The sun warmed my skin, a gentle breeze tempering the heat. Reaching for the small table beside my lounging chair, I picked up my ice-cold, lemony fizzy drink. After a long, refreshing gulp, I reached for several perfect profiteroles, their fillings a delightful mix of sweet and salty.
The smoked salmon, cucumber, and lime sang on my palate; bite after bite, I savored the morsels. The strawberry and cream profiteroles provided a perfect sweet ending. A few more sips of soda later, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and basked in the sunshine, its warmth soothing my mind.
We had been on holiday for five weeks, and then my first message arrived—from my seemingly bored husband, Damon Salvatore. He sent me a dream.
In it, he and Mariella joined me on the island. He pulled me to my feet, kissed me passionately, igniting my desire. Mariella discovered my treasure chest—a box filled with untested vibrators and other toys.
The dream continued: Damon threw me to the ground, his grunts expressing his displeasure at my solitary pleasures. He ripped off my bikini, forced me onto my hands and knees, and brutally fucked my ass, demanding my surrender and submission.
When married to a telepath with considerable psychic abilities—including the ability to send and evoke sensations and dreams—the resulting dreams are incredibly realistic. In this dream, Mariella inserted a new anal plug and allowed a large crawler into her pussy while Damon fucked my ass; I had surrendered completely.
Mariella sat on the sand, legs spread, as the crawler wiggled into her sopping cunt while Damon continued fucking my ass, pressing my face into the sand. His dominance felt like a physical force pressing upon me.
The dream was incredibly vivid, filled with sounds, smells, and sensations. I'm not sure if some of the positions were even physically possible, but upon waking hot and bothered, I amusedly contacted my husband and vowed revenge. As it took some time for me to get my senses back and not feel like the cat in heat with no tom nearby, making me wanna yowl out loud for my lust.
A little imagination, and I was ready. In my fantasy, Charles visited the Azores, finding Mariella sunbathing on the beach. He became aroused, and Damon witnessed it. Charles overpowered Damon with special crystals, rendering him just as passive a bystander. Wulfe had given this idea to me as he had once teased Mariella with the same kind of fantasy.
I'm quite inventive, skilled at directing mental porn, and soon felt our connection deepen, his smugness replaced by lust. Mariella, I imagined, was about to be thoroughly pleasured, meaning she was gonna get cock and good.
I sent Damon a brief message, "Damon, 1-0 for me. Enjoy the vacation. If you need more inspiration, I'm ready."
I then shared our interaction with the hive mind, allowing members to view it, inspiring others as well. I could feel their inspiration, their lust as I sent a little bit of mine into the hive, allowing me to give them a boost. Ironically, my lust is pretty much strongest in our pack, though I don't use it just for sex but lust is useful as bloodlust, as lust for killing, for vengeance and as I am a leader of biggest paramilitary resistance in the freaking world, those sides of lusts are very useful as my enemies are plentiful and they can be inventive too.
My island, quite large and active, boasted a thick northern forest teeming with species to catalog, specimens to save, and seeds to collect. However, my survey would have to wait. After the forest, or rather, around the three-by-four kilometer island, lay coasts rich in stones, like energy stones and other opportunities.
I was doing some lapidary, meaning my obsession with gems and stones had once again taken over, but this abundance was one of the reasons why I had taken this island, as there were a lot of minerals, stones, and other fun stuff washed ashore.
This had been one of many islands nearby but some of them had submerged, or just washed away kind of in time, leaving lots of stuff floating about and once in long time ago, there was huge coral reefs here, in time of dinosaur or so, so fossilized pieces of coral, containing most spectacular specimens were also available, sure they did not look much from outside and beauty was hidden inside.
I'd already explored a bit, collecting several batches of promising specimens. Harvey, Chuck, and Milan will arrive the day after tomorrow to install my specialized stone-cutting table saw. Then, I would begin cutting open specimens to examine their interiors. These corals were one of my targets, and other stones as well. I just loved to see what was inside and how I could use them.
This table saw had a sharp blade that easily cut through the stone, and it also sprayed water to prevent dust and chips. A guard was included, so I was confident it would be a fun gadget to use, big or small.
I'd watched countless Facebook videos of people cutting ancient corals to reveal their beautiful interiors, and I eagerly awaited using my saw, just for myself. I hoped to create jewelry, perhaps slicing opals into thin sections and embedding them in silver or gold to make pendants or rings.
My island had plenty of sandy beaches, although swimming opportunities were limited due to steep drop-offs. Years of natural disasters had deposited numerous stones and ancient coral pieces, providing ample material for my projects.
My large, rundown house had a main bedroom that I'd claimed as my own; it was my sanctuary, my getaway, my private resort—a little dangerous, perhaps, but perfectly suited to my personality. Naturally, clothes were strewn everywhere, but I didn't mind; it was simply my way of life.
After all, I had not worn each garment for so long, for instance, there was five nightshirt, meaning long tee shirts that used in nights if I were to sleep but then again, if I was not that sleepy, I might venture to swim, and then the shirt would be damp, making me need to change for dry one, but I would leave damp one to dry, and so on, it was just me, abundance of half used clothes.
A few weeks ago, Damon, along with numbers two, three, four, nine, and ten, attacked Mariella. They were now relaxing briefly on the beach before Mariella joined them, where she had subsequently engaged in sex with six of them, either in bed or on the beach. She didn't question the situation, merely accepting their advances. They were lust-packed and fine by her if Six Salvatores wanted to show her what they could do.
They had been on holiday for eight, or soon to be nine, weeks, and she was somewhat surprised, as she hadn't experienced such raw passion, even on holiday in the Azores, as their ardor had waned over the years.
Damon, number one, declared, "She can do it, goddamn it, darlin'. You might thank—or curse—one smug alpha female for this!"
Mariella, struggling to comprehend, asked, "Why? What has Mimi done now?"
Damon confessed in a rough voice, "About a few weeks ago, when we had been here five weeks or so, I was bored, cooling off while others clamored for your time. As they demanded, accusing me of monopolizing you. I sent Mimi a dream—I was studying the hive and noticed her smugness, her enjoyment, her solitude—unbothered by all this," his gesture encompassing them all.
"Pure lust. But she was mentally planning her next move, using terms I didn't understand. She also had three male technicians coming to install machinery, so I sent her a vivid, raunchy dream, full of raw lust and sensations. I got pretty imaginative, hoping she'd wake up hot and bothered."
Mariella was silent before quipping, "Well, it seems something backfired, right?"
Number Two said in a bored tone, "What do you think? If this idiot sends the world's best porn director some sex clips, she'll send hers back. She put her clip in the hive, with all the sensations she'd experienced, a good dose of her pure lust, and we reacted. She seduced us into fucking our brains out, leaving her to have fun for weeks. I must admit, as much as it pains me, her lust is the strongest in the hive and our pack. "
Mariella smiled and giggled. "She's good, by God, she is. I just looked through what she and Number One sent—no wonder. But I think we should eat and drink. Well, not me, but six of you have given me a lot, so you need to replenish yourselves."
Mentally, she addressed Damon (Number One): "My love, what do you think? Should we visit her smug little island, see her smug little plans, and then send Number Two with her, since we have evidence of her plans?"
Number One's voice was dangerously predatory, calm, and heated. "We can, but a part of me wants to bend her over and have my way with her—no asking, just live action. But yes, I can control myself and see what she's up to, to a limit. Maybe she'll do something that turns my lust into irritation, so I'm not so keen to fuck her brains out. But right now..."
He sent Mariella quite a clip of what he wanted to do to Mimi, and it was hot as hell, making Mariella smile.
Mariella said, still smirking at her husband's heated state, "Or she'll show her might and make us do what we have done in the past weeks. We have time, but I want to test the waters, see her tricks. Maybe this is foolish, but I'm curious. What kind of island could it be? Pack's mutual retreat? Not just another island for pleasure, but actual living? She could provide pack education, teaching us, sharing her botanical and other knowledge. I know she's an excellent teacher, but hates having to teach."
Number Two said, "Good luck; she'll get the best of you. I can tell, and I'll be waiting to see how long this holiday lasts. Will this turn in six months fuckfest while you two geniuses go and poke hornets' nest?"
He, too, was online. Mariella used the hive, feeling for Mimi, and was struck by a wave of smugness, though she kept her expression neutral. She felt for Number Two; sure, he'd ravaged her, but there was a yearning, an unfulfilled need for Mimi's love and closeness.
For the first time in a long time, Mariella wasn't jealous; she saw this as a weapon. As the lust queen, this minor war was intensifying.
She sent her observations to Number One. "Two misses her; I can feel it. He yearns to be with her, and there's genuine love. I have a plan. What do you think of Number Two and Mimi sanctifying a Romanian sex nest for a few weeks?"
Number One grunted, his reply hesitant: "Sure, he misses her—who doesn't? I miss her too. We got so damn close, and I know this might be overwhelming for you. A Romanian sex nest, made of sanctification, but I'm not sure if she or he is in the mood. They might be too romantic, and I'm not sure I want her to spend time with Number Two."
Mariella smiled. Damon was magnificent; seeing this old creature fight against the universe's most powerful force, unsure of his feelings and growing to accept them, was beautiful.
Mariella said, "I love seeing you grow—your internal musings, your face. I love seeing this process unfold and you finally accepting your feelings for Mimi. If you miss her, why don't we take that trip we discussed, see what she's up to, and then improvise? Nothing forced, just pack members checking in. I know Charles has been busy; I asked Mimosa to keep him occupied. No need for him to interfere with our plan—not yet, anyway."
Damon grunted, still pondering. The thought of Mimi in their Romanian love nest with someone else was a difficult one, but she appreciated that aspect of their lives. Mimi could be a sex beast when the time was correct. It had everything to do with her rage.
He wasn't sure he wanted to stop ravishing Mariella, though; something about her whimpers as she neared climax, her attempts to suppress them, ignited a desire to completely unravel her. He usually succeeded. He loved to render this woman into a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him. State what Mimi rarely was, but as for Mimi, nothing made his soul sing more than feeling her crawling on top of him, sweaty, fucked out of her mind, wanting to be so incredibly close to him.
Mariella looked at Damon, a man who appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His cruel expression made him seem dangerous, yet his smirk rendered him seductive. When he smiled, a rare event, the smile reached his eyes, illuminating his face. Mariella recalled that most of the times she'd seen him smile like that, it had been in connection with Mimi and her playful remarks.
In their relationship, he was stern, dominant, and controlling – a side she loved. Rarely did he show the relaxed demeanor she'd witnessed a few times between him and Mimi. She craved that intimacy.
She wasn't jealous, not now, but she admitted the possibility. She'd worked on herself, brutally honest with her own feelings, and knew she wasn't fully there yet. Even Damon's arctic blue eyes, capable of such cruelty, could darken to a sky blue, almost like a lepard's, when passionate.
She considered herself a copy of Vivien Leigh, resembling the actress, but her emerald green eyes and pouty expression were distinctly her own. She'd watched Leigh's films, noting the differences, and was becoming more herself, not just a doll for Damon. She looked like someone between twenty to twenty-five.
She possessed the busty, curvy figure Damon desired; her D to DD cup breasts were proud and perky, her nipples alluring. Her waist dipped, her hips flared into a seductive bubble butt, and her thighs were soft and creamy. However, she sometimes felt a little too curvy; her muscle definition wasn't as pronounced as Mimi's, and her belly lacked Mimi's flat, firm tone. She felt like her belly was protruding, or flabby, almost.
Mimi, though perhaps a head shorter and considerably leaner, carried herself with a predatory poise and seductive flair that belied her appearance. Mariella, sensing a threat, realized she was made for measure for Damon, and she did not mean the same to others as she meant for number one.
What comes to Mimi? Was she the one for Damon and the others? Those other versions of Damon possessed memories and a shared history with Mimi, a past Mariella was excluded from. How she could compare to that kind of history when she was so damn bland at the time?
Even Damon, the number one, praised Mariella, yet the Salvatores knew Mimi's true nature: her tightly built body was far from yielding, and her strength and passion made her a thrilling conquest. Mariella, while the epitome of lust—always willing, always ready, and perfectly proficient—offered only a minor challenge in bed, and the Salvatores, all ten of them, thrived on challenge. Winning Mimi in bed was a whole different thing, as she was the true alpha female who did not want to surrender easily to males.
Someone might scoff at Mimi's subtle hourglass figure and defined muscles. Her tight expression and predatory aura weren't seductive; her perfectly symmetrical face bordered on plain. Yet, she possessed an almost pixie-like quality, her frail appearance suggesting fragility. However, once she was engaged, it was a completely different story.
Meanwhile, Mariella, checking in on the hive, felt a surge of smugness, genuine enjoyment, and a rare sense of discovery. Her curiosity was fully piqued: what had Mimi found, and where?
It was time to meet Mimi, see what she was up to, and then set her up with the passionate, yearning Number Two in the Romanian sex nest. It would do Mimi a world of good to unleash her potent lust, and besides, they could place special crystals to amplify the energy exchange between them. The resulting connection would be perfect.
Over the years with the pack, Mariella had observed Mimi's ongoing evolution, her energy usage becoming more pronounced. Even though Mimi wasn't purely an energy being, she was almost dependent on the energies swirling in her mind, a unique trait.
Mimi's mind was capable of incredible lust, but stuff like intimacy, being helped, and being owned—things Mariella understood and lived by. But for Mimi, who had for so long been the strongest, always in charge, always self-reliant, these concepts were largely alien.
Now, however, things had changed. She had her pack, and she had also five Salvatores, and others. Change was hard for Mimi, and she might still see herself as the strongest, the savior. But Damon was catching up, becoming the true head of the pack, the strongest protector. Only time would reveal how everything would unfold.