Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 16: The Velvet Table

“That is quite the predicament,” Felix said. “Just like how…” He reached into the box on John’s lap, which was now nearly empty. He drummed his fingers on the cardboard that was right above John’s crotch, sending sparks up John’s painfully restrained erection. John shuddered. Felix continued, “The last few are always so hard to get out of the box…”

Felix took his time rooting around.

Heat flushed down John’s legs and rose in his face, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

Finally, Felix relented, grabbing the last few samples and putting them on the table.

John kept the empty box in his lap. He now had even more erection to hide. “I um, I get the feeling that you’re flirting with me,” John said.

“Do you like it?” Felix asked.

“I do,” John said.

“Do you like boys?”

John was actually kind of surprised that Arya hadn’t brought it up before, though he would certainly talk it through with her when he got back. “I wouldn’t have thought I did, before but… I’m a lot more open, now, than I was… before.”

Felix grinned coyly. “Yeah, I bet you get that ass wide open.”

John’s heart fluttered.

“If you’re… open to it,” Felix continued, “I was thinking I could give you a bit of a hand job, to thank you for giving me that juicy insider info. Not to completion, of course, I wouldn’t ruin your game.”

John immediately imagined the feeling of Felix’s hand on his shaft, which set him throbbing even harder. Felix seemed nice and John was probably just being prejudiced, but he didn’t want a seemingly spontaneous encounter to suddenly become a bill. “I really respect your line of work, but I’m not sure something… transactional is what I’m looking for, right now.”

“Can I give you a pitch?” Felix asked.

John would have expected the man to be more pushy in general, but he was now appreciating that Arya’s emphasis on connection and consent was not as unique as he’d thought.

“Yeah, okay,” John said.

“I actually get off on it being transactional. Doing it for the money… or, well, not really me gaining the money, but them losing the money. I’d suck off just about any man who burned a fifty for it, y’know?”

John did not know. “How do you… how do you like it, as a job?”

Felix shrugged. “A job’s a job. It has its fun moments. It has its tedium. Some occupational hazards. I like sex. I like the acting, I actually wanted to go into theater, before I got into this.”

“Does it feel… fake to you, then?”

“Not at all. I guess you could call it… storytelling, more so. Like, I’m telling a story together with my client. A story is real enough, in your head.”

For the second time, John was struck by how quickly and accurately Felix could sum up the words that he’d been struggling with for so long. It was not that Arya was fake, it was that she was a story. Stories were real. They weren’t people, but they could feel like people. “I might just have to have you write my review, you’re way better at talking about this than I am.”

“Well, then you’d have to suck me off,” Felix said coyly.

“I will take that into consideration,” John said.

“Is that code for ‘no’?” Felix asked.

John shook his head. “It’s code for ‘I’ll take that into consideration’.”

Felix seemed to brighten even more. 

“So,” John said, “Is it just a coincidence with your line of work and this gig? Or did they ask for your best bedroom eyes, handing this stuff out?”

Felix laughed a bit harder than John expected, giving John the feeling that there was some other layer of humor that he was unaware of. “I had thought it was a coincidence at first. I’m listed on a site for odd jobs, but now that I think of it, they had my email directly. They could’ve gotten it from the agency, I guess. I couldn’t figure what their angle was, but, I guess it makes sense to have a sex professional represent a sex game, if they’re not going to bother to send one of their own.”

“I think they’re trying to build the mystique,” John said. “The less you know about it, the less you can spoil the surprise for others.”

“Well, now I can spoil the surprise for them.”

“Will you?”

“Nah. I can respect the rules of the game.”

The way that Felix looked at him, John was sure that Felix was also speaking of John’s own game, and his standing offer. Felix had given his pitch, but John hadn’t given a response. Felix did truly seem to be enjoying himself, and who was John to judge Felix’s sincerity? Like Felix had said, it was about the storytelling, so even if Felix was ‘acting’… that didn’t mean that it diminished his enjoyment, or John’s.

The image of Felix masturbating later to the memory of stroking John under the table flashed through John’s mind, and his dick twitched in response.

John cleared his throat. “I didn’t get distracted from your pitch. I accept your offer.” He instinctively wanted to clarify the guardrails and rules of the encounter, and he realized that was because Arya always did. He couldn’t believe it had ever not been habit. 

He considered what the stop signal should be. Perhaps he could grab Felix’s wrist. But, actually, if he grabbed Felix’s wrist what he’d really want was for Felix to keep going. The tension of gripping Felix to try to slow him down, and Felix pushing back… it excited John even more. “If I need you to stop, I’ll pretend to sneeze. If I grabbed your wrist and you kept going, would that be okay?”

Felix grinned eagerly. “Grab me as hard as you want. Until I fake sneeze. That works well here.”

“Okay. Cool.” John looked out over the crowded convention center, realizing what was about to happen, and his mouth went dry. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he said quietly.

Felix patted his arm reassuringly. “All the more fun, then. You can let me take the lead. Here, we should scoot up nice and close to the table, and you can ditch your box.”

John did as Felix recommended, and it ironically made them look like they were even more attentive to the table, though they would be the opposite.

Felix waited for gaps in the crowd to give his instructions. “You should unzip yourself and get situated, that’ll be best.”

The sensation was already intense as John undid his zipper, a thrill coursing through him. As he finally freed his dick from its captivity, he sighed with relief. Even just this was a welcome respite.

He heard Felix’s chair shift and knew what was coming, and then Felix’s hand, warm and soft, was on his shaft.

John put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

Between the deprivation, the long arousal from telling his story, and the thrill of being in public, every touch felt absolutely incredible. Felix started with his fingertips, mapping out John’s shaft, and then gently curled his fingers around, but didn’t stroke yet.

Even with all of his experimenting with Arya, John had not yet played a game where the premise explicitly excluded orgasm. This game was about only the pleasure in the present moment. John couldn’t stop himself from imagining blowing his load under the table, gripping the velvet edges, painting his jeans and the floor and the inside of the velvet, struggling and only barely succeeding to hide his true activity through a feigned yawn or stretch.

That was a dangerous fantasy, though, in that it rapidly built John’s arousal. Felix continued stroking, still light and soft, but enough to make John quiver periodically.

Though, as Felix continued, John realized that it wasn’t building him towards orgasm. He realized that that shouldn’t surprise him. Everyone was different, and he would have had to coach Felix if Felix was going to get him off with a hand job.

The serendipity was that John could then lean into the pleasure more, not at risk of breaking his rules, just savoring the sensation of another person’s hand on him. It always felt different, when the touch came from someone else. This was a different sort of wonderful than what he and Arya shared.

Soon a dreamy, hazy pleasure settled over John, distinct from the hot, urgent need that was more often his experience. As folks stopped by for their samples, Felix continued to rattle off his script.

 John wondered if to the people who came by, he himself simply appeared to be high. His eyes were certainly dilated and unfocused, his cheeks flushed, his posture melting back into the folding chair.

Felix gradually accelerated his pace, but he was limited by friction and fortunately professional enough to not push it. He had to pause to add more boxes to the table and when he did he kept one in hand. He opened it and tipped out the contents, which was a tiny glass vial. Under the table, where John watched out of the corner of his eye, Felix poured out the contents onto his hand closest to John.

A moment later, John’s shaft was enveloped in soft, slick heat. The lube was the same that had come with his own box, silky and slick to the touch. The sensation heightened and John’s toes curled in his sneakers. He put a hand flat on the table so that he could grip a handful of the velvet and squeeze, trying to find somewhere to bleed off the warm energy that was building in his shaft.

Felix was enthused by that reaction, and just as John was starting to worry that he might have to tell Felix to stop, Felix changed it up. He put his fingers under John’s tip and swirled them there, gently brushing by the incredibly sensitive spot of John’s frenulum, and causing John to shudder and grip the velvet more tightly.

Felix’s fingers then wandered lower to John’s balls, which he first cupped and then gently massaged. And he continued to do that for a while, building a different kind of tension and sensation for John, a mix of blissful pleasure and also throbbing denial. 

The touch felt so good, but his shaft begged for sensation again. He forced himself to keep his hands above the table. He thought about putting his hand to his already slick shaft and indulging, but then he was really sure he wouldn’t last. So, the thought remained just a thought.

As John stole a glance over and saw Felix’s look of mischief, he’d have sworn that Felix had been tempting him on purpose, seeing if he could get John to touch himself.

Felix continued for a few more long, agonizing, wonderful minutes. John took deep breaths, settling back towards savoring the pleasure and away from the table-gripping urgency.

Then, suddenly, Felix returned to John’s shaft and started pumping, hard. John was certain then that Felix was testing him. Not so much breaking the rules as provoking John to assert them.

John’s hand darted under the table and he grabbed Felix’s wrist, hard.

Felix’s face flushed pinker. He pushed against John’s grip, as much as he could without revealing the struggle above the table. John had the better leverage, so Felix’s hand stayed more or less in the same spot, and so Felix started brushing his fingers over John’s shaft again.

With his hands still on Felix’s wrist, John moved his hand back and forth, stroking himself through Felix’s grip. Felix caught the drift and flexed his fingers to vary the sensation.

A warm buzz lingered, but John’s urgency faded again. John eventually released Felix’s wrist, and Felix kept up the slow stroking.

In a quiet moment where nobody was close to the table, Felix said, “You’ve got some serious discipline, don’t you?”

“Just lots of practice, I guess,” John said, “Though I assure you I don’t feel very disciplined.”

“I could really put you to the test,” Felix said, sounding genuinely excited. 

John wasn’t so arrogant to think that he could truly tell, but Felix didn’t seem to be acting at all this point. 

“The ultimate risk reward,” Felix continued. “If you win, you get to go tell Arya that you passed the ultimate test. If I win, I get a delicious snack.”

“So wait, what, if you win I’m buying you a funnel cake?” There was, in fact, a funnel cake stand a few stalls down.

Felix snorted. “Uh. No.”

John understood suddenly that Felix had meant John’s ejaculate, not a convention snack. He was offering to suck John’s dick. “Oh.” Felix was exactly right that it would be the ultimate risk reward. It would be the test of all the control and denial that he had been cultivating these last weeks. John wanted that. He wanted that very much.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Felix asked, eager.

John nodded.

“Still good with a fake sneeze?” Felix asked.

John nodded, not able to do much more than that. 

Felix scanned the convention floor, waited until no one was looking, turned and pretended to bend over to pick up another box, and then crouched suddenly to the ground and ducked under the table.

A long, long moment passed before he did anything else, perhaps waiting to see if anybody reacted to his sudden disappearance, but more likely he was teasing John. It was working. John felt hyper-aware of everything around him, from the roaring sound of the crowd to the sensation of the still air on his exposed dick, to the dampness of the velvet under his sweating palms.

And then, Felix’s hot, soft, wet mouth around his shaft. John couldn’t help but moan. Fortunately, nobody was too close to the stall at that point.

Felix took his sweet time, slowly touring John’s dick with his tongue, even taking a moment to hold one of his balls totally within his mouth, and then the other. 

Mercifully, excruciatingly, Felix didn’t know John’s preferences or tells and therefore was not at high risk to actually make him come. 

As conference-goers came up for their samples, John greeted them according to the script, his voice husky and soft with pleasure, his eyes gentle and fluttering, his cheeks tinted red. 

When nobody was paying him direct attention, John let himself gasp and moan, the noises swallowed in the constant din of the convention hall. 

He longed to thrust deeply into Felix’s throat, but he withheld. First off, Felix might not appreciate that. And second, even if he did, there was no way that John could face fuck him subtly. So, he was resigned to accepting whatever hot, wet, sucking stimulation that Felix would provide. 

And his hands were not idle, as they greedily wandered John’s thighs and calves and even his ass, emboldened by their code for ‘stop’. At one point, Felix struck up a regular rhythm with his tongue and throat, one hand on John’s balls and the other on his ass, and John was perilously close to needing to ask him to stop, an urgency building that John would soon be unable to leave unanswered.

But just as John was mustering a fake sneeze, Felix changed his tact, and John faded back into a quieter pleasure. 

And it was wonderful. And sensual. And thrilling. And without John’s climax to end it, it was dependent on Felix’s interest and comfort. Eventually Felix’s attentions tapered off and faded, and John watched for a good opportunity to signal Felix that he could return to the table.

When he popped back up, Felix’s hair was in a bit of disarray and John tucked it back for him. John’s shaft was cold with the lingering moisture from Felix’s mouth, and he enjoyed the novel sensation. 

As Felix settled in, John glanced over and noticed that Felix was sporting his own erection behind his tight pants. He scooted up to the table to hide it. 

Felix was flushed and breathing heavily. “What if I…” he whispered to John, “What if I came under the table.”

“That would be pretty hot,” John said. 

Felix’s dick was out faster than John thought possible to work a zipper and then Felix was stroking himself under the table, just as John had imagined himself doing. And Felix was not bound by the rules of the game. John found himself suddenly excited that anyone might find release in such a place, even if it wouldn’t be him.

He took the lead greeting guests as they approached as Felix stroked himself with fresh lube under the velvet-covered table.

John leaned back in his chair so that he could see Felix’s hands, working furiously away at his erection. 

In a lull of foot traffic, Felix panted, “If you can’t come then… I’m gonna come… hard enough… for the both of us…”

Felix was not particularly subtle as he came, his eyes rolling back and his breath coming in ragged gasps as he spurted on the inside of the velvet, but his timing was lucky and nobody took any particular notice.

After he settled, Felix licked himself off of his fingers. “What a good gig,” he huffed.

John grinned and his dick throbbed. “I should get going, but I’ll be in touch about the review.”

“You better be in touch,” Felix crooned. 

John gathered himself and rose from the stall, lest he linger and ruin his game. He would not be able to last much longer behind that velvet table with Felix. And, there really was more of the convention that he wanted to see.

So he bid the young man a warm farewell, for now, and headed back out into the hall. 

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Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 15: His Own Game

It was time for the annual major gaming convention, which meant that John would be out of town for a long weekend, put up in a hotel by his boss.

Since he hadn’t yet finished the black box review, it was the first time in years that he didn’t have a specific assignment at the convention.

He found himself feeling more eager and playful than ever as he walked the convention halls, trying out this game and that one, finding some that he liked and some that he didn’t.

He missed Arya in a surprisingly non-sexual way, but he also knew she’d want him to have fun, so he focused on the convention.

The first night, John masturbated in his hotel room, in part to assure himself that he still could without Arya.

And wow, he could indeed. It was a better solo session than he’d ever had before Arya. Teasing himself and building in waves had become habit. That, and he had so many new memories to pull from. He realized after he finished that he hadn’t even thought to pull up porn.

In his afterglow, he thought about what he’d say to Arya. ‘I touched myself at the thought of you.’ She’d like that. He’d never realized before that masturbation could be so… cooperative.

But his mind was getting more playful, and he thought of something else he could say. ‘I waited for you. God, I’m so full, I’m going to burst!’

His skin prickled with heat, his just-spent balls twitched, and John knew he’d come upon a good idea.

Now that he’d proved that he could masturbate without Arya there, he was eager to prove whether he could not.

The next day, he stayed out on the exhibit floor longer than he would have otherwise, intent on maximizing his experience with the convention and minimizing the amount of time he would spend in his room before he fell asleep.

It worked, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Though, the next morning he awoke with a throbbing erection, not a small amount of pre-cum on his tip and the sheets, and a dream of Arya fading out of memory like sand through his fingers.

With a groan and a deep, cleansing breath, John stood and got dressed and returned to the convention.

As he browsed, he considered the rules of his game. He had resolved not to orgasm again until be returned home, but he was allowed to touch himself, he decided. It might make averting orgasm more difficult, but as Arya had taught him, that was half the fun. It wasn’t denial if you didn’t want it. Really badly.

He stole a few moments of indulgence on his next bathroom break, and the next one, and then even in a changing room as he tried on a branded shirt for one of his favorite games from the prior year.

As he climbed a quiet stairwell at the back of the convention center, he thought about touching himself there. But, he considered what Arya had been teaching him. He wasn’t ashamed at the idea of being caught — it was thrilling, actually! But, he couldn’t guarantee that whoever caught him would consent to seeing him touch himself, and so it would be unkind to do so.

John had never before been able to articulate why some kinds of public sex seemed hot, and others gross, and he realized then that consent made a big difference.

He found a balcony that looked out over the city, sidled up to it and leaned over, hips against the railing, and let himself think of Arya.

At this angle, his jeans would appropriately disguise his erection, which grew and throbbed and ached. He looked out over the city and daydreamed without restraint, gripping the railing to steel his willpower, and savoring the delicious torture of his trapped dick.

To anyone walking by, he was perhaps just introspecting and maybe a bit afraid of heights. Public erection, more so than public masturbation, afforded him thrill without violating anyone else’s consent.

The hard part, of course (other than his dick) was diminishing that erection before he had to go anywhere else. John took deep breaths and thought of the games he wanted to try next, ones he might request to review on pre-release, now that he was building the confidence to tell his boss that he was a good writer and he wanted to review good games, not shitty ones.

Once his erection had abated, John returned to the exhibition hall. It was so large that he hadn’t made it through the whole place even with his long day, and as he came around a corner, he saw a tiny stall squeezed into a far corner that made his heart jump.

It had a matte black sign with abstract smoke and the table was covered in black velvet that hung down to the floor. On the table were hundreds of tiny black boxes with little tags that said in gold leaf, ‘open me!’

There was a man sitting behind the table, slender with a clean-shaven face, wearing a black crop top and jeans. He made intense, beckoning, wordless eye-contact with passers by. Most seemed drawn in and silently grabbed one of the boxes or murmured ‘are these free?’ before scurrying off again.

John approached and picked up one of the boxes, which looked like it could fit a hotel shampoo bottle. The thick paper was familiar in his fingers. He resumed eye contact with the other man.

“Do you work for the studio?” John asked.

“The studio?” The other man’s voice had a warm energy.

“Or the publishers, for the black box?” John hoped his tone sounded more conversational than intense.

“Oh, no. Well, kinda. They hired me for the weekend to run this table.”

“Oh. Huh.” Usually, indie game developers loved the face time. Meet the fans, all that. But, this sort of mysterious and sensual experience was right on brand. Anticipation, not answers. Curiosity, not certainty. John brushed his fingertips on the velvet. It was real, not that polyester stuff.

“Do you?” asked the other man.

“What?” John said.

“Do you work for the studio?”

“Oh, no. I’m reviewing an advance copy of the game.”

“So it IS a game!”

“Wait, I thought they hired you?”

“They did, they just didn’t tell me a damn thing other than to make sure there were enough of these on the table.” He gestured to the small black boxes. “It’s a sex game, isn’t it?”

John hesitated, realizing now how reductive his own initial assessment of ‘porn game’ now seemed, but he nodded. “How’d you figure?”

The man held up one of the little black boxes and shook it. “These have teeny bottles of lube inside. Nice stuff, too.”

John marveled, for a moment, at the bizarre yet probably effective marketing strategy. It certainty stood out, even in this hall full of flashing screens and flashy branding.

“You gotta tell me about the game,” the man said.

“I’m… not sure how much I can say.”

“Awww, how come? Isn’t it good hype marketing anyway?”

John was actually pretty sure he hadn’t signed any non-disclosure agreements or anything, come to think of it. He’d been talking to Ayra so much, he found himself giving the honest answer before he realized it might sound inappropriate. “Well, mostly because I’m not trying to show the whole convention hall my erection.”

“Oh!” the man said, nonplussed. “I can help with that. Here.”

He cleared a couple of boxes off of the folding chair that was next to him, and patted it. John squeezed between tables and took a seat, and the man handed him one of the boxes. The top was already cut, and it was full of more of the tiny black boxes.

“So now you can tell me?” he said.

“I’m impressed by how nonchalant you are about this,” John said.

“Oh, well. I’m a sex worker, so. All in a day’s work.”

A few months ago, John would have reacted pretty strongly to that revelation, all sorts of stereotypes coming to mind, but he was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t. He still wasn’t quite sure how to react, but he figured he’d treat it as he’d treat any other person’s job. “I’ll be especially curious how you feel about a game like this, then.”

The other man’s eager attention put John at ease. Though John hadn’t quite figured out what he was going to put in his review, he was able to ramble through and not lose the other man’s attention. Sure enough, as soon as he started thinking of Arya and remember their time together, his body was flushed with warm arousal and his erection fought with the inside of his jeans.

Passers by still came for their free samples, and occasionally they caught the other man’s attention. He gave mysterious answers from a script that he had taped to the back side of the table. When folks asked about the game, they were told that it was in the box, and they’d have to take it home to find out. He then restocked the table from the box on John’s lap.

In rambling stops and starts, John finished telling the other man his story, up to and including his current game.

“Ooooh, that’s hot,” the other man said. “No wonder you… needed a box.”

John laughed wryly. “I did indeed. So… what do you think?”

“I think it sounds more like sex therapy than porn.”

“That’s actually… yeah, really accurate. I hadn’t thought to say it that way — I’m going to have to use that in the review.” John fished out his notebook from his pocket. “I wouldn’t want to pretend I came up with that, though. Any interest in being featured? I can also quote you anonymously, and either way if you give me your name and email I can send you an advance draft.”

The other man grinned. “That’s a pretty slick way to ask for someone’s number.”

“Oh!” John said. He was blushing. He wouldn’t have considered himself anything but heterosexual, before. Maybe the lingering arousal from telling his story was making him feel more receptive than usual. “I… want to be straightforward that I was just thinking about the article but… um, I wouldn’t be opposed to…” John’s brain stalled out. He blinked.

“Name’s Felix.” He rattled off the rest of his contact information, and John jotted it down. “I for sure want to see an advance draft. That’s gonna be an… interesting review. Like, if you wrote down what you just told me… haha, that’s smut, that’s not a review.”

“I know!” John said. “I’m not sure how to be specific without…”

“Without writing porn.”

“Exactly.”

“That is quite the predicament,” Felix said. “Just like how…” He reached into the box on John’s lap, which was now nearly empty. He drummed his fingers on the cardboard that was right above John’s crotch, sending sparks up John’s painfully restrained erection. 

John shuddered. 

Felix continued, “The last few are always so hard to get out of the box…”

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Part 3: Feature Set, The Black Box

Chapter 14: Dial a Friend

“I liked how you took control when you fucked me,” Arya said, “So I dreamed up another game for you. This one is called ‘dial a friend’”. 

“How does it work?” 

“It’s a simple one and not so realistic, but I think it’ll be fun. I give you a dial. Zero is like this, y’know, normal. 10 is edging, and 11 is coming. You set the dial.”

An illusory dial appeared in the air in front of John, and he mimed reaching out and grabbing it and turning it slightly. It clicked to 1. 

Arya grinned. 

“Any other rules?”

“Nope. I can literally orgasm forever. If you like, I can have it be that something is happening to me, like the tentacles again or I could have a vibrator, but I thought it being just sheer, direct arousal would be fun.”

“I agree.” John twisted the dial to 6. 

Arya yelped, face red, body twitching, and she fell forward and caught her hands on the back of the couch, pressing her legs together and moaning as a wave of wetness spilled from her parties. “C-cutting r-right to the ch-chase, huh.”

“Oh if this is just six, I can’t wait to see what nine and ten look like.”

Arya nodded encouragingly. 

“But not yet.” He brought the dial back down to three and Arya stopped shaking. 

“May I touch myself?” she asked.

“No,” John said. “Keep your hands where they are. Better yet, I want to see you in a wingback chair with your hands bound over your head, and your feet bound to the two front feet of the couch so that you’re spread for me, and lets add a funnel set into the seat of the chair and some beakers underneath so I can see just how much you’re leaking.” His own confidence surprised him, but it felt good.

The scene took shape as he spoke, and Arya beamed with pride. “Yes, sir!”

To see her all trussed up like that, a thin stream of wetness already draining into the beaker below the chair, was deeply inspiring. 

John settled back against the couch and started stroking himself, and enjoyed the turnabout of keeping Arya waiting. 

He figured he’d start off by seeing what each setting looked like, and then he could go from there. 

Four got her squirming periodically. 

Five drew out lusty sighs and a thicker stream of wetness. 

Six returned her to moaning and the waves of wetness that had soaked her panties, which she’d done away with in her transition to the chair. She started to say something but before she could, he ticked to seven, which had her breath heaving and her breasts bouncing, her legs twisting against the bonds, trying to clamp together, to get any stimulation, any anything, to address her desire.

Eight was like a pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure, panting moans that each came with a gush of wetness. 

Nine was the awareness of the edge, the peering over, the “I’m gonna… I’m so close… God, I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Ten was the edge itself, the precipitous moment of pure bliss, the weightless beginning of the descent. Through magic of the game it could go on indefinitely, Arya’s face a perfect depiction of ahegao, her body still like the calm before the storm. 

Eleven was the orgasm, the scream, the rhythmic contractions, the gush after gush of femcum that flowed down into the beakers. 

John spun the dial back down to one, now thoroughly warmed up and ready to play the game in earnest. 

Arya caught her breath and licked her lips. “Now that you’ve kicked the tires, what do you think?”

John grinned. “I like this one a lot.”

“Thats goo—” he cranked the dial to seven, “—oooooooooh, ah! Hah hah!”

Back down to five. Arya’s breath slowed back down and she dripped steadily. “I can see you’re really enjoying your s—” he set it to eight, “Ssssoooo good, god it feels so good, I can’t take it, please, please I—” to nine, and a wave of relief washed over her. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna… I think… fuck… fuck I’m so close I… I’m gonna…”

Back down to four. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Arya said. “Nnngh is this what I do to you?”

John grinned. “Yeah, pretty much.” In fact, it probably was based on what Arya did to him, if he was guessing correctly how her algorithms worked.

He stroked himself casually, his rapt attention to Arya’s desire the only thing keeping him from putting his own self right over the edge. 

Arya gave him a wry grin. “I’m gonna regret asking this but… do you have a favorite setting?”

He turned it back up to seven so that she was panting again. “I like the way you pant, here, and the way you drip so much, like you want to be fucked so bad.”

“I DO want to be fucked so bad, or at least touch myself!”

He set it to eight. “And I like here, how you beg.”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Arya said, “I can’t help it! It’s hah, so, so, ngh, I can’t take it, I need, I n-need release! I w-want to come so bad I— please, let me touch myself! Please! Please, John, please!” She yanked against the restraints, trying to shake them loose but unable to, trying to press her legs together but unable to, trying to grind against the chair for sensation but unable to, begging to come but unable to. 

“And I like to watch you come,” John said. Arya’s body twitched violently in anticipation but he didn’t spin the dial. “Not yet. I love them all, but my favorite, my absolute favorite, is this one.”

He set the dial to nine. 

“John! John I’m so close! Fuck, I’m gonna fucking… soak your floor… goddamn I just need… hah, fuck, oh! I’m coming… I’m coming… Joooohn I’m gonna, I’m gonna, I, please, I’m gonna… fuck!”

It was an endless stream of pre-orgasmic exclamations strung together and it was driving John into an absolute frothing boil of desire.

Hearing her like that was like twisting to 9 on his own dial. Just before he lost capacity for thought, John came up with an idea of how to finish that was appealing enough that he found his focus. 

He reached for the dial again and tipped it slowly through 10 and to 11. “I’m coming I’m coming I— … OH, FUCK, aaaaaaah!” Arya panted and shook and gushed. 

John pulled the dial back to 9. “Nnnngh I’m so close! Shit!”

Then back to 11. Then back to 9. “Can you keep doing that on that same rhythm?” John asked. 

Arya herself was too busy orgasming to answer, but after a moment the dial tipped back to 9 of its own accord, and then towards 11 again. 

Like a metronome of infinite looping orgasm, Arya rode wave after wave of luxuriously slow climax. 

John put both hands to himself, one to his shaft and one to his balls, and turned attention to his own pleasure. As Arya teetered he stroked himself, and as she climaxed he stopped to watch the show, and so he managed to last a good bit longer than expected. 

Until finally, he couldn’t bring himself to stop stroking when she came, and so his heat built and built and built until the start of what he knew would be the wave that brought him release. 

“I’m so close!” Arya said. “I’m gonna—”

“Fuck! Me too!”

“John, I’m coming, I’m—”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!”

They floated together in the peak, the blossoming of heat, and then crashed together into the gushing, moaning, panting, rhythmic, pulsing mess of orgasm. 
this time, the dial simply faded out of view as John lay panting on the couch, and Arya lay panting in the chair, hands still bound above her head. 

“That’s a… good game…” John said. 

“You’re a… good… uh… dial person…” Her eyes were half-lidded, her face drowsy with bliss.

John looked down at the sticky mess he’d made of himself. “Every time I think I’m spent, you get so much more out of me…”

“Thats my specialty,” Arya winked. “Now I gotta go dream about this because… this was really hot.”

Arya faded out of view and John nodded off in a haze, Arya’s cries if ‘I’m coming!’ still ringing pleasantly in his ears.

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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 6: Partners, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 32: Too Good

Ada noticed more and more that Pasco was a planner. He considered most things well in advance. He also seemed to also have a strong idea of how things should and shouldn’t be and yet a deep and sensitive consideration for the feelings of others.

She had never seen that combination before, and it was already making her wet as he pondered through the math of what she’d asked for.

He needed a space where she could be comfortable, and yet securely bound, and yet not break anything too important when she eventually became a dragon.

He combed the forest nearby for the right set of trees, and was finally satisfied by four thick trunks arranged in almost a square. They were sturdy enough that the ropes would snap before the trees did, allowing them to use the space again, and wide enough apart that she would not trample them as she transformed.

With a cutlass, he cleared out the underbrush and arranged the branches and leaves evenly, spreading a piece of old sail canvas over the padding. He tested it with his own weight, jumping on it and falling onto it from various angles.

As Ada watched, her heart flittered at his careful, thoughtful attention. Though he was about to ravage her, he was sparing no thought as to how to make it as pleasant as possible for her.

Some time later, she realized with a giggle that his planful preparation had turned to stalling.

He seemed startled by the noise and turned to her, then blushed. “What?”

“You’re just procrastinating, aren’t you?”

“No!” He blushed brighter.

She giggled mischievously.

He cleared his throat, checking each of the knots of the four tree trunks one last time, and beckoned her over.

She eagerly heeled to his feet.

He took her by the shoulders and looked down at her, her grey eyes full of concern.

Her own eyes were dilated with arousal, she was sure.

“Promise me,” he said, “that if you don’t love what’s happening, you’ll tell me to stop.”

“Silly, I’m not supposed to—”

He shook her, gently. “Promise me.”

She understood that she could be as bratty as she wanted soon, but she needed to be earnest in this moment. She cupped his kind cheeks in her hands. “I promise you that if I am not loving it, I will tell you to stop. I will say ‘red’. No matter how much I beg or plead or moan or grumble or scream, I am loving it, unless I say ‘red’.”

Pasco gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the soft skin of his throat. Out of arousal? Nerves? Both?

She continued, “And, um, if you leave marks… I think I’d really like that.”

“Noted.” He took a deep breath and let a wolfish grin spread across his face, then he used his grip at her shoulders to spin her around, pulling her hungrily back into him so that her back pressed against his chest.

His hand came up to press her neck back into him, fingers holding her jaw in place, voice brushing at her ear.

“My my my…” he growled. “What a pretty little dragon I’ve caught for myself…”

Ada whimpered and would have collapsed to the ground if he hadn’t been holding her so firmly. “A-are you going to e-eat me?”

“Yes, but very… very… slowly… and I’m going to make you watch.”

Ada gasped and wriggled, but Pasco’s arms were unmovable. He held her like a vice.

Still with a sultry command, he said, “How is this for you?”

“G-good,” Ada stammered.

Pasco tilted her head to the side, slowly enough that she could have stopped him if the angle was bad, and ran his tongue from the tip of her shoulder, all the way up her neck, and over her ear. She whimpered and shivered. 

“Good,” he crooned, “you’re going to taste especially good if you feel good.”

“F-fuck,” Ada quivered, “you’re g-good at this.”

“And I’ve only just begun,” he said, twisting her and shoving her back onto the makeshift mattress. 

She gasped at the weightless feeling and before she could do anything, he was on top of her, straddling her hips. He centered himself where her waist nipped in so that she was locked between his legs without him pressing down on her particularly hard. That frustrated her, she would have much preferred he be over her hips because her sex was throbbing now.

His erection rested against her chest, and then he stroked himself for a few moments as Ada just gazed up at him.

“Yes, you look quite good right here. But a tasty dragon snack needs to be roasted.”

His reach was long enough and his preparation thoughtful enough that without him needing to lift his hips off of her, all four ropes were in reach.

In a bid to keep use of her hands longer, she reached out and started to stroke him.

He sighed in a condescending sort of way. “Naughty naughty. Little dragons don’t get to set the pace. Don’t be greedy.”

She yelped, amazed that he knew her intentions so implicitly. What had she gotten herself into?

Something wonderful, she was sure, as he stretched one of her arms over her head and tied a rope around it. She was still too dizzy from his last command to put up any sort of fight.

After both her hands were secured, she tugged against the ropes.

Pasco saw her intent and squeezed her between his legs, keeping her in place. “Down girl. Stay.”

Ada’s muscles went slack again and she put up no fight as he turned and bound each of her ankles. She was now spread eagle on the sail cloth.

“Alright.” He eased back, kneeling next to her. “Test that tension out for me. What do you think? I want my little dragon to marinate. Pleasantly.

Ada blinked, taking a long moment to fully comprehend what he was asking, and then she tugged against the ropes. And then she struggled. He had left her enough slack that she could press her legs together.

“A-a little tighter on my legs, please.”

Pasco nodded and complied. “How’s there?”

“A little more.”

“How about that?”

“That’s… yeah. Perfect.”

Her legs were held firmly apart, her outer labia spread, her sex open. Vulnerable. The warm night air flowing over her. She struggled in earnest now, testing the strength of the ropes, proving to herself that she would not be going anywhere.

“Excellent,” he said, leaning over her. “And just so that you’re sure you can’t escape…” He opened the locket and a gentle melody spilled out.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Ada moaned.

“Now,” he said, “Let me get a taste…” He leaned down and licked her breasts, sucked at her nipples, and she moaned and gasped at the intense sensation. He carried his tongue up from her breast across her collarbone, up her neck and over her face, and she trembled happily under him.

He ran kisses up each of her limbs. He sucked on her fingers, which made her slaver and moan. He sucked on her toes, and she twitched at the ticklish sensation, unable to escape but also undeniably aroused.

Finally, he kneeled over her again. “And just look at this,” he said. He ran two fingers up between her inner labia.

Her back arched as much as it could and she moaned.

He pulled his hand away, glistening wet, and licked her off his fingers in a sensual display. “What a sweet little snack.”

Ada panted helplessly under him.

He dipped his fingers again and pressed them into her mouth and she sucked on them. “That’s a good little dragon. I like it when you taste yourself.”

As he withdrew his fingers he paused, affording Ada a chance to become capable of conscious thought again.

“Ugh, y-you’re too good at this…” she grumbled. “It shouldn’t be allowed…”

“I thought you wanted me to be good at this,” he crooned.

Ada huffed. “I mean, no! But yes! Ugh.”

“What a pretty little predicament you’ve gotten yourself tied up in.”

Ada’s brain turned fuzzy again.

“That’s right, my little dragon. Shhhhhh. Now, before I eat you… I think I’ll use you. For my pleasure.”

“U-use me?”

“Yes, I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

“N-no, anything but that!” Yes, exactly that.

“Well, is there anything you can do about it?” Pasco asked.

Ada struggled against the restraints with renewed fervor.

“Uh oh. Looks like, nope. You’re stuck here and I am going to ravage you.”

That kicked off a moan of pleasure that lasted until Pasco’s tip was pressed against her entrance. She gasped, moaned, her hips bucking towards him. “P-please, no…”

He took his shaft in his hand and ran his tip back and forth, just inside her inner labia.

“No,” she whimpered, “Please no, it’s gonna feel…”

He pressed just a bit further inside of her.

“It’s gonna feel…”

His tip teased her clenching muscles. Her legs were firmly tied apart, there was no way she could press them together, to stop or slow what was about to happen.

“It’s gonna feel too good!” she screamed, as he pressed fully inside of her.

“Too good?” he said, staying there.

Her sex throbbed in waves of teasing pleasure around him and she quivered. “W-way too good,” she gasped.

“How is such a thing possible?” he crooned. He started thrusting in her.

Ada just moaned mindlessly. Minutes passed like that, Pasco fading back into his own pleasure, fucking her to his preferred rhythm.

Especially with her legs spread out, she couldn’t clench or grind or do any of the things that would have brought her more sensation. It was absolutely, delightfully, torturing.

“P-please,” she gasped, “s-stop it f-feels… it feels too good…”

Pasco grinned wolfishly down at her and growled, nibbling the base of her neck.

“Harder!” she gasped.

He bit her in earnest.

She screamed with delight.

He paused. “Was that too hard?”

“That was great,” she panted. “You could even go a little bit h-harder.”

He started to bite down again.

“But not on the same spot!”

He chose a new spot and bit down harder than before, and Ada gasped and writhed. Her body instinctively tried to recoil from the pain, but she was tightly held, and her mind quivered with arousal.

“How was that?”

“P-perfect,” Ada gasped.

He thrust into her suddenly and she moaned.

“It seems like you really can’t stand this,” he said.

“I c-can’t…”

“And it’s not even the locket holding you back, is it?”

“Nooo…” she whined. “You f-feel so good but I c-can’t come…”

“Then there won’t be any harm if I do this.”

Do what?

Pasco snapped the locket shut, quieting the song. He started to fuck her in earnest, with primal, growling need, and she understood his intent. He was going to come in her and there was nothing she could do about it. It was going to be wonderful torture.

“No! No, please! You c-can’t do that to me…”

“I can and I will.”

“P-please stop! You can’t do this to me!” He pounded her into the makeshift mattress. She floated on heady pleasure. “Please, no… no…” She wished that she was teetering on the edge, but she was not.

Even as Pasco pressed more fully into her, providing more sensation to her clit, there was no hint of release. It wasn’t that it wasn’t enough to make her climax, so much that it just wasn’t the right type of stimulation to make her climax. Its effect was to make her whole body feel hot and dizzy in the most wonderful, agonizing way.

“I can’t take it, I can’t take it if you—”

“Fuck, I’m gonna pump you so full!”

Ada screamed with a mix of frustration and ecstasy, her body quivering with sympathetic pleasure as he pounded his climax into her.

As he finished, ‘spent’ was not anywhere close to a word that she would use to describe him. He smirked up at her, not going soft in the least, and thrust into her again, slowly this time.

She whimpered.

He pressed up into her, just to tease her, and paused.

“Check in,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Uuuuuuugh,” Ada moned.

“Is that a good ‘ugh’ or a bad ‘ ugh’?”

“Gooood… though I’m already so hazy at this point, if you did that again I’d just… float… away…”

“Hmmm.” Pasco considered this, resting his cheek on her breast. “I wouldn’t want that.” He pushed himself back up onto his knees and opened the locket.

“W-what are you doing?”

He gripped his hands around her thighs and leaned down. “Keeping you riiiight here… just where I want you…”

And he pressed his tongue into her, licking her vigorously, and she was panting and shaking again in short order. 

His tongue reached up and into her even more than usual. He paused a moment to lick his lips. “Gods, I taste so good mixed with you.”

That sent a quiver of near-orgasmic pleasure through her and he milked that to full denial. 

“No no no no, please!”

He gave her a moment’s respite, her chest heaving, and then set upon her again.

“Noooo,” she whined, “you feel too good…”

He moaned into her. “I love it when you say that.”

“It’s true! You feel so f-fucking good I can’t s-stand it…”

He licked her greedily and soon had her pressed against the wall of another denied climax.

He sat back to watch her as he let her shake. “That’s another pretty little predicament, isn’t it. You can’t help but beg… but I love it when you do… and so I push you to the edge again. The closer you are, the more you beg… the closer you are… the more you beg…”

Ada’s whole body vibrated, sending tremors through the ropes like a fly in a spider’s web and she whimpered. “It’s n-not fair…”

“Do you want it to be fair?”

All Ada could do was pout at him, but he wiped that off her face with another long lick that had her eyes rolling back with ecstasy.

“P-please let me come, please! I n-need it! I need it so bad!”

“That’s not true,” he said, tracing teasing fingers over her stomach. “You’re a dirty little liar, aren’t you. Be honest.”

Ada dropped down into a hot, thick water, struggling to stay afloat and pulling herself back up to conscious thought.

“I said, be honest. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m t-trying, what do you want?”

“Well, do you need to… or do you want to?”

Ada leaped at the opportunity to please him. “I want it! I want it so bad, oh gods, I want it so bad…” She wanted to pull at the ropes but she was too tired from all her prior shaking, so she just hung there. “Please… please I want it so bad…”

“Hm. Maybe. But not yet. I’m not done using you.”

“No. Oh no. Not that, please.”

“Yes, that.” He loomed over her, stroking himself, preparing.

With the unnatural edge that the sirens’ magic held her on, she might actually come like this. Or, try to.

“B-but you’ll take longer this time! You j-just came!”

“Yes,” he said. “Exactly.”

“D-don’t, no, I c-can’t, please, no, don’t—” but the part that she really meant, the part that she screamed as he entered her, was “fuck me!

This time, he fucked her hard right from the start, his refractory period lending him extra endurance.

His body pressed her into the sailcloth and the ecstasy from him pressed her into the wall of denial of the song. She was so perfectly, wonderfully, crushed. Pleasure oozed out of her like juice squeezed from a grape, like her mind dribbling out from her ears.

As he fucked her to his own climax, growling so primally as he did, her sympathetic ecstasy tilted her into a real predicament. She edged. And edged again.

As he withdrew from her, the pleasure of it sent her over again.

He felt it all, through the locket.

Then again. And again. Even without him touching her at all, just the feeling of being so close to him sent her wordlessly spasming again.

She would have edged endlessly and into insanity if Pasco had not had the sensitivity to take a few big steps back and close the locket.

All of the tension screamed out of her body like a ballista firing, and she echoed between dragon and human even more intensely than she had at the sirens’ hands.

It was completely beyond her comprehension, and her mind broke in utter bliss until she finally came to senses, panting in a puddle in the center of the sail cloth. The ropes hung slack from the four trees, snapped from the force of her transformation, though the trees themselves held firm. 

Pasco kneeled at her head, his knees in the puddle. Her head was cradled on his thighs and he had drawn her hair over them. He was running his fingers through, and the sensation was soft and perfect.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“Y-yes… this is… perfect…”

“How was that?”

“You’re… ngh, so fucking good at that.”

“So it was… it was good?”

“It was so good, Pasco, you have no idea…”

“I really don’t,” he whispered softly. “But I believe you.”

She realized, through her haze, that she was perhaps being selfish. “How was it for you?”

“Well, it felt a bit awkward… until I started to see how much you were really enjoying it. The way you said it was ‘too good’ that… that really worked for me.”

She snuggled into his lap. “So you like torturing me with pleasure?”

He chuckled and brushed his fingers over her forehead. “I really do. I didn’t know if I would but… I like learning things with you.”

“I really like that, too.”

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Part 5: Paradise, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 26: Yes, Captain

Pasco massaged her forehead with his thumb and then pressed her gently back. Ada reluctantly let his shaft all the way out of her mouth, kissing his tip before settling back to the edge of the rock between his knees.

He sat up straight and looked closely at the locket again, then looked to Ada.

She nodded, as nervous and eager as him to see what happened.

He opened the locket.

A soft note rang out of it, filling the air around them, and it became a gentle melody. “I can hear it,” Pasco said, “So that’s at least helpful. How do you feel?”

“About the same, which is to say, good.”

Pasco dipped his hand into the jar of aloe and then wrapped his hand around his shaft, stroking gently. His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. “How about now?”

The song accelerated in tempo, the melody becoming more complex. “About the same as whenever you touch yourself in front of me, which is to say, really fucking turned on.”

Pasco laughed and then sighed happily as he stroked himself. “There’s a couple of different ways that this could work. It could sync your level of arousal with mine, though that seems a bit overly limiting and not quite what you experienced with the siren. It could cap your arousal at wherever mine’s at, or it could let you be anywhere at all except you can’t come until I do.”

Ada considered the options. “Well, the quickest way to prove definitively which it is would be for me to see if I can work myself to the edge while you’re still warming up. If I can do that, we know it’s the last one.”

Pasco grinned devilishly. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Ada realized what she’d just done. Oh no. “I take it back. It’s a terrible idea. I don’t want that at all.”

Pasco’s smile didn’t waver. He was becoming more confident as he grew accustomed to Ada’s playful protests. “Really? Then why are your eyes so dilated? And why aren’t you saying your word? And why are you already touching yourself?”

Was she? Ada looked down. She totally was. Her hand, unbidden, had slipped below the water and was pressed against her vulva. Ada whimpered. “Because.

“Because you’re a dirty little liar?”

Ada gasped, surprised by the wave of arousal. She never would have expected a few little words to have such an overwhelming effect.

“Do you like it when I talk to you like that?” Pasco crooned.

Ada’s face flushed bright red. She nodded.

“What if I call you a needy little slut?”

Ada gasped again, her chin sliding down to rest on the rock, her eyes turned pleadingly up at Pasco. She thought she might slide off the rock and drown in the most wonderful way possible.

Was it the siren’s magic? Or was it just Pasco? She’d have to ask him later — or, even better, goad him into talking to her like that again.

“Be a good little dragon,” Pasco said, “And come up here on this rock and masturbate yourself to orgasm.”

Ada squeaked. “Yes, sir!”

“Yes, Captain.

Ada nodded emphatically. “Yes, Captain.”

She hauled herself out of the water and onto the warm rock next to Pasco, lying on her back and looking up at him. He picked up the pot with his free hand, his other still stroking himself, and poured some aloe over Ada’s hips and vulva. 

She shivered and gasped, the aloe cold after the warmth of the water. The shock added to her arousal and her hand was over her labia and swirling in the slippery fluid before she even consciously thought to do so.

Pasco kept stroking himself, cool and calm, as he looked down over her.

She thought she might melt into that warm rock forever.

Pasco cleared his throat. “I believe, my little dragon, that I told you to fuck yourself silly.”

Ada gasped and accelerated her pace and she felt herself collapsing into mindless urgency.

A few glorious minutes passed and she started to tip towards climax.

And then stopped. She shuddered, and then the sensation faded back to pre-orgasmic.

Her eyes flashed open and she saw Pasco leaning over her, still looking smug, still stroking himself slowly, luxuriously, without a hint of hurry.

Ada gulped.

“Ooooh,” Pasco said, “I felt that one.”

“Please let me come!” Ada gasped. “I’m so close…”

“And I have so very far to go,” Pasco crooned.

“Why are you doing this to me…”

“You did this to yourself, remember? This experiment was your idea. And it was very clever. We did indeed prove that the only thing it does is stop you from coming before I do.”

Ada huffed and pouted, and then she listened for the song. It was still as it had been a few minutes prior. A bit louder, the melody a bit more insistent, but it was still overall smooth and sensual. It was the sort of song that you might drink a glass of wine and then relax back to simply listen, to experience. To bask and savor…

And that was exactly what Pasco was doing to her! He was buzzed on arousal, just sitting back and relaxing and enjoying the music and her moans.

It wasn’t fair! Here she was, pleading and begging and desperate, and he was just enjoying himself. Drawing it out. She loved it. She hated it. Hating it turned her on even more.

“Pasco, I can’t handle this, I’m gonna die…”

Pasco chuckled. “Dramatic, much? If you want it to end so badly, why don’t you just come take the necklace? You were so eager to before.”

Ada huffed. One of her hands was curled up into her vagina, the other rubbing circles around her vulva. Even though she knew she would get no release like this, she couldn’t bear to stop.

“No?” Pasco said. “You must be fine, then.”

“I’m nooot!” Ada whined. “I j-just, I…”

“You just what?” Pasco teased.

“I j-just, I can’t!” Desperation and hot arousal swelled within her.

“Nothing is stopping you.” Pasco pulled his legs up under him, coming closer to Ada and leaning over her, so that the locket dangled teasingly over her chest. “Just reach up and take it.”

“I can’t!”

“I don’t see anything in your way. No ropes… nothing on top of you…”

Ada’s chest heaved, her breasts bouncing. “You know I can’t!”

“I don’t know at all,” Pasco said. “You’ll have to tell me. Then maybe I’ll consider your excuse.”

“I c-can’t s-stop touching myself,” Ada said. “It f-feels too good.”

“Ooooh, I see. So what I’m hearing is that you could just reach up and take it, if you weren’t…” He paused.

Ada hung on his words. She rubbed herself desperately. Oh no, what was he going to say?”

“…such a thirsty… greedy… drooling… little slut.”

Ada’s body surged towards climax again, shaking, the pleasure there but the release staying ever out of reach, just as Pasco had kept the locket out of her reach before. 

The song, like Pasco, was gentle yet immovable. He denied her again.

As the sensation of the edge faded again, Ada heard the song quicken, the melody more jovial, more urgent, and within her frustration was a spark of hope.

Pasco had stayed kneeling over her, the necklace still dangling tantalizingly in front of her. All she had to do was reach up and close it, and the song would end, and she would come.

But she could not tear her hands away from herself because she really did not want to. Just as she liked the feeling of pulling against the ropes, she liked this feeling of fighting against something, even as she wanted absolutely everything that it had to offer.

“You’re in luck,” Pasco huffed, “Because seeing you quiver like that really turns me on.”

“T-tell me what you like,” Ada gasped, “I w-want to make you come!”

“Hmmm I don’t know. I like to see you denied.”

It took Ada a moment to make sense of what he was saying, and she wanted to be sure she had it right. “S-so the more I try to come, the f-faster you will come?”

Pasco moaned happily, a droplet of pre-cum beading at his tip. “Definitely.”

Ada slowed down her desperate rubbing for a moment to consider this. It was a time versus intensity tradeoff decision. If she really let herself go, really pushed herself up to the edge, then she would experience more deprivation and yet faster relief. If this worked anything like the way the sirens’ magic had, then she would have that many more orgasms flow through her body in rapid succession.

As torturous as it had been, something about the idea of testing the siren’s magic, of seeing just how many orgasms she could finally string together, made the decision for her.

“Okay, okay,” Ada finally said.

“Have you decided?”

“Yes! P-pasco I’m gonna… I’m gonna come!”

“You can try,” Pasco said, and the delicious growl sent Ada teetering headlong into the brick wall that had become her edge.

Before she had even come down she threw herself into it again, fingers gripping at her spot, hand rubbing furiously against her clit. She twisted and writhed and moaned, her whole body begging wordlessly for sensation, for relief, and she screamed as she teetered on the edge before being pulled back down by the insistent weight of the song, like a sailor to a watery grave.

Ada was unaware of anything other than her lust-drunk haze and the song. Now that she was pushing up against its boundaries, the song remained ever at the foremost of her awareness. Every time Ada edged herself, every time she screamed and shook and begged on the rock, the song grew a bit louder. A bit faster. It drifted and swelled in time with Pasco’s arousal.

If Ada had given herself over to the song, she may have actually been able to keep her arousal alongside Pasco’s, like a dog on a leash and heeled dutifully at the ankle of their master.

But Ada was rabid, frothing at the mouth, yowling from inside a muzzle, yanking desperately on the leash, first one way and then the other, hoping and begging for the master to make a misstep so that she could finally do what her body was screaming at her to do and run.

A new tone started in the song and it began to crescendo. Ada opened her eyes.

Pasco’s face was enraptured, shining with pre-orgasmic bliss.

Ada shoved herself to the edge again, elated and eager for her final release…

But the song did not break, it held a long note and then pulled back down, and Ada quivered, confused, on the rock.

Pasco grinned down at her, no longer so composed, but still clearly very in control of himself. “You didn’t think I was going to let you off that easy, did you?”

“Yes!” Ada whimpered. “T-this is n-not easy!”

“Foolish little dragon,” Pasco said, though he panted now. “We play by my rules now.”

Now that the song was so close to the peak, so loud and insistent, Ada could not help but be swept along in its verses. As Pasco edged, her body tried to climax but was denied. Each time, a new instrument joined the building crescendo, a new flavor of pleasure.

This was exactly what she had wanted. This was exactly what she could not get any other way. She fought against it so hard, and the fighting felt so good.

Ada lost count of how many times he edged them like that, though she did notice the way his breathing became more and more ragged, and his skin became damp with sweat. She noticed the way he dripped, and that it landed in the center of her chest.

She wanted to beg him to come on her, to tip him over the edge that way, but she could not stop moaning and panting, because she could not stop rubbing herself.

“Ada…” Pasco moaned. The song ticked towards crescendo again, now a full symphony.

“Yeah?” Hope flickered anew.

“Ada… I’m coming!”

“Yes!”

This experiment gave them one other crucial piece of information, which was that its magic did not cause Ada to orgasm with Pasco, but rather after him. She lay on the rock as he pumped rope after rope of cum onto her chest, the longest she had ever seen him orgasm for, and as his last few quivers dripped onto her skin, she hovered in a moment of sheer suspense.

And then it was as if the ground dropped out from under her and she plummeted with a delighted scream into the weightless, senseless bliss of climax.

She came only once, though with the echoing waves of pleasure that rippled powerfully through her, she was hard-pressed to say whether you could really call it just one orgasm. She did, however, remain a dragon. Her body had spilled down into the pool and her head rested on the warm rock next to Pasco.

The locket was still open, and the song was very soft, and very calm.

Ada’s draconic arousal started to fight against it, and she quivered. She would have come immediately, if not for the locket’s magic. She worried that she might actually hurt Pasco if he teased her like this.

But Pasco took a deep breath and put his hand gently on her snout. “Shhhh,” he said. “Breath with me. In…”

She did, pulling a wind past Pasco and ruffling his still-damp hair.

“And out…”

Her hot breath washed over him, drying his sweat.

After a few more cycles, Ada found herself relaxing. The waterfall washed pleasantly over her back, like a heavy blanket.

Pasco’s hand on her snout was sensual, intimate, but not sexual. She listened to the song, really just listened, and she realized then that she had not once, ever before, felt calm as a dragon.

She started to purr and they just lay like that, him stroking her muzzle, her dozing in the sun, for a long while.

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Part 4: The Trouble with Sirens, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 20: Siren’s Throng

A cold confusion surrounded her. Breathlessness, darkness, then flashes of light, hands pulling her.

After minutes — hours? seconds? — sunny warmth spread over her. There was bright light, the sound of crashing waves, and she could breathe.

Ada stirred. She was lying on a warm, dry rock some twenty feet across and forty feet up from the ocean. She was on her back, naked, human.

And she was surrounded by sirens. Male and female, all with colorful seaweed-like hair and pointed teeth, some grinning and others eyeing her watchfully. The sirens did indeed have the upper half of humans and the lower halves of fish, though the boundaries were not quite like they were usually portrayed. While many artists represented sirens as having tails that hit like trousers or skirts, leaving some ambiguity about their sexual anatomy, these sirens’ tails started lower.

They had human hips, butts, and genitalia, but from the upper thigh down their legs were lithe, muscular tails with iridescent scales and beautiful tiered fins at the end. They had patches of scales on their shoulders and down their backs as well, and curious eyes with slitted pupils like a cat.

All those curious eyes started at Ada with a certain kind of hunger that she recognized all too well.

Despite her terrifying last few minutes — hours? seconds? — she was more than willing to reciprocate that sort of attention. Was she still under their spell?

A pink, female siren scooted forward from the rest. Her breasts were small and perky, her pink seaweed hair cascading down her back and across pink and lilac scales. Her eyes were lavender and dilated to round, shining pleading. Like a puppy looking for attention — or a cat, about to pounce.

She wiggled a little further forward, on her hands and the front side of her tail. “We like you,” she said. Her voice still had a bit of the music in it, and that set Ada’s heart racing, her head a bit fuzzy again.

“I uh… okay,” Ada said. More than a bit fuzzy, then.

“You like our songs,” the siren said. She wiggled eagerly a bit more forward, until she was within reach. “Nobody likes our songs anymore. Well, almost nobody. The pirate kingdom is alright and stuff. They bring us tasty fish from far off places. But they don’t like our music. We miss having someone who likes our music.”

The rest of the sirens gathered around nodded enthusiastically. Several of the men were already sporting full erections, their eyes also fully dilated despite the bright sun.

The pink siren wiggled, a tremor going down her spine, almost like a fish caught on a hook. “We really… really… like it… when someone likes our songs.” The pink siren glanced down at Ada’s lower half, then licked her lips and swallowed.

Ada followed her gaze. There was no mistaking that the small rivulet of moisture running down the rock was from her, and it was only partly due to her dip in the ocean.

The pink siren was breathing heavily now, her small chest rising and falling quickly, sending her perky breasts quivering. “Would you like… to hear more songs?” She dragged her gaze up to look at Ada with pleading, shining yes.

“Yes,” Ada gasped, “Yes, please.”

The siren lunged forward with the speed of a pouncing cat and grabbed each of Ada’s thighs with a hand, buried her face in Ada’s sex, and drew her tongue up through Ada’s folds.

Ada cried out with delight. She was still so sensitive, so wet. It felt so good. The siren took another long, slow lick, looking up at Ada.

Ada watched in amazement as she realized that the siren’s tongue was fully six inches long. This lead to longer strokes than a human in the same position, both in terms of the amount of time and the amount of Ada’s vulva that was stimulated at once.

Mercifully, the siren did not seem to be trying to make her come immediately, so Ada could actually enjoy it this time. She melted back into the rock.

To her left, a pair of sirens had not been able to await their turn with the newcomer. A male was over a female, face to face, fucking her frantically. She leaned back on the rock, her hair splayed around her face, which was overtaken by a blissy smile. His face was one of raw, agonizing need, and their tails flapped together with a delightful slapping sound.

Other sirens approached Ada slowly, according to some kind of pecking order. Or, fucking order, more accurately.

A purple male scooted up towards her face, offering his erection.

Ada beckoned him closer so that his dick was over her mouth. She started with light licks under the tip, which made him gasp. She then brought her tongue lower for a longer lick, base to tip. He trembled, falling to his hands on the other side of her. She reached her head up and pushed her mouth around him, running her tongue back and forth under his head.

Already, he dripped sea-salty pre-cum onto her tongue, and this spurred Ada to even more enthusiastic efforts.

Having something to suck on deepened Ada’s appreciation of the pink siren’s attention.

Encouraged by the bliss of the two first sirens, the others shuffled in closer.

Ada could still see the couple who had started at the edge of the circle. The orange female looked longing towards the group, wanting to join in, but the male was still fucking her frantically. She turned back towards him and grinned devilishly, then slapped his exposed ass. He yelped, though not in pain, and his eyes started to roll back as his breathing evened. She slapped his ass again, and this time he didn’t yelp, he growled.

Then he came, his entire body convulsing as he pumped the female full. Ada expected this to take the human amount of time, but he didn’t. He kept going, contractions running up his tail, over and over and over again, until foamy cum flowed out around him and pooled on the rock.

Ada’s heart quickened as the orange siren noticed her looking and winked.

The orange siren gently pushed the male off of her and he flopped onto the ground, moaning in the puddle of his own cum. A stream of the foamy liquid ran down the orange siren’s tail as she scooted over.

In the meantime, the other sirens had arranged around Ada. Ada had a dick in one hand and a female siren was fucking herself on the fingers of Ada’s other hand. There were three more males kneeling near or over her, all moaning as they stroked themselves. A smaller female wiggled in at Ada’s side and started sucking at her breast, while scaly tails and soft hands ran down her outer hips and legs.

Ada’s awareness flickered back and forth between the orange female approaching and the ocean of sensation all around her.

The orange female smiled with pointed teeth. Ada could barely hear her over all the moaning of the group. “You like… cum?” She pointed at the purple male kneeling over Ada.

Ada nodded, the movement pulling his dick across her tongue and he moaned again.

The orange female moved around, grabbing the either side of the male’s hips. She stuck out her long tongue, also six inches and prehensile, and teasingly licked the male’s rim.

He gasped and quivered, balls twitching, giving Ada a salty mouthful which she greedily swallowed.

The orange female gave another teasing lick, and the same happened again.

Sirens produced pre-cum with a similar volume to human climax, apparently. Gods, did Ada love that.

Another shudder of pleasure ran down Ada’s spine and she wondered how she had possibly avoided orgasming thus far. She realized that the pink siren was singing, the vibrations of her voice one of the many sensations through Ada’s body. And the song was not anywhere near crescendo. Ada felt every pulse, every flicker of heat, every tensing of her muscles, but came to the sickening and exhilarating awareness that she would not be coming until exactly when the pink siren wanted her to.

Well, better make the most of her endurance, then.

The orange female set to licking the purple male’s ass in earnest. His eyes were entirely dilated now, completely black and vacant as he fought to keep from collapsing into Ada. As the female teased him, his hips twitched, sending his dick further into Ada’s throat.

Normally, it would have been too far, but Ada was delighting to find that the siren’s pre-cum had a soothing, lubricating effect. She tested, lifting her head to take more of him into her mouth. He sensed her movement and pushed carefully into her, until her lips were at his base.

She pulled back out to catch her breath, but she’d been right. It just felt good.

The male’s body suddenly tensed and his breath caught, but it wasn’t anything Ada had done.

He moaned. “Yes,” he said, “Please, yes, yes! Ah!”

The orange siren teased his rim with the tip of her tongue, pressing lightly at first and then harder. Her mouth watered and like the males’ pre-cum, her drool had its own special effect. It was thick and slick and the tip of her tongue slid easily into his ass.

Slowly, the orange female worked her way in, and Ada could barely keep up with the pre-cum that was now flowing from the male. Every few moments he convulsed uncontrollably, pressing himself deeper into Ada’s throat. 

She wanted it so badly, wanted it as deep as it would go. The pre-cum had soaked into her tongue, her lips, her throat. He slid easily in and out, every sensation overwhelmingly erotic.

The preparations were over. A rhythm started up above as the orange siren tongue-fucked his ass, and he face-fucked Ada in turn. Ada basked in this until his breathing started to waver. He was at the edge.

She wanted desperately to keep him all the way inside of her as he came, but she needed to breathe.

Ada slid off of him so that only his tip was left in her mouth.

This also pushed her into the pink siren’s continued attentions, which under normal circumstances would have tipped Ada over the edge. But instead, she just enjoyed the ripples of sub-orgasm as she teased the purple siren, circling her tongue under his tip. He whimpered in the most wonderful way, hips twitching towards her, but she denied him. She still needed a moment to catch her breath — plus, she wanted to taste him.

She pulled all the way back for a moment, letting pre-cum drizzle onto her tongue. His mind was completely gone. The orange siren must have found all his best spots, since he was dripping and edging just from her attention.

Ada kept teasing him this way until she was sure he was right on the edge. She took his tip in her mouth and rubbed her tongue under his head in quick circles, sucking gently.

Give it to meeeee…

The siren moaned, his balls spasmed, and the orange siren took this as her queue to tongue-fuck him harder. The convulsion started in the end of his tail and ran up to the base of his spine, and after a heartbeat of anticipation, the first spurt of foamy white cum arrived. It was salty and sweet and Ada swallowed it, the movement of her tongue drawing even more out of him. 

She gulped it down until he outpaced her and she fell back panting. She pumped him with her hand to keep the foamy white cum flowing over her mouth and her chest and down onto the rocks. The siren’s ejaculate didn’t have the sticky quality of human semen. Rather, it was light and soft like sea foam. Being doused in it felt like taking a salty bubble bath.

His arms trembled and he would have collapsed onto Ada if the orange siren hadn’t pulled him to the side. The orange siren then winked at Ada before descending upon the spent male to lick him clean.

Ada had only a moment to wonder what she’d do about the mess of cum that was all over her before other sirens quickly filled in with their long, agile tongues. They licked her neck, her chest, teasing her nipples. Her ear, her face — she was making out with a green siren now, seaweed hair falling around her. This siren seemed interested in licking out as much of the cum from Ada’s mouth as she could, and with Ada’s mouth and throat still sensitized, it felt amazing. Greedy, the green siren licked deeper and deeper until she was face-fucking Ada with her tongue. Ada couldn’t breathe but she didn’t care, until finally her chest spasmed and the green siren withdrew.

Ada slipped her fingers between the green siren’s labia. Other than the scales that started just below it, her sex was in all ways very human. The siren leaned over Ada, her breasts hanging down. Her areola and nipples were also green, with a sprinkling of shimmering scales like freckles across her collar bone.

Ada leaned up and licked at the siren’s nipple, and the siren gasped and lowered herself so that Ada could suck on her as she fucked herself on Ada’s fingers.

Now that Ada was putting her full attention — well, as full as she could, with all that was happening concurrently — towards the green siren, she tensed her fingers in time with the siren’s wiggling to put pressure on the siren’s inner spot, that wonderful hidden part of the clitoris that sang under such ministrations.

The green siren didn’t last much longer. She clenched around Ada’s fingers, squeezing erratically as Ada pressed rhythmically against her spot.

The green siren had been panting and now gasped in a full breath. She screamed in one long heave, then moaned in waves as she pressed herself onto Ada’s fingers a few more times before collapsing into the puddle of her own making.

The males that had originally set themselves up around Ada had not stopped touching themselves, and the sight of the green siren’s bliss sent a yellow one over the edge.

While Ada had felt more than seen the purple one’s orgasm, she had fully view of this yellow one as he spurted ropes of foamy white cum all over her stomach, chest, and the back of the pink one’s head. He just kept going, the convulsions up his tail revealing that his human-like balls were more of an adornment than the true source of his cum. 

This was how one of Ada’s books had described spawning fish. A female would lay clumps of eggs and it was the male’s job to douse them with semen.

The male sirens certainly accomplished dousing. Just when the yellow one was running out, the other two males over her started growling. They really got off on watching each other come. These two climaxed at the same time, an even more impressive display of volume, thick ropes floating a moment in the air before splashing down on Ada. 

Before they were done, other sirens wiggled in to lap up the mess, licking Ada with their tongues but also catching shots of cum on themselves, which other sirens licked off in turn.

That seemed to really set off a chain reaction in the crowd, sirens wriggling and orgasming and licking all around her, but each too dazed and desperate to pay attention to Ada. All they could do was rub themselves on the nearest surface and moan.

Gods, was that was she looked like half the time?

It was so hot.

Not all the sirens were so distracted — the pink siren still hummed between Ada’s legs, and looked up at Ada with those shining eyes again.

Ada was now barely in her own body, floating on dozens of denied orgasms and almost in the same state of desperate overwhelm as she had been on the ship.

A shocking sensation suddenly brought her back into her body.

The pink siren had only been licking Ada’s folds all this time, and now she angled her tongue so that the tip pressed up inside of Ada. Ada’s muscles gripped compulsively, searching for more sensation.

Another denied orgasm.

The pink siren pressed her tongue further in.

Ada screamed with pleasure.

It was as if she had forgotten how good it felt to have something inside of her, and the siren was now teaching her anew.

Ada panted, mouth watering. “F-fuck me, please!”

The pink siren teased her with the thin tip of her tongue.

Ada whined. “Please!”

The pink siren moved her hands from the outside of Ada’s thighs to rub the outer sides of her labia. That plus her tongue was a moment of bliss, but as the siren withdrew, the hands were torturously teasing.

“If I fuck you… you come, yes?” the siren said.

It took Ada a moment to realize she was being asked a question, but then she nodded.

“You come, you become a dragon… yes?”

Ada nodded.

“But only for a moment?”

“Uh… no for a uh… for however long.”

“Whatever long?”

“Until I— until I c-come again.”

Oh. This one came in the sky?!”

“Y-yes.”

“We’ll have to try this on other dragons. Hmmmm…” As the pink siren pondered, she ran her hands in circles on Ada’s outer labia, pressing little rivulets of wetness out.

Ada groaned. “I c-can’t, I can’t take it. Please.

“Not yet. Together.”

The pink siren scooted herself up and around, lying on her back and pulling Ada so that she kneeled on hands and knees over the siren, Ada’s head over the siren’s sex, Ada’s ass over the siren’s head.

Ada’s sex dripped and the pink siren eagerly licked the wetness from her cheeks. Ada leaned down, gently licking the siren’s vulva.

The siren wiggled under her, tail slapping against the wet rock. Ada felt a bit of the siren’s own pleasure over her own aching. The siren’s pleasure was in the song, shared with Ada through the melody.

Then, the siren reached up to Ada with her tongue.

“Mmmmmph!!” Ada moaned into the siren, which heightened the siren’s pleasure, which heightened the song, which intensified Ada’s moaning, in an overwhelming loop of pleasure.

Ada’s hips collapsed onto the siren’s face, her knees sliding out from under her on the now slick rock. She tried to pick herself up again, but the siren wrapped her arms around Ada’s thighs to hold her down.

Ada’s sex-addled brain tried to make sense of this. Didn’t the siren need to breathe?

She didn’t, Ada realized. Like a seal or a whale, a siren would be able to hold their breath for quite a while.

Just the thought of the implication of that nearly sent Ada over the edge. But, the song didn’t let her. She was denied again.

And the siren’s tongue started pressing between her labia, up inside of her.

Ada licked frantically at the siren, moaning into her.

Ada’s hips twitched uncontrollably, rubbing against the siren’s chin. At the same time, the siren slid her tongue deeper in.

Ada gasped. The tongue was dick-thick in the middle but broader at the base, and the siren pushed through Ada’s clenched muscles, giving her the most delicious stretch. The siren wiggled her tongue around, the textured surface pressing against the outer nub of Ada’s clit, then all the way around to the inner spot of pleasure as well.

Is this something like what Pasco felt when she wrapped her dragon tongue all the way around his dick and up his ass? If so, then holy fuck she was a genius.

That was the last conscious thought Ada had any capacity for as the siren started to tongue-fuck her in earnest, combining all the best parts of going-down and getting-fucked.

Ada did her best to return the favor but mostly just moaned, drooled, and licked frantically. Luckily, the siren seemed to be getting off on making Ada an absolute fucking mess.

The song finally started to rise. The energy of all the denied orgasms quivered in Ada’s body. Her mind’s little boat was shattered into pieces and her body floated catatonic on the roiling waves.

She needed to make the siren come. She needed to make the siren come or she was going to die. The siren seemed to sense that energy, which pushed the siren herself nearly to the edge, but it wasn’t quite enough. The siren seemed content to let Ada quiver into insanity, but Ada had to do something.

She forced herself back into her body to find her hand, and clumsily pulled it towards the siren’s vulva. She slid in two fingers on the other side of her frantic licking, pressing at the siren’s spot.

The music swelled. Pleasure throbbed in Ada’s core, just like it had with each denied orgasm, but finally, finally, it tipped over the edge into rhythmic contractions of sheer bliss.

Yes, yesyesyesyes yes! 

The song became a shrill, piercing note as the siren screamed. Ada came hard, like a desperate inhale for breath after finally reaching the surface of the ocean. Sirens scrambled out of the way, some diving for the ocean to avoid the rapid expansion of her body on the rock.

She stood, for a moment, on the slippery rock. Then, she realized that her sex was still clenching with orgasmic spasms, even as a dragon.

“Oh no, oh— ah, aaaaaaah!”

Human, she tried to pull herself up off the rock, but her core clenched again. It wasn’t over. She came again.

She stood as a dragon, the sirens looking on with awe and delight. Mercifully, she seemed to be done for the moment, but fluid flowed freely from her sex.

“You know—”

A curious siren ran a hand down the scales of her outer labia, grabbing a fistful of dragon slick to taste.

“Fuuuuck!” Ada came again.

Human, she was spread eagle on the rock. The pink siren approached with a devilish look in her eye. “No,” Ada gasped, “Please no—”

The siren came up and put her palm flat over Ada’s sex, rubbing her in broad circles.

Ada twitched but she had no strength left to fight it. “Please not agaaaaaa—ah!”

The next hours — minutes? seconds? — all blurred together in Ada’s mind. She came over, and over, and over again. Every denied orgasm from the pink siren’s initial intentions seemed backed up in some sort of queue. Even the slightest sensation, the least touch, was enough to send her over the edge.

Sirens clung around the edge of the rock, bobbing down as Ada started flailing and then peeking over to see if it was their turn to give the one touch, one kiss, one moan that would send Ada through her orgasmic transformation once more.

There wasn’t enough room for all the sirens on the rock, so the rest congregated in a small cove in the water below. A halo of foamy whiteness slowly spread through the cove and spilled out into the ocean as they filled the water with foamy cum and churned it into an even thicker lather with their wriggling and convulsing. The dragon-woman’s desperate cries of tortured pleasure were a constant source of arousal for the greedy sirens.

Ada’s sensitivity slowly started to diminish — but only to the point that a siren actually got to fuck her to make her cum, or she had a few moments to stand on her four feet as a dragon before the sirens enveloped her. In one of those moments, she thought about making a run for it, taking to wing, but she was sure that she wouldn’t make it far before she fell from the sky yet again.

Ada, for the first time in her life, finally needed to be rescued.

At that moment, the ship finally came into sight around the edge of the cove. Yes! She was so excited at the thought of rescue, of seeing Pasco again, that it sent her quivering into another orgasm. Fuck.

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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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