Aurora - Blood Moon Tribute Pt. 07

On his side close by her, Watson toyed with her nipple. "What do you want to say?"

When she looked at him there were tears in her eyes. "Thanks?"

"See. That wasn't hard."

"No. I mean it. They filled us up with horror stories in prep. They told us, any one among us, who wasn't willing to suffer in the name of the king, was the wrong girl in the wrong place. It was our calling, they said, to suffer for His Majesty. It was our duty. Same as the soldiers who fought and died for the Blood Moon victory. But that, just then... My Lor... Gideon... that was a fabulous gift."

Watson hefted a shoulder. "What did I tell you? I am amazing. What do you expect?"

"I mean it!" Cassandra said, struggling upright. "The pleasure you just gave was... was..."

Cassandra got up on her knees beside him and Watson tweaked her nose. "Our little secret." he said, sitting upright, "precisely. So don't tell anyone."

Lips compressed, Cassandra shook her head. "Of course not." But oh how she'd love to. Love to tell the world, her belly was full of billionaire semen. How she'd love to tell those other girls- those stuck-up Frenchies and snooty Americans, all cradling their buttholes and gritting their teeth after being ass-raped by some sweaty prince or fat politician- how her own assignment had fucked to ecstasy, after a nice long fingering followed by eating her out. A billionaire, for god's sake, gifting her three Earth-rattling orgasms. Still, she knew, a breach like that could very well end in a dinner date with the cannibals. Besides, if there was more where that came from.

Watson looked outside to see the sun had gone down. His personal plunge pool was lit up like a grotto, all greens and blues, and fireflies darted hither and yon through the twilight. What had felt like a lively few minutes had, in fact, been more like an hour. The old man stretched. "Well," he said, "it's almost dinnertime. Time to pay my respects to the king. You wanna come with?"

Cassandra pointed at herself. "Me?"

"Mmm hmm." Watson nodded.

"I'm not allowed." Cassandra frowned. "Those gatherings are for the men only. The VVIPs. It's in the protocols."

"Hmm... must have missed that bit."

"Uh huh. It's all very formal." For the first few nights at least, until the whole shebang degenerated into one, great, free-for-all orgy. Where Travelling Tives were passed around like joints at a party as the VVIPs shrugged off the last shreds of decorum.

"What will you do?"

Cassandra pursed her lips in thought. "Mmm... I don't know. Visit the beautician? Go for a swim? Hang out with the other girls?" And let those other bitches see his Lordship's jizz running down her legs. "Or..."

Watson looked at her, confident he could read her mind.

"I might just stay here. If that's okay. Till you come back."

The old man slung his legs off the bed and rocked forward onto feet. "Do what you want."

"You don't mind?"

"It's all the same to me. Is that the time? I'd better take a shower."

Cassandra bounded off the bed and stood in front of him. "Can I wash you?" she asked, draping her arms around his neck and brushing his chest with her firm little breasts.

Watson gave a dismissive shrug, but downstairs the blood was already pumping. "If you wish."

"Oh I do. And later on, when you come home, maybe you would like to smoke some weed?"

"Weed?" Watson frowned, holding her at arm's length. "Are you sick of living? They have the death penalty for cannabis, you know."

"Nuh uh." Cassandra shook her head. "I mean, no, My Lord. Not on the island. It's all allowed. And it's all free. It's the Blood Moon don't you know, coolest party in the universe."

Turned off by the lethal suggestion, now turned back on by the thought, the old man's erection surged. He looked at Cassandra and his heart raced. Five feet tall, petite and diminutive, like many models these days, with all the bits and bumps in all the right places. Hot, sweet and fragrant. Tight as a fist and slippery as virgin ice. A sight for sore eyes, a feast for the senses. And a nice little joint before going to town on this young little stunner would elevate the experience all the way to paradise. Who could refuse?

Well he could, he must. Deep in hostile territory on a hare-brained campaign, playing charades. The difficulty, he suddenly realised, was not in playing someone else. The real challenge was keeping his true self hidden. "Look," he said, while Cassandra returned his scrutiny with her big, haunting grey eyes, "you can do what you like. Seriously. But I'm a genius, remember? Why would I sully my most valuable asset?"

"I'm sorry, My Lor... Gideon. I just thought it might be fun."

"No, by all means, you indulge yourself. Knock yourself out as your generation might say. Just don't bring any of that stuff back here."

Or else, he thought, his façade might fall away, and Cassandra would find herself with a frightened old fraud on her delicate little hands.