Marge left me alone in my room with a reassuring smile. "Get comfortable," she said. "You'll have time to mingle with the other debtors later but be ready at any moment for a client."
The door closed behind her, and I was left to explore my new surroundings. The room had a luxurious
feel. Velvet drapes, a plush daybed, and elegant furnishings created an atmosphere that was both opulent and intimidating.
As I wandered through the space, I found a drawer filled with an array of toys—vibrators, whips, handcuffs, and other roleplay accessories. I was taken aback by the sheer variety. Each item seemed to whisper promises of different experiences, and I couldn't help but imagine how Oliver might use them.
I opened another drawer and found it filled with silk gowns and delicate lingerie. Each piece was exquisitely crafted, shimmering with a soft luster that caught the light. The gowns were designed to drape elegantly, their colors and textures far more luxurious than anything I had ever owned. As I ran my fingers over the silky fabric, I felt a strange sense of transformation wash over me.
I glanced down at my street clothes. They now seemed like relics from another life, symbols of a past I was leaving behind. Garments, once a part of my everyday existence, felt out of place in this new world of indulgence and control. They were reminders of a time before I had been thrust into this world.
I picked up a silk gown and held it close to my face. The fabric was cool and smooth, and as I breathed in its scent, I was enveloped in a delicate aroma of perfume. It contrasted heavily with the musky, worn smell of my old clothes.
This new scent felt like a promise of a fresh start, a signal that I was stepping into a new phase of my life. Though I was technically Oliver's possession, I couldn't deny the sense of control and power I felt in this new role—one that allowed me to command attention and evoke desire, even as I remained under his influence.
I slipped into a silk gown from the drawer, its smooth fabric caressing my skin. I absentmindedly sniffed my hand, still catching a trace of Oliver's woodsy scent. The lingering reminder of him was comforting. I sank into the velvet daybed, my thoughts drifting to Oliver and what it would be like to be used as one of his toys.
With a mix of anticipation and nervous energy, I picked up a vibrator from the small table beside my daybed. I'd never used one before, and the novelty of it sparked a curious excitement. The thought of Oliver's hands on me, his commanding presence guiding me, stirred something deep within. I couldn't help but daydream about his touch and what he might do if he were here. Tentatively, I began to pleasure myself, letting the vibrations enhance my fantasies. My body responded eagerly, and I lost myself in the sensations, imagining Oliver's touch and his commands, the intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words adding fuel to the fire building within me.
In the midst of my reverie, the door to my room opened. I looked up, startled to see a tall, handsome man with blonde hair and a neatly trimmed haircut standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a tailored blue suit, his presence immediately commanding attention.
At first, I felt a jolt of panic, but his calm demeanor and reassuring smile quickly eased my tension. "Please, don't stop," he said softly. "Continue."
I was startled by the sudden arrival. The anticipation had been building, but I hadn't expected him to come so soon. I was still reeling from the overwhelming sensations that Oliver had stirred in me, even though he wasn't physically present.
As the client gradually removed his clothes, he stepped closer. His hand, warm and gentle, rested around my chin as his body hovered just over mine. His touch was firm but not threatening, and his voice was a soft whisper. "You're the prettiest thing I've seen in here in a while," he murmured.
I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness.
He removed my silk gown with deliberate care, his fingers trailing over my chest and lightly grazing my nipples. His scent was fresh and clean. He took the vibrator from my hand.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small tablet. "I hear you're looking for Nebula. I've got just what you're looking for." He placed it on his tongue and as it began to dissolve on his, he leaned in and kissed me, sharing the taste of the drug. It was sweet, like cotton candy, and within moments, I felt a tingling sensation spread through my body.
As he applied the vibrator to me, the pleasure intensified, making every nerve in my body hum with excitement. I moaned softly, grabbing his hand to keep it where I needed it. But then, he pulled away and said, "If you want this orgasm, you'll need to earn it."
He guided me to my knees, revealing his erection. His hand cupped my chin, his thumb gently pressing against my lower lip to part my mouth. With deliberate precision, he leaned closer and spit into it. I eagerly took him into my mouth, savoring the taste and texture. My thoughts drifted to Oliver again, imagining how I would love to please him in this way. I reached around, grabbing his ass, pulling him deeper into my throat, feeling a mixture of submission and excitement.
He withdrew briefly, his hands firmly guiding me to bend over. My breath hitched as I felt the deliberate, teasing pressure of him against me, his tip pushing just inside before pulling back, igniting a slow, torturous ache that left me trembling. Each subtle movement stoked the fire burning within me, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter until every nerve screamed for more.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Beg for me."
The low, commanding tone sent a shiver through me, my body already teetering on the brink. I gasped, my words tumbling out in breathless, desperate pleas.
But he pulled back, his expression cool and unyielding, his eyes dark with control. "That's not nearly enough," he murmured, his voice laced with a tantalizing challenge. "Show me how much you want it."
He commanded me to turn around and drop to my knees, positioning his feet in front of me with quiet authority. "Kiss them," he commanded, his voice smooth yet firm. I complied, pressing soft kisses to his skin, feeling a mix of humiliation and excitement.
As I kissed his feet, the Nebula pulsed through me, its effects intensifying with every second. I had never expected such a powerful sexual rush, and certainly not with a stranger. I was feeling my body react in ways I hadn't imagined possible. The drug wasn't just heightening my senses; it was creating a strange, intoxicating connection to this man, whose name I didn't even know.
The Nebula blurred the line between pleasure and submission, making everything feel more vivid. I could feel his gaze on me, every touch, every instruction weaving into my mind like a thread I couldn't unravel. It wasn't just lust
—I felt a deep craving to please him, to be touched, to be seen by him. The rush was unlike anything I had ever experienced, an overwhelming need to give myself to this moment, to this man who, moments ago, had meant nothing to me.
As I looked up, I saw him stroking himself slowly, his gaze fixed on me. The sight of his hand moving over his length, each motion deliberate and controlled, sent another surge of heat through my body. The power he held over me in that moment was undeniable, and I couldn't help but feel the pull of both submission and hunger.
He guided me back up. With renewed intensity, I ran my tongue up his leg, and then over his exposed girth, savoring the taste of myself lingering on him. I took him back into my mouth, eager to please. My thoughts were consumed with the way I wanted Oliver to treat me, every touch and sensation amplified by the Nebula.
The client's eyes never left me, their intensity locking me in place as I moved with purpose, my desperation and longing evident in every motion. Suddenly, he took my hand, guiding me back onto the daybed. His movements were deliberate, his presence overwhelming as he climbed on top of me.
He positioned himself with precision, teasing me with just enough to make me ache for more. When he finally penetrated me, it was with a controlled rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through my body, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. The exquisite combination of indulgence and denial left me trembling beneath him, craving everything he was willing to give—and more.
He sensed my desperate need and, with a commanding yet deliberate hand, positioned me exactly where he wanted. His control was intoxicating, and when he finally relented, sliding himself deeply inside me with unyielding precision, the world around me seemed to dissolve.
Each thrust was deliberate, a slow and torturous rhythm that drove me wild. The effects of Nebula heightened every sensation, every nerve ending ignited under his touch. The slow withdrawal, followed by the deep, deliberate push, had me teetering on the edge, my body burning with need.
When he finally allowed me to climax, it was as if a storm unleashed within me, a powerful surge of ecstasy electrifying every fiber of my being. My world shattered in a kaleidoscope of pleasure, the intensity consuming me completely. I trembled beneath him, my body convulsing with aftershocks as waves of release rippled through me. Each shiver reminded me of the overwhelming, unparalleled bliss he had just unleashed, leaving me breathless and utterly spent, yet still yearning for more.
I realized, in the haze of bliss, that I had never climaxed before. Not like this. Not at all. The sensation was entirely foreign, a raw, overwhelming explosion that left me trembling, unsure if I was more stunned by the intensity of the act or by the fact that he had been the one to bring me to it. It was as if he had unlocked something in me, something I didn't even know I was capable of feeling.
I was left in a state of dazed contentment, my entire body still humming with the aftershocks of the experience. It was an unparalleled high, a vivid testament to the power of the Nebula.
He continued moving inside me, his pace steady even after my climax had left me trembling and breathless. The sensitivity of my body only seemed to heighten the sensations as he pressed on, his control unrelenting.
"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "I'm trying not to cum, but you're making it impossible." His words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me, my body reacting to the raw honesty in his tone.
He slowed for a moment, his thrusts deliberate and measured as if regaining control. The tension in his body was palpable, every muscle straining as he fought to hold back. His hands gripped my hips firmly, grounding himself as he hovered on the brink.
But then, with a groan that resonated deep in his chest, he gave in. His movements became more urgent, more primal, as he surrendered to the inevitable. His release came in a powerful rush, his body trembling against mine as he filled me completely. His sweat mingled with mine, dripping onto my chest and stomach.
For a moment, neither of us moved, our bodies pressed together as we caught our breath, the weight of his climax still heavy between us. The room was quiet, save for the sound of our breathing, a fragile calm settling over the storm we had just weathered together.
He leaned close, his voice low and approving. "Oliver was right. You are a good, obedient girl," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
The words echoed in my mind, stirring a mix of surprise and excitement. I had never really seen myself as obedient, but the way he spoke, it felt like a part of me had just been unlocked. The realization that I was entirely under Oliver's control, mentally and emotionally, settled in my core. I felt a deep, unwavering desire to please him, to be exactly what he wanted me to be. I was willing to do whatever it took to remain in his favor, to be his obedient girl in every sense of the word.
As he began dressing, a satisfied smile on his face, he glanced at me with a curious look. "So, how do you like the Nebula?" he asked.
I took a moment to collect myself, still buzzing from the intense experience. "I love it," I admitted breathlessly.
I felt a sudden pull, an urge I hadn't expected. The rational part of me knew he was just a client, but my body ached for more. I wanted him to stay, to let his hands keep exploring, to feel his warmth against mine again. The thought of him leaving left me unsettled, like I was being abandoned too soon.
I shifted on the bed, trying to shake the feeling. It wasn't real—this hunger, this need. It was the Nebula. I knew that. But knowing didn't make it go away. The drug hummed through my bloodstream, amplifying every touch, every sensation, convincing me that I wanted him, needed him, that this was something more than it really was. And in the quiet that followed, I realized I was disappointed he wasn't lingering. He could have stayed a bit longer. I might've even asked him to.
I tried to override the desire, reminding myself that this wasn't me. This was the Nebula talking, manipulating my emotions, making everything feel more important, more intense. I didn't want him. Not really. I was just another transaction to him, like I was to everyone else here.
But no matter how many times I told myself that, a tiny part of me still wished he would turn back, take off hisclothes again and start over. It felt hollow to admit it, but I craved the connection, even if it was false, even if it would only last until the next dose.
When the door finally clicked shut behind him, the room felt quieter, the energy still humming in my veins. I remained undressed, basking in the afterglow of the intense experience, but now I was alone again. And despite everything, the quiet was a little too quiet.
The door opened, and Oliver walked in, his eyes immediately taking in the sight of me. He didn't rush me to get dressed. Instead, he stood there, admiring me in my disheveled state, the soft light catching the lingering sheen of sweat on my skin.
"You look incredible," he said, his voice low and appreciative.
His gaze was intense, almost possessive, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I was still wrapped in the aftereffects of Nebula, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before, but also more deeply connected to him.
He walked toward me with a measured grace, his eyes never leaving mine. He gently cupped my face in his hands, his touch warm and tender. As he leaned down beside the daybed, his fingers trailed down my neck, across my chest, and along my stomach. The sensation was electric, his touch making me shiver with every caress.
Just as his fingers neared my most sensitive areas, he stopped, his hand hovering just above. His eyes met mine, a smirk playing on his lips. "Are you still feeling good from the Nebula?" he asked softly, his voice laced with a teasing edge.
I looked up at him, my voice breathless and tinged with wonder. "Better than I've ever felt before," I replied, the truth of my words heavy.
Oliver's smile widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "It will only get better," he assured me, his tone confident. He ran a fingertip along my cheek, the contact almost electrifying. "I knew I could tame your attitude."
Oliver's voice was soft but commanding as he leaned closer. "Now, go freshen up. The showers are down the hall. You'll find the Class A facilities are quite luxurious. They have an impressive selection of products." He paused, his eyes locking onto mine with a touch of possessiveness. I smiled to myself, savoring the privilege he had granted me.
Oliver sat there, his gaze never leaving me, and I felt an intense connection. I looked deeply into his eyes, absorbing every detail of his features and the captivating scent of him. The Nebula's effects heightened my need for him, making every touch and glance feel electrifying.
I reached out instinctively to stroke his face, yearning for his closeness. But as I did, he gently grabbed my hand, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to it. His touch was tender, and the moment felt profoundly intimate. Without another word, he rose and left the room, leaving me basking in the afterglow of his presence and the powerful effects of the Nebula.
I made my way down the hall, following Oliver's instructions, until I found the Class A showers. The luxury of it was jarring against the gritty, unforgiving nature of the rest of the Vault. Each shower was separated by sleek, gray tiled walls, the silver accents gleaming under the soft, spa-like lighting. It was an oasis in the middle of chaos, and the sensory overload— lavender, eucalyptus, vanilla, and amber wafting from the shelves lined with high-end soaps—felt almost disorienting. It was hard to reconcile this level of comfort with the reality of the Isles.
A few others were already in there, both men and women. One man stood out—his shower curtain was wide open, and he didn't seem to care that anyone could see him. He was tall, around 6'2", with a perfectly sculpted body that showed off his strong figure. His toned muscles and confident stance caught my eye. His deep brown eyes, framed by wet strands of hair, carried a natural confidence. When he noticed me, he gave a small smile and asked,
"Care to join me?"
I hesitated, a little thrown by his directness.
He said casually, "it's just a shower. No harm in some company."
I found myself relaxing slightly at his nonchalant tone. "I just finished with a client," I explained, the tension easing out of my voice.
The man nodded, understanding. "We all have. I'm Leo," he introduced himself, extending a hand. "Don't worry—strictly gay. But I enjoy sharing showers. It's nice to have a bit of conversation and closeness on Nebula."
That much, I could relate to. As the effects of the drug continued through me, I felt a growing need for connection— something more than the transactional nature of my role here. "Alright," I said with a soft smile, stepping into the shower with him. I could use a bit of closeness myself.
We started washing each other, our touches light and easy, far from sexual. It felt more like a ritual, a way to ease back into reality. As we bathed, we talked—really talked—about our lives before the Isles and the Vault. I found myself intrigued by Leo's story. His childhood had been surprisingly similar to mine—raised in a tough neighborhood, struggling to find his way, falling into the wrong circles. There was a shared understanding between us that made our shower feel even more intimate, even though there was no sexual tension. It was just about finding a moment of peace.
After we finished showering, we took our time drying each other off, every stroke of the towel easy and unhurried. He smiled at me, his expression calm and thoughtful. "You know, it's not so bad here in Class A," he said, as I ran the towel over his chest. "I worked my way up from Class B, and I don't think I'd ever want even leave the Isles, to be honest."
I tilted my head, curious. "You'd stay here? Even if you had a chance to leave?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Out there, life was so much harder. I was always struggling, fighting for a place, for a meal, for a moment of peace. Here, it's different. Sure, it's sex work, but at least there's a strange kind of structure to it. It's not as bad once you know how to navigate it. And sometimes…" He flashed a mischievous smile, leaning in slightly, "Sometimes, I even enjoy it."
I raised an eyebrow, curious. "Enjoy it? Seriously?"
He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hey, I've got a crush on a few of my clients. Makes the work a little more fun, you know? Nothing wrong with a little fantasy to go with the job."
There was a pause as his words hung in the air. I considered them carefully, feeling the honesty in his voice. It was a strange reality to come to terms with, but I found myself agreeing, in a way. "My first encounter," I said softly, "I actually enjoyed it… more than I thought I would."
Leo grinned, his face brightening at my confession. "See? There's freedom to it, in a way. Once you let go of fighting against it, you start finding the moments that make it worth it. Moments of pleasure, moments of connection… or even just moments like this." He gestured around us, our shared space, and the quiet intimacy of the shower.
His words brought me some comfort, even a bit of relief. I wasn't sure how I'd continue to feel about my situation here, but for now, I was starting to understand how someone could come to accept it. The closeness, the moments of understanding—maybe that's what made it bearable, even something worth staying for.
I leaned in closer to Leo, my voice barely above a whisper as the warm steam surrounded us. "To be honest," I whispered, "it's not just about clearing my debt… I really like Oliver."
As soon as the words left my mouth, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. I felt like a middle school girl admitting a secret crush for the first time. My face heated up, and I instinctively glanced down, avoiding his gaze. What was I even thinking, blurting that out? It sounded so childish, so naive—especially in a place like this. I bit my lip, the nervous energy making me want to sink into the steam and disappear.
His face broke into a knowing smile, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. "You're not the first to say that, trust me," he said, his tone light but with a hint of caution. "But let me give you a tip—Oliver doesn't mix business with pleasure. He might visit one of the Class A girls every now and then for his own needs, but it's rare. And he doesn't even bother learning their names. To him, it's just another transaction."
I listened, feeling a knot of unease settle in my stomach. I had sensed something different in my interactions with Oliver—a spark, a connection that felt unique to me. But Leo's words cast a shadow of doubt. Was I just imagining things, projecting my own desires onto someone who saw me as nothing more than another business transaction?
Still, I leaned in closer to Leo and whispered, "But with me, it's different. We have… sort of a deal." The words felt like a secret slipping out, and I immediately regretted them.
His eyes widened, and his expression shifted to something more serious. He quickly hushed me, his finger to his lips. "Shh! Don't go around saying things like that," he warned, his voice low and urgent. "If there's any truth to what you're saying, you better keep it to yourself. Some of the Class A girls are ruthless. They'd do anything to get his attention, anything to be seen by him. And if they think you have something special with him, they'll make your life hell."
I hadn't considered that angle. I had been so wrapped up in my own feelings and fantasies that I hadn't thought about the others who might see me as a threat. I nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken rules of this world a little better now. "Thanks," I murmured. "I'll be careful."
But as the words left my mouth, I felt a surge of defiance rise within me. Careful? I've been fighting in the streets long before I stepped foot in the Vault. Girls like them don't scare me. They wouldn't know how to handle a real threat if it stared them in the face. I'd taken on worse.
He nodded, his demeanor softening a bit. "Good. Just watch your back, okay? And remember, sometimes the less said, the safer you are."
I nodded again, my mind racing. I realized I'd need to tread carefully, not just with Oliver but with everyone around me.
As I headed back to my room, a towel wrapped tightly around me, thought about everything Leo said. My mind spun with questions and doubts. When I reached my room, I pushed the door open and noticed something new—a gift basket sitting on my daybed. I paused, my eyes scanning over the contents. There were a few drinks, some magazines, a selection of snacks and chocolates, and—my heart skips a beat—tablets. Nebula.
I walked over and picked up the basket, examining it more closely. There was a note attached. I unfolded the note and read it, feeling a shiver of excitement course down my spine.
Lux,
A little something to help you settle in. There's plenty more Nebula if you behave yourself. Enjoy it and remember— I'm always watching.
Oliver
I stared at the note, my fingers tracing the edge of the paper. His words were teasing, flirtatious, but still vague enough to leave me wanting more. It's a reminder of the control he holds, but also of the attention he's given me. I bit my lip, folding the note back up and slipping it back into the basket. As much as Leo's words planted seeds of doubt, I couldn't deny the thrill of being singled out by Oliver.
I glanced at the Nebula tablets, feeling a pull of temptation. His words echoed in my mind—"if you behave." I realized that every step, every choice, is a part of this game we're playing. And I was still figuring out if I was a willing participant, or just another piece on his board.
I laid on the daybed for what felt like forever, my body sinking into the plush cushions as I slowly navigate the Nebula high. My mind felt like it was floating somewhere between reality and the lingering haze of the drug. I could still feel a pleasant tingling coursing through my limbs, but the intense rush faded to a gentle hum beneath my skin.
The Nebula added beautiful color tracers and a shimmering haze to my vision, transforming the room into a swirling canvas of vibrant hues. I could stare at it for hours, lost in the mesmerizing dance of colors while my skin tingles with the after-effects. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to piece my thoughts back together, but they kept drifting away like smoke.
A sharp knock on the window startled me out of my daze. I turned to see Marge standing there, her face framed by the glass. She motioned for me to come closer, and I pulled myself up from the daybed, still feeling a little unsteady.
"Got another client interested," she said, her voice muffled but clear through the window.
I blinked at her, trying to register what she was saying. "Another client?" I mumbled, still half-dazed. "Already?"
Marge nodded, a slight smirk playing at her lips. "You didn't realize they've been browsing, did you? Watching you while you've been in here… relaxing." She glanced pointedly at the room, her eyes lingering on the gift basket from Oliver.
A wave of unease washed over me. I had forgotten I'd been on display this whole time. I glanced over at the clock on the wall, surprised to see that two hours had passed since my last client. The Nebula was completely warping my sense of time.
Marge noticed my reaction and chuckled. "Better get used to it, sweetheart. Time flies when you're having fun. Now hurry up and get dressed. You don't want to keep her waiting. She requested you wear the emerald set."
Her.
Marge stepped away from the window, leaving me alone again. I headed over to the wardrobe; my fingers found the emerald set. It was beautiful, almost ethereal.
I pulled the lingerie out and started getting dressed, my hands moving on autopilot. The fabric felt cool against my skin, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The emerald green contrasted with my skin, the delicate lace clinging to my curves. I took a moment to collect myself. The Nebula's effects, heavy and persistent, cloud my thoughts. I was nervous, knowing that the Nebula is altering my feelings about the clients. I found myself almost too accepting of the situation, and it unsettled me. Despite my attempts to resist, the drug turned my reluctance into a yearning.
I'd never been intimate with a woman, and this new curiosity about this side of myself was intriguing. The Nebula's haze added a layer of confusion, amplifying my thoughts and emotions in ways I was still trying to understand.
But as I tried to focus on those feelings, frustration welled up inside me. I wanted to grasp my emotions, to understand my responses, but the Nebula fought hard against the negative thoughts, clouding my mind and making it difficult to reflect.
Each time I tried to push away the haze, it fought back, turning my frustration into a more profound yearning. The Nebula's effects blurred my sense of control and clarity, making it harder to confront my feelings and maintain any semblance of control over my emotions.