The Klinik Chapter One free porn video

Chapter 1.

Rachel Darian tapped upon the highly polished walnut surface of a long dining table with fretful nervous energy. Along with all the other students gathered in a loose knot around her they waited anxiously upon the imminent arrival of Frau Doktor Ilse Webber, in company with Steve Dunmore’s hastily obtained replacement.
“What happens to us if the new boy doesn’t get up to speed by the end of the week Rachel?” An obviously nervous Ari Sonderberg wondered.
The clipped aristocratic sang froid that normally accompanied her spoken word was evidently missing.
“Well, according to the ‘Frau Doktor’ if ‘Group 01/22’ continuity cannot be maintained to progress our Training Schedule Modules, on time, we’ll all be taking a very late Christmas break. ..Course cancelled. No diploma, no cigar, no job, ..see you same time next year!”

A squally flurry of powdered snow rippled across the length of triple insulated laminate glass separating Rachel Darian and her erstwhile student colleagues from the intense black chill of an Alpine winter night outside.
The big Norwegian’s shoulders slumped upon hearing her grim assessment of the situation.
Rachel looked again to the rest of them. “ However,.. She continued ..I for One am not going to let that little scenario ever come to pass, …and I know that I can speak for both myself and Celine when I say that no matter what it takes, .. whatever further sacrifices both of us might have to make, this new boy Arran, is not going to hold us up. ….Not now that we’ve worked this hard for the last few weeks to get as far as we have.”
Only her best friend Celine of the small group of students gathered round her appeared in the least enthused by the defiant rhetoric.

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Far below the anxiously waiting student body of ‘The Klinik’, a dim glow of light emerged from a cable car gondola as it breached the last stand of tall snow capped pines on its way upward; creaking toward its final destination perched atop the sheer granite crags of ‘Tor Adlerstein’. Arran’s tired young face appeared ghostlike at the frost etched glass of the gondola window, peering first into the blackness below him and then up, toward the spill of warm yellow light emanating from an enormously long panoramic window lighting up the southern flank of a massive, steeply pitched concrete blockhouse of a building improbably wedged in against the towering slabs of snow flecked granite.

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Frau Dr. Ilse Webber Stood in a darkened concrete recess alone, sheltering from the intense cold, silently and patiently watching the cable drums haul in a thick steel hawser meter by creaking meter. Even luxuriously wrapped against the biting cold of an Alpine winter evening as she was, a tremulous shiver of cold disturbed her usually serenely still and watchful features. Her eyes, cobalt blue and clear never flickered, but beneath her cheeks now flushed pink with that icy chill her glamorously glossy and usually impassive lips trembled for just an instant.
Hold your nerve. Everything will be as it was. Stick to the plan.
Her gloved fingers pushed back the few strands of white gold hair not already tucked beneath a fine silver fox fur hat as the gondola drew level with the landing stage. It halted abruptly with a final echoing clang. She stepped forward, forcing a thin lipped smile to crease those glossy red lips in readiness to greet her newest recruit.
“Welcome to the Klinik Mr. Ashe, my name is Frau Dr. Ilse Webber I am the facility Director ..it’s good to finally meet you at last. If you follow me, we will meet the other students right away. Please leave your bags here... One of my staff will take them to your accommodations presently.”
The warm air exhaled with her softly spoken accented words hung as brittle steam in the frigid atmosphere.
She was the living embodiment of his most cherished fantasy female personae made flesh.
“Thank you,.. I’m pleased to finally be here,.. to meet you at last.”
Her eyes glittered momentarily with suppressed amusement. She’d seen the reflexive reaction in his face, his eyes. His instant physical attraction to her even in the pale uncertain light of the moon, briefly luminous between scudding silver cloud, was obvious.
This was a good omen.
This visceral attraction would make it that much easier for her to manipulate him should it become necessary at a later date.


After the initial shock of her startling beauty Arran made a conscious effort to try and not stare wide eyed, slacked jawed and drooling with a****l desire as he imagined he must have done only moments before. He mumbled a greeting and took the black gloved hand she proffered sheepishly. He’d had a sudden but fleeting feeling of panic form a knot in the pit of his stomach. He imagined his thoughts completely visible to the beautiful doctors piercing cobalt blue eyes, racing cartoon like, upward to form a brief bubble above his head before disappearing into the icy blackness of the night.



They passed in tandem along a cavernous concrete walkway in silence apart from the staccato tip-tap-tip of the ‘Frau Doktors’ heels and eventually into the relief of a blankly modern, but thankfully, snugly warm elevator.
Arran was fascinated by the icy hauteur of the woman, his only previous experience of the frau doktor was on a very poor and badly echoing telephone line confirming his admission into the program. It was that instant visceral lightning bolt of attraction that had prompted his initial feeling of panic and explained his virtual tongue tied idiocy up to this point.
Hers was the sort of icy beauty favoured by his personal hero, film director Alfred Hitchcock, she was much like the stunningly beautiful but cold Tippi Hedren in Birds, or his long time crush, the icily gorgeous Grace Kelly as she’d appeared in the classic Rear Window.

He guessed her age to be around Twenty-Five or so, she was a good couple of inches short of his height even in those briskly clicking patent heels. Her figure was disguised by the muffling thickness of an expensive looking fur coat, its collar pulled high and tight, leaving only her sheaf of white gold hair, pearl earrings and neat stocking clad ankles to hint at the figure in between.
Arran Ashe concluded she was totally, gorgeously, perfect.
The brushed steel elevator door slid open with quiet Teutonic efficiency.
“This way Mr.Ashe.”

Chloe Renis stepped forward to greet the boss and the newest student as they stepped out of the elevator together. The Direktors PA greeted them both deferentially, she stood ready to take Ilse Webber’s shrugged off coat and hat. Small, elegantly chic with a bob of blackly shimmering hair, slim to the point of delicacy in a fitted midnight blue suit. Immaculate and efficient as only a certain type of well-bred and well-educated female French beaurocrat could be.
“Thank you Chloe, is everybody in the dining room as requested?”
“Yes Madame Direktor. All present.”
Arran Ashe made a mental note as his internal ‘lust meter’ cranked itself up a notch.

They strode purposefully, along a glass roofed central corridor lined with plantings and the other object d’art of corporate décor, intersected at various points by institutional looking swipe card security doors. On either side of the walkway, blank faced entrances with similar card swipes announced the various functions of each room in typically anodyne and charm less corporate style. ‘Rm 1/022. Role Play Prep.’
The trio descended a short flight of steps at the far end of the walkway, and once there, pushed through an incongruous baronial style stone archway guarded by massively heavy wooden doors complete with iron studwork and a huge ringed knocker sporting its very own leering brass gargoyle.
The ‘Frau Doktors’ heels clicked loudly across a stone flagged floor toward a small group of young men and women who fell silent from their animated whispering when they became aware of the frau doctors presence amongst them.
Chloe stood at his side, and for a second all that could now be heard was the fizz and crackle of a roaring log fire in its medieval stone hearth.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, …..If I could have your attention for a moment. .. Thank you. ..I’d like you all to meet your new colleague Mr. Arran Ashe.”
Chloe’s guiding hand pushed ever so gently into the small of his back.
“Go on Mr. Ashe. ..they won’t bite I promise.”

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One by one they had introduced themselves to him. Celine Devereaux was first amongst them with her friend Rachel Darian. Both were yet again, (almost unbelievably, almost incredibly) stunning to his eye but in the most deliciously contrasting ways his imagination could have possibly conjured. Rachel. Tall, with a long mane of corn blonde hair and icy blue eyes to match her cool aristocratic hauteur. Celine. Petite, almost waiflike, with a short mop of silken coal black hair above a pair of intense emerald green eyes that sparkled with mischievous humour. Rachel held a light tan; Celine’s skin was pale alabaster. Rachel’s generously proportioned busom revealed its softly rounded shape from beneath an institutional looking white cotton robe bearing an embroidered corporate logo, whereas Celine’s matching uniform revealed a much smaller, tip tilted swell.
Both were of similar age to him, as was the remainder of the group, except perhaps for the last in line to be introduced, Gabrielle Visconti. She seemed a little younger, perhaps only nineteen or twenty years of age, compared to his Twenty-Four. Gabrielle was another alluring sight, a dark eyed Italian, with a long mane of rich nut-brown hair, full breasted and voluptuous, with the precocious pouting sexuality of a young Bridget Bardot.
Sandwiched in between these three beauties came an equally pretty vision who was introduced as Mallory James, a strikingly lovely ‘Southern Belle’ from Georgia, Blonde haired, blue eyed, long legged and charming.
His fellow male students were Ari Sonderberg, a warmly welcoming slab of typically Nordic athleticism, and finally a darkly handsome Italian by the name of Salvatore Cuomo.
He knew he wasn’t a bad looking guy, but this was weird beyond belief, ‘Stepford Wives’ weird. Everybody, but everybody was so ridiculously good looking, including the staff. What really was this place about, and almost as important, why on earth did they choose him to be one of them?


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Dr. Ilse Webber guided Arran to his place at a great polished oval dining table resplendent with ornate silver centrepiece, fresh flowers, gleaming crystal glasses and immaculately laid out Georgian silver cutlery.


She spoke softly but quickly perhaps sensing his slight unease, pouring wine for them both as the meal was served by Gabrielle and Ari.
“Sci-Tech Corp provide lavishly for us in comparison to other R&D facilities Arran. However, as in life, nothing is free I am afraid. Very high expectations are placed on the graduates of ‘The Klinik’ within the Company. No expense is spared in training, accommodations, location, or in the selection of prospective candidates for ‘The Klinik’. So you can count yourself very highly thought of already, not to mention very, very fortunate at having being placed with us in such unusual circumstances…. You and your fellow students have been exhaustively selected from within the ranks of Sci-Tech graduate employees,… Of which there are currently about 123,000 worldwide,.. So you are effectively the crème de la crème with regard to physical appearance, psychological suitability and intelligence, as are my staff… They have all passed through the Klinik at one time or another, including myself …”

She smiled an odd, almost wistful smile. Pausing for a second. Remembering.

“You will need to catch up with the rest of them of course, …but I am reliably informed you will be up to it. I have laid down an intensive One-week program for you. All staff and students have been requested to give you the highest priority in all areas of the syllabus; training proper begins tomorrow at Seven-Thirty sharp. …I have arranged a brief introduction and orientation presentation from Chloe and a couple of my other staff who are on duty this evening directly after you’ve had time to eat supper and freshen up a little. O.K?”
Arran barely had time to raise a glass to his lips, or a fork full of food to his mouth..
“Err, yes, no problem Frau Doktor.”
“Good. ..Chloe will show you to your quarters once you have eaten. …If you have any questions, or problems you can speak to either Chloe or myself at any time and in the strictest confidence of course. ..I will see you for another little chat tomorrow morning, but until then I will leave you in her capable hands. … I’ve an awful lot to do tonight however so I’ll bid you good evening, and ..“
Her eyes sparkled with a hitherto unseen amusement.
“..pleasant dreams Mr. Ashe. ..Goodnight.”
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Toward the end of a much needed and delicious supper Arran thought better of allowing the flattery at being the centre of conversation with so many beautiful women to delay him from getting the ‘introduction and orientation’ meeting out of the way. They were eager to attentively interrogate him in the nicest way possible about who he was and how he came to be here, but he was also mindful of the sidelong glance at her watch Chloe had made not a minute before.
He took his leave of them reluctantly. The route over to his accommodation, taken side by side with the very charming and attractive Chloe Renis was at a more leisurely pace than the fast clip he’d been obliged to adopt an hour or so earlier.
“Not far now Arran. You think you’ll manage to find us in the briefing suite O.K?”
Arran nodded.
“How could I forget? Left out of my room, then first right, all the way down to Rm 6/045 on the Right. Am I right?”
Chloe smiled her approval, but chided him with mock disapproval.
“Correct. But, clever students never forget their swipe cards do they? Not if they want to get back into their room again, eh?”
“Here we are then Arran. … Oh, and by the way I think it would be best if I sit in on the VR Intro Session…with your permission of course, …but we can discuss details a little later. See you in about Twenty minutes.”
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Arran took a moment to survey his quarters, now his home for the duration of the course. The scale and baroque grandeur were certainly impressive. He imagined describing it to an envious group of his friends as like Count Dracula’s castle, but with a five star Michelin guide rating, and hopefully, modern plumbing. .
Split level sleeping and living area were definitely modern, but a heavily swagged and massively framed four poster was post retro baronial. Add in a stone flagged hearth with roaring log fire, a couple of over stuffed leather chesterfields with acres of polished mahogany to surround it, and he knew the Frau Doktor had not been economical with the truth when she’d said “Sci-Tech Corp provide lavishly for us in comparison to other R&D facilities.”
There was no time to have a really good look around, Chloe focused his attention.
A white cotton robe and matching shorts were laid out for him on the richly embroidered coverlet of his bed.
“I could get used to this. ”
A short while later, still glowing with damp warmth from the shower, he strode briskly off in search of the briefing room, dressed exactly as his hurriedly reread briefing documents had requested for all students engaged in any Klink program, [white Klinik issue cotton robe, and Klinik issue cotton shorts as had been so thoughtfully provided] clutching his newly acquired swipe card.
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Chloe Renis conferred in hushed tones with her two colleagues, Katja Rijksonn, Senior Klink Nursing sister, and Sophie Eval, Senior Klinik Technician.
“Remember, although Arran has been given Klinik protocols to read, [and I am sure, fully understands the nature of his tenure as a student here] this will be his first direct contact with our methods ladies. Sophie, if you could deal with Arran in regard to my sitting in on the VR Intro session for me please, I am totally confident in your undoubted abilities, but the Direktor has asked me to emphasize the need to allow absolutely NO completion, accidental, or otherwise OK?”
Both young women nodded their understanding.
“Just remember Ari Sonderberg, and what happened on his introduction and orientation session. What a mess! Sophie… Enough has been said about that, I know, but, please be careful with him.”
Both young women looked suitably chastened at Chloe’s reminder of an embarrassing lapse in their professionalism.
Sophie was the first of the two to speak; her cheeks flushed pink with the recalled embarrassment.
“You can rely on us Chloe; we’ve checked and rechecked all the critical bio, and psycho-parameters that might trigger anything unscheduled…. We’re fully up to speed on Mr. Arran Ashe …everybody, including the frau doktor can relax Chloe.. I promise!”
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“Ah, there you are Arran, right on cue!”
Arran made his way apprehensively through the gloom toward a pool of bluish light in which Chloe and two other uniformed figures were seated.
His eyes began adjusting to the softly lit interior, the ‘Frau Doktor’ had not been wrong in her estimation of the expense lavished on any of the ‘Klinik’ facilities. In front and above, a two-meter wide flat plasma screen appeared to hang in mid air before a semi-circle of chrome and black leather upholstered seating that naturally dominated the centre of the space. A matching pair of curved wooden medical cabinets symmetrically book ended the Spartan arrangement, the only gesture toward old world luxury prevalent in every other nook and cranny of the facility, or at least the few parts he had seen so far was the richly ornate silk rug upon which he now stood barefoot. All else hovered in shadow save for a glass wall that ran the length of the room to his left. revealing behind its tinted gleam four ‘Sci-Tech Corps Ultra Fast Mainframe Computers’, basalt black monoliths that he knew could calculate the impossible at a price that was improbable.
“I’d like to introduce Katja Rijksonn and Sophie Eval. Sophie is our senior Technician, and Katja the senior Nursing sister here at the Klinik; you will be seeing a lot more of them in the coming weeks. In fact I’d say you’d get to know each other intimately, what do you think ladies?”
“Oh, I should think so Chloe,” Intoned a softly lisping Catalan accent.

Arran shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, managing only to paste an uncertain smile to his lips as he took each of their proffered hands in greeting.
“Please, come and sit between Sophie and Katja for me would you Arran? They can finish prep whilst I give you a general overview, and show the presentation. After that I’ll leave you in their capable hands for the VR Introduction Module, OK?”

“Yes of course, no problem Chloe… I’m dying to get started!” Arran tried hard to sound positively enthusiastic even as his stomach began to knot in a formless kind of anxiety.
Sophie and Katja looked to Chloe as one. An illicit but silent memorandum passed between them each save Arran in an instant. This would be interesting.
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Arran sat between them.
This was the beginning then, no turning back now. He knew from the speed reading of course protocols and a skim of its aims and objectives that this was no rest cure clinic, it’s sole purpose and function was to train and equip individuals such as himself for employment within ‘Sci-Tech Corps’, and more specifically, the ‘Pleasuretainment Division’, [it’s most controversial, and most profitable corporate arm.] However, after all, he only wanted to be a VR Developer, not a Psychosexual Ther****t like Rachel and Celine, or even a PED Technician like young Gabrielle, just a straightforward details person.
It was one thing to read and sign an official document that had stated the need for, “…the participation in, and research of, intimate sexual relations between all sexes in VR, and real time environments….” quite another to be on the cusp of actually having his own sexuality clinically dissected and pored over.
Even as the briefing session had commenced his mind and body had begun to be preoccupied by the certain knowledge that sitting between Sophie and Katja was not actually the best place to be if he had wanted to hide any display of that physical sexuality, especially the very strong, and in less clinical conditions, entirely normal healthy heterosexual interest he had in them. They were as improbably gorgeous as all the other female staff and students had been.
In fact the more he saw of them in stolen, almost furtive, sidelong glances to left and right, as his eyes gradually acclimatised to the low light, the more the very slow but inexorable growth of this embarrassing problem would, sooner rather than later, be made obvious to anybody with eyes to see given the shortcomings of ‘Klinik’ issue attire.
It certainly didn’t help that they sat in such close proximity. He became increasingly aware of the light pressing warmth of their perfumed skin to either side of him. It provoked his senses beyond any rational thought of proprietary toward his new colleagues.
Chloe continued to pour forth a deluge of information; charts, pictures, layouts, schedule and protocols, all going by him now in an increasingly blurry haze of on screen data. Arran, was mentally trapped in an internal video loop playing over and over in his head.

The loop starts with Katja as she turns in her seat to greet him.
Cobalt blue eyes and blonde on blonde hair, a pretty open face with full lips creasing to the glimmer of a mocking smile. Forming when, unbidden, his eyes cannot be stopped from flicking down to take in the high swell of breast beneath the shiny latex as she rises to offer her outstretched hand. She is small, much smaller than Sophie even in precipitously high heels she stands only at his shoulder.
The hand is daintily small and sheathed in the same pearlescent latex skin as the rest of her, making it feel somehow alien, almost shocking. A parody of the traditional nurse’s uniform, from which he can barely raise his eyes.
Sophie is beside him now, [she smells of fine silk and forest berries,] ushering him to his place between them on the curving black leather sofa. She is tall, long legged, and smoulderingly beautiful, with emerald green eyes and tumbling, chocolate colored hair. Arran releases her hand with a mumbled greeting and sits. Sophie on his left, Katja on his right, with Chloe perched on the cabinet edge, script in one hand screen remote in the other.
Sophie crosses her legs. He cannot help but look.
Her short cotton lab coat reveals a long tapering pair of smoothly tanned legs ending in patent spiked-heels. A gold ankle chain glitters, swaying with lazy motion, and then a thought suddenly occurs to him; ‘what on earth have I gotten myself into?’

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He concentrated with renewed effort on Chloe’s voice, attempting to make sense of the information as it flowed, staring hard at the plasma screen, forcing himself to focus as it flashed up graphic after graphic.
“… Here you can see the Deep Immersion Unit, or DIU. If you look at the next set of data you can see the bio-feedback from…”
But the slow awakening of arousal continued inexorably no matter how hard he tried, or wished it away. The relatively close fit of his underwear would assist in concealing a state of engorgement from the three women for only as long as his burgeoning sex stayed within the fly-less confines of his cotton boxers. Arran’s sweat slicked palms rested uneasily against the hem of his robe. He desperately wanted to rearrange those covering folds of cotton, [but he dare not], for fear of the attention it would surely attract, and inevitably, the shame and humiliation he would feel upon discovery.
He could easily imagine the sound of half-stifled, brittle, mocking laughter, as well as sly looks of concerned amusement from staff and students alike once his story had circulated. It was not the start he had hoped to get off to.
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To all intents and purposes Sophie followed Chloe’s briefing attentively, appearing to seek reference from her bundle of printout data for confirmation of key statistics from time to time. In reality however she had been monitoring the growing signs of discomfiture pressing upward from beneath Arran’s thin cotton robe. Katja, [unseen and unsuspected by Arran], had, during the same interlude silently and surreptitiously selected and prepared a small number of specialized instruments for her use later in the process .
Sophie appreciated from a purely clinical point of view, a certain subtle efficiency in the ’Frau Doktor’s’ refined technique of ‘exclusive visual provocation‘, it had in fact faultlessly provided for this entire years intake of male students without exception, but to get a cockstem properly aching with prolonged rigidity she still liked to add that little extra frisson of sexual tension that comes only with provocatively close physical contact to the subject.
Sophie caught Chloe’s eye, an unspoken message passing between them in an instant, and relayed to an ever-watchful Katja a moment later.
Sophie’s thigh pressed briefly against her subject’s as she re-crossed her legs, providing her colleague Katja the brief sensory distraction required.
Secreted within the curved cabinet, beneath a foam padded draw from which she had surreptitiously drawn instruments minutes before, lay several phials of an extremely exotic and highly addictive pharmaceutical. Unseen, Katja’s latex clad fingers selected one, checking dosage level and recipient data briefly but carefully, before silently, and unobserved by Arran, she proceeded to load up the gleaming, spindle thin chrome instrument with a measured slug of gelatinous blue liquid.
Katja checked the label one last time before replacing the empty glass phial.
‘250mg Intravenous [slow release gel] Retardexel.’

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It was a uniquely tortuous sensation for Arran to feel himself slowly swelling to rigidity. It had the inevitable certainty as night would follow day. He knew he would soon be achingly full, and in that same future instant, parallel with the undoubted pleasure, know also, he would be risking an abyss of humiliation.
The softly melodic drone of Chloe’s voice lulled him, drifting out of focus on a slowly rising tide of guilty pleasure.
Slowly but surely.
Swelling as the minutes ebbed and flowed. Always swelling.





He was becoming incapable of even feigned interest in the graphs, charts and diagrams that Chloe had so diligently continued to explain. All he had eyes for now were Sophie’s two softly peaked swells, each exquisitely held and supported, outlined in weight and shape through lilac lace, covertly glimpsed in tantalizing brevity beneath the starched white open necked ’v’ of her buttoned lab coat.

Barely a minute later after subjecting himself to this constant tease of fleeting sensory provocation, only the wide elasticised waistband of his slit fronted issue shorts secured Arran’s now swollen cockhead against a lower belly slick with fresh sweat. He belatedly realised any sudden movement on his part would surely see his cockstem slip its tenuous mooring and unfettered, spring free through the folds of his gown into plain view. It was a deliciously perilous torture from which he neither desired, or indeed could escape. There was simply no way to erase from his mind those sexually charged visions that had inspired his current predicament, or resist the gentle press of perfumed skin that continued to add fuel to the fire of his burning arousal.

“…Which leads me to the end of our brief, but hopefully informative overview of the Klinik Operations and Facilities? Any Questions Arran?”
Chloe looked directly at him, waiting for his reply. Her smile was not entirely sweet.
Sophie’s thigh again pressed briefly against his.
Arran shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

Sophie leant forward to place her bundle of printout data on the floor beneath Chloe’s dangling feet.
“No, none. None at all Chloe…I, err…”
His voice trailed off weakly as he realized what was about to happen. Arran’s reflexive movement to the sound of her voice had set in train the inevitable consequence of his albeit involuntary action, and too late he felt that wide elasticised cotton waistband slip.
“Oh, no…so terribly sorry. …I, am so sorry.”
With the ease of a hot knife through warm butter, his engorged cockstem slipped through the yielding folds of cotton that covered his lap in a single movement, spearing upward toward his naval as a bone hard spear of curving pale flesh.
Arran felt instantaneously faint with an intense burning embarrassment.
“Well I’m glad to see you found my little talk so exciting Arran. A simple thank you would have been sufficient praise however!”
His hands were useless lumps of clay at his side whilst he fumbled for words to express his shame and regret.
“Sorry, I don’t know what to say, a terrible mistake…I, err…”
Chloe’s eyes twinkled wickedly.
“ Be quiet for a moment, and keep still Arran, Sophie and Nurse Katja have to prep you for the VR Introduction Module, OK?”
Chloe rose, silhouetted against the neon blue glow.
“Mmmn, …Oh yes, I almost forgot, …Sophie’s got a little favour to ask of you before we begin.”

It was bizarre, it was if he were the only person in the room aware that his cockstem lay fat and heavy against his lower belly, starkly exposed for all to see.

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Arran was too stupefied with shocked embarrassment to do, or question anything. Sophie held his hand gently in hers; squeezing it for comfort and reassurance as she explained in explicit detail, and without a trace of either reproach for his conduct, or embarrassment at the procedure Katja would follow.
“Don’t worry about a thing Arran OK? I’ll be right here sitting next to you the entire time, just try and remember to squeeze my hand really, really tight if you feel on the verge of spilling, and I’ll have Katja stop it for you, OK?”
Almost as a casual afterthought, she tacked on Chloe’s request.
“Oh, you wouldn’t mind if Chloe sits in on your first session with us would you?”
Arran nodded dumb acquiescence, luxuriating in the soft pressure of her breast on his arm as she kissed his temple in thanks for this minor dispensation.
“ Arran, you’re in for a special treat later on if you behave yourself, I promise.”

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It began.
Katja pushed Arran’s knees smoothly apart, kneeling between the outstretched limbs to slice open his boxer shorts with a gleaming scalpel. He listened to the creakingly soft whisper of latex, and sensed her weighted breasts press to his thigh, but he simply could not look. Flaps of cotton collapsed on either flank as redundant strips of limp material after two precisely judged passes with the razor sharp instrument.
Katja loosened his robe carefully, pushing back the loose folds of pristine material to more fully expose his cockstem prior to the ‘ringing and insertion’ section of the treatment protocol .
Her lips grazing his ear, Sophie softly whispered a running commentary.
“Katja’s going to apply a lotion that’ll remove a portion of hair so as we get a nice snug fit, as well as good conductivity between the ring and skin right down at the root of your cockstem…You‘ll be fully shaved around the genital and anal areas by Sophie later tonight.”
Arran looked away, her words not fully registering . The sensations were too intense.
He tried to shift focus, fixing instead on the enthralled figure of Chloe Renis, now sitting cross-legged beneath a glowing plasma screen.
Behind and to one side of Katja’s shoulder, her dimly illuminated features clearly revealed a fascinated relish for his impending abasement at the hands of her colleague Katja. The procedure he was about to undergo was narrated by Sophie in calm, softly modulated tones, clear and precise in it’s every lurid detail. Arran supposed it was for both the benefit and enjoyment of the eagerly attentive Chloe, as well as, although to a lesser extent, himself.



Each smear of gel equally cooled the overheated skin, and conversely, inflamed an achingly delicious desire.
Katja Rijksonn’s slippery latex skinned fingers worked with practised professionalism, assiduously massaging in the gel quickly and thoroughly before allowing a full minute, timed on her nurses pocket watch, for the solution to cure, before wiping the area clean with a damp handful of lemon-scented flannels judiciously extracted from the cabinet.
Arran allowed himself to relax a degree, letting his burning embarrassment at the rapid turn of strange but deeply arousing events subside, giving himself at least an element of permission to engage with what was still an unsettling experience that was way out of his comfort zone. He closely regarded the small circle of pale, freshly cleaned skin fascinated by its smooth nakedness in contrast to the surrounding dark fuzz..
Chloe, eager to be of practical help disposed of the soiled flannels together with a half used tube of depilatory gel, and placed in Katja’s open palm a flat chrome circlet of silvered metal with which, according to the explanatory commentary provided by an impassively voiced Sophie, he was to be ringed.


“Thanks Chloe, you should do this more often, I could do with a spare pair of hands during these messy bits! What do you think Sophie?”
Sophie smiled indulgently at her two colleagues considering the prospect for a moment.
“Mmmmmmmm Mmmn, I’m sure it would be fun Chloe, but would students like our lovely Arran here mind you getting involved in a little practical work? And of course there’s always the question of Doktor Webber’s professional rectitude!”
Chloe’s heavy lidded eyes glittered bright with zealous enthusiasm immediately.
“Don’t worry about Ilse Webber, I’ll deal with that part myself, and Arran wouldn’t mind! …Would you Arran?”
Several half-formed fantasies featuring an exquisitely svelte French Personal Assistant with an appetite for inexperienced Englishmen took root in fertile, well-prepared ground.
The possibility gave a fresh blast of oxygen to a glowing ember of lust kindled at their very first meeting.
Arran hesitated for only as long as it took to feel the weight of expectation in her chocolate brown eyes.
That, and the delicately persuasive caress of Katja’s fingers encircling his rigid cockstem deciding for him.
“Mmmn…No, of course not Chloe, I think it’d be a wonderful idea.”
He was mildly amazed at how ‘normal’ his voice now sounded given the bizarre nature of the conversation in relation to the circumstances.
Sophie kissed his earlobe.
“Good boy.”
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Spanning several long drawn out minutes Katja had delighted in introducing Arran’s cockstem to its new mistress for the evening.
Her chosen instrument of control, the chrome circlet, was enticed to slip his smoothly circumcised crown, and be drawn down the shaft by carefully judged increments until its gleaming perimeter necked his sex snugly at its base. She passed Chloe her handset controller from the cabinet top, eyes intent on a slowly welling tear of pale fluid, watching it gather, then spill from a slitted mouth to her gloved index finger below.
“Set flux at forty percent power on the central slide Chloe. OK…You only have to hit the Red button for ejaculation retardation when either myself, or Sophie ask you for’ flux control’, yeah? Green is for ejaculation inducement, but we won’t need that tonight.”
Chloe enthusiastically nodded her understanding to both Sophie and Katja before adding an uncharacteristically emphatic.
“No problem!”

Katja selected a second instrument. If the circlet was the ’Ringing’, then this spindle-thin probe was responsible for the ’ Insertion’ part of ’The Ringing and Insertion Procedure’. She moistened the chromed tip of her spoke like instrument with his seepage.
“This may feel a little strange, but not unpleasant Arran OK?” cooed a syrup voiced Sophie. Her colleagues latex skinned fingers dexterously introduced the globular shining tip of metal to a seeping cockhead, and in one languorously fluid motion, slid it home with consummate ease.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnngh!”
A soft exhalation of his breath measured the sinking length of silvered metal inch by inch, from slitted mouth to a deep-seated point of origin hidden within an aching root. Katja dispensed his dose of ‘Retardexel’. Depressing a stubby plunger at the rear of the device, slowly but firmly, until all 250mg lay deep within him, allowing Arran a brief respite of a few seconds only, before withdrawing the instrument as smoothly as it had been introduced.

“I hope that wasn’t too bad! It’s just an extra little something the Pharmaceutical Division brewed up for us to speed you’re training process along a bit. It’ll slow up ejaculatory reflex and amplify sensation at the same time as reducing inhibition, not a bad combination Arran, eh?”
Arran could feel the tentacles of its chemical influence unfurl, insinuating their way along the pathways of his senses almost at once. A luxuriously deepened and decadently intensified narcosis simultaneously focused his pleasure, and allowed him to experience those sensations at one remove from the urgent need it created, like the alter ego of a split personality.

“OK Arran…Katja’s going to fit the VR Unit now. We’ll run a standard scenario that’ll play for fifteen minutes. All you have to do is refrain from ejaculation. Nothing to it, just lie back and enjoy OK?”
He turned his head in slow motion toward the whispering Sophie, unencumbered by shame or any lingering embarrassment, intent only on the aching pleasure. A softly persuasive lethargy made speech a real effort.
“Mmnnngh. Sophie, I really need you to tell me that again…I was thinking about what Chloe and Katja’s lips would feel like sucking on my cockstem…Mmmmmmmmmmmnn.”

Sophie kissed his forehead tenderly, hushing her two giggling colleagues before replying in a mock serious tone of shocked disapproval.
“Hey Arran! Lie back and enjoy, but don’t you dare cum OK…”
She ruffled his tousled mop of dark hair, flashing a conspiratorial glance to the other girls.
“…Anyway, leave me out of another of you’re daydreams and I’m not so sure that you’ll have earned the special treat we promised you. Isn’t that right ladies?”
---------------------------------------------------------


Katja passed up the VR Unit to a waiting Sophie.
Chloe watched intently from her squatting position whilst Sophie fitted him to a black sensor lined skullcap and face mask with an integral visor, cinching tight, various straps and buckles until Arran resembled some human-insect hybrid, with shiny, over large obsidian eyes and matt black skin in place of his youthful, and, she was happy to admit to herself, handsome features.

A hazy blur of colour flickered to life on the plasma screen behind Chloe, beneath that initial glowing but indistinct image their began to stream the pre-immersion telemetry in ticker-tape form.
Sophie motioned the other two women to join her for a conference.
“Chloe, this is mainly for you’re benefit seeing as you’ve never attended one of these sessions before, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure we are all up to speed…”
Sophie stood, releasing Arran’s hand, placing it by his side.
The three of them moved to one side, heads together, Sophie speaking in hushed tones, emphasizing the conspiratorial nature of their conversation.
“ It’s OK, Arran won’t be able to hear, or see anything until we pull him out…The VR Scenario is going to kick in any minute now, we’ll be able to view a real time third person perspective as well as incoming bio-feedback on screen. All systems are nominal, and our shot of ‘Retardexel’ seems to have had the desired effect on our boy’s inhibition levels already!”
Sophie shared in the brief ripple of laughter that followed her observation before continuing in a more serious vein.
“…Chloe, I’m sure you wouldn’t be too shocked to discover that although we’ll get the data Frau Doktor Webber requires, we’ve also been given a golden opportunity to have a little fun between ourselves. I see that you find our Mr.Ashe as desirable as we both do, therefore, you can do as we intend to do, and share our little prize with us. What d’you say?”
Chloe pouted mock petulance for a second, attempting to conceal her excitement and gleeful enthusiasm for as long as she dared.
“Where do I sign up?”

------------------------------------------------------------------


A protective bubble of shimmering light spread outward from the screen to cloak each of the women surrounding his recumbent shape in shifting colour and flickering shadow. Katja on his left flank, Sophie his right, with Chloe, tilted chin in cupped hands, cross-legged between Arran’s outstretched legs. Her meltingly dark eyes were fixed intently on Arran’s cockstem, or to be more precise, on a runnel of clear liquid, and its slowly descending journey from tip to shaft and thence to lubricate an encircling collar of Sophie Eval’s gently squeezing fingers at its thick root.

She felt too hot.
Although warm, under floor heating alone couldn’t explain her pink flushed cheeks, or the beaded jewels of perspiration that formed on her upper lip and forehead. The sombre midnight blue suit, its smartly tailored fit, as well as its ‘Donna Karan’ pedigree didn’t help make it any more comfortable either.
Chloe’s neat little two-piece had never felt more restrictive than it did at this moment.
Beneath a loosely buttoned jacket, the silk lining slipped and slid against her unfettered breast tips resulting in a stiffened sensitivity to them that wouldn’t have appeared dissimilar to those now spiking through Katja’s tight fitting latex uniform, had she had the uncertain pleasure of wearing one.
Katja smiled indulgently, aware of Chloe’s awakening interest in her.
“You look warm Chloe…Absolutely, gorgeously, beautiful but warm. You OK?”
Chloe smiled shyly, flattered, feeling a sudden stab of intense affection, or perhaps some other darker, more primal emotion twist lower down in her stomach.
“Mmm, Thank you Katja, that’s so sweet, I feel fine. You?”
Katja’s wickedly mischievous grin flashed an unmistakable signal between all three. An invisible, unseen and unspoken barrier had somehow been breeched.
“Turned on like crazy! Ha, ha, ha.”
Sophie joined in, a stage whisper that lilted across the insensate form between them.
“Thank GOD! I’m not the only one who’s feeling it then?”
Chloe stared straight back, dead eyed, at Arran’s leaking shaft.
“No, you’re not the only one who’s feeling it Sophie.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------



The stifling blackness of the void he had floated into lifted like a shimmering veil. A Bright new world came quickly into hard-edged focus, vaguely disconnected, but as real as his achingly hard cockstem.
Arran’s bone deep lethargy remained, a starkly contrasting opposite to his vibrant senses, and quick-witted appreciation for his situation and surroundings:



He had surfaced from the blackness to find himself in a steeply vaulted, marbled floored hallway, richly decorated with frescos, tapestry and ornate plasterwork of an opulent baroque style. It was lined on one side by a row of tall, high arched windows, stretching from top to bottom, illuminating barely credible human tableaux with mote-filled slabs of warm, yellow sunlight.
Between each window bay, and as far as a darkly cloistered stairwell at its furthest point, was a line of naked male forms hanging forlornly from fettered wrists, tethered by heavy chain to wall mounted shackles high above their drooping heads.
He too was tethered in the same fashion, but on an end wall so that he stood facing down the great length of echoing corridor, unwilling, and unable to shy from every sight, and amplified sound.
A slow staccato rhythm of stiletto heels on polished stone reverberated in that still air; their starkly metallic sounds measured a strangely erotic and slowly meandering progress.
Naked, excepting those precipitously high stilettoed heels, a half dozen or so of the most effortlessly beautiful young women grazed casually amongst the immobile male exhibits like models in an exclusive fashion boutique.
Sashaying nonchalantly, a tall willowy blonde, deep in whispered conversation with her companion, a stunning bobbed haired brunette, closed in on his nearest neighbour.
Arran himself went seemingly unnoticed in this erotic bazaar, an uninteresting artefact, only one minor piece of a larger collection, and an unremarkable one at that. In Comparison to his neighbour, a shaven headed colossus, which momentarily held their capricious attention, he certainly was, physically at least, less worthy of examination.
His sheer muscular bulk, sculpted slabs of tanned flesh polished with a thin sheen of sweat, seemingly devoid of any hair from shining pate to gleaming toe-tip was immediately impressive. He had the bull-necked breadth of a prize-fighter with features to match, like a bear on a chain, a powerful b**st tamed and restrained, apparently docile. Unless of course, someone were foolish enough to bait him.
They drew closer, their conversation temporarily abandoned in favour of a cool eyed appreciation of this, the latest trinket on display.
‘Willowy blonde’ moved closest. ‘Bobbed brunette’ stood to one side in deference. Foursquare to his hulking frame, she reached out with a serene authority, cupping the smooth skinned sac-hanging heavy beneath his semi-flaccid cockstem. The jellied firmness of her cuspate breasts was stiff tipped and pink, delicious to Arran’s ravenous eye.
She turned her head.
Arran stood frozen, transfixed by the new focus of her imperious gaze even as she dispassionately uttered her words of command to his massive neighbour.
Chill, ice blue eyes regarded him.
“Stiffen…. Calista commands it!”
Calista’s fingers curled, as if those immaculately manicured scarlet tipped talons squeezing her subject gently, were now on him, and then it was gone, replaced with an empty feeling of loss.
She turned away.
“Harder yet…Harder Lord Salkin, I want you filled to an aching tumescence if I am to favour you with my pleasuring.” She taunted.
Salkin’s cockstem swelled from a state of thickened softness, rapidly stiffening until swollen hard, swaying tightly erect above her cosseting palm in less than a minute.
“You may yet learn the value of obedience Salkin, but we warned…”
A taloned finger wagged before his tense but impassive features.
“…You may not spill milt until I, Calista, command it.”
She prepared to mount him, pulling his shaven head down as if he were to bow before his sovereign, muscle and sinew straining against the taut chain.
Salkin’s thickly muscled neck took up Calista’s weight easily, her freckle-dusted arms wrapped about it as he straightened. She clung to him with legs spread wide, bent at the knee, spiked heels digging cruelly in his side to position her bare sex directly above a rearing cockstem.
“Isis, my lovely handmaiden, why don’t you amuse yourself with the stranger…”
Violet eyes beneath a blue-black fringe of silken hair locked onto his instantly.
“I should be pleased to let Lord Salkin witness the effect of your famously persuasive lips and sluttish little tongue on another before I deliver him up for milking myself.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Katja leant over, bending forward to slip her hands beneath the invitingly open folds of Chloe’s jacket.
“Oooh, that feels so nice Katja.”
Senior Klinik Technician Sophie Eval concentrated hard, trying to resist an almost compulsive desire to join her two co-conspirators, but somebody had to work if the others were at play.
From between softly wet lips, she fleetingly sensed Arran’s preliminary febrile pulsing. Merely a slight trembling, but it was warning enough.
Sophie released his leaking cockhead noiselessly, savouring the thin salt taste briefly before speaking. .
“Chloe, don’t let that bad girl Katja get you too carried away my sweet. We’ll need a little help from the ‘Flux’ controller pretty soon. OK?”
Although her features were masked by deep shadow, Chloe’s right hand held up a slim remote control in reply, signalling her readiness to act even as she sat propped between Katja Rijksonn’s cradling thighs at the foot of the black leather sofa.
“Mmn, just tell me when Sophie.”
Chloe Renis pressed her burning cheek to Katja’s neck once more.
Intoxicated by the feel of sleekly gleaming latex skin she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the deliciously decadent dual sensation created from her colleague’s slippery fingers. They caressed her breast, alternately tracing their delicate shape and plucking at the stiffened tips in turn.
-----------------------------------------------------------


Lord Salkin’s knees trembled and bucked, searching fruitlessly for a measure of relief from the languid tempo of Calista’s gently rhythmic copulation.
Arran heard his echoing incoherence, a garbled cocktail of gasping expletives and stifled groans reverberate through mote filled shafts of golden sunlight, soaring high amongst the vaulted arches above him, reflected and amplified to shock his ears with their feral tone.
Barely Five or so minutes before, as Calista’s split-lipped sex descended, he’d gasped in shock, unprepared for that first deliciously contrived feeling of slippery-wet suction sinking over his cockstem. Watching Lord Salkin’s shaft distend her slitted opening until it bulged tight around his thick root; Arran had experienced a mirror image of his neighbours groaning pleasure. Isis’s lips and tongue sheathing him in a softly liquid caress unto the same rooted point on his shaft, pausing, as her mistress would do, before withdrawing to repeat a cycle of tortuous ecstasy again, and again and again.
Salkin strained hard against creaking lengths of taut chain throughout his ordeal, in a frantic, but ultimately futile attempt to catch upon her pointed breasts, his open maw of a mouth flecked with spittle, chasing the rhythmic sway with ever-increasing desperation.
Yet even as he watched them, for seemingly the thousandth time Arran felt Isis’s silken blue-black hair brush at his belly. Softly resilient pointed weight would press his thigh, her fingers then gently neck his aching shaft. A second, an eternity of waiting, and then sweet drowning pleasure so intense he must cry out.
--------------------------------------------------------

Chloe, ready?”
Her index finger hovered above the red button, eyes bright with excitement.
“OK…’Flux Control’ now!”
Arran’s slumped, sprawling form jerked reflexively, like a suddenly animated marionette. His back snapped to a tense arc, raising thrusting loins from the soft leather cushions toward a glowing on screen alter ego, his flesh dappled pale and dewy with fresh sweat.
For several seconds it held him tightly convulsed, sinew and muscle energized to one aim. Then slowly, like a deflating balloon he subsided, returning to insensate slumber as silently and quickly as he had been roused.
Sophie slipped off her crumpled lab coat, cleaning her fingers of his slippery pre-milt, discarding it at her feet.
“Wow, that was hot! Only another five minutes to VR shutdown girls, ‘better discuss how we’re going to provide Arran his treat…”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The darkly erotic pleasure-pressure her merciless fingers had induced retreated, receding with his need to spill. Arran drowned in her violet blue eyes, surrendering any token resistance to Isis’s skilled mastery of his body.
She squatted open legged beneath and below him, her slight weight resting on those dagger like heels, beautiful pale-skinned features impassive and impervious to his need.
Beneath a crescent moon umbra of shadow Lord Salkin’s dully-glistening cockshaft rose in a curving arc, suckered at its crown by his mistresses bare-lipped sex.
Calista’s high pitched mewling rent the turbid air, a climax of pleasure that was taken in long shuddering trembles, face tipped to vaulted roof, a thick sheaf of honey colored hair hanging like a veil of golden strands, almost touching the marbled floor.
Isis idly caressed him, a flicking tongue tasting each fresh bead of seeping fluid, her elegantly slim fingers stroking that which she had previously so ruthlessly brought to heel.
Salkin bore Calista’s hanging weight, muscles slickly defined and taut, his face a contorted grimace of controlled denial.
Isis spoke for the first time, revealing in her softly lilting accent a thin seam of compassion, concern even.
“You are not to spill, my mistress Calista has forbidden it…Be brave, endure.”
Arran summoned all his strength to speak.
“I’ll try sweet Isis, I’ll try.”
The faint crease of a smile flirted about her lips momentarily.
“Good then stranger. Resist my pleasure even as Lord Salkin spills for my Lady Calista.”
Absent mindedly, Isis’s saturated fingers smeared a shining coat of his slippage to her breast, working pale fluid into the curving cleft as she spoke.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Chloe, guided by a softly whispering Sophie at her ear, pressed a finger to Arran’s trembling cockshaft. Under her colleagues tutelage, from beneath his smoothly crowned tip and down along a slippy-slick underside, she followed the contoured outline of a thick tube to its source, tracing its softly beating pulse.
“Press gently with you‘re thumb just there. You feel the beat Chloe?”
Chloe nodded, not daring to speak.
“Good girl. Slowly apply a little more pressure to the same spot.”
Sophie regarded the incoming stream of data flowing in a ribbon along the bottom of the plasma screen above and behind Chloe and Katja’s heads.
With this constant and accurate flow of information she was confident she’d be able to guide her erstwhile apprentice into delivering up young Arran without Katja having to intercede, or have him lose too much of his precious milt, other than in seepage, in an uncontrolled, but worst of all, unsanctioned ejaculation. The Frau Direktor would be absolutely furious with them all if she were to let anything like that happen, and the fury of the Frau Direktor was a thing to be avoided at all costs.
“ You’re doing fantastically Chloe. Now, can you feel its pulse getting a little stronger?”
Chloe could feel it thumping, surging against her thumb.
The rigidly curving stem trembled and swayed before her face like a cobra charmed by magic , but it would be ready to spit its venomous milt in an instant unless she controlled and restrained it with her very own magicians sleight of hand. It was so close Chloe felt the radiated heat it gave off , flush her normally pale cheek pink.
“Can you Chloe?”
There was a hint of alarm in Sophie’s voice, and for a tense second or so, Katja‘s fingers ceased the constant caress of the achingly stiff-tipped breasts beneath her jacket. She was ready to reach for the ‘Flux Controller Remote Unit’. It would certainly do the trick, but it wasn’t nearly as much fun.
“Sorry, I’m having to concentrate so hard, but yes, I can feel it getting a lot stronger……..Down, down below the pressure point.”
Relief flooded into the face of her tutor, and Katja’s interrupted massage resumed. The ‘FCU’ remained undisturbed.
“That’s good Chloe, very good. Now, when you feel the pulse start to become febrile, or erratic, pinch the ejaculatory canal above your thumb shut, with two fingers just as I showed you earlier.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Conversely, in the same instant as his own gratification choked on black waves of pleasure-pain, a powerfully ejaculated jet of silvery milt arced upward from the glistening head of Lord Salkin’s cockstem. To rise and then fall, to spatter loudly, but harmlessly against the stone flagged floor. A loud rumbling roar, a mixture of frustration, and futile pleasures, accompanied his repeatedly heavy, and fiercely spurted discharges until the eventual subsidence of both, left in its place only a lowly moaning whimper and dripping cockstem as evidence of his Lordships outraged bellowing.
Arran had watched and suffered with Lord Salkin throughout his tortuous ordeal at the hands of the beautiful, but intolerably cruel Calista.
Her bare sex had been, suckered and stretched thin lipped over the tip of the mans cockhead like a slippery pink glove, it had already given Calista her pleasure, and now he was commanded to take his.
“ You will now spill on my lips Lord Salkin, and in recognition of your loyal service to me, be set free if I find the taste of that hot milt to my liking.”
Calista bid the giant to bow so as to dismount, in anticipation of this impending tribute.

Isis murmured below him. Her violet-blue eyes implored him.
“You must not cum, resist, hold back for a little while longer, resist the pleasure I must inflict upon you.”
And yet, throughout her gently cajoling pleas and entreaties, the soft skinned pressure of her breasts enveloping his rigid cockstem continued in an unhindered rhythmic undulation. Only tiny stabs of exquisite pleasure from the tip of her darting tongue dipping to taste him, punctuated Isis the masturbatix’s work, and this serving only to drain his will to resist still further.
Arran envied Lord Salkin at this point . How wrong had he been.
Calista stood before him, reaching between his heavily muscled thighs, to take hold at the very root of his curving scimitar of a cockstem, pushing upward so that it lay flat against the sweating slabs of belly muscle. She held him tight, beneath the weight of sac, with a curious two handed caress. For a moment she was as still as a leopard ready to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle.
The towering phallus twitched convulsively upon the first swift teasing brush of her lips, and incredibly, almost imperceptibly, perhaps improbably, swell. Arran saw it with his own incredulous eyes. To fractionally stretch the already taut covering of slick wet vellum tight, tight as a drum skin.
Calista’s tongue and lips now fell upon the shaft, slavering and wet, they suckled and writhed upon its helpless length, devouring him.
Arran watched spellbound, delirious with his own pleasure, yet utterly amazed that Salkin had as yet done no more than groan pitiably and continue to release a thin runnel of pale seepage as he himself had done, and had indeed continued to do.

Without respite, Calista, alternately goaded him with voracious lips, and barbed taunts in a concerted effort to ensure his spillage. It was to no avail however. Despite the groaning, wide-eyed pleasure of Salkin himself .
“Well Lord Salkin, you seem incapable, or perhaps unwilling to secure freedom for yourself by obliging me with a simple tribute! So be it. You shall remain captive until you show proper respect!”
In that same instant Calista stepped to one side of the insensate hulk, releasing the curious two handed hold beneath Salkin’s sac at the root of his sex that she’d maintained throughout.
Dark, heavily pregnant pleasure-pressure welled upward in Arran’s senses at that exact same instant, but catalytically from the new and deliciously subtle press of Isis’s fingers beneath the root of his sex.
In was in those few precious seconds, as Arran had witnessed the first fountaining spurt of Salkin’s milt spatter harmlessly onto stone flags, with he himself falling, ready to burst on impact like a fig, ripe with pleasure, that the penny within him didn’t so much drop, as implode.
Calista’s magnanimous offer of freedom to the hapless aristocrat was a total sham, a cruel trick, and Isis was toying with him in the same way Calista had toyed with Salkin, using the same dextrous tricks to manipulate their senses in the same machiavellian way.
Far too late, but he could see things clearly now.
Once under their spell you became much like a mountaineer who having scaled a great height, and nears the summit, crests peak, after false peak in an increasingly desperate bid to conquer the mountain .
They were puppet masters, expert masturbatrixes who beguiled you into reaching for, but somehow never quite allowed you, or any of their victims the gratification of finally conquering the mountain of pleasure they had so skilfully constructed.
At his belly, Isis’s lips kissed soft as butterflies wings. A silken mop of tousled hair and the warmth of her cheek caressed him, gently bringing him on again, allowing the surging pleasure to almost crest. Whispering.
“Just a little while longer now……”
Beneath him, along the short seamed line of perineum at the curving root of his sex, Isis’s thumb pressed hard up against the sweat slick flesh, whilst above it other fingers simultaneously pinched shut the pressured flow of milt with dextrous skill.
“ Hold on for me, try not to spill. Not yet….”
Arran allowed the black waves of pleasure-pain to roll through him.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The crisis had passed, Chloe had done supremely well for a novice and Sophie could see it had taken a toll. She prepared the programmed software to bring Arran out of his virtual world.
“You were wonderfull Chloe, marvellous. Don’t worry about the mess, we’ll sort everything out..probably best if you freshen up a bit before Arran comes round though, eh?”
Chloe returned her wicked smile with one of her own.
“ Yes,.. thanks,.. I see what you mean. It wouldn’t do my professional reputation around here much good if Arran were to see me half undressed, my poor suit stained and hands all covered in his…his cum. I bet my hair is a real mess as well!”
Katja put her arms around Chloe’s waist, nuzzling her neck from behind.
“ Think you can stand?” She asked.
The three w