The Apprentices

Daphne tried to settle the butterflies in her stomach, as well as the ever-more-frequent twinges of... something... down below. She sat in her seat in a deluxe car on a train headed to Neopolis, dressed properly in an ankle-length skirt and full-sleeve blouse, over which she wore a satin vest.

As the countryside sped by, she tried to remain calm. Her twinges were in that place that she should never think of, never touch, except to clean and take care of her monthlies. It felt sweaty again, except not with sweat. Something... slippery in this secret place of hers.

Daphne had reached the age of eighteen without ever being told the truths of family life. She didn't know what those secret areas of hers were for. At the age of eleven, she and the other girls had been separated from the boys, and she had never seen one grow up. She had no clue what a naked man looked like, or even that a man was substantially different under his clothes.

She had, in fact, never even seen a man.

What she did know is that she had been selected. Selected by a "master" to participate in an "apprenticeship," and that soon she would understand all those things that had been happening in her body, in the secret places, for all those years.

****

In another car on the same train sat a young man named Nathan, also eighteen years old. He had only just woken up - for some reason in the past few years he had started staying awake late and sleeping late - and was getting undressed for a shower. His car was private as well, yet he still had been instructed to avoid nudity as much as possible. As always, he was to keep his private areas covered. He was never told they were

bad

, simply that he should not let them be exposed to the light, and should never touch them except to wash them and to urinate.

This was part of his upbringing, mind you. Those parts weren't

evil

, just not to be touched. He was told that it was unhealthy to do so until he reached a certain age.

Nathan could feel the familiar dried leftovers of last nights dreams on the inside of his sweatpants. He pushed them down his legs allowing his stiff rod to spring out, pointing slightly upward. He didn't even know what it was called, let alone what it was for. All he knew was he was not supposed to touch it, despite the raw, searing desire that emanated from the tip into the rest of his loins, that urged him to do so.

He instinctively wrapped his hand around it, unable to resist his body's most basic drive. The shaft was hard as steel, but the soft skin was like a layer of silk that slid freely along it. The tip was soft and spongy, and when he touched the clear drop of fluid at the end and rubbed it in, radiant beautiful heat started to spread throughout his body.

He jerked his hand away. Nathan had been at this point before, and knew only one thing he could do to calm down before... what, exactly?... happened to him.

Fifteen minutes later, Nathan was done with his ice cold shower and getting dressed to arrive, disembark, and meet his new "mistress."

****

Daphne thought it strange that the "waiting room" was a bedroom.

Afternoon was turning into evening, and a woman named Emily brought in dinner for them both. It was the best food Daphne had ever tasted.

"You

are

pretty," Emily observed of her. She looked to be maybe thirty-five years old. "Your master-to-be has good taste."

Daphne could only blush.

"Now, you should know, even though the apprenticeship is for seven years, you have one month to ask out, without so much as a mark on your record. I think you'll know pretty early on if it's not for you, but it's pretty rare for one of our apprentices to back out."

Emily had dramatic eye makeup, and Daphne found her hair gorgeous. Her jealousy was unfounded, since she herself had been trained to make herself up to be stunning without even thinking about it. Her red hair, green eyes, and porcelain skin would make any man melt. She wore iridescent green eye shadow: subtle, yet dramatic.

"Also, remember that you have a right to refuse anything that..."

"Refuse what?" Daphne asked.

"You'll find out later on, but I seriously doubt it will be an issue tonight. The person you're about to... meet... is one of us. Still, you should know about these for future reference."

Emily showed Daphne several strategically-placed small red buttons around the bedroom. "Any of these buttons will call several attendants into the room. Just tap-tap-tap. Three times. Once again, this won't be necessary tonight, as I've known your new master for years and I can vouch for him."

As she was leaving, Emily added, "Your whole world is about to... but I've said too much already. This will be a special night, I promise."

****

Nathan sat down with Rick in the dining nook of his "waiting room," chowing down on a steak and potato dinner.

Rick looked at his watch. "Your appointment will be here in a few minutes. I better scram. Look, uh, do yourself a favor and brush your teeth when you're done eating. And did you shower?"

Nathan nodded.

"Good man. Listen, I would absolutely kill to be where you are, right now." Nathan swallowed his steak with a loud gulp. Rick continued, "I wish I could relive my First Night over and over, but we only get to have it once, so... make it count! This is what we live for."

As soon as Rick left, Nathan quickly finished his dinner, washed it down, and brushed his teeth as instructed. For whatever reason, he felt the need to neaten his curly, dark blond hair and make sure his still-sparse beard was smooth shaven. His slim, athletic form was dressed neatly in a silk suit with a stylish necktie. His stomach was flipping, the anticipation causing a bead of sweat to run down his cheek, and his heart to jackhammer in his chest.

There was a knock at the door. Nathan opened it, took one look at his guest, and the oxygen left his lungs.

****

Daphne opened her door, and there was a person unlike any she had ever met. Tall, powerful, broad-shouldered, with large hands. Everything about him exuded strength. Even his jaw was somehow strong, emphasized by the divot in his chin.

This was a man. It had to be a man.

In reality, Gordon was only five-foot-eleven, two hundred pounds. But to Daphne, he was a superhuman, someone who could catch her if she fell and carry her to safety. His coal black eyes with their expressive brows could seek out and spot anyone who might seek to do her harm. He reached out his large, rough hand, and in a voice like molten chocolate pouring from a golden chalice, introduced himself.

THIS is what boys turn into? How could she have known?

Daphne reached out her hand and Gordon gently took it and kissed it, and it was like the touch of his lips caressed her entire body.

"Are you going to be ok?" Gordon asked.

"Why would you say tha..." Daphne swooned mid-sentence, but Gordon quickly caught her and steadied her. "How about we sit down over here for a moment," he said, walking her over to the loveseat with one arm around her back.

They sat down, and Daphne waited for her vision to fade back into focus. "That was really stupid. You must think I'm a scared little girl."

"Not at all," Gordon replied in his chocolate voice, and she admired his thick head of short-cut hair. He looked to be in his early thirties, though she could only really guess. He was beautiful, but in a completely different way from how women are beautiful.

"Sometimes the most rewarding things in our lives can at first be the most terrifying," he said as he reached his hand up to stroke the red locks falling around Daphne's face. She leaned into his hand and sighed. "And fear and pleasure are closer together than you may think." Gordon drew her face towards his and kissed her.

Daphne's body tensed and then relaxed, and then tensed again, and her eyes flew open and she sucked in a breath of air, and then she closed her eyes tight and slammed her lips into his, and her tongue invaded his mouth, and then she broke the kiss and gasped and stood up suddenly.

****

"Monica," the thirty-ish brunette with the snow white skin said. "I know you must have a name too, but we don't have to complete our introductions right away."

Nathan stood there, totally mute. His eyes couldn't get enough of what he saw before him. It was as if a master artist, the greatest sculptor who ever lived, created a mythical creature who was like a man, but had everything a man lacked. The perfection of man, the ultimate in form.

There must be a God, and He must be good, wise, and kind.

"I can keep standing in the hallway, but..." she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I'm a lot more fun behind closed doors."

Nathan mutely welcomed in Monica, dressed in a strapless black evening gown and black high-heeled shoes, which she quickly kicked off. He coughed, and his voice cracked when he said, "I'm Nathan." He stuck his hand out as if to shake hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, surely," she replied. She took his hand, gracefully placed it on her chest, and took a small step towards him.

Nathan saw that his hand was just above the gap between the two exquisite mounds on her chest. He wanted that hand lower. The dress accentuated all sorts of curves that men simply don't have. From the chest to the waist, from the waist to the hip. In back, it hugged a perfect heart-shaped ass. Monica was perfect in places Nathan had never known a person could be perfect.

She drew Nathan into a kiss, and his world was enveloped by her. Sensing his need, Monica guided his hands further down her body, over her breasts. He squeezed them, the first breasts he had had contact with since he was a nursling. Then she guided his hands to her ass, and finally her crotch. Nathan could feel a heat coming from that area, and noted that she didn't have that thing that he had, though for some reason he knew to expect this.

Monica turned her back to him. "Could you do me a favor and unzip my dress for me? I can't quite reach back there."

Nathan started to lower the zipper. "Will your dress be able to stay on with the zipper all the way down? Maybe I should leave it partway zipped."

She laughed musically, a sound unlike any he had heard before. "I'm really warm, so if the dress doesn't stay on, that might just be for the best." Monica guided Nathan's hands around her waist. "Though it would be less likely to fall off if you put your arms around me like this."

Her dark-brown hair ticked his nose, and it smelled better than any flower he and his friends had cultivated in botany class. She looked up at him and smiled, shrugging her shoulders and letting the dress fall over his arms.

"Oops. I guess this is only going to work somewhat."

Nathan felt a pang of terror has the hard lump in his pants made contact with Monica's back. Rather than be upset, she rocked her hips back and forth to revel in the feeling. He gasped, and his head swam.

Monica turned around in her arms and ground her crotch and abdomen into him. Nathan instinctively moved his hands to cup her ass, causing the dress to slip further. He moved his arms again so that one was around her back, one at the back of her head, and drew her into a kiss. The dress furthered its descent until it was held it place by nothing more than the contact between their lower bodies.

"Sorry," Nathan apologized. "I'm not doing a very good job of keeping..."

Monica put a finger up to his lips, quieting him. "I think you're doing a

very

good job." She stepped away from him and let the dress fall to the floor.

He stepped back and took in every square inch of her body, now fully nude. The full breasts, thin waist, slim but gracefully round belly, the shoulders, the legs, the arms. And then he did what came naturally: stepped back toward her and began kissing and feeling her from head to toe.

Monica led Nathan to the bed, where she lay on her back and allowed the inexperienced young man to straddle her and do whatever he wanted. She hardly minded; he was kissing up and down her torso, while one hand played with her breasts and the other, tentatively, explored her crotch. He placed one finger at her wet and waiting slit and looked at her in question. She nodded enthusiastically, and he pushed his finger in, finding it slick, velvety, and warm.

She looked at his eyes, and at the throbbing tent in his suit pants. "You're never going to make it there, are you?" she asked, more to herself, and before Nathan knew what was going on, Monica was reaching up, undoing his fly and pulling out his iron-hard rod.

"This is your cock," she said firmly. "It exists to please a lady." Nathan nodded, two fingers now inside Monica's warm, wet place. "And as I'm sure you're well aware, it also does this."

Monica gave Nathan's cock a few quick tugs and he felt his whole body convulse. Everything in his loins went tight, and pleasure racked his body. Then it loosened only for a moment, and tightened again, with a thud-thud-thud-thud all through his nether regions. Before he could wrap his mind around the sensation, he felt a surge up his "cock," and milky-white fluid started to shoot out of him. Monica looked like she was expecting this, but clearly she was doing a bad job of aiming, with some landing on her face, and some on her breasts and stomach.

Each spurt from his cock was like a whole new universe of pleasure. But it was a pleasure that was forced upon him. He didn't know what it was, or how to stop it, and he was defiling this beautiful creature who came to his room.

Opening his eyes, Nathan saw a smile of contentment on Monica's face. Or was it a smile of mocking? He suddenly became acutely aware of his exposure (despite Monica's full, semen-covered nudity) and his embarrassing mess. In a panic, he jumped off the bed, backed into one corner of the room, and slid to the floor.

****

Daphne held fast to one of the bedposts, trying to steady her breathing. Fear and desire mingled in her mind, and when she looked up at Gordon, standing over her, she wasn't sure if she should fall into his arms or bolt past him and out of the room.

"I can help you relax," he told her, placing one of those large, rough hands on her arm. "Would you like that?"

Daphne gave him a small, tentative nod, and Gordon put one hand on each of her shoulders, gently rotating her so she was standing with her back to him, still holding onto the bedpost for support. He started lightly massaging her upper back, and she immediately felt some of the anxiety leave her body. His grip got a little stronger, moving up her neck, and then down the tops of her arms and further down her back. It felt so, so good to be touched this way. She could feel his strength pouring into her. It was as if he existed for her, and her alone.

Gordon casually slipped Daphne's vest from her arms and lay it on the love seat. She gave a sigh and her body relaxed just a little bit more. There was now less material between her skin and his expert hands, and this only heightened the new desire that was spreading throughout her body. Her blouse was slightly sheer - she knew Gordon could see the rough outline of her bra - and while this should have been embarrassing, it somehow wasn't.

After some time being massaged and feeling her body grow steadily warmer, Daphne felt Gordon's hands move around her waist, drawing her close. It felt almost like a possessive gesture, but in a good way. Not possession. Closeness. Intimacy, she knew the word was. He placed kisses up her neck, finally sucking on her earlobe. Her warmth intensified and concentrated itself on her secret place. She noticed for the first time that it was wet. Very, very wet. All she had to do was move her legs slightly and she could tell. She wasn't supposed to touch herself there, yet suddenly, more strongly than ever before, she felt a deep need to touch herself. Or to be touched... oh! What a thought! Where did this notion come from?

Gordon's hands moved over her blouse to her covered breasts, and that blissful intimacy intensified, but this was not what she wanted right now. This was not what she needed. Daphne grabbed one of his hands and guided it down her body to the waistline of her skirt. Gordon seemed startled and gasped at this, as if he wasn't expecting it. Was what she was doing wrong? Is this not the right thing to do with a man? Her mind said "I don't know," but her body said "I don't care."

It appeared this was either a right thing, or Gordon didn't mind, because he slipped his hand inside her skirt, and then inside her panties, his large fingers combing their way through her curly hair to her wet place. Daphne grabbed his hand from outside her clothes and pressed it into her mound, encouraging it lower. One of his fingers slid against her slit, and she let out an involuntary moan as her knees weakened. Gordon had to support her with his other arm to keep her from sliding down his body onto the floor.

He stroked her outer lips with two of his fingers, while one slid up and down the entrance to the wet place. Up and down, and he would stop at the top and rub something there while his other fingers also rubbed all around, and...

This was weird. This was new. Pleasure beyond words! What was this? Was this right? Should it be like this? Gasps of air. Breathe. Does Gordon know this should happen? Can't think. Oh! OOOOH!

Her body was going to do something, but she wasn't sure what. Some instinct told her she didn't want it to happen yet, like she was saving money in the bank and she didn't want to spend any until she could buy something really big.

She grabbed Gordon's hand and held it tight, signalling him to stop his actions. He withdrew his hand, and as he did so, Daphne's backside rotated against him, and... she felt it. Something very hard in his pants, like he was carrying something in his pocket. She turned him around to face her, and he made a show of licking off his fingers. This made her blush and feel special all at once.

Daphne wanted answers, though, and she was going to get them. She quickly unbuttoned and unzipped Gordon's pants, and yanked them down along with his drawers. Erupting from between his shirttails was a rod of flesh, about six inches long, with a mushroom shaped head at the top. It was the strangest thing she had ever seen.

She gasped, and the surprise of seeing this thing sent her scrambling backwards to the other side of the bed. She stood against the wall, and stared at it. Her fear, as well as her desire, rose to new heights.

****

"What the hell was that?" Nathan asked as he pulled his knees to his chest in shame.

Monica rose from the bed, her milky white skin covered in globs of pearly-white goo, from her chin down to the neat patch of fuzz above her slit. One clung precariously from one of her pointy red nipples. She was breathing hard, her skin was flush. Nathan assumed she was as embarrassed as he was.

She looked at him carefully. "You really don't know what that was? You've never...? I mean, I know you're all told not to, but usually nature wins the battle..."

He stared at her without comprehension.

"Nathan, that was an orgasm. You came." She looked down at herself. "A lot."

"Is that good?" he asked.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm totally freaking out right now," he replied.

"No, that's what your thoughts are doing. I asked you how you felt," Monica clarified.

Nathan closed his eyes and observed the serene euphoria that had enveloped him. "I feel a peace unlike anything I've ever had in my life."

"You feel the way you do because your body just did exactly what it's supposed to do, and it's rewarding you handsomely."

Monica got up to wipe herself off in the bath. Nathan saw her backside, the swell of her hips and her smooth, beautiful ass, and his rod - his cock - twitched and started getting hard again.