The First Capture

The walk back to my hotel was the most exhilarating ten minutes of my life. Each step was buoyed by the weight of the pokéball in my pocket, a constant, physical reminder of my success. It wasn't just the cool metal against my thigh; it was a profound, metaphysical gravity, the mass of a condensed human being, a living, breathing girl I had plucked from the world.

I kept my hand in my pocket, my fingers tracing its smooth surface, replaying the flash of red light and her shocked, innocent face in my mind. I had done it.

The theory was now proven fact. The world was my oyster, and Chloe was the first, delicious pearl.

My hotel room was on the top floor, a spacious suite with a panoramic view of Cerulean City and the sparkling sea beyond. I locked the door behind me, the click of the bolt sounding like the starting pistol for a new kind of race. My heart hammered against my ribs, a cocktail of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated lust.

I took the pokéball out of my pocket, holding it in my palm. It felt different now, warmer, almost alive. The central button pulsed with a soft, steady rhythm, like a tiny heartbeat. It was time to meet my new partner up close and personal.

I stood in the center of the room, took a deep breath, and pressed the button. "Chloe, I choose you!" I whispered, a dark parody of the classic trainer's call.

The ball snapped open, and a torrent of crimson light erupted onto the plush carpet. It swirled and coalesced, solidifying not into the cute, pink-dressed girl I had captured, but into the raw, naked form of the woman herself. The light faded, and there she was. Chloe stood before me, blinking in the sudden brightness of the room, completely and utterly nude.

My jaw dropped. A wave of shock, hot and potent, washed over me, followed immediately by a tidal wave of arousal. I had expected her to emerge in the same clothes she was wearing; the pokéball was supposed to be a form of suspended animation, a pocket dimension. But somehow, in the process of conversion and storage, her flimsy sundress, her sneakers, even the tie in her hair had been dematerialized, leaving only her. And she was magnificent.

Her skin was creamy and flawless, the golden tan I had admired earlier now covering every inch of her body. Her breasts were even better than I had imagined, full and round with soft, pink nipples that hardened instantly in the cool air-conditioned room. They sat high and proud on her chest, jiggling slightly with her confused breathing. My gaze traveled down over the gentle curve of her stomach to the neat, blonde triangle of hair between her legs, a perfect, fluffy landing strip that pointed to the delicate folds of her sex. Her legs were long and shapely, her feet small and elegantly arched.

She was a living, breathing work of art.

But her reaction was just as shocking as her appearance. Her eyes, those wide, sapphire pools, were filled with a terror so profound it was almost palpable. She looked down at her own naked body, her hands flying to cover her breasts and crotch with a choked sob. A scream was building in her throat, her mouth opening wide, her lungs drawing in the air to unleash it.

"Stop," I said, my voice calm but firm. "Don't scream. Don't run. Just stand there and be quiet."

The command hit her like a physical blow. The scream died in her throat, strangling into a pathetic whimper. The tension in her legs, the coiled energy ready to bolt, evaporated, and she stood frozen, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide with a new kind of horror—the horror of her own betrayal. She tried to scream again, a ****, silent effort, but her vocal cords refused to obey. She tried to lift her feet to run, but they were rooted to the spot.

The pokéball's power wasn't just a cage; it was a collar, a leash that connected her will directly to mine.

She was a puppet, and I was the only one holding the strings.

"Good girl," I purred, stepping closer. The power was intoxicating. I circled her slowly, like a shark admiring its catch. Up close, she was even more divine. I could see the faint spray of freckles across her shoulders, the delicate blue veins in her breasts. I reached out and placed my hand on her hip. Her skin was soft and warm, and she flinched at my touch but couldn't pull away.

"Please..." she finally managed to whisper, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, let me go..."

"Shhh," I said, my other hand coming up to cup the firm globe of her ass. I squeezed, my fingers sinking into the pliant flesh. It was perfect. I slid my hand up her back, feeling the smooth contour of her spine, then around to her front. I palmed her breast, feeling its weight, the nipple a hard pebble against my palm. I kneaded it, enjoying the helpless whimper that escaped her lips. My hands roamed everywhere, squeezing her thighs, her arms, the soft flesh of her stomach. I was mapping my territory, claiming every inch of her. She was completely, utterly helpless, a beautiful toy for me to play with.

I stopped in front of her, looking into her terrified, tear-filled eyes. "You're a virgin, aren't you, Chloe?"

The question hung in the air between them. She tried to look away, to shake her head, but the command to be still held her fast. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her, and a blush spread from her cheeks down to her chest. Finally, **** by the pokéball's compulsion to give her trainer an answer, she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. A single, choked sob escaped her lips.

A triumphant, predatory grin spread across my face. A virgin. A pure, untouched, naive little thing, all mine to break. It was too perfect.

"Kneel," I commanded.

Her body moved against her will, her knees bending until she was kneeling on the soft carpet, her hands still uselessly trying to preserve her modesty. Her face was now level with my crotch, and the terror in her eyes was exquisite.

"Take my cock out," I ordered. "And then you're going to suck it. You're going to use that pretty mouth of yours to make me feel good. Do you understand?"

She sobbed again, a sound of pure despair, but her hands, moving with a horrifying will of their own, rose from her body. Her trembling fingers fumbled with my belt, undoing the buckle and then the button of my jeans. She pulled down the zipper, her eyes squeezed shut as if she could block out what was happening. Her hands reached into my boxers and pulled my already rock-hard cock free. It sprang out, thick and erect, bobbing just inches from her face.

Her eyes opened, and she stared at it with a mixture of fear and revulsion. "Open your mouth," I said, my voice thick with lust. "And take it inside."

A sob wracked her body, but she obeyed. Her lips parted, and with a shudder of pure ****, she leaned forward. The wet, velvety heat of her mouth engulfed the head of my cock. It was the most incredible sensation I had ever felt. I groaned, my hands tangling in her blonde pigtails. "That's it," I grunted, guiding her head forward. "Take more of it."

She was clumsy and inexperienced, her movements hesitant and awkward. Her teeth scraped against me once, making me wince, but I didn't care. Her inexperience was part of the thrill. I pushed deeper, feeling the head of my cock press against the back of her throat.

She gagged, her body convulsing, tears and saliva mixing and dripping down her chin. "Relax your throat," I ordered, my grip on her hair tightening.

The command worked. Her muscles relaxed, and I slid deeper, burying myself in her hot, wet mouth until my balls were resting against her chin. I held her there for a moment, savoring the feeling of complete control, of her utter helplessness.

Then I began to move, fucking her face in slow, deliberate strokes. I watched my cock disappear between her stretched lips, her tear-streaked face a picture of debasement.

Her hands rested limply on my thighs, her body a passive vessel for my pleasure.

The sounds were obscene—the wet, slurping noises, her choked gags, my guttural groans of pleasure.

I was using her, claiming her, defiling her in the most intimate way possible, and she was powerless to do anything but take it.

The pressure built at the base of my spine, a white-hot tide of ecstasy.

With a final, deep thrust, I buried myself in her throat and came, pumping my hot cum directly into her stomach.

She swallowed convulsively, her body shuddering with the **** of it.

When I finally pulled out, she was a mess.

Saliva and semen dripped from her swollen lips, her face was a mask of tears and humiliation, and she knelt there, broken and defiled.

My first catch was a complete success.

Now the real training would begin.