CHAPTER 3
The sound of the cloth tearing makes me shiver.
The scraps slide down my legs as his tentacles lift me up to standing and when they nudge me to turn, I go.
But he doesn’t let me lean forward or reach back to open myself for him.
Tentacles across my torso, he drags me back to the wall.
Cold metal against my spine, he holds me there with bindings made of warm skin and I lick my lips, waiting for him to fill me.
Coiling around my legs, he spreads them wide and I strain against him, needing more.
“Can you make the opposite wall a mirror?” I ask, not sure about the booth’s limitations.
The bot doesn’t acknowledge my request, it just does it.
What I see in that mirror takes my breath away.
I look like a cautionary tale.
More tentacles wrap around my arms, pulling them up and back against the wall.
And when another slides between my breasts, up my neck, and traces my lips, I open wide for him. I want him in me.
The picture we make is monstrous.
I love it.
The sight of myself like this—wrapped in tentacles, at his mercy—this memory is going to get me there in the nights when I go to sleep alone… wanting. This memory and a little buzzing helper.
He doesn’t wait for me to suck him this time. No, this time he fucks my throat like he has a right to it. Like I’m his and he’s going to make me swallow him down.
I should hate that feeling of being owned. I should struggle against it.
But I can’t.
I watch him take me, and my hips squirm, wanting more. I feel empty.
He wraps a tentacle around my hips while the tip of another slithers along my pussy. When he plays with my clit, I want to scream, but the sound is choked by the one filling my mouth.
The pleasure mixed with need makes me ache, but when I fight his control, he only holds me down tighter.
The tentacle retreats from my mouth and slowly wraps around my throat.
If not for the bot, that might worry me, but the gentle pressure just adds to the need I feel. I want to ask why he isn’t fucking me… I want to know why my weeping pussy doesn’t get to join the fun.
He has to feel it as his sucker’s cover over it and latch onto me. Nothing is getting in, but the suction makes me dizzy and my head starts to swim as he brutalizes my clit. As his suckers pull hard on my nipples and squeeze in all the right places.
He hits that perfect pressure and rhythm on my clit and my eyes cross, my toes curl and I can’t stop myself from mewling. The pressure overflows and I can’t—
My pussy clenches around the emptiness as my orgasm rushes through me.
I come like he’s just found a secret pleasure point inside me, and he hasn’t even penetrated me yet.
My cries echo around the booth and I buck and squirm on him, but his grip doesn’t let me get away, and I’m glad.
Gladder still, when that need to fight fades and I sag in his embrace.
But my eyes fly wide when his suckers release my pussy and he finally presses inside.
“Yes,” I whisper. I would beg if he wasn’t giving me everything I want.
I lean into the tentacle wrapped around my shoulder, rubbing my cheek against it with a different kind of need. It’s just as soft as he is right now.
This is a calm I don’t think will last. Like the eye of a hurricane, it’s not the end.
But I relish this pause as he fills me with easy strokes. One tentacle becomes two, stretching me open.
“He has asked for consent to penetrate you with his actual phallus.”
His actual…? “I thought their cocks were what they were supposed to offer in the first place.”
“All participants are given options. This one has previously kept his phallus to himself, with the understanding that he needs consent to use it.”
I almost say “yes” without any other questions. But if he’s chosen to keep it hidden thus far… “Is it scary or something?”
“I am not programmed to quantify fear. I am allowed to display it for you.”
“Show me.”
The mirror in front of me zooms in on us, focusing on the one part of him inside the booth that isn’t touching me.
It’s another tentacle… kind of. So similar to the others, but with slits instead of suckers… all the way around.
“There is a disclaimer as well.” The bot makes a whirring sound and I don’t have to ask it to tell me. “His species historically marked their mates. Their cum has staining properties.”
That gives me pause. “Is it permanent?”
“No. The stains last approximately two to three days.”
“Good to know…” I’ll definitely make sure it doesn’t get anywhere visible.
Tentacles writhe inside me and I shiver before I can tell the bot to approve it.
I wonder if he knows he’s prolonging this delay by distracting me.
I could say no. Again, I probably should. But I want to have all of my fun… just in case he doesn’t come back. In case our schedules never line up again. In case he’s the kind of client who never does repeats.
I enjoy the way he fills me for a moment longer before I say, “Yes. He has permission.”
There’s almost no hesitation before the tentacles already in me hold me open, and his cock surges inside. “Ohmygod!”
Oh… fuck.
Two tentacles felt good… this is divine.
He holds me down as he thrusts into me, fucking me like he’s desperate. Like he needs to make up for the time I made him wait.
Before was for me… now is for him, but I already know he’s going to get me there again.
Even before a sucker reattaches to it, his tentacles keep abusing my swollen clit.
Warmth flushes my skin, need makes me whimper, and my mind provides a question that makes me work myself into his rhythm.
What if it is Agan?
I clench my fists at the idea of him coming inside of me… at the idea of sitting with the group, secretly wearing his stains and sucker marks.
Fantasy and reality blur and I come, squeezing around his cock and I feel the burst of his cum, spraying inside of me at all angles like a bottle cleaner.
He holds me so tightly it feels like I could burst, but that ebbs, replaced by the exhaustion of tensing my muscles for so long…
His suckers kiss me all over as he eases from me and cum dribbles down my thighs. They kiss me as he gently releases me and I hold myself upright, only long enough for him to recede into the wall.
I slide to the floor as the tip icon flares.
My first few times in the booth had been delightful. That was…
I’m too wrung out to reach up and mark him as a favorite. And his square fades away, leaving me in a puddle—both literal and metaphorical—on the dark booth floor.
The wall is still a mirror and my breasts are covered in sucker marks, my belly too… but nothing that will show in public.
The booth bot makes a curious noise when I remain on the floor. “Are you well?”
“I am fantastic.”