Irina Blackwell, Ch. 5

 

Chapter 5: Maddie’s Affections

 

There’s something at once repulsive and rapturous, in rewatching the videos.

My new masturbation fodder, my new porn. Seeing Maddie worship Irina’s cock and swallow her heavy loads, seeing her mount our boss and ride for England, seeing her completely submit to the dominant futanari over the course of almost four hours of recorded amateur pornography.

It’s wrong, I know. Wrong to be jealous of Irina and somehow jealous of Mads, as well. To want to be the blonde, but to want to be my boss. To wank myself to the point of frustration several times a day, and to think about the pair of them even when neither is present.

It makes Monday a slow day, and Tuesday much the same, culminating with a long after-work blowjob and a terribly voluminous facial. I’m somewhat out of focus, dissociated, the process passing by in a dreamy state. One moment I’m knocking on Irina’s door and the next I’m washing clean my face, at war within myself to cope with the fact that I both love and loathe what I am, where I am, and where I’m going.

Yet on Wednesday, the balance tips firmly into love.

‘Theo,’ Maddie says, appearing in my doorway, carrying a box of her possessions. ‘I’m your new assistant.’

I give some noncommittal response, half-aware. Mads is in a blue shirt today, loose and airy to fit the summer heat. Her blonde curls are resplendent as ever, bouncing about as she moves. The attractive short woman, about my age, is a shadow of Irina’s voluptuousness and yet striking in her own right. Her black skirt, running about her slender legs, draws the eye to smooth silky skin.

Our boss doesn’t materialise, but Maddie puts down her box of things and then disappears for a while, before returning with some moving men carrying a new desk that fits neatly into the corner of my office. And when all is settled, and the door is closed, the pretty blonde woman hovers somewhere between the front of my desk and the seat of her own.

‘Theo?’

She draws my attention from the screen. From the muted procession of fucking, my boss and this woman who helped to fuck me, in a sense. Who pushed me into something that is confusing, strange, and discomfortingly satisfying. Where might I be, if not for Maddie? Might I have instead remained down below, coping with the awkwardness? I certainly wouldn’t be blowing Irina twice a week, being railed by her once, and going out for meals on Saturdays.

I certainly wouldn’t be watching porn of the pair rutting like beasts, the clear dominant and the clear submissive, while Mads stands on the other side of my screen none the wiser.

‘Yes, Maddie?’

‘You…you really asked Irina to have me, well, service you? As part of my contract?’

How can I do anything but smile? Tendrilous is the energy that swims out from my head, tingling the tips of my fingers and toes. A powerful awareness that things aren’t all bad. That some of it is actually going to go my way, just as I desire.

‘I did,’ I say, pushing my feet against the chair. The import, in creating some gap between my legs and the desk, invokes a redness in the young woman’s cheeks. ‘And I take it you signed?’

‘I did,’ Mads says, eyes a little wet. ‘I just didn’t…couldn’t imagine…’

‘There’s a hierarchy here, Maddie. Irina at the top, me below Irina, and you below me. That’s what your contract says, however it’s been dressed up in legalese.’ My cock is quivering, growing hard, at the brilliance of things. ‘What’s your quota?’

‘Two blowjobs,’ she says, glancing away. Her ordinarily pale cheeks are flush, the colour of summer strawberries. ‘A titwank. And…you can fuck me once a week.’

It dawns on me, a thunderclap realisation, that this woman who seemed so out of reach is in truth a slut. She’s never seemed hugely keen on me, and I’ve never been massively excited by her – Irina was always the main curiosity, and that didn’t exactly turn out mundane – but here we are, each clearly wanting the other.

Is it the scenario that does it? Because Mads doesn’t look at all disgusted. Her pretty blue eyes flick down to my lap and then trace out my form, running up my body and settling on my face before diving below again.

Does she simply enjoy the power imbalance?

‘I want to cum in your mouth,’ I say, tapping a foot. ‘I want you to show me it, and I want you to swallow.’

She gingerly touches the front of the desk, fingers stroking. ‘I never…never thought you looked at me this way. And after the thing with you and Irina, I…kind of doubted you were even inclined towards women, Theo.’

‘My interest in Irina began because I thought she was a woman. Not because I knew she had a dick.’

Maddie slowly moves around to me, dragging her fingertips. ‘Funny that we’re kind of opposites,’ she says. ‘I had no interest because I thought she was a woman, but then she had that cock of hers…’

The beautiful blonde bites her lower lip, provoking a pang of jealousy. It’s silly, really. To compare myself to Irina isn’t to compare myself to some other man, but with someone borderline inhuman. The futanari is in many ways abundantly superhuman in her traits, with a cock more than a foot in length and balls that produce endlessly fat loads, and her stamina is off the charts.

And Maddie, slutty Mads, is a size-queen. I could have a porn-star cock and she’d still prefer Irina’s inhuman impressiveness.

But it doesn’t make the jealousy any softer.

‘Is that…is that what I think it is?’

Her voice, momentarily cold, bites into me and yanks me back into the present. The video. Shit! But to my surprise, Maddie giggles. She stares, blush growing deeper, brighter. I find myself frozen, halfway towards the mousepad, ogling the pretty woman with her hand stuffed down her skirt and the faintly sweet scent of her coochie juices wafting up as she begins to play with herself.

‘She told me that she’d sent you a copy,’ Maddie says, smiling strangely. ‘I didn’t imagine you’d want to watch it, though.’

‘It’s…it’s hot,’ I say, swallowing a lump in my throat. ‘Shameful, but–’

She shakes her head, curls bobbing. Mads turns to me, lips wet, eyes alight with lusty passion. ‘I think we’re past shame, Theo.’ The pretty blonde begins to lower herself, putting her hands on my knees. Her fingers, previously set to pleasuring her pussy, are visibly sticky, glistening. ‘This isn’t how I planned to work my way up, but here I am all the same.’

I take hold of her sticky hand by the wrist, provoking a widening of her eyes. ‘You’re dirty. And a fucking hypocrite.’ Maddie can only stare, shocked, as I yank the digits of that soiled hand towards my mouth. She trembles as I lick at her fingers, sucking them inside. ‘Mhm.’

Slurp. Schlup.

‘Th-eo…’

She tastes good. Clean, salty, a little sweet. Sticky as hell, eager to the point that it can’t just be Irina who does something for her. This coochie isn’t expecting Irina, after all, and it certainly has no suggestion of the dominant futanari about it. I’m too familiar with our boss to be mistaken about such.

‘In this room, you’re mine,’ I say, releasing her fingers. They twitch a little, and her eyes flutter. No displeasure, but an immense degree of surprise. ‘Not Irina’s. Here, you’re my toy. To make up for the fact that it was you who did this. You, who should’ve sided with me and not our boss, when you fucking knew she had a dick, when you knew that I didn’t know that, and when you blamed me all the same.’

‘Theo, I’m sorry I–’

She yelps a little when I seize her head, digging my fingers into those pretty curls. Innocent ringlets, when this woman is the farthest thing from such. And when I shove her head down against my crotch, against the prominent bulge therein, her eyes glisten and on some perverse reflex she kisses the shape, her hands scurrying to fondle my budding boner.

‘Sorry for what? Make this better. I can’t go back, but I can go forwards. And you’re going to make the future a whole lot brighter.’

I don’t have to command her. Maddie masterfully manages my belt and zipper as though she’s done it endless times before, young and eager and modern. And all power to her, really. All power to anyone who wants to enjoy themselves.

But it doesn’t justify how she treated me. No amount of apologising is going to send me into that alternate timeline, where Maddie supported me and showed empathy and presented solidarity.

Still, though.

A blowjob will do wonders.

Schlup. Schlick. ‘Mhm. Mumph.’

‘Ugh. Mads.’

There’s no reluctance. She latches onto my cock like a vampire to an exposed throat, taking in my foreskin-wrapped head and suckling on it with dedication, going so far as to jam her tantalising tongue up into the folds and tend to the opening of my helmet with saliva-slicked salaciousness.

‘Mumph. Mhm.’

Those pretty blue eyes look up at me, demanding something. An almost pleading look, a gaze suggestive of neediness. I’ve never seen it on a partner before. Blowjobs were always things that I was lucky to get, not something on demand. Not that this is, not entirely, but…

…contract-controlled Maddie is giving head with more passion than anyone else ever has.

‘You’re fucking–guh–filthy,’ I say, urging her, twisting my fingers about her curls. ‘Fantastic at sucking cock, though.’

It surprises me, how naturally it comes. To channel all the resentment I feel at this situation into something sexual, to push down her head and force her to take my cock deeper and deeper into her slutty mouth. To bask in the suction of her cheeks, the hungriness of her tongue, and the tight opening to her throat. That throat, which I know all too well can handle my six inches, given that it readily takes Irina’s twelve-plus.

Schlap. Slurp. Glugp.

‘Mhm-hm.’

Her eyes seem to roll back into their sockets as my bell-end pushes into her tight throat, and Maddie sucks with all the wilder abandon. As if to be dominated in this way is as much a rush as to serve a huge cock. As if mine will do, even if it’s not quite the size she’d like it to be.

And maybe she’s just picturing Irina or maybe she’s just wanting to vicariously please our dominant boss, but it’s enough for me in the heat of the moment.

‘Take it. Stupid fucking slut, take my–ugh–dick.’

I get both hands on her head and leave my seat, beginning to swing my hips. Taking out my anger, my frustration. To look down and witness half of the problem, the easily dealt with half, taking the entirety of my length inside her face, is a beautiful relief. To know that this isn’t a one-off but a regular thing, that the blonde bitch from downstairs who could’ve been my friend but wasn’t when push came to shove is going to suck me regularly, works wonders to set the world to rights.

Thup goes my balls against her pretty chin. Schlack goes her mouth, tightly sucking lips struggling from the sheer violent forcefulness of my thrusting. Glugp goes her throat, each and every time I spear into it, engulfing my cock in tremendous heat and a vice-like suction equivalent to any pussy I’ve ever fucked.

‘Mhm. Mhah.’

Maddie is touching herself, flicking the bean with wild passion. Her eyes stay locked on mine, as though some element of penitence itself turns her on. That pretty button nose of hers is swallowed by my unkempt pubes, and every time my nuts swing against her jaw I’m pretty sure she sticks her tongue out to lap at them.

But I forget myself. Forget what I’d commanded. I’ve lost control, and yet gained it in another fashion. I wanted to be as Irina is, to sit and be tended to, but today I need to be as Irina was, and to take by force.

‘Ugh. Cumslut bitch.’

I almost shout it, grunting as I deposit my load straight into the back of Maddie’s slutty throat. A big one, pent-up despite my excessive ejaculations over the past days. As if arousal itself has done wonders to ensure I’ve got quite the healthy amount to release.

And it all sprays out straight into Mads, right into her body. My sperm, going straight down her throat, right into her belly. What a fucking satisfying thought that is.

She even goes so far as to swallow, to bob her pretty little neck, the movements and increased tightness only ensuring that I’m fully milked into her fuck-hole face. I notice too late that she’s cumming herself, quivering and quaking, legs trembling against the floor and cheeks all the redder.

‘Mhm-hm. Mumph.’

Schlup. Glagp. Schlack.

The blonde slut continues to suck and nurse on me, and even though it’s passingly uncomfortable due to the post-orgasmic sensitivity, I’m hardly going to stop early. Not while she’s still climaxing herself, using her hands with recklessness between her thighs and having her throat stuffed with my dick.

‘Good,’ I say, patting her head. ‘Good. A million more and I–ugh–might actually thank you.’

There’s no cum left for her tongue, by the time I pull away. Maddie is almost disappointed, as if I’ve managed to awaken something in her. An interested look in her eyes that didn’t exist before.

A twin, perhaps, to that other notion: that I might not merely be interested in women, but plenty decent at taking control of them as well.

‘Shit, Theo,’ she says breathily. ‘Where’d that come from?’

‘From the same place it all does.’ I shrug, and begin doing up my trousers. ‘I’m a lot more of a pervert than I ever thought myself to be. Blame – or thank – Irina.’

Mads departs to clean up, hair messy and hands slick and breath smelling of my cum and cock. But she gives me that look as she goes, as if for permission. And in that look is something wonderful, as well.

A newfound appreciation?

Or the potential for one?

 

By the end of the first month of “working” with Maddie, I’m not sure what to make of things between us.

Sex with her is the highlight of my week, the only part of work that has me feeling something akin to normal. It has this suppressive effect on the Irina situation, stabilising the need to dissociate and wall myself off from the various compartments of my mind.

Sucking our boss’s dick, riding it, become more palatable, because the simple addition of Mads’s contract gives a new lens by which to see the world. No longer is it a simple matter of being perpetually at the mercy of my dominant futanari boss, but it’s also the case that I have Maddie on something like a leash.

Blowing loads in her slutty mouth. Dropping creampies in her tight pussy. Fucking her D-cup breasts and giving her pearl necklaces as a result.

And it’s weird, because I know on some level that she’s doing this simply because it’s in the contract, but on another…I think she enjoys it. As much as the pretty blonde is an obvious size-queen, that can’t be the only major kink she has which transforms the otherwise mundane into something sublime.

And it’s simply not so bad getting a heavy facial from Irina, knowing that I can give Mads one the following day if I so choose.

‘A change of plans,’ Irina says, when I’m done cleaning up after our Friday fuck. Even a bit dishevelled from her violent thrusting, with a glisten of sweat beading beneath her hairline, the exotic and enchanting Amazonian futanari is raw in her beauty, dark and delicious. ‘Something’s come up, so I won’t be able to make the date tomorrow.’ She fishes out one of her credit cards from her wallet, extending it towards me. ‘I’ve spoken to Mads and she’s willing to go in my stead. I did promise Saturday meals as part of your contract, and I’m nothing if not a woman of my word.’

‘Are you sure?’

Her smile is undecipherable, cryptic in its crescent-lipped fullness. ‘Entirely, honey. Mummy’s special boy shouldn’t suffer because of outside circumstances.’ She winks at me, emerald eyes enrapturing. ‘Go on, baby. It’s already booked. Takeshi’s in London. Two-star, but I’m sure they’ll earn a third soon enough.’

I gingerly accept the card, wired around this woman to find something amiss. What’s the trap, here? And yet just as worryingly, all the evidence of the last month, a week of my senior role and four with Maddie, suggests a certain amount of bothersome consistency to her behaviours.

The long game, I’m sure, but even so.

‘Fine, I guess. Uh, thank you, Mummy.’

Irina chuckles warmly. ‘It’s no problem, baby. You’re my best boy, and doing such a fine job with things.’ She shoos me with a hand, running the other through her mane of crimson. ‘Go on, Theo. Have a great weekend.’

Everything proceeds smoothly. Irina’s chauffeur collects me at six-thirty, with Maddie already present. She’s a little done-up, in fact, her makeup more sensual than its usual simplicity. Her dress is fairly long, reasonably conservative bar the way it presents plenty of amply-sized cleavage. Baby-blue, innocent like her curls, at odds with the voracious sex-slut that lurks within her mind.

We…we can actually sit and chat about things, and laugh, and it’s not so dissimilar from old times, back on the lower floors. Mads is a few months younger than me, so we’re on the same wavelength for the most part. Similar backgrounds, similar upbringings. And there’s no threat, no predatory vulgarity looming in the shadows like there is when I’m with Irina.

The restaurant is beautiful, some Asian fusion upmarket establishment. We order a mixture of things, sushi and Thai food, rice dishes and noodles. A little splurge, but I keep a vague eye on the costing. Irina spends plenty more just on account of her endless run of expensive Martinis, whereas neither myself nor Mads goes hard on the boozing.

And when we’re done eating, there’s a peaceful lull.

‘Do you like how things are?’

I say it, and she says it. Matter and anti-matter, provoking blushing laughter. A little awkward, mostly sweet. It’s a reasonable question, given how involved we are. How strange the situation is both at work and between ourselves.

‘You first,’ Maddie says, beating me to the punch. She leans against a hand, elbow on the table. Pretty blue eyes, beautiful face, all made up. Her mascara makes those eyes pop, and her pale pink lipstick looks sweet enough to eat. ‘Go on, Theo.’

I shrug. ‘It’s better now than it was. Now that you’re here.’

She surprises me by reaching halfway across the table with her free hand. As if wanting me to take it, to wrap my fingers in hers.

‘Theo?’

‘Is this an act, Mads?’

Maddie shakes her head, golden ringlets shifting. ‘No, but I appreciate that it might seem that way. Nothing in my contract says I need to like what we do, but I do, all the same.’

‘Why?’

She smirks, blushes a little brighter. ‘You’re a good-looking guy, Theo. And I don’t want to lose this job, so–’

‘Money, then.’

Mads glares. ‘Let me finish!’ She rolls her eyes, playfulness setting aside the brief annoyance. ‘I took the contract for money, okay? For money and for dick, yes, but…Irina’s taught me a few things about myself.’

‘Such as?’

She glances away, twists her mouth. ‘There’s no use having the biggest dick in the world at your disposal if the person who uses it doesn’t really want you.’ When Maddie sets her gaze back upon me, her eyelids flutter. ‘Irina’s not that interested in me, is she? All that she does with me is about you, really. Because you’ve got videos, too, and…and she fucks you better. She’s there, completely there, fully available.’

A chill pokes at my spine, crawls up the bones in my back. Maddie’s words are crisp and honest, wholly believable. It’s weird to hear them, yes, but I can’t take them for a lie. Irina’s always seemed to have this about me, and I’ve seen her videos with Mads, and I’ve heard her own admissions.

I was thinking about you the entire time, honey.

It disgusts me, but it also makes my cock tingle. ‘What are you saying, Maddie?’

She shifts that hand, curls and uncurls her fingers as if to clamour for my touch. ‘I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And there’s no way, with the demands Irina makes on me, with what the contract makes on me, that I’m going to be juggling boyfriends as well. But…I do get sex where I feel wanted, once a week.’

She smiles sweetly, looking nervous. ‘You’re a pretty good dom, Theo. I’m sure it’s just anger at me and channelling your frustrations, but–’

I reach for her hand, twisting my fingers through hers. Soft and silky, delicate. ‘It’s okay. You’re a good outlet for me, as well. I don’t feel, I don’t know, scared around you.’

Mads cocks her head to the side, holding my hand. ‘You never said if you like how things are. Not really.’

I find myself venting. Venting about how trapped I am, and how much Irina terrifies me. How stupid it feels to have sold my soul to this attractive but dominant devil, to sacrifice my life in the process, to have nothing in the way of my old dreams. But to realise at the same time that I like the money and I like the power and in some twisted sense I even like the way things are with Irina, as much as I don’t fully grasp the reasoning.

And Maddie nods, listens, giving me squeezes at the right moments, actually being on my side. To speak, to be heard, lightens the burden on my heart. For the first time since this whole thing began, I’ve got a confidant. Got an ally, where before I was alone.

‘Thank you, Maddie,’ I say, when all’s said. ‘I…didn’t realise how badly I needed to talk about this stuff.’

She rubs her fingers against mine. ‘You’re welcome, Theo. Anytime.’

‘Do…do you like it here?’

She smiles, a touch guilty. ‘It might sound weird, but despite what I said, I’m more sexually satisfied than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Irina really knows what she’s doing, even if she’s not really thinking about me.’

Somehow I can sit here and believe that this woman really does like me, really does feel more of a rapport with me than she does with our boss, and yet that admittance is a needle to the fabric of the soul, the puncture wound stealing warmth. As if my real worth here, the true test of whether or not things are genuine with Maddie, relies on the possibility that I’m better at sex than the dominant hung futanari with her endless stamina and massive loads.

And I hate myself for even worrying over it, but it’s there all the same.

‘Shall we get the bill?’ I say, withdrawing my hand. Anxiety surging. Dread, questioning everything. That hard to unseat worry that I’m second-best.

Mads gives me a warm smile. ‘What are you doing afterwards?’

‘What?’

She rolls her pretty blue eyes. ‘Do you want to come back to my place?’

It’s this awful thing, that I process everything now in times of rotas and contracts and schedules, because my first thought is: I’ve had two blowjobs, had one titwank, had one over-the-desk screwing to ape what Irina does to me.

‘You don’t have to do this, Maddie. It’s not–’

‘Fuck the contract,’ she says, grinning. ‘The night’s young, Theo. Let’s enjoy ourselves.’

I’m not sure how it happens, but it does. I’ve no urge to dominate her suddenly, simply to be with her. To snog her in the car on the way back to her place, to eat her pretty little pussy and have my cock sucked to completion and then to cuddle and to grope and to writhe around in bed until I’m ready to go again, and we fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

Not harsh, not brutal, not for the most part. And I’d think she might fake it if not for the fact that Mads is a squirter and her whole body trembles in the wake of my affections. And then it slowly dawns that this is real and that we’re outside the contract and that…that we’re just two people having sex, enjoying one another.

And we spend all of Sunday doing the same. And back at work, the contract goes out the window. Daily blowjobs, plenty of snatch-licking. Titwanking when I want it, most days ended – and sometimes begun, when Mads is feeling extra frisky – with an over-the-desk ploughing.

In some weird way, I start to come around to the possibility that out of the dominance and the contract and the dirty dealings, I’ve found myself something like a partner. Someone to confide in, make love to, and actually open up for. To be vulnerable with. To have feelings for that aren’t scary or at odds with how I know things should be.

But it’s too good to be true, isn’t it? And not because of anything Maddie does.

‘What happened to your contract with Mads?’ Irina says, a few Saturdays after the office romance kicks off. She smiles as she says it, neatly slicing through a large chunk of mostly-rare steak. Dangerous, predatory, even with her oozing gorgeousness. ‘Did the little slut take a liking to you?’

‘She…she wanted more than just raw fucking,’ I say. And my anxious brain says, plays back in her voice: I’m more sexually satisfied than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Fuck you, brain.

‘How sweet.’ Irina smirks, eyes enticing in their emerald depths. Consuming, engulfing. Like to face them is to face a maelstrom of dominating depravity. ‘In which case, I’d like to make an offer. One I’ll talk through with Mads, and the both of you together. But I’ll run it by you first, all the same. Seeing as you are, of course, the most important member in this little love triangle of ours.’

She eats a neat piece of meat, chewing quickly, sharply, and swallowing. Irina licks her lips and the sight sends a tremor through me, invoking a primal fear at once sensual and severe with such a simple movement of her tongue.

‘My mansion, and one million pounds per year,’ she says. ‘Between the both of you. Rising with inflation, paid out of my pocket. For the rest of your lives.’

‘What? You’re just giving us that?’

My boss chuckles. ‘There’s a catch, Theo. It’s a prize, to be won. And there’s a competition I have in mind. One way or another, your situation with Maddie can continue. I’m not going to take her from you – you’ve been giving better head, and taking my dick all the sweeter, since her arrival on the scene – but I am going to make clear your place. If you lose.’

I twitch my fingers, suffer the weight of a nervous lump in my throat. ‘What’s the catch?’

‘Mads is going to get off the pill. And I’m going to fuck her, just the once, after the fact. I’m going to attempt to breed her.’ As she speaks, my blood runs colder and colder. That jealous streak is all the fiercer, but there’s something else. Something vile, stirring up a thickness in my cock. A vision of those voluminous creampies, of that conversation over the phone that aroused me terribly. ‘Afterwards, I’ll have no more contact with her until things are settled, shall we say. And it would be in your best interest to forgo all other forms of sexual activity, focussing solely on trying to impregnate her yourself.’

Irina begins cutting another piece of steak, speaking with terrible nonchalance. ‘When she’s late, I’ll pay for testing. We’ll find out who the father is. Remember – my one load, your countless ones. And if you win, you get the money. You can run away, together, minted.’ She licks her lips again, and I flinch. ‘But if I win, Theo, if my one beats your countless, then I want you to move in with me. Both of you. I want you become my playthings, you in particular, and to do everything that I want. No more contract, no more limits. On-demand pleasure, whenever I want it. If that means spending a whole week under my desk, so be it. If that’s my mood, you’ll do it. And if you make this deal, and go back on it, I’ll take away everything, and keep Mads as a useful womb for my descendants.’ She lifts the bloodied piece of meat onto her fork. ‘What do you say, honey? Does Mummy’s game sound tempting?’

I zone out. Stare into space.

Maddie grabs my hand. ‘We should do it,’ she says. ‘This frees us, Theo. It makes everything right.’

Dissociation? I’m alone, sat in my lounge, with Maddie at my side. Clutching me, sweet and flowery, warm and welcome and yet I’m filled with dread. Terrified that this deal is too good to be true. That she wouldn’t offer it without it being a sure thing.

‘Mads, she wouldn’t offer it if she thought she’d lose.’

Maddie shakes her head, curls swaying. ‘I know my cycle, Theo. I can pick a bad day, and she’d be shit out of luck. Irina would have to be superhumanly virile, and nobody shoots that many sperm, of that high quality.’ She strokes my head, kisses my cheek, nuzzles my neck. ‘I want to be free of this. We can be free of this. With money, and a life of our own. A big house! A million quid a year! Never having to work again.’

I want to believe her, but there’s a niggle notion, sat in opposition. Because I know Irina Blackwell’s body, and it’s not mundane in the least. I know that she produces loads of such ridiculous quantity that no man can compete. Is she sterile? Is she virile? Somewhere in between? I don’t know enough about her physiology.

But I do know that Irina wouldn’t chance it.

‘You’ll win,’ I say to her in her office, the next time we’re at work. Mads wants to go through with it, but I’m still on edge. ‘You’ll win, and you know it.’

Irina, those half-rim glasses elegant upon her beautiful nose, simply shrugs. ‘I’m willing to even the odds, if you’re that convinced of my abilities, honey.’

‘What’s that even mean?’

‘It means that I’ll stop by on the day we decide on, and you can make sure I’m not giving my best.’ Irina smirks, a sickle-thing, demonically seductive and terrible in its implications. ‘Of course, I’ve got a rule. Given that my sperm, on that special day, is intended for a human body, you’re going to have to take it inside of yourself instead.’

Reason dictates that yes, milking her as best as possible should, in combination with Mads keeping an eye on her cycle, limit the chances of conception. ‘Fine. We can fuck all day.’

Irina shakes her head. ‘Oh, honey, I’ve no interest in that. I think if you’re so worried about my virility, then perhaps you should dispose of it. And isn’t it about time that you started savouring before you swallow?’

‘I…’

‘Would it be so bad, Theo? Given that there’s every chance you’ll win, and we’ll never have to do this again?’

Again I find myself zoning out, staring into space.

The choice is so capricious. A knife-edge thing. A chance at freedom, or heavier chains. If I win, then life will be blissfully simple. Do I want a child with Maddie? No, not exactly, but even if that falls apart, I feel as though I can trust her. We could split the money, sell the house, whatever. The sky’s the limit. And if I lose, then…

…then some part of me is okay with that, as well. To meet those enchanting emerald eyes, all sharp with mischief and dominance, is not to be disgusted. This woman, my futanari boss, effortlessly enthrals me.

And that nobler, bolder, chancier part of me says: there’s no way anyone, their balls utterly drained, can knock someone up. Not if Maddie picks a bad day, not if I do my part.

One million pounds per year, and a mansion.

‘I’ll do it,’ I say, nodding. ‘I’ll take the chance.’

Irina Blackwell grins mercilessly. Baleful beauty, and a shiver up my back.

 

She knocks on the door on the Sunday we’ve chosen, at nine a.m.

Mads worked out her cycle, found this day to be the lowest chance of fertilisation. So low, in fact, that it’s practically non-existent. You’d have to be so virile, have such ridiculously mighty sperm, that they’d not merely have the numbers but the endurance to survive until things looked brighter.

I find hope and a smile in that notion, even knowing I’m about to do something vulgar.

What, after all, is a day of sucking and swallowing a gorgeously evil futanari, if it means a final guarantee of victory?

Irina smirks smugly when I open the door, statuesque and sensual. She’s in a knee-length black skirt with knee-high leather boots, her blouse-shirt purple and half-open to reveal her overflowing cleavage. Her crimson hair is done up in a high ponytail, eyes dark in their Egyptian styling, emeralds in her duskily beautiful face.

‘Hello, honey,’ my boss says. ‘Might I come in?’

I nod, blush, wary of her and this and all that surrounds it. Irina steps inside and struts through to my living room, eyeing the place up with a kind of subtle judgement. Beneath her, and her grand wealth. A zoo environment, a cage for a human. She says nothing, yet her muted surprise – people actually live like this? – speaks volumes.

She wastes little time, however. ‘God, I’ve been looking forward to today.’ Irina unclasps her skirt and lets it fall around her ankles, stepping out of the clump of clothing. Her cock swings freely between her thick thighs, a length of dark and foreboding power. No underwear, but a lacy black garter belt and a pair of stockings that disappear into her high boots. ‘Come on, Theo. Mummy’s got ever so much milk for you.’

I tremble on the spot to behold her. My boss unbuckles her long boots and takes them off, curling and uncurling her tights-clad toes in the open air. She undoes her blouse, and removes her bra, freeing that enormous pair of appealingly saggy breasts, a set of insanely fat K-cup monstrosities with broad dark bumpy areolae and a pleasing heft to them I can’t quite remove my eyes from.

This woman is my ideal, and yet the worst person imaginable. Dick or no dick, if she were simply sweet, kind, egalitarian, I’d be smitten. And yet if she were anyone else, she’d not be Irina Blackwell. Not my dominant boss.

Those emeralds swallow me, and Irina beckons with a finger. ‘Come to Mummy, honey.’

Her cock twitches as I gingerly approach, a thing of delectable darkness. It’s difficult, even with how much I dislike her, to not think her body a masterpiece, penis included. The size of it, the shape of it, the bronze gorgeousness of her silky skin. An impressive and undeniably appealing girl-dick.

But her balls, by contrast, are threatening. The mammoth pair of orchids are like balled fists, brutish and heavy, spilling out in their loose sack across the seat of the sofa between her womanly and muscular thighs.

Threatening because, as much as I’d have it otherwise, I’m soon going to taste their contents again. Threatening because, as much as I’d have it otherwise, their contents might potentially lay claim to the womb of my sort-of girlfriend. Threatening because, as much as I’d have it otherwise, I don’t dread either of the possibilities anywhere near enough.

‘Funny,’ Irina says, resting a hand atop my scalp as I drop down to my knees. ‘I don’t know if you’re doing this because you fear me, or because you want to. I’m not sure which is more flattering.’

‘I’m doing this because I want to guarantee that I’ll win,’ I say, taking hold of her shaft. It pushes back, swells at my touch. Heat, heaviness. Her drooping foreskin, her vein-laced member, originating in that thick oil-black jungle of pubes, all suggest a primal eroticism to what should really be merely mechanical. ‘Doing this your way is just…just how it has to be.’

I move quickly, acting before she can say something twisted or warped. A shrouded glans against my lips and then past them, warming my mouth, tasting the faintest bit salty and otherwise shower-fresh clean. Her cock continues to thicken, to grow further engorged within my mouth, a sensation that’s darkly pleasant, rottenly interesting.

‘It’s okay if it’s both, honey.’ My boss tussles my hair, smirking smugly down at me. ‘Such lengths you go to protest, and for what? To suck my dick under my desk, to–mhm–suck it in your flat’s living room?’

Schlup. Slurp.

As I suckle, my cheeks grow flush. It’s the heat of her body, yes, but it’s something else besides. The way she begins to throb and pulsate, neediness coursing along her member, shuddering against my lips and cheeks and tastebuds while I dutifully take care of her cock.

‘You’re doing it so dispassionately, Theo, but the–aah–passion leaks through. I turn you on, honey. You don’t call me Mummy for nothing.’

Her salty bitter precum begins to ooze forth, glazing my tastebuds. It comes consistently, in great quantity, as her arousal begins to hit its stride. Irina’s cock, some more-than-a-foot-long terror, strains at my lips and dominates my mouth. Little by little as I bob my head, sucking and slurping, her foreskin rolls backwards.

And as much as I need to hate it, to hate her, I love how her bell-end feels, exposed to the ministrations of my suckling cheeks and lascivious tongue. Lustrous and spongy and ever so fucking fat.

Schlurp. Schlack.

‘Are you really going to spend all day pretending you don’t like this, honey?’ She cocks her head, smiles viciously. Full lips, fully evil. ‘Ugh. I’m seeing Mads at five, so you’ve got almost eight hours of this. You might as well enjoy yourself.’

Enjoy myself, she says. Enjoy sucking her cock. Enjoy sucking this venal creature.

No. Never. I won’t. No matter how rich her pseudo-feminine musk is, how pleasant her penis feels in my mouth, how surprisingly tasty her salty-bitter precum. I can separate all of that from her, and she is evil. She is Irina Blackwell.

My hands go fap-fap-fap on her meaty member and my mouth goes schlup-schlap-slurp on her salacious shaft but my mind isn’t in it. My heart’s not in it. This is just a task, a role, a job, and it blows.

Not that Irina ultimately seems to mind, relaxing into my sofa as she is. Watching me with those hooded green eyes, gemstones surrounded by Egyptian-styled mascara with long lashes, effortlessly enticing. She says nothing for a while, content to merely observe. To let out little gasps and moans, trembling now and then.

‘My morning loads are always–ughn–the largest, honey,’ Irina says, eventually. ‘You’re in for a treat.’

I barely prepare myself for the eruption. My boss grunts, knees shaking with a singularly striking shudder, and then the floodgates open. I’d forgotten what it’s like, to be on the receiving end of Irina Blackwell. To give my tastebuds front-row seats to the virile Vesuvius of her loins.

Thick ropes, dense strings. Shotgun splatters. Such alien heat and foreign texture, covering my tongue, drenching my mind in the fearsome flavours of the dominant futanari.

‘You’ve got–mhm–permission to swallow, today.’ Irina shivers, smiles with profound snark. ‘Seeing as you want to–ugh–suck out as many competitors as possible…’

I can’t escape her taste, so salty and tangy, so rich and slightly bitter. Her load is monstrously mucky, stupendously viscous, as if utterly packed with sperm. It tangles about, clings to everything, is bothersome to get rid of as swallowing such sticky spooge requires great effort.

Gulp, gulp, gulp goes the bobbing of my throat, working against the odds. Irina just keeps cumming, shooting rope after string after splatter, inhumanly productive. Gulp, gulp, gulp.

And it’s just the first. Just the first of the day.

She remains hard as a rock, despite having been so thoroughly drained.

The taste of her semen, so rich and potent, seems to stir something in me. Causes my cock to ache as it throbs against my boxer shorts, provokes a passion I shouldn’t have. What was robotic becomes, little by little, as the morning drags on, eager.

‘Thought so,’ Irina says, stroking my hair, as I slow my pace and give uncharacteristic appreciation to her juicy glans. ‘This might be the last time you ever do this, honey. Would it be so wrong to make the most of it?’

I don’t quite know what comes over me. Slowly, nervously, guiltily, I pull back from her swollen tip and stare at it, marvelling at the sight of it. So big, so darkly purple, so vigorous. Suddenly I’m smooching it, kissing its lustrous sponginess, treating it like royalty, like a lover.

Slurp. Schmack.

‘Mhm.’

‘You love my body, honey, so worship it. Worship that which you so clearly–aah–crave.’

I do, don’t I? I hate that I do, shouldn’t, but I do.

Her cock is as gorgeous as she is, a bronze length of dark deviancy, salty against my lips with all its juiciness, capable of producing endless quantities of healthy-tasting virile pride. I kiss and smooch, pressing my lips to the contours of her crown, sending out my eager tongue to brush beneath the rim of her bell-end and taste the concentrated flavours of her sublimely sensual dick.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be doing this thing. As bad as it is, I like it. Bad as it is, wrong as it is, her cock feels so good against my lips. And if this is the last day…so be it. I’ve nothing to lose. I swallowed my pride a long time ago, and I’ve got to swallow hers or else risk Mads becoming some broodmare for her evil lineage.

Schlap. Schlurp.

‘God, I hope I win,’ she says, patting my head. ‘You’re a wonderful cocksucker, Theo. Better than Maddie by far.’

I shiver as she says it, half-ignoring her, slipping her glans between my lips and sucking eagerly on it. This is just mechanical, just a process. Nothing to do with her. I’m bisexual, or at least have a thing for girl-dick, and who can blame me? But it’s nothing to do with Irina. I’m just making the most of it. Just…just doing my best not to hate what I’m forced into.

‘You could–mhm–taste it, couldn’t you? The quality of my seed.’ She smiles salaciously, a succubus of dark designs. Irina cocks her head to the side, emerald eyes engulfing me. ‘I just love the thought of my sperm swimming across your tastebuds, honey. All the more that you appreciate my taste. Ugh, you’re so clearly meant for me.’

She rests her hand in a proprietary fashion atop my scalp, guiding me gently as I bob my head along the first few inches of her cock, working for that second climax. Working to drain her balls, that’s all. Working to lower the odds, to give Mads and I an even grander chance of coming out on top.

Schlup. Schlip.

‘Ughn. Good boy. Mummy’s good boy.’

I know this helmet so well, it’s almost chilling. My mouth recognises its shape perfectly, such that I can move my tongue on autopilot, always striking just the right spots to send her closer and closer to that creamiest of conclusions. I should dread the thought, but I don’t. More and more it’s clear that I hate nothing about this, only her. If she were anyone but Irina, I’d suck her off every single day and swallow every last mouthful of her dirtily delicious dick-milk.

And in time, she cums again. Fat ropes sloshing forth, the grand total of gooey jism no smaller than the last eruption. Ever so much spooge, spraying and shooting, dense and stringy, salty and tangy, ever so richly flavoured. This is semen, sperm. This is Irina Blackwell, swimming about my mouth.

God, the thought is perverse. It makes me tremble, elicits a deep discomfort in my cock and balls. I meet her gaze, as if to rebel against my inner demons, but find myself petrified by the terrible beauty of that stare.

So proud, so smug. ‘It’s okay if you like how I taste,’ Irina says, smirking, voluptuous lips hinting at perfect white teeth. ‘It’s only me, Theo. Everything. My looks, my smells, my legs and my breasts. And my mind, my schemes, my victory.’ She exhales, a particularly heavy burst slathering my cum-covered tongue. ‘Mhm. I wish you’d chosen this back in the office, but–ugh–your eyes tell the truth. How much you appreciate what my body can produce.’

Gulp, gulp, gulp. I swallow, ignore her, sending billions of salty swimmers hurtling down into my stomach, the threat of them vanquished. How many more loads? How many more sperms? Gulp, gulp, gulp.

It just goes on. She stays hard, and I keep sucking. Another ejaculation, another series of swallowing, and I keep sucking. She stays hard. Over, and over. Like time’s stuck, keeps repeating, flicking back to the beginning of things.

I find myself playing with her big balls and running my fingers through her black pubes, appreciating their silky ticklishness. And little by little, it becomes twisted. With time so vague, and no clock in sight, my lust overcoming reason, what should be mechanical and to the point – drain her fucking balls! – becomes slutty, serene.

Sucking on her testicles. Kissing her furry base, rubbing my nose into the musky coils. Taking my time, smooching her helmet and licking her cock like a big dangerous lollipop. I’m dimly aware of some fiendish part of me, growing encouraged by the filthiness of today’s deeds, that whispers ruinous words.

It might not be so bad, if you lose. You’d have an out! You could suck this cock every day, without guilt! No shame, because you lost. Fair and square!

And imagine how good her loads will taste, knowing that they put a bun in Maddie’s oven?

‘I bloody knew it,’ Irina says, convulsing, the fourth, or eighth, or twelfth fat ejaculation on the cusp of racing up that ridiculous weapon. ‘Such passion, Theo. You want my–ughn–sperm so badly.’ She licks her lips, grunts, as her cum-vein bulges against my hand. ‘There’s nothing wrong, honey. I’m deserving of this. I’m your fucking goddess. Mhm. You should be fucking honoured to taste my genes.’

Her dense glans trembles on my flattened tongue, and then erupts. ‘Mhm.’

I moan around her cock, receiving something I can only consider delicious. It is, isn’t it? It’s strange, distinctly carnal, but creamy and salty and tangy and rich. And surely the first load, or the second, because it’s ever so big. Ever so viscous and monumental in quantity.

God, I’ve still got a day of this. I’m wary of smiling but what a send-off. Sticky salty spooge, from a fat futanari dick and balls. Strong healthy virile seed, treating my mouth like a pussy, my tongue like a red carpet.

But this time, Irina stops me from continuing. ‘Half four, honey,’ she says, and I shudder. No. It can’t be. ‘We’d best pay Mads a visit.’ She winks, and leaves me kneeling, thoughts scattered madly.

It can’t be. Her loads are still so big.

‘Irina?’

‘Up, Theo. It’s time to put a baby in that pretty blonde’s belly.’

‘But your loads…’

Her smile is morbid, rawest darkest. Irina pats my head as though I’m a pet, an idiot, a simpleton. ‘Honey, you’ve done a fine job clearing out the dregs. But I’m a futanari, Theo. Mads’s womb is going to belong to me, okay? But don’t worry, you dirty boy. Today’s just a taster of things to come. We’re going to be a family, honey.’

‘I…’

‘A deal’s a deal, Theo. Or are you going to lose everything you’ve worked so hard for?’

It’s only late afternoon, but it feels like the depths of the coldest night of my life.