Tower of Babylon Pt. 05

Rise High

Her blond hair, released from the pins, curled over her shoulders. She waved a hand to turn the glass wall into a standing mirror in order to check her physique. Since she was in her own private office, taking up the full top floor of the tower, she had thrown off the heels and, by classical mores, was completely nude. Yet, she was clothed in the artifice of the most advanced modern body sculpting money could buy. Based on the biographic data of her visitor, she had made certain adjustments to her bust and thighs in order to have the most impact. The changes were seamless and quite satisfactory.

Her entire office was crystalline, down to the floors and ceiling. Below, she could dimly see the movement of people in offices below including her receptionist, broken up by semi-transparent floor mats that softened the areas around the various sitting areas including her crystal desk. It was good thing she had gotten over her vertigo although the structure could be frosted or polarized as needed, especially to mitigate the sun or blinding reflections. Above, the theme continued, punctuated by the necessary structural supports for the rooftop helipad and aircraft warning lights, a relic generally made unnecessary by the automated air traffic control for the Enclave. Unwanted visitors would be shot down long before entering the airspace.

There were also myriad sensors and cameras embedded in the entire space, some of them dedicated to a private voyeur feed that was fed to exclusive clientele. Everything and everyone in the Enclave could be seen, including the President and CEO. She glanced at the metrics of her current viewership as she turned off the mirror and walked to her executive desk. The meeting would be available but edited in real time to mask out any non-disclosable information-there were still corporate secrets after all.

Her translucent wrist band flashed that her guests had arrived at security. On the desktop, there was a framed photo of the previous president, Melony Cassandra Hayes. The current executive had kept it as a souvenir.

She touched the intercom indicator on the desk surface, speaking, "Let them in as soon as they arrive." She sat down to face the stairwell that connected her office to the reception immediately below. She could see her secretary nod as she responded, "Yes, Ms. Arnold."

She estimated she had just enough time to prepare for an impressive introduction, parting her legs and adjusting the seats stim attachments to her clit. There were extensible prosthetics but she demurred for the simple vibrator. Leaning back, she let the pleasure roll over her. By this time in her life, an orgasm was practically automatic, like a sneeze, and typically she had dozens in any given day or night. Her body was a finely tuned sports car and it was like spooling it up for a quick drift on a closed track.

Just as the executives from the Euro conglomerate walked up the steps, she climaxed.

The older gentleman, Anton Ritter, with a balding pate, was the senior of the group of three, and the only one unfazed by the display. They were all men from the heart of the German Euro bloc, which was quite out of date these days compared to the Pan-Asian sphere and the remnant states of America. They were sharply groomed but lacked much of the sculpting afforded to the wealthy, not that it was illegal in the Euro bloc: thriftiness was embedded in their social customs. It didn't matter to her...she was going to fuck them, either way. She grinned as one of the VP's reddened, eyes darting away from her exposure.

"It used to be that Europeans were the more liberal in their sexual esthetics," she commented instead of a formal introduction. She wiped her hand and stood to offer it. Ritter shook it with a solid grip, "These are interesting times and we are quite fine with the arrangements, Ms. Arnold. I assume this meeting is to, ah, consummate, our new business relationship."

"There is a full bar and refreshments," she pointed to a spread on a clear table next to a set of sofas. She pulled him by the tie, "I assumed I would be sufficient for all of you, but I can call in my secretarial pool if you desire. Full disclosure, this meeting will be monetized, so don't hold back."

"Let's play it by ear, so to speak," he laughed as he took off his tailored jacket, one that would have been old fashioned even a hundred years in the past. Mawkishly, the other two followed along but sat nervously, nibbling on the farmed pseudo-shrimp and side-eying their boss as he nuzzled her proffered chest. They'd lose their inhibitions soon enough, she'd make sure of it.

Okano had been distant the entire time since his victory. Was she actually jealous? Matt wondered. It couldn't be, since she was the one who'd rejected his offers in the past.

He scanned the contract one more time on his retinal imager. By rights, he was now a married man, to his chagrin. Bee was actively pouting as they sat in a lounge somewhere deep in the sprawling estate. This time, they were to finally have an audience with the patriarch of the household. Or at least his representative: a synthetic avatar that wheeled itself in on a motorized chair. It had no legs, only a ghastly torso and a gaunt mannequin face with binocular cameras for eyes.

Awkwardly, the trio stood to bow formally. The synth waved a puppet hand, "None of that please. You think I'd still use this ancient drone if I cared about that bullshit? But if you think I dragged you all the way into this den of hypocrisy just to show off, well, you're right." It chuckled. "Sorry if I don't press the flesh, I'm a germaphobe. Practically a Howard Hefner in his latter years, or was it Hugh Howell? Whatever, fuck it."

Matt nervously blinked. Apparently, life extension hadn't extended to rejuvenating the old man's cogitation centers, or he was playing them for some reason.

"My son, what's his name, thought he'd prod me by staking off some bit of MY property. Well, good for you. Take her back, make her queen of your Federation or whatever you call it these days. Deal's done. She'll be shipped air freight tomorrow, all taxes paid for. I am not a cheapskate. Anyhoo, oh yes, a toast."

A slender girl crawled into the room, a silver platter with various glasses was balanced on her back. Her movements were freakishly smooth. They all took a glass except for the avatar, who mimed one in a pincer hand.

"Kampai, kiddos." He mimed slamming a glass to the floor. "Ok, formalities over. Contract has been delivered with my signature key. You're wondering what all this horse and pony show as all about, and I'm not one to be coy. We're trading pony's for horses. Oldest business, livestock! And we're doing a three way exchange. Everyone wins, zero sum kiss my ass."

Bee spoke up out of turn, although Okano nudged her sharply, "He means women."

"Bingo. You're my type, but I'm not a sticky fingered bushwhacker. World population is tanking, and let's say, the commodity is all sequestered here, not much free trade going on. Thing is, the republican guard gets angry, eat the rich style, when not given the spoils and no one is really producing in high quantity these days. Range wars are all petered out, it's just dust and bones out there on the pillaging front. Refugee problem kind of solved itself, go figure, but also dried up the tap. Birth rate is in the shitter and picky fuckers won't go for 100 percent skin dolls though to be honest, you're more synth than not." It nodded its head toward Okano. "To be honest, true androids kind of creep me out too. I've got openings for another wife...no? I prefer pale blondes anyways, so go fuck yourself. Seriously, I love that shit and I will be watching."

It continued, rolling back and forth, wheels catching on the rug. "Back to the story, your company is acting as middleman, under the table, for a hefty broker fee. Polity breeds the best free range dames. Oh, someone seems to have his bubble burst. Too dark for you? Well, get over it, the Federated States have agreed to make it all nice and legal: free trade, bitches. You chose a career in selling this shit, now it's just all out in the open. Belay that, cross border trafficking is still officially verboten, I forgot. That part's secret, the three way deal under the table. I said that already. No talkie, or a subminiature detonator might find its way into your brain stem. Don't want to get sanctioned by former NATO shitheads or whatever they call themselves these days. We made some concessions, including letting go of the fifty percent rule. Congrats, you can apply for real citizenship, skin doll."

It cackled and leaned forward in a crude attempt at some form of discretion. "Some inside information, I'm feeling generous, though it may seem meaningless to you. Part of the deal includes a specific transfer of advanced bio-mimetics the Polity has been incubating for a long while. We get our pesky hands on it in exchange for some quality appeasement. Fools, we're greedy, rabid dogs and we'll have them for lunch soon enough. Guess what, your whole business model will become obsolete, so I'd sell any shares now. Shit, I'm feeling so good that I'm leaving you, Mr. Arnold, an extra bonus at your guest suite. However, ladies, your commodity prices are falling fast, so figure it out or starve. Now, get the fuck out." It wheeled around and left the room. The table girl crouched motionless in the middle of the room.

The trio just stared at each other, completely befuddled by the contrarian antics of the ancient patriarch. His info dump whirled in their heads as they tried to puzzle out what he meant. Whatever it was, it didn't sound appealing.

As they were guided back to their guest house, Matt clenched his fists, "What the hell was I doing here?"

Bee was in a daze, "He said I was his type. I could have been a Mrs. Weaver after all."

Okano patted her on the head, "You don't really want that."

"How do you know?" Bee skipped away. "I don't get what he was talking about. They wouldn't even let us in even when we wanted to. Now, they want to kidnap Polity bitches? What's the deal?"

"I don't know. He seemed a bit...gone. Senile."

Matt threw up his hands, "No, he was just trolling us. I think he was just bored and liked seeing us squirm. Me, he wanted to see ME squirm for some reason. I see why his kids turned out the way they are though. Regardless, Gladstone wouldn't have broken contract law and negotiate this kind of deal, it goes against the core principles of the corporation. Consent is the foundation of the free states! There must be an angle that's above my pay grade. Pastor will know." He looked downcast. "Ah, fuck it. I can't even lie to myself believably."

Okano and Bee looked at each other dubiously. Okano's iciness had tempered since the meeting. She announced, "Let's just go back, have a good roll in the sack and forget all this happened. That's the best way to stick it to him. I'll give him the finger while I ride. In fact..." she waved both her middle fingers into the air.

Bee looked like she'd seen a ghost as she peered around the twilit walking path, surrounded by looming hedges. She grasped Okano, "You think he's watching us now, in real time?"

"If he isn't, always assume someone is," Okano replied with a bitter smile.

"What about those comportment laws you kept drilling into me the whole time?"

"I don't think they really matter on the estate, nothing does," she replied with fatalistic nihilism. "He can do whatever he wants, but if it's any comfort, I think he pretty much gave us the green light back there. He may change his mind again later, there's really nothing we can do."

Even though Bee had signed onto Gladstone for everything, including becoming a cam whore, she still didn't like the idea of a demented creeper studying her every move. At least in the Enclave, there had been understandable rules. Here, they were at the mercy of fanatical madmen and their whims.

"Fuck it," she propped up her tits with two hands for a moment. "Enjoy the view, motherfucker." Bee reached for Matt's cock, slipping past the electrostatic tab that kept his fly closed. "I like your idea, Rebecca. Let's give them a show tonight, all night long. Want to pregame a bit on the walk back?"

Matt sighed, abandoning the prospect of a peaceful sleep. Their guide waited patiently as Bee and Okano knelt on the path to share his freshly invigorated dick.

When they got back to the master bedroom, they immediately recognized Matt's bonus. Mrs. Annabelle Francine Weaver was frolicking with the bed warmer, filling the room with the scent of their sex. The blockers seemed ineffective as Matt was immediately hard even after being wrung out during the walk back to the mansion. He barely noticed Bee and Rebecca clutching themselves as the aphrodisiacs hit them all in full force.

As if hypnotized, he could not take his eyes off of the silver haired woman's figure as she writhed on the silken sheets, her perfection contrasted with the brown skin of the warmer as they folded in a complex origami of lust. His desire to fit himself into that puzzle overcame everything as he threw off his suit. Matt didn't even notice that something warm, Bee's mouth, was again latched, like a lamprey, to his throbbing member. Okano salivated as her mouth wound its way across the sea of bodies, finding tits, ass, genitals, and mouths equally delicious. Her eyes almost rolled up, showing mostly white, as an uncontrollable orgasm shook her body.

The puzzle changed shape over and over, Matt inside Rebecca, his mouth sharing tongues with Bee and Annabelle or the unnamed bed warmer sneaking in on one side. He had never experienced multiple orgasms without the usual refraction in his life but now it happened again and again. It did not matter that only some pale fluid would be produced. His cock never flagged as he found honey in each flower.

Nothing was more perfect than Annabelle Francine. It didn't matter which way she twisted her frame, in his eyes, it was perfection. It wasn't exactly love, but he couldn't think of it as anything else in that moment. Her luminous eyes filled his vision as he locked mouths, her tongue twisting around his as he filled her. Matt was able to trace every nerve, it seemed, and even without looking, identify who was touching him. Bee's face was down below, attending to his mast as it joined Annabelle. Rebecca's tongue continued its glide across bodies, currently tracking up his right buttock and flank before cutting across to the inner thigh of the bed warmer who was wedged on that side.

The sound of pleasure escaped from all of their lips in a musical choir that would seem absurd to anyone except the participants, immersed in their debauchery. The puzzle changed again, now Annabelle's ass was presented to him, Rebecca preparing its entryway with her tongue and endless reservoir of saliva. The bed warmer was below, facing up and licking his sack while Bee and the pale wife devoured her exposed cunt. The taste of Annabelle's saliva only drove Bee even wilder, as she rubbed herself furiously with one hand, desperate to cum again and again.

They lost track of time as the night passed. There were brief lulls as one or the other would nap briefly, exhausted, only to be roused again. Matt fell asleep briefly, turned and found a random breast pushed against his face. He suckled on it absently as he finally noticed that he was being ridden by Rebecca, eyes half lidded. Two other women shared her ample chest. He didn't recognize them. A puzzle piece was missing: Bee. He was momentarily concerned until he saw her walking back from the bathroom, hand in hand with the toilet seat warmer. The voluminous bedframe had no trouble taking on the extra weight, though, occasionally, someone would tumble off during the activity.

Annabelle Francine handed him a squeeze bottle of some cold liquid, "Drink. You need to hydrate, replenish your electrolytes." Whatever it was, the refreshment filled his being. The puzzle palace was still shifting around them as they rested for a few minutes. A leg flopped against his chest and he had no idea who it was. It was some strange beast with multiple backs that kept morphing hypnotically such that he couldn't keep his eyes away even as he had a brief conversation with the patriarch's wife.

Despite himself, he couldn't hold back the question, "Did you agree to this?"

She laughed in a way that made his heart flutter. He knew it was chemical cocktail that she continuously exuded but in that moment he desired her more than anything in the universe. She absently dug her fingers into someone's ass, "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," he said helplessly, knowing his mind was addled by lust. "Will you come with me, us...?"

Bee poked her bleary face out from between two random cheeks, "We loooove you, let's get married, all of us."

Francine laughed, "I cannot annul my marriage, nor do I wish to, but I have been allowed a vacation. I've never been out West, I'd love to see it."

In the morning, a breakfast table was set up next to the bed. The servants brought food to the participants of the orgy as they still languorously engaged in their pleasures. Francine would pluck one to enjoy, like a ripe fruit from a laden branch. Others would be sent off. The original bed warmer was nowhere to be seen. Okano was sitting at the table, buttering some pieces of bread while Bee was buzzing over the cornucopia, sampling each delicacy.

She announced, "I don't know, maybe we can still work out a marriage into this family?" Her resentments from the previous day seemed to have been completely forgotten. She even shared a snapshot of the previous night's activities, using her wrist com to throw it up on one of the walls. "It's like a classy old painting, look at that. This isn't porn, it's art!"

Everyone ignored her random outbursts.

Matt was still focused on the honey flowing from between Annabelle Francine's lower lips. His lust had calmed down but his heart still ached, like first love. She said, "I've turned down the hormone triggers, but I can't turn them off completely." His tongue was sore but he continued to lap at her, stopping only to crawl up into her welcoming arms. It felt like home.

"Might be a problem going through customs..."

"Oh, we'll be going by private heavy lifter. The arrangements have been made. We will be heading straight to your tower."

Matt knew that they would all orbit her sun, that they were all satellites to her radiant form. He was seduced, and knowing it did nothing to relieve its grip. She admonished him, "Don't forget your duty to your new wife."

Matt had completely forgotten about her. What was her name? Norma? He felt nothing for her, a pale moon in comparison to Annabelle. She snapped her fingers, beckoning to a servant girl who straddled her face. Annabelle used her fingers to part her flower. "This is your duty, as a husband. Plant your seed in your wife and lay claim to her once you arrive home. Here, share the nectar of this wench as an appetizer." He stretched to meet her tongue on the quivering, pink, flesh. Indeed, it was sweet. Annabelle was womanhood herself, or at least the fever dream of man's greatest wishes of such a goddess, enacted in reality. Almost automatically, he found he had slipped into her once more, and he never felt more at home than at any time in his life.

The rest of the day was a blur as preparations were made for Annabelle and a select group of maids to accompany them on the trip. For the three visitors, there was not much to do except wait, eat, and fuck. Matt's abilities were not diminished and in one day he'd far exceeded his prowess at the height of his days at the Enclave. Annabelle must have some power of rejuvenation, as her lubrication had been sufficient to protect his member from becoming a withered, flayed, knob.