Elena's heart hammered against her ribs, not with fear, but with the thrill of a new, high-stakes situation. She took a deep breath, the smell of the empty apartment filling her lungs, and looked Jules dead in the eye.
She didn't say a word. She simply laid her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, offering her silence as an invitation.
Jules smiled—a sharp, satisfied thing—and disappeared into the hallway. Elena heard the click of the front door, the soft murmur of Sarah's nervous greeting, and the heavy thud of the deadbolt sliding back into place.
To the rest of Chicago Monday morning wasn't different from any other morning. Elena's morning however was different, it arrived in the dim, musky warmth of the bedroom, flavored with the scent of jasmine, salt and sex.
Elena drifted awake to a sensation of sharp, focused heat. Someone was working on her with practiced devotion, a tongue tracing her clitoris with agonizing rhythm. She tried to shift, to regain her bearings, but this freedom of movement was short-lived. Before she could do much, the mattress dipped on both sides.
Slender knees pinned her right arm; a second weight secured her left. She was grounded, an anchor for the two women with her.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Jules's voice was a low purr.
In a fluid motion, Jules's weight shifted a little, positioning her pussy directly over Elena's face. Elena didn't hesitate. She went to work, her tongue finding the familiar, heady mixture of musk and sweetness that was uniquely Jules. She worked with an almost frantic enthusiasm, desperate to reclaim some scrap of control by driving Jules to the edge.
Jules gasped, her fingers threading through Elena's hair, once in a while forcing her nose between her folds and suffocation her. Every time Elena neared the crescendo, Sarah between her legs, on command of Jules, would pull away and pinch her clit with an intensity that was just enough to reset the clock.
"Please," Elena muffled against Jules's skin, her voice thick with frustration. "Sarah, let me cum... I need..."
Jules muted her by pushing her mount deep between her folds again. "You need?" she looked down, her face flushed and mischievous. "You already had your big goodbye last night, Elena. You're leaving for Pasadena today, so Sarah and I decided we deserve a proper parting gift as well – don't be greedy."
Sarah, no longer the mousy student Elena had met months ago, came up from where she was. "I think she needs to work for it. Don't you, Jules?"
For the next hour, they rotated, a synchronized dance of denial. They took turns on Elena's face, demanding her focus, while the other held her in a state of constant, agonizing arousal. Elena's face was wet with their juices and by now also her tears, her breathing ragged, her eyes blown wide with the sensory overload. She was begging now—unfiltered, raw pleas for the release her brain was screaming for. That she accepted her submissive role fully did not even register in her brain that otherwise never misses a detail.
"Anything," Elena sobbed, her head lolling back. "Please, I need it!"
Jules leaned in close, her eyes dark. "Anything? We'll get you off in a way you will never forget, Elena, but we will hold the reins. Are you okay with that? Are you going to be a good girl for us?"
"Yes," Elena choked out. "Yes, whatever you want. I will be a good girl."
Jules reached for the traditional hemp rope and began working a Takate Kote—a form of bondage she so far only heard about. "Why the rope?" Elena whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Jules just smiled, a sharp, beautiful thing. "Because we don't want you to lose your center of gravity, and it feels great. Doesn't it?" she asks while with strength compressing her ribcage.
She worked with efficient grace, binding Elena's chest and arms, making her already large breasts even more prominent, the rough fiber biting into Elena's skin in a way that felt like a slightly painful embrace. A blindfold was slipped over Elena's eyes, plunging her into a world of pure sensory data.
Someone pinched her nipple and she allowed herself to be led through the room. A soft clink echoed—and someone was connecting a rope to the back of her Takate Kote. As soon as it was secured they hoisted the line, the compression on her ribcage increased as the rope held her weight. If she stretched her legs and feat only her big toes could barely scrape the floor. Someone pulled her at her nipples and led her swing. "You like it? I read about this and wanted to try it!" said Sarah with glee in her voice. But as she set to answer some plug was put into her mouth, silencing Elena.
Suddenly, she felt her knees being lifted to the sides. A large dildo—wider than what she usually preferred—began a slow, relentless intrusion. At the same time, she felt the warmth of Sarah's skin as the younger woman pressed her breasts against Elena's, grounding her in the physical space.
Elena inhaled sharply, the twin pressures of the rope and the invasion making her head spin. Then, something poked at her "back door."
"Hmmm—!" Elena tried to protest, the shock of the dual sensation breaking through her haze.
The two women paused. Slender fingers brushed a tear away. Jules's breath was hot against her ear. "Darling, you know I'm always careful. I dare say to know your limits better than you do. If it's too much, we stop. Just shake your head. But a woman like you can take so much more than the world gives her credit for. Just allow yourself to feel. And if something later bothers you, just shake your head and we will check on you. Okay?"
Elena's protest died and her posture relaxed a bit. The last months have taught her that Jules did respect her limits and would always pull back. But could she really? The thought kept nagging her as she stayed quiet. The two took her silence as permission and continued slowly. As the wider dildo settled into her pussy, she felt her body begin to accommodate it, the initial sting giving way to a massive, thrumming fullness. She nodded weakly in acceptance or anticipation. She did not know and she was okay with that uncertainty despite her mind loving facts and predictability.
"Don't worry love, this is going to be delicious," Jules whispered, nipping at the lobe of Elena's ear.
With agonizing slowness, Jules began to work on her backside—widening, retreating, and pushing again. Every thrust made Elena gasp and twitch against the ropes. The feelings were an explosion of ecstasy; her mind, usually so capable, was now a fractured mess of raw input.
"Hey!" Sarah's voice was sharp, followed by a sudden, hard pinch and twist on Elena's nipple. "Don't you forget me."
The spike of pain grounded Elena instantly, snapping her back. Jules leaned over Elena's shoulder to catch Sarah in a deep, enthusiastic kiss, Elena could feel and hear them. The isolation of her sight making this little gesture somehow intense even for her. Still kissing the two of them started moving in perfect harmony around their bound prize.
As they took on speed they broke the kiss. Elena could feel it all, the two dildos only seperated by a tiny bit of very aroused rectovaginal septum - a thin, but firm layer of tissue. The two hammered her with unrelenting speed and intensity in chase of their own orgasm. The rhythmic, relentless double-assault finally shattered the last of Elena's control over herself and she was left a needy toy enjoying how her friends used her for her pleasure.
The climax had been more of a demolition than any other before. When the first orgasm hit, Elena was left her a delirious mess in rope, a simple vessel for them to sate their lust. As Jules and Sarah untied her, their touch was tender, a stark contrast to the relentless hammering of the previous hours before. They didn't let her leave immediately; they held her in a tangle of limbs until she came down from her high and then cuddled some more. In the doorway, Jules pressed a heavy, velvet-lined box into Elena's hands—the very tools of her undoing. "A reminder," Sarah whispered, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and genuine grief, "that even when you're 2,000 miles away, you will always have something from us." Elena didn't have the words to argue; she simply clutched the box to her chest, the weight of the silicone a physical anchor for the memories she was about to carry across the country.
As she pulled out of the driveway, the phantom pressure of the ropes still felt etched into her skin, a lingering feeling she did not want to lose. She placed the gift on the passenger seat, a silent passenger in the old car. It was only when she hit the open highway that the reality of the distance set in. She planned the move with the precision, yet she had stayed four hours past her calculated departure time.
The drive was a paradox of efficiency and melancholy. For a woman with a mind operating at Elena's frequency, 2,000 miles of highway was less of a problem then it would be for others. She bypassed the standard human requirements for rest, utilizing ROB's gift to micro-nap with surgical precision—thirty-minute bursts of REM sleep that left her refreshed and aware.
The problem with a mind like hers, however, was that it lacks a "delete" function.
As the flat plains of the Midwest gave way to the jagged majesty of the Rockies and finally the scorched earth of the Mojave, Elena's mind was a cinema of the previous night. The car was old, its suspension worn thin, offering little protection from the uneven road. Every pothole and crack sent a sharp jolt straight through the frame and into the seat.
It was a crude, jarring sensation. Each bump forced a sudden pressure against her, a shock that traveled directly into her crotch. It felt less like a drive and more like a haunting. The rhythm of the road was too close to the memory of what she experienced in the ropes—her friends showed her a new kind of pleasure.
With every bounce of the car, she felt that phantom tug all over again. Her body reacted before her mind could stop it, her muscles tensing automatically against a ghost of a sensation that made the drive way more interesting than she ever thought it would be.
The sadness wasn't a heavy, weeping thing. It was an intellectual mourning. She was leaving behind her two best friends. In the rearview mirror, Chicago wasn't just a city; it was the place where her second life had begun to take a beautiful form. She promised herself to keep in contact.
By the time the skyline of Los Angeles shimmered through the smog, Elena felt strangely hollowed out. She was arriving in California as a genius, a doctor in the making, and a self-made millionaire—but she was also arriving alone.
In her trunk, tucked away like a trophy, sat the gift they had pressed into her hands before she left: the two double-ended dildos they had used to break her. "A reminder," they had whispered, "that even the smartest woman in the world needs to let go sometimes."
By the time Elena's trusty old Toyota pulled up to the curb of 2311 North Los Robles Avenue, she was way behind schedule. The session in Chicago had been... well, it destroyed her timetable, to say the least.
The moving crew, true to their contract, had not waited. Her entire life—the reinforced crates of server hardware, the high-precision robotic components of the A-1, and her specialized gym equipment—sat in a daunting mountain in the lobby.
To make matters worse, a taped-up sign on the elevator doors screamed in red marker: OUT OF ORDER.
Elena stood in the lobby, her sharp black jumpsuit slightly wrinkled from the drive, staring at the four flights of stairs. Even with her enhanced stamina, her robotic arm alone weighted nearly forty pounds.
Elena stood in the dim lobby of 2311 North Los Robles, sighing. The silence of the building was heavy, and for a moment, the weight of the move felt like more than just physical mass. She was staring at a crate of server racks, her mind momentarily drifting back to the heat of Jules's bedroom, when the heavy fire door to the stairwell creaked open.
"I must say, I am experiencing a profound sense of relief that Howard is not the one moving in," a nasal, high-pitched voice echoed through the stairwell. "His presence would have introduced an unacceptable level of entropy into our social ecosystem. It would have utterly destabilized the meticulously calibrated stasis of our collective rhythm—a rhythm I have spent years refining into its current state of optimal efficiency," a nasal voice continued, cutting through her melancholy like a scalpel.
Elena blinked, her brain instantly cross-referencing the frequency and cadence. She turned to see two men. One was short, wearing a layered hoodie and a hopeful, slightly desperate expression; the other was tall, lanky, and held a bag of Thai takeout with the precision of someone carrying a live organ for transplant.
"Oh! Hello!" Leonard stammered, his entire posture shifting into a clumsy attempt at "suave" the moment his eyes landed on Elena. He nearly tripped over his own feet, his gaze sweeping over her sharp jumpsuit and the curve of her bust. "I'm Leonard. I... uh... we live in 4A. Are you the new neighbor in 5A? Because if you are, that would be wonderful."
Elena gave him a slow, measured look. "Elena. And yes, 5A."
"I'm Sheldon," the taller one announced, stepping forward not to greet her, but to inspect the label on one of her crates. He didn't look at her face; he looked at her cargo. "Before we proceed with any neighborly pleasantries, I have a mandatory intake questionnaire. First: do you, or do you intend to, practice any form of rhythmic percussion or interpretive dance involving heavy footfalls? Second: do you have, or do you intend to, play musical instruments? And thirdly: are you currently, or do you have plans to become, pregnant? Infants are essentially biological sirens with no 'off' switch and a terrifyingly high frequency of emesis."
"Sheldon! You can't ask a woman if she's planning on getting pregnant!" Leonard hissed, his face turning a shade of pink that matched the sunset. He turned back to Elena, offering a weak, apologetic smile. "I am so sorry. He's... he's a theoretical physicist. They don't have a 'social' lobe in their brains. I'm an experimental physicist. I actually interact with the real world. Can I help you with these? I've been told I have surprisingly sturdy deltoids."
Elena watched Leonard flex—a negligible movement beneath his jacket—while Sheldon continued his interrogation, oblivious to the tension.
"Fourth," Sheldon added, peering into a crate of delicate sensors. "Pets. Cats are acceptable provided they are hypoallergenic and you do something against that annoying amonic smell of their pee. Dogs are a hard no. And fifth: do you suffer from night terrors? I had once had a neighbor that had a recurring dream about a giant penguin that resulted in a great deal of shouting at 3:00 AM."
Elena felt the amusement begin to bubble up, momentarily pushing aside the sadness of the drive. She looked at Leonard, who was looking at her as if she were a miracle, and then at Sheldon, who was currently sniffing a box of her high-grade copper filament to check for "potential of noise."
"No pets, no babies, and my night terrors are strictly mathematical," Elena replied, her voice smooth and dangerous. She looked at Leonard, letting her eyes linger just a second too long. "And as for the 'strong men' I was hoping for... do you think the two of you can handle a few flights of stairs? Or should I call a professional?"
"Professional? Please," Leonard scoffed, grabbing the corner of a heavy crate labeled PRECISION ACTUATORS. He heaved, his spine making a soft pop sound. "I've got this. Sheldon, grab the other side!"
"I think not," Sheldon said, clutching his Thai food closer. "The work required to move these masses to the fifth floor is immense. Given the broken elevator and our missing upper body strength, the moving company's abandonment was actually the most logical outcome. My contribution will be to provide the structural oversight to ensure you don't drop that on your 'sturdy' deltoids." Turning to Elena he added "you should have thought of that already while making preparations."
Elena nodded "True, but to be fair I was told there would be an elevator and this way even with the delivery man ditching me, it could be handled."
"Sheldon, please, Elena is not at fault here" Leonard groaned, his face already turning a delicate shade of plum as he struggled to maintain his grip. "We are gentlemen. We help a lady that is in need."
Elena suppressed a smirk, adjusting the cumbersome mattress she carried with a grace that suggested she was far more athletic than the typical engineering student. "Every help is appreciated." Without further words she began.
"Sheldon!" Leonard hissed, seeing the chance to impress her fleeting, "You will help," he took one of the lighter boxes and pushes it in his hands, took the heavy Actuators and began following Elena.
Elena stopped at her door, searching for the keys as Leonard caught up. "Oh, thank you, for choosing to help!" Leonard gave a dazzling smile that looked really funny with his red head, "of course! It's the neighborly thing to do!" While Sheldon muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "At least the chance of losing my pants is significantly lower this time. Why do I bother?"
As the door swung open, the scent of fresh floor wax and empty space greeted them. "Home sweet home," Elena murmured. "Just drop the stuff somewhere in the middle of the room. I intented to call someone for renovation and redecoration before unpacking everything entirely."
"Renovation? Are you… our apartment downstairs is a silent citadel of learning and relaxing. If your renovation will destroy that, I will file a formal complaint to the tenants association about you!" "Relax Sheldon," Elena diffused the upcoming storm even before Leonard could intervene, "I plan on being a good tenant, so first of all. The works will be done during regular working hours. So you will most likely not hear a thing. And secondly I intented to get a better insulation, this should make the chance of noise from my apartment coming towards your even less likely than before."
To be fair, the second option was not something she had considered before. But realizing where she is, and knowing that Sheldon could hear Penny orgasm from 4B while being in 4A, good sound insulation was a necessity.
Sheldon took a moment to consider. "That is acceptable, for now," he allowed. "But I am going to watch you."
"Of course you will," already moving downstairs Elena heard Leonard hiss something to Sheldon before steps followed her.
As they made their way down again a blonde woman stepped out, looking like she had been caught mid-chore. She was wearing oversized, slightly stained sweatpants and a t-shirt two sizes too big that had seen better years. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun that defied the laws of gravity.
She froze, seeing the new neighbor, a striking woman standing next to Leonard.
"Oh! Hey," Penny said, her eyes darting from Leonard's sweaty face to Elena's pristine jumpsuit. "New neighbor?"
"Elena," she replied with a polite smile.
"I'm Penny," the blonde said, suddenly smoothing her stained sweatpants. "I was just... heading out for a jog. You know. Heart health. Cardio."
Sheldon, simply looked at her. "That is highly improbable. You are wearing flip-flops, which are the antithesis of ergonomic running gear. Furthermore, the last time I have seen you jogging was, when you wanted an ice cream from the leaving ice cream truck."
Penny's face flushed. "I can start, Sheldon!"
"A more likely hypothesis," Sheldon continued, "is that you have once again neglected your laundry duties and are currently wearing your 'emergency' clothing. The mustard stain on your left thigh suggests these were at the bottom of the hamper for at least weeks."
"Shut up, Sheldon!" Penny snapped, her voice rising an octave.
Elena stepped forward, sensing the spiraling tension. "Oh don't worry about it. Your natural beauty does push even this outfit into the category 'casual chic.'"
Penny looked at Elena, not sure if she should take this as an insult or compliment. Looked at Leonard with his puppy expression she knew so good and Sheldon with his analytical and detached stance and went with an still absentminded "Yeah, thanks," Penny muttered, her tone flat. "Good luck with the boxes. Leonard, don't give yourself a stroke trying to impress the new girl." With a sharp turn, she retreated back into her apartment, the door slamming shut with a decisive thud.
"Well," Leonard still wheezed, leaning against the elevator. "That went well."
By the time the sun fully set over Pasadena, the lobby was only half-empty. Elena still wanted to continue but even she could see that Leonard was reaching his physiological limit. His tremors were no longer a result of nervousness, but of sheer muscular failure.
"We're stopping for the night," Elena announced, her voice brooking no argument. "I'm not having a neighbor die on my rug."
"I could... I could do one more..." Leonard gasped.
"I am sure you could," Elena said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Leonard nearly melted into the floor. "Thank you, both of you. Once the renovations are done, I will invite everyone I'll meet till then to a housewarming."
"In regards of food I have a very rigorous schedule. Before you make any detailed plans, come and talk to me" Sheldon stated, finally showing a spark of genuine interest before losing it again.
Tuesday morning arrived with a stiff neck and the sterile scent of an unfamiliar apartment. Elena had spent the night on her mattress—a temporary island in a sea of cardboard.
She hadn't yet unearthed her wardrobe, so she dressed herself in the same black jumpsuit set from the day before, her hair pulled back into a utilitarian knot. Slowly she went through her new apartment, thinking about the consequences of the sound insulation. Doing changes to the floor and the walls would take so much more. She needed to make sure this was a high priority job for the hired firm and while she already extended the job to this much, maybe she should just completely order ask for a completely new wiring of the apartment to handle her tech and order new furniture while she was at it.
The following weeks stressed her in a new way. In the beginning she thought she could still work in her apartment and she did finish a second robotic arm. But the noise was getting on her nerves and as soon as she found a quiet coffee shop to sit in, she changed places.
While she couldn't work on her hardware, she had enough software projects to work with. So she added some nice touches and future events to her games, she started to work on her own Jarvis that she named Angie (Adaptive Neural Guide & Intelligent Executor) to honor the games that allowed her this freedom and as she ran into hardware limits of her laptop she switched to an operating software for the two robotic arms waiting in her apartment.
The software for the arms needed practical experience though. So she created a blueprint for a functioning R2D2 that could be controlled by Angie. But for now it was a simple robot that could move freely in her apartment and had one arm act as a delivery tool. Either for her convenience or the construction corner she build in her lab.
While she was very productive regarding her projects during the day, the evenings were different.
It began with the stupid idea of accepting to shower in Leonard's apartment. In itself, it was nothing special. Just a few moments, she had a change of clothes with her and simply wanted to get back to her apartment.
She hadn't accounted for the visual variables of a thin T-shirt and wet hair. When Howard and Raj walked in, the door swinging wide just as Penny was crossing the hall, the silence was deafening. Elena was a woman of science, but she didn't need a calculator to see she had just become the focal point of a very awkward, very hormone-heavy neighborhood watch.
Ever since then they were following her like a pack of dogs in heat. And she didn't know how do handle it. Blowing guys of and destroying any form of connection she could do. But she really wanted to have a connection with them and she wasn't sure of how do handle this. So she endured.
The first few contacts with Penny were fun in their own way. Like she did in the show with Alicia, she came by totally overdressed to welcome her to the building. But after this incident meeting her was rare and those times she met, she was cold.
But she decided not to worry, she wasn't like Alicia after all. She had no interest in guys, didn't use the guys for cheap labor, and had no interest in being an actress.
As soon as the renovations were done she put her things away. The living room sported two big couches and a massive oak table that was almost 2 in length. Why? Because Jules asked for it and she was a sucker for her perverted ideas.
In the back by the window, there was currently only was a desk and her laptop, but later this would be massively improved. Where Leonard's desk was in 4A she had her gym corner.
Her bedroom had a king size bed with framing. At the bottom-in the middle of the room- she displayed her toy trunk proudly. The spreader bar fixed on the foot bedposts – her personal touch.
Her bathroom now had a massive tub that could easily fit two persons and work as a small hot tub as well.
Despite the massive renovation the lab looked almost bare. The walls and floor were coated with an industrial sealing agent, hiding the insulation. In the corner the two arms were installed and on one side of them were countless parts stocked, from the tiniest microprocessor up to a stack of different metal plates and pipes. On the other side an assortment of tools was within reach, from screwdrivers over soldering irons up to a tool to custom cut iron. A corner prepared for automatic assembly. In another corner a new server rack, and several webcams and mics within the room.
"Angie, initiate the R2 assembly protocol. Minimum velocity. Monitor the sub-AI feedback loops on the primary actuators for any sign of jitter."
A slight delay, then a melodic voice replied, "Beginning assembly, El. Monitoring for mechanical stress now."
She watched as the arms began to cut the pipes in length to form a structure, she was proud of her work. It was a far cry from what was shown in the Iron Man or Avenger movies, but it was hers. She left the room with more sway in her steps.