Collide Gamer

“Alrighty, Fianna, come up here!” Rave continued the show.

The tiger-eared sniper marched up the stairs, rapid and eager. By virtue of her duties, she did not participate as often in these shared events as the rest of the harem, and Lord knew she was enjoying this one. She was a study in monochrome, her pale skin harmonizing nicely with the white metal of her robot limbs. The joint areas were black, matching the stripes of her tail and rounded, feline ears.

“For your pleasure, Sir!” The sniper saluted, heels clacking together. The proper pose contrasted nicely with her outfit. That was not the uniform of the soldier, but the uniform of a slut – his slut, putting her wide hips into motion all for his delight.

Her thick thighs held his attention for the longest time. She moved with the grace of her patron, her hips rolling, her shoulders wiggling, and her legs jiggling with every erotic step. A pop music video could not have been charged with more sexual tension than her every delightful step. She turned halfway, presenting her profile to him. The way her ass protruded was nothing short of raw fuel for his neurons. She made sure she was nice and soaked, to give her tits a couple of squeezes to show off their decent size.

Then she started to finger herself.

“Sir!” she cried with the exact same veneration his other maids had for his regular title. “Oh… S-sir! Your subordinate is… incapable of staying disciplined! Sir, please forgive… my indulgence!” She dropped to the floor, continuing the dance with her shoulders on the ground and her hips in the air. “Sir!” she cried out one last time, then shouted incoherently.

The storm of electronic noises matched the blur of her robotic digits pumping in and out of her. With the music, the hand slowed. Her spasms lingered, the orgasm making plump thighs and fat ass jiggle until the song was over.

As if she hadn’t just put on the kind of perverted show that few women would ever dare, the blushing and soaked soldier maid performed a second salute. Dutifully, she headed for the side of the stage.

“Fianna,” John called out.

“Yes, Sir?” she responded.

“I will need another hand.” A slight motion of his chin was all the clarification needed. Nathalia had backed away, to let someone else do the deed. Fianna literally jumped at the opportunity, leaping off the platform. Smoothly dropping to her knees as part of her landing, she wrapped her artificial hands around his cock. There was a little more of a robotic feeling than there had been with Scarlett, but not so much more that he felt like anything else than a lucky guy getting aided by one of his loyal maids.

“It is my honour to be your masturbation assistant, Sir,” Fianna purred. Unlike Nathalia, that was truly all the submissive was in that moment.

“Undine!” Rave called on the next participant, refocusing John’s attention on the stage.

The gothic slime lady appeared in her human disguise – a tall, exceptionally pale woman with black hair. As a recognizing feature, she kept the antlers and her body markings, though they were hardly needed to identify her. Though the colours and textures may have changed, the amber-eyed woman still had her original face, her original curves.

The remix playing for her dance had longer, more tranquil notes. They matched her deliberate motions very well. Long waves of her arms gathered up the water that arched through the air. She splashed herself, soaking the shirt through in an instant. Pale tits shone through the translucent fabric, only to then be hidden from view again. A light, amused smile on her full lips, she pulled all the moisture out of the fabric again.

Surrounded by an ever-lengthening spiral of water, she twirled and bowed. It began gracefully, the needy influences subtle at first. A teasingly pulled waistband here, a heavy squeeze of her large breasts there, woven into a court-worthy display of elegance. Yet, it transformed gradually. Stretches of her shirt being soaked grew longer. The thrusts of her hips became more animalistic, urgent, and her eyes were filled with an erotic spirit.

The spiral of water blocked more and more from view. In the moment that her hand pushed into her pants, it closed into a cocoon, shimmering in the multicolour lights it caught. It unfurled into petals of waves, washing over the stage in a spray of heat.

Undine was revealed, completely nude, changed to her slime form and not just one of them. For all to see, she was tongue-fucking herself, the inhumanely long tendril pumping in and out of her gushing cunt. A third body stood behind the central one. Dark lips were intertwined, her breasts squeezed, and her clit rubbed by her own fingers. The three bodies wiggled to the rhythm, but the focus was clear.

Undine came. The excess of her pleasure made the water in the air freeze in place for a moment. Only the arcing squirt gushing from her pussy moved, marking her face as her eyes rolled half up behind fluttering lids. To the envy of those locked to one body, they watched her multi-form orgasm fade with the beat.

“Aclysia! Try to beat that!”

The first maid smiled confidently. Just before her song started, she picked one of the hoses. When the water rushed up, her thumb on the tip turned the simple flow into a shower-like spray. Holding it up to her face, she sighed contentedly as the warm liquid ran over her.

It was so simple, yet so effective. The mild movements, the teasing of her lips, her breasts, her midriff with her slender fingers, it was so intimate and gorgeous. Hers was a dance of subtlety, a metaphorical showing of her taking a relaxed shower.

“…Master…” she whispered, hand trailing over her womb tattoo. The word invoked a romantic lust that her body could not withstand. Her hand roamed beneath the cover of her shorts. “Master!” she cried at the first tingle of pleasure. Her grace was melting away, giving way to something primal. “Master! Master! Master! Master!”

She discarded the hose and the illusion of subtlety. Big, round, bubble butt facing him, she dropped to her knees. Claws turned the obstructing denim to ribbons, a destroyed frame of her swollen, wet womanhood.

“My Master!” Aclysia cried as the first orgasm filled her nervous system with thunder and ice. Her fingers did not stop. She was determined to cum for his viewing pleasure, over and over again. Every climax added yet more liquid to the stage, one considerably more enticing than plain water.

When the song ended, Aclysia was far from done. Her wanton cries continued to fill the chamber. The only fuel she needed to keep rubbing herself from one orgasm to the next was his eyes on her. It took a reprimanding clearing of Rave’s throat for the first maid to finally snap back to discipline.

“Just a few days, Aclysia…” she muttered to herself as she vacated the stage. “Just a few more days without serving Master’s needs.” An envious glare snapped to Fianna, but was extinguished before it got worrisome.

“Lor… elei,” Rave moaned. Aclysia’s overtime had thrown her off the rhythm and so the feline Lightbearer was sighing and gasping into the microphone again, too horny to wait for her turn in the dance order.

The sole woman wearing underwear, the seer positioned herself in the middle of the stage. The remix began with a synthesized choir. Her hands were clasped in prayer. Her hips swung to the beat.

John raised an index finger and mouthed a couple of words she would be able to see in his soul and feel in the enchanted ring of metal and strip of silk that served as her chastity belt: “One climax allowed.”

Had the seer known that he was going to do this? If she had, she was hit with the full force of the possibility all the same. Whatever plan she had for her dance, it was instantly upended. To the electric assumption of angelic voices, she pushed the denim shorts down her legs as fast as her superhuman speed allowed.

The sash of silk that would have covered her womanhood in a blanket of tactile neutralization was gone. Legs quivered and almost gave when she dragged a single finger up her slit and to the button at the top. The cry that escaped her was borderline orgasmic already. She stopped just shy of that threshold.

It visually took her everything to not just get her off immediately. Panting and shivering, she gathered all the will she had and returned to dancing. It was erotically amusing to watch her try to return to a ceremonial dance after giving into lust so hard and fast.

Cupping her hands, she gathered water and poured it over her head. The modest amount soaked into her white-blonde hair. Rivulets crossed between her milky eyes and down her slender neck, adding spots of teasing translucency to her still white shirt. She stepped into three crossing jets of water. Her ass dropped halfway down to the ground when the water splashed her erect nipple.

Two more rubs, that was all Lorelei could allow herself before returning to the dance. Each touch of her count was a prayer in its own way. The duration of the song was her trial. She prayed, she stepped, she twirled, she squeezed her decently large breasts, she cried, she edged herself, she pulled at the edge of her see-through shirt, she controlled herself, she returned to the dance.

When the song finally neared its end, she dropped to her knees in final prayer. Both her hands were between her softly parted legs. “Blessed… be… my… Saint!” she pushed out. The final word came with the final beat and pushed her over the edge. Rather than continue rubbing her pussy at the zenith of her sensitivity, she clasped her hands. Twitching, drooling and giggling, she squirted all over the floor, worshipping at the altar of her Saint.

If the others had been floating after the break in their abstinence, Lorelei was flying as she left the stage. Sure, the silk had magically manifested again, connecting the back and front of the blue and black chastity belt, but the relief was still fresh in her very needful system.

“The RNG decided to put the girls together – Moira!”

Despite all the time she had to prepare, the redhead sputtered when she was called to action. She made her way up to the stage with her shoulders drawn and her eyes fixed on the floor. One could believe she was reluctant. Of course, the little bounce to her step proved otherwise.

For all her hidden enthusiasm, Moira was by far the most awkward any had been so far. Even Lee had at least tried to put on an elaborate dance, before giving into her primal needs. The Warden just wiggled her hips, occasionally hitting the beat by accident. She tried to show off a little bit, pulling on the collar of her shirt. Her medium-sized breasts dangled perpendicular to her lowered torso, giving a nice view of her cleavage.

Moira continued to be a flushed mess of a dancer. It was endearingly simple. Not knowing what she was doing, she squatted down, grabbed a blue hose, and simply soaked herself in a moment’s notice. Heavy with moisture, the wave of her hair was almost hidden, the rich red strands pulled taut. Her breasts slumped delectably beneath the wrinkled, white-translucent layer of the soaked shirt. A raised hand poorly hid the little, bashful smile on her face. She TOTALLY wasn’t into being watched by the entire harem.

For all the beauty that there was to observe in that moment, John’s gaze was drawn to his favourite aspect of the female body. South of the womb tattoo, resting on her heels, sat her posterior. The way the cheeks spilled out of the too tiny shorts, putting the pale, firm cheeks on delicious display, was nothing short of sublime.

Moira dropped the hose and did as all others before. The final minute of her time on stage was spent chasing pleasure. The lust overrode her shame and in the throws of her orgasm, she locked eyes with John. Her climax reached its absolute peak at that moment.

Once she had vacated the stage, Rave announced the next girl, “Salamander!”

The apocalypse elemental did not bother with her human disguise. She landed on the stage in her full, red-skinned glory. The remix of the song for her came to life with a current of electric guitars mingled into the otherwise synthesized songs.

Passionate as ever, Salamander squeezed her sensitive tits with enough force for her fingers to be obscured by the spilling of the bouncy flesh. The waterworks around her splashed, misted the air with fine droplets, but she remained put in the relatively dry centre, playing with her tits and rubbing the front of the denims short with the curved top of her tail.

She made a show out of teasing all of them by hiding the fat, juicy tits from the harem for a prolonged time. Water turned to steam before it could soak into the fabric, as she swung her wide hips. First, she groped her own tits, then she kneaded them, continuing until she threw her head back in an orgasmic howl.

She barely had ridden out the one climax, that she was back to presenting herself. The bottom of the shirt became a stretched line between her hands, guided upwards, until she was lifting her tits. Inch for agonizing inch, she teased them all, as her underboob came into view. Up and further up, the revealed softness a delightful contrast to her shifting abs. She was still swinging her hips, her tail smacking the floor to the beat of the song.

Her tits dropped. One slightly before the other, the gorgeous twins fell to freedom, stopping where the taut skin controlled their sheer, weighty, delicious mass. They bounced back, slowly coming to a rest, each a tear drop shape of red, surrounded by red skin and black, jagged body markings.

It was a moment of revelation that John felt in his cock. Fianna’s hands continued the steady stroking. He was getting ever closer.

Salamander pulled the shirt back over her tits, to the boos of the crowd, she flipped them all off, before coaxing cheers out of them by splashing herself generously with a hose. The dark red crowns of her udders poked clearly through the fabric. She spent the rest of her time up there circling her hips while fingering herself to another climax.

“Jane! Hey, that’s me!” Rave declared, jokingly, and tossed the microphone to Momo. The sassy maid almost failed to catch it, her attention firmly lingering on Fianna’s stroking method. Still, she managed – and got right back to masturbating. Her source of inspiration shifted to the stage along with everyone else.

Rave was notably calmer than most that had gotten on the stage. How often had she finished while watching? Enough times to make her bust right into a smooth set of moves when the music started.

The techno-lover was right in her element. The music had a heavy base. A fast-paced second layer had been mixed in. The electronic sound was perfect to swing her hips to. Whipping around her pink hair, she added her own bit of bright colour to the scene of mist and floodlights.

The beat rose, rose, paused, then dropped. Rave went right with it, suddenly on the floor, crawling with feline grace. She played with the jets of water, playfully striking them with curled fingers before cutting the stream with her chest. She whirled back to standing, pushing and pulling the shirt, showing off her breasts in the naked flesh as much as covered by the translucent fabric.

Her hips were rolling in smooth gyrations. Her steps were jerky, robotic even. It was a skilled contrast, immediately and seamlessly flowing into her squatting down and pushing a hand beneath the open front of the denim shorts.

The entire harem and John watched with accelerated breath as the first of the harem showed her pleasure off to all of them. Languid motions of her fingers restarted a readily purring engine. She paused, to glide out of the pants and to kick them aside. Like a breakdancer, she somehow transitioned that into her spinning to a full stand. Facing away from them, she smacked her ass, making the pert cheeks ripple, before resuming her exhibitionist self-love at an even quicker pace.

“Oh yes… oh yes… Oooooooh, yeeeeeeessssss!” Rave cried. All eyes on her, when she came, she came hard. The final bit of the song played just as her pussy juices drenched her already soaked fingers. Gush after gush of her overflowing honey broke against her digits, raining down on the water-covered floor.

John groaned loudly. His third load pumped up his shaft, spurting all over the face of his masturbatory assistant. He thrust up into the slick tunnel of her grasping hands. Fianna moaned dreamily as she was showered in the thick, white hotness.

Even by the third load, he was still pumping out more than he did by default. The limit he had set for his average delivery was clearly overtaken, painting Fianna’s face white on white. Momo and Nia suddenly manifested left and right of the soldier maid. More haremettes waited in the wings, barely capable of staying back until the last drop had been wrung out of his shaft.

A final shudder went through Rave. A final tingle went up John’s spine. The ravenous harem pulled Fianna aside, to clean her like Scarlett and Nathalia had been cleaned before. Desperation, though overplayed, was hot all the same.

And they still had seven more contestants to go.