Reflections of Agent Seulong

Mr. Seulong walked up the stairs from the pens. Wiping a rag over his knuckles to clean Emilia's essence from his hand, sweat glistened his brow and he took a deep, heavy breath. Leaning against the wall, staring off into the office, his lips pursed, and he looked concerned? Worried? Maybe scared for her. Her outburst tonight wasn't something he'd expected and he wasn't sure if she would make it through the training.

He looked over the monitors to find her, A3, A5, B1, B2, there she was. Crouched in a ball, in the dimly lit cell, he sighed and brushed his thumb across the screen. Chewing his lip, he shoved from the desk and turned to head downstairs to have a drink, a few drinks, to blurry the memories of the past few nights of training yet another servant to The Enclave. He fought with himself over how much he enjoyed it, and how despicable others would find him if they knew he was an Agent for such a company.

Getting lost in some conversation with one of the girls at the club, rubbing his hand over her thigh, feeling her attraction to him, however false or forced it may be, he slipped into the fantasy that she actually wanted to be with him. He gave into it and let her lust power seethe into his veins, soak his soul, and become the breath he needed for life. Her scent intoxicated him, and as he took her upstairs to his room, stripped her down, that look in her eyes tugged at the knots in his stomach. Every curve of her ass, the landscape of her thighs, to the soft contours of her tummy drew him in. Now the bed sheets surround them, and as he pumped in, eye to eye contact, burying himself deeper, deeper into the young girl's eyes, together they found each other's release.

Collapsed onto the bed, the city's glow illuminated the ceiling with her sleeping peacefully beside him, and he got up to make himself a drink. She lay there, this poor girl, who once had a beautiful life, now happily accepted her new purpose with the Enclave, to be a pleasure to men who chose her.