Heartthrob

The drinks went down easy for the dead, and torturously for the living. Est had had a lot of internal replacements, her whole torso less of a singular, unaltered base, and more of a shell stuffed to the gills with an assortment of chrome and silicone. However, despite all this, veritably spitting in the face of her other inorganic viscera, one of the few red-meat remnants of her humanity was her liver. In tragic spite of technological advancements to the point of the sophisticated suite she had been equipped with, there existed no such thing as a liver replacement that also let you enjoy alcohol.

And so, while the dead and her dominant felt slight pangs at the strength of the swill but nothing too major, Esthrielle was sent reeling after every gulp. Regardless, gulps they were - Est was no coward, she was strong, not bitch-made, and that meant no shitty drink (it was actually pretty tasty) from some Western drug den was gonna put her on her ass. Or so she thought and felt, at least. The truth was that a liver rarely abused healed from the callouses of abuse, and so a little went a long way.

By the time that Esthrielle had glugged down the entirety of her drink, EJ had finished hers and started another, this one as well consigned to Judas's tab. The vampire helped her toy steady itself as it emptied the glass into its mouth, ghoulish throat having relaxed to the point of letting the alcohol simply pour straight in. When you ate like a ghoul, things like gag reflexes were actively better to remove.

Est slammed the glass back upon the countertop, gritting her teeth and pushing herself to a freed, quasi-isolated position from the two she had the misfortune of accompanying. EJ finished this third drink, too, in record time - staggering towards Judas involuntarily, trying subconsciously just to find something, anything to support her. Her body was tense to shame a tripwire, but the reaction was as much psychosomatic as the inverse - somewhere, distantly, through veils of primal instinct and pointed indoctrination, she knew what blood was supposed to do to her.

But here and now, the very same day as her blood-feast with her newly-christened partner, the thrill was less physical, and more of a fabrication within her own synapses. The thunderstorm of the mind electric sent sensations both ghost and genuine across her physique, eliciting impromptu reactions: the bucking of hips, the shivering of the chest and arms, the chattering of teeth needing to bite. Judas was quick to tend to her.

"Oooooh, EJ, you don't look so good... That's enough booze for you, then. Perk up. Focus on me. I own you, remember? You're my good little pet? So act like one, and come with Est and I out to the dance floor..." The implication was clear to Est, and likely would have been even without Judas's parting wink towards the autonomous assassin. The flirtatious gesture simply put the final nail in the coffin.

Est choked back words laden with venomous spittle and caustic bile, her resentment over how EJ was being treated only near-matched with her vile, repulsive jealousy that she was getting that treatment. The only thing approaching touch and love that Esthrielle had ever known was the rough hand of the jailor, or the tender traces of Luca's ministrations. There was no small amount of bitter sentiment within her mind at seeing this little Tsang flunkie, who had sworn she wouldn't go back to them, fold immediately to the degrading display. She wished they could have swapped places.

No, no, hold on, that was not normal - it wasn't how Est thought at all, not in a thousand years. Something was wrong with her. Something that bitch Judas had done... Surely it was her, right? Surely. After all, Est had yet to even properly consider sex being something that happened around her, until, of course, she had walked in on Esper James and Purity's closing remarks upon their liaison. She didn't want sex, or even like sex, so why did the idea of dehumanization and submission before her sworn enemy appeal so undeniably?

A quick ping on her biomonitor returned a result that made Esthrielle's hands ball into fists, her brow furrowing into a glare to kill the world, directed towards a distracted Judas. *[ BLOODSTREAM CONTAMINANT DETECTED ]*. Her biomonitor feed was lighting up with red across the toxins board wherever vulnerabilities were concerned - a purpose-built contaminant to hit her in all her weakest points, mostly neurologically. It wouldn't be long before she was completely debased by the chemical influence she was sure had snuck in through the earlier kiss.

The idea of striking Judas came to mind then, of sucker-punching her as hard as Est could, just to get some final 'fuck-you' in before she succumbed to whatever poison Judas had given her. She couldn't bring herself to go through with it, though; couldn't take the swing even if she was sure she was doomed. Some part of her wanted to believe that Judas wouldn't simply kill her, especially not in a way that Est couldn't avoid with a direct dose of groveling.

And so she followed, even with her throat flooding slowly with the profane tang of her own bile. She wanted to vomit at the idea she had let herself get poisoned, and was still so desperate to do as she was told in hopes of being allowed to live. It was foul. Judas and EJ were like caricatures of what was wrong with the West in that moment: A dominant, greedy superior leading a submissive subordinate by the neck, making them dance even with a finger still around their collar. Although...

Once they had made a presence on the all-too-crowded dancefloor, Judas took them in mostly-sober hands and arms, directing her women to provide exactly what Judas wanted. Judas herself took EJ's front, dancing close, and hot, and dirty - her vampiric pressure sweeping away any thoughts save for those regarding Judas and Est from the inebriated secretary's mind. EJ could feel her brain going blank, but there wasn't anything close to reasonable she could do to stop it. Est, however, was directed to the blonde's rear - hands on her hips, pelvis-to-pelvis, chest-to-back. EJ was obviously already too fucked up to be anything closely resembling lucid - another purposeful maneuver taken by her supervisor, for nothing more than kicks.

The slowing of such mundane bodily functions as perspiration meant that the three could dance as steamy and sexual and outright needful as they liked. Est may have been sweating and panting despite herself as her implants began to weaken even further, mind ablaze with joy and terror in twin measure, but she was lucky to be the only one with enough of her truly organic self left to sweat. The tinned-fish press of body upon body from all around was exhausting and exhilarating, vile and vibrant, and it did little to tamp back down that bile lingering within Est's throat. She did her best to appear genuine, and further pinpricks of self-reprimand tingled her heartsflesh as she came to the cruel revelation that it wasn't as much a performance as she had thought it was.

EJ was too drunk to disagree with the arrangement, her mind transported somewhere far away, reveling in the touch of her dual dance partners. Fingers in her hair as Judas toyed with her swaying head, keeping her face close to whatever Judas wanted to offer. Her ass, too, was given plenty of touch and regard: Est's grip on EJ's hips meant grinding was an easy task, one that allowed the Easterner to pantomime engagement while attempting to focus enough to gather her thoughts. However, between the alcohol in her system and the toxin that Judas had delivered, she found her normally-keen mental faculties dulled and dimmed as a light through a soaking-wet curtain.

EJ's body was warm, shockingly so; her hair was soft and silken; her motions were the swaying of a drunk, graceless but with a vulnerability and willingness to surrender that sent a thrill through her paired playmates. If she could think properly, she wouldn't be quite so into this; instead, however, she was fuckered to shame a sailor on shore leave, and she couldn't stop smiling. Est was cute, and she was finally willing to have fun with EJ; the hands on her hips were proof, right?

The way her hips bucked against EJ's ass, loins pressing against concealed flesh with a growing sense of need despite the thrusting party's supposed apprehension? The heavy breathing in EJ's ear that even Est herself didn't notice, desperate and hungry, tinged with the heat and humidity of a beast in rut? There wasn't a doubt in the ghoul's hazy brain of what they both wanted. She pressed back, moving away from Judas only with implied permission, all but offering herself up into the arms of the assassin. The perceptions of Est's behavior were enough that, even had Judas not explicitly positioned Est behind her little toy to share, EJ would've given the doll some play.

Judas stepped away a little, still running her hands along Esper James's head, face, shoulders, and most greedily, her chest. She used the momentary exploration to keep dancing without taking up too much space on the floor, or too much attention from her plaything's new objective. She needed to blend in to observe her cruelty at its height... She needed to see it with her own eyes, not just hear about it. She needed to be close enough to touch it. And so she played the wingwoman, EJ's initial deference to her supervisor's supervision melting away into unabashed craving for the toy that held her so lustfully, hips working to the rhythm of the extreme-metal war machine that howled from the Jezze's speakers. She gasped in an amalgam of crisp, striking pain, and luxurious, white-hot pleasure as she felt Esthrielle bite into her neck.

The steel fangs sunk in only a centimeter or two, but they broke the skin. Esper James could feel herself snap to attention and fade away from lucidity in a sickening, insatiable dichotomy that threatened to send her spiraling out of her own body for a moment. A loud, desperate sound erupted from her chest through her throat, tears of pain and pleasure welling in her eyes for a moment as she was momentarily drawn back to her night at Judas's manse. She whined as wetness stained her pants, forced from her in response to the steel tips working their way into her muscles. Est's fingers hooked into the waistband of the ghoul's pants, pulling down and towards her own pelvis.

EJ's consciousness whipped left and right, back and forth, the very foundations of her drunken brain shaken with every dry-hump Esthrielle gave her. The toxin was really working its magic now, Judas was happy to see... She put a hand on either woman's left shoulder, beginning to usher them slowly but surely across the dancefloor even as they dry-fucked right there on the dancefloor. People were watching. A few were taking pictures or videos, even. Not many; most were dancing, but EJ screaming in agonized ecstasy had drawn the eyes of some fellow partygoers without a doubt. Her grip was tested as EJ nearly fell, another pull-and-thrust of Est's teeth practically disabling her from the knees down. The way she tumbled forwards, however, brought plenty more eyes to her.

Not for her gracelessness, but for the way Est's hold on her waistband and insistent motions, paired with falling down and away from Est, sent EJ's sweatpants down to her knees. Est didn't hesitate, grabbing the other girl by the partially-bare hips and nearly hooking her boyshorts down as well. Esper James was too far gone to even know to be embarrassed, too far gone to be aware that she should be ashamed. That was fine, Judas thought, helping a now somewhat-undressed EJ move through the crowd even as the camera-phones and hungry eyes of strangers feasted upon her innocence.

Est pulled her teeth free, now - seeing EJ fall had been enough to snap her at least partially from her lust-driven haze, and now her priority was not to take the ghoul, but to follow the words of the vampire. She had been... lost. Lost to herself, to the world around her, to everyone and everything. The toxin of Judas's vampiric interference had shut her out of her own mind and given the steering wheel to someone else, or so it felt. And now? Now that she was back in control, jacked in to the cockpit of her own mind? Link-port open to herself, letting her get into her own head like she should be?

Nausea again, but more figurative than literal. Judas was obviously... obviously orchestrating something, or pulling their strings somehow, or getting them to do something they normally wouldn't ever consider. Her eyes drooped to where EJ was stumbling forward at Judas's command, watching the girl who was supposed to be her ward be brought into the bathroom by a woman who didn't seem to have her best interests in mind. She didn't even notice herself following along at first, assisting in keeping EJ rigid and awake, hands and hips greedy and needful even with a consciousness there to pilot the body.

"Oh, EJ... sweet baby girl, we can pull your pants up in the bathroom. Don't worry, it happens to everyone, let's just get you and Est to the big stall..." Judas's words sounded sweet, but upon her face, the smile of a gambler who's won bigger than they thought was possible beamed down at the ghoulette's back. EJ mumbled something back, her knees still trembling, her shoulder tensing and untensing as if trying to work free some sort of hidden poison caught within the arm's web.

The door was opened, the world's most misfortunate corporate harem was shuffled inside and into the largest stall, and then it was as good as done. Judas brought her own phone out, leaning in the corner and keeping quiet now that the other two had come so close. Getting this on footage would be the ideal gift to herself... And Judas did so adore giving herself things.

And so, when EJ's brain slowed once again and she threw herself to Esthrielle, eyes watering and neck still smarting from the feeling of the bite, Judas was surprised by the lack of immediate, passionate reciprocation. She opened her mouth to speak, to attempt some half-assed improv reprimand because she couldn't use her normal one for something like fucking a stranger, but Esthrielle beat the words on their way out.

"A-Alright, Judas... I think I see what you're thinking here, what you're planning. Just... Can we go to yours at least, d-dude? Eugh... She's so fucked up, Judas..." A strong ping of guilt echoed through Est like a resonant bell, but Judas simply shook her head and began to help EJ get some clothes on.

"Yes, let's head to mine... Then we can have as much wine as we want afterwards, plus you can make use of my toys... Heheheh, won't it be odd being back there again~? Alright, fine. Let me call us a limo. Get her pants on for her in the meantime." And like that, Judas was gone - simply in another stall, using it for privacy, but for Est and EJ it may as well have been proper isolation. They could feel the tiring effect immediately, and EJ did actually fall this time, the adrenaline leaving her body and returning it to an exhausted, husk-like state.

Est rushed to help her, going to sit down and then have EJ sit on her lap. Not before cutting EJ's boyshorts free, though - they were ruined, and walking around in wet boyshorts is no fucking fun. As they both sat together, beginning to calm down and assess the situation, EJ still as riled as possible but willing to do what she was told, the truth of the matter came to fruition in Est's previously escape-minded view. Fuck.

Jesus fuck. How awful.