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The Stellaron Hunters were an unreasonably mysterious group. Sure, Kafka had explained the broad strokes of their goals to Stelle, but the finer details evaded her. To be honest, Stelle didn’t even know whether she should believe Kafka’s words. She wanted to, though.
She wondered idly if this desire was a sort of folly. Stelle hardly knew Kafka, but she couldn’t shake the sort of attachment she had towards her. After all, Kafka had been at the forefront of her earliest memory.
She sighed and continued her walk across the streets of the Luofu. She had gone outside the Express to try and clear her thoughts, but it seemed like they would continue to pile up.
Then, an odd sort of feeling overtook her, like she had just been submerged in a warm ocean. She had sensed a foreign presence behind her, in the instant before she was overtaken by this utter calmness and relaxation, but any fears or doubts were swept up and away. There was no need to get violent or defensive, she was in good hands and all she had to do was…
“Listen.”
And listen she did. There was little else she could do but listen. Not because she couldn’t do anything else, surely if she truly wanted to, she could simply walk away from the wonderful dulcet tones of Kafka’s voice, but there was no need nor want to do so.
As Kafka’s arms wrapped up and around Stelle’s shoulders and as Kafka’s lips whispered words so delicately and close to Stelle’s ear, Stelle’s place became increasingly clear. What proper-minded person would deny themselves the opportunity to aid someone in need? Stelle was as selfless as they came, and she would do everything in her power to help Kafka in any way she desired.
“My, what an eager girl,” Kafka commented. The praise sent a thrill through Stelle’s spine, and she was even more eager to chase that high.
“Come along now, Stelle.” Kafka said, voice sweeter to her ears than any other. Kafka walked off in the direction of a side street with Stelle obediently following after. Stelle was careful not to go any faster than Kafka walked nor to go so slow as to inconvenience her. What good was she if she couldn’t even walk at a proper pace for Kafka?
Eventually, they found themselves alone in a little empty but cozy room fitted with nothing but lights and a mattress. She internally cursed at whoever in Xianzhou had the gall to give Kafka anything but the best accommodations, but the sound of Kafka’s voice quickly quieted any internal woes.
“We’re alone now.” Kafka looked straight into Stelle’s eyes and had Stelle not been such a good listener, she would have easily missed whatever would have been said. It was not so easy to focus on anything else when someone so beautiful deigned to match your gaze. “You were stressed, weren’t you, Stelle?”
There was a heavy sense of pity in Kafka’s words, and for a moment, Stelle wanted to deny it—to dispel Kafka’s worries with a “no, not at all!” but that would be a lie, and it would be unthinkable to say anything but the complete and utter truth to Kafka.
“I was. I was worried about the future you spoke to me about. I was worried about whether I should t-trust you… I’m sor—”
Kafka frowned and put a finger to Stelle’s mouth. Stelle’s heart nearly broke in two. She had upset Kafka.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, Stelle, but pursuing Elio’s future means I’m not able to take care of you full time.” She sat her down and began to massage her shoulders and back. Each touch was perfect and calculated, any stress and tension in her melting away. “But every now and then, if you want to let go of your worries. I’ll always be there to set your mind free of them.” All the guilt in her was washed away by Kafka’s words.
Stelle had never felt so loved.
She moved to lean up against Kafka and stared up at her face. She felt so small like this, so relaxed. She wished it could last forever.
Kafka smiled, rubbing her thumb against Stelle’s cheek, “So needy… but I like that.”
Needy. Something about the word activated a part of Stelle that she wasn’t fully aware of. A sort of smoldering carnal desire. A want to both please and be pleased.
Kafka seemed to notice, the corners of her mouth ever so slightly curling upwards. She stuck her thumb into Stelle’s mouth. Wordlessly, Stelle began to suck on the gloved finger. It was rather tasteless, but the repetitive sucking motion was made more stimulating by the look in Kafka’s eyes. She seemed to be enjoying seeing Stelle so ardently serve her in this small way and began stroking her head with her free hand. “Good girl…”
The praise was euphoric.
Stelle worked even harder, her head lightly bobbing back and forth, her tongue working its way through each seam and crevice and fold of Kafka’s gloved thumb. Each lick stoked that flame inside her, her bottom half growing warmer and warmer as she continued to worship Kafka’s digit.
Kafka pressed down on Stelle’s tongue hard before finally moving her hand away. Stelle admittedly wanted to suck on it more.
“Oh, don’t look so sad.” Kafka lightly grabbed Stelle’s chin. “There’s so much more to look forward to. Be a darling and help me out of these clothes, won’t you?”
The whole ordeal was a rather religious endeavor, each piece of clothing was taken off with the care and fervor of the most pious believers. Each patch of skin revealed was more stimulating than the last, and Stelle’s breathing got heavier and heavier with each article removed. Until finally, Kafka was bare, and Stelle’s more base instincts took over. A small part of her screamed to act more decent, but it was swallowed up by the single-minded desire to ogle every inch of Kafka’s body. Stelle found herself entranced by Kafka’s thighs. She wondered what it would be like to be sandwiched in between them. Heaven, perhaps. Her eyes wandered to Kafka’s breasts and her perfectly shaped pink nipples. Stelle’s mouth still ached to have something to play with, and she wanted nothing more than to suck endlessly on Kafka’s tits.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Kafka’s irresistible voice.
“Listen to me: before I treat you, let’s have you treat me, okay?”
Stelle could have broken her neck from how furiously she was nodding. She’d do anything for Kafka. Anything.
Kafka began undressing Stelle in an almost unbearably slow manner. Her hands lightly gliding against Stelle’s skin felt red hot, and Kafka had the tendency to press and linger at just the right spots. Stelle began to pant.
“Oh? I knew you were needy, but at this rate, you’re going to become a little puppy. Bark for me?”
“W-woof!” There was no hesitation in her response.
She smiled, “Good pet.” Kafka pinched Stelle’s nipples suddenly, and Stelle let out a rather dramatic moan. “I like it when girls listen to what I say… and most girls love listening to what I have to say.”
It was like a wave had swept over her once again, but rather than soothing water, Stelle had been plunged into the depths of an ocean trench. Kafka’s words dimmed Stelle’s mind, and she found her whole world had shrunk. All that remained was Kafka.
She vaguely recognized she was naked now, but her focus was squarely on whatever Kafka wanted. That was paramount. Kafka was paramount.
Kafka spread her legs and showed off her lower mouth with her fingers. She was dripping wet, and Stelle could feel the unspoken demand.
She approached, her tongue lolling out. Stelle had never been intimate with anyone before but it all felt so automatic and natural with Kafka. More than anything at that moment, she wanted to eat Kafka out.
Her tongue hit Kafka’s pussy, giving her long, loving strokes up and down the labia and especially paying special attention to the clit. Her mouth, which had been desperate for stimulation ever since Kafka’s thumb had left it, found a new home pleasuring Kafka. Kafka’s thighs, which clamped down on Stelle’s head were as heavenly as she imagined, perhaps even moreso. Stelle was happy to lick and suck and kiss all over Kafka’s dripping, delicious pussy. It was an addictive high, and Stelle could feel her own pussy getting wetter and wetter, leaking out juices down her own thighs. Just a little bit ago, Stelle hadn’t experienced sexual pleasure and now she was being fucking overloaded with it.
Kafka sighed in pleasure, “Keep going, you’re doing so well.”
The knowledge that she was getting Kafka off was enough to almost make her orgasm herself. To be wanted, to be used like this for Kafka’s pleasure, it was exhilarating. She had never felt anything like this. The pleasure of servicing, no, of serving someone so utterly and completely. The pleasure of letting her mind go blank and just doing whatever Kafka wanted. It was almost too much. A tiny, lucid part of her that she didn’t even know still existed wondered if she was always this submissive under the surface or if Kafka was just that good at bringing out this side of people.
Kafka gripped Stelle’s hair and pulled her deeper. Stelle sucked even harder on Kafka’s clit, and added her fingers into the mix. The overwhelming wetness lubricated Stelle’s fingers and she slid two digits inside with ease, curling them upwards again and again and again and again. At the same time sucking more fervently, more passionately.
“Good girl… I’m close!” For the first time, Kafka lost a tiny bit of her composure, her usual calm and cool demeanor giving way to sexual euphoria, and Stelle filled with both desire and pride. She made Kafka feel this way. Being a good girl made Kafka feel this way.
Stelle’s free hand grabbed tightly onto Kafka’s thigh, massaging and rubbing it as her other hand continued to pump in and out of Kafka’s pussy. Her mouth was still moving as actively as ever, tongue rolling and licking and wrapping and circling all over Kafka’s clit. Stelle could feel Kafka clench on her fingers, she could feel her thighs shaking, she could feel her hips bucking into her mouth.
And finally, Kafka reached her peak, letting out her first moan of the night. She rode the afterglow, slowly grinding her pussy against Stelle’s face. She could feel Kafka’s pussy clenching tight on her fingers. Stelle must have looked like a mess, naked, pussy juice all over her face and hands, but all that mattered was Kafka’s pleasure.
As Kafka collected herself once again, she sent Stelle a pleased expression. “You really are a very good girl.” Stelle felt herself growing wetter. “So obedient… some can’t stand it and start touching themselves without permission, but not you.” Kafka laid Stelle on her lap, her boobs in direct contact with Stelle’s face. Heaven, truly, heaven. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.” She moved one of her tits so her nipple was right at Stelle’s mouth. “Go on, you’re a newborn after all… suck as much as you’d like.”
Stelle began to suckle on Kafka’s tit, enjoying the feeling of both the soft skin and the hard nipple in her mouth. It felt very right to do this, like a piece Stelle never knew she was missing suddenly fell into place. At the same time, Kafka spread and teased Stelle’s pussy, intentionally avoiding her clit and vagina, only giving Stelle the lightest most feathery touches to the parts of her that wanted it the most. She tried in vain to hump Kafka’s fingers or arm to get some extra stimulation, but Kafka was just too dexterous and always managed to maneuver away. It had been mere moments, but Stelle was on the brink. Kafka held her there, fingers expertly teasing and edging her. Stelle’s pussy ached for more simulation, but all she could do was moan endlessly into Kafka’s breast.
“You know, Stelle… I usually make bad girls beg for it. I keep them on edge until they break and beg for me to make them cum… but you’re just too good. So here’s some special treatment…”
Stelle felt Kafka remove her fingers. “Listen to me: you’re going to cum right now.”
Searing hot pleasure overtook Stelle’s body. Her pussy clenched around the air and her hips bucked wildly into a hard and intense orgasm. Kafka began playing with Stelle’s breasts and it was just too much. She was losing it, her moans nearly sounded like screams, her hands wildly searching for something to hold onto and keep her grounded as the pleasure surged and surged more and more, seemingly endlessly until finally after what seemed like both a moment and a century, it ended.
A light sheen of sweat had formed on Stelle’s body, her hair was a mess, and she smelled like sex. She wanted to say thank you to Kafka, but all she could manage to do was let out heavy pants. Kafka brushed aside Stelle’s bangs which had stuck themselves to the sweat of her forehead. The action was somewhat motherly, and Stelle couldn’t help but feel deeply and utterly loved.
Kafka smiled, “I almost thought we would need a new Stellaron container… just kidding. But that’s not the end. You still want more don’t you?” Stelle lightly nodded, she was more than happy with the powerful orgasm Kafka had given her, but she wanted to be more physically intimate as well.
As if she could read her mind, Kafka started finger fucking Stelle’s overstimulated pussy. “You really are a needy girl, but good girls deserve treats.” Just having Kafka thrust her fingers into her pussy is enough to bring Stelle back to the edge, but Kafka doesn’t stop there. Her thumb began to rub around Stelle’s clit, and all Stelle could do was pant harder and harder. She felt herself clench around Kafka, her hips bucked into each thrust.
She needed more though. Stelle moved to play with her tits. Small as they were, they had become so sensitive. Each twist and pull of her nipples felt so good. She groped at her own tits while continuing to ride Kafka’s fingers, lost in the pleasure.
Kafka chuckled airly. “You’re quite the cutie like this. I let you have your first one free, but…” Kafka began to circle Stelle’s clit faster and harder, “it would just make me so happy to hear you beg. You can do that for me, can’t you?”
The sensations were nearly unbearable. Her pussy burned with each stroke, but Stelle managed to speak between her pants and moans. “P-please let me c-cum, Kafka…”
Those words were unbefitting of a member of the Astral Express, but they expressed the truest feelings Stelle had within her. She needed to be fucked hard, and Kafka was the one who would give her what she so desperately needed.
“Good girl, you may cum.”
Kafka’s words along with the increasingly fast and hard rhythm of her fingers were the breaking point. Stelle went over the edge into orgasm, pinching her own nipples and cumming hard. Kafka’s skilled fingers milked out every last drop of pleasure from Stelle’s overstimulated body. It had felt good, no, amazing the first time, when Kafka had made her cum from just her words, but now, being able to feel Kafka inside her, the second orgasm felt even better, hotter, wetter, sexier. She let out moan after moan until they morphed into pathetic wails and pants. Kafka’s movements began to slow as Stelle’s orgasm subsided.
She could hardly keep her eyes open, tired but satisfied. Kafka picked her right up and laid her down gently on the mattress. She blearily looked up at Kafka, as composed and beautiful as ever.
“Aren’t you going to sleep, too?”
Kafka smiled and stroked Stelle’s cheek. “Listen: none of that matters, good night.”
Against her will, she slumbered, and when she awoke, Stelle found herself under a blanket. Kafka must have placed it on her while she slept. Her head was clear of that dazed, sunken state, and she darted her eyes around the room, searching.
Kafka was gone now. Though, Stelle still had the smell of Kafka’s sex on and around her. It was an empty sort of feeling, to be left alone after such an intimate encounter. Weren’t these things supposed to end with two lovers waking up in bed together? She supposed this was Kafka’s M.O. Her first encounter with Kafka had gone much the same after all…
“You won't remember a thing except me.”
Stelle cursed internally at Kafka. If the future Elio envisioned really had to have them apart, it was too cruel to have her know of the simple bliss of them together.