A New Kind Of Grind

"Come in," came the call, and so, I did, stepping in through Vanessa Vega's front door.

When I'd first designed the penthouses, I'd worried about where the front door was going to go, because I'd envisioned it as a big, open floor-plan with no walls, simply a huge open space with no dividing walls. And when the elevators and stairs ran through a shaft in the center of the tower, that created a problem: either the front door is a horizontal trapdoor that you have to push open while walking up a set of stairs, and hope there's nothing (and nobody) on top of the door at the time... or, alternatively, there's a big honkin' pillar in the middle of the floorspace, ruining the openness. The solution ended up being obvious, and when Nicky told me what it was, I felt like an idiot: aristocrats (or at least, her family) considered an open floor plan to be the mark of a peasant's hovel, rather than sophistication and class. As such, they were instead given a more traditional, well-divided space that provided excessive numbers of hyperspecialized rooms intended for a single activity, like a shooting gallery, a wine 'cellar' that was still fancy enough to take a personal audience with a monarch, and having conversations on a Wednesday with someone you like but don't especially like... along with, because I thought it was an impressive element, a staircase to a second floor that was my original vision of an wide, open dome of glass above a grand tower and under nothing but the clear blue sky.

"Upstairs," Vanessa called, guiding me towards the stairs, and granting me vindication about the open floor plan part. As much as I did not respect any aristocratic guests I may end up needing to host, there was still the simple fact that I did believe in hospitality and decency, and preferred it when the guests I hosted were comfortable and actually liked their accommodations. I did wonder what about the upstairs view she liked the most, but I suppose I could a-

Hrm. Well, given both Dornhelm and most of Vega are a lot further from the equator than Shang was, I would guess that the climate- especially now, in the height of summer- was uncomfortably warm for her, and she was hanging out upstairs because that's where I put the big swimming pool.

I was pretty confident in this, given that I crested the staircase to find Vanessa Vega floating lazily in the pool, face up, and fully naked.

"...Do you... need a moment to dress yourself, or..." I trailed off.

"That depends, my lord," Vanessa said, not bothering to open her eyes. "Do you want me to get dressed first?"

I blinked a few times. Okay, I was not stupid, nor was I completely ignorant of the social games that aristocrats played- although everything I did know, I'd learned against my will- and I most especially was not incapable of telling when a woman wanted to fuck me, and... well, Vanessa Vega very much did. As for why she wanted to fuck me, well... there were a few possible explanations.

The least likely one was that she was simply a young woman in her mid 20s who was about as horny as you'd expect from such a person, and she thought I was hot. It wasn't conclusively ruled out, because many aristocrats were bad at power plays, or at least were capable of dropping the act in private, but Vanessa had been sold to me as a higher caliber of aristocrat than that.

The more likely explanation was that... well, this was, in fact, a power play. She had something she wanted from me, and she either thought she could get it as a quid pro quo in exchange for hole access, or she thought that she could seduce me, wrap her around her finger, and make me her willing puppet, while she pulled the strings with her tits.

"It's up to you," I said, averting my eyes and making my way to a wood-and-canvas folding chair by the poolside- there was a carpenter's co-op by the docks that made these, and they were a cheap, easy-to-stow, and comfortable option for chairs in the hot climes of New Shanghelm, often seen by the sides of our public swimming pools. "I'd suggest getting out of the pool, however, as this isn't strictly a social call; I came here to talk about something specific."

"Well, in that case," Vanessa said, before flipping over onto her front, grabbing the lip of her pool with both hands, and heaving herself up and out of the pool, water pouring off the curves of her body as she did so. "I plan to get back in once we're done, so I'll skip the towel." And with that, she strutted over to me, seating herself in the chair next to mine. "Mmm. Before we start, I must say, I love these windows. Not for the view- only the waterfront and the city are at all nice to look at, and the rest of the view is dark, cratered glass. No... I feel exposed, up here. Like anyone could walk by, glance through these big, clear windows, and see me." A shiver worked its way up her spine, putting a nice jiggle in her tits along the way. "Oh, it excites me. A pity I have to restrain myself to one observer at a time- but, well, at least then I can put on a show for-"

"Do you or do you not want to be the next King of Vega?" I said, interrupting her seductive monologue about the exhibitionism kink she might not actually have.

"...Well, we're launching right into things, aren't we?" Vanessa said. "At any rate... I am not my mother. I don't share her obsession with ensuring that older betas have primacy over younger alphas. If Veronica wants the crown, then she can have it, with my blessing."

"You seem to have misheard me," I said calmly. "I did not ask, 'will you dispute Veronica's claim to the throne?' What I asked, Vanessa, is whether or not you want to be the King of Vega, and if you feel the need to clarify that you don't want it badly enough to fight for it, then you're free to elaborate on your answer for as long as you need to get your point across."

"I see, I see," Vanessa said, quietly. "Hedging your bets, hm? Well, then, the full truth: I don't particularly care whether or not I become the next King of Vega. It would be nice to have all the power and privilege of the crown, and to finally own my home rather than being a perpetual guest. But I don't have some grand vision of how the kingdom should be run, and in fact, I view the prospect of actually running the kingdom to be a very tedious prospect that the luxuries of kingship only barely make up for. So, if you need a puppet to put on the throne, to rule as you so wish?" Vanessa shrugged, which did interesting things to her still-bare breasts. "Well, I can be convinced, and it wouldn't take much convincing."

I nodded. "Thank you. That does answer my question, and... well, it's a lot closer to an enthusiastic yes than your sister gave me."

"Mm," Vanessa said, quietly. "Poor Veronica. She doesn't deserve any of this. She's... she's too good to be a proper prince. Always has been." Vanessa sighed, and leaned forward, seeming to finally give up on primping and preening and posing for me; at this point, either I was already seduced or I was never going to be seduced in the first place. "Mother certainly gave her the most grief for it, but... I'll admit, I gave her my fair share, too. Sometimes it was to look good to Mother, but... sometimes, I was just being nasty, tormenting her because I was bored."

"That's... unusually self-aware," I said.

"As much as I aspire to be a kept bimbo who never has to think harder than remembering which outfits give her keeper the biggest boner, I am, alas, gifted with the same intelligent mind that the gods gave to all awakened persons," Vanessa lamented. "...And, I must admit, there was a courtier in Dornhelm who I spoke with frequently, who coaxed me into realizing just why I was so miserable and hated myself."

"Mm," I said, nodding. "Well, as it so happens..." I paused, considering my options.

...Hrm. Yes, I was in fact already seduced.

"...while I do have a fairly solid plan to unseat the current King of Vega and install the candidate of my choice on the throne," I said carefully, "that plan is also quite some time in the offing, and if you were serious about wanting to be a kept bimbo, then I've already got quite a collection, and I'd be quite happy to add you to it, if you can tolerate not being the crown jewel."

"Roxy," Vanessa said, turning to regard me. "You are not only offering to put me on the throne of Vega itself, but also to fuck me in the meantime. That would be a marriage proposal if you weren't already engaged, and I would say yes."

"There is a price to me putting you in a collar and letting you sleep in my bed every now and then," I said.

"A coll-?" She cut herself off, straightening up and clearing her throat. "...Name your price."

"First, a magical oath that you will divulge none of what I am about to say, to anyone, not even me," I said. "If I say I've forgotten, and ask you to remind me? I am either tired enough that I can't remember something so basic, and should be sent to bed, or I am an impostor. Do you understand and agree?" I spun up the oath spell, a whirling construct of magicka around the words I'd said, as well as the meaning of those words.

"I understand and agree," Vanessa said. "My lips are sealed."

"Good," I said. "Your sister Veronica is one of my girlfriends- we fuck, with her exclusively in the submissive and penetrated role, a lot, but there is also genuine love there, built on the foundation of me helping her overcome the shame ingrained into her by her upbringing around liking alphas." I stared deep into her eyes. "So, Vanessa. Before I treat you with any degree of warmth and intimacy, you are going to speak to your sister. You are going to tell her what you told me about the cruelties you inflicted upon her, for status and for fun. And you are going to apologize to her. You are going to tell your sister you're sorry, that you regret what you did to her, that you wish you could turn back the clock and choose differently... and you are going to convince her that you mean it."

Vanessa blinked.

"I love Veronica dearly," I said, simply. "And quite frankly, your tits aren't bigger to the extent I'm willing to forsake that for you. So, go to your sister with your hat in your hand, and tell her you're sorry."

"...I understand," Vanessa said, quietly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I've been a coward, hoping this all would go away on its own," Vanessa said. "Thank you for giving me the push I needed to finally confront this, like an adult." She stood up, produced a towel from her inventory, and began to dry herself off. "I'll go talk to her after we're done here. Is there anything else you need from me before I go?"

"No," I said, standing up, and starting for the stairs. "No, I think that's it. Good luck."

She grunted, wearing a familiar expression of weary determination that made it abundantly clear to me that... yeah. Nicky and Vanessa were sisters.

"I'll need it."