XENOFESTATION 2-06
~TATTOOED AGONIST~

Paragonas Vaunt

Copyright © 2023 Paragonas Vaunt

~SAMPLE~

Athena loved the basques and the corsets, loved the way they pulled her snugly into shape, loved how they lifted and presented what she had and made her a different person when she was wearing them.

She was a similar size to Carmine, at least in a basic sense, though she'd have described her own body as more... industrial. Plainer.

Gerhard had had a word for her.

Stumpf.

It meant dull, lustreless.

Stolid.

She didn't feel dull any more. Not when she was wearing a corset. Not when she was wearing Carmine's make-up, though she hadn't yet fully got the hang of looking sophisticatedly slutty rather than simply slutty.

She loved the smaller items of underwear too, some of it so tiny as to be almost not there at all, and she marvelled at the retail prices of some of the more wispy pieces. But it was like real estate, wasn't it? It wasn't automatically the case that bigger was better. Quality mattered more.

And location mattered most of all.

In the mirror, and when she gazed down on herself wearing the racy clothes, she saw somebody she'd never really seen before. A sexual creature, desirable.

A woman. Making contact with her own body, and the pleasure it could bring, in a sense she'd never previously done.

She wondered sometimes what Gerhard would make of the woman she had become.

Of course, she'd never give him the chance. If he came crawling back, she'd let him know in no uncertain terms she was out of his price range now.

So every evening Athena would put on an outfit, and with it the persona of a sexual woman, and she'd take one of the devices to herself. Then, when she was done, she'd have a leisurely session in the unmetered water shower, or even the bath, before slipping back to her own cube in plenty of time to check her property feed in the afterglow before bed.

She'd even slept in the apartment, once or twice, when she was feeling particularly naughty.

Not in the small bed tucked away out the back, the one she was sure Carmine had slept in herself at night. No, she slept in the big bed, the sex bed with the satin sheets and the loops for strapping things down, and the hooks sunk into the ceiling for hanging... she didn't quite know what the hooks were for yet, but she would find out in good time.

She'd wriggle herself down between the sheets, and turn out the light, and stare up at the tiny glint of the ceiling hooks in the glow of her handpad, and she'd imagine what must once have taken place in this bed, this sex bed, imagined what it must have been like for Carmine, staring up at the self-same ceiling as her lovers slid the length of themselves into her.

Athena was surprised to find that, of all the toys Carmine had collected, it was the ones that least looked like penises that tended to work the best. That had been a curious discovery, but it was textures and bumps and nodules that seemed to be most effective on things designed for inserting, and that was before she considered all the devices that were designed to be placed on different parts of the skin, or against one particular place at the entrance to her body. There were so many of those little gadgets that she'd ended up creating a separate spreadsheet just for them.

Despite loving the tightness of the corsets, and starting to warm to the naughtiness of some of the flimsier or more revealing items, Athena's favourite garment so far was a silvery-grey knee-length slip in slinky ash silk. Simple, unadorned apart from a narrow band of black lace around the hem and the peaks of the bra cups, and with slender spaghetti straps which left her shoulders daringly bare.

She'd taken to wearing it almost as a nightie, slithering sensually around the bed in it until she drifted off to a dream-filled knickers-empty sleep.

Sometimes she'd wear no knickers underneath, sometimes something sluttier still, because it turned out there were some things more slutty even than prancing around without your knickers on. But mainly she went without when she was entertaining herself, for convenience.

She was wearing exactly that lack of knickers now, lying in bed with the light off, the covers pushed down to expose herself to the room. She'd slid the soft material of the slip slowly up, up her thighs and past her hips, and now it was bunched around her waist, and she ground her bare buttocks into the sheets as she squirmed and writhed.

Not touching herself, not yet, no toys in play, just feeling the material move around and over her bare skin as she rested her fingers lightly on her own inner thighs and thought about opening those thighs to a gentleman who knew what to do when he got there.

Not Gerhard.

The knock on the door made Athena jump.

She sat up in bed, hands crossed over her chest, and switched on the light.

She stared towards the door.

Carmine's apartment was huge by modern standards, easily as big as three or four normal hab cubes, but even so there wasn't room for anything as decadent as an entrance vestibule. The front door was in the corner of the working bedroom, and led directly in from the public corridor. Carmine had hung a curtain on a curved rail around the patch of floor in front of the door, to create some illusion of separation, but Athena never had visitors here so she never bothered drawing it across.

Whoever was knocking was just the other side of that cheap piece of fibreboard.

They knocked again.

The knock was soft, shy almost.

Athena grabbed Carmine's handpad and brought up the security feed.

A man, dressed in a suit.

Athena knew all the residents. He wasn't one of them.

And if he was a prospective resident, and he was rash enough to try to speak to the Chair of the Housing Committee, in the evening, without an appointment, he'd be knocking on the door of Athena's own cube next door, not here at Carmine's.

The man was looking up and down the corridor.

Nervous.

Athena hopped out of the bed, dragged the hem of her slip down over her hips and grabbed a robe from the nearest rack, shrugging it onto her shoulders and tying the belt as she went to the door.

Quickly she drew the curtain around the door area to mask the room and its bed, smoothed her short hair, and opened the door.

"Hi, I know it's late and I know I-" the man started, even as the door was swinging back, stepping forward as if to get out of the corridor as quickly as possible, his eyes not really paying attention to Athena, as if he knew who he'd been expecting to see when the door opened.

He wasn't expecting to see Athena, and he wasn't expecting her to bar his way.

He stopped short.

"You're not Carmine," he said.

"I know," Athena replied.

The man paused.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Why?"

He paused again. Tried a different tack. Held up his handpad.

"Look, I know Carmine was locking her diary for a bit, but it's been a while and I thought..."

He gave her a helpless smile.

"Is she in?" he finished.

"No," Athena replied. Then, after a moment's awkward silence, "She's away."

The man blew out a long breath, looked up and down the corridor again.

Then he seemed to look at Athena properly for the first time, his gaze running quickly up and down her body in a way she found quite disconcerting.

"Okay," he said after a moment, "you'll do."

"I'll do what?" Athena replied.

The man's jaw moved, no words coming from his mouth. He seemed entirely nonplussed by Athena's reaction, as if he'd expected her to know, as if it was obvious what she'd do.

"What's your name?" he said at last.

"A-" she replied, then said, "Anthea," and didn't know why she had.

Anthea was the name of an imaginary sister she'd created when she was a child. Anthea was the naughty one, the sister who got into trouble, and got away with it, while poor Athena had to get on with her work, and often take the blame for what Anthea did.

"Anthea. Pretty name," said the man, though he sounded somewhat perfunctory about it, like he knew it was something he was supposed to say. "I'm Gary."

"Pretty name," Athena replied, and went to close the door.

"Wait a m-" the man started.

Down the corridor, the elevator door slid back, and Martha Kohl stepped out.

Interfering busy-body and social climber Martha.

Athena was suddenly aware she was wearing quite a lot of Carmine's make-up. All of a sudden it seemed to be burning her cheeks.

And her robe was awfully short.

She couldn't let Martha see her, not dressed like this, all made up like a slut, in the doorway of the wrong cube. And what if Martha called out her name?

Her real name?

She couldn't leave this guy out here to talk to Martha either.

Quickly Athena grabbed him by his tie and dragged him into the apartment, closing the door behind them both. She held up a finger to shush him as she listened for what Martha was doing.

There wasn't much room in the curtained vestibule of the apartment. Athena was obliged to stand very close to the man, and while he didn't attempt to touch her he was quite a lot taller.

He was using the advantage of his height to try to peek down the front of her slip.

Athena pulled her robe more tightly closed and cinched the belt, before folding her arms over her chest unwelcomingly.

The man seemed unfazed.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "For letting me come in."

Athena didn't reply.

He was tall and broad-chested, his chin stubbled and his hair slightly peppered with an unaffected grey. His suit, though expensive, was slightly rumpled, as if he'd spent a long time crammed into a travel capsule in hot weather. She could smell the scent of him, but she had to admit it wasn't unpleasant.

Sandalwood and starch. Probably an implant. And the first stirrings of a good sweat overcoming his antiperspirant.

"What do you want?" she hissed, not bothering to hide the irritation into her voice.

"I haven't got a lot of time," he replied, "So maybe just a quickie?"

Athena glanced back towards the curtain, where she knew the bed was hidden.

Clearly the man knew it too, because as he now swept the curtain aside and stepped into the room, he wasn't surprised to see the big bed, nor the rumpled sheets Athena had just vacated.

"Hey!" Athena started, moving to pull him back. She was too busy casting her eyes hurriedly round to check whether she'd left anything embarrassing on show, like a toy or something, and it took her a moment to realise the man was undressing, draping his jacket over the back of a chair and starting to loosen his tie.

"Hey!" she repeated.

"What are your rates? Same as Carmine's?" he said as he started to undo his cuffs.

"How much is that?" she heard herself ask.

"A thousand good for you?"

Athena closed her mouth quickly to hide her shock. She realised she was staring at the man's bare chest as he dropped his shirt over the back of the chair atop his jacket.

His body was quite nice, actually, and... a thousand was a thousand, after all.

And hadn't she just been thinking about..?

No.

Athena marched towards the door, intending to open it and eject him, but as she turned away the man laughed out loud.

"What?" Athena snapped, turning back to face him.

He pointed at the back of her robe.

Athena peered over her shoulder, and saw the lettering.

Without thought of the consequence, she undid the belt of the robe and stripped it off, holding the garment up so she could read what was written on the back.

 

WHAT'S A GIRL GOTTA DO TO GET FUCKED AROUND HERE?

 

Athena dropped the thing like it had suddenly become radioactive.

The man laughed again.

There were voices in the corridor outside. Martha. Somebody else too.

They were outside Athena's cube.

Chatting.

They didn't sound like they were going anywhere soon.

Athena was suddenly aware she was only wearing the knee-length ash silk slip.

Her shoulders were bare, and so were her knees.

And, below the lace hem of the slip, so was her cunt.

"You've got a nice body," the man said softly.

She glanced back him.

What was his name? Gary?

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, removing his footwear.

If she tried to make him leave now, there'd be a scene.

Martha would hear.

"Okay," she said, "no funny business from you."

The man paused in balling his sox into his shoes.

"Okay," he replied, "just a quickie, like I said."

Athena stared at him.

He wasn't bad looking though.

She took a deep breath, not knowing what she was going to say at the other end of it.

"You'll have to put a tube on it," she heard a voice say, and it wasn't her, it was Anthea. Getting her into trouble again.

"What?" Gary replied.

"A lube sheath. There's a pack of Red Rockets in the drawer over there," she said, pointing to the escritoire.

Gary huffed at that, but went to get one anyway.

"And money up front," she heard herself say. Athena, dealing with the financial practicalities.

Her handpad - Carmine's handpad, the one on the bed near where the man had just been undressing - pinged as he flicked the payment across to it.

Athena scooped it up, checked the amount.

That was that, then.

She climbed onto the bed, pushing the covers out of the way, hurriedly smoothing the sheets. It was still warm from her body heat, and for some reason it made Athena slightly uncomfortable, like sitting on a chair somebody else had recently vacated. Like this was somebody else's bed, not hers but Anthea's, and she shouldn't be here.

On this bed, about to fuck a man.

For money.

For quite a lot of money, as it happened.

Gary was facing away from her, undoing his belt and dropping his trousers, and then he was stepping out of his striped boxer shorts, and then there she was, staring at a man's bare buttocks.

He had a little tattoo, just above the right cheek.

"Shall we do this, then?" he asked, tearing open the foil packet of the lube tube.

The absolute cheek of him.