Who are the Humans?
The orgasm comes in waves and seems to last for minutes. And when I slowly regain my cognition, I hear a new vibration. At first, I believe it is just a collateral effect of the two big cocks finally entering me.
That’s not the case. The hall is silent now. The mood had changed. Everyone is looking around, tense, alert. Quickly, Lad unties my arm and legs. He seems worried. Drago looks around, scanning the room, alarmed, his hand now reaching into his jacket, touching his Glock for reassurance and comfort.
Suddenly, the whole room starts shuddering again, an alarm bell rings somewhere, and a female registered voice calmly orders all to leave at once since the Region is expecting troubles - whatever they could be.
Drago extracts his pistol and sweeps the room, securing a circular perimeter around his master’s cherished possessions. In order of importance, I guess, the egg, the necklace, and me. All connected at the moment. He motions the people away with the Glock, and everyone jumps back at the sight, raising slowly hands.
The electric system fails, and the powerful light who made the audience anonymous slowly goes out. Before the emergency system switches it on again I can see the classy bitch who touched my pussy when I was tied, laughing, and then kissed me on my mouth. Sarah. The Wall Street CEO. Dressed in her classy sheath dress. That’s impossible. A hallucination. Last time I saw her, she was bent and tied in the Pussycat Gym, her makeup streaked by tears as Bowlingball Head was pounding her mightily from behind. But when I try to double-check the unbelievable identity, she disappears. Silently, one person at a time, all the audience vanishes.
Drago waves the Judge and the guards away from me. Which they promptly do, their hands up to the air. He is clearly a professional, and his mission is to get the egg and the necklace back to his master. And if possible, me. But he is not used to coping with earthquakes. He is not sure whom to shoot. In any case – you never know – automatically his left hand reaches into his pocket and he extracts a long silencer, which he fits on the stub barrel in a smooth, practiced movement. A real professional, in full business mode now. Reluctantly, looking at me, one at a time Sarge, the Judge, and Lad disappear.
I am left sitting on the massage bench, trembling, trying to get back my senses. I try to back off, hopping on my bum. But at each small hop the diabolical thing emits its Tzarist vibration, once, twice, and notwithstanding the danger – or maybe exactly for that – at the third chime, another demi-orgasm hits me, ruining my returning concentration.
Just then, the third wave of earthquake hits. A horn starts blaring rhythmically somewhere. Drago aims two-handedly right, then left, but there is nobody left to shoot. Things start to vanish around us, then the walls themselves start crumbling. A big chunk of ceiling crashes down.
He looks at me as I try pathetically to get away from him, until I stop at the edge of the bench, with nowhere to go. He shouts something but I can’t hear what he says. He moves underwater, in slow motion. Then he seems to take a decision. He raises the Glock and I focus on the deadly black circle on the flat head of the suppressor - I can see all the details of the Osprey logo under the small hole - as his finger pulls slowly the trigger. His blue eyes are as cold as burnished steel as he aims. A practical, efficient assassin, he knows that in a matter of seconds he can kill me, retrieve the precious jewels, and escape the terror. Frozen, I just shut my eyes. What a waste. Such a promising scholar. I can visualize my sightless eyes, a round black hole in my forehead and a trickle of blood, just a trickle, as the killer hurriedly snatches the emerald necklace from my neck.
But nothing happens, and when I open my eyes again my focus shifts from the deadly black circle to these implacable irises. There, something inexplicable is happening. Violent emotions clashing. Loyalty, fear, maybe something more. He seems confused shaken by what is happening. Eventually, he shakes his head and slowly lowers the gun.
You don’t kill the woman you love.
He doesn’t believe what he is doing – you don’t get away with it when you lose the more precious belonging of an oligarch. Slowly, he sets the Glock on the bench. He looks at that big hand that just – for the first time – betrayed him, refusing to pull the trigger. Then he extends his arm towards me, maybe to fetch the necklace. Or is it a helping gesture?
A more violent earthquake begins. Terrified, we look at each other. It’s just me and him now, in the middle of the crumbling building, the whole garden now visible and disappearing in a spiraling maelstrom of dust and debris. Drago is certainly a brave man, but he unable to cope with the primeval fear that hits us both. Nor am I. I am just more shaken, and slower to react. Eventually, terror overcomes him, he gives up, and disappears.
Amid the destruction, I eventually regain my senses and act. Fast. But it is too late. The entire hill dissolves, and I see myself falling fall through empty space, arms and legs uselessly flailing.
The fresh air brushes gently my naked skin as I am inexorably drawn towards the ground, thousands of feet below. The emerald necklace, without gravity, dances in front of my eyes as my body accelerates downward. I look at the clear sky above, and – making eventually a good use of my Zen studies – I try to savor the last minute left on the resounding air mattress, spread-eagled in free fall. The last meditation. But as I close my eyes, Karl Fabergé hits my G-spot across the centuries and prompts instead an overcrowded last fantasy.
All the men are there again, I can see them between my tied spread legs, ready to take their turn. Sarge. Lad. The Master Spanker. The Judge. Everyone smiles a familiar smile as they hold their big cocks, patiently waiting to slide them into me.
Her is Clark, his astonished expression in seeing his cock disappearing into my cunt, the day he lost his virginity in front of the restless ocean. Kale is there, jerking, waiting her turn. And the young Seal instructor, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Kurt’s hungry skilled tongue circling my clit, as Ursula kisses me deep. She vanishes, Doña Eva takes her place, and I feel again the Master Linguist stubble brush my inner thigs.
Orlov appears, smiles, and slowly unplugs me. Milord and Monsieur are also there, their stiff cocks on the ready, discussing softly the tricky arrangements of the double-penetration-cum-deepthroat.
Someone is kissing me deeply. The Directress. Then Drago. Mario is also there, smirking at the sloppy kiss. But Drago’s kiss is not sloppy. It is hot, and hungry, and passionate. But eventually, he is dragged back. Dark, ominous shadows drag him away, his arm outstretched, that last sad expression of his on pale blue eyes. The Humans. He has betrayed his Master, and the Humans are on him. Love is not an acceptable excuse. But who are the Humans?
The diabolical egg continuously emits its vibrating chime into me. Enhancing my senses. Sharpening my thinking. Baring the hidden truth. I hear a female scream, in agony, or maybe in ecstasy, as a powerful, vibrant, final orgasm envelops me like a composite firework and all is connected. And everything is illuminated for a glorious last instant. And in that instant, I have a glimpse at another world, and for a split second I know who are the Humans.
Then I hit the ground and everything goes black.