Fantasy Par: Day 1

We had barely stopped arguing from the moment we'd arrived at the transfer station. I'd packed too many bags to carry; we were having the wrong lunch; no I hadn't packed a hairbrush for him because it's his goddamned hair not mine; bicker, bicker, snip, snap, squabble. He looked at me with an expression of, what was it, hate? No, not quite. It was worst than that. Contempt.

"We haven't even got to Fantasy Park and I'm hating this already, " he grumped. "Christ, so much for the holiday of a lifetime that would mend our relationship."

"Let's not forget whose idea this was. 'Let's go live out our wildest dreams. We could be medieval outlaws living wild in the forest! Decadent Romans in the bathhouse and the Coliseum; adventurers on the Wild West Frontier.' Be honest, the only fantasy you ever had was fucking your way through a parade of strippers."

"Oh yes. And there it is, the actual issue. You're jealous. Bitter and jealous. You're jealous just because I said I might want to experience the full range of opportunities the park has to offer."

I let out a curt, humorless bark of a laugh. "Ha. You make it sound so noble. Be honest You just want a brainless sex doll who will suck your cock on demand and then smile and ask for more."

"Well, can you blame me? I can't remember the last time you so much as touched me there. Yes. I'll say it, if that's what you want. I'm really looking forward to picking up the first dolly I see with nothing but a circuit board between her ears, a perfect pair of big soft tits beneath her corset and one of those patented self-lubricating latex pussies that will squeeze and shape itself around my hard cock & suck every drop of cum out of my balls and I'll be saying ooh yeah baby this is what I want, you're so much better at this than my human girlfriend, because yes, in all honesty that is exactly what I'm paying forty fucking thousand dollars to enjoy. Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

I folded my arms across my chest and scowled.

***

Eight hours later I sat alone in our room in the accommodation block. Eight hours of skulking, sulking silence had passed. I hadn't said a word, not even to the stewards who greeted us warmly and gave us the obligatory health, safety and hygiene rundown. Had they been robots too, or just improbably young, fit, attractive humans? It was impossible to tell. I had to admit, those androids -- or 'dolls' as the park modestly insisted on calling them, were amazingly lifelike. Perhaps their only flaw was that they were just too perfect. As beautifully sculpted as Michelangelo's David, and with embedded AI that adjusted to your own level. Want to spend your day grunting like a barbarian berserker? They'll join you. Want to debate the flaws in Einstein's theory of special relativity? No problem. Every single one of them, from the ancient Egyptian slave to the Wild West hooker can adjust to your level. These things might not be human but, as the advertising insisted, they are so, so much better than that.

I did a quick sum in my head and worked out that the bastard had already paid about $2,000 just for me to sit sulking in my room. That brought a hint of a smile to my face. I glanced at the time. Still a full evening ahead, might as well try to make something of this shitshow. I was draped only in a complimentary bathrobe, having discarded my travel clothes, showered, and then decided there was nothing I wanted to wear, nowhere I wanted to go.

I took the official Fantasy Park tablet off its wall fixing and idly began to browse through. So many different zones, scenarios, adventures to consider. I had a play with the guided search options.

You are: FEMALE

You are: IN A COUPL... no, backspace

You are: SINGLE

You enjoy: DRESSING UP

You want an adventure that is: VIOLEN... no, backspace, fuck him.

You want an adventure that is: EROTIC

You are feeling [1]: ADVENTUROUS

You are feeling [2]: ANGRY

You are feeling [3]: SUBMISSIVE

You are attracted to: MEN... no, backspace

You are attracted to: BOTH

BEST SUGGESTION: Medieval Zone 'Rescue of Princess Alexia' (6-10 hour adventure). You will begin your adventure getting into role as Princess Alexia in the dressing room of our Royal Castle, where you will be bathed, dressed and prepared by two beautiful ladies in waiting. Don't enjoy yourself too much, because the evil Count Bolderman's soldiers will soon arrive to take you off to the dungeons. You will be held there to be used as bait to lure the heroic Sir Robin -- will he rescue you before the dastardly Count has his wicked way with you?

Hmm. I couldn't deny it sounded interesting, to say the least. But not quite right for my mood today. I tried changing some of the settings, moving the sliders around, seeing what else came up. I could be the all-powerful sorceress conducting demonic sex magick rituals and bathing in the blood of virgins?

As one hand swiped through the erotic scenarios on the tablet, I noticed that my left, almost despite myself, had slipped inside my robe, a finger idly circling my nipple, slipping down my belly, absent-mindedly cupping my mound.

But human sacrifice sounded a bit messy for my tastes. I changed a few more settings, and I could be a stripper in a 1930s Berlin cabaret, degrading myself for a roomful of Nazi officers who would gaze at my naked body, lust after me, cheer my every step, demand all kinds of obscene acts of me... safe in the knowledge they have their electronic memories wiped blank moments later, living on in no memory but my own. OK I love that fantasy but I fucking hate Nazis. Or hello. I could even conduct my own revenge fantasy, hunting down a gang of bandits in turn and make them pay for their crimes in increasingly ugly punishments. I could do to them what I'm not allowed to do to my shithead of a boyfriend. Tempting, I must admit, but not for me.

I sighed. None of it was quite right. I would get something to eat and see how I felt later.

* * *

I didn't fancy any of the exotic banquets and weird menus on offer in the fantasy zones, so I got dressed in my favourite black cocktail dress -- the one he never liked because it was shoulderless & so I can't wear a bra with it, 'slutty' he calls it. Well fuck him. -- and caught the park monorail to the Casino Monte Carlo. Once through the huge gold and crystal doors, I glanced into the cavernous main room, full of slot machines, roulette wheels and card tables. I've never been one for gambling, even when work had taken me to Vegas I'd never caught the bug. I wondered if this casino might be the one for me -- the only one in the world where, if you want, you could guarantee to begin your night with $20 in your pocket & end it a millionaire, book yourself into a suite with as many bottles of champagne & escorts as you've ever dreamed of and literally roll in your winnings. Of course it is all a fantasy, you can't take your prize out of the park at the end of your stay, but you can take the memories, and judging from the throng of people inside, that was good enough for a lot of guests.

But I was really only here to get something to eat. In the foyer of the restaurant the handsome young Maitre D' greeted me with a smile. "Eating alone, ce soir, madame?" The French accent was convincing.

"Yes, thank you. Just me."

"I could arrange some company if you prefer?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine for now. Perhaps later."

"Of course, mademoiselle." He showed me to a table for two, swiftly and elegantly removing the other place setting.

One duck liver parfait and a salmon in dill sauce later and I was contemplating dessert. Fuck calories, I'm on holiday. The shadow of a figure appeared at my shoulder. I began to ask for a menu when I glanced up and realized this was not my waiter. The man standing there was tall, at least 6'3", and a firm, strong physique was filling out the shape of an impeccable tuxedo. He had neat short black hair and dazzling blue eyes which caught my own gaze and twinkled unmistakably as I let out a short impromptu gasp at his sheer beauty. He gave just the slightest smile of acknowledgement.

"I've always believed it is nothing short of a crime for a beautiful woman to be dining alone. May I join you?"

It would have been a cheesy line from a drunk in a bar, but in this setting, in these circumstances, in his deep, resonant, refined English voice, I felt something inside me melt. I began to stammer and blush and could only gesture towards the chair opposite me.

"The name is Blond. John Blond," he disclosed. I smiled.

"Oh. Of course it is. And let me guess, you work for Her Majesty's Secret Service?"

He leaned forward, conspiratorially. "Shhhh, Sindy, you've been expecting me?"

I was momentarily taken aback when he used my name. Of course, I remembered, all the dolls have our data logged and stored. He didn't just know my name, but all those questionnaires I'd answered, the preferences I'd listed, all my fantasies, desires, turn-ons, turn-offs, phobias and wishes. He knew me better than any man from the real world had ever known me, even -- no, especially -- my own boyfriend.

Before I could answer, he casually flapped a hand towards a waiter. "Dom Perignon '74 please Marcel. Charge it to my room." I slowly, thoughtfully ran my fingertip around the rim of my wine glass.

"I have a better idea, John. Why don't you have that delivered to your room?"

* * *

I was stupidly nervous. Sitting awkwardly on the edge of a super-kingsize bed wondering what the holy hell I was doing there. Was I really going to have sex with... well, with one of those things? A doll? And like this? This character? I don't even like those stupid films!

I looked again at the muscular Adonis with his back to me, pouring champagne into a pair of tall flutes. "If you don't mind," he said to the wall, "I've had a heck of a day, so I'll just take a quick shower. Can you make yourself comfortable?" He turned and handed me the glass and gave me that look again, blue eyes piercing straight into my soul. My cunt twitched and everything was pushed from my mind except how badly I wanted him.

"Of course. Cheers."

I watched him shrug his shoulders and his tux slid down his arms and off. He hung it from a hook behind the door, and I saw the leather straps of his shoulder holster and yes, under his armpit, a pistol.

My eyes followed him into the en suite bathroom, leaving the door half open, and I heard some shuffling then the rush of water as the shower was turned on.

Through the door, in the bathroom mirror, I could see him step naked into the shower and close the glass screen door. The angle only provided a brief glimpse of his body, but enough to show a perfectly toned, muscled torso, rippling abs and strong shoulders. I wanted to see more. I had to see more.

Quietly I stood up and took a couple of step to the side. Now I could see straight in.

John had his back to me and was rubbing soapy lather all over his body. I could see his gorgeous ass shimmering only slightly through the wet glass. He began to look over his shoulder towards me and I panicked and turned away, stepping further back towards the door.

That was when I noticed something poking out of the inside pocket of John Blond's tuxedo, an envelope. Something spurred my curiosity. I glanced back to check he was still in the shower, then made a grab. I lifted the unsealed flap and gasped. It was a pile of printed photographs. There was a photo of me, sitting alone in the restaurant, and another, and another. Before that, photos of me on the street outside the casino, me on the monorail. My heart was beating faster and faster with every photo I saw until, oh my God, there was a photo of me lying on a hotel bed in my own room, a bathrobe falling open, one breast on display, my hand softly stroking my own vulva. Before that, me standing naked in front of the mirror, about to step into my little black dre...

"Those are not for your eyes" came a firm voice right in my ear. I jumped as I felt a strong hand grip my wrist and spin me back against the bedroom door, my hand, still gripping the photos pinned high above my head. John was so much taller than me, so much stronger than me, and he was standing wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water running all over his glistening, muscular flesh. I was barely as tall as his chin, his chest was so close I could now see faint lines of old scars, slashing diagonally from his sternum to his right nipple. His chest was heaving slowly in and out, I raised my gaze to look him in the eyes.

"You have been spying on me! You have been spying on me all day!" It wasn't so much an accusation. I wasn't asking. I just felt the need to say it out loud, to believe it myself, to make it real.

"Of course I have. I have been watching every move you have made. I was watching you shower, just as you watched me. I was watching you dress, just as you are dressed now. And I was watching you touch yourself, just like you desperately want me to touch you now."

A little involuntary moan escaped my throat. He knew me so well.

"Don't you?"

I could only nod, and then try not to tremble as I felt his strong hand grip the inside my left thigh and begin to slide upwards, up, up over the sheer silk of my stockings.

"You should know that of course this room is bugged. Everything we do will be recorded, filmed, photographed. Watched."

He caught my eyes firmly with his steely, hypnotic gaze and I groaned as his hand slid further, over the top of my hose, onto the bare skin above the hemline of my dress, then resting in a firm hold over my lacy black panties. Slowly, with one finger, he pulled the lace away and touched a fingertip between my labia.

"Yes."

My legs buckled as I leant against the door and all my weight transferred entirely onto his hand. He held me without moving a millimeter. His fingertip slid up through my pussy lips and settled on my clit, pressing with just the right amount of pressure to make me moan again, almost an animal mewl. I rested one hand on his shoulder then ran the flat of my hand over his chest, feeling his muscle, tracing the lines of his scar to his nipple. His muscles felt tight as iron, his skin soft, gentle, malleable to my touch. God I needed him so bad.

He must have read my mind because in one strong movement he placed both hands on my ass and lifted me up high. I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist & knotted my feet behind him, squeezing his torso into my crotch. Then our lips met in a hot, hungry, furious kiss. Oh my, what a kiss. His lips pressed to mine and when he flicked the underside of my top lip with his tongue I felt an electric charge race down my body, making every inch of me tingle.

As we kissed he span me round, I don't know how far, how fast, how much was real and how much was the effect of the kiss and my head spinning with passion and desire, but I closed by eyes and let myself flop as he threw me backwards on to the bed. As I opened my eyes John was between my knees, reaching up under my dress to grab my panties and pull them down and away, before kneeling on the floor at the side of the bed, opening my legs, and leaning forward to place his mouth on my cunt.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK" I screamed as I felt his tongue push between the folds of my pussy and deep inside me. I reached down and grabbed his head, squeezing as I felt his tongue growing inside me, reaching far deeper, further, fuller than any human tongue ever had or ever could. Every nerve ending inside me, every hidden crevice, every impossible corner was being teased, tickled, tempted into ecstasy. His tongue curled and stroked my g-spot, a place I could only ever find myself with special vibrators, but this flickering serpent of pleasure was caressing it, toying with it, my hips started buckling uncontrollably, John Blond grabbed my thighs to hold me down as I began to convulse in orgasm.

I pushed John's head away from me for a moment while my body rebalanced the intense sensations. I felt his tongue retract inside me, slowly withdrawing, one last wet stroke over my g-spot. But he was not finished with me yet. He raised my legs and ass higher in the air and softly blew air on my asshole before his tongue danced a little circle around the most delicate flesh. Then slowly inch by inch he kissed upwards, up my labia, nibbling, kissing and sucking all the way, until his mouth rested over my clitoris.

What happened next was like nothing I have ever experienced. Imagine a hummingbird flapping its wings a thousand times a second across the faintest surface of your most erogenous point.

"OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS" I howled. It was too intense, not quite right.

"Just to the left, just a millimeter" I begged. Instantly the attention shifted from the exposed tip of my clit to the delicate hood, my favourite spot. Like a constant fast vibration but with all the softness, warmth and control of a human tongue, but pulsing ever so gently pressing in and out while fluttering crazily over my sweet spot. Opening my eyes I looked down to see the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, glistening with water, sweat and my own juices, gazing up into my eyes, willing me on further, deeper.

I came again, screaming, not just one orgasm but what felt like an ocean of them crashing over my body, again and again. It felt like minutes. It felt like hours. It felt like time had stopped. I had lost control of my body, no longer knew where I was, what was up or down, like I'd taken off and been blown beyond gravity into orbit.

Eventually my body admitted defeat and my legs involuntarily curled up, rolled over in a ball and lay there gasping, giggling, almost sobbing with pleasure. When I opened my eyes John was standing there sipping a glass of champagne, offering the other to me.

Before I took the drink I peeled off my stockings, took hold of the zipper at the side of my dress and slid it down. My dress, crumpled & clinging to my skin, fell away. I knelt there, momentarily self-conscious of my nudity, before realizing it was a bit late to worry about that.

"That was incredible." I finally managed to gasp. Taking the champagne, I gulped greedily. "Now, what have we here." I reached out for the towel around John's waist and pulled him towards me. He fell on the bed and I raised myself on one elbow to gaze down at him. Momentarily taking control, I kissed him again, then slowly kissed down his neck, his chest, his nipples, sucking and nibbling just as I like it done to me. Then I looked down to that towel at his waist and I tore it open.

His cock was as perfect as every other inch of him. It was still soft, hanging down along one thigh, but long, straight, thick..

"Hmmm that is beautiful," I purred, slowly tracing a fingernail down its length.

"Is it how you like?" John asked.

"Well, I prefer them hard" I giggled.

"Hold it in your hand." I placed the palm of my hand against his shaft and wrapped my fingers and thumb around it. "Now squeeze."

I did as he instructed and immediately felt it react to my touch, swelling, hardening, lifting itself up. It felt incredible in my hand, I gently stroked from base to tip and as I did it pointed up at the ceiling and then up over his belly. As I stroked it, it seemed to keep growing bigger and harder in my hand.

I couldn't keep looking at it any more. I had to kiss it, suck on it, worship it, use it.

Squeezing the shaft with both hands I opened my mouth and clamped my lips around the top. Licking it, sucking it, exploring its shape with my tongue. It tasted human, organic, but clean and as it pulsed in my mouth it seemed to keep growing, keep swelling, until it was making my mouth hurt to keep it all in. I broke away from sucking it.