They’ll be nothing more than a springboard into my new life. They ache for me, I know, and I’ll use that desire against them. I’ll keep them thinking with their cocks instead of their brains. If they want me, they won’t be thinking straight; and until the moment they actually claim my virginity – the only prize I still possess – I’ll have all the power over them.
A smile comes to my face. I suddenly feel sure of myself. I suddenly know the path forward.
I follow the cobblestones to the towering manor doors, and they open automatically in front of me. The opulent, grand entrance hall stretches into the distance before me. It’s so empty, towering above like a gleaming granite and marble cathedral.
Everything in this custom-made estate is built bigger for the Aurelians – to match their towering frames and muscular bulk. Everything is molded to fit their huge, powerful, warrior bodies. I feel like a child as I step into these hallways.
Gods! I can't keep thinking about those three Aurelians, or I won't be able to focus on anything at all.
Despite all of the toys and art, despite all of the possessions they have collected, the manor somehow feels empty.
Could I become used to this place?
I shake my head.
It would make me soft.
I stride down the hallway. The marble floor clicks against my heels, and normally the sound would make me self-conscious. Here, though, there’s no one else to notice. Even with a harem of women living here, and the few servants who run the place, there are still whole sections of this enormous place that are empty of anything except echoes and shadows.
I could so easily pocket a figurine or a bowl from one of the countless displays of art and artifacts that run alongside almost every wall in this place. I haven’t seen a single camera in the manor. I mean, that doesn’t mean it’s not under surveillance – as high-tech security devices could be impossible to notice – but I don’t get the feeling I’m being watched, and my gut is a powerful tool.
I follow Cyrus’s instructions and find the doors to the room he told me to go to. I open them up, and a smile comes to my face before I can stop it.
The room is at least six times bigger than the hole in wall I live in, in Sector 4. The bed in front of me looks ready to swallow me up; beyond what humans classify as ‘king-sized’. I kick off my heels and jump onto it. The mattress and covers are so soft and cushiony compared to the thin bunch of blankets that are all that separates me from the hardwood floor in my own rented room at The Stag.
There’s a full-length mirror in one corner of the room, plus a desk, and large, wooden closet. I wonder vaguely if the wood is real, or if it came from replicators. Something tells me it’s real. On the desert world of Deemak, real wood is incredibly valuable and rare.
I’ll have to be careful. If I break something, or even made a minute scratch on real, organic material, it would cost a fortune to repair.
I’ve been in opulent houses before, but never before have they been anything like this. It’s as though the Aurelians have made so much money they stopped caring. This place is surely even more opulent than the palace of the King.
If that’s true, perhaps they won’t even notice three little watches go missing.
I stretch out to my full length, opening my arms out wide, and I don’t even come close to touching the edges of this enormous bed. My right hand does touch something, though, and I roll over to investigate.
I missed that there was a neatly folded outfit waiting for me, laid out on the bed.
On top of it are fine, pink under-garments. I blush – I can tell just from a glance they are silky smooth compared to the rough panties I’m used to wearing.
I take the uniform beneath them in my hands next, and my cheeks burn an even brighter red when I realize what it is. Cyrus wasn’t joking when he said he had an outfit made especially for me.
It’s a French Maid costume – an outfit that has for so long been synonymous with the sexual fantasies it conjures that people forget that real maids, from some place on ancient Old-Earth, once wore outfits similar to this.
The French Maid is one of the oldest fantasies known to man. Some say the word French is from an old country on Old-Earth, which existed long before human languages merged into the common tongue. Even though I’m a virgin, I have to admit that I know more about sex than most my age. I once snuck a holo-vid into my room, back when I’d just turned nineteen. I’d felt so embarrassed when I’d stolen it, palming the thin disk instead of stealing something more useful or valuable, like food or money.
My curiosity had got the better of me, though, and I’d taken the opportunity when it had presented itself.
Most media is simply offered in digital format these days – you click a button on a holo-projector or screen, and it’s streamed directly to you. However, there’s still a market for small, discreet pieces of old tech that can play something – a movie, or music. When you’re out of the range of comms signals or networks, you have that recording right in the palm of your hand, literally…
That also means it can be hidden easily – and stolen easily, as I’d demonstrated.
When I’d got my prize back to my room, I’d felt guilty and ashamed as I pressed the button to turn on the recording – making sure it was muted…
Instantly, a man and a woman appeared in the room with me, projected as holograms.
They were so realistic. I knew they weren’t real, but the shock made me snap upright on my bedroll and hit
