Emerich was always such a dutiful butler. It was what he lived for. Cara was the most famous pop star in four of the seven continents. The other three considered her songs ‘contraband’ and banned any mention of her. She sat at her vanity dresser, bored, restless. She was out of meds and avoiding refilling the script. Instead, she was tracing the line of her vein with her eyeliner pencil, just making dark wiggly lines down her pale arm.

“Ma’am...?” His voice; was calm, and professional, and also held a note of concern.

She let the pencil lazily drop onto the vanity countertop. “Yeah?”

“It has been six hours you’ve been awake. Do you not desire a meal?”

“Food is stupid.”

“Yes, ma’am. But it is, unfortunately, necessary for wellness”

“What if I don’t want to be well, Emerich…”

“Why would you not want to be well, ma’am?”

“What is the point? I have everything and I am still cripplingly unhappy and unsatisfied.”

“I beg to differ, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Forgive my boldness, ma’am, I do not believe you have everything. It is very clear why you are unhappy and unsatisfied at this moment.”

“And why is that?”

“You have yet to have a meal today.” It almost sounded humorous and that slight edge disarmed her mood for a fraction of a second before resuming again.

“Not just now. I have other moments, Emerich. I’m always just… pretending until I’m alone and then the despair hits me like a freight train.”

“Despair does that, ma’am”

She looked up at him then. His eyes were not looking at her. He never did. He kept his gaze always bowed, looking down in deference. His dark hair was pulled back from his smooth olive skin exposing long, lop, brown, rabbit ears, almost the same dark brown as his tied-back hair. He was wearing a simple white long-sleeve shirt, black waistcoat, and black pants with shoes polished and shiny, hands clasped behind his back. She rose and went to him. “Are you a frequent bedfellow of despair as well, Emerich?”

He felt his fear spike as the motion of his throat moved slowly and he licked his lips. “I am unsure how to answer that, Ma’am.”

“Speak freely, Emerich, and look at me when you answer. I’m not gonna fire you for a wrong answer.”

Then, for the first time in the decade, he’d worked for the Pop Culture Icon known as Cara - he gave her his eyes. They were the same height, but only just. She was maybe shorter on her bare feet, but in her heels, they would have been on level height, giving the illusion that they were of equal station. But at this moment, her feet were bare and she was looking up at him as his eyes held hers.

“I enjoy my service to you. That is not in question. I do what I can to ensure your safety and to tend to your needs and wants. You need but ask and it is done. You know this. I see how much you hide and it pains me to see such anguish, knowing that you need only ask me for anything and I would move the world behind the moon if its shade offered you peace or happiness. Even for a moment. But you never ask so I never do. And so yes, it makes me feel despair.”

His voice was clear and confident in a way that could be commanding if he wanted it to be. Cara stared at his face a moment longer before exhaling roughly, tears glistening in her eyes. His eyes went wide as if his blood was suddenly swapped with pure anxiety as he remembered his station and hers. “Were my words too --”

She placed a finger on his lips. “Shh, there was nothing wrong with those words, Emerich. Sweet, dutiful Emerich..." She moved the hand from his lips to caress the side of his face. He swallowed his eyes following the movement of her hand now. He kept his breathing level with a discipline of self-control to never overtly let on how affected he was.

“I’ve taken you for granted in some way haven’t I ?”

His eyes snapped to hers again, fighting the urge to lower them reflexively.

“No ma’am. You have not.”

“Haven’t I?”

“You have not.”

“Are you sure? Or are you just saying that because of your station?”

Emerich’s lashes fluttered and he exhaled more audibly because her thumb was rubbing softly against his ear and it was… distracting.

“You told me I could speak freely. This is honesty, ma’am. I do not feel taken for granted. You are not required to turn to me for everything. I’m just a servant. I know my place and its limitations.”

“Honesty. Hmm, that is what I like about you, Emerich. Tell me this then, you watch me bring stranger after stranger here to fuck, anyway I please, month after month, night after night sometimes. Do you ever have time to do that, yourself?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What if I gave you leave, like a vacation? Ordered you to have a good fuck, relax, unbutton your collar a bit, and let your hair down. Would you do it?”

“Ma’am, that is very considerate but I do not require it.”

“Why not?”

“If you give me a vacation, I will not spend it the way you suggest, so I would decline, however generously offered.”

“But why?”

“If I were to fuck someone, it would not be so high-risk as bedding a stranger.”

“Oh. Well, what about someone you know? Like an ex?”

“There is no such person.”

“None?”

His lashes fluttered and he paused before answering. “No such person I want to contact in that way again.”

“Oh, you’re that type of person. No midnight drunk dials. Once you are done, you’re done. Is that what you are saying?”

“You could phrase it thusly if it pleases you to do so, ma’am.”

Cara smirked, something bold rising up in her that she’d probably regret, but she had to ask or it wouldn’t shut up in her head. “Would you ever fuck… me, Emerich?”

He was startled by the question and he made a sound that was like aborted laughter turned into a clearing of his throat.

“That would probably not be suitable for someone under your employ, ma’am”

“Mm, I bet you have a nice body. Someone should enjoy it. Please, at least tell me you tend to yourself on a regular basis?”

Emerich nodded slowly as he gave a slight smile that was like a chink in the ever-present formal mask. That slight smile held this swaggering, masculine weight behind it. It was suggestive and hinted at the carnal in a very otherworldly way - like a kind of twisted admonishment reflecting back at her for even asking such a thing about him.

“Yes, ma’am, I do. I’m flattered by your concern.”

“Someone has to think of your needs, as much as you think of others’, namely mine, I don’t want you to think I am blind to you more than needed.”

She let her hand fall away from his face and fought the impulse to smell her palm, to inhale what his scent was like.

“I think I will take that meal now.”

“Of course, ma’am. What shall I have the cook make for you?”

He switched into his professional mode so easily, like breathing, that it… made Cara’s cunt clench tight with wanting. That smile… did she hallucinate that? There was more to him and she wanted, needed to see what else there was to him beyond his loyalty, service, and watchfulness.

She wanted to see him when he wasn’t so formal. She felt like she’d opened a door to something and she couldn’t just close that door without seeing what was there.

Realizing he needed an answer she blinked out of her reverie.

“Something small for now, like a few grilled cheese sandwiches and some tomato soup. Gotta use those tomatoes, if they get any bigger they’ll be watermelons.”

“Of course ma’am, right away. Will there be anything else?”

Cara waved dismissively and turned away from him, “No. Just fetch me when the food is ready, I want to eat in the dining hall today. I need to get out of this room. The new scenery will help me write the new album for the tour planned in six months...”

“Of course, ma’am.” Emerich bowed slightly and turned on a heel to leave her be. Once down the hall he pressed his back to a wall and his hand went up to caress the place on his cheek where she’d caressed. Closing his eyes tight a moment as his other hand pressed on his lower abdomen, he took a few deep breaths, then continued to make his way to the kitchens.

The cook was a particularly jovial hologram with four arms and a very large ass that wiggled in her apron to some music blasting from the speaker node in the wall and she sang along off-key as she danced, played air guitar, and cleaned. There were only two of them for the house staff. It was a large house, but given her fortune, it was expected she had a large house, even if she was only in roughly four of the fourteen rooms whenever she was home and not on tour, or away for some media promotion event.

Among the company of another servant, Emerich let his propriety mask fall away. “Haven’t you listened to that song enough?” He greeted her as he went over to lean against the counter, smirking at her, amused. She folded two arms across her chest and blinked as she was programmed to do and the music stopped.

“Never enough of Hendrix,  I will wail “All Along the Watchtower”  always. You should know that by now, angel boy. How long have we been working together and you still ain’t got that in yer noggin yet??” She lightly tapped on his forehead and chortled as she sashayed to put the broom away, her abundant ass jiggling behind her.

“What does her highness want me to make for her? Maybe a feast so I can put my trained skills to good use, or must I continue to just pour milk in a giant bowl of Cheerios?”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup”

“Oh! WELL THEN. Finally, I can use the stove the way it needs to be used. If only I could find someone worthy to heat me up too, you get what I mean, angel boy?”

She then laughed boisterously and turned on the industrial gas stove one-handed. Then she went to get the bread, turned to the fridge-terrarium to get the cheese and butter out, and then turned to the connected terrarium, her finger digitally shifted to laser cut the fat tomato off the vine.

“Look at this sucker, if she had waited any longer it would have started an uprising! Those poor other tomatoes are gone all non-euclidean. What was the name of that bioengineer you bought those seeds from, angel boy, you oughta have a word with them.”

Emerich went over to look at the other tomatoes, all warped and oddly shaped, not round at all. Bioengineering was essential now with the state of the world, but there was a learning curve for those new to it. Being in a bioengineered host vessel, he should know more than most. 

Most bioengineered accidents led to the rise of a sub-species of beings known as Kemonomimi. The rich and famous sought after them for servant work and so did governments for military missions to keep the Human species safe and comfortable. Even the designer humans, like Cara. Her genes were specifically selected to make her the best at music and the most beautiful. Her parents wanted her to have a successful life by any means necessary. There were of course those that protested the biopunk revolution and sneered at bioengineers and designer geneticists, saying if they tampered too much with the Grand Design it would only bring trouble.

As the butler looked at the bizarre mutated produce, he was wondering if this was what those protestors meant. If such things happened in human designer offspring, it would be considered somehow less than human. If deformed too much, they’d be outright disposed of, deemed unworthy of life altogether.

He plucked one of the tomatoes and ran a hand over its ripe skin. Brought it to his nose before taking a bite. The sweet, seedy juice and pulp of the tomato burst into his mouth like a bright explosion of robust flavor. “They taste fine. They may look a bit aberrant, but the taste is still a pure tomato.”

“Fancy some tea while we wait for the soup to soup. What is she up to anyway? She… always gets a little, you know, between shows. Doesn’t do sitting still very well. Is she alright?”

Emerich’s brow rose and he bobbled his head in a kind of shrug and sighed, “I am not sure how to answer that.”

“Oh? Go on then, what happened?”

Stumbling for words, he took another bite of the tomato and crossed the kitchen to grab a napkin to dab his mouth. “I suspect she may be lonelier than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Cook asked, having turned to work on the grilled cheese. Emerich finished the tomato and wiped his hands and mouth again on the napkin before tossing it in the bin. The cook reached one of her arms to the above cabinet to get a plate for the grilled cheese while another kept stirring the soup with a wooden spoon. “Go on then, angel boy, don’t leave me hanging!” She gasped then and half-turned toward him. “She didn’t! Did she fuck you?!”

Emerich did that head bobble shrug again. “Not quite… but she asked me about it. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t expect such a question.”

“Of course, you didn’t! Well, when you do fuck her, I want to hear every detail. Lord knows she’d never turn a lustful eye at me! I can barely leave the kitchen, while you have free reign about the house. Body like hers, I’d have her moaning my name for days on end. You have to shag her, angel boy, at least for the sake of my poor neglected nethers. I’ve read my pulp stories to dust! Bless my pixels, I’ve got four hands and I still can’t get enough!”

Emerich laughed. “For your nethers, I just might, Maryann. If only for the hope that it may improve your singing,” he joked.

“Oy!” She frowned at him and pointed her spoon at him chidingly. It only served to pull another laugh out of him before he fell solemn at the sound of the doorbell. He moved from leaning on the counter and turned to leave. Before he got clean out the door, Maryann called out to him, “Oy, you heard me right? Fuck. Her. Brains. Out.”

“I heard you.” And he left to attend to his butler duties before she could say another thing.

******

Meditating in his quarters, Emerich sat crosslegged on a supportive mat before a votive candle, letting it make his body sweat as he did breathing exercises and disciplined his mind. He was distracted when his phone went off.

He only kept a phone so that Cara could contact him at all times. Thankfully, Cara didn’t mandate the subdermal implant in her servants and she only had him. Maryann was hardwired to the Kitchen and the Dining Halls only.

Pinching out the candle, he exhaled slowly and grabbed a basin-damp towel to dab his face. He rolled up the mat and placed it in its corner of his small, minimalist, and functional - near monastic - quarters. There was a full-size bed against the wall with a folded quilt atop it. Also a small shelf of books, vinyl albums, and a turntable, then another lower shelf for fitness equipment. And finally, a wooden wardrobe for his clothes near a door that led to his private bathroom.

He reached for the phone that was on his bed. Just a text.

I need you

It was three in the morning what could she possibly need from him at this hour? It had to be urgent. Abruptly, Maryann’s words echoed in his mind Fuck. Her. Brains. Out. And he felt a spike of fear. Was that what Cara wanted? To have sex with him? He pushed the odd mixture of anticipatory fear from the terror mixed with hopeful excitement aside. He didn’t know what to feel but it couldn’t be this… terricitement, as it were. He reached for the ‘emotional mask’ of duty along with his robe, no time to fully dress if it was urgent.

Cara had lit a candle to play with the flame and the wax, so as to feel something other than the gnawing ache of despair. There was a soft knock on her door.

“Ma’am?”

Waiting for her soft voice of consent before entering, he stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and stood quietly until acknowledged. She turned to see him standing there in his robe and pajama bottoms. Kemonomimi had a range of how much animal traits they displayed. Emerich looked mostly human, aside from his ears, lost in the loose of his dark hair currently.

“Did I wake you??.”

“Not at all, ma’am. What do you need?”

“C-can you just keep me company for a while? I can’t sleep. I can’t think past this despair. I am just so emotionally uncomfortable!”

She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him. He lifted his arms in time to wrap loosely around her in return. The smell of her hair so close to him now was sending chills through him.

“I just need the company of someone I trust. And there is no one I trust more than you, Emerich.”

“Of course, ma’am. You have my company as long as you need it. Might I ask if I may sit down if I am to be here a while?”

He felt wobbly as if he might faint. As if he didn’t know if he should trust the present moment at all and that made him feel dangerously insecure.

Cara broke the hug just a bit to look up at him, “Of course! Come sit over here with me.”

She went over to sit on the bed and patted the spot next to her for him to sit. He dutifully sat down next to her and folded his hands on his lap. He could feel her staring at him. But he didn’t say anything and for a moment neither did she. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He made a quiet, startled sound from the contact. Cara smirked.

“It really has been a long time for you, hasn’t it.”

“Long time for what, ma’am?”

“Sex. With someone other than yourself, I mean.”

He paused, it felt more solemn than anxious this time. The flat affect of her voice - there was too much honesty for this to be light-hearted flirting. Too much vulnerability and care between the two of them that this moment felt like more than a continuation of the flirty banter of earlier.

“It has been, yes.”

“How do you do it? How are you not pent-up?”

“I… if I am allowed to speak freely?”

“Yes.”

“I hardly think about it at all, but after earlier today, when you asked me if…”

“If you would fuck me?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinking about that too… I can’t stop thinking about it since I asked you.”

“Give it time… surely the thought will pass for both of us.”

She turned and looked up at him. He was staring at his hands but he could see peripherally her alarmed, no, offended frown? Or was it a defiant frown? It wasn’t a happy expression, and it made his fear spike, hard.

“I don’t want it to pass, Emerich. I want to act on it.”

Exhaling slowly, Emerich swallowed the lump in his throat, “Okay.”

Cara moved in one fluid motion to straddle his lap and he sucked in a sharp breath and moved his hands reflexively to rest on the bed. She tipped his head up, finger under his chin to make him look up at her. His eyes were so green and brown. A kind of hazel, like spring and freshly turned earth, but there were flecks of gold like some sort of light winking from the depths of the dark that glinted in spare moments.

“If you want me to stop, just say so, okay?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Once we cross this line… it's…”

“I’m not firing you, but if you won’t take a vacation, I feel it's… my duty to see that you get relief at least sometimes.”

“Duty is my domain, ma’am”

“Not alone. Not tonight. But… you say stop, I’ll stop.”

He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get any words out, an abrupt and vulnerable sound groaned out of his throat because her fingers had slipped between them and pressed against his body - that warm heat between his legs.

“Huh. Well, that explains a lot.”

His lashes fluttered, “Pardon?” He had to struggle to keep his tone formal and remember who he was talking to. Her hand was a welcome pressure that was different than what his own hand offered. It felt… good. It stole his words, and he wasn’t going to be able to keep his face neutral and blank very well if she kept at it.

“You don’t swoon and lose your shit like other men, I thought you were gay. I mean… are you?”

“I am in a kemonomimi vessel but I am … or I was an ophanim, ma’am, I know how to observe, and watch and not respond carnally. And as far as my orientation, I don’t really think of it like that. I would rather just be attracted to who I am attracted to without any such --”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because she leaned in to kiss him. Dextrously, he leaned back, “Please… I’ll allow you to touch me, but if this is to be relief only, I cannot have you kiss me. It would make things too confusing for me, ma’am.”

She leaned back. “That’s fair. But you do want… relief?”

He couldn’t help the amused sound that bubbled out of him then. “By your hand or my own, I would welcome it at this point. I am quite…”

“Pent-up?”

“...Yes,” he replied. He watched the emotions flutter across her face and he could tell how much she wanted to kiss him, but he couldn’t have her kiss him. He couldn’t have every boundary between them dashed to shit and expect to do his job like nothing happened in the morning. That’s what would happen, he could sense it. But if he got this far and said no altogether, Maryann would never let him hear the end of it, and he wouldn’t get this close again. He didn't know when he’d meet someone he had chemistry with who treated him with enough respect that he’d want to be intimate with them. She was as close as he had. Other than Maryann, but, he didn’t want Maryann.

She moved her hand again and his breath hitched, feeling her touch now inside his pants, against his skin. His eyes reflexively closed, opened again, and saw that she was smiling mischievously. “You want to touch me at the same time? Show me on my body how you like your body touched since we have the same parts?”

His mouth parted in surprise and he thought he said something, but he didn’t, evidently because she started to frown, wondering if she was doing something wrong. Her frown spiked the panic, so he nodded quickly. Then slowly let his hand slide up her thigh, his eyes watching his own hand going toward the most intimate physical part of her body.

“You’re shaking.”

“I cannot help it. It really has been a long time.”

Cara pouted. “See, you say things like that, makes it really hard to not kiss you.”

He chuckled. “Apologies, ma’am…”

Once his hand was on her hip, she pressed her hand inside him and his breath stopped as he felt her hand slide against his slit and past his folds and his clit and any of the parts he touched when pleasuring himself. He wondered if she knew where her own clit was. Most of the men she slept with were muscle-bound klutz types too drunk from some party. Maybe she was pretending with them too like when the cameras were always on her.

Still, it felt so good to have her finger there that his lashes fluttered again and his ears moved with his eyebrows as he fought to stay in control and her finger kept… playing and stroking, making him wetter and wetter. He moaned a strained sound and it was more frustration than pleasure.

“Show me… show me what you like by touching me…”

His gaze narrowed and darkened as he smirked. Nodding, he slid his hand into her panties under her nightshirt. At first, he slid his hand down the way she did and found her wet, but he took the wet and dragged it up through the folds and rubbed the slick on her clit, and nodded encouragingly, feeling the clit pulse under his fingertips. Her eyes went wide and she gasped, startled by the sensation.

“Mmmhmm,” Emerich moaned. He watched the virginal bliss flower across her face as she felt pleasure from a part of her body she didn’t know needed attention. Perhaps if her clit got more attention she wouldn’t be so depressed. She moved her hand to match his movements and there were no words anymore. They sat there, rubbing and grinding on each other. The whole time they matched each other’s movements, watching each other’s faces. Emerich had never given her so much eye contact before. It was so exhilarating it was starting to distract him from paying attention to his own body.

“Close your eyes. You need to cum first because once I do, I’m going to pass the fuck out and I want to make you cum. Close your eyes and just listen, think about whatever you need to, so you can release.”

He nodded and closed his eyes and instantly he was back in his body. He gasped, suddenly re-aware of her hand on him. She watched his face, the way his eyebrows and his long, lop ears wilted and wiggled with wanting and the weakening of his control. The quicker his breaths got the more a slice of sound slipped out. Like he was afraid to be too loud but was unable to help it.

Emerich could definitely focus better without eye contact, he always could. It was part of being an ophanim. There was a kind of hypervigilance or a surveillance mode when his eyes were open that he couldn’t shut off, even if he wasn’t in ophanim form and never could be again once fallen.

Her sounds were getting less and her body more still. He frowned and she must have noticed because she exhaled her words through a tight breath. “I’m close, just keep your eyes closed. I’m trying not to cum… not yet...”

That strain in her voice made his clit pulse and he whimpered out staccato gasps as he felt her fingers, framed around his clit, speed up their come-hither curling motions and suddenly his mind went bright and open. The faster she went, the faster he went on her, and she went more still as he kept gasping until it felt like time stopped. He could hear her wailing whimper against his ear, the hot breath on the fur sending chills down his spine as his body was curling against her writhing and just wringing himself out by his climax. So much pent-up energy finally catharsis-creaming around her fingers. His groans rasped hard against her shoulder, as the aftershocks had him grinding against her palm. She was sweating through her nightshirt and breathing heavily against him too.

****

In the months that followed, she had a bounce in her step that she never had before. She spent more time in the studio, refilled her script, and even ate more - fuller - meals, regularly. When the time came for her to leave for the tour, as always, Emerich was by her side. He was staring out the window, as Cara had a visor over her eyes and headphones on, always such a nervous flyer.

He took out his phone and texted her. He saw the synced visor receive his message.

Ma’am, may I make a request of you?

What is it, Emerich, you know I don’t fly well.

When you play, play like Heaven is watching.

There was a delay, a pause where he felt that spike of panic that he had asked too much, that he had overstepped his station, that he had offended or displeased her, and the buzz of his phone made his heart jump. Thankfully, he didn’t make a humiliating squeak sound.

I know you will be. [smile emoji]

Her words soothed one anxiety only to arouse another. But he was Ophanim, if anyone was able to be in the air at thirty thousand feet and keep their cool, it would be a fallen angel in the vessel of a bioengineered kemonomimi in service to the most beautiful woman on four of the seven continents. Just another day for the dutiful butler, Emerich. It was what he lived for.