Pleasure Giver

"You could have at least waited for him to come off the operating table."

"I couldn't . . . (huff) . . . help it . . . (puff). I think we may have overimplanted the scent. Come over here and . . ."

"My God, I think you're right. God, god, finish with it. I must . . . as well. And we can see how well he can take an enhanced size. You're no . . ."

"And you too obviously are, you are saying. You have been insufferable since you had it done. And until we do this more, you are limited. Too soon—and I've seen the frustration in you. In the meantime, you declare yourself by having it done. Everywhere you walk." The voice was snappish.

"And that's half the satisfaction," came the quick, equally snappish retort. "Others knowing what I could do. You're just too close with your money. You could well afford . . . but I don't know . . . we shouldn't . . ."

"That's rather academic now—in the circumstance. And I know what you think."

"We've discussed this before, James. You aren't too old. We can be again. You could have this done, or some semblance of it. But this one, he's still on the table . . . perhaps the other room, together, with our hands . . ."

"Fuck it. It's perfectly safe. We used Instant Heal. And . . . and . . . I can't help myself. It marks our success. And he would have to be tested anyway. We can verify—the tapes will show—and they won't have to pay for a formal test."

My consciousness swam up from the depths of the anesthesia. I was lying, naked on an operating table, strong lights trained on me from above, my feet in stirrups and raised and spread. I looked down across my belly. A gray-haired man, still wearing a surgical mask and in a medical coat, unbuttoned and spread to reveal a naked hairy chest and the hint of the beginnings of a pot belly, was standing close in between my spread thighs. He was palming my buttocks with what felt like latex-gloved hands, and his torso was moving backward and forward as he rocked on the balls of his feet. I could feel him inside me. He was fucking me.

A normal man would have been shocked at awakening to this. A man such as it was my lot in life to be wouldn't be shocked—but I certainly was surprised. I wasn't in the Pleasure Palace, where playing doctor was routine. I was just surprised to awaken here . . . like this.

He wasn't filling—at least at first—but it was pleasurable, and I was having sensations I'd never had before. My channel seemed to have a life of its own. Muscles I had never felt before began to clamp down on his cock and undulated across and around it. My channel was beginning to react as promised, making him feel huge—as he was murmuring in awe—and me feel filled. We both gasped and groaned at the adjustment. His moaning was telling me how much pleasure this was giving him, which, in turn, clicked on a newly provided reaction in me. It was giving pleasure to me too—far more than I had before they had selected me from the Pleasure Palace for the enhancements. And with concentration, I found I could control the muscles now working inside me, and the groan I heard from below me told me that I could produce this reaction at will, with only the intentional working of the muscles inside my channel.

"If you insist. But finish it, finish it. I must . . ." The voice was insistent, off to the side, but close. I turned my head and found myself staring into a fully erect cock of more than a foot in length and two inches in girth. Yet another doctor stood there, in surgical gear, but with his green coat open, exposing the tanned torso of a fit young man who was no more than thirty and well worked. He had both of his hands wrapped around his monstrous cock, and he was moaning his need.

I had heard of the cosmetic procedures they had mastered, of the male enhancements that, in turn, were prompting research into enhancements in the Pleasure Giver world as well.

I had been bred to give pleasure—long months of grooming and sculpting and training—but the enhancement breakthroughs for men who wanted more drove my work areas into new technology as well, if only out of necessity, for survivability in the literal sense among the Pleasure Giver ranks.

I heard the joyous cry of release and felt the gray-haired doctor's warm cum spread inside me. He fell away, and the younger doctor was muscling in between my legs now. I knew even more than they did that this was a real test of their surgical capabilities. I had never even seen an enhanced cock like this, let alone taken one.

I arched my back and gave a little cry of surprise and awe as he slowly slid into me. And into me and into me. I felt my channel walls spreading. Resisting at first, but then accepting and exercising their newly provided flexibility and stretch capability.

I groaned and grunted as did the young doctor, but he was giving me words of assurance and encouragement and telling me that no one had been prepared for this as well as I was—and telling me that the scent of me was driving him wild and that I was beautiful and that he had wanted to do this, fuck me, since he'd seen me, naked, in preop.

And then he was inside me, farther up inside me than I'd ever been invaded before. And his cock was throbbing deep inside me.

"Oh God, oh Shiiittt, Yessss," he exclaimed, as my channel sheathed him tightly and, by my own new-found will, the muscles of my inner walls began to undulate and make love to his cock.

That was the last of the talking for a while, as, with grunts and extended groans, he began to pump me and I responded willingly, joyfully.

We were both breathing heavily and panting and gasping, and, even bound to the table as I was, I set my hips into motion and we fucked hard, furiously, like wild animals. I thrilled at the realization that the doctor had gone to the limit with his enhancement elections. He had received the stamina augmentation as well. We fucked on, well beyond the endurance of those who normally came to me at the Pleasure Palace, and he brought me to ejaculation twice before he arrived at that threshold himself.

With a shared cry of joy, we both came together when he finished, and the young doctor stood there, between my legs, his hands clutching my waist, and his eyes searching out mine and conveying how glorious the experience was for him. I did not gainsay him for that. It was glorious for me as well. Even the feel of my channel walls retracting as he slowly went soft, still sheathing him tightly, sent chills up my spine.

"They'll pay us millions for the enhancements we've given him," I heard a voice murmur from just beyond the periphery of my side vision.

* * * *

I sat in the steamy bath with them, watching them, as had been my instruction. They were sitting opposite me, the steam rising from the bath into the cool night air in the open pavilion, the breeze flowing through and causing the draperies at the red-lacquer corner pillars to billow. The soft lute music in the background, seemingly wafting on the breeze, was contrasted by the guttural moaning of my fellow Pleasure Giver, Peng, as Feng Lee raised and lowered him on his cock.

Feng Lee had held Peng in his lap and worked the young man on his cock in the bath for some thirty minutes, and Peng had wanted to come twice in that time, but when he reached the edge, Feng Lee held him tight and steady and commanded him not to come. Peng had thus far been able to hold himself in check, but I knew he could not last for long.

At Feng Lee's command, Peng rose up off his lap and Feng Lee stood and climbed out of the tub, grunting as Peng took up a towel and dried off the long, lean, wiry body of the middle-aged man. His muscles were ropey and there were a few scars to mark his years and his valor in battle. Feng Lee was well over six feet tall and his arms showed the power of him. Dried, he exhibited that power by lifting Peng by the waist and carrying him to a low divan, laying him down on his back, wishboning his legs, and resuming his fucking of Peng's channel.

Peng was moving with the fuck and moaning deeply. I wanted to take myself in hand too, to share in Peng's taking. But I knew that this was not what Feng Lee wanted. And I knew it would be folly to displease Feng Lee. I knew Peng wanted to come. But he knew he could not do so until he received Feng Lee's permission. At a signal from Feng Lee, Peng was permitted to take his phallus in his hand and slowly work it, while Feng Lee held his legs wide and continued stroking inside him.

I could tell when Feng Lee was nearing his time, because he was stroking faster and deeper, and I could hear his ragged breathing from where I sat, still, in the steam pool, trying not to join them by stroking myself. At a grunted signal, both men tensed, and as Feng Lee signaled permission and I saw Peng begin his ejaculation, I knew that the release had been simultaneous, as Feng Lee's buttocks were gripping and jerking and the expression on Peng face was one of being flooded internally.

Feng Lee pulled out of Peng and clapped his hands, and Peng rose from the divan and left the pavilion. Feng Lee walked back to the steam tub and entered it. He walked over to me and lifted a hand. At that signal, I rose up and he took my hand and we both climbed out of the tub.

I dried him with a towel and then he dried me. We both wrapped cotton indigo yukatas around our naked bodies and secured them at the waist with a kaku obi.

Feng Lee took my hand and led me over to a low teak table, where we settled, cross-legged side by side on low silk cushions.

A simple pottery tea pot and two cylindrical cups sat on the table. Feng Lee turned to me and raised an eyebrow, and I leaned over and poured tea into one of the cups and handed it to him with both hands. He took one sip and set the cup on the table and then poured tea in the other cup and held it in front of me. I took it in both my hands and raised it to my lips and took a swallow. As I put the cup down on the table, Feng Lee took up a silken cord and pulled my arms around to my back and tied my wrists together. After that, he put one broad hand at the back of my head and ran his fingers deep into my hair and tugged my head back, causing my back to arch back. With his other hand he brushed the front of my yukata open, exposing one side of my chest. He lowered his face to my chest, and I flinched as he bit my nipple. He held the aureole firmly in his teeth and the tip of his tongue went to my nipple and flickered over it. His other hand moved to my thigh and worked its way into the folds of the yukata until it found its way to my bare flesh. Then it moved up my thigh and he took my balls in his hand, and positioned his fingers to separate and extend them. And then he began to squeeze.

I was panting and whimpering, and I cried out when he squeezed my balls hard, but he instructed me in a gruff voice—the first time he had spoken to me since I'd entered his chamber—to be still—not to cry out, although I could moan and groan as much as I wanted—that he enjoyed hearing me do that.

Sour and sweet, he called it—one of his favorite techniques. Controlled pain to accentuate the delicious lovemaking. Every movement controlled and fluid, each one with a purpose, seeking a desired result. He was a masterful cocksman.

While still gripping my balls, he gave a command, and an attendant came forward and pulled the yukata off my arms, which exposed my upper torso to the master, and backed away into the shadows. My chest now lay exposed to his teeth, and, still arching my back with a grip at the back of my head, Feng Lee moved his other hand to my cock and he began to masturbate me, slowly, deliciously. His mouth was moving over my chest and up onto my shoulders and into my neck and to my ear lobe, where he nipped at me with sharp little bites that had me breathing heavily and moaning.

I was close to coming, and he sensed that, and told me that I couldn't. His teeth moved back to my other nipple and he bit into the aureole there as he had done with the first one and once again sent his tongue to flicking the nipple.

I begged him for permission to come, and twice he stopped and held me fast while I fought against an unpermitted ejaculation. After I had fought off the need the second time, he began to suck my nipple hard and his hand pistoned my cock. I writhed and moaned and groaned and begged, and, although receiving no signal, at length I could withstand it no more and came in three strong spoutings inside the yukata.

Apparently this was by Feng Lee's design, because he didn't admonish me. He merely lifted his cum-besplattered hand to my mouth for me to clean off. Then, with the same hand, he slapped me smartly across the mouth, jerked my head back up with the grip he had in my hair, and then leaned in and gave me a long, lingering kiss on the mouth. After that, he let loose of his grip in my hair and let me sit up straighter again.

He unbound my wrists and raised his eyebrow and I lifted his tea cup and handed it to him with two hands. He sipped at the cup, set it back down on the table, and lifted my cup to me. I sipped from the cup and set it down on the table. As I did so, he took one of my hands and laid it on his thigh and then moved it into the folds of his yukata until I was touching his cock. It was half hard.

After placing my hand around his cock, he took his away, and with both of his hands, he parted the yukata under his kaku obi, exposing just his cock. His hands went to the back of my head, and he lowered my mouth down to and over his cock, and I gave him head while he slowly moved his hips and fucked into my mouth cavity, reaching the back of my throat with each upward stroke. After the first couple of exploratory pumps, he held my head tightly and power pumped my mouth cavity until I gasped and gagged. Then he released my head and let me continue at my own pace and design.

I gave him suck for a good fifteen minutes, knowing he had phenomenal staying power.

In time, though, his cock was fully engorged and throbbing. Feng Lee clapped his hands and gave a loud command. "Switch to Channel 10."

Instantly we were in a rock-bound subterranean chamber complete with dripping walls and echoes and all sorts of medieval battle and torture equipment. I was naked and in a black-leather sling hanging from the center of the ceiling of the circular chamber, my arms and legs tied off at the wrists and ankles at the four corners of the sling.

Feng Lee was standing below me, wearing black leather chaps and vest and boots and hood with eye and mouth slit, and was fisting a hand whip.

He was in full erection. He rammed his cock inside my channel and immediately started to fuck me deep in long strokes as my cries and moans and groans reverberated around the chamber and were amplified so that they continued even when I was silent.

He flicked my body with the whip and grabbed my balls with the other hand he had moved down to my crotch and rolled and squeezed them as I writhed and begged and cried out under his relentless deep fucking.

As soon as he came deep inside me, he barked out "Channel One," and we were once again in the captain's chambers of the Universe Explorer 132. I was in a heap on the floor, naked, and an attendant was already coming forward to cover Captain Feng Lee with a silken robe.

"Very good, Jeremy," he said. "I enjoyed that session. That will relieve both my stress and boredom for some time to come. You may go back to the Pleasure Quarters now. But I may call on you again soon. Very nice. Yes, that was very nice indeed."

I lay there, panting, happy that I had performed to satisfaction, as the captain was guided by his attendant to his shower. In twenty minutes he would be back on the bridge, refreshed and in hands-on control of the ship's approach to the Planet Ekton.

* * * *

"There must be some mistake. I've just serviced the captain."

"No mistake," the PS—the Pleasure Scheduler—responded. "You are expected at the First Engineer's chambers in fifteen minutes." Then he sighed. "This is your first outbound journey. You don't know how it is when we hit the empty zone. With all of the tension of the long flight and the coming mission and the boredom of the time we've been out here, doing practically nothing, the crew wants more pleasure. And that's what you are here for. That's what you were signed onto the journey for."

"I didn't sign on to the journey," I said, "I was instructed to report to serve my national duty this way."

I was just being stubborn. I knew I had been bred for this. I wasn't here just because I had the body and the look that melted men. I had been bred—groomed, sculpted, and trained—for those, of course, but, beyond that, I also had been enhanced to have a scent that made men's cocks stand at attention just by being near me, and I had been operated on to have a channel with greater than normal depth capability to accommodate the most popular male cosmetic alterations of the era and with muscles that made love to men's cocks in a way that no unaltered male or female could. My channel was engineered to be a tight fit for whatever size the organ inside was, to expand—within limits, of course—or to contract as desired. Science had even developed a way to increase the volume of a man's ejaculate and, especially in Pleasure Givers like me, to scent the ejaculate to heighten the arousal of the taker. And an immunity system was emplaced in me that was capable of making me able to take men—safely for both of us—without the use of condoms. That had been the second-most welcome advancement—beyond the cosmetic surgery enhancements.

Medical science had been kind to me as well in the process. My own arousal and rejuvenation powers had been enhanced by the best medical advancements of our time. I could take a man, or a series of men, again and again in succession or together, because I had been bred and enhanced to flourish under this manner of attention. I had been bred and augmented with the desire to have another man's thighs between mine and a cock working deep inside me.

There were Pleasure Givers bred and augmented with all of the capacities of pleasing other men with their arousing scent and their specially designed channels but without the desire to couple—with the opposite, an aversion to it or, in advanced models, with switchable reactions. This was because there were men willing to pay who wanted the reluctance, who wanted to have to struggle and overpower to get satisfaction, who wanted to rape. With these, there would be resistance and the sounds and actions of the forcible taking to please the taker, and with the newer models, when the taker was satisfied with the reluctance but fully saddled and now wanted acceptance, he would slide a disk in the small of the Pleasure Giver's back, and the Pleasure Giver became a willing partner.

There were times when I wondered what it would be like to be a new model—to experience the depths and then the heights. But I shudder at the thought of science going that far, manipulating the Pleasure Giver to that extent, dehumanizing them totally. I may have been altered and augmented to bring men more pleasure and to accommodate the enhancements now available to the taker, but I still felt that I was in control of my emotions—while I can appreciate that my abilities to take pleasure have been augmented.

"Just feel lucky you are on the elite squad, only servicing the high-ranking officers. Think of those down here," the PS said.

I didn't have to think of them. I could hear them, a cacophony of groans and moans and screams from beyond the doors that lined the walls of this reception area for the Pleasure Quarters. The crew taking care of their tensions, living their sexual fantasies—within reason, of course—or at least until someone caught them going beyond the bounds and made them stop.