Chapter 187: Initiation of the Ancient
The scent of the geothermal springs still clung to Sonya’s skin, a mineral ghost beneath the newer layers of vanilla, sweat, and sex that permeated the temple’s upper levels. The bond, that new, unbreakable circuit, hummed in her veins like a second heartbeat. It was a quiet din of presence—Camille’s steadfast warmth in the kitchens, Arya’s distant luminous contemplation in the observatory, a ripple of laughter from Julianna and Jasmine somewhere down a sunlit corridor.
It was a noise she was learning to walk through. Her bare feet were silent on the cool stone as she ascended toward the residential wing. She sought no one in particular. She was exploring the topography of her new home, mapping the emotional gradients. The door to the master suite was partially open, a wedge of golden twilight spilling onto the hallway floor.
She heard it first. Not words, but sounds. A rhythmic, wet slap. A deep, guttural groan that could only be Bruce. A higher, choked-off cry of pleasure. Then Lena’s voice, breathless and delighted. “Yeah, just like that, oh fuck, right there!”
Sonya paused. The bond told her who was inside—Bruce, of course, a sun-like focus of power and want. Lena, a crackling star of devouring potential. Jake, a quieter but intensifying burn, like a forge being stoked. And Briana… Briana was a profound, accepting stillness amidst the storm.
Curiosity, a drive more intrinsic to her than breathing, compelled her forward. She pushed the door open another silent inch.
The scene within was framed by floor-to-ceiling windows burning with the liquid gold of a setting sun. It painted the large room in tones of amber and long, stretching shadows.
On the massive bed, Briana was on her hands and knees. Her ink-black hair was a messy cascade down her back, her olive skin sheened with sweat. Her body, with its sinful, impossible curves, was the anchor of the tableau.
Behind her, Bruce knelt, his powerful frame moving with a deliberate, piston-like drive. His hands gripped Briana’s hips, his knuckles white. What he was driving into her made Sonya’s newly-claimed body clench in sympathetic memory. His cock, as thick as a wrist and impossibly long, was buried to the hilt in Briana’s ass. The stretch was visible, obscene, beautiful. Her rosebud was a distended, glossy ring around the monstrous base of his shaft, swallowing him with each slow, deep withdrawal before taking him back.
Beneath Briana, on his back, was Jake. The young man’s handsome face was a mask of strained ecstasy. Briana was lowered onto him, riding his considerable length deep into her dripping pussy. Sonya could see the bulge of Jake’s cock moving inside Briana’s stomach with every descent. Briana was taking them both, filled beyond reason, her body a living sheath for two massive cocks.
And Lena… Lena was astride Jake’s face, her back to Briana’s head. She was balanced on her knees, her own gorgeous ass in the air, her dark curls dripping onto Jake’s mouth. She was grinding herself down onto him, riding his tongue and lips. “Eat it, babyboy,” Lena moaned, her head thrown back, one hand braced on Jake’s thigh, the other reaching back to spread herself wider for him. “Make your goddess come. Fuck, yes!”
The air was thick with the musk of sex, of effort, of vanilla from the candles guttering on the nightstand. The sounds layered over each other: the wet, rhythmic schlick of Briana taking Bruce in her ass, the deeper, fleshier slap of her pussy meeting Jake’s pelvis, the hungry, slurping sounds of Jake’s face buried in Lena’s cunt.
Sonya stood transfixed. This was not the ritualized, symbolic claiming of the springs. This was something else. Messier. More casual. A raw, shared gluttony.
“I… I’m sorry,” Sonya heard herself say, the words automatic, her voice barely a whisper.
Lena’s head snapped around. Her eyes, dark and gleaming with wicked joy, found Sonya in the doorway. A huge, unfiltered grin split her face. “Sorry?” Lena laughed, the sound rich and warm even as she continued to rock on Jake’s mouth. “Don’t be sorry, you gorgeous ancient thing. This is what you walk into sometimes. It’s Tuesday.”
Bruce’s rhythm didn’t falter. He turned his head, his hazel eyes meeting Sonya’s. There was no surprise, only a smoldering invitation. A low rumble escaped his chest. “See something you like?”
Briana managed to turn her head, her cheek pressed against Jake’s sternum. Her intelligent green-blue eyes were hazy with pleasure, but a sweet, welcoming smile touched her lips. “Sonya,” she breathed, the name a sigh. “It’s… it’s okay.”
“Come join us, dear one,” Lena purred, finally lifting herself off Jake’s face with a wet pop. Jake gasped for air, his mouth and chin shining. Lena crawled backwards off the bed, her movements fluid and predatory. She walked to Sonya, utterly naked and unselfconscious, and took her hand. Her skin was fever-hot. “You have to try this. Taking two at once…” Lena leaned close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper laced with filth. “It’s magical. It’ll make your new little Saiyan brain short-circuit. Bri’s our goddess of cessation, of endings… but fuck, feeling her come when she’s stuffed full like this? It’s like watching a universe get born.”
Lena tugged her gently into the room. The sunset light felt hot on Sonya’s skin. She let her simple robe drop from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Her nudity felt different here. Not ceremonial. Practical.
“Where…” Sonya began, her analytical mind trying to assess the geometry.
“Right here,” Lena said, guiding her to the side of the bed near Briana’s head. “Taste her. Taste what she’s feeling while she gets split open. It’s the best fucking thing.”
Lena pressed down on Sonya’s shoulder. Sonya went to her knees beside the bed. Briana’s face was inches away, her lips parted, her breath coming in ragged hitches with every double thrust. Sonya leaned in and kissed her. Briana’s mouth opened hungrily, her tongue meeting Sonya’s. She could taste the other woman’s pleasure, sharp and electric.
“Now lower,” Lena instructed, her hand in Sonya’s hair, not forcing, but guiding.
Sonya moved down. Her gaze traveled over the sweat-slicked valley of Briana’s back, down to where the two men were joined to her. The sight was profoundly obscene. Bruce’s thick cock pistoned in and out of her ass, the dark flesh glistening. Jake’s moved in counterpoint in her pussy, stretching her lower lips wide. The combined stretch was breathtaking, a brutal testament to Briana’s acceptance.
“Lick her,” Lena whispered, her own breath hot on Sonya’s ear. “Lick where they’re fucking her. Taste them both.”
A shiver of raw, desperate arousal shot through Sonya. She obeyed. She extended her tongue and ran it along the stretched, trembling skin between Briana’s two occupied holes. The flavor was complex—musky, salty, the unique tang of Briana, mixed with the pre-cum and sweat from Bruce and Jake. She licked again, more firmly, her tongue dipping into the slick mess where their thrusts met.
Briana screamed, her body convulsing. “Oh god, Sonya! Right there!”
Bruce growled, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. “Fuck yeah. That’s it. Use that clever tongue.”
Jake was beneath them, his eyes wide, his hands gripping Briana’s thighs. He was murmuring, “Oh man, oh christ,” over and over, lost in the sensation of being inside a woman who was being simultaneously ravaged by a god and pleasured by an ancient Saiyan.
Sonya lost herself in the act. She licked and suckled at Briana’s swollen clit, then trailed her tongue back to the pounding, stretched entrance of her pussy, tasting Jake on her lips. She moved up to the brutal, rhythmic invasion of Briana’s ass, lapping at Bruce’s shaft as it drove in and out. The degradation of the act was its own power. She, Sonya of the Void, was on her knees, servicing a woman being double-penetrated, and it felt like the most truthful, connected thing she had ever done.
“Switch!” Bruce commanded, his voice taut.
The movement was swift, coordinated. In one fluid motion, Bruce pulled out of Briana’s ass. Jake, sensing the shift, lifted Briana off him. She whimpered at the sudden emptiness. Bruce grabbed Sonya by the arm and pulled her up onto the bed. “Your turn to learn,” he said, his eyes blazing. “Briana, show her how to take it.”
Briana, panting, nodded. She guided Sonya onto her hands and knees, assuming the position she had just vacated. Sonya felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly alive. Lena was instantly there, lying on her back beneath Sonya’s head. “Look at me, beautiful,” Lena said, spreading her legs. “Eat me while they fill you up. Multitasking.”
Before Sonya could process, she felt the broad, slick head of Bruce’s cock pressing against her back door. The memory of the springs was there, the stretching ache, the finality. This was different. It was wanton.
“Jake,” Bruce said. “Now.”
Jake moved behind Sonya, his cock, long and thick, nudging at her soaked pussy. He looked at Bruce, a flicker of uncertainty in his bombardier eyes. Bruce gave a single, sharp nod.
They pushed in together.
Sonya’s world dissolved into white-hot sensation. Bruce’s invasion was a familiar, stretching burn, a claiming of territory that was already his. But Jake’s entry into her pussy was a new fullness, a thick, hard presence that rubbed against Bruce’s cock through the thin wall of tissue separating them. The double stretch was overwhelming, a feeling of being utterly and completely filled, breached, and owned from both sides.
She cried out, the sound muffled against Lena’s cunt. She began to lick, to eat, the action instinctive, a lifeline in the sea of pleasure-pain.
“That’s it,” Lena moaned, tangling her hands in Sonya’s hair. “Fuck, she’s learning so fast.”
Bruce and Jake began to move. Not in sync at first, their rhythms colliding, sending shocking jolts through Sonya’s core. Then they found a pace—Bruce would pull out as Jake pushed in, creating a relentless, rolling wave of penetration that left no part of her untouched. The slap of their bodies against hers, the wet, filthy sounds of her holes being used, filled the sun-drenched room.
“Feel that, Jake?” Bruce grunted, his voice strained with effort. “Feel me right next to you? That’s your sister. Take her. Welcome her.”
The dual invasion carved a seismic reality through Sonya’s core. Bruce’s thickness stretched her ass with a burning, possessive familiarity, a brutal echo of the springs. Jake’s cock, a slightly leaner but formidable intrusion, pistoned into her pussy, grinding against that shared, thin wall of flesh with every deep stroke. The feeling wasn’t just fullness. It was a complete anatomical occupation.
“Fuck, yes, you feel that?” Jake gasped, his hands digging into her hips, his earlier uncertainty vaporized by sensation. “I can feel him. Through you. Oh, god.”
Sonya could only moan in response, the sound vibrating against Lena’s wet folds. She licked and sucked with desperate, uncoordinated hunger, her own pleasure short-circuiting her famous precision. Lena’s taste, musky and sharp, flooded her mouth, a secondary rhythm to the pounding her body was taking.
“Her ass is swallowing you, baby,” Lena cried out, her back arching off the bed as she fucked Sonya’s face. “And her cunt’s milking Jake! She’s a fucking conduit!”
Bruce’s rhythm was merciless, a deep, pounding drumbeat that set the tempo. “She’s taking it,” he growled, a note of raw pride cutting through his grunts of effort. “Taking it all. My Saiyan queen. Our void-walker. Look at her.”
Briana had shifted, watching from her knees beside them. Her hand drifted between her own legs, fingers stroking her swollen clit as she observed. “She’s beautiful like this,” Briana murmured, her voice a husky sigh. “All that ancient power…unraveled by two good cocks.”
The observation sent a fresh jolt through Sonya. It was true. Her mind, which had calculated voids and temporal fractures, was now a white noise of pleasure. Every nerve ending fired in sequence with their thrusts. The stretch bordered on pain, a bright, searing line that made the pleasure that followed feel like a supernova.
“Gonna…gonna come,” Jake warned, his thrusts turning frantic and shallow.
“Not yet,” Bruce commanded, his own pace never faltering. “Together. We fill her together. You hear me, Jake? You come when I tell you to.”
The authority in his voice was absolute. Jake whimpered, a sound of agonized restraint, but he slowed, matching Bruce’s deep, measured drives. The control shifted the sensation again; it became a sustained, unbearable pressure, a coiled spring in Sonya’s gut.
Lena felt the change in Sonya’s mouth, the frantic vibration. “She’s close, too,” Lena panted. “Do it. Make her break.”
Bruce’s hand snaked around Sonya’s hip, his thumb finding her clit. It was slick, overwhelmed, and he pressed down hard, circling it with a ruthless precision that was entirely at odds with the brutal pounding of her ass.
That was the catalyst.
The orgasm didn’t crest; it detonated. It was a silent, shattering implosion behind her eyes before the waves hit. Her body locked, clenched like a vice around both invading cocks, a deep, pulsing spasm that rippled through her from both holes. A raw, torn scream was muffled into Lena’s pussy.
“Now, Jake!” Bruce roared.
The command released him. Jake’s control shattered. With a choked cry, he slammed into her one last time and froze. Sonya felt the hot, liquid pulse of his release flooding her channel, jet after jet, marking her in tandem with Bruce’s claim on her ass.
The sensation of being filled in both places, claimed and used completely, triggered a secondary, weaker convulsion. She trembled violently, her muscles turning to liquid.
Bruce followed seconds later. His final thrusts were brutal, animalistic, burying himself to the root as he came. She felt the distinct, deep throb of his cock in her ass, the hot spill of his cum joining Jake’s inside her, separated by a trembling millimeter of flesh.
For a long moment, the only sounds were ragged breathing and the wet, soft sounds of their separation. Bruce and Jake pulled out slowly. A messy mixture of their releases dripped from Sonya’s well-used openings onto the rumpled sheets.
Sonya collapsed forward, her face still buried in Lena’s thigh. Lena stroked her hair, shivering through her own quiet climax. “See?” Lena whispered, her voice smug and tender. “Magic.”
Jake rolled onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, his chest heaving. “Holy shit,” he breathed, a laugh bubbling up. “Holy fucking shit.”
Bruce sat back on his heels, watching the aftermath, his gaze settling on Sonya’s wrecked form. A slow, satisfied smile touched his lips. Briana leaned over, kissing his shoulder, then moved to kiss Jake’s forehead.
Sonya finally lifted her head. Her eyes, a deep emerald green now held the permanent star of the bond, were glazed, unfocused. She looked at the faces around her—Lena’s wicked smile, Briana’s serene approval, Jake’s dazed awe, Bruce’s possessive pride. The hum of the connection was a warm, satiated thrum in her veins, no longer a strange noise but a symphony she was part of.
She didn’t analyze it. She just felt it. “Tuesday,” she rasped, her voice hoarse, echoing Lena’s earlier words.
Lena burst out laughing, a bright, real sound that filled the twilight room. “Yeah, darling. Just Tuesday.”
The golden light had faded to deep blue. They stayed there, a tangled, sweaty, spent heap on the vast bed, the city’s distant lights beginning to glitter beyond the glass. No enemies approached. No crisis loomed. There was only this: the slow, steady rhythm of their shared breath, the salt-and-sex scent of their skin, and the profound, unshakable certainty of the circuit, closed and humming, ready for whatever came next.
There was only this: the slow, steady rhythm of their shared breath, the salt-and-sex scent of their skin, and the profound, unshakable certainty of the circuit, closed and humming, ready for whatever came next.
The peace held for an hour, maybe two. Bodies untangled. Soft laughter and murmured conversations rose and fell as wives drifted out to showers, to kitchens, to other quiet corners of the temple. Jake left with a dazed, grateful look tossed over his shoulder at Bruce. Lena and Briana departed together, a single shadow with two forms, already whispering about something else.
Bruce kissed Sonya’s forehead, tasting salt. “You good?”
She nodded, her emerald-star eyes heavy-lidded. “The data remains optimal.” A pause. A slight, uncalculated smile. “Tuesday is a good day.”
He laughed, a rough sound of pure satisfaction, and left her curled in the warm dent of the bed.
His routine was simple now, carved into the stone of his new existence. After the communal noise, the shared heat, he sought a different frequency. The temple’s hallways, cool and silent, guided his steps not to the master suite, but to a door woven with intricate Balinese carvings. Ketut’s space smelled of frangipani and damp earth, of incense and calm.
She was waiting, as she always was. She sat on the edge of her wide platform bed, dressed in a simple silk slip the color of a deep forest. Her long black hair was loose, a river down her back. She didn’t speak. Her dark eyes, which saw every current of his soul, simply acknowledged him. This was their ritual. A decompression. A private re-calibration of the god and his empathetic heart.
He shed his clothes without ceremony. The air here was cooler. Her gaze traced the fading marks on his skin—the scratches from Lena, the grip-marks from holding onto Briana’s hips. She read the story of his evening in his muscles, in the set of his shoulders. A small, knowing smile touched her lips.
“Full house tonight,” she said, her voice a soft melody.
“A good house,” he replied, coming to stand before her.
Her hands went to his hips, her thumbs stroking the hard planes. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his stomach, a kiss of pure devotion. Then she turned, presenting herself on her hands and knees on the bed, the silk slip rucking up to her waist. Her ass, taut and perfect, was offered not in wild submission, but in quiet understanding. This was how they connected last thing, every night. A deep, slow claiming that had nothing to prove and everything to affirm.
He didn’t need to prepare her. Their bond and their routine had its own physics. He spat into his palm, slicked his already-hardening cock, and guided the thick, bulbous head to her back entrance. It yielded to him, not with a gasp, but with a deep, relieved sigh as he pushed inside. The stretch was exquisite, a familiar, tight embrace that welcomed him home.
He set a rhythm that was the antithesis of the pounding he’d given Sonya and Briana. This was a deep, grinding roll of his hips, a slow burn that made her whimper into the sheets. He leaned over her, covering her body with his, one hand braced by her head, the other circling around to find her clit. He pressed the pad of his thumb there, a steady, insistent pressure.
“That’s it,” he murmured into her ear. “Let go for me. Just me.”
She was so sensitive, an open nerve to every flicker of his pleasure. He felt her orgasm build not as a tension, but as a melting. Her ass clutched around him in soft, rhythmic flutters, her whole body shuddering beneath his as she came without a scream, with a long, shuddering sigh that sounded like his name.
He was close, the pressure coiling low in his gut, when the door whispered open.
Sonya stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the softer hall light. She wore a thin robe, tied loosely. Her face was clean of the earlier debauchery, her expression unreadable. She watched them for a heartbeat—the powerful, slow movement of Bruce’s hips, the way Ketut’s back arched, accepting him so completely.
“I know you guys have private time,” Sonya said, her voice quiet, cutting through the wet, soft sounds of the act. “But do you mind if I just sleep with you two again?”
Bruce didn’t stop. His rhythm barely hitched. He turned his head, his hazel eyes finding her in the dim light.
Sonya’s calculated composure cracked, just a little. “It was nice being wrapped in your arms, my love. I’ve never felt more at peace.”
Ketut, her face still pressed to the sheets, smiled. A hand, trembling slightly, reached back and patted the space on the bed beside her.
Bruce drove into her once more, deep and final, and let his own climax tear through him with a guttural groan. He emptied himself into her clutching heat, the pulses long and thorough. When he was spent, he slipped out and collapsed onto his side, pulling Ketut with him, her back to his chest.
He looked at Sonya over Ketut’s shoulder and nodded to the empty space before him.
Sonya untied her robe, let it fall, and slid into the bed. She faced him, her body curving to fit against Ketut’s front. Bruce’s big arm stretched over both of them, his hand settling on the dip of Sonya’s waist. She nestled her head under his chin. Ketut’s hand came up to rest on Sonya’s hip, completing the circle.
No one spoke. The only sound was their breathing, smoothing out into synchronicity. The hum of the circuit was a low, quiet thrum here, a baseline of belonging. Sonya closed her eyes. In the void, there had been nothing. In the orgy, there had been everything, a glorious sensory overload. But here, sandwiched between the empathy and the possession, between the heart and the hammer, there was something she had no data for.
There was peace.
And as sleep pulled them under, the temple, for the first time in all its ancient existence, held its breath, content.