came in as someone else’s prisoner looking ragged and sick. I nursed them back to health with juices and fruit.
“Come on,” the girl says. “There’s food and drink for you. That will make you feel better.”
Yeah. Weird. It’s like reality has flipped places. I went from being the captor to the captive.
“We don’t have much time,” she continues, leading me over to a table. There’s bottles of ale and thick, meaty sandwiches. “So you’ll have to recharge quickly.”
“Recharge?”
“I’m sure you depleted your glow a little back there in the woods. Your eyes were quite bright. And the queen will want you in top condition when she meets you. So please, just drink something at least. I’m going to go get my team and then I’ll be right back. Please,” she pleads with me. “Don’t run. We’ll definitely be late if I have to chase you down again. And there’s truly nowhere to go, Crux. There is no way out until we let you.”
I frown at that, wondering what it means. No way out.
But she opens a bottle of ale and puts it in my palm, closing my fingers around it with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
She turns in a swirl of sheer, flowing fabric and darts off across the green lawn towards a large white tent.
I take a sip of the ale and swallow. It’s really good. Like… very good. But then I try to take in the whole clearing. There are a lot of tents. And so many pink girls. Almost none of them are paying any attention to me. There are other Akeelian men though. With just a quick glance around I can count ten.
None of them are my brothers.
And each of the men seem to have their own team of pink princesses who dote on them. Some are getting hand jobs like this is no particular big deal. Just a little fluffing up before the big moment. Two of them are being rubbed down with oil, several princesses working on them at once.
It’s like a fucking sex fantasy in the Pleasure Prison.
In fact, I think we have one sorta like this. I don’t go in there much. Hardly ever anymore. But I have a vague recollection of Tray telling me about some scenario similar to this one.
Am I in a virtual?
I can’t tell. And that’s new. Because there’s always something a little off about the Pleasure Prison when you’re in there. Even if it’s just your stats being shown in the vision screen over your virtual eyes letting you know how much time has passed and how much time you have left before you’ll be pulled out.
There are no stats in my field of vision. No shimmer in the sky off in the distance.
Everything about this place feels real.
The girl returns with a hyponeedle in her hand. She sees me looking at it. “Don’t worry. It only hurts for a quick moment. Then it’s all over. We just need to make sure you are who you say one final time before we let you near the queen.” She pricks my skin with the needle and there is an immediate and acute sting, then she deploys the hypodrug and a hot burning sensation runs up my arm.
“Fuck,” I say, clenching my teeth.
But she brought a friend with her. And that girl—who looks very much like the one who’s been taking care of me—begins to massage my shoulders. One hand slides down my stomach and I feel my cock stiffen inside the loose white pants as she slips two fingers inside the waistband.
I forget about the sting. In fact, I drift off a little with the new sensation.
“That’s it,” the first girl says. “Just let it take over.”
They drugged me. That wasn’t a test. Or maybe it was, how would I know? But there was definitely some kind of analgesic in that needle cartridge.
I should be pissed about that but I can’t really muster up anything but compliance.
The next thing I know I’m surrounded by them. All the pink princesses have their hands on me.
The girl with her hand in my pants says, “Just one cock. He didn’t mess anything up.”
I catch a few more words from other girls. “He’s good.” And “She’s ready.” And “Let’s go.”
Then I’m being walked forward. Back into the trees. The girls are all around me. Touching me everywhere. My ass, my cock, my neck, my back, my shoulders, my chest.
There is not a single place on my body that doesn’t have a