Reroll

I nod, “That's the concern, yes. It's your life; if you want, I can make the attempt, but….”

“My life isn't so bad I want to be rid of it,” she sighs, “I think I don't want to risk dying like that, even with those big brutes you asked about earlier coming every few days to take advantage of the fact that I can't say ‘no’ to those requests.”

Wait… “They rape you?”

Bambi rolls her eyes, “No, they ask politely if I'd like to star in an immediate gang bang, then they take turns recording it all with a phone while I rather eagerly pleasure them all, getting my holes filled, my face coated, my jugs drained, dirty words literally burned into my skin, my fingers chopped off, or whatever other kink they feel like filming, all the while I'm eagerly begging for more.” She sighs, “‘Lucky’ for me anything that would mar my beauty fades within an hour, and I always have screaming joy from whatever kink they try.  I'm the perfect target for any kink anyone wants, and enjoy it fully while I'm in the thick of it, but after, my mind is my own again and I burn with shame.  I've… gotten used to it, though. It's not bad enough that I want to die.”

I shake my head, “At least you haven't encountered anyone with a snuff fetish….”

She shudders, “I have, actually. Turns out I don't stay dead.  The fire below is quite real, by the way.  I did, however, return the favor after that monster fell asleep.  Sadly, he could only die once,” she cracks a rather evil grin.

I consider a bit, “Ouch, just… ouch. That said… by my lights, it is rape of the ‘questionable consent’ variety - you literally can't decline when someone asks, so your consent isn't real, much like the case of a woman who's had far too many drinks.  Forgivable when someone has no reasonable way to know that, but…” I shudder, “definitely not good.”

She shrugs, “Sometimes life sucks. I still consider it worth living.”

Something's nagging at me… “what happens when two fantasies conflict? Like… if two guys both request anal at the same time or something.”

She shrugs, “Happens all the time: I get to pick which one I satisfy… first.  After that, I march straight over to the other guy to take care of him, provided he's still nearby and wants it. Why do you ask?”

The rules lawyer in me considers carefully, “I'm not sure how sensitive your compulsion is, so please pardon me if this triggers it, but has anyone ever asked you something like, ‘Will you be exclusive with me, and only me, until the day I die?”

Bambi's eyes twitch, and she replies in a way that makes me think of an actress playing a part, “Oh yes my love, I thought you'd never ask…” as she jumps over the counter, ripping her strained blouse to shreds with one arm while she's in the air, and tackles me, starting to pull off my semi-real clothing with her hands.

I open my mouth to try and say, “wait,” but the word is choked out by a surprisingly long tongue forcing its way into my mouth and down my throat. When her hands grip my rear and she grinds a leg between my own support pillars… my resistance melts away as the drawbacks of my own situation come to the foreground.

I'm lost in pleasure as she pulls my clothes free, tossing my jacket over her shoulder to vanish into the nothingness from whence it came and pulling my skirt down, exposing my mound, my lower lips making a puddle on the floor.  Seeing I'm ready, she sticks a finger inside me as she sucks on one of my milk taps… and pulls her finger out, replacing it with two… then three… then four… then her entire fist, finding my body is quite accommodating for her.

I can only moan and writhe on the floor as she works me over.

She quickly heads downwards, getting away from my chest but angling herself to properly piston her arm through my opening… and we find I can take her up to her elbow. My stomach deforms slightly as she presses on me from the inside, in and out, in and out, in and out.  

It does not take much for me to shudder around her… which clears my head enough to say, “Bambi, I renounce you!”

At which point, her eyes flicker again, and she pulls her fist out as I enjoy the afterglow, “So… first off: Yes, it has happened before. And it usually doesn't last too long, as the poor sap that tries it generally dies of exhaustion.  You… have a cooler head than many.”

“I'm also not going to die of exhaustion,” I somewhat deliriously inform Bambi, “I have my own rather mixed blessing to deal with. I pull off and replace my sleeves to refresh my attire, “I'm sorry,” I find I can't look her in the eye right now.

The cursed woman (man?) chuckles as she gets up, her girls swinging freely, “It's fine. I've had much worse, and you were trying your best to help and be cautious… and due to the nature of my curse, I went off when you did. Here…” she reaches down to help me up, which I accept, finding I can look her in the eye now.

I shake my head, “Well… I’m sorry I don't have a good way to untie your Gordian Knot, I can't even really offer a place for you to stay.”

Bambi waves a hand dismissively as she walks back to her desk, my juices still dripping from her arm, “I'm no worse off than when we met, and I have a place already,” she opens her purse and pulls out another blouse, wiggling her jugs into it.

I blink a few times, “I'm guessing you go through a lot of clothing?”

She chuckles, “Oh yes.  I can't wear anything that's not skimpy, and I can't wear underwear at all, but at least that means I can have three spare outfits in my purse at all times.  I get most of my clothes from thrift shops so they're cheap.  That blouse cost me like five bucks.”

I nod, pick it up off the ground, and concentrate for a bit, mending and cleaning it, “Well… here you go, good as new,” and hand it to her.

She takes a moment to look it over before folding it and putting it back in her purse, “Wow. You certainly got a good deal. What's your story?”

I shrug, “Signed an incredibly vague contract with what turned out to be a demon who was making everything seem to be signing up for a simple RPG.” Yes, I'm skipping some details. They're not relevant, and I don't trust her that much, “I'm also gender bent, and while I do get magic powers… you may have noticed my cooch is still dripping: My body is INSATIABLE.  I can say you seem to have it worse, though.  Sorry I couldn't be of more help.”

She chuckles a bit, which grows into a full-on laugh, I let her finish the laugh, at which point she explains, “Ah, but you have… for the first time in a long time, I have someone I can actually talk to about this stuff.  It's not much, but… I'm not ALONE now.” She chuckles again, “But there was something you came here to do?”

I nod, “Yes. Get money. I have an old watch to sell…” I hand it to her.

She takes it, and looks it over, whistling, “Solid gold, this one… I used to have one of these. Huh.  That's... Yeah… normally I'd put this on consignment, but… well, it's not going to sell here.”

I raise my eyebrows, and she explains, “Too expensive for my normal clients if I mark it for the twenty grand it's worth. Nobody with that kind of money to burn is going to come in here any time soon.”

My ‘Al’ with Sense Motive confirms, “That's her honest estimation.”

“You're in luck, though,” she continues, “I want this one.  It used to be my dad's.  I'll cut you a check for twenty grand.  Here….” she opens it, and points out an inscription: “Keep my daughter safe. I know assassins, and can afford them.”

I blink a few times, “Umm.”

Bambi chuckles, “What can I say? Grandpa was very rich - before the crash, anyway - and protective of mom.”

That's half of it… “And you can afford to just drop twenty grand on what amounts to a souvenir?”

She shrugs, “A reminder of where I came from… which are in short supply.  But yes. I've been investing for a long time… I'm mostly working out of habit, plus an acknowledgement that there might be a similar crash again, and having an actual brick and mortar business will help if it does.  Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

I consider: It does sound that way, doesn't it? “No, we can absolutely use the money. I’m just… trying to make sure you're not hurting yourself for my sake.”

“Great….” Bambi pulls out her checkbook and writes a check, handing it over to me as I hand her the watch… yep, twenty thousand, addressed to me. Huh.

“That fix it thing you did on my clothes… how often can you do that?”

I shrug: She's a fellow supernatural, and already knows I do magic, “As often as I want. It doesn't fix things up very much, but I can just keep repeating it until whatever I'm fixing is back in mint condition. You should have seen the watch when I got it.”

The antique dealer grins, "You said you needed money; how do you feel about a job….”