Taylor had never considered herself the most spontaneous person in the world, she really hadn’t. Even before she had Awakened, what others might have seen as snap decisions had actually been carefully considered decisions, or -on more than one occasion- potential events that had been considered and planned for ahead of time. When she’d Awakened with powers suitable only for scouting, she’d only become more of a plotter and a planner, determined as she had been to do her part to the fullest in spite of her incredible weakness and lack of offensive and defensive abilities. Not only did she not consider herself particularly spontaneous, but she’d never been the most likely person in the world to randomly start hanging out with a complete stranger. Oh, she might be a veritable social butterfly compared to her sister, but given her sister’s approach to socialization that wasn’t exactly the highest bar in the world to clear.
Which is why it was something of a surprise to her that she was going along with Paige’s…whatever this was. A shopping therapy session using Taylor as an intermediary, she supposed? Not that she doubted Paige was truly grateful, her ability to Perceive things socially was now more than sufficient to tell her that and more, but she was also -though not a psychologist by any stretch of the imagination- well aware of the fact that someone dealing with severe emotional upheaval wasn’t in the best state of mind to be making decisions, and Paige definitely qualified. Not only had she just been assaulted by her boyfriend, which would have been bad enough as it was, he’d also been her domme.
And while Taylor was still incredibly inexperienced about that sort of thing, she’d been doing some research since her moment with Amy.
A lot of research.
Much of which had stressed the difference between a good dominant and a bad one -while simultaneously stressing that everyone had their own unique dynamic, and thus what was considered ‘good’ and ‘bad’ relied rather heavily on that particular relationship’s preferred dynamic- as well as the fact that the sort of thing that Eugene did could be even harder on a submissive than it would be on someone in a ‘regular’ relationship. Which Taylor wasn’t entirely sure that she understood, given her lack of experience, but the point was that it was A Bad Thing and it had happened to Paige.
Which brought them back around to Paige potentially using Taylor and shopping as a not-entirely-healthy coping mechanism, and the fact that Taylor couldn’t shut it down directly without, maybe, making things worse.
Thus, here she was, following a girl that she barely knew towards the Boardwalk, trying very hard not to appreciate the way Paige’s hips swayed in time with her determined-yet-graceful stride or the way the sunlight -dappled from the trees of the park- made her golden hair gleam. Because checking out a girl who’d just been through what Paige had been through struck her as kind of a shitty thing to do, no matter how tempting it was. No, no matter how much she found Paige attractive, no matter how much Paige’s list of alluded-to kinks had made her feel interesting things, and no matter how much she felt an odd, instinctive desire pulsing in the back of her mind to show Paige what a real domme could do, she was absolutely not going to perv on the other girl. Under no circumstances was it going to happen, she was bound and determined to fulfill that promise to herself and, though she would never say it aloud, to Paige as well.
Not least because she had none of the experience required to be a good domme, and while she’d never be as bad as Eugene was, Paige didn’t deserve a half-assed attempt from a girl who’s only experience was spanking another girl in the middle of a dungeon after a near-death experience because the reality-breaking game System in her head had told her that she had to or Bad Things would happen.
Which brought her to the next, only-slightly-less pressing problem at hand: the fact that this particular shopping excursion was probably going to be unlike any she’d ever participated in before. For one thing, it was immediately apparent that Paige could and would buy anything she wanted. She had the kind of posture, stride, and vocal presence that Taylor had always associated with celebrities or high-level Hunters, that confidence which came from being able to pay for anything in the room three times over and never feel it. It wasn’t arrogance, and God knew that she had seen plenty to imply that the blonde wasn’t a haughty bitch like most rich people Taylor had met.
And she’d met plenty, given her family situation. She still thought that Max Anders, the Guildmaster of the Teutonic Knights and the CEO of it’s sponsor Medhall, was one of the slimiest bastards she’d ever met, and while she would never wish a bad marriage or a broken family on anyone, she hadn’t exactly been heartbroken to find out that his wife had left him last year. Creepy prick had tried so fucking hard to recruit Rose, and Emma for that matter. Fortunately, her sister hadn’t liked him anymore than Taylor did, and her fire-haired childhood friend had already accepted a combined modeling/acting gig on the far side of the country.
Last Taylor had heard from her, she was in the final selection pool to be the female lead for a new television show. An Awakened Romance show, of course, and Taylor idly wondered who they’d pick to play the opposite side of the equation. Not that she particularly cared, she’d only found a handful of boys interesting, and most of them weren’t the ‘pretty boy actor’ type, but she certainly didn’t want her sister-in-all-but-name to get stuck dealing with some sort of lech.
“What’re you thinking about, Miss Hero?” Paige’s chirp brought her out of her thoughts, and she blinked at the suddenly-very-close young woman now standing, bent forward enough to give a tantalizing glimpse -that Taylor did not take for more than a handful of seconds- down her shirt, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling somewhat.
“Just thinking about an old friend of mine, Emma. She’s living out in Cali, doing Awakened modeling work. Just got into acting as well. You remind me of her.” she answered honestly, if not in the fullest of detail, and Paige titled her head slightly with a thoughtful hum, a small smile creasing her lips after a moment.
“Well, if I’m reminding you of someone that important and that pretty, I guess I should be pretty flattered.” she decided -sounding inordinately pleased for some reason- as she twirled back around and started strolling away again, hands at the small of her back with her fingers linked. Taylor had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to respond to that, or even what to think about it, and instead opted for the very safe option of talking about something else entirely.
“So, where are we headed?”
“A friend of mine has a shop near here, actually. Sabah. She makes a lot of stuff for me for my…well, for work.” she took on a somewhat awkward demeanor there, clearly trying to keep what she did for work a secret, as if Taylor would judge her for whatever it was that she did to make money.
Which she wouldn’t, obviously.
Though she had to admit she was a bit curious. She was barely older than Taylor, but apparently had her own house and people on speed dial to make sure her ex didn’t destroy it in a fit of pique. And apparently had spent at least some of her time during her relationship with said ex being his ‘money whore’, which sounded like financial domination to her and added on to the implications that she wasn’t particularly poor. And, now that she thought about it, hadn’t she mentioned ‘our security guys’ to ‘Micky’ when she’d talked to him on the phone?
“You know, I’m fine with stuff right off the rack, yeah? I don’t need you to throw money at a bunch of super-expensive, fancy stuff.” she said aloud, running a hand through her hair, and Paige’s response was an odd sound -something in between a scoff and a snort- and an equally odd look.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” was all she said in response, turning her eyes back to the street signs and pausing as she looked around, clearly trying to orient herself. “I…think it’s the next section over? She said it was right near her favorite ice cream place,” a thumb was jabbed demonstrably in the direction of what could only be the aforementioned ice cream place. “So it can’t be all that far away!”
In fact, it wasn’t, only perhaps a dozen yards away and disguised more by the street-lining trees and planters than any sort of vast distance, which meant Taylor quickly found herself glancing between the clothes in the window -ranging from form-fitting but casual clothes to rather daring lingerie- and the sign that read ‘The Dollhouse’. She felt like there was a joke, or a quietly spoken truth, in there somewhere, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth and comment on it anytime soon. A soft two-toned beep sounded as the door opened, the same sound known the world over, but it wouldn’t surprise Taylor in the least if the store’s owner couldn’t hear it over the very loud, very cheerful cry of ‘Sabah!’ that Paige belted out the moment she crossed the threshold.
“Stop yelling, Paige!” a voice called in response from somewhere in the back, and Taylor found herself sucking in a soft breath a few moments later as the voice’s owner stepped into view. She was college aged and of Arabic descent, that much was obvious from the first moment, and she fulfilled every stereotype Taylor had ever heard of when it came to beautiful, exotic middle eastern women. Slender, beautifully smooth brown skin, long hair that was as dark as her own, perhaps even darker, and fell in elegant waves to settle around her neck. Her eyes, brown almond, ghosted across Taylor for a moment -one perfect eyebrow arching ever-so-slightly- before her attention locked firmly onto her friend. “If you keep hollering like that, I’ll start to doubt your credentials again, Tweety Bird.”
“Aww, don’t be like that! You know you love me!” Paige pouted outrageously at her friend, getting an eyeroll that was both exasperated and affectionate in response, before smiling and gesturing to Taylor. “Listen, I need to use your bathroom real fast, but do you think you can measure Taylor real fast? I owe her, and what she’s wearing now definitely isn’t made for her. Thanks!”
She swanned away, and the moment she was out of earshot, the dusky-skinned proprietor promptly rounded on Taylor with an intense look.
“Alright, what’s wrong with her? She’s always pretty cheerful, but this is just too much. Who are you, where did you come from, and what’s going on?” she demanded in a harsh, low almost-whisper, and Taylor stepped closer.
“She was having some trouble with her boyfriend -well, ex-boyfriend now, I guess- and I stepped in. Now she says that she owes me a favor for saving her, and it seems her brilliant plan is to buy me nice clothes so I can stop wearing my sister’s stuff. And before you ask, I’ve already tried to both beg off a reward at all, and when that didn’t work, for a few things off the rack. She won’t go for it.” she spoke quickly and quietly, keeping her not-unimpressive senses bent in the direction Paige had gone, and couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfied agreement as Sabah’s expression darkened considerably and she muttered a few choice words about the aforementioned ex-boyfriend.
“Well…at least she finally kicked that prick to the curb.” she muttered, before offering her hand to Taylor with a warmer look. “Sabah Asghar. Thank you for helping Paige out, she’s a good friend of mine. You’ve got a permenant discount here, alright?”
“I didn’t do it for a reward, I did it because it was the right thing to do.” Taylor didn’t quite grumble as she shook Sabah’s hand, getting an approving nod and a small, understanding smile from the other.
“I know that, and so does she, which is why you’re getting one. Besides, you know as well as I do that this is a kind of shopping therapy thing for her. Once it’s over, she’ll cry on me a bit, we’ll have drinks, and she’ll start to heal.” came her response, spoken with no small amount of confidence, and Taylor had to wonder if Sabah had coaxed her friend through a bad breakup before in the past. Then one elegant hand was waved, shooing the conversation away. “Come on, let’s get you measured. Changing room, down to your underwear, call me when you’re ready.”
Taylor hesitated just a fraction too long before moving, caught for a moment by the abruptness of Sabah’s order. Down to her underwear? Her ill-fitting, body-clinging underwear? So that Sabah could see her and measure her? She swallowed a bit heavily, a strange feeling in her gut at the thought, even as her fingers hesitantly started to go to work. The practical reality of pulling off her clothes for a stranger —a pretty, very interesting stranger— was…something, to say the least. One might think that she’d be a bit more comfortable with it, after her Moment with Amy, never mind all of the ever-increasing near-nudity that had preceded it, but that had been raw. It had been full of adrenaline, stress, action and energy. There had been an odd, comfortably intimate familiarity there, born of their efforts at survival. She didn’t have any of that with Sabah, and…
“Are you done in there yet?” the woman in question asked through the door, and Taylor twitched slightly, gathering up her divested garments and putting them aside with a quick, voice-cracking acknowledgement. A moment later, the door was opening and Sabah was slipping in. Looking Taylor up and down, her lips and eyebrows both quirked, her head shaking. “Well, it’s pretty obvious that those aren’t for you. That bra is at least half a size too small, and while the panties aren’t bad, the cut isn’t right for you. Were you exercising wearing this, Hunting? I noticed you were a bit damp when you and Paige arrived.”
“Exercising, yeah. Jogging, some acrobatics stuff.” Taylor hedged, not wanting to lie but not wanting to admit that she had been jumping from tree branch to tree branch like some sort of anime ninja.
“How’re your tits not sore, then? You’re not wearing a sports bra, and it’s not the right size to boot! You should be miserable!” Sabah shook her head in amazement, and it occurred to Taylor that she should probably come up with a good explanation for that. Fortunately, she had one, and it would -for a wonder- even be a fairly honest answer.
“I’m a physical-type Combat Hunter, so maybe that’s why? Most stuff like that doesn’t really bother me anymore, or at least not that I’ve noticed.” she explained aloud, mentally thanking her System -and, more specifically, her Constitution Score- for the previously-unknown side benefit. Not that she planned on running around without a bra anytime soon, even if it would make people look at her even more, but it was the small bits that seemed to count the most sometimes. And fortune favored the prepared, right?
“Maybe. I’ve done stuff for Hunters before, of course, and Awakened in general, but everyone is a little bit different. Anyway, whatever the reason is, it’ll be moot by the time that you leave today.” Sabah hummed consideringly before shrugging lightly and brandishing the tape-measure in her right hand. “Alright, Miss Hero, arms out straight to your sides at shoulder height, and keep your legs straight for the time being.”
T-pose to establish dominance. Taylor couldn’t help the wry quip, mental though it was, nor the faint smile that creased her lips that accompanied it. It was stupid, of course, and not really all that funny objectively, but for some reason she just couldn’t help but think it all the same. As the measuring tape started to do it’s work, she couldn’t help but wonder what the end result of all of this would be.
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Sabah hoped none of what she was thinking and feeling showed on her face as she watched Paige’s…friend? Rescuer, certainly, and object of interest if Sabah had read the blonde singer’s tone and body language properly, which she was sure she did. Fortunately, Taylor seemed as though she was too good of a person -or too oblivious, thought Sabah wasn’t sure she believed that- to take advantage of Paige’s current emotional state. Not that Sabah blamed her friend for being interested, of course. The lure of a hero was a powerful one, and Paige had been in a really rough spot when Taylor had literally appeared out of the trees to save her.
Not to mention the fact that, like Sabah herself, Paige had a taste for beautiful women, even if not exclusively so like Sabah did. And there was no doubt in her mind that Taylor was a very beautiful young woman, the sort of young woman that Sabah frequently found herself looking after somewhat longingly in the halls or across the lecture halls of the local collage. Tall, several inches taller than Sabah herself, with a slender built that -when she moved right- rippled with smooth, powerful muscle. Long legs, an ass that was ample without looking too large on her frame and breasts that were much the same…well, keeping her eyes where they ought to be was not an easy task for Sabah, to say the least.
It had been hard enough when she’d simply been measuring her at the start, her mounds nearly spilling from the entirely insufficient bra she’d been wearing, but now that Taylor was about to be actually trying clothes on? Clothes that fit, or in this case, underwear that was made for her? Well, that was even worse, and as much of a professional as Sabah was -and she was a professional, she would never act improperly with a customer- she wasn’t blind.
“Well, she’ll obviously want sports bras, maybe racerbacks, for when she’s hunting, but as far as her style goes in civilian life? Demi-cups or plunges. Maybe half-cups, but I think she’s a bit too big for those, even if she’d probably look amazing in them.” Paige proposed from right behind her, startling her badly and make Taylor’s arms twitch instinctively to cover her body, though she never completed the action. The singer was frowning as the other two turned to look at her, eyeing Taylor with a critical look that was aimed less at her and more at her current garments.
“Black, for sure, maybe red, deep violet, or a really rich, dark green. Lace frills?” Sabah added instinctively, nodding in agreement as the fashionista part of her brain kicked in once again.
“Oh, definitely. And, you know, I was thinking…” Paige agreed strongly, only for Taylor to huff at them both, drawing their attention to her.
“I don’t need anything fancy and expensive, you know.” she repeated for what felt like the dozenth time, shifting a little awkwardly on her feet. “I’m not…it’s not…there isn’t a reason for you two to go overboard.”
“We’re not.” Paige said bluntly, eyes narrowing as she almost-glared at the reluctant subject of their conversation. “You’re gorgeous, Taylor, and you deserve to look gorgeous in whatever you’re wearing, alright? You’ll be more comfortable, for one thing, and for another your body screams for proper clothing. You deserve this.”
Sabah had to agree with that, wholeheartedly, and while Taylor looked very fetching with that blush and faint pout, she wasn’t going to let things drag on too long. Paige was a friend, but she couldn’t -wouldn’t- leave her shop shut down too long, even for the singer. Besides, there was only just so much humility, genuine though it might be, that she could take from someone like the beauty in front of her before she started to lose her mind. Besides, she had a pretty good idea of what clothing style Taylor would look best in, and she was growing increasingly determined to find out.
“Alright, girls,” she said firmly, clapping her hands and drawing the attention of the room back to herself. “I think I know exactly what sort of style we need for our heroine of the hour: gothic.”
“Ooh, yesss~!” Paige hissed in realization and agreement, pivoting back to Taylor with a glint in her eyes. No, not even a glint, a gleam, as she clearly pictured the taller girl wearing exactly that. “Fishnet top and stockings, leather for the shirt, boots. As good as she’d look with bracelets on, I think bracers would look better. She’s a warrior, after all, right?”
“Mmh, I have to agree. A nice blend of beautiful and deadly would be perfect.” Sabah confirmed, circling around slightly to look at the object of their focus from a different angle. “Kohl and eyeshadow around the eyes, dark lipstick -black or a deep purple, I think-, darker eyebrows. Her structure is perfect for it, she’ll have the whole ‘sharp beauty’ thing going on. Her neck would be perfect for a good choker…”
“She shouldn’t wear a choker.” Paige interrupted, immediate and passionate, and Sabah arched an eyebrow at her in amused query, though she was pretty sure she knew why. Taylor clearly wasn’t much of a submissive, despite her shy embarrassment and reluctance here and now. Her bearing and body-language was all wrong for it, and while wearing a choker was hardly a guarantee that someone was submissive, it was obvious that Paige was thinking along those lines and wanted to make sure that no one mistook Taylor for something she wasn’t. It was almost cute, in a way.
“Hmm, something else then.” She conceded without saying anything further, shrugging lightly. “Accessories can come later anyway, let’s focus on the broader aspects for the time being. I’ll be back in a moment with your new underwear, Taylor.”
“Wait, what?” Taylor asked, clearly surprised, but Sabah was already slipping into the back room, unspooling her Talent in the depths of her soul as she started plucking fabric and lace out of various drawers. The secret of her shop’s success, that Talent, allowing her to weave her power into any form of fabric. Something that let her not only create clothes that were superior in every respect -durability, fit, even their ability to wick moisture and resist body odor- to any naturally made outfits, but also imbue them with minor abilities of their own. Nothing overly impressive, Artisan-Talented Awakened she might be, she was still only a C-rank. But it was more than enough to make her a very wealthy young woman, making clothes for Hunters and underwear for wealthy women who wanted quality and sensuality.
Her chosen materials began to weave themselves together, fabric melding and meshing together in a way that no needle or thread could possibly emulate. Taylor would never need to worry about a popped seam or a loose thread, not with her Talent having sunk into the fabric, and she’d likely never have to worry about chafing either. Taylor wouldn’t have to be waiting long, either, because within twenty minutes Sabah had a half-dozen full sets of underwear ready. Two each of red and black lace, and two of a more practical -though far from boring- cut that would better suit the lifestyle of a Combat Hunter.
“Alright, Taylor, go ahead and try these on.” she ordered as she came back out, her offerings laid out carefully in her arms -though they couldn’t wrinkle, she still had her pride, and she wasn’t going to deliver any work of hers to a customer like it was an armful of sheets!- and proffered to their new owner. The slender, near-statuesque ravenette hesitated for a moment before accepting the bundle and stepping fully into the changing room once again.
“Make sure to show us each set, Taylor~!” Paige cheered as the door swung shut, and Sabah didn’t try to restrain her exasperation, nor did she try to stop herself from making a rather violent ‘zip your lips’ motion, not that Paige did anything but give her a cheeky grin and a wink. Ugh. Honestly, she could be such a little shit sometimes! As if Taylor would do something like…
The door opened again, and Sabah had a glimpse of Taylor’s face -crimson-cheeked but bearing a small smirk and glint in the depths of her eyes- before her attention was thoroughly stolen by the rest of her. She’d opted for the black, to start, and one of the demi-cups as well. The effect was…exquisite. The dark lace contrasted beautifully with her light skin, the cups lifting her large breasts and pressing them together enough for valley of cleavage to form between them, her nipples -which were, Sabah couldn’t help but notice not-so-dimly in the back of her mind, looking quite peaky in more ways that one- just barely covered. And as if that wasn’t devastating enough, there were the panties. Panties that were low enough on her sex that the faintest whisp of pubic hair was peaking out the top, and with the hip straps high enough that Sabah knew they would be clearly visible to all and sundry if Taylor wore any sort of midriff-revealing top.
Then the girl turned, and Sabah swallowed heavily as she heard Paige make a soft noise of awe from somewhere behind her, because Taylor’s ass was nothing short of spectacular. Full and shapely, with the thin strip of cloth disappearing wholly between them from where it dipped down at the small of her back, leading down into legs that had looked long before, but now seemed endless. She pivoted back a few moments later, hands moving instinctively to her hips as one of them cocked out slightly, the motion drawing every subtle line of smooth muscle and curve into pure, perfect definition. She seemed strangely confident, now, different from the way she had acted before, comfortable. It was, Sabah decided, a very good look on her, and while she of course didn’t have a submissive bone in her body -thank you very much!- she couldn’t help but wonder what Taylor would look like looming over her in the appropriate attire.
Purely from an educational standpoint, obviously.
“Well?” Taylor prodded, arching one eyebrow -God, she’d look amazing once those were touched up properly!- and looking between the two of them.
“You’re hot.” Paige blurted almost instantly in response, eyes drinking in every swell and curve with an expression that could only be described as hungry, and Taylor’s blush intensified -and her smirk widened- at the display of pure, unfiltered honest appreciation. Encouraged, the blonde continued. “Seriously, Taylor, you look like a goddess. Maybe I should call you ‘my goddess’ instead of ‘my hero’, huh?”
Sabah watched as something changed in Taylor’s eyes, a different sort of heat kindling in them as she sucked in a sharp, subtle breath, and for a long moment she watched as the two stared into each other’s eyes, before Taylor -with visible reluctance- inhaled again deeply and deliberately shifted her attention to Sabah. Who, it must be said, once again found herself swallowing heavily, because the ravenette’s pale green eyes seemed almost to be glowing with heat, heat that -despite her determination to be as professional as possible- kindled a not-so-different heat low in her own stomach.
“Ahem. Yes, she’s quite right, Taylor. You look fantastic, and it’s not entirely down to my work. Now, I need you to try moving in them, not quite…” Sabah started, wanting to see Taylor test her full range of flexibility and motion for entirely innocent reasons, before all three girls stiffened at the sound that cut through the air. Multi-toned and pitched to carry across the whole city, the rolling wail of the Dungeon Break sirens were utterly unmistakable, and their meaning was in their name. For them to sound, a Dungeon Break must have occurred within the city limits, and it that had happened, it meant that the Protectorate either wasn’t able to respond, or hadn’t been capable of dealing with whatever the threat was. Either way, it was a clear command for civilians to seek shelter and for all capable Hunters to respond immediately.
“Sabah, something for me to fight in. Now. Paige, I need my shoes, and a scrunchie.” Taylor’s command wasn’t a bark, a snap, or anything hasty, but it was urgent and it was unyielding. Sabah was obeying without a thought or hesitation, grabbing a crop-top and a pair of leggings and tossing them in her direction. Even as she started to dress, and Paige brought her shoes over to her -now was hardly the time for her to try new footwear on, after all- Sabah turned on the TV in her waiting area.
“…minutes ago it was confirmed that a D-rank Dungeon Break has occurred in Midtown.” the pretty new anchor was saying, the graphic behind her flashing up to display the location of the gate in question. “While no casualties have been reported as yet, the Protectorate and other local guilds are scrambling to respond in time, with most available Hunters tasked with eliminating the dungeon beasts and attempting to contain the boss before it can cause widespread damage. The absence of high-ranked Hunters is notable, and spokespeople have stated that runners have been sent to call for assistance from all deployed strike teams, but it’s unknown how quickly they will receive the reports and be able to return.”
“Sabah, I need something to hide my face! I’m supposed to be on leave!” Taylor snapped, pulling her attention away from the ongoing report, and the middle eastern seamstress blinked and wrung her hands briefly in thought before darting into her back room and re-emerging with a crimson masquerade half-mask, which she shoved into her hands. It was strapped on in an instant, shimmering crystalline blades snapping into being in Taylor’s hands a heartbeat later, and in a blur of motion the Huntress was out the door and out of sight.
Two pairs of eyes turned towards the television, and sure enough -barely ten minutes after she had disappeared- they saw the boss, which was a massive leonine creature, go reeling with a shriek that was audible through the distant microphones as a great spray of blood leapt out of the gash that had been carved down the length of it’s body.
“Oh my! What was…there! Zoom in there!” the on-site reporter’s voice was excited, his arm jabbing briefly into view to direct his cameraman, who promptly obeyed and fiddled with the controls, zooming in on a figure that both girls recognized quite well. There was Taylor, blades flashing and face creased in a wild grin, and neither could restrain the soft, deep sigh that fell from their lips as they watched the deadly dance play out.
“So…purple streaks and tips for the hair, do you think? That would look good, yeah?” Paige asked after a moment, and Sabah could only sigh again as she pictured it.
“Beautiful…”
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Across the city, another young woman -and one who had seen Taylor in just as little, or perhaps even slightly less, than Sabah and Paige- was watching the same footage, sitting at her desktop with her eyes locked onto the screen of her laptop. Unlike 99% of the other people watching it, however, she actually knew who Taylor was. After all, she’d never forget those crystal scythe-blades, not for as long as she’d lived, and she’d never forget that grin either.
“This is just incredible! A new Hunter has taken to the field! She’s wearing a mask, and I don’t recognize her, but she is tearing the boss to pieces! I don’t even think it’s managed to land a hit yet! The other Hunters are falling back and letting the Rangers and Mages get hits in where they can! Does anyone have any idea who she is? An Alias, anything?”
“No idea, Mark, no one here at the studio recognizes her and she isn’t in our Hunter Index either. We have no records of a Hunter matching that description, let alone with any known ability to create weapons and move like that. Are we sure this is even a registered Hunter?” the anchor’s voice pitched up with the sort of speculative excitement that was usually reserved for celebrity scandals, which was just so typical of the damn vultures. Anything that stank of scandal, and therefore ratings, had them circling.
At least they recognized how amazing Taylor was, though -thanks to her intimate familiarity with the girl in question- Amy was far less interested in her fighting prowess and far more interested in the clothes that Taylor was wearing. Shaky as the camera was, and as far from the action, it was doing a good enough job to show off the tight leggings -clinging to every contour of Taylor’s body- as well as the faint strands of black arching over her hips and dipping back below her waistband.
Taylor had been interesting in the dungeon, entrancing when she’d been discharged, but now? With her newly enhanced body and clothes that were made to flatter and the implication that she was wearing a thong? She was intoxicating, and before Amy knew it, her shirt was a clump on the floor, she had her pants around her ankles, and one of her hands was scrabbling around in one of several hiding places for a dildo. Fingers met silicon, and there was a soft thump on her desk as the black phallus hit it base first, and her tongue was swirling around the head as she got it ready to use, eyes still locked on the spinning, flipping, flexing form of the girl she had been dreaming of for days on end. Sliding it deeper, she moaned around it’s length as a particularly lucky, close-up shot caught the perfect globes of Taylor’s ass, every inch in perfect definition thanks to her practically painted-on pants, a fresh surge of heat slamming into her core.
She pumped a few times with shaking fingers, pulling it out and spitting on it to get it slicker even faster, then pressed it between her thighs and twisted it home as if Taylor’s hand was guiding it. She pushed hard and deep, not building up slowly the way she usually did, not savoring the first touch or the anticipation. She didn’t want that tension, not this time. No, she craved friction and invasion and the raw, sensual memory of being handled. She imagined fists, strong and long-gingered, tangled in her hair and controlling her. She imagined a hard, sharp, full-handed slap on her ass, Taylor’s low voice in her ear telling her what she liked or what she wanted Amy to do next. Telling Amy she was a good girl one moment, and calling her a stupid whore the next. Punishing and rewarding her moment by moment.
She shoved three knuckles into her mouth and bit down, working herself harder and harder as she imagined it all, loving the blooming warmth and the way her toes curled as she slipped closer to the edge. Loving how dirty it made her feel, loving the possibility that she could get caught, loving the knowledge that she knew what no one else did. She knew Taylor, she knew what she looked like, who she was. She knew her hands, knew how they felt on her skin, and she knew that she wanted to feel it again.
She hissed as the dildo bottomed out, her other hand slipping down to her clit and ruthlessly alternating between rubbing and pinching as the laptop continued to bleed out the sounds of the battle as the lesser Hunters finished reorganizing and rejoined the battle. Taylor's voice —her real voice, half-muffled by the mask but carrying those unforgettable notes and tones Amy remembered so clearly— rang out, barely caught by the camera microphone. Amy bit down harder, a flare of pain telling her she’d probably broken the skin as she forced herself to stop whimpering and wait for the next words, the next sharp command. She wanted to surprise herself, to see how long she could hold back, how much she could take, the blunt pressure inside her building with every explosive impact broadcast in grainy, digital chunks across the screen. She wanted to prove herself, paradoxically, to the distant girl that didn’t even know what she was doing.
Somewhere in the living room below her, Victoria was probably yelling at their mother to come see the TV —Amy could half-hear it over her own audio, her own heartbeat and harsh breathing— but she didn't care. She pressed her heated, heaving breasts against the cool wood of her desk and rammed herself down on the toy, clenching around it, holding herself in place as she watched Taylor catch a powerful blow on her crossed blades and turn her head towards one of the other Hunters. That fierce expression came fully into view, the camera catching it dead center, and Amy’s eyes locked onto her perfect lips as they formed the words she’d been waiting for without expecting to hear.
“Do it! Now!”
In that moment, she was speaking to Amy. The fighter, the camera, the other Hunters…none of them existed. There was just Taylor, looking at her. Commanding her. Tell her to do it, and so Amy did. She came, instantly and explosively, fluid staining her thighs as her whole body clenched so hard she nearly bucked herself out of the chair as half-muffled moans spilled helplessly from her mouth. The pressure and release and aftershocks left her shaking, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, sweat prickling her scalp and running in a fine line along her spine. She could barely see the screen, everything doubled and unfocused and blurred, but somehow she could still see every moment as the red-masked warrior swirled her blades and sent the boss the ground for the last time.
She drew the toy out slowly, deliberately, savoring the rough ache and the slow ooze of satisfaction, then flopped back in her chair, letting the back creak and rattle as she stared at the ceiling. It took almost a minute for her breathing to calm, for her pulse to slow from thumping-hummingbird to merely frantic, for her thunderous pulse to ease, for the little shudders to stop echoing in her knees and finger joints. After a minute or two, she had recollected herself enough to clean her soaked aid with her tongue, something that she’d done once on a whim and found herself almost immediately deeply enamored with.
She couldn't say how long she sat there, trembling and vaguely numb, knees pressed together and cooling sweat -and other liquids entirely- drying stickily on her bare thighs as she watched the post-battle footage hazily, Taylor having vanished within moments of it’s end. A mystery and a question to everyone except Amy, and she shivered through her afterglow at the soft, shameful thrill that came on the heels of that thought. Or, rather more accurately, on the heels of the thought that she was a pervert who got turned on by watching a girl who’d given her a spanking slaughter a dungeon boss on live television. Though, she knew, it was less the ‘slaughtering’ part that had gotten her so damn wet, and more the memory of the last time she’d seen Taylor fight.
Her knight in shredded clothing, keeping her safe before firmly taking her in hand. What wasn’t there to love?
She frowned faintly, a thought occurring, and with her clean hand she plucked up her phone and started to type.
The one thing that there wasn’t to love? The fact that Taylor hadn’t asked her out yet. They’d been flirting ever since they had exchanged numbers at Vicky’s urging, something Amy had enjoyed immensely, but Taylor had yet to invite her to do anything, and it had been starting to wear thin. Well, she decided in a lust-laden fit of determination, if Taylor wouldn’t make the first move, Amy would. Because she would be damned if she let the other girl handle her, if she got herself off to the thought of the other girl so damn much, and if she was constantly daydreaming about her, but let Taylor slip through her fingers because she wasn’t willing to be bold.
Putting her phone down as the soft whoosh of a sent message swept past her, she clambered unsteadily to her feet. Wiping the puddle and streak off of her chair from her orgasm with tissues, and clutching her dildo tightly in her hand, she grabbed her towel and slipped out of her room. Focused as she was on padding down the hallway and showering herself off, and distracted as she was by the warmth of endorphins still flooding her veins -not to mention considering various scenarios for her date with Taylor-, she didn’t notice that her sister had left the downstairs. She didn’t notice her sister watch her move, dildo peaking out of an errant fold of the towel, down the hallway with wide eyes and a blush, and she didn’t notice her sister slip into her room.
So as Amy stepped beneath the showers warm spray, she didn’t know that Victoria was in her room, breathing in the unmistakable scent of pleasure, seeing the news playing on her laptop and seeing the sent message on her unlocked phone. She didn’t see Vicky spot a small streak and puddle of cum in the footwell of the desk, further than Amy had looked and missed during the cleanup, and so she didn’t know that Vicky came to the realization that her sister had just fucked herself with a dildo and cum so hard she had squirted while texting the mysterious Taylor Hebert.
All she would know is that her sister was oddly flushed for the rest of the night, and even more interested in her planned activities for the next few days than she usually was.