Chapter 3: The Invitation
The silence in the apartment after Conzi broke felt different. It wasn’t empty; it was thick, like a held breath. Nat avoided the hallway near Conzi’s room for two days. She saw Lucia and Annika giving Chris lingering, knowing smiles over breakfast, and understood the whispers had taken on a new, darker tone. Conzi herself moved through the common areas like a ghost, her eyes avoiding everyone’s, but especially Nat’s. The air hummed with something unsaid, something rotten and sweet that only Nat and Chris were party to.
Micha was obliviously cheerful. He commented on how peaceful things had been with Erna lately. Nat would nod, a sharp wire of guilt coiling in her stomach, and her mind would flash with an image of Chris’s cock plunging into Conzi, the sound of flesh on flesh. Her own arousal during that moment was a shameful secret she carried, a hot stone in her pocket.
She found him on a Tuesday evening. Micha was at a friend’s. The living room was bathed in the blue-gray light of the television, silent, casting long, amorphous shadows. Chris was sprawled on the largest couch, one arm behind his head, scrolling on his phone. He looked like a predator at rest.
She stood by the doorframe, her arms crossed tight over her chest. “We need to talk.”
“We are talking,” he said, not looking up.
“About what you did. About Conzi.”
Finally, he turned his head. The screen’s glow lit half his face, leaving the other in shadow. “You asked for proof. You got it. You watched. You didn’t stop it.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually—”
“You did,” he interrupted, his voice a flat, calm blade. “You absolutely did. You stood there and you got wet. Don’t lie to me, Nat. I can smell it on you right now, just thinking about it.”
Her face burned. The crude accuracy of it was a slap. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“Right?” He chuckled, putting his phone down. He sat up slightly, his focus entirely on her now. “You wanted Erna gone. I made her gone. You wanted to see how it works. You saw. There’s no right or wrong here. There’s just cause and effect.” He gestured to the space beside him on the couch. “Sit.”
It wasn’t an invitation. It was a soft command. After a long moment, her legs carried her forward. She sat on the far end, the worn fabric rough under her thighs. The distance between them felt like a charged void.
“What do you want, Nat?” he asked, his tone shifting to something almost conversational. “Really? You’re smart. You’re with a nice guy who bores you. You’re annoyed by his ex. You’re intrigued by me. You’re disgusted by me. It’s a lot of energy to spend.”
“I want to understand,” she said, the words feeling thin. “You treat women like… like toys. You humiliate them. And they come back for more. Conzi hasn’t looked at you since, but she hasn’t kicked you out of the house, either. Erna follows your orders like a lost puppy. Why?”
He studied her, a faint smile on his lips. “Because I give them what they secretly want. Not what they say they want. The difference is everything.” He leaned back again, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Erna’s coming over tonight. After Micha’s asleep.”
Nat’s pulse jumped. “Here? That’s reckless.”
“She knows the rules. She likes the risk.” He turned his head back toward her. His eyes were dark pools in the dim light. “You should join us.”
The offer hung in the air, filthy and magnetizing. Nat felt her breath catch. “Join you,” she repeated, her voice hollow.
“In my room. Watch. Participate. Whatever you want.” He shrugged, as if suggesting a movie. “You want to understand the mechanism? Get inside the machine. See what it does.”
“You’re insane. I’m with Micha.”
“And you’re sitting here with me, your heart pounding so loud I can almost hear it,” he said quietly. “You think in paragraphs, Nat. You analyze everything. This is something you can’t analyze from the doorway. You have to feel it.”
The thought of Erna—petite, manipulative Erna, the source of so much annoyance—submitting to him in their shared home, in his bedroom, while her boyfriend slept down the hall… It was repulsive. It was electrifying. The hot stone of shame in her pocket grew heavier, warmer.
“No,” she whispered.
“Your choice,” he said, picking his phone up again, dismissing her. “Door’s open if you change your mind. Just don’t think too hard. It ruins the fun.”
She fled to her and Micha’s room. She showered, scrubbing her skin as if she could wash away the conversation. She got into bed beside Micha’s sleeping form, his soft snores a testament to his trusting nature. She lay in the dark, staring at the crack of light under the door.
The apartment settled into its nighttime quiet. The pipes groaned. The floorboards creaked. She heard it—the softest click of the front door unlocking. A whisper of footsteps in the hall. The sound of Chris’s door opening and closing.
Her body was rigid. Every sense was dialed to a painful sharpness. Get inside the machine. The words looped in her head. She thought of Conzi’s broken sobs, of the powerful, humiliating current that had pulled her under. She thought of her own dripping curiosity, the ugly, thrilling ache between her legs.
Without allowing herself another thought, she slid out of bed. Micha mumbled in his sleep and rolled over. She stood in the dark of her own room, a traitor in a tank top and panties. Then she walked, barefoot and silent, to Chris’s door.
She didn’t knock. She turned the knob and pushed it open.
Chris’s room was lit by a single bedside lamp. He was seated on the edge of his bed, wearing only a pair of loose sweatpants. And there, on her knees between his legs, was Erna.
She was naked. Her long black hair was a messy cascade down her pale back. Her head bobbed in his lap, a slow, devoted rhythm. A wet, slurping sound filled the room. Chris had one hand resting idly on her head, his eyes closed, a look of deep concentration on his face.
As Nat watched, frozen in the doorway, his eyes opened. He looked directly at her. He didn’t smile. He just watched her watch.
Erna sensed the shift. She pulled back, a thick strand of saliva connecting her lips to the swollen head of his cock. She followed his gaze and saw Nat. Her eyes, wide and dark, showed no surprise, only a deep, submissive acknowledgement. She didn’t cover herself. She knelt there, exposed, waiting.
“Come in,” Chris said, his voice low and rough. “Close the door.”
Nat obeyed, the click of the latch final. The room smelled of sex, of musk and female arousal.
“She doesn’t mind an audience,” Chris said, his fingers tracing Erna’s jaw. “Do you, Erna?”
“No,” Erna breathed, her eyes locked on Nat’s. There was a challenge there, and an invitation. “She should see how a real cock is worshipped. How Micha’s girlfriend should be behaving.”
The cruelty of it, the sheer fucking audacity, sent a shock through Nat. Yet her feet carried her forward until she stood just a few feet from the bed.
“On the bed,” Chris told Nat, nodding toward the space beside him. “Sit.”
She perched on the edge, her body trembling. From here, she could see everything. The thick, veined length of him, glistening with Erna’s spit. The utter devotion on Erna’s face.
“Show her,” Chris said to Erna.
Erna didn’t need further instruction. She leaned forward, took him deep into her mouth until her nose pressed into his pubic bone, and held it. Her throat worked around him, her eyes watering. She pulled back with a gasp, a string of spit following. “I live for this cock,” she panted, looking at Nat. “I dream about it. Micha’s little dick never made me feel like this. Empty. Used. Perfect.”
She dipped her head again, licking and sucking his balls with a fervent hunger, then took him back into her throat with a desperate, choking sound. Chris’s hand fisted in her hair, controlling the pace now, pushing her down harder.
“You see?” Chris said to Nat, his voice tight with pleasure. “She’s proud of it. She’s proud to be a cuckolding slut. It’s her purpose.”
He pulled Erna off by her hair. “Turn around. Present that cute little ass to Nat. Let her see.”
Erna scrambled onto the bed on her hands and knees, her back arched, her small, round ass aimed toward Nat. Her pussy was bare, glistening wet, her lips swollen. Chris moved behind her, one hand gripping her hip. He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging against her entrance.
“This,” he grunted as he pushed forward, impaling her in one smooth, brutal thrust, “is where she belongs.”
Erna cried out, a sharp, grateful sound, as he filled her. She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. The bed rocked. The sound was obscenely wet, a rhythmic, slapping music. He fucked her with a powerful, relentless drive, his balls slapping against her skin.
Nat’s own panties were soaked. She could feel her own heartbeat between her legs. She watched, mesmerized, as Erna took every inch, begging for more, crying out his name.
“Touch yourself,” Chris commanded Nat, without breaking his rhythm.
Her hand moved of its own volition, sliding under the waistband of her panties. She was drenched. She pressed her fingers against her clit, a shocked gasp escaping her lips. The sight before her—the raw, unfiltered dominance and submission—unlocked something dark and hungry inside her.
Chris watched her, his eyes burning into her as he drove into Erna. “Yeah,” he breathed. “You get it now, don’t you? This isn’t about love. It’s about truth. It’s about what you really are.”
With a final, deep thrust, he growled and came inside Erna, his body shuddering. Erna screamed, her own climax tearing through her as she felt him pulse within her.
He pulled out, collapsing back onto the bed. Erna slumped forward, spent, a trickle of his release already leaking from her onto the sheets.
In the heavy, panting silence, Chris turned his head to look at Nat. Her fingers were still working between her legs, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. She was moments away from her own orgasm, teetering on the edge just from watching.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice ragged but absolute. “Show her how it’s done.”
Erna, still dazed, crawled off the bed. She knelt on the floor before Nat, watching with avid, lust-glazed eyes.
Nat didn’t hesitate. She stood, yanked her panties down her legs, and stood before Chris, who was already hard again, his cock glistening with a mix of spit and Erna’s arousal. She pushed her glasses up her nose, a final, absurdly normal gesture, then climbed onto the bed, straddling him.
She guided him inside her, sinking down slowly, her tight body stretching to accommodate his thickness. The fullness was overwhelming, a brutal, perfect invasion. She began to move, riding him with a frantic, desperate energy, her eyes locked on his. Below, on the floor, Erna watched, her hand sliding between her own legs, her expression one of rapt, worshipful envy.
Nat came hard, her body convulsing around him, a silent scream on her lips. Only after the last tremor subsided did she realize the truth he had spoken.
She was inside the machine now. And she had no desire to get out.