Models: Emily Willis & Scarlit Scandal
Note: in 2024, Emily Willis experienced severe medical issues which have left her effectively paralysed. If in light of this you do not wish to view her work, please skip this chapter. Either way, if you wish to donate towards Willis’s ongoing medical costs, you may do so here.
Eddie was beginning to think time was a construct which didn’t apply in Club Fantasy.
It wasn’t so much that the night stood still. Eddie could see the seconds and minutes ticking away on his watch just as they always did. Yet whenever he checked his wrist or phone expecting an hour or more to have passed by, it turned out only a fraction of that time had elapsed. At this point it felt as though he’d been in the club long enough that he could walk outside and find dawn breaking, but according to his devices it wasn’t even midnight.
Then again, Eddie was more than willing to exploit this temporal quirk and savour his time within the club’s walls. Because, if he was honest, Club Fantasy was the last place he could remember being truly happy.
Eddie’s memories of his previous visit to the club were hazy at best, but permeating that haze was a sensation of deep belonging. It felt as if the last time he was here his life had made sense, that he could set aside the stresses and expectations of reality. That he could simply be.
Such contentment was not an emotion he’d experienced in the years since. He could still remember the chill and emptiness that had overcome him when he left the club the first time, like he’d left a part of himself behind and the resulting hole had been filled by shards of ice he could never hope to melt. Even years later the sensation still dogged him, carrying with it an unyielding dissatisfaction which had ultimately led to the collapse of any relationship he tried to engage in. No matter how sensual his lover he felt only apathy in the bedroom, his ability to experience passion apparently contained in the chunk of his soul that never left the club. This listlessness quickly wore thin on any intimate companions, and only last week he’d discovered his girlfriend had resorted to cheating to source the pleasure he could not provide. Needless to say, she was only the latest in a long line of doomed partnerships.
Before the club his life had felt vibrant and whole. Now it was drab and hollow. And Eddie could attest that a life painted in shades of grey was far less fulfilling than the bookshops would have people believe.
Eddie had assumed his yearning for Club Fantasy was just nostalgia sinking its claws into him – that his perception was warped through the lenses of rose-tinted glasses. After all, with such foggy memories of the place it was easy to project whatever he wanted onto them. Easy to claim the club had marked a turning point and locked him in this discontented purgatory.
Except from the very instant he stepped across the threshold, Eddie had felt whole again. All life’s wondrous warmth and colour had embraced him as an old friend, injecting a fresh energy into his step. He could laugh again, he could dance again – hell, things even tasted better now, a fact which had seen in him sample over half of Club Fantasy’s cocktail menu just to relish the fireworks of fruity flavours bursting across his tongue.
At this point, Eddie could not shake the thought that the club had been waiting for him to return. Little did he realise that somebody else had been waiting too.
Eddie was at the bar when the familiar voice met his ears.
‘Holy shit, it’s you. It’s really, actually, genuinely you.’
Turning towards the speaker, Eddie had to take a second to compose himself. The woman was gorgeous in a way few of the club’s patrons could compare with. Her deep brown hair was tightly curled and her pretty face perfectly made up, the centrepiece of which was the deep red lipstick giving her pout a juicy gleam. Her brown skin was flawlessly smooth, with a handful of delicate tattoos lining her left forearm. And though her outfit was fairly tame compared to many he’d seen tonight, the thick red band which wrapped around her neck before descending beneath the neckline of her black crop top suggested her underwear was notably more risqué than her overwear.
At first sight Eddie was struck by a rush of attraction the likes of which he hadn’t felt in years. Attraction, and a strange sense of kinship. Despite having never met her before he had the buzz of reuniting with an old friend.
‘I’m sorry, but who are–?’
The woman cut him off by seizing his hand and urgently dragging him away from the bar. ‘What are you doing just standing there? This night has been a long time coming. We can’t waste a second.’
For such a slight thing the woman’s grip was surprisingly strong and Eddie’s attempts to retrieve his wrist proved futile. ‘Listen, I don’t know you think I am, but–’
‘Oh Eddie, I know exactly who you are. Actually, right now I know you even better than you know yourself. Well enough that I’m not offended you’ve forgotten me. I mean it’s not your fault you can’t remember.’ She paused and pondered the last sentence for a breath. ‘Well, I guess it is your fault, but it’s okay, I don’t hold a grudge.’
Eddie’s assumption the woman had mistaken for someone else fell apart when she addressed him by name, as too did his struggles to escape. Now he stumbled after her trying to sort through the myriad questions swarming his mind.
‘I’m sorry, but… how do you know me?’
They had reached the lifts now. Still gripping his wrist with one hand the woman mashed the call button with the other, bouncing impatiently as the small digital screen showing the lift’s current floor dropped slowly to zero.
‘How could I forget you? That night with you changed me forever. You rocked my world and I rocked yours. You didn’t realise it back then, but we were made for each other. At least me and the other version of you were. That version of you is… well, she’s just so much more than… this.’ She waved her free hand up and down in his direction as if that explained everything.
‘She?’ Eddie said as the lift doors dinged open.
Ignoring the question, the woman practically threw him inside before selecting a floor and repeatedly jabbing the close door button as if intent on shattering it. As the doors slid closed she planted a kiss on his cheek. Pulling back, she grinned at the stark lipstick imprint left behind.
‘I’m Scarlit, by the way.’
Eddie was little closer to understanding his connection with Scarlit by the time she shoved him through her apartment door and locked it behind them.
Clearly, she had met him on that forgotten first visit to Club Fantasy, but she consistently kept referring to the other ‘version’ of him and how ‘she’ had transformed everything Scarlit thought she knew about pleasure. What’s more, despite Scarlit’s constant insinuations that their night together had been one of amoral animalism, Eddie was certain no amount of alcohol could make him forget fucking a creature as drop-dead gorgeous as her. So if that was the case, how come he couldn’t remember her?
Rationally, Eddie knew he should be alarmed by the unexpected turn his night had taken. After all, though he was intrigued to discover Scarlit’s role in his blurry memories, there was no denying she had effectively abducted him. Nobody had seen him leave nor knew where he’d gone, and since he’d left his phone in the booth with Vander he couldn’t call for help if he needed it. Besides, even if Vander did come looking he wouldn’t have much help because, despite it being before midnight (according to the club’s suspicious handling of time, at least), the other guys had all filtered off leaving just Vander and Eddie. In a place as big as Club Fantasy a one-man search party wouldn’t be much use if Scarlit turned dangerous.
At the same time, something deeper told him there was no need to be afraid. He couldn’t explain why but being in Scarlit’s presence felt easy and comfortable. Natural. Right. Enough that as she continued to ramble he listened simply because he wanted to hear her voice.
‘I’ve lost track of the nights I’ve spent here looking out for you. I knew you’d come back – I could feel it – I just didn’t know when. So I came and I watched and I waited and… and now you’re finally here. I mean really, properly here.’
Despite himself, Eddie chuckled. ‘I guess I am. I’m sorry to say I still don’t remember you, but I’m glad I’ve made your night.’
Scarlit’s face lit up as she nodded. ‘Oh, you have. More than you can possibly know. And now it’s time for me to return the favour.’
For a second Eddie thought she was going to pounce on him, but instead she pivoted around and circled around the foot of the bed.
Compared to the apartment he was sharing with Vander and Seth, Scarlit’s room was significantly smaller. Aside from the door to the corridor the only other exit was an archway into the walk-in wardrobe all of Club Fantasy’s rooms seemed to have, while the view was limited to a single window on the far side of the bed. Nevertheless, the space was opulently decorated. The dominating feature was a towering bookshelf which segmented an entire wall into various wooden drawers and cubbies, the largest of which housed a broad flatscreen television. Immediately beneath this a leather Barcelona daybed was angled towards the screen. The room was lit by several simple lamps, their warm glow twinkling off the crystal decanter and tumblers sitting on the glass table below the window, and the cosy atmosphere was further enhanced by the huge red and gold rug, the abstract art pieces composed of various yellows and browns and oranges, and the rosy satin sheets lining the queen bed.
It was to the daybed that Scarlit made a beeline. From the black leather she scooped a dark bundle Eddie hadn’t noticed. She threw it to him.
Turning it over in his hands, Eddie’s eyes bulged as he realised what it was: a strap-on. The silicone shaft was at least six inches long with prominent imitation blood vessels snaking down its length, while the weight of the thick front panel and supporting leather straps were a silent promise of the erotic devastation it was capable of. This was a heavy duty toy designed for a woman with ample stamina.
So why did it feel so confusingly familiar?
‘You remember, don’t you?’
Eddie’s gaze jerked up to Scarlit. He chose to ignore the fact that the strap-on had entranced him to the point he’d forgotten she was there. ‘What do you mean?’
Scarlit’s eyes were bright with anticipation. ‘I mean that deep down things are clicking into place. Memories the club locked away are being set free again and you’re starting to feel all the pleasures it gave you resurfacing. I mean the other you is reawakening. And I think this time she’s coming to stay.’
Again, the rational part of Eddie’s mind knew Scarlit was insane. Nothing about her answer made any logical sense, not least the fact that she seemed to be implying the club itself had a will of its own.
Which was what made it so alarming that in Eddie’s heart she was making perfect sense, logic be damned. Pleasure was rising up from some dark, secret place within him. Vague memories were resolving from the fog to form half-remembered visions of Scarlit’s writhing body entangled with his. And in the depths of his soul he could feel something shifting. Growing. Awakening.
When Eddie looked up at her again Scarlit was actually vibrating. ‘Put it on, Mistress,’ she breathed, her voice trembling.
It took Eddie a second to realise she was begging. But in that second he’d already moved to comply. Unable to stop himself he dropped his jeans and kicked them away, his boxers following swiftly after. Plastic buttons hissed across the room as he simply ripped off his shirt, and before it had even hit the floor he was buckling the strap-on into place. The main panel clamped uncomfortably against his crotch so his balls instantly began to ache, yet the overwhelming sensation was one of relief.
Somewhere inside, Eddie felt a door open. And rushing through it came a life once lived.
Emily inhabited him in a heartbeat, deftly relieving him of control before methodically assimilating his thoughts and memories into her own. Like an astronaut just out of suspended animation she took a few moments to check her faculties – flexing her fingers, rolling her neck, reaching for all those deviant thoughts that had been hibernating along with her. She could almost feel the gears of her persona restarting, the strap-on’s magic like fresh oil allowing them to crank again.
And as her mind reinstated itself, Emily’s body likewise consumed that of her unsuspecting alter ego.
Her hair came in as a wave of midnight. The inky swirls instantly overwhelmed Eddie’s short brown spikes and swept down over narrowing shoulders. Like everywhere else those shoulders were tanning by several shades, giving Emily’s complexion a honeyed hue, though the far more noticeable change was the loss of muscle beneath her golden skin. Well-built as Eddie was, the abrupt regression of his masculine strength made Emily seem profoundly delicate by comparison. Her limbs and torso honed into a lean physique, ribs just visible gliding under the skin as her chest heaved with the pleasure of transformation, while what little muscle mass survived melted into softer tissue and shifted down to plump her ass and thighs. As if to emphasise this new femininity, a new navel piercing twinkled bright against her flat stomach.
Despite her slender frame, a single glance at her new features made it clear Emily was anything but frail. In place of Eddie’s angular jaw and deep sockets was now a visage of mesmerising beauty which exuded temptation and danger in equal measure. Sensual groans oozed through lips painted the colour of blood. Cloud soft lines flowed into brows plucked to a razor edge. And her eyes: dark and unreadable as the jungle depths. To meet Emily’s gaze was to wonder whether there was a deviant predator lurking just out of view, ready to drag unsuspecting prey into her lair of hedonism from which they might never escape. This was no demure woman but one who lived and breathed for sexual pleasure in all its forms.
Emily’s womanly assets took form so quickly she didn’t even have time to let off a groan; one moment she stood with Eddie’s flat pecs and his cock compressed beneath the strap-on, the next a pair of small tits had expanded into being and the toy nestled flush against her tight, shaved pussy. A chuckle bubbled on her lips at the familiar blossom of pleasure emanating from her sex, as well as the impish thrill of the rubber womanhood weighing on her crotch.
To finalise Emily’s transformation a set of sumptuous lingerie materialised from thin air. The new bra was composed of angular panels which barely covered the outer edges of her breasts, leaving the task of concealing her decency to a set of thick straps stretching across the front. Lower down, a set of thin bands barely wider than a thong linked her panties with the glossy stockings hugging her shapely legs. Every fibre of material was black as pitch, the uniformity only broken by the gold buckles and rings inlaid into the underwear.
As the metamorphosising magic released her from its grasp, Emily allowed herself a long overdue sigh relief. For a breath or two, she savoured the simple bliss of being real once again.
Then she tackled Scarlit to the daybed.
Scarlit’s cry of surprise rang through the room, but the moment she met Emily’s eyes she froze where she lay. The raven-haired beauty held herself on all fours, body slung low enough for the tip of the strap-on to trail along Scarlit’s inner thigh. Her eyes swam with distilled seduction.
‘Hello, Red,’ Emily said.
Just the sound of Emily’s old nickname for her was enough to melt Scarlit’s loins. At first it had been born in reference to the outfit the club had granted Scarlit the first time she transformed, with her clothes, heels and even jewellery composing a striking palette of crimsons and scarlets. Then, once back in Scarlit’s room, Emily had remarked how the lamplight seemed to give her dark hair a red tint, just as it was doing now. The brown beauty’s name had only sealed the deal, and for the rest of the night thereafter Emily had addressed her only by her nickname.
It was a title Scarlit had started to believe she would never hear again. Yet even after so long, her response came as easily as ever.
‘Hello, Mistress.’
Raising one hand, Emily settled a finger beneath Scarlit’s chin and leaned in a little closer. ‘Did you know I’d be here tonight?’
‘No.’
Emily glanced down at Scarlit’s semi-naked body. ‘And yet you dressed for the occasion anyway,’ she noted.
It wasn’t a question, but Scarlit nodded nonetheless. During Emily’s revival she had hastily tugged off her own clothes to reveal the raunchy lingerie beneath. In design the set was mostly similar to Emily’s albeit a deep wine red, plus with the thick band of material Eddie had spotted earlier acting as a collar of sorts. However, where Emily’s bra sported side panels and thick straps to conceal her breasts, Scarlit’s was devoid of both. Instead it bore only a network of thinner decorative straps strung across a pair of golden nipple covers. Aside from this, her only other attire was a set of patent leather heels, which she had been in the process of removing when Emily forced her down.
‘I… I always dress for you,’ Scarlit breathed. ‘I always hoped you’d come back, I just never knew when. But I wanted to make sure everything was perfect when you did. Including me.’
Emily’s approving smile felt like a forgotten dream resurfacing. ‘You really are a good girl, Red.’
‘Only for you, Mistress. I’ll always be yours.’
A flicker of light caught Emily’s eye. Half-turning, she noticed a new reflection in the window. Then, turning fully, she looked upon the culprit. The plasma TV had turned on of its own accord and the screen now displayed a steamy all black threesome porn scene. If the scene had any introduction it had been skipped, for the ripped black stallion was ruthlessly pounding his lover doggystyle, while a second woman made out passionately with the first. The audio played quietly, infusing the air with hushed howls of euphoria.
Twisting back to Scarlit, Emily smirked. ‘You know, babe, I think the club is just as eager for us to get reacquainted as we are. And since it’s been good enough to bring us back together, I think it would be very rude not to oblige. Still,’ she said with a wicked smirk, ‘I want to see how needy all this waiting has made you first.’
Scarlit had been so distracted by Emily’s sultry tones she hadn’t even noticed her hands snaking downwards. There they had unclipped Scarlit’s suspenders and loosened the buckles of her garter belt, before deftly slipping into the waistline. Now she used this sly grip to whip both belt and panties down and off, leaving Scarlit’s pussy bare and vulnerable.
In a burst of motion Emily surged upright. Swinging one leg over Scarlit’s left thigh she shifted forwards so her crotch was barely a few inches above her lover’s. In the process Emily’s rubber cock slid between Scarlit’s tight folds – just not in the way the ebony beauty craved.
‘Is this what you want?’ Emily hissed as she rolled her hips in an act of outright torment. Rather than penetrating her plaything, she had instead angled the dildo downwards so the side of the shaft was pressing against Scarlit’s sex. The grinding of the toy was little different to the porn scene playing above them: depravity tasted but just out of reach.
Of course, Scarlit could have simply reached down and reangled the strap-on, but she knew better than to defy Emily. Nevertheless, the instinct to reach out took effect before she could stop herself, the need to finally touch her Mistress after so long suddenly eclipsing all other thought. At the same time, the anguish of being made to wait even longer for Emily’s dick was just as overwhelming, and when her hand closed over Emily’s hip Scarlit found herself pushing her away. Her arousal was already at fever pitch and she feared any further teasing might break her completely.
But breaking Scarlit was Emily’s hobby.
‘Oh no,’ she said, clamping a hand around Scarlit’s upper arm and pinning it against the daybed. ‘You don’t call the shots here. Or had you forgotten that? Have I been gone that long you started to think your place was somewhere other than on your knees serving me?’
Scarlit shook her head, her eyelids fluttering. ‘No, Mistress. I’m sorry, it’s just been so long. I don’t know how much teasing I can take.’
Emily’s smile was sweet even though her words were wicked. ‘That’s why you have me, Red. I know exactly how much you can take: however much I want to give you. You don’t need to think when you’re with me. All you need to do is whatever I tell you like the good little girl you are.’
Biting her lip, Scarlit nodded. ‘Okay.’
Still rolling her hips in the same torturous fashion, Emily savoured the dominant energy buzzing through her nerves. In truth, she was just as desperate to skip the foreplay as Scarlit, and she was frankly amazed she hadn’t already thrown decorum to the wind in favour of fucking Scarlit into oblivion. But it wouldn’t do to let her slutty submissive see how cripplingly needy she was, and though the urge to take things further was gnawing on her insides Emily had just enough self-control left to keep up the temptation a little longer.
When she spoke again her voice was calm, almost friendly, but there was danger lurking below the surface. ‘Good girl. Now, I’m going to ask again, and if you fail to answer me a second time I’m going to remind you how severely I punish disobedience. So: is this what you want?’ Leaning forwards, she pressed the shaft harder against Scarlit’s sex. ‘Is this what you’ve dreamed of every night since we parted? Tell me, Red, do you want my perfect cock pounding your cunt?’
Scarlit was on the edge of mania as she nodded frantically. ‘Yes! Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes!’
‘Well then, I’d better make sure you’re really ready.’
Now she’d been released from Eddie’s subconscious there were many things Emily realised she’d missed during her hibernation. The sexy thrill of lingerie embracing her nubile body; the breathiness in Scarlit’s voice whenever she was forced to beg; the incessant erotic throb of arousal that emanated from her pussy whenever she indulged her dominant streak. However, the sordid taste of Scarlit’s sex was undoubtedly close to the top of the list.
Though a small patch of dark hair crowned the submissive’s crotch, the rest was shaved bare, providing Emily unrestricted access to both the folds and clit on which she was so keen to feast. Hunkering low, her lips brushed against tender skin while her tongue ran in slow strokes that set Scarlit’s legs quivering. Without even needing to be asked Scarlit had already raised one of those legs, spreading herself wide for her hungry Domme, yet even as her body reacted on instinct her face was a mask of tormented arousal.
Then again, that was exactly Emily’s intention.
Aside from the white-hot ecstasy of cunnilingus, she was subjecting Scarlit to a host of other erotic stimuli. Her fingers, for instance, danced delicately over the sensitive flesh of Scarlit’s inner thighs, which she knew was one of her sub’s biggest turn-ons. Her ass was raised high so that whenever Scarlit glanced down it was the first thing she saw, a view which Emily knew would spark the craving for Scarlit to worship it. Then, if Scarlit lowered her gaze further, she would be met by Emily’s piercing stare, eyes fixed on her sub’s face and swimming with amoral intentions.
And beneath it all was the constant groaning of the deviants on the TV. From Scarlit’s position she had a clear view of the rutting pornstars, and if the nectar lacing Emily’s tongue was anything to go by the visual stimulation was pushing her horniness to the limit.
With the wet sounds of lips on loins drifting through the air, the memory of feasting on her sub the same way several years earlier filled Emily’s mind.
Back then they had been in one of the club’s backrooms. The space was an all-out kink dungeon, equipped with everything from vacbed to fucking machines and every manner of sex toy imaginable.
When Eddie wandered drunkenly in Scarlit was already there. She was breathless and dazed, a state Emily later realised was because she had only just been transformed herself, though at the time Eddie had barely noticed. His focus fell instead to the entrancing strap-on situated on the leather mattress at the centre of the room. Something about the toy seized Eddie’s attention and refused to let go, and as its claws sank deeper into his psyche he’d found himself tugging off his clothes, approaching the bed, reaching out…
Just like tonight, from the moment Emily emerged she was fully aware of the man she used to be. Scarlit too could remember her old life, though their transformations had rendered them far too horny to trade stories so that even now Emily still knew next to nothing about her lover’s original existence. But those lingering memories had not stopped them from throwing themselves on one another with shameless abandon, and within minutes of Eddie’s arrival the dungeon was echoing with the cries of uninhibited sapphic depravity.
To Emily’s delight, that passion was no less arousing this time around. The years had not blunted her lust for Scarlit’s perfect body – if anything, she only craved her submissive even more.
The net result of this increased attraction was that Emily’s mind was a warzone of depraved fantasies all vying for supremacy. So far, the urge to tease her pet had won out. But now her tongue was slathered in Scarlit’s potent pussy juices a new victor drove Emily to surge up, closed a hand around Scarlit’s neck, and plunge her rubber cock deep into her sub’s dripping cunt.
The move caught Scarlit unawares. Lost in the pleasure of Emily’s dancing tongue with her eyes closed and her mind drifting, the dildo had already struck the first blow to her G-spot before she realised what was happening.
Understandably, her reaction came in the form of a shrieked profanity.
‘Fuck!’ Then, when the initial rush subsided, her face crumpled into an orgasmic frown. ‘Oh god. Was… was your cock always this big, Mistress? I…’ Her lids fluttered, her words faltering as she struggled to process the sensation of the toy stretching her tightness. When she tried again she abandoned her previous sentence. ‘Shit, you feel so fucking good inside me.’
Rather than answer Scarlit’s question, Emily clamped her fingers a little harder around her neck. ‘You know, I don’t remember you having such a filthy mouth the last time I used you. Since when did my good little sub start dirtying those lips with anything other than my pussy nectar?’ Almost as an afterthought Emily added a sharp order after her question. ‘Legs up.’
The raven-haired slut’s dominant streak flared as Scarlit obeyed without hesitation. Folding both legs back so her knees were level with her tits, Scarlit coiled her hands up to clasp her ankles and maintain the position. It was as if the part of her brain involved in following orders was disconnected from everything else, to the point that Emily could have driven Scarlit so deep into subspace she was just a limp sex doll and still her body would follow her every command.
With Emily’s thrusting hips setting her raised heels bobbing back and forth, Scarlit responded without the slightest acknowledgment of her instinctive obedience.
‘I’m sorry, Mistress. Since you left I’ve had nobody to keep me well-trained. Nobody to remind me how a good girl should behave. My other lovers, they never–’
Scarlit’s subsequent words were cut off by Emily’s hand tightening further and strangling them to death.
‘I’m sorry, what did you just say?’ She hissed, voice dripping with venom. ‘Your other lovers?’
A few fragmented denials managed to claw through her constricted airways, but it was clear Scarlit had not intended to let that information slip quite so soon, and the mix of panic and oxygen deprivation reduced her to a state of babbling incoherence.
‘Are you trying to tell me that all this time I’ve been stuck in Eddie’s head, you’ve been whoring out this cunt – the cunt you know full well belongs to me – to any hunk or harlot who happened to catch your eye?’
As convincing as the rage in Emily’s voice was, none of it was real. She knew perfectly well that nobody spent as much time in Club Fantasy as Scarlit had and remained abstinent; the transformations the club induced were specifically designed for depravity, and trying to reject that reality was a surefire way to go mad. However, fucking with Scarlit’s mind was just as arousing as fucking with her body, and exploiting her fear of disappointing her Domme was just as deliciously enjoyable as Emily remembered.
‘You know what, I don’t think you deserve this dick. I think I should find myself a more faithful sub to use instead.’
Emily had pulled almost all the way out when Scarlit released a desperate wail.
‘No!’
Pausing her retreat, Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘No?’
‘Please, Mistress. I’ll do anything. Please, I’ve waited so long, I can’t lose you again.’
Emily’s heart softened a little at that, but she made sure to block any warmth from reaching her icy glare. ‘Well then, if you’re going to atone for your sins, the first thing you’ll need to do is confess them. That means you’re going to admit what an unfaithful, pathetic skank you are. And if not, then you’ll never get near my dick ever again.’ As she spoke Emily held herself in position so only the head of the dildo remained inside Scarlit, the rest just a confession away.
Scarlit broke instantly. ‘Yes, you’re right Mistress. I am pathetic. I was unfaithful. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to, but I needed it so badly. I’m just a dumb, needy slut, and without you I was so, so lost. I had nobody to serve, so I just let the club lead me from hookup to hookup. I’m sorry, Mistress. I don’t deserve you.’
Leaning in closer, Emily replied in a sultry whisper. ‘Which was your favourite?’
Once again, Scarlit was caught by surprise. The abrupt shift from seething rage to quiet seduction set her reeling and an edge of confusion seeped into her expression. ‘My… my favourite?’
Emily wore a disarmingly sweet smile as she nodded. ‘Yes, beautiful. You’ve been coming back here for years, right? There must have been some insanely hot nights. I mean, this is Club Fantasy. Go on, babe, I’m all ears. I want to know what my pretty princess has been up to while I’ve been away.’
With the grip around her throat now loosened, Scarlit was able to swallow nervously. Clearly she sensed a trap, but the fear of being denied her Domme’s cock was strong enough to urge her into the danger zone.
‘Well… there is this one girl. Asa. She works for Grant and Chanel Foster at one of their clubs, so she doesn’t get to visit the club very often. But when she does, she reminds me what it feels like to truly submit. Sometimes she even brings a few friends to use me.’ Scarlit flushed, the memories fuelling her arousal. ‘One time she took me back to her room, and when we got there the club’s DJ was naked on the bed. I’d spent the whole night on the dancefloor fantasising about him, and just the sight of him had me dripping. That night was…’ She trailed off, flushing even harder. ‘I… I think that was my favourite,’ she said eventually.
From the way Scarlit bit her lip there was obviously plenty more to be said but, still apprehensive of Emily’s motives, she held back, seemingly concerned she had fallen for some deception.
Yet in reality the true trap was that there wasn’t one. Rather than unleash another furious tirade, Emily performed an even more disorienting rug pull by pecking Scarlit affectionately on the lips before smiling bright enough to outshine the sun. ‘That sounds amazing, gorgeous. I’m so glad you had people like that to look after you while I was gone. And yet, through all those nights, you really still waited for me?’
Pulling out fully, Emily rose to her knees so she towered above Scarlit’s supine form. One hand descending to her groin, she stroked her strap-on and smiled to herself as she envisioned her plaything serving Asa and her DJ friend.
With Emily’s bodyweight fully removed Scarlit’s legs had folded back down. For several long moments she simply lay there looking up at her amour with a mixture of uncertainty, longing and something deeper Emily could not quite discern. Then, slowly, cautiously, she rose up to kneel before the woman she had waited so long for.
After ensuring Emily had a prime view of her bare ass, Scarlit opened her mouth. Emily’s response came in the form of a wicked grin and several soft smacks of the head against her exposed tongue. The sound of each blow was dull and wet, but even that was enough to incite Emily’s arousal. It was all she could do not to snag her hands in Scarlit’s hair and fuck her throat down to the lungs.
Fortunately – or unfortunately, Emily wasn’t quite sure – Scarlit’s quiet voice dispelled that urge once she answered Emily’s question.
‘Of course I waited for you. Those hookups the club led to me, they were all hot and incredible in bed. But they weren’t you. Nothing ever compared to us. I never wanted them the way I wanted you. In think they were just the club keeping me sane until you came back.’
Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘And what made you so sure I would?’
‘Because the club was waiting for it too. Every time I came back, whatever room I stayed in there were always two things waiting for me: my nipple shields and your strap-on. I’ve stopped in more rooms than I can remember and they were always there. Even on nights I didn’t stay, whichever backroom I chose to visit they were both waiting.’
A flicker of guilt played briefly over her face. ‘I… I got somebody to try it on once. The strap-on. I didn’t think it would turn them into you, just that it might make them a Domme. But they stayed the same. After that I knew it had to be linked to you somehow – that whatever magic was inside could only be activated by your touch. And I figured the club must know you’d be reunited eventually, otherwise why else would it make sure it was always ready and waiting for the night I found you again?’
‘So that’s what you’ve been doing all this time? Coming back here and hoping I’d be somewhere in the crowd?’ A pang of sorrow shot through Emily’s insides at the thought. How could she have given up such a perfect lover?
Scarlit nodded. ‘Compared to my life before, this one was better with you in it. I couldn’t imagine losing you forever.’
Finally breaking Emily’s gaze, Scarlit’s eyes descended her sensuous figure. The descent halted at Emily’s crotch. The head of the dildo hovered a breath from the submissive’s lips.
Scarlit’s eyes asked permission. Emily’s gave it.
Taking the tip onto her tongue, Scarlit suckled the remaining pussy nectar from it. Had the rubber cock been real then the gentle attention would have crippled Emily into a heap, the soft swirl of Scarlit’s tongue over the head too much to take. As it was she simply smiled down at Scarlit approvingly, their eyes locked as she continued to feed.
Something passed between them then. A silent understanding that despite the years spent apart, they were just as perfect for one another as that first night. The quiet act of service was almost insignificantly simple, yet that was the beauty of it. Such acts were the ones born of the purest intentions, and in that moment Scarlit’s only motivation was to show how much she adored the bond they shared.
And for the first time in years, Emily finally had the chance to reciprocate.
The sound Scarlit made when Emily eased inside her was an unspooling of all the emotions held within her since their last encounter. Anticipation, longing, lust, relief; the sorrow of loss and the delight of reunion. All of it released in a low, shuddering groan as her beautiful face warped into a mask of desire.
Emily had eased her down onto all fours in order to take her from behind, a position they both knew was amongst Scarlit’s favourite, but from the first brush of cock against cunt the strength in the sub’s arms evaporated. As they folded beneath her Scarlit’s torso slumped lower, inadvertently angling her ass up, which in turn allowed Emily to penetrate even deeper. Her brows knitted themselves into the same cute lines Emily remembered and her lips quivered as the strap-on sank seemingly endlessly into her glistening wet sex.
For several minutes Scarlit could only manage a sequence of long, whimpering whines. Her hands pawed at the leather and her pussy clamped tight around the shaft, lining it in a gleaming film of her juices. In the time it took her to regain her voice, Emily maintained a sensual rhythm, her hips easing back until only the tip was left inside before delving in again all the way to the base. Scarlit had waited long enough, and Emily refused to hold anything back.
‘You… you don’t know how much I’ve missed this,’ Scarlit said at last. ‘I’ve dreamed of this every single night since you left. Every lover I had, I always wished they were you.’
Emily squeezed Scarlit’s plump ass and was rewarded by a shudder of arousal that went rippling through her sub. ‘I’ve missed it too, gorgeous. Well, Eddie has. He never understood why, but he’s been craving something he could never quite name. No matter what he tried, nothing could satisfy it. And all that time he was craving you. After all, we were made for each other.’
Scarlit’s next words were hushed, as if she barely dared say them aloud. ‘Then why did you leave?’
Like Scarlit, it seemed Emily’s urge to fuck was detached from her conscious thoughts, for even as her mind stuttered to a halt her hips continued their rhythmic thrusting. The soundtrack of moans oozing from both Scarlit and the television didn’t falter, yet Emily barely heard them as she was catapulted back to that night.
She and Scarlit had been barely conscious when Phoenix arrived. However, lucidity had quickly returned when the club’s owner explained exactly what had happened to them.
The club chose you, she’d said, her sultry words now echoing in Emily’s mind. It saw something in you it wanted to indulge, and so it gave you these new bodies and desires. If you want, you can keep them. Not so long ago, I was in your position, and when I accepted my new life I found I was part of something bigger. You can join that too, if you wish. The choice is yours.
But Emily had rejected Phoenix’s offer. The following morning she left the strap-on in her room and exited the club with a mixture of guilt and uncertainty churning in her stomach. Mercifully, the moment she stepped over the threshold those emotions vanished along with both her body and the memories of all she had done the previous night. Yet when Eddie strode away, nothing rose to fill the gap they’d left behind, and the internal void had haunted him ever since.
When Emily spoke now, she allowed the mask of savage Domme to fall, exposing the rawer woman beneath.
‘I… I guess I was afraid. Honestly, I didn’t feel like I deserved the life the club gave me. Becoming a woman didn’t bother me – I’d even fantasised about what it would feel like before that night – but my new reality was too… too perfect. You were perfect, better than any girl I’d ever dreamed of. My body was perfect. The club was perfect. And when Phoenix told us there were others like us who’d experienced the same magic – I didn’t think I was ready for that. I didn’t think I was worthy of it.’
She paused. Gathered herself. Pressed on. ‘But also, it was because of you. I knew if I stayed I’d never want anybody more than you, and I knew you felt the same way about me. The thing is, I’ve never been good with commitment. I was worried I’d screw it up somehow, that I’d ruin this perfect thing the club conjured for me, and I never wanted to put you through that. You deserve better than that, and I figured if I left then the club would find somebody else who could give it to you. So… I ran.’
A bitter edge entered Emily’s voice then. ‘And by running I just ended up hurting you even more. I’m so sorry, Red.’
Emily felt lighter with the truth out in the open. Lighter, but also charged with nervous energy as she awaited Scarlit’s response. Keen to put some of that energy to use, she tangled one hand in her submissive’s curly hair and used it to lift her head. The leverage allowed her to pump in harder, her own body shuddering as she sent ripples through Scarlit’s fleshy ass with each thrust.
Though Emily wasn’t sure what response she was expecting, Scarlit’s next question wasn’t it.
‘So, if that’s why you ran, what made you come back?’
The bitterness faded as Emily put fresh power into her rocking hips.
‘You. Like I said, Eddie didn’t realise it, but it wasn’t the club or this body he was craving, it was always you. I think part of him understood leaving was a mistake the second he stepped outside. Maybe if he knew that missing piece was still here waiting for him he would’ve come back ages ago. Either way, I think tonight is a night we’ve both been waiting far too long for, and I promise you I won’t be making the same mistake again.’
By now Scarlit’s groans had devolved into fragmented gasps forced out by each pump of Emily’s hips. The slap of ass against rubber was an additional note in the sultry symphony of moans both real and filmed, as was the creak of the daybed beneath them, which served as a parallel to the squeaking of the bed on the screen. The air was dense with lust, the small room concentrating the erotic atmosphere as desire spilled from the lovers only to find the space was already full to bursting.
With her confessions out of the way, Emily’s dominant side began to seep in once more. Like everything else, the wicked thrill of having Scarlit impaled on her strap-on – her sumptuous body a toy for Emily’s use and her needy whimpers music to her ears – was even hotter than she remembered, and she had every intention of basking in this pleasure for as long as humanly possible.
Deep down, Emily knew tonight wasn’t about her. If not for Eddie’s connection with Vander and Perri, he wouldn’t have come back, wouldn’t have been at the bar for Scarlit to find and giddily abduct. They were the ones who had received the invite to the club – the mysteriously convenient invite neither of them could remember hearing of before it landed on their doormat. There was no denying that whatever mischief the club was playing, Vander and Perri were at the heart of it, while Eddie was merely lucky enough to be riding their coattails.
But it was just as clear that the newlyweds-to-be weren’t the club’s only playthings. Over the course of the night Vander’s bachelor party had slowly dwindled as his guests disappeared one-by-one. Several had never even shown up in the first place, yet even when there was barely anybody left none of the remaining members had thought much about it. Emily could see now this blithe attitude was just the club’s way of having its fun without alarming those who were yet to experience its touch, and she could only assume that similar events had played out for Perri’s bachelorette party too. She had no doubt the bride and groom’s guests were now littered all across the club, their bodies and minds warped by its corruptive magic, their orgasmia fuelling the club’s hunger for more.
Emily knew she was just a single player in one amongst many sordid scenes building to the culmination of the club’s final corruption of the night. But she didn’t care. Because whether by fate or just sheer dumb luck, she had found her way to Scarlit again. Perhaps her sub was right and the club had known Eddie would return, even wanted him to do so; perhaps even if he’d never met Vander and Perri then some other path would have opened to tempt him back once more.
Either way, it didn’t matter. Because now she was here she could see exactly what she had sacrificed the first time around. And she would never let it go again.
Without warning Emily tugged Scarlit up. The ebony slut’s spine arced and she scrabbled frantically at the leather as Emily wrenched her head up and back. Angling herself forwards, the Domme eased her head into Scarlit’s peripheral vision while the new position subjected her sub to fresh explosions of pleasure.
For the second time that deep, unreadable expression passed over Scarlit’s face. This time, however, she put it into words.
‘You know, before this I was starting to worry I hadn’t really remembered you. I worried that my memories of that night were being warped by time so I only saw the good stuff. That maybe we weren’t as perfect for each other as I thought we were. I kept telling myself it wasn’t true, but there was always this nagging thought that the Emily in my head was just a fantasy and the real you wouldn’t be as good.’
Emily had slowed her pace so Scarlit could speak without her sentences crumbling into slutty groans. Still, the urge to speed up again was already building.
‘And were you right? Am I worse than the Emily you remember?’
‘No,’ Scarlit sighed. ‘You’re better.’
The rush of attraction those words gave Emily were enough to make her ask the question she’d been holding back since she first transformed. ‘So, I guess the only thing left to ask is whether or not you can forgive me?’
A blissful smile spread over Scarlit’s face as she rocked against the rubber cock. ‘Please don’t punish me for saying this, Mistress, but that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. I’ve waited for you all this time because I’ve never stopped wanting you. Do you really think I would’ve done that if I didn’t forgive you?’
Two things happened then. First, the desire to fuck Scarlit hard and deep and fast finally overwhelmed Emily’s mind. And second, a wave of invisible energy rippled through the room.
Bathed in the strange power, both women felt it tugging at their souls, beckoning them out of the room and towards the source. Given her theory regarding Vander and Perri’s importance to the club, Emily knew exactly where the magical call would lead them. But she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
Unsurprisingly, the obedient sub instinctively moved to answer the call and began to pull away from her Domme. It was only Emily’s tight hold on her hair yanking her back that stopped her. The movement buried her deep inside Scarlit’s cunt and in so doing forced a shallow gasp from her lips.
‘What… what are you doing, Mistress? We have to answer the call. Can’t you feel it?’
‘Oh, I can feel it alright. But I choose when I stop fucking my pet, and I’m not finished with you yet.’ As she spoke Emily channelled all the years of suppressed lust into her hips and set about devastating Scarlit’s pussy. ‘Trust me, slut, the ones calling us in won’t mind me reminding you were you belong. Besides, you did call me stupid, and that’s something I’m afraid I can’t allow to go unpunished, no matter how nicely you ask. So, I don’t care how strong the call gets, you are going to stay right her while I fuck all the disobedience out of you. Do I make myself clear?’
With her lids fluttering, her tits bouncing, and her entire body aflame with ecstasy, Scarlit finally spoke the words she had been waiting years to voice again. ‘Yes, Mistress…’
Thanks for reading!
Over the 5 years of this blog’s existence, I have faced a number of ethical dilemmas which led me to question whether I should or should not publish a story. However, I can say with absolute certainty that my decision over whether to release this piece has been the most difficult of all. With that in mind, I think it is crucial that I explain precisely how I came to that final decision.
To preface this, I will highlight that while Willis’s real name is Litzy Lara Benuelos, I shall be referring to her by her model name throughout these comments to minimise confusion. Sources for the information contained herein will be cited at the end of my comments.
First, a brief overview of relevant events. In January 2024, Willis sought help for her ketamine addiction at an LA rehab. Once admitted, her health is said to have deteriorated and in early February she was ‘found unconscious’. It was not clear how long she had been in this state, and after being found it took 30-40 minutes of CPR to restore her heartbeat. Her condition was further worsened when she suffered cardiac arrest, and Willis subsequently fell into a ‘vegetative coma’ for the following three months. [1]
While Willis regained consciousness in May 2024, the prolonged oxygen deprivation has left her with ‘irreversible brain damage’. As far as I can find, no official diagnosis on her condition has been made, however it is widely reported that Willis appears to be suffering from some form of locked-in syndrome, a condition in which almost all voluntary movements aside from eye movements are paralysed. According to her lawyer, ‘she does make outward noises from time to time, she does move her body around some,’ however she remains unable to walk or speak, and consequently it is unknown how much she understands of her surroundings. [2]
I was roughly a third of the way through writing this chapter when I became aware of this information, and as you might imagine I was extremely torn over whether or not to continue and ultimately publish the piece. At different points I considered either replacing her scene with an alternative model as I had with other models in previous chapters, or simply cutting the chapter altogether and releasing these comments in isolation to explain its absence. Certainly I am acutely aware that releasing erotic content revolving around an individual in Willis’s state could be seen as poor taste at best and outright unethical at worst. And having sought advice from friends on this matter, it only became further apparent that the arguments for and against releasing this piece are of equal merit.
Obviously, in the end, I did opt to release this, and I did so for the following reasons.
Firstly, based on my research, it seems clear to me that Willis was proud of the work she produced during her time in the industry. In one interview she expressed that ‘Sexuality to me means freedom. Freedom to do whatever I want with my body… exploring my wants, needs, and desires… Sexuality to me means releasing myself fully.’ [3] In the same vein, she also emphasised that ‘doing this job in general has taught me to really empower myself, my sexuality and who I am… It’s the most empowering thing to get out there and have sex in front of everyone’. [4] With this in mind, it felt wrong to me to effectively blacklist her work as a response to the tragedy in her personal life, since in my mind that implies that the value of her work is derived only from her current circumstances, rather than the effort and energy she put into producing it at the time. Multiple interviews with and about her make it clear that Willis took pride in her work, and in my opinion that should be celebrated, not concealed.
Secondly, Willis had already retired from the industry before her medical incident. According to her brother she had ‘aspirations in other fields of entertainment’, and as of the time of her coma had been retired from adult content for almost 2 years. [1] This fact was an important factor in making my decision. In situations where a model was still actively producing content prior to an untimely death/event (August Ames, for example, was still a model when she took her own life) the question of how they would feel about their content being viewed afterwards is exceptionally difficult to answer. However, in Willis’s case, the choice to retire seems like it could not be made without considering the long-term online presence of her content, and the fact that she appears to have been perfectly happy with that lends further weight to the supposition that she was proud of it being available and consumed, even at a time when she was no longer actively producing it.
Thirdly, at no point that I can find has Willis’s family raised any issue with people continuing to view her existing content. Given that Willis is now non-verbal it is unclear how much she has been affected mentally by these experiences, so at this point her family are the ones who are best able to speak for the woman she was beforehand. Granted they won’t hold the rights to her work and wouldn’t be able to remove it all from the internet even if they wanted to, but the fact that they seem content for Willis’s fans to continue enjoying her work puts my nerves more at ease that they, nor she, would have reservations about my choice to showcase it on my blog.
And fourthly, while the instinctive reaction is to ask myself ‘how would I feel if I was her?’ I simply do not feel that this is a helpful line of thought. For one thing, nobody could ever hope to understand what she is going through, so doing so is a futile task. But for another, I cannot apply my worldview to the situation and expect it to equate to how she would react. I can only draw from the sources I have of her insights and try to use them to guide my decision, and in this case those sources seem to suggest this approach to sharing her content is not something she would be opposed to.
When discussing this with friends, a suggestion was made that maybe I could release the chapter as a text only piece, then provide links to the relevant images for those who wished to view them. Evidently this is not an approach I chose to use, and this again was rooted in the observation that Willis seemed deeply proud of the work she produced. Excluding the images representing that work seemed to me like a way of sanitising her profession prior to her current circumstances, as if it should be swept under the rug rather than presented on its own merit. In the same way, I felt that switching her scene for that of a different model would be insincere compared to those instances in previous chapters. For those models I changed the focus of the chapter because I could not find a scene I was happy with to showcase their work, but that was not the case for Willis. For her I had both a scene and a story I was very excited about, so pretending otherwise in order to avoid facing this dilemma felt frankly cowardly. In the end I found that I kept circling around to the same thought: Willis made this art. She put her time and effort into it with the express intention that it arouses her viewers, and she enjoyed doing so, and I feel that trying to avoid or sanitise that fact is borderline insulting.
But perhaps the most influential factor in my decision is that by releasing this there is a very slim chance I may be able to do a little bit of good as a result. As mentioned in the heading, Willis has a GoFundMe page run by her family, all donations from which go towards her ongoing medical care. It is widely agreed that Willis is likely to remain in this state for the rest of her life, and even in the miracle scenario that she regains some level of agency such as speech or motility, the continued affects of her oxygen deprivation and coma will permanently change her life. As such, any donations made towards her fundraiser will continue to be invaluable to Willis and her family.
If you have ever enjoyed any of Willis’s work in any form, even if that enjoyment is limited to this chapter alone, I implore you to consider donating if you can. And quite frankly, if I can raise even a little money for her then this chapter will automatically become my all-time proudest achievement on my blog. Simply put, my work was never meant to be about anything more than dumb smut – a place where I could indulge all the shameless fantasies bouncing around my head and hopefully give my readers a few deviant thrills in the process. But if I can put even the slightest sliver of good into the world through that work, then that would mean everything to me. I cannot put into words how it would make me feel that one of my silly little stories managed to help somebody in need, and so if you do decide to donate then please do let me know as that would undoubtedly make my year.
I have already made a contribution myself, and it is not unlikely that I will do so again in the future. Either way, if you wish to join me in donating then you can do so here: Support Emily Willis’s Journey to Recovery. I know Willis’s family would be profoundly grateful, as would I.
As these comments draw to a close, I want to say that I do not currently know whether Willis will show up on my blog again. Despite all I have said here, any future appearances would require no less contemplation than this one, and while there are still a great many scenes of hers that are extremely deserving of receiving a spotlight, I’m not sure I could produce anything more deserving of that spotlight than this story. I personally think this chapter is the most beautiful of the series, albeit in its own sordid sort of way, and potentially one of if not the best Fantasy Universe chapter I have ever written. As a showcase of the fantastic work Willis produced during her time in the industry, and a kind of thank you to her for the inspiration she provided to others as a result, I can’t think of a better way to celebrate her on this blog. Therefore I would be extremely cautious of bringing her back in the future, as I would rather this story stand as the peak of her presence amongst my collected works.
I hope this all makes sense and goes some way to explaining why I think releasing this story was an ethically defensible thing to do. I can totally understand why anybody might instinctively judge me for this choice, and ultimately I cannot say for sure whether or not this is the right decision. I can’t even say I’m comfortable with it, because I’m not, not completely. But nor am I comfortable with cutting or altering the chapter she inspired, because art begetting art is a beautiful thing and I don’t feel it should be stifled. Nor do I believe Willis would want it stifled either, and I sincerely hope that if any of her family – or, if she ever recovers enough to do so, Willis herself – ever reads this chapter that they will be able to see it was written from a place of deep respect, both for Willis as an individual and of everything she accomplished during her adult industry tenure.
Best wishes, Emily. Your star still shines bright.
Image gallery: https://www.pornhat.com/albums/58898/wicked-games/
[1] Everything we know about Emily Willis’ court case as vital lawsuit hearing countdown begins
[3] The XCritic Interview: Emily Willis
[4] Emily Willis: The Female Performer of the Year Interview
