From the eastern parapet, Olivia enjoyed watching the slow, glittering waves of Andrews Bay calmly moving towards the horizon to meet the sun, her short chestnut hair fluttering on the ocean breeze. *New day, new chances.* Looking at the expanse, she could spot red and blue buoys that marked the only safe routes of passage to the northern and southern shores; at least for now. Chilled, she popped the collar on her charcoal blazer, which only redirected the wind down to her chest, and the futility of her efforts seemed like a metaphor for the peace summit. Time was running out, the tides were turning, and a legacy of hatred just below the water’s surface could soon turn two nations into islands unto themselves. She checked her watch before going back inside the castle, back to the dining hall where breakfast was served, and the day’s first volleys of insults would be thrown.
Minister Hoon blocked the hallway with his small entourage—all men in bespoke suits—peering through a windowed door in disgust at the other party inside. She regarded them with neutral courtesy, as was custom for her role as the Guild’s mediator, but still could appreciate their svelte bodies and sense of style, the minister especially. *Another time, perhaps, another place.*
“Ms. Long,” he started, a hand on her forearm, “I was just going to have you paged.” His nasally voice always made her reflexively look for a handkerchief.
She looked at his fingers, barely grazing her sleeve but firm enough to make her aware of it. DeCambrians were famous for their light touch. “How can I be of assistance, Minister?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Can’t you smell it from here?” Grabbing the handle, Olivia opened the door slightly, and the smell of breakfast and boisterous laughter escaped. Hoon pulled his lapel over his nose like a gas mask. “It’s disgusting, the smell of meat in the air. We won’t eat until the room is thoroughly fumigated.”
“Understandable, sir. I’m not sure how bacon was brought onto the island, it was definitely not on the agreed menu.” She hid her deeper concerns, that someone was trying to sabotage the talks. “A thorough reset of the room would certainly delay the start of negotiations. What if I set up the courtyard dais for your party? It’s a beautiful day; you’ll be able to see both DeCambrio and Mezan’s shores from the table. I find the location provides one with some perspective.”
Hoon conferred with his seconds in their native tongue, rapid-fire words and rolled R’s spoken evenly, without emotion. Turning back, he bowed slightly. “Your solution is agreeable. We shall eat in the fresh air.”
With a broad smile, Olivia tugged on her jacket and led the way outside, texting her staff to be ready to cater at the new venue. *Someone is fucking with my conference and I’m going to find out who*. Getting the DeCambrians and Mezanai together *again* had proven difficult, even with new environmental troubles that threatened them both. Nearing the end of the summit and with no meaningful progress, that last thing she needed was a complication.
Tables covered in white table linen were already set by the time she opened the patio doors, and platters of fruit, cheese and smoked fish were at the ready by her staff. “Please enjoy your breakfast, minister. I will see you back in the grand hall at ten.” Personally, she couldn’t understand how a society of pescatarians would object to *other* smoked meat, but her own opinions were not needed for the moment. Hastily walking back to the dining hall, she found the Mezanai delegation enjoying coffee. Baron Skaad, stroking his long black beard, watched her the moment she closed the door. If he knew the provenance of the illicit bacon, he didn’t show it.
“Ms. Long, good day to you,” he said with a cheerful, sonorous voice. “We just had the best breakfast all week. My compliments to the chef.” His retinue laughed, and one even had the gall to hold a strip of bacon like cigar.
“I will certainly let him know your compliments. I can see that he had outdone himself. Bacon, no less.”
“Not just *any* bacon,” his staff added, “aged hog belly from the Mezan foothills. Raised on acorns and prosium-infused spring water. A real taste of home. Not like that *cat food* the DeCambrians eat. This stuff is the best.”
Her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten breakfast, but dining with one delegation would insult the other. Olivia couldn’t afford a swelling of national pride, one that could sink the negotiations. “I recall having an amazing meal in Mezan last year. Are you familiar with Gammona on the Hill?”
The delegation nodded. “It’s only the best place for barbeque in all of Mezan.”
“Chef Oreson told me the secret to her delicious meats, the kind that make you salivate from a mile away.” They leaned in, as if they could taste the elk brisket already. “She uses imported applewood and hickory from DeCambria. *Her* smoke, comes from *their* forest. The tariffs and extra time it takes to ship from a third party is annoying, but you can’t argue with results. Imagine how much more she could make with closer, cheaper access?” She let that fact sink in before bowing to the baron.
“We should raid them and take those forests,” Skaad snickered, and his staff pounded the tables with laughter. Despite his gruff persona, Olivia knew him to be a shrewd leader who enjoyed being underestimated, especially in a fight.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope that our summit will bring new openness to share in resources that benefit everyone. Talks will resume in an hour, in the grand hall.” She let out a long sigh after leaving, heading for the service wing and the kitchen.
Sabrina Castle was a maze of hidden hallways and subterranean passages used by the service class, and for now, one of the Guild’s best negotiators. Although rarely visited now because of the dangerous waters surrounding the island, its strategic position in the middle of Andrews Bay, between Mazan’s and DeCambria’s borders, had made it perfect for peace negotiations over the centuries, as well as some gruesome assassinations. She hoped there would be less bloodshed this time.
The tile-lined kitchen was bright and nearly empty, now with the breakfast service completed. She could still smell the bacon fat lingering in the air as she approached a man in the white jacket and toque. “Jean, may I have a word?”
He spun around holding a knife and a handful of carrots. Recognizing her, his eyes widened and put back his tasks and wiped his hands with a tea towel. Jean was a remarkable chef but she feared he’d been compromised. “Ms. Long, how are you doing?”
“I wanted to ask about the service. The Mezanai delegation very happy to be served something, *extra* this morning.”
“Oh, oh! You mean the bacon? I’m glad they liked it. A bit pedestrian if you ask me, but I tried to elevate it a bit.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Where did it come from, Jean? All the provisions for this week had been brought in before. Bacon was decidedly, explicitly, **not** included. I also know that it wasn’t on today’s menu, because I fucking wrote it.” Stepping closer, she watched his confidence wither like week-old vegetables.
“I…I had no idea. The menu… I saw it posted on the board last night. I assumed…”
“You assumed! You didn’t think it odd that a contraband ingredient just magically appeared in the pantry and the menu? You didn’t think to raise this issue with someone else, with me?” *He must know more.* Picking up a boning knife, she flashed the thin flexible blade in front of him and Jean’s face went pale. Flicking her wrist, she expertly cut off the buttons from his jacket, the sides peeling away. Guild mediators knew *many* negotiation techniques.
“Please, I… they threatened to kill me!” Jean backed into the marble counter and shook, staring up at the brass pots hanging from the ceiling.
“Who?” she asked, slashing through the strings that cinched his pants. The waistband loosened and clung to his thighs, tufts of dark curly hair rising above his underwear. “Who brought the bacon?”
“I can’t say! Please…I didn’t think it would hurt anyone. You’ve got to believe me!” Intimidation wasn’t working, and Olivia thought it a shame to murder a good chef. Taking a step back, she threw the knife into a corkboard across the kitchen and it wobbled, stuck in the doctored menu.
“I can protect you, ” she said, taking off her jacket. The silk shirt underneath it rippled like clouds, and the curves of her unsupported breasts spread the fabric. One button, then two were undone, and she watched his gaze lower to her chest. “I can make it worth your while if you tell me more about breakfast. Would you like that?”
The chef swallowed as she descended to her knees. “What are you offering?”
“You’ve worked very hard all week, haven’t you Jean? You don’t need to get caught up in these politics. I’d like to lighten your load.” Olivia raked her hands over his covered thigh and he shivered, then pulled her wrists higher, to the waistband.
“You can offer me protection?” He seemed more relaxed, more open to negotiation. Mutual interests had a way of making bedfellows.
She could feel the outline of his cock, straining against the cloth. “On my honor as a Guild mediator.”
Jean looked around, expecting to find someone else, then nodded. She wasted no more time and pulled his pants down to his knees. The chef’s muscled cock floated and bounced in front of her, and the mediator held it with one hand. “You didn’t know, but these talks are fragile, and are but one approach the Guild is entertaining.” Rubbing her thumb under his tip made him groan and smile. “If the Mezanians and the DeCambrians don’t work out a truce, there will be *other* solutions. Larger interests are at play here, understand?”
*Large interests.* She looked at his throbbing member and licked her lips. “Allow me?” The head was big and salty, a musk that filled her nose as she tasted his skin. Opening her mouth, she took him in slowly, watching him relax and tense up with her pulls. His balls hung low and loose, and she delighted in cupping them, teasing his entire sex.
“This is exquisite, chef,” she said, sliding her spit-covered hands over his shaft. Jean’s eyes could only open, his mind focused on lust. Between her legs, Olivia could feel her own arousal, warm and slick, building underneath her panties. She was enjoying herself. “Can I have a name?”
Before he could speak, she plunged over his cock again until it hit the back of her throat. Jean gasped and gripped the counter, her fellating skills proving to be excellent. The mediator bobbed her head, swallowing his entirety until her nose inhaled from his sweaty base. Olivia thought she could smell a faint whiff of bacon. Pulling her shirt back, she let him play with her breasts, cupping each mound like delicate pastries. She wanted them squeezed harder but was in no position to ask politely. Looking up, she locked eyes with him: “Unh ngame.”
His breathing became shorter and faster, her head and hand bringing him to the edge of ecstasy. His hips joined in, bucking and rocking into her face until he couldn’t hold back. “It… was… Jesper! Oh fuck!”
The name, unlike his cum, surprised her. The chef’s hot load sprayed over her face and neck, a ribbon arcing into her hair as she milked him dry. Jesper was a deputy for Minister Hoon, and had been most supportive of the negotiations. An accusation of sabotage would derail the talks even more efficiently than the crispy bacon strips. *Such a good poker face*, she thought, licking her lips. “Were there others?”
“I don’t know. Not here at least. He fetched the bacon from a compartment on the DeCambrian boat last night and he replaced the menu with the counterfeit. No one else has spoken to me.” He handed her a kitchen towel.
As she rose and wiped herself, she sent text. “I’m assigning someone from my team to be with you until the end of the conference. We can’t afford to let Jesper know we know, alright? There’s a lot riding on this summit.”
Shortly after, a towering woman dressed in a Guild pantsuit entered the kitchen. Blond hair tied into a neat bun, she had the familiar demeanor of all Guild staff: aggressively business formal.. “This is Annika. She’s your new shadow, Jean. You go nowhere without her.”
“Nowhere? Even the bathroom?”
“*Especially* the bathroom. She can also offer you *similar* assurances that I did, alright?” The guardswoman smiled broadly, her lips, glistening. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. I need another shower.”
Talks had not started when Olivia entered the grand hall, and she took her place at the apex of two long tables that formed a V. Behind her, an unlit screen stood on a stage where concerts and plays had once delighted DeCambrian presidents and Mezan lords alike. Princess Sabrina, the castle’s namesake, had invested a considerable amount of DeCambrio’s resources during its construction to ensure that the space was perfect for performances. That same attention to aural detail meant that no group could have a private conversation either. The curved surfaces inside echoed every voice and whisper, funneling them like a ghostly wind along the walls, to a hidden nook backstage. A wing of chambers and galleries outside sufficed as war rooms for more delicate talks.
Jesper, sitting next to Minister Hoon, looked absolutely normal. *Freak*. Tapping a gavel, the mediator grabbed their attention. “Gentlemen, thank you all for coming back to the table today. I am grateful, and optimistic that we can find a path forward to peace. I have provided you all with the latest oceanography report, there at your tables.”
She clicked a button and a projector displayed a map of Andrews Bay behind her: DeCambrio, with its sub-sea-level ports and cities to the North, and the hilly farmland and mountains of Mezan to the South. Blue lines in the water traced trade routes heading eastward from its ports, while red lines showed the same for their northern neighbors. No route crossed the bay, largely filled with a grey, amorphous cloud.
Starting the animation model, the delegates watched the cloud undulate and warp along the edges, ocean currents changing its shape until tendrils formed in the eddies, cutting into the trade routes. “Three years, gentlemen,” she announced. “We predict that Mezan and Decambrio’s mines will become uncontrollable and your water trade will cease to exist. In three years, the bay will be impassable. Your people will be cut off from the World.”
“Unless we agree to disarm the Peaceful Valley,” Baron Skaad interrupted. “And leave our borders vulnerable to cowardly attacks from DeCambrian warships.”
“And Mezanai pirates would terrorize our fishermen again, just as they did before the Valley was seeded,” countered Hoon. The local euphemism for the hundreds of thousands of subsurface ordnance sounded ridiculous in the mediator’s ears. Death was assured for any ship that didn’t follow the prescribed course. Each knew how much was riding on these talks. The water trade collectively kept both nations alive, with mountains and deserts surrounding them. Yet the delegates spoke over each other while Olivia watched with a little resignation before she gaveled again.
“I know that old wounds can take time to heal, and that it’s hard to garner trust when so much as transpired. The war has been largely quiet, yes, and large fences do make good neighbors, but the situation is changing rapidly. Non-proliferation is not enough, the Peaceful Valley must be disarmed. Losing it does not mean losing security.”
She advanced the presentation, illustrating a new security model based on outside support. “The Guild has hundreds of member states, and many don’t like each other. Worse than you both. But with our resources, we can help you establish an equitable structure that protects your people and your trade interests.”
“At some fee set by the Guild,” Jesper said. “Shall we be held hostage financially, instead of geographically?”
Anticipating the response, Olivia showed a projected P&E graph over ten years. “It can be incorporated in tariffs on either side of the sale. Goods will cost a bit more but not by much. Your merchants and miners will still turn a profit.”
Hoon steepled his fingers and stared at the chart. “Very little downside.”
“Except we’d have to see you ugly asses more often,” retorted Skaad. *Still trying to score points*, she thought. The bearded leader practically swam in his delegates’ praises.
“This won’t work.” Jesper flipped to an appendix and pointed at the count of mines on each side. “Mezan has seeded the Valley tenfold, and yet she doesn’t have the number of ships to disarm them on time. This was doomed to fail from the start!”
“You’re only half correct. You can complete total disarmament if DeCambria *also* pulls Mezanai mines from the bay.”
Skaad stood up and broke his aloof persona. “You’re crazy! Do you expect us to simply hand over the deactivation codes to our sworn foes? We see their battleships now, teeming with troops. Who’s to stop them from invading our land?”
“Do you see? They’re all paranoid! All that elk meat and coal dust has rotted their minds!”
“Say it again, fish fucker, and you’ll be eating sea bass through a straw!”
Delegates rose from their seats as the tension escalated again. The mention of food reminded her of the treachery that still required her attention. Jesper stood next to Hoon and pointed fingers at the Mezenai party, but she could detect the slightest smirk rising from the corner of his mouth. *He thinks he’s winning.*
She struck the gavel sharply, the banging echoing off the walls. With their attention focused, she pointed to the printed presentation in front of them. “I’ve given you all a lot to think about in a short period of time and perhaps it’s best to take a recess, so that you can look at it more thoughtfully. Let’s reconvene in thirty minutes.” As she gathered her notes, the delegates grumbled and left from different exits. Later, a Guild woman descended from the stage.
“What’s the good news, Agatha?”
The agent opened her notepad. “Jesper said, Why trade our current peace for an assured war? It’s crazy, and Hoon replied with, Comb over these numbers, and see if they stand up to scrutiny.”
“That’s promising. Anything from the Mezanai delegation?”
Agatha smirked. “Nothing about the presentation, but two of Baron Skaad’s seconds want to fuck your brains out in the interest of fair trade.”
“Hmm, only two? I must be losing my touch. What about Skaad?”
“He didn’t join in the crass descriptions of your body but didn’t discipline his staff either.”
Olivia took the agent’s notes and dismissed her, then had another thought. “Wait, one more thing. Can you keep an eye on Jesper? Nothing conspicuous.” The agent nodded and disappeared. Thinking about the disappointing start, Jesper’s conniving, and the heightened tension between delegates, the path to meaningful peace seemed harder to follow. The only bright spot had been her rigorous, satisfying fellatio. *If only talks could be as easy as breakfasts and blowjobs.*
She found Baron Skaad in the library, reclining in a large chair that was obviously built for a DeCambrian, indicated by the excessively tall upholstered back. Mezanai men tended to be short, especially the ones who worked in the mountains, and Skaad’s family had been mining prosium for generations. He looked like a bearded child. *When the trade routes become littered with mines, they will stand to lose the most.*
“Good reading, Baron?”
He looked up from a large book in his lap and smiled. “It’s a bit of military history, before the advent of the Valley. Of course it paints my people as merciless pirates and scoundrels, preying on the innocent fishermen and freighters to the North.”
“Isn’t it more than a *little* true?”
“My people are cunning, and in the past, some may have found ways to extend their revenues through extralegal means. No one was exploited, certainly not in the way this author describes it.” He slammed the covers shut and tossed it onto the rug at his feet. “The DeCambrians are preparing for another war. I’ve seen pictures of their cargo, coming from the East. One does not order that much plate steel and armored glass for fishing boats.”
He was right, but Olivia expressed nothing that could be interpreted as acknowledgement. War was always bad for Guild trade. Unfortunately for Minister Hoon, the Guild needed a secure flow of prosium more than it needed a steady supply of kippers, and she suspected that Baron Skaad knew it. She walked to a large painting of Princess Sabrina, hung high, standing in the same library. “She’s quite beautiful, wasn’t she?” Olivia asked.
Skaad rose and approached the painting, craning his neck, the picture looming over his short stature. The Baron’s head barely reached Olivia’s neck. “She is not without her charm. Did you know, she’s the reason for all this?”
“The castle?”
He shook his head. “The castle, the wars, the Peaceful Valley. Everything. This tall, graceful *ingenue* before you was the trigger for hundreds of years of war, and would you believe me if I told you, she did it for *love?*”
There was very little about Mezanai and DeCambrian culture that Olivia didn’t already know, but she followed him to a sitting area nonetheless. The baron eased into a long sofa. “Before we were sworn enemies, our people traded with DeCambrio freely, and both nations prospered. After a particularly good harvest, the king of DeCambrio held a lavish party, held on this very island, when it was little more than a sleepy cobblestone port and a plaza with a view. Music, dance, and food from both shores filled the space with revelry.
“On that moonlit night, it is said that Princess Sabrina met two men from Mezan, twin sons of a powerful lord. Sheridan was the more charming of the pair, never without a partner, never at a loss for words, while his brother Andrew was gifted with intelligence and quiet ambition. As sole heirs, they were destined to split their ancestral land unless one were to relinquish their claim. The princess was smitten with both of them, though she confessed a bias towards Andrew. Sheridan was aloof, proclaiming that he would take quantity over quality, then vanished into the crowds.
“They danced and drank late into the evening, until Sabrina offered to take him to a quiet room, away from the crowds. They made wild, passionate love. Imagine, a six foot maiden in the arms of a short, stocky gentleman such as I!”
Olivia flashed a smile. “You paint quite a picture.”
“My oral skills are among the best. Shall I continue?”
“If you wish. I have heard this story before though. The drunken switch, the accusations and ultimately, the murder. It never surprises me how many nations blame women for their calamitous history, but it always disappoints.” She unbuttoned the top of her shirt and ran a finger over her exposed chest. “To be honest, I am more interested in your tongue.”
Skaad raised an eyebrow and approached her slowly, as if the slightest misstep would scare her off like a rabbit in an open meadow. “Oh really? Is this a diplomatic request for more sample data?”
The mediator unbuckled her trousers and flashed her white lace panties, fingers tracing the outline of her sex. There was a time for innuendo but for now, while in the middle of a recess, she wanted to be direct. “This is me, asking you to eat my pussy.”
“I’ll get the door.” When the baron returned, he found her naked, reclined on the chaise, stretching her long legs in the air before laying across the cushion. “That pant suit was doing you no favors.”
“It has its uses.” Using her flexibility to her advantage, she pulled her legs under her arms and locked them behind her head, giving the baron wide access to her bare, pink folds. The thrill of being folded in half and used made her wet. “I’m ready.”
His surprisingly soft beard tickled as he kissed her inner thighs, tight muscles, and swollen clit, tracing a path with his nose and tongue. *Nose then tongue, tongue then nose*. The pair reminded her of the princess’s tale, two brothers closely following each other as they searched for her highness. *Except no one has to die*. The thought vanished as he plunged into her slit and pressed in, clutching her hips. The sensation was euphoric, her breath quickening as the baron slid his tongue in and out of her pussy.
Reaching around her legs, he pinched her hard nipples until she moaned with delight. She loved it when a man played with her vulnerability, when she wrapped herself like a warm pretzel and a man licked the salt off of her. “Tell me, baron, do you see yourself more like Andrew, or more like Sheriden?”
He looked up after taking another long draw from her hood and clit. “Neither, I suppose. Lowland Mezanai are all conniving idiots. I’m a miner. I plumb the depths for treasure.” As if to punctuate the thought, he outlined her folds with his tongue again and Olivia was desperate to have him drive it deep inside again.
“You wouldn’t care if anything happened to the lowland people?”
“Which lowland?” He surprised her by rimming her anus and her heart fluttered. “This one?”
For her, anal sex was a rare treat. Being pent up all week and then edged during the morning blowjob, the delicate pleasure of her ass being eaten sent her into climax. Legs unlocked, she let her body tremble and ride the pleasure waves until her feet touched the ground, and the baron looked as satisfied as she felt. “*Your* lowland people, baron. What if they were annexed and became a vassal of DeCambrio? Would that bother you? It would certainly shorten the trip to bring prosium to market.”
The baron leaned back and stroked his cum-covered beard. “Mezanai are Mezanai. Both the highland and lowland people live and prosper together under the shadow of the mountains.”
“And the sea,” she corrected. “Your stockpile of minerals would be worthless if you couldn’t export them.” As she dressed again, Olivia tapped the unopened presentation on the reading table. “If I could offer a word of advice, don’t let the grudges of history prevent an investment in your future.”
Olivia had planned to use a similar tactic with Minister Hoon but received a message from Agatha. `HJ in South service entrance 2.` Guild staff exercised absolute discretion, so it seemed odd that she would be announcing a handjob. She found Agatha hiding in an alcove, around the corner from the service entrance, the echo of a nasally voice moaning in the distance. “Hoon and Jesper?” she whispered.
Agatha nodded and displayed her phone. The agent had managed to catch the minister with his pants down and Jesper’s face buried in his crotch. Opening a notes app, she typed, `Jesper confessed, Hoon is not taking it well. This is some kind of punishment.`
`For who` Oliva replied.
`Everybody? Jesper sucks at giving blowjobs.`
“We came here in good faith!” Hoon snarled, loud enough for anyone to hear. “Do you know what you’ve done?” The Guild team heard Jesper grunt and fall to the floor. “Wait in your chambers and clean yourself off.”
“I did it for the honor of DeCambrio! You know we have the advantage! Why should we cotow to those short savages or outside forces?”
Hoon was seething. “You have your eyes open but can’t see the past your stupid pride. I cannot have you in talks again, I can barely stand looking at you.” The Guild agents were gone before he walked through the corridor.
Olivia returned early to the grand hall and waited for the delegates to reconvene. When the talks resumed, each side seemed more open to compromise. By mid-afternoon, the breakout groups had hammered out a rough draft that would allow Andrews Bay to be free of mines for the first time in over a century. Copies of the thick document were laid in front of Skaad and Hoon.
“Moment of truth, gentlemen,” the mediator said. The baron thumbed the corners like a flip book, while the DeCambrian seemed paralyzed by over analysis. *We’re so close, just say yes!*
Hoon shook his head, looking at the empty seat beside him. “I need more time.” The Mezanai groaned and shouted back with aggravation.
“More delays! More lies!” growled Skaad. “More time to foment deception.” Jesper’s absence was noted by everyone.
Olivia grabbed the gavel and slammed it so hard the room reverberated and her agent in the listening alcove yelped in pain. As much as she wanted to have the talks completed publicly, the mediator was also happy to seal the deal more intimately. “Gentlemen, I’d like to see you in private.” She led the two towards the outdoor courtyard, texting the team to have it ready again. When she opened the patio doors, a large, white-sheeted bed stood on the dais, pillows on every corner.
“What is this?” Hoon asked as she locked the door.
“I want you to see, I want both of you to see, how an intermediated trade deal can be mutually beneficial.” Holding each of their shoulders, she kissed Hoon lightly on the lips, then kissed Skaad with the same delicate touch. Their difference in height made the bed all the more reasonable. Undressing as she walked, she was naked again and knelt on the linens. “The Guild understands and celebrates your differences. Join me, please.”
The baron was the first to step forward but looked back at Hoon as if to challenge him. Pulling off his tie and suit, the short hairy man stood next to her and let her hand roam his broad chest, then lower. The minister swallowed hard but followed suit and stood next to her. They took turns, kissing her soft, warm mouth while caressing her breasts, Olivia’s hands slowly stroking their cocks like a buoy riding the tides. She felt her passion building, aching for more but she was diplomatic. “Who wants to fuck me first? I feel like I owe the baron a demonstration of my oral skills, but I defer to you gentlemen to choose.”
“As it happens,” the minister started, “I’m not interested in head at the moment. Is that agreeable to you, Skaad?”
The Mezanai climbed in bed and faced Olivia. “We are in agreement.” Cupping her face, he kissed her passionately, his strong tongue driven deep into her mouth. The mediator also came from it. Pushing him gently back, she bent down to play with his member. Raking her short hair as she wrapped her lips over the head, he complimented her. “You are a skilled negotiator.”
“I have my moments, but thank you.” Looking over her shoulder, she watched Hoon swing his cock between her ass, picking up the slick wet juices already dripping between her thighs. “Take me, minister. I’m here to please and be pleased.”
“Mutually beneficial, eh?” The DeCambrian pushed past her entrance and Olivia gasped, the thick member filling her on all sides. It occurred to her that their threesome was a spirited scale model of the trade document inside. *Maybe I should add pictures in the appendix*. The minister slowly backed out and pushed in again, gaining ground inside.
With her pussy attended, the mediator set about sucking Skaad’s dick. Dark hairs swirled at his base and tickled her nose as she took him in her mouth. The pace was slow, as intimate as Hoon’s leisurely pace behind, but she knew she could intensify the moment with a few tactful squeezes. *Not yet*.
The ocean breeze felt relaxing on her bare breasts as they swung underneath, her body like a piston moved back and forth over two rods. Drool fell from her lips as she took a breath and played with the baron’s hanging fruit. Looking up, she found the Baron smiling, looking to the Southern shore. “You are doing something that will protect your people for generations.”
Leadership must have been a turn on for Hoon. Grabbing her waist, he fucked faster, wordlessly moaning into her back. Skaad, not one to cede a competition, held his cock for her to suck again.
Red faced and focused, he rocked his hips into her face. “The race is on.” Holding her head, he thrusted into the back of her throat, wet moans released in staccato. Olivia was proud of her oral skills, having trained *exactly for* this type of situation. She tightened her muscles on both ends with energy and enthusiasm that caught the delegates off guard and both men came inside her at the same time. Cum oozed from her pulsing sex as the minister unloaded every drop of semen, bucking against her, but also against Skaad’s own orgasm. The baron grunted as her tongue licked his balls, his cum shooting down her throat. Olivia’s back arched to absorb the pounding until both men collapsed to the side, facing away from each other.
She rolled over to Hoon first and caressed his cheek. “You’ll sign then, yes?” Getting the nod, she turned to Skaad, who was already waving his hand and head in agreement. She let out a satisfied sigh and laid back, the blue sky like an ocean. “Gentlemen, it was a pleasure mediating with you.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ico45f/fair_trade_negotiations_mfmmf