---Treg’s perspective---
---2704 Terran Calendar/9 years BF---
We walk through the chalet grounds in the pouring rain.
We pass dozens of chalets, each built of nothing more than wood and slate rooftiles.
I can see that they all have fairly cringeworthy Gaelic names.
Taigh an Dòchais ‘House of Hope’.
Taigh nan Caraidean ‘House of Friends’.
Taigh an t-Solais ‘House of Light’.
Finally, the 2m tall, Scottish Tshwane (gotta be a story there) leads us to her house, Taigh a’ Ghràidh ‘House of Love’.
Given the bedroom eyes she’s been making at Vicky since we walked into her pub (plus how obviously pleased she was when she found out we weren’t a couple) I’d not say ‘love’ was exactly what’s on this woman’s mind(!)
I think Taigh an Mianna or Taigh an Tlachd might be a bit more apt(!)
I groan internally at the likely night of disturbed sleep I’m about to get(!)
I know from experience that these wooden huts are usually built in a way that makes every tiptoeing step resound through the whole structure!
Pretty sure I’m gonna be subjected to every sweet nothing they mutter, every moan… every thrust…
Suddenly, the idea of having to pack up a sopping wet tent tomorrow morning doesn’t sound quite so bad(!)
I walk up the deck in the shadow of the two giants.
Both of them have to stoop beneath the doorway as we pass through the French doors!
A light comes on, revealing us to be stood in a combination living-dining room.
To our immediate right is the entrance to a small kitchen.
Just past that is the bottom of a wooden staircase.
Under the stairs is a wooden dining table.
Against the left wall is a sofa with a low coffee table in front of it. That table looks like it would have to be moved if the other one needed to be pulled out.
At the back is the door to a bedroom and an alcove with a door I reckon must be the bathroom.
Everything is made of light coloured pine planks; the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the stairs… everything!
Some tacky art hangs on the walls. It looks like art provided by the establishment but I’m not going to mention it in case it turns out that she actually likes the rhinestone bedazzled picture of the Paris skyline hanging over her sofa and bought it herself, specially(!)
“Whatever yous dinnae need, yous can just dump here.” says the Tshwane, Tal, indicating an empty patch by the door “One of you can take that room…” she points to the one behind the sofa “Mine’s upstairs on the right… the other can take the one that’s upstairs on the left…”
“Bagsy downstairs!” I say, immediately.
Vicky shrugs “I prefer sleepin’ on the first floor, anyway… you’re welcome to the downstairs bedroom…”
Tal giggles before saying “Could I interest yous in a dram of whisky before bed?”
“Not Mr Cleancut here…” I tease “…his body is a temple(!)”
“Never mind her…” sighs Vicky “…we’d be very happy to have a drink with you. I can’t promise to enjoy it though!”
“What?… You dinnae like whisky?” asks the Scot, looking ready to take offence.
“Don’t know… Never had any.” answers Vicky.
“WHAT?!” she gasps “You’re ¾ Scots and you’ve never tried whisky!?”
“Nope… So, you know, don’t waste your good stuff on me(!)”
She shakes her flat face from side to side and answers “No, no, no, no, no! On the contrary!… In rectifying this travesty against Scottishness, nothing’ll do but the best!… I’ve got a 25 year old bottle of Glen Sligachan in the cupboard… 45%abv… I insist yous both have a glass wi’ me!”
Shutting Vicky’s protests down, she runs to her kitchen and fetches a very fancy bottle, three glasses and a tray of frozen stones from an old fashioned freezer.
“I can’t I’m afraid… I’m coeliac…” I say, regretfully.
“Coeliac? It’s fine! The gluten comes out in the distillation! I know because I used to be coeliac too… No problem!”
“Yeah, come on little Miss Future-Doctor, don’t you know that(!)” teases Vicky, grinning in a way that leaves no doubt as to him having just learned that as well.
“Shut up…(!)” I sigh, mock scowling. Turning my attention back to the girl whose hight, skinny limbs and pink irises make her look like she could be the daughter of Dr Facilier, I say “If you’re offerin’, I’d love some!”
---Tal’s perspective---
The pair both seem to be genuinely enjoying their first whisky!
The copper haired boy, Victor, seems to be completely enamoured of his!
I’m so glad!
It was so funny having to explain to him why I use stones and not ice!
“Slàinte!” I cheers, as we raise our third round which I just poured.
These two have already more than paid their keep in the quality of their company! My sides hurt from laughing!
Although… definitely still hoping for that young man to decide a little more ‘returning the favour’ might be in order, later on…(!)
I gulp down a mouthful of saliva as he uncrosses and recrosses his legs in a way that makes the bulge between them rather more prominent than he seems to realise!
The rain is absolutely pounding the walls and windows of my home!
I giggle as the unbidden thought comes into my head that ‘my home’s not the only thing I hope ends up pounded and wet tonight(!)’
Luckily, neither of the two seem to notice.
The gorgeous, thicc Neanderthal girl, Treg, fixes me with an intense stare in a way she didn’t sober.
“I’ve got a question…” she announces.
Shit…!
I really hope she’s not about to make a scene over the way I’ve been flirting with her ‘brother from another mother’!
“What’s your question, Treg?” I smile, projecting calm.
“You’re the first Scottish Tshwane I’ve ever met… What’s the story?”
“Tea?! You don’t just ask people shit like that! How rude can you get!? You don’t need to answer that, Tal!”
I smile and shake my head “It’s fine! It’s fine! I’m sure my story isnae too different from how a Neanderthal and a Sapiens ended up so intimate that they consider the idea of a relationship to be incestuous(!)” pointing between the two “Guessing all of our circumstances got pretty heavily affected by the War?… I came out of a tube in a lab just outside Ndjole, in Gabon, in 2675. I got fostered by a Gabonese man, Abass ‘Island’ Moussavou, and a Scottish woman, Mhairi ‘Snow’ Coulter-Moussavou. I wasn’t even 4 when the War broke out… I remember not understanding at all why my new mum and dad had to go away… Funny thing is, I dinnae remember at all what it was like before they adopted me… but I remember remembering! I remember feeling like I’d only just got them and now they were being taken away again…(!) When I was 5, I got one o’ them back… Correction… I got most o’ one o’ them back… My fostermum got a medical discharge after she got her leg blown off in the Battle o’ Kalothan… came to pick me up with a prosthetic. She wasnae the same… but she clearly still loved and cared about me. She asked me if I wouldnae mind moving… I only learnt later that she wanted to go home because staying in Gabon without Abass was too painful for her… I told her I didnae care where she went so long as she brought me… once she’d proved she’d be able to care for my physical needs in Scotland’s frigid climate, she was allowed to formally adopt me and we moved to Killin… Grown up Scottish since I was six… Yous two were in a similar boat?”
“Similar…” frowns the man, glaring daggers at his (now sheepish looking) Neanderthal sister “…I was born in a military base hospital. Neither of my parents came back. Tea and me never got fostered ’causa the Wartime decimation of the generation above ours… We grew up in rooms opposite eachothers’ at an orphanage in London…”
“Well then… to the War… without which none of us would be who we are or where we are(!)” I say, raising my glass in a dark toast.
The gorgeous boy shakes his head and says “I do not wanna drink to that!”
“Me neither…!” says the girl looking as serious as I’ve yet seen her!
I laugh “Apologies, yous two! Highland humour runs to the dark side!”
“Wait…!” frowns the girl, looking like she’s doing her best to work something out “…so… you’re 29!?”
I smile and shake my head “28… I turn 29 later this year…”
“You… uh… you don’t look 28!”
I laugh heartily and answer “And how is it that you expect a 28 year old to look?… Haggard and wrinkled(?) Hair greying(?) Should I walk with a hunch in my back(?) Does 28 sound positively ancient to a couple o’ 20 year olds(?!)”
Speaking through gritted teeth, the mouthwatering Sapiens says “I think what my idiot sister means, Tal, is that you are a youthful, vibrant and beautiful woman in a way that renders you ageless!”
I giggle “Someone got all the charm in this little family, didn’t he(!)”
---Victor’s perspective---
“Right… bed time for me, I think!” announces Tea, having guzzled down her third glass of (what I infer to be expensive) whisky.
I raise an eyebrow and ask “Done bringin’ the mood down with overly personal questions, Tea(?)”
She smirks back “Nah, just wanna be ready for the 100km forced march you’re gonna subject me too tomorrow, Sergeant(!)” she hesitates before saying “Uhm… hey… Tal, thanks for puttin’ us up tonight and sharin’ your whisky with us… feels rude to ask but… if you and Vicky are gonna stay up… would you mind keepin’ the volume down? I’m really tired…”
“Oh…” replies the stunning Scot “…I should’ve mentioned! You’ve got a privacy field…
“A what?” asks Treg.
“A privacy field?” I ask, slightly disbelieving “Ain’t those only for, like, shady rich folk?”
She smiles and shakes her head “I’m neither shady nor rich and I’ve got three… one for each bedroom! They’re pretty much essential for a house like this… especially when you’ve got company!”
“Feel like I’m outta the loop here… what is a privacy field?”
She smiles “I think it might be better demonstrated than explained… See the switch on the inside wall? Next to the lights? Purple? Dinnae press it yet, just find it…”
“OK, found it…” answers Tea.
“Alright, Victor… could I get you to hold a middle C for 10 seconds… Treg, you just flip that switch a few times, standing in that room… see what happens…”
I hold a constant note (which is probably not actually quite a middle C, not that it matters what note I hold).
Treg flips the switch, curiously.
Her eyes go wide as she looks up at me, realising she can’t hear me anymore.
She flips the switch a few more times, the shimmery distortion coming into being and vanishing with each press.
Then she sticks one ear out, seeming not to trust that this isn’t some kind of practical joke that we arranged while she was in the toilet or something(!)
“Wow!” she says, finally satisfied “That’s brilliant that is! So, is it just one way or can you guys still hear me?”
“No, no… both ways… just stops all vibrations passing in or out…”
“Great! Now you guys can talk as loud as you want without wakin’ me up… Or… do whatever other loud activities you want to do… as loud as you want to do ’em…(!)” she smirks, disappearing into the room she bagsed.
“Clean your teeth!” I say, sternly, unsure whether she can still hear me and what difference it’d make if she could.
“I’m so sorry about her, Tal…” I sigh at the beautiful woman who’s taken us in for the night “…she’s always struggled a bit with filterin’ what she’s sayin’ to people and she’s just spent the past 2 years livin’ on a Neanderthal reserve in France… which I don’t think helped(!)”
“It’s really nae bother at all… She’s got lovely energy and I can tell she doesnae mean any harm…” smiles the woman, her cadence enchantingly musical.
I smile and nod before going to take a sip of the heavenly, amber liquid she’s introduced me to, this evening.
“So… you have a girlfriend, Victor…?” she asks, her bubblegum pink eyes fixed on me.
I choke, splutter and cough as I inhale a tiny amount of the strong spirit.
Once I’ve recovered, I look into the woman’s face and see her giving me a smile with some indefinable quality of ‘maturity’ that I’ve never seen on the face of any girl my age!
An 8-9 year age gap may not sound like much but it’s amazing the difference it seems to make in bearing!
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“*cough*…No… err… no girlfriend… no…no…” I say, my heart either stopped in my chest or beating so fast I can’t tell it’s beating!
Her jet black eyebrows fly up her head and she smirks “Four ‘no’s…? You must really want me to be sure you have no girlfriend(!)… Boyfriend?”
My breaths shallow, I answer “No boyfriend either… tried guys… came to the conclusion that I’m straight(!)”
“So… you’re straight… and single?” she says, giving a tiny grin that shows off her entrancing diastema.
I never would have thought a gap in someone’s teeth could have my stomach swoop like that!
“I am straight and single… Those are truth facts…” I say, losing my ability to word good(!)
She scoots close to me and gently places a long fingered, sable skinned hand on my knee.
“I dinnae suppose… you’d have any interest in, as your sister puts it, engaging in a ‘loud activity’ with an older Tshwane lady… would you?” she asks, in a sensual half whisper.
“Uuuhm…” I say, my mind gone completely stupid.
She whisks her hand away and frowns “If you dinnae want to, that’s fine… I just thought I was getting signals… If you say ‘no’, I’m nae tossing the two o’ yous out in the rain(!)… No quid pro quo here… Just a little optional deal sweetening(!)”
“I’m definitely up for it! I just…”
My mind goes blank as her hand returns to my knee and, this time, keeps going…
Her long fingers stroke sensually, up my inner thigh, until they reach my suddenly far too constricting pants…
“You were saying…?” she smiles, innocently.
“I don’t…*huh*… remember what I was…*huh*… sayin’!…*huh*… I’m havin’ trouble…*huh*… rememberin’ a lotta…*huh*… things right now!…*huh*… My own name…*huh*… for one(!)” I pant.
She grins and whispers “Oh, well… that one I can definitely help you with… you’ll just have to make me scream it to remind you(!)”
With that, she brings her left leg over my lap and sits, bringing about 65kg to bear on my legs.
She’s feather light for someone so tall… but… I guess it’s about right for someone so slim!
She wraps her long, slender arms around my neck and brings the tip of her wide, flat nose to mine.
I can now feel that she’s panting almost as much as I am as her breath breaks over my lower face.
She smells absolutely divine!
I suppose, Tshwane have a much more developed sense of smell than Sapiens and even Neanderthals… Makes sense they’d want to smell nice!
My hands are, somehow, on her shoulderblades and stroking downward.
They pass over the disturbance of her bra straps and down the perfect arch of her back, inveigling themselves first into the gap between her top and skirt, then under her skirt and (though this was not what I intended) under her panties, finding themselves clasped around her arsecheeks… the platonic forms of roundness!
Before I know it, her lips are on mine and a long tongue is probing the inside of my mouth.
Then we both freeze, both hearing a door open at the same time…
I evict the invasive tongue and lean my head to look around hers.
I see a pyjamaed Tea, standing in the doorway of the bedroom she disappeared into a few minutes ago, holding a toothbrush and looking both mirthful and incredulous.
“Well… you two definitely didn’t waste time, did you(!?)” she quips “Might wanna move it to a bedroom though…” she continues, gesturing out of the uncurtained window and French doors “…peepin’ toms’ paradise round here(!)”
---Tal’s perspective---
I hurry upstairs, past the rain battered skylight at the top of the staircase, and turn right.
My door is right there.
The gorgeous boy is hot on my heels.
I flick the privacy field on and close the door behind him!
“Were they…*mwuh*… expensive…*mwuh*…?” he asks, gesturing to one of the devices sticking out of the wooden floor in the corner of the room, where the sloping roof makes it impossible to stand, as he presses me into the wall, through the field, and kisses me with the kind of desperate attentiveness that only young men have…
Between kisses, I answer “Surprisingly…*mwah*… affordable!…*mwah*… Gardenworld tech’s…*mwah*… getting cheaper…*mwah*… by the year!…*mwah*… The floor’s, covered…*mwah*… but the walls…*mwah*… arenae…*mwah*… by the way! …*mwah*… Your sister’ll hear you…*mwah*… pressing me…*mwah*… against the wall like this!”
He grins and moves to start kissing my neck “So…*mwuh*… whatever we do on the bed…*mwuh*… she won’t hear…*mwuh*…?”
“That is a truth fact(!)” I quip.
No sooner have I said it than I’m lifted up and thrown onto the bed!
Before I know it, I’ve got more than two metres of Sapiens pressing me down into the mattress.
The substance and solidity of his body is more like a Neanderthal’s than a Sapiens!
This height though… you’d never get this from a Neanderthal!
My top is wrestled off me with a desperate urgency that suggests he thinks there might be a time limit to proceedings(!)
Now bare chested bar my bra, I smile up at the man pinning me to the bed as he reaches to the hem of his own top to pull it off.
I gasp as he unveils his muscular chest and arms!
This does not look like a 20 year old’s upper body!
Though… there is something a little disappointing…
“I thought you’d be hairier…” I pout, gesturing to his starkly hairless chest.
“I was… Didn’t like it… Had it modded away… Dealbreaker?” he responds, stopping in his tracks, looking crestfallen.
I smirk and shake my head “Not a dealbreaker… just wish you’d considered your future lovers’ preferences when you made that decision(!)”
He grins back “Should I have got a committee together(?) ‘Women of the world… hair or no hair(?)’”
I tilt my head in mock consideration “I wouldnae’ve minded partaking in a committee like that(!)”
He leans in to plant a kiss at my clavicle.
But… something’s wrong…
He… doesn’t… smell right!
---Victor’s perspective---
A hand wraps itself around my shoulder and applies pressure.
“Stop… stop…” comes the musical, Scottish accented voice.
I allow myself to be pushed away and look quizzically down into the stunning, ebony face frowning up at me.
“What’s up?” she asks, sternly.
“What d’you mean?” I answer, confused “You stopped me! What’s up with you?”
“I stopped you because I can smell your doubts and misgivings, Victor… So what’s up?”
“Fuck off you can!… I know that Tshwane have better senses of smell than Sapiens but you can. not. smell doubt!”
Her left eyebrow flies up her forehead as she asks “So you’re saying you’re nae having any doubts right now…?” in a way that broadcasts, loud and clear, that she’s ready to call me a liar.
“Well…” I frown “…I didn’t say that.”
“Knew it!” she says, sitting up and pushing me away, managing to seem businesslike despite her toplessness “Let’s have it! Is it the age gap? Or do you have unrequited feelings for that girl downstairs?”
I grimace, shake my head and answer “What!? No! It’s neither of those things! Me and Treg are family and, even if we were eachother’s types, which we’re not, it’d destroy our relationship to bring romance into it! As to the age gap; it doesn’t bother me at all… I’m an adult… you’re an attractive woman who just happens to be a few years older ’an me… No issue!” honestly.
She spends a few seconds appraising my words and, seeming satisfied of their truth, responds “Then what is the problem?”
Introspecting for a moment, I realise “There’s two…”
“Alright… what are they?”
“OK… so… the first one… is… Look, you seem like a really nice person…”
“I’m sensing a poisonous qualifier coming(!)” she states, flatly.
I think for a second about how to phrase around the ‘but’ that I was about to say.
“You seem like a really nice person… therefore I feel like I need to be honest with you… This… can’t turn into any kinda relationship… it ain’t possible!… I’m leavin’ the planet in a few months and I don’t know when I’ll be back, if ever… I just don’t want you thinkin’ this is more ’an it is…”
She smirks “Ah… I see what’s happened here… You were confused(!) See, when someone asks you for sex… that’s called a ‘proposition’… You’ve mixed it up with a very similar word, ‘proposal’(!) And now you’re worried that you’re gonnae be off shagging four armed, Martian princesses and I’m gonnae be standin’ at an alter in a red dress and asking ‘Where is my betrothed?! Where is my beloved Victor!? He accepted my proposition! He should be here!!!’… It’s a very easy mistake to make(!) I can see how you got confused(!)” she mocks, her tone patronising, like she’s talking to a child or a simple person. Then she adds “But no… I’m in zero danger of expecting anything more than one satisfying night with you, young man!… What’s the other thing?”
“Well… I’m… I’m not… I don’t…” I hem and haw over how to phrase my other misgiving.
“Spit it out!” she says, irritated.
“I’m not into vanilla sex! I’m a Dom! I like to tie my partners up! I’m sorry if that’s too weird!” I blurt, more aggressively than ideal.
---Tal’s perspective---
I stare blankly at the shirtless, muscular young man.
I’m processing what he’s just said for a good 6 seconds while he stares at me, waiting for an answer.
Then I burst into giggles.
“*hehehehehehe*…I should’ve fucking known!…*hehehehehehe*… You were too good to be true!…*hehehehehehe*… Did Kathy hire you!? …*hehehehehehe*… Is this her idea of a…*hehehehehehe*… reward for my help…*hehehehehehe*… with her wedding!?” I say, in utter hysterics.
“Whuh… hire me? What are you talking about!? I don’t know anyone called Kathy!”
“Nice try ‘Victor’, if that is your real name(!)…*hehehehehehe*… I’m sure that you dinnae know Kathy…*hehehehehehe*… same as I’m sure that you’re not a gigolo she’s hired me(!)”
His copper eyebrows fly up his forehead in unmistakeably genuine shock!
My laughter ceases immediately.
“You… think… I’m a gigolo?”
“Uh… well… based on that reaction… I’m guessing you’re not?”
“I’m not…” he glowers “…what exactly made you think I was?”
“Well… like I said… you just seemed a little too good to be true… thought you must’ve been a thank you gift from Kathy… she must’ve asked for the ‘boyfriend experience’…” I say, my cheeks burning with embarrassment!
“Like I said, I don’t know any Kathy… How exactly am I ‘too good to be true’?”
“Well… you’re just… exactly my type…” I hesitate, feeling like I might die of the shame “…you’re tall, you’re muscular, you’re handsome, you’re young, you’re polite, conscientious and attentive but nae clingy (you’ve even got the built in excuse as to why you cannae stick around for a relationship, meaning I dinnae have to have the ‘It’s nae you, it’s me’ talk), you’re a redhead, you’ve got those wonderful eyes… and to top it all off, you came into my bar at exactly the right time that we didnae have any chalets left, the bar front was empty for the ceilidh and I had less than an hour in my shift before Kathy relieved me… with a sob story about how you and your sister (who’d actually be you’re agent) had been trapped in MacCulloch’s Folly for 2 hours ’cause you didnae wanna spook Siobhan’s herd!… That’s a story designed to get you in my good books!”
The handsome face glaring down at me bobs up and down in consideration before speaking “You knew all that already, though… So, what was it that suddenly made you think I was a sexworker?”
“Oh… well…” I place a hand on his right shoulder to leverage myself off the bed.
I reach through the shimmering distortion of the privacy field to unlatch the 1.5m tall door of my ‘walk in’ wardrobe that, to me, is more of a ‘crouch in’(!)
The field insulates us from the way the hinges cry in protest from the door being opened.
I reveal a space about 2m×2m with the slope of the roof making it substantially taller on the right than the left, looking at it.
On every wall hang devices, restraints, ropes etc. etc.
On the coat rail dangle some erotic costumes I’ve purchased. On the floor are boxes of more toys.
“…that would be when you told me you were a Dom…”
---Victor’s perspective---
The waistband of Tal’s tartan skirt has ridden up to rest at her midriff.
It’s the only clothing I have allowed her to keep!
Under it, I’ve tied a vibewand in a way that its bulb is firmly pressed against her clit, allowing me to feel the vibrations from where I am inside her.
Her nipples are covered by squares of tape holding furiously whirring vibrators in place!
Her mouth is stuffed with her own, wadded tights, held in place with the cylindrical bit of a harness gag.
Her wrists are bound, shibari style, to the headboard, her long fingered hands contorting in her ecstasy.
Her legs are bound, ankle to thigh, with the soles of her 35cm long feet against my hips, suspending her hips half a metre from the bed.
Around her neck is a choke chain collar, the handle of which is wrapped around my left hand.
My right hand cradles her lower back, supporting her hips as her pussy greedily swallows my cock.
I pull the chain to make it difficult for her to breathe and enjoy the desperation in her bubblegum eyes as she looks up at me.
“You thought I was a gigolo 30 minutes ago!… 4 hours ago, we hadn’t met… and here you are! Tied up by a man you met tonight! What a fucking slut you are!” I snarl, (consensually) degrading her with gleeful spite!
I hesitate about whether to say what I want to say next.
It’s the kind of thing it’s difficult to clear ahead of time without ruining it…
But… she did give me her limits… this wasn’t one of them… and she did say anything else was fair game… and she encouraged me to be creative!
I decide to go for it… she’s got her gagged safeword if I’m taking it too far
“I could get a fortune sellin’ a dirty little cunt like yours on the black market, you know(!)” I taunt.
Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head desperately from side to side, moaning into her gag.
That’s not the safeword… seems like she’s into it…
I drop the choke chain, lean to push my length all the way inside her tight pussy and knot my hand into a hank of her hair, manhandling her head.
“You thought I was sooooo sweet and innocent, didn’t you!?” here, I affect a high pitched, naïve voice to say “‘Pleeease Miss… could I try a little of your nice whisky? I’ve never had any before! Oh, that’s looovely Miss! Could I have some more?’” I puff, contemptuously, into her face, as if spitting, and return to my deep, snarling growl to say “Never. even. fuckin’. occurred to you that I could be someone dangerous… that I could be someone you’d need to watch out for… that I might be the kinda SCUMBAG who, when he’s had his fun with you, would load you into a private transport and whisk you away to the other side o’ the planet (or to another planet entirely) where he’d sell you off and you’d spend the rest of your life as a fuckdummy to someone just as bad as him… just richer and less pretty! And… when you’re lookin’ a bit old and worn out for his tastes… he can just toss you in a regen vat and have you as good as new again(!) Nah… none of that occurred to you! Your slutty little brain only saw a juicy package attached to a cute young face… Enjoy it while it lasts, bitch, because by 4 o’clock tomorrow we’ll be gone, you to your new life as a fucktoy, me to find some other desperate lady to sell!… This’ll be the best dickin’ down you ever get again… No more fancy whiskies, no more chalet livin’, no more ceilidhs, just ugly scumbags’ dicks in your pussy… forever!… Hope you’re lookin’ forward to it(!)”
“Gnuh! Gnuh! Gnuh!” she protests, still not using the safeword.
I give an evil grin “Tell you what, slut… if you don’t want me to sell you… that’s fine… we can just stop right here and…”
“Mmmph!?” she panics.
“Oh…(?) What’s this(?)… You want me to finish inside you(?) Could that be it(?)” I tease, knowing full well that she considers the creampie ‘the most important part’!
She nods, vigorously.
“Oh… well… if you want that… all you gotta do is admit that you’re such a slut that you can’t wait for me to sell you… Then I’ll give you what you want…”
Reluctantly, she mumbles “Haing!”
I smile, shake my head and pull her hair to force her to look at me “‘Fine’ ain’t good enough, bitch!… Repeat after me: ‘I am a slut’…”
“Uy ang uh Hlukh.”
“‘I live only for cock’!”
“Uy yib ongny hor kokh!”
“‘I can’t wait to be sold’!”
“Uy kangy ngaik ka vee howgh!”
“‘I can’t wait to be used’!”
“Uy kangy ngaik ka vee ngusgh!”
“‘I don’t care who’!”
“Uy gonk ke’ah huh!”
“‘I just want cock’!”
“Uy gusk wongk kokh!”
“Good…” I smile “…now I’ll give you what you want!”
I continue pounding her into the headboard, tossing the leash aside in favour of wrapping both my hands almost all the way around her stick thin waist, under her slutty skirt.
Using her as a fleshlite in a way that she seems even more pleased with than I am, I manage to steadily work myself back up to near climax after that little cooling off period I bought myself with the degradation.
This time, I don’t let up, keeping on going until I’m past the point of no return, I empty myself into her, entirely!
I’ve just bred her so completely that I’m worried I might’ve managed to impregnate her even through her cycle pause!
I’m living proof it can happen(!)
Feeling like she must be satisfied with that, I make to untie her wrists.
“Nnn-nnngh!” she says, the safeword cadence, with a headshake, but only once, not three times…
“You want me to leave you tied up?” I ask.
“Ngh-huh!” she nods, firmly.
“You want to go again?” I say, a little incredulous.
Another firm nod.
“Alright… I’ll need a few minutes…”
---Treg’s perspective---
As we walk through Glen Coe (a landscape so desolate that it’s almost as if we’ve managed to wander onto the surface of one of those planets where the only life is a single species of moss(!)) I turn to Victor and ask “So… Vicky… I gotta know… how was that Tshwane MILF pussy? Was it amazin’? I bet it was amazin’!”
He sighs “First off, Tea… a gentleman don’t kiss and tell! Second, don’t talk ’bout people by their lineage+genitals like that! It’s gross!… Imagine how you’d feel if you heard one of your partners callin’ you ‘that Neanderthal pussy’…”
“I wouldn’t care… I might suggest ‘Neanderthussy’ to ’em though(!)” I shrug, the truth/untruth of that statement less important than the tease.
“Alright… If you heard me get called ‘that Sapiens cock’?”
“I would laugh my head off!” I say, completely truthfully.
“Alright, whatever… Third, she weren’t a MILF… She was still in her twenties!”
“Yes…” I grin “…and nearly 9 years older than you… has her own house, has money to spend on alien home gadgetry and cooked us blueberry pancakes for breakfast, both mornin’s we stayed with her! Certified MILF!”
“You gotta be in your fourties at least to be a MILF!”
“Nah… I think it’s just anyone who’s at an age where they could have a child…”
“You could’ve legally had a child at 16 and 9 month who’d be nearly 4 now… does that make you a MILF?”
“No, but conceivin’ a child the instant it’s legal ain't normal… havin’ a child in your late twenties is!”
“To me, a MILF is someone who might have a child old enough that their female attracted friends find her attractive… that’s a MILF… therefore you can’t be a MILF in your twenties.”
“You know what I’ve just realised, Victor?” I say, changing the subject “I already know how good that MILF pussy must’ve been(!)”
He sighs “Oh yeah? Enlighten me(!)”
“Well… where did your schedule put us today(?)”
Clearly seeing where I’m going with this, he sighs “Fort William…”
“Interesting… and where are we right now(?)”
“*sigh* Not Fort William…”
“And… remind me why we’re a whole day behind schedule, Victor(?)” I say, tapping my finger on my chin in mock thoughtfulness.
“Because… the morning after the first night at Tal’s, she invited us to stay one more night and we both agreed!”
“There you go!” I smirk “That Scottish, MILF Tshwanussy so good it made Victor Taylor abandon a schedule(!)”