Waiting for Purple

He did, but he still didn't cum. After throatfucking her for several minutes At last, he saw she'd had enough and pulled out.

He untied the ropes and then kissed her ankles and wrists to make it better. Once he was done he climbed up and laid on his back to wait for her.

She responded. He was soon treated to having the fiery Latina straddling him and sliding down onto his well-used cock.

She laid her head down on his chest and rested there. She was still tired from the treatment he'd given her.

"It's been awhile since I did anything like that," she said. "You surprised me."

"I wanted to," he said. "As fun as it was getting to know you, I wanted to be sure you remembered me. Do I still own you?"

"Si, papi," she purred before kissing him. "You got me wrapped around your little finger just like I'm wrapped around that stiff cock of yours."

The sex to follow was just as gentle as their dom play had been rough, but there was no doubt about who was in charge. Grace's every move was aimed entirely at pleasing Ken. Though that wasn't always the way he enjoyed things, he did get a great deal of pleasure from the absolute subservience and adoration in her eyes. They climaxed together, with Grace riding him reverse cowgirl. She kept him inside of her as long as she could, lying back to rest upon his chest as his cock slowly softened. When he did slip out the sign flashed in his head. He had to go.

She knew he had to go, but walked him to the door.

"Graciela Perez," she said. "Highland, Indiana."

Though people often exchanged life stories, the parting shot of name and location was an unmistakable compliment. It meant, "if we ever get out of here, look me up."

***

The numbers kept adding up.

Ken did the math and realized he had gotten really good at the game. It had been fifty seven lovers since he'd been zapped.

Then he realized something. Perhaps the game was getting good at him.

Each interlude was more easy. Ken was familiar with search engines and how they worked. The key to the good ones was their algorithms. They studied what people searched for and what they clicked on, and adjusted their formulas. He strongly suspected the keepers were doing just that.

Each partner was easier to talk to. Each lover sensed what he liked more quickly, as he did with them. They were almost all talkers now. Just having sex wasn't pleasure enough. The interludes grew longer, too. They would talk, get to know each other, and then start the sexual games. Often there were one or two sleep periods before they even kissed.

It was lovely, but it also wasn't easy. With each one, Ken felt like he was giving away part of his heart which he knew he would never get back. For a while, he tried to stay guarded, but the light 'knew'. If he wasn't open and vulnerable to his partners, it drifted inexorably toward red.

His breakthrough finally came with number 318. He had just finished a phenomenal multi-day encounter with Sayo, a beautiful woman of Japanese descent who he knew would be a lifelong friend, provided he was ever allowed to see her again.

After she left, he shouted at the ceiling.

"Send me Akshii! She's the one! Don't you get it? Whatever formula you're trying to figure out, you've already figured mine out. If you want pleasure, send her my way! I'll show you more pleasure than your fucking computers could ever calculate."

There was no response.

Food eventually arrived and he ate in silence. He looked up with anticipation as the doors opened. There was a tiny shred of hope that Akshi would be there.

She wasn't.

It was someone else. Her skin was as dark as night and her body was athletic and tantalizing. But she wasn't Akshi. Ken's heart sank, even as he was kissing her.

They tried everything, but the light kept moving toward red. He and woman tried everything, but they couldn't stop it. For the first time in more than seventy lovers, Ken felt the pain. It was the worst he could ever remember.

He was sure he would die. The only thing that got him through was Ashkaya. He was positive he was going to die and the only thing he could think to do was call out her name. He hoped that the echoes of that cry would carry forward into the afterlife and they would help her find him. Her face was the last thing he envisioned as the world went black from unconsciousness.

***

September 7, 2016.

FBI Report - Case #3477-1222 - The Asylum.

On Thursday, May 14th, 2015, residents of Chicago, Illinois and surrounding areas began to disappear from their homes. The police discounted the first few as over-anxious spouses or family members. However, within a few hours it was clear there was some sort of epidemic. By the following Monday, nearly ten thousand people had gone missing and just as quickly as the disappearances began, they stopped. Data was gathered and estimates placed the number missing at almost exactly 10,000.

There was no correlating factor among those who disappeared. Their ages ranged from 18 to 57, with a mean age of 29. There was no common racial, marital, or socioeconomic aspect of their background. The suspects seemed to have been taken arbitrarily.

There were no traces or motives identified.

The weeks stretched into months in the asylum, as they called it. The 'victims' were forced to learn to live without their loved ones.

Then, eight months and seven days after the first disappearance, the first victims began to inexplicably resurface. As when they vanished, they reappeared in their homes -- often in the very beds in which they'd last been seen.

The tales they told were doubted at first, but as more and more victims began reappeared-- their stories corroborated down to almost every detail.

Upon physical examination, it was confirmed that some sort of sensors and electrodes had been implanted and subsequently removed. All women had been given some sort of birth control which halted both egg production and menses. By inference, investigators concluded that some form of complex vaccination had taken place for none of the subjects emerged with any sort of sexually transmitted diseases, and several were known to have entered 'the asylum' with various forms of herpes or other communicable infections.

To date, roughly eight thousand victims have returned. Of those who have attended voluntarily counseling, a variety of conditions have been reported:

*Almost universally, the victims will not ride in elevators or even enter buildings where one can be found.

*A surprising number of married individuals have returned happily to their spouses. Estimates place this number at almost thirty percent, with children at home being a strong factor.

*Another thirty percent of married individuals are now separated because of the spouse's inability to come to terms with the victim's experience. As one husband put it, "I know she had to do it and I would have never wished that she have the kind of pain described. The problem is, every time I look at her I see her with all of those men. It's just too much."

*Between eleven and thirteen percent of the victims have reported behavior best described as nymphomania or satyriasis. They have been conditioned toward hypersexuality by the experience and report an overwhelming anxiety when going more than a day without a new partner. Counseling is being offered and special security forces have been deployed to keep a gentle watch on victims still subjected to such drives.

*Over ten percent of those who were taken have entered into polyamorous relationships and several commune-like communities have sprung up to accommodate the victims, many of whom have actively sought out others they encountered in the asylum.

*Of the remaining survivors, behaviors cannot be categorized so easily. Some have sought out and married people they met during their experience, others have sought isolation. Surprisingly, a relatively small number seem to have suffered ill effects -- so far. The full impact of this unusual experience is yet to be determined.

*One final factor... there is a noted tendency toward nudism among those who have returned. There was no clothing in the asylum, and nearly every person who was there prefers not to wear any clothing while at home.

There is also the question of those still in there, wherever 'there' is. Behavioral professionals are still postulating about the motives of the keepers and what factors might be shaping those still in the secret complex.

***

Ken was dead. He was sure of it. The last thing he remembered was being with the dark-skinned woman and zapped by a red light. The pain had been crippling.

He was lying on sheets in a bed. The warm light on his face was waking him, but he didn't want to open his eyes and see the damned room once again.

The warm light...

His mind spun around this fact. Warm light.

There was never warm light in the asylum. There were no windows and only artificial light.

The only way the light could be warm was...

His eyes flew open.

He was home! He was back at their townhouse in Bucktown!

He leapt out of bed. This was the place. He reached out to feel the walls and the windows. He looked out at the Chicago skyline. He couldn't laugh or cry. He was too stunned to commit to the belief that anything was truly real.

He walked to the stairs and started down to the living room. Halfway down, he stopped. Sarah was there, and she wasn't alone.

She was on the couch and her hands were wrapped around a lover's head as she rode him.

Ken didn't know how to feel. A small part of him had clung desperately to the idea that the entire thing had been a dream. He'd thought he might walk down stairs and find Sarah eating breakfast, admiring her engagement ring that she'd shown off the night before.

That clearly wasn't the case.

Ken sat down on the stairs and just watched. It was beautiful, really. Sarah's eyes were closed and she was surrendering entirely to the experience with her new lover. Ken wondered if it might be the man she'd mentioned to him -- the one who had rocked her world for an entire day.

It was odd to be watching them. Though his past year had been filled with sex, it had all been with individual women. He had never been in the room with anyone else, never watched another couple. Yet, the disgust or excitement or... whatever emotion he should supposedly feel was entirely erased by the numbness brought on by the unreal sensations he was feeling.

"God yes, Chris," whispered Sarah. "Fuck me. Fuck me and don't ever stop."

Her eyes opened and she finally noticed Ken for the first time.

"Oh my God!" she cried.

She leapt off of her lover and went running to Ken. She showered his face with kisses and hugged him fiercely.

"You're back," she sobbed. "Oh Kenny, you're back! Come here, sit."

She led him to the couch and sat down with him, holding his hand. The man, Chris, remained where he was. There was a stark informality among them which made it clear all three had been 'inside'.

"How long?" was all Ken could say.

"Let's see," said Sarah. "I've been back for six weeks. Chris has been back for three. That would mean you were in for almost fourteen months, give or take."

"Are you... together?"

"God no," said Sarah. "I'm playing the field. I'm just not ready."

"I see," said Ken. "How do we still have this place."

"They paid for it," explained Sarah.

"Who?" asked Ken.

"The Keepers. They set up a fund with instructions. We're all basically salaried for the next ten years."

"Who are they?" asked Ken. "Who are the Keepers?"

His head was still spinning.

"Nobody knows," said Sarah. "With all of the technology we have at our disposal, the government is still stymied. Chicago, Bangalore, Cape Town, and Cairo. Ten thousand people apiece. No explanation."

"I see," said Ken. "Do we have a car?"

She looked at him with a soft gaze and stroked his cheek tenderly.

"Kenny, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I know how hard this must be. Coming home to find me like this, not knowing where you are or who you are. Give it some time. You don't know what she..."

"Do we have a car?" he asked again, more forcefully.

"There's a service," she explained. "A lot of us pooled our money together and we have a fleet of limos available. The drivers are trustworthy and the cars are private... for a variety of reasons. I'll call one right now."

Ken went upstairs, showered, shaved and got dressed. He debated for fifteen minutes over whether to go formal or casual. Finally, he put on a good suit, but no tie and went back downstairs.

Sarah and Chris were dressed in robes and Sarah gave him a loving hug.

"The driver has a complete database and a GPS. He'll take you wherever you need to go."

"Okay," said Ken quietly.

"Kenny, good luck," she said. "A lot happened in there, we all know that. You just... you just don't know what you might find."

He nodded.

With a gentle kiss on his cheek, she took his hand and led him out to the black sedan waiting at the front steps.

"Hello there, Ken," said the driver's voice.

It was a woman's voice. He looked up in surprise to see that it there was something familiar.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

She was dressed in a smart suit and even wore a driver's cap. She had dark hair that contrasted wonderfully with her blue eyes.

"Ken from Bucktown," said the woman. "Raised in Oak Park, went to school in Wisconsin."

"Oh my god!" he said. "You were somewhere around two-hundred, I think. Sherry, was it?"

"Very good, sweetie," she said with a smile. "I don't remember everyone, but I liked to keep track of my favorites. You were one of my favorites."

"You were..lovely," said Ken. "Wonderful, really. I'm sorry that I'm not more effusive, I just got out, though."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," she said in a tender tone. "I know what you feel like. My first month out, I just sat and stared at the walls. I took this job driving to get me out more. Now, where are we going?"

"I'm trying to find a girl named Akshi. Akshaya was her full name. I can't remember her last name, but she lives in Glen Ellyn. Do you have a listing of people who have returned."

"Akshaya Jayasuriya," said Sherry. "I know her. I've already driven six guys to her place. She must've been something else."

"Oh," said Ken.

He couldn't hide how crestfallen he was.

"If it helps, I drove six of them right back home. They didn't stay."

"Oh," said Ken with a little more brightness in his voice.

The drive out I-290 and I-88 was essentially an orientation back to the real world. Sherry told him about her own adjustments and about the good things and bad things about the real world. She was friendly and compassionate, caring and understanding. Just her casual tone helped in bringing him out to reality. The drive helped, too. For the first time in over a year Ken was seeing sights beyond identical hotel rooms and naked women's bodies.

He felt his pulse quickening as they pulled off of the Interstate at the Glen Ellyn exit. As they wound through suburban streets, he grew more and more quiet. Before turning down Akshi's street, Sherry pulled over and then turned around to look at him over the seat.

"Ken, I want you to listen to me. There has been a lot of joy, but also a lot of heartbreak since we were inside. I know how much you've set your heart on something happening today. I hope it does, I really do. But if it doesn't, you're staying with me tonight. No strings, no sex, nothing. You'll have someone to talk to, someone to hold. Okay?"

"Okay," said Ken.

Curiously, her words calmed him down and as they turned the corner he felt a sense of calm wash over him.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but Akshi's house was not it. He had to chuckle that somehow, given her family background, he had expected to see something like the Taj Mahal or a Jaipur palace, or a stone temple. Instead, it was a typical suburban Cape Cod. Driveway, trees, hedges... just a family home.

Sherry did the whole driver routine and walked around to open his door. She handed him a cell phone.

"My number is programmed in there," said Sherry. "I'm going to hit a Starbucks down by the train station. If I don't hear from you within half an hour, I'll assume you don't need me."

"Okay," he said.

She gave him a hug.

"And I truly hope I don't hear from you, sweetie."

The car pulled away and Ken walked slowly to the door. It felt like hours that he stood there trying to gather the willpower to push the doorbell. Before he had the chance, the door opened and he was greeted by the sight of a lovely woman in a sari.

There's an old, rather sexist adage that says before you think about marrying a girl, you should see what her mother looks like.

Sexist or not. True or not, the thought did race through his mind when he saw the woman who opened the door.

Akshaya's mother, Sabeetha, had often been compared to her namesake, Sabeetha Perera, the Sri Lankan actress who had risen to fame in the 1980s. Many said that Akshi's mother had actually aged better than the actress.

"Hello," said the woman. "My name is Sabeetha. Do come in."

She was the epitome of grace and elegance. Every movement she made was almost like something from a dance. She led him to the couch.

"Sit, dear," she said.

Her voice was reminiscent of Askhaya's. She had a bit more of an accent, but that made it hypnotic in its own way.

"My... my name is Kenneth," he said. "Ken, to my friends."

"It is nice to meet you, Ken," said Sabeetha. "I think it is safe to assume how you know my daughter, yes?"

Ken blushed furiously.

"Don't be embarrassed dear," said Sabeetha. "In my homeland, we have been studying sex since before Westerners even knew what to call it. There is no shame in what happened. I hope that you found far more beauty than ugliness in that odd place you were all sent to. Now, tell me about yourself."

Ken found himself telling his life story to Akshaya's mother. She was an attentive listener, knowing when to prompt with questions and when to just let him keep talking. She seemed impressed that he took the time to ask questions about her own childhood and family and they were soon laughing together. Just like that, they were friends.

At last, the conversation reached a lull and Sabeetha contemplated him for a few moments.

"God, I hope you are the one," she said. "Inside that place,my daughter lived like an Apsara, entertaining countless men in her bed. Yet, ever since she's returned, she's lived the life of an ascetic; hiding herself away in her room, waiting for 'the one'. I can't tell you how many men have come to visit, but she's turned all of them away."

Ken's heart leapt at those words. He stood up as Sabeetha walked to the base of the stairs and called up.

"Akshi, dear?"

"Yes, Mama?" called the voice that had haunted Ken through his entire stay.

"You have another gentleman caller."

He heard the sound of her door open and the sound of footsteps.

As she came into view, he wasn't sure if his legs would support him. She was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, had done nothing with her hair, and wore no make-up, but she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Her expression was cold and removed. It was evident that she was tired of these visitors. Men who had shared a wonderful night with her, seeking her out for more. Most, she had sent away, a few she had visited with because she felt friendship for them. None of them, though, had been the right one.

Her eyes lighted on Ken.

A look of disbelief crossed her face and she peered at him even more closely.

Her hand flew to her mouth and she began to shake.

Her other hand reached out for the railing on the landing. In almost slow motion, she descended to her knees and stayed there, sobbing.