Collide Gamer

“Why am I supporting this lifestyle?” the incredibly hot redhead asked.

“Because you actually like it?” John suggested.

A series of noises came from beneath the table that he could only describe as cutely concerning. He wasn’t sure if he was listening to a grumble or an agreeing whimper or some kind of panicked submissive tone. The jury was still out on where the Warden fit in on the spectrum of the latter. John, at least, had a good idea that she was not on the ultra-subby side.

Because she threatened to bite his dick.

No thoroughly submissive woman would threaten to bite the dick that stuffed them.

She missed, of course. Still, the loud clack and the sensation of the air moving right next to his most sensitive parts had him tilt back in his office chair. Moira, defiantly, stared back. The Warden had her cherry red hair tied up into an even tighter ponytail than usual, insisting on keeping all of the hair out of the way during, what would be, her first venture into the realm of office blowjobs.

“I told you not to look!” she burst out instantly, an adorable blush beneath her lovingly furious gaze.

“Well, I will be honest with you, my love,” he said. “I- you are not even listening anymore are you?”

The choice of title had been a critical hit. From defiant to flustered in an instant, the proud paladin retreated as deeply into the leg compartment as the rich leather walls allowed. “Y-you can’t just call me something like that!”

“Why not? It’s what you are now.” A large smile spread on his face. “Would you prefer sweetie? Honey? My cherished Moira?” The Warden cringed joyously in the confinement of the table. “My lemon?”

Snapping right out of it, she gave him a confused glare. There was nothing quite like seeing a serious woman wrestle with the fact that she wanted to go back to getting embarrassed by compliments. A stoic part of her psyche told her she should not seek such vanity. The selfish part, a part everyone had in some capacity, nudged her to insist on more. Between the two of them, the question arose: “Your… lemon…?”

“Because you are being so sour,” he teased her. “It’s what I call Lydia sometimes.”

“Should I be insulted that you put on me another woman’s nickname?” The question wasn’t entirely for him, though he answered it that way.

“In a regular relationship? You would have that right, especially if Lydia was an ex of mine. In this one? You knew what you were getting into and the English language only has so many words, my radiant rose.”

“Ack!”

‘A 4x Critical,’ John judged. ‘Going by that sound… and her suddenly pumping my cock.’

Moira was flustered to a point of pouty arousal now. Her gaze remained averted, but her right hand had gripped his cock. Long, rhythmic strokes spread precum over his hard length. She was the first woman under the desk this morning, otherwise he would have already been covered in the spit of several women.

“B-be careful what you say!” the smiling, blushing mess of a woman declared. “Someone might fall in love with you.”

“I think we are way past that point,” John teased.

Rolling eyes stopped on his cock. “A one-eyed abomination and yet so… intriguing.” Moira gulped, her reddish pink lips parting, to take him inside. John stopped her by putting two fingers on her forehead. “What now?”

“Don’t clack your teeth next to my dick again, please.” It was no command, though calling it a request would also have been too soft. One reserved a particular tone for making asks of comfort to one’s partners. “That’s an instinctive sort of fear.”

“Understood,” Moira relented without hesitation. “I apologize.”

“All good,” he assured her. When he pulled his fingers away again, he expected that Moira would get straight to the task. Instead, she hovered there, hesitating again. “Well?”

“I can’t do it while you’re watching!” she declared.

Now it was John’s turn to roll his eyes. Not only had she been about to do it, she had done it several times before. Only the setting was different. “As you wish then, my radiant rose.” He obliged, adjusting the position of the backrest so the tabletop was firmly between them. Moira immediately gave his cock an eager lick. ‘Peak tsundere behaviour, as Jane would say.’

“Question: are you comfortable, Master?” Beatrice asked.

Fusion’s finance minister sat at the glass table left, from John’s perspective, of the entrance door. Opposite of her, on Ehtra’s desk, sat an idle Fae Maid. The green-eyed clone of Momo was scribbling on a sheet of paper. Each Fae Maid had 5% of Momo’s Intellect, Wisdom and Charisma, coming out to 153, 57 and 67, at her current Stats, respectively. That made them more than adequate to perform basic secretary duties in Ehtra’s absence.

“Reasonably, why?” John asked.

“Cock block: I have just received an email from the Inquisition of the Order of the Golden Rose.”

Halfway through her sentence, the distinct sound of a panicked redhead banging her head could be heard. The padding that made the stay in the legroom comfortable also cushioned that impact. With a blue-balled groan, the Gamer rolled back. Moira crawled out and, stark naked, stormed on over to where Beatrice sat.

“What did they say?!” she shouted.

John’s eyes were stuck to Moira butt first. Bent over the table, the roundness on her backside was on full display, as was the combination of butt plug and vibrator she wore. She could claim not to be into this perverted lifestyle all she wanted, but fact was he had not told her to put those in. That had been her very own choice, done right after their shared shower.

Anyone who suggested she had done so while watching John pick the ‘equipment’ of the day for volunteering submissives would have been a liar. A total liar that never told any truth ever. Totally.

‘I could just saunter over there and stuff a kid in her belly…’ John furrowed his eyebrows at the intrusive thought. ‘Bad John,’ he chastised himself, then forced his eyes to wander. They snapped to the Fae Maid. ‘Could use this copy as a relief toy… Bad John!’

The Fae Maids had been ruled as off-limits shortly after Momo had gotten access to them. There had been some internal debate inside the sassy minx on whether or not it would be hot to see him fuck them. They were, in all technicality, a hivemind subservient to Momo. Simultaneously, they were not Momo herself. They also weren’t exactly people. Calling them highly advanced dolls was an apt enough metaphor.

John had enough casual sex without pumping loads into real dolls. This was one of these fields where he and Momo had agreed it was best not to cross the line. When he fucked one of these bodies, then only while Momo was in direct control of it. Everything else was improper.

Copies of his Momo were still really hot though, so that was distracting.

John shook his head, chased the immediate horniness out of his brain, then stood up. He equipped his pants so the bobbing of his forsaken erection wouldn’t bother him as he walked. Then, he focused on the matter at hand.

“‘To the Lady-chosen John Newman…’” Moira began to read out. Her tone was immediately conflicted. John, of course, knew about Lorelei’s claim that he was a capital-S Saint. With Moira’s joining of the harem, that one was so theologically sound that he didn’t even try to argue against it, in large part because this wasn’t his faith to question.

He was, however, very invested in Moira. “You don’t sound happy with that start.”

“I’m not and yet I am, I don’t know.” The redhead stopped reading for long enough to shoot him a worried glance. “Events have been put into motion that may alter the doctrines of my faith in a way that I am not comfortable with, yet I live them. I… am past the point where I should or will regret the decision I made those few nights ago. It was the right choice to be made for the wholeness of my soul.” She returned to staring at the screen. “Still, I am not sure how much I like everything that comes with it.”

“If there was always a clear choice, then choices would hardly matter at all.” John put a hand on the small of Moira’s smooth back. The intimate gesture was met with a subtle tensing, then relaxation. Her feet subtly repositioned, the side of her legs making contact with his. It was a little, deliberate touch. It meant a great deal to him.

“‘To the Lady-chosen John Newman,’” Moira began to read again. “‘We have spent the last days in meditation, questioning the statements made by the honoured Seer Varnik. Reflections and logic have brought us to the point in faith where only one answer is clear: he who is chosen by Lady, seer and Warden all must be holy. We will hereby begin to record your name as Saint John Newman…’”

Moira petered out a sigh flowing from her lips. She shook her head. Whatever she thought, she kept it to herself.

“Statement: there is more,” Beatrice weighed in.

“Thank you, I have eyes,” the redhead drawled. “I am basking in the moment that I will not be branded a black rose.”

“Was that ever a threat?” John wondered.

“The Order aspires to purity in thought, as we ought to,” Moira responded.

‘That is going to be an eternal push and pull in my life,’ John thought. ‘I knew that when I fell in love with her though.’

“‘…However, on the matter of the harem being sacrosanct, our scholars have found this claim to be disagreeable. Though Lady and seer may have chosen you, we do not acknowledge this institution as holy until you have joined… in… matrimony?!’” Moira recoiled from the table. “How dare…-“

“What are you offended by?” John asked. “The question of marrying you is a when not an if.”

“Guh?!” Moira was making all sorts of interesting sounds today. “When was that decided?”

“It wasn’t decided, it has been ordained,” John responded, completely serious. Though there was no religious bone in his body, there were certain matters of spirituality where he was happy to let the difference between choice and proper behaviour melt away. “From the moment you have become mine, I became yours, and it is my duty to assure the world knows that. In whatever ritual pleases you, we will exchange rings and vows, to last until our souls depart this mortal coil.”

Moira was stunned by his words. Then, suddenly, she rebooted. She dropped to the floor quicker than one could say ‘Please’ and opened his zipper. She yanked his waistband down, making his cock flop out. He had gone halfway to flaccid, a state that changed rapidly. Moira was staring at his manhood with smouldering eyes, licking its pulsing length with venerating attention to detail.

Once he was hard, she wrapped her soft lips around the tip and sucked him inside. “Oh… Christ,” he groaned. Enthusiasm overpowered inexperience. She pushed her head forwards until his cock entered her throat. The lewd ‘GLACK!’ sound was just the first of many. The Warden was deepthroating him with a fervour that would have made Lorelei blush.

She stopped, nose pressed against his groin, balls gently cupped in the palm of her hand. She held there, waiting for the inevitable moment that his seed rushed up his shaft and down her gullet. Green eyes rolled upwards, pussy juices spraying all over the marble floor. John had to grab the edge of the table to make sure his soul didn’t make an early exit through his dick. The fear remained all throughout her gradual retreat. His manhood emerged sucked to shining cleanliness.

“Did you know that you can be a real freak?” John asked.

“Don’t… don’t talk about it,” Moira pleaded.

“I won’t… but I will fuck you over the table in a moment.” The Gamer rolled his shoulder, then looked at Beatrice. “Anything else interesting in the email?”

“Summary: it is an acknowledgement of your position and an attempt to delay your rise in religious station.” The passive maid scrolled up and down the electronic letter. “Opinion: they have no good reason to deny you. They only present arguments from emotion.”

“Well, sometimes those are good enough,” John said, “and I have no need to press them on this matter. They have approved of the relationship, which means…” he looked at Moira, “…we don’t have to hide this anymore, do we?”

It wasn’t as if they seriously had given that a try. Moira had returned half a day after telling her father about the relationship. They hadn’t gone out in public together yet nor had Moira been spotted going in and out of the Palace. Funnily enough, attempts to get a scoop had diminished drastically since he had changed titles, though Aclyia’s reputation had always chilled those efforts around the house.

“We do not… have to,” Moira said, emphasizing the penultimate word. “I don’t know if we should go public quickly though?”

“There’s two dates coming up that make sense.” John counted them on his fingers. “I will hold a New Year’s speech, we could show it there. Beyond that, there’s plenty of opportunity during the wedding.”

“Statement: you will not be able to hide during the wedding,” Beatrice said while approaching with a mop. The touch of the soaked cleaning utensil had Moira swiftly shuffle aside. The proof of her cum-fuelled orgasm was quickly removed from the gleaming floor. “Too many kisses.”

“Plus there is that bikini contest…”

“Which I will not partake in!” Moira declared.

Beatrice put the mop against the wall and pulled a large, blue button out of her inventory. A big white X in the centre became partly obscured by her hand. A mechanical click underlined the pressing of the prop.

Confused, Moira turned her head back and forth between the passive maid and John, who was just losing it. The sheer force of his laughter made his knees give in. He put his forehead on the table, trying to keep a bit of his sanity inside his skull. ‘Nope, it’s all brainrot,’ he thought.

“I don’t bloody understand what this is about,” the Warden said, her posh accent flowing into the words. “What’s the issue?”

“Explanation: I pressed X to doubt.”

“That doesn’t explain anything, you daft muppet!”

“Yes, it does.” This update ıs available on Nov3lFɪre.ɴet

John cleared his throat, giggled one more time, then returned to the land of regular breathing. “Jane is absolutely going to drag you out into a bikini.”

“It’ll be demeaning! Why would I present myself like a piece of meat! Shouldn’t you be against that?”

“Oh, I have my possessive issues,” John admitted readily. “Boundaries that, if crossed, will lead to someone having a broken hand, at a minimum… but you showing off what I have isn’t one of those boundaries.”

‘John,’ a warning voice growled in his mind.

“John,” a warning voice growled from the floor.

“Yes, yes, Stirwin is hissing at me right now.” John swallowed his pride. “If you don’t want to, tell Jane no. She’ll know if you mean it… and the inverse.”

“I hate how good she is at reading me now…”

“Yeah… you are in my harem, but she lives in your head now.”