Master's Journey: Stranger in the Stacks #7 (Patreon)

Author's Note: Choice last time was 3!

[story] [futa/futa] [more below]

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‭You can’t hold back much longer, and it seems like your options are limited, but things are coming to a head no matter what. Fortunately, Masata’s request isn’t exactly out of your comfort zone, and despite your rebellious streak, you’re more than willing to take her up on it, especially in the heat of the moment as your pleasure builds and builds.

Licking your lips, you look up at your own cock as it dangles above your face, Masata still holding your lower half aloft as she drills downward into your asshole, sending spikes of intense anal pleasure shuddering throughout your body. As you open your mouth to catch the inevitable rays of your own spunk, though, you realize that you can do Masata one better. Bent into this piledriver position, nothing but your own flexibility is stopping you from pushing things to the next level -- you lean up, wrapping your lips eagerly around your own slender cock while keeping your eyes on Masata’s face, watching with barely-hidden delight as her eyes widen, her aggressive expression abruptly shifting to one of impressed surprise. You make a show of pleasuring yourself while she fucks you, swirling your tongue around your own shaft, your tight ass clenching down hard around her thick, glistening girldick, milking her for all she’s worth as you prepare to unload down your own throat.

Admittedly, giving Masata what she wants isn’t making your attempts to stave off climax any easier, and you soon feel the tell-tale spasms shuddering through your body, heralds of the explosion to come. It arrives moments later, your mouth wrapped tight around your own cock while Masata rails you from above, and you feel glug after glug of your own hot spunk filling your mouth, coating your tongue before pouring down your throat. You shudder and moan, letting a little of it dribble out of your mouth and down your face so your jailer knows you’ve satisfied her request -- and its only then that she finally gives you a treat of her own.

You swallow just in time to gasp in excitement as pump after pump of hot spunk fills your ass, flooding you with creamy warmth as Masata’s cock pulsates inside of you. An aftershock of shudders rolls through your, one eyelash fluttering as you finally start to come down from the high of your own climax, and after a moment Masata finally drops you back to the tile floor, her thick shaft sliding free of you. “Not bad, no-val,” she huffs, trying not to show the fact that she’s out of breath. “Maybe someone will find some use for you out in the Stacks, after all.”

“Heh... maybe...” you chuckle under your breath, still a little fuck-drunk and using the water shower from above to quickly clean up. Now, though, it’s hopefully time to actually get out of this place. Giving yourself a moment to rest while Masata fits her armor back into to place, you finally stand up and nod in her direction. “Don’t suppose I’ll be getting any, ah... non-prison clothes, eh?”

“You’ll be provided with the basics,” she says, suddenly all-business again now that she’s gotten her rocks off. It’s honestly a little astounding how quickly she’s reverted to cold and authoritative. “Come this way.”

With your body cleaned off, your piercings back in place, and your cavities thoroughly “searched,” you finally make your way behind Masata to the last leg of your journey -- a final processing area where you’re given the bare necessities. These consist of a pair of short black boots, loose black trousers, a belt, an oversized white blouse with sleeves reaching to the elbow, and a flimsy leather wallet containing a fresh, if fragile, identification card, and nine square nickel coins, known as sems. From what little you know about this place’s currency, nine sems may be able to get you a couple sandwiches. Not exactly enough to start a new life with.

“Have fun out there,” Masata says, more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and as you pass through your final processing you finally see the door leading out into the city, daylight leaking in from beneath it. You swallow hard, uncertain what to expect, but not to Masata and start making your way for it. You’re stopped briefly, though, by a nudge from a familiar dwarf, who smirks up at you from his conspicuous guarding of the door. You nod down to Hom as he passes you a pistol and holster, and he nods back.

“You didn’t get that from me, no-val,” he mutters under his breath, though unlike Masata, he seems to be in genuinely good spirits, if a bit of a sleaze. “The Stacks are hungry and they never get full -- don’t let ‘em take a bite outta you.”

You nod again, and set your sights back to the exit, finally pushing the door open and making your way out into the city of Vauntreux. It’s a lot to take in, all at once -- lofty smokestacks and glittering tinkerlights give the city a glum, smokey haze even in the middle of the day, cobblestone streets beneath you leading every which way, the only guidance being streetsigns reading off names and directions that are utterly meaningless to you. Squat structures made of grimy brick and metal frames are decorated by dully-lit signs advertising their purpose, and as you get your bearings, you realize from the horizon that you’re high up, possibly at the city’s apex -- before you is a labyrinth of winding, tightly-knit alleys and avenues, loosely clustered into boroughs, hoods, and plazas that all look a little different from each other, but all look so specifically... Vauntreux.

You’re alone, unguided, broke, hungry, with a little piece of paper saying who you are, and a gun. As far as this place is concerned, you barely even have a name.

Where in the world do you go from here?

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[anal] [selfsuck] [creampie] [self-facial]