Hypergeniture Bk. 02 Pt. 01

BOOK TWO • PART ONE

Author's Note: This is the second book of 'Hypergeniture' -- a story about sex, money and conspiracy. Reading book one is essential before reading the second (otherwise, you'd be totally lost). This book will consist of three parts of around 20k words each. It's about half the size of book one, mainly because I've been far busier than I expected. Keeping this and future entries slightly shorter will help me bring something out every few months, keeping the story rolling until its conclusion. So far, there are four books planned and plotted.

Please enjoy this next instalment!

All sexual activity is between characters that are 18 or older. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, places or events is purely coincidental. The below is not intended to serve as a guide for real-life sexual encounters or relationships. Stay safe, happy and healthy! :-)

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Prologue • Flight

It was about midnight, miles above the Atlantic, with rain and bitter cold air clinging to the fuselage of the giant Airbus. The craft cut through thick clouds without much trouble, even as it made its way to the Cape of Storms at the southern tip of the African continent.

Zynah Barakat was the last member of the Prince's old crew. She'd decided to stay even as everyone else left. Now, she wondered if that was the right move...

Pacing the spot in front of the rear stairs, she watched as two young women took selfies against the backdrop of the luxury jet. The lights were low, with the blue and purple ambient LED strips painting the whole plane in a sensual glow. The two ladies were pouting their full lips and pressing their cheeks together, accentuating their breasts, covered by nothing except the teeniest of tiny bikinis.

The girls were Brazilian pageant contestants, plucked straight from a contest on Ipanema Beach.

As they continued to take their pictures, the blonde security lady -- Skylar -- spotted them from her seat. She nearly tripped and fell over her g-string, lunging to grab their phones and delete the incriminating photos. The two giggled, blowing kisses as their devices were confiscated.

Zynah realised she would have to turn around and walk to the other end of the plane. She'd been tasked with taking champagne to the main bedroom but had to get to the upper deck first.

Walking through the staff seating area, she found that Skylar had gone to recline on one of the business-class seats with a bottle of whiskey in her hand. A stunning woman with long black hair knelt between her legs, bare-naked with her warm tongue grinding against the bodyguard's pussy... The girl -- fit, curvy and about nineteen -- was a hungry lover who sucked, licked and slurped as she devoured Skylar.

"Aww," the Aussie crooned in that delightful accent. "That's the spirit. Keep going... Oh, yes!"

Zynah wanted to look away. She tried to feel offence, shock, and disgust -- the typical reactions of a relatively conservative young woman thrust into the midst of all the debauchery. Yet, she couldn't help but stare as the Brazilian teen threw her heart and soul into eating her partner out.

Suddenly, Skylar's hips bucked. Her back lifted from the seat like she was possessed, her toes curled, and she cried out in ecstasy! Zynah saw every bead of sweat and involuntary articulation as the womanly climax rippled through the air like heavy turbulence, overpowering the roar of the titanic Rolls-Royce engines and the heavy weather outside.

A little further down the business-class staff area, a pretty brunette with a bruised baby face looked at the spectacle with bemusement...

Alicia Le Roux hadn't been participating in the orgy. Instead, she sat and worked on her laptop with a handgun on the seat next to her (making it clear she didn't want to be propositioned).

Walking past the gun and its owner, Zynah tightened her stomach as if steeling herself for what lay ahead. The next part of the plane was reserved for VIP guests, with eight comfortable swivel chairs offering first-class relaxation. Now, it was just another layer of sin!

Zynah found four young glamour models rummaging through cases of the Orwell twins' clothes. The women were trying on everything they found: Mostly expensive designer pieces that were three sizes too small for their large breasts and shapely asses. They alternated between dressed and undressed -- unashamed of their nudity, if not proud of their stunning bodies.

Wearing nothing but a pair of expensive high heels that were too small, the group's 'leader' had short black hair and a tattoo on her hand. She enjoyed making the other girls model just as they enjoyed playing dress-up.

The shyest of the group was of a darker complexion and had curlier hair than the rest. She was almost a redhead and had a fuller torso but the same perfect legs, hips and ass as the rest. Having taken one of the twins' blouses, she tried to button the thing, but there was no way it could enclose her giant bust. The other women laughed at this, with a younger-looking brunette playfully smacking the redhead's breasts as they spoke in Portuguese.

The women laughed, with the leader pouring drinks and passing along bottles. They didn't care about spilling champagne or leaving clothes lying everywhere. They weren't drunk or high, but they were on the world's biggest private jet, which made them delirious for pleasure!

Zynah would have to squeeze right between the naked and near-naked women to get past. She buried her toe into the cabin's carpet and straightened her back, but the pose didn't last. She was in a pair of heels of her own and quickly lost her balance. Exhaling, she put one foot in front of the other and narrowed her eyes before shouldering confidently through the mass of bodies. As she did, they didn't grope or obstruct, but one was reaching for a pack of cigarettes...

Swinging around, the chief flight attendant didn't hesitate to snatch the smokes and stuff them into her pocket. At this, the Brazilian models laughed with the redhead making a V with her fingers and sticking her tongue through it. Zynah smirked, not letting the vulgar gesture faze her as she extended a middle finger in rebuttal.

The little show of strength made the group back off, and the petite stewardess felt good about herself. For the first time in a long time, she also felt a little naughty...

As she twisted around, she was suddenly inside a new wonderland with its own phonics and rhythm: Hip-hop, moans and the sound of buzzing toys...

Zynah shook herself awake as she had a look around the boardroom. Typically reserved for meetings between up to nine top-level executives, the large table in the centre of the room now played host to a conference of a different kind -- carnal and crass.

One of the older models was orchestrating everything. A bottle-blonde with thick pink lips, she knelt on the table with her huge breasts spilling from her yellow bikini top. Her body was curvy without a trace of cellulite, even though she had more mass, thicker thighs and a bigger ass than most women of her height and athletic build.

Laying in front of her, one of the other models shimmied around on her back. This girl was about 21 and probably ranked in the top three among her peers regarding beauty and charm. Her long dark hair was splayed out beneath her as she waited for the older model to take her place on top of her lips.

The older woman wasn't one for romance as she pressed her weight down on the warm tongue -- the sound of sex rising to betray her smoker's rasp as she cried out for more friction. She was a selfish lover, smothering the girl beneath with her pussy so she could reach the peak of her ecstasy. But she wasn't the only one having fun...

Down the other end of the model on her back was a third woman. She was using her mouth to manoeuvre a thick purple vibrator, giving the pussy-muncher something to scream about as she did her best to please their bottle-blonde mistress.

Now, Zynah was beginning to feel her own wetness. She'd been staring at these three women while they barely noticed her. Their world intrigued her, and she suddenly had a desire to pull her panties aside. Not anything more... Not yet. Just the simple relief of letting her dripping wet snatch be free. Just a little relief.

"Hmmm," she whimpered, restraining herself as best she could, squeezing her thighs together before pushing on.

The next room was relatively calm: A lounge area about the size of a whole cabin on a regular private jet. Three or four models enjoyed drinks and chatting, mostly dressed in their dental floss bikinis from the swimsuit contest. One of them was digging through a pile of sex toys, but none of them was having sex.

Zynah wondered if that would change, and the curiosity saw her wait to see...

Toy-Girl had soft curves and natural blonde hair with pale skin. She seemed to find something she liked, selecting what looked like a drill with a dildo attached to it. The rubber cock was huge and floppy. The very sight of the object made the Middle Eastern flight attendant's eyes go wide as she wondered what it felt like to have that thing inside of her! Then, her eyes stretched even further as Toy-Girl rose to her feet to meet with one of the other models across the lounge.

Beneath the teeny-tiny g-string that hid nothing, the model with the drill had a heart-shaped butt-plug embedded deep in her asshole. The plug looked stunning, sticking out between the soft tissue of the pale glutes -- their softness keeping it well embedded as their owner descended on her prey.

A raven-haired Latina with a tattoo across her chest and one up her arm would be the recipient of the drilling, and she couldn't wait. Her full lips were too full to be authentic and made a divine O-shape as Toy-Girl gripped her thigh before disposing of her panties. The Raven edged down her seat and grabbed a bottle of lube from beside her. Together, the two women oiled up the drill-do until it was soaked and ready to slip between the folds of Raven's bare cunt.

Doofdoofdoofdoof...

As the motor started, all eyes were on the two women and the toy pumping forward and back at a startling pace. For a second, Raven seemed to have doubts... Toy-Girl switched the power tool off, teasing her companion's wet and waiting pussy with the tip of the affixed cock, eventually slipping it inside, pushing and pushing and pushing until it was as deep inside that cunt as possible.

When the electric pounding of the drill started, the other models in the room cheered as the recipient of the attention screamed. Zynah watched as Raven's toes curled and her eyes rolled back. She felt envy -- she felt jealous -- and she wondered why the hell her body had never twisted or turned in that kind of ecstasy. She pursed her lips almost furiously, upset that she'd never burst into tears from an orgasm so intense that it shattered her voice.

The stewardess felt her knees buckle and kept her thighs pressed tight together as she hunched forward to keep her balance. Everything in the universe was pulling her into this orgy; every natural force demanded that she surrender to the hedonistic pleasure that surrounded her. Even her very soul ordered it!

But she wasn't ready.

No, she had to get the champagne upstairs.

That was her job.

Nothing was going on in the last part of the lower deck. Unless one counts the scene of a 20-something Brazilian sex-kitten prancing into the cockpit of a half-billion-dollar plane, wearing nothing but a smile.

Clearly, the pilots were having fun too.

Zynah was grateful to find the front stairway unobstructed as she made her way up. With each step, the intensity of sound grew, and she realised there was a distinction in the phonics of sex: That fucking sounds different depending on the gender of the participants. She could now hear the involvement of a man -- one man -- reflected in the cries of his lovers and the sound of his exertion.

Opening the pocket door to the primary bedroom, Zynah looked straight into his eyes.

• • •

Rio de Janeiro. Twelve hours earlier.

I could still feel the heat of dust, flame and gunfire in my eyes as I looked out through the windows of the airport terminal. They were loading our plane -- the largest private aircraft in the world -- and our salvation.

Putting her hand on my shoulder, Alicia let her thumb squeeze into a tension spot until the little knot broke, and I felt relief. "King Arthur had a horse--"

"Only one?" I teased, making Alicia snort half-heartedly as we took our seats in the secure airport lounge.

"His horse, Llamrei, helped four of Arthur's people escape an evil witch. They all rode on its back, and it took them to safety... What I'm saying is, you haven't named the plane yet."

"Llamrei?" I let the word settle in my mouth, smiling as I realised I liked it.

We were interrupted as a young man in a black waistcoat and white shirt arrived with a couple of drinks on a silver tray -- water for Alicia and whiskey for me.

I found the taste of liquor discombobulating after all that happened. Still, it was good to drink in moderation, especially when one had the weight of the world on your shoulders... Particularly when you'd recently almost died and recently killed.

The drinks and talk of naming the plane were a temporary distraction from the serious business of life. Alicia wanted to take my mind off things, but she also knew some things had to be confronted as the server left the room.

"You killed a man."

"We both killed a few, I think. It was to survive... It was justified."

"Then why can't you look your sisters in the eye?"

Feeling my chest contract, I sprang to my feet and walked over to the large glass panes of the terminal windows. Looking at the outside had been a good habit since I learned of my inheritance, but each time I did, I felt more like a monkey in a zoo, trapped in a make-believe habitat while the real world existed apart from me... That they were watching and pointing their fingers; my humanity reduced to a curiosity -- an anomaly.

I wished the heat would break and night would come. It was the middle of the afternoon, and I hated it.

"Skylar came to save us... But she shouldn't have," I said, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Alicia understood. "You feel guilty about your sisters... About what they saw, what they have to live with... The memory of being attacked, of being so close to death, of fearing you might be gone--"

"I feel guilty about what they had to do while I was gone!"

"Amanda Faulkner had to be dealt with," Alicia replied. "They made the right decision, and they know it. You know it. Skylar knew it too, so she let them do it."

The decision...

There was a lot to process when my sisters and I were reunited. It was incredible, but reality hit hard and fast, especially when Skylar told me about the fate of Amanda Faulkner -- their best friend and the girl who was briefly with us before the attack.

We knew the American government were the ones who wanted me dead. While Alicia and I were in captivity, we learned it from the man who led their hired hit squad. He only let us live because Edward Sardonis -- a man who made himself my nemesis for no apparent reason -- wanted the chance to kill me personally.

Meanwhile, cooped up in Brazil with 200 guards and an army of investigators, Tecla and Elle realised a terrible truth... Only one person in the world could've betrayed our plans to an enemy.

Their best friend, Amanda.

Mandy...

"She didn't have to die," I gently pounded my fist against the terminal window.

"She sold us out. She was a hostile agent who knew about your illicit relationship with the girls. Your sisters understood the nature of the threat she posed. They thought you were probably dead and that she was partly to blame. They were enraged."

"Killing out of anger is indefensible!"

"Is it?" Alicia questioned. "The leader of the men who took us was no threat when you fired the last shot. You were angry at what he'd done and what he'd said he'd do--"

"He was a monster."

My companion nodded with thoughtful and empathetic eyes keeping me firmly in their gaze. "He was a monster," she agreed. "He threatened someone you love and your life, so you destroyed him."

"That someone I love is you, Alicia..."

We'd survived near-death more than once. Our bond was unbreakable as far as I was concerned, and I didn't mind telling her I loved her. I loved her as we held hands when the bullets were up, and the enemy was drawing closer -- that I loved her as she stood with me in that terminal, counselling me as a friend and advisor.

She didn't reply with anything more than a smile, desperately trying to suppress it.

"That vile man almost killed your sisters. He almost killed us. He killed a dozen of our men... Of course, you wanted him dead, and men like you get what they want. When I think of you specifically, I don't think that's a bad thing... Your sisters were going through the same with little miss Faulkner."

"Alicia--"

"Don't worry, sir," my chief of staff assured. "They wouldn't have seen how it was done, nor would anyone have told them."

The introduction of the word 'sir' into our conversation told me Alicia felt we'd gotten too familiar with our talk. Whenever either of us spoke of love, we knew that we loved each other in some way. We'd been through great tribulations together, and we shared something between us -- a common spirit that was hard to pinpoint. Even though we always seemed to find our way back to a professional distance, Alicia was happy to be my closest counsellor, and I was glad to have her.

"When I first inherited the money, I shuddered to think that the fate of whole companies might depend on me. I never thought human lives would be at stake -- that I have power over life and death, and I've given my sisters the same."

"You will handle it--"

"But my sisters?" I asked, feeling anguish. "I worry that I've ruined their lives. Everything I ever did was to make sure they were free from worry. I didn't think I could give them perfection, but I wanted to shield them from the worst of the world. The money was an unexpected lifeline, but now it's a death sentence."

"If an emperor becomes bogged down in the little things--"

"I'm no emperor!"

Alicia calmly pointed to the tarmac. "Look at that behemoth of a plane, then say that again."

"No, Alicia, I'm no emperor, and my sisters aren't pawns--"

Alicia gave me a determined look, and her voice rose as she leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. "Dammit, sir! You should be proud of them and of how you raised them! They're survivors -- strong and brave young women who endured incredible stress and came out on the other side. If it weren't for them and Skylar working to save us, we'd be dead! Pawns?! Try queens!"

I smiled, feeling invigorated again. "That's true... I keep hearing stories about how they kept things running while we were in the jungle. For goodness sake, Skylar put together an army to come to find us, and the girls made sure she could!"

"Exactly," Alicia affirmed. "Now... Use this flight to relax. Then, once we hit the ground on the other side, we can work."

"I do want to get some proper rest..."

I didn't realise that Skylar was bussing in 'entertainment' at my sisters' instruction. Entertainment that would keep me more than a little occupied as we sailed the skies high above the Atlantic. Whether it would be restful or exhausting, depended on how much I was willing to indulge in a brief moment of animalism.

It depended on whether I acted like an emperor, or a knave. As a master of the universe who would bend space and time in his favour to defeat his enemies and conquer all, or just another aimless soul scrambling from one place to another.