She hurt. That was all she could process in her mind right now, she hurt and she was curled up on a carpet in what she hoped was a safe place. She slowly began to uncurl her body from the position that felt as though she had been in for ages. Tenderly, she moved her arms and legs stretching them with care, so as to not hit anything that might be close by. Everything worked. Her fingers stretched and tingled a little as she opened and closed her fist. And almost fearfully she opened her eyes and squinted in the dim light to look at her surroundings. She seemed to be in some kind of shelter, a home perhaps and alone by all that she could see. Gingerly she pushed her weight up onto her elbows and looked around her before bringing herself to a sitting position.

So this was where He had chosen to leave her. She was grateful. She had some memory. It was miniscule and fuzzy at the moment, but she knew that this was not the first time she had “started over” and she was grateful that he had let her begin here. Once she realized her predicament, she always felt all the rest of that, the birth, the childhood, the teen years…etc were a waste and was for nothing more than His own enjoyment. This time, at least He had spared her all that wasted time and she could get on with…  What was it again that she was to get on with?  Her life, right?  Really?  Why would He keep bringing her back again to life a life over and over again?  Was it a punishment?  Was she really an evil, vile creature over which even  He had no power?  Her head began to pound and she felt nauseous as she closed her eyes and tried to blur out the aching pain that emanated from the left side of her body and think. Just seconds ago it was all flooding before her eyes and now….it was gone. Who was she?  WHAT was she? Unthinkingly, she reached up to her chest and wrapped her fingers around a soft smooth object hanging around her neck and rubbed it as she tried to remember. She could feel cracks and crevices in the object and she opened her eyes to see a deep blue stone set in silver hanging tenderly between her breasts with a simple leather rope. It was odd…it almost seemed to glow when she touched it and she found it magical and almost scary at the same time. She squinted her eyes as she brought it closer to her gaze and saw that barely scratching the surface of the stone was a letter engraved, the outline of the letter “L”. Her finger traced the letter. “That’s right! It was…um…my name was….my name IS…” and the thought seemed to trail away, leaving her frustrated.  It was SO close and yet unattainable.

She stood to her feet and once she got a steady stance she began to gingerly rub the left side of her body.  Wondering how long she had lain in that position on the left side of her body she remembered…was He angry with her? Had He “laid” her there a little more roughly than He should have? No…He would not do that. Would He? No. And then she remembered His voice as tears filled her eyes and ran freely down her cheeks “It has failed. It is over. Your services are no longer needed. Your favor has been repaid in full.” And she could almost feel the repulsion in His grasp as He grabbed her lifeless body before it hit the floor.

He didn’t answer. He lay motionless on the rooftop where they had spent the evening in each other’s embrace, loving, kissing, talking, enjoying life. His eyes were closed, and it almost seemed as if he hadn’t heard the question, if not for the frown on his brow.

“We’ll do what we always do,” he finally said. “We’ll survive.”

___________________

He eyed  the map on the wall. It showed the familiar face of Europe, punctured with dozens of pins in different colours, like a rich man’s vacation chart. Dim candle light barely lit the room enough for them to read the names of places the pins pointed at. They were silent.

She shivered. It was August, and even though the days already got shorter, the air was still warm, even at night. But El didn’t shiver from the cold. She shivered from the future.

“We’ll have to leave,” he said again, calmly.

“I don’t want to hear about it!” she replied fast, almost interrupting. “Don’t wanna hear about it!”

“Elena…”

She started to cry, her body shaking as he rocked her in his arms.

“Elena, we’ll have to prepare for the worst. Please. We have to think this through.”

“I don’t wanna leave,” she said again. “What will we do? What will we do!?”

He sighed, looking at the map. “Look, the power is down. It’s been three days now, and there’s no talk about getting it on anymore. There’s no power. There’s no internet. Elena, there’s no internet! Even though it has been designed to survive a bloody nuclear war, the internet is down!”

She sobbed.

“Look, it’s spreading from the big cities. They tried to make it sound as if they can control it, but now there’s no internet anymore, no broadcast, and no power. So even if there was broadcast, we couldn’t get it anymore. We don’t know what’s happening in the world, but it’s possibly very bad. We have to assume the governments can’t keep it under control, and it will get here soon. In fact, it might even be here already. So the question is not whether or not we should leave. We have to. If we stay, we die.”

She rocked steadily in his arms, still sobbing, albeit quietly, as she listened to his calm voice. Even though he read her their gruesome fate, there was something in the way he spoke that could always calm her down.

“So the question is rather, where will we go, how do we get there, and what will we do when we’re there.” He eyed the map again. “We’ll have to go where there’s no people, and where they can’t get us easily. An island would be perfect. A small one. From what we’ve seen, they’re blind with rage, and don’t act very coordinated. I don’t think they can swim, but maybe we shouldn’t take any risks and go to an island that’s beyond swimming range. Then, it will have to be in a warm climate, as we’ll be pretty much self-sustaining, and it’s easier when we don’t have to spend most of our time gathering wood. We need food too, so we should be able to grow something there. And at best, it should be easily defended.”

He stood up and walked towards the map, still keeping her in his arms, as he dragged her along. “So we need to go south, towards the Mediterranean. Greece, probably. There are lots of very small islands there, and even though they’re close together, we might find one that’s far enough from all the rest to provide safety.”

“How do we get there?” she asked, trembling.

“That’s the tricky part. We’ll have to drive, all the public transport probably doesn’t work anymore. But I don’t know how crowded the streets are, or if they’re passable at all. When we get close to cities, we might run into lots of traffic jams, and lots of sick, so we’ll be attacked and may not have a chance to get away fast.” His eyes darkened. “Well, I can’t fly a plane, even if we find one. Or drive a train. We might be more flexible with a motorcycle, but that limits our luggage severely. Too severely.”

They both stared at the map in the flickering light. Towns and cities with pins, red for quarantine, yellow for reported incidents of sickness, green for still broadcasting radio stations, at least until the power went off. The pins were strewn all over the map, there was no pattern to them, no logic. The sickness appeared everywhere, mostly in cities at first, then spread out across the country. In between, the yellow lines for roads and streets – how many of them would be blocked? Then the green areas of forests and woodland – how many of them hid armies of the sick, or served as refuges for the sane? And then, thin blue lines for rivers and lakes. Rivers and lakes.

“Rivers,” he said excited. “That’s it! We go by boat!”

She looked at him sceptically.

“Rivers are probably much less blocked than any land connection, and driving a boat can’t be terribly hard. At least it’s easier to learn than flying a plane. And we can pack a lot of supplies and equipment. On top of that, boats are usually fairly well equipped already with instruments for broadcasting and receiving.”

“And they’re slow,” she remarked.

“Maybe, but hopefully still faster than any of the sick can swim,” he answered. “If they can swim at all. We don’t know much about it, other than it’s highly contagious, and seemingly makes people lose their mind. And it kills.”

“What about our families?” she finally asked, the thought was heavy on her heart. “We can’t just leave everyone behind.”

He looked at her for what seemed an eternity. Then he said: “It’s been 2 weeks since we’ve last heard from them. The phone doesn’t work anymore, the internet is off. We don’t even know…” He didn’t say it, but eyed the map. “We can try to get to them, and then go to the next river and find a boat that can take all of us out of here.”

She pulled herself tight against his chest. “What will we do when we’re attacked?”

He frowned. “We’ll run. Fast.”

Their skills are very specialized, and they usually stay among themselves. I can’t blame them for that, because as an “outsider”, I must seem awkward and foolish to them, and while they were friendly and hospitable, I could feel their impatience with my own clumsiness and lack of understanding of what are very mundane tasks to them. Still, I got admitted to their company for a while.

There is no apparent structure in their organization, and no definite leadership; rather, they all seem naturally to just do what they’re best at doing. On top of that, their values are different from ours. The things I had to offer seemed not only trivial, but completely unimportant to them. Also, they did not show any sign of interest in me as an ambassador of a foreign, and rather large, power, even though they didn’t lack respect. On top of that, they didn’t even realize, or care for the fact that we are ultimately providing for their habitat.

When we finally got together to talk, and I explained them our position and proposal, their reaction ranged from mild disagreement to an overt demanding attitude. I tried to categorize the different viewpoints, and make out certain groups, but I have to admit, it was rather chaotic. I did my best to address every issue, and especially the ones that were of interest to us, but I need to structure my approach better for the next attempt.

My observations for now, though, are that our established categorizations of groups and interests failed so far, and it is unclear if there are any categories that would fit. It seems their interests are not ours, and I can see no way to make them interested in our goals. And even though we, actually, created their environment, they somehow seem to inhabit it much longer than possible, and see us as the invaders. I am not sure what to call them for now, as they don’t have any name for themselves either, but since they see themselves as the “natives” of this place, I, for now, call them “residents”.

(Inspired by Barlow’s Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace)

The crowd was colourful; there were dark men from Valoria in their bright silken dresses, the tall pale sailors from the Highlands who travelled in mechanic boats whose workings even they could not fully understand, mechants from Carn Sul wearing expensive garments, discussing business, and in between even some Curiadh, members of the navigators’ guild, sat in their seafarer’s robes and whispered to each other. It was no wonder that among this crowd a particular group of travellers went unnoticed. They sat on a table against a window that looked out at the port, two men and four women, talking quietly to each other.

“There should be a portal nearby,” remarked one of the men. “It said so on Hyperica. Maybe even one that can lead to the lower grid.”

“It would make things easier,” nodded another. “Could save us from using the map.”

“I rather prefer the map,” said a woman. “I like being independent of portals.”

“The map is useless without the directories,” anwered the first man. “And even they aren’t too reliable.”

“As are the portals,” replied the woman.

They all had some kind of tattoo on their bodies, and their clothes tailored to make them show at all times. They displayed strange geometrical shapes, names, symbols. With a little imagination, the tattoos might look like a map, albeit a strange map that didn’t show cities or roads, but rather something like stars and routes.

“What place is this?” asked another woman. She was dark-haired and small and seemed rather shy. It seemed she was not as experienced as the others; her tattoos were few and far between.

“The region is called Silmaria,”said the second man. “We are on Daltilon, which has a somewhat medieval theme, even though they’ve got advanced technology running here. It’s a curious mix.”

“Indeed,” interrupted a dark, soft voice. Next to their table stood a tall man. His body was draped in a long, blue robe, a blue hood covered his head. The only visible part of his body was his right hand which held a long wooden staff. The hand was covered in tattoos: Words, symbols, lines, circles.

When the light from the candle fell on the shadow beneath the hood, they could see a broad smile. As the group just stared at him, he pulled back the hood and strands of white and red hair fell into his face.

“V!” said one of the men finally. “I didn’t know you were part of this grid. Why does your tag call you Kalinn?”

“Well, that is my ‘official’ name,” replied the robed man. “Vanish is a title they bestowed upon me. And Seriath is my order. It’s all a bit complicated, and I assume the HGAC didn’t come to Silmaria to get introduced to the protocol of order structures.” He smiled at the group. “Do you mind if I join?”

“Please have a seat,” replied the second man. “Maybe you want to give a short introduction for those who don’t know you yet.”

V glanced at the dark haired woman. “Well, I am V of TGIB. I make things.” He shrugged. “Daltilon is a second home to me, I helped creating it. Sadly there have been some… disagreements, and so while I’m still an official member of the Seriath, I’ve been… ‘dismissed’.”

“Where is El?” asked one of the women. She was blonde, and tall, and while her tattoos told of some experience, she didn’t have the hardened look of old travellers. Rather, her eyes still sparkled with curiousity.

“El’s around here,” answered V. “She found some store outside and is probably still looking at shoes. She should be here soon, though.” And with that he smiled at a woman who squeezed her lean body through the crowd. She wore turquoise silke garments and was careful not to step anyone on their toes – or, rather, have anyone else step on hers, as she wore some light leather sandals that barely covered here feet.

“Hello everyone,” she said cheerfully as she arrived at the table. “What brings you guys here?”

“Well, we were looking for a portal,” said the first man. V laughed. “Only one? Silmaria is full of portals! They say there’s a portal to every destination in the hypergrid here. Some are more hidden than others, though.”

“Well, can you recommend one?” asked the blonde woman of the group.

“Doesn’t it always depend on where you want to go?” V smiled. “But then, isn’t the HGAC about going without wanting?”

They smiled and raised their goblets. “To the hypergrid, the great unknown!”

- This story is a tribute to the Hypergrid Adventurer’s Club, inspired by Pathfinder’s “Jetpack“. Get the Navigator Skins here.

Okay, this is top secret, so you didn’t hear this from me, right? But there’s a tank. I mean, not that thing you invade dusty deserts with, but something like a fish tank, and what’s special about it is, that it’ll save prims! So like every object you rezz in it and keep in it will have a lower prim count than it normally does. Nobody knows exactly how it works. It’s said that it contains a script that will mess with the sim mathematics, causing the region to count the prims wrong. Of course, people up high (at LL) don’t like it, but they too can’t figure out how it works. And the scripter won’t tell a thing. Some say he’s dead, killed in a car accident in Oklahoma City by a woman who later became the sister-in-law of a government official. It’s rumoured he’s in the CIA, so maybe they deported him to Mexico, and things are getting really serious from there. But I can’t tell that right now, it’s too important.

(With regards to Lena C.)

Sails danced on the horizon. White like gull feathers, they lined the horizon. They were four galleons, with an occasional merchantman to supply them. The lone figure that stood atop the small ridge overlooking the bay turned and looked down at the port for a while, where a few merchantmen lay wary with their sails shortened, biding their time.

Slowly, the figure turned and walked down again. The embargo went into its third month now, and he had an appointment with the governor. Not that he could take on even one of the galleons, leave alone all four of them, but the people were getting nervous, and he was the only privateer in port. Leisurely he strode down to the governors mansion. It was a warm sunny day, and clouds were lining the skies just like the white sails of the galleons.

“Captain Firecaster,” the governor smiled broadly as he saw him.

“Just call me V, gov’nah,” V replied.

The governors smile soured as if he suddenly tasted a lemon. “V, it is good to see you again. We…”

“we talked about the situation before, gov’nah. There is no way for me to get past them, or even near them,” V interrupted him.

“Yes, yes, that was before.” The governor stretched his words like a man who was used to enjoy hearing himself talk. “But there are good news! My messengers finally returned, and there will be aid, finally! There are Men’o'War coming!”

“Good,” replied V sharply. “Then I’m no longer neccessary. Call on me when the…”

“No, no, good V, you are most important to the mission,” said the governor hastily. “We need you to distract them while the Men’o'War can take them by surprise.” With elaborate sentences, the governor laid out his plan, pointing at different spots on the map that hung upon the wall. V nodded. “When will this start?” he asked finally.

“Tomorrow,” said the governor. “They are close already. You have to get ready.”

“Aye,” answered V shortly and walked out.

She slept rough that night. The moon stood full outside the window to her room, casting it in cold white light. Earlier, she heard her father talk with that foreign captain again, and even though she did not understand all that had been said, she could feel that something was coming. She wondered if it was a good thing, as the embargo was filling the air with tension, but for some reason, she had a very bad feeling about it. The moon didn’t help either, so she spent most of the night, laying awake in bed, listening to the sounds outside, until she finally fell into a deep and tired slumber.

Someone grabbed her. She jerked awake, trying to scream, but a hand over her mouth muffled and gagged her. She got pulled out of bed in her white nightgown and her arms were held back rough. Someone put a piece of cloth into her mouth and bound her wrists while a cool night wind blew through her open window. She was confused, trying to come to her senses, wondering if she was dreaming, and tears were streaming down her face. Finally, the man turned her around and in the moonlight she recognized the tall captain of the privateer. He smiled at her and then slung her over his shoulder.

She got carried away roughly, not remembering much of where they went or how long it took. Finally, they paused under a large tree and he removed the cloth that gagged her.

“What are you doing with me?” she asked trembling.

“I’ll hold you ransom, that’s what I’ll be doing,” he replied. “You might be the only chance for us to survive that madness.”

“But I have no money…” she stuttered.

“Bugger the money,” he snarled.

“But…” she trembled even more. “But… what else do you want?” She looked down at herself in her skimpy night gown. “I… I have never been with a man.”

He eyed her. “Listen. There are no Men’o'War. There are no reinforcements. There is no surprise attack. There is nothing. Your father is sending me and my men to certain death so he can claim the bay got conquered by the French and get rid of his allegiance to the crown. And now, while I couldn’t care less about the welfare of the british colonies, I have a fine vessel and a crew of 13 hands to care for, so maybe he will reconsider if he learns that you are among the passengers.”

She fell silent. They continued their way down to the port side by side, her wrists still bound, but the gag removed from her mouth. She knew her father would probably play a different game with the captain, but she was too afraid and agitated to think clearly. When they reached the ship, she finally broke the silence. “Look, Sir, I…”

“Just call me V,” he said.

“V… my father will not do anything for my sake.” She lowered her eyes. “I got adopted.”

She didn’t know how long she was held in the small room on the ship. It seemed like hours. Finally, he entered the room again, carrying a candle and a sack. He sat down on a crate and eyed her silently. “Very well, erm…”

“Elena,” she said.

“Elena. The plans have changed. We will leave right away.” He threw the sack on the floor. “Get dressed.”

She stared at him. “What will you do?”

“We will row out to sea and try to enter one of the galleons unnoticed…” He paused for a moment as she started to remove her night gown. Inch by inch her silky white body appeared in the candle light, until she stood before him all naked. His gaze wandered across her breasts, her hips, the dark triangle covering her pelvis. “You could have dressed AFTER I left,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she answered. “I will.” She approached him slowly until she stood just inches away. “But I am your prisoner, Sir. Your property, if you so want.”

“Bollocks,” he replied. “Nobody’s anyones property. Not unless you’re one of the poor black sods and get carried away by a slaver.”

She moved her hands across her nipples, feeling them harden, and a curious feeling started to grow between her legs. She wandered them further down, along her sides, until they rested on each side of her pelvis. Slowly, gently, she pulled her pubic hair apart, opening her pink labia in front of his face. “What if I want to?” she asked.

He stared at her, unsure of what to say, as she already got to her knees in front of him. She smiled shyly and reached for the bulge that was showing through his pants. Slowly, nervously, she opened the buttons and pulled it down, gasping at the sight of his hardening dick. She touched it, feeling it grow in her soft warm hand, and instinctively started to stroke it. He moaned. His eyes closed for a moment, overwhelmed by her advance, enjoying it. She watched the expression on his face, afraid that he could be angry at her, but when she saw him smile softly, she followed the wonderful feeling that grew more and more inside her.

She arched down, her hair falling onto his loins. The smell of him intoxicated her, and she finally kissed the tip of his dick in her hands. It felt soft and warm, and a little wet around that little hole. Before she knew what she was doing, she licked it, tasting a strange, salty taste. feeling it pulse and harden even more at her touch. She started taking it into her mouth, her lips wrapping around the head. It almost filled her already, but she tried to move it further in, sucking it softly. Wetness was running down her legs, and she hoped embarassedly that he couldn’t see it. Quickly, she tried to suck harder, wanting to get his hard cock deeper into her mouth. She felt it hit the back of her throat already when it was not even halfway inside. Looking up at him with his cock inside her mouth, she could see him smile at her.

“God, you really want this?” he gasped. She nodded while caressing his dick with her tongue in her mouth. “Do you know what that entails?” She just sucked harder. He moaned loud, gasping for air. “God, girl! You better watch out or I will be…” She took the dick out of her mouth again, stroking it fast. Her hand rubbed hard across it, lubricated by her saliva. More wetness was forming at the tip, and she watched it curiously, as suddenly it erupted and gushes of sticky white liquid hit her face. She instinctively took it in her mouth again, feeling it jerk there, tasting more and more of the salty cream. It filled her mouth until it slowly ceased and started to get limp quickly. She let the dick fall from her mouth, looking up at him. Wet sticky spots covered her face and hair, and the cum inside her was dripping from the corners of her half-open mouth. He breathed hard as he looked at her, calming down slowly. Finally, he uttered a single word: “Swallow.” She oblieged.

They were sneaking down corridors in the dark, only illuminated by an emergency lighting that made their bodies shimmer, both wearing their bodysuits as almost as open as they had int he office and followed the floor layout of the plan. They descended stairs in the shadows, crawled across balustrades, slid along darkened walls, until they reached the ground floor, pausing in a corner, listening intently into the darkness of the building.

Footsteps. They peeked into the half light of the entrance and saw two guards in uniform, boredly walking their routes until they stood by a pillar and talked. El and V silently slipped past them and entered a storage, crawling past boxes in the darkness, heading towards a cabinet. Their goal. “The red box!” El whispered as he tried to open the doors. It was locked, and while V was trying his luck on the lock again she nervously looked around. The guards might be patrolling this area too and god knows when they might be here.

El nervously went through your pocket, finding the vibrator again which she eventually decided to take along, unable to part with it. She was running her hand along it, suddenly remembering something that struck her as curious. It was rattling when she used it. There was something inside. She took it out of her pocket, unscrewed the bottom and several small keys fell out.

“Look what I found!” she giggled. V turned around, unnerved. “You could’ve TOLD me you had the keys!” he whispered. El laughed. “I was USING them!” After a few seconds of try and error, they found the right one. The cabinet swung open and there were several small boxes inside, among them a red one just as described by their client. They took it out and El shook it, wondering what would be inside. “Do you think we can OPEN it?” she asked.

V didn’t answer and instead crawled in the shadows towards the exit, listening intently to any sound. Her curiousity got the best of her and so she opened the box. It contained something that gleamed in the dark. She ran her fingers over it and it felt all rough and edged but was cylindrical with a thicker end. She giggled. “I love cylindrical,” she thought as she took it out and weighed it in her hands. It was very heavy and by the dim light that gleamed over it she could see, that it was solid gold, intricatly covered with beautiful gems that seemed to glow in the dark. A sceptre of sorts. It gave her ideas.

V knelt beside the door hearing someone move outside. The door handle turned and his breath halted. Silently it swung open and a flashlight beam followed by the dark shape of a guard entered. He hit the guard with a plank as hard as he could and the man slumped without a sound. V grabbed him and carried him into the darkness behind the boxes.

El closed her eyes and moaned, enjoying the feeling of the gems rubbing along her clit, the knob spreading her labia as her mind wandered, wondering which queen might have used it before her and if it brought her equal pleasure. Somewhere, something thumped to the floor, but she was miles and centuries away, taking a sceptre up her cunt, massaged by her chamber maid who caressed her breasts, her nipples; licking them as the sceptre entered her deep, masterfully tailored to the size of her cunt. She moved it in and out, slowly at first, until her slimy juices covered it all, going easier, deeper, faster, when all at once a lightbeam fell upon her. It illuminated the scene of her sitting in the darkness, holding the sceptre deep inside her. A female voice behind the flashlight gasped and said: “What’s going on here?”

El smiled her innocent smile and suddenly leapt towards her in a high jump, grabbing her flashlight while hitting her chest. The female guard fell to the floor and her gun slid sideways under some boxes. El squatted over her, her sceptre filled cunt close to her face and whispered: “Hello chamber maid. Time to suck me.”

She pulled the sceptre out of herself and sat fully down on her face, pressing her cunt hard on her mouth. The woman gagged and gasped for air, then opened her mouth, feeling juices flow inside. She tasted them, sucking at the labia and clit of that woman that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Not before long, the guard moaned and seemed to enjoy it. El looked down at her, lighting with the flashlight and watched her suck while she could feel her lick deeper and deeper. The guard woman was quite short. She wore her brown hair long but had it hidden under her cap, which had just fallen off. She seemed to enjoy wearing makeup, even at work, as her red lips started to get smeared by El’s juices.

El she started to move up and down her face, moving her hips and let her lick further down towards her ass. She reached for her clit and rubbed it fast, hard, as she felt her tongue at her anus, which was still damp from his sperm. She smiled at the thought of her tasting it while she rubbed even harder and felt it coming on already.

El looked down at her face, buried beneath her cunt. The dark lined eyes of the guard were closed as she was tasting her, licking and playing. El relaxed and let it gush all over her face, bathing her in cunt juices and smeared her mascara all over her face. It took the guard woman by surprise and she was trying to swallow the juice as El could hear a voice close to her ear. “What the hell are you DOING?”

She moaned softly. “I’m having fun with our treasure,” she replied. V looked down at the gasping woman, her face all wet, and the slimy sceptre laying on the side. El bent back and reached up to him, whispering: “Come, my king and SHOW me how good you can wield your sword.” She went down on all fours, arching her butt high up while spreading the legs of the guard woman. Her hand wandered inside her pocket and grabbed a pair of scissors which she used to cut the pants of the guard open in the crotch. For a moment she admired her beautiful lingerie as she could feel her buttocks get parted once more, and the one thing that fit her better, and could take her harder, and deeper, than any sceptre, or any other thing was entering her ass once more: His massive cock.

Before the guard could gather her senses again she pulled her panties aside and pushed three fingers inside her cunt, starting to fuck her fast, just as her ass got probed by the warm, big cock. Her king was fucking her, taking her like in the old days of yore, when she used to take audiences sitting on his dick, or let chamber maids lick her while he filled her ass. And even when she was still his slave and was kept in his dungeon to get fucked over and over again to his liking, it was HIS cock she obeyed. But that lowly chamber maid, who had shaven her horny cunt to appear even hornier, SHE will not get his cock. SHE will get the fuck of her lifetime instead, as the queen shoved her hand hard inside her, hearing her gasp, moan, scream, thrash, getting fucked through her ripped clothes until the queen could feel her cunt convulse around her wrist, pulling, while that hard cock kept pounding her asshole, driving her wild, and she felt it coming on. Unable to control her body she rammed her fist hard up the cunt of the guard as they both screamed, squirting hard, feeling her asshole get filled with hot cum once more.

She let her hand glide along the sceptre, as the sunbeams fell through the windows in their office. The gems were blazing, as if lit by an inner fire. For days they had been unable to contact their client, and it seemed he had pulled out of the deal. “What will we do with it now?” El asked. V read loud from the latest Avastar as his feet rested on the desktop. “Three days after the robbery of the Norman Exhibition, police still found no trail to the thieves. The security guards concordantly stated they didn’t see anyone in or around the building. How the sceptre of Eleanor of Castile disappeared remains a mystery. Bay City Police chief Dick Morris stated that ‘investigations continue in all directions and we ask the public to report any suspicious actions they might witness’.”

He threw the newspaper on the desk. “We might as well bring it back,” he sighed. El pouted. “I already put the vibrator back. Even WITH the keys!” she said. “I’m keeping this one. I’ll put it to BETTER use than they anyway!” V smiled and looked outside where the sun set beyond the portlands over a Bay City evening.

The streets of Bay City are paved with high rising buildings which were mostly erected during the first half of the previous century. There were only a few skyscrapers in the city, most buildings stopped at a modest height of about 20 or 25 meters. The Firecaster Building was no exception. Though it slumped slightly on one end as its girders were giving in to gravity, its glass roof was on par with the surrounding buildings, which, although mainly unnoticed by most residents, made for a convenient way of traveling almost invisibly through the city. Therefor, nobody noticed the two black dressed figures which were balancing along the parapets, jumping from roof to roof through a Bay City evening.

They crossed the street under a large board announcing the special exhibition of norman treasures of the 13th century, which was held this week in the museum. Even though the museum was their destination as well, they weren’t particularly interested in the exhibits themselves but rather in a small red box, which their client had specified to them. She didn’t tell them what the box contained or why it was of value, and they didn’t ask. Their job was simply to retrieve it, so all they needed to know was where it was stored, and how to get there.

The venting system was the highway throughout the building. They carried with them a copy of an old blueprint of the museum’s layout. All rooms were connected by a network of venting shafts, as the building was constructed in an era when venting was just starting to be used in construction, and the shafts were large enough to let two people crawl through them alongside each other.

When they reached the roof of the Bay City Museum, it started raining. Large drops splashed on the concrete plates the roof was constructed out of. Both figures were dressed in tight black body suits, their faces covered with black glasses and painted dark with ash. Only their hair glistened in the starlight, red and blonde, a man and a woman. He unscrewed and lifted the top of a venting outlet and they both climbed inside, crawling through the clanging metal shafts that ran along the ceilings. His partner led the way, which gave him plenty of opportunity to adore her figure in the tight bodysuit as she wriggled along, occasional beams of light outlining her body when they crossed a grate.

“You like staring at my butt, don’t you?” she asked, as if reading his mind.

“Be glad I can’t SLAP it in here,” he mumbled.

He tried to concentrate on the map to find a way through the labyrinth of shafts and corridors when suddenly a sharp shrieking sound made them stop as they crossed through a room that was labeled ‘office’ on the layout.

“What was that?” he hissed.

“Not ME!” she whispered back.

“That’s what you ALWAYS say,” he remarked. “But there…”

All at once, the hooks that held the shaft gave in to their weight, and they dropped hard down into the room, falling out of the broken metal frame as it hit the ground. For a long while they just lay there, listening alert into the silence of the building, not daring to move or even breathe. Nothing happened. If anyone had noticed their descent, they didn’t do anything to investigate. Carefully they got up again, lighting a dim flashlight to explore the contents of the room. They were standing in front of a large oaken desk, presumably an antique. Across it was a door, which – according to their plan – would lead out to a corridor on the third floor of the museum. Along the walls were several bookshelves and cabinets, some large potted plants and a group of leather seats and a table in one corner.

“You search the desk while I try the door,” he whispered and sneaked across the room. It was locked. The flashlight flickered along the walls as she searched through the drawers of the desk while he tried to pick the lock with the few tools he had with him.

“Damn, can you find a key somewhere? It’s no use with this crap…” he whispered as he turned to look after his partner, surprised to see her suck on a glistening metal cone while the flashlight lay on the desk, illuminating her features.

“Look what I found,” she giggled as her tongue slid along the sides of the vibrator, cleaning the remains of its previous owner. He watched her mesmerized as she slowly pulled down the zipper on front of her bodysuit, opening it all the way down to her crotch. As usual, she wore nothing beneath. Her nipples were peeking hard around the borders of the zipper, as she ran the vibrator down between them, across her belly to the soft pubic hair that circled her crotch. With one smooth motion she sat down on the desktop, spreading her legs towards him.

“Mmmmh,” she moaned as the vibrator found its way between her labia and the gleaming shaft disappeared inside her.

“God, El!” he whispered, unable to avert his eyes from the scene. She took little notice of him as she moved the vibrator in and out, leaving wet streaks all over it. Moaning louder, she lay back on the desk, arching her hips up as the zipper continued to open the bodysuit up her back. As her soft buttocks appeared, she quickly took the vibrator out of her cunt and inserted it between them.

“Mmmmmh, god!” she gasped. “Who would’ve thought they’d think of our ENTERTAINMENT while we’re here?” She held the vibrator inside her anus with one hand while grabbing the flashlight with another, pointing the handhold at her wet labia, which were swollen and wet by now, and gently pushed it in. Moaning loud, she rolled down the desk, turning her back towards him as she bend over the desktop. “God, I need you inside me now!” she whispered trembling as she pulled the vibrator out of her butt again. “Please!”

He quickly unzipped his own suit, relieving his dick from the painfully tight confines of it’s crotch, feeling it hard and warm in his hand, pulsing already. He approached her from behind as she spit on her hand, rubbing her saliva between her buttocks.

“Mmmh, you need my hard cock, my little whore?” he whispered close to her ear.

“Oh yes, very MUCH so,” she moaned.

“In your ASS?” he asked as the head of his cock was already rubbing against her buttocks.

All she gave as a reply was a long moan. She pushed back against him, forcing his cock to enter her anus, almost screaming as she felt it part her. She waited for a moment and relaxed, then felt him thrust inside her as the pain ceased, filling her with pure pleasure. He thrusted inside her hard, filling her up completely as the flashlight sat firm and deep in her cunt and she sucked her own juices off the vibrator, enjoying the moment of complete fulfillment. She felt him go harder and faster, slowly losing control over his own body and making her lose her own control as well as the one sensation that was taking over all others was his massive cock in her ass. Finally, the orgasm swept like a wave over her, thrusting the flashlight out and gushed down on the floor, as she felt his dick jerk in the grip of her anus, pumping warm wetness inside her.

They were sinking on the ground, breathing hard, holding each other tight. She kissed him softly, giggling as she saw the small sign on the desk. “Do you think the director would mind that I had ‘borrowed’ her vibrator?”

Shadows crawled out of the canals as the sun sank wearily beyond the portlands, casting the streets of Bay City in a fiery orange glow. The traffic slowly ceased as the street lamps sprang to light one by one, welcoming the nightfall with flickering beams. They made the onslaught of darkness both more and less harsh at the same time, as the cold-lit walks of light they created only made the shadows that lined them seem deeper and darker than they already were. It was silent in this part of town, after the business hours were over. Only a few people hurried through the parks and streets, trying to catch the late tram home. None of them observed the one shadow that was moving among all the others, gliding through the unlit alleys, the dark spaces between trees and far corners of sidewalks.

Land prices were extremely high in these parts, and consequently, most buildings were offices, banks or shops. The few people that actually lived here had to be well-off citizens. The moving shadow paved its way towards a strange, run-down building whose skeletal frame rose high among the surrounding buildings. He had observed it for a while now. It was inhabited, there was no doubt about that. It had certainly seen brighter days though, as he remembered it once housed a classy shop of exquisite and high-priced cosmetics and accessoires. Ever since the breakdown of ’09 though, the building fell apart. Broken panes now shattered the weary walls, as branches climbed out and along them, seeming to sustain the girders to keep the whole house from collapsing. The few parts that were still intact were however still used by the original inhabitants, whose name was still etched in stone below the intricate stained glass window that arched the entrance. Firecaster.

They owned large parts of this area, as the Firecaster Building itself sprawled along pavements for almost 100 meters. The place might lay in disrepair, but the shadow concluded there would still have to be money somewhere inside the building, and tonight he was determined to get it. He passed the car that had been parked in the attic and kept changing colour almost every day, presumably sprayed by neighbourhood kids in some desperate attempt to search for graffiti-free surfaces. He lurched through the strange indoor garden that formed as plants grew through the broken floor tiles and windows after the place was deserted, and finally reached the doors. They were set into a supplementary wall that separated the abandoned from the unabandoned part of the building. The windows were all dark, as they had been for three consecutive days by now, and even though the mailboxes seemed to get emptied, he had no doubt that the owners were not at home.

The doors were locked, of course. He had tried them before, and there was no way to open them, as they were fitted with a sophisticated locking mechanism, which allowed only the key holders to enter. There were, however, ways around this, and he had sufficient experience as a burglar to bypass them. The room he entered was high, wide, and dark. Lamplight streamed through the windows on one side, while the moon lit the room from another. He could make out a kitchen in the corner, a bookshelf in another. Large paintings on the walls, and a gigantic fireplace right in front of him, blocking his view of the rest of the room. Carefully he set one foot after another, as he set out across the softly creaking wooden floor towards the back of the fireplace. As he reached it, he paused for a minute, contemplating if it was safe to use a flashlight now, as his spine suddenly froze at a sound.

Crackle. The fireplace crackled. He halted his breathing, listening intently, hoping his senses had betrayed him. But there was no doubt: Someone must have lit the fire recently. His mind went rampant. How could this be? He had seen nobody come or go. He had observed the building all day long and there was only the set of doors he had just passed to get into the room. He sank to his knees with his back against the fireplace, breathing slowly. He inched towards the edge of the fireplace, trying to get a better glimpse of the room, while calculating routes to escape if he was spotted. And suddenly, very faintly, he heard voices. There was the deep voice of a man with a strange accent, who muttered some half-whispered remarks. “…Cake or death?”

“Chocolate!” giggled a female reply.”You give me chocolate or you DIE!”

“Momentarily. Just leave your gun.”

“Chocolate!” – “Wack!” – “Ouch!” – “Don’t make me shoot you!”

The man mumbled a half-serious remark and they both resorted to a series of sounds and soft laughter, while the shadow could hear his heart beat deafening in his chest. He did not plan for this situation, as all houses he had entered so far were empty at the time. He was masked and wore a green bodysuit and helmet, so even if he had to make a run for it, he might still get away unrecognized. This was little comfort however, as the people behind the fireplace seemed to be armed. He had to find a way out.

“You want the bra back on?” the woman drawled.

“Not at all!” he said in a soft, deep voice.

“You want the thong… off?” she asked innocently.

There was a deep humming coming from the man as the shadow glanced hastily around. The two people seemed to be busy with each other, and he wanted to take the opportunity to look for an escape. There was a stairs going up, and he took them sneakily as softly as he could. He found himself in a strange room, part bath, part bedroom, part study. While he hastily scurried from wall to wall, looking for any window that could be opened, the shower suddenly started. He almost fell into it as he panicked, looking for a way to turn it off. Below, he could hear the woman sigh. “Dammit. Why can they turn the water on and NOT off!”

The man laughed.  ”I’m pretty sure the Bay City Water Departement runs on us alone.”

“That, and the Police Departement!” the woman chuckled. The shadow hid trembling behind a curtain, listening intently to all the noises in the house. Below, the conversation continued.

“I bet you are ECSTATIC!” the woman drawled.

“Uhhh. Well it MOVES kinda slow,” he moaned.

“It just seems to flow IN AND OUT of FLUIDITY” she said laughing.

“You’re not making this ANY easier, Missey!” the man chuckled.

“I just want to keep you aBREAST of the situation!” she giggled,  It all COMES with the changes going on… I don’t want it to draw to a CLIMAX too soon, I was afraid with the shower running it would be too WET here…”

A sharp sound, as if something was slapped, suddenly echoed through the room, and the woman moaned loud. He slipped from behind the curtain, quickly trying the rest of the windows. They all couldn’t be opened. If there was a way out, it would be downstairs.

He descended the stairs again, hearing clothes rustling, and the two people breathing harder, while shreds of their conversation could be heard over their panting.

“You wouldn’t make your little… hungry…”

“I would make her… empty herself… all over…”

They both moaned loud, and the shadow decided that this was the best opportunity to leap for an escape. He headed for the door, trying to get out again, as he heard soft clicking sounds behind his back, and two calm voices speaking to him.

“Welcome to Bay City. How can we help you?”