Ezra threw two fingers. Giles threw one.
“O, manure!” she swore, echoing Ramsey. She had not anticipated this, somehow assuming that both would throw the same number of fingers. Now Giles had the onus with respect to her, and she had the onus with respect to Ezra. More bluntly, while she was doing one, the other would be doing her.
Giles’ penis rose to attention. Ezra’s penis remained flaccid. She would have to avoid the one and activate the other. She would have to make both get orgasms without letting her body join in that pleasure. Somehow.
She sifted through assorted strategies, knowing that she had to take whatever initiative she could, lest they seize it. Her best bet seemed to be to tackle Giles and try to finish him before Giles finished her. If she prevailed rapidly, she might then be able to fight Giles alone, balking him and winning the day.
She swept into Ezra, trying to do as much as possible as quickly as possible, to activate his triggers by sheer volume of attempts. She kissed his mouth, grabbed his hand and used it to stroke her breast, then her bottom. She pushed his head down to her breasts.
He went limp. She had found a trigger! Now she could fight off Giles without worrying about Ezra.
Just as well, because Giles was already on her. He was trying to poke his stiff penis into her cleft from behind. She automatically locked her legs together so he couldn’t get anywhere, but that limited her when addressing Ezra.
Giles reached around her and put both hands on her breasts. She went limp. He had found her first trigger, and wiped out her active resistance to him. She could still clamp her legs, and tighten her vagina, but she could not otherwise oppose him physically.
However, she retained full mobility when addressing Ezra. Maybe she could finesse that, to a degree, to avoid Giles.
Giles caught her by the shoulders and turned her around for a kiss. He was looking for the second trigger. But before his lips touched hers, she lurched to the side and caught Ezra with a kiss on the mouth. That didn’t seem to affect him, but at least it got her away from Giles.
“You’re so handsome!” she whispered in Ezra’s ear.
His penis rose. She had found the second trigger!
“You’re so beautiful,” Giles whispered in her ear.
Her legs spread so that she was standing with them wide apart, her vulva exposed. He had found her second trigger.
They were running neck and neck, as it were. She needed to evoke Ezra’s ability to spout before Giles evoked the softening of her vagina. Finishing Ezra was only the first step for her victory, but if she failed, she would lose the issue regardless what Giles did.
She bore Ezra to the floor, straddled him, and kissed his standing penis. There was no effect. Meanwhile, Giles was testing her vagina again, taking advantage of the raised position of her bottom, and she could not stop him. Fortunately her vagina remained tight; he could penetrate only marginally.
She kissed Ezra’s face again. No luck. Giles kissed her face. No luck. She took Ezra’s hand and set it against her breast— and felt a tremor. She took his penis, and felt it throbbing. She had found his third trigger, and he was now primed for orgasm.
Giles took her hand and set it on his penis. She felt her vagina slacken. She had lost her last defense!
Desperate, she put her mouth to Ezra’s member and took it in. If she could suck him off before Giles realized—
Giles put his finger into her vagina, apparently just testing. It readily penetrated. “Aha!” he exclaimed, gratified.
Fotina realized that it was too late to set Ezra off, because Giles would penetrate and set her off at the same time or soon after, and she would lose. She had Ezra in hand; now her first imperative was to stop Giles.
Giles oriented behind her, and she couldn’t draw away from him. He put his hard penis to her vulva, and she couldn’t close her vagina. He would plunge inside in seconds, and she would be done. Unless she thought of something instantly.
Desperation gave her inspiration. She put one hand back and circled the shaft of his member with thumb and forefinger as it entered her vagina. He didn’t notice; he was reaching around her to catch hold of both her breasts, evidently to enhance his pleasure of the occasion. He was savoring his incipient victory.
Fotina sucked on Ezra’s penis. It responded immediately, ready to perform. Meanwhile, Giles thrust slowly into her, still savoring. She felt his member slide moderately deep, then withdraw, then slide in deeper.
She invoked her magic. Not illusion this time, but telepathy. She quested for Ezra’s mind, which was open to her will, and locked on it. He was on the verge of his orgasm, awaiting only her final suck.
Then she sought Giles’ mind, and found it. He was enjoying her body, feeling her plush breasts, her round bottom, and the warm firm (but not tight) length of her vagina. He too was on the verge.
Giles thrust harder. His member pushed in to the limit, the base smacking into her flesh. It was the flesh of her encircling hand, not her bottom. It mechanically prevented the tip of his penis from quite reaching her cervix.
“What?” Giles asked, realizing that something was amiss.
“Merely facilitating your pleasure,” she said, squeezing. With that rationale she was cooperating, not resisting. It might be a technicality, but the game did not prevent it.
“Well, get it out of there, witch!” he snapped.
She had to obey. But now, she gave the final suck and evoked Ezra’s orgasm. And as Giles finally thrust home, she sent the rapture of Ezra’s orgasm to Giles’ mind.
“Hoo!” he exclaimed, thinking it was her orgasm, that he had triggered her switch. That set off his own.
The two men were in the throes of their orgasms. Fotina was not. She had managed to escape, by the skin of her vagina.
When the rapture passed, and Giles made ready to withdraw his penis from her vagina, he realized that she had not been reacting. Her body was placid. “Thou hadst no orgasm!” he said accusingly.
“I had no orgasm,” she agreed. “Do you care?”
He shook his head, bemused. “I care that thou outplayed me. Thou used magic, of course.”
“Telepathy,” she agreed. “But it was a close contest.”
The two men got back to their feet. “Well, we have failed,” Ezra said glumly. “Get thee on up to King Hugh.”
She walked on to the next flight of stairs. They led in due course, to the highest turret.
“Well, hello, lovely mistress of magic,” a mellow voice greeted her. It belonged to an almost excruciatingly handsome Mongol king bearing the name HUGH. His golden crown was his only apparel.
“Hello,” she said uncertainly. “Did Mongols have kings?”
He laughed. “This be the Eroma Game, divine creature. It has its own conventions.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course,” she agreed uneasily.
He approached her, exuding cheerful confidence. “What be thy intention with respect to Player Pedro?”
She was taken aback. “I intend only to try to win the Game. I like Pedro. He helped me a lot.”
“Indeed. Thou hast conquered six warriors. Now thou and I shall make love.” He indicated the king-sized bed.
“You are the final challenge for this round?”
“Thou hast already qualified, sultry Moor. Therefore this be for merely pleasure.”
“Oh.” Could she afford to believe him?
“Read my mind,” he said.
She did, as that magic remained invoked. He was being completely honest with her.
Hugh guided her to the bed. They lay on it together. There was no showing of fingers, no questing for triggers. He simply kissed her mouth, and thereafter all she wanted was to have sex with him. He kissed her breasts, and her buttocks, and she was in minor ecstasy. Finally he mounted her and entered her, and they shared an orgasm that seemed to last several minutes. It did indeed feel like love. It was paradise.
Then they lay beside each other, staring up at an elaborate chandelier. “Why d
id you ask about me and Pedro?”
“Because thou dost love him, and he be capable of loving thee,” he replied. “Both of you are fine players with the potential of winning the Game. Both of you have excellent fan bases already.”
“Fan bases,” she asked, confused.
“Ah, I forget: thou art not a scholar of the Games. Then needs must I clarify it, in simple fairness. This be a spectator sport to a considerable degree. For every player there be a million viewers, and that ratio rises as the number of players diminishes. Some players attract more attention than others. The two of you be the present leaders.”
“A million?” she asked, thinking she had misheard or misunderstood.
“Eroma be the leading entertainment of the moment,” Hugh said. “The initial television audience this time was sixty four million. Many folk seem to like adventure, sex, and romance. We provide the first two, but the third cannot be scripted; it must come from the players themselves. When the two of you had your initial dialogue, many focused. More are focusing now.”
She was still having a problem. “I—I knew the Game was a public spectacle. But that many people! And isn’t there some privacy?”
He laughed. “We all be avatars, Fotina! Worse than puppets or marionettes. Our bodies have no tangible existence, only the animation provided by the players. Why should we need privacy?”
“But we've been having sex!”
“Aye, lover, we have. That be the prime attraction.”
Fotina rallied. She had known there was a large television audience; her father was part of it. Somehow she had forgotten it, or put it out of her mind, during her participation. Now it was no longer theoretical; it was personal. “I don’t feel like a—a mannequin.”
“Thou hast here no need to eat, drink, or even breathe,” he pointed out. “Nor to piss or shit. Thou neither burps nor farts. This seemeth like life to thee?”
“Yes, actually. I do feel alive here. And when I have sex—just how detailed is it for the audience? What do the ellipses cover?”
“There be no ellipses.”
“But That’s impossible! I can see them showing kissing, feeling, clasping. But when two people are embracing, very little shows where they are in contact.”
“Needs must I show thee,” he said.
The chandelier faded out, replaced by a huge screen. At first she thought it was a mirror, because it showed the two of them lying naked on the bed. But then he kissed her mouth, and her breasts, as he was not doing in present game reality. He mounted her, and the image showed the motions of his body as he penetrated her, thrust, and climaxed.
Then a side view came on, as if there were a camera close beside the bed. It showed him coming down on her, setting his penis into her cleft, and thrusting in. The image was quite clear and detailed, as if the camera were only inches from their genitals. And her body became translucent, so that it seemed to be made of glass. Her vagina was outlined in faint color. His member, another color, was penetrating her vagina to the depth, causing it to round out as it accommodated him. The merging to their genitals could not have been shown more clearly. He was also kissing her mouth, and his tongue was running into hers with similar outlining.
The picture faded, and the chandelier reappeared. She realized now that it too was an image on the ceiling screen.
“There are no ellipses,” she agreed, awed. “Everything shows. Outside and inside.” She did not care to confess that watching that translucent penetration of her body turned her on, making her wish to see and experience more. It was the very essence of sex.
“That be the case,” he agreed. “But this be standard. Folk get tired of seeing merely sex, no matter how novel the views. Romance, however, be always fresh. When thou and Pedro didst confess having feelings for each other, the audience jumped. Now it is to the interest of the Game to encourage that interaction, as it encourages all romance. Remember, Eroma be the contraction of Erotic and Romance. This be the essence of the game.”
“But now it won’t be spontaneous!” she protested. “If we know that so many are watching.”
“Thou wouldst deny thy dawning love for Pedro because others see?”
“No!” Then she reconsidered. “I guess I was saying that. I like Pedro regardless. But the thought of having a million people watching when we kiss, or have sex, seeing his penis in me—” She shook her head. “I though that at least my vagina was private. This is difficult.” Yet increasingly tempting.
“Consider it a challenge,” he said.
“Why are you telling me this? I could have loved Pedro without knowing.”
“That be part of it. The audience wants not only to see genuine erotic romance, but to know that the players know it, and can help themselves not. That they know themselves to be naked in more than body. It adds a delicious titillation.”
“A voyeur’s titillation!”
“Aye, lass. Like none other.”
“I’m not sure I want to continue this exhibition.”
“Thy doubt, too, be appealing. Thy initial innocence be a prime factor in thy appeal. Thou needs must discuss it with Pedro when next the two of you meet.”
“We won’t meet if I drop out of the game!”
“Precisely, filly. But then thou willst never know him in life.”
“Damn you!” she swore, meaning him and the whole game.
“It be a damnable game,” he agreed. “Except for voyeurs and those with no fit lives of their own. Thou dost be fortunate to belong to neither category. Now come with me to the main chamber for the off-hours rendezvous with the staff. They like thee very well.” He got off the bed.
“What the hell,” she said, joining him. She knew she was stuck for it. They had gotten her seriously interested in Pedro, and she couldn’t depart voluntarily until she came to terms with him. It didn’t matter that the entire audience of millions knew it; the hook was firmly in.
“Good girl,” King Hugh said, patting her pert bare bottom.
Chapter 3:
Poop of the Day
The results of the follow-up eye test were not good. Pedro was losing visual coherence in both eyes. It was probably not serious, but might require him to use corrective lenses or, if the problem was in the optic nerves, medication to correct an imbalance. Because of this, he was given another test. The result would be available in two more weeks.
Meanwhile, he was advised to be cautious, especially when driving. His vision was not as sharp as it had been, and that could lead to mischief unless he was alert. What about the online game? That should be no problem; for one thing, he was not driving, so would not be putting himself or anyone else at risk. That was a relief, because he really liked the game, and was doing well in it. He reported on schedule for Round Three.
Pedro found himself in an elegant restaurant, fully clothed, seated at a table with three other players. He recognized two of them: Salina, the Nubian woman leading the second boat on the lake in the first round. She had understood an aspect he had missed, that the boat crews could exchange with each other, and thus had helped him make more exchanges more rapidly. He was glad to see that she had survived to this round. The second was Fotina, sitting opposite him. He suppressed his exclamation of gladness; he did not want to give away his personal interest in her; that could be a game liability. The third was a man, Norris, a handsome Nordic. But what were they all doing here, genders mixed, and clothed?
That last was significant in more than one respect. Not only was it a departure from the norms of this game, it made all of them look far more elegant. The women were beautiful, and the man was quite handsome, as Pedro was sure he was himself.
“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves,” Norris said, “despite our name plaques. We can acquaint ourselves better by reviewing our prior interactions. I am Norris, and I know Fotina, having exchanged with her in the first round.” He glanced at Pedro. “I believe you were the man smart enough to take the first boatload of players, male and female, to an island
. But you, Salina, I have not met before, though I saw you, along with Pedro and Fotina, at the Maiden Heaven after-competition party.”
“I joined Pedro in a subsequent boat,” Salina said. “But, I don’t know either you nor Fotina. I’m afraid I was too distracted at the party to pay proper attention to all present.”
“I understand about distraction,” Pedro agreed. “Once I saw Fotina at the party, I mostly tuned out the rest.” Oops, that was more candor than he had intended.
“I exchanged with Pedro on the mainland,” Fotina said. “And with Norris in the forest.” She smiled. “There were dragons.”
Pedro looked around. There were three other tables, each with two men and two women. “All sixteen surviving players are here,” he said. “This is evidently not to be interactive, like the first round, or personally competitive, like the second round.”
“And probably not sexual,” Salina said. “Considering the setting and the clothing.”
“Chances are that half of us will be eliminated,” Fotina said. “One way or another.”
“I had understood that every round was to be sexual,” Norris said.
“It may be a matter of interpretation,” Pedro said. “Sex is not necessarily penis into vagina or mouth. It can be more devious. It behooves us to figure it out quickly, so as not to be at a disadvantage with those at other tables.”
“Indeed,” Salina agreed. “Unless it is every person for herself. In that case, it seems that you and I should make an alliance, Norris.”
“Why?” he asked. “I would prefer to ally with Fotina, who is a remarkable woman.”
“Evidently you did not watch the playbacks during the week off between rounds. The news is all over about the romance between Pedro and Fotina.”
Fotina blushed. So did Pedro. They had made no secret of their interest in each other, but neither had they exactly advertised it. Fotina had not realized that other players might see this as a game factor.
“I see,” Norris said. “In that case yes, Salina. If there are to be competitive couples, I shall be happy to coordinate with you.”