The White Door

Hello, my love Lies. This is Roxy Callahan and welcome to the final episode of Choose, the podcast where you get to choose what happens to our main character every single episode. Next season, we have a story set in a sensual retreat for women, where every choice is a provocative, erotic, and incredibly hot one. We'll be releasing the first episode in August, but until then, here's the final episode of Cassie Alexander's The House where you have chosen this climax. You turn towards the white door and lift your key up. The latch turns, the door opens, and you step inside. The entire room's done in a tasteful shade of dove or heather or eggshell, off white enough that it's not blinding, even with the dawn's like coming in. The Butler's there, sitting behind a desk at the room's far end. You walk over to him the end of the rope trailing like you're a queen. He looks up from a stack of papers, Mistress. Butler. Out of all the people you've fucked tonight, he's the only one you've come to feel. You know, it's good that he's here. He stands and circles the desk, coming out to stand in front of you. I'm afraid the knight's come to an end, but I trust you've had a delightful time. You nod. It wasn't how I thought it would be at all, but I'm very glad I came, as are we. He says it with just enough composure that you feel he's ignored the possible double on Taundre you just made. You're a little sad that he has, though it's another small sign that your night is through. There's a shower over there. He to one wall with an open door, and. We've brought you new clothing to ride back to the airport in I suspect you'll be tired on the plane. I've packed you a pillow and mask you not again. This is it. It really is almost through, am I? Am I going to get to meet him, the Master. You look around the room. There was a time when you wanted to ask silly questions like who he was or why you? But I don't even want to have him explain all this anymore. I just want to meet him in person to tell him thank you. The butter fools. One hand to his chest and bows. I apologize as the person organizing this event on your behalf. His night has been even longer than yours, I will tell him, though I know your thanks are sincere, you not. Yet again, and then look at the ground. Then there's just one more person left to thank you here who his eyebrows arch and curiosity. You. Oh, you've already thinked be enough. You feel he means it, and yet you reach out one hand. He takes it and brings it up to his lips. If he was merely getting paid to do all of this, or if the house's spell broke with the rising sun, or if his master held him to a certain set of rules, rejection now seems all too possible, perhaps even likely, And yet you still step in, taking what almost feels like your biggest chance of the entire night. He looks up at. You, eyes dark, weighing your intent, and then leans into his hands, find your robes cord as his lips meet yours, and you're out of it in seconds. As he's guiding the both of you back to a couch, you feel it at the back of your calves and fall down into it, him following you seconds later, catching himself on his hands talking would ruin things as would taking too much time. You're both in a race against departure tickets in reality, trying to capture one last piece of the night. Your hands are on the waist of his suit pants as he's unbuttoning his shirt, as you're undoing his belt, reaching in to free him. As he leans over his open shirt, fluttering over you. As you open your legs to let him in, his cock slides in in the both of you moan, and then he starts to fuck you, eyes on you, watching your reaction as he pushes deep inside You reach one hand up to wine through his hair and the other down to rub yourself, arching your hips up to meet his, unable to look away from his hot brown eyes, Wanting this moment, this feeling, this glamor to go on and on and on. Your breath catches without you wanting it to. You feel your pussy taking hold of him, and he can't help but feel it too. He makes a soft moan, but doesn't slow or speed up, and you wonder if he wants to draw this out as badly as you know you do. He keeps stroking his full length in and out in your body, moose with his and til it's like your one person instead of two. Your muscles tense, your hips quiver, and you take one long, last inhale, like you're about to dive off of a high bridge, And instead of shouting like you've done all night, you come quietly and a series of long, exhaling gasps. He lowers himself over you, kissing you once hard, and thrusts and groans low, and you know his cum is pouring out insides you. He lays over you for a second, breathing roughly, the stolen time between you all the sweeter for its quietness. Over his back, you can see the sunlight crawling further up the wall. I'd probably better be going now, you say it, so he won't have to. He lifts up, looking down at you again. Yes, mistress. He slides out of you and stands, tucking himself back in, zipping his pants and buckling his belt. You stand and decide to stay naked. After everything you've been through here, there's nothing left to be ashamed of. You walk towards the bathroom he indicated earlier, and he follows you. You stand in the entrance. Do I need to give this back? You ask, holding up the key. It's yours to keep as a memento of tonight. You nod hand on the door and begin to close it, and he stops you. This is the only door here. It cannot open again. This is goodbye, mistress. You lean out and kiss him on the cheek, before smiling bravely, goodbye, Butler. You then close the door. It locks behind you, sealing away the night for good. You in him l eggxhale. Step into the white marble shower and turn the water on to let it run