Wonderful Berlin Ch. 01

[To my dear readers: "Let me know what you think so I can decide if this is worth continuing" <3]

The year was 3030 and the world was very different to how anyone could've pictured it. There were no flying cars, no alternate fuels and no virtual life. Everything got too real. The world ran out of fuel around the year 3000 – something which caused mass panic and hysteria. Then, at a UN meeting one scientist, Dr. Klaus Haussen, put forth a proposal which shocked many. He claimed that he could harness a force more powerful than any kind of fossil fuel and could have the world supplied with power for an eternity.

He would harness the power of the orgasm. His idea was backed by undeniable research and was morally sound in principle – who didn't want to be given orgasms for a living? It seemed like a golden age was upon us until the time came to execute his plan. No one knows what went on in those laboratories but the sounds of perpetual screaming still haunt the abandoned buildings.

Now days – whole nations have been plunged into darkness – controlled by ruthless villains running the OMP (Orgasm Manifestation Program). It seems like the days last mere hours whilst the nights last forever. The OMP hijacked Haussen's idea after he was imprisoned in 3010. Somehow, they were able to harness the power released by this sexual force without killing the 'vessels'. They would comatose their employees and force them to climax every 5.5 minutes – something which was proven to be too physically and psychologically distressing for many to survive whilst conscious.

Their subjects were cruelly kept in pods, stacked like boxes, fed on drips and still the world couldn't maintain its power source. Their problem was simple: all people die. With the technological recession the OMP had no other option than to send 'recruitment officers' into the streets to gather new vessels. And that's where our story begins...

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Rosie Morgan ran her fingers down the black velvet curtains in the front room. She'd always loved those curtains because they were the exact same colour as her hair – she used to hide from her stepfather there when she was little. Although, that was so long ago that she'd practically forgotten he wasn't her real father; she just remembered giggling and hiding and those memories warmed her throughout.

She wiped her eyes, which always watered from the dust, and shifted her weight hesitantly. She supposed she should feel different but it was always the same, just like last year and the year before. Being eighteen was no different than being fifteen to her yet Kristoph, her stepfather, seemed to be quite excited. The least she could do was feign a smile for him, right?

In he strolled, whistling merrily, with a large box wrapped in brown paper packaging. Rosie's eyes darted to the box where she felt her first instance of birthday excitement. She hoped she didn't seem greedy getting worked up over a gift (however exceptionally huge it was). Kristoph stopped before her, grinning dopily. He was a burly blonde man with short hair that stood in an almost static fashion. "For the birthday girl." He beamed.

It took Rosie all of two seconds to demolish the packaging and discover the most magnificent black dress she'd ever seen. It was lacy with large cuffs and frills all over, embroidered with a fine, white flower pattern around the hems and collar. Kristoph's eyes were unnervingly wide: "Go ahead, try it on..."

The bedroom was a dream of dark colours and lace. The bed: four poster and shrouded by a dark, opaque veil. On the walls were floral prints of a Victorian-esque design and pinned upon one was a large, blown up picture of Rosie and her late mother. Rosie thundered up the stairs to change. In her haste she didn't completely shut the door. She fleetingly thought assessed there would be no point. Kristoph would be waiting downstairs and it was only those two in the house after all.

Unbeknownst to Rosie, Kristoph had followed her up intent on waiting outside her bedroom. With the door ajar he, albeit accidentally, was able to peak at the half-naked girl. She'd changed so much since her mother had first introduced the two.

Rosie was now of a slender figure with raven hair that presented itself in loose ringlets. Her eyes were a piercing aqua and her complexion porcelain. Her usual attire of ruffled dresses and ribbons made her look quite like a china doll, though Kristoph had always found the style to be rather innocently seductive. There was no questioning where she got her fashion sense from – that was what attracted him to her mother in the first place.

Rosie's body was delicate and smooth looking. Unlike her mother, she had little bust. Her breasts were virtually two bumps protruding from her chest. Her legs seemed endlessly long and lead subtly up to a rounded buttocks covered by French panties.

For Kristoph, time had slowed. Although Rosie was defiantly in a rush it was as if she was teasing him. His breathing became sullen and heavy and his pupils dilated with lust. He watched her dance from one garment to the next with a bulging erection.

"Dad?" came Rosie's voice, bringing Kristoph back into consciousness. "What the hell are you doing?" this time with outrage and hostility. He panicked and burst into her room. Mist had descended upon his judgement. He approached Rosie whose dress was still undone at the back revealing alabaster skin.

"Dad?" This time her voice contained a hint of fright. Kristoph took a slow step forward, his eyes glazed over. With his next step Rosie tried to move away but her legs were weak. She crashed to the foot of her bed and when she looked up her eyes met the bulge pressing through his trousers.

"Please Dad, whatever I did, I'm sorry." Her voice croaked; vocal chords tight with fear. Kristoph spoke in a weary growl "I'm not your father."

"W-what?" Rosie stammered. She looked into his face, thoughts racing. Blonde hair, blue eyes and stocky build – she always felt something wasn't quite right but...

"There is no blood relation girl." He hummed. Hearing him call her 'girl' somehow pushed a wedge between their prior relationship. Fear welled inside her.

Krisoph stumbled closer and fell to his knees. He faced Rosie and raised his hand to her cheek. "Beauty...like your mother." He breathed a sour smelling breath. Rosie flinched away but had nowhere to go. His lips were moist, parted and moving quickly towards her own. "No!" Rosie wept shuddering and summoning all her might to dart out of his way.

A lot happened in such a short space of time. From Rosie's point of view she simply clambered down the stairs and smashed the glass panelling on her back door – then she was out on the street. Kristoph's experience involved a lot more violence towards his testicular area and a wooden chair thrown towards his person.

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In downtown Berlin there was a girl named Claude Minieux, or 'Coco' to her friends. For several years now she had been looking for her god daughter. She hadn't the girl's name, age nor location to go on – she merely had the mother's forename – Emanuelle. Coco had travelled overseas, something which cost her more than her life's worth of favours. It turned out that, nowadays, any and all information was a priceless commodity and, in the current economic climate, there was really only one way to attempt to pay for such a thing.

Coco stood naked, pressed against a glass window. Her huge breasts were squashed so tightly they seemed to spill outward from all angles. She was a tall girl of an exceedingly voluptuous build. Her body was slightly tanned and slender yet it curved out in a sea of delights. Her waist was tight and her butt a little on the large side. She'd been dubbed 'Vixen' on stage.

That was where she was presently: on stage. Many eyes gleamed and gazed upon her in the darkness as she put on her show. It was something she did to pick up cash around these parts but tonight she had a very different motive. In the audience was a man called O'Brian and he was, for what the title was worth in those days, a 'government official'. To Coco, that spelled someone with a lot of information at his disposal.

On stage with her was the Eemc, she didn't listen to much of what he said when they were addressing their, partly because she didn't speak a lot of German so the only words she could make out were the ones he taught her. So far she knew: "Spread", "Bend Over", "Thrust" and "Moan". However, tonight was international night and, fortunately, he was gracing her with some instructions in English.

Not that she needed to take instruction; Coco was pretty good at improvising. She gyrated against the glass, her shaven pussy leaving a trail of moisture where it pressed. She walked her fingers downwards and spread her labia open against the cold, transparent sheet. Its temperature made her tingle. She pressed two fingers against her clit and began frantically rubbing. Her face relaxed and hew jaw slightly dropped in pleasure.

Then, she proceeded to shove the two fingers up her pussy. She felt around at her dripping wet insides imagining a huge cock instead. Her eyes must've been closed because she didn't notice the Eemc approach her from behind brandishing a simple lubed up dildo. It was roughly eight inches; nothing too fierce for her but the girth was exceptional.

He turned her ass to face the window and leant her forward spreading her cheeks and revealing a tan coloured, puckered little knot. Tracing his fingers around the outside he glanced at the audience who were all rather immersed. Coco's ring twitched a bit whilst he tickled it rapidly. His fingers became soaked from her already dripping pussy.

In went his index finger – stretching the tight muscle so it gave a little. Her body shook all over with the almost orgasmic pleasure. He continued to ply at her ass, adding more fingers each time, until it was nice and loose for his dildo.

The penetration was forceful and violent. Coco's eyes shut tight and her hands, which were wrapped around her ankles, squeezed them furiously. The Eemc rotated the dildo in tiny, circular motions, allowing her time to get used to it. When the pain let up a smile played on his heavily chalked face and he flicked on the vibrate function.

Coco's knees buckled slightly as she stood bent, her ass in the air, with a throbbing vibrator in her ass. Her pussy was leaking juices and literally gagging for attention. The Eemc eased the dildo out of her ass and turned her to face the window. He pushed her to the floor and spread her legs widely in a semi-butterfly position.

Her caramel labia gaped open surrounding a sizeable amount of salmon pink flesh. He wielded the dildo like a valiant knight and plunged it into her elastic hole. He thrust it back and forth with vigour, leaving Coco doubled over. Her vaginal opening wrapped around the rubber toy and moved with its every thrust – trying to keep it sucked inside.

"Meine damen und herren! For her final act the sexy vixen Coco will now perform something very special that we like to call the double delight. Oh, I know what you're thinking. 'How could a blushing sweet bordello girl such as Coco accommodate two loads?' right? Well, why don't we elect a member of the audience to help me answer our query?" the Eemc sang. He moved his microphone out of hearing range and whispered to Coco.

"Its ladies choice."

"Ooh goodie, there's been someone I've had my eye on actually!"

"Another wealthy beneficiary come to spill his seed?" he chortled.

"Not this time – I think I might be onto something regarding my goddaughter." Coco smiled.

"How wonderful, but we've wasted too much time whispering and the men are getting impatient. Just give me a name and we'll have him up in the performance box ASAP."

"Would you know who to get if I told you O'Brian?" she enquired pleasantly.

The Eemc's expression dropped. "Conor O'Brian?" he winced.

"Why yes! You know him?"

There was an awkward silence. "I thought you weren't into anything too heavy?" the Eemc finally verified. "Well hardly, I can just about tolerate the ass play but you know me – I'm far too prim and proper for anything more advanced." She winked before registering his tone and asking: "Wait...why?"

"Err, no reason. You'll see soon enough. And, besides, I'd like to see how this turns out." He concluded with a smile before grabbing his microphone and putting on his jaunty showman voice. "Sorry for the delay my lieblings! Can we have a Mr. O'Brian up here please? Coco has asked for you especially – she said something to do with your amazing length."

Mr. O'Brian took the stage. It was clear he needed no prompting because his pants were down in seconds. As far as the length went there wasn't much to look at. His penis was apparently erect but it stood at an average five and a half inches at best. Still, Coco 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed with a faux look of excitement on her face. She also has the passing thought that there wouldn't be anything hardcore to do with this stout, average looking man...she couldn't have been more wrong...

CHAPTER TWO SNEAK PEEK:

- Rosie finds out that the streets of Berlin pose a far greater risk to her virtue than her step father does.

- Coco discovers that getting information out of O'Brian is like getting blood from a stone. An emotionless, BDSM loving stone.

- We meet Miles, a man who would have all the makings of a fine 'recruitment officer' if he didn't spend all his time fawning over Natalia, a transvestite showgirl from the local Cabaret bar.