[– Anais –]
Wetness swirls around my breast while I review this week’s schedule at my desk. I prefer paper, but my assistant Vanessa insisted that we modernize, so a tablet glows in my shadowed office. My office is hidden from the world behind tall drawn drapes. They’re standard for the original rococo style of the palace.
My schedule is busy, like usual. I am booked for events and private visits all over the world. I will have a ten-hour flight one evening, but that will give Vanessa time to recuperate. Unlike me, she is mortal. I can live without sleep, drink, food, or bathing, however, some of my clients prefer that I join them in those activities. My waving hair has not grayed, and my smooth, voluptuous body has not aged since I was thirty-five years old, which was just shy of 900 years ago if I remember correctly. Despite my age, I am still full of life, and I am able to renew the lives of mortals, the ones who are anxious about living a life that ends. I cannot make them immortal, but I can invigorate them to continue living.
The soft cushion of the chez lounge on which I sit ruffles. I use it in lieu of a desk chair because desk chairs proved to be too restrictive. The possibility to lay oneself on the lounge is usually necessary whenever I am at the desk.
A soft whimper exhales on my breast. I gently glide my hand down long naked legs that stretch to the end of the chez lounge, and there is another whimper. I gently shh the whimper and stroke a long blond ponytail, situated high on Vanessa’s head. She sighs in my lap and slowly suckles my large breast, drawing my milk into her mouth with her expert sucking rhythm. She needs to recuperate more than any other living person I know. Assisting an immortal requires endurance and stamina she could never maintain on her own, despite how strong she is.
I sigh and lean back my head as I hold her to my breast. Her suckling calms me, and it enlivens my sex. Though my arousal depends on the situation, I’ve always enjoyed giving to the mortals. My presence calms them, my body comforts them, and my endless milk rejuvenates them. The more they share their vulnerability with me, the wetter I become.
I wish Vanessa could continue, but there is business to attend to. I softly coo, “Vanessa, our next appointment will be here soon.” She whines and latches on harder, and I blush. Out of all my assistants over the years, she enjoys her time with me the most.
I gently pull her head away from my breast. Her eyes open, and I recognize how they change as she emerges from her daze. She looks up at me, and I see an excited twinkle in her eye. Not all mortals look at me with that twinkle, but Vanessa always has after our time together.
She wiggles her naked body under the desk and nuzzles her nose between the hem of my sheer silk robe. It always rides up when I sit, so her nose touches my sensitive mound, naked of hair, like the rest of my body.
I smile and place my hand on her head to stop her. “He will see you under the desk.”
But she shakes her head and tries to pull my legs apart. “I don’t care.”
I’ve learned that Vanessa never doubts her decisions, so I open my legs and let her take me into her mouth. Her tongue is strong, and her lips are eager as she sucks on my clitoris and licks my wetness. I cannot count how many times I’ve felt her mouth, but it feels more enjoyable each time it meets my sex. My womanness has come to expect for her and yearn for her, and it revels in her acute admiration for me and my profession.
There’s a knock on the door, and I sing for the knocker to enter. His expression matches nearly every other that has walked into my office for antalya escort the first time. I can imagine the scene before him: a sinfully angelic woman dressed in white silk and a young, round bottom peeking from under the desk. It glows in the light that pours in through the slit of the drapes. Vanessa is wearing her black patent heels this morning, so I can imagine the view is especially alluring.
The middle-aged man grips the edge of the door and tries to break his gaze from Vanessa’s bottom. Unsuccessful, he says half-willingly, “I can come back later.”
I smile. “That isn’t necessary.” I gracefully nod to the chair near my desk. “Sit down in front of Vanessa.” She pushes her face harder between my legs, and my hips shiver in pleasure.
The man awkwardly places the chair and his feet around Vanessa’s legs, then looks at me with eyes so wide and cheeks so flushed that I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re Martin, I presume?”
He breaks his gaze and clears his throat. “Um. Yes. That’s correct.”
“And you’d like to schedule an event?”
“There can be no more than ten groups, and each group can have no more than two people. Are you aware of that?”
He nods as he stares at a gold pen on my desk.
“When would you like to have the event?”
“I’m booked for the year.”
His gaze flicks to mine, and he sheepishly asks, “The whole year?”
If Vanessa were handling this meeting, she would dryly say, “Yes. That is what ‘booked for the year’ means.”
I am nicer than Vanessa. “I’m afraid so.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. I’ll have to talk to the guys again.”
I softly smile, then I place my soft hand over his. “But let’s make this meeting worthwhile.”
I lean to open a drawer, and Vanessa seizes the chance to open my legs wider. I catch my hitching breath as I remove a stack of contracts from the drawer. I insisted these not be digitized, in contrast to Vanessa’s arguments.
I place the contracts in front of Martin. “All guests must sign these if they want to participate.” As he scans through the text, I summarize, “Sex is permitted, but not required. I will assume that all attendees have received consent to participate from their sexual partner or partners. I will require a private room that is separate from the main room where the participants wait. If participants would like to share their time with me with another participant or participants, they may do so. While with me, participants do not need to worry about contracting or transferring any infections or diseases. I am immune to them, and there is no risk of unwanted pregnancy. I am not responsible for any infections, diseases, or pregnancies that result from sexual activities between participants.”
“It’ll just be a bunch of straight guys, so—”
“Surprising things happen during my events.”
He looks up at me from the contract, and I nod my head once to underline my point. Unsurprisingly, his gaze shoots back down to the document. A bit of sweat forms on his brow.
“No recording of any kind is allowed—that includes photographs, videos, and audio. My identity is strictly confidential. No one can share my name or likeness to anyone.
“And I should not have to say this, but pressuring or forcing anyone in the event to conduct or witness any unwanted action is strictly forbidden. That especially applies to Vanessa.”
Vanessa climbs up from under the desk and straddles me, and my robe falls open in the commotion. She grinds her beautifully wet pussy against me and whimpers into my ear with her ponytail draped over her shoulder. Martin is stone stiff except for lara escort his eyes as he watches her gyrate in the light.
I rest my hand on her pelvic bone to steady her as she rides me and ask Martin, “Do you understand?”
With his knuckles white from gripping the armrests of the chair, he nods. “Yes.”
Still desperately, but admirably trying to be a gentleman, he looks me in the eye and asks, “How much?”
Vanessa tightens her grip around me, and I gently wrap my arms around her. “One hundred thousand dollars.”
Finally broken, he slumps in the chair and rakes his hand through his hair. “So the rumors are true.”
“That rumor is true.”
He stares at the contract as he absorbs all of the information, then he exhales and nods. “Okay. I’ll talk to the guys.”
“Would you like to try it?”
He makes more ardent eye contact with me than he’s done since he opened my office door. “You mean right now? You seem…” He looks at Vanessa again.
I softly smile. “She can finish.”
I murmur in her ear, “Vanessa, it’s time to finish.”
She shakes her head and grinds me harder, inspiring my sex to thickly pulse in desire.
I stroke her cheek and reiterate as a whisper, my lips close to hers, “Baby, it’s time to finish.” I lightly pinch her nipple to encourage an orgasm.
She whines and grinds faster, creating a stimulating buzz between my legs. I gently kiss her, taking only her bottom lip into my mouth, and she whines again. I gently encourage her mouth open with my teeth, and I slide my tongue into her mouth as she rides me faster and harder. I can’t resist grinding against her, swirling my sex around hers as she moves to and fro along our clits. A loud whine pours out of her, and I feel myself approaching the edge.
I look into her eyes and whisper, “Come for me, baby.”
I say it three more times with increasing urgency, and we grind against each other more fervently after every expression, until I’m hot and glistening, and she’s in her favorite place: lost in sobbing pleasure, aching for more of me but wanting to finish, to finally relieve the pressure that has built between us.
I cup her breast in my hand and urge, “Come. We’ll come together.” And I pinch and twist her nipple the way she loves until she cries out and shakes against me. My body shakes against hers with the same desperation for relief and rapture.
She still shakes in my arms as my body settles, and I hold her until she stills and falls limp against me.
After a handful of calming breaths, she kisses me in thanks. It’s a soft kiss, passionate and full of gratitude. Then she stands, and I feel her fiery energy leave me as she walks toward the door. Her wetness dripping down her legs shimmers in the soft sunlight. She opens the door and smirks at Martin. Then she turns, and her long legs and tall heels disappear behind the door.
Martin’s mouth hangs open as he pulls at his hair. “Is she part of the event, too?”
“No.” I adjust the gold pen that had rolled during Vanessa’s and my lovemaking. “She supervises. And she has a boyfriend.”
“And he’s okay with”—he waves his hand at the ghost of the scene that just occured—”that?”
I smile. “Of course.” Then I pat next to me on the chez lounge. “Your turn.”
He hesitantly stands and walks around the desk. I encourage him to get comfortable as I rest my back on the arm of the lounge. I’m completely stretched along the lounge as he steps out of his underwear.
I hedge, “You didn’t have to get naked.”
“Well she was, and she seemed to have a good time, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”
I softly manavgat escort laugh, and his eyes brighten as he meets my favorite form of me: the nurturer, the consoler, the lover of fragile people.
I outstretch my arms, and a smile joins his bright eyes as he crawls on top of me and rests his head in the crook of my shoulder. I slightly turn myself into him as I cup my breast, swollen with anticipation and tender from Vanessa’s suckling, and guide it toward his mouth.
Some people easily participate, and Martin is one of them. He quickly accepts my breast in his mouth and finds a rhythm to his liking. His shoulders relax as he sighs. I gently comb his hair off his forehead, and he nuzzles into me with another long exhale.
“Would you like some milk?” I can control when I lactate. Some don’t want milk; dry suckling is soothing enough for them.
But Martin looks up at me from my breast and nods. I smile and squeeze. He softly moans as the rejuvenating liquid fills his mouth.
As he drinks, I admire his face. His long eyelashes, his high cheekbone, his thick brow, and his straight nose. I glide my fingers over the wrinkles from his smiles and the freckles from the sun. I feel his stubbly facial hair and his jaw. I pet his ear with slow, calming motions, and I pet the rest of him. His shoulder, his arm, the bit of hair on his chest, and I feel him relax into me.
His penis is hard, so I glide my fingers along it. He groans in pleasure, so I stroke him as he suckles, bringing him the pleasure and relief every hardworking mortal deserves. His breath quickly labors until he comes like a spurting fountain. Men spending their first time with me usually expel themselves quickly. But Martin isn’t embarrassed or disappointed. He continues to suckle as his penis drains and calms.
He suckles slowly and deeply, sucking a considerable amount of milk into his mouth before slowly swallowing. I enjoy his wet lips around my nipple and the sensation of my magical milk leaving my body and into his, replenishing him and filling him with love. Mortals have less time for love than they deserve. They should have more time for love than anything because their lives are so short.
My sex stirs again, and it becomes more aroused the longer he stays attached to my breast. I want him to touch me, but he doesn’t initiate it, so I leave him be.
I’m not sure how long we lay in the chez lounge; I don’t pay attention to clocks. The awareness of time creates haste in mortals because they are afraid it is running out too quickly. They rejuvenate best when they’ve forgotten about time, so I make sure to ignore it. Discontent in me would transfer to them.
As my schedule’s keeper, Vanessa is always very aware of the time. She softly knocks and opens the door wearing a black pencil skirt and black blazer, sharp like her. “We have to leave for New York.”
Martin opens his eyes and gasps like he is emerging from a baptismal bath. He sits up and stares at Vanessa, now fully clothed and fierce, with his hair shooting in different directions.
I smile and wipe some milk from the corner of his mouth, but I’ve lost him.
He asks, “What time is it?” He searches through his heap of clothes and picks up his cell phone. “Shit. It’s been an hour.” He frantically starts dressing.
As he puts on his last shoe, he looks at me.
“How do you feel?”
He stands tall and takes a deep breath. “Great.”
Happy that I helped him, I stand and try to fix his hair. “I hope to see you next year.”
He smiles and nods, full of energy. “Me too.” Then my lips catch his gaze. I lean forward in invitation, and he softly kisses me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. MaGuire. You need to leave.”
When he retreats from my lips, his eyes shine more brightly than they did before. He confidently nods, then leaves.
Vanessa brings me a wrap dress and a pair of heels. “Get dressed. We’re late.”