Nightly Cup of Tea

This couldn’t continue. The Regrator was crossing the line. But there needed to be a legitimate reason to cite. Zandik couldn’t merely ask that you be removed from your professional position or for you to leave.

Well, he could. But you wouldn’t agree. If he’d learned anything over the course of his life, it was that he had to be strategic about his selfish impulses. Let the other person think it was their decision or manipulate the outcome in his favor.

The latter, then.

You took the medication religiously. Easy enough to formulate false placebos. You only just returned and your belongings would be a mess for the next day or two; you wouldn’t initially notice anything amiss. And by the time you did, well…

Both of you always talked about a family. He never had one of his own, never expected one in his old age, and you had initially expressed interest until your career took off. You were a good negotiator, but he knew you wouldn’t budge on this.

The mere idea of seeing you filled to the brim with his seed and watching you bloom already did him in. To know he would have you, and the child, for the remainder of his years? He had to control his thoughts, lest his heart get ahead of him. There were weeks and months of planning, of needing to be up to the task.

Hell, this could take years. Years he didn’t have.

Another thing to discuss with Thirty-Five. One of the younger Segments would be up to the manual task but if it wasn’t possible, he’d have to put you under, harvest your eggs, and make guaranteed embryos…not all of them would attach, though…

A dilemma indeed.

For now, the original plan. He hasn’t seen you for a month and if he counted right on the pill container, you were likely ovulating already. No time like the present. You wouldn’t notice if the case or extra pills went missing for a few days.

The idea of you carrying his child, finally home with him for good, was more than enough to get him going even before you walked in the door from your debrief. The additional medication he slipped into his mouth and swallowed just as he saw your face again would do the rest.

“This is different for you,” you admired. “You missed me that much?”

“More than you can know, my dear.”

Your scent confirmed his suspicions; now he only needed to wait and see whether his efforts in the next few days paid off.

He showered you in soft kisses, teased you to the brink so that you squeezed him at just the right time when he finally entered you. Zandik angled your hips just so, driving himself to your cervix, letting gravity do the rest as he shot into you.

He didn’t relent, member still hard deep inside you, pushing both of you to the brink over and over.

The next few days were very much the same. Zandik would pay a steep price for it all, granted, but this was the only way. You were his to keep, not Regrator’s, and he would no longer be deprived of your presence nor the sight of you carrying his child, starting his family.

It paid off in the end.

But he could by the look on your face that you were hardly thrilled at the prospect. You lived for more than just this, you lamented.

“You won’t…we don’t know much time you even have left, Zandik. You mean to tell me you want your child growing up without a father?”

“The Segments will—“

“They aren’t you!” You screamed, sinking onto the edge of the bed, head in your hands.

Zandik took a deep breath, tightening the hand on his cane until he could continue, giving you a chance to grieve. He settled onto the bed beside you, quiet, waiting for a window. It finally came when you took a sharp inhale, wiping away the remaining tears and looked up, staring off at the wall.

“I cannot believe you would ask this of me. Was this why you were so—“

“Not the only reason, but yes, in part. I want to spend my remaining years with you. At least experience part of the life I know I’ll never truly have. You would deprive me of that?”

You bit your cheek, holding back words. It was a low blow, using his age and stage of life, but it always got to you. You loved him enough to always consider it.

“And when you’re gone?”

“All I ask is that you love the child as much as you love me. Everything else will be taken care of long before you have need of it.”

Zandik couldn’t help but smile at the resignation on your face.

On stream, you covered your eyes as much as you could, either with clever angles or a mask, eyes burning into the camera but your nose shape and cheeks obscured but swirling shapes.

Your channel was small, despite your tasteful approach to the profession. At the time, you must have just been starting out, perhaps all of six months in. You were empathetic and coy, careful to walk the illusion of potentially obtainable but never truly relatable.

But it was the camera angles that did it for him. You set yourself up with shots from above, below, every side imaginable depending on the position. You were completely ready to be studied, documented, not just for your cunt but for human sexuality.

The close-ups were his weak point. Watching your fingers spread your lips, slide into your entrance, toys of various sizes prodding and filling you. You looked tight, impossible to see into unless you’d already orgasmed and your walls were a tad stretched.

He came three times that first night, feeling every bit the perverted old man. The Segments never let him forget it.

Zandik liked that you never had another partner with you. Either because you didn’t want the backlash and the illusion broken or because you simply didn’t want to, it wasn’t quite clear.

But you paid attention to your regulars.

Especially the regulars that paid for bonus time to watch you orgasm again and again, breasts bouncing or ass up in the air as you slid yourself along a dildo that made jealousy grow in the pit of his stomach.

He joined the foray simply to see your reaction, the amount of mora far higher than the paltry sums others were offering, and your smile made his cock throb. No wonder Pantalone enjoyed his brothels so much.

“Oh? You’re quite generous, EccentricDoctor,” you said, so sultry that La Signora must have trained you herself. “I’ll have to give you a private session in return.”

Transactional. Give and take. No emotions, no personal attachments.

He had your attention.

And he kept it. Slightly outbidding the others for your attention trained you to look for his username and bring him into the fold. You listened when he put suggestions in the chat as fast as his arthritic fingers would let him. So few were as eloquent as he, and that did something for you, clearly.

His first personal stream, which took forever to schedule due to his own obligations, was surprisingly intimate. You had put cameras above your bed, on all four posters, and right at the foot, centered on your juicy core.

“I’ve never done a private stream before,” you admitted. “But you were so generous that I wanted to give you something special. I looked at all of the camera activity and tried to get the angles you like the most. Did I miss anything?”

You had offered the option for a voice chat but Zandik declined. Not yet. His age was hardly disguised in his voice and he didn’t want to put you off. After all, he’d only just begun this little experiment.

“Everything appears perfect,” he typed. “You look quite eager.”

You laughed, your nerves unmistakeable. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. The best way to entertain you, the best toys to use. Gave me something to keep busy during the boring parts of my day.”

Anyone else would ask something akin to, “Did you think about me when you touched yourself?” but Zandik wasn’t about to lower himself. You both knew why he was there. It was clear you gave him every thought in your free time already.

You’d been studying him as much as he’d been observing you. It was flattering, really, to see someone using simple data to put together his preferences without much interaction. He loved slow strokes, watching your lips glide as you ground the dildo against your entrance. You teased your breasts with your fingertips, pinched your nipples just hard enough to mimic a bite, laid on your back and raised your legs high.

He gritted his teeth when you pulled out restraints and tied your legs so they stayed bent, preventing you from giving in when you grew tired.

You were soaked when you finally pushed the toy inside you with a whimper. One stroke and your pussy swallowed as much as it could, plugging you up. You reached down, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts, the camera perfectly capturing a close-up that caught every detail.

“This dildo is special,” you moaned. “Let me know when you’re close. I was too excited for this, it won’t take me…long…”

He managed to send another tip, triggering an announcement on your end, just as you began to tremble. A throaty moan escaped you while you rode out the orgasm, white substance dripping from your entrance around the toy.

He came all over his hand, spend shooting before leaking down his tip and shaft. Too much of it. Zandik had held off on anything more than a tease during your previous streams, saving his cum just for this. Pathetic and juvenile, perhaps, but…

“How was that, Doctor?” You panted. “Did you cum as hard as I did?”

“Perhaps a bit too hard,” he typed. “Very messy.”

“Mmm, if only I could clean you up.”

You took the dildo, covered in your juices and the special lubricant, and slid your mouth across the tip. You sucked and then went further, tongue peeking out, licking.

“A little sweet, if you’re curious. Zaytun peaches are my favorite.”

Zandik chuckled, cock twitching in his hand. You were good, he gave you that. For a medium that made it so difficult to recreate an interaction, you were quite adept. Would it flatter you to know his age? Or would you feel invaded?

“You have given me some inspiration for a new project. A present,” Zandik typed. “It’ll take some time. But I think you’ll quite enjoy it.”

“The best present would be your cock, I think, Doctor. Toys don’t quite do it.”

“Careful what you wish for, my dear. This will have to suffice for now.”

He designed the rocker on a gliding base to ensure movement was smooth. The entire idea was merely to shift your weight and mimic a partner meeting you.

The second part of this surprise took far longer than he wanted it to and required several attempts. A cock ring helped but was too painful for the length of time the plaster required. He’d used such medication before but this time he hardly had any actual relief that felt worthwhile.

The dildo was a perfect one-to-one copy of his own cock with additional functionality that shot a similar lubricant upon a release mechanism. The material itself was able to register stimuli to a partner device, and while it wouldn’t be a perfect model of your pussy, the exterior and entrance were as close as he could get. You didn’t need to know, though. Not yet.

Not quite what you asked for but he doubted you would want him when he could no longer perform as well as you’d prefer.

You had a voracious appetite and while he was eager, you were leagues ahead of him. After all, you were young, not even in your third decade.

He obtained your shipping address after an email exchange, stipulated you had to use it first on stream, and paid through the nose for express carrier service. There could be no risk that this was lost or took too long.

You emailed him only a simple message that it came and then put out a blast announcement about a last-minute surprise stream. That eager, were you?

His heart jumped and cock twitched at the barely-controlled excitement on your face. You hadn’t opened the box yet at all, dressed in blood red lace that looked as if it had been tailor-made for you. Part of him wondered if someone else had been as generous, doting on you as he did. Not that you would necessarily disclose it, of course, if someone had asked you not to.

Zandik, however, wanted every single fellow viewer to know who made you something that couldn’t be bought.

“I got this set especially for you, my Doctor,” you crooned. “I needed something to commemorate the occasion. As you can see, I haven’t opened it yet.”

He received several notifications from people tagging him in the chat. The only thing he typed was that the color suited you.

The unboxing was rather uneventful save a few coy looks to the camera mixed with genuine surprise when you unwrapped the rocker entirely and placed it center-stage in your performance space. You played with the movement, watching the icy blue dildo move as you rocked the seat, head craning to examine mechanisms.

“Oh, and even a little mount for a camera on both ends,” your excitement bled through anything else you were feeling. “I think that’s closer than we’ve been able to get before…”

Your hand ran over the thick veins of the dildo, looking straight at the camera. “Is this you cock? You made a mold of your cock just for me?”

Zandik confirmed as much in the chat. He already had the partner piece in his lap, cock still soft, feeling every tease of your fingers.

“Careful, we might make some viewers jealous, Doctor. I’m going to hook a feed up and play with my new toy.”

Yes, play all you wanted. This was as close to having you as he’d ever get and he wanted to savor your vivaciousness, your drive.

Zandik swallowed hard when he saw the new feeds pop up and watched you guide the dildo over your pussy lips, the tip of the dildo catching on your clit. You were already swollen, the mic picking up every squelch of your juices. He felt heat against his cock as you glided along, the device picking up every motion.

“Mmm, I’d still have preferred the real thing but this will do. I’ll savor every inch, Doctor.”

He switched cameras to watch as you eased yourself forward on the seat and then leaned down to guide the dildo to your entrance, sinking down slowly to take as much of the length as you could. His mouth opened in a silent moan as the pocket pussy squeezed his half-hard cock, mimicking your walls as best it could, warming modules kicking in.

You rocked slowly, your entrance dragging along the dildo, a perfect fit for your cunt. At first, your movements were shallow, barely moving as the tip bumped your cervix, or so it felt. As you adjusted to the size, you grew bolder, longer strokes as you rocked back and forth, as if he was right there beneath you.

Your moans were obscene, genuine as they were in the private stream. What were you thinking about, Zandik wondered. Was it the idea of him inside you, thrusting into you? Your walls quivered and the device responded, picking up on the cues and your pace increased, driving the dildo deeper to stroke that soft spot deep inside—

Zandik let out a choking gasp and gripped the arms of the chair as you shuddered on camera, your slick creamy as you came, his own spend shooting into the sleeve around his cock.

“How was…that…hmm?” You panted. “I think I want more, guys. Should I keep going?”

No, no, no, he couldn’t take—

The chat egged you on and you continued, ripping out three more orgasms that knocked the wind out of him.

“Doctor, you’re awfully quiet,” you teased. “Where are you? Did I do it justice?”

Zandik could barely type, his vision hazy.

“Perfect,” he managed. “Next time, you’ll have the real thing.”

Your smile made his cock twitch.

Pantalone's kisses are more frequent, tender and quite lovely. Pantalone likes to kiss you whenever and wherever he can.

At the bank? He's grabbing your cheek. At the hotel? He's already reachinf for your waist. At bed? That's another story.

Whenever Pantalone kisses you, he always kisses you with care, yet with such playfulness that leaves you breathless. Sometimes he likes to dip you down as you kiss, watching in delight how your mouth mumbles nonsense. Your cheeks turn red, reaching your ears. And he apologizes behind a well-meaning smirk.

Pantalone's kisses are more of an habit than anything else. He always gives them to you and Dottore whenever and especially if he's going out.

Pantalone stands at the door with his suitcase in hand. And as always, calls you both like you're some sort of.. puppy.

"Ahhh. What a sight! My darlings, all pretty before me.." He chuckles to himself. His smile dashing before he grabs Dottore's chin, and gently tilts his head.

He presses a kiss to each one of Dottore's cheek. Despite Dottore's stoic expression, you see as Dottore's ear turn red the second Pantalone turns away. The next? He's kissing you.

A brief kiss on your nose, the next one placed on the surface of your forehead. "Be safe, precious." Pantalone pulls away, now both you and Dottore stand beneath the sight of such gorgeous specimen.

When Pantalone shuts the door, you stand in silence along with Dottore. You look torwards him. He's looking at you. And you both nod in aknowledgement.

You're whipped.

While Pantalone's kisses are sweet, Dottore's kisses can be a bit... too much.

He's selective. Where, when, why should he kiss?

Sometimes when you see Pantalone leave Dottore's office, he's flushed from head to toe, resembling the color of Zandik's eyes, as pretty as a ruby.

You don't question it. Because you know exactly what happened. You merely walk to the kitchen, and pour him a glass of water.

"My heart!" Dottore calls out to you from his office. You quickly come rushing, the heels of your shoes clicking with every step. Dottore is a particular, selective, and a very bratty man. It's very rare that he calls you to his office.

Once he sees you at the door, he smiles. You suddenly get the urge to step back, yet retreat from such plan the second he invites you with his hand.

"Come here, come, come..." You stepped closer. He was sitting on his office chair, like usual. He looked up at you, one of his hand came up and brushed against the small of your back. You shuddered at the sudden contact.

"Don't be afraid. I'll bite so little that you won't be able to tell."

In one single moment, you're being pressed up against his lips. Oh no. One of his hands remains pulling at your hair at the back of your hair, while the other rests comfortably at your waist, squeezing your hip bone every now and then. You try to entertain yourself by playing with the hairs at his neck.

Yet his mouth is too intense.

The thing is, everytime Dottore kisses you he's almost sucking out your soul. Tongue, lips, hell, sometimes even teeth. He sucks on your mouth, his tongue nudges lightly against yours as if he wants to get rid of it. It's passionate and distinct, but it's... too much!

You pull away, all flushed and breathing helplessly against his mouth. As much as how attentive Dottore is, he sadly doesn't know when do ypu need to catch your breath.

"Ah. Tired already, my heart? Awh... such a little thing like you. I thought of you better."

It was safe to say, the door slamming behind you was... satisfying.

but you’d tried, desperately, to ignore that particular sword of damocles. you’d tried to be nice and sweet and agreeable for him and let him pet at you at night with awestruck groans about how pretty and perfect and made for him you were. (you have the proof of what being disobedient can get you; in burn marks on your ankles, on stripes and bruises on your ass, on the sour glare of adelinde when you’d tried to push him away and he’d sulked and skulked and brooded).

you should have known that it wouldn’t be enough. diluc has been increasing how much he wants to own you in tiny increments. your original clothing replaced with nightgowns and fine dresses and slippers too fine for going outside. your food replaced with what he likes. the touches over your nightgown slipping underneath. the way he pouts at you until you hesitatingly, haltingly, pat his hand or try to say something nice (that was what had gotten you in this predicament in the first place; a well-meaning enquiry into his health, the softly spoken advice that he didn’t need to be there for everybody and that he deserved a break and some happiness too, a smile when you’d seen him that hadn’t asked for anything else).

so the night he comes in late and you can read agitation in him, you sit up in bed and try to console him, try to talk him down lest he find some fault with you or misread you (he’s always more sensitive, more paranoid, when he comes in his other clothes and there’s blood on his face). normally he might come and lay his head on your lap and sigh, or hold you too tight in bed - but tonight, he looks at you with something inscrutable and then murmurs;

“remember how you told me i deserved the things i want sometimes?”

your heart turns to ice when he begins to shrug off his jacket. when he reaches for his shirt and continues to mutter to himself about how glad he is you’re safe and tucked away, how he’d never let anything hurt you, how special you are to him—

when he tugs at the placket of his trousers and unbuttons them, when you see how he’s hard and straining and huge, you barely know what to say. your words get all caught up in your throat. you try to speak, but he’s moving closer and there’s a hot certainty in his eyes that terrifies you—

“don’t worry, beloved,” he murmurs, his eyes distant, as he grabs at your frilly embroidered nightgown and pushes it up over your hips, pressing your thighs apart with the same ruthless efficiency that makes him such an effective vigilante. he’s staring at the spot between your thighs with a hunger that makes you feel light-headed. and then he’s guiding his cock (his hand doesn’t even fit around the girth, if he laid it directly on top of you it would reach so far into you that it makes you dizzy). you don’t even have time to process that you’re not wet, that he’s barely touched you, that he’s too big to just push inside you—

“i won’t hurt you—“

OG Zandik who can't get it up without help anymore but doesn't mind at all since he would much rather have you ride his face.

OG Zandik who boops your nose because you just look far too cute riding his thigh or boot.

OG Zandik who believes in discipline and won't hesitate to make you get in his lap so he can spank you with his cane.

OG Zandik who is still far too swift to indulge you and never lets you out of his lap after a disciplinary session before you've made a mess on his fingers.

OG Zandik who loves when you kiss him and compliments him but will never ask for it.

OG Zandik who is always telling you how lovely you are and how sweet you look, no matter if he's currently punishing you or not.

Time.

He’d already wasted so much of it.

And seeing you every day, vibrant, capable, experienced enough without having been beaten by the world…still supple, soft in the places it mattered…

He throbbed at the notion of seeing you spread before him, seed leaking out of you, your velvet walls accepted his fingers as he pushed it back inside. Not a drop wasted. Feeling you tighten around his digits, your body hungry for more, skin flush and lips swollen.

Especially when he could smell the change in your cycle. Some days you leaned too close to him when sharing a book and comparing notes. He came so quickly as soon as you departed, playing with the sticky substance and wishing desperately all of it hadn’t been wasted.

You were already beautiful but seeing your body change because of him, knowing it was by his hand and his cock that you glowed? It did something vicious to him on a carnal level that he simultaneously hated and further indulged in.

Maybe you’d be amenable to it, to every attempt, regardless of the energy it took. If he did one final thing before life ran its course, he might just die happy feeling you squeeze every drop from his cock and seeing you swollen with child.

He was a fool for thinking anything else was a worthy legacy. Once he died, there would be nothing organic left. No trace of him except in the occasional note and passing word.

The Segments would never be capable of such a thing.

Only him.