John Ringo: Emerald Sea

“Hey, mine,” Shanea said, jokingly.

“Later maybe,” Megan said, sliding up and down on him. Fortunately he’d been premoistened and she found herself rapidly lubricating the area. After a short time she rolled over and pulled him onto her, grabbing his buttocks and digging her fingernails in. He pumped at her hard and rapidly and, as always, came a bit too soon.

“I need to go,” Paul said, getting to his feet.

“Not until you’ve had something to eat,” Megan said, gesturing at his robe. Shanea obediently picked it up and put it on him.

“Come on out in the common room,” Megan said. “The rest of the girls want to see you, too.”

She cleaned up, put on her bottoms and led him out into the common room, settling him on some pillows with girls on either side. The she went to the dining room, dragging Shanea with her.

“Marlene,” she called from beyond the doorway. She had already determined that a field extended out for at least a meter into the dining room. If one of the harem girls moved into the field she got a very unpleasant pain jolt. She wondered if it extended to the other side of the doorway as well. If not, it might be possible to throw yourself through the field. On the other hand, she had no intention of trying to find out.

“You rang?” Marlene said, coming through the door with a tray covered by a silver lid.

“Thank God,” Megan said, taking the tray.

“And I’ve made up another with cakes and other goodies so the girls can eat, too,” Marlene said as a servant came through the doorway. “He might not if they don’t have anything.”

“Thank you,” Megan said, nodding at Shanea to take the second tray.

“I heard why you are doing this,” Marlene said, looking her in the eye.

“Just my duty to help my lord and master,” Megan replied, smiling.

“Mirta says more with a glance than you do with a sentence,” Marlene grinned. “Paul might like a couple of those cakes as well; make sure the girls don’t stuff themselves silly.”

“I will,” Megan said. “Later.”

Megan walked back to where Paul was listening to Ashly tell about her latest triumph in backgammon. It was apparent that he was trying to be interested and failing miserably.

“More food?” he asked, as Megan sat down and opened up the cover.

Marlene had outdone herself. There was some sort of meat covered in a red wine sauce and beautifully sculpted portions of potatoes, lightly grilled tomatoes and a green mash that had been shaped into the form of a flower. Shanea had opened up the other tray and was distributing small, glazed cakes to the girls, one apiece, and whispering that they were supposed to make them last.

“More food,” Megan replied, picking up a fork as he reached for it. “Ah, ah, you don’t do anything for yourself.”

“I can feed myself,” Paul said, but he let her section small bites of the food and shovel them in his mouth. When a few crumbs fell off the fork, Ashly helpfully leaned forward and licked them off of him. By then Christel had turned up with another carafe of chilled wine and fed him sips between bites.

“What are you doing to me?” Paul asked, looking at Megan.

“Pampering you,” Megan said. “We’ll stop when you learn to take care of yourself.”

“Okay, I promise not to learn to take care of myself,” Paul said, laughing as the last of the food was served.

“Good,” Megan said, honestly. Having him here a lot worked perfectly. She unbelted his robe and kissed his chest, licking at it lightly.

“Megan, not here,” he groaned.

“Here,” she said, reaching over and pushing Ashly’s head towards his crotch. She would have grabbed Shanea, not knowing how Ashly would feel about it, but Shanea was just out of reach.

Suddenly she found a breast in her face as Karie sidled up on one side and she backed away as the rest of the girls closed in on him.

She stood up and looked at Christel who winked back at her. So there was more than one plan afoot; good.

Megan backed away from the pile and gestured with her head at Christel.

“How do we get him back to sleep?” Megan whispered.

“Oh, I think when they’re done with him he’ll sleep,” Christel chuckled quietly.

“I think they’ll all sleep,” Megan said, turning her head to the side. Paul wasn’t the only one who was having fun in the pile. Ashly, who was still stroking for all her neck would bear, was sitting on Shanea’s face. And there was no way that Shanea had been forced to the position; she’d been on the other side of the pile to start. But Shanea wasn’t lacking as somebody’s hand was down in her crotch and that led to… maybe Velva…

“It looks like an erotic M.C. Escher painting,” Megan muttered, shaking her head.

“Good work.” Christel chuckled again.

“Sure, laugh,” Megan replied. “I’ve got distillation to attend to.”

“Go for it,” Christel said, stripping off her clothes. “I’ve got better things to do. All this needs is a half a ton of whipped cream and five more males.”

Megan shook her head as Christel writhed into the group. She fully intended to just go back to her, lonely, workroom and keep distilling the various substances she had concocted. But the more she thought about it, the more she watched, just standing there as the pile writhed in a tangle of limbs like some giant fleshy amoeba.

But far more attractive.

“Oh the hell with perfume.” She sighed, aware that she had reached a point where she wasn’t about to go to her workroom. Although the bath had some interest. Finally, she took a deep, shuddering breath, stripped off her clothes and dove into the pile.

Christel was right; it needed whipped cream.

Paul looked slightly shamefaced when he woke up in a pile of female limbs. But the first thing he saw was Megan, leaning on one arm, watching him.

“Was it just my imagination, or did I see your face in the middle of… this,” he asked, gesturing at the girls, most of whom were still sleeping.

“It wasn’t your imagination,” Megan replied, shrugging.

He watched the way that moved her breasts and shook his head.

“I… didn’t figure you for this sort of thing,” he said, carefully.

“Neither did I,” Megan admitted. “But it was pretty fun once I got over the idea.”

“I have to get up,” Paul said, trying to figure out how to crawl out and disturb the least number of people.

“You are staying here at least one more day,” Megan said, sternly. “You looked like death-on-a-cracker when you came in and you still don’t look good.”

“I’ve got things I have to do,” Paul said. “Besides go to the bathroom.”

“It’s over there.” Megan gestured with her chin. “But you’d better come back out, too.”

“I will,” Paul said.

When he came back out he was wearing one of the standard robes and he sat down on a pillow, turning his head to the side as he contemplated Megan.

“What are you doing awake at…” he paused and obviously consulted the Net, “three a.m.?”

“I get enough sleep in the harem.” Megan shrugged. “I wasn’t tired. I was watching you.”

“Watching me sleep?” Paul asked. “Or watching over me?”

“A little of both. Watching and thinking.”

“How easy it would be to kill me?” Paul asked.

“Damage you, yes,” Megan said. “Kill would be for all practical purposes impossible. And if I even tried, well, the best that might happen is that I’d wind up like Amber. And, hell, I don’t want to kill you. I did at first, but I don’t want to anymore.”

“Do you know why?” he asked quietly.