barbarians all hoping to find better lives outside of the confines of the Republic. Why? Why had Blaise put her on this ship bound for parts unknown? Was it some sort of terrible revenge after she had used him for her own sexual gratification she thought wildly? Had he sold her as a slave? She cast her eyes about the no-frills cabin with its tiny cupboard and narrow single bunk. She had none of her belongings were with her. Rushing to the cabinet she started rooting through its recesses in a blind panic. The papers she seized were Blaise’s – his holographic rudis was there, the proof of his freedom. She relaxed slightly realising he hadn’t just abandoned her, that he must also be on this ship somewhere. The second identity card had her face on it, she realised picking it up and staring at the smiling holographic image. But the name it proclaimed wasn’t hers. Poppaea Calvus. She stared in disbelief. Why was she travelling under a false name with fake papers? Her throat suddenly dry, she fell back with a cry as she heard the door slide back with a hydraulic hiss. Her frayed nerves recovered a little, just a little when she saw his massive frame in the doorway. He hit the button and sealed the chamber behind them, eyeing her speculatively.