Masters of Pleasure

Authors Note: I'm rushed off my feet lately. Phew! This chappie has been hanging around on my hard drive for a few weeks now. It isn't perfect, but I'd like to move things along. I am being very slow with my review responses for my fics, so big thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter – magnusrae, femme4prime, Pyrofrickenmaniac, Jovianokamigirl, Dragonball-Gal, Pontifex Maximus, T.A. And T.A., flamingmarsh, steelcrash, cmo-hatchet, DracinaStormsailor, SwedishDragon, Quasarsmom, Babylon's Bumblebee.

Chapter 3

Emerald took one long look at Optimus Prime naked in front of her; taking in his long and thick interface, his massive chest, his extreme height, his intimidation factor and his overall hotness; and came to just one conclusion.

RUN!

Losing her nerve after being so uncharacteristically bold and in control, the femme shrieked and dived behind the legs of Ratchet and Ironhide for protection, where she crouched behind them with her arms over her head while she whined in distress. Ratchet shook his head slowly, covering his face with one hand. Ironhide sighed and stared up at the ceiling, muttering to himself. They had a long, long way to go with educating this female. She was far too timid and easily overwhelmed.

"What?" Optimus Prime was flustered. "What on Cybertron is the matter?"

Ironhide vented a puff of air with a chuckle, shaking his head, "What do you mean, 'what's wrong'? She's just seen you naked, that's what's wrong, afthead. I'd be running too."

Ignoring his Weapons Specialist, Prime peered down at Emerald between the legs of his warriors with a flabbergasted expression and shook his head, opening his comlink to send Ratchet a message. ::I can see why you said this femme was in need of some help and education.::

::Yes,:: Ratchet agreed wryly, ::she is rather nervous. I think she over-stretched herself by asking you to reveal your interface. Experienced femmes may fall all over themselves to get a piece of you, but the young ones are just scared to death of the size of your equipment.::The medic jerked his head over his shoulder, ::Go and take a seat on my berth, I think it would be wise to de-sensitise her to you, if you would agree to help.::

Optimus nodded sagely, ::It cannot be healthy for her to carry this amount of stress around. I have some free time and I am willing to stay.::

Ratchet huffed, ::Yes, I can imagine that if there was any chance of a female interfacing with another mech while you watch, you'd stay around.::

Optimus rolled his optics in reply.

Moving slowly and trying not to intimidate the distressed femme any more than she already was, the Autobot Commander walked slowly past Ratchet and Ironhide with Emerald at their feet, and sat down on Ratchet's huge recharge berth. He thought about covering himself up again but left his interface hanging free. It was just beginning to thicken, reaching that halfway stage where it was getting interested in what was going on. Emerald had been doing well up until the moment when she saw his spike. If seeing his interface disturbed her, he should leave it uncovered so she could work out for herself how harmless it was. He remembered back to when he had first revealed himself to Elita. She had been surprised and shocked but not scared. Thank Primus he had not been her first. His precious sparkmate had been with enough mechs to not be frightened of being injured by him when she saw how big his male interface was. At first it had hurt him to think he wasn't her first mech, but now he considered it to be a good thing because otherwise she may not have pursued a relationship with him after finding out about his above average dimensions. He smiled softly. She had endless courage and a strong will, his femme. And now? Now, when he uncovered himself in front of his mate, nothing could make her smile more widely or spread her thighs and welcome him within her more quickly.

Optimus awkwardly cupped his hands together in his lap around his prominent maleness and waited for instructions. Ironhide sat down next to him – still with an erection that he didn't bother to cover up – and waited for Ratchet to make the next move.

The CMO – his erection not fazed by all the commotion – opened his arms up and locked optics with the scared femme, saying calmly, "Come here, Emerald."

Emerald was crouching on the front pads of her feet with her hands clasped together in front of her face. Worried. She'd watched Optimus Prime walk past her on his long, thick-thighed, legs, with his bared interface flopping sluggishly between his upper thighs. Watched Ironhide grunt and settle down next him on the berth. With none of the mechs grabbing her, forcing themselves onto her, or laughing at her, her shyness and fear had abated to let her think more clearly. Ratchet; the big broad hunky medical mech; was waiting for her to go to him. Waiting for her to make the next move. Offering her a hug.

Ratchet smiled and closed his arms around the little femme that had suddenly leapt up and dived for his embrace. "Good femme. It's all okay." He rubbed one hand up and down her back, feeling her small trembles within his enclosed arms. "We're all here to help you. Yes, even Optimus." Emerald pushed her face into his chest armor and sighed. He spread his hand out on her lower back, "There, that's better isn't it?"

A soft murmur of assent came back at him, along with a sneaky hand wrapping around his stiff maleness.

"Oh." Ratchet smiled. Enjoying her touch. "That's nice."

"Why is he getting all the attention?" Ironhide groused softly, crossing his large arms over his thick chest.

Optimus glanced at him and wrinkled his overlapping noseplate coverings, "Because he's in charge of this? Don't expect me to help your interface out because it's lonely and desperate. I'm not touching you."

The big leader mech propped his elbows behind him on the berth and leant back comfortably. He wasn't often included in the teaching of younglings how to interface. He was considered too big and too confronting for a young femme to deal with. Elita didn't mind him being used, she only had one condition when it came to his participation – he was not allowed to sheath himself within another femme. Other females learning about interfacing and mechs could touch him, stroke him, explore him, do just about anything (apart from spark-merging, of course, that was her domain too, and the fact that Prime's spark was bonded to hers, and therefore it would not merge with that of another) – except for letting him inside of them. That was a big NO from the Femme Commander. Optimus understood that. He only wanted to do such an intimate act with his sparkmate in any case, not any other random female.

And he was wary of getting his interface ripped from his groin or just shot off with her rifle if she felt him joining with another femme through their sparklink.

Ratchet kept rubbing his hand on Emerald's backplates while she played with his erect interface. It was a distraction for her, something she could concentrate on other than the legendary Autobot leader sitting on the berth behind her. As much as he would have loved to let her make him climax using her hands, he had an idea. An idea that involved his reclining commander. "Emerald, have you ever seen a mech climax?"

Emerald looked up at him. "You mean, like, overload?"

"Yes. When fluid comes out of a mechs spike."

"No..."

"Oh good. Right then," Ratchet carefully turned her around to face Optimus and Ironhide, and guided her over to stand in front of them. With his hands on her shoulders, he sent Optimus a stern glance. "Prime, I'd like you to let Emerald bring you to overload with her hands."

"What?" Ironhide demanded, "Why him and not me?" His black and silver hand pointed at Optimus' rising interface, "He isn't even properly stiff!"

"That's alright, she can get him up, give him a workout, then help him go down again. It will be a good education," the CMO insisted. "You'll get enough overloads 'Hide, don't get greedy. You're going to go back to Chromia after all this and spend the rest of the night pounding yourself into her anyway. I know you get off on doing these things, so don't complain to me about one less overload."

With all this talk of a femme making him climax, Prime's spike was now going magnificently fully vertical. "Um... Ratchet..."

"What, you have to ask Elita first?" Ratchet said with humor. He knew the tight control the Femme Commander had on him.

"No, I've already asked her that," Optimus said with a growl in his voice. He didn't like to be teased about how much his sparkmate dictated what he could – and couldn't – do. "I was going to suggest that we all sit here and let Emerald compare us to one another."

Ironhide snorted. "She doesn't need to guess and compare. I'm amazing on the berth, Ratchet is halfway decent, and you," he slapped one hand down on top of Prime's nearest thigh, "spend too much time on romance and touchy-feely slag instead of pounding a femme into such a state of incredible pleasure that she screams your name for the next joor."

Prime's optics darkened. He stared intently at Ironhide's throbbing erection. "If I ripped off your interface, I wonder whether Elita would want it as a datapad pointer or a sculpture."

"STOP! Enough!" Ratchet raised his arms from holding Emerald and cut the antagonism off before the pair of aftheads could really get going with the insults. "This lovely femme does not need lessons in how to be a cranky, old, spark-bonded, grouch. Now, Em, you are going to learn how to bring a mech to climax with your hands. And Optimus;" Ratchet sent his Prime a 'don't-mess-with-me' glare, "is going to stay as passive as you can and help guide you as a teaching exercise."

Ironhide spoke up, "He won't last long." He gave Optimus a piteous look, "He hasn't been with Elita all week. He's going to go off like the humans Fourth of July all over himself in a nanoclick. The only thing that would teach her is that he can't hold himself back like a properly experienced mech can."

The Autobot Commander looked like he was about to yank his rifle from subspace and shove the end of it so far down his Weapons Specialist's throat that when he pulled the trigger, it would blow off his aftplates.

Ratchet groaned, bringing both of his hands up to his face and muttering about stupid slagheads. "Enough! If you two don't stop I'll kick you both out and do all of this myself!"

While all three mechs carried on like a bunch of sparklings with the snide verbal shots, Emerald had been standing behind Ratchet and looking him up and down. She'd decided that he was the only mech medbot she'd ever seen that would be good enough to make Primus Himself cry with desire if He was a She. Very few males in the medical profession were built as big and strong as he was. Ratchet was a mech who could very efficiently lay down the law on the battlefield with his bare hands or his arm-transformable rifle. The doctor really had such a nice body. His luminous green-yellow metal was luscious and shiny under the ceiling lights, and the way his backplates bulged out at the top of his back and shoulders before narrowing down nicely into his super supple hips showed off his quiet sturdy strength. The expertly cared for thick muscle cables under his back plates showed glimpses of themselves when Ratchet gestured with his arms. It was lovely to watch. She thought it was such a shame that Optimus and Ironhide were such amazing and handsome mechs in their own right, that poor Ratchet was usually over-shadowed by them. The CMO was a mech that deserved a lot more appreciative glances and panting femmes following him around... and from his reputation, he often did. He was just very strict about keeping his private life and military medical duties apart.

She was such a lucky femme to have him showing her how to interface...

"Um, excuse me? I think we need to move along here," she said boldly. "Please?"

Optimus Prime stopped glaring stiffly at Ironhide and turned his softening gaze to her, while the black mech snorted air out of his intakes and muttered a few last insults. Ratchet looked at her over his shoulder.

"I would very much like to see Optimus overload in my hands..." her voice lowered shyly, and she looked down at Ratchet's feet to avoid meeting the Autobot Commanders gaze, "...if he would allow me to and if one of you would show me how."

From where Prime was leaning back on his elbows, he nodded silently at Ratchet as his 'yes'. "Emerald, I would warmly welcome you to do that," he rumbled softly. Optimus opened his internal comlink and silently sent his two senior mechs a communication. ::I think it is time to show this female what mature and experienced Autobot mechs can do.::

A sly broody smirk from Ironhide and a soft knowing smile from Ratchet told Optimus that they were now all on the same wavelength and ready to strut their stuff. Wonderful.

"Emerald," Ratchet put his hand on her back and propelled her forwards towards Optimus, "come along."

The small slender femme went shyly where she was directed. She'd just ogled Ratchet's body up and down but that had in no way prepared her for the reality of standing next to a mech as huge, powerful and magnetic as the Autobot Commander was. Sure, he was lying down and not showing an ounce of worry that his interface was bare and stiff right in front of her optics. It was a privileged view that not every Autobot in his army got to see.

"Um..." Emerald's optics darted all over the place. She was nervous. And clueless. She'd just touched Ratchet's interface, but that had been in play. Being made to front up to an aroused mech and stimulate him into overload with her hands only had made her feel completely stupid.

Ironhide recognised her hesitation for what it was and reached out and grabbed hold of Optimus Prime's erection. "Grab it like this, Em." He pumped his hand up and down, "See?"

"Ironhide!" Prime hissed, making a bare handed swipe at the rude hand of his Weapons Specialist. The big black mech laughed and removed his hand.

"Lie down," Ratchet stood next to Optimus and gave a big hard shove to his chest to get him off his elbows.

With a grunt, Optimus lay flat on his back. He was getting the feeling that he had now become a big play toy for whatever the others wanted to do to him. He sighed and rubbed at his optics. Now wasn't that the story of his entire life...

Ignoring the resigned sighing and groaning coming from his boss, Ratchet got down to business, "Alright, now Optimus is very fortunate in having a large sized male interface. You won't find many mechs being as big as what you see in front of you at this very moment. Wouldn't it have been interesting if he was so much smaller?"

Optimus growled at him.

"Er, yes, moving on. Being large means you must be careful to pay attention to all of his length and not get stuck focusing on one little bit, like the head or the base. When you grasp him and pump your hand," Ratchet held up his elegant five-fingered paw and made a grasping and stroking motion, "keep the tightness and tension of your palm the same. Don't go loose, tight, loose, tight, and don't vary the rhythm with each stroke. You must do several pumps in a row of what pace you are setting before you change the tempo – you get me?"

Emerald blinked up at where Ratchet stood with her next to Prime's hips. "Er... sort of?"

Ratchet frowned, "Show her, Optimus."

Prime's optics widened. "Uh... show her?"

"What, you can't show a pretty femme how you want her to touch you?" Ratchet mocked him.

With Ironhide sitting cross-legged next to him, Optimus lifted his hand and enclosed himself with it. Resolutely keeping his optics trained on the ceiling, he squeezed his stiff spike and gave several fast pumps from the root to the tip, then slowed his pace for a few pumps, going long and smooth, before speeding up again. He grimaced. Ironhide was right. He was right on the edge of climaxing.

"Now show her what to do when you don't want to come too quickly."

Clever medic. He'd noticed his dilemma. Optimus spread his free hand flat at the base of his interface to keep it steady, then used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to squeeze hard right below the thick rounded head of his erection, making it bulge.

Emerald winced. "Isn't that, like, too hard? It looks painful."

"It is mildly painful. It is also necessary if you don't want a mech to come before you and he are ready to. If one of you goes off before you're both ready it can spoil the moment. Mechs are far too easy to stimulate and overload. You;" Ratchet patted her on the shoulder, "have the easy part of the job. A male has to work much harder to bring you to climax. Femmes are most often slow to ignite and warm up."

"Yeah, remember that Em," Ironhide nodded sagely, adding his opinion, "if a mech is ignoring your needs and pleasure, he's either stupider than a sharkticon and needs educating or he doesn't care about your overload. Meaning, he doesn't care about you. Don't put up with mechs like that. There are many more mechs out there to chose from," he smirked and pointed his thumb at his own chest, "like me."

"Yes, we all know about you," Optimus muttered, rolling his optics. His long thick thighs moved restlessly. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea to agree to this. The ideal preparation would've been being with his beloved sparkmate the night before so he could drain his interface drive and reduce his urges. Then he wouldn't have to endure the pleasure/pain of holding back his desperately needed overload!

"One more thing," Ratchet said quietly. He looked down at her with a soft expression, "When you pleasure a mech with your hands, it adds to the experience for him if you also reveal a part of yourself as well." The medic gestured at her body, "Your spark or your valve. In this case, your female port would be appropriate since you will not be joining sparks with Prime."

Emerald thought that over. Ratchet couldn't be wrong. He was the best at this. She trusted him, and all three of the mechs had unsheathed their interfaces and were displaying their excited erections to her with no problem at all. "Of course," she bowed her head in deference, and retracted her groin armor. She stood awkwardly. Her shoulders hunched. Unsure of herself.

Ratchet bent over to get a quick glimpse of what she had revealed. The virgin slit of her port appeared narrow and tight, and she wasn't yet producing copious amounts of lubricant. There was no tell-tale glistening on the outside of the port – like he would expect to see with a sexually experienced femme who was staring at an aroused naked male. She would need the kind of help that he and Ironhide were used to giving to untouched femmes. Sensitive, caring and respectful help. From the looks of things, Emerald could also use a distraction that would jolt her out of her timidness. Something unexpected...

"Ironhide," Ratchet crooked a finger at the cannon-toting mech, "come here please."

Ironhide put on an annoyed expression. "What for?" He was on a recharge berth expecting to shortly be presented with a newbie femme to have fun with. Why should he get up?

"Because I'm telling you to, dumb aft. Get over here."

Grumbling, Ironhide heaved his heavy mass off the berth – while Optimus looked back and forth between them all – and presented himself to the CMO. "What?"

Ratchet stepped up close to the other mech, their chests making contact. He was only a touch shorter than the black mech. He stared up into Ironhide's roughly handsome faceplates and pouted – as much as a macho, mechly, armor-covered mech could pout.

"Oh." Ironhide's optical ridges lifted up as he realised what the CMO wanted. "Right."

With a roughness he would never have shown a female, Ironhide wrapped one big arm around Ratchet's waist to jerk his physique hard against his body, cupped the hand of his other arm behind Ratchet's head – and kissed the spark out of him.

"Wha..." Emerald blinked rapidly. Shocked, she backed up a step. "What the? But that's.. that's..."

"Ironhide and Ratchet kissing? Yes, it does make you want to rip out your own optics, doesn't it?" Optimus Prime said dryly, stroking his interface with one finger.

The Weapons Specialist and the Autobots CMO didn't hold back. They were grunting, groaning, and thrusting themselves at each other. Black armor clashed against lime green metal, each mech wrestling to get the upper triumphant hand with the kiss. It was a display of two males openly kissing while showing no fear or hesitation about what they were doing. They were into it.

Emerald had backed up so much that the backs of her legs hit the recharge berth. She plopped her aft down next to where Optimus was lying on his back and stared numbly at what was happening. "Wow. Are t-t-they going to s-stop?"

"Oh yes, one will get sick of it and knee the other in the groin," Prime scratched at his red and blue flamed chest armor. "That is how it usually ends, anyway."

"But, but, doesn't Chromia get upset?"

Optimus smirked, "No. She enjoys watching them." He cocked his head at her in query, admiring her slim form. "Do you like it or hate it?"

"I..." Emerald almost got double-vision when she glanced down from the kissing and saw how the two were pressing their erections together while their mouths were busy. Ratchet's interface was beginning to drip introductory transfluid down his own length, and the movements of the two of them were rubbing it all over the place. "I don't know..." she finally said weakly. "I guess it is," she gulped, "um, interesting." She glanced at him, "A mech kissing another mech isn't that weird, it's just that... those two?"

Prime nodded, "Hmmm. It would be even more interesting if one insisted on using the aft of the other."

"OH MY GOD~!"

"Yes. Welcome to the amazing world of interfacing, Emerald. Ironhide and Ratchet style."