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Goldenrod Ch. 01

By: rlmmike



What I wrote in my paper was what I felt then: I like girls, I'm not attracted to boys; also that I want to be dominated (I'm very submissive) but I could never give up control. I'm too willful. That is the information that got to Mikaela, the T.A. for my psychology class. I didn't know it then but Professor Branning was making her grade all the papers while he taught the classes, and gave the students the impression that he would be the only one reading those things. I knew who Mikaela was but at the time I thought she was a male. I'd seen her conferring with Dr Branning at his desk before and after classes. She had short brown hair, thick glasses; she dressed like a boy, moved like one, and even talked like one you'd agree if you ever heard her. If you didn't look too closely you wouldn't notice her generous hips in her tight black jeans or her apple breasts in her black cotton jacket. At the time I had no reason to believe I needed to know anything about her (there were always random people milling around the professor) so her appearance completely fooled me. She however had learned something about me.

The papers were submitted anonymously, but with my handwriting all over mine it didn't take her long to figure out who wrote the things I'd written. Being really smart probably didn't slow her down either. Still when I got a request in my mailbox to meet her at the student theater at a time when all the actors, professors and crew would have gone, I was completely in the dark to what was going on. I thought at worst it could be some college prank and I was feeling up for adventure that night so I went anyway, hoping that Security wouldn't find me and throw me out before I found out what was happening. The front door was the kind you need a key to open from the outside, but it was held open by a leaning broom. I sensed that this was for me, and I let it slam shut behind me when I'd entered the building so that no one else could follow. This was when I realized we'd be totally alone, my mysterious messenger and me.

She was standing amidst some furniture on the stage. I recognized her instantly and also received the shock that she was female. When she noticed me in there she turned to the dark seats, and asked, "Tom, is that you?"

"Yes, yes it's me. I don't think we've met..."

"Yeah, sorry. I guess this seems pretty dramatic." I laughed at that. "Would you come up here on the stage with me, please?"

I crept through the aisles to the side of the stage and climbed the small steps there, then walked over to her at center stage in the light. We were standing between a big bed and a tall mirror. She was wearing her usual dark jacket, dark jeans, dark hiking boots, and a green sweater. She eyed me through her glasses with great pleasure that put me at ease. Her hair was just too short to be tousled, and there was no mistaking her presence which was one of pure masculinity. We were the same height and after sizing her up I had the impression that I was stronger than she was, but she watched me back like an equal. She introduced herself and we shook hands. Then she got to business in her honest manner.

"Tom, I want you to know first of all that we're alone here, and there's no chance whatsoever we'll be disturbed. I'm in charge of this theater now, and I've seen to that."

"Okay. I thought you were a Psych major."

"I'm doing a double major, and I hope to go into psychiatry after that."

"Impressive. And admirable." She nodded her appreciation.

"Tom, you don't mind me calling you that do you? I know we just met. Tom, I'm the one who read your paper for Dr Branning about gender identity."

"Oh," I said.

"You should know you can trust me completely."

"Alright. Is this an official visit?"

"That part's tricky. I'm not licensed as anything as yet, and there's really no way I could know it was you who wrote those sentiments, except of course I do know it was you. I figured it out."

"Smart." At that, she smiled.

"We're just two college students who I feel have similar interests, and that's the only way I should advise you to see this."

"Right, but we could be a trio if I mention this to Branning."

"I think you should listen to what I have to say." Her voice was smooth and low with authority and humor. I marveled at her confidence as she spoke. I don't know if I was attracted to her, exactly. If I was, it wasn't in the usual way that I wanted a girl. When she motioned for me to sit on the bed, I shrugged and obliged her happily.

"Tom, do you know anything about psychodrama?"

With that she began to explain what she'd brought me there for. After reading my paper, she told me, she'd come to the conclusion that she knew precisely what I needed. As it turned out, it coincided perfectly with what she needed. To make a long story short, without either of us really knowing the other at all, she'd brought me down there to perform a sexual act with her.

"It's expected that you'll agree. We can help each other, it's obvious. What do you say?"

"I still don't understand why it has to be here."

"You want to be used by a girl, but you won't let yourself go through with it. On this stage, you're not you, you're free of inhibitions. I need to be somebody else to do what I want, which is to take you. Mikaela the woman can't do it, but with a script, which I've prepared already, and which you won't need to see, I can function adequately."

"You seem pretty capable without it." This compliment, she ignored.

"It's not that simple. I promise we're completely alone and this building is private. You have all the facts, now. I need a yes or no." With that I was certain if I'd replied in the negative, she'd simply walk away and never mention another word about the evening to anybody, nor admit she knew about it if anyone ever asked her. That would be the end of it. I knew though that she was coercing me, perhaps despite my better judgment, and there was a strange sort of truth in what she'd said. Also there was something graceful and exciting about her. I couldn't refuse.

We agreed to each take a different side of the stage to get ready. While I was disrobing I felt the temperature of the air go up and I assumed she'd done it with a thermostat. I was back on stage first, back in the light. A quick nervous glance to the seats told me the place was still empty. In my boxers only, and with one hand clutching my other arm at my side, I sat down on the bed and waited for her.

She finally appeared smiling triumphantly, almost sneering really, with a bottle of lube in her left hand. She strutted out slowly in feet covered only by thick white tube socks with blue stripes, pulled way up to her knees. Her pale legs were simultaneously boyish and female, it's hard to describe. She wore a white t-shirt and still had her glasses on. Over a pair of white boy's briefs she wore a strap-on dildo harness with a large dick and balls the color of her skin. A little imagination made the penis appear to extend from the hole on the front of her undies, and the white bands holding it in place seemed to form a securely fastened jock strap around her hips. Her transformation complete, she was fully male now in both mind and body.

Mikaela stood by the bed, squeezed some lube into her hand, and dropped the bottle. The thud echoed ominously. With both hands she enthusiastically coated the shaft she was wearing, which seemed to pulse and spasm under the house lights. She smiled down at me, friendly and somehow very square. Aside from the fact that she was a girl who was about to fuck a man in the ass, there was really nothing eccentric about her personality. Clapping once and scraping the spittle off her lips with her teeth she commanded me to put my hands on the bed and present my rear to her. I obeyed her again without question.

"Let's see what's in here." While squatting, she dragged down my flannel shorts at both sides. Then she changed the speed of her movements to carefully remove them from each leg at floor level. She constantly alternated like that between urgency and clinical precision. In the mirror she looked assured and sporty as she stood up.

I heard her take a deep breath, savoring the moment. I felt her hands on my hips, clamping like claws and kneading. I adjusted the position of my own hands to more pleasingly display my ass to her. Before I even felt anything, she had lunged forward with her hands locked on my pelvis, entering me, suspending her shoulders above my back, and giving a long soft moan. I felt the cock like a fist inside me, and froze. She had frozen, too. For a moment I wondered if she had lost consciousness. Then the stockinged feet on either side of mine shuffled slightly, barely audibly, and a quick breath passed into her mouth followed by a ragged sigh. The penis pressed terribly, as my own timidly stirred to life. She'll make a great doctor, I thought, remembering a shot I'd once received while distracted from my fear of needles my a conspiring nurse.

Without further hesitation, she began rocking forward heavily about once per second, keeping the shaft buried all the way inside me to let it finish stretching me out. The bed squeaked in time with each lunge. Blood was rushing into my head and with what was happening I feared I might pass out, or freak out, but she kept fucking steadily, finally allowing the phallus to slip out a little each time she moved in reverse, so she could press it in again with every forward lurch. I sensed her looking down at it, taking in the sight as I was taking in the weight, and with a quick glance to the mirror which she'd placed there for this reason I saw myself being fucked in the ass by a star athlete. My reaction to that was to let my head sway below my shoulders lifelessly, and to concentrate on the sensation. It hurt but I enjoyed knowing it was pleasing her, and that was better than physical pleasure. My cock was now completely erect, and pointing at my face. She had straightened her spine and her long legs, and was leisurely swaying to and fro with her hands swinging my hips in opposite time with her own. 

Again I caught sight of the mirror, and saw a simulation of gay sex: the white tube socks and white shirt mixing with her smart haircut and bright, serious face; the tyrannical, indulgent lapping of the long cock in and out of me; the veined length sliding menacingly; the consistent maleness of the image of the two of us together; the absolute surrender of my eagerly exposed ass to her; the bed shuddering; the strength and height of her trim frame as she worked; the relentless repetition of her sexy hips moving in, in, in, in, in. I watched as she leaned forward and slid her left hand under my left shoulder, and then I took my eyes off the mirror and leaned back at her as she grabbed my stiff dick with her right hand and began pumping it with insistent tenderness. Still she carefully drove her beautiful cotton-lined ass cheeks forward to run me through me with the latex baton, her aim perfect and her motion smooth as both of her hands immobilized me. I began crying out each time she forcefully pushed into me, and she withdrew her hands and straightened her back again.

With her hands on my waist she walked us both forward like two people in a horse costume. My knees came in contact with the bed and slid onto it. Her cock held inside me easily, she followed me up onto the mattress so that we were both completely off of the floor. Roughly, her hand bent me down by the back of my neck, and then both were gripping my hips again. Her lean white thighs rubbing warmly against mine, she began thrusting dynamically to orgasm. If I weren't approaching the throes of my own explosion, I might have watched the mirror in shock as she lost control. The animal locomotion of anal sex grew in speed and power, and in yet another way -through sheer physical vigor, this time- I watched her transform herself into a boy. Intent only on the pursuit of her pleasure through the haze of lights and the odor of her moistening gym clothes, she railed me determinedly, her eyes pointed down to watch the dick piston in and out with increasing frequency. 

"Ah! Ah!! Ah!!!" she cried as it happened, but I came off a moment before she could, and as I bucked and spurted I sent the dick that was lodged inside me churning back into the frothing mound in her Y-fronts, reverse-dildoing her until spasms seized her and her head flew back open-mouthed to send choked screams up into the night. She collapsed on top of me and sent the storm of vibration returning through the dildo to my ass, where it shook the strength from my limbs and sent me onto my belly, and her along with me. Still floundering as though electrocuted we became a tangled mass of limbs and sensations, cries and gasps escaping us for entire minutes afterward like bubbles of prehistoric gas breaking on the surface of a tar pool. 

The next time we did it we kissed as lovers and let our hands explore every soft, shapely curve and rounded plane of each other's bodies (maneuvering knowingly around our erect cocks) with a sudden and irrevocable familiarity between us. We took turns penetrating each other's asses for hours, but despite the new intimacy that was guiding us she never slackened nor slowed her thrusts when she was nailing me. I tried to give as good as I got but she was a true artist with the strap-on.

Toward the end of the night, I was a mess and so was the bed, and I was sprawled on it. I watched her standing in profile as she beamed that bright smile down at me again, one of her socks bunched around her ankle, the glow of her rigors making her sweat glisten, her hand lubing up the rod for the finale.

"Feel good?" she asked. 

"I didn't know I could be this happy," I said, anticipating her reentry. 

"Next time, you see, we won't need the theater." 

She climbed up onto my back, and directed the head of the dick to my asshole. With her fists on the mattress at my shoulders, she rolled her hips forward to slide the thick cock inside me once more. She shivered momentarily with excitement, and started pumping raucously so that the worn out bed creaked loudly yet again.

Goldenrod Ch. 02



The message I left went as follows:

'Mikaela, this is Tom. I don't know what you're telling your friends but I've had a lot of people- I'll call them short haired girls -grinning at me and making crude remarks on campus and in town, and I'd like you to knock it off. Thanks. Sorry if I bothered you. I hope everything is cool. Bye.'

I was sitting in a coffee shop working on my laptop when a bag dropped on the ground beside me and Mikaela plopped into the chair across the table. It had been several weeks since I'd last seen her, and over two months since our night at the theater. She'd taken me with her strap-on three times after that first encounter (at her apartment during lunch, in her car, in a train station bathroom) but something was essentially wrong with the situation and we had drifted apart. Seeing her sitting in front of me in a sweat-stained track top instantly got me hot again, though. Her head sat with imperious intelligence atop her neck, the black framed glasses on, and her hair was still too short to be messy. She leveled a calm gaze at me.

"I got your message, Tom. Are you ready to talk?"

"What's there to discuss? I just don't want you telling your friends about me."

"Then you should have kept your fantasies to yourself."

I bristled at that.

"What do you mean? You read my paper. I never wanted to talk to you."

"You let me do you. A few times, actually. You love it madly."

I frowned at the table, wishing she'd lower her voice. 

"I have the right to brag about you. You should take it as a compliment," she continued.

"I just don't want everybody in the world knowing my personal business."

She beamed one of her grins at me. "Is that all? You're embarrassed? You certainly weren't embarrassed when I had your ankles in my hands and was driving my cock down in you." I could still remember the look of angry determination on her face from that night when she was laying into me. "In fact, you went on a laughing jag. It was magnificent. I don't remember ever feeling like such a man. Tom, listen," she said, leaning close to me. "None of the women I talk to are the type who would try to humiliate you over this. They only talk to you because they like you, and they like what you do for me. Emotionally, I mean."

"They like me?"

She nodded.

"How much?"

"They're not above propositioning you. You could get a lot, and I mean a lot. But if you think this is moving too quickly, I can discourage them."

"If what is moving too quickly? I haven't even seen you in weeks!"

"And we both know why that is."

"No we don't."

"Sure we do. And don't tell me it's because you don't like it."

"Okay, we've established I love it."

"'Love it'? Well, I knew I was good. Then what's the reason, Tom? Is it because I'm too strong for you? Do I do it too hard?"

I blushed a stinging red and looked down again. "That's not it." 

"It is, and don't you dare lie to me about it either. I've got my gear with me," she said, kicking her bag. "I'll put it on right here and do you over the table, in front of everybody. Tom, look. You should talk to my friend. She can help make it so you don't have any trouble doing what you want to do."

"Is she a shrink?"

"No, she teaches Eastern traditions downtown. Promise me you'll go talk to her. She'll fix this for you. She can make it so it doesn't hurt anymore. Really, I know people she's helped. Let me give you her card," she said. She picked up her bag, and dug the number out of it.

"Okay," I said, accepting it.

"You done here, or what?"

"Why?"

"You've had a few weeks to recover from your last tangle with me, and we're not doing it regularly. I think you can afford to give me a roll in the hay."

I stared at her, fascinated by her audacity. We got up to leave. When we arrived at her apartment, she was still faintly aglow and sweaty from the gym session she'd had before meeting me. The long blinds were pulled in her bedroom, and the clean air was scented with jasmine. Mikaela dropped her bag on the floor and moved to encircle my lower back with her arms, joining me in a kiss. My hands ran up her trunk, one to her rough hair, and the other to her shoulder. Like a dancer, she dipped me, and gently deposited me on the bed. Then she tore off my pants as if waving a battle flag. 

She fucked me in the missionary position, with my hands gripping her powerful upper arms. Though in appearance still a tall, lean, young man, she had gained somewhat in strength and size since last we'd met. Her glistening, corded thighs set the hard curves of her pelvis crashing into me between my bent knees. That dark, serious face was turned down to her chest, which was bound in a gray sports bra. Businesslike deliberation sent ripples of tautness through the jigsaw muscles of her back and her chiseled abdomen, utterly mesmerizing me. Gradually, her rate of thrust increased to trigger the single orgasm she had planned.

"Mikaela!"

She stabbed harder and faster, bounding upward freely into a maddening ecstasy.

"Do you feel me, Tom?" she asked through gritted teeth. "Do you feel my will inside you?"

"Yes!" I cried, and my legs straightened reflexively to post my feet in the air above her exceptionally performing body. My hands tightened and we came together in clenching fits of wet heat that drowned out everything around us. Then we paused for endless minutes to suck down the cool air, like two fish out of the water. When she finally dislodged herself from me she sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and regained her wits. She rose and peeled off her bra as she walked, dropping it on the way to the shower, but she left her dripping dick on as if it really were a part of her, or perhaps as some kind of a trophy. As I heard the water run I suffered the after-effects of one her rough invasions, and looked in the low light for the card with the phone number she'd given me.

One month later, I was practicing special breathing, nude in the lotus position, in a wide, bare space on the third floor of her friend's studio. I had enjoyed six trying lessons with the sex magic master, Ray (short for Rachel) Erhart. Our goal, the instructor had said, was to equip me with "a mental discipline that would create endurance for physical pain, while increasing concentration to the level where pleasure impulses could be totally isolated from the influx of sensory data, and perceived thoroughly." To this end, Ray had spent many grueling hours strap-on banging my ass. 

As Ray entered the room I was struck as usual by the sight of her, because of the incredible vitality she exuded. Simply sharing a small space was enough to make one feel an electric tingle. It was extremely exciting, and I often had to make an effort to stifle erections in her presence. If she ever noticed this awkward problem (and she seemed to know everything) then mentioning it was never worthwhile to her. Even from where I sat there was a sultriness in her voluminous limbs and torso that I was afraid to understand, as if learning the secret of this unconventional attraction would bind me to her forever. She strode over smiling in attire that was typical for her: a black cotton halter top below a large, blue t-shirt with the neck cut out; loosely-fitting, faded red shorts; a variety of exotic necklaces, bracelets, and earrings featuring the likenesses of Buddhas on their medals. Her hair, like Mikaela's, was spiky, but Ray's was two inches long, and jet black. She wore sneakers without socks. Strapped over her shorts was a luminous orange dildo, the obvious artificiality of which, she had explained, would place me in a specific psychological state that was crucial to my training. She towered over me, licking her lips as her heavy, oiled, white thighs kindled lust before my eyes. A low vibration manifested in my ears, nipples, and other sensitive areas. I swallowed and leaned forward subtly to hide my groin.

"Honor your teacher," she commanded.

At once I got on my knees before her and formed my mouth into an O, which I dutifully placed over the head of her cock. 

"Assume Position Four. You've been doing your exercises?"

"Yes, master." I turned my back to her, still on my knees, and waited for her to descend behind me. My hands gripped my thighs, and I straightened my arms to a deathly stiffness.

"Have you seen the Golden Flower?"

"No, master."

"Perhaps today, then." At once on her knees, she took a large breath, and pulled me back, down, by my elbows onto her waiting phallus. When the tip had breached my sphincter, she held me still and lifted her own ass off her ankles to fill me up. My face screwed into a wince and tears sparkled in the corners of my eyes, but there was no pain. When she had bottomed out, and we were fully linked, she slowly descended again, bringing me with her, and sat on her calves breathing calmly, with me on her lap. I felt her feet beside mine on the floor, and her pliant belly and copious breasts warmed my back through the soft fabric of her shirts. The orange dick stood alert, inside me. She patted and caressed my arms to soothe me, but I kept them straight. Her influence saturated me in slow, invisible waves. I took a deep breath. "Good," she said.

To fuck me, all she had to do was raise and lower her ass from her ankles. Her thumbs and forefingers were fastened to me above each elbow, and she easily created a counter-force to the swells of her hips by drawing me back that way. This was why it was necessary that I keep hold of my legs. Every movement in this range of motion was easy for her; her hands had the lifeless, unbreakable grasp of brass rings; her arms had the durability of iron chains; her thick thighs operated with unrelenting indifference beneath me as if steel hydraulics. My jaw trembled on most downward trips like the tiny bell hammer on an ornate clock. My breathing was quick and cold. 

"Easy, boy. I'm going to raise your energy."

I could see by just looking down that my energy had been raised the second she slid into me. She obviously meant something else, because she settled into a trot that lightly bounced me, while maintaining control of my posture as effortlessly as if I'd been weightless. Her grips slackened considerably but all her fingers rested along the widths of my arms. In a moment I knew what she'd been talking about. Shaking me that way, jiggling me, she set something off inside me. 

"Oh, wow."

"Let it happen," she urged, patiently.

In my mind's eye I could see my body filling up with golden light. That became warmth, and sent intense white beams bursting out of me until my skin was like a shimmering, starry armor. My respiration became automatically steady and deep, the air taken in sweet and perfectly satisfying. Instantly I felt as though a heavy knitted blanket had been pulled from my head, with my thoughts bright and crystal.

"Ah! Ray!"

"Imprint the feel of the dick in your memory. I'm taking you to an altered state of consciousness." She reached under my arms to grab my shoulders from the front, and was now really slamming into my backside, but she could have been a million miles away for all I knew.

"Ah!" I started laughing. "It's so simple!" Up and down, up and down, she served and returned me forcefully with blinding speed, until in my vision a golden flower opened that filled the universe, and became everything. I heard the high whine of its radiance. "I see it."

"I know," she said, and laughed with me. She stopped fucking. 

Basking in the vast, invisible light of the spirit blossom, we became wholly composed and reverent. Like a machine that was powering down, Ray slowly lowered herself back a final time, and I remained kneeling. We came apart with a little pop. The wincing and tears had disappeared from my face, replaced by a calm, friendly knowing. A smile slowly broke on my lips.

"Congratulations," Ray said. "You've reached the final level." I turned to look back her, and thought I saw sparks leaping from her shocks of ebony hair. A wave of heat escaping from her crotch distorted the image of her briefly. Scarlet had broken out on her cheeks and chin, and poured down into her great cleavage.

"How can I thank you?" I asked, illuminated with pleasure.

"Think of something," she replied, and smiled.

I laughed one more time, turned my back to her again, and fell forward onto my hands. She took hold of my hips and pressed her wand into me for another go.



Goldenrod Ch. 03



I got this message from Mikaela:

'Tom, it's Mike. I spoke to Ray, she said everything went really well for you. I'm just calling to add my congratulations. I'm sure you'll be having lots of fun in the future. Oh, on a totally unrelated note, I've taken to jacking off in the shower since your last visit. I come every time. Have you ever noticed how much my harness looks like a jock strap? I have. I stand in front of the mirror before toweling off, admiring my taut, wet body, wishing there were somebody in front of me I could penetrate with my rock-hard cock. I'm going jogging now. Pleasant dreams!'

Having lots of fun was certainly on my mind after my last encounter with Ray, but my old submissiveness kept me from finding any, though the opportunities seemed to be everywhere. I guessed which women were Mikaela's friends without asking them. When I'd go to the coffee shop where we'd last met, the hippie girl with the braids (a real health nut) always did a double take at me from behind the counter, and grinned knowingly, and maybe maliciously. At the library, one of the university's Swim heroes worked a desk. She was a hot butch Amazon who kept her eyes on her monitor and keyboard when answering questions. I thought I saw her pause when reading my name aloud. As she handed me a book, I tried to take it from her, but found it stuck in her vise-like hand. I looked up at her and found her staring icily through me. Then she released the book and I dropped it. Before I could say something two hurried people got in line behind me and her eyes were back down to her screen. Standing on a crowded bus I felt two fingers pressing on my pants over my asshole, but I remained motionless for fear of making a scene. The massaging became a painful probing, and when the bell rang the only person behind me, a girl in a white dress with long blond hair parted in the middle, slung her big purse over her shoulder and jumped off. However many of these incidents were the results of paranoia and how many were perverted flirtation I couldn't know, but I was sure that unless one of these women showed Mikaela's initiative nothing would come of any of it.

It was at a fast food place that I met the girl who would carry me over the threshold. I was squirting ketchup onto my fries at the self-serve bar when I felt a hand creep onto my shoulder, and then the arm it was attached to come to rest behind my neck. Having been manhandled so much recently and never being sure where Mikaela would show up, I couldn't react with any surprise. When I turned though I didn't recognize the young woman standing there in such a chummy pose with me. 

"Your name is Tom, isn't it?" Her thumb and forefinger were now kneading insistently where my shoulder met my neck. 

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm Candy. We have friends in common." She reached over, took one of my fries from the tray, and bit off a piece. All of a sudden it was like I was being shaken down by a mobster for protection money. "We have to chat. Why don't you come with me? I'll drive you to my apartment, where we can have privacy."

"I just ordered."

"Forget the food. I'll feed you. Come with me." With that I realized it was better to comply.

Candy's apartment was in a duplex secluded in the woods far uptown. The inside was its own world, the kind of silent place where you can forget anything except the furniture and appliances around you exist. The woman herself was large and dynamic, and she fit in the rooms the way a bear fits in a cave. Her actions and movements were too well-planned and too quick for me to get any impression of her beyond the superficial. She had on a green army jacket, a red and black striped sweater, tight blue jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was wild, thick, dark, and to her shoulders. When she spoke it was curtly, with her head tilted up so she could peer down at me, and there was the ghost of a snarl in her upper lip. Her manner made it very clear our meeting had not officially begun, nor would it until she was good and ready.

"You know what to do," she said, and disappeared around a corner. I heard the weak slam of a flimsy door.

I have absolutely no idea what to do, I thought, standing in her kitchenette. Fortunately about two minutes later I heard the door swing open on its creaky hinges, and Candy yell to me, "Tom, get in here!"

I followed her path down the tiny hallway and rounded the corner to find her sitting on the edge of a king-sized mattress. The sheets were green and they cast an eerie halo along the white walls, which were too close to everything they contained. It was nauseatingly claustrophobic. There were the nightstand with its lamp and clock, the bed, the woman, and me, and it felt like we were the last two people on the face of the earth. She had her right knee bent at the mattress edge and her bare left leg extended to the floor between us. Both hands held the cock she had on by their thumbs and forefingers. It was a cleanly smooth marble knob, a healthy seven inches long, the same shade of purple as the form-fitting tank top she wore. In the poorly heated room she had sprouted goosebumps on her pale limbs. She caressed the dick's length as if her fingers were smoothing away folds of skin on its surface, like the folds of excess fabric on her torso below her restricted, average-sized breasts. Then she pointed the rod as if it would emit an invisible ray that might stun me.

"There are a lot of women interested to meet you, Tom. You have a reputation for being quite the entertainer. Though I notice you're still dressed."

"I wasn't sure exactly what was going on."

"Maybe you're too modest. Are you going to disappoint all of these ladies? Starting with me?" With that she turned her other shoulder to me, and scooted back onto the bed, still meeting my gaze. As she reclined, she spoke. "I think I can dissuade them for you, if you fail to please me. They only have Mikaela's word about you, after all, and Ray doesn't speak about her clients very freely. I hate a lot of fuss, when there's nothing to get excited about. I despise empty talk." 

It was then that I saw her most clearly, as she stretched out in profile before me. Her head was at my left, its brilliant black hair splayed out over the end of the mattress, and her legs lay to my right. Her back was arched, ever so slightly. Her right arm was bent a little, and the fingers hung over the side of the bed, as if dangling in a stream of running water. Her left hand made sure the cock was perfectly vertical. With her left leg bent to show me her inner thigh and the right leg resting straightly before me, I suddenly realized what kind of shape she was in. All along her there were tiny bruises, and some not so small, and her right knee, though healed, had obviously been badly skinned. This was a very active woman, I realized. Yet where Mikaela's strength was hidden by her leanness, and Ray's limbs were thick but soft, Candy was thoroughly solid, from her long heavy thighs to the great width of her trunk. In repose like the statue of a god, wearing only the purple cock and tank top, and the black padded band around her waist, she looked like a refugee from a futuristic tribe of savages. She completely intimidated me.

"I'm a bit of an ogre," she sighed.

Remembering everything Ray had taught me, I rallied my confidence, and began to disrobe. Her eyebrows rose, and she turned her resting head to me.

"Is he going to play with me, after all?" 

I sneered. 

"I think you'll find me up to your challenge." As my pants and underwear came off, my own cock proved this to be true.

"Welcome aboard," she drawled, her eyes no longer on mine but focused on my crotch. A flicker of indecision at last betrayed her. I stood naked, defiant.

"Where do you want me?"

With frightening speed she sat upon the edge of the bed, knees together and feet apart on the floor, toes pointed in, her hands on her thighs in front of the ready dick.

"Oh, everywhere."

Five minutes later I was bending over with my hands on the fronts of my thighs, and she was standing behind me with her feet wide apart, gripping my hips like grim death. It came like fist blows, literally the amount of force someone would use for punching an enemy, a little faster than one beat per second. 

"Let me know if this tickles," she taunted. In order to impress her I had foregone lubrication, using instead a mental trick Ray had taught me for relaxing and self-moistening my body. Though I was getting sick from being violently shaken up and down by the detonations in my rear, I was able to watch the alarm clock on her bedside table. I tried to tell myself at first that this was an initiation rite, or a test, and I just had to endure it for a bit. At minute 12 it was obvious, even if that were true, that this woman would love to tell her friends she had wrecked my guts before they had a shot at me. She was that kind of fuck; virile, and proud of it. She saw herself as a bull. 

At minute 40 she spoke to me again.

"Getting tired, Tom?"

"When are you going to start?"

"I wonder if you're pregnant yet."

Pound, pound, pound: she worked toward the goal of splitting me in half. After another ten minutes, she withdrew by curving her back so that her ass rose, with her weight entirely on the balls of her feet. It was as though she wouldn't deign to use her hands to remove me. I turned pleasantly to face her with the look of tranquility I had with Ray, letting my silence ask for me what she was thinking. She was visibly flustered because I hadn't begged for mercy. I smiled.

"Get on your belly," she ordered, pointing at the bed. I politely obeyed.

Climbing up behind me, she kneed my legs apart so that my rear was elevated. Her thighs pressed against mine. Once the cock was inserted she put a fist on the bed at either side of my midsection, and began to slide into me, more with full body lunges than by the force of her hips. I took it with quiet grace for several minutes. This was just a prelude to her main attack, I was sure.

Predictably, she straightened up, and got into position. Her knees stayed apart but her feet touched each other at the toes. Both of her hands fell on my lower back, just above my ass. The style of insertion changed from a lazy flop with a slight downward pitch to an eager horizontal drive. It was all done with her hips then; with her arms, legs, and erect spine framing the swing. Her speed and regularity increased dramatically, but her manner was still cautious and preparatory. It would only be a matter of time, maybe thirty or forty more pumps, with her looking around the room like an alarmed cat, before she was set to open up on me.

Then it began. Thrusts became more methodical, more tentative, more like an exhibition. Hair which had hung loosely over me from her bowed head was thrown back. Her hands moved back to my hips, and the palms came away, leaving only her fingers to relax on my body, marking my location without making an effort to restrain me. Twice her hips slammed forward as if out of her control, but she instantly regained her rhythm both times. The technique remained the same, but she committed herself to a climax. 

Sensing the shift in her attitude, I envisioned the golden flower Ray had shown me. By concentrating on it I would, I hoped, be able to weather Candy's assault. 

Pretending to maintain her former casualness, she gradually raised the power of the stroking so the dick was slammed into my ass with mesmerizing precision. The bed started shaking, and Candy's gestures became more animated, from the clutching of her fingers to the rocking of her head. Greater enthusiasm permeated her banging, making the churning of her hips appear to be a full-body activity. Again her tempo gained, her breathing became audible, and her shoulders were drawn back another inch. She let her hands come away from me so her strong arms could dangle at her sides like an ape's, with her pelvis still boring steadily upon me, and her eyes surveying the room like an animal its territory. When she tired of twisting about to inspect her surroundings, she replaced her fingers on my hips and continued at a breakneck pace. Her hold on my backside tightened and she incorporated me into her work by moving me alternately against her and apart from her. The action condensed into still shorter, harder movements. Flying into me then with no more doubts nor anything to stop her, she made for the finish line. Her hands leaped up and returned in a simultaneous slap that reverberated in the cramped chamber. The strap-on pounded. She slapped my cheeks again, and laughed at her boldness. Her attack was mercilessly efficient. At that point her speed increased so that she actually became a blur. 

Knowing the killing blow was about to be delivered, I visualized the cosmic bloom to still my mind.

She went on that way another minute, and then did her worst. In that same posture of bent knees, toes pointed in, and hands clinging to my flesh, she leaned forward and slammed her hips into me with all the brute strength in her mighty form, at the rate of one wail per second, the slapping against my ass of the circular area around the cock's base being the only sound in the world. It was more bestial than human, an act of pure, celebratory dominance. Waves of motion descending from her shoulders whipped her crotch at my rear end, I don't know how many times. Though I didn't lose consciousness, time ceased to have any meaning for me.

When she felt her triumph was absolute, she moved her hands to my waist, slowed, and leaned back again. Her arms once more came away from me, and with her eyes on the cock she ground down her thrusting to a halt. I turned to smile at her over my shoulder, and when she saw she'd failed to break me, her happiness waned. She pulled out and sat back on her ankles with her mouth open in confusion, and I rolled over to sit up. I faced her, with my arm resting on a raised knee. There was quiet for several long moments. Finally, she shrugged in resignation.

"Well, I've got two more hours before my shift starts," she said, "and I'm going to spend them fucking your ass raw."

She was as good as her word.

When I got out of her car at my apartment, I was thrilled to discover my body free from aches like the ones Mikaela had given to me. Ray's methods all worked, I noted. Instead of driving off immediately, Candy got out as well, and walked up to me to put a hand on my shoulder as she had at the burger place. She drew me to her and kissed me with passionate tenderness. 

"You get a good report card," she said. "I guess you are just shy, after all. You can expect a lot of offers from now on." She smiled, walked back around the vehicle, and waved farewell as she got in to depart. Then she was gone, as quickly as she'd appeared.

Once inside I collapsed on my bed, with the intent of sleeping for a year. As I drifted off, I remembered Mikaela's smutty message to me, and how I went wild at the sound of it, but calling her would have to wait until I'd recovered.



Goldenrod Ch. 04



I awoke to the doorbell ringing. Stumbling through my apartment I tried to remember if anyone was supposed to visit me that day, but when I got to the porch I saw a total stranger standing there. She looked at first like a miniature Mikaela. As I studied her through the harsh light I became aware of the differences between them. This girl's style was what you might call Gothic, if that ever intersected with Schoolmarm. Over her dark vintage clothes she had a heavy black coat, and slung over that was an overnight bag. On her feet she had black galoshes. Her hair was a wispy light brown, like what I imagine an elf's would be, cut short but spiky with thick pointy sideburns. She wore black, wide-framed glasses like Mikaela's, but bigger. Her nose was more bulbous too, but not large, and she had a tiny mouth like two flower petals that seemed about to erupt in a laugh. Her green eyes were her most striking feature, as they were huge like a faun's with long curly lashes, and they sparkled at me from above her spectacles. My initial impression was of a scholarly boy, but a closer look revealed that she was college age like me, or maybe older.

"Can I help you?"

"Tom, my name is Samantha. Ray sent me." Hearing that, I allowed her in and I closed the door once she'd entered. She turned to face me without putting her bag down. "I've been asked to stay with you while I finish my studies."

"This is the first I've heard of it."

"Ray has some unconventional ideas about the teacher/pupil relationship."

"You're one of her students?"

"Yes, I'm a sex witch. What I meant is she has expectations about your obligation to her. Is this a problem?"

"No, just a surprise."

"I'm prepared to pay rent, but I was told that other arrangements are possible."

"Are you and I supposed to do something?"

"I'm authorized to serve you in the capacity of advisor. I know about your recent run-in with Candy. You performed admirably, by the way. Ray was very pleased. May I?" She lifted the strap from her shoulder, and I took her luggage from her.

"Let me help you. I only have the one bedroom."

"I sleep on the couch," she said, and took off her coat. When she was settled into the living room, she opened a book and proceeded to ignore me.

"Well, I'm sure I have homework, or something," I said, and left her alone.

I didn't see her do anything during the day beside read from dusty volumes. She wouldn't turn the lights on, but used a battery-powered lamp of her own, and I don't remember seeing her eat. As a roommate she was ideal, except for her wish to move about the house wearing nothing but her strapless dildo in a pair of straining panties. That might sound pleasant, but I couldn't have guests for fear they'd catch sight of the scantily-clad hermaphroditic sorcerer busying herself with research in my living room. I convinced her to wear my blue bathrobe. It was too large for her and dragged on the floor when she walked, but it could be closed in a hurry if someone came to the door. She left it open so that it did nothing to conceal her cleavage or the tent she was always pitching.

In the middle of the night I woke to find her standing silently beside my bed, her realistic dick stretching horizontally over the front of her panties. When she saw I was awake she removed the covers and climbed in. She straddled me, and slid my cock into her welcoming ass through one of the leg holes in her underwear. They held the realistic phallus in position, a knob on the back of it securely inserted in her vagina, so that it never flipped loose, even during the most strenuous fucking. How she always managed to keep her glasses on I don't know. She sat on my cock with her calves at my hips, and bolted upright repeatedly with her hands clawing the air beside her, as orgasmic energy traveled up the length of her spine. Her tightly closed eyes were raised to the ceiling and her little mouth was agape, but I never heard her gasp. The only riding motions she made were the short, regular, forward lurches produced by her ecstatically spasming back muscles. It was clear from her revelry she was getting much more out of sex than most other people ever would. When I reached out to caress the down on her smooth, round thighs, her only reaction was to gently place her hands upon mine. Her flat abdomen quivered with excitement when she came, and the dick bobbed madly like the needle of a seismograph. She didn't doze off with me, but returned to the couch in the other room when we'd finished. 

Being penetrated anally was Samantha's only sexual preference, the cock she wore only for show, but she dominated our time in bed by dictating events from her vast store of sex magic knowledge. We never had to worry about spoiling our friendship or our living situation, as the first was non-existent and the second was forced on us by Ray. When we spoke she provided insights about the many women expressing interest in me since my visit with Candy, approving of some and warning me about others with information and intuition I didn't have. She also described techniques and tricks I could use in my encounters with them.

One of my adventures was a lesbian bachelor party, with me the entertainment. Fifteen or so women with their breasts pushing out the fronts of men's business suits and tuxedos smoked cigars and drank brandy. Their hair was tied or slicked back, and neat beards of different sorts were drawn in make-up on their faces. I was brought in wearing a Little Bo Peep costume after a porno had ended and the celebrants were giving a coarse round of applause. My handler, a fit dyke with white hair named Irene, warned me not to move after bending me over a billiards table in the side room and checking under my dress that my backside was bare and well-powdered. She then stood in the doorway and announced that refreshments were now available. Half of the guests ignored her and continued talking, but a group made their way toward me, and a couple others were visibly upset by the presence of a male at their event. 

The first one to take me was a smoky brunette with no jacket. She joked with her friends as she put her drink down beside me and grabbed a handful of my thigh, as if to judge livestock at a fairground. At once she became quiet and unzipped the fly of her billowy slacks to withdraw from it a thick, long, veined phallus with skin the same color as her own. Getting behind me and then leaning over my back, she jammed it in with a few powerful jerks of her hips. Next, she gave one large buck that shook the table, to establish its arrival. Her hands appeared on the green felt at either side of my head. She pushed her pelvis forward slowly, with no regular pace but only according to her whims, for approximately ten minutes. Suddenly I felt her torso become heavy and her legs struggle to support her weight. Then she sighed lightly, and locked her knees, so that the penis was drawn backward and out. She stood upright, put her tool back in her pants, picked up her glass, and patted me on the head.

"I need a new drink," she said, and walked away.

None of her friends wanted to follow that act, so the small crowd around me dispersed. I was bent over there alone for the better part of an hour, while the women laughed and bellowed in the other room. A pretty girl in a maid outfit walked in from the second doorway, and deposited a crab cake from her tray into my hand. She smiled at me over her shoulder as she left. 

Some time later, another of the transvestite attendees entered the parlor, this one a pretty, slim blond. She sauntered over to me, and leaned against the table. Absently she felt the fabric of my bonnet. 

"I was told this is a party," she said. Staring down at me, she moved slowly out of my field of vision. I heard the heels of her dress shoes grind into the rug. A belt jingled, and her pants fell to the floor in a heavy heap. Pressure grew at my asshole. In one-inch increments, she hefted her massive latex cock into me. When it was submerged she took hold of my waist. For three endless minutes, she hammered roughly at my rear end. She climaxed and stood motionless, letting the giant payload fill me, and allowing her heartbeat to slow to normal. After doing her pants up and smoothing her loose hairs, she deposited a twenty dollar bill in my dress. Her footfalls faded as she exited the room.

My next visitors were two mustachioed women who wanted some privacy for a conversation they were having, and didn't consider my presence there real. They bickered inaudibly for four or five minutes and then went back into the main hall, one of them commenting as they left that these parties were never what you want them to be. 

Over the course of the night another pair of women made frequent trips past the doorway, casually glancing at me. It was obvious they had no plans to enjoy me in that setting, but were discussing some notions about what they would do were all of their friends to leave. 

An hour later, the company sang "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" for the groom. They filed into the parlor after her to cheer as she sowed her last wild oat in me, but she was too committed to her fiancée to use my body, and bowed out bashfully at the last minute. The chorus then changed their tune to good-natured ribbing. Though their laughter and taunts were almost intolerably loud, I could hear the best man plead that she had gotten Little Bo Peep for the party, and wouldn't somebody please help me find some wool. Despite that, the soirée ended, with all of the guests going to the front room for their coats. Irene appeared in the doorway to wave at me reassuringly, a signal that I was remain bent over the billiards table until everyone had gone. I nodded and she vanished again, this time for the night.

My final bit of entertaining was done for the two ladies who had been observing me. They lingered after the other women left, and then made their approach. These might have been the youngest of the bunch, and most excitable. Both stomped out of their pants but kept their mens shirts on, and in boxer shorts, shoes, and black socks with garters, their goatees smeared all over their shrieking mouths, they spit-roasted me with their strap-ons for an hour. Then they collapsed in separate chairs from exhaustion. 

"Thanks for a lovely evening," I said, and went home.

As I came from class one night I spied three beautiful girls on the other side of the street. One had her hair bound in a long ponytail, and the others wore theirs in buns. Two had tight hooded sweatshirts on and the other a raincoat, but they all sported knee-high boots for the snow. The similarities in their styles made me think of an all-girl gang I'd seen in a movie, and the leather footwear lent a militant feel to their appearance. None of that could distract me however from the long legs and perfect asses filling out their tight gray jeans. Completely wound up by the sight of them, I increased my walking speed in the hope Samantha would work some spell to calm me when I saw her. Then I heard one of them say, "Ask him," and another call out, "Are you Mikaela's friend?" They only had one strap-on, so each took a turn doing me in her jeans and a t-shirt on Ponytail's bed, while the other two sat in front of the TV and ate pork rinds. When I got back at seven in the morning, the witch merely looked up at me from her book, and resumed reading.

Another day I met a gorgeous black Amazon named Michelle who I'd known from my dorm Freshman year. She still kept her shoulder length hair back in a cloth band, and as usual favored skin-tight leggings and ankle-high boots. All my old fantasies of becoming her submissive husband returned when I stood overwhelmed before her tall, graceful, well-built body. She dug in the open bag which she held in front of the sweater that contained her gravity-defying breasts. "I know my pad's in here. Let me see. Here, hold this," she said, and pulled out a pair of jockey shorts with her long chocolate member attached. My eyes darted around the street to find out who had seen me given the man-breaking device, when she said, "Oh, I just remembered. It's at home." She took the strap-on from me and stuffed it back in the bag. "Why don't you come with me and I can scribble your digits down there?" I must have blushed. "If that's what you want." She put her arm around me. "I won't take no for an answer." I never said no, but I did scream "Harder! Harder!" for several hours. As I staggered to the bathroom she reclined with her head propped up on a pillow and her dick bursting from her boy briefs. She said, "I just realized. I had my cell phone with me all along." I put on her apron and made French Toast. When I got home an hour later, Samantha just shook her head.

The braided hippie from the coffee shop saw me by chance while out running, and began marking double time in my path. She had on a white tank top that was too much like Candy's purple one for my liking, along with track pants that showed off her tight profile, sneakers, and nothing else. Even when she took me aggressively in the loft of her barn studio, she forswore any underwear, favoring a bottom with ties on the hips and a heavy latex appendage on the front. Her one concession to fashion was the striped sweatband she wore on her wrist while she demolished me. 

On it went. I had a variety of fun times with a bevy of lovely girls in those carefree days. When Irene showed up at my door one afternoon with a written invitation for me, I saw no reason to suspect it would lead to anything but another blissful romp.

"I seriously recommend you refuse," Samantha intoned. 

"Why, what's the harm?"

"Trust my judgment."

"I do trust you, but you won't even tell me the problem. It's Irene. She got me that bachelor party. I had a great time."

"Irene isn't behind this," Samantha said, holding up the black card. The glint on the red embossing made it look like wet blood. "She's just the messenger. This is from a sorority suspected in my circle of having ties with a Black Lodge. Doesn't the invitation seem a little foreboding to you?"

"I don't know. It's for a theme party, isn't it? It's a bunch of bimbos burning candles. If it gets scary I can always leave."

"They're mostly business majors from what I understand. A 'bunch of bimbos' wouldn't know about you. I'm suggesting you don't go."

"Okay, I heard you, but I want to check it out."

"Tom," she said, sitting across from me. My robe was bundled up around her. "Don't go to the party. Nothing Ray or I have taught you will be proof against these women, if they are what they might be."

"You're really overreacting. I don't see the harm, and you won't tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to think?" 

"You're supposed to trust me."

"No, I'm going. This is ridiculous."

"Is that final?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, and grabbed my jacket. I left the apartment, and walked to my date with a Valkyrie who worked for a moving company. When I returned home the next morning, Samantha had gone.



Goldenrod Ch. 05



I entered the house at 8 pm as instructed to find an empty foyer that was expensively decorated but dark and musty. Stairs curved up the wall and social rooms were situated to the left and right of me, but it felt like no one was in the building at all. Surprise made me start when a girl appeared at my right, and I laughed at myself when I saw how non-threatening she was. A petite blond in a fluffy white robe and matching slippers, her long hair tied back in a ponytail, and her scent that of flowers; she was actually a very pleasing sight. Her hands were folded in front of her as she politely asked me to disrobe and get down on all fours. She merely waited for me to comply when I stared at her. My clothes landed on a chair as I removed them. The girl vanished while I was turned around.

Several minutes later a door opened that had been concealed by the woodwork of the staircase. The same gorgeous blond walked from it, this time with her hair down and wearing a black cat suit that covered every part of her willowy body from the neck down. She minced over to me in complete silence, carrying a black strap-on harness with a black dildo fixed in it, which she held in front of my face.

"Adorn me."

I rolled my eyes at her affectation but obeyed her, and after a moment's trouble with the Velcro it seemed that a six inch dick had sprung to life under the clingy material of her outfit. Girlishly slinky, she circled about me, grabbed my ass, bit down on her lower lip, and sank the cock inside me to the hilt. 

"Ah!" The reaction was more for effect than a genuine expression of arousal. "Good beast!" she said, and put her knees on the ground behind mine. "Now you may remove it."

"What?"

"Oh, beast," she sighed. "I hope you can follow so plain and simple an order as that."

I swallowed nervously and leaned back so my outstretched arms could reach the straps situated nearly imperceptibly on her hips. She did nothing to aid my mobility, keeping the cock firmly buried in my ass. When the harness was undone she popped up gleefully and skipped over to my side, and I fell forward onto my hands.

"Well done!" she said, landing with a bounce. 

I shook my head in disbelief, the straps spilling onto my calves from the artificial member that was still lodged in my asshole. This time she mounted me sidesaddle, facing the front door as though my rear end were the head of a horse. She took up the loose bands as a rider would reins. 

"Giddy up!" she commanded. Obviously I was meant to crawl backward, which was not hard. The difficult part was trusting this unhinged young woman to steer me. Turn me she did though, and after a 180 degree change in direction, I was ridden by the girl to the secret passageway from which she'd emerged. It was at least in my favor that she weighed next to nothing. 

As I traversed the hidden hallway on all fours, I watched the real world recede into nothing. The flickering candles on the walls moved past my shoulders, and into oblivion at the center of my vision. The girl said nothing, letting her pretty black feet drag along the floor of the corridor. She rode me out of the hall and into an interminable black space, so I could no longer know even after the fact where we were going. When the end of the tunnel looked like a yellow one-inch square, we moved into a large spot of light, and she dismounted. The girl plucked the strap-on from my butt and faced someone who was behind me. 

"He is delivered," she announced, arms outstretched in a bow. Still bent low, she stepped backward into the darkness, the harness dangling from her hand. As she disappeared so did the lights in the distant hallway, making the void around me absolute. I then realized there could be, and more than likely were, any number of similar young ladies hovering in the nothingness around me, hidden by dark clothes like stagehands at a theatrical production. Almost in answer to my suspicion, four standing, full-length mirrors were wheeled by invisible hands to the edge of the illuminated circle, at the cardinal points of the compass. Then I heard the loud falls of wooden soles. 

My only glimpse of her was what the mirrors presented. She had long, messy platinum hair and a cold, chiseled face. On her average-sized bosom she wore a purple bra. Under her skimpy matching shorts there was a garter belt that suspended thigh-high stockings of the same color, and up to her calves ran vinyl boots that were also coordinated. Her most notable feature was her physique, which gave the impression that she had been built to perform. An obvious product of intense training, her muscles padded a feminine shape that was not solid like Candy's, but sculpted and well attended, a deliberately crafted masterpiece of dangerous functionality. Even the flesh-colored dick projecting eagerly from her crotch could not distract me in the moment I saw her from her thick, potent torso and limbs. Trying to swallow nervously, I found my mouth was too dry, and my throat clenched. In only a moment, she was fucking me.

Her first attack was made on her knees with her hands resting comfortably on my backside, and she sighed with pleasure as she broke me in. I could tell the massive waves of force generated by her round, diamond-hard ass and soft muscular thighs cost her no effort whatsoever, and that she was actually restraining herself then to keep from hurting me. Letting the pace quicken to a spirited clip, she clearly enjoyed how her thrusts set me rocking when they clashed with my struggles to stay upright. Gradually the strength contained in her rump revealed itself through rotations of increasing roughness. Moaning changed to grunting as her hands moved urgently to my hips and held me still. Then, they came away from me entirely to rest out at her sides as if the wings of a gliding bird, the pelvic assault continuing like well-oiled machinery below them. A moment later they were back on my waist. Relaxed and capable, there was no doubt in her. Instead, the adjustments of her posture were attempts to take the measure of my weaknesses, to find the approach that would be most effective so she could exploit it when she was ready. 

"Look at that hair," she cried at the glass, "the dildo, my whore, what hot boots, and such technique!"

My fear of what this might mean mingled in the darkness beyond the mirrors with the pale hungry faces of young women, monstrous shadows kept outside the spotlight like vampires repelled by a strong sunbeam. How many of them were real or projections of my imagination, I couldn't say. It was however possible to make out on each of their cat suits a small black dildo of the type that had guided me to that bizarre place. The frail, watchful apparitions swayed in huddles patiently, awaiting some signal or opportunity, their mysterious behavior adding to my confusion. They echoed the woman who was having me by taking their time. Though I wanted to figure out their motivation, the rushing, intoxicating, and seductive influence of the siren plowing my rear made thinking about it impossible.

I felt her pushing down on my butt with both hands and transferring her right foot to the floor beside my right knee. The left boot took the opposite position. Greedily she was already humping when her right hand settled onto my shoulder blade and her left one hitched itself to my neck. With her left side dominant, she pitched down and to the right decisively. Gyrations and vertical bouncing combined in one mercilessly executed technique that was mechanical, flawless, robust, and emphatic, all at once. 

"God, those legs are cut. They're like hydraulics, and all mine," she observed.

Eventually I folded, my arms buckling and my trunk falling forward, with my ass remaining elevated. My heels waved feebly in the air above my bent knees. A flare of alarm rose in me when I considered that my endurance had not been depleted, but surrendered. Her response to my weakness was to press her hands on my ass again and straighten her athletic legs so that the cock was withdrawn and pointed down at me. This caused my posterior to sink closer to the floor. Remounting me, she suspended herself and stiffened without difficulty on the tips of her outstretched fingers and the toes of her boots. The cock was our only point of contact. Insistently she probed down into me with the calm that suggested limitless confidence, proclaiming her dominance with wet, meaty slaps. I replied to each jolt by shouting, "Oh!" 

She sank in and wiggled as if rearranging my intestines. Then the knocking resumed with regularity, a slight bend appearing in her midsection with each upward movement. Watching herself in the mirrors, she was forceful and thorough, and admired the uniformity of her strokes. 

"I'd forgotten how it feels to possess someone's ass, and to come in it," she growled.

Her bent legs overlapped mine and she planted her left hand on my spine below my neck. That heavy banging went on, a little faster than a beat per second. There was no vacillation or dip in her dynamic routine, and every lunge was perfect. I felt myself wishing not that it would never end, as I often had when being fucked, but that she would never stop wanting to use me. Ghost girls with shining eyes were growing restless at the edge of the light. 

"Fuck me!" I begged. "Please!" 

Three more thuds came and I heard her grunt. After smacking it home one more time she slid her legs between mine. Her hand returned to the floor. One forward push was followed by more downward prods. 

Samantha help, I thought. My will was breaking, and I was finding it wonderful to be enslaved. Shifting poses again, she replaced her legs over mine and put both hands on my lower back. Her head bowed in unshakable concentration and her ass started working on me, reinforced by her strong, bulky back. Girls in the darkness opened their mouths like silently hissing cats, sensing that victory was imminent. The woman's enthusiasm skyrocketed.

"Ah. Oh God, it's so good. I can't fight it," I whined.

When she heard that, she laughed, exalting her might. Her thrusts significantly decreased in speed but maintained their shape. Then, with every advance of the shaft, a gush of warm, thick liquid spewed out of its hole and filled all of the available space in me. A total of nine gooey jets spent her charge from the dildo pump, squeezed by orgasmic contractions of her vaginal walls. 

"Ah!" she exclaimed as she climaxed. She dismounted, and stood up. A kick to my side produced no reply from me. "He's done," she said, and the single light in the room was extinguished. 

In the darkness, I learned they weren't finished with me. The ruler had fed and what was left were the scraps. It began as a slithering, a shuffling, the tiny bursts of distant breaths. I heard limbs brushing limbs, fabric scraping fabric, gasping, and a soft hum of satisfaction. There was an "Ah!" as gloved fingers caressed me and a wicked laugh as one skinny girl took my arm. Another grabbed my ankle and I felt a hand in my hair. Someone else's hair fell into my sightless eyes. A tongue ran diagonally across my chest. My other two limbs were bound. All of them smelled of raspberries, or lilacs. When I struggled they swarmed like an octopus that wrapped its tentacles all over me. One of them was singing lightly, and another covered my mouth. Writhing proved useless, but it became involuntary. Moments passed when I wasn't sure I was on the floor. Hands fondled my penis. Two of them tried tickling me. 

Several of them were laughing, and I may have as well. I can't say it was entirely unpleasant, but I was terrified and nauseous from being used by their queen. They felt me up and played with me for timeless moments in that abyss, never shirking from the perversion, nor having trouble negotiating the dark. Small, delicate hands explored all areas of my skin. Anger welled up in me that they could have their way so easily, and that I liked it. The cocks found my mouth and my ass one at a time after an aborted attempt to share holes, and each fired icing sugar onto me when their owners were convulsed by orgiastic ecstasy. Ropes of sweet girl cum flew like confetti in the black pit, soaking my head, neck, thighs, belly, and genitals. Pasted after every ragged sigh and moan, I grew to crave it. A festival of female ejaculation occurred amid screaming, crying, laughing, and much frantic jacking of dildos, so that I was plastered completely like a birthday cake. One girl angrily tore a hole in her leotard and tried to ride me. However long it lasted, I gained from it a new concept of exhaustion that erased the last of my identity.

"Enough!" a voice cried, and they were instantly solemn, and abandoned me. I blinked helplessly in the blackness. Presently, both I and the speaker were illuminated in separate spots. 

My destroyer was standing on a raised platform fifteen feet in front of me. Her strap-on must have been taken off, because the black lace gown she wore flowed smoothly down her carriage to her feet. Those other articles she'd worn could faintly be made out through the material. The girls were gathered about her. She radiated joy.

"Tom, do you recognize me?" 

"No," I said. "We've never met."

She laughed, and with her right hand tore off the great platinum wig and tossed it away in one gesture. 

"Not even now? Look closely."

I didn't recall the stern, glowing face, then crowned by brown hair that was parted in the middle and tied back in a bun. She smirked down at me imperiously. 

"Still, no? Think back to your days in elementary school. Remember what happened behind the shed, under the bleachers, and by the cafeteria door."

It dawned on me that this was the leader of a pack of older girls who used to beat me up. 

"Well?"

"Yes."

"Good," she said. Some of the sisters bared their teeth, or looked at her. "It was obvious that even if you didn't know me, I had molded the course of your life. Why, look at all the adventures you're having!" Girls were tittering.

"What do you want, Kim, Kerry?"

"Karen. Say it."

"Karen," I said.

"I want what I've always sought, which is power, and now I have it over you, party boy. My ownership of you became final, here, tonight."

I glowered.

"Give my regards to your witch friends, if you ever see them again. I'll be in touch."

The light lingered a moment on her and the girls, and went out. Another went on over a doorway that I hadn't seen, to my left. I walked out of the spot that I occupied and trudged through the darkness to it. It led outside, where I found my clothes neatly folded on a trashcan lid. I put them on and as I went home it started to rain.



Goldenrod Ch. 06



After my defeat by Karen, I wanted to disappear, and I didn't care where I wound up. While reading the paper I found a classified ad for an assistant mechanic on a fishing boat docked in the harbor. They sounded desperate, and no experience was necessary, so I informed my advisor I was taking a semester off, and walked to the bay. When I got to the gangplank I told a sailor why I'd come and he ushered me on board to the bridge, where I met the first mate. He gave me the wage and how long I would probably be doing it, and led me to the engine room. The job wasn't centered on fixing anything, but required me to stand at a display console and watch a bunch of gauges, all of which were in German. If anything went haywire I was to sound a whistle, and the real technician somewhere in the ship's bowels would stop tinkering. After things went back to normal, I blew the horn twice more, and he resumed his service. This involved standing in a loud, steamy dungeon completely alone every day as the slave of an enormous machine. It was ideal.

As days passed I grew used to the situation. The mechanic never showed himself, but without fail the works would slumber whenever I gave the alarm, and they would start up when I gave the all-clear. The outside world didn't seem to exist in that cramped sauna, and I lost a little excess weight to the heat. I was hidden for a while at least, and when the engagement ended I knew I could find another one like it. No one could get to me.

Three weeks into this routine, the engines stopped completely. The longest pause in their running until then had lasted six or seven minutes, but this episode had gone on an hour when I decided to do something. I didn't want to go on deck in case everything began with nobody at my post to give warnings, but I couldn't stand there any longer while nothing happened, so I crawled into the depths of the beast to find the mysterious repairman. 

It was when rounding a corner that I had my first glimpse of her, while she was hunched at a wrench that had been fixed to a giant bracket bolt. She was twisting it in a form-fitting black tank top tucked into gray boxer briefs, and nothing else except some oily war paint. Her hair was done up in a dirty bandanna, but a few tendrils of filthy, tangled brown sprang from it. I stood in a trance, captivated by her physique. The level shoulders beneath the straps were immense, and the restrictive fabric subsumed her breasts in the curves of her pectorals. Both of her arms and her trunk were wide, solid, and springy, though her pale, freckly skin lacked any muscular definition. Large, strong thighs flexed over thick, taut ankles, and her bare feet gripped the ground like puma paws. Not so much straining as firmly coaxing the stuck bar in repeated pulls, her focus was too narrow to include me while I watched her back tighten and loosen in the cycle of her movements. Suddenly she stepped out of profile to address the problem from a different perspective, and I caught sight of a bulge in her shorts that was the shape of a strapped-on dildo, which projected to a point near her left hip two inches above the waistband. My jaw dropped, and when I looked up at her she was mirroring my stare. Unfurling her fingers and replacing them on the handle but still looking at me, she drew up on the stubborn device, letting her big, capable chest puff out in my direction. This jolted me to my senses, and I retreated to my panel of dials.

Crouching there for several minutes I almost hyperventilated, not sure if that dick bound in cotton was an hallucination, a message from the sorority house, or just random chance. With my mind whirling, I tried to find the right course of action. At once I heard a terrible clang from the direction of her station, and then some dull whirring. Around me the dingy room came to life, as the engine started functioning. I reflexively checked the meters, and found nothing in the red. All the levels were still elevated, but they appeared to be declining very slowly. She had mended it. 

"Ha ha! Alright," I cheered, even though I knew my stay aboard that vessel had most likely come to an end. "Yes!" Then I turned, and found her standing patiently at the door. "Well done,"

I said quietly.

In her right hand she carried the hefty wrench I'd seen her wield, and in her left an old coffee can that contained stiff globs of grimy red gel. Slung at her shoulder was a long, rotten shirt sleeve. Protruding from the unbuttoned hole of her underwear was a translucent rubber cock of disturbing length. Her eyebrows went up, expectantly.

"Look, I can't," I stammered. Without hesitating she cast the wrench at the wall, and flung the rag beside it. Then she tossed the cylinder to my feet. A chunk of the lubricant rolled from it to the floor by me. She put her hands on her hips. "Please," I whined, but it was no use. The dick nodded lightly at me. I inhaled deeply, and got on my knees. 

I scooped up a generous wad of the substance and applied it carefully to the top of her dildo, scraping my hand clean as I ran it down the side of the shaft. Then I formed a circle with my fore and middle fingers and thumb, and slowly smoothed the lube over her in a rotating jack motion. Fro and to, base and head, I glorified her manhood as it bobbed an inch from my mouth, with my eyes on hers and she observing me. Adding two more dabs got it coated, and when I couldn't see an exposed spot on the jelly surface, I sat on my feet and folded my hands in my lap obediently. My gaze again found hers. 

As she walked past me she grabbed my shirt at the collar and dragged me with her. I stumbled into a lope and trailed her to the desk, where she took my left arm in her left hand and spun me with enough zip that I doubled over it, so my back was to her. My arms scrambled for purchase among the papers and tools. She leaned her legs on mine to keep me in check. Her arms slunk around me and undid my belt.

"Oh," I moaned as the slithering dick smeared the seat of my pants. 

When she had unzipped me she stepped away and bent low, keeping her knees locked, to drag the garment to the floor. Then she straightened and reached out for my hips to pull me to her with a magnitude of strength I had never experienced. I nearly bumped my skull on the blotter before planting my hands on it, and even then I was unsteady. Her foot pinned the bunched clothing that was binding my feet, and she lifted me deftly at the waist, leaving me in a t-shirt, socks, and sneakers. She kicked the mess away and returned me to the ground. That time I blanched at her ability, and a laugh escaped me.

"Wow." By then I was alert and had recovered my balance and dexterity.

Her hand guided the phallus to my hole. She seized on me at the thighs and merged us easily with one forward glide. My head shot up involuntarily. 

"Breathe," she said, in a surprisingly feminine voice, and I complied. Rather than hump me, she let us sway together for minutes, to dissolve the differences of our identities. This was extremely relaxing, and I let my thoughts drift while she stirred us. I realized as I calmed how tense and wary I had been since Karen used me. 

Despite her soothing and attentive intro, the woman's style of penetration wasn't tender or loving. Once she felt I was comfortable, her interest landed solely on my hips, which she maneuvered on and off her cock with no more effort than she'd make in handling a basketball. As though weighted, my upper half, head and limbs flailed pathetically in each shock wave generated by the concealment with my ass of her rod. Like a heartbeat the action consisted of a pair of contractions, one pulling me all the way to her before replacing me at the end of the dick, and the other an aftershock caused by her grip halting my slide off the skewer. One-two, one-two, the swinging persisted that way for ten minutes.

She gave me three vigorous prods and made a quick about-face with me as if it were I that was strapped to her, and I squealed at her athleticism. Her left palm fell on my back and jackknifed me so that my knuckles smacked the ground. The proud straightness of her spine reasserted itself and I was rattled by the collisions of my manipulated rear and her sharply darting pelvis, with the hunting cock galloping inside me and her face fixed intently atop her corded neck muscles. Those thrusts came also in twos. When she was satisfied with that, she put her left knee on the ground and met it with the right one, collapsing and depressing me in the process absentmindedly, as though she had forgotten I was there. While I feebly attempted to align my calves, she planted the balls of her left foot on the floor beside me, and her right one in the opposite position. Stained and cold, the hard ground didn't faze her, but the warm snugness of her crotch clamped to my ass by her energetic thighs made my heart race and my toes curl. Next, she draped her heavy arms over my ribs so that her fingers could creep down onto my shoulders to hold me securely. Then, she took me for an hour. 

Popping up from her wrestler's pose, she set the dick flopping freely, and I fell on my right forearm. Surveying my crumpled form, she smirked.

"No loafing on the company dime." She stooped and hoisted me to my feet by my elbow. "Come on," she urged. When she stood me up to face her I squinted through fatigue, and the terror of realization chilled me.

"You're kidding," I sobbed.

"Yes, I am." 

I was picked up by the armpits and my rear end was placed on the desk. 

"No more."

"There, there." The cock stoked my anus, and entered. I groaned. She lifted me to her, impaling me. "Wrap your legs around me. Tighter." My ankles crossed on her ass.

"Who are you?" I asked sourly. At that, she smiled. Her hands clasped my waist and brought me briskly onto the stationary dildo with mechanical regularity, making me gasp. One of my shoes was knocked loose by the shaking, but she never vacillated, slacked her erect posture, or narrowed her broad stance. Five more minutes of being used to hide her cock was enough to send thin tears lining my cheeks. All of my endurance had gone. The fucking stopped, and she wiped the salty water away with her thumb. The woman looked at me silently, and I hugged her neck. Finally, she continued bouncing me. 

"It's so good," I whispered.

Half an hour later, I was on the desk, examining the ceiling. She stood, stroking her glorious cock out of me for one second and into me for two, rocking me on my ass and shoulders, with her mighty forearms clutching my thighs to her belly. Her insistent lurching compelled me to tilt my face away from her, as if she were nudging me to look at something. I saw the wall of dials with labels I couldn't read but could understand by their color-coding, all needles sinking to the green zones with jerky reluctance. Among them one was most active, dipping to OK for intervals twice as long as those for which it rose to CAUTION, but none of them said DANGER anymore. In sync with the positive forecast, the dark, bulky member tunneled in, and with the wavering to yellow its slippery girth left me. My breath ran out when I made the connection between events. A slow, graceful dive into safety and a pause were followed by a fluttering removal to neutrality. Gradually the pressure dropped, and the pointer settled gently at zero. The shirt she wore stretched audibly as she swelled, and I heard her grunt softly through her pursed lips. My ass was filled. Raising my head I saw her jaw jut out as she pressed at the already buried phallus. When she caught me looking, her determination gave way to a self-conscious grin. 

"That should do it," she judged. The great breadth of her frame obsessed my vision. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"Up for a more strenuous activity?" 

"I'll do whatever you say." 

Standing half bowed with my wrists held fast behind me, I received a succession of pumps that were as spirited as her manhandling of me during the first insertions, but I was numbed to pain and exhaustion at that point. She remained stable as an oak, cushioning my backward reverberations, and reining me without visible exertion of her upper arms or chest. Our proximity didn't hinder utilization of the entire the dildo, though its size necessitated that I fall a full foot away from her before she tugged me back onto the shaft. Each landing was perfectly precise, and I felt no more strain on one part of my rim than I did on any other. That ended when she moved her hands to my hips and gave about fifty long lunges, those booming in at roughly one per second. I cried "Oh," in ecstasy with every thud.

To finish, she once more picked me up with the two of us joined, and lowered my front onto the desk. She stood up on her toes and let her belly cover me, resting her hands flat on the table at my midsection, so that she was mounted like a wild animal. There were jabs from the dick, but they immediately tapered into a constricted rutting which tenaciously gathered steam. That time she spared her cool, and showed off what her body could do. Her awareness traveled to her lower half, leaving her arms to automatically suspend that fleshy torso in a strongman's top, and concentrated like a star of creative force in her nether region. Literally thinking with the other head, her total range of options became "push in and pull out," and all of her vast physical powers were slaved to those goals. 

Pummeled barbarically, I went into convulsions. My ejaculation was lost in cascading spasms, and if it weren't for stains on the engineer's documents I might never have known that I came. When I found my wits I put both hands on the wall to brace my pelvis from cracking against the wooden structure under me. Her rigorous upward strokes culminated in three, drawn out, closing thrusts accompanied by primal screams. Instantly she withdrew from me and steadied herself with a hand on the far wall, as she regained her composure. Then she collected her wrench and can of lubricant, and left me.

As I fastened my belt she walked into the room, this time without the dildo sprouting from her sporty undies but wearing a tattered pair of gray cargo shorts. 

"Here," she said, and put a cord around my neck. Attached to it was a small navigational compass. "In case you get lost again." 

She saw me to the ladder well, and closed the engine room's door behind me. I ascended eight steps to the light.



Goldenrod Ch. 07



The ship's mechanic had restored a lot of my confidence, but I still needed closure with what had happened at the sorority. How to get that I wasn't sure. Karen had said she owned me, and whether or not that was true, I didn't want to go through life believing it, no matter what I did on the weekends. 

Watching a dance class diverted me because I have always loved the sight of women in tights, and the motion gave my mind something to work on without having to spin thoughts. My head filled with pirouettes, which warmed the heart and the loins. At the end of class one student walked to me while the others left. She carried a pair of sneakers and a bottle of water and wore a big bag on her shoulder. Her skin was like ivory and her hair was black like crow feathers. Over her blue leotard she had on a wide-necked sweater of the same color. The limbs that transported her were full, strong, and youthful.

"Are you Tom?"

"Yes."

"I'm Jasmine, Michelle's friend. Hi."

"Hey."

"Can you talk for a minute?"

"Sure."

She chewed her lip and cocked her head, with one eye squinting.

"Michelle said you take dick from women?"

"I have."

"She said you like it, and that you're really good. Well, that gets me hot, you see, and I'm by nature not too social, so I had to seize this opportunity. I've never tried it."

"Do you have a roommate?"

"No," she said.

"Let's go to your place."

"Okay," she replied, beaming.

On the way there she annoyed me with warnings about her inexperience and how I'd need to show her what to do. Her apartment was small but expensively decorated with artifacts from various eras of her life, most to do with ballet. 

"Should I, you know, put it on?"

"Yeah, Jasmine." She removed her shoes one at a time and bolted for the nightstand drawer. The dildo was a light purple, and complemented her painted-on look invitingly.

"So, what now?"

"Got any fantasies? What turns you on about it?"

"I want you, a guy I mean, to suck me," she said, gazing at the floor with slight panic. "I don't know, I've always thought it belonged on me. Sorry, I'm not sure what else to say."

"Don't apologize. You're right, it fits you beautifully. Why don't you sit." She took a seat in her desk chair, and posed a blue leg on its wheeled foot, to give a pleasing visual background to her lavender length. Her hand rested on the raised thigh.

"How's this?" she asked challengingly. I walked to her, and knelt.

"That's enough talking," I said quietly. Then I kissed the smooth, featureless head of her cock. I blew on it, nuzzled, licked slowly, and deep-throated. She arched her spine with arousal and stuttered her breathing. As my nodding accelerated her hand pet my hair. I surfaced to speak. "Did you like that?"

"Oh, God!" she moaned, and bucked. I was thrown off not by force but surprise. She continued spasming for several long seconds, and calmed.

"Did you come?"

"Twice," she whispered, shrinking with embarrassment. I laughed. "What?" she demanded. 

"That's amazing."

"It was."

"Go again?" I asked. Her eyes lit up. 

"Yes, but not that way. Come here." In a moment she had me on all fours on her bed, with the cock once again in my mouth. She spread her stockinged feet on the carpet to attain the correct height, and tugged at my torso to bring me to the increasingly bold thrusts. Again, she went off like a rocket.

"Now try it here," she chimed. The legs resumed their sumo posture with her hands flat against a wall, and my shins on the ground before her. "Fuck!" she shouted, and her convulsing nearly choked me. "Are you alright? I'll lay down and you blow me. Is anything wrong?"

"It's nothing. You're just going really fast."

"I have a lot of ideas."

"So I see. Want to penetrate me anally? Maybe you can spend some of that excess energy." It was as though a light bulb had gone on above her wild black mane. "Where should I bend over?" I asked.

She had me disrobe and recline on her comforter while she got changed in the bathroom. After emerging in only a blue baby doll nightie and a gray and white dildo that was striped like a barber shop pole, she stood blushing for a moment by the bed.

"You are truly lovely."

At that she curtsied timidly and got under the covers. I joined her.

"You know I've never given this to anybody," she whispered.

"I'll be gentle."

"I might have to stop, if it's too much to take. You'll let me, won't you?"

"Don't worry about a thing. We're the only two people on earth."

"I knew you were the one."She swallowed nervously and twisted around to the end table for the lube. I watched her leer at me while she applied the gel under the sheet as though jerking off. Then she straddled my prone form beneath the blanket, and sank it in.

Rather than plow manically as I expected, she held my shoulders gingerly and routinely adjusted the positions of her knees and pelvis.

"Let me know if this hurts, angel," she said, suddenly the man again, but not asserting the penis. Three dreamy hours passed while she drew circles with her fingertip on my neck and kissed my arms lovingly. The event was dedicated to pleasure of a more luxuriant and idyllic kind than what I'd had recently, her sweetness and uncertainty making her reluctant to spear me.

Prior to my departure, which she required to document our romp in her diary, she got on her knees and gave me head, a welcome finale to so much subdued stimulation. Neither of us doubted it when I said I would call her.

Weeks later, we were a happy couple, and her education had progressed spectacularly. I hadn't attended any classes but the tuition her father sent, which Jasmine generously shared, made finding a job unnecessary. 

"You've given my daughter a great deal of happiness, young man," he told me on the phone. His princess was lasciviously unfurling a condom onto her plastic shaft, her lips parted. Jade eyes darted to mine, impatiently.

"And she me, sir." Ten seconds later she was easing my back to the bed. We bounced as she struggled to liberate the jeans from my flailing boots.

When we played house she sat opposite me wearing only her harness, and striped socks pulled all the way up. I wore nothing, according to her orders.

"How was your day, dear?"

"Hard. The boss is really riding me."

"Excuse me!" she yelled with mock outrage. "The person with the longer dick is the first to have coffee!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I whined.

She shot up so that her knob thwacked the table. 

"I suppose I have to teach you everything! Maybe I should show you the right way to fuck! Bend over," she commanded, pointing at my dish, and I obeyed. She marched to my ass and invaded it. With her fists at her sides she let the rod punctuate every word of her scolding.

"YOU MIND YOUR MANNERS NOW MISTER THANK YOU."

Another of our games was spies. Somehow, I was the only one to get captured. 

"We have ways of making you talk," she purred, strolling languidly to me in a fedora, trench coat, and high heels. I sat helpless under the living room light. Her belt came slowly undone and the folds parted, letting her heavy purple cock fall forward. She took hold of my head and pulled my mouth to it.

"Well, say something."

Her favorite activity though, was horsey. She wore a cowboy hat for that, which I liked.

One morning I woke to find her contentedly watching me, like her trophies observing us from the wall mounted shelves.

"I have to tell you about this dream," she said with her head on the pillow and her fists bunched at her chin. "You were marching in this jungle, but everything looked like a cartoon. The machete you were swinging could talk. It said funny things. There was one tall tree, and at the top of it grew a gold flower, like a tiger lily, but it was erupting. Maybe it was a volcano."

"What happened?"

"You climbed the tree and left me. I was carrying your luggage." She swung away when she finished talking, and got in the shower. I joined her shortly, and we fucked standing happily behind the transparent curtain with its leafy pattern, in the hot, falling water and steam.

Jasmine had me for the last time in my bed, wearing only a pair of white and pink striped panties with a hole cut in front for her shaft. She deftly maneuvered herself on her knees to grasp me by the waist, chest, or by the shoulder with an adamantly straight arm, accordingly. I rose and fell like a horse, rearing and snorting as she rode me in whatever manner she chose. After settling on a basic hip hold with me getting rammed on my hands and knees, she let her soft, fleshy thighs press maddeningly against my own. Distilled by years of exercise, her girlish enthusiasm made every pump of the dildo by her curvy white form intensely powerful. It went on for twenty minutes, producing three quick, gasping orgasms during each of which her fingernails almost pierced my skin and spurred me to yell, but I wouldn't have discouraged her joy for anything. To close, she pulled me on her lap and moved us as one, while her ruddy hand manipulated my dick.

"I want to come," she growled mindlessly. "Shoot my load everywhere. Watch me spray." Every declination drove her in, and each ascension slid her grip down, both motions becoming more manic until she lost track of which prong was hers. At that point she peaked. "Squeeze that cock, baby, yeah!" It didn't take long for this to chain react, sending ecstasy flooding our nervous systems and vibrating our supercharged bodies violently until nothing remained of us but an unconscious mist. We drifted off together, cheerfully, and at peace. 

When I saw her to the door, she kissed my cheek.

"You're a really good person, Tom." I knew then she was dumping me. "I think so, anyway." She smiled, and trudged away in the snow. 

"I guess nothing is forever." I stood silently for a minute. Finally, I grabbed my coat and started to walk.

Ruminating over my adventures, I wandered into a part of town that I didn't frequent. I passed the hulks of dead factories and vacant lots that resembled battlefields, getting thoroughly lost and not seeing another soul for hours. Street signs became important about the time the sun started dimming and my toes ached their complaints to me. Not recognizing the names of any lanes, I attempted to backtrack, but the environment got no more familiar. At the first chills of panic, I turned up randomly at a crudely drawn billboard featuring an explorer in a pith helmet and khakis being chased by a tiger. Java was sloshing from a white cup beside him, the message of the ad. Experiencing a sudden epiphany, I spun to face the building opposite, which had a yellow painted clock on its single, weathered tower, and the word AURORA atop its door. The last of the light was reflected in shards on the narrow wall around the peeling circle. I stepped to the entrance of the structure, and went in.



Goldenrod Ch. 08



The inside of the structure was a public bath, and ornately decorated compared to anything in the vicinity, or even to the outside of the building. Directly in front of the door was a rectangular pool flanked by marble columns and palm trees growing from cut squares in the floor. Semi-transparent white curtains divided the fore from the background, and fences of crossed wooden strips defined the perimeter. The air was spiced with intoxicants. Bells chimed faintly and birds sang unseen from cages. I walked along the water and through the veil to the far end of the room where a staircase ascended to a great bay window that was totally illuminated by horizontal sunbeams. As if materializing from the glow, a silhouette appeared. Instinctively I paused and watched her as she descended the stone steps.

She stopped near the base and I took in the sight of her. The glistening skin of her pixie cheeks was a light mocha. Her nose was small and upturned to a point and her eyes were serious but burning. Black hair hung to her chin from the part on the middle of her head, and I could see swaying behind her a ponytail tied with hempen twine. On her broad frame she wore a zipped up bomber jacket, but below that a flowing skirt of pale, delicate material which almost covered the golden sandal cords that zigzagged up her calves. Though I was a few inches taller than she was, she looked down on me authoritatively from the step where she stood.

"I'm Tom," I said quietly.

"I'm Star."

"That's pretty," I blurted.

"It's shortened. Why are you here, Tom?"

"I don't know. I'm following a dream."

"A whim?"

"No, more like a vision."

"Your own?"

"A girl's."

"I see. Come," she said, and gestured for me to ascend with her the way she came. I nervously followed her up into the light, and as we rounded the bend and kept climbing, the painfulness of the glare subsided. "We haven't had visitors for some time. Would you like to bathe?"

"I don't have any money."

"We'll have to do something else. What can you offer?"

"Myself," I whispered. She stopped at the top and looked at me.

"Good." Then she proceeded into the second story chamber. I did likewise.

The indoor garden was like a paradise. A fogged skylight filtered the vibrant purple, orange, and yellow of twilight, and glorious flowered trees enclosed the octagonal area dusted with turquoise sands under our feet. Fountains shimmered at the walls and the scented atmosphere was tickled with bells. The mysterious girl began to disrobe, and I copied her. She stripped to a dark sports bra and green briefs. 

"Naked," she said, and vanished into an enclave. Once nude I was extremely shy, and hid myself in the big basin of pale stone at the center of the room. The surface was cold, but suddenly hot water began gushing into it from fish-shaped nozzles at its northern and southern ends. When the tub was filled, the pouring ceased.

"Tom," came a voice from above me. I turned to see Star standing on the side of the tank looking as she had when she left, with the addition of an eight inch golden dildo attached to her by similarly flashing bands. Gradually she immersed herself completely in the foaming swell. We stared at each other.

"You have always loved me," she said, "and so I have shown my selves to you. I care for you as Selene does for Endymion."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Turn."

"I will, but please, tell me what's happening." She smiled patiently.

"He who would direct Nature first learns to obey Her." Upon hearing that, I floated into a spin so that my back was to her. Small waves passing my neck heralded her arrival. We were both lighter in the bubbling pool, and I had only to keep my hands on the edge of the tank and to pivot my toes on the bottom as she wanted. For her it was easy to reposition me, and leap backward an inch in slow motion when we were too close. Hands fell on my rear, and the metal prod was gently inserted. She slowly stroked it in and out, cautious but obviously eager to attain a rhythm. Her confident, regular movement took on speed. Then it condensed into a soft pounding of her pelvis alone. The hands rotated to allow her fingers to clamp my sides. Initiating a repeating cycle of four identical pumps, she freed her attention from the performance. Acceleration continued until it was a spirited, full-body action and I braced myself with my arms. Water seethed around us.

"Do you believe in animism, Tom?" This is a strange time for that discussion, I thought.

"No," I stammered, suddenly aware I was overwhelmed.

"That's unfortunate." By now she was steadily hammering me without applying heavy force. "Biologists would have you believe there are two sexes so genetic variety can increase, to make people more distinct as individuals, and less susceptible to threats as a species." Her gaze rested calmly on me as she worked her hips and spoke. "But I tell you every part of our universe is alive, and as human knowledge grows exponentially, the perceived world is energized by meaning." She substituted a pair of short jabs for the fourth thrust in her routine.

"Ah!" I cried out. "What are you doing?" The steam was expanding to obscure the flora. Her fucking was electrical, an injection of enthusiasm. Tension vanished from my limbs.

"So radical is matter's refinement that each blade of grass and every grain of sand will hum and shine with their own hunger and ecstasy." She moved us as two parts of a machine, no longer impaling me but bringing us together in sweet collisions. We bounced as one, like a ball meeting its reflection on a mirror. "You surely understand why your lovers forget their fears and passivity, and join you so lustily. My era is dawning."

Her arms overlapped mine, and her knees clung to my midsection. She humped me greedily but gracefully in downward drives. Breezes encircling us sparked and sizzled. The surface of our bath rumbled as if boiling. Birdsong above us became louder. My mouth opened in awe. Relentlessly she drove in the golden lance without compassion or malice, but with an almost serene indifference. Water splashed and rippled until all traces of her activity were lost among interference patterns. Hard, cool, strong, she pounded. It stopped so she could speak plainly in my ear, pressing her flesh upon me.

"The gifts that I grant will enable you to flourish in this new eon."

"You are the Golden Flower," I said, my eyes wide in astonishment. The immediate response was the sound of a thousand women laughing.

She resumed her resilient riding, sending columns of liquid pluming up like geysers. Each took a shape that tried to burst out of its material prison before being dashed by gravity again into chaos. As the churning grew wilder, every crash broke into smaller and quicker bits. Her golden cock wasn't a sex organ anymore, but a burst at the seam of reality from life's overflow. She put her palms on my shoulders and straightened her arms, while slackening the muscles of her trunk, so that her bountiful ass spread out over my own. The mount was wary and animal, with occasional excesses of excitement escaping as jolts of force into my rump. Finally she slid her soft bulk forward in three teasing grinds, testing for any resistance from me. I hovered beneath her, like a spirit in limbo.

Power was transferred from her, through the dick, into me. Like a sacred statue she embodied a ritual pose that echoed with significance to the distant reaches of the cosmos. Through her dominance, the signal closed a circuit. The fluid surrounding us evaporated and mixed with the ambient static to create a white haze that deleted everything. I lost the goddess, myself, and any connection with the environment that my senses had provided. What remained was a potent void that pulsed with pleasure. Time ceased to be. 

I dreamed. There was an empty manor veined with ivy, and on the grounds hung the stone heads of grinning pagan gods. At the top of the grand staircase was a woman hidden completely in black. She pointed at me.

I awoke in my own bed the next morning, to find a tiger lily in a vase on my nightstand. One email was waiting for me from an address that I didn't recognize. All the message said was, COME TO THE THEATER.

It was a Sunday so I didn't expect the place to be busy. When I got there, a broom was stuck in the jamb as on my last visit. I entered and let the door swing shut behind me. On the stage was the same bed from before, but the mirror had been removed. I could see a feminine figure reclining on the mattress with her back to me as I descended the levels of seating. 

"Mikaela?"

Her head turned when I spoke, and she rose. She replied while walking to face me.

"Gone to Colorado to get married, and from what I've heard she's a happy husband. Would either of you have felt she was enough, after your long journey?"

"Samantha." Her appearance had altered radically. A black plastic band adorned with velvet cat ears was in her hair, which was parted on the left and fell to her jawline at both sides. The dress she wore was also black, held on by straps over her shoulders and a shiny leather belt. From where I stood the outfit did little to conceal her pink panties. Black boots ran up to her thighs, and her thick glasses were gone. "If you brought me here to tell me to avoid sorority parties, I'm way ahead of you."

"On the contrary, I'm yours to command now," she said. "In learning I still greatly excel you, but in many other ways you've surpassed me."

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

"I think I deserve some of the credit for your growth. In any case, what I wanted to say is that one of the Practitioners has recently departed, and per our custom her house and assets were willed to another in the circle, specifically me."

"I see. Sorry for the loss, but congratulations."

"Thank you. That leaves me, then, with a rather large, stately home and a comfortable lifestyle, but no one to share my free time. I'm here to ask if you want to live with me." 

"Yes, Samantha. I think I'd like that very much." She breathed deeply.

"Good," she said, stepping down from the stage. "You can move in immediately." I took her hand.

"The sooner, the better. It should make a welcome change from my current mode," I said. "I'm tired of letting crazy women bang me in the butt all day." We exited the auditorium.

"Oh, I foresee you'll miss that." She smiled. "Once in a while."