The bait works

"Why, yes" the man replies, staring at your chest, clearly having already undressed you in his mind. "This place can be quite confusing. As a humble servant of the Empire, let me lead your way. Come, this way" With the smile of a piranha, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and walks you to a lavish but unoccupied bedroom, of sorts. Though you understand what is at hand, you still ask the dumb question "I don't understand sir. I thought you were showing me the way to the Emperor."

"The only way to him is through me." He says with a snarl "You think you're the first one to try and fake your way in here? If you prove yourself, I might let you stay..." The gig was up. Someone like him who was intimately familiar with the consorts in this place would know who doesn't belong, but he's willing to give you an out, and you take it.

"I think you'll find that I am more than capable of satisfying the needs of the empire" You respond as you slowly undo the sash of your robe, teasingly exposing yourself to him. You already seduced him this far, clearly, but giving up the show could cause some serious trouble, so you continue to lay it on thick, which is just as he likes it.

"You clearly have an exemplary body of work" He says as he opens his pants and pulls out his aged cock. Despite his arousal, getting it fully erect is a challenge his body isn't fully able to meet. "But I need to see your performance, first hand."

"Don't you worry, you'll get all the performance you desire..." leaving your robes tangling on your shoulders, you kneel down before him to service him, giving him a soft stroke to help his erection along.

"I'd better, whore. Now spit on that cock and get it wet"

"Spitting is unlady-like" you coyly respond before taking his cock in your mouth, giving him as slobbery a blowjob as you can muster. As you apply your trade, you feel him getting the last bit of firmness. You almost pity him for it being so difficult, and ponder on whether you should pluck the strings of fate a little to remedy this for him, but you recognize this isn't your problem.

Working with a fully erect cock now, you let it slide out of your mouth. With a soft thwacking sound, it lands on your plump, oversized tits. Looking at him, you hold either breast in hand, and surround his wet cock in your soft folds. Without asking, you start to fuck the old man with your tits, his cock completely buried between them. Your speed and skill outmatch his withered vitality, and he knows it. As much as you'd like this to end here and now so that you can onto your _real _work, he has other ideas.

"Yes, yes" He says between hastened breaths "that's all well and good, but let's see you where it counts." Although you know what it means and try to get up on your own, he has his own agenda and grabs your robe, pulling you along as you put your feet under you. Struggling, he throws you along the bed, your legs and ass sticking off.

Instantly, you recognize this is really what it's about. It's not about the pleasure for him, it's about the power; to him they're the same thing. With that, you shift the tail of your robe off to the side and remain exactly where you are. Without a word spoken, he grabs you by the hips and thrusts hard into you. No romance, no sentimentality, not even a hint of actual lust or desire; he fucks you like he's working out a grudge. You don't resist, and leave him to his mediocre work. Mentally, you try to look at his thread of fate, and see that not only can you look at it forwards, but backwards as well.

Looking back far enough, you see a much younger man through the years, still in possession of a loving and tender heart. Harsh rejections and bitter betrayals poisoned that heart into what it is now. You almost feel an ounce of pity for him, but that moment fades instantly as he cums inside you without a single warning.

"I suppose you're good enough to stick around here, but remember this. I can still have you cast out of here at any moment." He says, walking away immediately as he tries to put his defeated dick away. You remain there motionless until he leaves. As the door closes behind you, you sit up and try to study the threads of fates past. There's fewer to see than all the threads of what could or might be, and are more difficult, especially in a place like this where there's so much routine in the day to day.

As you look through it, your heart begins to race in frustration and anxiety. Something's not right here...