“I forgot to warn you. It’s basically a guaranteed simultaneous orgasm with the neuro caster on.”
I didn’t know what to say, except that my brain could feel the cock hanging between Peppy’s legs, the glowing satisfaction radiating from it. Peppy grabbed the Six Shooter, stroking it, the warmth from her hand keeping the phallus warm. My pussy was sopping wet, and when I stared through my own eyes at Peppy’s crotch, the Six Shooter had started to drip a little bit of precum.
Precum out of a synthetic dick.
Science is a miracle.
“Lie down on the couch,” Peppy told me.
I hopped up her sofa. The whole apartment was garishly white, and I idly wondered what her bill to the cleaners was every week if she was doing this in her living room. Peppy smiled.
“Not as much as you’d think,” she said.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“No, I’m in your head with you.”
“Oh, fuck. This is—”
“—intimate.”
Peppy lay down on the couch over me, tucking her hips between my legs, so that my calves were wrapped just above her ass. Her hand guided the Six Shooter down to my pussy. Her aim was perfect, aided by my own senses and the thick head of the toy was slipping up and down my lower lips, aided by my own arousal and the synth precum coming out of the Six Shooter.
“Oh, fuck me!” I cried, unable to bear both the teasing presence of the cock pushing against me and the heat radiating out of my own pussy that I felt in the tip of the phallus.
Peppy’s hips shot forward, and I took her to the hilt on the first go, the phallus splitting me open so quick I screamed, or Peppy screamed, or we both did, I couldn’t say. I hope it was her, but I’m pretty sure it was me.
She’d done this before, that much was obvious. My first time with a strap-on, I’d putzed and futzed around, never quite getting it right. Mari had laughed at me when I’d tried to introduce it into our bedroom. She’d never wanted a cock in all her life. She’d been even worse at it than I had.
Peppy, in contrast, fucked like a man, her strokes long and deep, trying to maximize how much of the Six Shooter made contact with the pussy, manipulating her synth-cock back and forth with rapid, short strokes that made me gasp. The neuro caster was incredible. I was incredible—that maybe sounds like bragging, and it is, a little, but I mean I could feel myself enveloping Peppy’s cock and it was amazing—warm, wet, soft, and unbearably tight. I felt like it was tearing me open, but in that wonderful way you never want to stop. I felt like I was going to explode. I felt like—
“Oh!” cried Peppy. The Six Shooter fired a thick load of synth cum deep into my pussy as I came, hard, around her. I convulsed, and kept at it, though whether that was my aftershocks, or pleasure spurred on by the Six Shooter’s echoing pulses, I couldn’t say. All I know was that I had Peppy wrapped close to my body, her 2nd Skin-clad tits pressed up against mine, and our mutual orgasms were firing through each other’s bodies. I kissed her, feeling my own tongue enter her mouth and find the soft flesh of her tongue.
When our kiss ended, Peppy pulled out, slapping the wet phallus against my pubic mound, rubbing the shaft over my clit, making us both groan as she reared up, adjusting my legs so that they got bound under her. Her cock rested on my stomach, sticky from where it was still covered in synth semen and my juices.
“I’ve always wanted to try something,” she said, smiling at me.
“Do it,” I begged her. I really begged her. “Anything.”
Peppy looked like the cat who’d ate the canary, the cage, and the canary’s owner. She rose up, clambering forward until the wet tip of the phallus poked at my breast. I gasped as the Six Shooter became buried in my cleavage. I knew I had soft tits, but feeling them through Peppy’s toy was something else.
She took my hands, pressing them around my own tits so that they poured over the Six Shooter, trapping it in between them.
Peppy groaned, reaching up one hand to play with her breast, her other hand pressing behind her as she rammed her hips forward, the synth-cock bursting through my cleavage and I gasped, feeling how hot and warm it was from being in my pussy, how the feeling of it being pushed through my tits contrasted to the feeling of my cunt.
Peppy’s hand found my clit, the fingers dancing along it as I watched her cock pumping in and out of my cleavage.
“Oh, shit,” I murmured. My hips were shifting in echo as Peppy fucked my tits, only helping to grind her hand into my clit.
I felt the tension, the tightness in my groin, then the burst, and cum went pouring over my body, firing out from inside my cleavage, splattering across my neck and chin. Peppy was gasping, and she pulled the Six Shooter free of me, milking it hard over my tits, making sure to rain cum down onto it. I writhed under her, my own orgasm flushing my body with heat, watching through Peppy’s eyes as her synth-semen covered my upper body. I looked good. I knew that, of course, but watching it happen in real time made me feel vaguely filthy, like I was seeing myself performing in porn. Like I was in my own created reality and I got to fuck me.
“Wow,” said Peppy, when we were both done.
“Yeah, I get it now,” I said.
“Soooo good,” laughed Peppy. She slapped one of my tits, making it jiggle a little. “So soft, too.”
“Good genes,” I grinned. I pushed her off me, letting her lie down on the couch, then crawled on top of her.
“What’s this?” asked Peppy.
“I’m going to fuck you,” I said. I reached down between my legs, pulling the Six Shooter up, teasing the head against my pussy, making us both groan as we felt how warm and hot I was.
I was slick as all hell, and when I sank down, the Six Shooter pushed right in, to the hilt on the first go. I shuddered, then began to bounce a little. Peppy’s hands found my waist, squeezing the cheeks of my ass as I began to ride her. I grabbed my tits, still covered in cum, squeezing them, feeling the synth-semen as it leaked down my chest, cooling slightly, making my skin a little tacky. I could see myself in my mind’s eye, cum dripping down my front, my hands kneading my big tits, Peppy’s cock buried in my pussy. I ran a hand up along my face, my thumb falling into my lips, sucking on it. I could taste the synth-semen on my skin, that mild sweetness again.
“They make it out of soy or something,” said Peppy, groaning. I could feel one of her hands on her own breasts, tweezing the nipple as hard as she could, making the pinch echo through her body.
I leaned forward, pressing myself against her. I kissed her hard, her hips rising to pump into me, making us gasp as I licked at her lips.
“Come on, baby,” I moaned. “Fill me up again.”
“Oh fuck,” cried Peppy. The Six Shooter pulsed inside me and I giggled, exhilarated by the feeling of it rushing into my pussy, of it rushing through the Six Shooter, of my own—echo-gasm, I guess I’ll call it—ripping through my body. It was wild and thrilling and I didn’t want it to end.
“Hop off and sit up and I’ll take care of you,” said Peppy. Somehow she was in my thoughts, I realized. I wasn’t in hers, but she was in mine. If I hadn’t just come four times in a row, this might have been suspicious, but as it was, I let her slip out of me, a regretful moan leaving my mouth as she did.
I sat up on the couch and Peppy squatted in front of me. She pushed my thighs open, rubbing her hands back and forth along them, making me tingle and writhe a little. Peppy grinned at me, then slid a finger down against my pussy, stroking up against the lips. I gasped, then groaned as the finger pushed inside me. Peppy pulled it out, inspecting it, covered in synth-semen and my own cum. She dipped it into her mouth, and I could taste it myself.
“Mmm, delicious,” said Peppy. She ducked her head, her tongue trailing out against my pussy.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” I moaned, wrapping my hands into her hair. Her tongue pushed into my pussy, lapping the cum out of me. It was so warm, so nice, and my senses were overwhelmed by the neurocaster flooding me with the taste and f
eel of my own pussy. Distantly, I could feel a hand working over the Six Shooter at the same time, small and dainty.
Peppy’s tongue lashed along my clit and I shook hard. She started circling it, her fingers finding their way into my pussy again, probing until they found the spot that made me writhe the most. I could feel myself getting tighter and tighter, contracting around her knuckles so hard I could feel her fingers ache. I tried to say something and it came out as one long moan.
Peppy’s fingers were dragging back and forth inside me, the surface spongy and thick under her fingertips and I arched my back, moaning uncontrollably.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck! Fuck!” I screamed, my voice breaking. My thighs clamped shut around Peppy’s head and I had two big hanks of her hair in my hands, pulling hard.
I felt a warm sensation on my stomach and just across the bottom of my breasts, a splattering pulse that dripped down my crotch, making me shudder harder, until I finally had had enough and pushed Peppy away.
She stood up and I saw what I had been feeling. She’d come at the same time I had, the Six Shooter spraying across her belly and tits, some of it spread across her groin and the shaft of the Six Shooter.
“You made quite a mess,” she admonished.
“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked.
“Clean it up,” she ordered.
In a minute I was on my knees in front of her, licking the Six Shooter clean of its cum, lavishing attention on it with my tongue. There’s no clear way to describe it, but in the same way that I felt oddly submissive, bent on my knees in front of her, I also felt powerful, watching through her eyes as I licked cum out of her navel and off her tits. I sucked on a nipple through the 2nd-Skin crop top, and Peppy moaned. She grabbed my face, bending to kiss me hard on the lips.
“I want to take you like Theed did,” she whispered. “Bend over the table.”
Her dining room table was a big glass monstrosity, and I, to my embarrassment, practically ran over to it, mashing my tits against it, presenting my pussy to her. Peppy opened a drawer on a side table, and took a small lube bottle out.
“You don’t need that,” I moaned. I was dripping wet, and there were two loads of cum gushing out of my pussy already.
“Not there,” said Peppy. She popped the bottle open, drizzling the lube across my ass, dripping it over my asshole.
“Theed didn’t fuck me like that,” I said.
“I’m going to,” said Peppy. “I want to feel that tight ass of yours wrapped around this cock. Don’t you?”
I paused.
“Yes,” I said, rather meekly.
“Yes what?” said Peppy. She placed the head of the Six Shooter up against my asshole, rubbing it in the lube.
“Yes, fuck my ass,” I said.
“You can do better than that,” said Peppy. The head of the phallus was pushing into me a little bit.
“Please, please I want to feel it in my ass, Peppy. Please fuck my ass,” I begged, practically screaming for it.
“Oh fuck!” I really did scream as she plunged the thick phallus into my ass, sinking down until my cheeks touched her hips.
It was definitely way bigger than anything I’d let up there in the past. And it felt amazing. Whatever pain I was feeling was diminished by the sensors in the Six Shooter, which could only feel how hot and tight I was around it, the pleasure centers in both our brains firing up.
Peppy leaned forward, one hand on my back, holding me against the surface of the table, and I wrapped an arm under my head to cushion it against the glass. She deliver a hard slap to one buttcheek and I shook, moaning. Peppy started to thrust a little, the Six Shooter making me shudder, driving me forward against the table. Peppy spanked me again, and I moaned.
“You like that?” Peppy asked me, giving me another spank.
“Oh, yes!” I cried. Another smack was my reward.
“You like it when I fuck your ass like this, baby?” asked Peppy. She was slamming into me as hard as she could, her hand beating out rhythm on my ass as she spanked me. Her other hand had migrated up my ass, collaring my neck, squeezing it a little, restricting some blood flow to my brain and adding to the alcohol to make me a little high.
“Yes, it feels so good,” I moaned.
“You’ve made me come so much tonight,” said Peppy. “Do you like being my little cumslut, Sare?”
Oh fuck. I was completely lost at that moment. I didn’t really know what had happened between the time I had entered the apartment and now, but somehow all the tables had turned and I was desperate to let Peppy run the show.
“Yes,” I moaned. “I love it.”
“Tell me what you want, Sare.”
“I want you to come in me. I want you to fill me up, baby,” I moaned. “I want to feel it so bad.”
Peppy groaned this time, giving me the hardest slap of the night, then both her hands wrapping around my waist. I was screaming, I thought, and then my breath caught in my throat as I could feel the immense tightness in the Six Shooter, coupled with the heat pouring across my body.
Peppy screamed and the dam burst, the last of the Six Shooter’s synth-semen load spurting into my ass, my own scream and orgasm coming on at the same time. I could feel it all, the hot cum leaving the phallus, could feel it flooding inside me, my nipples hard against the glass tabletop, now warm from the friction of my body shaking on top of it.
With an agonizing slowness, Peppy pulled out me. She leaned down, kissing me once on the ass.
“Damn, Sare, you fuck like a champ,” she said. She turned off the neurocaster, and I stumbled back to a world where I had only the senses of my own body. It seemed a little sparse in comparison. And nearly every bone in it seemed to have some of that sweet ache. I stayed where I was on the table, watching as Peppy undid her harness and took the Six Shooter out of her pussy.
“Peppy, I need to talk to the COO of GalaxJonesStein. Do you know how I can get to him?” I said. I still wasn’t going to move, but I had a job to do.
Well, not really, since Theed was dead.
I had a revenge to do.
Chapter 7
T he elevator was cold as hell on my skin, and I shivered under my trench. It was all I had on.
Well, that wasn’t true. There was a very thin silver chain around my waist, and there was the thin silver chain that ran from that to the clamp around my clit and its mirror running up my chest to the clamps on my nipples.
But other than that, the trench was all I had to protect me against the Martian cultural obsession with air conditioning.
And the derringer laser in my coat pocket. Small enough that, if I needed, I could smuggle it in my body cavity.
Not that it’d do much good in there.
I sighed, watching the numbers above the elevator’s door increase. I’d gone out the real fancy part of town, Marblehead Valley, where the rich and famous liked to cheat on each other and wrap their autocars around trees, which was quite a feat, given that autocars were supposed to recognize when you were about to kill yourself. Now I was riding up an elevator to a penthouse apartment in one of the swankier high-rises, the sort that gave you a grand view of New Angeles and the Greater Martian Terraforming Project. This planet was almost green.
Peppy had been more than accommodating, and not just because we’d spent the night putting the Six Shooter through its paces. She’d also known where the COO of GalaxJonesStein lived, having pulled his information from Theed’s dossiers. Being the assistant to the Head of Security seemed to mean you knew where the bodies were buried, and who by. A dangerous woman, Peppy Beaver was turning out to be.
She’d also known the COO had been the sort to order the sort of high class escort you can’t just get walking along the street or off the web, what service he frequented, and what girl was his favorite.
From there, it’d been a simple matter of going to the service, threatening the manager and getting the girl herself to spill the beans. They hadn’t wanted to piss off a senior executive
at one of Mars’ most powerful megacorps, but it hadn’t taken much to convince them I was a much more immediate threat. She’d been a little shorter than me, but a flash of what was under my trench and a platinum blonde wig meant I passed at first glance. Enough to fool a security camera, obviously, as the elevator had opened for me when I’d arrived.
I slid my hand into my pocket, my finger finding the trigger. This gun fucking sucked. I’d once put six rounds through a girl with little bat wings coming out of her shoulder blades and she’d flinched them all off. She’d been high as a kite, but still, you shoot a person six times, you’re expecting them to keel over in front of you, not wrap their hands around your neck and try to bite your ear off. If Mari hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I’d have done.
Still, it was a gun, it was hard to find in a pat-down, and I was hoping the business end would be enough to dissuade the COO from risking his life by calling for backup.
The doors opened right into the penthouse, as I’d hoped. A big rough-hewn stone wall was on my left, and then the hall opened up into a living room.
I stepped out onto the wood paneled floor. In front of me was the New Angeles skyline, lit up in its neat little grid, blocked out into the simple squares every city on Mars had. Starting over on a new planet had meant the planners could use everything they knew about earth cities to create something far more efficient and well thought out. The result had been something with a rather sterile, orderly, quality.
In front of the giant floor to ceiling glass windows was a man, his clothes cut tight, his shirt an open Mandarin collar. He was staring out at the vista below him, his back to me. His hair had been dyed a dark green, or it had simply been altered with gene therapy. He was the sort of man who could afford it.
I drew the derringer.
“Max Yallen?” I asked.
“Good evening, M. Jeffries,” said the COO, without turning from the window. I stared at his reflection in the glass, saw his eyes glowing as he looked back at me, although it might just have been the lights from the city below.
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