John Ringo - Emerald Sea

“Don’t you dare get up,” Megan said, sternly. “We’ve barely gotten started.”

She worked his back as the other girls worked on his arms and shoulders, then the three of them worked down his legs. As they massaged he began to relax and at one point gave a faint snore. He started at that and began to rise.

“And you haven’t been getting enough sleep apparently,” Megan said, pushing him back down. By then they’d worked most of the way down his legs and she pushed on him to roll over. She began massaging his pectorals and nodded downward at Shanea.

Shanea looked at her with a happy grin and slid downward, taking him in her mouth.

“Megan!” he said, his eyes flying open and his arms coming up.

“No, Shanea,” Megan grinned. “Now lie there and enjoy.”

“This isn’t right,” Paul said, lying back anyway. “People are starving and…”

“And if you die, who will care about them?” Megan asked. “Chansa? Celine? ”

“You have a point,” Paul admitted.

She slid over and propped his head in her lap, then gestured at the platter. Amber had to think about it for a moment but then her eyes lit up and she slid the platter over, taking a plum from it and offering it to Paul.

Megan picked up a loaf of bread, still warm from the ovens, and broke off a piece. As soon as Paul was finished with the plum she handed him the bread and he tore into that as if he were starving.

“Softly,” she said. “Slowly. You need to build your strength back up. And I’ll tell you something, Paul Bowman, you are not leaving this… building until you are looking better than when you came in. And you had better be back soon for more pampering.”

“This isn’t right,” Paul muttered, but he also didn’t try to rise.

“My neck’s getting tired,” Shanea admitted. “You never give me enough practice at this, Paul.”

“See?” Megan said, trying not to either laugh or cry. “You’ve been neglecting Shanea shamelessly, forcing her to lose the best of her arts.”

“Oral sex does not get babies made,” Paul pointed out.

“Babies won’t get made, or have a protector, if you don’t take care of yourself,” Megan said, ruthlessly. “Amber, can you remember…?” She pointed to where Shanea was idly stroking at his member.

“Yes,” Amber said, moving down to replace the other girl. As she started, Paul groaned and reached out a hand to her.

“Amber,” he said, sadly. “Of all the things I’ve done, I feel the worst about you.”

Worse than throwing the world into barbarism? Megan thought, surprised at the sudden intensity of her anger.

“I think she’s probably happier this way,” was all she said. She picked up another piece of bread as Shanea snuggled into his side.

“Sometimes the caged nightingale won’t sing,” Paul murmured stroking the hair of the woman who was fellating him. “Did you know she was a… friend before the Fall?”

“Like Christel?” Megan asked, neutrally.

“Yes, I care for our daughter as well. But Amber could not adjust to the confinement I had to impose on her.” He looked up and back at Megan. “You seem to have adjusted well.”

That’s because I’m working on the key to the lock at this very moment.

“Some people can’t handle change,” she replied, picking up another piece of bread and feeding it to him. Shanea had slipped out of her top and was now lightly licking his chest, and he groaned again.

“Amber,” he said, breathlessly.

The suit Mirta had made for the brain-drained girl covered her almost entirely, somewhat like a jumpsuit. But it was made of nearly transparent material that shifted in color and opaqueness as the light hit it, hiding and revealing in apparent randomness. It also had well-placed buttons and ties, and Amber obediently opened up the bottoms and mounted Paul.

He groaned again as she began to stroke and then came quickly.

“This is all too much,” Paul said as Amber lifted herself off. Shanea picked up a cloth and wiped him clean, then ensured the job by lowering herself onto him again, working the area with her tongue, her head moving like a cat.

“This is all too much,” Paul murmured again, then his head lay heavy in her lap.

Shanea looked up with an unhappy expression when she heard the snore.

“Stay here with him,” Megan said, slipping his head off her lap and deftly sliding a pillow under it. “When he wakes up, send Amber to me and give him whatever he needs. No, let me make that clearer, when he wakes up, make sure he comes again, one way or another. But send Amber to me first.”

She picked up the platter and stood up, walking to the door. It was only when she was through it that she realized she was the only one in the room who hadn’t gotten involved in one form of sex or another and she was horrified to find herself regretting it.

“How is he?” Christel asked.

“Sleeping,” Megan replied. Mirta took the tray from her and she thanked the seamstress with a nod.

“He never sleeps here!” Christel said.

“He will for the next few days if I’ve got my ducks in a row,” Megan said. “He needs the rest.”

“He’s supposed to be guarded when he’s sleeping,” Christel pointed out. “Did he ask about the accounts?”

“The accounts never came up,” Megan said. “Although other things did,” she added with a grin.

“He’ll never stay,” Christel said. “He has things to do.”

“Look, when he wakes up, first he gets screwed then we feed him,” Megan said, lifting her fingers in order. “We feed him heavily, lots of meat and carbohydrates; he’s bound to be hungry after two bouts of sex. When he’s fed, we get him to come again. Between the food and the sex he’ll fall asleep again . When he wakes up again , we might have an argument out of him. But if we have to, all the girls strip naked and pile on him in a giant scrum of bodies. There’s not a man on earth who will try to run away if he’s got fifteen naked girls holding him down and begging him to take them.”

“You have a point,” Christel said with a grin of her own.

“This is really important,” Megan pointed out, again.

“I know,” Christel replied. “Should somebody else go in there?”

“You know anyone else who has the patience of Amber and Shanea?” Megan asked, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you think I’m not in there. It’s going to be lots of fun watching him snore.”

“What about guards?” Christel asked.

“What about them?” Megan shrugged. “He’s got a PPF; what more does he need?”

“They don’t activate automatically anymore,” Christel pointed out. “He has to summon it. What if someone broke in and tried to assassinate him?”

“Who?” Megan said, exasperated. “They’d have to get through the Changed guards around the castle and then through us, which, admittedly, wouldn’t be hard. But by then he’d be up and prepared. He’s safe , Christel. The only person who is going to kill Paul is Paul himself. And that’s what we’ve got to convince him not to do.”

Megan was in the distillery when Amber came to get her and she hurried at once to Paul’s room, pulling off the robe she’d used to cover her outfit as she went.

When she entered Shanea was already fellating him, stroking up and down hard. Paul looked up in annoyance as the door opened and then in something like shame when he saw who it was.

“I don’t like being watched,” he said, his face wrinkling up in worry.

“Then why don’t I join in?” Megan said, stripping off the panties of her outfit and pushing Shanea aside as she slid onto him.