Chapter 5 Bea
Not unless you like to dirty talk to yourself while masturbating
Is it just me, or is the excess nudity generating a surplus of oxytocin in the atmosphere?
Because there’s no way I got this horny this fast just from just his words.
It could have been his lip’s close proximity to my throat.
Probably a combination of multiple factors.
Either way it’s not very professional, and I should not allow myself to get so close to Zaxon again.
Ugh. Even my most stubborn inner voice doesn’t like that idea.
Every part of me is on board for getting close to the large boulder of a male.
Intimately close, even. There’s nothing prohibited it, specifically.
He’s not the owner, or management. As long as I don’t allow his flirting, or anything else that happens, to influence my report—which I won’t—then it should be fine.
As long as his flirting is sincere and not manipulative.
Zaxon leads me into the Spa building and a wave of cold air-conditioning causes the sweat on my skin to become clammy. I don’t care because the relief it offers far outweighs the temporary clamminess.
The spa, like the rest of the resort, is five-star quality. Clean dry floors with very little sand trailing in from the beach line the lobby, while cool blue lighting illuminates the spa’s name and directory on one white wall; Unwind Oasis.
Hair, nails, claws, and feathers.
Massages.
Facials.
Scale treatments.
Mud baths.
Saunas.
Snow rooms.
Rain rooms.
Salt rooms.
Sound therapy.
Silent meditations.
Self-love therapy.
What the fuck is self-love therapy? Is that some sort of self-motivational speaking? Or maybe positive outlook thinking?
“Anything on the menu to your taste?” Zaxon asks, thankfully from a respectable distance away. I don’t think my libido could take it if he pressed close right now.
I’m only human, and a weak horny one at that.
And after seeing all the wangs on the nude beach, my mind hasn’t stopped trying to picture Zaxon’s cock.
I’ve heard stories from other females, human and monster, that have been with male monsters.
The unanimous conclusion is always the same.
They’re large and different, some with ridges, bumps, spurs, suckers and more, but all are exemplary lovers.
Something about their animalistic instinct makes them… carnal in the sack.
I myself have yet to experience a monster cock.
The closest I got was a vampire, who, for all intents and purposes, was just a human with a sun and garlic intolerance.
Nothing special or different about his cock from any other human man.
I’ve watched videos though, out of pure curiosity.
You hear stories and just have to know if they’re true.
I can report that yes, they are true. As long as the videos weren’t CGI or something.
Gargoyle cock, however, is one that I haven’t investigated yet. After the show and tell outside, I won’t have to research minotaur or goblin any time soon either.
I turn to face Zaxon and ask, “What is self-love therapy? Do you go into a room with a therapist and say nice things about yourself?”
His smile is wicked and a tab predatory. I have a feeling it’s not saying nice things about yourself in a mirror with fervent belief.
“Not unless you like to dirty talk to yourself while masturbating.”
“What?!”
“Self-love therapy is all about embracing self-pleasure and mastering masturbatory techniques. As well as discovering your personal likes and dislikes and how to find a partner who suits you and is willing to fulfill your needs and theirs.”
His eyes roam down my body and back up, settling on my lips. He licks his, the dark purple of his tongue pulling my attention to his mouth.
“Wanna take a session? Talia is very good at her job. She can read a person’s sexual needs just by looking at them. Opened my eyes to a few new things I never knew I liked till I tried them.”
For some reason the thought of him practicing jerking himself off with a random woman watching and giving notes, makes my blood boil.
I shouldn’t be jealous, but that seems to be what’s happening, because my skin tightens, and my pulse picks up speed.
My voice clogs in my throat when I try to respond.
I suppose something like this is more common among monsters who are far more open and accepting of sexuality than most humans.
It’s something more humans should embrace, and I have to force myself to chill the fuck out.
He didn’t say she helped anyone masturbate, just taught them techniques and introduced them to new ideas.
All of which can be done hands off and completely clothed.
Thoughts of Zaxon jacking off and performing extremely inappropriate behavior, flash in my mind and won’t go away. I want to know what things he learned and if he would show them to me.
“That is of course, unless you have a boyfriend? Spouse? I probably should have checked first before offering. Maybe you don’t need to masturbate,” Zaxon’s tone turns apologetic and for some reason I want him to know that I’m as free and unattached as a seagull.
My last relationship ended over a year ago and it’s just been me and my imagination since.
“No, no boyfriend or husband. I’m free to take whatever class I want.”
Wow, did that sound desperate? I doubt the breathy tone of my voice helped at all. It seems to have helped Zaxon’s determination because his expression shifts back to devious and thrilled at my declaration.
“So that’s a yes then?”
“Maybe later.” My voice cracks slightly when I manage to force words out. I clear my throat. “When I’m not working. I’m not sure my boss would like me taking time away from the inspection to talk to a therapist about masturbating.”
“When you’re off the clock then,” he easily suggests. “She also offers couples sessions, if you want someone along for moral support.”
My cheeks heat and my pussy grows damp. I kind of do want him along for support, just not moral.
More like hands on support. The thoughts that flicker through my mind are neither professional nor appropriate and I love every one of them.
Of course, I can’t let him know that, so I shrug and make a noncommittal expression, hoping he can’t tell how much I want to say ‘Yes please take me to the self-love therapist and help teach me how to touch myself, and maybe touch me too.’
“Eh, what could she teach me that I can’t learn on the internet?”
Zaxon takes a menacing step toward me, invading my personal space and filling it with his sea salt scent.
“The internet can’t tell you what you like or need and help you work out your secret kinks.”
He obviously hasn’t been to the websites I’ve been to.
“She also offers a special service creating silicone toys made from molds of a significant others naughty bits. I’ve been told the couple gets to apply the mold to each other. That it’s an immensely erotic experience.”
“I don’t have a significant other.” I remind him, because that’s the most important part of that statement apparently. Not that he is obviously suggesting we mold each other’s private parts and then pleasure ourselves with them.
My breathily whispered weak reply doesn’t seem to deter his resolve and he doesn’t even flinch when he continues.
“I will gladly volunteer if you want to have a dildo made of my cock to take home and play with. The thought alone is making me hard so I would have no problem getting it up for the molding process.” He reaches down and adjusts the massive length in his pants.
Wow, okay. He just said that. Do I thank him? Immediately agree and sign up? That would be the logical thing to do, right? I mean who would say no to that? Even I know that’s an offer you shouldn’t refuse.
No. You’re still working that’ll have to wait. I scold myself and metaphorically douse my lava libido with a bucket of ice water. Most of which just turns to steam, which is just as bad.
“Maybe later,” I say again, holding back the whimpering lament at not doing exactly as he suggested right this moment.
Zaxon leans in and sniffs me. Like, a long drawn out, chest expanding, lung capacity testing inhale. On the exhale he shudders, and his eyes briefly flutter closed, the hand—still around his cock mind you—tightens into a death grip.
“You smell like you like the idea. Like oranges and flowers. It’s driving me crazy, Starfish.”
“Maybe you should stop smelling me then.”
“Stop smelling so good and I’ll stop smelling you,” he counters.
“I can’t control it, so you’ll just have to hold your breath.”
And we’re back to sassing each other. Which is good because it diverts my attention from the bulge in his pants, that I now want to make a custom toy out of, and back to why I’m here.
Stepping away from Zaxon’s smirking face and clearly flared nostrils and dilated pupils, I give my hips a little sway as I peruse the lobby.
Trying, and mostly succeeding, to do my job.
I make a note of the lack of seating in the waiting room and how the few people waiting for their services have to stand in the open space.
I also make a note of their inclusivity for all species and range of services.
We don’t only check safety and accessibility but also comfort, quality and available services.
The travel sites and companies check our reports before listing or recommending establishments, not just customer reviews on social sites.
You can’t always trust that one guest that hates everything and wouldn’t be satisfied with any level of service and decides to rant about it online.
From the back area a massive green orc enters the lobby.
He’s carrying a tablet that looks like a child’s toy in his large hands.
His long black hair is plated in a neat braid down his back and his broad muscled tattooed chest and pierced nipples are on complete display, because he’s shirtless.
A trend I’m starting to realize a lot of male monsters prefer when in a space that allows it. I’m also starting to realize I like it.
“Zaxon. What are you doing here? Do you have a wing oiling and stretch scheduled?” the orc asks, his voice low and rich, smooth as warm coconut oil dripping down large pecs, hard abs and an erect cock.
I wonder if he’s the sound therapist. I would pay good money to lay in a hot bath and just listen to him speak.
Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying. He could read the dictionary for all I care.
Maybe a naughty dictionary. That could be a new service they offer to go along with the self-love therapy.
People could practice their newly learned skills listening to this orc recite dirty romance novels. They’d make a killing.
“Not today. Just on tour guide duty.”
Zaxon tips a horn in my direction and I wave like a weirdo to the giant orc. He doesn’t seem offput by my awkwardness and I take the opportunity to pull my shit together, straightening my spine and shaking away the sex cobwebs filling my brain.
This resort is doing something to me, because I don’t normally think about sex or cocks this much.
“Hello. I’m Bea.” I approach with an outstretched hand that he instantly engulfs it in his. I literally cannot see any of my fingers.
“She’s a code enforcement agent checking out the resort this week. I’ve been assigned to escort her around while she’s here,” Zaxon adds.
“Isn’t that lovely. I’m Nash, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bea.”
“Just Bea is fine.”
“Very well, Bea then. Has my friend Zaxon been behaving himself? He can be overly energetic sometimes. I’ve tried to teach him meditation techniques, but he claims they bore him.”
I like this orc.
I allow myself to smile, instead of giving him my usual flat expression I’ve mastered over the years. If you show any expressions while inspecting, people tend to read into it too much. I learned to remain expressionless. Usually. This job is making it difficult to don my usual silent stoicism.
“He’s alright, I guess. Could smile less though. It’s a bit unnerving that he’s always smiling.”
As if to prove my point, when both I and Nash turn to look at Zaxon, he’s wearing a shit eating grin.
“What? There’s nothing wrong with smiling. Most people like it.” He flashes me even more teeth.
“I’m not most people.”
“No, you are not,” his words are spoken under his breath in a murmur, but I still hear them.
“Did you need to see the back areas at all? I could escort you through the public guest areas if you like. None of the private rooms that are occupied, but I think there are a few empty ones you could look at."
I turn my attention back to Nash and give him my most sincere professional smile—because he’s just too sweet not to smile at—and focus on why I’m here, putting ideas of Zaxon’s dick on the back burner.
For now. I may revisit them later. And maybe come back to the spa without him to look more into this self-love therapy.
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”