#56
I’d barely finished my coffee when Rodrigo clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grin wide and mischievous.
“Come on, Alvin. Time for your initiation.”
Lindon shot me a knowing look from across the table, but I just nodded, curiosity overriding any nerves. Ally lingered nearby, her expression neutral as always in public. She shot me a strange look.
Is something happening? I wondered as I followed.
Rodrigo led me down a hallway lined with abstract art that screamed old money mixed with hedonism.
Doors opened to lounges where I’d glimpsed half-dressed guests the night before, but he steered us toward a larger chamber at the end.
As we pushed through the double doors, the room revealed itself: a spacious lounge with plush couches arranged in a semi-circle around a central raised platform, like a stage for intimate performances.
Low lighting cast warm glows over velvet cushions and scattered throw pillows, the kind of setup that screamed ‘anything goes.’
What caught me off guard was the influx.
As soon as we stepped in, a murmur rippled through the adjoining spaces, and women poured in behind us—dozens at first glance, though as they settled, it narrowed to about ten, all eyeing me with that predatory gleam I’d gotten used to after living in this world.
They were a mix: some petite and lithe like the beauty standard here demanded, others varying in build but none with the exaggerated curves that marked ‘unattractive’ back home.
In this reversed reality, where women’s libidos drove the pursuits and men played coy, these women moved with purpose, shedding jackets and slipping out of tops as they claimed seats on the couches.
I turned to Rodrigo, confusion knitting my brows.
“What’s all this? Some kind of meeting?”
“This is our official clubroom.” He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as the last woman slipped in, closing it behind her.
“And this, my friend, is your initiation. To join the club, you need to prove you’re game for our… gatherings. You need to fuck them.”
My jaw dropped.
“All of them?!”
Shock laced my voice, heart pounding as I scanned the room.
The women were stripping further now—bras unclasped, skirts hiked up, panties tugged aside. Their eyes locked on me like wolves sizing up prey, lips parted, breaths quickening.
Rodrigo’s grin widened, shaking his head.
“No such thing. They won’t care how many you do it with. The point is to fuck in front of them. Show you’re not shy, that you can handle the spotlight. It’s about freedom, sex, and pleasure—the core of what we do here. We need to know that you are really one of us.”
I blinked, processing. Just fuck in front of them?
But the way they stared, bodies shifting restlessly, it felt like more. Like they all wanted a piece.
My gaze darted around, landing on Donna—Rodrigo’s girlfriend—perched on the edge of a couch. She was the epitome of this world’s beauty: petite, flat-chested, her small frame toned and pretty in a delicate way.
Her dark hair framed a sharp face, and she met my eyes with a sultry smile, crossing her legs slowly as if to tease.
Did I really just need to pick one and perform? Why did it seem like they were gearing up for a group thing?
Lindon sidled up beside me, his face a mix of sympathy and amusement.
“Give up yet, Alvin? This is the real test.”
I ignored him, my eyes seeking out Ally instead. She stood near the back, arms crossed, her lithe form blending into the shadows.
I caught her gaze, asking silently: Should I do this?
Ally’s shoulders lifted in a casual shrug; her expression was unreadable, but her eyes twinkled with that familiar spark. Your call, it said. Do what you want.
No jealousy, no pressure.
That settled it.
‘Alright,’ I said, voice steadier than I felt. ‘Let’s do this.’
Rodrigo clapped me on the back.
‘Attaboy. Platform’s yours. Pick your partner—or partners—and give ’em a show.’
The women murmured approval, a few catcalling softly as I stepped onto the raised area. The platform was padded, almost like a bed, with dim spotlights warming the space. My pulse raced, but there was an undercurrent of thrill too—the power of being desired so openly.
I scanned the group again, deciding to start simple. One of the women near the front caught my eye: sleek blonde hair, flat chest, narrow hips—peak beauty here. She wore only a thong now, her skin flushed.
Before I could choose, however, a young woman walked toward me. When I look at her, I immediately recognise her. It was none other than Milly who was sucking on me during breakfast.
“I call dibs on him,” she said, as she walked toward me with confident steps, as if she owned the place. “No problem, right?”
The other shrugged in agreement.
“Hey, Al.”
I stare at her bare chest; her confidence is the complete opposite of her flat chest. She’s not really that beautiful, just borderline pretty and cute. However, in this world, she’s probably one of the Madonnas in school.
Milly walked toward me.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast?”
I look at her and smirk, “Well, not as much as you apparently.”
Milly chuckled, “I won’t deny that.”
Her voice was low and teasing, carrying that edge of command that made my stomach twist in anticipation.
Before I could respond, she closed the distance between us on the platform, her bare feet padding softly against the padded surface.
The room’s murmurs faded into a charged hush as all eyes fixed on us—the women leaning forward in their seats, Rodrigo grinning from the sidelines, Lindon crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow, and Ally watching with that casual curiosity from the back.
She reached me in two strides, her hands—strong and sure—sliding around my waist possessively, pulling my body flush against hers.
Milly was shorter than me, her flat chest pressing into my torso, but there was nothing submissive in her stance. She owned the space, her fingers digging into the small of my back like she was claiming territory.
Her skin was warm, slightly damp with the room’s building tension, and I could smell the faint citrus of her shampoo mixed with something earthier, more primal.
“Hey,” she murmured, her breath hot against my neck as she tilted her head up.
Her eyes locked onto mine, dark and demanding, no room for hesitation. Then, without warning, she surged up on her toes and captured my lips in a kiss that was all aggression—her mouth hard and insistent, tongue pushing past my teeth to claim mine.
It wasn’t a gentle exploration; it was a takeover, her hands roaming up my sides to grip my shoulders, holding me in place as if I might bolt.
The kiss deepened, her teeth nipping at my lower lip, drawing a sharp inhale from me. She tasted like coffee from breakfast, bitter and bold, and her body moulded to mine, hips grinding forward in a subtle demand.
My cock stirred in my pants, the friction sending a jolt through me, but I held back, letting her lead.
The audience’s breaths quickened audibly—Donna uncrossing her legs with a soft sigh, one of the blondes biting her knuckle, their eyes wide with interest.
This was the show they craved: raw, unfiltered, the initiation unfolding in real time.
Milly broke the kiss first, her lips curving into a smirk as she licked them, savouring the taste.
“You’re tense, Al,” she said, her voice husky, one hand trailing down to cup my ass, squeezing firmly. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”
It was phrased like a command, her fingers kneading the muscle through my jeans, pulling me closer so my growing erection pressed against her thigh.
She was in control, dictating the pace, and I played along, my hands hovering uncertainly at my sides before settling lightly on her hips—passive, receptive, like the men in this world were expected to be at first.
She didn’t waste time.
With a swift motion, she tugged at my shirt, yanking it over my head and tossing it aside. The cool air of the room hit my skin, raising goosebumps, but her touch chased them away as she ran her palms over my chest, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened.
“Good boy,” she whispered, leaning in to suck on one, her tongue flicking the peak while her hand dipped lower, palming my bulge through the fabric.
I gasped, the sensation shooting straight to my core, my hips bucking involuntarily into her grip.
The women watching let out appreciative hums—Rodrigo chuckled softly, and Lindon muttered something about “not bad.”
Milly’s confidence was intoxicating. To me, she wasn’t the most stunning in the room, her features cute rather than striking, her body athletic and uncurved in the way this world prized.
But in this world, she was one of the Queen. A celebrity. An idol of beauty. And that perception amplified her dominance.
She started kissing down my body, from my chest to my abdomen, as if she was putting on a show. Her eyes never leave mine.
To be honest, it felt odd, strange being watched by dozens of people. Their eyes boring on me and their excitement electrifying my nerves. Nevertheless, it does feel exhilarating. I felt incredibly aroused that I just wanted to shove this girl in front of me, thinking she owns me, and fucked her to oblivion.
However, I kept my fuse intact.
They want a show? I’ll give them a show.
I turned my head and looked at the others. Their eyes were completely locked on us. Some girls are already frigging their cunts, while some, already started making out with their partners.
Girls to girls, and girls to boys. Johnson, the huge, muscular guy, was even in his underwear- wearing a red-laced bra and panties while licking Tina’s pussy. It was now clear who held the leash on their relationship. Tina’s eyes, however, were locked on us, grinning and staring right at me.
When she noticed me looking at her, she winked at me and made a kissing motion.
I ignored her and looked at the others. It was then I noticed that none of the boys, despite making out and kissing with their lovers, didn’t have any erection, which should have been the case.
There’s no way they are not aroused.
Suddenly, I winced in pain when my nipples were pinched.
“Eyes on me, Al,” Milly said.
“That hurts, you know.”
She chuckled. Her hands were on the waistband of my pants, and she shoved them down along with my boxers in one rough pull, freeing my cock to spring out, already half-hard and throbbing in the spotlight’s glow.
The room quieted as clothes hit the floor.
I kicked off my shoes, dropped my pants, and that’s when the gasp rippled through.
My cock sprang free, thick and long—huge by any standard, veined and heavy even semi-hard.
Even Milly’s eyes widened, her hand wrapping around the base, barely encircling it.
‘Holy shit,’ she breathed.
But the shock came from the men too—Rodrigo, Lindon, a couple of others scattered among the observers.
Rodrigo’s grin faltered into outright surprise, his brows shooting up.
‘Damn, Alvin. Didn’t see that coming.’ Lindon whistled low, shaking his head. Even the women paused their self-touches, murmurs of ‘Look at that monster’ and ‘He’s packing’ filling the air.
In this world, a size like mine was rare, a spectacle. Even Johnson’s dick was just the size of a thumb. And although it’s not erect, I doubt it would reach even half of mine.
“Yep, still monstrous. You came into my mouth a while ago, but you’re still hard, huh. I heard the rumours, but you can really cum a dozen times a day.”
I felt exposed, powerful, a flush creeping up my neck as Milly stroked me to full hardness, the shaft throbbing in her grip.
“Rumours?” I asked.
Milly looks at me, “You’re quite the celebrity since last night, you know, Alvin. You fuck Aunt Mel and Aunt Morgana all night, and I even heard you did it with Layla Seydon.”
“So you all know about it?”
“Of course. Nothing could hide within these mansion’s walls, you know. But don’t worry, what happens within the mansion stays in the Mansion. Anyone who breaks that will receive severe punishment; worse, they may be excommunicated by the group. No one’s an idiot to do that,” she said, wrapping her hand around my shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip.
Her grip was firm, no nonsense, pumping me with deliberate strokes that made pre-cum bead at the head. I groaned, my head falling back, surrendering to the rhythm she set.
The audience leaned in closer, Donna’s eyes darkening with lust, Ally’s casual shrug giving way to a subtle smile.
Milly dropped to her knees then, her position belying her control—she wasn’t submitting; this was her stage. Her mouth hovered near my cock, breath teasing the sensitive skin, before she engulfed me in one swift motion, lips sealing around the head as her tongue swirled.
Fuck. The wet heat of her mouth was overwhelming, sucking hard while her hand twisted at the base, setting a slow, torturous pace.
She bobbed her head, taking me deeper each time, her free hand gripping my thigh to steady me. I threaded my fingers into her hair—not pulling, just holding—letting her dictate the depth, the speed.
Saliva dripped down my length, her cheeks hollowing with each pull, and the slurping sounds echoed in the quiet room, drawing gasps from the watchers. One woman—a redhead with a similar flat build—slipped a hand into her panties, rubbing openly, her awe turning to arousal.
