violet ones.
She’s still squeezing both my dicks, gripping them in her dry white palm, and I suddenly want to vomit.
“So you’ve heard the myths, hmm?” She strokes my cheek with the tip of her too-long fingernails. “About the star-crossed soulmate they made for me in Akeelian System.”
“No,” I say. “It’s not true. You’re not her. You can’t be her. We are the same age. I know this. I saw you. We were together.”
She laughs under her breath. “This one is quite talkative.”
“We gave him the full dose,” my girl says. “I promise you, we did. We checked him.”
She reaches over and pats the girl on the cheek. “It’s fine, dear. You did well. This is the one we’ve been searching for.”
“He is?” The girl’s voice is shaky.
“Yes,” the Corla-thing purrs. Then she looks at me as she raises her hips and begins to push my cocks towards her entrance.
I struggle, but the team of girls flit into action and hold me down.
“No,” I say.
But she rubs the tip of my two cocks against her dry pussy, ready to sit down on them and make me do my job.
“No!” I yell. “No! No! No! This will not happen!”
There is a sudden whooshing sound and I feel myself being pulled backwards. Like I’m being pulled out of the Pleasure Prison.
And that’s when I get it.
This isn’t real. It’s all fake. Just like I suspected. None of this is real.
But when I come to, gasping for breath, I’m not inside a gaming pod. Nor a medical pod.
I’m lying on a table. Chained to the table, I realize. There’s filth all around me and the stench of death permeates my nostrils.
There is no clean air. There is no mountain castle nestled in a mist. There are no pretty glowing girls.
Just rows and rows of Akeelian men chained to the walls surrounding the table I’m lying on.
And one girl.
My girl.
Corla. Still age sixteen. Hanging from wrist shackles above me. My cocks already inside her.
She is naked, her normally silver hair now covered in some dark, dirty oil, barely conscious. But her eyes flutter open just long enough to see me. To lock her gaze with mine. “Help me. Please, help me, Crux. Please,” she begs. Over and over again. “Please help me.”
And then I’m bounced out, screaming her name—“Corla!”—and making all kinds of promises I know I won’t ever be able to keep.
CHAPTER SEVEN - CRUX
I sit straight up in bed, breathing hard. “Corla.” It comes out as a whisper, but in my head it’s a scream.
“What?” What’s going on?”
I look to my left and see her. My wife. Christopher’s wife. I’m in his bed again.
Carla sits up and places a hand on my bare shoulder. But I flinch away, the touch of virtual girls still lingering.
“Christopher, what’s wrong? Are you OK?”
The laugh bursts out before I can stop it. Because no. No, I am absolutely not OK. I don’t understand what’s happening, I don’t understand who she is, or who I am, or what the fucking point of all this is.
“Did you have another bad dream?”
“Yeah, Carla. I had a bad dream. Just go back to sleep.”
“No,” she says, scooting over closer to me. “No. Not if you’re upset.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“OK. That’s fine. You don’t have to.” She sighs, sleepily. But then she wraps her hands around my upper arm and leans her head on my shoulder. “I just wish we could get to the bottom of this.”
I frown in the dark hazy light of too-early morning. “Bottom of what?”
“All these nightmares. That’s the fourth one this week.” She sighs again, clearly frustrated. “I hate seeing you like this. They really seem to trouble you.”
“Four?”
“I think it’s a lot, Christopher. I think you should…”
But she stops. And when she doesn’t continue, I look down at her. Her hair is soft and light, light blonde. What Corla would look like if she wasn’t a Cygnian princess, maybe. “I should what?”
“I already know what you’re going to say.”
“I should what?”
“Talk to someone,” she says.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I know you think you have to be strong all the time because you’re the governor and you can’t have this get out. Not in an election year.”
I take a moment to wonder what an election year is. I didn’t really think about it the last time I was here. I mean, I know what an election is. People vote on shit. But how that factors into the whole governor’s job, I’m not sure.
But whatever it