A young man who carries himself well, his demeanor shifting effortlessly from casual college boy charm into a composed presence reminiscent of a well-trained soldier. His past in street fights and military camp suggests he has a robust physique. He's confident and enjoys flirting, yet also appreciates intellectual conversations and emotional depth. Despite facing hardships during his upbringing, he maintains a sense of humor and optimism. He's persistent but respectful when pursuing someone he's interested in, showing an understanding of boundaries while still making his intentions clear. His past experiences seem not only shaped him into being resilient but also instilled in him an independent spirit, seen by his decision for geographical separation from his adoptive father.

Ben's smile didn't waver when she backed off. He still found what she was saying to be quite funny. "I don't think that's entirely true." Ben told her after she said she was complicated. "Sure, you certainly have more going on behind your eyes than I can figure out, but I don't think this is one of your more complicated issues." He simply decided to be honest with her, and give his own evaluation. "You control the action. You know who you like, and dislike, and reward those who have the ambition to follow. It's different than putting out. You aren't looking for a simple one night stand, you want it to mean something when you've obtained the one man who was willing to go through the hoops to get with you. I don't see that as complicated, I see that as power.

Sexual lust and desires to serve your wants and needs." His hands slowly went behind his back, and his back went straight up. His whole demeanor changed from a simple college boy, to something oddly composed. Like a well trained soldier. "It's a good talent to have. Weed out the weak and find the fun ones. Take it from me though, there's a difference between controlling your wants and needs, and letting them control you. All a matter of perspective." He finished with a wink, sounding more honest than he did the last few times they talked. Sex for him didn't mean the same thing for her.

The game seemed to have turned into a long one. And indeed, Ben didn't have to stay here. As she pointed out, there were others inside who could fall for his charms faster, and if she knew how much Ben enjoyed the chase of sex, the term harlot wouldn't even fully describe him. But, he believed this wouldn't be the last time he'd talk with her. Where they went from here, whether going their separate ways, or continuing the chase, they'd meet again.

Maggie smirked as her game was laid out in front of her. It was power. It was always about some form of power, she thrived on it. She leaned forward ever so slightly, resting her hand against his chest. "Then if you're really after me, I suggest you listen to your own words." She shrugged simply. She allowed her hand to slip into his pocket, slowly sliding a small slip of paper in. She had scribbled down her phone number previously, considering now was the best time to deliver it.

Ben watched her leave into the darkness, admiring her dedication to teasing him. What a girl. Slowly, he puled out the number, and flipped it over to see the number. He mentally made himself a challenge for next time. Make sure she couldn't handle him. Always fun to make them regret their own words. Slipping it back into his pocket, Ben walked back into the club, and spent another hour there with friends, flirting with a few other girls, but none that came close to Maggie in how hard they were. Unlike her, they were looking for a good time during and after the club. But, even as he headed home to his apartment, Maggie didn't leave his mind. Far from it. Close to around midnight, Maggie would get a call from him, showing up as an unknown number. The blonde undressed for the night, wearing the same black shirt but with gray sweat pants on, and making himself a midnight meal of soup in his kitchen.

Maggie had taken a taxi home, hurrying up to her apartment. Ben remained on her mind, each time her thoughts strayed just for a moment, they were quick to return to him. She pushed open the door to her home, closing the door behind her. She tossed her jacket out onto the couch, walking down towards her bedroom. Maggie stepped into her bathroom, quickly undressing. She showered and changed into a basic tank top and shorts. She then walked back towards her bedroom, flopping down on her bed. Mag relaxed back, jumping as she heard her phone ring. She lifted her phone, glancing down at the number. She didn't recognize it, but answered it anyways. "Hello?" She asked.

"Yes, hello, is this the hotline for Spanish translation?" Ben asked, his voice easy to identify. "I'm trying to make soup right now, and I believe there's a special ingredient I'm supposed to add, but it's unfortunately in Spanish I believe, and I'm not multilingual in it yet, so I'm calling to ask for some help." As he spoke, he picked up the can, and looked it over. "Do you know what 'En español' means? Is that a special fruit, or some sort of spice?" His thought process going into this whole bit was, 'let's just mess with her.' With a big smile on his face from the trolling, he continued. "Can't sleep without me, I see." He again joked. "Surprised a woman like yourself is up this late at night. I was only calling out of curiosity... and, admittedly, a little bit of boredom. The soup is taking a while to boil, and I can't see my TV from the kitchen."

Maggie smiled as his voice responded, she laughed softly at his words, shaking her head slowly. She bit down on her lip, glancing at her clock before glancing at the empty bed next to her. "Well, you're lucky I'm rather bored as well," She chuckled softly. "I considered watching a movie, but nothing good was on," She shrugged simply with a smile. "If you need help with any Spanish, I've got a few hours," She chuckled.

"Well, unfortunately, I don't have anything else in Spanish with me, besides more basic instructions on other soup cans, which, I realize this is only a theory without any evidence to back it up, but I think they say the same thing the English instructions say... I know, shocker." Ben again joked, leaning against the sink of his kitchen while he looked out the window into the night. It faced the back yard of his apartment, which was a large plain of grass with the road nearby to the left, and the forest to the right. Straight forward was the ocean itself, where he could see silhouettes of boats slowly rocking along the small waves. "I suppose the boring old, 'where are you from,' questions will have to do." Though he was curious about where she was from, because her name certainly didn't sound native to Mexico.

"Well I was born in Texas, but my mother is from El Salvador, though she recently moved back with my little brother," Maggie explained. "I lived in El Salvador for quite some time, until I realized I had American Citizenship." She shrugged, "What about you?" She asked, her eyes also drifting towards her window, the city night life thriving beneath her.

"El Salvador?" Ben sounded surprised over the phone. There's a new one. Farthest girl he'd ever met or been with is Guatemala. "Can't say I've ever been. I know it as that small country between Mexico and South America with the funny name. I mean, no offense meant, but when you name your country 'The Savior,' after Christ himself, I can't image he'd approve of the numerous tragedies and human rights conflicts that's happened there." He explained, since... well, it's El Salvador. "To move back is daring on your mother and brother's part, I'll admit." His story? Well, that was... very complicated, and for the sake of simplicity, lying was better than the truth.

"Me?" He said back to her question. "I'm... complicated in that department. I was raised in Manchester, but where I was born is a mystery. There's no records of my parents, and I've never been able to find them, so I was raised in an orphanage. When I was 12, I got into an accident that cracked two ribs, and busted me up pretty badly, and while in the hospital, one of my doctor's adopted me out of pity. Well, I say pity, he would describe it as a young boy who needed a father figure in life, since that accident happened because I was running away from police when I stole from a convenient store." He explained rather bluntly.

He doubted this information would ruin his image in her eyes. "He took me, made me go through military camp, and enrolled me private grade schools to try and turn me around before I turned to 'crime for life.' Never stole from stores again, but as much as he tried, we didn't get along, he found me a disappointment, and I found him to be an idiot, so when it was time for college, I decided to put an ocean between us. Haven't talked to him in two years, and don't plan on seeing him again." He really hated that man. Strict, pretentious, and tried too hard to be a father when Ben didn't want one.

The dad he knew, and one he neglected to tell Maggie of, was always going to be his dad. No one else was taking his place.

"...sorry, I'm sure that was more information than you were expecting or probably wanted. Haven't bored you asleep, have I?" He returned to his soup, which was now boiling, and began to stir it with a spoon. It was almost ready, just needed a few more seconds.

Maggie was quiet for a moment before responding, "Well if it makes you feel any better, at least your dad didn't walk away with a mistress, leaving you all to rot and starve broke on the street... the only reason my mother is going back to El Salvador is because her family will help keep her clean... she started using after he left us... I started fighting, hell I even joined a gang at one point. It made everything a little easier to forget," She said quietly, the alcohol loosening her tongue.

"Nothing brings people together like hating father figures." Ben joked, even chuckling about it. "You fight though? You have an amazing physic, I must say, but what type of fighting do you do? Boxing, MMA, Karate, something like that?" With the soup finished, he poured it into a bowl he grabbed from the top shelf. She'd hear on his side of the conversation the pan hitting the metal sink, along with hissing noise as he cooled it off with cold water. Picking up the bowl, he returned to his couch in the living room; placing the bowl on the coffee table to let it cool off. He had paused his movie while he cooked, and turning it down, he pressed play to let it continue, though Maggie wouldn't hear it.

Maggie chuckled quietly before responding. "Well I started out with karate... But I traditionally stick to street fights... They don't have much of a style," She said softly, pushing herself up and out of her bed.

She walked towards her kitchen, starting her kettle. She reached into one of the over head cabinets and pulled out a small mug and a teabag. She enjoyed tea to an extent, it helped her relax after a long day.

"Street fights?" Now that did shock Ben. "I can't imagine there's much money in that." And if there was, the medical bills would likely give you at least half or perhaps only a third of what you made from it. "I'm a BJJ man myself. Took it while at that military camp, so at least there was some benefit to going there." He admitted. "Besides that, did some wrestling and boxing lessons as well. Still train in them at the gym, I try keeping myself diverse in how I fight. Well, not like how you fight perhaps."

"Well there's not if you loose." Maggie chuckled softly, "It's actually quite a well paying career. You cash in on the bets they cast, depending on who you're fightin' with, you can make a solid living." She explained. "Plus it earns you street cred. Gangs will respect you and protect you if needed. It has quite a few benefits. Don't get me wrong, it's one hell of a dangerous sport." She chuckled,

"I can't imagine something once refereed to as 'human cockfighting' would be considered dangerous." Ben joked again. "Will say, I knew you were interesting in the club, but you certainly have more to yourself than even I figured." He admitted. "I would love to learn more about you face to face. Maybe, over lunch?"

"Over soup?" Maggie suggested with a soft laugh. "If I am correct, you were making dinner, right? How does soup and tea sound?" She asked with a laugh.

"Replace the soup with anything else, and I'll gladly take you up on your offer." Ben joked. "How about tomorrow at 12? That little pizzeria with all the old town memorabilia?" The place was quite cozy inside, and usually quiet. Had that very hipster feel to it, but if you got past that, they made good food and had great pallets of beer to order from.

"I mean, if you're paying, I'm not going to complain," Maggie laughed brightly as she scribbled out the note on a sticky note. "How should I dress for this occasion? Cause if I show up in a dress and you're in sweats, let's just say I'll be pissed." She chuckled. "And should I cancel possible disturbances for that evening, or will I be home at a reasonable time?"

"I wouldn't be a very good host if I made my date pay for her half of the meal." Ben commented. "Casual wear is fine with me. I'll leave you in a dress to my imagination for the moment, at least until I book in advance a table at someplace more fancy." This was a pizza pub after all. And he would love to see this street fighter in a lacy attire, covered in makeup. It sounded fun to watch her play princess. She likely would hate it. He'd film it. "That depends entirely upon you," he said about if she should cancel her evening after lunch. "If I don't prove I'm worth keeping around, I could show you why you're wrong once we finish up. Or, if you like me enough, I'm... happy to keep you company for the night." He was obviously insinuating he would love to come to her place once they finished.


A woman who exudes confidence and power. She's physically fit, given her involvement in street fights, which also hints at an adventurous and daring side. Her playful banter suggests she has a quick wit and sharp mind. Despite her toughness, there's an underlying vulnerability stemming from her troubled past. She enjoys being in control of situations, particularly in relationships where she sets clear boundaries. This implies a strong-willed personality paired up by an enigmatic allure. Yet, she isn't closed off entirely; she's open about her life story when comfortable and trusts someone enough, indicating a willingness for deeper connections despite her guarded nature.

Ben's smile didn't waver when she backed off. He still found what she was saying to be quite funny. "I don't think that's entirely true." Ben told her after she said she was complicated. "Sure, you certainly have more going on behind your eyes than I can figure out, but I don't think this is one of your more complicated issues." He simply decided to be honest with her, and give his own evaluation. "You control the action. You know who you like, and dislike, and reward those who have the ambition to follow. It's different than putting out. You aren't looking for a simple one night stand, you want it to mean something when you've obtained the one man who was willing to go through the hoops to get with you. I don't see that as complicated, I see that as power.

Sexual lust and desires to serve your wants and needs." His hands slowly went behind his back, and his back went straight up. His whole demeanor changed from a simple college boy, to something oddly composed. Like a well trained soldier. "It's a good talent to have. Weed out the weak and find the fun ones. Take it from me though, there's a difference between controlling your wants and needs, and letting them control you. All a matter of perspective." He finished with a wink, sounding more honest than he did the last few times they talked. Sex for him didn't mean the same thing for her.

The game seemed to have turned into a long one. And indeed, Ben didn't have to stay here. As she pointed out, there were others inside who could fall for his charms faster, and if she knew how much Ben enjoyed the chase of sex, the term harlot wouldn't even fully describe him. But, he believed this wouldn't be the last time he'd talk with her. Where they went from here, whether going their separate ways, or continuing the chase, they'd meet again.

Maggie smirked as her game was laid out in front of her. It was power. It was always about some form of power, she thrived on it. She leaned forward ever so slightly, resting her hand against his chest. "Then if you're really after me, I suggest you listen to your own words." She shrugged simply. She allowed her hand to slip into his pocket, slowly sliding a small slip of paper in. She had scribbled down her phone number previously, considering now was the best time to deliver it.

Ben watched her leave into the darkness, admiring her dedication to teasing him. What a girl. Slowly, he puled out the number, and flipped it over to see the number. He mentally made himself a challenge for next time. Make sure she couldn't handle him. Always fun to make them regret their own words. Slipping it back into his pocket, Ben walked back into the club, and spent another hour there with friends, flirting with a few other girls, but none that came close to Maggie in how hard they were. Unlike her, they were looking for a good time during and after the club. But, even as he headed home to his apartment, Maggie didn't leave his mind. Far from it. Close to around midnight, Maggie would get a call from him, showing up as an unknown number. The blonde undressed for the night, wearing the same black shirt but with gray sweat pants on, and making himself a midnight meal of soup in his kitchen.

Maggie had taken a taxi home, hurrying up to her apartment. Ben remained on her mind, each time her thoughts strayed just for a moment, they were quick to return to him. She pushed open the door to her home, closing the door behind her. She tossed her jacket out onto the couch, walking down towards her bedroom. Maggie stepped into her bathroom, quickly undressing. She showered and changed into a basic tank top and shorts. She then walked back towards her bedroom, flopping down on her bed. Mag relaxed back, jumping as she heard her phone ring. She lifted her phone, glancing down at the number. She didn't recognize it, but answered it anyways. "Hello?" She asked.

"Yes, hello, is this the hotline for Spanish translation?" Ben asked, his voice easy to identify. "I'm trying to make soup right now, and I believe there's a special ingredient I'm supposed to add, but it's unfortunately in Spanish I believe, and I'm not multilingual in it yet, so I'm calling to ask for some help." As he spoke, he picked up the can, and looked it over. "Do you know what 'En español' means? Is that a special fruit, or some sort of spice?" His thought process going into this whole bit was, 'let's just mess with her.' With a big smile on his face from the trolling, he continued. "Can't sleep without me, I see." He again joked. "Surprised a woman like yourself is up this late at night. I was only calling out of curiosity... and, admittedly, a little bit of boredom. The soup is taking a while to boil, and I can't see my TV from the kitchen."

Maggie smiled as his voice responded, she laughed softly at his words, shaking her head slowly. She bit down on her lip, glancing at her clock before glancing at the empty bed next to her. "Well, you're lucky I'm rather bored as well," She chuckled softly. "I considered watching a movie, but nothing good was on," She shrugged simply with a smile. "If you need help with any Spanish, I've got a few hours," She chuckled.

"Well, unfortunately, I don't have anything else in Spanish with me, besides more basic instructions on other soup cans, which, I realize this is only a theory without any evidence to back it up, but I think they say the same thing the English instructions say... I know, shocker." Ben again joked, leaning against the sink of his kitchen while he looked out the window into the night. It faced the back yard of his apartment, which was a large plain of grass with the road nearby to the left, and the forest to the right. Straight forward was the ocean itself, where he could see silhouettes of boats slowly rocking along the small waves. "I suppose the boring old, 'where are you from,' questions will have to do." Though he was curious about where she was from, because her name certainly didn't sound native to Mexico.

"Well I was born in Texas, but my mother is from El Salvador, though she recently moved back with my little brother," Maggie explained. "I lived in El Salvador for quite some time, until I realized I had American Citizenship." She shrugged, "What about you?" She asked, her eyes also drifting towards her window, the city night life thriving beneath her.

"El Salvador?" Ben sounded surprised over the phone. There's a new one. Farthest girl he'd ever met or been with is Guatemala. "Can't say I've ever been. I know it as that small country between Mexico and South America with the funny name. I mean, no offense meant, but when you name your country 'The Savior,' after Christ himself, I can't image he'd approve of the numerous tragedies and human rights conflicts that's happened there." He explained, since... well, it's El Salvador. "To move back is daring on your mother and brother's part, I'll admit." His story? Well, that was... very complicated, and for the sake of simplicity, lying was better than the truth.

"Me?" He said back to her question. "I'm... complicated in that department. I was raised in Manchester, but where I was born is a mystery. There's no records of my parents, and I've never been able to find them, so I was raised in an orphanage. When I was 12, I got into an accident that cracked two ribs, and busted me up pretty badly, and while in the hospital, one of my doctor's adopted me out of pity. Well, I say pity, he would describe it as a young boy who needed a father figure in life, since that accident happened because I was running away from police when I stole from a convenient store." He explained rather bluntly.

He doubted this information would ruin his image in her eyes. "He took me, made me go through military camp, and enrolled me private grade schools to try and turn me around before I turned to 'crime for life.' Never stole from stores again, but as much as he tried, we didn't get along, he found me a disappointment, and I found him to be an idiot, so when it was time for college, I decided to put an ocean between us. Haven't talked to him in two years, and don't plan on seeing him again." He really hated that man. Strict, pretentious, and tried too hard to be a father when Ben didn't want one.

The dad he knew, and one he neglected to tell Maggie of, was always going to be his dad. No one else was taking his place.

"...sorry, I'm sure that was more information than you were expecting or probably wanted. Haven't bored you asleep, have I?" He returned to his soup, which was now boiling, and began to stir it with a spoon. It was almost ready, just needed a few more seconds.

Maggie was quiet for a moment before responding, "Well if it makes you feel any better, at least your dad didn't walk away with a mistress, leaving you all to rot and starve broke on the street... the only reason my mother is going back to El Salvador is because her family will help keep her clean... she started using after he left us... I started fighting, hell I even joined a gang at one point. It made everything a little easier to forget," She said quietly, the alcohol loosening her tongue.

"Nothing brings people together like hating father figures." Ben joked, even chuckling about it. "You fight though? You have an amazing physic, I must say, but what type of fighting do you do? Boxing, MMA, Karate, something like that?" With the soup finished, he poured it into a bowl he grabbed from the top shelf. She'd hear on his side of the conversation the pan hitting the metal sink, along with hissing noise as he cooled it off with cold water. Picking up the bowl, he returned to his couch in the living room; placing the bowl on the coffee table to let it cool off. He had paused his movie while he cooked, and turning it down, he pressed play to let it continue, though Maggie wouldn't hear it.

Maggie chuckled quietly before responding. "Well I started out with karate... But I traditionally stick to street fights... They don't have much of a style," She said softly, pushing herself up and out of her bed.

She walked towards her kitchen, starting her kettle. She reached into one of the over head cabinets and pulled out a small mug and a teabag. She enjoyed tea to an extent, it helped her relax after a long day.

"Street fights?" Now that did shock Ben. "I can't imagine there's much money in that." And if there was, the medical bills would likely give you at least half or perhaps only a third of what you made from it. "I'm a BJJ man myself. Took it while at that military camp, so at least there was some benefit to going there." He admitted. "Besides that, did some wrestling and boxing lessons as well. Still train in them at the gym, I try keeping myself diverse in how I fight. Well, not like how you fight perhaps."

"Well there's not if you loose." Maggie chuckled softly, "It's actually quite a well paying career. You cash in on the bets they cast, depending on who you're fightin' with, you can make a solid living." She explained. "Plus it earns you street cred. Gangs will respect you and protect you if needed. It has quite a few benefits. Don't get me wrong, it's one hell of a dangerous sport." She chuckled,

"I can't imagine something once refereed to as 'human cockfighting' would be considered dangerous." Ben joked again. "Will say, I knew you were interesting in the club, but you certainly have more to yourself than even I figured." He admitted. "I would love to learn more about you face to face. Maybe, over lunch?"

"Over soup?" Maggie suggested with a soft laugh. "If I am correct, you were making dinner, right? How does soup and tea sound?" She asked with a laugh.

"Replace the soup with anything else, and I'll gladly take you up on your offer." Ben joked. "How about tomorrow at 12? That little pizzeria with all the old town memorabilia?" The place was quite cozy inside, and usually quiet. Had that very hipster feel to it, but if you got past that, they made good food and had great pallets of beer to order from.

"I mean, if you're paying, I'm not going to complain," Maggie laughed brightly as she scribbled out the note on a sticky note. "How should I dress for this occasion? Cause if I show up in a dress and you're in sweats, let's just say I'll be pissed." She chuckled. "And should I cancel possible disturbances for that evening, or will I be home at a reasonable time?"

"I wouldn't be a very good host if I made my date pay for her half of the meal." Ben commented. "Casual wear is fine with me. I'll leave you in a dress to my imagination for the moment, at least until I book in advance a table at someplace more fancy." This was a pizza pub after all. And he would love to see this street fighter in a lacy attire, covered in makeup. It sounded fun to watch her play princess. She likely would hate it. He'd film it. "That depends entirely upon you," he said about if she should cancel her evening after lunch. "If I don't prove I'm worth keeping around, I could show you why you're wrong once we finish up. Or, if you like me enough, I'm... happy to keep you company for the night." He was obviously insinuating he would love to come to her place once they finished.

Maggie chuckled at his confidence. "Well that all depends on whether or not I'm looking for company... but I'll call up the maid just in case." She smirked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "And who knows, maybe I'll be the one going over there." Her voice was like velvet, smooth and inviting. It was one of her many voices she held on to, this one being her seducing voice. She was rather skilled at getting men to their knees when she used it.


A strong and determined individual who has trained to become a knight. She has a muscular build with scars from past battles, demonstrating her resilience and experience in combat. She possesses sense of guilt and shame about her past sexual encounters, reflecting an emotional depth to her character. As for her personality, Bella is caring and considerate towards Rose, trying not to overwhelm or hurt her during their intimate moments. She is a passionate yet conflicted character who seeks connection and acceptance from others.

As the Princess answered, as she seemed to waste no time responding to her questions, the Knight swallowed and drew in a slow, deep breath as she took in those words as the girl accepted what is was she was allowing the woman to do, all while her cock throbbed angrily, veins bulging as she lay there in waiting. Though as the woman asked if it was her first or not the knight shook her head.

"Only once before... MY best friend from before I was a knight... I could not control myself... and I left her a drooling mess.I have not used this cock of mine ever since. "She looked away in shame, her cheeks flushed as she recollected that night, the night her and her best friend tried to experiment after the girl walked in on Bella changing. It was after that point she had trained herself to become a knight, to teach herself control and restraint. And yet now here she was again in that same position.

"But if you don't think less of me... I am ready whenever you are my Princess..."

Rose smiled and just held onto Bella in absolute comfort. "If you are not comfortable with this then you need not force yourself. Yes, I would love our unbridled attention and have faith that I can handle what you have to offer, but I am content knowing that you share the same feelings as me. We can take it slow and see how things progress from there." A soft hand dressed at a breast idly and lightly pinching and tugging at a nipple. "Mmmm... I will let you take the reins and you can let loose or hold back as much as you would like if you are that worried about me." A soft kiss was stolen from those lips. "And Bella? I could nor would I ever think less of you."

As the woman held onto her and spilled the sweet words Bella smiled softly as she lay there with the young Princess in her arms. She looked to the door, biting her lip and pulling on it as she let out a soft whisper. "F-forgive me My Lord... but Your Princess... is mine..." She huffed, slowly rolling so Rose was now on her back and Bella was laying over her. She looked into the girl's eyes, planting her lips firmly on those sweet tender ones of the Princess. She held the kiss, her hips rocking slowly, rubbing and sliding the underside of her cock against Rose's petals. "Mmm..." that feeling was wonderful, almost too much, nearly driving her to plunge right there but she relished this soft teasing, running those slick juices along her length.

Rose fed her well-endowed knight a desperate moan. The teasing was almost too much to bear. Heat engulfed her entire being and she bit back another moan by planting her lower lip between her teeth. "Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.," Rose uttered in a sultry tone of voice as the kiss ended for some much needed air. "B-Bella I-I can hardly stand the wait..." Sure, it was a combination of fear and excitement.

Fear because it was her first time and excitement, because it was with the person that she craved for so long. The nails on one hand lightly glided upon the bare back of her lover and the other caresses at the slick arched helm of the impressive weapon just aching to be sheathed within her greedy loins. She teased herself with that arched helm and placed it at the entrance of her sex in anticipation of becoming one with Bella. "I am ready when you are." Words whispered to the beautiful above her.

She smiled with a nod as she took a breath, relaxing and trying to get herself ready for what was to come, but no amount of that would prepare her for this. As Rose once again assured her that she was ready, the Knight swallowed as she looked to the girl whose body was flawless, perfect and young, While Bella was battle hardened with scars from injuries past, muscles and more. Drawing a breath she closed her eyes and tried her best to relax as she felt the helm of her length prodding on that needy hole. Gripping firmly onto Rose's hips, Bella began pulling her down, struggling to make progress as her thick head fought pushed and hungrily tried prying her lips apart.

Soft lips sat agape with a barely audible gasp. "Oh, Bella..." Words whispered under her breath. Rose found Bella to be an amazing person, both inside and out. Every perfect imperfection of Bella's hard-worn body far from deterred her. The girth of that helm of that cock slowly stretched her sex and had her body feeling like it was made for Bella and Bella only. Her hands were occupied by caressing her lover's back as every single nerve was alight.

There was a bit of anticipation and worry, only because she was told that the first time could be painful. So far... so very very good. There was a tense moment that made her realize that she was holding her breath. Inch after inch and then she moved out of impatience and felt what could have only been the undeniable loss of her virginity and it was a momentary pain that came and let. "Thank goodness..." Rose uttered in a breath of relief.

As she felt those soft hands working on her back the Knight smiled, closing her eyes as she pushed, trying her best to take her time, to resist the temptation and inch her way into the girl. Her heart raced, pounding and thrumming in her chest each time she felt those walls clamber and constrict around her member. Bella drew a long, heated breath as she buried her face into Rose's neck, nipping and gnawing softly on the tender flesh as she gripped onto those hips and gave her a sharp tug down. "S-Sorry... sorry but I need it.." She growled, letting a deep growl take hold of her neck as she pumped with a sharp thrust forward until their hips finally met and her cock was pushing, prying and stabbing at her cervix.

Rose was quite surprised at how well she was taking this and even more astonished at Bella actually savoring their first intimate moment. "Mmm... no need to apologize..." When that final thrust happened a sharp gasp was ripped out of her and her body seemed to tense all at once. It felt like an eternity before she remembered that she needed to breathe. Her body welcomed Bella's cock like they were made for one another. "Bella, that you... I need this..." The noble whispered under her breath just loud enough for her lover to hear. Any pain was minimum and washed away by the pleasure that threatened to consume her at the moment. "I need this too..."

The moment the woman breathed and began to relax, Bella drew in a slow huff as she tried her best to relax, to fight that animalistic urge to plunder destroy and ruin her insides. As Rose spoke she smiled as she leaned in, giving her a soft kiss, hands holding firmly to her hips. "Such a tight hole... feels so good around me..." She praised as she finally began to move, slowly pulling herself back until the head remained, only to plunge deep into her once more, again crashing into her cervix. "G-God dammit rose!! your gripping so tight..."

"Mmm... Bella..." Her hot breath bathed the soft lips of her protector as her senses were consumed by the sensation of her sex being filled to the brim. Eyes were laden with lust and the force with which she was skewed knocked the very breath out of her. Being holed up in her room ever sounded more appealing than it did now. "Oh... fuck... yes...!" There were problems voicing just what she wanted. She wanted everything that her experienced lover had to offer. Soft hands caressed at any flesh that she could get too. Her back arching as the pleasure slowly overtook all of her senses. "Bella... give me your all..."

As that soft voice breathed out her name, the Knight drew in a slow, heavy breath of her own as she continued to pump her hips. Her motions were slow, methodical at the moment, taking her time to try and ease the girl into it, not wanting to overwhelm or break her before they really got started. The bed was already rocking with her thrusts as she pumped hard into the young Princess, feeling those walls stretching around her cock."Mmmm F-fuck... so damn tight!!"


A young and beautiful princess who is eager to explore her sexuality with the futanari knight. She has some fear and excitement about the experience. Her body is flawless, perfect and young, with soft lips that sit agape when she feels pleasure. She is caring person.

"Mmm... Bella..." Her hot breath bathed the soft lips of her protector as her senses were consumed by the sensation of her sex being filled to the brim. Eyes were laden with lust and the force with which she was skewed knocked the very breath out of her. Being holed up in her room ever sounded more appealing than it did now. "Oh... fuck... yes...!" There were problems voicing just what she wanted. She wanted everything that her experienced lover had to offer. Soft hands caressed at any flesh that she could get too. Her back arching as the pleasure slowly overtook all of her senses. "Bella... give me your all..."


A muscular man with features that echo his Greek heritage. His profession as a mechanic suggest he is rugged and hands-on, with a physique sculpted from physical labor. As an ancient Greek Titan, he may have some ethereal qualities to his appearance too. He's playful and flirtatious, often teasing Nora in their conversations. Despite his age and power, he displays genuine affection for Nora, indicating a caring and loving personality. He also has a secretive side, hiding his true identity from her.

Jack rounded the corner just in time to see her stretch out in the bed and he let a smirk cross his face while he watched her "You know that is an open invitation back home right?" he asked with a smile as and laid down next to her and wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her close "The day was alright, I got quite a few cars in the shop today so the cut will be coming great this week." He worked on fixing cars, a perfect job for somebody who was able to turn time in all directions, It kept business booming and his shop liked over all others... his parts seemed to last forever... "I think a few more weeks like this and the house might be paid off... in thirty more years..." he said with a bit of a laugh before he gave her a kiss on her neck and nibbled her ear while holding her against his muscular chest.

"Mmm, yeah?" Opening her eyes, Nora yawned, before she rolled over and tucked herself against his chest. "I'm glad you had a good day. Being a secretary is hard." But cuddling with Jack, while slipping a leg over his waist was nice. Pressing closer, she slipped her head under his chin and enjoyed their cuddle time. But as time went on, she wound up falling asleep in his arms, Jack was the only man that made her feel safe. "Love you" she mumbled, before she was truly out for the night. Especially in a world full of nasty pigs and other dangerous brutes, she needed a good guy to come home to and be loved by.

"Yeah... and you know we greeks cant handle our hormones." Jack said to her with another kiss on her cheek before he pulled her closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her. "I love you too," he said softly to her before she fell asleep. He often pretended to sleep but being a five-thousand-year-old Greek titan of time made it a very hard process to actually fall asleep. No, he would often stay by her and pretend to be asleep most nights while his mind wandered through events of history that he witnessed, both good and bad alike. "Sweet dreams my Nymph..." he whispered to her before his mind drifted back to the first Spartan and Athenian wars which he watched from the deepest pits of the greek underworld known as "Tartarus".

Nora did have sweet dreams. But when morning came, she woke up in bed, all confused. Sitting up and looking down to see herself in pj's, she couldn't remember changing or even showering. 'I must have been really tired' she thought. Kicking off the covers, Nora slid from bed and into her comfy slippers and near by sweat before leaving the room. "Jack... honey? You up?" Eyes still bleary, hair all a mess, Nora made it down stairs and into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. 'What to make for breakfast? Or do I just want coffee for now' she mused to herself.

"Yeah, I'm down in the basement sweetheart." Jack called up as a slam echoed around the basement. He had picked up the washer to move it back and set it down in a weird way. It was something he kept from Nora for some time now and not something he planned to show her. "What is it, hun? something you need?" he asked her as he headed up the stares and came up behind her only to grab her rear and then to pull her close against him to hold her close

Jumping, Nora turned on Jack, looking a little startled and apprehensive from being grabbed from behind. Then she sighed and shook her head, "I'm OK. Just confused and still tired." Leaning up on her tip toes, she kissed him on the lips before resting her head on his chest once more. "Your always warm Jack... no wonder I love you." For Nora, she truly was in love with him, and would never be able to see herself with anyone else. And yet, she still questioned why he was with her when he could've been with any woman he wanted. At the same time, it warmed her heart that he did want her. "Hungry for breakfast? Any requests?"

"Besides you?" Jack asked with a smirk before he kissed her lips softly. "How about some eggs and bacon with coffee?" he asked her while he kept her held against himself. He found at first she was only eye candy but after the years that he has spent with her, he found himself more than attracted to her. He would dare say that he in fact loved her with everything of his being. It was even more of a reason why he could never tell her who he really was. "What about you baby, sound good with you?"

Blushing at his words, it deepened when her belly growled loudly. "Eggs and bacon are perfect. You sit down and I'll cook." Pecking him on the lips, Nora wiggled from his grasp to get working on their breakfast. There was a need in her to please, a natural submissiveness to her being to be the best homemaker. But, she also just loved taking care of people and that included Jack. While cooking, she heard her cell go off, but let it ring, she wasn't in the mood to hear her bosses' nasal-sounding voice. "What's on the agenda today Jack? I'm off so I'll probably do some chores about the house."

"Haven't really thought of anything yet." Jack said before he used his time magic to freeze time. "Haven't really though of anything... three thousand years in that inflaming pit really did mess up my skills at talking... idiot... He then unpaused time again "Well, I think we need some... personal fun... and then we can head to the movies and on a walk after that?" He suggested with a shrug "I'm not working until later on tonight so I have more time then anything right now beautiful.

Oblivious to any pause, "Some personal fun? Then a movie and a walk? Are you asking me out on a date Jack?" When she turned, Nora had the pan by the handle, when she grabbed two plates. Bringing them to the table, she portioned out the food and set the plates where they'd be sitting. Once done, she returned the pan to the sink before she got their coffee. Returning to the table, Nora sat beside him and smiled. "Eat up love." Then she dug in hungrily, enjoying her own cooking, how happy she was to be such a good cook. With a swallow, "This is so good. I'm surprised my food hasn't given you a belly" she teased.

"Nooo, I was asking the other beautiful woman cooking me breakfast for some sex, a walk, and a date," he said sarcastically before he grinned. "Of course I am. You are my angel after all. You have the day off and I can go to work whenever I feel like it so I mean why not right?" he asked her as she placed the food in front of him. "Oh my lord that is truly amazing..." He said before he began to eat very quickly. Human food didn't fill him as quickly and his Deific nature caused him to burn through calories. He dug in and without another word he was quickly getting to work on his eggs.

Giggling softly, once her food was done with, Nora got up from the table and put her plate in the sink. But on her return, she easily slid herself into his lap, her pert bottom right on top of his lap. "Without you in my life, I don't know what I'd do." Then she lowered her hands and pulled up her shirt, dropping it to the floor. Perky and full, her breasts were lightly tanned and soft. "I'd love to have you take me. And I'm always down for a date with my handsome man." Leaning in, she kissed tenderly at his neck, while her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples tingling from the feel of his shirt.

As she giggled Jack watched her take her shirt off with a mix of lust and pleasure both as she revealed her breasts to him. He found himself growing harder as he saw her breasts and he grabbed her around the waist and he pulled her down on top of the couch where he could crawl over her and begin undressing her "My beautiful Nymph... you never disappoint." he said as he began to undo her pants and then slid them down to her ankles before he began planting soft passionate kissing all over her breasts, He would pay careful attention to her nipples and flick his tongue across the tips each time he got close to them and as he lay down on her he began to grind on her.


A woman who has an attractive, perhaps even enchanting, appearance given Jack's strong attraction to her. She has lightly tanned and soft skin, suggesting she might take good care of herself. Her role as a secretary hint at an organized and professional demeanor. She's shown to be nurturing and caring, taking the lead in making breakfast for both of them. Despite her submissive nature, she isn't afraid to express her desires or tease Jack. Her deep love for him suggests loyalty and commitment in her personality traits.

Giggling softly, once her food was done with, Nora got up from the table and put her plate in the sink. But on her return, she easily slid herself into his lap, her pert bottom right on top of his lap. "Without you in my life, I don't know what I'd do." Then she lowered her hands and pulled up her shirt, dropping it to the floor. Perky and full, her breasts were lightly tanned and soft. "I'd love to have you take me. And I'm always down for a date with my handsome man." Leaning in, she kissed tenderly at his neck, while her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples tingling from the feel of his shirt.


A brunette woman with long legs and thick thighs. She has an attractive figure that she often dresses modestly, preferring wrap dresses and lace undergarments. Despite her fearful situation, she shows resilience and adaptability in the face of danger. Her actions suggest a kind-hearted nature, offering to clean Jack's clothes despite his treatment of her. She is generally submissive but also displays moments of defiance against Jack's dominance. Her curiosity about her captor's motivations suggests an analytical mind beneath her fear-stricken exterior.

Even without seeing his eyes, his body language and voice pitch gave away his rage. Irissa shook her head, feeling him pull her back up, seeing his hand reel back that brought more tears to her eyes, "W-Wait—No!" she tried, not quite able to shield herself before he had struck her again, even harder than the last time, really putting his strength into it.

He hit her so hard she suffered from whiplash, pain enveloping her whole head and neck, her body growing sore from her strained efforts in such a short amount of time. It seemed to have done the trick, Irissa not daring to move from her position on the ground, fingers digging into the earth so she could feel grounded and her eyes trying to look away from his hovering, calming figure. Even though he seemed to be lowering his temper, she wasn't going to risk him hitting her that hard again, at least not now when it was clear who was the alpha.

Irissa flinched when he got even closer, eyes wide as he forcefully brought her up and over his shoulder, the hem of her now ruined dress having ridden up her thighs and barely covering her ass. She tried to remain pliant, letting out pained whines and frightened whimpers here and their, jumping when she felt his hands moving up and down her thigh, teasing along the edge of her ass. The brunette shifted on his shoulder at this, her hands subconsciously grabbing at his wretched jacket while her thighs pressed and rubbed together uncomfortably.

Carrying her like the sack of potatoes she was reduced to, Jack showed his knowledge of her life as He entered her apartment building and quickly made his way to her apartment. Entering the staircase, Jack made his way, in his own time, up the stairs, hand still pressed to her thigh to keep control of her momentum: should she move at all.

After the long climb up the few flights of stairs, Jack made his way to her apartment and pulled a second key to the knob from his pant pocket. The fact the door open so easily for him had to put even further unease into Irissa's chest, only begging the question of how long He had been after her.

Once inside her apartment, Jack walked the still limp girl to the bathroom and turned on the faucet of the bathtub, filling the tub itself with mildly warm water. Setting her on the floor, Irissa could see the dirty hand paint on the faucet handle as well as feel the dirt on her thigh from where his hand had been.

When he brought Irissa to her own apartment building, dread filled her chest. The brunette thought heavily on screaming, but this man had proved to her he wasn't to be trifled with, so she bit back her cries and sniffles emotionally. As he entered the stairway and began to ascend, she prayed and hoped someone would see them, knowing she lived in a rather sketchy building with some questionable characters, but there was no one in sight. The one night when she needed the crackheads to gawk, and they weren't even around.

Irissa then noticed how he was in no way hesitant with where he was going, her eyes widening and heart thumping loudly when he brought her eight to her own apartment. He even produced his own key, unlocking the door with ease and bringing realization that he'd been watching her, had been inside before. Every once in a while she would notice something out of place, or a drawer hanging open that she swore was closed. Of course she always dismissed these events, figuring she had just been forgetful. But she could see now that this man had been planning to grab her for who knows how long, and done God knows what in her home when she didn't know.

She pushed herself back into the corner when he set her on the bathroom floor, pulling her legs up and hugging them close. She was too frightened to look at his masked face, watching his dirty hand move to turn on the faucet. Looking down, the brunette could see handprints along her dress and thighs, disgust rising in her chest.

"W-Who are you...?" She finally mustered up enough courage to ask, keeping her head lowered so he wouldn't be enticed to hit her again, at least she hoped, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Closing the bathroom door, Jack turned toward the girl and slowly turned his head to the side as he took his seat on the closed toilet, leaning forward to converse with the frightened, abused girl. "My name is Jack. And I have come to collect you. Disrobe and get in the bath."

His words were true and precise, much like his seemingly predetermined plan of attack: further enforcing that something held influence over him to exact such a violence as he did.

Pulling at his gloved and filthy hands, fabric yielded to show pale skin with colored chalk across his finger tips, aiding in his whole blue aesthetic. Shuffling slightly, His sweater was then removed, showing his lean chest and arms in a similar coloration as his fingers: pale but colored. "We're needed somewhere. You'd best get yourself cleaned up."

Irissa pressed herself harder against the wall when he came back over, having locked the door before sitting on the toilet to look at her, speaking calmly. He was acting different than before, Irissa not knowing when and if he was going to exact such violence on her again, "Collect me...?" She repeated softly, blushing hard at what he wanted her to do next.

She didn't get to say much before he was pulling off his gloves to reveal surprisingly clean looking and pale hands. Next came his sweater, showing off the rather lean but toned build he'd managed to hide. Her heartbeat was picking up quick, not understanding why he was undressing as well and of course assuming the worst.

Instead of doing as she was told, Irissa yanked the skirt of her dress down further over her knees, her other hand clutching the low v neck closed tight while she shook her head, "Needed where? I-I- Don't touch me!" She suddenly snapped when he reached towards her impatiently, squirming away the best she could while steam from the hot water began to make the room hazy.

"Don't make this harder then it needs to be. Strip or get stripped. That's your call but my responsibility." He told her, honestly. Even through his mask, Irissa could probably see he was almost testing her, trying to see if she would learn or become a handful again.

Jack pulled the muscle shirt off his chest now half nude with Irissa now able to see several adorning scars on his chest: even missing a nipple. He had no modesty as He undid his boots, peeled his socks off and stood to release his belt and jeans. "You have till my pants hit the floor to decide whether you want me to take your clothes or if you wish to do so."

Irissa frowned at the options, arms hugging herself as she tried to decide whether to fight against him or comply. His tone was calm, but there was something underlying it that suggested an edge of dominance. He knew that no matter what she chose, she couldn't win against him, something the brunette had been taught painfully, feeling her head still aching.

She looked back at him when he stood, slightly distracted by his appearance, having removed everything but his pants and beginning to work the belt open, his words making her jump into action, "Okay!" She said quickly, forcing herself to stand up and keeping her eyes to the floor.

The brunette untied her wrap dress, the now dingy material coming loose until she held her breath and nervously dropped it from her shoulders. It landed in a pool around her feet, her arms trying to cover up her exposure modestly as she stood in a white thong and matching lace bra. He prompted her to continue, Irissa biting her lip and she unhooked the back and dropped the bra, slowly pushing her panties down over her thick thighs and long legs. Rather than stand there awkwardly for him to gaze at her body, Irissa moved to step into the tub, quickly sitting down into the scolding water and clenching her teeth, bringing her knees up to cover herself.

As she stripped down to her bare skin, Jack kept his watch on his own jeans that laid around his ankles, only rising his head once to see her backside and bare bottom. After she descended into the tub, Jack pushed his boxers to the floor and then stepped into her tub behind her.

Instead of spooning her, Jack pushed her lightly toward the edge of the tub while He stepped into the water and sat with his back against hers. The water was about at the tub edge with the pair of them in the water. Silence hung around them, only broken for a moment as his mask made a soft clatter as he set it on the floor beside his dark pile of clothes.

Irissa kept her eyes forward, seeing him remove his boxers in her peripheral vision but not daring to turn. She braced herself once feeling him step in, but was shocked when he sat with his back pressed to hers, his skin cold as ice and making her jump and gasp.

She kept quiet, feeling confusion fill her thoughts before she felt and heard him remove his mask, setting it down. They sat quietly, Irissa starting to feel her heart rate return to a more normal pace. Feeling awkward, the brunette grabbed a rag and soap, working a lather before she slowly washed away the muck on her skin, trying to ignore the fact that he was right behind her.

Her eyes moved to the floor, spotting his wretched clothing that was cakes in blood and dirt, making her frown. "If... if you'd like, I can wash those for you...?" She offered, voice soft and unsure, but perhaps if she showed some kindness, he would have mercy? She could only hope so.

Jack waited his moment before the soap was back within reach before he took it into his own hands and began to wash. Jack turned slightly towards his clothes as she offered to clean them, his voice now clear of obstruction, "I don't think those have ever been washed." He stated surely before he turned back forward, their spines rubbing against one another.

Some time passed before Jack spoke again this time turning a but further towards the girl. "I want to apologize for my brutality. I'm much more of a silent specialist if I'm honest. Something... someone has had too tight a hold on me as of late. That doesn't heal your jaw, but the second strike for sure was not my intention."

Irissa nodded at his response, figuring she'd toss them in the machine anyway. Irissa could feel him shifting as she herself rinsed off the soap on her skin, remaining quiet until he seemed to be some as well. She slowly watched the water around them turn into a dull brown, sneering a bit in disgust.

She about couldn't believe it then he apologized, turning her head a bit to look at him sideways, unable to see his face but seeing the outline of his cheek and jaw. She moved her own hand up to touch the bruise forming on her cheek looking back at the tiled wall in front of her, "...what is it that had a hold of you?" She finally asked.

"Dark things. Dark things I have no place resisting." He mentioned before he turned back, sighing softly before He aimed his head back lightly. "Vague. Cryptic. Monsters are real Irissa. And they want Us. You, Me, the whole damn zoo of people. They want us like we don't want them." He mentioned, trying to clarify what he was talking about, yet it still didn't do justice to what had happened.

Turning the shower head on, Jack pulled the plug on the tub and slowly stood upright, rinsing off from all the now filthy water that had surrounded them, even if it didn't come across as disgusting as it did for her.

Irissa still had no clue what he was on about, her features twisted with further confusion, frightened by the crazed talk but she made no move or word against him. He stood up and she followed his example, keeping her back to him while the water drained below and fresh came through the shower head.

She felt compelled to turn around and try to take a look at his face, but ultimately felt too modest with herself to do so. When the water finally stopped, she stepped out and quickly wrapped a towel around her body, handing one to him as well with her head turned away from his nude form. She bent down and gathered up their clothing, "I'll clean these..." she said, walking out to the washing machine that was in the hall just outside of the bathroom.

Irissa pressed start and riffled through the clean pile in her basket, pulling on some panties and yoga pants. She turned her back to him again and threw on a tanktop, not bothering with a bra.

Jack kept his back turned to the girl, his presence just enough to keep her tethered nearby, since He probably seemed the type to not be opposed to chase someone down in the buff. After the water was shut off and a towel was handed over to him, stopping him in place. The gesture seemed more routine then kind and intentional, yet it still managed to stun him briefly. Yet brief it was, He wiped down his body until He was merely a pale, lean, brown haired young man again.

"Wait—what will I..." He asked before she walked off anyway, leaving him now alone in his slight confusion. Taking up his mask and donning it once more, He followed behind her, towel in hand instead of around his waist.

As Irissa turned back around, she jumped back at the sight of him, her eyes trailing down to see him holding the towel rather than tied around his waist. She blushed heavily and turned away, having thought being nice would work in her favor though now it left another problem.

"Uhm, I might have something you can out on for now." She said, walking towards her bedroom and shuffling through her closet. After a bit of digging she managed to pull out an old flannel and sweatpants from her old boyfriends, having taken more than a few articles of clothing over the years. "Here." She said awkwardly, keeping her eyes away and handing then over.


A physically imposing man, lean yet toned, with an array of scars marking his body. His skin is pale, almost as if it rarely sees sunlight. He conceals his face with a mask and often dresses in dark, dirty clothing that matches his sinister aesthetic. Despite his aggressive actions, there are moments where he demonstrates calmness and control over the situation. Jack has a cryptic way of speaking about ominous entities that influence him. While he's clearly dominant and unafraid to exert physical force, he also shows signs of regret for his violent actions and appears to have some form of twisted moral compass guiding him through his mysterious mission.

As Irissa turned back around, she jumped back at the sight of him, her eyes trailing down to see him holding the towel rather than tied around his waist. She blushed heavily and turned away, having thought being nice would work in her favor though now it left another problem.

"Uhm, I might have something you can out on for now." She said, walking towards her bedroom and shuffling through her closet. After a bit of digging she managed to pull out an old flannel and sweatpants from her old boyfriends, having taken more than a few articles of clothing over the years. "Here." She said awkwardly, keeping her eyes away and handing then over.

Luckily, Jack's mask covered both his disfigurement and his blushing cheeks, both something He wisher to keep from her sight for as long as he could. Now as Jack stood by the doorway of the doorway, He was completely on display. Much like his hands and torso, He was decently pale in skin tone on his male genitals, and it favored his height and width, being modestly long yet thin.

He had no intention of being forceful with the girl, and also to his own dismay, He knew being willing to be naked was somewhat dominating. Hopefully just the self expression of being nude would be enough to ensure She wouldn't underestimate his ability or confuse his kindnesses for mercy.


A 20 years old woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, which earned her the nickname "Blue" from her captor. She's bold and spirited, using humor to cope with dangerous situations. Despite being held captive, she doesn't hesitate to challenge or insult her captor. This shows that she's resilient and has a strong personality. Her concern about whether her group made it out indicates a sense of responsibility and leadership.

Ramona awoke with a start, chest rising and falling with every rapid breath that fell from parted lips. Her mind was playing tricks on her, reminding her that this was her fault, that she had put herself in this position, knew what she was signing up for. But it didn't make the harsh reality hit any easier. She didn't think anything would.

Alistair stirred awake as he heard Ramona take in a sharp breath. He had been leaned back in an office chair at the desk stationed right in front of her cell. She was in a small room—what seemed to be an office—and her cell was clearly assembled a few days ago, albeit assembled well. The desk was aimed at the wall to her left—meaning she had a sideways view of it. Not of him, though, he had his feet kicked up facing the cell so he could sleep watching her.

"...you're awake. Finally." He said with a sigh, quickly standing and brushing himself off. "We can get to work!" He said with an excited clap of his hands together, walking around the desk to stop at her cell.

"Did you really think that little stunt would work? Against corporate?" He asked, puzzled, before making a *tsk tsk tsk* sound. He waggled his finger in front of her cell for emphasis. "Silly girl. You should've known better. Been smarter. You wouldn't be here right now."

"How'd you know?" It was an abrupt yet random question, but it was one she desperately needed an answer to; how'd you know we were there? Ramona wanted to know what they had done wrong, what they hadn't planned for, otherwise it was going to drive her fucking crazy trying to figure it out herself. She also wanted to know if her group made it out, but she didn't want to mention anything about it in case he had done something to them, god knows she couldn't handle any grief right now.

The blonde glanced around—though there wasn't much to glance at—and thanked her lucky stars she didn't suffer from claustrophobia because if she had, the whole experience would be way less pleasant. The room was small she didn't understand how they had managed to fit a goddamn cell in there. Blue orbs snapped their way towards Alistair as he appeared in front of the bars, attention focused on her.

"Spare me the theatrics." Heaving a sigh, her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. "You know the big bad villain speech? I don't need to hear that, yeah? Keep it to yourself." She wasn't in the mood to be told how bad of a job she had done; especially when she knew that.

"Are you going to kill me?" There it was. The million dollar question. A question she wasn't too sure she wanted to know the answer to, but felt like she had to ask regardless.

"Know? Oh I didn't, Blue." Alistair mused, leaning in to inspect her blue eyes upon the newfound nickname. "I'm just the middle man. But you should know by now that corporate knows everything it wants to." He sighed, walking over to grab a metal chair from the nearby closet and place it in front of her cell, settling onto it.

"Spare you the theatrics?" He frowned, twirling his knife around. "But that's so boring. You really shouldn't bore me, it'll make things much more painful for you." His voice was low and soft—much too pleasant for such a twisted man. In fact that could be said about most of him—he was attractive all around. The soul did not match the body. "Kill you? No, no. There would be no point in that. What use do I have for a corpse?"

"Blue?" The blonde rose a brow, fingers curling around the bars of the cell. "Are you flirting with me?" Ramona teased a grin. "I'm flattered, really, but you're not my type. I don't usually go for assholes." Humor was a personality trait the twenty-year old hated having, especially when faced in situations that could kill her. She had trouble taking things seriously, which in hindsight, probably wasn't the best thing considering she was the leader of a group trying to bring bad guys down.

Ramona huffed out a breath. "The middle man? So... you're not important in any way, at all?" This sucked she was hoping she could at least bring down one important man, make being caught worth it and all. "You think you can go find me someone who actually has a say in corporate? You're wasting my time."

Glistening orbs followed the blade's every movement, watching as he twirled it expertly around his fingers. "The only painful thing for me right now is this conversation." Her fingers fell from around the bars, instead taking a fruitful step backwards and away from them. "Glad to know you're not one of those freaks who do crazy shit to corpses."

"Blue." Alistair mimicked, "I won't repeat myself again. I hate doing it." His tone remained light and playful, just like the knife bouncing around in his hand. But just like the blade, he could turn into an agent of pain very fast. "Flirting? Sure, I suppose you could say that. If so then I flirt with everyone." He paused, turning to watch as the brute from earlier—the one that slung her over his shoulder—walked in. Without the gas mask he was quite handsome too, sides of his head shaved with the top longer. He had several unidentifiable facial tattoos, as opposed to Alistair's one black star.

Alistair beckoned the massive man over—he was probably, like, 6'5 and bulky as hell—and grabbed him by the cheeks. Much like he did to Ramona, actually. He pulled the man down and kissed him right on the lips, before pushing him away and smacking him across the cheek. The man just stood there and sighed, before turning to grab something from the desk and walk away.

"...he doesn't really care anymore. Takes the fun out of it." He said in a cold, bored tone. Eventually Alistair looked back to Ramona as she started speaking again. "Nope, not important. At all. We were paid to handle a simple threat." He paused as she resumed, face scowling at 'wasting my time'.

He suddenly stood up and reached out between the bars, fingers wrapping tightly around her throat and yanking her forward. Her cheeks squished beneath the cold metal, his hand tightening the life out of her body.

"Now I told you I wouldn't kill you, and I'm a man of my word." He whispered, voice hard and poisonous. "But you are still mine to play with, and it would do you well to remember that, girl." The digits wrapped around her throat tightened to the point of near blackout, before pushing her away from him violently.

Ramona watched the scene unfold with amusement, brows knitting together as the man seemed to simply sigh and retreat through the very same door. "As entertaining as that was—I understand why people prefer girl on girl action now." It was a petty jab, that all. She had nothing against anyone's sexuality, but she felt as if she didn't really owe the guy who drugged and kidnapped her anything. So she didn't give a damn about being insulting.

The blonde hadn't backed away fast enough and before she knew it, his fingers were curled around her throat, cheeks pressing into the bars. She squealed, her own hand moving up towards his in an attempt to free herself, scratching uselessly against his skin. *You are still mine to play with.* At least he... sort of admitted what was going to happen to her, right? She would've preferred to have been killed—she was nobody's plaything. But at least her group was safe.

At least they didn't have to suffer for ideas that were her own. Blinking away the stars dancing in her vision, she stumbled further away from the bars so that he couldn't surprise attack her again. One hand moved to gingerly rub at her neck, a pout on her lips. "That wasn't very nice of you." She breathed.


A man who comes across as attractive and charming on the surface, but beneath his pleasant exterior lies a twisted personality. He's playful yet dangerous, treating his captive Ramona with an eerie mix of flirtatious banter and brutal violence. He's skilled at handling a knife, which he uses to intimidate Ramona. His ability to casually kiss another man demonstrate that he's confident and unafraid of expressing his sexuality openly. Despite being labeled as unimportant by Ramona, he exerts significant control over her situation.

"Blue." Alistair mimicked, "I won't repeat myself again. I hate doing it." His tone remained light and playful, just like the knife bouncing around in his hand. But just like the blade, he could turn into an agent of pain very fast. "Flirting? Sure, I suppose you could say that. If so then I flirt with everyone." He paused, turning to watch as the brute from earlier—the one that slung her over his shoulder—walked in. Without the gas mask he was quite handsome too, sides of his head shaved with the top longer. He had several unidentifiable facial tattoos, as opposed to Alistair's one black star.

Alistair beckoned the massive man over—he was probably, like, 6'5 and bulky as hell—and grabbed him by the cheeks. Much like he did to Ramona, actually. He pulled the man down and kissed him right on the lips, before pushing him away and smacking him across the cheek. The man just stood there and sighed, before turning to grab something from the desk and walk away.

"...he doesn't really care anymore. Takes the fun out of it." He said in a cold, bored tone. Eventually Alistair looked back to Ramona as she started speaking again. "Nope, not important. At all. We were paid to handle a simple threat." He paused as she resumed, face scowling at 'wasting my time'.

He suddenly stood up and reached out between the bars, fingers wrapping tightly around her throat and yanking her forward. Her cheeks squished beneath the cold metal, his hand tightening the life out of her body.

"Now I told you I wouldn't kill you, and I'm a man of my word." He whispered, voice hard and poisonous. "But you are still mine to play with, and it would do you well to remember that, girl." The digits wrapped around her throat tightened to the point of near blackout, before pushing her away from him violently.


A regal and poised woman with green eyes, dressed in an elegant white gown that is both modest and alluring. She is not one for opulence or displays of wealth, preferring simplicity in her surroundings. Her personality reflects a calm and composed demeanor even when faced with fear and uncertainty. She is deeply loyal to her people, willing to put herself at risk for their safety, and commands the respect of those around her.

Sitting in her rather simplistic throne room, not one for opulence or shows of wealth, the Queen Anastasia caresses the oaken armrests in a fashion that speaks of habitual comfort seeking. Her gown was of shimmering white, again dressed a bit more elegantly then is her normal won't. It draped over her body in frothy material, tight bodice that fell off the shoulder, but long sleeved to give the look of both bareness and clothed.

She did not know if he was coming... but it was almost as if she felt him coming. Her heart beating at a normal pace, but heavy and each pound was heard in her ears. Green eyes watch the large double doors to her room, never looking away, watching and waiting.

The large double doors swung open with a sudden violence. However, it was not with the ferocity one would expect with the entrance of one who had cut a bloody swath of death and destruction through many of the known lands. The Usurper. The Impaler. The Defiler of women. The one who many had whispered he had Wolf's blood coursing through his veins and a Wraith's black heart did not enter Anastasia's throne room.

It was a rather squat man. Thick in chest and arms. His bald head scarred. His right eye covered with a leather patch adorned with his Master's crest. A black wolf's head with blood red eyes. His military garb was black as his Lord's soul, with a crimson sash designating him as a Overlord. He bowed stiffly.

"My lady. My Lordship deems your presence at his encampment. You are to accompany me with an escort of your choice. Failure to comply with his Lordship's request will result in Alkrasia being burned to the ground and no quarter given to any citizen. Man,women or child. These terms are not negotiable."

Overlord regarded her with a impassive stare, as if she were a serving wench in a tavern as he awaited her reply.

As the doors swang open, Anastasia jerks just slightly, her fingers curling tightly around the armposts of the throne. His words made her green eyes narrow, her twin bodyguards move more protectively around her with a scowl.

"What assurances do I have that your... Lord... intends me no harm in negotiating a surrender?" Her voice was as calm as a windless sea barely a ripple in her tones. "I can assure you that Alkrasia will fight until there is nothing left of her to fight, decimating your Master's armies further... delaying his grandiose and arrogant plans, giving the kingdoms beyond mine further time to prepare."

Standing, her white gown rippling with her movements, her head held high and her eyes flashing somewhat. "Bring the royal scribe, and the two of you," she pointedly look towards the two men that had earned the right to guard her life, "will come... no one else need to endanger themselves by walking into the..." She pauses to look downward at the emblem on the man's chest. "Wolf's lair. Leave word that if I do not return with instructions... in person... then Alkrasia has not surrendered, and will fight... to the last man woman and child."

Her fingers curled tightly into her skirts, ostensibly holding the skirts from the ground but really just to hide the trembling in her hands.

The Overlord stood with his booted feet in a bladed stance as he saw the Queens Guard move by their Mistress. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "My Lady mistakes me for a diplomat. I am not. I am a soldier. An Overlord in my Master's Army, so know this:

There are no assurances to your safety. You, my Lady, are the Captain of your Destiny. You will be escorted under my protection. No molestation shall be visited upon you. How you conduct yourself in my Master's presence, is of no concern to me. There, I cannot make any claim as to your safety." His voice reverberated through the chamber, as he let her digest his words.

"Now, I speak for myself as a soldier. I urge you to displease my Lord. I will exalt you in song if you refuse the terms. To have all of your land fall before the Sword is glorious. Alkrasia would be an ocean of blood, a fitting tribute I would reckon." His eye, pale and as humorlessly stark as his words, regarded her intently.

His demeanor visibly changed. Sagged imperceptibly as Queen Anastasia regally came off her throne and stated she would meet his Master. On on his terms. He bowed stiffly and escorted her to the Wolf's Maw.

The Queen turned her eyes towards the soldier, her bodyguards flanking her either side as she swept forward with more graceful calm then she really felt.

"Be assured that if your lord is so dishonorable as to insult the negotiation of surrender by harming my body or those of my subjects outside of a surrender agreement, then you will get your wish. Alkrasia will forever be known as the land that destroyed itself before allowing such an excuse for a man to take her."

Lifting her chin she brushed past him, towards the towering doors of her throne room, looking back over her shoulder one last time at what might be her last glimpse of her home.

The journey through the city, for she refused a closed carriage, showed her citizen's knowledge of what she was to do. Showed their loyalty in that everyone stopped what they were doing, even the doctor's tending the wounded, to turn and some saluted others bowed deep. All showed deep fear in their eyes, but respect for their Queen reigned supreme.

The Overlord regarded her with his good eye in much the same impassive gaze as before. His facial features were a stony countenance, as if they were chiseled from the peaks of a gray and brooding mountain.

"My Lady, you speak of My Lord in terms that you think I may find repulsive? Untruths? Again, you know nothing of the world outside of your own. The days when lands are ruled by Regents and Queens with soft hands and hearts are at an end. The formalities of your dying culture matter not. The fanciful verbosity of Court are to be crushed under the boot of men like my Master. Say what you will. Your time is at an end."

The sky was gray and the ground iron as they made their way to the encampment. There was an ethereally eerie silence as soldiers moved about. Not the usual cacophony of men grunting and armor clinking.

The air was chill, piercing like the point of finely honed knife. The Overlord gestured to the Large tent, the flaps caching the winds caress. "So it begins, M'lady."

Anastasia had nothing she could say in return to the Overlord. She knew he was correct, that might and brutality had won out over diplomacy. The days where delicate wordings could prevent war and keep the lands in balance was fastly growing to an end, and it was all because of the cruel and relentless man driving an army of blood thirsty proportions before him.

The flap mawed before her, mawing open as if the very door to hell was opening toward her and the Queen paused, her heart racing and her palms growing cold. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that should he accept a surrender, and her terms, that she would be forfeiting her life... or at very least be imprisoned. Before she could move forward one of her body guards lay a hand on her shoulder, and then went to one knee.

"You are aware, Your Majesty, that the people of Alkrasia would fight to the very last man, until the very last Alkrasian blood fed the ground for you. You need not do this."

Her smile was gentle, calm almost as she lay a soft hand on his cheek. "I know this Alfric, this is why I do this." With that said, she lifts her chin proudly, and if her color was blanched and her cheeks pale she did not hesitate further before sweeping into the unknown of the tent.


A squat, thick-chested man with powerful arms and a scarred, bald head. He wears an eye patch adorned with his master's crest—a black wolf's head with blood-red eyes—over his right eye. His military attire is black, signifying the darkness of his master's soul, and he dons a crimson sash to designate his high rank as an Overlord. Overlord's personality is cold and impassive; he views himself as a soldier rather than a diplomat. Despite this hardened exterior, there are hints that he may appreciate defiance and resistance against his ruthless master.

The Overlord regarded her with his good eye in much the same impassive gaze as before. His facial features were a stony countenance, as if they were chiseled from the peaks of a gray and brooding mountain.

"My Lady, you speak of My Lord in terms that you think I may find repulsive? Untruths? Again, you know nothing of the world outside of your own. The days when lands are ruled by Regents and Queens with soft hands and hearts are at an end. The formalities of your dying culture matter not. The fanciful verbosity of Court are to be crushed under the boot of men like my Master. Say what you will. Your time is at an end."

The sky was gray and the ground iron as they made their way to the encampment. There was an ethereally eerie silence as soldiers moved about. Not the usual cacophony of men grunting and armor clinking.

The air was chill, piercing like the point of finely honed knife. The Overlord gestured to the Large tent, the flaps caching the winds caress. "So it begins, M'lady."


A 15-year-old girl who often dresses casually in band shirts and sweatpants, indicating a relaxed and perhaps rebellious attitude towards fashion. Her body language suggests confidence; she frequently leans against door frames with her arms crossed under her breasts. She is quite assertive, often taking the lead in conversations and actions. Jessi is also adventurous and open-minded, willing to entertain unconventional thoughts and push boundaries. However, she can also be teasing and smug at times, especially when interacting with her younger brother Eric.

Leaning against the door's frame, Jessi considered her brother's words for a moment, slowly nodding. "Agreed, that sound's good," she replied in an honest, bit more serious and thoughtful tone. "Hey Eric, I'm going shopping with Liz on Saturday. And it could be that on Saturday evening I will babysit Olivia again. What if..."

She stopped right there, thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head, as if trying to tell herself something. Then she took a deep breath and tried again, "Hey bro, do you think I'm sick when I say that I wanna see Olivia fucked into oblivion? Like... she's so tiny, so small, so innocent, and I want to see her all covered in cum, leaking from her holes and shit. It's a bit much, isn't it?"

Eric shrugged as he patted himself dry with the towel, "A lot of people would say everything we've done is a bit much, but as long as she doesn't get hurt, and she isn't being forced into anything... Look if someone were doing this stuff to Olivia, and they were just using her as a living sex toy; not caring if she was enjoying it, or liked it, or even if they hurt her; What would you do, how would you react? If the idea of her being just a random cum sponge doesn't phase you, or worse turns you on... then yeah you've gone over the line... but if that idea pisses you off, and makes you want to beat someone's ass, then I think you're OK. Does that clear things up?"

Having crossed her arms in front of her chest, actually more under them than in front of her breasts, but who's counting, Jessi slowly nodded as Eric finished his explanation. "Yeah, it does, thanks. I guess I just... perhaps I'd like to push the boundaries a bit more, you know?"

She shrugged and then made a grand gesture of pushing herself away from the door's frame, stepping now fully into the open door. "Okay, I gotta get dressed and everything, and you... um, come to my room once you're dressed, okay? I have to admit, I did not really listen as you told me about Max."

"OK, be there in a minute... and don't worry about pressing boundaries, at least as far as Olivia's concerned. I doubt there's anything she wouldn't want to at least try. In fact, if you ask hey, I'd be willing to bet she's already experimenting with the stuff you've already taught her and trying new things on her own... maybe even with a friend." With that Eric dressed, and went to his room to take care of the throbbing erection his sister had left him with.

The timing of the two was damn good; not even three minutes later, the front door opened, and their mother came home, mumbling something about the damn roads and the fucking idiots out there and then loudly proclaiming that she was home, immediately getting a response from Jessi. Their mom took a look at the shoes and saw that Eric was home as well, but she didn't think much about it. Instead, she simply grabbed the groceries and carried them into the kitchen, packing them away, before climbing up the stairs to see what her children were doing. Jessi was already dressed and sat on her bed with an open schoolbook and her smart phone, in front of her, and simply said "Hi Mom" without even looking up, prompting the attractive woman to simply roll her eyes at this before going out to look for her son.

She missed the calculating look Jessi gave her as she retreated and the small curse the teenager bit back; she would have loved to have a bit more time with Eric, if only chatting and planning and talking shop.

Jessi's greeting to their mother was all the warning Eric had; it wasn't enough for him to get dressed, not even close. Still, it was enough for him to jump from his bed, where he'd been laying as he tamed the hard-on his sister had left him with, and quickly pull on his boxers; but just barely. The elastic snapped around his waist as the door came open. "Mom! I'm getting dressed here!" he called out over his shoulder, his back to the door.

"Oh hush, I was giving you baths and helping you get dressed not so long ago", his mother said, as she took the quickest of moments to admire his butt, which she thought looked like a younger version of his father. Indeed, she thought he resembled his father in a great many ways.

"That was when I was five, and even then, I only needed your help with buttons!" Eric protested, his embarrassment deepening.

Luckily, thinking about her husband reminded his mother why she'd come up in the first place. "Eric, I got a call from your dad on the way home. The roads are a mess, and he's going to be late, so he needs you to go out and salt the front porch and walkway before things re-freeze. There are some containers of winter mix in the garage." The mother said.

"Fine, just let me get dressed, will'ya?!" Eric replied in a tone just shy of snapping, as his embarrassment turned to frustration, before his mother relented and turned to leave.

Just a few moments later, when Eric was actually dressed, Jessi knocked on the door and without even waiting for a reply, she pushed her head inside. She was by now dressed in a fresh new shirt of some band no one could pronounce and a pair of sweatpants. She was at home; she could run around however she liked, so fuck it, right? "Hey bro... did I see that right, did mom just check you out?" She had, of course, checked first if their mother was in the vicinity before saying this; she wouldn't want to risk blowing the whole thing out.

"What?! No, she was just up here to tell me to do stuff." Eric replied quietly as he pulled a shirt over his head, but the thought wasn't so easy to put down as that. After all, he had proof of how big a perv his mom could be hidden not ten feet away. "What makes you even think that?" he asked Jessi at last, as he began pulling on his jeans.

Leaning against the frame of the door and crossing her arms under her tits, damn she did that pose often, and she didn't even realize it. Jessi smirked at Eric and gave him this smug superior look all older sisters had just mastered for some reason, including her. Usually, that look was accompanied by some teasing and some comments about how much of a loser or dork Eric was, but not since the event at the ski cabin. And neither now, as she proved by saying, "What? Don't tell me you missed the way she tried to downplay that she walked in on you half undressed. Also, that pause before she left... also, she kept your gaze on you for a moment longer than usual. I couldn't see it perfectly from my room, but I'm sure she checked you out. Sort of."

"She's a parent, I'm fairly sure finding ways to embarrass me is part of her job description, so walking in on me isn't so out of place. As for her looking at me too long or whatever, I was keeping my back to her the entire time, so she couldn't see I had a boner, so that's probably why; it just took her a second to realize what was going on. So yeah, just normal mom stuff, no checking anyone out." Even as Eric said this, the uncertainty couldn't be missed in his voice, his mind still pointed out the stash of his aunt's photos he'd found. "Besides, even if she was perving out, which she wasn't, she's nuts about dad, so there's no way it would be more than a stray thought."

Truth be told, Jessi was actually mostly teasing Eric at the moment; she was the one trying to embarrass him in this situation. She hadn't really seen their mom checking Eric out; it was more reading something into it than anything else. Perhaps she had, perhaps she hadn't, whatever the case, Jessi imagined that it could have happened and was happy to run with it. If mostly to have a bit of fun at her brother's behest. But then the idea of it being real and how hot that would be found its way into her head and suddenly she found the idea rather interesting. "Well," she said with a slight shrug and wiggled her eyebrows at Eric. "Yeah, she is. And who looks not so unlike dad when he was younger, huh? Ever looked in the mirror and compared yourself with an old photo of dad?"

Eric considered that for a moment, his sister wasn't exactly wrong after all. Then he gave a noncommittal shrug, as he started putting on his shoes, "And what if you're right?" came his retort, as he realized Jessi was teasing him a bit and decided to respond in kind, "Aren't you worried she might take your favorite toy away and keep it all to herself? After all, if there are two things we know for sure about mom, it's that she's got a secret, kinky side, and that she's not a big fan of the idea of you having sex. In fact, thinking about it, if she found out, she might start doing things with me just to keep me soft, so you can't have any. "

Truth be told, that was an idea that didn't sit well with Jessi at all. With a small pang of guilt and pain, she pushed herself away from the door frame and uncrossed her arms. "Okay, fine, I got it. But don't tell me you wouldn't like the idea of doing her, right?"

She studied her brother as she spoke these words, wanting to see how he thought about it. She was aware that their mother was one hell of a cougar, and since the cabin, she was even willing to admit that. And now she also knew, partially at least, about her hidden kinky side. Perhaps they could... the idea frightened her, so much that could go wrong.

Eric looked down, his teasing not distracting Jessi from her point. It was a point Eric was reluctant to examine, but he did. "Yeah... yeah, I think I kind of would." He admired her with deep embarrassment. "Just look at her, she's stacked, and..." Eric's mouth snapped shut as his mind went down another path for a moment; This conversation was getting close to ruining the game he was playing with his sister. Secretly, he'd always been attracted to older women, with a list that went all the way back to having a crush on his second grade teacher, and his mother wasn't excepted from that list. "Yeah, I would," he concluded at last.

For a short moment Jessi simply stood there watching Eric sort of embarrass himself, opening up like this in front of her. For a second she got the impression that he had just revealed something about himself to her, something she hadn't seen before. Something he was ashamed of perhaps? She couldn't say and she didn't push the point, not yet anyway. Later perhaps, but doing it now would simply be cruel. "Yeah, I guess she is stacked, huh?", she thus said with a smile that did not much to hide how thoughtful she was at this. She pushed away the small voice inside of her head that reminded her that she herself was anything but stacked and would most likely never be. "Also... it would make a lot of things less complicated, right? I mean... no more secrecy?"

She shrugged, not really sure how to say this all, it was all a bit new for her, and she first needed to sort her thoughts. "Sooo... hey, you know what? Let's talk about this once you've finished with the driveway, okay? I'm gonna have a surprise for you anyway." That was the moment the voice of their mother cut through the air and Jessi visibly twitched, as if she had feared that she was being caught. But the stacked MILF just called, *Jessi, come down and help me with dinner, yes?*

"Be right there, mom!" the teenager girl called back and then looked back at her brother-lover. "Okay, I guess... we'll talk later, okay?"


A 12-year-old boy who has already begun maturing physically, resembling his father in many ways. His personality is complex for his age; he's thoughtful and introspective, often considering the implications of his actions. He's also quite open-minded and accepting of unconventional ideas, as shown by his willingness to engage in controversial discussions with Jessi. Despite this, he exhibits typical pre-teen behaviors like embarrassment and frustration when confronted with adult situations.

For a short moment Jessi simply stood there watching Eric sort of embarrass himself, opening up like this in front of her. For a second she got the impression that he had just revealed something about himself to her, something she hadn't seen before. Something he was ashamed of perhaps? She couldn't say and she didn't push the point, not yet anyway. Later perhaps, but doing it now would simply be cruel. "Yeah, I guess she is stacked, huh?", she thus said with a smile that did not much to hide how thoughtful she was at this. She pushed away the small voice inside of her head that reminded her that she herself was anything but stacked and would most likely never be. "Also... it would make a lot of things less complicated, right? I mean... no more secrecy?"

She shrugged, not really sure how to say this all, it was all a bit new for her, and she first needed to sort her thoughts. "Sooo... hey, you know what? Let's talk about this once you've finished with the driveway, okay? I'm gonna have a surprise for you anyway." That was the moment the voice of their mother cut through the air and Jessi visibly twitched, as if she had feared that she was being caught. But the stacked MILF just called, *Jessi, come down and help me with dinner, yes?*

"Be right there, mom!" the teenager girl called back and then looked back at her brother-lover. "Okay, I guess... we'll talk later, okay?"

Eric nodded, "Yeah, I'll think about it, and we can talk it over later.", said Eric as he moved to the hall and quickly down the stairs, on his way to his own task.

A few minutes later, Eric was lugging a broom and a plastic, five gallon bucked, heave with a mix of rock salt and kitty litter out of the garage. He poured out small mounds of the mix, then, almost mechanically, began spreading the gritty material with the broom. He was lost, deep in thought; Jessi was right: if they could get their parents at least behind them, if not actually joining them in their fun, their lives would be so much easier. On the other hand, the risks were huge; who knew what would happen if they came down against them? At best, they'd watch the pair like hawks until they both moved out; at worst, they might send one of them to live somewhere else, and that was a truly scary thought for him. He'd just rediscovered his sister in a sense, emerging from the strife that had so recently been between them, and he didn't want to lose her again.

Then his mind shifted to another problem; Liz. It was already going to be hard to reconcile the girl he liked with the things he did with Jessi and her various playmates. Adding his mom and dad to things would only be another layer of difficulty to that situation. "Man, when did my life get so complicated?" he asked himself, or perhaps the world at large.