Arcadia Resurgence by Vague Vermillion (free biff chip and kipper ebooks .TXT) 📕

pull it deep within her mouth. As she does, she feels the other, larger cock slide deep into her very wet pussy. She gives herself over to all of it. Her arms strain at the ropes.

When it is over, the visitors leave quietly. He gently unties her hands, rubbing them to ease them back and to fully restore her circulation. Before removing her blindfold, he leans in to her neck and whispers into her ear, "How was that, love? Did I make good on my promise?" 

He sees the smile slowly spread across her face just below the blindfold and laughs in fond amusement. Like Blood For Coffee pt.1

 Even after three thousand years, Starbucks kept its motto: "Our mission: to inspire and nurture the human spirit – one person, one cup and one neighborhood at a time."

Eiri Lao felt a little thrill seeing the words embossed on his visa. Few corporations in Hadrian's American still served human consumer interests. He was proud to be hired on as a designer for one of the oldest surviving industries of the Collapse - even if it was on a temporary work visa, and even if Starbucks was now run by elves. 

In the full flush of his mid-twenties, old mainland Chinese stock mingled with delicate Japanese bloodlines, he was tall and good-looking, with high cheekbones and a full, generous mouth. He did not doubt he was chosen as much for his looks as he was for his marks at Beijing Design Academy. Elven recruiters were shameless in their scrutiny, even requiring applicants to open their mouths so that teeth could be counted. He was treated like a king from the moment his plane landed at SeaTac - vintage limousine, fully furnished apartment in Belltown, monthly stipend of 20,000 marks just for clothes. Elves liked their human employees to dress well. Despite the obvious emphasis on his looks, Eiri found it hard not to buy into the dream of meritocracy. He was young, he graduated with high marks from a good school, and now he was going to be a hotshot product designer at Starbucks in one of the richests territories in the world. 

As a design student, Eiri savored the sight of his new home - a high rise crafted from an church of the Old Faiths, resting on a foundation built of the smooth wood paneling so favored by elvish architects. The floors - also done in wood - were heated throughout his two-bedroom penthouse suite, which had formerly been a cloister. As a man culturally accustomed to removing his shoes at home, this was a welcome luxury in the misty, cold city of Seattle. 

Work started the next day. Like him, Eiri's coworkers were chosen for looks. At his first cross-functional sync, he observed them: Christy from chemical engineering had natural D cups; Alan from data science was broad-shouldered and muscular; Jaymin from product operations had the most exquisitely smooth skin making his age impossible to guess. Even Tim the intern looked like a classic interpretation of cupid with big blue eyes and gentle blonde curls. 

They all wore uniforms to work, designed by elves for humans to show off their natural bodies - tight, clinging leggings; loose, flowing sleeveless tunics with arm slits cut down to the bottom of the rib cage; and soft soled sandals to display shapely feet and manicured toenails. Humans were not permitted to wear belts, socks, or underwear with their uniforms. The only exception to this were ultrasuede gloves, used more for handling delicate elven artifacts or personal items than for keeping shapely human hands warm. 

When his teammates caught sight of him - a tall Asian with a square jaw and flashing black eyes - Alan gave a little chuckle. "Well - I hope at least one of us is good at the job." They all laughed, nervously.

Then they met their product manager, Hallenwae al'nuf'de Air. The only elf among a team of humans assigned to Fulbright - a high elf from one of the greater families. Towering over them by a foot, he was a combination of tree and man: willowy with smooth brown skin whorled like the panels of wood in Eiri's apartment. His head was crowned with antler-like branches atop a rustling mass of leaves that formed elven hair, the face beneath it broad and deep set as if carved into a tree trunk. All elves thought themselves beautiful, none more so than the high elves. Eiri found them horrifying, more so than the native Chinese demons in the streets back home.

"You all know why you're here," the elf said without even a greeting. "Fulbright ships on a tight product schedule. You are responsible for the look, feel, and execution of the launch. Today is training - exposure to existing flavor profiles managed by Starbucks. Tomorrow, I expect to see problem statements and go to market methodology."

Christy spoke up, "When do we get to test formulas?"

"The formula has already been determined," the elf sneered. "You just need to make humans like it. Are there any other... questions."

The tone made it clear none were welcome. The product manager led them through a cursory tour of the Starbucks campus and then turned them over to a Human Resources manager for onboarding. Eiri didn't catch sight of the elf again that day, but somehow he knew they'd never be without his menacing presence again. 

...

Four days later, they were put on a new operating schedule. Rather than industry standard human operating hours - nine to five - they were moved to a swing shift starting at three in the afternoon with an hour at seven for dinner. The product manager - Hall, as they called him behind his back - gave no reason for the change. Eiri realized that none of them had reason to complain; they were short term contract workers with no friends and no family in the area. Nowhere to be but work. 

His coworkers began to form bonds with each other. Christy was aggressive in inviting him to coffee, to lunch, to long walks in the fairy parks during their precious daylight hours. Eiri was careful to invite others along with them; he sensed her sexual interest and wanted to stave it off. He was determined to focus on Fulbright, impress his managers, and secure permanent visa status in Seattle. Going back to China, his mother said, was not an option. 

"Keep your head down," his mother admonished him when he proudly showed her the hiring packet. "Do good work, get full contract. You move there, you bring me over when it's safe. Do not get distracted! What would your father say, if he were alive? He would tell you 'don't screw around!' wouldn't he?"

Eiri was a filial son. Even if he hadn't been, he would still have wanted to do well in Seattle to escape demon-controlled China. Elves might be snobbish and racist, but at least they didn't feed on souls! 

He muted Christy's text messages and resolved to think no more about her. Or any woman. And he did not complain when Hall moved them from the open floor of the common work areas to a sequestered "war room" bullpen on the fourth floor, forcing him into closer contact with his Christy and he aggressive advances. He kept his head down and worked.

...

Eiri met the vampire on the sixth day of work. 

After sundown, when the main Starbucks employees were just heading to the cantina for the dinner service, Eiri noticed Hall wasn't at his usual desk in the war room. Alan and Jaymin went down to lunch without inviting him; Christy said something about being a long in a minute. And - in a rare moment alone with his work - Eiri turned off the lighting panels and dimmed his monitor to his preferred shade. Then he let himself get lost in research, looking for the right mix of shapes and colors and typography that would entice people to drink the same beverage they'd been drinking for five centuries - and pay almost a dollar more for it per cup. 

After a while, he felt eyes on him. He turned - but in the dark, saw nothing. The war room door was closed. Eiri turned back to his monitor, was too unsettled to dive back in. He sat in the dark, and waited, listening. Feeling eyes move over his back. 

A muffled thump from down the hall startled him. Someone's being sneaky...! The onboarding staff warned them to be on alert at all times for corporate espionage - especially from other human workers, so susceptible to drugging, mind-control, and good old fashioned bribes. Eiri got up from his desk and went to investigate before calling security.

Past the open floor down a narrow corridor leading to the human washrooms, he saw a shadow pressed against the wall. Stepping closer, he saw it resolve into two bodies - elf and human - pressed against a wall.

Hall, and Christy, struggling.

At first, he thought they were fighting - but after a moment of observation, he saw Christy's tunic pushed up to her waist, Hall's hands under it, moving in circular motions around the swell of her breasts. She had one leg wrapped around his hips, her hands gripping the branches on his head, pulling his face to her neck while she squirmed under the pressure of his grip. Her head was back, eyes closed, and mouth open in a silent gasp. Enraptured. 

Eiri was just about to turn away and leave her to her conquest when she thrashed her head in his direction and opened her eyes.

For a moment, he met them, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks. Then she saw her blink and utter a cry - alarmed. She let go of Hall and started pushing him away, frantic. The elf held her in place, casually glancing Eiri's way. Then he, too, froze.

"Oh, don't mind me," a voice drawled behind him. "I was just looking for the women's room."

Eiri turned and saw her standing just behind him, close enough to reach out and touch her shoulder. She was striking: pale skinned and black-eyed with rich brown hair flowing over her shoulders. She was not tall - the top of her head rising to about halfway up Eiri's chest - but, looking down, he saw the magnificent sweep of her breasts, her hips, pressing against tailored cotton and linen. He was captivated by the symmetry; a perfect hourglass, beautifully proportioned. Her eyes locked onto his and he shivered, feeling as though he stood at the edge of a void that would swallow him. 

"Director," Hall said, letting go of Christy. She stumbled to the floor and hastily yanked down her tunic, smoothing it over her hips. "Of course. It's just this way..." 

Eiri felt the strange woman brush past him. Freed from her soulless gaze, he turned his head to follow her with his gaze. She moved like a dancer, graceful, light footed, hips swaying like a metronome. He saw she wore a vintage wool suit, hemmed at the ankle to show off velvet textured heels shining with gold thread embroidery. The swoop of her buttocks was just visible below the asymmetrical hem of the jacket and