Prison Princess

by Huss, JA

  Tray says, “Reach between your legs, Brigit. And grab Valor’s other cock.”

  Oh, God. I’d almost forgotten about that one. Four. I have four cocks to pleasure before they will be satisfied.

  As soon as those words come out of Tray’s mouth I feel Valor’s cock in my ass grow larger as the head of his cock swells up into a tight, giant knot.

  I almost pass out from the throbbing delight running through my body.

  I reach down, feel around and past Tray’s balls—just thinking about that makes a piercing stab of pleasure shoot straight up my belly—and find the thick hard shaft of Valor’s lower cock. My fingertips brush against his balls and Tray moans something incoherent when I slip my hand to the side and look down to see one giant, bulbous cock head.

  “Jerk that one off as we fuck,” Tray commands. And this time Valor is the one who moans, his arm still choking me, his face leaning into my neck on my left side, his mouth biting my earlobe the moment I squeeze his shaft and begin to tug.

  It’s too much. Just… too much.

  I know they feel this way too because the three of us are a symphony of moaning, and grunting, and heavy breathing.

  But Valor has one more surprise for me. One more way to make me insane. His fingers sweep around the edge of my hip, dip right between my legs, and begin to strum my clit.

  I die in that moment.

  Tray is kissing my mouth, Valor is biting my neck, and I die and come back to life an eternal number of times.

  And each time I come back to life, I find myself screaming for more.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - TRAY

  I explode inside her. Twice, but at the same time. And as I do that Valor’s whole body tenses up. His second cock shoots first. I push Brigit away, just a little, so I can watch his come spill over the side of her still-jerking hand.

  And then he throws his head back and growls. Both of my cocks are still inside Brigit, so I feel Valor’s head flex and release.

  The pleasure chemicals running through my blood threaten to overwhelm me and I have to grip Valor’s arm tightly to ground me in this moment because I might lose my mind from bliss.

  “Fuck,” Valor is saying. “Fuck.” Over and over again.

  Brigit is moaning softly. Almost whining.

  I don’t know what to think. I thought this would be fun. Hot and erotic. I knew I’d get off on it. But I feel out of control.

  And I want to do it again.

  Right now.

  Brigit makes the first move. Slowly—like slow-motion slowly—leaning to the side until she’s lying on the flat rock, the water lapping up against her face, her lips pressed together tight to keep it from going into her mouth.

  She’s got the right idea. I’m exhausted. So I lean over and fall next to her. She lifts her body up just enough that I can slip one arm underneath the curve of her waist and hug her close.

  “I love you.” I just want to remind her. We’ve been through a lot. Her, mostly. All this time she’s been waiting for me. And I’m glad that she broke the world I made for her and moved on. It makes me happy for some reason. Makes her feel… real to me. Because sometimes I think I’m crazy. I think I’ve made it all up. I fear that she is just me, in another form. That she’s not real.

  Valor helps. A little. Because he’s here now. His idea, and it was a good one. But before this moment, before arriving here to find it all different, before this sex… I wasn’t sure. It’s still possible that I’m the one controlling all this. But not likely. Unless I have somehow split myself in half and Brigit is another me, the way the Baby and the Asshole are other sides to ALCOR, I don’t think that’s what this is.

  But I never imagined myself with Valor, let alone Valor and Brigit.

  That was him. And we’re in her world and for once in my life… I’m just… out of control.

  Valor lies down on the other side of Brigit. He reaches for her cheek, his eyes locked on her face as I stare at him. Does he love her now? Have they spent so much time together that he’s in love with her?

  I hope so. I really do. Because I can’t do this alone. I can’t save her by myself. I need a team. I would’ve settled for a reluctant Valor. I would’ve settled for his cautious agreement.

  But he’s in now. I can see it in his expression as he stares at her.

  And then she lifts up her head, just a little, and Valor slips his hand under her cheek so it can act like a pillow.

  His eyes dart up to mine and he smiles when he realizes I’ve been watching him. “Yeah,” he says.

  I laugh. “Yeah, what?”

  “I could stay here for a while.”

  “Good,” Brigit mumbles. “Because I don’t want to move.”

  “You don’t want to go outside and be real?” I ask. I’m not trying to talk her out of us staying here, I just want to make sure. I just want her to be happy.

  “One day,” she whispers. “I’m just… not so much in a hurry anymore.”

  I sigh and rest my head on the rock. Close my eyes and enjoy the sun. “I can live with that.”

  And we do live with that.

  The sun rises and sets many times and we do nothing but sleep, and fuck, and eat, and fuck again. We swim a little, we laugh and talk. It’s so different now. So much better in here now than it is out there.

  I think a couple of weeks go by before Valor starts letting me know he’s keeping track of time. Maybe because he knows I’m not.

  I don’t care anymore. I know Booty and Asshole are out there waiting for us right now. And even though I don’t know for sure that Nyleena is pregnant back on Harem, there’s really only one way that whole space orchid shit show ends, right?

  Baby silvers running around.

  And if Nyleena and Luck did everything right, then Harem Station is a war zone. We have been divided in half. It’s been taken over by two infiltrator AIs on opposite sides and millions of people are counting on us to do something about it.

  But I just don’t care.

  So Valor reminds me one day. He says, “I think it’s been five hours out there since we left Harem.”

  Which means we’ve been in here a long fucking time already. And I didn’t even notice.

  Not true. Not entirely. I noticed. I just didn’t care. Who would? We’re living in our own personal Pleasure Prison. Willing captives.

  I look at him and nod. “OK. What are you saying? You want to go back?”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. He’s made a spear out of a long stick and he’s standing on a rock near the waterfall shore. Arm raised, ready to stab us some red-fish dinner. Not that we need to eat in here, but finding food for dinner each night has become a ritual that fills our days. “I’m just letting you know I think it’s been about five hours on the outside.”

  “Five hours is fine, don’t you think?”

  “Hell,” Valor says, throwing his spear. It sticks into something and the end vibrates from the result of accurate aim. “They might not even be there yet, right?”

  He doesn’t even look at me when he says this. So casual, he is.

  I shrug, even though he’s not watching me. He hops off the rock and wades forward into the water, pulls the stick up, grinning at his catch.

  “Maybe not,” I say, trying to calculate how many gates Booty would have to travel through to make it from Harem to the coordinates I gave her.

  They probably are there waiting. Because I think Valor has forgotten about all that time we spent fixing up my ship on the Angel Station copy inside the spin node. It’s not a lot of time, so maybe he figures that doesn’t count. But all time counts. It just doesn’t all add up in the same way.

  “We’d have to stay here for years and years before it really mattered,” I say.

  “That’s how I see it too,” Valor says, hooking his fish onto a line already filled with other catches and then dropping them back in the water so he can catch another one.

  He does this all the time. Valor is like… super provider here. We
always have too much to eat. He doesn’t even need to hunt, he just likes it. Because both Brigit and I could just conjure up dinner every evening and it would probably taste just the same.

  But then I amend that thought.

  It wouldn’t taste the same. It certainly wouldn’t feel the same.

  Because catching fish for dinner every day is how Valor shows he cares about us.

  That was the first time Valor remained me that this isn’t real. He didn’t do it again for… fuck. Years, I think. Still wasn’t counting the time, so I have no clue, really.

  By this point, Brigit and I were contemplating the idea that we needed a town. We’d done everything we could think of in the territory we now called home. We built ourselves a house, we had new furniture, we even had a pet. A little furry, four-legged thing with sharp teeth that always looked like it was smiling.

  That was Valor’s idea. He wanted a pet. Said he’d always wanted a pet and ALCOR never let him have one.

  So we were maybe a little bit bored. We still fucked every morning and every night. We slept in the same bed, so fucking was always an option. Brigit conjured up a boat one day and we took off on the ocean, creating islands and other continents as we traveled.

  But that was a long time ago now.

  “I’d like a café,” Valor says. He’s cleaning this weird-looking vegetable he asked Brigit to conjure up for him. Says he ate this once while he and Luck were salvaging on the other side of the galaxy and was craving it.

  Sometimes I forget that he’s been everywhere and seen everything. Unlike me. I’ve been nowhere compared to Valor.

  “Somewhere to hang out.” He looks at me then. “With people.” Because Brigit won’t make people. She’s afraid they’ll come out wrong. And so far I’ve refused to make any other people because then… then shit gets a little too real, right? It’s already so easy to pretend this is our real life and adding people just props that illusion up.

  “I’d like a movie house,” Brigit says.

  But a town does sound nice. Places to go, people to see, things to do.

  So I say, “I’d like an arcade.”

  And Valor says, “And a shooting gallery.”

  It’s not lost on me that we’re imagining the things we left behind. But I don’t care.

  I guide us into a long, easy discussion of town planning. But later, when Brigit has left to go swim in the waterfall pool, Valor looks at me and says, “It’s been two days now.”

  “Two?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

  “Do you think that’s too long?” Valor asks.

  “Two,” I say again, weighing it in my mind. “Two is OK, don’t you think?”

  He nods. “I’m not ready to leave.”

  I only smile and agree.

  But the next time he brings up the subject of how much time has passed outside, it’s clear that we might’ve been here too long.

  The first clue that Brigit, Tray, and Valor are no longer connected to reality is that town we made? Um… well… it’s a thriving metropolis now.

  Millions of people.

  Brigit and Valor got their way. I gave in.

  It’s as real as Harem. There are shooting galleries, and restaurants, and theaters, and we even have fucking transportation. Not just buses and vehicles to get around in the city, but a fucking high-speed train system that goes to outlying towns and connects to our second thriving metropolis.

  There’s this little nagging voice in my head that asks… Is Harem real? Or is this real?

  But I push it away, because I no longer care.

  “Four days,” Valor says to me at some later date. And now he looks worried. “It’s been four days, Tray. They have to be waiting for us. You know this.”

  “Valor, if you want to leave, just say the word and we’ll go.”

  “It’s not that I want to leave. It’s that… Luck, you know?” He whispers Luck’s name. We’ve lived in this fake reality for… fuck. I have no clue. None. So long. So fucking long now. Hundreds of years on our virtual clock?

  I could ask Valor because I know he’s keeping track, but I don’t want to know. It sounds… crazy. If someone back on Harem had stayed in the Pleasure Prison for four days straight we’d ban them from ever going inside again.

  Virtual life is addictive. Being able to escape your harsh reality and replace it with a perfect simulation is a powerful drug that cures any ailment you can think of. Especially a virtual like the Prison.

  A virtual like this, too. I reluctantly admit.

  Because it’s a perfect life. Why go back to the real and deal with shit you can’t control when all the control you could ever want is right at your fingertips?

  Of course, in the Prison you’d have to have billions of credits to make a place like we’ve made here. So no one is staying in the Pleasure Prison for four days straight. I think the average time was about ten minutes and that’s still a very long time in virtual.

  “Luck,” I say absently, more to myself than to Valor. “You still love him?”

  Valor growls at me. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” But I did, kinda, mean it that way.

  “He’s our brother,” Valor says.

  “Not really,” I mutter.

  “And what about Crux? And Serpint? He really is my brother. I know it. I can feel it. And Lyra, and Nyleena, and Corla, and Delphi, and Jimmy.”

  He pauses for a moment.

  “And ALCOR, Tray. That’s the whole reason we left. We’re meant to save ALCOR. And I know it’s not really probable that shit went off the rails in just a few days. I mean, Veila had left us alone for months before we left Harem, so what are the odds that she’d show back up in the four freaking days we decide to take an extended vacation? But it’s possible. Everyone could be in trouble right now. They could be waiting for us to come back and—”

  “And what?” I ask, cutting him off. “Save them? The way ALCOR saved us?”

  “Yeah,” Valor says, shrugging his shoulder.

  “He didn’t save us, Valor. He fucked us. He forced us into this life. Into this war he’s fighting with—who the fuck ever. We don’t owe him, OK? He owes us.”

  “Who cares?” Valor says.

  And this is when I realize we’re in a fight. We’ve probably been here for a couple hundred years virtual time, and this is our first argument.

  Is that even normal?

  Valor walks over to me, pointing his finger in my face. “Look, I know you’re different than the rest of us. I get it. I even have a few suspicions about what you really are. But you don’t keep tabs on who owes who like that with family. And we don’t need to be related by blood to be a family. We owe him because we love him. And he owes us, because he loves us. And—”

  “He used us, Valor. He’s still using us out there right now. Just because so much time has passed in here that you’ve conveniently forgotten about Draden—”

  But I stop, shocked that that just came out of my fucking mouth.

  “What?” Valor asks, eyebrows raised. “What about Draden?”

  I never told him. I was so happy and relieved when I finally found Brigit, I never told him that I saw Draden in the virtual the first time I came in.

  “What are we talking about?”

  Both Valor and I whirl around to find Brigit standing behind us.

  “What?” she asks. “What’s going on?”

  Valor and I look at each other. We hold that stare. We lock eyes. Then he squints at me like he’s trying really hard to remember something. “It’s a trap,” he says. “They’re all traps, remember? I said that once. Long time ago. Corla, and Lyra, and Nyleena, and Delphi.” He pauses. “And this place.”

  He turns his head to look at Brigit, shaking it like he doesn’t want it to be true.

  But the words come out anyway.

  “And her.”

  They just don’t come from Valor.

  They come from me.

 
CHAPTER TWENTY - BRIGIT

  “What trap?” I ask. “Who’s a trap? What are you guys talking about?”

  I had been down at the beach just kind of relaxing when I decided I wanted to eat something and came back up to the house to find them in some kind of standoff. Valor and Tray are both looking at me now like… like they don’t know me.

  “What?” I say. “Why the hell are you two staring at me?”

  “Where did you come from?” Valor asks.

  “What?”

  “Don’t,” Tray says, turning to face Valor. “Don’t start.”

  “We have to ask, Tray. You know we do.”

  “What is going on?” I’m starting to get annoyed because it’s very clear they were talking about me before I walked up. And now they’re each wearing a look that says… well, I’m not sure, actually. It’s such a foreign expression for them, I almost don’t recognize it.

  But maybe there’s some deep emotional recognition program running inside me? Or maybe, once upon a long time ago, I saw this expression a lot.

  Because I do recognize it.

  Should we tell her? Do we trust her?

  And I don’t know what to make of that because we’ve been a team now for… well, a very long time. When I think back to my beginnings there’s nothing left anymore. It’s all faded and washed out. Every once in a while I remember something about gardens. Like… I was a gardener, maybe? Or someone I knew was a gardener?

  And then a memory comes forward, unbidden.

  When Tray and I first started creating the city Valor wanted a café. And that word… café. It triggered something inside of me. A memory of… mostly frustration. But I didn’t understand why. I told them both about it, and Tray mentioned I’d worked at a café in the last world, but I couldn’t recall that. And that’s what this memory was about.

  It wasn’t something as benign as work. It was bigger. More emotional. More—