Indebted - Part 6
Story by fugi88 on SoFurry
The civil war has arrived at the brothel. What does that mean for the brothel, now under Northen control? Contains one sex scene near the end.
Written by fugi88, commissions open
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Indebted, part 6, a several-day time skip from reading the letter in part 5
I woke up to the low rumbling of the tanks outside.
"They're here", said skinny Joe.
"No shit", said muscle Mike. "We're fucked."
"They'll bomb the hell out of the brothel to paralyse the police, i reckon", he said. "No good deed goes unpunished."
There were screams and some terrific ripped-celery noise, no, bones snapping from the outside. Were they running over the southern military?!
Through the foggy window, the sun hadn't quite risen yet, casting a reddish glow across this gory scene. Or maybe it was just a squirt of blood against the window. We couldn't tell in our panicked minds.
There were noises of panic from the other werewolves in the room, who had likely come to the same conclusion as Muscle Mike. They hadn't the luxury of the letter's advanced warning.
“i know a safe space upstairs, reserved for category I, cushions and supplies galore.", Skinny Joe said in a hushed tone, as if to hide his voice from the others.
He started dressing as the rumbling only got louder and closer, Muscle Mike and i following his lead.
Skinny Joe made a start for the hallway and to the stairs as i was still pulling my shirt over my head.
"They management don't know yet", said Muscle Mike. "They're probably not even awake, so we're lucky"
Well, no, because as we topped the stairs, we saw the one-eyed brothel manager sleepwalking through the double doors of the staff-only section.
He wasn't sleepwalking for long though. A loud shatter and then a bang as the tank shot a shell through the window of the straight wing's main room. I heard some floor-beams fall alongside the various shelves and filing cabinets upstairs.
Let me just tell you how loud this bang was. It's so loud it hurts, so obnoxious that it deafens you for a hot second, so powerful it shakes you a little, so there you feel a little ill. These aren't human tanks. These were home-grown with the excess of power that was common for these creatures.
"They didn't demolish our route", reassured Skinny Joe.
"But they will soon", predicted muscle Mike.
"What the fuck are you three doing here?!", asked the brothel manager, raising his raspy voice. “It's strictly off limits to anyone who's not the staff and not the unpunished!!"
"No time to talk, we need to get to the preservation room!", urged Muscle Mike. "Or we're fucked!"
The manager didn't understand. That didn't matter. Muscle Mike was pushing through, past him, to get to the little room.
The manager chased him through the staff only area. We simply ran after the two.
We reached the safe-room. The brothel manager was furious at Muscle Mike. "And you think it's ok to play these silly games?"
He was too angry to have sense, yet again. I could almost see drops of anger dripping from his claws as he raised one of his arms to release his anger into Muscle Mike.
"Keep away from Muscle Mike", warned Skinny Joe. “You'll be losing too much."
“You're nothing but a whore and a shitty one at that!", retaliated the screaming manager. “He broke my beauty sleep so i'll break his beauty!"
“Don't you dare attack him", said Skinny Joe, between gritted teeth.
“He's not under your employment", replied the manager. "Keep out of this."
Fingerquoting, Skinny Joe simply replied “ 'employment' ".
I heard a flurry of footsteps from the hall, followed by a "What's all this shouting over?!", screamed by yellow-hair. “I was having my first wet dream in months!", a TMI from yellow-hair.
Another shatter of glass and a loud bang. The many walls muted it a little. It wasn't onto the brothel, though.
"Ah, i see, sergeant grey is having flashbacks", explained yellow-hair to us. "Pushing the north back in their place, the cold sea, those years back. It takes a toll"
What the actual fuck are you doing? Muscle mike's about to die and you're going on a fucking rant?!
Oh, but the brothel manager had taken a little pause to comprehend yellow-hair's words.
“That's right, take a breath, calm down, and realise these are your peers", chimed black-arms, stepping into the room.
Muscle Mike took the distraction as an opportunity to hide in the now-locked circular metal bubble. "SEATS THREE WEREWOLVES" said a sign near the door. Really…, reserved for category I?
"Look what you've done!", screamed the brothel manager to the two new werewolves. “I guess we'll have to punish these two by association…!"
I was glared at by his ragged eye. It was the kind that constantly twitched, even more so now that he was irate with irritation.
“Leave them alone, too", said black-arms. "They're the… the only reason you can afford that gin! The oil of life, too!"
I saw a scowl erupt onto the manager's face, but he comprehended gin and comprehended blood.
Defused.
"Lets get into the saferoom, quick", said black-arms.
Yellow-hair knocked on the door and announced his name. And again. Only on the third time did he get in.
We all shoved ourselves into the little bubble of safety, save for the manager, who we locked out in caution, his rapid fists trying to pull open the locked door in vain. We were not three werewolves. We were two werewolves and three humans. And two humans are the size of one and a quarter werewolves. (1.25/2)*3 is 1.88 werewolves, roughly 2. We were equivalent to four werewolves. One werewolf too much.
It wasn't too comfortable. I was squashed between yellow-hair and black-arms, jostled by their little comfort-seeking movements. I realised it felt nice though, so i decided to accept it.
In order from the door to the other side, sat yellow-hair, me, black-arms, Skinny Joe, and Muscle Mike.
It was a weird space. A long bench sat around the circumference of the the bubble, some kind of thin foam padding covering every inch of the exposed surface. There sat three lap-belts, like those seen on some buses. We didn't bother with them. In the middle lay some bare metal floor. It was cramped so we ended up touching the sides of our feet. Black-arms wiggled his toes. Skinny Joe gently stomped on them. A little brown electric light sat in the center, up above us, lighting us all up in some grim shadow. It flickered wickedly, almost as tired and stressed as the two units i was stuck between.
"What now?", asked Muscle Mike.
"We'll camp here for a few hours", said Skinny Joe. "The coup will pass us soon. You did make the brothel fire resistant, didn't you, Muscle Mike?"
"Only the two homosexual wings", said Muscle Mike. "This place is too big."
"Ugh", said Skinny Joe. “Well, there goes the straight wing."
We heard banging outside again. The raspy muted voice of the one-eyed brothel asshole was somehow penetrating the soundproof bubble. “Let me in!"
Erm, no thanks. You'll kill us all, we're sure.
We heard a muted boom. The tanks had shot a building across the street. Through the many walls and soundproof cage, it was almost inaudible, but the tanks were incredibly loud. The raspy voice stopped in shock.
“Where's the food?", asked black-arms.
“In the cabinets above you", said Skinny Joe. “Not that you'll need it."
“Don't mind if i do!", said black-arms.
“We will", said Muscle Mike and Skinny Joe, in an out-of-sync unison.
“Fine", said black-arms, a certain almost-faux-disappointment in his voice.
This place was relatively boring. We had to talk to pass the time, i guess.
“Where's straight-ears?", i asked.
"He's probably gone to a different saferoom", said black-arms. “The others have their own saferooms. They're way more comfortable."
“Let's go there", i said.
“Well, that's too dangerous", said Skinny Joe. “Do that and you'll likely end up killing yourse-"
A boom. Some floor collapsed beneath us. A fleshy noise. The brothel manger had likely fallen. Or maybe not.
We camped out for the next few hours, talking. It was comfortable here, being between the two werewolves. It was a little sweaty but i was touch-deprived, and their large frames were beginning to rest onto me. Black-arms fell asleep and pushed me into yellow-hair. It felt amazing to be squashed like this.
"We're from the north!" shouted a voice with a foreign accent through the muffling. “Your liberation is here!"
“I thought they wanted to destroy the police through us…?", i said. “Are we not getting bombs?"
“Raw speculation", said Skinny Joe. "No bomb."
Skinny Joe leaned over to slide open a shutter in the door. I hadn't seen that window under the light. “Looks legit", he said. He cautiously unlocked the door.
He was the first to step out. He shook hands with the wiry werewolf standing there, wearing a wide cheesy smile to improve first impressions. Muscle Mike followed soon after. I was pinned between the two hunks, neither of which were awake enough to be willing to leave. I elected to sit here for a little while longer instead.
I watched as they discussed the new polices to be brought here. I wasn't really listening.
After a little while, black-arms rose from his slumber.
The wiry, grey-haired guy standing there continued discussions. "So, most of the money is flowing to the police, right?"
"About 40%, i think, but we'll need the accountant to be sure", said Skinny Joe. "Get straight-ears", he said, directed at Muscle Mike.
The little builder trotted down the hall to grab the accountant, who was likely in a slumber. Black-arms got up and had a look at the two in conversation. "What's been going on?"
"We've just been discussing the decriminalisation of prostitution", said Skinny Joe. "You get to keep your workers and you just need to redirect the bribe into 'taxes'."
"Ah, so we'll be financially better off?", asked black-arms. "Gosh, that'll be helpful"
"Very much so", said Skinny Joe. "Just don't tell anyone... We don't need another, let's say, industrial action happening again."
A wink, referring back to part 3, no doubt.
"The great thing about our prostitution bill is that you don't need to adjust to horrific standards", The wiry man said with a raspy voice. Not the dark and angry voice of the manager (rest in peace, i think), but a softer, more gentle voice. "As your little... lawyer said, right?"
"We all know just how helpful that'd be, right?", said Skinny Joe.
"Yeah, i guess", said Black-Arms, a little wave of tiredness washing over him. It was early for him, i guess.
Straight-ears came into the room and ran a running glance across us. Yellow-hair was also coming to be and the two werewolves locked eyes.
"What the fuck is happening?", they asked, barely in sync.
"We're going to have an easier time", said Skinny Joe. "No need to pay the bribe, just a small coup tax. No investigations. Simplicity and an easy time for everyone."
"How much?", asked Skinny Joe. "Remember that bribes were about 40% of our money"
“30% of ¤300, actually", said straight-ears.
"we request 20%", said the wiry gentleman in his gentle and raspy voice, as if to negotiate. He seemed old. "All you need to pay. For our troubles in bringing you freedom. Viva el feptentrio!"
Spanish...? Wouldn't "norte" fit better?
I shoved that little worry aside.
"Oh, time, we need to continue towards the center", he said, checking his wristwatch. "We'll come back and if we don't get the money you won't have a brothel."
"Deal", said yellow-arms. Not quite confident though.
"Viva el feptentrio", said the departing gentleman.
“viva", the sloozy yellow-arms repeated, blinking his eyes like the glitchy light just outside the brothel.
And just like that, we were alone together under the forced control of a new country. A small thinking-pause.
“And there come the north again, with their silly little independence movement", said Muscle Mike. “Things'd better if they could just surrender to the south. Useless war, useless language, useless everything."
“Woah, slow down", said Skinny Joe. “Don't forget which side you're on! They're the ones that are fighting for your rights. You wanted this, right?"
“What, so i could go work on some mile-high scaffolding doing some ass-boring masonry for some shitty government building?!", retaliated muscle mike. “I hate it here with all my heart. I want to leave, damn you and your libido!"
“I'm not saying you should go work in the shitty places; the portal is in the grand fields of the mid-country. It'd be so easy to go back", said Skinny Joe. “Just take a bus to the nearby village"
“You're too optimistic. Did you forget just how hard it is to get back?!", said the increasingly agitated Muscle Mike. “I'll spend years waiting for my visa, and they'll still say no, you'll tell, you'll snitch, you'll fuck us all up. That fucking sucks!"
“I see your point, but", started Slim Joe. “There are weak spots. There are the carriers. You've got the brothel's money to pay for the trip, and you're back in the human world. Sure, a psych ward, but still in the human world!"
Muscle Mike struggled to reply.
“Just ¤1,000 per person, ¤500 for the transfer from south city. We can make it happen", said Skinny Joe.
“Absolutely fucking not", said yellow-hair. “You're the perfect fit for the brothel and i'm not letting you go."
“It was in the fucking contract", said Skinny Joe.
“The contract you said was written by a snail", said yellow-hair.
“But we can still try to guess what it meant", argued Skinny Joe. “And Muscle Mike is free to go once he pays the loan."
“Snails can't write terms and conditions"
“But when they do, it's on us, lawyers, to understand. And it's in your best interest to keep Muscle Mike happy".
“Or what?"
“Let's just say that the plaster we used was… not quite up to stretch."
Muscle mike gave a pained expression. Skinny Joe winked.
“Without him, you're fucked", said Skinny Joe. “We're fucked, as he would say, if he chooses to splash some alcohol onto the plaster."
“Can confirm", said Muscle Mike. Was he lying?
“We'll just keep the gin away from him, then", replied black-arms. "It'd be better in the long run
“Good luck", said Skinny Joe with a smirk.
“Now then, where the fuck is the brothel manager?", i asked, half to distract us from Skinny Joe's little trick and half to get info.
"How would we know?!", asked black-arms “Just a bang and mush, he's gone!"
“He might've died", said Muscle Mike. “One of the times we wouldn't be fucked."
“Wait, fuck, he might not've…" said Slim Joe. “He's a little trickster sometimes."
“Fuck! Check the money!", screamed yellow-arms to Muscle Mike, the fittest of the group. “Here's they key; unlock the money-room and look for the cash!"
It was the evening yet again and the clientele were different. Military men in fancy costumes, fancy costumes i had a thing for, fancy costumes with the words “viva la tramuntana y fin a laf doloref!" stitched onto the shoulder. From my limited Spanish knowledge, it seemed that “s" was replaced with “f" in this dialect, such that the final phase was “long live the north and end to the pains!".
Turns out the manager had left with quite a hefty sum of the money. Straight-ears was stressed, knowing that the 20% couldn't be paid.
Skinny Joe was here. He told me all about the way the north had their own dialect of Spanish and made it a point to use it instead of English. I've heard of the way the motorway signs try to communicate to people a basic concept like “no tirar bafura", followed by the translation below saying “don't litter". The problem was that the English part would be scratched off or covered by some spray-paint screaming “¡hablar efpañol!", possibly even “¡hablar efpañol Ð feptentrio!" if there was space.
I forgot how much i liked being an amateur linguist. It's one of the main things that influenced my decision to move to Barcelona; to get a fresh start in a place with a fresh language.
The military men wondered the brothel. They were still most certainly customers even if they were still in uniform, still armed, still with authority. If they wanted to use our services, they'd be stripping down anyhow.
And it just turned out one little subgroup came up to face us three with their little smug smiles. I didn't know if they didn't expect to see us humans here. But still, we matched up, fairly typical stuff, a mere ¤200 demanded from my little soldier. It was the novelty, i guess, and the fact that ¤40 would go back to them in terms of the little 20% tax.
Nothing much, we three ended up finding our individual sex rooms, i with this costumed gentleman ready to give a taste of northen sex.
He got a condom ready.
The gay military guy undressed in front of me. First to go was the utility belt, almost police-officeresque in style, containing a handful of weapons. Next was the urban-coloured camouflage-patterned t-shirt. It revealed a fit chest, one accustomed to the trials of being a soldier. It reveals pecs of a sharp nature, the nipples happily residing just on the lower line, the abs a small lake of crests exuding confidence and strength. His arms, too, were strong and thick, defined with thick muscles. His hands were big yet somehow dexterous, at least for a werewolf.
And the next to leave was his trousers. They hid two legs of great size, thighs the width of a log and calves large and proportionate, elegantly built with aincent-greek-level artmanship.
This guy had a physique formed from true exercise; not the silly gym-rat fake-bodies but the applied, real muscle. And that made him seem just that little more dangerous, a little more powerful. Oh, how i had craved to be dominated by a werewolf like him!
“You're not going to touch yourself", he said. “If you cum, it'll be from me."
An interesting challenge.
He took of his underpants, revealing a flaccid dick. He beckoned to me with a weird kind of furrowed-eyebrow smirk on his face, the kind that was a dominant “i have power over you" smirk. Oh, how i loved that face!
I walked over to him, slowly, seductively. He simply glared at me with his eyes. It was a lustful expression, but with a very clear element of pride and domination shining through.
He grabbed my back with his muscular arm, spreading his cold palm across the small of my back as he pushed me into his body, the warm hair embracing my face and tickling my nose. I simply wrapped my arm likewise around him.
He pushed me down a little to push me onto his navel and told me to begin using my mouth, so i massaged the hair there with my lips, sticking my tongue into the navel as i continued to move around.
I was pushed down onto the now-half-erect shaft, my chin making contact with the hard member. He used one hand to hold my scalp, wrapping the hair around his fingers to keep me from moving away, pulling back to use his other hand to guide the half-floppy member onto my lips.
I teased the tip with my tongue. He instead tapped me on the shoulder, passed me the condom, and told me to put it onto his member. “You're more experienced then i", he said.
I ripped open the foil packaging, a little like the cheap clinical ketchup packets we had in the cafeteria. Cheap and mass-produced. Do i really trust it to hold back? Of course i do. Skinny Joe had always told me that there were strict rules on medical devices, which did include condoms and other contraceptive devices.
Inside it lay the rubber barrier which i had come to become quite familiar with; a little bulblike protrusion at the tip on the rubber membrane connecting it to the ring around it.
I made sure to keep it the correct direction; membrane underneath the ring such that it rolled properly.
I pushed back the foreskin, revealing a delicate purple glans, clean and beautiful; even the ridge underneath was clean from segma. I pushed the little bulb onto the tip and held the rubber ring against the glans, careful to use my natural little hand tremors to stimulate it from the condom alone.
And i rolled the ring down, the rubber form adjusting happily to the form of his dick.
I looked up to his face. He was smiling in his dominant way. He was obviously happy to have me here, his willing submissive. Oh, pay me and i'll do anything for you! Nothing is taboo!
I went back to his cock, urged by his gentle pushing of the hand holding my head.
I pushed my lips against his tip in a kind of kiss, pushing my tongue through them to touch the rubbery shaft with my nimble muscle. I used an up-down motion to tease him.
He was having none of that. He pushed my head straight onto the member and forced me to lower my jaw to accept it in a show of power.
The member dove deep into my throat, into the gag reflex zone.
And i dutifully swished my tongue over its firm length. It got more erect as i continued rubbing at it, the full length beginning to push towards the back of my throat. I couldn't do anything for it, though, as the member curled itself down into my throat. I began pushing back to prevent myself from suffocating. The hand holding me forced me take a rhythm in my sucking, a compromise between comfort and his desire.
He moaned a little as i used my tongue and lips to pump pleasure into the member, slowly swishing around.
He only slowly got louder, my hands suddenly grabbing his buttocks and giving them a playful, slow massage-squeezes, using them as an anchor to not only push myself away with, but to thrust myself suddenly onto his dick.
I felt my chin make contact with his balls, lovely little pleasure-lumps rubbing against my skin, against my stubble. He liked the texture.
I got only more passionate from then, moving back and forth to feel that dick fill and leave my mouth, become present and absent, go from being in me to being in me.
He pulled me away with some force. It was a little painful on my ruffled hair, but the pain quickly faded as he pulled me up from my knees. He wanted to show his dominance over me, his clear physical superiority. I was dangling from his hands, held into the air, his smirk and furrowed eyes staring at me to communicate the raw power his werewolf body had over mine.
I could have came right there, staring into his eyes, his masculine “you fell into my trap" expression sending the butterflies of my stomach into their panicked wind-tunnel flight.
I wanted him to mark me as his. It was that simple now, that basic, that primitive. I wanted him to show me what the werewolf instincts where capable of.
He moved me to the bed and with an authoritative push and hold, kept me pinned to the mattress, still staring into his eyes.
He released his grip and from the belt he had taken off, revealed a pair of handcuffs. I hadn't expected that the military would bother themselves with such things.
I was turned onto my back and had my hands shoved there, my face forced into the mattress by a different hand, almost suffocating me. He took joy in trapping inferiors in such positions.
He was almost teasingly slow with how he clipped my wrist into the two metal loops, somehow managing one-handed to bind me and restrain me.
Suddenly, i was forcefully pushed back onto my bare back, my hands needing to wiggle a little such that the metal of the restraints wouldn't dig into skin. They weren't tightly done, these handcuffs. Maybe it was the tightest they went, designed for the werewolf form.
My legs were pulled apart to reveal my genitals to his glaring eyes. I was under his control, he made sure to let me know, his erect shaft completing the picture, slowly approaching the area, i eventually feeling the hard, rubber-covered rod touch my balls.
He used both of his hands to grab my calves and lift them over his shoulders. When my buttocks started flying to account for his tall body, he gave up on that idea and simply held my left leg's calve in his hand, his dick's tip moving to reach my asshole, focusing itself into the centre of the ring. He was ready to thrust. Was i ready to accept?
I took a deep breath and felt it displace the butterflies. I could feel my heartbeat under my navel, his throbbing erection shaking the asshole i had. The tip sometimes strayed onto my taint, where all the unexpecting nerves tingled in joy, my body ready to accept it.
He could see just how much i was enjoying it right now and just how much joy i was getting ready for.
I wanted him in there right now. He kept me waiting a little while.
He dropped my legs and grabbed a bottle of lube. How could i have forgotten?
He spread a large dollop onto his hand, and knelt down to access my region. He lifted up my balls, tickling them a little. He pushed the lube onto my asshole, coating it in the viscous, slightly cold fluid.
And he pushed a finger through, to massage the interior, spreading lube inside and keeping me well-coated, well-prepared to accept his member.
And he pulled out, giving up the massage, pushing the dick back onto my asshole.
It parted the muscle a little, his little smirk at my pleasure only magnifying the feelings i was getting.
And i let him in, with one fell thrust, pushing into my arsehole and entering the cavity, where he hit my prostate like a targeted missile.
“Target found", he noted.
And he began thrusting, slowly at first, the slow and sensual strokes testing the grip the condom had. He was satisfied that the condom stayed put, and i was satisfied he was satisfying himself in me.
He slowly picked up the pace, rubbing against the prostate as if trying to start a fire. His tip danced inside my cavity in ways i couldn't expect, the nerves down there tingling in pure pleasure. His balls made contact with the boundary at one point. Not that it ever mattered.
He kept going, pushing in and out, his balls like a pendulum, knocking like a debt-collector against my arsehole. I'd welcome them in if they fit.
And the feelings were getting intense, the tingling interfacing with the old tension in the weirdest way. I needed to release them. I tried releasing my hand to grab my member and give it the release it was asking for, but i found that it only pulled on the handcuff and wouldn't set itself free.
“You're never going to orgasm if you need to do that", said the dominant werewolf. “Let me do it for you."
He took a hand and grabbed my dick, and sensually, slowly, he began running his hair over the little glans exposed at the foreskin. It sent thunderbolts of tingles into me but provided little release. he'd distracted himself from the thrusting too, leading to quite the situation of low stimulation.
“Go harder", i said, actually begged. I was surprised i had become so desperate i couldn't control my voice. I couldn't say, only beg.
He cast an authoritative gaze at my face which i realised had somehow contorted itself to this horny expression. I quickly tried righting it, but he saw past it.
I then felt him pull his hand away as he began thrusting again. I tipped my head back as the stimulation came back, somehow overpowering now.
He also lost the careful, precise control he had over himself. He began thrusting in a much, much more unrestrained way as he began to value his own feelings over my being teased.
It felt amazing to be the receptor for his newfound force, the victim of his excessive pent-upedness, my prostate being punched by the cock not unlike a punching bag, my ass convulsing in reaction to this foreign energy, this shocking sex.
I could feel my dick doing dry-convulsions, twitching as if to stimulate itself. It felt stronger, more raw to know i had no control over how my dick would be able to release its energy.
He didn't care to tease anymore, putting no more military discipline into careful thrusts. No, it was about his release, and i was ever-happy to serve as the receptor for his energy.
His dick continued moving back and forth inside my anus, picking up the pace as he searched for his most stimulating rhythm.
I had to begin using the Kegel exercises i had taught myself to stimulate my dick. It had the involuntary effect of squeezing against his dick. He could only moan now in raw ecstasy from my little mistake, my now-intentional self-stimulation technique providing resistance for his rubbery member.
And he took his other hand and grabbed my chest with it, squeezing hard, using it as a way to hold and steady himself, to hold and posses me as his new fleshlight, his sexual toy. I continued squeezing as i felt the feelings grow to the most intense state they had come to, and i realised that i could feel the visceral feeling of liquid slowly climbing its way up through my urethra. This was the fruit of my labor, our one-night stand pushing us together.
He wasn't done, though. He continued pushing but also fell to a strange fate as he had to slow down his thrusts, ending in a strong push inwards as he stopped and breathed out a large sigh of some form of release. And i felt the throbbing erection release liquid into my anal cavity,
He was done, but he wasn't. He pulled out and let his shaft slump down. He took my body and turned it over. He undid the handcuffs. I was shaking form the power of the orgasm.
He took my dick and wrapped his mouth around it, sending a sudden spike of stimulation up the still-unsatisfied shaft. He glared at me whilst he did this, his moving around my dick. he was prepared to suck the life out of it, i was sure. He used his tongue to etch his way around the foreskin, his way around the shaft, his way around it. It was novel stimulation i really could do with, and he knew that every second his mouth spent around m dick was both some of the most pleasant feelings i had every felt and some of the worst teasing i had felt.
Ad he slowed down, to keep the feelings sharp and fresh, careful to tease me away from the orgasm.
And it took about fifteen minutes of superslow tongue movement to get me anywhere near to the orgasm again.
But suddenly, i felt it well up inside of me and he could most certainly tell. My dick throbbed once. No cum. A second time. More cum. And more. His mouth was almost filled yet he still swallowed. and the orgasm hit just a second later.
It was a wave of euphoric pleasure, his careful timed sex keeping me from feeling it until now, and i ran out of breath. I gave in to it and collapsed, the post-orgasm glow washing over me.
“It was good, wasn't it?", said the werewolf, having cleaned the dick and having removed himself from it.
“Y- yeah", i mumbled back.
“Nice." he said, in a gentle voice. “Time's up now, i need to go to night guard."
“viva el norte", he said, leaving the sex room, closing the door peacefully, leaving me alone in this room with me and the orgasm glow. I almost fainted.
It was a good night, w'all decided, eating lunch in the cafeteria. I made a hefty sum from the plenty other military men who took joy in us humans, eager to get a taste of those they liberated.
It was nice seeing that the brothel was still holding together; none of the other humans had been lost in the tank blasts. They loved it there, in their spacious safe-rooms.
But Onita had a little bit of insight to offer. Turns out she'd been to the north on a little client-sponsored tour, an escort for a faux-honeymoon. For such an economically productive region, it didn't quite seem like the most organised place. Street planning was as brilliant as the shine of a muddy car, their official governmental signs lacking a common asthetic, heck, even a common orthography; some, particularly the more south-sympathetic ones went for preserving the “s" and “z" letters. The others made no such effort, also eradicating the “q" and “c" letters. Whilst one went for “la nuevo ley por las proceduras de la tribunal", another would simply say “La konfilum nufu por tafmin tirafiku". It presented quite the confusion for foreiginers, as was intended by the northenists.
Turns out there was a little bit of political charge behind your choice of subdialect; go for the official, English-y words and you voice your pro-south opinion. Go for the dialect-specific, foreign words, and you voice your pro-north opinion. Orthography too; use the standard one and you're pro-south, the weird one and you're pro-north. It was a rule of thumb with as many exceptions as the verb “tirar" has; none.
Remember my client, the one who said “viva el norte"? What opinion do the soldiers themselves have? Did the all have the same opinion? Are they really a unified force? And, importantly, are the north really as organised and well-put-together as we have come to believe?
Stay tuned for part 7, where the humans yet again need to find a saferoom
Some notes:
“…," after really isn't a typo; it indicates double-hesitation and new clause; English is my native tongue and i will do with it what i will.
Gosh, I'm such a linguist and I've made a dialect of Spanish just for worldbuilding.
New words:
"Feptentrio" comes from Latin “septentrio", meaning “northerly", appropiated to “north"
“tramuntana", comes from Catalan “tramuntana", meaning “north".
“knofilum" comes from Latin “consilum", meaning “plan"
“nufu" comes from Arabic “?????", almost similar to “nuevo", meaning “new"
"tafmin tirafiku" comes from Arabic “??????? ?????????", meaning “graphic design" (i chose Arabic because quite a few Spanish words already have Arabic roots and my dictionary wouldn't come up with Latin for “graphic design")
I'm planning for the character of a different series to go on a honeymoon to the north and see all the interesting things there. Spoiler: English isn't seen in such a positive light there.
Yes, i am using the word “sloozy" for a mix between “woozy", “sleepy", and “drowsy". Go use this word please! I'd love to coin new English words!
The break between the checking-money line and the evening was built because i just couldn't write lol
Little notes from today's editing session:
“Muscle Mike took the distraction as an opportunity to hide in the now-locked safe-room"
I like this little quote because it implies that in the course of reading the sentence, Muscle Mike's already locked himself in.
Expect yet more of this kind of note
“A wink, referring back to part 3, no doubt."
(i also refer you to part 3, and part 1, too, even if it does have the weird anal douching mentioned ????)
Muscle Mike, i'm sorry
I actually really hate the fact that it's obvious that Muscle Mike hates it here. It's clear that what sex he does do isn't consensual beyond the surface-level contract he “agreed to" and that seriously icks me out now in a way it didn't when i first started writing. Yay for personal growth.
I could remove this from part 6, but then the story would have continuity issues and i don't want that. I'll fix that in a planned sequel to the Indebted series, where a much more ethical brothel comes into existence and Muscle Mike (among other non consenting characters) simply ?are absent from the cast?.
In my little plot outline for part 10, i was very much sure to give Muscle Mike a rewards for what i forced him to suffer.
There's a very clear line in my brain between “intentional suffering" in fictional works, where the character is designed with the explicit purpose to suffer and “accidental suffering", where we realise that the character is seriously suffering but the author doesn't realise it. It leaves a very bad taste in my mouth to be this morally corrupt.
I'm sorry Muscle Mike, like genuine guilty-feeling taboo-trodden sorry.
Sex scene notes
I can't quite describe the face the military man was making inside the sex scene, but i do have images one can use as a visual reference
This story is a pitiful 3K words without the sex scene, so i made sure to make it long and teasing… even if i am writing it on Tuesday, publishing-day, because ?procrastination?, so it won't have had two passes of reading and editing like the rest, leading to lower quality, which makes this a very much ill-advised idea ????????????????????
Gosh, i don't use emoji often enough ???????????? sorry not sorry
Let me admit that yes, i am a virgin, and my only experience with condoms comes down to pulling one down over a vegetable during a sex ed class and accidentally ripping it. I was made an example of how not to do it.
I really should write more about using condoms as a sex tool; if the plot section of indebted has the moral “stay out of debt", i might as well let the erotica itself have the moral of “use protection".
I think this is one of the better sex scenes i wrote. I'll go edit it later, i guess, for the Indebted: Sex Scene Omnibus little extra i plan to send off
The brothel does have showers and razors. I should mention them more often, maybe for next part's sex scene.
I'm basing the protagonist's stubble off mine. I only shaved a few days ago and the annoying little hairs are coming back! I'm too dumb for a unixbeard and too young to look like a wise stylish old man of the hill.
Sometimes i suprise myself when i write; plenty of details here just suddenly appeared from my inner monolouge going “here's a great idea". That's why this general plot and story arc has meandered and bounced around so much from a simple brothel soap opera to a "change society" plot. Same for the handcuffs and having black-arms sleep on the protagonist