Extreme Circuits of Lust
Links: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Saltwater Awakening 🔥
I stepped off the ferry onto the sun-baked dock of Helix Isle, the air thick with brine and hibiscus, my flip-flops slapping against wet wood. The tech summit sprawled ahead like a fever dream—glass domes glinting under eternal blue skies, palm trees swaying lazy guards over infinity pools. Five years back, my algorithms degree would’ve landed me a corner office in Silicon spires. Now? AI spat out cleaner code than any fresh grad, leaving me with loans gnawing like rats. Desperation dragged me here, to this “exclusive hospitality coordinator” gig. The email promised networking, perks. Bullshit. It was a sugar-coated ad on a dark web board for elite playthings.
My phone buzzed—confirmation from the app. “Sophia Hale: Assigned to Bay Villa. First shift: Pool rotation. Wear: Nothing but the provided kit.” Kit? I unzipped my duffel under a cabana, heart thumping like a glitchy server. Inside: sheer sarong, lacy thong, and… adult briefs? Thick, crinkly ones patterned with binary code. Humiliating. But the pay? Enough to erase a year’s debt per weekend. I stripped, skin prickling in the humid breeze, and taped the thing on. It hugged my hips, foreign and mocking.
Nadia waved from the pool edge, her olive skin glistening, dark waves plastered wet. My roommate from college, now my reluctant partner in this madness. “Soph! You made it. Thought the ferry’d eat you alive.” She lounged topless, legs splayed, chatting up a silver fox in linen shorts—Victor Kline, grizzled lead architect for some quantum startup. His eyes raked me slow, approving the padded outline under my sarong.
“New meat?” he drawled, voice gravel over synth waves. Nadia smirked. “Sophia’s extreme—coded her own booking app. Tracks loads, tips, even cleanup schedules.” I flushed, the word extreme landing like a slap, stirring something twisted low in my gut. They weren’t wrong. I’d hacked the system for efficiency, turning degradation into data.
Victor crooked a finger. I waded in, water lapping my thighs, cool against the padding’s warmth. “Show us.” No hello. I untied the sarong, letting it float. Nadia giggled as I turned, the briefs’ bulk exposed. He palmed my ass through the fabric, squeezing. “Good capacity. We’ll test it.” His hardness pressed my belly underwater, salt-tangy kisses bruising my neck. Nadia joined, her tongue flicking my nipple, whispering, “Embrace it, Soph. This is our silicon valley now.”
His fingers invaded first, probing past the thong’s edge, slick with sunscreen and promise. I gasped, chlorine stinging my eyes, as Nadia held me steady. Victor thrust deep, knuckles grinding, my walls clenching involuntary. “Tight for a dev slut.” Release came fast—his grunt, hot spurts flooding me. It leaked instant, soaking the briefs’ core. Messy start. Nadia licked a stray drop from my shoulder, her breath mango-sweet. “Welcome aboard.”
Under the Surface
By noon, the pool hummed—engineers splashing, execs scheming deals over IPAs. I bobbed between legs, throat working shafts veined like fiber optics. Cum swallowed bitter-salty, mixing with sea spray. One guy, lanky with tattoos, farted mid-thrust, the bubble popping foul against my lips. I gagged but powered through, cheeks hollowing. “Fuck her harder,” Nadia urged from her lounge chair, fingering herself lazy. The tattooed one obliged, hips slamming waves. My padding squelched with each bob, growing heavy.
Internal war raged: This was beneath me. Or was it? The thrill coiled tighter than any hackathon high. Power flipped—invisible code monkey now puppeteer of their bliss. Victor tipped digital via app: $200. Enough for rent. I surfaced gasping, face smeared, tasting him lingering like expired milk.
Chapter 2: Villa Depths 💋
The villa’s aircon hit like arctic blast after pool heat, goosebumps racing my cum-streaked skin. Nadia led me upstairs, our briefs sagging syncopated. “Victor booked us for tandem. Extreme combo.” There it was again—extreme, her eyes gleaming filthy intent. Room 7: marble floors veined gold, balcony overlooking turquoise swells. Inside, Elena Voss waited—sharp-suited CISO, mid-40s, her bob jet-black, piercing green stare dissecting me.
“Padded pets. Cute.” She lounged on silk sheets, strap harness gleaming chrome. No pants—just garters framing her shaved heat, glistening. “Strip to essentials.” We obeyed, crinkles echoing. Elena clipped leashes, yanking us knees-first. “I’ve read your app logs, Sophia. You optimize for filth. Let’s push limits.”
She bent Nadia first, prying the briefs aside. Nadia’s hole winked loose, remnants oozing. Elena drove her strap—ribbed monstrosity, forearm-thick—without mercy. Nadia wailed, jasmine perfume mixing sweat and musk. I watched, pulse hammering, as Elena’s hips pistoned, balls slapping wet. “Your turn, coder cunt.” She flipped me doggy, balcony doors open to crash waves masking cries.
The stretch burned extreme fire, splitting me wide. Lube sparse, her girth reaming raw. I clawed sheets, tasting copper bite on lip. Nadia crawled under, tongue laving my swinging tits, then lower—lapping where Elena invaded. Sensory overload: silk roughening nipples, Nadi’s mouth hot-sloppy, Elena’s grunts animal. Deeper she plunged, churning guts, pressure building dire.
“Hold it,” Elena barked, sensing. But no—hot rush escaped, soiling the briefs further, stench blooming fecal-sharp. Shame flooded, yet arousal spiked. Nadia moaned approval, sucking filth-tinged lube. Elena laughed dark. “Dirty hack. Perfect.” She hammered through it, my orgasm ripping violent—stars bursting, walls milking her silicone fury.
Leash Lessons
After, we lay tangled, bodies quivering echoes. Elena traced my tattooed thigh—circuit board in ink. “Why this life?” Breath ragged, I confessed: “AI ghosted my dreams. This? Pays bills, feeds the chaos.” Vulnerability cracked open, her touch gentling. Nadia curled close, our messes mingling sticky. Not just fucktoys—survivors scripting our code.
App pinged: Group res for sunset yacht. Tips rolling. I wiped ginger, resolve hardening. Extreme measures for extreme times.
Chapter 3: Yacht Storm
Sunset painted the yacht crimson as we boarded, sea rocking gentle underfoot. Teak decks slick salt, lanterns flickering moth-dance. Eight execs—suits shed for speedos—eyed us ravenous. Victor headlined, champagne flutes clinking. “Ladies’ nightcap.” Nadia and I, still padded foul, were centerpiece on the padded lounge.
“Extreme appetizers,” Victor toasted, uncorking us like bottles. Hands roved crude—spanks echoing over waves, fingers dipping soiled fronts. One, beefy with salt-pepper hair, yanked my briefs crotch-snapped. “Share the bounty.” I straddled his lap reverse, descent slow torture as his girth breached messy depths. Squish obscene, filth lubing slide. Others circled, cocks freed slapping cheeks.
Mouths filled sequential: Throat bulging, gags rhythmic with yacht’s pitch. Salt spray mixed tears, taste briny overload. Nadia mirrored beside, double moan symphony. Beefy thrust upward brutal, balls grinding my clit raw. “Take it all, dev whore.” Internal mantra: Data points, payouts. But body betrayed—juices flooding despite vileness.
They rotated, a carousel of invasions. Anal next—unprepped burn extreme, tearing whimpers. Cum loads previous slicked path, but stretch agonized ecstasy. One pulled out mid, spraying my back ropes warm-globbed. Another demanded cleanup: Suck his shit-smeared length, flavor acrid-earth bitter. Retch suppressed, I hollowed cheeks vacuum.
Wave Crest
Climax crested gale-force—gang ropes painting us canvas. I collapsed Nadia-ward, our tongues tangling cum-swap salty-sweet. Exec thunder applauded, tips wiring instant. Stars wheeled overhead, sea whispering approval. In that haze, doubt flickered: Was this submission or supremacy?
Chapter 4: Summit Exposure
Conference dome buzzed dawn-fresh, holograms flickering pitch decks. I slipped in post-shower—app fresh, but ghost aches lingered. Nadia texted: “Panel duty. Wear the vibe.” Wired briefs now, remote egg nestled deep. Elena controlled via app, smirking front-row.
“Sophia Hale presents: AI-Resilient Workforce Strategies.” Irony choked laughter. Slides droned—my code snippets demo’d ironically perfect. Buzz hit mid-sentence, thighs quaking. Audience blurred: Fifty suits, eyes hungry past pretense. Egg thrummed escalating, clit pulsing fire.
“In extreme scenarios…” Voice cracked, extreme echoing my turmoil. Juices trickled audible squelch mic’d. Elena ramped merciless, first orgasm crashing podium-shudder. “Optimal allocation…” Gasps punctuated, cheeks blaze. A hand shot up—Victor: “Practical demo?” Applause wolfish.
Post-talk, green room swarm. Briefs ripped, holes plundered standing. Bent over AV cart, dual penetration wrecked—cocks sawing friction blaze. Taste sweat-slick skin, hear zipper rrrrips, smell ozone projectors mix cum-musk. Fingers everywhere, pinching, probing. Elena filmed sly: “HR gold.”
Panel Afterglow
Spent sprawl, bodies heaving sync. Nadia found me later, tender wipe-down. “You owned it.” Pride swelled amid soreness. Networking? Check. But deeper—ownership reclaimed, one extreme plunge at a time.
Chapter 5: Enema Eclipse 🔥
Night three peaked private beach bonfire, drums tribal pulse. Elite inner circle: Elena, Victor, four more—torchlight carving shadows feral. “Ritual cleanse,” Elena decreed, hoses gleaming ominous. We knelt sand-rough, asses skyward. Saline rush invaded extreme—bloating gut cramp, waves nausea sweet.
Held clenched marble-statue till command: Release explosive, sand steaming foul. Humiliation pinnacle, yet liberation raw. Cleaned thus, pure invasion followed—every hole tripled, bodies stacked pyramid lust. Victor’s length down throat, Elena’s strap reaming rear, hands fisting fronts. Sensory maelstrom: Sand grit teeth, fire smoke stinging nostrils, salt tears, flesh slap cacophony, pressure orgasms shattering multi.
“You’re extreme perfection,” Victor growled mid-grunt, flooding throat pearl-thick. Collapsed dune-tangle, aftercare murmurs: Elena’s comb fingers hair, Nadia’s cuddle warmth. Bonds forged fire-steel.
Beach Reckon
Dawn ferry loomed, app tallies millionaire-potential. “Stay?” Nadia pled. Tempted. But code called—my stories, half-scribed filth catharsis. Extreme pivot: Not victim, virtuoso.
Chapter 6: Code Eternal
Back mainland, loans slain, resume padded “executive facilitation.” Job offers trickled—not dev, but “innovation consultant.” Wink-nod. Nadia messaged villa pics: New girls arriving. Cycle spins.
Night desk-bound, I penned debut—Extreme Circuits, fingers flying keys slick memory. Readers devoured, tips virtual rain. AI disrupted? I rebooted hotter. Beach scents lingered phantom—brine, cum, freedom. Desire’s algorithm infinite.
Phone lit: Nadia. “Round two summit?” Grin split. “Booked.” Horizon beckoned endless code. 💋
