Succumbing to Menudia Ch. 03

It really was nice to see the previously cantankerous, tightly-wound girl embracing her sensual side and letting all that pent-up erotic energy flow into his hands.

Her lips gradually closed, her spine straightened out against the cylindrical pad, her arms fell at her sides, and the shade of her eyes returned to its normal blueish-green. Curt then placed a hand on each of her thighs, and gracefully worked his way down past her knees and her calves, until he was once again massaging her feet.

Resembling a Madonna in a classic European painting, her nude body decorated only by the scrunched-up fabric around her stomach, her feet being tended to by the hot blonde virgin she and her peers had so often fancied, Julie drifted off into a deep, restorative sleep.

After continuing for a few more uneventful minutes, Curt noticed a soft divan conveniently resting on the floor behind him. He made a few last sweeping motions across Julie's lower limbs, then lay face down onto the cushy seat and joined Julie in rest.

*****

The sound of a showerhead being turned on and off in a distant room shook Curt out of his lengthy nap.

Glancing up at the now empty massage table, Julie nowhere to be found, he slid himself off the plush divan he'd apparently been reclining on (as the dreamlike memories came back to him -- had he and Julie really just done ... uh ... that?), and instinctively began to head toward the noise.

Walking through two or three of the castle's most expertly furnished rooms, he finally came to a large bathroom covered in grey tiles, where he found Emily, still wearing her pink long-sleeve button-up blouse and black denim jeans, but now with bare feet like his, standing in a corner of the room, which featured a beautiful brass showerhead, brass knobs, and a brass drain nestled in between the tiles.

She caught Curt's eye, then looked down at her feet and smiled knowingly. The signal had lured him in, just as she'd planned.

Curt could see her nipples poking against the fabric, her white lace bra apparently having been left long behind somewhere within Menudia's cavernous estate. With her palm upturned, she wiggled her index finger in a coy "come here" gesture.

"Take a shower with me."

"Yes, Emily."

Once he quickly made his way toward her, she leaned in close and started stroking his hair, so his hands soon returned the favor. There certainly was no shortage of silky blond hair to stroke between the two of them!

Then she cozily put her arms around his muscular frame. Having seen Angela give him a quick kiss the moment after they'd first taken him, she knew she wasn't about to give him his very first, but what she was about to do was give him his first make-out session.

Initially, Curt's whole body froze when she brought her huffy little lips to his, but after a minute or two, he gradually started figuring out just when to open and close his mouth, and just where to slide his tongue into hers.

Mm-hmm. The girl was fan-fucking-tastic.

Soon he slipped his hands over the back pockets of her jeans and lightly groped her hind quarters, while she continued to press her fingers against his spine and shoulder blades through the satin robe. Eventually, she took a slight step back.

"You like my shirt?" she asked him sweetly.

He nodded "Yes."

"Come and feel it."

As she brought Curt's hands to her pink blouse, she tried not to stare at the enticingly prominent hard-on pushing up against his robe and her jeans, but it was more than a bit tough to ignore. "Remember: take things slowly," Menudia had commanded. Well, instructions were instructions!

He began stroking her rack through her shirt as they intermittently resumed their tonguing. Emily must have had pretty much the most perfect breasts for her body type -- just round and firm enough, but not egregiously so. Curt felt like every incremental step he took toward pleasing himself was also a step toward pleasing Emily. They were in sync.

"You want me to turn the shower on?"

He nodded a definite "Yes."

She spun around, tweaked the brass handle, and a warm array of jets quickly rained down on both of them from above, instantly turning Emily's blouse revealingly see-through, and granting the same effect to Curt's robe. With her nipples poking through the drenched fabric ... well, they had certainly looked nice before, but her tits really looked nice now.

After massaging them through the soaked shirt for a minute or two, Curt began fiddling with the top button, which gently popped open. His hands gradually made his way down her blouse, undoing each button one by one, until the skin in the middle of her chest, smothered in ribbons of water, was finally exposed.

Emily threw her head back as Curt, with both hands, reached behind the now-separated fabric of her shirt, and fondled her breasts with his curious palms.

Then, spotting a nearby bottle of shampoo on the shelf behind her, Curt picked it up, removed the top, and began liberally squirting the slippery, cream-colored liquid between Emily's open blouse. As it trickled down her skin and over her black jeans, she couldn't help but notice how much it strongly called to mind another type of slippery, cream-colored fluid ...

Placing the bottle back on the shelf, Curt rubbed the shampoo across her nipples and the sides of her shirt, generating a patina of foam over her chest, at one point slightly brushing her crotch before making his way back to her breasts and lingering there for a while.

Emily closed her eyes as she felt the lubricating substance trickle under the denim and slide into both her pussy and ass crack.

Roaming a bit further, Curt slipped his right hand under the back of her jeans for a moment, only to quickly pull it out. Clearly she wanted his hand to make a return trip, as her pelvis began grinding against him in anticipation, but Curt merely took his left hand off her breast and let his fingers stroke her wet hair some more. Then he allowed his right hand to teasingly brush her fly again, but went no further. This went on for several minutes.

Oh God, what was he doing?? She had never ached so fucking badly down there before. He migrated to squeezing the pockets of her shiny wet butt, which she did enjoy to a certain extent, but it wasn't the area of her body where she needed to be squeezed, OK? His right hand again pretended to undo the button on her fly, only to move back toward her belly, causing Emily to let out a little whine of frustration as he gave her several kisses on her neck. The need was growing unbearable.

"Unzip my jeans, Curt, unzip my jeans ..."

With that little nudge of encouragement, Curt popped the metal button out of its slit, lightly tugged on the zipper, and glided his soapy, considerate hand into the front of Emily's wet black jeans, her mouth contorting strangely in response. He attempted to give her another kiss, but it was quickly proving impossible, as her face began twisting in five different directions at once.

All very nice, and yet, in a distant, remote corner of her mind, as she relented to the pressure of Curt's hand inside her pants, Emily felt a surging wave of uncertainty, shame, and resentment, her pre-Menudian thoughts unexpectedly rising to the fore, fiercely objecting to her choice of partner and what she was currently allowing him to do to her.

"Being fingered by that pathetic virgin boy, with your clothes all wet in the shower? Could anything be more embarrassing? What will the other girls think? You used to tease him mercilessly; now they're all going to tease you even harder than you ever teased him!"

It was like Menudia's way of rubbing it in her face, the notion that she was "disobeying" her previous conformist instincts only making her impending loss of composure feel more daring and satisfying.

She let out an absent-minded whisper of "I'm coming, I'm coming ..." His hand wiggling inside her shampoo-soaked jeans, Curt observed her eyes turn a terrifyingly bright whitish-yellow.

Emily's knees pressed together as she came, her hips bucking madly into Curt's palm. On instinct, she grabbed Curt's other hand and placed it on her slippery denim ass.

"Succumb! ... Succumb! ..." The words appeared to leave Curt's mouth, although Menudia was somehow speaking them too, egging Emily on, ordering her to demonstrate the reaffirmation of her subservience, making her crawl on her (at the moment, very wobbly) knees and admit just how badly she'd wanted exactly this.

Curt let her rock there in between his hand massage, Emily's mind emptying itself of any and all thoughts other than Menudia's hypnotic command, as she stood there in the grip of her release, caressed and stimulated by the water rushing over her wet outfit, Curt in his equally wet satin robe giving her his full, loving attention (he'd clearly learned a thing or two from his time with Julie, that was for sure!). She desperately wanted to attempt to return the favor -- but since she couldn't stop coming, that wasn't exactly an option just yet.

When Curt took his left hand off her buttocks, for a moment the glow faded from her eyes as she began to regain her autonomy, but when he affectionately nibbled her earlobe, the glow returned with a vengeance and she fell prey to another round of spasms, clutching Curt's soaked robe as her legs squirmed, her head flew back, and her eyes turned a dark yellow that was almost a shade of orange, the cute virgin boy fingering every last ounce of pleasure out of her aching sex.

Finally, she rested against the wall, letting the water wash over her enervated body.

"Thank you, Curt. I enjoyed that."

As her muscles calmed down enough in order to allow Curt to give her a series of post-climactic kisses, she found that she was regaining her thoughts rather quickly. There was something that had happened a few minutes earlier that was attempting to return to her mind. Shit! What was it?

Ah yes -- Curt squirting shampoo down her chest! Emily had really enjoyed the feeling of all that gooey gunk dribbling between her boobs. She had enjoyed it so much that she knew she needed another application -- an application of a slightly different kind.

True, there were those all-important instructions from Menudia: "Remember: take things slowly ..." Well, she decided to go with the loose interpretation of "slowly." It was certainly slow by her standards, at any rate.

Before Curt could resist or make a fuss, she undid the sash on his robe, picked up the same shampoo bottle, poured a healthy chunk into her right hand, wrapped her palm around his tip, and proceeded to give him a nice, slippery handjob.

"Make me wet, Curt, make me wet ..."

Oh fucking WOW. The pleasure emanating from that soft, silky hand was off the charts. He squirmed as his eyes inevitably began to flicker with whitish-yellow light, his body bracing for the oncoming rush of fluid that Emily was teasing out of him.

But then, out of nowhere, he could sense the old Curt -- the shy one, the cautious one -- apoplectically scream out with all his might in objection, demanding from his impotent perch that this new, Menudian Curt push that cruel, scheming, insincere hand of hers away.

For a moment, the ghost of his former self truly thought it could regain control, before realizing that it had only been brought there to be toyed with, that Emily's fingers were easily going to win this battle ... and that rarely had it ever felt so nice to "lose."

As for Emily, well ... she knew he wasn't going to last particularly long, but, hey, someone had to give him that maiden handjob, and she was only too glad to be that someone. Oh, and besides, serving Menudia or not, she also really, really wanted to jerk off that mammoth Scandinavian schlong and make his pleasure drip right out of it and onto her wet skin.

"Succumb! ... Succumb! ..." The words hissed their way out of her lips as Curt released load after load of his cum directly between Emily 's unbuttoned shirt and her exposed cleavage.

The blonde beauty proceeded to calmly rub his gunk into her sternum with her left hand, all the while dreamily, almost nonchalantly, jerking him off with just the right amount of pressure from her shampoo-lathered right hand, as if she were merely washing the dishes.

It was so cute, how her fingers in one key spot could completely tie his will to hers, leaving him unable to do anything other than coat her smooth, soapy skin with his cream long after she would have thought possible, his penis contracting and releasing among the shampoo suds.

Then, with every last drop expelled, he stepped out of the shower stream, wandered toward a green cot that was conveniently stationed against the wall behind them, collapsed with exhaustion, and dozed off.

Emily smiled sneakily to herself. Her handjob had really tired him out! It was so sweet.

As she leisurely let his semen trickle off her chest and down the front of her jeans, she reflected on how there really was nothing like impulsively returning the favor that could make a girl feel so alive and sexy and powerful.

Maybe it would have been a good time to stroke herself a little? The urge was tempting, but instead, she turned off the shower, spotted a long deck chair in the next room, leaned back in her unbuttoned shirt and unzipped jeans, and joined Curt in a wet, peaceful slumber.

*****

Uggghhh. Now Haley was really fucked.

The last gasp of sunlight was only minutes away from dissipating, and despite her absolute best intentions, she had to admit she was just about as lost, at that precise moment, as she'd been all day.

Her ingenious plan that she could somehow make it to the parking lot, and hence back to the town? Well, that plan appeared to be dimly fading along with the light from the West.

None of the picnickers had planned on spending an evening in the woods -- and why the fuck would they have? That half-uneaten sandwich still left in her in her bag would probably come in handy, but she hadn't exactly dressed in layers, and it was getting chilly.

Maybe she could use the flashlight on her phone and keep on walking through the night? No, no, hold on: wouldn't that only make it that much easier for the Menudians to spot her? Probably best to just establish a place to hide. Her phone only had about 20% power left on it regardless. Shame that she wasn't getting any reception out there. Honestly though, even if she'd dialed 911, what use would it have been? Some Menudian would've probably picked up, employing that same stupidly placid, subservient voice.

But then why had it grown fairly quiet over the last hour or so? Shouldn't there have been more Menudians wandering around, not less? Perhaps they hibernated at night? Or maybe they came out at night in even larger numbers than before, like vampires? Or maybe they could somehow sense that she was "different," that she wouldn't fit in with their plans like the other girls would?

Well, something she'd seen about an hour earlier, as she'd been making her way along the creek, had added a new, threatening wrinkle to her conception of Menudia's "plans."

She couldn't have been 100% sure, but unless she'd been mistaken, far off toward a cluster of distant trees, she'd seen two fit, energetic young men, torsos bare, levitating high above the ground ... um ... "doing some stuff."

The boys themselves clearly posed no immediate threat to her. It wasn't like she was envious, or turned on by the sight; although hard to grasp at that distance, they both seemed quite handsome. Vanessa or Jen probably would have been all over that shit.

No, it was what the two boys suggested that posed an even more uncomfortable, more long-term threat. Because if certain Menudians engaged in "male-male pleasure," then perhaps it stood to reason that ...

Pfffft. Had she even seen what she thought she'd seen? Surely it was the exhaustion and adrenaline talking.

Up a ways through a thicket of trees, she spotted an old, abandoned, wooden outhouse. Hmm. Seemed to be as good of a hiding spot as any. If she just hunkered down somewhere out of the way for the night, maybe that would be her best chance for survival?

Curling up into a ball across from the primitive toilet, her hands instinctively seeking out her armpits for warmth, she thought of Mason, and Ellis, and the others. Were they finding their own little temporary shelters? Had Menudia managed to take them by now? Or had they -- one could only hope -- made it out of this cursed, dystopian village and back to safety?

The confused redhead could only shiver, and speculate.

*****

Halfway on the other side of the village, at that same exact moment, in an empty, less than ideally-smelling barn, similar thoughts were running through the mind of a certain Mason.

Why had it grown so silent? What had become of the rest of the group? And why hadn't he grabbed a couple of extra granola bars from that general store when he'd had the chance, damn it?

All the while, as he attempted to catch even a sliver of decent rest, he couldn't keep himself from recalling the sensation of freshly-taken Julie, sliding her palm against his arm as she effortlessly rose into the air, with that inviting smile on her lips, the kind of smile that suggested she would have been perfectly willing, if he'd simply given her the signal, to wrap those previously opinionated lips around his nice, hard ...

Or Emily's unbuttoned blouse dancing against her skin, as her eyes lit up in vacuous pleasure, Menudia having so swiftly and mercifully relieved her of every last ounce of worry and internal turmoil ...

He, of course, wasn't the least bit curious about what it might have felt like on the "other side." Or was he?

Because there in that dark, silent barn, the long-dormant, traitorous part of his brain slowly began asserting itself, the questions multiplying like insects. Once you were "taken," did you remember who you were? Did you still have some agency over your body, or were you just a mindless puppet? What about all your formative sexual memories, fantasies, fetishes? Surely Menudians didn't care about any of that shit? Then a related thought sent ice through his veins:

But what if they did?

Most of the other girls who'd already been taken wouldn't have even objected. Hell, before Menudia was barely a glint in a picnic basket's eye, they were probably busy engaging in twisted roleplay back in their unkempt dorm rooms, exploring their kinks with whatever boy was lucky (or unlucky?) enough to find himself at the receiving end of their exploratory games.

Not much of a stretch to picture Vanessa, for instance, tying up some drunken football jock with rope in a basement, the poor fellow, having merely hoped for a fun night out, suddenly finding himself in a little too far over his head. And what sort of freaky, perverted shit did Jen and her boyfriend get up to late at night (when they weren't bickering over crap like whose relatives they were going to see for the holidays, that is)?

But that was them.

It was weird, him being stuck with his shiny little turn-ons and preferences, with no curious girlfriend ever having asked him about it. Why have such a strong fetish if no one else gave a fuck? Shouldn't it have served some kind of ... purpose?

Leanna in her shiny vinyl jeans, Katie in her glossy vinyl skirts ... but all they did was just kind of ignore him. Props to those girls for putting on a show, but he hadn't exactly been the target audience. Well, maybe that had been a key element of the excitement: a dash of frustration here, a pinch of voyeurism there ...