Fortunately for Linza and her research goals, there were plenty of experiences that welcomed voyeurs. She would have had to pay for the pleasure, in fact, had she not been on staff.
This particular experience involved six handsome men and a sitting room. At the center was the performance, and the voyeurs could each choose one of the many different kinds chairs that ringed the space, according to their tastes.
Linza had ended up curled in a wingback, partially for the sense of safety that the high back and sides around her provided. She was excited more than apprehensive, but the closeness of the chair comforted her all the same.
The guest in this encounter was a middle-aged woman with dark skin and short hair. Linza had noticed that guests at the pleasure house tended to be in middle or advanced age. She’d at first bought into the idea that they perhaps found it more difficult to find partners than younger folks. But then Linza had started to understand, especially with her guests in the illusion rooms, that the truth was that it took most folks some years to develop the boldness to pursue what they truly wanted. The older folks were more picky about their sexual encounters, not less.
And Linza was confident that sexuality and youth did not correlate one bit. Some of the most attractive, beautiful, vital people she’d ever seen were these people of so-called middle and advanced age.
This guest had a particular magic around her, a brilliant energy, and the six male hosts of the experience needed only do what came naturally. There were two half-orcs, a half-elf, and three humans, twelve eyes totally captivated by their guest.
They all wore robes to start and milled around the center of the room until it was time.
Then the guest dropped her robe.
The men started fawning over her immediately, sidling up to catch her attention, dropping their robes to reveal their own nakedness and throbbing erections.
“Please will you have me?”
“Don’t I please you most?”
“I’ll pleasure you the best.”
She put a finger to her lips and regarded the six of them. She lingered in that moment until they were each pawing at her, begging and pleading. She raised a hand. “Enough. I’ve made my decision. I’ll have all of you.”
And then she was swept into their arms, pulled into the middle of them, abruptly, insistently. As with every experience at the estate, this would have been discussed with the guest prior, to ensure that everything was to her liking.
Though, ‘liking’ was an understatement. The guest reveled in their attentions, delighted in their desperation.
The men ushered her gently over an ottoman and then there was a dick in her mouth and a dick in her sex. The other four ran their hands over her, taking turns kissing her hips, suckling her breasts, fondling her curves, stroking themselves all the while.
Linza sat in the wing-backed chair, hands over her face and watching through parted fingers. She breathed quickly. Everything in her body, her mind, responded to the erotic scene before her. Her false modesty thus displaced, there was only a burning and throbbing desire. It surprised her. She’d been guiding people to masturbate for weeks now—but here, they were seeing her seeing them. There were more bodies, more sweat, more moaning.
Linza kept her hand at her face as much so that she wouldn’t start masturbating as anything else. She needed to focus. Needed to etch these memories in her mind, to record them in her repertoire, to notice all the subtle little details. The ways the muscles of their abdomens clenched as waves of desire hit them. The coordinated but not-quite-simultaneous way their eyes and touch followed the guest as she moved. The way that one man’s gasping desire spurred the other five on. The way their eyes settled on her jiggling ass, her swinging breasts, her blissy face.
Linza even noticed how they subtly watched each other and paced themselves. These were not necessarily details that she’d represent in a fantasy, but she appreciated them. They were the real work of crafting a scenario like this, the control and coordination so subtle you almost didn’t notice, all to enable them to all climax at the same time.
Thinking of that eventuality, Linza couldn’t wait. Literally, she could no longer force her hand to stay on her cheek, and instead it fell to press at her mound through the thin layer of her skirt. Her underwear was already soaked. But she dared not miss a single detail.
Especially not when the guest’s breathing deepened and she grabbed the ass of the man with his dick in her mouth and pulled him deep. When his face melted into total abandon and Linza knew that there was no way he could stop the impending orgasm that was pulling all his muscles tight, like an arrow drawn on a bowstring.
And with all the discipline of a military unit, the other five nocked their arrows and waited.
The guest’s orgasm began and she moaned around the shaft of the first man.
And then his arrow loosed and he pulsed his cum down her throat.
And the other five released their volley, the arcs of cum hanging in the air for a precious moment before falling across her body in a criss-cross of heat and relief.
The sound of six male orgasms in unison echoed in Linza’s ears and mind as she captured as much fidelity as she possibly could.
And then they slowed, and the woman lay happily upon the ottoman. She beckoned one of the men down and he kissed her as the others toweled her off and lavished gentle touches upon her.
Linza gulped. Her monetary goals and trained modesty were suddenly directly at-odds with how desperately she wanted to be the subject of this kind of experience. Yet, she would be embarrassed to have so much attention lavished upon her! Or… would she be embarrassed at the attention itself? Or simply her desire for it? She had no answer for that yet and did not expect to for some time. So, she watched the denouement of the experience with a quiet, desperate awe, her own arousal pounding through her veins.
She glanced around. Most of the other voyeurs had already climaxed or left to do so elsewhere. She could hardly start now, could she? In the heat of the moment, nobody would have paid much attention to her. Here and now, though—they’d notice! Would they like it? Would they touch themselves again? She wanted very deeply such a scenario but she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask for it. This was why such conversations were best had before the heat of lust.
And so she stayed in the chair, one hand on her cheek and the other over her skirt on her mound, not quite committing to doing anything else.
Eventually, the men and the guest and the rest of the audience left, leaving her there alone and with the lights dimmed.
It was the kindest thing they possibly could have done.
Without anything to hold her back, Linza pulled up her skirt and pulled down her underwear. She buried her hand deep inside of herself. “Fuck! Nnnngh…”
She heaved up and out of the chair and over to the ottoman that the guest had laid across. Linza lay on her back and with a trembling hand she summoned a minor illusion. It was static and the backs of the men would be fuzzy, not quite within the range of the illusion, but the most important part was rendered in perfect clarity.
Their cum in frozen arcs, hanging in the air. Their faces contorted with need and bliss.
The vision was even more inspiring than Linza had anticipated. Almost before she realized it, she was cumming—that delicious blossoming of heat filling her body. Though this blossom did not bear the fruit of satisfaction, but rather of greater need.
Unable to keep her eyes open, she set the sounds of the six men’s moans to play over and over again around her. She tried to savor the experience but could not escape the tendrils of urgent arousal that had wrapped around her and she gasped and panted and begged until she finally reached another climax.
This one released her out of need and into soft relaxation.
She heaved herself up and collapsed back into the wingback chair to take a moment to recover. She was confident that already she would have a little something extra for her guests. But her endeavor was far from over, she concluded. As with any kind of research—the more data, the better.