Soup Style Bk 16 The Moondancer

In the hospital that was just a cover for the gang abducting and then trafficking victims: There were only two victims on the benches. They were on lower doses of the drugs that the hospital orderlies administered for the benefit of the bad guys. One of the women had long black hair. Her boobs sagged, likely she was near 40 years old, probably had been breed many years earlier. As the gang members took turns penetrating her ass, leaning on her back and reaching around to her nipples, she had begun arching her back in response. She was making the right sounds, she was trying to move her legs farther apart for her further being penetrated. She had very dark eyebrows, with her real hair, but below the neck she had obviously been treated to have no body hair. The guys were enjoying her, even testing that she would accept dick in her mouth as the drugs were allowed to reach lower levels of effectiveness.

Her pussy had been behind the closed curtain of her labia until her pussy lips engorged from the stimulation. Her pussy opened. Her labial lips hung down lower, she was responding. The more responsive she showed herself, the lower her later

repeating drug dosing. This was becoming a source of tension for the orderlies, as they were held responsible to have the prescribing staff keep dosing at levels to protect the perps and their site from being identifiable at the same time that gang members were insisting on more responsive active participation by the victims.

Fewer gang members were participating. Afraid to show up. Was the incentive losing appeal?

A second victim currently benched for the pleasure of the bad guys was perhaps too thin for the taste of some of the guys, so she was mostly being spanked or simply ignored. Unnoticed, her nipples began to express just a small amount of her milk. Nobody to lick her, nobody to suckle at her breasts. Her skinny instead of curvy body did not get any attention for her breasts, so there was nobody wondering if the random spankings were a factor in her lactating while benched. Her butt was so tight and small that few even bothered any effort at spanking her. When spanked, her butt remained firm, small, and without the jiggling that welcomed further slaps.

But the first of the benched victims was increasingly receiving loads, and loads of attention, from her captives. She rotated her hips, gyrating her ass, murmuring sounds of pleasure. Drool flowed almost constantly from her mouth. The more she bounced her hips, the more enthusiastic her captors, the more the drool flowed from her mouth. The large opening, the gaping chasm of her pussy, was bringing her repeat attention. In fact, she looked as if she would be too loose for anyone to enjoy her in that opening. Until, a reappearance of Big Mike.

Big Mike was usually just oblivious to the other gang members. However, now, he was sharply more concerned at the changes he was witnessing among them. He had come to rely almost entirely on some of the steps in the process of acquiring his harem on the efforts of those already in his harem. Determining whether the broken partners would be cuckolds or throuples was one of the greatest challenges he had faced until the moment he saw that the gang itself was losing its capabilities.

The bad guys were unraveling, but slowly. Increasingly, they were a gang with loose ends that could be found, pulled and then end their reign. Those who could be frightened by ghostly explanations were getting a walloping dose of that. Startling intrusions that clouded their ability to think clearly? Yes. Enough fear to make a difference in their job performance? Oh, yeah. Productivity was falling off because more of the work was being done with less efficient teams. Teams of bad guys suddenly began taking higher numbers. The bad guys were looking over their shoulders more than ever. They were worrying more than ever. They were drinking and self-medicating more than ever. They were searching for excuses more than ever.

Big Mike knew. He knew what had to happen. Just posting targets on the wall wasn't helpful unless those targets were picked off. Who would help those targets from revitalized persecution? What did the targeted victims need for protection? What the bad guys needed to have happen was clear to Big Mike; he was back in action as he had been in earlier years, returning to make it happen. It? That the members of the gang experience successes in the field to turn around the fall from grace.

The Moondancer was naked in the dream that Perizat remembered when she was awakened. She didn't yet realize what had awakened her, but, she certainly realized that she had been dreaming, seeing herself together with the Moondancer. She saw that she was almost naked. Wearing only earrings, shoes and lots of something creamy or perhaps greasy. Her body had a sheen, maybe sweat, but her hands, feet, and especially her ass were glowing in some creamy, greasy, oily, pre-warmed lubricant. She had felt it all the way inside her ass, as if given an enema consisting of thick lotion. She had been a victim of the flash gang rapes, other rapes as well. Too many other rapes to be well. Yet, nothing was triggered for her, nothing was painful, nothing even distasteful about how she saw herself or remembered feeling within her dreaming of being with the Moondancer.

Not only was she glistening. The Moondancer was fully exposed as he appeared on display in her dream. He almost looked like a body builder in a competition, sinewy, muscular, and as shiny as herself in the same dream. She was almost cloud-like, a pillow to receive him. He was in her vision pumped up, engorged with a display of his masculine form, a pure and total erection readily lubricated with obvious lust for her. She had never before now wanted a penis this much. She was herself suddenly clenching muscles she did not know were in her. Kegels? She could feel herself clenching repeatedly. Inside of her, not just inside her sexual passageway, but in her muscles around her plumbing for urinating as well as for defecating. She felt her ass muscles contract in ways that she had never before experienced. Her body repositioning itself for her lover to provide his sperm.

Her large breasts became pillows on pillows in her dreaming state. Her lips were engorged, both the lips of her mouth and the labial lips and hood of her clit. More than mere physical responses. Prepared for action? Her breasts longed for his touch. Would she give him a tit job so that her breasts would press against his penis. oiled and in play until he orgasmed?

Her nipples imagined the sensation of his breathing as his mouth moved from her ears, down her neck, to their destination, where he latched on to a nipple, nibbling with his teeth, scrapping along the now elongating nipple that seemed to want to be in his mouth, want to reach to him even more than his tugging would bring the nipple to him. He began treating her nipples the same way that she imagined she would be mouthing his penis. As he was sucking on her nipple in the same way that she would suck on his prick, he began humming to add vibration, he slobbered for added slickness, His cute cheeks took on the features of a trumpet player as he changed the pressure his mouth brought in contact with her nipples.

Perizat could taste in her dream, imagining the flavor of his pre-cum, even seeing that they had slices of pineapple on platters near their bed, and bowls of fresh, raw, pumpkin seeds, and small delicacies that looked like oysters on the half shell. Aphrodisiacs'? Just seeing him naked was the strongest sexual stimulant she had ever imagined. Notoriously shy before recent days, she was suddenly the most confident as a lover in her lifetime.

Her shocking change to being a blonde, to being confident with others, to challenging Sylvie for next steps after they had been abducted and Sylvie had killed their abductors.

What about Sylvie? A lone wolf? An assassin without any operational support? A threat to the organized capabilities of both the vigilantes and law enforcement?

Sylvie also had a role in her dream. Not just a role, no. More of finding a treasured but lost heirloom, rather than a person? No! Much more than that, finding THE person who completed a puzzle that had gone unsolved for most of her life. Another defender and protector?

Perizat was confused. Sylvie was fluffing the Moondancer as well as Perizat, as if nothing in the world was more important than the sexual mating that Sylvie was enhancing. Aroused and arousing. She and the Moondancer were panting in excitement to the fluffing from Sylvie. Was his whole body an erection? Was his entire being a penis? Perizat smiled in her sleep, wondering, experiencing as a chemist enabling her to know, realistically, that his penis rather than his entire body would be aroused in real life. Her breathing became ragged, almost without air from her panting, as she experienced feelings so distant from her memories as a victim. She was approaching a climax merely from exploring her own vision of being engaged in sensual displays with this man, much younger than her, almost but not as quiet as her and their fluffer, Sylvie. Perizat ever so slowly traced her fingers down her own flanks, enjoying the thrilling sensations as if she was touching not just her own body, but in touch with her ultimate soulmate. In her dream, Sylvie's fingers joined with the gliding touching that was arousing Perizat. Suddenly she realized without knowing why she knew with such certainty but she was the future wife of the Moondancer and Sylvie was the future work wife, that they were now a family that would not be separated nor victimized. Just as the nomads partnered with birds of prey and with their dogs for the hunt, Sylvie was going to make the choice to throuple Perizat and the Moondancer.

Sylvie was going to be giving up her life as a lone wolf, whatever had brought her training as an assassin able to penetrate and defeat organized soldiers fully prepared for invasion,

Sylvie had dozens of body piercings, each either communicating a sexual desire to others in the know, or, if not on public display, intensifying her own sexual stimulation. These were now going to be shared in the coming adventures of Perizat, Sylvie and the Moondancer. A team? Yes, in all things. But, the adornments enhancing sensations and enticing explorations by her potential targets were hardly comparable to the toys on the job with Hae-Won while she was streaming.

Hae-Won had toys. Of course the usual. Of course the less frequently seen for nipples, rosebud and clit that were capable of responding to the pre-set targets for tips from viewers of her streaming. While streaming, she also had dildos and partial male anatomical toys for her to be penetrated in the hole selected by her adoring (and paying) fans.

In the select web of her fans, she was famous in part for beauty, in part for wanton on cam behavior, but also for the fact that she sounded so damn hot. She looked, and she sounded, to be having pleasure. Not just panting. Not just waiting for something to bring in tips. Because her pleasure was real, not faked, expression during her streaming, she became especially popular with a narrow range of those looking to find stimulus on line. She was totally convincing as a woman who was gasping her way through passionate sex. Moans? Yes. Sudden ASMR? Yes. Jolting expressions of sexual peaking? Yes. The sound of slurping, even gagging, by the model were part of her brand. She was happily earning money while pleasuring herself for a pleasure-seeking audience. An audience that included those who truly felt that their particular purchased act by a toy was the one pleasuring her the most, the one bringing her close to a shared climax. The world wide audience often dreamed of by chance meeting her in person and living a fantasy.

Hae-Won was not impossible to meet. To the contrary, in fact, she was perhaps the most available of gorgeous women, ever. She was frequently getting a beer with one or more of the other three of the group of best friends from childhood through now. Guys would sometimes buy them another round, guys would sometimes flirt by eyes or even grazing touches as they were in the dances at the clubs they frequented. In truth, she had gone three years without a sex partner. Other than the many female friends she had convinced to join for hot episodes in her streaming shows. Three years without a penis that was organic instead of machined in her life. To her surprise, almost half of the purchased pleasure with toys during her streaming were being purchased by guys for whom she was their fantasy, but the rest, ha, the rest were being purchased by couples or by other single women. Was the world empty of real lovers?

Was Sara destined for a happily ever aftering with the other Hae-Won? Would that other Hae-Won join the red team with Elsebet, the blue team with Perizat, or carry on bartending? Would only one Hae-Won taste love?

Ein-Ji, another of the four besties, was in a total swoon for someone she had seen entering the hospital where she worked. He was probably visiting an injured friend of a friend, because THOSE were NOT romantic flower choices in the bouquet he had been carrying in. If he had seemed lost, perhaps the women could have been bolder than they were? The moondancer had passed them, looking great, but not pausing for a second longer nor capturing any other attention from all of those admiring him as he passed.

The equestrian officer from the park, Michelle, the bait for the trap by the vigilantes, Perizat, her co-captive and rescuer in a way, Sylvie, and now the attending in the hospital emergency department, Ein-Ji, were each fantasizing about the Moondancer, in raw, graphic, lust. He, however, had a romantic interest in only one.

Oddly, in Perizat's dream, Ashley's grandfather, an odd but adorable neighbor who had passed away after breeding Aida, Alexandra and Elzebet. leaving them suddenly bonding while pregnant, was happily approving her being together with her lover. Odder, still, the dogs for which the Moondancer was their handler, were laying down, watchful with only their eyes and their "eyebrows" if dogs have eyebrows, moving as they stood, no, not standing, but, laid down, reposed on their watch to guard, to safeguard, her.

She had never felt safer than with this combination protective of her. But, how was that? What made her feel safe, loved, and well protected? Her ghost of a neighbor, her competent assassin demonstrating skills for the passion of both her and her lover, her imagined lover, the three talented canines all concerned with providing safety for Perizat. Her analytical skills were absent during this dream. What questions might she have attempted to have answered if she were awake?

Why did she trust in a neighborly ghost? Why did she imagine as a soulmate someone whom she had barely ever seen? Why was her co-captive suddenly aiming to pleasure her and her imagined soulmate, her janym in the language of the nomads. Welcome to the mysterious thoughts of a woman dreaming. But, perhaps also to a Christmas ghost story?

Was the odd old guy haunting the bad guys? If the odd old guy was faking his death that was done with others, right? Faking a death like his would require the cooperation, complicity, of others. What was to be gained by having a coroner, a hospital, an ambulance crew, and a large, extended, family in cahoots?

The odd man was an elder in the community. Maybe some of his friends had passed on, like the grandfather of the policewoman, Samantha. Maybe he had lost touch with others? But, when a young girl was being held for ransom, it was the odd old man to whom foster family had turned for help. When the polo players, golfers, archers and heavy equipment operators had been choreographed to frighten the bad guys, it was in respect to him the cause of a safe community park. And, when the police knew that some combination of bad actors within their own ranks were providing intel to the cartel-linked bad guys, it was to him that the wiser heads came for an out-of-the-box approach. The vigilantes, as well, were somehow linked to the odd guy even if nobody seemed to know how. Certainly nobody had any real familiarity with who might be among the vigilantes.

Michelle, the Equestrian Officer

Her meeting was full of surprises and increasingly tense. She had been ordered to report for duty this morning at the morgue's chemistry lab. She had not been expecting to be meeting there with four of the women who had influence in her career or were the touchstones for her effectiveness at her job as a police officer.

"Your suspicious nature! Your follow up surveillance request nearly exposed our key effort to protect you!" Antoinette, not normally one to talk hurriedly or emphatically, expressed that she was concerned as well as frustrated. As Antoinette spoke, June, April and Tuesday imperceptibly to anyone without trained observation skills nodded yes as if in sequence. The group had never before been assembled together, so their all being here, now, for this, was a surprise not yet understood by Michelle, the person receiving this message.

"What is going on? Protect me? From whom?" Michelle was not whining nor was she being combative in her questioning. Michelle was genuinely unknowing of what was going on. She stayed focused on Antoinette but was aware of the actions, no matter how subtle, of her past mentor, June, or of the big bosses to whom she would normally have no interaction, April and Tuesday. Michelle was a trained observer who caught details missed by ordinarily skilled people.

"Listen, carefully. You weren't meant to notice ANY of the undercover crew there. They were there to control any risk to you, to police women working there, that we could anticipate." Antoinette was soothing but not entirely showing conviction in her own words.

"Risk? Of what?" Michelle truly did not understand what was going on.

"Each of the female officers who has mysteriously vanished in the last two weeks vanished from her job, during her watch. Nothing anyone viewed on their respective body-cam footage offered any clue. None. Nothing else happened or didn't happen that was unusual for any one of them on her routinely assigned patrol area. Each disappearance is, I don't know, yes, I do know, each disappeared as if there is, well, seriously, a Bermuda Triangle at the park." Antoinette suddenly sagged, visibly tiring as she paused before speaking more, this time softer, but more worried-sounding. "We have gone over the scene endlessly, but, nothing, absolutely nothing, offers a clue. Not a thing helps to solve this!"

Tuesday spoke, excitedly, as if a teenager speaking out of turn, demanding attention, but saying almost nothing that Michelle did not already know, while overly loading her words with too many questions that were never intended to be answered. "We kind of know where to start, right? There are good reasons for so many community patrols at the park. Everyone has the sense that it will be safe, right? There has always been a risk of abduction from the park, so there have almost always been protective protocols in place. The park is a grab-bag of community venues and an odd-ball of historic properties, with easements to connect up the different parks with the polo grounds, the equestrian trails, the golf course and archery range, the old no longer connected subway station, the old fire house, the old botanical garden, the monastery, and the ancient cemetery. The user communities get along more often than not. There is something about your particular job at the park that is more troubling for your Uncles. You are, obviously, a likely target for such an abduction. We don't know, we cannot agree or figure out, how your being a mounted officer with an equine partner might change the pattern, though."