Tales of Fuecherna

I stared at the two nude men in front of me, both of whom were talking in an easy manner as if being naked was the most normal thing in the world. They were fucking hot, of course, and that was a far cry from the trolls that had come around at Roald Greens, so today was starting out to be a good day.

The line was all white, a long, spotless-white hallway with daises and drains for the condemned. White was the color of purity, an old superstition that applied to my kind, but that was fine. I found I preferred this color over anything else. My last residence, Roald Greens, had been green. Go figure.

Life was a lot easier in the country of Fuecherna than it had been in the past. With modern technology, we could be both free and humane, an odd combination when applying to people in general. We didn't have to worry about being sexually frustrated anymore, at least, not when it came to finding a partner, not with the laws we now had. You could come release your tensions on the condemned, the worst of society, and it was perfectly legal and humane. There were other benefits too. I didn't have to worry about being executed, for example. That was always a good thing.

My name is Sana. I'm a five-foot-nine, twenty-four-year-old, white girl with curly, blonde hair that falls to my shoulders. I have an hourglass body, big D-breasts with gorgeous, pink nipples and large areolas, and a beautiful pussy with trimmed, curly, blonde pubes. I have a beautiful heart-shaped ass that's squeezable and thoroughly fuckable, but my best feature is my face, as I look like an angel with tantalizing grey eyes, a human doll of living tissue with malleable, soft parts to fondle.

Right now, I was fully nude as well, and I had been for a very long time, but that's a story I will get to later. I was bent over, my head up, my beautiful face out, my hands on my knees, my gorgeous bottom thrust out and ready for fucking. It was a position I was well used to. It was the standard position for one of the condemned on the line, the same position I'd been in at Carnagraph and Roald Greens. I couldn't feel pain or sleep or feel tired; I could only feel pleasure, and all I had now were my thoughts, so the pleasure I received here was like a drug, something you needed just to feel alive.

The two men in front of me were clearly friends, both white, both with athletic muscle and long, bald cocks between their legs, both of short, dark hair, one with smoky eyes and the other with eyes of dark blue. They were in their late twenties/early thirties, both very handsome in their own way, both obviously successful when it came to life in general.

"I was telling Amelen that we should meet on the Quarterly rather than the Rise," said the first man, the one with smoky eyes. "She hasn't met you yet, obviously, but I was thinking she would get along with Raisa."

"Maybe," shrugged the second man, the one with the blue eyes. "Raisa's over at the men's line. We could always ask her before we leave."

"Sounds good," said the first man. "You know how women are, though. You can never tell. I can't anyway."

"I know," sighed the second man. "I practically have to barter with Raisa to get her to meet anyone new. She's a handful...but she is loving. That's really the only thing keeping me bound to her. It's not like her position as a vase artist is going anywhere. Still, there's always a place for a niche skill, and she really does love me."

"Well, Amelen is a monetary consultant," replied the first man. "I think she has potential..."

"Are you with one of your underlings?" asked the second man in surprise. "I thought that was against company policy."

They both dutifully stroked their long, bald penises until the swollen members became stiff and erect, the thick glans of their hard cocks pushing forth from their foreskins. I was already wet in anticipation of those dicks, ready and willing for penetration into my holes, whichever they decided to select.

"They changed the rules last week," said the first man. "I didn't tell you?...Hmm...I thought I had."

"No, but that's good news," said the second man. "Anyway, we'll talk about this with Raisa. I'm sure she'll want to meet this Amelen...after some persuading, of course."

"Of course," said the first man.

He motioned toward me and grinned.

"Front or back?" he asked.

"I'll take back this time," said his friend.

The second man walked around behind me, grabbed my beautiful butt with both hands, and thrust his cock into my wet hole. He shoved in all eight inches, fitting firmly into my soaking-wet twat while waiting for his friend to get into position.

The first man stepped onto the dais in front of me and waited patiently for the servomotors to raise it to an acceptable position, that position being his bald cock lined up with my mouth. He reached forward, squeezed my cheeks with both hands until my lips were in an acceptable 'O' shape, and then thrust in his long cock until it was at the back of my throat. I auto-conformed to his penis, gently suckling it as I did.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"We shall," said the second man.

They fucked me in tandem with slow, even thrusts, and then they picked up the pace as they got into an easy rhythm.

"This is one of my favorites," huffed out the second man from behind me. "I didn't even know she was here until I stumbled upon her a month ago. She's infamous, you know. She came all the way from Carnagraph."

"And you just showed her to me now?" asked the first man. "What for, Donnan? Holding out, are we?"

The second man, Donnan, replied with what could only be a sheepish tone.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was kind of selfish. I booked a singles with her last month. I did have to pay extra if that's any consolation...Ugh...It's not fair that we have to pay more for a singles than the womenfolk."

"It's fair," puffed out the first man. "They only get one cock. They have to pay more for females just like we do, but not too much extra. Amelen informed me that she likes to masturbate while eating pussy, and she usually shares her time with one of her friends to minimize costs."

"I bet she's happy to have you, now," said 'Donnan'.

"She is," said the first man. "I made it very clear, however, that I still come here. She's perfectly fine with that though. She's made it quite clear to me that she'll come here whether I like it or not."

"Ooh, a spitfire!" replied Donnan. "I like it."

They pumped into me, rocking my body a little, back and forth, back and forth, and I could feel Donnan's cock pounding into my cervix as he repeatedly stroked the interior of my long, wet tunnel. The first man's cock gargled me all the way to the back of my throat, building up my saliva and inundating my tastebuds with the heady flavor of his thick dong, a hint of salty precum along with that musky taste.

I could not stroke my small, pink clit, the one failing of this position. My hands were locked onto my knees, but that was fine. I was quite used to this. Sometimes I got lucky, and a man would give me a reach around, but most men were somewhat inadequate in stimulating me. I actually preferred it when a woman gave me head...I had better orgasms that way.

"I know," continued the first man in a steady huff. "She's quite headstrong and independent. She was the one who moved on me."

"Oh, that is news," puffed Donnan. "A candlelighter. Very interesting. You always were a quiet one, Osgo. It's no surprise that she snapped you up."

This 'Osgo' fucked my face at an even pace. I could probably make a limerick out of that line, and I would later, but for now I was satisfied with listening to my two current suitors talk about their daily lives. I was a people watcher now, or rather a people listener, but that's what you do when you're on the line.

"Yeah, yeah," replied 'Osgo', and I could hear the grin in his voice. "But enough of that. I'm more interested in why this one is your new favorite."

"She's circued for one thing," huffed Donnan. "They snipped off her hood. You don't see that too often with the women. It's common with the men, but not so much with the ladyfolk."

"Oh?" asked Osgo. "They only do that for lifers. What did she do?"

"Murder," replied Donnan. "They just moved her in from Roald Greens. I think I mentioned she was at Carnagraph before that. She's infamous...The Blonde Butcher of Brockridge. She killed her lover's cheat. A good old-fashioned, jealous love-triangle."

"That is rare!" huffed Osgo. "I didn't think anyone cheated anymore. Not with our condemned being ready for sexual use anytime we want them. I don't get it."

"I know," replied Donnan. "It's so stupid too...but you know women. They're fine with fucking someone else, but when it comes to an emotional attachment, the claws come out."

"That's what scares me about Amelen," breathed Osgo. "I worry that she's become too attached to me too quickly. I really do like her, I really do, but I'm not sure it will work out. These things take time to develop. I'm afraid we're moving too fast."

"Comes with the territory, old friend," replied Donnan. "But anyway, we need to finish. I want to tell Raisa about your new 'love'."

"Very funny," said Osgo, and both men laughed at that intentional dig.

True to their word, they both picked up the pace and pumped into me with faster and faster thrusts. My grey eyes rolled up in the back of my head as Osgo slammed into my face while his friend slammed into my pussy. They were thrusting in deeply, and I could feel an orgasm building in my lower belly, my cervix pulsing with each hit of Donnan's big glans against it. I could feel that pulse, that steady beat of sensation rippling through my vulva in a downward spike toward my large pink anus, that ready cycle of electric rhythm in my swollen lips waiting to take me to the heavens.

"This part...is always...awkward," grunted Osgo. "Especially if you're with a friend..."

"I...know," grunted Donnan in return. "You'd think...it'd be more awkward...with a stranger, though..."

They both came before I could cum, and that was a disappointment I was just going to have to accept. I'd accepted it many times in the past, but it was always a downer when it did happen.

The hot squirt of semen shot down my throat and sprayed all over my cervix as they filled me at the same time. Osgo fucked into my face with a thrust of his bald, wet crotch, that rich, spicy, and salty taste of his sperm swimming over my tongue. Donnan, on the other hand, gave me several deep, hard thrusts into my magic love-tunnel, leaving the heat of a furnace inside my belly, that liquidity of organic lava waiting to spill out of my open, fucked hole as soon as he pulled out.

"Oh...Oh, that was good," huffed Osgo in breathless reply. "Quite natural."

"Natural indeed," puffed Donnan in return.

"I like her," breathed out Osgo.

"I figured you would," replied Donnan.

They both pulled out of me at the same time, and my grey eyes fluttered in reflex over the action. Hot semen spilled from my lips, all four of them, and that semen ran down my chin and thighs in a coordinated motion of gravity.

"Come on," said Donnan quickly. "I need to get back to Raisa. She'll want to hear about Amelen anyway."

"Yeah," replied Osgo, and that was the last I saw of them.

They left the line and left me to wait for the next singles or pair to come along.

The old white man...I think his name was Jurgoten...appeared from out of the corner of my right eye and stood before me. However, he was impotent, the main reason he had this job. He could not slip in any fucks on the sly, nor did he have a sex drive. I never had to worry about him fondling me...not that I would have minded him doing that. He was a nice old man that deserved better than this shitty job.

Today he was dressed in his blue spray suit, a synthi-plast outfit designed to keep any 'juices' from inadvertently spilling upon him. He had on his clear face shield, his patented white hose in hand, the actual cleaning kind, not his limp penis. Jurgoten was so old that his pale, wrinkly skin looked stretchy, and his hair was white as snow rather than that grey that some elderly acquired over time.

"There you are, my lovely," he said gently. "Can't be letting you drip all day long. I try and help the new ones first. It takes some time to get used to the new surroundings...I hope your stay is treating you well. I don't like the abusive ones, so I report them. You've been time locked and nano-wracked, so you're immortal, and you can't actually be injured, no, but I don't like them when they smack around the liners, especially the womenfolk. Call me old-fashioned, but that's how I feel."

He really was a nice old man. I liked him better than the old woman. She wasn't really a bitch, but she didn't really talk, either.

He flipped the switch on the hose and sprayed the cum off my face with a burst of high-jet water, taking time to spray inside my mouth as well.

"You're a beauty," he said gently. "Very lovely. Such a shame you're stuck here. If I could let you go, I would, but I can't, and that's the truth of it."

He walked around behind me and blasted my pussy and ass with a good and steady spray of purified water. He inserted the hose into my open, fucked hole, open and fucked most of the time anyway, and he blasted inside of me as well. Normally, the high pressure could kill a woman, but I was immune to death in this state, so the sensation felt pretty good, so much so that I nearly came. If only he'd left it on a little longer...

"There you go, luv," said the old man. "All clean and ready for the next. I'll come by and check on you later...I wish you well...Such a shame..."

He walked off after that to attend to the other women on the line. I felt a little sad whenever he came around, because I knew he wanted to help me, but he couldn't. It wasn't so much me that I felt sad for, but rather for him, for I knew this job had to get to him at times. Old age was for relaxing out the end days of your life, not for spraying cum out of fucked holes...It was too bad he was impotent. I wouldn't have minded him inside me regardless of his age. He deserved a good fuck with a pretty girl.

I waited in my own thoughts for about a half an hour. It was an unusual length of time for the line because of the demand for relieving sexual energy, but today was just a slow day.

I thought about Runadolph and his little cooch-clip he'd had on the side. It was true that I'd flipped when I'd discovered her, and I'd threatened to turn him over to the authorities because of his backdealings at the firm, but I hadn't been the one that had killed her. I know all the condemned say that they didn't do it, but in my case it was true. I had not been the one that had stabbed the little bitch until she was a stain on her residential carpet. Someone else had broken into her residence and ended her. I'd even heard they'd beheaded her. Yeah, I was pretty pissed off about the affair, but that didn't mean I'd wanted to take off her head. I didn't...I didn't want her dead.

Fucking Runadolph. He had to be a fucking attorney, didn't he? It was his testimony that sent me to Carnagraph, all because he really believed I killed her. I was at Carnagraph first before I was moved to Roald Greens, and now I was at Eevory, but at least Eevory was for the upper class. They paid good money for young beauties like me. I imagine they paid quite a bit for a lifer, too.

I was infamous now anyway. I was the 'Blonde Butcher of Brockridge'. I'd always dreamed about fame, but I'd never dreamed about infamy. Now people came here just to reserve me. "Let's fuck the Blonde Butcher of Brockridge", I'd hear them say. "She's a femme fatale. I've never fucked a femme fatale", I'd hear them say. "She's gorgeous", I'd hear them say...At least they got that part right.

Two women in their late thirties/early forties walked up to me. They were naked, of course, as was anyone who had reserved me. Part of the process. Participants stripped in the reservation room and waited for their turn, each participant waiting for that necessary release of sexual tension that our society so depended upon.

I had partaken of many men and women since I'd turned legal at the age of eighteen. I'd gone to Carnagraph many times, sucked cocks and eaten pussy, had my pussy fucked and licked, enjoyed those explosive releases, but being on the other side had never occurred to me...not once. It was surreal to me sometimes, but that's life, and I'd gotten used to it.

But back to the task at hand. These two women looked to be the type of wealthy socialites that often-frequented high-profile events, and though they were more mature than most, they were still quite beautiful, as many of the wealthy are. I suppose it comes from being able to afford everything.

One of the women was a slender white woman with long, curly, black hair and dark eyes, and she had C-cup breasts with small brick-red nipples, her pussy shaved bare between her athletic legs. The other was a black woman with an hourglass body, D-cup breasts with dark nipples and areolas, and a hairy but neatly trimmed black cunt to accent her large bottom.

"There she is," nodded the black woman. "The Blonde Butcher of Brockridge."

"She is a Godsdamned darling," said the white woman, her right hand on her bare right hip. "I'm suddenly glad we reserved her."

"I know," replied the black woman. "I was going to reserve that young Latina we saw, but now I'm glad we changed our minds."

"Anything for you, love," said the white woman.

They held each other and kissed passionately, their lips smacking in not so subtle grace before me. They made out like this for an entire minute before releasing each other, and even with the rich scent of pussy that constantly flooded the line, I could easily smell theirs. They were wet and ready to go. The white woman, especially, had a thick glob of ivory cream flowing from her ready hole.

"Eat or be eaten?" asked the white woman. "I ate out last time."

"I know," sighed the black woman. "You know what I prefer, but...I'll leave the choice to you."

"You know what I want," shrugged the white woman.

"Fine," sighed the black woman again. "I like being a top, but..."

"You're so archaic," said the white woman with a roll of her eyes. "You know I love the taste of your pussy, but it's my turn, and since you don't like to give head..."

"Okay, okay," smiled the black woman. "No need to be a bitch. I'm curious as to what the Butcher's sweet pussy tastes like anyway."

"Said the fox to the grapes," grinned the white woman.

SMACK! went the right hand of the black woman on the white woman's beautiful bare ass, and the white woman jumped and gave a surprised little shriek.

"That'll learn you, Sarberna," chuckled the black woman.

"Bitch," chuckled this 'Sarberna' in return.

The black woman walked around behind me to where I could not see her, but she knelt and grabbed my legs beneath my knees a second later. I knew she was waiting patiently to plunge in.

The white woman, Sarberna, stepped onto the dais and waited for it to come into automatic alignment with my mouth. The dais board extended behind her from the main pillar, and she laid onto her back and spread her legs before me. The dais moved forward until my lips were in line with her bald, cream-soaked snatch.

"I'm ready, Twoll," said Saberna.

I felt the black woman's, this 'Twoll's, tongue enter my wet hole. I became wet early whenever a woman or women showed up because they could usually give me a good orgasm, and my body knew that.

My time lock released due to the bald, wet snatch in my face, and my tongue automatically snaked out of my mouth to slurp up the rich cunt sauce from my suitor's open hole. My tongue slurped up and into Saberna's creamy tunnel, snaking all the way to the back to lick into the muscular ring of her cervix. I was still not used to this feature of my confinement, the extended, auto-moving tongue that I had no control over, but I liked it all the same. It didn't hurt, and it gave me a full taste of pussy, something no normal human could do.