Substitute Chapter 107

Developer Class was long.

No—was it short?

The Professor caught that Number 3 had been sucking my tits.

They were so swollen anyone could tell; there was no hiding it.

“You’ve been up to sothing cheeky.”

The Professor smiled, sly and lewd.

And then the Developer Class began.

The intensity was so brutal that from the very start I howled. I blacked out so fast I barely kept any waking mory.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the usual Recovery Room.

It was dark. No—bright.

Out there was dark, but the spot where I stood was bright enough to sting my eyes.

Soone moved in the darkness right in front of . I couldn’t tell if it was one person or two, but I heard careful rustling.

Disinfectant?

A stainless-steel tray with syringes flashed in my head.

Ah. Needle and alcohol swab.

It was the sound nurses made whenever they prepped an injection.

After the crash—the accident I believed was a traffic accident—I’d heard that sound to the point of nausea for six months. I couldn’t be mistaken.

But my thinking stopped there.

Pressure on my wrists.

I was tied upright.

I lifted my head and looked up: my wrists were buckled into the restraint bar they used to bind all four limbs every Developer Class. My arms were raised at about a hundred to a hundred-twenty degrees, just high enough to bend the elbows slightly, so it wasn’t actually that uncomfortable.

Even tied, both soles were planted on the floor, so the stance was stable.

As if reading my mind,

“We’re removing the platform. Go up on your toes.”

A voice said that, and the footing that had been supporting my soles slid clean away.

Even though I’d been told to stand on my toes, I fumbled in a panic.

“On your toes” was a joke—only my big toes barely reached. I was practically dangling in midair. If I didn’t go up on my toes, the strain went into my arms, and then, no matter how soft the bands, my wrists would chafe raw in seconds.

That’s how knife-edge the height was.

If I could see below, it would’ve been better, but the mont they pulled the platform, my view of what was under went strange—gone. My toes were touching, so it couldn’t be a thousand-foot drop, and yet it felt like one. The darkness called up fear.

“Yes. Just like that. On your toes, gracefully. Like a ballerino. Good.”

The Professor encouraged in that uniquely gentle voice.

I turned toward the sound, but of course—only black.

Where is this?

I tried to ask, but I couldn’t.

There was a gag in my mouth. Technically, a ball between my teeth, but it didn’t block my breathing at all.

Even with my arms bound and a gag in, I had the easy thought that this was just another kind of Developer Class. The Professor sounded that calm.

“From now, we’ll test Sailor 1’s ‘nipple sensitivity.’”

So it was class.

I’d checked and checked it to death with Number 3, but since I was back in class, they’d need to verify.

I was thinking that when a cold swab touched my thigh with a breath of alcohol. When I dipped my chin, a needle pricked my thigh and withdrew.

“Recovery injection.”

The Professor kindly explained.

I nodded like an idiot. If not for the gag, I would’ve bead.

I assud the Professor would be the one to test . He wasn’t.

A tall man, dressed head to toe in black, stepped into my island of light.

In a black suit and black tie, he stroked around my chest with a hand sheathed in red silk gloves.

It tickled, and I twisted. The man laughed.

No sound—just the sense of cheekbones lifting under a mask.

He was tall enough to look down on . Broad, too. So large it felt like a wall hemming in.

There was a peculiar sll. I couldn’t tell if it was in the air or from his body.

I tensed. Out of habit I tried to swallow, and the ball plugged my throat. With the gag, I couldn’t swallow; drool slipped and strung.

“The Host will personally test sensitivity.”

The Professor said.

Host?

Host...

I couldn’t get my head around the word.

It felt alien, as if I’d never heard it before.

Host?

Is that even a word...?

Just when I felt stupid, a hamr blow of shock went through my mind. My eyes flew open.

Ah. My Host!

The one who gives us only the best!

Until a mont ago I didn’t even know the aning, but in a blink I was awash in awe and reverence for the Host.

My chest swelled as I thought of how much he loves and cares for our crew, how hard he works for us.

Ahh. My beloved Host.

Please, take my tits. Suck them to your fill.

If I could, I would devote these tits to you for life.

I begged, starving for the Host’s love.

I shouted at the top of my lungs to bare my heart, but what ca out was only animal grunting. Incoherent moans.

“Honey first?”

At the Professor’s words, the Host nodded.

“Honey” made think of piss, and then the sweet edge at my nose told I was wrong.

It was real honey.

I grinned stupidly.

A small step-stool appeared in the dark. The Host lowered himself, knelt so that his mouth and my chest were level.

My god. The one I revere without end knelt to suck the tits of a lowly crew like .

I was moved; my eyes burned.

A white-gloved hand appeared from the dark and poured honey—thick and sweet enough to fill the air—over my nipples. Viscous, it crept down slowly, very slowly, along my tits.

I shuddered with pleasure. Just the touch of honey and I was about to cum.

“He’s the most developed among the Sailors. His tits are extrely sensitive.”

The Professor said with pride. Then,

“And the swelling isn’t from class, but from his cheeky—”

He started to elaborate.

The Host raised a finger and stopped him.

Be silent.

He said so.

I resented the Professor for tattling that I’d been cheeky.

I was glaring into nowhere, not even knowing where he was, when sothing hot made jolt.

The Host bit my chest, hard. My limbs shivered like I’d taken a shock, and I went straight to heaven.

Smack, slurp. Smack. Slrp, slrp.

The Host didn’t give a breath, devouring my tits.

Right, left. Right, left.

He buried his face in my chest and licked, sucked, bit like mad.

I moaned like an animal and surrendered my body to pleasure. My body spilled without my will.

After cumming all night, what ca now was thin and clear. I didn’t even have ti to fret that I was soaking a great man’s suit; I poured out every last fluid left in .

Every hole leaked.

While my tits were being sucked, my toes kept lifting, my wrists chafing—but even that was joy.

Pain and pleasure were in cahoots.

No—maybe it was more joyful because there was pain.

I nearly blacked out, but a sharp needle brought back.

The Host lifted his mouth from my nipples. Sothing—honey or spit—strung between his lips and my tits like a spider thread.

Panting, I watched the strand.

He rose, and the thread snapped.

Now a handspan taller than again, he reached out and patted my cheek, light taps.

It felt like he was saying he was satisfied, and I choked up.

I waited, waited for the Host to kneel again. To take my tits into his mouth.

But my hope broke. He stepped back one pace and hid in the eternal dark.

Don’t go. Please, don’t go.

I writhed and begged.

“How is it?”

The Professor asked from the dark.

A murmur.

The Host replied.

“I figured as much. My apologies. I should’ve policed him beforehand. Yes. Yes. Tsk. Looks like he got his tits sucked. Judging by it, right up until he ca here, he just...”

The Professor made excuses for .

Oh no. I wanted to crawl into a rat hole.

All night I let Number 3 suck my tits, and then, the mont I woke, I let him suck again.

Did that affect the sensitivity?

I wanted to die.

If I’d known I’d be tested, I never would’ve taken the bandage off.

But it felt so good. How could I resist sothing that good.

I drooled as I pictured Number 3’s fresh, beautiful face and body. Just thinking of when he sucked my tits made my nipples twinge, my hole flutter. My cock felt like it was twitching to stand—then I leaked and leaked.

Soone snickered in the dark.

“Would you like a taste? It’s unsightly, but it performs its role admirably. Look at that—how well he spills.”

At the word unsightly I knew they ant my cock.

What if the Host thinks I’m impure—

Ashad that I’d spilled while thinking of Number 3, I flushed.

At the sa ti, I burned at the Professor for offering sothing so hideous to so precious a person.

If it was the Host, he should be given sothing perfect like Number 3.

Afraid he might be fed sothing spoiled, I fidgeted, sick with worry.

“It’s a delicacy of a sort.”

Laughing, the Professor said so.

Hearing him, my thinking flipped again.

Maybe it was a delicacy.

How many n in the world have a severed sex?

How many chances would there be to suck one?

Yes. A delicacy.

Please, try it quickly, Host!

I shouted, but only animal groans bled out.

Murmur, murmur. Whisper, whisper.

The whispering ran long.

“Sailor 1. Sensitivity test concluded.”

An assistant declared in a flat tone.

I was crushed.

Not by the Host—by myself.

Chosen for the Host, put through Developer Class for the Host, and yet I couldn’t hold it together; I’d let soone else suck my tits first. I was bitterly disappointed in myself.

I bawled, like a child.

“Session four, resu.”

The Professor shouted.

Before the words even finished, sothing tal with a flat end touched my chest. So cold it snapped alert. I shuddered.

Through vision blurred with tears, I dipped my head to identify the device.

Right then the device pinched fast at my chest. To be precise, it grabbed my nipple.

What are you doing?

I spotted the answer at once.

Shaped like a clamp, it began pinching my nipple. At first it tickled, then the force rose to the point of nasty, and then I scread.

Compared to the rciless biting by Number 3—and by the Host just now—this pain was in another league.

I writhed, driven by pain. And then, I peaked.

My body went slack.

A prick stung my thigh and my mind snapped clear.

A device dipped in ice water touched my nipple again. So cold I trembled in a quake. After a short beat, the prior process repeated.

Unlike the first ti, the second was pure pleasure.

My chest felt ready to burst.

Not just my chest.

Literally all five viscera and six bowels felt like they would all burst.

As I cycled through losing and regaining consciousness, the device kept pinching my nipples.

How long did ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) that go on?

By the ti tal rely touching felt like being branded with fire, they changed devices.

This ti a compressor-looking cup latched onto my chest.

A circular cup exactly the width of my areola. With a shhk, shhk of the pump, it slowly drew flesh up.

Unsurpassed pleasure rolled . With nothing left to spill, I hit a dry orgasm.

I panted and writhed my whole body. I couldn’t keep still for a second; I twisted hard. Each ti, my wrists burned with chafe.

I let go faster and faster, and like clockwork a needle stabbed my thigh each ti.

Every ti I ca back to myself, my areola had swollen larger.

When it puffed so much it filled the cup, they switched devices again.

Unlike the first two—the pincher and the compressor—the next one had a rounded, blunt end.

A hand in latex drizzled a viscous, clear liquid over the round tal, then rolled the device across my chest.

Unlike the first two, which hurt, this one was cold and smooth. It felt like it was cooling my overheated, ballooned nipples and areola.

But I soon groaned. Maybe because I’d overworked my chest too hard, or maybe the liquid had such an agent—I couldn’t tell—but it felt like thousands of invisible needles were pricking my skin.

A strange pain I couldn’t na.

With every pass of the tal ring, the pain ramped. For the first ti in Developer Class, there was no pleasure at all. Not a flicker, only pain.

I moaned low and twisted from head to toe. Balancing on my big toes, I endured pure pain without any pleasure. My limbs shook, drool ran from my gagged mouth.

I scread, but the only thing the air heard was an animal’s cry.

Pain and pleasure coincide.

That sentence kept looping in my head.

A sweep of natural scenery flashed.

Pain and pleasure coincide.

Why?

The question flickered and vanished.

In its place, peaceful birdsong filled .

Offer your body for the Host.

With the beautiful landscape, birdsong swallowed .

Yes. I will.

Host. The only one who recognizes my existence.

I will give everything for him.

A peaceful, beautiful nature spread before my eyes.

Chattering, clear little birdsong delighted my ears.

Another needle slid into my thigh.