I control my breathing. I can feel the creeping shame building and building inside of me. I try not to image how slutty I’ll feel when these three, huge warriors begin fucking me into submission – in front of countless, eager eyes.
I’m still kneeling on the carpet, head turned down as an obedient slave’s should be.
Like that, it’s hard to see the faces of the Aurelians – but I can see Torelli’s brows draw down.
He’s surprised. Surprised that Daccia would accept his challenge – because he knows no Aurelian Law Enforcement agent would fuck a real slave – or a woman pretending to be one – as part of an investigation.
Torelli is distrustful, but he’s clearly a man of twisted pride. The crime boss nods.
“Once I know you’re not agents,” he sneers, “the sky is the limit. But first? I need to see you go through with this. Talk is cheap.”
That greasy slime-ball, Giovanni, suddenly appears behind us. I can smell his hair oil, even though I can’t see him positioned like this. The way the Bond has enhanced my senses has made me so much more aware of everything around me – sights, sounds, and especially smells.
“I’m here, boss. What do you need?”
Torelli growls: “Escort them to the stage. I'll be watching. You can tell a man's business sense by the way he fucks.” The crime boss snorts. “If he’s too gentle, you know he's pussy bitch. Too rough, and you know he has no finesse.” Torelli’s eyebrows raise sickeningly. “When I fuck my whores, I make them scream my name – over and over again."
I shudder at the thought of Torelli seeing me nude and in ecstasy.
He disgusts me, morally and physically. He’s the first Aurelian I’ve ever seen with a gut – I didn’t even know it was possible for the warrior species to get fat…
…but I know there’ll be a lot of muscle underneath that fat. He’s not to be underestimated.
Suddenly, another wave of dark shame hits me. For a moment, I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to go through with this. I want to be strong. I need to be strong for my little sister – but the humiliation is all-consuming. I feel so nervous and dirty.
My triad stands as one. Kitos pulls at my leash, and I stand at his wordless command.
Despite my nervousness, the pleasure dress wraps around my body enticingly, touching and tantalizing every inch of my bare skin. I try desperately to escape into the arousal it draws from me, especially as the overwhelming sense of shame – at the thought of being fucked in front of a crowd – floods my mind.
I feel too much shame… and so I look inward, into the Bond.
Please… Please, take this shame away. Please, come to life as they promised you would.
Suddenly, the Bond thrums.
My legs suddenly buckle as a wave of sheer need flows through me. I called upon the Bond, and it answered – more powerfully than I could possibly have imagined.
The Bond hits me with a wave of lust that instantly overpowers my shame. It’s not making me feel this way – the Bond is just drawing my secret desires up, from deep inside me. It’s giving power to my darkest, deepest urges, and lowering my inhibitions until such fleeting emotions as shame, embarrassment and nervousness as washed utterly away.
Newly energized, I follow my triad as Giovanni leads us into the elevator.
Despite the power of the Bond, filling me with lust and arousal, I still get a sick feeling knowing that this little, slimy bastard is going to watch me getting fucked along with everybody else in this club. My shame is almost too much to bear.
And then I get an idea.
“Kitos,” I telepath. “Turn on the dress – please!” I realize I need to be too turned on to even think about what’s going to happen to me. The shame is so powerful, I need to overcome it with pure, slutty lust.
There’s an edge of surprise in Kitos’ aura, but he complies with my request.
Oh, Gods!
At Kitos’ command, the pleasure dress activates.
I’d thought it teased and tantalized me before – but, suddenly, the sheer material clings to me like it’s alive – vibrating against every sensitive part of my body. It’s as if a thousand little fingers are pinching and teasing my nipples, like a hundred tiny tongues are lapping at my pussy, and as if a hundred eager lips are tantalizing, oh-so-close, to sucking on my clit.
I gasp out loud.
Giovanni laughs in the elevator, surprised at my moan.
“Your bitch is in heat! You’ve trained her…hgggh!“
The ‘hgggh’ is because Hadrian’s huge hand just shot out and lifted Giovanni clean off the floor, holding him aloft by his throat.
Giovanni hangs from Hadrian’s iron grip, spluttering and gasping for air. He can’t catch a breath.
I hide my smile. It’s good to see the grease-ball getting put in his place. I know exactly how strong Hadrian’s grip can be...
Hadrian holds Giovanni aloft, presenting him to the camera hanging from the ceiling of the elevator.
“Torelli! We don’t abide disrespect to our property!”
He’s brandishing Giovanni like a prize. The greasy-haired host starts kicking his legs in the air, as the last of the air runs out of his lungs. I see the horror in Giovanni’s eyes as he realizes he’s about to die...
Then, suddenly, Hadrian lets go – dropping Giovanni to the floor with a loud thump.
The host’s breath rattles in his nearly crushed throat, as he desperately sucks in air, completely cowed. It takes Giovanni nearly five seconds before he can pull himself to his feet.
“I-I’m sorry... So, so sorry,” he croaks, clutching his throat, his face bright red.
My triad of Aurelians ignores him – which is as close to accepting the little man’s apology as he’s lucky to get.
The doors to the elevator then rattle open, and the Bond hits me with another wave
