Chapter Text
Harley Wilson almost guiltily, fervently stared at the screen of her computer, watching with lip-biting excitement all the sordid little things flashing in front of her eyes. Though she had workbooks, notebooks, and worksheets set across her desk in neat lines and sections, all of it went forgotten in favour of staring at the incredibly attractive sight in front of her. Work was a distant second to the stream, and with her body buzzing, she feasted on the content.
It was an old one, granted. She had seen it sometime before, but she always went through them religiously to satiate her content-craving during off-times. After all, her favourite streamer couldn’t be streaming all the time, and neither did Harley could catch it live very often in her house, so she took what she could get and went through re-runs like a girl starved. She didn’t mind it. With her headphones on to provide perfect-quality surround-sound audio and her many screens capturing it all in perfect definition, it was a feast for the eyes.
Miss Mayhem, top content creator for Harley’s favourite video game of all time, Vice and Venus, was a pure joy to watch. The world-famous E-thot was hot as sin, even though, as always, the camera that focused on her body totally missed her face: no one knew what Miss Mayhem actually looked like, and no one genuinely cared. The camera was pointed right at her mountainous E-cup tits wrapped up in a low-cut, low-slung top, the frilly lace of her lingerie clinging to the shape of fat titties, providing a feast of the eyes that totally took away any thought of face reveal when?
They jiggled with each of her slight movements, but there was little in the way of movements when the woman was hooked up into a VR system - laid back, lounging in a cushioned chair, there was little interaction from her human body. A camera at all was unnecessary, but a gratuitous display of tits was just a welcome treat for the horny-minded that wanted a healthy dose of thot in their e-girl. There was no denying that Miss Mayhem fit the stereotype well, and she was unabashed in it.
The choker around her neck was indicative, after all, and the tattoo across her collarbones, emblazoned in black ink reading Snap My Choker, made it totally clear - she was a perfect E-Thot streamer through and through, designed for sex-appeal, and Harley, like every other simp, wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her tits. Well, mostly. She just wanted to know what it was like to feel that body against her, but she took what she could get and lived vicariously through her streams.
She loved it more than work itself. It was why she felt guilty about trading schoolwork for watching old streams, but her grades were more than high enough to warrant the time spent. Her parents would never approve, but they approved of literally nothing anyhow, so she didn’t mind it. What they didn’t know didn’t hurt them, and in the privacy of her room, Harley enjoyed watching her favourite streamer play her favourite game.
Vice and Venus. Her favourite game, the single best VR game on the market bar none, and content that she consumed religiously. It was a no-holds-barred, cutting-edge, top-of-the-line, best-tech, best-devs, game of all time. It was an RPG where one could create any character they wished, with dozens and dozens of skill-trees and combinations to be had per class, and with over a dozen classes, the permutations seemed endless. It had races of all kinds and the ability to modify them to the heart's content, allowing for a truly unique and immersive experience that few games could hold a candle to.
The game itself was posited as one of the most challenging RPGs on the market, with a fair, but challenging, game loop that most people could not succeed at properly. Grinding was present simply to level up, but no levels were genuinely needed to clear anything – she had seen level zero runs for the main campaign by some of the most insane, top-of-the-line streamers. Most didn't get there, and with a completion rate for the main story of around ten-percent, simply being good at the game was a genuine minority for the playerbase.
The game accounted for that, and it was the reason why streamers like Miss Mayhem - ostensibly a poor player - could succeed. Unlike many contemporary MMOs, completion was not its goal of it. For certain, the player base could be split into try-hards and the serious players and the fashion collectors and the like, but even they only made up half of the total people on board.
There was simply so much content that completion was less important than playing, and a person could spend half a year doing nothing but side quests before tackling the main story, to say nothing of the nine expansions available. The world was simply so large it would take months of in-game travel to cross from one end to the other, allowing for a limitless, realistic VR experience few could match - and even that was nothing close to the main call of the game, the single reason why it took the world by storm.
Rather, the main call for Vice and Venus was that it was one of the very few fully-licensed and publically available triple-X games, the top of a small list of virtual reality games designed to ooze sex appeal and perversion. It was a game where depleting one's HP bar did not always result in death, but more often being pinned down and fucked by whatever NPC, monster, or opposing player downed them.
It was a game where a perversion and depravity bar was as prevalent as mana and stamina, and a game where the player's choices could be heavily influenced by the presence of sexuality. A game of sex-slaves and sex markets, of captured, indentured sluts and willing whores, where a player could play the campaign, lose a fight, be sold into slavery, find themselves as a stockade-whore for an Orc stronghold, and only break free after a month.
It was a game where anything a fantastical sexual world could offer, and that was what made it so popular. Challenging content, unlimited freedom, an expansive storyline, all with the ever-present risk that 'loss' meant 'sex' and taking dick was as much of a stat as one-handed proficiency. Despite repeated attempts to shut it down by lobbyists, no one had ever come close to getting it shut down – and every year the player base grew larger, the characters more expansive, the perversion more rife.
Harley loved it. It was a freedom she was never afforded at home and exposure to lewdness she had never experienced personally, and she adored it. For sure, she was a little too timid to actually experience the most of that lewdness to herself, but she loved the game experience - and seeing top-of-the-line streamers like Mayhem tackle it was incredible. A hot girl playing a sexy, lewd game was amazing, and even if no one would expect a goody two-shoes like her to be into it - she was.
So, instead of doing her work, and instead of listening to her parents arguing down the stairs, she poured over the lewd content in front of her. Mayhem was hot as sin, her gameplay slick and smooth, and every second of it was interesting to watch - a treat away from the monotony of her life. She was, at present, watching as Miss Mayhem was being shipped off on a raggedy cart across a shitty road to some backwater town in the massive game world, about to live out her new, brief life as the maid-whore to some minor noble.
She’d watched the arc before: Mayhem’s famous run for the Mage Guild where she found herself robbed blind on the side of the road, was then picked up by bandits she thought were guards, used as their cock-warmer until they sold her on the black market, and now she was about to life out her two weeks as a noble NPC’s hot slice of fuckmeat for a while - frilly French Maid outfit and all.
Next episode, she would be freed in a Player Guild raid on the town, and then she would be used as their personal tent-whore until Mayhem’s guildmates paid her ransom and got her out. It was a totally perverse, lewd arc, but the fun of a crazy perverted adventure culminating in a desperate war amidst the flames while Mayhem fought her way through a burning town with a dagger, a frying pan, and a French Maid outfit before benign used like a whore again was immensely entertaining.
Seeing Mayhem take it with a smile through all of that only made it more inspiring. Harley knew the woman was a whore through and through - her tats made that clear - but knowing that someone could go through that and remain on top made Harley feel… happy. Proud, maybe. A bit more confident in herself and her desires, as well as the ever-pervasive cloud that was her home life. It made her feel okay, like a warm blanket.
Of course, where she found comfort, Mayhem found lewdness. That was all it was, really. The neural-feedback loop, even without the right implants, was intense, and one could feel all of that happening to them just as it was to their player – it was that realistic. A person almost never had to take a real dick or fuck a real pussy in their life with such realism, and though Harley really didn't want to know how they achieved it, there were rumours around that people with brain-modifications had their 'experiences' ripped from them and repurposed as lewd content.
Harley did not know the validity of that, but she just took it in stride. She just had her ambitions to reach that scale of streamer-fame on her favourite game, and in the privacy of her home, let those warm feelings roll over her. She smiled with comfort and safety while Mayhem gurgled in self-satisfaction, her VR body being groped by one of the noble’s guards on the road and her real-life form - pinned as it was in the Virtual Reality console - shivering with a lurid jiggle of the tits. And, not for the first time, Harley wondered how it felt like to be that lewd; and more so, wondered if anyone had actually snapped her choker in real life.
And then, like clockwork, real life snapped back into Harley. The screaming and yelling from downstairs was hard to drown out at the best of times, but when it began to diminish, it became worse. As the heavy sounds of footsteps hit the stairs, she shuddered, bit her lip, and raked her fingers through her hair - then clicked the stream on pause, flicked it off to the side, and replaced it with some high-level math work.
It was the best she could do. Her parents wanted very one, strict thing from her, and that was to be a ‘proper daughter’. To them, she was meant to act in certain ways and do certain things without question. She had to dress how they felt, act how they wanted, and do the things they told her to. She went to the high school of their choice, she talked to the people of their strata, and she did the activities they wanted. Her grades met their exacting standards, making for a daughter that was a year-round Valedictorian, perfect-grade-point student, an overall goody-two-shoes that everyone in the school recognized for that merit alone
That was it, and there was nothing she could do to the contrary. There was no talking to her parents properly or otherwise. In fact, there was very little talking at all. For them, girls of her age and bearing needed to speak when spoken to and little more than that. The only reason she had a spot at their dinner table was that she was their daughter, and if she wasn’t their flesh and blood she doubted they would have so much as looked at her twice.
A depressing thought, but one that had plagued her for her entire life. Her parents were strict, vain, old-money types, the kind of wealth that came in generations, and their tightly wound personalities and firmly conservative viewpoints meant that people of their economic strata had certain roles to play and ways to act. There was no compromise and no leash to toy with, leading to a life that anyone would consider stuffy and dull.
So, she sat in her room, tucked herself away when she was at home, and waited. She waited for them to finish arguing, waited for them to walk up the stairs, and tucked herself away. Her room wasn’t even a place she could feel safe - no matter how many rooms they had, regardless of the square footage of their home, and regardless of how easy it was to get lost in their mansion-like complex in the richest suburb of the city, being in the same building as her parents felt suffocating. It was a tight, cloying atmosphere she very much did not enjoy.
Not that she’d ever say that to their faces, of course.
They approached her room with speed, and then, slowly, knocked on the door. “Harley? Open.”
Harley sighed and brushed at her strawberry-blonde hair. The length - a short bob - was as her parents dictated. The bangs were her own choice, and even that had been terrifying to try. “It’s open.”
Her father opened the door. A suit peered back at her and a stoney, stentorian face stared her down. It was not friendly, and she knew the argument from moments before had hardened it more than usual. “Harley, we’re leaving now.”
Harley’s lips twitched. She was not sure why her father felt the need to say that particular phrase to her face, but he did. So, as she was meant to, she nodded demurely. “I understand.”
“Be good while we’re gone,” her mother said from just behind him. “Don’t shirk your grades.”
“No events at this house while we’re gone,” her father added.
Again, Harley felt her insides shuffle. They made it seem as if she was at an ever-present risk of falling into the mud, and as much as she hated it, there was nothing to do but smile, nod, and agree. “Of course. I understand.”
“Good,” her father said, eyes scanning over her room. It was meticulous, however, made to convey an immediate sense of good-girl-ness at first glance with everything else hidden away. That was how it was meant to be: her parents cared about how she acted, but it was mere optics. They didn’t look into her and see her as a person, so all Harley had to do was conform to their whims when they could see and everything else could be safely hidden away.
It wasn’t as if they noticed her, after all. Though they actively tried to make her what they wanted and what she hated, but that was only when she actually factored into their thoughts at all. Most of the time they were arguing with one another, either yelling in the study, fighting in the library, or arguing in the bedrooms, essentially making her home life a nightmare that ranged from oppressive strictness to constant strife.
“We’ll tell your cousins you said hello,” her mother offered rather pointlessly, for Harley did not even know the people they were going to see. Some distant relative who had passed and they were likely now to squabble and bicker over the inheritance, she did not care in the least.
Still, she nodded. “Of course. Thank you, mother.”
Her mother nodded once. Her father nodded once. “Very good. Carry on.”
Then, they were gone. The door closed, they retreated down the hall, and made their way down the stairs with a little argument. Quick and easy, they simply checked up on their doll-but-daughter, and that was it. That was how it always was, as much as she hated it, there was very little she could do about it. She couldn’t talk to them about it, and other than dressing and appearing as they wanted, they did not care about her as a person.
She could only distract herself, and that was of mixed quality.
There was very little she could do to minimize it, honestly. She maintained a good diet and worked out regularly to keep a nice, healthy figure that other teenage girls would be seriously envious of, and that was one of her biggest pastimes to distract herself from home life - but there was only so much working out in a personal gym one could manage while listening to distant yells or feeling the weight of their expectations weighing down on her.
Most of the time, she dealt with her terrible parents and abysmal home life by frequently pretending to be studying after school in the library - one of the few places her parents ‘approved’ of. For the most part, that was true; she often stayed back to study, tutor, or take extra lessons, purely because it kept her away from home and out of the house. There was no more reason than that, and that sedentary lifestyle showed on her thicc thighs and rolling hips. It was, however, only half of the time that she spent away from home, and not what she considered her real hobby.
Studying was merely a guise to sneak away from home and school to indulge in her actual hobbies: comic book stores, game stores, video game emporiums, cosplay conventions, and, most importantly. The Waystation. It was there that she indulged in all the nerdy and frankly risque hobbies her parents disapproved of and vehemently decried as unbefitting a girl of her status and rank, but something she absolutely loved.
She and her parents just didn’t see eye to eye, and Harley hated it. She was completely miserable and suffocated by her parents, so when they said that they were leaving to go and deal with the affairs of some distant relative - likely to squabble over their will and inheritance - it offered her an unprecedented few months alone in her big house without having to worry about being told what to dress on a particular day, or where to go, or what to do, or simply to come home at her curfew time.
She was not ashamed to admit that she waited with bated breath for them to leave the house. She didn’t even turn back to her stream, though she heard Mayhem’s alluring moans through it. She just watched, waited, and listened, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of the doors opening, them closing, for her parents to leave for their private limo to their private runway.
The door opened. The door closed. Ten minutes all told, and then they were gone. Still she wanted, listening with bated breath, her chest bubbling with excitement at the idea of being free for even just a few months – compared to the minutes she carefully spent each and every day in quiet solitude, it felt like years of freedom. Then, then, finally, after fifteen minutes and after watching the limo pull away from her window, she was alone.
Nothing around except for her, herself, her thoughts, and the waiting staff that maintained the large place. She was, for once, well and truly alone, able to do what she wanted in the house without worrying and without the cloying presence of her family to bother and harass and harrange without even speaking to her as a person.
She bit her lip the moment they were gone, turned off her PC, and used her feet to kick herself away from her desk and through her room with chair wheels spinning. Glee filled her with the idea of unprecedented freedom, the ability for her to do all of her favourite things without her disapproving parents around. All the things they hated - games, books, videos, nerdy things - could be indulged in without having to hide it away like a furtive thing, and she went for it.
Harley moved fast. She went straight to the closet to find something to pull on that didn't make her look like some rich trust fund bitch - which was everything, really, because her parents made sure she didn’t dress like a so-called tramp. Conservative clothing was everything she had, though she wished she could dress in crop tops and halters and short-shorts to show off her well-worked body like Mayhem did.
Sure, she understood her father's point that she was going to act like a tramp and simply sought out the gratification of others, but that was fine – she wanted something for herself, even if it was that. She wanted to indulge in nerdy things like games and cosplay, wanted to hit up a con and be like her favourite streamer, and she wanted to do things she liked, not just to be a socialite.
Even if it was just for a few months, she leapt at her chance to do just that. Her parents had left her behind with not even a single thought as to how she would survive alone, and that was totally fine by her – she didn't care one bit. She removed her stuffy clothing, grabbed her shortest skirt, her cutest, tightest top, her one cropped jacket she’d bought in secret, and dashed straight out of the house in a rush of strawberry-blonde hair.
From there, she headed straight for the one place she could consider a home away from home: The Waystation.
In a world of tech implants, modifications to the mind and body, perfect neural feedback, and realistic virtual reality simulations, dedicated zones were necessary for the proper dissemination of that technology. It was monstrously expensive to get a full set up in the house of anyone but the wealthy, and it would be hell on earth if Harley got a rig for herself – and they could not be hidden at all. They needed on-site servers, special routers, and an installed antenna system to work correctly, and most of them were, at least, the size of a small room.
Places like The Waystation, then, were rare but vital spots for people to indulge in the newest, cutting-edge tech. Like arcades of old, they were set up so that people could book rooms, take time out, and apply for the service of top-of-the-line virtual reality tech. A girl like her could walk in, rent out one of their few dozen rooms, and take her place at a table to hook into the service that was all the rage amongst the youth of the world.
Of course, such tech had broad applications, but she didn't care for things as silly as military technology or scientific rigour. She used it for gaming, like everyone else her age did. They hooked into the VR devices The Waystation provided and joined in on various subscription-style games to play in realistic facsimiles of life – fighting games and war games and more conventional things besides; MMOs and MOBAs and Battle Royals in perfect, minute detail.
Some said it could sap the mind and leave one lulled and dazed, and others said that repeated use would cause people to middle the boundaries between reality and fiction – but Harley, honestly, didn't care. For her, she was happy if such were the case, for it was an upgrade from her actual life. The systems were designed with heavy fail-safes to prevent that exact thing, however, and artificial intelligence scoured the virtual net to make sure there was no shady shit going on.
Games had capped feedback to make sure that things did not get too bad for the user, but the average player often never got that far. One still needed a proper set of implants to interface fully with a game and actually feel it all in proper detail, and there were upgrades for those interfaces too to make it even more realistic. Limiters were present to keep it all above-board, but Harley was not in the mind to care either way. It could be considered a danger, but any set of mental modifications could – and it wasn't as if there was some perverse world out there where people had their minds altered for lewd purposes, so she didn't care.
The Waystation was her home away from home, her lifeblood, her way to escape the drudgery of reality for just an hour a session, and she savoured it. She buzzed with excitement as she waited on the magnet-tram to take her there, having opted for public transport instead of a private car simply to enjoy her freedom a bit more fully. She tasted that freedom on her tongue, in her throat, and she adored it with all of her being.
It was liberating, and knowing she was going to go to The Waystation and finally log back into her favourite VR-MMORPG after a week was more than enough to fill her with buzzing warmth. It had been far too long since she'd been able to play Vice and Venus, and she felt that longing inside of her like a burning ache. It was her single most favourite game she had ever played, and when one considered that it was the single most popular game in the entire world amongst the female and futanari population, it came as no surprise – it was dangerously addictive for all the right, and wrong, reasons.
Even if she had only rented out an hour at the Waystation, even if she only had a limited amount of time to play the game - bylaws to prevent overplay and the general fact that the place was busy as fuck - she would savour it. She anticipated it the entire time she left the house and went straight for the mag-tram system, happy to take public transport to savour her freedom, and that bubbling excitement left her almost dizzy. Even if it was only an hour, the time-dilation effect of virtual reality meant that it would feel longer – the time passed in the game was not one to one, and the mind couldn't quite distinguish that properly from real life.
She didn't care. Her parents did, but she did not give one iota of thought toward it. She simply made her trip from tram to mall as quickly as she could, then bounced along with her eyes fixated on The Waystation. With lip-biting anticipation she stared it over, taking in the big, fancy place with awe. The outer walls were arranged like some edifice of white plastic composite and blue glass, the doors a black composite that promised sultry fun inside. She stepped up to it with eagerness, pushing past the crowds of milling people around, and let her hand closed around the handle of her home for the next few months.
The inside was a smooth sort of darkness, an atmosphere that felt like rolling velvet. She knew that was just her mind, but she appreciated the charcoal hex-mesh on the floor and the walls of smooth grey. Sharp lines of indulgent purple decorated the walls and floor, and smooth panels of highlighted colour were set on the walls like strange pieces of modern art. The main area was more like a bar than a gaming station, with a long counter at one and a series of neat tables around it. It served decent food and had all sorts of drinks, but most people just used it to refresh after pulling themselves from a VR sim.
She had no expectations to actually get anything to eat or drink right then; she was still buzzing with excitement, and she didn't have the patience to wait. She simply stepped up to the scanner set just a ways from the doorway, a tall, flat-faced panel that one could use to make selections. A bored-looking employee manned the counter beside it, her dark head of hair locked away behind a set of blocky, old-fashion hipster headphones.
She barely acknowledged Harley as she approached, though they had known one another for at least a year. She was supposed to ask if she had a reservation or wanted to book a session, but they knew the song-and-dance too well; she merely waved her tattooed arm at the display, and Harley, smiling, stepped up to it. With her phone app pulled up she tapped it against the screen, allowing it to read her credentials. It lit up with her face, her Waystation ID, and it confirmed her reservation for room 2-B. With that, the attendant waved her in, and with that, Harley stepped inside to the waystation proper.
It was like a breath of fresh air. The place was nice to be sure, as nice and maintained a place as any upscale lounge or bar or even her school's learning center, but she wasn't there for that. As much as she enjoyed the atmosphere and let it roll over in a tantalizing wave, she made a beeline for her room. Desperate to get every last measure of time out of the hour-long booking that she could, she didn't want to potentially waste and time she had. The place logged you in and out automatically, extensions were rare, and with her phone reading Five-fifty-six, she had only four minutes to go before she was able to hook in.
So focused was she on her steps that she entirely missed the trio leaving the table just to her right, starting up almost in tandem, with her. She walked right past, her mind focused and her brain not quite allowing any extraneous detail in, until she heard a familiar voice cut through the air.
“Harley?”
Harley turned around and found herself face to face with the very familiar face of Natalie Wilkerson herself - a technical classmate of Harley’s from school, and someone that came from a decent economic strata herself. At least, that was what her parents told her - socialites or busybodies or something. Nothing close to rich, not even close, but the kind of people that had the sway to get into their litigious high school.
She was a familiar face, even if Harley only tangentially knew her as the quiet nerdy girl at school. As the part-time manager of The Waystation, they saw a lot of one another over the course of many interactions and had somewhat bonded over their shared love of Vice and Venus. That was pretty much it; the standard antisocial type, she basically kept to herself, her group of friends, and her girlfriend, Marcie, also known as hottest-stud-this-side-of-town.
“Hey,” Harley greeted, her smile a bit tight - mostly from confusion, because she didn’t expect to see the girl there. “I didn’t, uh, think I’d see you here today, Natalie? It’s not your shift.”
Natalie laughed and reached up to adjust her glasses. Big, round hipster-like things, they covered a face that could be considered extremely cute if it had just the basic amount of maintenance. As it was, with her hair tucked away in a messy bob, her glasses covering her face, and her body tucked in a ginormous hoodie, she looked like everyone’s stereotypical depiction of a nerd.
In a way, Harley sometimes felt bad and almost wanted to help her dress up a bit. On the other, her girlfriend, Marcie - on the few times they talked - basically told her that Natalie was a secret bombshell of thicc proportions, so Harley really didn’t know one way or the other. Without investment to find out, she just left their relationship at the cordial level it was at.
“I’m just hanging out today with my friends,” she said, and waved her hand behind her. “We’re, uhm, they’re gonna game today, actually, so yeah. But uhm! Hi! I’m also surprised to see you here at this, uh, time, you know, uhm.”
Her hesitant, awkward words made Harley smile. “Yeah, my parents are gone for a bit, so I booked some room for playtime.”
Her eyes trailed back at the table of girls that Nat had just vacated. She was surprised to find that she recognized them, too, and mostly in the way that she would never expect to see them alongside someone as frumpy and nerdy as Natalie Wilkerson. She was not one to judge in that way, no, but the girls she was with definitely had reputations that proceeded them, and none of that seemed compatible with cute nerdy chick at the game store.
The first was Valerie Tennerman, a high school senior, and one of the most well-known girls at their school. Harley had known her before that, though, because she was from a family that her parents scornfully derided - the Tennermans, they called them, almost like boogeymen; new money, the result of an idiot getting extremely lucky with investments and resulting in the eventual creation of a daughter that was the literal definition of a trust-fund kid: lazy, spoiled, bitchy, too rich for anything.
Needless to say, Harley had never been allowed to meet her, but given that they went to the same school, it was impossible not to know about her. Valerie spent the first few years of high school being the most popular cheerleader around - until she was kicked off the team for exceptionally poor grades, a lackadaisical attitude, and total lack of care for school or authority. For anyone else, that might have been the end of their story, but Valerie… was not that.
Even Harley heard the rumours of her rep, for better or worse. She was, quite literally, known as the school bicycle. She was a good five-five, with artificial tits that left her in the double-D cup, a figure that was all beach-tanned, lean, athletic, and sexy as hell, she had a reputation for basically only caring about looking as hot as was physically possible and getting laid - that was it. Female or futa, it didn’t matter; she was so well known for giving mind-blowing head that even a goody two shoes like Harley knew about it, and the salacious whispers about her banging in various janitor’s closets while she skipped class were legendary.
So, Harley just gulped as she watched her rise from the table, her mountainous tits of tanned flesh bouncing in her slutty crop-top. She looked hot as fuck even then, with the lines of her exposed stomach nice and tight from cheerleader work and her navel piercing glimmering nicely in the light. Her short-shorts left bare her lean legs, and combined with the sweeping curve of her hips and a beautiful blonde pixie-cut, even Harley had to admit she looked hot as fuck - definitely, the kind of person that cared only about looking as hot as possible and getting fucked.
That, in and of itself, might have been okay to pass up on - people could be friends with whoever, and she didn’t judge if Natalie hung out with someone known literally for skimping on her grades to bang futas in a closet or give head to her tutors. It wasn’t just one, though, and sitting right across from Valerie was Lucy Preston, the second most well-known bicycle around the school - or, at least, the biggest head fiend one could find, a girl that was vaunted for her amazing cock-sucking lips and her apparent desire to quite literally suck the dick of every single futa in the entire school.
Her tits were huge, maybe even bigger than Valerie’s, with the same rumours that her mother - another well-known slut - had paid for her to get them increased. She was all pale skin, sweeping curves, and long black hair of a gorgeously feathery disposition, she was the kind of girl that was best described as a big titty goth GF. It was hard not to hear people talking about her in the lunch room or around the study halls, trying to get her to go on a date with them or some such.
Harley did not know from experience, not at all, but the girl definitely gave off those vibes. The glasses on her face were entirely for show, her thick leather choker was entirely slutty, and with a halter-style top that left bare her lacy push-up bra, she screamed slut. Even if Harley felt bad for thinking it, there was no denying the look - and the miniskirt that practically left her ass hanging out and flashed the thong arching around her hipline was no secret, either.
She had a body that people praised for sex, and with her puffy, cock-sucking lips of renown painted with pitch-black lipstick that stood out in sharp contrast with her pale face, she looked about ready to get down on her knees and be the dick-sucker of one’s dreams. Even if Harley felt bad for thinking those sorts of things, being faced with two of the biggest, most well-known sluts around the school.
As Harley stared, Lucy locked eyes with her. She tilted her chin up and let her large nose ring piercing flash in the light, then parted her fat cock-sucking lips just a smidge; the black-lined puffiness offered a glimpse into the tunnel beyond and showed off a brief flash of a pierced tongue before closing and holding steady, eyes tight and locked. She set her chin in her hand in a motion that made her tits wobble obscenely, and Harley could see, beneath that tightness, the hints of more piercings on her nipples - clear, defined barbells, so firm that they forced out against the clinging nature of her top.
Lucy said nothing, though. Just like every other time Harley saw her, she appeared impassive, cold, and aloof. She never talked with anyone and seemed to always be stoic, calm, and above everyone else, like the classical depiction of that quiet goth girl or that student council president. Some people thought she was some sort of refined, structured intellect that was so bored with normal school she’d rather suck dick; Harley, rather selfishly, thought otherwise, and doubted that was the case at all, but she would never say that.
When faced with that unassuming coolness and vision of insane lewdness, she flushed and switched her attention back to Valerie - which wasn’t much better at all when the taller, tanned blonde stood up, made her tits bounce in a way that was clear she didn’t have a bra on and showed so much cleavage off that Harley was envious. Her smaller C-cup never looked that good in a crop-top, but beyond that, she simply wished she could dress as scandalous as that and get away with it.
She could not, though, and so had to live vicariously through others.
“Oh, wow, is that, like, Harley? ” Valerie cooed, her voice exactly as one would imagine a bratty blonde rich girl trust-fund baby to sound. Ditzy, slutty, and unrefined, she fit her stereotype all too perfectly and rather incredibly proved the reason why Harley's parents did not want them to associate. “Holy shit. Didn’t think goodie-goodie would come around to the Way, huh?”
Harley blinked. “Uh - first, uh, nice to see you, Valarie -”
“Just Val!” The pixie-cut blonde cooed, her side-swept bang of hair flicking against the plane of an utterly gorgeous face. She was heartstopping in her beauty, and Harley really did admire it - even if she knew that the girl only worked out and did cheerleading to look as sexy as possible when she was on her back.
“-Second, ah, yes, I come here often -”
“Val,” Natalie protested very suddenly, “I’ve told you that Harley comes here all the time. She’s basically a regular.”
Valerie laughed. She swung around the table with a saunter of her hips, picked up a beer bottle that was basically empty, downed it in one go, and then slung an arm around Harley’s neck - smooth, refined, yet immeasurably slutty even then. “Oh, I know. Just teasin’. Harley isn’t the kinda girl you’d expect to see here, huh?”
Harley flushed and tried not to focus on the massive cleavage that pressed into her shoulder. In truth, she had always been more fond of the female persuasion than anything else, and even if her mind thought a futa was sexy as hell, girls like Val really got her going. The parade of jiggling in front of her wasn’t easy to ignore, but looking away and seeing Lucy stare at her was not much better, either.
She cleared her throat. “I could say the same about you.”
Valerie giggled. “Hey, even popular girls can play games once and a while, you know?”
Harley flicked her brows up. “I just didn’t, uh, imagine it, is all.”
Val winked. “There’s only so much IRL dick a girl can take before she needs a virtual break, you know?”
Harley flushed hard. “I - I mean, uhm, I’ll take your word for it -”
The busty blonde cheerleader laughed and slipped away from her. “Oh, you’re cute. Man, goodie-two-shoes types are always the funnest -”
“Not a real word,” Lucy drawled, looking up at Harley. “But like, totally…if you’re into that sort of thing.”
Val snorted. “Why’s it always gotta be about your tastes?”
“You asked, I answered.”
Stuck between getting teased and hit on by two well-known sluts and bicycles around the school, she just sort of flushed and tried to untangle herself. She stepped back and retreated to the safer waters of Natalie, settling in beside the relatively normal, baggy-cloth-wearing nerd teen. She had no idea why someone like that would find companionship for two people known for getting as little work and as much cock done as possible, but she really didn’t want to judge.
“Well, uh, it’s funny to see you guys here at The Waystation,” Harley said slowly, “really funny, actually, but I’ve actually got a room booked for myself? In a -” she checked her phone “-minute or so, so -”
“So do we!” Natalie chirped, looking up at her with eyes wide past her glasses. Even shorter than Harley’s incredibly modest five-three, she could almost be described as a shortstack. “That’s funny.”
Harley shrugged and inclined her head. “I guess so? I mean, this place is super popular, so.”
Valerie slung a purse over her shoulder, winked at Harley, and stepped right on past. “It totally is, and I wanna get my room before some schmuck decides to snatch it up.”
Harley watched her moved past them and toward the hallways that led to the many, many VR-rooms. For a second, her eyes raked over the sheer size of her bubble butt behind her short-shorts; then up at the waistband where the thick banding of brand-name underwear were proudly shown; then further still, where she saw the rather flush-inducing arc of a tramp stamp on her lower back. Right at the base of her spine, it was a sprawling tattoo of black ink that meshed with the smooth tan of her skin.
Harley flushed.
“Yeah, I mean -” Natalie started, but Lucy, similar to the blonde, got up, grabbed a bag, and started to walk past “...Get to our room…”
She offered Harley a look. Harley matched it and shrugged, finding solidarity with the other quiet girl in the face of the two bustier, curvier seniors.
“They’re a bit of a handful,” Natalie explained.
“And she doesn’t mean our tits,” Lucy laughed as she sauntered on past, her hips swinging and her miniskirt flashing. It was so short that Harley could see her ass half hanging out, and the teen was almost sure the clear public indecency was only brushed aside because Lucy was hot enough and slutty enough to blow whatever cop tried to stop her.
Harley bit her lip and snorted.
“Yeah,” Natalie laughed. “Like I said: handful.”
“I can see that,” the strawberry-blonde laughed, her head shaking. She and Natalie quickly fell into line behind them, forming an impromptu group that headed to their respective rooms. With the two scandalously-dressed beauties in front of them, Harley found her eyes wandering once more to take in the sight of their bodies - not because she wanted to, not really, and only because they were just that distracting.
It was around then that she noticed the second tramp stamp. Tattooed around Lucy’s lower back in sharp black ink that stood up stark and clear against her too-pale skin, it didn’t take long to notice that it was an exact mimicry of Valerie. They both had two very visible, entirely identical tattoos on their skin, matching tramp-stamps that, when set side by side as they were, became utterly unmistakable.
Not sure what to think, Harley’s jaw dropped. Natalie did not seem to notice, and it took the rich girl a moment to think about what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. It took her a further moment to lean in and not get distracted by swishing skirts, rippling tramp stamps, or a wobbling ass.
“Uh, hey,” she whispered, “Uh… can I ask why they both have, uh, the same tats…?”
“Huh?” Natalie blinked, looked at them, then almost snorted and shook her head. “Oh! That! It’s a funny story, actually.”
Harley was not sure how that could possibly be funny, but she raised an eyebrow and tried for a smile. “Is it?’
“Yeah! So like, uh, you know how both of them are, like, uhm, well known for being… loose?”
Harley nodded very slowly. “I don’t want to think bad or anything, but there are… rumours.”
Nat grinned. “It’s okay, they’re just total sluts.”
Harley scratched her cheek and flushed a bit.
“So, they both always like to compete and say who’s better at sucking dick, basically. Val thinks she’s better, Lucy thinks she’s better, they both count how many they’ve blown and how quick, that sort of thing.”
Harley went red. How does that relate to tattoos!?
Shamelessly, Natalie continued. “So, well, one day they decided to put it to the test. We had this kinda impromptu blowjob contest here at The Waystation one night, like, all the people here were given free blowjobs by Lucy and Val in a line. Walk in, get your dick sucked, that sort of thing.”
Harley went even more red. What?
“-So there was this huge blowbang competition where they tried to see who was better,” Natalie said, as if it was totally normal. “Everyone got in on it, was a total mess of like, cum and stuff after… but yeah, uh. Valerie couldn’t suck as much dick as fast as Lucy did, and she lost so she had to get the tramp-stamp.”
Then, belatedly, Nat snapped her fingers. “Sorry, I meant to say that the tramp stamp is originally Lucy’s, like, it was hers first, and the challenge was that if Val lost she had to get the same one. So, she did.”
Harley baulked, lips flapping. “They… had a blowjob competition in the Waystation? And - and Valerie got a tramp stamp because she lost?’
“Yeah, to show that she’s not as good as Lucy at giving head,” Nat said, and almost seemed proud. Harley didn’t get it; the shy girl never spoke like that, but as she talked about the lewdness, she seemed almost… content with it. “Trust me, once you’ve seen Lucy do it, you never see anyone else the same. Val had, like, three at a time, took like a minute for each dick to blow, but Lucy? She got them off in like thirty seconds max, the most insane deepthroating skills, and so she had fifty down before Val hit thirty-five or something - I don't remember exactly, but the tally is underneath the tramp stamp. You can’t see it from here, but yeah.”
“That’s… crazy,” Harley squeaked. “I…”
They actually did that?
“Trust me, it was way more funny after when they got the tats but both forgot their wallets. Just ended up getting plowed by like, six tattoo artists, mouth and, uh, you know, at the same time.” Natalie shook her head fondly. “They’re airheads.”
Harley just hesitantly laughed. She looked at the matching tramp stamps with a whole new slutty outlook, realizing that the rumours were not only true but totally subdued; for anyone to give a blowjob competition in a public place with total strangers just for a who is better bet - well, they had to be some of the biggest sluts she knew.
She wondered, then, why it was kind of hot to imagine.
“Alright, this is us,” Valerie hummed abruptly, cutting into their thoughts as she stepped beside a door. “Where are you going, Harley?”
Harley stopped. She looked up at the room number, did a double take, then blinked twice. Wordlessly, with her brow frowning, she pointed at the door behind Valerie.
Val looked at her room with bouncing tits. “Uh, Harley, this is the only room, like, here? LOL.”
“...Yes, but that is my room.” Harley held up her phone to show the Waystation’s official app. “2-B, says right here.”
Valerie snorted at her. “That’s not possible, we totally booked this.”
“That’s not - yeah,” Natalie chimed in. She stepped over and held out her own phone, face scrunched up. “Sorry, Harley, but we definitely booked this one.”
“I’m telling you,” Harley said with confusion, “2-B is room I booked? I checked when I signed in.”
“Yeah, well -” Lucy started, but Valerie cut her off as she reached over and tapped her phone against the identification scanner on the door. It clicked, flashed blue, and showed the credentials and room details within - booked for four, with Natalie’s name right on top.
“Sorry,” Val said. “Clearly, this is ours.”
Harley, shaking her head, did the exact same thing - she stepped forward, tapped her phone against the scanner, and sure enough, the blue light went off and her name appeared on the scanner. Suddenly, the other three girls went slack-faced, their expressions befuddled and confused, with heads turned to face the clear discrepancy.
“Oh… shit, ” Natalie swore with a sigh. “One sec…”
She pulled up her phone app, and Harley could only presume she logged into whatever it was to be a part-time manager for the place. She began to scroll through room bookings with a furious finger, looking past them all, until she found the entry she was looking for - and then sighed again.
“She’s right, guys,” Natalie sighed. “This room has been double booked by both of us… by Marcie.”
Val sighed, Lucy grumbled, and Natalie groaned.
“Of course, my sex-brained girlfriend would accidentally double-book a room again,” the rather frumpy brunette sighed. “God, how many times do I have to tell her not to do that?”
“That’s what happens when you’ve got more dick than brains,” Lucy drawled.
“What would you know about brains?” Valerie teased, hand reaching out to clap Lucy’s fat titty. “Yours went to your tits!”
“Nah, that was the implants.”
They laughed, but Harley bit her lip with concern. “So… what do we do now? I mean, uh…”
“I’m… looking for another free room,” Natalie explained, “but… I think we’re all booked up…”
Harley grimaced, feeling her chance of freedom slip away. Val, however, shrugged, and reached for the phone. “Who booked it first?”
“That’s not how this works, Val.”
“Well, the way I see it, we got dibs,” Val said anyhow. “You run the place, so like, we get first call.”
Harley frowned at the sudden betrayal. “Uh, well, the way I see it, it was The Waystation’s mistake. That means I should get my appointment.”
“How do you figure?” Valerie snorted, crossing her arms under her frankly amazing rack.
“Customer service.”
“...We’re customers too.”
“I paid.”
“So did -” Val paused. “Okay, we didn’t, but still.”
“Well -”
Natalie looked between them. “H-hey, we can work this out -”
Harley frowned. “I’d really rather not lose my slot for a mistake like this -”
“-Uh, same here, Harley, so like, back off -”
“What’s going on here?” A new voice cut in, and one that Harley both recognized and did not at the same time. It was like something out of a dream, but so much more clear in the flesh. “Is there a problem?”
“Yo, Mary-Anne,” Valerie drawled with a wink, “just in time! Turns out, our room is double-booked, so we’re trynna settle that -”
“Hm?” The newcomer chuckled. “Double-booked? Really?”
Harley turned - and she stopped short. She knew those lips, those tattoos, that voice. It was a voice she heard in her ear every time she tuned into a stream and it was a set of tits that she saw on camera each day they were flashed. Even if the stream was always from the lips-down, carefully avoiding a face, the tat around her neck was unmistakable by every margin. As the rich teenager found herself face to face with Miss Mayhem, her favourite streamer of all time, in the flesh, she was all but dazed.
She was gorgeous. Her face was smooth, gentle, and innocent, almost angelic in appearance, but the rest of her could only be described as a total sex bomb. At a tall five-eight, her F-cup chest pressed out against a tight top that looked so tantalising one could bury their face into the white mounds of flesh. Her cleavage was thick and full, luxurious to look at and downright sinful with that little mole on the right breast, but there was much more to appreciate than just that.
Her neck, long and succulent, bore a gorgeous lace choker of the sultriest style - but it was minimal at best and only there to highlight the neat little letters right below it that had been tattooed into the perfect, silky white skin of her collarbone: a tattoo that had become internet-famous, a sensation itself, that read out Snap My Choker. Lewd beyond belief, it was the hallmark of Miss Mayhem, and it confirmed, in a moment, that it was her.
But she was gorgeous, and Harley was stuck in awe. Her immodest clothing showed off skin in droves, and the flatness of her stomach gave way to a rolling set of hips meant to be bred and a flat pelvis that served as a perfect canvas for ink. The waistband of her shorts were so low that the girl’s womb tattoo was fully barred, depicting a fiery, elaborate heart shape of pure sinful succulence. Set inside that lurid heart were the words Knock Me Up, a declaration so lewd that it left Harley’s mouth watering.
The girl was, in a word, gorgeous. Everything about her screamed bad girl thirst trap, the kind of coy, smirking bad-girl type that knew she was hot, actively tried to accentuate that sinful lifestyle, and acted as a thirst-trap as if her only goal in life was to get people hard as a rock. As insane as it was to consider it, Harley found it amazing. It was an act so slutty and forward facing as to be liberating, and she was, as ever, in awe that Miss Mayhem could so boldly inscribe the declaration of her lifestyle into her skin itself.
Harley wasn’t aware that she was staring until the others laughed. “Shit, she looks like she’s seen a ghost!”
“Must be a big fan,” Lucy drawled. “Only the big simps get like that.”
“Usually they've got dicks, though,” Val pointed out.
“And?”
“Hey,” Miss Mayhem drawled at her, her voice surprisingly huskier in person than on stream. The streamer never showed her face, and was famed for that; she just presented her lips, her neck, and her tits, a lurid display that drew eyes. But, beyond her thirst-trap bombshell appearance, it was her voice that called people in. She had the silkiest, smoothest rumbling voice around, pure velvet in the ear, and she was known for hopping into random lobbies to assault the senses with her sinful perfection - it was one of the things that Harley loved, in truth.
“You’re Harley, right?” Miss Mayhem asked, and Harley wilted.
“You - you know me?” She stammered, voice weak and pitiful. “I - you - I’m - you’re Miss Mayhem!”
The streamer rumbled out a perfect laugh. “That I am! But we’ve already met before, Harley.”
“I -” Harley was at a loss for words. “No, we definitely - I would totally- “
Miss Mayhem laughed, a motion that made her F-cups wobble. “Harley Wilson, right? No, I definitely remember you. I’m Mary-Anne. You remember that name, right?”
“I…” Harley drew a blank. “You’re - uh -”
She winked. “I look a bit different, but I helped you in Math in… second year, I think? I was Valedictorian two years back -”
Suddenly, Harley's face melted. In an instant, Miss Mayhem was gone, replaced with, instead, a very different recollection of the same girl. The same face, one that she remembered all too well, but where now her hair was a deep black tinged through with deep purple, it was a smooth, straight-edged, deep-banged sheet of black; where big tits were now proudly displayed and a snap my choker tattoo revealed, there was a professional shirt and blazer so fitting and compressed as to hide any chance of a chest or a glimpse of skin.
Where there was an angelic face was a similar face covered by business-like glasses; where there was makeup was nothing. Legs were covered by an ankle-length skirt, hips guise by a too-high waistband, all tied together by a professional jacket. Where there was thirst-trap perfection became angelic, virginal stoicism, an angel that all students had aspired to be - a perfect goody two shoes, top grades, top everything, the daughter any rich family would want.
Scion of one of the richest families around, one to put even Harley’s to shame. Bigger circles, older money, highly, ultra-conservative, their daughter had been the hallmark that everyone aspired to be or otherwise detested for her sheer perfection. Only, the girl in front of Harley right then had the same face, but nothing else. She was such a far cry from the girl she had tangentially known and looked up to years ago that it was insane, and she didn’t know what to make of it.
“That’s… not possible,” she stammered, making everyone laugh.
“I know, I know,” Mary-Anne laughed. “I look totally different! But graduation and uni has a way of… shiting one’s priorities.”
“That’s… one hell of a change,” Harley stammered, staring over the glory that was Miss Mayhem with throat-quenching awe. “I mean… you…. Look…”
“Hot as fuck?” Mary-Anne chuckled and winked. “I know. But trust me, High School was my low point. Uni? Upstate? Got to, ah, reinvent myself. ”
“But -” Harley floundered. “That’s…”
There was so much she wanted to say, wanted to do, but she didn’t know how to. The words failed to come at her as she compared the mental image of the perfect angel valedictorian virgin girl, scion of a family richer and stuffier than her own, becoming the literal hottest piece of ass she’d ever seen in her life. The things she would do just to get those tits in her hands were insane, let alone the rest of her.
“Hey, like, as touching as this celeb moment is,” Lucy drawled out, “what are we gonna do about the room?”
Mary-Anne, Miss Mayhem herself, looked them over. “Well, why don’t we just let Harley join us?”
Harley’s heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”
“Yeah, what?” Valerie pulled a face. “You… want a random to join us?”
Mary-Anne shrugged. “She’s cute, and I don’t mind sharing. It’s only fair.”
Harley was floored at the thought, her mind shattered and her jaw dropped. It was the most insane thing to think that she could play with Miss Mayhem herself, and someone that was the hottest piece of ass she’d ever seen.
Valerie thought otherwise, clearly. “Uh, have you seen her? She’s a goody two-shoes. She’s not gonna handle our kind of content, Mary.”
“I was, too, once.”
“...Then you got a tat asking people to snap your choker, one to knock you up, and another to clap those fat cheeks -”
Mary-Anne laughed. “Still! At least check her stats, right?”
“She’s gonna run the moment we get into town,” Valerie snorted. “She’s not gonna handle redlight shit -”
Mary-Anne held out her hand to Harley, making her heart skip another beat. “Hey, Harley, mind pulling up your Vice and Venus character? Your main, whatever you play on.”
“S-sure!” The girl rushed to say, and immediately pulled up the app with her game content. She fumbled for a moment before tugging it into view, then handed it off. “Here.”
As the rest impatiently watched, Mary-Anne grabbed the phone and started to flick through the account. Harley felt as if her life was being laid bare, and she squirmed awkwardly as she watched it.
“Wait, hold up,” Mary-Anne said after a moment. “She’s a paladin. ”
“...Yeah, she’s a goody two shoes,” Valerie snorted. “Makes sense.”
Miss Mayhem rolled her eyes, winked, and threw the phone at Valerie. “Look. She’s part of the GitGud guild, Val. She’s got a completion rate of six-percent herself. She’s gotten through almost forty chapters of the main story. She beat The Fell Blade. ”
Valerie snorted incredulously as Harley squirmed. “What, she’s a fucking ten-percenter?”
Mary-Anne nodded. “Looks like it. Holy paladin, a completionist guild, pretty far in the campaign, high boss count - she’s a serious player, not a casual.”
“She’s a tryhard,” Valerie replied, handing the phone right back. “Probably hasn’t been lewded all that much if she’s focused on completion.”
Harley bit her lip. It was true that she was a completionist, and that was uncommon in Vice and Venus. Every quest had about a ten percent completion rate because the content was hard, and losing meant some sort of lewdness. Most people would get sidelined by it as they were taken as slaves, or sex toys, or shipped off to somewhere else, or found themselves indebted for the gear they bought or medical services rendered - but not her, not the completionist guilds like hers.
They were the kind of people that worked hard to beat that challenging content, and that meant she didn’t get lewded all that much. She saw it a lot, all the time, really, with companions, questmates, or just general players being lewded for their losses by her side, but in general she had avoided it fairly well. Early on, she’d been taken a lot; now, she was just a damned good player, and her streams were focused on that skill.
But she didn’t want to let the chance slip, so she stepped forward emphatically. “I-It’s true, I haven’t!”
They stared at her.
“I haven't been l-lewded all that much,” she confessed, “but that’s because I really like the game and want to be good at it. Not many people actually post that content, and… I’ve never had friends that are willing to go through the lewd stuff. So - so if nothing else, I’d be happy to do the heavy lifting for whatever quest you guys are on, you know, just, uh - I don’t mind if things get raunchy. ”
Valerie snorted and shook her head.
The famous streamer looked over her friends. “The rest of our guild isn’t on today, right? And our only two Paladins are, uh, well, Amy is still stuck at one-hundred depravity, so she’s stuck as a fuckdoll for at least another twenty-hours, and RiskyCucumber is still paying off her debt from when we asked that shitty guild for help, so she’s AWOL as a cock-whore.”
Lucy made a noise. “So we need a paladin?”
“We need a paladin.” Mary-Anne grinned as she turned back to Harley. “We’re doing the new expansion today, actually. Shadows Over Strassen Landing. You game?”
Shadows over Strassen Landing. She knew it, of course. The latest, newest expansion, featuring everyone’s favourite NPC and in the most popular of port cities, it was the hottest thing around right then. Of course, with such a low completion rate generally, no one had beaten much yet for spoilers. All Harley knew, in fact, was the vague tagline: shadows are gathering over Strassen’s Landing, and as a sinister force moves against the city, an epidemic of missing women becomes so apparent that not even the authorities can cover it up. Can a foolhardy band of Adventurers figure out what’s going on, or shall they become another set of victims?
…Characteristically vague, Harley knew that, but she didn’t hesitate in the least. “Yes! Yes, for sure.”
“Welcome to the guild,” the famous Miss Mayhem said, and Harley felt her heart skip a beat.
“I’m going to be streaming this,” Mary-Anne had said as they sat down in their big chairs, “but don’t worry about identity - all names that aren’t mine get auto-swapped to generic shit, you know, voice included, so -”
“Y-yeah, I’ve seen the streams,” Harley had squeaked, and though Lucy mocked her for being a tryhard, Mary-Anne simply smiled and winked at her.
“Good, so you know how this works,” had been the famous e-thot’s reply, and then, with a flick of the wrist, handed a VR headset to her. “Welcome to the Virtues, then, Harley. Buckle up.”
The Virtues. The name for Miss Mayhem’s guild, a sort of play on words to indicate Virtual Reality gameplay and the guild’s clear lack of virtue. Something that many aspired to join, and something that Harley was about to. Swallowing with excitement, Harley accepted the helmet, brought herself back, and got into place alongside the other three girls.
They hooked into the VR systems smoothly. The rooms themselves were, essentially, a round table with booth-like slots, and big, cushiony armchairs that let a person lean back in comfort. Helmet-like objects came down from the ceiling on stiff joints like computer monitors to lock in place, hooking into neural ports and standard-issue interfaces; any other interfaces were similarly logged into by the chair itself, if they were present.
And that was it. The helmet, the chair, and any other connections handled the VR. The brain would be plunged into a realistic virtual world from there, and that was it. Easy and smooth to then lose oneself in fantasy, and Harley was a-okay with it. She was grinning the entire time she sat down and felt that cool spike of sensation flood her system once a connection was established; she let herself sink into a digital world without a care.
Her body wouldn’t be still through it, and the connection was not so severe that she couldn’t use her real self - like alt-tabbing on a computer one could swap in and out of VR, simple as that. Still, she fully embraced the alternate reality and logged onto Vice and Venus as quickly as she could, and after a quick guild invite accepted and a server hop, there she was in the same instance as Miss Mayhem herself - her favourite e-thot streamer of all.
The purples and whites of Vice and Venus’s title page melted down as she logged into her character, and she found her exactly where she had left her - thankfully - in the Grand Cathedral of Spirerun. It was a Paladin’s retreat, a place for that particular class to do class-related things in relative safety, and in the world of Vice and Venus, that was a very sorely prized commodity.
The game was designed such that logging out was not safe -at all. A character, once logged out, would be controlled by a basic AI NPC to do simple tasks - auto fetching mats, fighting mobs, or general things like jobs: woodcutting, fishing, serving in the army, and the like. They acted like NPC’s when a player logged off, and that meant they were fair game. It was not at all uncommon to log back in and find oneself sold as a slave, or being used as a monster’s sex toy, or being captured and locked up by bandits.
Any manner of things, really. It meant that logging out in a safe place was vital, unless one wanted to be logged back in a dozen kilometers away in a compromising situation. Sleeping out in the wilds was only recommended if one knew a good spot to hide in, and even temporary built bases and shelters outside of the cities were only safe so long as a monster with a high enough level didn’t bash it down or another player found a way to get inside and at the vulnerable PC within.
Harley had learned that herself. Once, she’d come back and found her temporary base camp destroyed, with the other five paladins of her guild being used as sex-toys for Minotaurs; she had only gotten off safe as the sixth out of a five-man group, and thus still waiting for her turn. She had not been able to save them, which was, in and of itself, another issue: when a PC took cum inside their bodies, it added to an impregnation pool; if a virility check was failed, a PC would be impregnated and give birth to low-level monsters.
More than one settlement had been overrun after too many players played broodmother.
So, she, like every sensible person, took to logging off in Guildhouses, class houses, or safe zones - relatively speaking, since any ‘red’ character could then break those rules, too. She had always been safe in the Cathedral, given that it was located in one of the safest cities in the game world; a place with minimal lewds for the players that wanted to avoid such fates.
That meant, however, that she was as far from Miss Mayhem as possible. So, she had to get her gear on, pulling heavy half-plate into place around her body, tucked a sword at her waist and a shield on her back, and stowed gear in her inventory. Weight limits were a very real and palpable thing in the VR game, and she felt the weight of it all pressing against her as if it was real life - but it was an enjoyable sensation, and one that she savoured.
She was a true armoured paladin through and through, with a breastplate of shining silver, a sword of solid steel, and brilliant mail and smooth cream breeches around her limbs. Though almost fully armoured, her backside was barren, showing off the creamy skin in full. It was not a fashion-statement but rather a show of force: across her back, stretching from mid-spine to over her shoulders, was her Holy Paladin Crest, a mark of her high rank and class.
Stretched across her skin with almost glowing cyan ink, it showed and marked her off as a paladin that had not been corrupted or infected. A holy paladin through and through, the Crest not only showed the world that, but it acted as a conduit for power: marks, crests, sigils, runes, they all bore power in Vice and Venus. They had a thousand applications, and in her case, it let her channel magic more freely; so she kept it bare to make it easier still.
Proudly, she walked along the white roads of the holy distract and up along grandiose, statue-lined staircases toward the sky harbour. Airships were some of the safest ways to travel in the game, and most major cities had a hub for them. They were expensive, though, too much for the average player to use often, and that was the balancing act: travel safely and quickly, or take the cheaper and more dangerous roads. Sea travel was little better too, and much more risky in a more general sense.
Harley had money to spare, and she sent her blonde-haired human paladin toward the airships without even thinking about the cost. She needed to travel fast to meet the guild already prepped for the new expansion, and she had some distance to cross already: Strassen Landing was a famous in-game harbour city, but it was at the furthest northern edge of the Atusean Empire - some distance away from her relatively central location.
The Atusean Empire was, essentially, the primary empire in-game, human-controlled but featuring many races, and the quintessential protagonist faction… despite its seedy side and clear lack of morality. There were others across the game world, but none had as much land or space and most served the questline rather than anything else. Given the size, it made travel from one end to the other a bit difficult, and along the southern border regions, the war with the neighbouring Kingdom of Jotunsgard made questing downright dangerous.
Taking an airship was, for Harley, the fastest way there. She happily paid the fare as she stepped onto what was, essentially, a zeppelin of wood and bronze. She took her place on one of the many pews that a person could rest, and she happily put her feet up. There was little risk in the air, and unless she got seriously unlucky and was attacked by a dragon or pirates, it would be smooth sailing.
It was. There was relatively little disturbance as the fast-moving airship took her from a city of tall white spires and elven towers, across a landscape of green and brown, over white towns and distant cities, past warzones and burial mounds, and toward a series of tangling lakes and rivers and a broad golden sea. Stressen’s Landing, the place of her destination, was a large and important port city set at those important junctions, and it was one of the most famous places in the entire game world.
In game terms, it was a massive trade hub where goods from a dozen factions and kingdoms were collected and sold. In player terms, it was the place where the markets were at their strongest, with the public player economy seeing sales in the hundreds of thousands each day and the black markets beneath it seeing even more rare, illicit activity. It was a town where some of the seediest guilds made their homes, and the harbour had a reputation for being one of the most morally questionable places around.
One only went there if they needed something, because otherwise, it was like walking into a pit of den and depravity. It was where Red Players - player killers and assassins - went to hide out and thieves guilds roamed free. It was a seedy location where perversion and sex was high, rule of law broken for depravity, and the air so sexually charged that just being there could raise one’s Depravity Stat higher than they intended.
Its popularity was, perhaps, the reason why it became the centre of the new and mysterious expansion, Shadows over Stressen’s Landing. Harley wanted to tackle the expansions in order and so didn’t look into it, but as far as she knew, it was some ‘sinister’ questline revolving around intrigue and secrets that was supposed to have ramifications for the world’s game state. Last time that happened there had been a city overrun by demons, and the time before, a monster army, and before that, the Drow had been introduced as a faction.
She was, therefore, optimistically excited, even though she was ostensibly touching down on the seediest place in the primary empire. She, along with nearly four dozen other players on that airship alone, touched down on the airship harbour in just half an hour of travel. Already, she could see that it was packed with yet more airships as hundreds of players tried to get there to start their instance of the new expansion - everyone, it seemed, was excited.
Paladin Harley stepped off the ramp and felt the hazy, musky sea-air of the city hit her face. It was a smell she was not used to, but every new scent was one of freedom to her. She bathed it in as she got her first taste of the seediest port town in the entire game, and she felt herself grin. She was the only Paladin in view right then, a vision of silver armour polished to a mirror sheen and crisp, smooth perfection, but she enjoyed herself.
It was nice.
She stepped down and onto the landing strip, making her way toward the gates to get into the city. There was a few lines for entry as city guard NPC’s checked people in, though for what reason, Harley did not know; though all cities had ‘illegal good’ checkpoints and made sure that people had the right paperwork and identification for their tasks, she highly doubted that a seedy port known for the black market would care about checking people for illegal content.
Still, she waited patiently with her pass in hand; just her and a few dozen others eagerly talking to one another about the new expansion and what might happen. Most were first-timers like her, and the cute, white-haired Elf archer in front of her was practically bouncing on her feet in excitement. The monotony of waiting for the leather-clad guards to approve each passenger was tedious, sure, but eagerness got people by.
The elf handed her papers to the guards, still bouncing on her feet. One of them, a blue-skinned Drow, looked them over while her human compatriot smirked down at the cute Ranger. They exchanged a look with one another before dramatically shaking their heads and ruffling the papers around like actors.
“These are out of date,” the Drow said.
The Elf blinked. “Huh?”
“Out of date,” the Drow repeated. “These aren’t valid.”
The Ranger gasped. “I got them legit this morning?”
The NPC’s shook their heads. “These stamps are out of date. You need to go back and get the proper ones.”
“You want me to go back to -”
The human sighed. “Step aside, ma’am.”
“S-step aside? Why?”
“To make sure you’re not carrying contraband,” she said, but the grin on her lips made it clear even to Harley that it was bullshit.
The Ranger gasped indignantly, but there was really little to be done - the last thing someone wanted to do was piss off town guards. They were beatable, sure, but getting a Wanted status was not ideal; further, most guard divisions had mages on-hand with paralytic spells to neutralize players in contempt of the law, which was to say nothing of their over-statted levels. The best choice was to comply, and despite flushing with heat, the Elfling complied.
Harley got her first-hand view of the city’s seedy, lecherous reputation first-hand when the two guards, for no clear reason, began an unceremonious strip-search of the Ranger. Her leather outfit was pulled off and dropped to the ground - possibly bound to her inventory - and the pert curves of her body laid bare. Hands began to possessively glide over her as they scraped and touched, very obviously not searching but just groping.
The paladin bit her lip at the untoward shamelessness as the Elf was stripped down bit by bit, her pale body tucked neatly between two lecherous guards. They surrounded her from either side as they tugged off clothing and ran palms along naked flesh, massaging the smooth white and caressing soft curves with terrible intent. With nowhere to go the Ranger squirmed and blushed hard, but any act of violence would certainly see worse consequences.
“H-hey!” The Elf protested. “W-what gives?!”
“Shut up,” the Drow laughed, her hand reaching down to smack the Elfling right on the ass. The player character squeaked as a random NPC guard clapped her cheek and made it wobble, then flushed as blue hands dug deep into the heart-shaped meat of it and began to knead it around like so much dough. “Soft, huh.”
“Cute. Who knows where she could be carrying a dangerous weapon?” The human quipped, and both laughed. The elf flushed as one guard palmed her ass like soft dough and bent it around while the other went at her modest tits, squishing them in her hands and all but holding up the entire line as they ‘strip searched’ her. All Harley could do was stand there, papers awkwardly in hand, and realize just how lewd the town truly was.
“I’m not carrying anything!” The Ranger protested. “H-hey, everything is declared - !”
“You know what? I think she’s a smuggler,” the human announced with a grin.
“I concur,” the Drow agreed with a shark-like expression. “We should bring her in for questioning.”
The Elf gasped. “Hey -!”
She didn’t get a chance to speak. Immediately, the two guards just hauled her off to who-knows-where, likely to be ‘interrogated’ with the dicks of the guards for the usual span of time set for lewds. She might be lucky to be freed before the day was out, and if she wasn’t, she would be serving the guards as their cock-holster for a good, long day - and unlike all the normal times Harley saw it, it was so clearly fake and false that it was laughable.
She could only gulp when she was waved forward to the new guard set in place at the gates. Her papers were checked as she waited with anticipation, with each rake of the eyes making her more nervous. She quivered until she got a sharp nod from the lizard-kin guard, then stepped past - and tried not to squeak when it unceremoniously smacked her on the ass.
“...Is something wrong?” it asked the moment she stopped.
“No,” she said hesitantly.
“Good. Then get going, unless you want to see the inside of a prison cell.”
And then she was off.
She met with the group just a ways down from the air strip. The path there wasn’t easy, for the routes through the port city were tangled at best and confusing at worst. It was hard to make out where to go when the cobblestone streets all seemed to mesh together, and every turn offered a sort of sinister atmosphere that almost made her shudder. Everywhere there were market stalls for buying and selling goods, making the place look like a bazaar - all overshadowed by the distant masts of huge trading sips and galleys.
“Hello,” she had asked one merchant along the way, “do you know where the main square is?”
“I do, but it’ll cost ya,” the half-Elf NPC drawled out, eying her up with lascivious intent.
“...How much?” Was her wary reply.
The merchant grinned. “Get those big titties out, girl, and we’ll talk business.”
Sighing, she left on the spot. The place was rife with sexual misdeeds, and it was simply part and parcel of the game’s biggest draw: overwhelming sex appeal. A dick could get wet anywhere, a pussy filled at any time. In the starter cities and holy places, it was subdued, all consensual; out there, at the port, a place of scum and villainy, her body had as much value as her coin.
At least, so she saw. More than one girl could be seen ducking under a counter as they paid for goods and supplies with their mouths, and she watched at least one adventurer be coerced in an alleyway into sex for a few meager coins as if she were just a common prostitute. The game world was so big and expensive than anything was viable, and money was not by any means the only resource available.
It took her another fifteen minutes to find the meet-up spot; a big, impressive square of rough cobble and grey-slanted buildings, with a large plateau in the center and dozens of stalls around it. It was only belatedly that she realized the stands on top of the stone plinth were not market stalls but instead stockades, and that the people there were not merchants but rather slaves; captured girls that broke the law or did something wrong and were locked in public stocks for their transgressions.
And, apparently, for free use by anyone around, because even as she walked along the square and watched, each girl had their cunt stuffed with cock, their mouths filled dick, and their bodies utterly, shamelessly used. That would never happen in the cities she frequented, but the further out one got, the more common it became. She didn’t think much of the gurgling, sputtering girls, either; she just bit her lip and carried on, searching for her party.
That was, in essence, how the port worked. It was shameless. There was a reason she had never gone there before, despite the place being the official haven for one of her favourite game characters. It was all seedy and lecherous, and having girls being used on public display was just par for the course. It was shameless to her, but she couldn’t deny, either, that there was something… hot about watching them get bound up and reamed out.
“Harley!” Mary-Anne greeted the moment she saw her.
No, Harley had to tell herself, not Mary-Anne - THE Miss Mayhem.
It was her, in the virtual flesh: the avatar she was so known for. A ‘sexy human adventurer’, she looked like a gladiator from the fighting pits of the Ibernan Peninsula. Hot, devestating sex, and with all the hallmarks that made it clear who she was and what she did for a living: sexy e-thot streams. Though her face was nothing like the Mary-Anne of real-life and her purple hair only bore hallmarks of how it was normally, the rest of her was in amazing proportion to reality.
That was one of the benefits of Vice and Virtue: the ability to use the body-shape editor to match pictures of one’s dimensions, even going so far as to copy skin-pattern, marks, and designs. That included tattoos, so Mayhem’s busty, F-cup frame bore the snap my choker collar tattoo, the knock me up heart around her womb, and the ever-famous clap my cheeks tramp-stamp she had on her lower back.
Most people only theorized if the ‘real Mayhem’ had them - or, at least, they did, before Mayhem’s online stretch goals for her stream promised confirmation. Once she hit enough money, the question of realism was not in doubt any longer. Every bit of her, sans her mysterious face, was true to life, and if it didn’t already earn her a thousand more simps, that was the final nail in the coffin.
Hot, gorgeous, busty, and slutty beyond belief, she was still the hottest person around. Harley gulped as she threw her arms around her and roped her into a hug that was all breast-squishing eagerness, and sighed as those mountainous F-cups mashed into her hardened breastplate. She wanted to throw her arms around her in turn, but she knew that if she did they would not remain in any innocent place on her body -and in lieu of groping her ass, she stayed still.
“Sorry I took so long,” she replied eventually. “It’s confusing around here.”
“Took you long enough,” Val drawled far more tersely. “What kept you, Goody-Goody?”
“It's just confusing,” she said as she stared her over. Valerie looked like the quintessential rogue: tight clothing, form-fitting attire of cloth and leather, with a midriff barred and her chest propped up firmly. It was hard to tell what class she was precisely, for while she looked like an assassin her curved sword and long, thin dagger made her appear more like a fencer, but her status as a DPS-check class was clear.
Her body, though, was not quite like Mayhem's picturesque appearance. Instead of being a clone of her real self, it looked more like an idealized version of herself: bigger tits, a leaner stomach, more defined muscle and athleticism to her limbs. It was like she'd taken her body as reference and refined it in the way she wanted to be, and Haley had to admit that it was pretty damned hot. All of the girls were, but the hot-rogue stereotype went far.
“Bet so,” Valerie laughed, “For a first-timer.”
Haley flushed. “I'm here, aren't I?”
Valerie winked. “Well see.”
“Don't get so cocky,” Lucy sighed, the last member of their party – Natalie had never intended to play, what with her shift starting soon and Marcie's fuck-up causing issues. “You weren't any better the first time you came here.”
Val rounded on her companion. Lucy had chosen, perhaps aptly, a pale-skinned Elf of either Dark or Snow origins, and with her long black hair and dark, smokey makeup, she looked even more like a gothic vampire than normal. Her curves weren't quite as bountiful as her real-life self and she lacked that quintessential thiccness, but she was pretty darn close. Her healer's attire was purposefully choice and slutty, a bare slip of cloth that ran over her curves and fishnets around her legs, making it pretty damn clear what her idealized role was.
“That's not true,” the blonde rogue protested.
“You literally ran into the guards and got thrown into the stockades,” Lucy deadpanned. “For twelve hours. I had ot suck the captain's dick just to get you out.”
Valerie snorted. “Yeah, shut up, healslut. We all know the only thing you're good for is being on your knees.”
Lucy grinned. “Better at it than you.”
“Shut up, slut!” Val laughed.
Lucy laughed as well. “Get a dick in me and I will.”
Haley just blinked at the bizarre interaction.
Mayhem patted her shoulder and looked over the party. “So, girls. We ready to get our party on and start this expansion?”
“Absolutely,” Val said immediately, her blonde head whipping around to reveal little elf ears – either a High Elf or a Blood Elf, but Harley was not sure.
Lucy nodded.
They looked at the paladin, who coughed politely and shuffled. “Y-yeah, totally.”
“Great.” Mary-Anne winked. “Then... Our first stop is the red light district!”
That part, Harley vaguely knew from the quest marker. The details she did not, so she scrunched up her nose and bit the bullet. “Where, though?”
“Everyone's favourite bitch,” Mayhem said with a laugh and a wink. “Vailana's Bordello.”
Everyone that was anyone knew Vailana. She had been the face of the launch for Vice and Venus oh-so-many years ago, and she had been a smashing hit ever since. Originally just a minor Tiefling NPC, she had hit the big times as her salacious personality, bombastic flair, and bombshell body took the fanbase by storm. Her various outfits, ranging from sultry catsuits to lean-fitting rogue-like clothes, were always something to simp for.
Everyone loved her in some way, and in fact, Harley was one of her biggest simps – most of the porn she got off to was something involving Vailania smashing other player characters in real-time. She had become a bigger face of the game as time went on, culminating in the latest expansion focusing on her illicit, well-known bordello. A brothel by any other name, it was one of the biggest whorehouses in the Empire, and most people made that pilgrimage just to simp to her in person.
Harley never had simply because of the seedy locale, and for good reason. Just walking through the city showed a level of lewdness that other cities simply did not. The 'normal' part of the city, the upper stretches that rose above the harbourfront and the red light district, was more depraved than any other place she had ever been, with skimpy and risque fashion being the absolute norm – a parade of flesh that bounced and jiggled with each step, all mesh bikinis and low-slung shorts that were meant to entire and not protect.
The depravity was so poorly hidden it was almost laughable, and she spotted at least three times sex in barely hidden places and corners. Here and there she could see couples pinned against walls getting hot and heavy and if she looked closely she would see counts with legs poking out from under them to indicate blowjobs going on just out of sight, and she did not understand how anyone could ever take the place to be something other than a giant whorehouse.
The 'upper class', those NPCs with more wealth than sense and the Player Characters who had too much gold on their characters or, worse, Guilds that had a monopoly over the area, pranced around as if they owned the place – and from the way the guards gave them wide berths, it seemed like they had broken the golden rules and bribed the law itself. Some of the nobles walked around with entourages of slaves following behind them, all collared up with the stereotypically human submission device, and had them wait on them had and foot like true royalty of old.
Others, instead, had gorgeous beauties hanging off their arms like candy, casually walking while their scantily-clad bikini babes hugged them like toys. Some of them were NPCs, AI-controlled entities that were designed to be as submissive, sexually pleasuring, and gorgeous as possible – top-of-the-line slaves, the kinds that took a lot of money to get. Some, though, were genuine players, both logged on and logged off, making Harley wonder just how abysmally bad their character runs went for them to be in such a state.
A few, instead, bore the hallmarks of 'white' characters – players that had abandoned that account for an alt. No character was 'deleted' in Vice and Venus, for it had a permanent world-state; instead, they were 'abandoned', sometimes because the situation they were in, such as being a slave, was too abysmal to pull back from. They would, then, remain in the game exactly as they were, taken over by an AI, and simply add to the lewd, degenerate world in a much more personal way. A person could see their former selves and failures and watch what they had become, for better or worse.
Seeing it made Harley gulp. Normally, Enslavement as a mechanic was rare in the cities. Every race had a different one, but as far as humans went, it was reserved simply for the legal system and serious crime; otherwise, it was between Guilds who had that particular tech. It was only really to be feared out in the wilds away from protected settlements and when adventuring, for that was the easiest way to get the Enslaved state – losing, being caught, tamed, or magicked.
Some might do so with poison and chemicals, like the Drow; simple enemy races, like Werewolves or Minotaurs, simply replied on the ‘instaloss’ mechanic, and could Enslave with cum and creampies. Orcs had an interesting system where combat defeat meant that Enslavement was near-automatic, whereas demons and the like simply had lust-inducing auras that built up the Depravity meter until a player had to submit.
Humans used magic, instead, and some systems used esoteric methods like crests or magic traps like collars and cuffs - the easiest ways. None were permanent, for the game itself could not suffer such legal repercussions of turning a PC into a cum-guzzling mess for too long. In-game, it was about ‘twelve hours’ maximum at one time before the Depravity meter reset to zero and one was freed; IRL, that translated to about thirty-five minutes of playtime as a slave.
Right then? Harley saw it all in plain view, just a normal part of everyday life. It wasn’t a casualty of battle, wasn’t a trade, wasn’t submission, nothing of the sort. It was normal . People were enslaved by clear magic, bound to human masters through magic in some cases or cufflinks in the others, with the very rare black leather collar in others; all bound, all Enslaved, some for times clearly longer than was normally permitted.
That was part and parcel of the city’s reputation, though. Though slave trade was supposedly illegal in the Empire and only done in forgotten caves and secret grottos, the port city treated slavery and enslavement as a normal, everyday thing. Not a single person in sight seemed to care anywhere near as much as they should, though Harley herself found it mortifying to stare at such overt, clear sexual slavery around her.
Just before they got to the redlight district, an even seedier strip that rested between the upper areas and the docks below, they were almost interrupted by the rushing body of a furtive-looking girl in a cloak; a thief, as was clear by the shouting guards just behind her. Harley, normally a proper Paladin through and through, would have stepped in to do something. Instead, she just stared, wide-eyed, and watched it unfold.
The thief was tackled down by a guard at the other end of the street, and though she tried to wriggle and protest, a second one quickly moved in behind her to pin her wrists down. Still she kicked and fought, and she made a pretty good showing of it; but all the two guards had to do was keep her wiggling body pinned in place between them, hold her steady, and wait.
Harley watched as a third guard, a mage, appeared from the far end of the street. With magic collected in her hands she launched a sizzling stream of sinister purple at the thief, striking her full on the chest and making her wriggle even more. It was a Consistent Stream spell, the kind of magic that needed to be cast in an unbroken stream to be successful, and with the thief so pinned in place she was an easy target for it.
It lasted about five seconds, and then the thief slumped into the arms of the guards. Out like a light, she had a dazed, drooling expression on her face, totally out of it; paralyzed by the spell. Less than a second later and a ring of ethereal light flashed into place around her neck and in the rims of her eyes, and a moment after that, the Enslavement status was added to her player name. In real time, Harley watched a girl enslaved by magic and yanked away by the guards of the city, casual as that.
Normally, she would do something against injustice. Right then, she just stared as the laughing trio of guards hauled the girl off to prison, their expressions far too jovial to be neutral.
“Glad this hot piece of ass tried to steal something today,” one of them laughed, “haven’t had fresh meat in way too long.”
“Yeah, the barracks are way too cold at night,” another laughed. “Man, love these stupid thief bitches.”
“Do we bring the stuff she stole back?”
“Eh, they won’t miss it.”
Harley stared, bemused, until Mary-Anne, the gorgeous Mayhem, was there to tap her on the shoulder and present a cleavage shot right up at her face. “Harley, don’t get left behind, yeah? There are way too many people that want to tap that paladin ass around here, so stay close.”
“R-right,” she’d stammered, and followed her idol into the red light district.
And there, it got so much worse.
Whatever thin veneer of modesty had existed in the districts above were well and truly gone simply by walking into the red light district itself. Seediness and lecherousness was on full display in every possible direction, an immediate assault on the senses that was so thick Harley’s Depravity stat went up by one full point instantaneously. Everything was lewd, everything was degrading, and none of it was hidden in the least.
On the street, girls were advertising all kinds of clubs and adult services with sultry enthusiasm, bringing attention to their scandalous services without a care. Whores in low-cut dresses that left breasts popping out leaned out to enthusiastically wave customers into ‘taverns’ at their back, and sluts in skimpy bunny-costumes excitedly offered tokens to passing people as they tried to get them to enter the gambling houses that employed them.
Prostitutes and streetwalkers plied their services on street corners, leaning forward lasciviously to rake fingers along the arms of wandering adventurers and offering feelings of their bodies to anyone that wanted to pay for the merchandise. It was not subtle, either, and if their words weren’t enough, the signs plastered on boards listing out prices for every sex act under the sun made it entirely clear.
Worse - if such could be considered worse - was that very few were NPCs. Some were, but the vast majority were players. Real people behind their avatars were trying to coerce people into gambling halls, urging them into brothels, or offering blowies on the street. It wasn’t some fantasy red light district but an honest to goodness one, and that struck her in a way she just didn’t expect.
Every alleyway Harley looked in showed some new indication of overwhelming lewdness, and it was nothing close to subtle. Impatient couples got it on against walls and around corners, with bodies pressed flush against roughshod stonework and plowed with overenthusiastic strokes from impatient adventurers. Here and there she could see a mouth lewdly slurping away at a cock or a pair of tits bouncing along a dick, highlighting the unscrupulous morals of the red light district.
It was like walking through a brothel, in all honesty. As Harley moved, she watched service girls ply their trade right there in broad daylight, with some being taken away and urged into a crevice for a cookie or others receiving coin for services well rendered. Even if she looked at the fronts of stores and seedy adult shops, she could make out the lurid displays of flesh just beyond gauzy curtains of red and purple.
Balconys above weer laid bare, allowing anyone that looked closely enough to see humping bodies and gyating curvature – that was, if the fucking couples were just pushed out against the railings adn taken right then adn there for anyone to see. Harley found her eyes glossing over bouncing tits and rocking bodies more than they ever had in her life, and even if she had been repeatedly exposed to the lewdness of the game during her adventures, it was never so... outright. Never so perverse.
It was just all lewd, all perverse. Everywhere she looked she saw something new and degrading, and it was all accompanied by the sounds of lewd moaning and whining and the occasional loud shout of pleasure somewhere in the district. It was a constant backdrop the hum and thrum of sultry services plying their trade and chit-chatting adventurers making their way along the most famous district in one of the most famous cities, and Harley knew, just from all that alone, why she had never visited.
“Stay close and don't get lost,” Lucy announced as they walked down the road, “Don't want to get picked up like Val.”
“That was one time,” Valerie prosted, her hands waving.
Mary-Anne leaned into Harley's side. “Val here got snatched up and was a working girl for a good week, once. Always gotta have eyes on the back of your head around these parts, 'cause, well, everyone's looking for the next piece of ass to tap.”
Harley, flushing, just nodded. “Oh.”
They walked down the road and moved between the bodies of other players and NPC's. Harley had to dodge people plying their trade and attempting to usher them into more lewdness and walked straight on ahead, armour catching the light with each step. Hips swung, bodies moved, and the overt sexuality only became more apparent – as if everyone was trying to show off as much as was physically possible.
It was then that she began to notice the occasional collar wrapped around the neck of a female. Here and there, a minute amount compared to anyone else, were smooth, leather-wrought collars, some sort of Enslavement device she'd not seen before, and it made her frown. There was no clear consistency to them other than the quality of their make, which, by her estimation, precluded any Player Guild property – those were normally roughshod thing that didn't work too well.
“What's that about?” Harley asked at one point, her finger flicking outward. “Those collars. I've never seen them before.”
“Huh? Oh.” Mayhem frowned, considered it, then shrugged. “No idea, honestly, but you get used to these things when you travel as much as me. Everyone's got something new and fancy to Enslave a bitch with.”
“Right,” the paladin mumbled, her mouth twitching. She wasn't sure what to think of it, but if Mayhem, streamer idol that she was, seemed unconcerned, she would go with it. She said nothing more as she was led through the district, down a set of stair-like things, and into a wider square of buildings – and there, one the left and curling around a corner, was the purple-bricked brothel so proudly marked out as 'Vailania's Bordello'.
It was unmistakable even if the sultry neon sign on top didn't draw the eyes and the painted outline of a Tiefling across the brick didn't get one's attention. It was much more crowded than any of the other buildings around it, and for good reason: everyone that was a Vailania fan would be there to visit the place to start off the new expansion. In fact, it was almost too crowded, and before they even reached the bustling line outside the door their footsteps began to falter.
“Uh... This is busy,” Valerie said first, her voice coming out hesitantly. “like, uh. Super packed?”
“Yeah, it wasn't this busy last time,” Lucy followed, her fishnet legs coming to a stop. “Like. Shit.”
Mary-Anne put her hands on her hips and scrunched up her nose while Harley pulled up the rear – the perfect view to admire Mayhem's tramp stamp of swirling ink replete with a 'C lap My Cheeks' tattoo emblazoned across her lower back. “Hm. I'm going to go talk to the bouncer, see what's up. Gimme a sec.”
Lucy and Valerie exchanged looks. Harley just sort of shuffled as Mayhem walked off into the crowd and fought her way to the entrance, and only seemed to make a good showing of her progress by dint of being famous enough to garner recognition. It was still a good three minutes before she even reached the doors, and then another four before she peeled out from the crowd with her bikini-like top just a smidge more messy than it had been before.
She stopped in front of them with a sigh. “So, uh. The Player Queue to get inside is fifty-four minutes; we're in slot sixty-nine. There's a speed-up process – uh, there's basically a quest to get in? We have to go up district and track down something called a 'secret invite'.”
Mary-Anne's fingers slashed through the air and sent the quest she had received to her entire part in a flash. The new objective appeared on all of their relative heads-up displays in a box of smooth, translucent purple, indicating the vague instructions to 'obtain a secret invite' in some area in the upper districts – the game's quests were, at best, vague as fuck, meant to inspire learning, adventuring, searching, and multiple bad ends before completion.
They all grumbled, knowing well that was the point.
“Why don't we, like, send our new paladin babe to do it?” Lucy said, one hand pressed against a curvy hip. “She's, like, she's like, the completionist, right?”
Harley set her lips. “I don't know the area, and that's not how it works -”
“Girls,” Mayhem instantly laughed. “Since when do we do things the normal way?”
Val looked at her with a grin on her pouty lips and Lucy raised a brow with interest. Harley didn't miss a beat, either, because she'd watched more than enough streams to know exactly what her idol meant.
“We can't do anything here, obviously, but we can see if the back entrance is more, you know, amicable,” Mayhem hummed, her voice quippy and rolling – the kind of voice that could seduce the pants off of anyone. Sultry, silky, rolling, it was just perfect as far as Harley was concerned.
“I could always break in,” Valerie suggested. Mary-Anne looked at her and laughed as if it was the funniest thing she'd heard all day.
“Yeah, no,” the streamer replied, “not unless you want to end up on Vailania's shit list.”
Valerie shrugged and snorted. “Could be fun.”
“Could be, but no.” Mary-Anne winked and flicked her fingers out. “Come on, girls. We've got an expansion to start.”
Around the corner they went, moving past the milling crowds to hit up a more secretive route along the side. There was a gate in the way that required level ten lockpicking to handle, which wasn’t, in essence, high, and with Valerie’s rogue-like skills she got through it in record time and before they were spotted. Then they were in the back alley, four in a group, headed toward the rear entrance of the famous brothel.
Two guards were there waiting by the back door. Stout, strong of limb, one an Amazon and the other a human, both looked like they could break them in twain. The sailor tattoos made them look like the kind of people that sang sea-shanties for fun, and Harley recognized their ilk of NPC as the exact kind she had fought on the high seas questlines long before.
The group slowed at the sight of them, but once they were in the line of sight of the guards there was no going back. In fact, Harley was actually impressed by how the trio immediately began to saunter forward with swinging hips and bouncing tits, looking like coy, seductive street walkers as they approached the two big, burly protectors. It was the kind of lewd roleplaying action that made Mayhem so popular, and it was why her Speech, Seduction, and Charm stats were so damned high.
“Heyyyyyy there,” Mayhem rumbled, stepping up to them with her tits bunched up between her forearms. “What are you two handsome individuals doing out here in a lonely alleyway?”
The human guard glared at her. The Amazon just snorted, seemingly unimpressed. “Get lost, trollop.”
Mayhem’s reaction did not change, but the quick interaction was enough to reveal stat-checks and failure for the server’s RP elements: Charm and Seduction resistances. It made perfect sense, really, given the nature of their work and their locale, but instead of saying anything Harley stood back and watched.
“Hey, I’m here on important business!” Mayhem smiled. “You guys wouldn’t happen to be guarding the back door to Vailania’s place, would you?”
“The line’s out front, sweet cheeks,” the human replied, her voice brief and cutting. “This is employee’s only.”
Mayhem winked. “We can be employees for a bit, you know -”
“Nah, Mistress V makes those decisions,” the Amazon gruffly rebuked. “So get lost.”
“Well, how can she make a decision if she hasn’t seen us yet?”
Another gruff huff. “Go through the front door and she will.”
Mary-Anne scrunched up her nose and stepped back with hands on her hips. They could all see that her normal methods of getting what she wanted weren’t quite working, and since it was still a game, certain ‘rules’ had to be followed to get what they wanted; one could offer sexual favours or money to anyone, but for an NPC, that would like be throwing it at a brick wall without an implicit ‘deal’ ahead of time.
“C’mon,” Valerie urged, stepping forward with her waist flexing. “We could cut a deal to get inside, right?”
“A deal?” The human asked, eyes glimmering.
Ah, thought Harley, bribery. Oldest stat in the book.
“Yeah,” the busty blonde cheerleader-turned-rogue quipped. “How much would it cost to get a little audience with your boss, huh?”
The human’s lips flicked. “Well, why don’t ya make us ‘n offer?”
The Amazon nodded. “Gotta pay the toll.”
Val licked her lips and leaned in. “How’s a nice bag of coin sound? I’ve got fifty gold with your names on it.”
The human’s eyes ran down over Valerie’s shapely body - both of them did, in fact, and their smirks made it clear that they were feasting on the sight of her like a hot slice of meat. The rest of them were no different, of course, but it was increasingly clear what they wanted even for someone of Harley’s disposition. Money didn’t factor into their wants, and they ignored it with little more than smirking grins and sneering flicks of the lips.
“Like I said,” the human guard drawled, “convince me.”
Valania winked at her. She stepped in close, trying to match the tattooed guard’s superior height, and pressed plump, ill-contained tits against her chest. The flesh just gently squished in place as she offered a grin up at her, and at the same time, sent her fingers dancing down the lean expanse of the guard’s firm body; plucking, teasing, and flitting, all coy, smooth, and seductive.
“I think I can do that,” Val purred, and with that, without ceremony, she dropped down - easy as that.
The guards didn’t even ask her to, not really. Harley watched, slack-jawed, as Val got down on her knees right then and there and wrapped her hands around the buff guard’s waistband. She tugged on the sea-dyed leather and drew it down firmly, working it past an inch of sun-bronzed skin - quick, rough, and eager. She didn’t hesitate in the slightest, and the guard just smirked down at her as if she expected such lewd actions without the request being given.
Val, with trained delight, shoved her hands into her tight-fitting pants and tugged. In an instant, the weight of a cock spilled free into the open air like a heap of bronzed flesh; a pillar of meat that had been oh-so-roughly extracted for a pair of leather britches and was, right then, flopping into a smooth tanned hand. Meaty and wrist-thick, it was quite clear even to Harley that the dick wasn’t yet hard - the guard hadn’t expected something like that to happen, but like a natural born predator, she was willing to take it.
That was the problem with sailors, she had learned. Being a salty wench on a ship for a week because you couldn’t get off was a problem, and they were willing to get their dicks wet even if they weren’t horny - and right then, they didn’t care so long as that was exactly what happened. They stared, smug and content, as Valerie tugged out a human length of cock and let it flop into her hands, and their eyes rapaciously ate her up like she was nothing more than a slice of meat while the blonde rogue adjusted herself on her knees.
That was not to say that Harley was surprised by such actions: she had watch Miss Mayhem so many times that she had seen her do it herself and her teammates; Valerie was - before she knew who she was - rather well known for being the type of teammate to get down on her knees and blow a guard for entry into a village, or pay a tax or toll with her mouth, or any manner of lewd things to get out of trouble. When it came to futa-cock, she was their get out of jail free card, and now Harley saw it in plain view.
For Valerie, there was no hesitation. It was not a matter of kissing or slurping or some sort of foreplay and it wasn't about taking her time and playing cool with it. The big length of semi-hard cock pulsated visibly in her hand, and all she did to satiate it and pay their fare into the brothel was quickly and effortlessly wrap her lips around it - just like that. Her mouth opened, her lips widened, and she gulped the weighty rod of meat right up then and there, getting the weight slab of meat into the textured softness as fast as she could.
The human guard groaned at her touch and adjusted her stance as Valerie immediately and unceremoniously began to blow her right then and there in the alleyway. No hesitation, no delay, just her lips and a dick. There was nothing more to it than that, and she fit the weighty slab inside with a sort of easy press that was surprising to watch first hand. She made it seem ridiculously easy, and in a few seconds she had her lips wrapped tight and her cheeks comfortably swollen.
There were no words spoken, not yet, not as Valerie just went at her. Her head dipped down, her lips rolled across the girth, and she readily forced it into her drooling mouth. She did not use her hands and kept them hooked around a low-slung waistband, showing off the first few inches of tight muscle there; the blonde just settled on her knees as if she were born for it, her back stretched and forming a flat, tanned plane, bearing the full extent of an expansive and slutty back tattoo that was far and away more impressive than real life.
Her blonde hair fluttered as she started to blow the dick without ceremony, getting right into it as if nothing else mattered. Without using her hands her head pulled back, drawing along the broad girth, and extracted several meaty inches of it from her pristine lips. Her eyes flicked up to stare at the guard as she danced around the tip, maybe suckling, maybe licking, but Harley did not know from afar; then she dropped down, eyes focused on the pillar ahead of her, gobbling it all up with lewd ease.
She dove onto the shaft without a care in the world and gobbled it up as far as she could go, and even in the semi-hard state of it the shaft was still a good seven inches. It was impressive to see that all shoved into a hot mouth first hand, and there Harley got her first serious viewing of the perversion: a display of lewdness that shocked the senses and made her bite down on her lower lip.
The other girls, the Virtues, did not care. The two just admired their slutty friend go down on human cockmeat as if it was an everyday thing, which, in a way, it was - reality, virtual, it didn’t matter, they had seen it all before. Harley was the odd one out, and she got a crash course in slutty dicksucking right then and there as the blonde went down on the pillar of turgid dickmeat in a perfect handless blowjob, her mouth pulling at the hard flesh until cheeks swelled and a jaw stretched visibly.
Normally, Harley would either fight such guards or do the quest itself to get her way around it. She now saw just how easy it was to use one’s most valued commodity on the server, and the roleplaying took on a whole new perverse meaning as Valerie just did it. No words, no exchange, just her mouth wrapped around a cock and her head made to bob as she started to slurp and suckle around that thick pillar. She handled it adeptly, too, showing just how experienced she was with it.
The human groaned, then, as Valerie’s head bobbed on her cock in sudden, quick strokes. It was not a clearly skilled movement and not meant to be some mind-blowing head - an NPC guard didn't need that - but the sloppy ease of it was still incredible to watch. Her mouth moved like silk, rolling along the broad girth with slurping, easy presses, taking dickmeat inside and feeding it deeply before tugging back again to worship the hard rod.
Her head worked along the cock in rhythmic, soothing strokes, blowing the random guard with lewd intensity. Her blonde hair climbed up the weighty pillar, leaving wetness glimmering in its wake; the down again to take it inside with a wet, slurpy stroke. Her neck rolled along with the bobs of her head as she took cockmeat deep inside, treating it as one would a tasty snack. Her hunger for dick was almost palpable, and all the Virtues around her treated it like just another gaming session.
Which it was, really.
“The wench has a nice mouth,” the human guard laughed, her hand moving down to possessively cup the back of her head. “Nice to get a slut that knows what she’s doing.”
The amazon laughed, clapped her on the shoulder, and appeared to be on the verge of speaking, only for Mary-Anne to finally speak up. “So, is our offer sufficient?”
The guards looked at her. Val’s lewd slurping permeated the silence, filling the alleyway with the wet ministrations of a sloppy bj. “...Yeah, it’s good.”
The amazon sniffed, scrunched up her brow, and banged on the door thrice before opening it. “Head on in.”
“But not the wench,” the human said mockingly, her hand measuring the movements of Val’s head. “She stays with us.”
“Keep us warm,” the Amazon laughed.
Harley looked between them, then at Val’s slurping, suckling head, her brain awash with confusion - but Mary-Anne did not skip a beat as she said, “done. Keep her as a sex toy for as long as we’re inside.”
The guards exchanged sharkish grins. “Sure, babe. For as long as that is.”
With the door opened and permission granted, the new trio was now able to finally get into the brothel and start the new expansion - finally.
Harley hoped it was worth the wait.
--------------
The Bordello was exactly what one imagined it to be: part tavern, part eatery, part strip club, mostly just a place for shameless sex. She saw prostitutes in slutty barmaid outfits serving drinks to customers, she saw whores in lingerie and costumes being taken over the tables in soft domination, and she saw even more being roped up into the rooms above - an expansive set of rooms that were clearly just to get laid in and for no real purpose other than to be a private place of sex.
The lights were dim, the atmosphere smokey, with visible clouds of purple incense clinging to the contours of furniture and the lines of stripper poles. Just breathing in that thick, fuming substance made Harley want to cough and sneeze at the same time, but the Virtues breathed it in and filled her lungs with it. They didn’t seem to notice the cloying effects that she did, and everyone else brushed it aside. It was almost hard to see anything in the bordello from how thick the fog collected at the corners, but the shining lights that rained down from overhead offered pale posts of moon-like illuminations which were beautiful to admire.
The entire place was beautiful, really: marble columns, colonnades of jade-lined wood, and looping rings of eastern-like arches, set amidst a plane of polished mahogany and sandalwood. Streamers and lines of gauze hung from the ceiling, and in some spots, ethereal Tiefling dancers swung and swayed like acrobats; at others, dancers swirled around poles, making a show for anyone with a dick that wanted to get a piece of ass.
It was fairly busy, but due to the instances of the game world, their version of the brothel was not as packed as the outside crowd would indicate; still, there were dozens and dozens of player characters inside, most of them enjoying the festivities - but, to Harley’s surprise, no few of the employees themselves were real players. The barmaids in particular seemed to have a rather large amount of players wearing leather-bound collars, and they worked the floor like unwilling NPC’s.
Harley didn't quite get it, but it was also unimportant. The group simply weaved their way through the lewd mess of a real-life brothel, made their way past a circular staircase set around a pond of koi fish, past some guards, and up to the famed office of Vailania herself - the most famous NPC in Vice and Venus and the most sought-after futanari that side of the continent.
The guard at the door, a high-level soldier in heavy-set armour, remained an impassable bulwark as they searched the trio down - but it wasn’t the lewd strip-search Harley had seen before, but, rather, a much more innocent pat-down session where they were checked over for anything problematic. It was curt and professional, showing that, above all else, Vailania’s safety was tantamount.
It made sense, as far as Harley was concerned. No one had ever hurt the most famous of game characters despite the very real risk to, and she doubted that was because of just pure adoration for how sexy or charismatic she was. With that done, the guard stepped aside, parted the doors, and opened the way into the office itself - a veritable sanctum of polished, waxed wood, plants, and water streaming down to cover the walls in a mirror-sheen.
And there she was herself: Vailana. The most famous NPC in the game, she was the epitome of Tiefling beauty that every female that played Vice and Venus seemed to simp after and everyone with a dick wanted to become. Her skin was a luscious purple, fitting the game’s theme, and her medium-length hair was a nice, silky shade of white. Her lips were plush and plump, the sort of things that could be considered cock-suckers, and her eyes were long, narrow, and almond-like, lined through with sharp makeup to make them stand out harshly against the skin.
Her body was nothing less than thicc idealization made manifest: a display of rolling, heavy curves forming sheer valleys and steep cliffs, combining to make a rolling hourglass figure of perfection. Plumpness was etched into her like the distillation of everyone’s dream of a soft, thicc girl, but combined with a level of fitness that showed just under the skin and across her legs - strength and plushness combined to form an outstanding, ten out of ten body.
Her voluptuous, gorgeous curves looked perfect by every margin, and even if she wasn’t as big in the chest as Mary-Anne or as rolling in the waist as real-life Lucy, she had the perfect blend to look like a damned Succubus. Combined with her voluminous, curly, and artfully messy white hair, she looked like a demon lord ready to take your soul in exchange for five minutes of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
She was so hot that any outright sinister feature was glossed over. Her black, tightly curled ram’s horns looked nothing short of deadly and her black spade-capped tail flicked out as sharp as a blade, but they only heightened her sex-appeal rather than dimished it; and with her body tucked into a skimpy sort of leotard that had cut-outs in all the right places to bear her skin, and with a cropped jacket thrown over her shoulders, sleeves stretched out, like some sort of gangster’s cape, she looked downright sinful.
She was everything that Harley simped over and more. She considered herself one of her top fans, and she had even won a contest about it once; she, like many others, loved Vailana. That casual appearance of bodysuit, shorts, and overslung jacket made her look addictive, and her smug sort of gambler’s flair made her enticing. Her rampant popularity produced way too much porn for thought as people went over just to get laid by her and post it online, and as the numbers went up, so, too, did her interaction with the storyline - culminating, it seemed, in an expansion where she was the lead NPC.
All in all, Harley was awestruck as she gazed at her perfect purple flesh in person for the first time - so awestruck that she immediately missed that Vailana wasn’t alone in the room at all. The Tiefling casually reclined on a seat like the head honcho of a gang, and on their knees before her was a Player Character - a healer, or some such, who had been stripped down, dressed in lingerie, and was, at the dictation of the NPC’s hand, going down on her dick right then and there.
As Vailana pushed and pulled on a head of red hair, the real-life Player Character slurped and gurgled around a pillar of purple-fleshed cockmeat some eleven inches long - Harley would know, she had seen enough porn of its liberal use. It was one of the biggest dicks that one could find on a humanoid species, but the Tiefling sported it proudly. Some said it had been increased once her popularity had become clear, but no one cared at all. They hopped on it regardless, and the paladin was, thus, unsurprised at the lewdness she saw.
She had seen it a dozen times before, and whether the PC was there on purpose because she wanted to be or for some other reason simply did not matter in the slightest. The redheaded healer simply gurgled and sputtered as Vailana used her head to blow her cock, guiding her up and down at her whim and leisure to press, push, and get herself off. Inches of purple meat were tugged up into a slurping mouth at a time, and a throat gently bulged beneath the weight of all that girlcock with each deep movement.
“Well, now,” Vailana purred, almost as if speaking off a script - all while manhandling a slut up and down on her dick with dexterous ease. “Looks like I’ve got visitors. What can I do for three scrumptious adventurers, hm?”
Harley quivered at her voice, loving, already, her first in-person meeting with her second biggest crush in the game. It was insane to actually be there and to think she would finally take that step, but there she was, in front of Vailana herself. She was so much hotter in person than porn indicated, and being around her was - was almost cloying. Granted, she knew that Tieflings, like demons, used their auras for Enslavement purposes, but she didn't care. It was amazing.
“We’re here about the epidemic of missing girls around the city,” Mary-Anne spoke up, handling the quest initiation herself - Ms. Mayhem’s right. “The port authorities can’t cover up this many girls going missing anymore, and the Empire wants to know what’s going on.”
“Wonderful,” Vailana drawled mockingly, to the backdrop of lewd slurping, suckling, and coughing around her dick. She stared at the trio and flipped an elaborate coin of pressed gold around in one hand while manhandling a red head of hair with the other, practically blowing herself. “With a tagline like that, how can the Empire fail?”
Mayhem scrunched up her nose and pushed her hands onto her hips. “We’re just here for a lead, Ms. Vailana. If you’d please -”
“Honestly, you girls don’t look like the crime-solving sort,” Vailana chuckled, her horned head shaking. “I can give you advice if that’s what you seek, but I’m not sure it’s the advice you want to hear.”
Miss Mayhem grinned lopsidedly. “Try us.”
The Tiefling similarly grinned. “My advice for you is to find some work as a prostitute. That body will earn some good coin taking cock twenty-four hours a day.”
Mary-Anne blinked.
“The dark-haired slut… you should just walk out into the wilds, see what happens. A body like that is put to much better use as some monster’s cocksleeve, quite honestly.” Eyes turned to Harley, then. “You… holy slut, right? Curves like that should be put to show, and I’m sure the Empire’s soldiers need a hot body to warm their beds at night.”
Harley flushed, Lucy pouted, and Mary-Anne shook her head. “That’s not what we’re here for, Vailana. There’s an epidemic of girls going missing, and we’d like to get to the bottom of this. We heard - “
“I’m sorry, what did you hear?” Vailana cocked her head at her and pushed the slut down onto her cock even deeper, filling her throat with sputter-inducing cockmeat. “Because I don’t think you’ve got that letter in your inventory, so I find it hard to believe you’ve heard anything.”
“A-ah…” Mary-Anne winced, as did Harley.
Stop gap measure, she realized belatedly. Shit, they scripted a check to make sure people didn’t circumvent the rules too badly…
“W-well, we’ve heard rumours,” Mary-Anne pressed. “Lots of missing women, and if anyone in town knows who’s behind it or has a lead, it’s gotta be Vailana, right?”
Vailana smirked at her. “If you read the letter, you would know that I’m hiring adventures for that very purpose. And if I’m doing that, what makes you think I have leads?”
Mary-Anne faltered, if only briefly. Harley pursed the thought over in her head while staring at Vailana’s massive double-D’s, admiring their scope and heft. By her estimation, it seemed likely that Vailana knew something, and was, thus, hiring people to ostensibly start off the questline before giving them their first lead - that seemed like the likeliest course of options for any game quest.
“You know something, ” Harley interjected first, stepping forward and setting her hand on her breastplate. “If you’re hiring adventurers, you must have a lead to point them in the right direction…. Right?”
Vailana laughed calmly. “Proud of that deduction, are you? It’s really rather obvious once you think about it.”
“Y-yeah,” Mary-Anne chimed in rather quickly. “So let’s cut to the chase: just tell us where to go, give us a lead, and we’ll get to it. On your behalf, of course, of course.”
Vailana chuckled even more. “No, not at all.”
“...But -”
“I know information, but I see no reason to tell you anything.” Vailana’s eyes glimmered knowingly as she stared at her. “See, if an Adventurer can’t take the first step herself, what’s the point of hiring anyone in the first place? There are big rewards in this for everyone, so I want to vet who I take in.”
Lucy pulled a face. “You’re not just sending them out there and throwing them to the wolves, right? ‘Cause, uh, that sounds… like, uh…”
“I bet you’ve come across a few wolves in your lifetime,” Vailana drawled at her, waving her hand as if to illustrate Lucy’s slutty body. “Let’s not pretend like you don’t enjoy that sort of thing.”
Lucy flushed.
“Besides, I’m not responsible for anyone’s fate in this city. I just know things.” Vailana smirked and pushed her redheaded slut down all the way onto her dick, manhandling her with lewd, slick ease. “So, really, why should I share any information with you?”
“To start off your quest?” Miss Mayhem questioned. “Because -”
“I’ll give you the job, sure, but you’re on your own from there.” Vailana sat back and worked her slut up and down her cock with slow, leisurely movements, locked in total and utter control. “Find out where to start, then report back.”
“You know something,” Mayhem pressed.
“And?”
“We want to know what that is.”
Harley knew that Mary-Anne was really pressing the issue, trying to use her high Charm, Seduction, and Persuasion stats to get something out of Vailana - but to no avail. None of the Checks worked, each stat failing to hit the mark, and worse, the Tiefling’s own stats were locked so tight there was no way to see just how much was required to get through to her or what resistances she bore. It was like picking a lock with uncountable tumblers and one pick; impossible.
Miss Mayhem could see that, too. And, just like before, Harley could tell her mind was thinking of a new reason to get the info she wanted and make the questing easier - to avoid being thrown out on a wild goose chase across the city looking for breadcrumbs just to satisfy Vailana. And, as it was just earlier, the lightbulb going off in her head was almost palpable: curling lips, determined eyes, and a broad set of the shoulders.
“Alright, then how about we prove ourselves here and now?” She asked.
Vailana snorted and tilted her feathery head of hair backward. “How so?”
“I challenge you to a duel,” Mayhem announced, to both Lucy and Harley’s shock.
“That seems like a bad idea,” she tried to caution, but to no avail - Mayhem didn’t listen.
“If I win, I get the info. Fair and square.”
Vailana laughed - throaty, hearty, and full of confidence. “Oh, my, that’s downright amusing. A duel for information?”
“Yes,” the warrior proclaimed proudly.
The Tiefling smirked. It Was a dangerous look, and one that made Harley shudder. “Hmmm… you know what? I appreciate that backbone! I agree, and I’ll even let all of you fight me at once. Three on one.”
They all shifted backward; if it was not a scripted response, it showed total, supreme confidence in her abilities.
“However,” Vailana continued, “if you lose, I’m going to make you work for that info, instead. Do you understand?”
“...What does that mean?” Harley asked warily.
Vailana did not respond. Instead, she pulled out from her desk a leather-wrought slave collar of the same make as the redhead blowing her shaft and the ones out on the floor: thick-set, dark, and tough-looking. She spun it around in loops, her lips doing nothing but smirking, not a word to be had or spoken - but the way she stared at Harley’s bare neck, admiring the empty curve of it, made it entirely clear what she meant by work.
And before anyone could say anything, Miss Mayhem, with all her usual bluster and flair, announced a proud, “Deal!”
Harley just squeezed her eyes and groaned.
Harley knew she should have said something before Mary-Anne challenged her. As a dedicated fan and undying simp for Vailana, she knew that she was strong as fuck - rogue and mage together, she was a powerful foe. Worse, it seemed like the new update had given her some extra skills, because she dispatched them without breaking a sweat. She beat the trio in record time, and even knowing how strong she was didn’t prepare the paladin for just how damned fast they would be beaten and reduced to zero HP.
It was that fast, and they were all out. Mary-Anne accused Lucy of intentionally throwing the fight again just to get bad-ended, to which Harley recalled that Miss Mayhem’s party healer was a total BDSM Enslavement slut that intentionally failed in her healer role so she could personally collect all the Bad End Achievements in the game - something she should have taken into account earlier, honestly.
But Lucy hadn’t - Vailana was just that good. She beat them, and from there, Harley got her first taste of the Enslavement mechanic for the first time in a literal year of playing the game, and not only that, but in one of the worst situations she could imagine: a forced barmaid for her Vailana’s Bordello.
There she was, forced into a heavily sex-up barmaid get-up, forced to wait the floor while her tits bounced and her ass wobbled. Stripped of armour, she was forced to wear a shoulderless blouse that went low around her tits like some busty wench and was tied in a knot well above her belly to expose her midriff. A slutty skirt hung too low around her hips to leave bare the jutting curve of her bubble-butt, and the strings of her thong rode so high on her hips that they perfectly outline the broad swells.
The over-sexed outfit was a feast for the eyes, a jiggling, perverse display of tittymeat and assflesh. Anyone could stare down her cleavage, admire her side-boob, or whistle over her ass as it passed, and everyone did - she was, after all, now just one of a few dozen barmaids on the floor, carrying drinks and food to tables of people watching the strippers and waiting to get it on with the serving staff.
Even if she wanted to do something about it, she was physically unable to even try. The leather collar around her neck stuck to the skin like glue, locking tight across the slender curve like an unwieldy choker. It infected her with the Enslavement status, leaving her entirely vulnerable to whatever Vailana wanted - she was, for as long as the debuff lasted, her slave in every respect. She only had as much ‘leeway’ as was hard-coded in, and for the next hour or so, she was lost.
It wasn’t easy at all. The atmosphere of the club and the Enslavement status itself sent her Depravity meter into overdrive, and where she normally played the game at a sub-twenty status - a necessity, for once someone hit twenty and up, their choices were compelled to be increasingly lewd - she hit thirty in no time at all; every moment in the club afterward saw it tick up more and more, making it hard to focus and harder still to control herself.
That was the main issue with Enslavement and VR in general: though a stat, stuff like Depravity was very real. Her neural interfaces, though basic-level, were infected with that overwhelming lust, and it made her body heat up and prime itself for virtual sex; it would leave her a real horny mess soon enough, and as the meter rose higher, she would be all but compelled subconsciously to commit to lewdness. Get high enough, and even if some schmuck slapped one’s ass on an in-game street, they would have to get off with them.
It was why she avoided it so much and lived her fantasies through Miss Mayhem - it was safer. Now, she experienced it all first hand, and the longer she remained in the club, the worse it got. As she served drinks she found herself panting ever-so-slightly, her eyes raking over the exposed cleavages of the other bar maids as if they were perfectly delicious things to behold. Her cheeks were as pink as all the others around her, with each slutty serving girl bound by the same collars - people that had also lost duels to Vailana, presumably.
A smack to her ass, broad and quick, made Harley jump up and squeak. It was a rough touch by one of the ‘Sailors’ that used the tavern as a watering hole, and the shameless swat sent a shudder through her body and ticked her Depravity meter up another notch. They didn’t care, though, and the NPC laughed while assflesh tantalizingly wobbled just beneath a skimp miniskirt.
“This place always has the hottest wenches,” she proudly declared to her compatriots. “Vailana’s is the best for anyone with a dick.”
Harley, flushing, simply moved on, unable to do anything about it. As she walked she was casually slapped, groped, and kneaded, just one of a dozen barmaids that were treated like free-use slices of meat at any available time. With her Enslavement status, she was unable to protest any of it. As she served tables, she found her cheeks clapped by merciless, eager hands; as she walked between customers, she found palms groping her skin for a few seconds of lurid attention; when she spent too long doing nothing, she would find someone trying to pull her upstairs.
It wasn’t the worst, granted. Though she had been assigned to work the floor as a barmaid wench, Lucy and Mary-Anne had been assigned for far lewder tasks besides. Though she had not seen Mary-Anne for near an hour after she had been pulled upstairs, Lucy was, instead, in a corner of the room called the free-use section. Bound by innumerable cords and tied up like a prisoner, she was all but locked away alongside four other girls and simply used.
No words, no exchanges of coin, just futanari coming around, pulling dicks out of their pants as they drank, and shoving them into whatever hole pleased them while drinking the night away. There was no care put into it, no ounce of consideration for the girls they plowed, but veritable free use in every respect: bound, tied up, and simply fucked at the whim and leisure of horny NPC’s and Adventurers around them. Payment was unnecessary and permission was unneeded as they were plowed - no thought at all, really.
Lucy, though, seemed to love it. She and the other girls squealed wordlessly into their gags and quivered as their bound bodies were roughly hammered away at however the studs so wished, and most of the time, they were unable to even see who fucked them - that was how little their permission mattered. Truthfully, Harley wasn’t sure Lucy even cared. It seemed to be the kind of situation she loved, and with the collar wrapped around her neck, her Depravity - a meter shared in the party group - was at an all-time high.
That was to say nothing of Valerie, who was, even then, just being passed around one section of the bar room like a cheap sex doll. She wasn’t even in on the lewd deal and had yet to be collared up, but true to her deal with the guards outside, she was being passed from futa to futa like a total sex-toy, carelessly used by whatever random shmuck was lucky enough to nail a hot piece of ass like her for whatever coin the guards wanted to whore her out for.
As she served tables, she raked her eyes over the immeasurably lewd sight of Val being pushed from one woman to the next, all shameless, all without care. As Harley served drinks to one table of guffawing workers, she watched as Valerie was bounced in the lap of a horny stud; her curves sent smacking down against hard thighs and her tits made to bounce all too lewdly in front of a horny face. Her clothing and gear had long since vanished, leaving her nothing more than a gorgeously tanned body of curves meant to be ravished.
She found the sight almost distracting, in truth. She got sidetracked in her new job more than once as she watched Valerie get passed around to another rippling stud of Amazonian muscle, her curvy body hauled up into a pair of arms and roughly bounced in the air like nothing more than a doll - her cunt taking rock-hard meat again and again like a hammer ramming against a nail. Harley knew that the woman would be experiencing as if it were real life, a true-to-life sensation of potent, dizzying sex, and she wondered, briefly, what that would be like.
She contented herself with just watching and serving, though, her body moving in a way that was almost puppeted, carrying drinks and food between tables of laughing patrons and around poles of dancing strippers. Her eyes shifted over to Valerie often, and every five minutes or so she found her in a new, degrading position: bent over a table and hammered away at by an Elf; set on her back and spitroasted by a pair of Lizardfolk; slurping on thick monstergirl cock while a human did shots of liquour off of her tits.
Harley bit her lip as she stared at tongues rolling across pristine tan flesh, raking in alcohol that had been freshly poured down, before clamping down around a nipple and suckling away with lewd fervour; before then being ripped away so that someone could shove the blonde down and wrap her fat tits around their dick and shamelessly plow them into jiggling submission. All that before she was, again, pinned down against the bar, bent over, and plowed into an ass-clapping mess.
And she was just one of at least three others being passed around for cheap coin, whored out to the patrons who wanted a quickie to get off with. There was no shame in it for anyone there, and Harley, like the other barmaids, were made to just watch the lewdness around them. Depravity bars ticked up and up and up as they were exposed to the riot of perversion, with each touch, grope, and slap of the ass making it harder and harder to control oneself.
By the time Harley’s ‘manager’ came around to fetch her, she was struggling to keep her thighs together and her emotions in check; the sheer perversion of the bar twisted her mind against her, priming her more and more for cock. That was the entire point of Depravity at all, and the game was as adept at providing good content as it was for turning women like her into mewling sluts for a couple of hours - and where some embraced it, like Val, others like Harley were left to stew in ever-increasing heat.
“Harley,” interrupted the manager, her hands shoving a tray at the busty paladin. “Take these refreshments upstairs to room five.”
“U-understood,” she replied with a squeak. She offered one last look at Val, seeing her mouth bob along another dick in a lurid deepthroat, and then over at Lucy, who was, even then, being taken in mouth and pussy at once, and then trembled toward the upstairs bedroom with a jiggling of tits and shake of her ass.
At least, she tried, but once she go to the stairs she was nearly side-tracked by a leering knight that just appeared in front of her. Tall, blonde, and imposing, she leaned across Harley, blocked her path, and smirked with pride. Harley flushed, her sensible mind unable to keep up with the newfound waves of pulsating Depravity that swelled from her collar and up into her head - sensations that told her how hot the knight was and how she should listen to her.
“Hey there,” the knight rumbled. “Why don’t you put those drinks down and get a room with me?”
Harley flushed with heat, her scalp and spine prickling. The knight’s words were alluring, and her tongue twisted into patterns that almost made her speak without conscious thought; it was like playing an RPG where all of one’s dialogue choices had been reduced to “Sure! Let’s go!”
“No, no thanks,” she stammered as she hoisted up her tray. “I just, uh, gotta… do my job…”
The knight reached up and under the tray to grab her tit by the underside, and Harley just squeaked as the fat mound of flesh - larger than her real-life C-cups by one full size - was hefted up by her awesome strength. The white cloth dipped and bent and her nipple popped out of her shirt as the woman hoisted it up, then twitched her wrist to send the flesh lewdly bobbing away.
“Nice,” she purred. “I’ve got to feel these around my dick. How much?”
She wanted to give a price, and the fact that she did was almost as bad as the situation itself - but, again, fought it back with a gulp. “N-not for sale, sorry. I just - I just gotta do this, I’m sorry. But, uhm, there are other girls, so -”
The knight smirked. “I haven’t tapped paladin ass since my last raid. C’mon, you know you want to see what a Campaign Knight is like, yeah?”
Harley only barely fought off the urges brought to her by her Enslavement and Depravity. The lewd meter, now at an all-time high of forty, made her pant just to be in proximity to someone so unabashed in their desires; worse, the Enslavement mechanic left her totally vulnerable to it, her mind unable to circumvent anything with rational logic. Anything more, and she’d be putty in her hands - and she had seen what it was like for a girl to get lost in that just through Mayhem’s streams.
Sex toys for weeks of breeding by monsters, goblins, orcs, and other vile things was hardly her idea of a good time, even if it was hot as sin to watch.
“Maybe next time,” she rushed to say, then hurried off before the knight could get a word in edgewise. Up the stairs, around the bed, up some more, across the overlook, and down the hall - one, two, three, four, then five, finally at her destination. Though the entire bar the sounds of rampant lewdness were strong, but right then, she heard lewdness like nothing else before it from inside the rooms - thuds and smacks of beds smashing against the walls and hoarse, slutty screams of pleasure.
She had to steel herself and her blushing face as she slipped into room five, trying to make it quick and snappy - and was exposed to a sight that sent her Depravity up to forty-five in one fell stroke. There was Mary-Anne, Miss Mayhem, pushed onto a bed that was, even then, being smashed into a wall so hard the plaster gently cracked. Her body was pinned between the rippling forms of two knightly studs, some clan of high-ranking warriors that were all too happy to send their dicks plunging into warm female holes.
Double-penetrated between them, she was slammed away at by one hung stud on the bottom and another on top, her body totally stuffed and trapped in place. Her Clap My Cheeks tattoo was made very true as her fat ass clapped around like a gong, the flesh mauled and compressed and sent bouncing with each rough push of the hips. Her ass was nailed in a frenzy of motion that fucked Mary-Anne down into the muscled woman beneath her, and she seemed all too happy to use the buxom slut like a cushion.
Fat F-cups pillowed out against a smaller chest like pillows and a soft body was smothered in full by smooth muscle, and with easy flexes of the waist, the strong, fit knight sent her cock swinging up and into a hot snatch - nailed it in tandem with her partner and leaving juices to slurp around the fury of her thundering shaft. Though the one on top held more initiative, the one on the bottom gave it as good as she got and powerfully, repeatedly nailed the whore on top of her.
Though Mary-Anne’s face hung over her shoulder, it was not given a moment of rest. Her hair was tangled in the fist of another knight hovering just off the side of the last, and she yanked the famous streamer’s mouth down onto her swollen pillar of cock like it meant nothing. She manhandled her up and down like a shameless, drooling slut, impaling mouth and throat with turgid dickmeat, and hammered away at it with sharp bucks of her hips.
Even Mary-Anne’s hand was taken up as she stroked a fourth cock rather clumsily, pulling at cum-glazed brown meat like nothing else mattered. It was a shameless, degrading sight, but there she was, locked into a full-on gangbang like a cockwhore - but that wasn’t exactly new for Harley, either. She had seen it all before on her streams, ranging from goblin gangbangs to human orgies to orc triple penetrations and more besides, all reckless, all degrading.
She was used to seeing Miss Mayhem sprawled out in a heap of limbs as she was plowed; rather, it was her first time seeing her gorgeous, sweaty body get railed up close, to hear her cries in perfect definition, and to feel it all while locked into a collar of leather. Her Depravity and Lust built up more and more just to see it, and her flush rose in time with the dangerous, prickling heat of her body.
She could stay there and watch her for hours, and she knew that instantly. She also knew that if she did she would be no better than Mary-Anne, Valerie, or Lucy, her mind and body reduced to the status of cockwhore for as long as the Enslavement debuff was active. It was a dangerous thing, so she ducked her head, stepped forward, and cautiously announced herself while bringing her tray of drinks around to a dresser.
“D-drinks,” she squeaked, face red, eyes glancing around desperately. The room was arranged like a whorehouse should be, and was little better than something out of a love hotel; no one was sleeping on those beds, that was for sure. Judging by stains and body imprints on the walls, more than one piece of furniture had been used for sex in the last few hours.
“Fuck, refreshments, nice,” said a voice, and Harley squeaked when she realized that there was a fifth person in the room - broad-shouldered, strong-looking, but much curvier than the rest, likely not a knight but a healer. She was toweling off the sweat from her body, but her cock still impressively jutted forward in anticipation for action.
Harley was in full view of that.
Dark eyes scanned over her. “And desert, too.”
Harley stiffed and flushed. “A-ah…”
“Get the slut over here,” barked out the knight using Mary-Anne’s throat. “Mouth is okay, but I need some hot cunt wrapped around my dick.”
“You’re such a barbarian,” laughed the knight on top, her muscles flexing and her chest bouncing around with each deep stroke of her hips. Claps and thuds rang out and filled the room - and Harley’s ears - with their lewdness, making her flush and pant a bit more and more by the moment.
“Get on the bed,” the currently unengaged futa told her, her voice jovial but her eyes hungry. “I’d love to have you two whores wrap your lips around my cock - always gets me off.”
Harley flushed at the words and the insinuation of sucking dick beside Miss Mayhem herself. “T-that’s not - I can’t, uhm -”
“Can’t?” The futa snorted and reached out to grab her ass. She yanked her into her flank, tits smacking across her own rack, and then dug fingers deep into pliant assflesh. “You’ve got one of Vailana’s collars on ya, don’t you? Can’t isn’t a word here, slut.”
“What -” Harley bit her lip and shook her head. Her Depravity was rising along with the collar’s heat, and she felt that infectious lust burn through her. It was, by then, a rampaging arousal, and she didn’t want to be stuck with it. “Sorry, I’ve gotta - I’ve got a job to do -”
“Sucking my dick is your job,” the futa announced. “Come on, we’ve got five cocks here and only one chick. It’s not fair to leave us out to dry, right?”
Right, Harley’s mind told her, for, with the rising of her Depravity and the Enslavement status still strong in her, her choices and options became narrower and narrower with each rise of the meter. The sinister bits of Vice and Venus were well known and honestly lauded by girls like the Virtues, but for Harley, she just tried to work her way out of it as best as she could.
“I’ll get someone from downstairs,” she huffed, face red and pupils dilated. The hand on her ass squeezed her with such firmness she wanted to do nothing more than let go, and she could feel her stats rearranging themselves to be better suited for sex; Enslavement statuses and high Depravity would, in effect, turn any character into a mewling sex kitten for as long as they could, reducing a warrior to a level-one character with maxed-out stats for taking dick.
“Just a quickie,” the healer-knight urged, pulling Harley in against her and slamming their tits together lewdly. “Let me get off real quick, dump a load in ya, then we can see if you want to leave.”
It wasn't an offer, she knew that. If she said yes, she was in there for the long haul alongside Mary-Anne, reducing to a drooling cockslut for the next few hours or so - however long the debuff lasted for. She would eagerly avoid such a fate if she could, because, as hot as her mind told her it was, she knew that was the last situation she wanted to be in.
I can still resist, she told herself, and, with a red face, extracted herself from the woman’s arms and stepped backward.
“Maybe after,” she said, and noticed that her voice was even sluttier and less convincing than before - a horrid prospect, to be sure. “Just, uh… yeah, later.”
The knight laughed at her departure, just watching, shaking her head, and then going back to the hot slice of meat she had on the bed that was already primed to take cock. It was as simple as that for them: they didn’t need Harley with fresh meat everywhere for them to admire and take advantage of, she was simply the most convenient right then.
And, as Harley closed the door behind her and fanned her hot face, she listened to the renewed thump-thump-slam of a body being hammered into the bed.
Fuck, she thought. No wonder Miss Mayhem always gets bad-ended. This shit is terrible…
Less than half an hour after, and Harley was a panting, flushing mess fighting against her own rampaging arousal and horniness. She couldn’t control herself as constant touches, grapes, and kneading of flesh left her red in the face, and as she delivered drinks to and from tables she found herself literally panting with heat as the infectious lust hit her hard. It was a tingling rush that ran all across her body and made her insides contort and feel all too wet, priming her for ‘Cock-Primed’ status - a ‘buff’ state that made it easier for her to get nailed.
A ridiculous thought, but a very real one. She wasn’t the only one, either, because all the other barmaids were in the same panting state. She suspected that was the entire point, and that those made to serve on the floor were just riled up until arousal, horniness, and lust filled their systems and raised their Depravity to untenable points, making them little better than ticking time bombs for sex.
More and more often, Harley found herself tugged into laps, urged down into the arms of patrons, and groped. She was made out with by random people, she was caressed by built studs, and she was patted down by busty beauties. She was offered coin to head up stairs and get nailed and she was told to just drop down on her knees, and she could only barely protest it each and every time. She sank further and further, and soon she knew it would take nothing at all for her body to be used as the game intended.
Instead of feeling dread for it, though, she found it hot. It was liberating to let loose for once, and even if it wasn't her method of playing the game, the fact that it was finally happening alongside the virtues was attractive. She liked it just a bit more than she anticipated, and as she panted and heaved and flushed with aroused heat and let random people pet her curves and knead her flesh, she enjoyed it.
Even as she felt herself weakening by the moment and even as she warred with her own rampaging lust and depravity, her so-called manager came around to tap her on the shoulder: an innocent action that still sent trembles of arousal flowing through her. It felt much more potent and real than anything she’d seen in the game beforehand, but could only chalk it up to her own lack of experience.
“Ms. Vailana wants to see you,” the woman told her, and Harley felt herself blanche.
“O-oh,” she stammered. “A-alright.”
Such simple words, yet with such momentous meaning. She veritably trembled as she made the pilgrimage back to the Tiefling’s office, past the nodding guard, and into the office proper, stepping inside like it was the daunting layer of a beast - but it was only Vailana, a person she lusted and simped over as much as Miss Mayhem. In her lusty, mind-clouded state of servitude, she could only conclude that the woman was the most drool-worthy object of affection she had ever seen in her life.
“M-ma’am,” she stammered, eyes ghosting over Vailana’s perfect body. “You c-called?”
Vailana smirked, and Harley felt her depravity rise another point. It was ridiculous, but her mind lusted after the woman and the source of her Enslavement like nothing else before it. The Tiefling was gorgeous, downright sinful, her flicking tail as alluring as her deep, heavy cleavage, and she couldn’t hold it back. Her thighs pressed together in her presence and squeezed shut, desperate to contain herself.
“I did,” Vailana said, her voice as rolling and silky as ever - better in person than it was on camera. “Paladin_H, is it?”
Ah. Her username; not a particularly fanciful one, but the one she’d picked to go with her new class. “Yes, uhm - but Harley is fine, you know, it’s easier than my handle.”
“Harley.” Vailana smirked at her. “Wonderful. You’re quite the little catch, aren’t you, Harley?”
The paladin quivered, arousal spiking hard. “I, ah, I suppose…”
“A real, honest to goodness paladin,” the Tiefling drawled, her eyes scanning over her scantily-clad form with clear desire. “Pure, uncorrupted… you know how rare that is nowadays, Harley?”
“I… I don’t.”
“So rare I haven’t fucked one since launch.” Vailana laughed softly as she leaned back in her seat and ran fingers along her belly. “All of them get bad-ended before you know it. Fucked, corrupted, same as everyone else. I haven’t had a pure, holy paladin woman in so long my dick doesn’t remember how they feel like.”
Harley had no idea what she was saying, but for some reason it made her core bubble with heat and her teeth sink into her lower lip. She flushed, looked down, and shuffled, unsure of what, exactly, to say, but she felt like she should. “I… uhm. Well…”
Vailana did not need her to speak. “I’ve pulled up your history. It’s impressive; you’ve gone without being lewded in a full year of play, and only four times in your entire career - and never anything that could be considered hardcore. You’re an honest to goodness untouched paladin. You might be the only one around here at all, in fact.”
Harley shuddered. “I mean, maybe, uh, I just don’t like to - to lose on purpose, so…”
“Oh, I can tell. It makes you so… scrumptious,” the Tiefling husked, and Harley felt her insides twist. “I knew I had to feel that pure body once I figured it out… and that I need to be the one to finally tap that holy ass of yours.”
No one had ever spoken to her like that, but she knew, right then, that only Vailana could. Only she was able to speak to her in such a degrading, casual way, and only she could make her like it.
Vailana reached out to play with what looked like a pair of dice on her desk - gently picking them up, rolling them around her fingers, and smirking. “And you’ve been looking so tantalizing out on the floor, working that slutty little outfit for me… getting all nice and hot. I think it’s about time I pluck that ripe fruit, don’t you think?”
Harley was driven into an answer before she could consciously decide - her Depravity was too high for it. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” Vailana sat back in her seat and slowly, methodically pulled on the seams of her outfit, tugging the sections around her waist to the side and beginning to yank her huge, fat cock free. “And good girls get the best prizes of all: the chance to be my bedwarmer.”
Vailana waved her hand off to the side with one hand, revealing something that Harley hadn’t noticed before: a bed positioned to the far right side of her office, a big, circular thing like a love-nest of pillows. At first, she did not know how she missed it. Then, she realized it was likely a hidden object guarded by some stat-check, and very likely, once she reached high enough Depravity the full lewdness of the Tiefling’s office was revealed.
But it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. She just stared, her mouth watering, as that big, fat cock was tugged free and sent flopping forward. A veritable obelisk of purple dickmeat, it was a girthy Tiefling shaft that had claimed a good few dozen girls just that month, let alone over many years. Vailana was a pussy-tamer, a bitch-breaker, and the titles were very, very real. That was part of her appeal, and with Harley’s crush mixing with the depravations of her Enslaving collar, she was lost to it.
“So you’re going to get the best prize of all, Harley,” Vailana said smoothly, her hand slowly pumping along the weight of her wrist-thick girth. “You’ll have the privilege of sucking me off… and if you do a good enough job with your mouth, I’ll take you to that bed over there and fuck your brains out.”
Harley should have been offended by such words or degraded by them, or, perhaps insulted by such insinuations, but she wasn’t. If her mind wasn’t putty by that point from being an ‘uncorrupted paladin’ exposed to the highest depravity she’d ever experienced, it was the moment she saw her dick: a sudden outpouring of pure lust that totally let her reeling. She had already been putty in her hands, and she knew it; seeing her cock simply cemented her submission and made it more real.
So, really, she didn’t hesitate nearly as much as she would have, and she all too readily walked forward, stuck at Vailana’s mercy. Putty in her hands, her brain a molten pool of burning arousal. Red-faced, filled with roaring lust and need, she knelt in front of her favourite NPC turned goddess and just panted, borderline drooling, infected to the same degree as all of the other Virtues themselves - worse, perhaps, given her lack of experience.
And she loved it.
“Good,” Vailana announced, her hand bringing her cock around to smack Harley upside the face. The girl just panted as that hard, meaty girth thumped across her panting lips and her cheek in heavy-sounding claps, making her face, and her mind, feel like clay; ready to be moulded and shaped as the woman wanted. She simply drooled for it, utterly helpless at her hands - more than helpless, honestly. “Now… ask me for it.”
“P-please,” Harley panted. “Please, let me s-suck your dick, Vailana.”
Vailana smirked. “Oh, there’s something alluring about having a holy paladin say that to me.”
She slapped her face again, then weighed down her head with her cock alone; eleven full inches using her as a cockrest, and all she did was pant for it and sigh with lust. She gasped, panted, and knelt there, her body easily settled into the slutty pose without an ounce of difficulty. It was like her body was being hard-coded for it, and she knew why that was - that was what the ‘Cock-Primed’ status meant. Experience, comfort, none of that mattered in Vice and Venus. There was so much lewd content available that it could just ‘upload’ it into her, making it all seem as easy as riding a bike after years.
“Get to it,” Vailana ordered just a moment later, and Harley moved.
Harley lapped at the thick girth of the cock resting against her face simply because she could not resist it. There was really no more to it than that. The collar, the binding, the status effects, it was all too much to bear, and with Vailana not only being the source of her current predicament but also someone so lust worthy and praised in her mind, her mind itself did the one thing that made sense: shatter on the anvil of her lust and melt into a puddle of drooling desire.
She was a paladin, a completionist, and someone that played the game for success and not to be bad-ended – but like all the other girls and like the Virtues, she happily bad-ended herself right then and there for as long as the debuff would last. She attacked the weight of her cock with a shamelessness that hitherto no one would ever have accused her of, and she sent her lips slapping against that purple girth with barely contained desire.
She groaned immediately at the simple taste of it, her taste-buds watering with desire as she felt it hit her tongue. It was far more amazing than she could have given it credit for, and even if that was only because of the 'Cock-Primed' status she now proudly bore, it didn't matter – she felt like it was genuine. That was the benefit and the curse of VR, and right then, there was no distinction between reality and fiction. It tasted amazing, and she wanted more of it. She needed more of it, and she went to get it.
Harley groaned as she sent her lips sliding along the underside of her girth in a series of sudden, immediate kisses, planting down shameless marks without a hint of hesitation or a single iota of care. She mashed her mouth down and lovingly started to slurp at the cock without preamble, waiting not a single moment to get to grips with it and taste amazing purple flesh. She sighed shakily as that wonderful taste hit her and washed through her, making her lips curl in a loving, adoring smile.
The scent of the Tiefling filled her nose, but it was sweet like a perfume – their natural lusty aura working its magic on her mind all the more potently. It wasn't needed, not with her debuff still going strong and the Depravity at an all-time high, but it kept her nice and topped off as she suckled lovingly on inches of cockmeat while rising up to the tip. She moved with lustful eagerness while moving her hands up and against the side of the cock, gripping it with tight fingers.
The colossal shaft of meat needed her hands to brace it, but that only offered a bigger canvas to worship – and worship she did when she sent her tongue slapping down against the heavy base and rolled the flat of it up, dragging along the meaty underside of the prick to reach the heavy, throbbing tip. One long, lengthy drag, and she slipped across the hard inches to enjoy that gorgeous taste and let it fill her mouth.
“Even good little paladin sluts know how to suck cock,” Vailana drawled, her eyes alight with passion. She reached down to pat the top of her head, pulling on the blonde strands with passion. “But you can do better.”
Harley could. With lust pounding in her ears and her senses burning with raging arousal, she rose up to the head, her tongue rolling and lapping, and her hands held tight, and pressed down against that bulbous rim. She groaned as the taste of it filled her mouth, but quickly, with speed, she wrapped her soft cocksuckers around that rubbery head and sucked it inside – no hesitation, no delay, just lewdness.
She took it into the heat of her mouth and groaned at the feeling of it, but, shamelessly, went down. It tasted far better than it had any right to and it felt far better than seemed logical, but that was how Enslavement truly worked, she well understood why it was so addictive for many players – it was downright an indulgence. It was better than real sex could be without modifications, like turning everything up to eleven, and she indulged in it with a freedom she had never before experienced.
Diving down, she took the head, and the inches beyond, into her mouth with a thick, wet-sounding slurp. She shoved it into her mouth with an almost greedy intensity as her sky-high Depravity surged through her, hitting every nerve ending in quick succession to turn her into the drooling slut that was wanted out of her. She sighed at the sensation of it, her senses burning and her eyes watering, their corners leaking tears of pure pleasure as she filled her mouth with nothing but rock-hard meat.
Vailana did not yet say anything more. She pet her hair, watched, and waited, having given her ultimatum before and now waiting for it to be acted out on. Harley was able to do what she wanted, and she bent all of her abilities to the sole task of slurping on her shaft alone. She sank down, shoving it into her drooling mouth, and jammed it past her smooth lips and into her cheeks. They bulged with the immediate weight of it, for there was no other way to handle a dick that damned big; but that was fine by her.
She gurgled around it as the head hit the entrance of her throat right then and there, all lewd, degrading, and sloppy. She shoved it inside so hard and fast that it crashed all the way through her mouth and all but conquered it, making her saliva slurp into place across hard purple flesh – but she didn't mind that, either. It felt amazing; no, better than that. The weight, the touch, the texture, it was like sinful pleasure, and she drooled for more even as she stuffed her mouth with it.
Still, the Tiefling said nothing. She watched her with sharp eyes, fluffed out her feathery white hair, and admired the rampant degradation as it played out real-time – and Harley submitted to that. She knew what was wanted from her and she didn't even think to hesitate. She acknowledged her weakness, her submission, and she went with it, her mouth rising back up the cock with a sharp buck of the head. Pulling upward, she adjusted the stance of her knees and fixed her posture just that much more before moving.
Lips rolled to the tip and slurped around that bulbous mass, enjoying the taste and texture of it. She groaned around the shaft with sinful indulgence while sending her tongue out to lash against the tip and flick over that sensitive area, making Vailana sigh; and the sound of her pleasure was so intoxicating that Harley's eyes fluttered and senet her sinking deeper into submissive pleasure. She gurgled around the head before dropping her head and taking cock right back inside, shoving it all in as deep as she could before the head hit the back of her throat and left her sputtering.
With saliva and froth building up more and more, she sputtered around the shaft and pressed her lips down tight. Hands clenched down harder still as she pulled up the meaty pillar, her lips rising inch by inch and leaving a wet trail of bubbling warmth in her wake. Her tongue fluttered around the hardness, barely able to properly move, and dragged every inch of the way. The pillar throbbed just a bit at the offer of pleasure, clearly enjoying it just enough to spur Harley on to greater acts of perversion.
Up she went to the tip, her lips rolling, her mouth pulling, and wetness suckling; a vacuum-like seal that made drool churn. She pulled near the head before her lips snagged and tugged, then, with loving flicks of her tongue, dove back down and forced it inside. She gurgled wetly as the head sank in deep and squished down the weight of her tongue just moments later, forcing it down flat and turning it all into a wet cushion of sultry enjoyment.
Though Harley had never sucked a dick in real life before and barely did so in game, she knew what to do. It was beyond seeing Valerie do it earlier; she had practiced on her toy dildo a few times and she had consumed pornographic content from Miss Mayhem and others religiously – and more, she'd rapaciously watched Vailana's sexual conquests time and time again as she got off, so she knew, if nothing else, how to worship that colossal purple cock. For sure, it was far bigger in person than she had ever watched, and actually experiencing it was far different than seeing, but she was a fast learner.
She stared down at the shaft of purple meat as she dropped her head down and back again, slurping and suckling on the weight of it with deep, hungry bobs. She did not move like a first timer but rather like someone with something to prove, a desperate sort of urge that was incongruous with her paladin-self – but that was a constant meme in game; the holiest and most pristine of sluts were little more than cockwhores waiting to be unwound, and Vailana did so with marvellous ease.
She barely had to do anything to get Harley drooling and blowing her cock, and the formerly proud paladin did exactly that. Her head dropped as she pushed cockmeat into her mouth and all too eagerly slurped it up, jamming it as deep as it could go and tugging back with slick, wet noises. Vacuuming slurps periodically rang out as she tried to control her drool, and even if she mostly failed, the added bubbling of wetness seemed to please the dick she had lodged inside.
Up and down her blonde head of hair went, the strands fluttering as she pushed down and flopping as she rose up. She stared at the meaty pillar she clutched in front of her and blew it for dear life, marking every deep drop she made. She wanted to see it, wanted to know how deep she could get, and see it; she wanted to mark her progress and do better. She was desperate to please, hungry to be the slut that Vailana wanted, and it was as much a conscious choice as it was debuff-related mind-play.
Harley knew what Vailana wanted. She religiously consumed her content and saw every sordid act that the Tiefling loved, and she acted out on it with furious passion. There wasn’t even any conscious thought when she started to force the dick into her throat, just the act of actually doing it - of her face sinking down more and hammering the thickness past the ring of the entrance and down into her esophagus proper.
Lewd, slick, and shameless, she propelled her head downward and buried the cock into her tight throat with nothing but a shameless noise of gurgling approval. She slurped on it as she tugged it inside, her eyes watering with stress, but shamelessly, carelessly, just went down. In moments she was gurgling with nothing but rock-hard cock, letting it bathe in the sticky heat of her sputtering throat.
Vailana groaned. Nothing more than that, not even close, but it was enough. It was more than enough for Harley to feel like she was compelled to pleasure the stud and more than enough for her to throw herself down and messily slurp on that weighty pillar even as it clogged her windpipe. She went down, sputtering every inch of the way, slurping up nothing but dick and breathing nothing but purple cock, and did it lovingly.
It was barely a moment later that she tugged up, lips rolling every inch of the way, and filled her mouth with nothing but meat. Then a second afterward where it was forced into her throat, ramming it inside and gurgling upon it with lewd, lavish intensity. She slurped and sputtered as she forced herself down, drawing it up and gulping it down, her head moving in quick, cock-pleasing arcs of motion.
It took no time at all for her to settle into a face-fucking. She sat on her knees, gripped the dick, and face-fucked herself on Vailana’s cock, taking eight inches into her mouth and down into her throat with gurgling pleasure. Froth and drool poured out from her lips in wet bubbles and sent long, sticky strings washing down over her collar and cleavage, all without care. She stuffed herself with the rock-hard pole of meat as if desperate to please, and never once did she stop.
She force-fed dickmeat into her throat again and again, fucking herself down upon it with gurgling intensity. Her throat was stretched to the point of bulging around the weight of it, and though it made her eyes water with stress, she kept at it. She coughed and sputtered and kept at it, fucking herself down at the cost of her own oxygen - and though she didn’t technically need to breathe, her oxygen meter was still a very real stat.
It began to trickle down as she stuffed her throat with meat and blocked her windpipe with purple cock, but she did not care. For moments, for minutes, she fucked her face down on it, slamming her throat onto it and gurgling around it with her entire mouth. She threw herself down even as the bar hit seventy-percent, then sixty, then halfway, ticking down steadily as she cut off her air supply and exchanged it for Tiefling cock.
She did not stop, not even as lungs clenched with artificial potency and that desire for air built up within her. More, and more, she kept at it, gurgling and slurping on her shaft, hungry to please it. It was a biological imperative for her, a demand that had been hard-coded into her lust-infected body, with no choice for anything else. She deepthroated her cock like a ravenous whore, slamming her throat down upon it as if she had to break herself, and nothing more than that.
Over, and over, and over again, sending saliva patterning down in thicker strings and wetter droplets. She blew turgid dickmeat to draw out throbs, she slammed it into her throat and packed herself full of it until it pulsated, and as she stared down at the weighty rod ahead of her with watering eyes and forced eleven full inches nearly up to her stomach, Vailana sighed.
“You are a good little paladin,” Vailana drawled at length, and Harley felt her soul blaze with satisfaction. She did not stop, though, and kept messily throwing herself down on cock, facefucking herself with lavish intensity. “You’ve certainly earned your reward.”
She kept on mercilessly fucking her own face as Vailana reached forward, grabbed something out of her desk, and pulled it up. Only belatedly did she realize that it was a long leash, and only a minute later that she realized it was clipped around her collar like a dog - but she didn't care. She kept on blowing the shaft until the Tiefling roughly used the leash to pull her up, drawing her off the meaty pillar with a wet slurp, then grabbed her chin with one hand.
She pressed her finger against salvia-stained lips and smirked, making Harley feel totally breathless. “And my first load isn’t going anywhere but that holy little pussy, so let’s get you where you belong.”
She pulled, and Harley helplessly went with her. She didn’t care that she was tugged by the leash like a dog and brought over to the bed, and only followed like the dedicated, hopeless slut she was. She couldn’t do anything but heave in breaths and fill her lungs with jiggling breasts while eying that amazing purple backside, her mind so long-since sunk into that pit of depravity that nothing else mattered.
Vailana pulled her up, and she went up. She shuddered as hands grabbed her, palming her curves, running along the sweeps of her flanks and up to her chest before mauling the fat mounds through her blouse. Her touch was possessive and wordless, showing that the Tiefling now fully considered her in the same way as her desk or her chair - a piece of property and nothing more than that.
Harley mewled for her touch. She didn’t care, just flushed, whimpered, and shuddered as her chest was hefted up and squeezed by firm fingers. She gasped as those amazing hands fluttered across her skin and shuddered as a spade-tipped tail circled her waistline, tickling in time with eagerly groping palms. Slowly, deliberately, she was stripped, her insubstantial outfit tugged out of place from her fit paladin avatar and dropped down to the floor.
Her curves bare, Vailana grinned and lowered her horned head. “A crisp, untouched paladin body. Oh, how I live for such… simple pleasures. ”
She pulled on her collar hard, then smacked a fat titty so hard it nearly rocked into Harley’s chin. She gasped at that touch, but Vailana did not care - not at all. “On the bed so I can take you properly.”
Panting, Harley nodded rapidly. “Of course, of course…”
Her voice drooled sluttiness as she clambered up and onto the bed, but even then, it was not at her own dictation. Vailana walked alongside her and pulled her up, then clipped the other end of the leash to a ring at the headboards - much like one would hitch their horse, she was locked to the bed. She knew how degrading that was, but she accepted it with pussy-drooling arousal.
Vailana swung herself around. She did not undress, for she never did when she dealt with quick fucks. It was just businesslike pleasure, a quick in and out for an hour or so before she went back to her usual routine, and that was it. Harley wasn’t yet worth more than that, but she quivered all the same as she laid out on her back, fat tits splayed, and had her legs spread by those smooth hands.
The Tiefling smirked as she got up on top of her, spreading her legs at first with her hands and then just her hips. Her glistening cock bounced with each movement she made, and Harley’s eyes were glued to it. Even as a large chest was hoisted up in front of her eyes she stared down at the bobbing prick, her insides coiling with anticipation for her prize - a lewd prize that would break her, but one she craved all the same.
Vailana grabbed her wrists with her hands and pushed them above her head before straddling her, dick pointed down like a spear. “Time to claim this holy pussy and break you in properly. Give you the Vailana welcome.”
Vailana made good on her promise and then some. She always did, in every porno that Harley had ever seen. Real people, fucked by the famous Tiefling NPC, shattered on the anvil of her cock – girls like her, set flat on her bed, bodies tucked beneath her curvaceous, voluptuous form. Her spear of a cock, still glistening with fluids, pointed down at her exposed slit like a pulsating slab, ready and willing to pierce her and fill her with nothing but rock-hard meat. It would take one thrust, and then, and then, Harley was done for.
God, she wanted it so badly. She panted for it, writhing, shuddering as hands clamped down around her wrists, pinning her down and holding her steady. Vailana smirked down at her as she aligned herself, her cock swinging down, rolling across puffy cunt folds and dragging itself into alignment. The head poised, ready, and Harley just drooled, her spine shivering with the idea that she was finally going to get laid with someone she fangirled so hard for. It would take -
Vailana thrust, and that was that. Her cock simply rammed forward, making good on everything the Tiefling promised and then some. In one hard, rough thrust, she slammed into her hot snatch, cramming it down in a brutal sweep that filled her aching cleft with nothing but rock hard meat. Several things happened in that moment, brought forward by the tremendous, spearing thrust – her brain turned to mush, which was, already, a given; it shattered against the hammering blow of her dick thanks to the Cock-Primed status, leaving her in mewling tatters.
Her Depravity status capped out, and the purple bar blazed with pulsating light to show that she was, for that moment, well adn truly gone, little better than an NPC sex toy. The Enslavement status throbbed as well, and where before it was indicated by the shape of a collar around her HUD, it quickly turned into a swirling, fiery heart-shape of pure lust – a clear indication of what ehr role was going to be for the next little while.
Neither did she care. As Vailana's cock brutally rammed into her with that one titanic push, she felt nothing but shouted glee and mewling pleasure. It rolled through her body in waves and infected every line of her with sensation, burning across nerve endings and over sensitive spots like a wildfire. It hit her hard and surged along her form in impossible waves of pleasure, all of them making her want to wheeze and whine in praise.
It was the effects of all that rampaging lust rough forward by a variety of status effects, but she didn't care. It was artificially brought to her,, but that didn't matter. It felt amazing – beyond amazing, in fact, and her breathless body and shuddering mind simply indulged in the feeling of that much rock hard meat being crammed into her right then. It stretches every wall and fold along the way before the bulbous head smacked against her cervix in a shuddering rush, and better still, she could feel all of it.
Virtual reality though it was, it felt so, so real it was almost impossible. She felt every vein and throbbing pulsating, she felt her walls being stretched and swollen, and she felt the head smack against her cervix with a jarring rush that made her lungs wheeze and breath mist out. It was very real to a degree that was often considered legally risky, and that was where the rumours of illicit sensation-mods came in: the thought that, maybe, it wasn't just programmed, but rather that someone with mental mods had their experiences stripped down, distilled, and then applied to the game to make for such intense, mind-addling realism.
That, in and of itself, was not an issue, but the thought that a person might feel the same addiction and sensation as a real life person definitely made one question how legal the methods were and if that person did it in good conscience – but, right then, Harley didn't care. She barely considered all of that. She had made her amends with it long ago, adn right then, she just felt solidarity with the dozens and dozens and dozens of others that had taken Vailana's cock before and been shattered by its sheer amazingness.
The broad girth didn't quite hilt itself inside on that one push, but it came close – a benefit of Virtual reality exceeding logical reality. Harley was slammed so full in that one moment that she wheezed with ecstatic pleasure, hitting a high that didn't seem possible and yet was, thankfully, spurred entirely by that incredible brain-modifying lust status. She wheezed ass the cock trembled to a pulsating stop inside of her, grinding against walls like the past, and filling her with such unimaginable bliss that it was drool-worthy.
“You feel as tight as a first timer,” Vailana told her, lips smirking. She was entirely unphased by the sensations hitting her right then, and in the face of Harley's mewling pleasure, she looked like a goddess of sex. “Been way too long since I've felt that wrapped around my dick.”
She rolled her hips, grinding against walls with such tremendous power that Harley squealed. She couldn't do anything more, honestly, and her fleshy, curvy body shuddered beneath the woman – a tremble of limbs and curves and quivering tits. Her pelvis bucked up weakly and her legs spread willingly, begging for more, all of her moving on autopilot; control stripped from her and almost replaced by sljtuty algorithms of sex.
It didn't matter, and she didn't care. Not as Vailana smirked, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and rolled her hips back with marvellous finesse. Unrealistic grace, perhaps, but realism didn't matter in the world of Vice and Venus. She didn't care, just as every other girl that shared the experience didn't care. The biggest, fattest Tiefling dick of all time was jammed into her and rolling across the many inches of her silken pussy, and literally nothing but that drool-worthy pleasure mattered to her right then.
“Fuck!” Harley squealed, her mind putty and her body clay. “S-so good!”
Her slutty screaming would likely be heard outside the room, but it would be forgotten in the lewdness of the rooms beyond. She would just be another girl adding to the lewd mixture and nothing more noticeable than that; a thought that would have made her feel small and pathetic had it not been so mind blowing. She simply drooled as the shaft pulled back, gliding out of her sopping slit in a rush, extracting inch after inch of that thick purple meat all at once.
So much, so fast, that it was blinding – so much that she could look down the plane of her body, past both of their tits, and then down to her core to see the shaft leaving her. Inches of purple dcickmeat were tugged free of wide-stretched folds, moving up and up and up until the head popped free with a bubbling of juices. There it was poised, the crown just lodged against her, applying a tiny amount of pressure as it waited for more.
Then, again, it rammed down, slamming into her snatch in another deep, potent rush. The turgid meat speared down into her, slamming aside pink folds in a powerful fit of motion and jamming it all packed with purple cock. There was no hesitation in the movement, nothing like slow, steady pacing, and just roughshod action: a woman that was hungry for sex and lustful to plow a bitch, and Harley was that bitch. Nothing more, nothing less. She knew that she would be lucky if Vailana saw her as more than a hot piece of paladin ass to smash, but she didn't care.
As it crashed down into ehr, she simply indulged. Her hands whipped up to do something, but they were grabbed adn pinned in place by Vailana as she hoved over her. She laid above her like a dominant beast, her tits swinging against ehr outfit and her purple face smirking, as she rammed her hips down and buried her cock inside. That brutal push hard Harley seeing stars, and she wheezed as the march of ehr shaft sent pulsating lust through her entire body from head to toe – just like that.
“Shit!” She wheezed, the breath forced right out of her lungs. She shuddered, body quivering, as the cock impaled her, taking her so hard and rough that it blindsided her. It wasn't a real dick, she knew that, but it was so damned intense that her mind was thoroughly mistaken into thinking that it was. “Holy – holyfuckitssogood !”
“That's the kind of pussy I've been waiting for,” Vailana husked as ehr ihps worked down, jabbing in deep, and grinding walls against the inner lining of her snatch. She pressed and filled with an easy bucking sweep, stirring out the pink with an intensity that was blinding. She did not do it to stretch or to get it loose but only to enjoy, and nothing more. “gets tiring fucking nothing but whores.”
Her hips pulled back hard and fast, ripping free in a blinding fit of movement. As Harley squealed the many rough inches tugged out of her, peeling at pink walls, and made her feel like a quivering mess- before it then swung straight back down and burrowed into her in a rush, slamming down and cramming in as deep as was possible. It slammed through her aching insides and filled her with unimaginable pleasure, the same kinds she had seen on Miss Mayhem's streams a dozen times before.
Only, now she was experiencing it, and it was so much better. She didn't care if she was only there because Vailana saw her as a tight hole to corrupt. She willingly traded her purity up for the sake of feeling even better, and regardless of whether the choices were hers or not, she adored it. She cried out in mewling bliss, her tongue almost lolling from her lips as she drooled, and shuddered as the hard staff rocked her world.
“But a holy paladin is something to be savoured,” the Tiefling said, speaking for reasons that Harley didn't know – and didn't care about. “Something to be corrupted.”
Her hand pulled away from a wrist to reach down, and Harley squealed as her titty was roughly slapped by her idol's hand. The white flesh jumped up and crashed around as she smashed the underside with her palm, filling her with even more pleasure than ever. It was accentuated with each rough drop of the hips and heady slam of that dick, which simply did not stop – not with each passing moment, not with each ticking second, not as she drooled and whined and moaned for more.
“It's almost like you were saving yourself up for me,” Vailana husked, her teeth flashed in a sharp grin. Her even sharper eyes stared down at her as if she were looking into her very soul, and the outpouring of Tiefling lust swept over Harley in an addicting wave. “Is that right?”
“Yes!” Harley squealed, unable to ever consider rejecting Vailana. “It is! I was – just for - oh holy fuck -!”
Vailana husked out a laugh as her hips speared down in broad, effortless arcs, plowing her brains out with dark promise. She didn't hesitate and she showed no unsteadiness in her movements, and simply applied the thick beef of her cock to her pussy in arcs of motion that put the greatest of studs to shame. It was entirely arrtificial, born of nothing but programming, but there was clear skill there even so – she was, as most of the sex in the game, taken from motion-captured rigs of top studs, pornstars, and other potentially illicit sources, then refined into something so much more.
Artificial though it was, it remained more than enough to convince Harley that she was getting her brains plowed out by a top of the line, real-life studhorse – on par with The Waystation's Marcie, if not so much better. Really, though, it was all inconsequential, and she simply drooled out more and more as the cokc hammered down and pounded out a lewd beat o her pussy It didn't seem like Vailana was even trying, yet managed to blow her brains out.
She knew, though, that she was. Each roll of her hips spoke of incredible skill, each push grinding against her snatch in all the right ways, and then tugging back to stimulate, tease, and leave her wheezing. It was simply so fast and potent that her mind could not register any of it, and she was simply lost in that sexual fugue. Taken on the Tiefling's bed and reamed out like a cockwhore, she lovingly, adoringly cried out for more, and more, and more.
“More girls should be like you around here,” Vailana husked, her hips crashing down again and again. Harley's head rocked and her leather-bound neck shuddered as she was fucked for dear life, quite literally slammed down into the bedding itself. “A hot piece of pure-girl ass to sit in my lap once and while; a slew of uncorrupted girls to introduce to the pleasure of cock.”
“Yes – yes,” Harley groaned, taking everything Vailana said like an addict and running with it. “Thank you, thank you for t-this, f-fuck -”
Vailana grinned and kept at her rough pounding while one hand groped a fat, full tit, bending and squeezing white flesh around her purple fingers. She luxuriously kneaded and massaged the doughy mound while making the other one bounce, sending it all into trembles as hips speared down again and again. With remorseless intensity she sent her pelvis clapping against Harley, leaving red marks across the skin.
Harley knew she would feel it when she left The Waystation.
“Are you enjoying your prize?” Vailana rumbled, her eyes alight with passion – actually literally alight, Harley realized, the pupils glowing in a way they never had before.
“So much!” She cried out, using her one free hand to reach out and grab at a shoulder – something, anything, to steady herself. It really did not matter, though, because there was no way to contend with eleven massive inches of dick ramming into her snatch and filling her out with such casual brutality. She was crammed full, filled to the brim, and smashed in quick succession, with nary a moment where her pussy was not stuffed with dick.
It was amazing, and she rocked, gasped, and wheezed beneath Vailana more and more. She could practically feel her artificial brain melting at the touch of her cock, and she knew why the woman was so vaunted amongst the ranks of porn-addicts. Hell, she understood why it was such a potential legal issue, because for sex like that – well, only mental mods got that good, she knew. It was incredible, and she drooled like a natural-born slut despite it being her relative 'first time' out there.
Vailana watched it all and rumbled out a laugh. “Good girl. I like seeing a newbie learn the joys of being a slut – and how good my cock can be.”
Down she went, time and time again. Even though the position was a fairly basic missionary-like thing, she went at it with such unparalleled skill that it felt like so much more. Vailana did not need anything fancy to blow her brains out, and she, like all the others before her, were treated to the best sex Vice and Venus had to offer – probably. Really, it did not matter, and she just kept on soaring with mind-numbing, body-burning pleasure as her brains were plowed out.
Barely five minutes in, and she was a mind-fucked mess. She didn't think, didn't make conscious choices, and just drooled for it, a sex doll in human form. The Tiefling went at her rapidly, her cock plunging down in brutal hammer-like strokes, crashing across her pelvis in ringing thuds and swinging her balls against her with slurping claps. Juices churned and bubbled remorselessly around the pillar of thrusting dick-meat, and it just kept on going.
Again and again and again she sent herself crashing down, hammering the fullness of her girth inside and blowing Harley’s brains out with each successive thrust. She was fairly sure she came around her thrusting prick multiple times, but in her lust-drunken state, it didn’t matter. She was lost in a pit of satisfaction from which there was no clawing her way out of, and she simply languished there in drooling pleasure.
More and more she was hammered away at on the bed, her paladin body offering up the simplest of pleasures to Vailana: a tight, hot, clenching hole that did nothing but squeeze on her dick with holy intensity. She was prized for nothing more than that and each moment was ruining it more and more, but that was fine. It was okay if Vailana moulded her into a whore for her dick alone. She wanted nothing else, for her mind was long since gone; she simply indulged.
“Time for your final prize,” Vailana grunted, hips spearing down harder, faster, pelvises mashing together with dizzying thuds. “One filling creampie for that holy little womb.”
Harley just squealed for it, totally lost to anything more. Whatever Vailana wanted, she wanted - such was the life of Enslavement. The cock smashed her harder and faster for a few moments of hard fucking, a body moving so fast that tits quivered even in their tight bodice, yet the wobbling of purple flesh was nothing compared to Harley’s rapid bouncing and bobbing. A hard girldick sawed down with a few final, pronounced strokes, just that little bit more and carrying her to a climax.
Then, it came. Vailana grunted hard, slammed down roughly, and hilted into her pussy - and then, all Harley knew was heat. Thick, gooey heat, a washing of seed that she’d only barely felt before and never once in person, filled her snatch. She got her first taste of a creampie in the game, and it was far more intense than whatever she could imagine. In seconds, in moments, she was stuffed with delicious warmth, and she hit another shuddering peak for it.
That didn’t matter, either. Her orgasms were nothing compared to Vailana as she poured out the contents of her balls directly into a hot womb using the eleven inches of breeding-dick, and in one fell swoop the weight of all that seed was plowed into her with brutal force. Harley squealed, her spine arching, and her eyes rolled up as she felt that thickness cram itself into her deepest barrier and wash out from there in gooey ropes.
Thick, sticky, and relentless strings that plastered walls and crammed them out wide, a heavy and fertile load of seed that gushed across her walls and jammed everything in reach with its delicious thickness. It did not matter how much her body guzzled it down or slurped it up, but there was always more to come, ever-greater strings emitted from her pulsating staff to stuff her churning channel to the very hearty brim.
If Harley’s Fertility meter was high, if she was on her ‘pregnancy loop’, the game would have had her conceive a child right then and there. For about a week she’d sport a nice baby-bump then get rid of it as another NPC to do as it wished, and would see her go through the same fate as most of Vailana’s other lays - but her meter was not that high, and thus, she was relatively safe even as she took a world-famous load of cream right inside of her.
Babybatter creampied her without a care, and Vailana held herself down as if stuffing girls to the point of pregnancy was just another day in her life. She casually went about, emptying out her balls with groaning satisfaction, and made sure to get out every last thick droplet of it. She left Harley a sweat-slicked, panting mess, her insides churning with gooey warmth, until, slowly, she extracted herself by the inch, her dick grinding its way out of her before escaping with a wet pop.
“So that’s how creampieing paladin pussy feels like,” Vailana chuckled, her cock still hard and still dribbling thick seed down over Harley’s pelvis. “I can get used to that…”
She licked her lips as she looked down at the blonde, but Harley was beyond any sort of understanding. She simply panted, luxuriating in the burning pleasure flowing through her, her depraved satisfaction at an all-time high as cum swirled away in her very womb. For as long as it remained there churning away she would be locked into endless shivers of pseudo-orgasmic pleasure, and it wouldn’t stop until she was either pregnant - an impossibility - or the Enslavement wore off.
Vailana smirked. “And you know what? I think you’ve earned the privilege of being my bedwarmer, Harley.”
Harley wheezed, body so stricken with lust that comprehension remained impossible.
“Turn around,” Vailana ordered, and that, she could comply with. She spun around, shaking her sweaty curves until she was laying out on her front, and then felt a hand smash against the curve of her ass to turn it into a wobbling mess. She wheezed, mouth drooling into the sheets, and just heard the woman behind her chuckle. “Such a slutty body…”
Her hand trailed up from there, calmly cupping assflesh and moving along the tip of her spine, then travelling over the lines of her Holy Paladin Crest - the marking of her class, that swirling blue, almost luminescent ink that marked her out as one of that sacred group. Vailana purred as she moved across the back-stamp and over the ink flowing across her shoulders like wings, then down again.
“...The kind of body that deserves my personal touch, ” Vailana said, her words rolling out of her lips. Then, she began to draw, her finger glowing with magic as she inscribed a shape right over Harley’s Holy Paladin Crest. Purple lines marred with smooth blue as it took shape, and with a smack of her palm, she stamped a mark right across her backside and over her crest. “My personal crest so that everyone knows who this paladin ass belongs to.”
Right then and there, Vailana stamped and marked her backside with her personal emblem: a stylized heart set with swirls like horns and curling pools at its base like filigree. The new purple ink was proudly emblazoned right over the last Crest as if it meant nothing, showing ownership of her flesh and a personalized stamp of servitude that Harley could not quite comprehend - but she moaned for it.
She moaned because she loved, in her stricken state, the idea of being marked as Vailana’s slut. She moaned because once the crest took hold, her Depravity meter grew a new outline of thick purple banding and intensified the lingering sensations of pleasure, making it all so much better. It was like receiving an electric shock of satisfaction, and if she wasn’t lost already, that alone cemented her as nothing more than a bedwarmer and cockholster.
“Wonderful,” Vailana laughed, finger trailing over the ink. “Now, with that done…”
She brought her cock back down to her juicy slit and slammed it inside, immediately settling into an impromptu prone bone that made Harley climax instantly.
“...I’ve got a few more hours to enjoy this slutty body of yours,” the Tiefling announced, “Then, I’ll sample those whore guildmates and see if you’re all worth that advice.”
Harley wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Partying with the Virtues, she decided with drooling enthusiasm, is seriously the best.
The Virtues all cheered for her well after their game session ended. One hour in real life, many, many hours in the game, they experienced what it was like to serve at Vailana’s Bordello in real time. They were all used, all fucked, all treated like prostitutes, with Harley serving as Vailana’s personal bed warmer for several long and mind-numbing hours of sexual activity.
They logged off only when their time was up and only actually managed to get the info mere moments before. All in all, they only technically started the expansion after many in-game hours of play, but that was par for the course with Vice and Venus. Hell, they were likely already in the upper tiers of player completions for the first quest, and they had done it serving on their backs.
With her, though, everyone was impressed. Valerie genuinely clapped her on the back and hugged her, saying how proud she was to see a goody two-shoes come around to taking Virtual cock; Lucy grinned and blew a kiss at her, telling her she looked good as a cock-drunk slut, and Miss Mayhem -
Mary-Anne wrapped her arm around her shoulders, practically smothered her shoulder in her ginormous tits, and winked at her with a hauntingly angelic face. “I knew you would fit right in, Harley. You’re a natural. ”
Harley knew they were talking about sex, and she knew that they were talking about all the lewd, perverse things she had done as if it was all normal, but she didn’t give a single flying fuck about that. It felt as liberating as ever to do something so utterly depraved out from under her family’s thumb, and she quivered with pleasure to know that she had - to know that on Mayhem’s stream there was some inkling of her depravity out there.
Granted, she also quivered because the mental mods meant that her mind still shook with the after-effects of the VR roleplay, and even if it shouldn’t have been the case, her dripping wet pussy almost felt Vailana’s dick inside of her. It was one of the big issues with VR, and for a girl that didn’t have real sex at all, it left her in a flushed, horny state that was hard to quell - but she fought it down so as not to alert the other girls.
“Thanks,” was all she said to Mary-Anne, “for letting me join in.”
Mary-Anne winked at her. “I’m just happy that you had fun. A bit jealous that Vailana tapped that ass before me, but hey, it’s cool.”
As the Virtues laughed, Harley flushed and looked aside.
“Didn’t get much done today, though,” Valerie said as they left the room some minutes later, her buxom body only barely avoiding the two dudes waiting outside for their turn. “Barely made progress.”
Lucy snickered. “You made a lot of progress… on your back.”
“Bitch, that doesn’t even make sense,” Val said, then smacked Lucy on the shoulder. “Besides, no one asked your big ass to speak.”
“Shut up, ” Val laughed. “Man, those brain cells went right to those thicc-ass thighs.”
“Don’t be jelly.”
“Slut, I am just so not interested right now -”
Mary-Anne laughed. Harley watched the interaction without really understanding it, but she felt like she was just… missing something in their group. She was the odd one out, and so she merely walked alongside them and listened to them insult one another or talk about how their gaming session had gone. They joked about the lewdness, bantered about what happened, and made references that went right over her head, but Harley enjoyed it.
It was almost like having friends.
Valerie and Lucy peeled off rather quickly, however, citing that they had some ‘score’ to settle between them, and padded off while bickering and snarking at one another. Natalie, who was now back in her managing position at The Waystation, simply leaned over the bartop in her frumpy clothes while the over-enthusiastic figure of Marcie talked with her.
Mary-Anne remained at her side as they walked out of The Waystation and toward the exit. Without knowing what to say, Harley tried to find some common ground between them. It was awkward, though, especially with Mary-Anne turning heads literally everywhere they walked; she was a riot of bouncing curves, low-slung cleavage, a fit belly, and suggestive tattoos.
“S-so…” Harley searched for something to say. “...Those two argue a lot, huh?”
Mary-Anne cocked her head and smirked. “Val and Lucy? Nah, they’re just like that.”
Harley twitched her nose.
“They’ve just got a really strange relationship,” the dark-haired girl explained. “They’re… they seem like they don’t get along, but they just roast each other all the time. Nothing serious. They’re like, uh, they’re both total masochists for this sort of thing. They -” she snorted “-both suffer from a serious lack of brain cells, so don’t let Lucy’s attitude fool you. When they talk like this, they’re just riling each other up before they do something lewd.”
“Oh,” Harley squeaked. With that, she fell silent, still totally unsure of what to say in the face of her idol-crush, totally shocked and surprised and still dumbfounded by the day’s events. She had Miss Mayhem at her side, she’d taken Vailana’s cock, she was still buzzing with the afterglow of an orgasm she had never truly experienced - it was crazy.
They made it outside, walking into the lot, and Harley felt anxiety spread inside of her. She did not know what it was, but it felt gripping and intense, more than she could quickly quell - and it got worse as Mary-Anne walked forward, peeling away from the suddenly-still rich girl. She knew they were about to part ways, but she felt like she still had something on her chest and desperately needed to get rid of it.
She spoke before properly forming the words. “Can I ask you something?”
Mary-Anne turned toward her, a smile on her perfectly angelic lips. Her collar-tattoo flashed in the sunlight, marking out her sheer sluttiness in high definition - and from the stares she earned, everyone was aware. “What’s up?”
“How… how did you get your parents around to - to this?” Harley asked, her willpower almost floundering. “I mean… I can’t imagine that, uh…”
Mary-Anne burst out laughing. “Oh, trust me, they did not approve of any of this.”
Harley felt her breath sputter out a bit. “W-well - uh - I mean -”
The streamer grinned and winked. “Look, Harley, High School wasn’t my best time. I think you know what I mean.”
Harley bit her lip. “Yeah… I think I do.”
“I just did what my parents wanted, and I was miserable. So, when I could leave, go upstate, and attend a prestigious university - I did. Took me a while to realize what I wanted, but with that alone time, I… reinvented myself.” Mary-Anne turned her face to the right and looked off to the sun. “I was always playing VR on the side, so I made a career out of it.”
Harley listened to her speak, knowing it wasn’t her time to say anything in return.
“My parents did not agree. Basically wanted to cut me out, stop paying for Uni.” Mary-Anne smirked at the thought. “I had some money put away, but I didn’t care. I took all of this- ” she waved her hand at her body “-and took it to the school’s board of directors. It’s really not that hard to seduce a bunch of hot futa MILFs, either.”
Mary-Anne kept on grinning as she turned back to Harley. “So, I made them an offer. Free ride through school, no payment, no going to class, no exams, nothing - just a straight ride through with some bullshit business degree. In exchange? Once a week, I was in the Dean’s office on my knees, and once a month I was in a board meeting with whatever outfit they could think of while my legs were spread.”
She laughed, then. “For Winter break, I stayed at their ski-lodge resort-retreat-shit and was basically their live-in fucktoy for a few weeks. Over the summer? I basically rotated between their beachside villas as their personal sex-kitten.”
Right, Harley thought, eyes wide, Miss Mayhem streams less in the summer…
“And I have to keep doing that,” the busty girl told her, “for the next, hm, six years or so? Every winter break, summer vacation, reading week, finals studying period, whatever, I serve as their personal fuckdoll for a few weeks, all for a bullshit education degree and a free ride.”
Harley, by that point nice and red, just swallowed and gulped. “Isn’t… six years a lot longer than a degree?”
Mary-Anne winked. “Yup. But I’m getting it by doing no work, paying nothing, and basically not being there at all. Besides that, hitting up gorgeous resorts to ski, or hitting up private stretches of the beach - that’s pampering worth slutting out over, Harley. And, uh, between you and me?” She leaned in and smiled. “I love sex. Every last bit of it. Really, it’s just one huge win-win for me.”
She's indebting herself for sex longer than school normally should be, but she's happy with it. I don't know if that's concerning or hot. Harley licked her lips. “Really?”
“Really.” Her idol leaned back. “Now I get to pursue my dream of becoming the world’s greatest E-thot streamer, all because five futas old enough to be my mothers think more with their dicks than they do about higher education. My grades got me high, but my body got me way higher. Really puts into perspective just how shit my highschool try hard bullshit was.”
Harley looked down. “I… liked you in high school, though.”
Mary-Anne looked at her. “Yeah - but do you like me now? As Miss Mayhem, as a person?”
“I mean - of course, I’m just saying -”
“Trust me,” the streamer rumbled, “And honestly? Personally, speaking? Getting on your back, spreading your legs, and being a live-in fucktoy in exchange for a free ride is so much more fun, baby.”
Harley snorted, shook her head, and flushed. “I don’t know about that… ”
“I think you’re cute, Harley, and I think I see a lot of me in you.” Mary-Anne’s lips twitched as she slung an arm around her shoulder. “And I mean it when I say I want to hang out with you more. I think…we’ll get along really good, you know?”
Harley bit her lip and looked up at the taller beauty, and keeping in mind the starkness of her transformation and how she seemed to be doing everything that she herself wanted to do, felt her heart thump fast. “I want to think so, too.”
“Awesome.” Mary-Anne, Miss Mayhem herself, grinned. “Welcome to the Virtues, Harley.”