Trouble comes a-knocking

You spend the next few days celebrating with your slaves. Amy raids the wine cellar, and whilst you chat and relax in the mansion you all get drunk on £200-a-bottle wine. Soon any pretence of civility is dropped, and your hang-out turns into a multi-day orgy.

The Contortionist, as it turns out, loves manipulating and playing with your bimbo, Lauren, taking a sadistic pleasure in making the bombshell squirm. Not that you don't think seeing the girl who would never give you the time of day begging for your help as she's restrained by Sara's body and kept right on the edge by the Latina girl's tongue, denied her orgasm for over an hour.

Amy, Emma and Rachel keep you busy in the meantime. They tag-team to keep up with your infinite stamina and endless desire: when the one you're fucking collapses in a barely-conscious daze, another subs in, repeating so when the first girl wakes up again, she barely has to wait a minute before she's needed to service you again.

The **** who's conscious now happens to be Emma. You ram into the bespectacled brunette, pushing her up against the picture window, her slender legs wrapping around your waist as she cries tears of pain and ecstasy. You lift her partway off you, to maul her breasts with your mouth, flicking your tongue over her nipples. Every inch of her porcelain skin is hyper-sensitive to your touch, her eyes fluttering from the overstimulation, until you drop her back onto your cock, which she orgasms spasmically around, before passing out. You pump into her limp body a few more times, before allowing it to crumple to the ground. Gazing out at the sunset over the ocean, you jerk yourself off to completion,{if Futa==true} kneading one of your breasts hornily,{endif} before cumming all over the spotless glass. A sheen of semen soon obscures a large metre-square patch of the window - but not for long. Your former billionaire host, Esmée, immediately dashes forward, dressed in her slutty French maid outfit. Throwing herself at the window, she begins licking up as much as your cum as possible. She takes her heavy breasts and tries to use them to help mop up the sticky substance, letting out little whimpers of happiness as she fulfils her only purpose in life.

Your enjoyment of the show is marred, however, when you hear the soft chime that indicates someone is at the exterior gate to the grounds. You glance at Rachel, with some concern.

"I don't believe we're expecting visitors."

"I'll get on it right away, {if Futa==true}mistress{else}master{endif}," nods the eighteen-year-old, hurrying to the security room. You follow her in, and gaze at the bank of monitors curiously.

"There," points Rachel. "Those black sedan cars. They've somehow overridden our security - they'll be outside the front door within minutes."

"Who are they?"

"No idea. Looks serious."

"Wake Emma up, and get her eyes on this," you instruct her. "Get everyone else ready to fight or run."

Rachel nods gravely, and dashes back to the atrium. You hurriedly dress, watching the convoy drawing closer on the cameras. Finally, they pull up outside the mansion's entrance, and a man and a woman dressed in black suits with black ties step out of the car. They look straight out of Men In Black - surely they belong to an intelligence agency, or some government department. When two much younger people emerge from the car, however, they immediately grab your attention.

Firstly, the girl with green skin. That alone is enough to identify her: Foxgloves. One of the would-be heroes. She seems to be dressed in a outfit of leaves, covering her abdomen but displaying her slender limbs. You remember from Emma's research that she's half-plant, and what you can make out of her seems to confirm that description.

Secondly, a white boy wearing a gaudy costume of black, white and red stripes, topped with a skullcap that masks his eyes. You do recognise him, but his name evades you...

"Woodpecker." You can't pretend you're not relieved to hear Emma's voice.

"How dangerous are they?"

"From the little I could gather, very," she says, pulling on a blouse. "Whatever you do, don't let Woodpecker punch you."

You frown, turning to your **** angrily. "How did they find us? I thought we covered our tracks!"

"We did!" pleads the brunette. "They shouldn't have known where we are! Please {if Futa==true}mistress{else}master{endif}, I promise I did everything I could!" Just then, you hear the buzz of the intercom at the door.

"Your punishment will depend on how this goes," you warn her, then run to the main atrium, where the girls are anxiously waiting. "Esmée, see what they want. Try and make them go away."

"Yes {if Futa==true}mistress{else}master{endif}," nods the French ****, hurrying towards the front door.

"Amy, Lauren, Emma - get the Lamborghinis and the Bugatti ready to go. Rachel and Sara - be ready to fight if necessary." With that, you follow Esmée up the dimly lit corridor, and wait just out of sight, where you can overhear the conversation.