Celia

"He went down to the gym, figuring that if he wanted to test his physical limits and actually feel pain, Ariane was the right person to help him with it — though it was going to require a lot of explaining. Still, the time had come.

The scene waiting for him in the room, though, was anything but violent. In the corner, on the mats, sparring gear lay scattered across the floor, and in the middle of the room stood Ariane, completely naked, moaning without restraint as she gripped the sisters by the hair — both kneeling under her, both naked too, licking her, one on each side.

He considered coming back later, but the scene was worth watching, so he sat down to observe, knowing full well none of them would mind in the slightest.

Ariane eventually noticed him.

'If you'll excuse me for a second, ladies...'

She pulled both of them off her, one from her pussy, one from her ass, forcing them apart without letting go of their hair, and pushed their faces back together. Without a word, they started kissing; when she finally let go, Helen collapsed on top of her sister, then decided to flip around, climbing back on top so the two of them could keep going in a sixty-nine. Ariane walked toward Nick with steady, unhurried steps — he recognized that predatory look immediately, the same one from the day they'd met."

She force him up and pushed him against the gym wall bars, she kissed him in her own forceful and dominating way just to turn around, force open her buttcheeks with both hands and say "Slow," as she pulled back to his erection "First time. Then not slow." she didn't ask, she demanded. And he obliged — one hand flat against the small of her back, guiding himself in with more patience than he usually bothered with, and even then she hissed through her teeth, dropping her head forward. He waited, gave her the time she didn't usually ask for, and when she pushed back against him instead of waiting for him to move, he understood the go-ahead for what it was.

There was nothing soft about the rest of it. She took what she wanted the same way she always did — met every thrust like it was a strike she needed to absorb and answer, growling low in her throat instead of moaning, gripping the padded floor hard enough to leave marks in the foam once Nick force her down with difficulty. Behind them, Eve's moans hit a higher pitch, and Helen let out a startled little laugh at something, they where enjoying the show as much as their own entanglement.

When she came, after a while of Nick pumping on her ass relentlessly, it wasn't loud. Just a long, shuddering breath let out through her teeth, her whole body going rigid for a second before she let it go, and Nick finished right inside her, gripping her hips hard enough that he was fairly sure he'd apologize for the bruises later, if she ever let him get away with apologizing for anything.

"I need your help."

"Go ahead."

He sighed. "It's complicated. I need... to know where my physical limit is."

"I'd like to know that too. First day, I unloaded a full round of hits on you and you didn't even flinch, and I've never once seen you lift a single weight. Doesn't add up."

"I have... abilities. Supernatural in origin. Yeah, I know, hard to believe, but it's the truth."

Ari started laughing. "Honestly, it's the only explanation I've got for what I've seen — your endurance is flat-out impossible for any human being, and I don't just mean in the ring."

"Yeah, there's that. I'm pretty strong, I heal insanely fast, alcohol does absolutely nothing to me, women get their guard down the moment they lay eyes on me, and I can 'smell' anyone I've ever kissed — the smell tells me where they are and how they're doing, if they're hungry, in pain, scared, or turned on, that kind of thing."

"That's a pretty weird superpower, isn't it?" she said, laughing.

"I'm not joking. It's not some Marvel superpower. Jen calls us angels. We show up in the world every so often."

"Is that what the wings are about?"

"The wings... are a gift for Jen. She's got a wild fetish for them. But everything I'm telling you is true, I swear."

"You get that this sounds pretty out there, right? Add to that this whole secluded house full of women you're sleeping with, all wearing the same tattoo — the only reason I'm still here is you haven't asked me for anything, but you know how this looks."

"Oh, I know. But here's the thing — if I told you Jen isn't a normal person either, you'd believe that without blinking."

"...Yeah. She's got... something."

Nick smiled.

"She's got a lot of somethings."

"So what's her superpower, besides being insanely hot?"

"Well, that one's even more complicated and unbelievable than mine."

"Enlighten me."

"Turns out women, as a collective, form a universal feminine consciousness — not an abstract concept, it's a literal, real entity, with its own will. I've talked to her. Jen is her Avatar on Earth — carries all of your collective knowledge inside her, that's why she's absurdly smart, and why everyone falls at her feet. She's basically Venus in the flesh — honestly, it's possible those kinds of goddess myths are based on women like her. Can't say for sure"

"I don't know why, but I believe you. It's weird that I believe you."

"It's because everyone recognizes her, on some level, without knowing why — especially you women. You know she's important, you just don't know why. Well, now you know. Helen calls her 'team captain,' which honestly feels pretty accurate."

"Okay... and the exploring-your-limits thing?"

"The mission is to somehow 'free' every woman in the world. Since I can't clone myself, we're pretty much limited to this house for now — even if I could free every woman with a snap of my fingers, it'd be extremely dangerous to do it that way, especially in certain parts of the world."

"Yeah, no kidding — I've seen every single abused woman who's come through here to learn to defend herself... makes me want to kill every last one of you."

"Understandable. Me too, honestly. But I've caught a glimpse of where our consciousness is — hasn't woken up yet, but I've seen it, I know we're capable of it, I just have no fucking clue how. I don't know if the end goal is making women happy, or waking men up, or if one can't happen without the other. Either way, I'm stuck. My abilities wake up whenever I push past my physical limits — that's the only lead I've got at this point."

"So you want me to kick you in the head till something happens?"

"Pretty much"

"I will do it, easy peasy, but i want something first"

"Sure"

"Ive been talking to Helen a lot these days, what do you know about her parents?"

"Foster, very orthodox, very strict"

"Yes, very, i want you to go grab her mom"

"This is something they have to talk me about don't you think?"

"Yes they should, but Eve thinks she is a bother for some reason and Helen...i did not know why she wont tell you or Jen, so i shut it, but now i know she thinks is more important your...mission or whatever, in any case, please go"

"They have to agree, but sure i will, shit they should have told me, is it bad?"

"They don't think is too bad, but they have told me things, just little thinks, and i see the signs, I've seen them in my job way to many times Nick"

Celia was crying, inconsolable — expected, unfortunately.

The sisters' mother was exactly as they'd described her — a very beautiful woman, or she would have been, if not for how worn down she looked, the particular exhaustion of a woman in a difficult situation she could not escape— the exact kind of situation Nick and his wife devoted themselves body and soul to eliminating as fast as possible.

He knew it the moment he saw her — saw the shackles binding her, saw the emptiness in her eyes, saw her beauty buried under the marks of an exhaustion she'd long since internalized.

Nick wanted to hurt that man before he'd even met him. But once he did — watching him fly into a rage over his own daughter's preferences, listening to him blame his own wife for something that wasn't even wrong — he knew he needed to get out of there immediately, or he'd end up doing something that would tear down everything his wife had built.

So he just looked into her eyes, under the watchful gazes of her daughters and the ongoing furious shouting of her husband, and once he'd freed her, all he saw in her eyes was the agony she'd been carrying inside, no longer able to hold it back now that the fear of him keeping her in check was gone. And without a single word, Nick held out his hand and walked her out of that house.

The wretched man in question went silent — whether out of cowardice, watching some enormous stranger walk his wife out without so much as opening his mouth, or out of sheer disbelief at what was happening, nobody cared to find out. Nobody said goodbye to him. That's how men like him should be left, Nick thought — forgotten, part of the past.

She cried inconsolably the entire drive back, and when they laid her down in bed, curled up with her daughters, she kept crying, until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

Celia woke up. No idea what time it was. Her daughters weren't in bed with her — only a man, sitting in a chair beside the bed. The man who'd held out his hand, who'd walked her out of that house. Handsome, big, kind eyes.

"Who are you?" she finally asked.

"Nick. Nice to meet you."

"Are you... Eve's boyfriend?"

"Eve? No — though I love her very much. Both of them."

"Oh... okay..."

"My wife built this place, where your daughters live, among other people. I... help out."

"What do you do here?" Her tone was flat, the tone of someone too exhausted to care about anything anymore.

"It's kind of a shelter, more or less... but that's not what matters. What matters is that your daughters missed you, needed their mother, and now, finally, here you are."

"My husband..."

"I know. You don't have to worry about him. Not here, not now, not ever again."

She fought hard not to cry — a lifetime of hiding her pain had trained that instinct into her. Nick sat down on the bed, gently pulled her close, and held her; after a moment of tension, she simply gave in to a stranger's arms, and against his chest, she cried and screamed in desperation— everything she'd spent years shoving down came pouring out uncontrollably. She didn't understand why, why all of it was coming out now, why she felt safe enough to let go in this man's arms — but she couldn't hold on anymore, some blockage in her throat had dissolved, and she couldn't stop it.

"I'm sorry," she stammered between sobs.

"No, I'm sorry — if I'd known how badly you needed this, I would have brought you here a long time ago, but I didn't know. The girls didn't know how badly you needed it either. None of that matters now, though — the worst part is over, and all that's left is to enjoy this. Enjoy your daughters, enjoy your time here — and I hope it's a long time."

She kept crying, not wanting him to stop holding her, wishing he never would. She felt safe — crazy as it seemed, feeling that way around a stranger — but he'd come with her daughters, said he loved them, seemed sincere. That would have to be enough. She hadn't felt this way in ages. Maybe she never had. Maybe she'd just forgotten.

She looked up; that handsome man was watching her, so close... and she kissed him.

Didn't think about it, just did it — he'd said he was married, and she'd just kissed a married man, a complete stranger, not to mention she was married too, and he... didn't seem to mind, kissed her back, started caressing her.

Celia decided she was tired — tired of the pain, the agony, the sadness, the tears. She didn't know if what she was doing was wrong — almost certainly it was — but she decided to do what she wanted in that moment and let everything else go to hell. It was a fantasy, obviously, and she wanted to stay in it.

He undressed her, and she undressed him — a sculpted body, like something out of a comic book superhero, and generously gifted.

The moment he entered her, Celia came almost instantly, soaking the sheets — she'd have felt embarrassed even with her husband, back when it used to happen, ages ago, obviously. Not with this man, though — not in her fantasy, it didn't matter — and in fact, he didn't stop at all, just kept making love to her.

Soon she came again, followed by two more not long after — she'd never felt anything remotely like it in her life, didn't know if it was because her husband had been a terrible lover or this man of her dreams was exceptional, or both, but she didn't want it to stop, and then, right as another orgasm hit, she lost all sense of her own body, her soul shooting straight up to heaven for a few moments, and when she landed back on earth, she collapsed into that man's arms, letting her body give out without resistance. It made her sad, knowing the fantasy would end, that she'd soon wake back up into her usual torment — but her body was too heavy, and despite her unwillingness to end this beautiful dream, she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke up, the man was still there — she'd half expected him to sneak off, married man and all, but no, still there, that impossibly realistic little fantasy of hers still going. That thrilled her.

"Morning."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Why, because we're both married, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah."

"Well, first off — your husband's basically ancient history now, and he deserves a lot worse than that, so screw him," he said with a smile.

She laughed — a beautiful smile, the kind you'd see in a toothpaste commercial. Nick felt incredibly proud of himself, for making her laugh.

"And as for mine — you're about to meet her, and you'll see she doesn't have a problem with this. Quite the opposite, actually — she loves it when I do this."

"Oh... how modern of her."

Nick started laughing, hadn't expected that reaction.

"It's less about being progressive and more that she loves it when I use my gifts for a good cause. That, and she's got a bit of a voyeuristic streak... you have no idea how much."

"Your gifts."

"Yeah."

"I've never felt anything like that in my life."

"Yeah, that's one of them."

"Oh, okay."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Okay? That's it?"

"Yes... no? Sorry..."

"Stop apologizing. Please."

"Sor— I mean, okay."

"What I meant is — everyone usually has about a million questions."

"You sleep with a lot of people, then?"

"In this house... everyone, pretty much. Well, except Helen, obviously."

"Everyone? How many is everyone?"

"Six, seven now."

"Wow, isn't that a lot?"

"Yeah, it can be"

Celia burst out laughing — not the reaction he'd expected.

"Seriously?"

"What kind of place have you people dragged me into?" she said, smiling — didn't seem to care. Nothing seemed to matter right now; first time in an eternity she wasn't drowning in anguish, pain, or sadness. He could've told her she was on Mars surrounded by Martians and she'd have shrugged it off.

"Wait, you don't know? You're in paradise. Welcome."

"Thank you."

"You're taking this remarkably well, I have to say, wasn't expecting that."

"I don't know, it's funny — feels like I'm dreaming and none of this matters because it isn't real, I'll wake up in a bit and be right back where I was before, so I might as well enjoy it, I guess."

"I could pinch you, if you want."

"No, please, I don't want to wake up."

"You're not dreaming."

"Well, I think I am — a handsome, charming man came and saved me, made love to me like no one ever has, and brought me to my daughters. That's literally exactly what it would sound like."

"Well, thanks — you're not exactly hard on the eyes yourself, and I have to insist, this is as real as it gets, though I get how you feel, I've felt that way plenty in this house too." Nick smiled at her.

"It's not nice, lying to a woman my age."

"I have no idea how I manage it, but only bona fide bombshells get through that door in this house."

"You manage it VERY well, but you can stop now, I'm not stupid."

"Fair enough. Here, you can do whatever you want — if you want to change how you look, you're free to, but I have to insist, you're stunning as is."

"Yeah, okay... thank you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Would be weird to say no after all this."

"What do you want?"

"In what sense?"

"In every sense."

"I don't know."

"Everyone wants something when they get here."

"To go crazy screwing around, apparently."

"Yeah, that's usually first on the list, but what else?"

"I don't know, I want to spend time with my girls."

"Mm-hm."

"Are you sleeping with them too?"

"Yeah, and they sleep together aswell." Nick said that on purpose, to se her reaction to knowing her daughters have sexual relations, she paused for a second, but her expression was surprise, not disgust, and Nick could smell that she liked that a little bit. "Everyone here does whatever they want with whoever, no judgment. Anything else?"

"Well, if it's possible for you to send me to seventh heaven again sometime..."

"At your service, but I meant more like — I don't know — your daughter got into art, Rose found her calling in service, Alex is a sort of sexual healing coach...stuff like that"

"Oh, now that you mention it... no, nothing comes to mind." Said smiling

Nick smiled — one of two things: either she was so traumatized she couldn't take anything seriously, or the real Celia just had a wildly dark sense of humor. He hoped it was the second one. He liked it.

"Your girls are outside — want me to let them in?"

"We're naked... and how do you know they're out there?"

"Another one of my gifts."

"You can see through walls? You're really not helping your case here."

"No, but I can feel them. They're sad — feeling guilty, I think. I can feel everyone in this house. You too, now."

"Are you... an actual angel?" she asked — he did have a massive pair of wings tattooed on his back, after all.

"Yes."

He felt her sadness deepen.

"This isn't a dream, Celia. I know it's hard to believe, but the worst part of your life is over. I promise you that."

Eve threw the door open, tears streaming down her cheeks — she'd felt guilty for staying away so long and couldn't wait any longer, ran straight to the bed, threw her arms around her mother, covered her in kisses, told her she was sorry, that she should have known, that she was finally, truly in paradise now. The sadness eventually evaporated, and at last that woman smelled like herself, and nothing else — maybe she'd come to accept she wasn't dreaming, or maybe she was just choosing to let go, preferring this wonderful fiction over going back to reality. Nick wasn't sure which, but either way, he was satisfied for now.

"I have so much to tell you," Eve was saying to her mother, who rocked her gently in her arms as Nick gathered his clothes and headed out the door.

"I knew my dad was an asshole, but not that bad — we should have gone back for her ages ago," Helen said, sitting on the floor just outside the room.

"What difference does it make now, Helen? She's here. Do me a favor and go in there, tell her everything you've been through, let her know the torture's over. If there's anyone who knows for a fact how important it is that she start breathing again, it's you — this is what we do here, you came, you healed, and now you heal other people. Don't feel guilty. Your father's the guilty one. You were healing, far away from all that, that's it. You're not selfish. Neither is your sister."

Helen let out a breath. "Thanks. I already know what you're going to say — that you haven't done much either, blah blah blah — but this is what you are Nick, you better remember."

She walked into the room without another word.