Lust Vessel Novels & Stories

“Let’s go exploring.” Lucifer quickly agreed. The two slunk off while no-one was looking, and went off to check out their new cruiser on their own terms. And as they walked through it, the ship’s many design elements and control features and systems inputs appeared on their DIs. — UNNAMED Class: Luxury Cruiser Role: Republic Flagship Bridge Officer: Admiral Lyn “Aurora” Dolerren Armament Broadside Turrets: 60x [M3], 20x [M2]

I said, he immediately let go of my hand and I walked away as fast as I could towards the girl's bathroom. I took my time to wash it off my chest I had another ten minutes till the break ends. I sigh pulling my shirt over my bra and staring at my chest. I always carried a napkin with me, So I go wash and dry that sticky stain of juice over my chest, I was glad my bra didn't get as wet. But I could see the faint black color of my bra through the shirt under the strong white light of that mirror. But As I could just carry some books in my hand to solve that problem.

The vessel was unmarked, moving with a speed that suggested heavy military grade turbines. "That’s the Lazarus delivery system," Marcus Hale’s voice piped in, sounding strained and muffled from the safe house floor. "The one your father funded, Ocean. The one that carries the chemical imprint. If that ship reaches the coastline, the timer on the handset doesn't matter. The protocol initiates automatically."

NOW. Night bus to Gaspé—six hours along cold peninsula, river black under stars. Driver with rough beard took cash, no talk. I sat back, hood up, watched snowy trees, rare truck lights. In Gaspé, paid $800 Canadian to a boat captain—Le Saint-Pierre, 42 feet, patched hull—for Magdalen Islands. Boat smelled fuel and fish; deck icy. I stood inside as we moved through dark water, land lights gone, wind sharp, salt on lips. Captain gave coffee in metal cup—black, strong, hot. I drank.

I followed, my thighs aching, my cunt wet and my nipples hard against the fabric of my hoodie. ___ Inside the cabin was even prettier. It was made of wood walls, had dim lights, a huge couch near the fireplace, and large windows facing the lake. And upstairs, just one bedroom with one bed. Dian noticed me staring and smirked while carrying the bags inside. I turned toward him slowly. “One bed?” He faked a confused look, “Damn, must have been an accident.” I threw a pillow at him immediately. He caught it laughing. “You booked one bed on purpose.”

​The Respiration didn't land so much as it anchored itself into the sea, its massive, barnacled hull groaning as it settled against the basalt pedestal of the spire. It was a Frankenstein of a ship—sections of sleek Sterling "White-Steel" welded to rusted industrial scavenge and draped in a hardy, vacuum-resistant strain of Whisper-Moss that glowed with a sickly, pale violet light.

The alpha groaned but still got up and grabbed the cloth nearby which he was supposed to take over at night, and wrapped it around his waist making sure his bulge was successfully hidden. The man walked up to the door and opened it only to encounter a maid who had been holding a basket of different fruits as he instructed. The lady spoke in an obedient tone while Cyrus just smiled at her and took the basket, though the maid’s hands shivered seeing him shirtless. As soon as he took the basket she dashed away for her life, no matter whatever had been happening, Cyrus was still the supreme ruler of the whole damn current staff of the Belle Morte. The alpha turned around after closing the door a

The Lazarus. It swayed gently on the black waters, an eerie lull to its massive body. It was an old cargo ship, at least two stories high, but there was nothing welcoming about its form. Its once-white paint was now streaked in rust and what looked like dried blood. Symbols marked its hull in ash and red paint—some Emma recognized from old spellbooks, others made her blood run cold with instinctive fear. Chains thicker than a man’s torso moored it to the broken dock. The metal creaked with each gentle pull of the tide, a sound that echoed like a scream across the empty harbor.

“Yeah. There were two other guys and four other ladies including America.” “That’s weird.” I hear William speak as he continues to focus on his phone. “There’s absolutely no result for that island. Nothing.” “I told you. It’s a mysterious island but I am a living proof that it’s real.” I responded William. “Why do you think it doesn’t exist here?” Liv asks, he sounded serious now. “From my dream, I remember how the people on that island mentioned that there was a cursed lighthouse somewhere.” I continued, “The said lighthouse is completely invisible and it holds all of the people’s memories who have left LUAHU.”

Luis stated in a mocking tone. Edward replied sarcastically, glaring at Luis, "Yeah, we took care of everything since she can't rely on your useless ass." "Are you going to waste your time arguing? We have another task to do," Vivien exclaimed. They all went to the treasure chest to see their next task. As for their second mission, they must all go hunting for food as part of their second task. There were spears, fishing nets, and rods within the treasure chest. They went back to their tents to change into their swimming outfits. Ella noticed that her luggage was already opened, and when she checked inside, she discovered that her swimsuit was missing.