Almost kidnapped

Theo's excursion into other parts of the shop lasted barely half a minute, but it was long enough for him to notice his own brain ticking in strange new ways. He was still at the age of near infinite libidinous capacity. Sex never truly drained him. If his partners were willing he could unload multiple times in a row without softening once. Today was no exception. Even as he had turned away from Christy's cum-filled and milk-stained bum to seek help his cock remained mostly erect, spearing the way ahead of him. The pixie had opened herself to him, and had given him everything. Now, he should be thinking of the next girl. Who would she be? What character would she evoke from his favorite fantasy novels, the maiden, the spoiled or warrior princess, or a peasant girl? Yet...

A tall buxom lady wearing the store uniform appeared in front of him, and turned to see him approach. Her eyes flashed down to his crotch and she bared her teeth, smile oozing the promise of sex. Still as he spoke to her of the little incident in the dairy aisle, his thoughts spiralled back to Christy. Right now, he still wanted the orange-haired faery.

The dairy aisle was empty.

Grimshaw was having second thoughts about this catch almost the moment a sliver of sobriety returned to him in the wake of dying arousal. He had misjudged the dominant attitude in this general goods store, compared to the rest of the commercial complex. Downstairs people got busy, browsing clothes, furniture, luxury appliances, toys and trinkets etc. Customers were very quick to solicit the help of staff, and not only for their purchases. Downstairs you could easily lose undesirables by sending them off on phoney errands. You could easily vanish from the premises unnoticed, wading through a crowd of folks eagerly getting advised on their shopping with a little extra touchy fun on the side. Too few to count would look much at an Outworlder, equally for fear as for blind hate of his kin. No one would spare even a glance at the young woman beside him, and the cloak he'd draped over her head and shoulders perfectly concealed the nerve trident clamped on the back of her neck.

Unfortunately, the milky threeseome had been the bulk of sexual activity on this upper level. In spite of the City's recent change in morals this area remained chaste and to the point: you came for food and necessities, and left. There was no ambient music. You didn't spend ages agonizing over which brand and which model of so and so product to buy. You didn't get caught up in your own business. Everyone must have heard Christy's moans, the grunts of her lovers and the slapping of flesh against flesh as they fucked. Now all eyes fell on him and her, and they could see. All it would take was one person capable of recognizing the symptoms.

The trident biting into the nerves and forcefully implanting motor commands guaranteed obedience, but it couldn't mask a prisoner's experience, and this pixie's face communicated well her pain and anguish. She couldn't open her mouth to scream, so her lips thinned to a pale line, and her jaw muscles were visibly straining inside her cheeks. Her nostrils flared. To every stranger she shot pleading glances, eyeballs her only unfiltered tool to call out.

"Christy!" Theo's voice went shrill as he called from somewhere far behind, "Where are you?"

The pirate growled. Any hope of a discreet exit was shot. "Run, Pixie," he commanded.

Dorea was slouched in her chair, legs apart, one hand deep in her crotch as she waited for the next customer to choose her. A single shout from some faraway place slightly dented her gentle ecstasy. Doubltess someone somewhere had got a little bit lost, and was responding with a touch of unjustified panic. But mere seconds later a woman nearer by screamed in terror, and the cashier snapped alert. Dorea looked up and saw him running straight towards her, a brute exactly like the drawings in the history books, enormous, chalk-white and with massive black holes in his face, snarling a mouth full of pointy teeth. She never saw the tiny hooded figure running along with him. Pure instinct drove her reaction. The hand below flashed from her cunt to a spot underneath her desk and came up with a small plasma discharge weapon. Slick with cunt juice her fingers slipped on the trigger, but she squeezed regardless. The pulse burst out and struck true. Grimshaw's chest collapsed in flame, but his momentum carried him several feet forward. His body crashed and burned in a smoking heap just short of the gate leading out beyond Dorea's counter.