by Jaye Peaches
“That’s it,” one would say, panting, his hand combing the tangled locks of hair out of her face, then the other. “Suck harder, girl.”
She mixed up their voices. She wasn’t sure sometimes if it was Jago urging her on, or Kriss. Both of them sounded now so alike, she hadn’t the wits to tell them apart.
“Keep that tongue fluttering, just there. Oh, fuck, that’s good.”
Her mouth went dry. It was unavoidable. They had been at it for an age. Even the cushions had hardened under her knees.
Abruptly, light filled the space between them. They’d stepped back. She slumped down, head bowed, neck aching. Eyes watering. She wiped her chin and sighed.
Jago brought her a glass of water. She swallowed in one string of gulps.
“Thank you,” she said.
He took the empty glass off her. “Lie down.”
For a moment, she thought it was a time for a break. A quick nap. How foolish of her—this was the Hunger. If there was a pause, it wouldn’t be yet. They had hours to go.
Jago lay over her first, planting his weight on his elbows on either side of her head. A massive man; her nose was level with his breastbone. Below, she obediently spread her legs as far as they would go with her knees splayed wide. His girth, the breadth of his steely thighs, just slotted between her inner thighs. He rose up, driving forward, then pausing. He allowed her a few seconds to stretch and relax, to take his heavy cock in her drenched opening, then he continued to push on into her core.
The pinch was extraordinary. She assimilated the pain, knowing it would go quickly. All the same, she had to wince.
Jago paused; lifting his body higher, he arched his back so that he could see her face. This wasn’t the first time he’d fucked her, she’d been on her back in the cushions several times in the last few days, but on those occasions his cock hadn’t swollen to this size, nor had he such high expectations of her stamina.
“If it gets too much, you must say. We mustn’t damage you.” He clucked his tongue. “Harm you.”
She smiled faintly. “I’m fine.”
He slid down, easing out of her hole until the smooth bulb of his cock remained between her parted folds. Behind him, Kriss watched unashamedly, fingering his own cock in his hands.
“Good.” Jago inched back inside her, to the spot he’d reached, but this time, no pain. She wasn’t sure that she was capable of taking any more of him.
He wrapped an arm around her head, drawing her tight to his chest until her cheek was pressed against him. She could barely breathe. He wanted her as close as possible, flattened to him, so that he could glide over her breasts and ruffle her delicate nipples with his steely abs and chest. He wanted to feel her, she understood, and although it wasn’t as intimate as a kiss, it was a step in the right direction. She got what he wanted, because she’d seen what they did to the droids, the artificial females, and it wasn’t sensual.
He eased his hips back, then thrust. She shrieked. She couldn’t help it. The noise she made though was muffled by his body. He paused, perhaps expecting her call him to halt, but she didn’t. The cry wasn’t one of alarm or horror. She hadn’t split apart, nor was she broken. Her body was made for this, just as she’d been told countless times back on Earth.
Jago thrust again. The ease of his entry, the way his shaft glided in and out, told her she was his match, perhaps she was capable of more? She remained pinned in his embrace, held tight to his body as he bucked his hips against her. It wasn’t rough—he probably could go faster—but neither was it sweet-natured lovemaking. Somewhere in between.
He shifted upward, giving her head more room, and she caught a glimpse of Kriss. He was standing astride, proudly holding his generously endowed and colorful cock in his hand, and with each of Jago’s thrusts, he too squeezed his cock hard, as if to mimic the actions of his nestor. His eyes were narrow slits; she doubted he was aware of her watching him. The sight of him pleasuring himself while his nestor fucked her was incredibly hot. She clenched her pussy in a futile attempt to catch Jago mid-thrust.
Jago groaned and responded to the little gesture with a harder thrust of his own. Free to move her arms, she reached around his waist and grasped his ass cheeks. The muscles were like granite. He didn’t even flinch. She dug her nails into the unyielding flesh and he growled this time. The thrust he offered in return brought tears to her eyes. If she provoked him, he retaliated. She rather liked the game.
The orgasm was there, waiting, desperate to be unleashed. She contained it with her provocations and each time he rammed back inside her, the edge was taken off it. When he stroked her with slower thrusts, using the friction of his organ to excite her sex, she had to grit her teeth and hope she didn’t spontaneously explode with a climax.
Not yet. Not yet. There were hours to go. She wanted to be like them, saving it for one immense orgasm.
Suddenly, and with surprising speed, they swapped places. Jago jumped to his feet and stepped to one side. Kriss hitched her legs up, folding her in half, and aimed the head of his cock at her entrance. He cried out as he entered her, pushing her legs down until her knees were somewhere by her ears. While Jago liked her flat, Kriss wanted her packaged up.
She got this too. Jago preferred as much as her as possible crushed against his skin; with Kriss it was as little as possible. He needed only the core of her being, and he pounded that wet hole with a firm rhythm, making her feel every inch of his cock as he withdrew fully, then re-entered with a bombastic smile on his face. He kept his eyes on her too. Their noses came closer, she smelt his perspiration, the sweet musk of his skin, but their lips didn’t touch. The Hunger wasn’t driven by romantic overtures, today was different to the previous days, and any hope she had for leisurely lovemaking was futile. They weren’t in the mood. If she gave them what they wanted today, then maybe she might have the opportunity to influence them in some other way.
Regardless of the lack of emotional intimacy, she quickly worked out that Kriss wanted facial reactions—something that perhaps the sexdroids failed to deliver. She didn’t exaggerate her expressions; it wasn’t necessary. When he thrust hard and it pinched, she screwed her face up. He responded by going gentler, and she rewarded him with long sighs of appreciation and sensual licks of her lips. Then, when she felt the orgasm build, she snarled at him, as if to goad him into action. He reacted by pummeling deeper. Together, they worked out a duet, just as she had with Jago.
The men swapped again, and again. She lost count. She clawed at Jago’s ass and clung onto Kriss’s shoulders. Stretched out for one, rolled up for the other. The contrast helped her; when one group of muscles ached too much, the other position eased them.
How long? Time was irrelevant. It was perfectly clear neither man was close to coming and consequently, she had to wait.
Jago tapped Kriss’s shoulder. “Enough. She needs food and a break. We’ll resume with stage two.”
Stage two! What the fuck was that?
* * *
They ate in a comical silence, scooping up this and that into their mouths. Food was a necessity, but an inconvenience. They let her replenish her skin with creams and lotions, and reshape her hair. Alone in the bathroom, she avoided spending too much time inspecting herself in the mirror. She probably looked a hot mess anyway. She returned to finish her drink and the last morsels of the bland food they’d served her.
Kriss disappeared into the bathroom. Shayla, alone with Jago, rediscovered the annoyance of self-consciousness. She wasn’t hungry any more for food. What held her attention was his eyes, especially the sharp focus of his pupils. He couldn’t stop staring at her breasts or the apex of her thighs. Grabbing her hand, he led her over to the sprawl of cushions. He sat among the softest, using a couple of the sturdier ones to support his upright back. Without taking his eyes off her, he patted his lap.
“Kriss—”
Jago shrugged. “He’ll come back when he wants to—he likes to preen, get things ready. Let’s just make it us
two.” He actually winked at her, and she giggled, ignoring the remark about preparations—was this stage two?
She straddled his legs, aligning herself over his upright rod, which hadn’t showed a hint of drooping throughout the hurried meal. So darn big, she wondered again how it hadn’t split her apart. Jago guided her hands to his shoulders, and she leaned forward and slowly descended onto his cock. The head stayed steadfast, rock hard, forcing her to yield around it. She gasped and closed her eyes, afraid for a second that her self-inflicted impaling was foolhardy and dangerous.
“Keep going,” he said calmly, unperturbed by her moans.
She sank, bending her legs until she was kneeling. The friction of cock against channel was heated, and close to tipping her into the abyss of unwanted discomfort. But, she was resilient. Determined. When she opened her eyes, she was face to face with a man in a state of rapture, glazed eyes and head tilted back slightly. Jago’s jaw dropped, and he released a soft growl of satisfaction.
She couldn’t sink any further, not yet. She hovered, halfway down his shaft, and waited. Jago ringed his giant hands around her waist and squeezed. For a second, she thought he might ram her down without a care for her fragility, but he merely supported her as her legs shook. She kept her hands on his broad shoulders and balanced there, breathless and somewhat frustrated.
“Relax, girl,” he said. “Grind,” he added with a guttural tone.
So she did, she circled her hips, gyrated them until she slipped another inch along his shaft. Her wetness helped, she was leaking around him. She rocked back and forth, and tossed her hair back out of her face. The tightness eased, and she lowered her bottom until she touched him.
Now, she could jiggle and bounce. He squeezed her waist tighter, responding to her movements with a gentle buck of his pelvis.
“That’s it.” He moaned, louder.
She rode him, but avoided the beat of a rhythm; instead, she humped hard for a few seconds, then rose up and lowered slowly, relishing the sensation of his thickened rod grazing her sweet spots.
She bent over him. “Yes,” she hissed in his ear. Arching her back, she pushed her breasts out, right in front of his eyes—a reminder that there was more to her sexuality than one gaping, wet hole.
The hint was swiftly taken. He cupped both swaying breasts and captured them in the palms of his hands, keeping them locked in one place while she bucked up and down. It hurt, having them pinioned while she moved around, but she had no problem with the pain of his crushing fingers playing in tandem with the delight of his cock deep inside her pussy.
His eyes widened into a boyish stare of delight. “These.” He rolled her nipples between his fingertips. “Are fucking fantastic little toys.”
She wanted to laugh, but there wasn’t the breath in her lungs. “Yes, they are.”
“They’re soft, and firm.” He eased his grip on her breasts, allowing the tenderest parts to move freely. Slowly, he circled his palms around the nipples. Below his cock, snug inside her, stiffened and grew. She gulped—was there no limit to his erection?
He blinked, breaking the longest stare she’d ever seen in her life. Something, almost like a shadow, dimmed the bright sparks in his pupils.
She ceased rocking. “What’s wrong?”
“I keep forgetting, forgive me, that you are so sensual... everywhere. This body of yours, it has erogenous hot spots that no droid could ever mimic.”
“I should hope not.”
He blinked again. “You want to control me with them, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. This time, she’d not done it consciously, but he was right. She was trying to be on top in more than one way.
“I get why you think you can. I’m enjoying them immensely.” He drew her toward him and licked her nipple with his tongue, sinking his whole mouth around the areola. He sucked hard on it, until she cried out. He repeated the little torment on the other one. He could hold his breath for an eternity, or so it felt when his lips pressed down hard.
“My... body...” she panted breathlessly.
He opened his mouth, and sucked in air around her nipple, cooling the burning sensation. “For my pleasure.”
He looked straight into her watery eyes. “I know what you want. It’s more than fucking, it’s more than my cock. There are emotions. I feel them. Sensations in my belly. Thoughts in my mind, things I’ve not seen in my head before now. I get what you’re doing, Shayla.”
“Can you...” She lifted herself higher, then lowered her bottom down, making sure she had all of him to the balls inside her pussy. “Can you help me get there?”
He grasped her breasts hard again and she grimaced. “Maybe,” he said. “I like watching that, the way your face is now. I feel my power, my hold over you.”
She squirmed, fighting to keep the tears from falling.
“But,” he relaxed his grip, “I also like the smiles, the teases. The way you rock my cock in a gentle sway. That is something divine.”
“I can’t control what you do to me,” she said; there was no point in arguing.
“No. But, if I’m rough and unkind to you, I lose this feeling inside of me. I don’t want to let it go.” He sighed. “Kriss... I don’t think he understands. Yet. You must give him what he wants for now. Then, when he’s ready, he’ll find this ache and know what it means.”
She nodded. “I understand. I’ll try.”
“Good. Now fuck me, Shayla.”
She rode him, almost frantically and throughout, he played with her breasts, her nipples or he pulled her down so her mouth was locked onto his for his hard kisses.
“I wanna come,” she cried out, unabashed by her need, knowing that she was supposed to wait for his call, not hers.
“I feel it,” he said.
Her pussy clenched; she couldn’t stop it from pulsating. The climax was close, so close. He released her breasts and she flopped forward. He hooked his hands under her buttocks and grasped her there, keeping her from slapping down on his thighs. He slowed her pace back to the teasing dips.
“Tease me again,” he whispered. “I like it. But don’t come, not yet, hang on if you can. I want you so desperate, so needy.”
Her hair dangled over his face and she whipped it out of the way. “Yes, sir.”
She returned to the leisurely sway and he stroked his hands down her back. Her heartbeats slowed, her eyes drooped. She was content to be like this, just him and her locked together.
She nearly missed hearing the door open behind them. Their energetic breathing overlaid the hiss of the door mechanism. She paused, mid-stroke, and Jago steadied her.
“Time for stage two,” he said. A long shadow fell over them. “She’s prepped,” he told Kriss.
“So’s the shower,” Kriss said. He leaned down and plucked Shayla off Jago as easily as he might pick up a child. Her aching legs unfolded, and she fumbled with her feet, finding the floor.
“There,” said Kriss. “You look quite hot and flushed. But I’m not gonna cool you down yet.”
She glanced at Jago, who was rising to his feet. “What’s happening?”
Kriss took her hand in his burly one and led her toward the side door. “Don’t go panicking. Jago and I have this planned out.”
Inside the bathroom, the spotlights were trained not on the mirror, but the vast glass-lined cubicle in the corner. The shower had multiple heads; she’d enjoyed the massaging effect several times. Today, though, it looked different.
Kriss nudged her forward. Jago joined them, keeping back by the door. “Don’t be afraid,” Jago said.
She tiptoed and noted that the flooring inside the cubicle had tiny bobbles, circling the drain hole. They weren’t there earlier. She pointed down. “What are they?”
“Anti-slip projections. They rise up when needed.” Kriss’s vagueness wasn’t helping. “Go to the wall, flat hands against it and lean. Stick out your fine ass for me to see.”
There was the same spa
rk in his eyes as she’d seen in Jago’s earlier. He was naked. His purple-veined cock seemed on fire with its glow. The rest of him was a picture of well-defined musculature, carved into flesh and wrapped in smooth skin. Not a hair on him, nothing but taut smoothness. He glistened. The alien in him obvious from crown to toe; no human shone like that. Then she realized he was slick with oil. It looked like he’d bathed in it.
He smiled, an afterthought perhaps, but the softened expression helped her feet move. She reached out and spread her fingers against the cool wall. No tiling, just polished concrete lacquered with something similar to glazing.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” she said, mouse-like.
Kriss trailed one of his fingers along her spine. Goosebumps followed in its track. When he reached her tailbone, he continued and dipped his finger between her cheeks and stopped at the tiny entrance. Very tiny, too tiny. She sucked in a breath. His intentions were now clear. Ass time, Alfraya used to call it jokingly. Ass time meant butt plugs: big or long, whatever shape they came in. Ass time meant hours of usage, but always plenty of lubrication and gentle encouragement for novices. This wasn’t going to be a lesson.
Jago stood next to her and picked up a shower attachment—a ball-shaped nozzle with several holes on one side. He switched the shower on and liquid squirted out, in spurts at first, then a steady stream flew out of the holes.
Shayla was mesmerized. It didn’t flow like water. The liquid possessed odd properties, like little lozenges, heavy and larger than normal droplets. The surface of the liquid reflected multiple colors and a rainbow formed within the spray. Then, she saw how it circled into the drain—not quickly, like water, but oozing almost. It formed a translucent film around her feet. She wriggled her toes and they stirred the gelatinous liquid. This stuff was definitely thicker than water.
“We call it ull.” Kriss rubbed his fingers in the stream.
She mouthed the word. “Oil?”
