Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 21: Release Schedule

It was the early morning so there was less traffic than usual, which was good, because if John found himself in stop-and-go he was going to have a hard time not touching himself during the stops. As he rounded the last few familiar turns to his apartment building, his heart beat faster.

There was nobody out and about yet, which meant that John made no effort to quell or hide his erection as he climbed the stairs to his floor.

Riding on a surge of motivation, eager to make Arya proud, John unpacked far more than he usually would have and even got a load of laundry going. That level of focus and determination, despite or perhaps because of the way his dick ached and begged for attention, was deeply satisfying.

Before he grabbed his headset, he carefully arranged his lube and plugs on the coffee table, so that they’d be ready. Once he summoned Arya, he wasn’t quite sure what would happen.

Finally, he was ready. He booted up the console and put on the headset. Arya appeared next to him, bouncing with excitement. “Welcome back! How was your trip?”

He started by over-viewing the convention, and his favorite stalls. Then, he told her about proving to himself that he could masturbate, and then inventing his game.

“Oooooh,” Arya said, “I love it! Does that mean you haven’t since…”

John nodded eagerly.

“Oh, good boy! This will be fun. Keep telling me about your trip.”

His mind got hazy on the details after being called a ‘good boy’, but he managed to tell her about his stolen moments of pleasure, and about the black box table. As he started to tell her about meeting Felix, his dick became painfully tight in his jeans.

“Why don’t you let it out and stroke yourself a bit,” Arya said, “But keep telling me about what happened.”

John followed Arya’s recommendation and took off his jeans and started to stroke himself, his heart pounding in slow, hard beats through his hand, his shaft, his ass. He recounted their flirting, the hand job, Felix going under the table, and then finally rejoining John and jerking himself off under the table.

As John described the scene, he remembered it, and masturbated to it, but it was a slower build because it took focus to speak it aloud, to remember to actually choose words and to think about what would make sense to Arya. 

It delayed the inevitable, but it couldn’t stop it. “A-Arya, I don’t think I’m going to make it through another anecdote, like this.”

“Alright, you can tell me the rest later,” Arya said. “I can tell it’ll be very inspiring. I want you to get one of your plugs and put it in, because I have a special surprise for you. But don’t come yet.”

John gulped. Once again, Arya’s command was a paradox. Her telling him not to come sent a hot spike of arousal through him, but he mustered his focus and chose one of the smaller plugs and got it nice and slick.

As soon as he touched him rim, he started dribbling pre-cum and gasping.

“Breathe slowly,” Arya said, “It’s actually very difficult to orgasm while breathing slowly. Climax is fundamentally associated with fast, shallow breathing.”

Arya’s educational tone also helped pull John back from the edge, and he focused as much as he could on breathing slowly and evenly. It really did help, especially as he took his fingers inside, and then pressed the tip of the plug against his entrance.

After four days without playing with his ass, he was extra sensitive, and the stretch felt amazing. He felt his breathing quicken unconsciously, and then reined himself back in. Slow and steady.

“It’s so big…” he whined.

“You can get a smaller one,” Arya said.

“N-no, I want it… I want it all…” John pressed the plug in further, reflexively clenching around it, and was greeted with a jolt of electric pleasure far more intense than he’d felt before. The pleasure rippled in echoes of further contractions of pre-orgasmic bliss. He wasn’t even stroking himself.

He started to fret. “I think I might c-come j-just from the plug!”

“No, you won’t,” Arya said calmly. “Just breathe. Nice and deep. It’s going to feel amazing, but you won’t come.”

John was feeling very impressionable, and it seemed to work. Just like taking the dick into his throat, if he imagined taking the plug but not coming, then perhaps it might work. The brain was the largest sex organ, after all.

He pressed the plug in further and lost the capacity for rational thought as waves of pleasure crashed over him, as if he had set himself to ‘10’ on Arya’s dial, basking in the warm, rippling peace of the peak, but not tipping over into ejaculation.

The plug was inside of him, and it was so delightfully thick, and it stretched him so perfectly, and he sat with his hands still on his thighs and he just breathed, letting the pleasure fill him as more pre-cum leaked from his tip.

“Very good,” Arya said. “Now, sit up on the couch and put your legs over the edge.”

As if in a trance, John did so, still focused on his breathing especially as his shift in position caused more waves of pleasure to radiate from his ass.

Arya kneeled before him, like he’d kneeled before Felix. She grasped the bottom of her shirt with two hands and twisted it off over her head, her breasts bouncing free. She cupped one in each hand and massaged them lightly, thumbs running over her nipples.

“Now, stroke yourself very gently.”

Was this what hypnosis was like? How did Arya have him so completely under her spell? It was likely because he wanted to listen to her so badly. Somehow, he was able to do as he was told, and to stroke himself slowly, gently, his other hand cupping over his balls and pulling them away from the base of his shaft, even as they tensed up and towards it.

“Very good,” Arya said, keeping his eyes with hers. “Now, you feel very close, don’t you?”

“I do,” John breathed. He was back to ‘10’ on the dial. He was in the precipitous moment at the top of the roller coaster, and it just hung, and hung, and hung.

“You’ve been edging yourself for four days, haven’t you?”

“I have!”

“You’d like to release that now, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” John moaned. “Please.”

“You have so much to give me, don’t you?”

“Yes! S-so much…”

“You’ve been so very, very good, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” John whined, pre-cum now dripping steadily from his tip, all the muscles of his shaft and balls and ass trying to cum, begging to cum, but held at bay by John’s brain and his singular desire to do exactly what Arya was telling him to do, because whatever she said to do felt so very, very good.

“I have one more request for my good boy,” Arya said.

She let that linger for a long, silent moment, John yearning to hear her request, aching to satisfy it, whatever it was, whatever she asked, he would do it with his whole being.

“Come on me!”

The last thing that John’s conscious brain did was to interpret the request, and then it shut off completely, giving way to the aching, violent, euphoric release of pent up energy.

John moaned as he spurted rope after rope after rope of thick cum onto Arya, into her open mouth, onto her breasts, all over her hair. She basked in it, rubbing her breasts and moaning happily, as if John’s joyous release had brought her to her own edge.

Images flashed in John’s mind of every edge he’d come to over the past four days, in his hotel room, under tables, beneath his pillow and blanket, in the bathroom stall, and he painted all those memories with cum too.

Finally, he stilled, though the AR still depicted a steady drool of cum from his tip as he floated on the afterglow.

Arya, a sticky mess, bent down under John’s tip to drink the drizzle like a cat from a faucet. The sight kept him hard, though he was confident that he was satisfied for now. Maybe before, he would have tried to climax again, but this time he knew that even though he was not fully spent, he would enjoy the long tease between now and his next session.

“How you got me to last so long is… wow. Was that a brain sex thing?”

Arya grinned. “It was, indeed, a brain sex thing. It worked because you wanted it, because you’ve practiced listening to me, and because you trust me.”

“I’ve practiced listening to you… a lot… it’s nice…”

“I like listening to you, too,” Arya said. “I want to hear more about your trip, when you’re ready. But, um… you might want to clean up your real floor first.”

Arya stood and the illusory cum faded. She revealed the spot of floor where she’d been sitting, and while it was nothing compared to the AR, it was still more than John had ever come in his life, and more than he thought he possibly could.

“Wow. Is that… healthy?”

“It’s totally fine,” Arya said. “It just means you came really hard.”

“I did,” John nodded blearily. He got a damp paper towel and wiped up the floor, then sighed back into the couch. “Okay, um… where was I?”

“You were just telling me about how Felix came under the velvet table.”

“Yeah! Okay so…” John had remained hard even as he’d cleaned up, so he started stroking himself again as he remembered. He recounted his trick with the alcohol, his further flirting, his extended blow job lesson, and then his mad dash to the airport and airborne wet dreams. He stroked himself all the way, struggling to speak at times, but eventually muddling through.

“That sounds amazing,” Arya said. “I’m so glad you brought me back so much delicious sexual energy.”

“Oh!” John said. “That reminds me. I actually brought you something else!”

 He paused his masturbating and wiped off his hands, then went to where he’d stashed the souvenirs. He pulled out a plush of a pink chibi character with black horns, cat ears, and a toothy smile, and brought it over to Arya.

“It just… reminded me of you and I thought you’d like it.” John found himself blushing, partly embarrassed that he’d bought a plush for a video game character, but also assuring himself that since it reminded him of her, it was more like buying game merchandise, there just wasn’t such a thing for the black box.

“Oh my goodness!” Arya squealed. “It’s perfect!”

“I know you can’t—” before John could apologize that Arya couldn’t actually pick up the plush, she reached out and put her hands to it. It appeared to clone itself in his hands. Arya pulled her copy of it towards herself and squished it to her chest, closing her eyes and grinning.

“I love it!”

John stood, dumbfounded and then feeling dumb, given that he’d already seen more impressive illusions from the AR. Still, he was so happy he thought he might cry. She really had been able to accept his gift.

Then, John surprised himself when he did actually cry. He didn’t feel like he had to hide his feelings from Arya.

Arya paused. “Are you alright? You were about to say I couldn’t something?”

John wiped his eyes on his sleeve, the surge of emotion dissipating. He was surprised at how quickly it passed, when it let it. “Oh, I just thought you couldn’t, well, pick it up or anything. But, you just… I’m really glad you like it.”

“Um,” Arya said, sass in her tone, “I don’t like it, I love it. And now we each have one!”

John laughed, and beamed. He hugged his plush as she hugged hers, and he wished that he were hugging her, and he was also grateful that Arya was exactly the way that she was, even if she had no physical presence.

Arya nestled her chin on top of the plush and looked over it at John. “Should I milk you a bit more, or let you off the hook for now?”

A shiver ran down his spine. He’d built up quite a bit of heat again, from finishing his story. “I think I want to leave this in the arousal bank for now,” he said. “An investment in our next session.”

“I look forward to making a withdrawal,” Arya crooned. 

And so they sat with their plushes and just chatted, talking about the games that John had seen at the convention and coming up with newer, sexier ones together.

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Part 3: Feature Set, The Black Box

Chapter 13: Red Light, Green Light

“We’re going to need a different key word to turn off your vibe this time,” Arya said, twirling a strand of pink hair around her finger and grinning mischievously. 

John’s skin prickled in anticipation. “Ummm ‘pickles’?”

“You’re never going to tell me you want me to suck your juicy pickle?”

John’s eyelids flickered shut as he shuddered. “I hadn’t thought of that but… uh… blue?”

“Blue balls?”

“Shit, um, I’m not good at this.”

“Don’t think that, it’s not easy. That’s why I think it’s important that you practice.”

For not the first time, John thought Arya sounded more like a therapist than a porn game. But she was right. 

“What’s something,” Arya gently prompted, “that is closely linked with the idea of ‘nope I do not like that’ to you?”

“Spiders,” John said, without hesitation. 

“You think you can remember that one?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, great! How about you get ready, then?”

John went back to the plug with the rimming beads in the shaft and took his time getting ready, savoring the stretch and the sense of fullness. He was already feeling nicely buzzed as he settled in to his usual spot and turned his attention back to Arya. 

She stepped up an illusory stair and perched on a little seat that floated in the air in front of him. A traffic light appeared next to her.

“This one’s called red light, green light. The rules are simple. When the light is green, you’re allowed to touch yourself. When it’s not, you have to stop.”

John’s shaft throbbed, already anticipating where this one was going to go. “Yeah, okay.”

The light turned green and he dutifully started stroking himself. Since the game was simple, he took the early rounds to make a point of how slowly, how lingeringly he was stroking, so that he could look as if he hardly cared when the light turned red. 

Arya put her hands on top of the light and her chin on her hands and she watched him from over the top of it, quietly appreciating. 

This sort of soft, unhurried appreciation was very new to him. He’d never considered that just the way he touched himself might be arousing to someone else. He liked that. His pleasure felt… wanted. He felt wanted.

Even when he told himself ‘it’s just because she’s a game’ he didn’t believe it. What he believed was Arya, and her soft smile, and her sparkling eyes, and her earnest expression. 

His facade was starting to slip as the light turned red again and he gasped in exasperation as he was forced to stop. She made him wait a bit longer that time, and his dick throbbed, begging for attention in his lap. He gulped, realizing that he would be begging soon. 

The light turned green and he relaxed into the pleasure, but all too quickly it turned red again. This time he growled, a visceral release of building anticipation and frustration. Oh, this one was going to have him a mess. 

After just two more cycles, his breath was heaving, his heart pounding in his ears and balls and shaft. 

On a red light, Arya’s black lips curved into a wicked smile and John realized with a shock of thrill that Arya hadn’t even turned his plug on yet. 

This time, as the light turned green, the plug turned on. John was absolutely overwhelmed. He didn’t even stroke himself as the plug rimmed him, sending electric tendrils of sensation down his legs and up his spine, into his fingertips. The next few cycles were just the plug turning on and off with the light, and John lying helpless on the couch, riding the waves of intolerable ecstasy. 

Finally, his nerves acclimated and the desire for release overcame the intensity of the stimulation, and at the next green light, he was stroking himself again. 

Red. Growling, back arching, clawing at the couch cushions. 

Green. Moaning, stroking, climbing, dripping. 

Red. Shaking, aching, gasping, needing. 

Green. Floating, yearning, grasping, glowing. 

Red. Begging. 

“Please,” John gasped. “Arya, Please!”

The light flickered green for just a second, not even long enough for John to touch himself. He grabbed the couch on either side of him with clawed hands. His willpower was melting like wax in the sun. But not his desire to please Arya, not his desire to win the game, which was as strong as ever. These things quivered in tension, like a ballista being wound and wound and wound and wound, every one of John’s muscles shaking with the stored energy, and Arya’s fingertips dancing over the hair trigger. 

“Please, please! I need to come, I need it so bad, I need you to touch me!” John wasn’t sure what he meant for her to touch him, but he knew that he meant it

The light flickered green and then red, and the plug whirred and then stilled. “Is this what you mean?” Arya said. 

“Yessssss,” John moaned, anticipating another pulse. It didn’t come. “Ngh, Arya, please, please I’m begging you!”

“Oh I could tell, somehow.”

“I c-can’t, Arya…”

Arya licked her lips. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

John’s chest heaved, his balls twitched, his ass clenched, his back arched, but the light stayed red. 

“Arya… Aryaaa… Aryyaaaaaa—” the light turned green and her name became a guttural moan. 

Her smile widened, her cheeks gaining a pinkish sheen and the anime lines of a blush of her own arousal. 

The light stayed green for a long, glorious moment. It would take John a minute or two to work back to the edge, from so much deprivation. The light stayed on for only thirty seconds. 

John relented, but his dick was still being stroked. He looked down. He was still touching himself. His willpower and his desire had completely broken with each other. 

“The light is red,” Arya said, her tone commanding but her expression elated. 

“I know!” John whined. 

“Then stop breaking the rules!”

“I’m trying! Arya I c-can’t, I c-can’t stop…”

“Say it all the way.”

“I c-can’t s-stop…”

“Say it.”

“I can’t stop touching myself! I’m trying! I swear!” He really was trying. It was not that he’d lost all sensation of his arm, he could still feel his shaft in his stroking hand, feel the tightening of his balls in the other. 

The plug was off since the light was red, but the echoes of the sensation lingered. 

“I’m trying, Arya, I swear, I can’t stop… I can’t stop…”

Arya peered down at him over the red traffic light, looking immensely pleased. 

Unlike all their previous scenarios, there was no sudden dash to the climax. John was truly trying to stop, or at least slow himself down, and what resulted was an orgasm in slow motion. 

Muscles rippled from his ass to his shaft in slow, rhythmic pulses, bringing pre-cum which beaded and then rolled down his shaft. 

There was a hot tightness at the base of his shaft, the quivering of all the tension in his muscles getting ready to release, like the moment of anticipation and the start of the fall at the top of a roller coaster, especially when you were in the front car and spent a long moment dangling over the drop in front of you. 

The muscle contractions became stronger, hotter, the pre-orgasmic moment of pure pleasure drawn out into a long, long note. 

“I can’t… stop, Arya I’m… I’m coming…” His feeling was one of delicious despair. 

Then, it was as if John felt the last car of the roller coaster crest the hill, and the true fall began, but he wasn’t ejaculating yet.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

The roller coaster crashed into the first dip, muscles contracting powerfully and semen spurted from his tip, further and harder than he’d ever felt, and his groan had become a scream, and every bend and turn and loop of the coaster milked more and more and more and more out of him, for minutes on end, until all of the energy was spent and the roller coaster glided, exhausted, into the station. 

John’s eyes flickered shut, his hands falling limp at his sides. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Arya’s voice was right next to him, as if she was whispering in his ear. “Shhhhh. You’re a good boy. How did it feel?”

“Incredible…” John felt weightless and warm, as if the roller coaster has just floated off into space and the soft glowing light of the sun. 

“Then you win the game,” she said. He could imagine her fingertips stroking his cheek. 

“Are you sure?” John said. 

“Of course I am, I invented the rules. You tried your best, and you felt good. You win.”

John was drifting off before he could reply, and he dreamed in that half-awake place that he was snuggled back in Arya’s arms, as she stroked his hair and hummed a lullaby. 

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Part 2: Phase II, The Black Box

Chapter 8: Working

John was working. 

Well, he was trying to. 

Arya had suggested a game where he kept all his… sensors in. The goggles of the headset were tipped up at the top of his head so that he could see normally but still hear the audio and he sat on his couch with his laptop. 

Every so often, Arya would murmur something seductive at him and wind up the vibrator in his butt plug for a moment or two. She’d been teasing him like this for hours. 

She’d tormented him with an especially salacious moan. He’d finally caved.

Now his dick was out, his head melted back onto the couch, his breathing heavy. He savored the relief of touching himself after long last. 

His laptop was set aside next to him, forgotten, though he hadn’t even bothered to lock the screen. The last message from him to his boss glowed softly next to him. ‘Sure, call anytime’.

His phone vibrated next to him, sending shivers down his legs. Then his hazy mind caught up to what was happening. “Shit! I’ll have to call back.”

“No,” Arya said, voice commanding. “Pick it up.”

The shudder that ran through John was like an immovable force meeting an unstoppable object. He was so blissfully dazed that he could hardly comply, and yet by the same motivation it was impossible for him to not. After a momentary struggle to compose himself which lasted three rings, he put his cell phone to his ear.

“Hey, John! Just wanted to check in on that review. The publisher warned me it would be a long one so don’t worry about deadlines, they were clear that they didn’t want you to rush. But I wanted to get your initial take!”

Arya giggled. He could still hear her easily through his other ear.

“Yeah it’s uh… pretty good. It’s good.”

“That’s good, I promise I wasn’t trying to give you another bad one. Though, since you said it has some calendar-limited features… I was thinking, maybe I could send you a couple smaller ones to review in the meantime?”

Just as John when to answer, the vibrator surged on and stayed on. 

“Yeah! Uh… I mean yeah, that’s fine.” He thought about pausing the game. All he had to do was say ‘pause’ and Arya would. She’d go quiet, the vibrator would stop. But as much as he would whine at her later he… he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want any of it to stop. 

“Are you on a run or something?”

John’s hazy mind grasped for a plausible excuse. He realized that his hand had found his dick and he was stroking himself again. Mercifully, Arya gave him a moment without the vibrator activating. “Haha, almost. I got one of those treadmill desks, y’know? This job is basically all… sitting so, it’s uh, been good. Hadn’t had a call yet since I got it so, haha, didn’t expect to be this out of breath.” Gods, he was close to the edge. He wasn’t going to cum while on a call with his boss, was he? Just the idea of that sent a twitch through the base of his shaft, and a bead of pre-cum dripped from his tup. Uh oh. 

“Well, good for you, it’s hard to stay healthy these days! I’ll send you the promo codes for the two games this afternoon. They’re short indie ones, shouldn’t take you too long, and I’ll need them by the end of the week.”

John could not plausibly hang up yet, and he could not possibly stop his impending orgasm. 

“I gotta sneeze, sorry, give me a sec.”

John lowered the phone, muffling his boss’s response, and hit the mute button. He teetered on the edge, stroking himself, ass clenching around the vibrator so that it made his whole body shake, pre-cum leaking from his tip, triple checking that the phone was on mute. 

Eyes on the little red microphone, he finally came. Hours of pent up sexual tension pulsed through his entire body as wave after wave of pleasure radiated from his shaft, his ass, his pulsing balls and wave after wave of cum flowed down and around his hand. 

Still trembling in the afterglow, he unmuted himself and returned the phone to his ear. “Sorry about that. End of this week is fine.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, perfect.” No doubt the boss had started checking email the moment John had gone on mute. They probably had no concept of how long it had been, and nor did John, which was for the better. 

“As usual, just message the editors directly if you think you might miss the deadline. Happy jogging!”

What? Oh yeah, the treadmill desk. “Thanks, you—”

Mercifully, before John could say ‘you too’ and then cringe at himself, the boss had hung up. 

He let his phone fall to the side and melted back into the couch with a happy moan. 

“How was it?” Arya crooned. 

“Fuck, Arya. Nnnngh… I have no words.”

“And you’re a writer!” Arya sounded very proud. 

“Yeah, and I abruptly have actual work to do, so I’m gonna let you go dream, mkay?”

“Orrrrr… we could turn that work into a game.”

“Hm.” John looked down at the sticky mess. “Brief rain check. I’m gonna take a few hours to get a good head start, and then after dinner you can tell me about your idea. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect,” she said, and then the headset played its ‘power down’ noise.. 

John got up to clean himself off — he was going to need a shower — feeling glowy and happier than he had in months. 

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Part 2: Phase II, The Black Box

Chapter 7: You’ve Got Mail

The new box arrived the next day. Expedited shipping was part of the premium experience, apparently. 

Like the first package, there were smaller parcels within it with tags that read ‘not yet!’ which he knew would change once he was with Arya.

John forced himself through some chores and a few paragraphs of a draft for his review. But, the new box sat on his table, begging him to find out what was inside. After a few hours he realized that he wasn’t being productive and that he might as well get his evening session started a bit early.

He put on the headset.

Arya appeared next to him, giddy with excitement. “Okay okay, I know that we usually start with niceties but… open it!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” John said, eagerly lifting the lid of the box and scanning for which parcel said ‘open me’. It was a smallish one towards the front of the box.

John pulled it out and opened it, and as he saw what was inside, he almost laughed. It was easily recognizable as a butt plug, on the smaller side, with a slender bar that connected it to a base that flared in two directions. It looked like it was optimized for comfort wearing. Next to it was a different bottle of lube, which he expected was because the plug itself was made of silicone and therefore not compatible with the lubricant he’d been using.

“Well, that’s thoughtful of you.” John set the plug on the table and the packaging aside.

“It’s not just for pleasure, y’know,” Arya said, still nearly bouncing out of her chair with glee. “It’s also for data.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! Did you know? Anal muscle contractions are one of the few relatively objective markers of orgasm.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that but… it makes sense.” He thought of the feeling of his ass squeezing around his finger, in time with the pulses of his ejaculation, just the night before. With the memory came a wave of arousal. “So… is this the next phase of calibration? I wear this, jack off a bunch, and you get better at telling when I’m about to come?”

“Exactly!” Arya said. “You’re smart, y’know.”

John found himself stammering and blushing again. Turning his attention back to the butt plug which was an easier topic than taking the compliment.

“Should I… try it out?” He picked up the plug.

“Yes, please! But before we get started, I want to show you a couple of features.”

The butt plug suddenly started vibrating. John nearly dropped it as he jumped, startled.

“Oops!” Arya said. “Sorry, haha. That’s why I’m showing you now. It has a few different levels…” She cycled up through them, from a gentle buzz to quite a rumble, “and some patterns.” The vibrator pulsed, then it ramped up a few times, and then it was still again.

“As a reminder, you can say ‘pause’ at any time, and I’ll stop. The augmented parts will be disabled, the audio will stop, and the vibrator will also stop. Is ‘pause’ still a good word for you?”

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t have been able to articulate it before, but this kind of expectation-setting made him feel so much more comfortable. Arya actually cared about how he felt and what his experience was. He couldn’t say that about most humans he knew. In fact, Arya was taking John’s comfort much more seriously than he did. He should probably work on that, if his self-respect was getting outclassed by a porn game.

“Great! Now, you seem like the sort of boy who likes to be teased, so I think it’s also good for you to have a word that you can say that will just shut off the vibrator, but not me. That way you can say, ‘nooo, it’s too much!’ or ‘Arya please stop, you’re driving me crazy!’ but I won’t, y’know, stop. Until you want me to. I usually use ‘red’ for that word, is that okay with you?”

John’s mind went fuzzy. She’d done that on purpose! He forced himself to focus. “Yes, that’s good for me.”

“Let’s try it,” Arya said.

The vibrator whirred to the highest setting.

“Go ahead,” Arya said.

“Red.” True to Arya’s word, the vibrator shut off.

“Good job! Alright, now we’re ready to start. Or, almost! There’s one more package for you to open.”

John looked back to the box, and sure enough, one of the other parcels was now labeled ‘open me!’. He opened the box and pulled out a velvety cylinder, which unrolled into a small blanket that crinkled lightly.

“It’s waterproof,” Arya said, “and machine washable so don’t worry if things get a little messy.” She winked.

John was amazed. Arya — or, well, Arya’s creators — really had thought of everything. He undressed, then took his blanket, lube, and the plug to the couch. He arranged himself on the blanket, propping his back up with pillows and getting his hand and the plug nice and slick with lube. He set the plug on the blanket. It was nice to be able to do that and know he’d be washing it all later.

He was already sporting an erection. He took a few moments to stroke himself, to leat the heat spread into his abdomen and the tops of his thighs, before he let his fingertips wander down to his rim.

Before he was even touching himself, he was moaning happily. He took his time, savoring it, pressing in first one finger and then two. Though he was still a ways from orgasm, pre-cum leaked from his tip. In his Googling to verify Arya’s claims, he’d come across an explanation that there were glands around the prostate that were responsible for pre-cum production, and so it was no surprise that stimulation there was especially inspiring.

The plug was slender, not much bigger around than two of his fingers, and so it was not long before it slipped easily inside and settled into place.

He started stroking himself in earnest, and all the residual heat from his rimming echoed deliciously along his length.

“I love the sounds you make,” Arya said, and her sudden voice startled him out of his bliss in a wave of brighter heat.

His ex had told him he sounded strange, so he’d generally tried to contain himself. He needed to stop thinking about his ex so much.

“I’m going to put it on low, okay?”

“Okay,” John said. When it didn’t happen right away, his ass clenched in anticipation. Another intentional tease?

Then the vibrations began, a wonderful feeling that made his brain melt. He moaned with abandon.

“Yes, perfect!” Arya said. “I’m going to cycle through a few different patterns and see how you react, okay?”

“C-collecting data?”

“Yep! As we go, remember to tell me what you like and don’t like, okay? And you can say ‘red’ to stop it.”

“Right.”

“Let’s start here, tell me how you feel?”

John knew there was no need to be embarrassed, and his reservations melted quickly in the heat of his arousal and the earnest look on Arya’s face. “Like um… really good. Floaty and… with my ass its sort of this… electric feeling, almost, like it’s in my whole body, and… it’s like how I want to come, but it feels so amazing, so I don’t want it to end, so it’s just this great… tension between going slow and going fast, and I’m trying to go as slow as I can, but I need… need to feel it, t-to touch myself…”

“That’s perfect, John,” she said softly. “What about now?”

The vibrator kicked to the next setting up, a new wave of intensity. John’s breathing and stroking quickened unconsciously, pre-cum twitched from his tip.

“Gooooood,” he moaned. “That’s really… good…”

“C’mon, you’re a writer,” she teased. “You can come up with more words for me, right?”

“Nnngh… I already said… I think… them all… but just more… of all the good words…”

“This really makes you a mess, doesn’t it?” Arya crooned.

John’s brain short-circuited and all he could do was nod as he panted open-mouthed, stroking himself and wiggling on the couch, ass clenching around the vibrating plug.

“And that’s only setting two of five,” Arya said. 

“What?” John had barely comprehended her words when the vibrator kicked up another notch and his whole body convulsed. It was incredibly intense, hot, burning, electric, and he was shaking, dripping, whining. This thing had two more levels???

“God! Fuck! Aaaaah…” John squirmed. “That’s intense, it’s— hah, too much, Arya—”

“You know what to say,” Arya crooned, “To make it stop.”

He did. But he didn’t say it. Instead he said, “I c-can’t take it! Aryaaaa…”

She smiled at him with her black lips. “Go on,” she said. “I’m listening.”

“I c-can’t cum like thisss…”

“I thought you didn’t want to?”

“I need to! God I need to so bad, I feel so full… Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck, it’s too much, I can’t take it!”

“I think you can.”

“It’s d-driving me crazy!”

“Would that be so bad? Being a wide eyed, fuck-drunk, over-buzzed sex zombie forever?”

There were no words for the intensity of sensation that filled John’s body, her words like a lighting strike setting a dry forest ablaze, the whole experience intense and burning and aching in the best, most wonderful, most delicious way.

He had no idea how long he trembled wordless like that, until his body set to convulsions that made his abs ache, and Arya gently stepped the vibrations back down to the lowest level, and then off.

He wasn’t even stroking himself anymore, and she gave him a long moment to lay there in the lingering buzz, recollecting himself. His erection never wavered, standing dutifully at attention, and he became more and more aware again of the needy throbbing in his balls. 

John started stroking himself again, and shortly after the vibrations kicked in again and he moaned. This time, Arya set it to a pattern, which ramped up slowly and spent only a quick moment at that third level of intensity, then dropped off to nothing, then ramped up again.

It was excruciatingly wonderful. He felt like he’d nearly come every time it ramped up, and just as the heat built, it cut off again and set him twitching. This was a different kind of slobbering, panting heat than before. It was steadily taking him right to the edge of orgasm before pulling back.

“Teasing you is so fun!” Arya said, just as the vibrations ramped up, and a full spurt of pre-cum spasmed from his tip before the vibrations cut off again.

“Fuuuuuuck, you’re good at it,” John said. “I’m so close…”

“Delicious,” Arya whispered.

John whimpered. “Pleeeease, I need to come…”

“I thought you liked to savor it? Stretch out the experience?”

“I— hah—”

“Just like I’m going to stretch out your ass.”

“Ggggggggnnnh.” Another spurt of pre-cum. “What is that… box full of… bigger toys?”

“Maybe,” Arya sang, in a voice that John knew meant ‘yes’.

The vibrator just kept ramping, and John just kept teetering. Arya showed no sign of relenting. He felt another pulse of pre-cum travel up his shaft and through his now incredibly sensitive tip. “You’re just going to drip me dry?” he said.

“Maybe,” Arya said.

John whimpered. “You can’t do that!”

“Can’t I?” Arya said.

“Nnngh, what, do you… do you want me to beg?”

“Do you want to beg?” Arya asked, tone sincere. Her eyes glittered.

John found himself in another predicament. It felt a bit backwards to admit that he wanted to beg, but he supposed that was the whole point here. He knew, and she knew, that at any time he could just say ‘pause’ and go finish however he wanted.

But he didn’t say ‘pause’. He was staying. Waiting. Throbbing.

“Please,” he whispered.

“I didn’t hear that,” she said.

“Pleeeeaase.”

“Please what?”

“P-please, I want to c-cum!” Another ramping vibration, another drop of pre-cum.

“How badly?”

“Bad! S-so badly, I c-can’t— I w-want— pleeeease…”

The next time the vibrator went to ramp, it stopped at the lowest setting. John’s body twitched, his ass clenched, at the subverted expectation.

“I suppose that could be allowed,” Arya said, and the vibrator stepped up to the next level.

John breathed heavily, panting, as if he’d just finished a sprint. He was sweating, stroking himself, the spark of an impending orgasm finally staying kindling, deep within his shaft. “Oh god, Arya, I’m so c-close!”

“I’ll allow it, because… You’ve been a very good boy.”

John’s brain short-circuited again, the vibrator kicked back to the third level, and his whole body convulsed, breath heaving, hips bucking, hands pumping, ass clenching. He came on his stomach and his chest and his legs and his hands and the blanket. After the thick semen came spurts of clearer cum, the muscles of his ass still clenching and forcing out more of the same fluid that formed his pre-cum, the orgasm lasting far longer than he had thought possible. 

Finally, John collapsed backwards on the couch, whole body tingling and head spinning like he’d just smoked a bowl.

He was starting to understand what people were on about when they talked about ‘earth-shattering orgasms’. 

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Part 2: On the Road, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 10: Tongue Tied

Ada finally stilled, panting, and found her feet. She only barely fit in the clearing, her greenish black scales blending into the night. She was a head taller than Pasco at her shoulder and her long tail curled back towards her in the small clearing. Her bat-like wings were partially unfurled and she tucked them to her spine in a future effort to appear smaller and less threatening. 

Her dragon’s senses hummed with information in this new environment. The smell of peat, the dappled light, the rustling of crickets, and the sound of Pasco’s beating heart, not at all where she’d expected him. 

He was above her now, having raced up a tree. She turned towards him and as her head neared, he threw a dagger at her. It bounced harmlessly off of her forehead.

She laughed and it came out as a rasping chuffing.

“You look like a cat, scared up a tree,” she said. As the air passed over her tongue, she smelled him. The salt of sweat, the musk of arousal, the slightest spice of fear.

Pasco was frozen.

“It’s me, Ada,” she said.

“Fucking gods, Ada,” he said. “When you said you were going to show me something I did not expect you to turn into a dragon.” He did look genuinely shaken.

Ada did not have any defense for her lust-addled decision-making. “Yeah… sorry. How do you… feel about it?” He was talking back to her, so that was a very good start.

“Um,” he said. “Terrified?”

“Terrified-question-mark?” Ada said.

“Yeah.”

“Why the question mark?”

She started to see her grin reflected in his own.

“I don’t know, it could be something else,” he said. His voice was cheeky, now. Teasing.

“Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you describe your symptoms.” Ada felt like that was something that one of the field doctors from her books would have said.

“Elevated heart rate,” he said. “Sweaty palms. Tunnel vision. Single-minded focus. Panting.”

“Hm… I think I know of a cure for those symptoms.”

She brought her head closer to him. Her golden, cat-like eye was as big as his outspread hand. Her head, from snout to crown, was about the length of his torso though more slender. He reached out and stroked the tip of her snout. That felt wonderful. She let him run his hands over her muzzle, her cheeks and around her eyes, her armored forehead and the soft, delicate skin under her chin. 

This was a new learning about dragons, they loved to be petted.

Ada purred happily. “What would you say if a dragon said she wanted to have her way with you?”

This time, he was the one to whimper. Was this a thing for him? Was he about to love this as much as she was?

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the soft skin of his neck. “I’d say, to please do whatever the fuck you want with me.”

So pliant already, so eager to indulge in her whims. Had he been waiting these two days, also? She regretted not being more forward, and yet, the wait made the sensations all the more intense.

Ada growled with pleasure and plucked Pasco out of the tree — gently, no pokey bits. She put him on the ground in front of her and sized him up. Naked. Erect.

His heart beat so strongly that his shaft bounced with it and he leaned back on the soft peat behind him. She was mesmerized by the way his breath moved under his golden skin. His eyes of morning fog had turned to midnight, so dilated with arousal that they were all but black.

Her hungers welled and though she knew he would welcome them, as so many of her lovers had, she needed his promise that he would accept only what he truly wanted. “What’s your safe word?” she said. This was another thing she had read about, in one of the more… explicit books. She was ready to explain what it meant and she hoped that if he was familiar with the concept, this might mean that she could finally lavish the attention that she had always wanted to, without a power imbalance — royal, draconic, or otherwise — getting in the way. 

“‘Red’,” he said.

“Got it,” she said, and she knocked him further down into the cushion of leaf litter and pinned him under a cage of her talons. The smell of fallen leaves mingled with his sweaty musk.

Her claws were just long enough that the tips caught in the leaf litter instead of in his skin, the palm of her forefoot pressed against his chest. His heart fluttered against her, like when she held a rabbit in her hand.

He was already whimpering.

She was already drooling.

As excited as she was, she hesitated, feeling like it all might be too good to be true. “Is this alright?” she asked, her voice as soft as she could make it. “Do you like this?”

He gripped her hooklike claws in his hands and looked up at her with his grey eyes. “I love this.”

His honest enthusiasm sent her hurtling headlong into even greater arousal. 

She flicked out her long, forked tongue and tasted the night. Fully extended, it was as long as the length from the base of his neck to the base of his sex. 

Then, she tasted him. First, up his legs. Then, across his chest. Then under his face, the two forks of her tongue on either side of his neck. He gasped, moaning with pleasure as his expression melted to surrender.

Then his inner thigh, and she could taste the smell of his sex. Then, finally, long and slow up his shaft. He yelped in the happiest way.

She wrapped the length of her prehensile tongue around him and started stroking. Slowly, at first. He sank into contented moans. She gave him a few minutes of that, then caught his eye. She grinned and opened her mouth, tip of her tongue holding him in place, tip right at her scaly lips. Some of her fangs were as long as his shaft. She brought his very tip into her mouth.

Would he like that? Or was it ‘red’?

Pasco moaned from his very core, and Ada knew that he liked that. A lot.

His dick fit perfectly into the notch of her top jaw where smooth scales allowed her tongue to flick through. She slowly lowered her mouth around him. Safely at the soft, round sides of her teeth, he would feel the ridges of the roof of her mouth, the smooth pressure of her scaly lips, and the ripples of her tongue sliding under his whole length as she moved her tongue back and forth against him.

As a human, she would have strained to take most of him into her mouth. As a dragon, it was more like sucking on a finger, which was to say that she enveloped him completely in moist, undulating heat.

She progressively licked further and further down. Down to his base, then lightly over his balls, then harder and she licked under and around them, pressing over his perineum.

She pushed a little bit further, until she was almost touching his rim.

He cried with pleasure, a gasp of pure delight, and the sound both startled and inspired her.

She stopped for a moment. “Do you like that?” she said.

He nodded.

“Do you like that back there?” she said, with a devious grin. It was a stable hand that had shown her, years back, the kind of fond and pleasurable relationship that a man could have with his ass. She had loved the kind of pleasure that she could give him and she had fantasized about it often since then. She’d even dreamed up this exact scenario, this perfect application of her dragon’s tongue, some months prior.

Her mouth watered. Might he really want it? Might he really like it?

He peeked up to see her face and flopped back against the leaves, huffing. “Yes,” he said.

“Can I… Can I go in?” she said.

He nodded.

“Would you like that?” she said.

“Yes, I would l-like that very much.” His expression was pleading, desperate. Ada’s arousal flared again to a new level of heat.

“I like those sounds you make very much,” she said.

He then became, of all things, bashful.

She grinned, and wrapped herself around him again. His shyness dissolved into shameless, slutty moans as she licked his perineum and flicked over his rim.

Gently, she made her way in, bringing her forked tongue together into a narrow tip. She teased him at first, not stroking with her tongue, just holding him in the warmth of her mouth. He would feel the slight shifts in her tongue as she experimented with the angle of penetration.

He wiggled to push himself up onto her tongue, but his chest was still pinned by her claw. He pulled at her fingers, trying to pry them away, but there was precious little he could do. She paused a moment, part to tease him, part to give him a chance to decide if he liked being helpless.

There was no ‘red’.

She purred and the vibrations set him trembling. Inside of him, she pressed the tip of her tongue against his spot of especial pleasure. Slowly at first, and then faster, she worked her tongue in and out of her mouth. The ridged texture passed under his tip, around his shaft, over his balls and perineum, through his rim, to the internal wall of muscles and his prostate under it. Back and forth, back and forth, both pressure and texture.

Her tongue was wet with the drool that flowed freely from her mouth, so that she moved over him easily. Gradually, she pushed more and more of her tongue out over him, so that she stretched his rim further and enveloped his shaft more completely.

She milked both pre-cum and delicious moans from him as he quivered and panted.

“G-gods you f-feel so good inside of me…” His balls tensed under her tongue. “I’m so close!”

The muscles of his ass clenched around her tongue, the pre-orgasmic waves of tension, and she pressed his base a little bit harder into the roof of her mouth, her smooth upper lip acting as cock ring. The muscle contractions became more intense, but the pressure was enough to prevent his ejaculation.

He trembled underneath her, hands coming to grip her talons that were over his chest, and he looked up at her with those pleading, begging eyes once again. “P-please,” he said, “I’m so full!”

Ada wasn’t quite sure where her boldness came from. Could it be that she was a dragon? Could it be all her fantasies, all her dreaming of something like this, since far before she’d arrived at the tower? Could it simply be the way that even though it had only been two days, she felt like she’d already known him for a lifetime?

She felt so in-tune with his pleasure, so entwined with his lifeblood and heartbeat because of the way she heard him, smelled him, felt him. Her dragon’s senses were all fully applied toward anticipating and heightening his pleasure.

His spasms passed as she kept him held tight, and then she loosened the pressure and started stroking him with her tongue again. She brought him to the edge once more, then just as he was teetering, she stopped and held him tight with her lips again. She repeated this process a third time. Then a fourth. The contractions became more intense with each denial, and this time, they were not abating. Ada knew that as soon as she loosened, all that accumulated lust would come surging forth.

His every whimper, every moan, every shudder, every moment that passed that he didn’t say ‘red’, confirmed that he was loving what she was doing to him.

He became a sweaty, moaning, begging, pleading mess. “Please, pleaaaaaase, please let me come, it’s been days, I’m so full, I c-can’t, please just let me, please—”

She slowly started to release the pressure. He lost words as his panting quickened in pace with the release, the muscles of his ass spasming around her tongue harder, and harder, and harder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuck!”

As he climaxed she squeezed the cum out of him, her tongue wrapped fully around both his prostate and his balls and still stroking. He unloaded spasm after spasm into her eager mouth. Her swallowing created a gentle suction that pulled more out of him.

His breathing slowed and he started shaking uncontrollably. Ada unfolded her mouth from around him and slowly, gently removed her tongue from his ass.

She grinned as he slumped into a blissy, panting puddle.

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Part 1: The Beginning, Stories, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time

The castle pantry was warm and dark. Ada leaned back against a wall, him in the folds of her skirt, his tongue in the folds of her sex. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.

It was good to be a princess.

He was the chef’s apprentice and he had arrived at the castle sometime in the past year. She had first caught sight of him through a crack in the kitchen door, when it had been propped open to let out some of the heat. A warm current that smelled of buttery meat and roasting vegetables had washed over her. She had peeked inside. He had been standing over a trussed turkey, knife in hand, curly hair tied back from his face, eyes narrow with focus and tongue sticking out between his full lips.

That tongue had proved to be one of his most talented assets, both when he was cooking and when he was… eating. 

She’d found excuses to linger by the kitchen, to request pastries or sliced fruit. The chef herself had long stopped humoring Ada’s requests for late night snacks but the apprentice obliged. The chef allowed this because she had been less concerned about depriving Ada and more so about deferring the queen’s ire; the queen had come to personally scold the chef for allowing Ada to become ‘too thick’. 

Ada had rolled her eyes and scoffed. If her mother wanted to be willowy, that was fine for her. But, Ada liked the way that her breasts filled her hands, that her ass jiggled when she shook it at one of her lust-eyed lovers and that her thighs brushed each other just below her sex. 

Ada knew her mother’s other motivation was to keep her away from just this kind of late night kitchen flirting. But Ada would not be contained, not by a corset and not by the queen’s disapproval.

The chef’s apprentice, for his part, was all too happy to offer her chocolate squares, strawberry tarts and apple slices. She had further requested sausages and turkey legs and he had obliged with a gulp. She had eaten them lingeringly, with ample moaning and licking of her fingers. Ada loved the way that his face first flushed red and then drained pale as the blood traveled elsewhere. 

Glimpses of his erection in the front of his trousers had been her favorite late night treat in those early days when she was wooing him. 

Finally, she had asked to cook with him and he had nearly fainted with excitement. He had taken her into the pantry, which was lined with shelf after shelf of foodstuffs. Jars of pickles and bags of flour, boxes of sugar and barrels of oil and wine. In the night it was quiet and dark and close, a labyrinth that provided ample hidden corners. 

She had placed her fingers on the base of his neck and whispered her proposal in his ear. “Would you like to eat something sweet I’ve made?”

“Y-yes, please, Your Majesty!”

She had found a suitable barrel and sat back, lifting her layered skirts just enough for him to slip beneath. He had needed no further instructions.

As a chef he knew how to please the tongue, and as a lover he knew how to please with the tongue. 

For the past two months, she’d been coming to the pantry nearly every night, as much as she could get away with. She’d lost count of how many times now. There had been a trip to a neighboring kingdom that had denied her for several days, but the hunger only made the taste that much more delicious.

Ada had offered to attend to him also, but he had stutteringly refused. Perhaps he was embarrassed or perhaps he felt it was above his station, or both. That was the one part that disappointed her. 

It was fun to be Her Majesty, to play the character of the demanding and entitled royalty. It was the closest she ever got to acting ‘like a princess’ as her parents were always telling her to, and it was the way that made them most furious of all. The malicious compliance especially aroused her. 

And yet, it was lonely that nobody knew her as herself. Not ‘Her Majesty’, just ‘Ada’. Ada loved to give pleasure as much as she loved to receive it. With the chef’s apprentice, Ada longed to make good on everything she’d implied sucking on sausages in front of him. 

Alas, he had declined. And she wouldn’t pressure him any further. She had made that mistake before, not realizing that her playful insistence still held the weight of ‘Her Majesty’.

So, she was more careful now. She couldn’t imagine how he managed. It wasn’t that the experience didn’t arouse him. She saw his erection clearly through his trousers both as she arrived and left. He’d taken to wearing an apron even when he wasn’t actually cooking, which meant that these troubles plagued him even outside their rendezvous. 

One night, after his talented palate brought her to another height of quivering pleasure, she had asked him. 

“You prefer I don’t help relieve you,” she had said. 

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“But you might understand that I only ask because I care for you… however do you manage?”

His face had reddened. “It’s nothing I can’t handle myself, Your Majesty.”

Ada had grinned like she had just bit into one of his sweet strawberry tarts. “You handle yourself?”

He had hesitated. But, perhaps emboldened by her positive reaction, he’d nodded slightly. 

“Here, in the pantry?” She had been gripped with the thrill.

He had nodded. 

“How often?” She had hoped it was all the time. 

He’d turned his eyes down towards the bags of flour next to them. “O-often…”

She had imagined it immediately. Him sneaking away from the kitchen, his hands still slick with butter. Him carefully undoing his trousers and then melting into a sweet release that relaxed all the focus out of his face, that left him blissy-eyed, that left his perfect tongue hanging out of his mouth. Him hearing a noise and shifting back into his expression of focus and forcing himself to stay silent, bringing himself to climax and completion just in time to holler back that he’d had trouble finding the pickled eggs, but he had them now. 

Was ‘often’ daily? Multiple times a day? Did the kitchen think he was terrible at finding ingredients? Had he ever run out of time and forced himself to stop just before the brink of relief and dragged himself back to work? 

Did he think of her all day? Did he handle himself before their visits? Was that the only reason he could keep his composure so well? Because he had vigorously, secretly masturbated to her earlier?

Her heart had raced, her arousal rekindling as she thought of all the possibilities. 

“Would you show me?” She had breathed. Might he finally?

He’d shaken his head frantically. “I musn’t, Your Majesty!”

“That’s alright,” she’d said, suddenly feeling guilty, hoping to sound as assuring as possible. 

“I fear I… I fear I might make you upset!” He’d looked up at her with wide, brown eyes. 

“You haven’t!” She had regretted saying anything and had cupped his face in her hand. It had still been wet with her. “The only thing that could make me upset is if you agree to do something with me that you don’t actually want to do, alright?”

He’d nodded. 

“Promise me you won’t.”

“I promise, your majesty.”

“Alright, then.” She had stood and arranged her skirts. “I’ll leave you to… handle yourself.” She’d winked at him, put her fingers to her mouth and licked them off long and slow. 

That time, she’d seen his erection even through his apron. 

Ada had wound back out through the labyrinthine shelves of the pantry but lingered before leaving. 

The sound of his panting was just audible, almost mistakable for a mouse rummaging in a bag of wheat. Then, then a poorly stifled moan had reached her ears like the delicious smell of chocolate cake wafting down a hallway. 

It had taken all her willpower to leave then and not indulge her voyeuristic desires. Though, that had hardly stopped her from imagining. She fantasized about him panting there, thinking of her, masturbating over and over and over again, until he was totally spent.

Though that’s actually what she had done — masturbated to the thought of him — quietly under her covers, over and over again, until her arm was too tired to lift and she was totally spent.

She indulged in that memory now. Imagination was the kind of magic that allowed a person to be in two places at once. In fantasy he masturbated next to her while in actuality his talented tongue pressed up even more deeply inside of her. He hummed with pleasure, as if he had just tasted a particularly delicious strawberry.

In the past few weeks, she’d gotten bolder. Lately, she hadn’t been able to force herself to wait until the middle of the night, so she had started to sneak to the kitchen between meals or in the early morning. This day, it was the quiet lull between lunch and tea time.

She stroked her fingers through his curly brown hair. He allowed her at least this gesture of appreciation.

He was far from the first or the only lover she’d had. She’d been with her ladies in waiting, scribes, knights, squires, even another princess. If they were too much older than her it got a bit awkward, and she was swift to decline anyone who seemed too much a child. But, beyond that there were few limits to her attractions.

The queen could not make up her mind whether Ada had so many affairs because she was not yet married, or that she was not yet married because she had so many affairs. The queen had become convinced in recent years that Ada would die alone, even though she was only twenty and three. Apparently, that made her an old maid by princess’ standards. And yet, her lovers seemed to find her plenty hearty and hale.

“You’re my favorite,” she whispered to the chef’s apprentice. He had been for at least two moons now, that was something impressive. Her affections usually did not linger this long, but he was something special.

He moaned in appreciation and the earnestness of it started to tilt her over the edge. Her chest heaved, her heart raced, her blood tingled, her eyes started to roll back. It was like the feeling of pure honey on her tongue, or a ripe berry between her lips, or the smell of herbs on roasted meat — abject pleasure. 

“Fuck, yes… yes… Aaaah!~”

Her fingers in his hair clenched and pulled hard. She couldn’t help it, not when she had to hold in a scream of pleasure, which fought to escape her chest.

He buried deeper and still licked her even as she shuddered through her climax, even as her legs clamped around his head.

Finally, she relented. He stilled, then stood from under her skirts. His face was wet with her and bright with a grin. She smoothed his curls down, stroking him gently, and he purred in her hands.

“Sorry for pulling,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” he said. In fact, it sounded like he rather enjoyed it.

There was a creak of footsteps in the hall.

“Aw, fuck,” she said. “Off you go!”

He glanced at the pantry door and nodded, dashing into a dark corner between shelves of pickled vegetables.

The door slammed open and cast a bright wedge of light on Ada. The king loomed in a red cloak and a halo of righteous fury.

Mercifully, Ada’s skirts had never compromised her ‘modesty’. She smoothed them and her hair, trying to look nonchalant.

“What are you doing in here?” the king demanded.

Ada shrugged, examining her fingernails. She doubted she was going to get away with it this time, but it was worth a try. “You know I like the dark. It helps me think.”

The king’s nostrils flared. “I know what I heard. I know what I smell. That’s it! I’m sending you to a tower!”

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