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Venus Goddess of Love

By: Moondrift



Chapter 1: I Meet the Goddess

“Venus, goddess of love?” I stared at the picture of the small figurine in the book I had borrowed from the library. 

“Nothing like the Venus de Milo I’ve seen in another book,” I thought. She was beautiful even if she didn’t have arms. This one had ballooning breasts, huge thighs and buttocks. Her hair covered her face like a woolly cap.

I read the caption that told me that “Without fertile women, no primitive band of hunter gatherers could hope to survive.”

Reading from the main text I learned that she was over twenty thousand years old. She was the mother goddess, the protector of all things good, the bearer of children, keeper of the home, guardian of the hunt and ancestor of the human race. Her image has been found from France to Siberia.

I gazed at the picture again and couldn’t resist a cynical smile. My cynicism was not directed at Venus, but at myself.

I was lying on the bed naked as I looked at the picture and I glanced down at my own body. Large breasts that when I stood hung down like huge light globes, but now, as I lay on the bed, they spread across my chest like massive poached eggs. Heavy thighs and buttocks, the thighs surmounted by a wedge of pubic hair that concealed a vaginal opening that according another book I had read was farther forward than most women’s. 

“Nice and easy for penetration,” I thought, “but what man would ever be bothered?”

One feature I did not share with Venus was the hair. It was the one thing about me I felt some pride in, my luxuriant head of chestnut coloured hair that I tended so carefully.

“I could have been the model for that figurine,” I muttered aloud. “My God, if that was the sort of female those primitive guys worshipped, they must have been a whole lot different from the guys now.”

I sighed; men now wanted their women to be like the so-called ideal females presented to them by the media. I came nowhere near that ideal. Even before I had seen the Venus picture I had felt myself to be made for breeding children, but no guy had ever wanted to fertilise me. At twenty four I had never been penetrated by a man, so even if the dildo I used occasionally for masturbating had deprived me early of my maiden head, I was still a virgin where the hand, or rather the penis, of man was concerned.

I put a bookmark into the page with the picture and prepared to go to sleep.

I was about to turn off the bed light when it hit me; I’d seen that figurine somewhere before, but where? I opened the book again and stared at Venus. It was no good; I couldn’t recall where I had seen her. “I’ll sleep on it,” I decided.

I switched off the light and circling my clitoris with my finger I gave myself some relief from frustrated sexual hunger. I let my finger slide inside my opening, feeling the soft silky warmth and the freely flowing juices of my lubricant.

“My God,” I thought, “surely there is some man somewhere who would want to enjoy that.”

As I languorously pleasured myself I thought of the all the men and women who longed for sexual gratification, who, like me, would offer their all, but for varied reasons could find no partner to enjoy them.

Increasing the intensity of my self-gratification I strove to fantasise a male partner but could barely give clear form to my vision.

When I had passed through my gasping, panting orgasm I slipped into sleep to dream no dream.

As soon as I woke in the morning I knew where I had seen Venus. It was in a funny little bookshop in a lane that branched off from the High Street. It seemed to specialise in occult subjects. In the window were a few dusty books and a copy of the figurine.

Every working day at lunch time I took a brief walk round the nearby shops, so I decided that today I would go and have a look at Venus. I showered, dressed and hastened off to catch the bus to work, but instead of my normal mood of mild depression that went with going to the office, especially on Monday morning, today I felt slightly elated. I would see Venus at lunch time!

I worked in the accounts department of a medium sized firm. Working along with me were four other women and two aspiring young guys. In addition there was Mr. Sparks the chief accountant. 

As far as sparks were concerned, they stopped with his name. He was quite a good looking man, tall with a good physique, around forty. He moved as if he carried some great burden and had a nasty sarcastic manner that he enjoyed using to reduce members of the female staff to tears. He had a private office that we called “The Rat Hole.”

If accountancy is thought of as a dull occupation then pity me because I seemed to have the dullest corner of it. All day long I dealt with receipts and invoices as they piled up on and left my desk; the other girls, married or not, did get a bit of light relief because there was always a bit of flirting going on with them and the two young blokes when it was thought Sparks was out of the way. 

They were a good looking pair those two blokes and I thought them very horny. I suspected they had enjoyed all of the other girls, even the two who were married, but they never bothered to proposition me. Like all the other men I had known, they might at best be polite to me, and at worst ignore me. 

I slogged my way through the dreary morning with the thought of seeing Venus in the widow as sort of light at the end of the tunnel. 

After four hours that had dragged by more like forty, lunch time arrived. I hastily ate a couple of sandwiches I had brought to work, and then made for the side lane and the bookshop.

I looked in the window, and there she was. Dumpy and enigmatic she seemed to stare at me through that curtain of hair that covered her face. Everything about her seemed to focus just one aspect of femaleness. With only minimal arms and legs indicated in the carving, it was the organs of reproduction that the long ago sculptor had emphasised. 

“Surely she was the original Earth Mother,” I thought. “The fecund breeder of the race; the great womb from which we had all sprung; if only guys went for women like her now I’d never have my legs closed.”

I had come to the shop with no intention of buying, only looking, but as I peered at Venus through the glass and she stared back at me, I decided there was no harm in entering the shop and asking about her.

I pushed open the shop door and an old fashioned bell clanged. I had to go down a couple of steps to reach the floor and this gave the place a slightly subterranean feel. The light was dim so I stood still for a moment, letting my eyes adjust.

No one seemed to be around so I looked the place over. Two walls were lined with book shelves; a third was taken up by the street window and the entrance door. The fourth consisted of a counter and behind this a door covered with a bead curtain.

I had smelt a pungent aroma as I entered the shop and looking up towards the ceiling, I saw suspended from it bunches of herbs.

The bead curtains rattled and I turned to see a small elderly man entering. He had a lopsided smile and looked at me over the top of half-moon glasses.

“Can I help you, madam?” he asked in a piping voice.

I am the sort of person who gets a bit embarrassed going into a shop to ask about an item with no intention of buying. I felt self-conscious now.

“I…er…I was…er…wondering about the carving in your window…the er…”

“Goddess of Love,” he said, finishing my sentence for me.

“Yes.”

He opened a drawer under the counter and from it produced the figurine. “I have many ladies coming in to ask about her,” he said, his smile becoming more lopsided than ever. “Does madam wish to purchase her?”

“I …well; I only wondered how much she costs.”

He mentioned a figure that rather stunned me.

“That’s very expensive,” I spluttered. “I mean, she’s only a copy, not an original.”

The old man gave a laugh that sounded like a gate on rusty hinges being opened. “If she were the original, madam, you could not buy her for any amount of money.”

He extended the little carving towards me and asked, “Would you like to hold her?”

I took her in my hand and as soon as I touched her I felt something like a tingling electric shock ripple through me. It was not unpleasant; on the contrary, it was a delightfully sensual feeling that seemed to give me a sense of well-being. 

I felt a little embarrassed by this unexpected sensation and my enjoyment of it, and tried not to show that I had felt anything. It was rather like those times when we begin to be sexually aroused in someone’s presence, and seek to hide the fact.

The old man seemed to know I had experienced something. “I think madam felt her influence.”

I declared that I had felt nothing, and he looked a little disappointed. “Most ladies who hold her report a strange stirring sensation.”

The carving felt warm in my hand and despite the fact that it was made from some sort of stone, its texture felt soft and yielding like human flesh. It was what I imagined a woman to be like when sexually aroused and ready for penetration.

The old man stood looking at me, waiting.

Once having the figurine in my grasp, I found myself reluctant to let her go. I had the odd feeling not so much that I wanted to possess her, but that she wanted to possess me. There was a strange sense of bonding taking place between us. 

Despite the fact I had not intended to buy her, I began to work out what I would have to forgo in order to buy her.

It was as if I was not making up my mind to buy her, rather, my mind was being made up for me. I tried to tell myself I would be foolish to expend so much money that I could ill afford on something that would be no more than a rather grotesque ornament. It proved a losing struggle and almost against my wishes I said; “I’ll take her.”

“Very good madam; let me wrap her for you.” 

I reluctantly handed her over, not wishing to let her out of my grasp, and as he put tissue paper round her the old man said, “You will be careful, madam, won’t you?”

“Careful? Why?

“Oh, I thought madam understood the significance of the little goddess.”

“What significance?”

“Well, if I might speak freely madam, most ladies who come in to buy her do so because she is a fertility and love goddess.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

“The ladies come to buy her in order, if I might say so, to either increase their charms in the eyes of the members of the male gender, or to increase their fruitfulness or both.”

I laughed. “Do you mean that there are still people who believe in that sort of nonsense?”

He looked rather hurt and said, “Madam, we may live in the age of scientific triumphalism and so-called rationalism, but there are still many who believe in the old ways?” 

“Has not one of our wise men said that there is within us a collective unconscious the contents of which are myths going back to the dawn of human history? These myths continue to influence us even though we may not be conscious of them doing so. Myths they may be, but who are we to say they do not encapsulate deep truths and human needs?”

I saw that I was due for an extended lecture on the insights of some guy I had read about once called Jonk or Jing or some such name, so I cut into his flow.

“You haven’t told me why I have to be careful.”

For a moment he paused in the midst of his sermonising, then taking up my theme said, “If it is the case that madam is buying the goddess purely as a curiosity, and has no wish to enhance her attractiveness to the opposite sex or increase her…er… fecundity, you must take care.”

“But why?”

“I have had reports from ladies who have purchased her, that suggest that they suddenly find themselves the centre of male attentions and some, who have been barren for years, quickly find themselves the bearers of new life. If madam does not wish such outcomes, then I suggest you keep the goddess out of sight and not on display.” 

From another drawer behind the counter he had taken out a small wooden box with a hinged lid, and was placing the figurine in it.

I started to protest, “I can’t afford the box as well…”

“That’s all right madam, I always give one of these boxes when selling the goddess. It can serve to conceal her if you do not wish for the reported consequences of her open presence.”

It was a beautiful box covered with a floral carving. The old man smiled his sideways smile and said, “The box is made of cedar wood and the carvings are of a flower used by girls who wanted to find out who their future lover was to be. It is the Achillea millefolium commonly known as yarrow.”

“If a girl wanted to know who her future lover was to be she had to pluck a handful of yarrow flowers, sew them into a little bag and put them beneath her pillow at night, repeating a little verse. See, I’ve pasted a paper with the words on the inside of the lid.”

He showed me the inside of the lid and I read:

“Thou pretty herb of Venus’ tree,

Thy true name is yarrow;

Now who my bosom friend may be

Pray tell thou me tomorrow.”

I wanted to laugh at what I saw as the little man’s sales pitch. The idea that because I had bought a stone figurine I would suddenly find my self a magnet to men, and that I would be ravished and give birth to a host of offspring, struck me as ludicrous. Still, it would make a good conversation piece if ever I had any visitors, which given my past record was unlikely. 

As he finished putting the figurine into the box he said, “Should madam require it, I have some dried yarrow in stock.” He pointed to a corner of the ceiling where there could be dimly seen some dried plant material that as far as I was concerned, could have been any plant. I thanked him for the offer but said I would manage without it.

The little man finished by putting the box into a plastic bag of the sort you carry home the groceries from the supermarket in. After his rather high flown talk about the powers of the figurine, this seemed rather anomalous. 

I had to dig deep into my purse to pay for my acquisition. I glanced at my watch and fled from the shop. I had overstayed my lunch break.

Chapter 2: I Am in the Cave

Mr. Sparks, looking even more po-faced than usual, was awaiting me.

“Ah, Miss Barker, I am so glad you found the time to rejoin us. Of course, we should have been even more pleased to have seen you ten minutes ago, but no doubt you had more important things to attend to than the petty concerns of this office.”

I started to say, “Sorry, Mr. Sparks, I just lost track of…”

“Yes, I’m sure you did, Miss Barker, but since you have now condescended to join us, perhaps you would get onto the track of your work.”

“Bloody sarcastic shit,” I thought, but said contritely, “Sorry Mr. Sparks.”

He turned on his heel and disappeared into his rat hole.

Close to tears I sat at my desk and opening a drawer I placed the box with Venus into it.

As I did this a hand touched my shoulder. I half turned to see Rod, one of the young men working in our department standing behind me and a little to one side.

“Don’t let him get to you, Dawn,” he said, “He’s a vicious bastard who enjoys making you girls cry. It’s his way of exercising power over you. Probably the only way he can work off his sexual frustrations.”

It was the first time either of the boys had touched me, although they were always touching and patting the other girls. Also it was the first time Rod had spoken to me about anything other than the necessities of business. For even this brief attention I felt grateful, though it brought me closer to tears than ever.

To cover my emotions I thanked Rod and got on with my work, keeping my head down for the rest of the afternoon. 

Arriving home after work I took the box out of the plastic bag and opening it, took out the figurine. The moment I touched her I experienced the “influence” as the little man had called it. It produced in me a sensation of voluptuous delight, but this time it seemed to focus on my breasts and vagina. It felt as if my breasts, especially my nipples grew firmer and I felt wetness at the top of my thighs.

I was not prepared to accept that a copy of an ancient goddess could be responsible for this odd but rather beguiling experience. I told myself that the feeling was only an expression of my permanently frustrated sexual desires, never the less a doubt began to arise. In an attempt at humorous bravado I placed her on the kitchen table and addressed the little figure; “You can cut that out.” 

As I expected, I got no response.

I set about trying to find enough food to put together my evening meal. Again I addressed myself to the goddess; “You see, if I hadn’t wasted my money buying you I could have gone out and had a decent meal at a restaurant.”

Did the little figure seem to glow for a moment? “Of course not,” I told myself. “This is what comes of spending too much time alone. I start talking to a piece of stone and imagining it lights up.”

To prove my point I spoke to her again; “You’re just a piece of stone and I shan’t talk to you any more.”

She seemed to glow again. I grabbed her and put her back in the box.

My search for sustenance produced two depressed looking sausages, one egg, half a limp lettuce and one potato. It would be the bank for me at lunch time next day to draw on my meagre savings or starve for the rest of the week. 

After preparing and eating my pathetic meal I left “Her Ladyship,” as I was beginning to call her, in the box on the kitchen table, and headed for the television set. There was nothing on I wanted to watch, but like a lot of lonely or isolated people, the sound of the television seems to fill the loveless void.

I made my entrance into the fascinating world of television half way through a game show. This consisted of a games master who talked with a pseudo American accent at a machine gun rate, and a half clad girl who seemed to have too many teeth, plus some victims vying for prizes to gain which they had to answer unimportant questions.

This was followed by a sitcom that had something to do with a couple of female divorcees living together next door to a couple of male divorcees also living together. The sexual entanglements got so complex that in the end I couldn’t work out whose anatomy belong to whom. This was supposed to be taking place before a live audience, but it quickly became evident that the sycophantic laughter was canned.

I ended my evening of enthralling entertainment watching one of those wild life series. It had been shown at least a half a dozen times before by our cashed strapped Broadcasting Corporation, and it focused on an internationally well-known presenter who on this occasion was looking for bats in African caves.

I must say that this programme did entertain me, but for the wrong reasons. During one sequence we were told that the presenter was putting his life at risk by entering a particularly nasty and low ceilinged cave. We saw the brave man crawling towards the viewer as he struggled to make progress on his belly. The point omitted was that the camera and lighting people must all have entered the cave before he had so as to give us this head on view. So much for our on camera heroes!

I gave up on television entertainment and enlightenment and headed back to the kitchen for my exotic nightcap of cocoa.

While supping this glamorous beverage I looked at the box containing her ladyship. I found myself hesitating to open it and had to give myself a bracing talk along the lines, “Don’t be so bloody stupid Dawn; she’s only a piece of carved stone, and not even the real thing. They probably make her by the thousands in Taiwan or Indonesia.”

I opened the box but still hesitated to take her ladyship out. Finishing my drink I decided on a shower that was to be followed by half an hour of bedtime reading. I took her ladyship still in the box with me. I placed box on the dressing table and retired to the shower to cleanse my abundant self.


Venus Goddess of Love



It was odd, but running my hands over my body as I washed, I felt as if I had somehow tightened up. There didn’t seem to be so much flab and flap. This was ridiculous of course, as one could hardly expect that sort of change in one day even with the most strenuous exercise and dietary effort, neither of which I had engaged in.

“Imagination again, Dawn,” I admonished myself. Never the less, going back to the bedroom and looking at myself in the long mirror, I seemed to detect a change. It was nothing I could exactly focus on as a definite restructuring of the anatomy, but I did look a little different.

I gave up trying to work out what might have changed and clambered into bed.

No sooner had I got between the covers than my eyes fell on the box. I got out of bed and went to the dressing table and picking it up, I carried it back to bed with me. I opened the lid and looking at ladyship I felt emboldened to take her out.

When I took her into my hand I prepared myself for the “influence”; nothing happened! 

“You see, Dawn,” I told myself, “It was all imagination. You were getting sucked into a lot of silly superstition.”

To reinforce this decision that it was all nonsense the old man had talked, I decided that I would not hide ladyship away, but have her on display. I stood her on the bedside table and lay on my side gazing at her. Through the thick mat of her curly hair she seemed to stare back at me.

I looked at the pendulous breasts and swelling belly with her firmly indented sex organ clearly indicated, and below the belly the great bulging thighs. Everything about her was clearly intended to emphasis female fertility.

“You’re like me, ladyship,” I complained, “an unappetising fat sexy bitch. I bet the guys back in your time didn’t fancy you any more than they fancy me now.”

There was a pause, and then to my horror the figurine began to glow and throb with a pulsating red light or, more accurately an aura or mist. It gave the impression of anger and rapidly grew in intensity.

I wanted to hide beneath the bedclothes but found myself unable to move. The figurine seemed to grow and instead of being made of stone became flesh and blood and, terrified, I felt myself being irresistibly drawn into and absorbed by her. She was taking me over and there was nothing I could do to resist, not even scream.

As ladyship and I became one being the scene around me changed. The painted walls of the bedroom were transformed to become rock and the floor uneven stone littered earth and discarded animal bones. I was in a cave and seated on an elevated stone platform covered with animal skins.

A little distance off I could see the cave entrance and a fire burning just inside it, some of the smoke drifting back into the recesses of the cave, making my eyes smart.

There was the malodorous smell of rotting meat and other unidentifiable odours. They were smells that normally I would have found revolting, but somehow they now did not seem to trouble me. It was as if they were part of scene I had always known and was accustomed to.

My terror had receded and I found myself in the curious situation of being the watcher and the watched. I was looking at the scene, yet was part of it. I was her ladyship, but also Dawn Barker looking at myself being her ladyship.

I became aware of sounds around me, the muttering of guttural voices, and looking around I saw a half circle of people standing gazing intently at me. They gave the impression of being like people as they are in our contemporary world, but at the same time they were different. For the most part they were clad in animal skins or some sort of coarse cloth, a few were completely naked and this brought to my consciousness that I was naked too.

All the women were bare breasted, some suckling infants. Their hair fell in wild tangles and their bodies were coated with grime and ash. The men had not only matted hair but also beards to match. They all looked as if cleaned up and dressed in the clothes of our time they would not have been distinguishable from twenty first century people, except perhaps, they tended to be shorter and stockier.

Children sat on the cave floor staring at me in silence with what looked like awe while the adults muttered among themselves.

One man stepped forward and spoke in a guttural tongue that I had never heard before yet now understood.

“Garusha.”

Everyone fell silent and looked at me intently.

“Bachidisha gurik.”

They all sank to their knees except the man who had spoken.

He approached the rock platform on which I was seated and bowed his head then he knelt as if before an altar or shrine.

“Grinda barak fotint damek.”

A voice inside me whispered, “For the good of the kin folk.”

“Grinda barak fotint damek gesh cupulat?”

It was not a command but a reverential request such as one might make in a prayer offered to a god or goddess.

I responded by lying back upon the furs spread over the rock and parted my legs to expose my sex organ.

The man stood and turned to the watchers saying “Tuguta.”

The watchers began a slow chant accompanied with hand clapping, repeating over and over the words, “Grinda barak fotint damek.”

The man turned back to me and bowing again said, “Grinda barak fotint damek gu witush chakala.”

He bent over me and kissed the nipple of each breast in turn, then kissed my sex organ.

I placed my fingers on the outer lips of my vagina and parted them to expose the inner lips and my entrance as an act of invitation.

The chanting and hand clapping increased in intensity and the watcher’s bodies began to sway.

The man came over me placing his body between my legs and I could see his massively erect penis ready to plunge into me.

He said once more above the chanting, “Grinda barak fotint damek,” and with my hand guiding his shaft he entered me, not in any brutal fashion, but as if he entered some holy place.

I heard myself say the words, “Grinda barak fotint damek petic dupaskit.”

These words seemed to release him from what had seemed a reverential reticence and he thrust deep into me.

It was strange this union between us. It was as we might say now, “Objective.” There had been none of the foreplay I had read and fantasised about. We were engaged in a primitive fertility rite whose end was to stimulate the fertility of the women of the kinship group, yet for all its apparent detachment it became intensely erotic.

The man, beginning slowly to slide his organ up and down in me, and then gradually speeded up. I responded with hip thrusts to meet his downward strokes. The chanting and hand clapping tempo increased.

Suddenly the man gasped out “Gruk.” I responded “Petic dupaskit gruk.”

He gave a violent thrust and I felt hot semen exploding into me and with it came my first ever orgasm with a man. I screamed out “Petic dupaskit,” and dragged him deeper into me with my legs wrapped round him. 

Now all veneration and detachment disappeared completely. We were man and woman wild and free engaged in the great primordial act of creation. “Be fruitful and multiply.” Those words sang in my head as we coupled in fierce orgasmic union.

With our sexual climax came the climax of the chant, and as the man finished emptying himself into me and I began to climb down from my earth shaking orgasm, I saw the watchers frenzied with sexual excitement, men seizing on women, women with legs wide open inviting, copulating, while children looked on laughing at these adult antics.

The fertility goddess and her partner chosen by the kin had fulfilled the great rite and the earth and kin would be fruitful and multiply. The eternal round of new life and death had begun again.

The man had risen and bowed to me once more and moved towards the back of the cave.

As I watched the turbulent scene, the men rejoicing in their power to impregnate, the women proud of their hoped for fruitfulness, it began to dissolve.

A mist seemed to rise up to engulf me and I became increasingly conscious of myself as Dawn Barker. The cave began to melt away and the fertility goddess diminished and I was lying in my bed staring at the little figurine.

She gave forth no glow, red or otherwise. She was simply the little stone carving I had bought for an astronomical price in a funny little shop off the High Street.

I started to tell myself I had experienced a vivid dream brought on by my sexual deprivation, but then I felt the wetness beneath me.

I had somehow managed to push the bed covers from me during whatever had happened. I looked down at the under sheet and saw a huge wet patch. My inner thighs were soaked and I knew I had never had such a large discharge of lubricant before.

I rose and went to the bathroom and began to clean myself, and then saw what I had not noticed before. There was a thick creamy substance slipping out of me. At first I was at a loss to know what it was. Perhaps I was sick, damaged inside in some way, and the thick discharge was the result. Then the light came.

“My God, its semen; a man has put his sperm into me!”

Yet how was this possible? My own discharge I could account for because of the power of the dream, but however vivid a dream may be it was madness to think that the actual presence of sperm would result. Yet there it was. 

I finished cleaning myself and went back into the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed looking at the carving. It was what it was, a piece of stone carved to copy an ancient figurine. It did not glow; it did not grow or absorb me. I did not even have the sense that it was looking at me. It simply sat there on the bedside table looking decidedly unremarkable.

I changed the lower sheet on the bed, not wishing to spend the night sleeping in my own discharge and that of someone else, if that is what it was.

I summoned up the courage to take her ladyship into my hand. There was no influence. I addressed myself to her in what I hoped was jocular fashion; “If you’re going to do that again let me know in advance and I’ll get a towel to put under me.”

No response.

I gave up and put her back in the box. For all my bewilderment about what had occurred I felt at peace. I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being before. In addition, I felt at ease with my femininity. I even tried to think of myself as fat and undesirable and I simply couldn’t manage it. I was woman, the earth mother and yes, the fertility goddess.

I lay down and faded away into dreamless sleep.

Chapter 3: I Assert Myself and am Punished

I woke late in the morning and knew I would miss my regular bus and consequently be late for work. I thought of Mr.Sparks lurking at the door of his rat hole, waiting to scold me, and I didn’t care. I ate a leisurely breakfast and caught the later bus.

I was ten minutes late and sure enough, Mr. Sparks was awaiting me.

“Ah, Miss. Barker, you’ve deigned to join us. So glad to have you with us. This is the second occasion this week that I have had to draw your attention to your time keeping. Of course, I realise that the needs of the office are secondary to the no doubt far more important matters that engage you in your private life, so we are very gratified that you can spare the time for…”

He got no further because I cut in.

“Don’t you speak to me like that Sparks. I’m sick of your bloody sarcasm and your pleasure at making the girls cry. You’re a bloody bullying coward picking on people you think can’t hit back; well here is one who can and will. You speak to me with respect in future and I may reciprocate, but one more bloody sarcastic remark from you and I’ll break your bloody nose, and I don’t care if you do sack me.”

Sparks stood as if paralysed for a full minute, the rest of the staff sitting or standing staring at us. Sparks’ face had turned a sickly grey and I could see his hands shaking. He tried to speak, but only managed to emit a gurgling sound. Finally he turned and scuttled into his rat hole, not to be seen for the rest of the day.

I turned to my desk to start work amid a storm of applause from the others that could not have been lost on Sparks.

Rod and Mike the other boy came over to me; “Congratulations Dawn,” Mike chortled, “at last someone’s had the guts to stand up to the bastard. 

Mike had put his hands on my shoulders from behind and now I felt him touching my hair.

“Gosh, Dawn, I hadn’t noticed before, you’ve got really beautiful hair. He began to run his fingers through it.”

Rod came in with, “That isn’t all she’s got that’s beautiful.” He didn’t specify what, but I could see his eyes fixed on my breasts.

After I had given up trying to work out what was different about me as I looked into the long mirror the night before, I hadn’t thought any more about changes that might have taken place in my contours. Now I became aware that regarding my breasts at least, something had changed. They didn’t seem to droop any more, but were standing out large and firm. My buttocks that were normally flabby and spread out over my office chair now seemed to have tightened up. It didn’t seem to be the case that I had lost weight, although I would have to check that up on the scales at home. It was just that everything seemed more in place and compact.

It was nice to have two young men mooning over me but I decided it was better not to give Sparks any more ammunition, especially if it would be fired in Rod and Mike’s direction.

“You two guys had better get back to work in case Sparks comes out of his rat hole, but you can both take me out for a cup of coffee at lunch time.” I was staggered at my brashness in suggesting they should take me out, but they responded enthusiastically.

“Great,” said Mike. “Fantastic,” rejoined Rod, and they made their way back to their desks.

I ploughed into my work really hard that morning, not wishing to give Sparks any further reason to report me to upper management. He had enough ammunition already.

At lunch time I had two eager guys champing at the bit ready to go. Instead of the usual café our staff frequented, they took me to slightly more upmarket place where you got served by a waitress. Not only did they buy me coffee, they plied me with a variety of delicacies, all of which I refused, silently telling myself that if I wanted to stay firmed up, I’d better watch my diet. I settled for a nice salad that didn’t cost them nearly as much as the other stuff. 

As they plied the delicacies they also bombarded me with personal questions. What did I do with myself in the evenings and weekends? What sort of things was I interested in? Did I like to go out and where? Did I have a boyfriend? Did I live alone? What was my star sign? And so on. I had never had attention like this from males in my whole life.

It was all bit embarrassing because I didn’t want to tell them that I went home from work in the evenings and at weekends to a little stone effigy and the offerings of television. To get around the problem I told them that while I didn’t really have a boyfriend there was a man I went caving with occasionally. Well, it wasn’t really a lie, was it?

Rod and Mike seemed mightily impressed with my caving and I only hoped they wouldn’t suggest the three of us go on a cave expedition. They didn’t but they did question me rather closely about the coming weekend.

It was me who had to almost drag them back to work or they would have hung around with me in the café all afternoon.

When time to go home came Rod and Mike seemed to be waiting for me, so I told them, “I’m working a bit late this evening to make up for the lost time.”

They looked slightly glum about this, but taking the hint they departed.

I intended to put in an extra half hour and after about ten minutes of this over time Sparks came out of his office. It was the first time I or anyone had seen him since the morning fracas. 

He stopped a little distance from my desk and harrumphed, then said, “Very good of you to make up time like this Miss Barker. Very much appreciated…yes…very much appreciated.” He seemed to linger for a moment staring at me with an expression I could not interpret, and then he scuttled off.

“Hmm,” I thought, “It obviously pays to stand up to people like him,” and bent over my work again.

I had not gone to the bank at lunch time as I had intended so scraping the last of the cash from my purse I managed to find enough for a pizza on the way home. Perhaps I should have taken more advantage of Rod and Mike’s offers at lunch time.

Arriving home I retrieved the box with ladyship in it from the bedroom and putting it down on the kitchen table began eating my pizza. When I finished eating I decided that it was time for ladyship and me to have a heart to heart.

I took ladyship out of the box and was disappointed when once more I did not feel her influence. 

I was beginning to seriously wonder if what the little old man had told me about ladyship was true. Had there been only one incident I could have put it aside as pure chance, but the dream, or whatever it had been; what I had taken to be sperm after I came out of the dream; my changing shape that normally would have needed weeks, even months, of dieting and exercise to attain and the attentions of the boys. There was also my reaction to Sparks as I asserted my dignity as a woman. These things seemed to go beyond mere chance.

I looked at ladyship and addressed her; “Can you really do these things?”

For a moment I thought I saw her glow, and although I was not touching her I felt the influence ripple through me.

“You do have the powers the old man said you have,” I affirmed. Again the glow and the tingling sensation, but this time more vigorously, making me gasp.

“Either you have the power or I’m going mad,” I murmured. This time the glow was more prolonged and the influence was a jolt that made me gasp as I began to feel sexually stimulated. The feeling of sexual desire began to grow ever more forceful, so I took off my panties and lay on the sofa, and parting my legs began to masturbate while still staring at ladyship. 

Waves of carnal lust began to rack me rising to a state of torment I had never known before. Along with this I felt myself being once more absorbed into ladyship and in the anguish of frustrated sexual lust I began to weep and cry out.

“My God, what are you doing to me?”

I felt as if I were being sucked down into some sexual vortex that whirled me round at ever increasing speed causing me to scream; “Ladyship, I want the real thing, I want a man, I must have a man, please…please…I need a real man.”

I was maddened with unendurable desire as with one hand inside the top of my dress I caressed my breasts while with the other I alternated between stimulating my clitoris and thrusting my fingers deep into my vagina.

I had ceased my pleadings and instead gave out little moans and yelps of anguish as I experienced more fiercely than ever before the exquisite torment of supreme sexual arousal and the torture of deprivation.

I burned not only with the desire for a man, but also the deep and primal need to be fertilised, to feel growing within me new life.

I climaxed irrationally screaming for mercy, weeping for my lack of the “real thing.”

I found myself once more separating from ladyship. I was Dawn Barker again, lying on the couch, a hand still on my breast and fingers still in my saturated vagina, the tears streaming down my face as I called out to ladyship; “Please…please don’t do this to me if you can’t give me the fullness of sex. If you have the power, send a lover to me, but don’t torment me.”

For a moment she gave out a softly throbbing glow, and then she became once more just a stone effigy. I lay quietly weeping for my lonely hunger.

As I gradually calmed down I found I was once more saturated with my fluid. I dragged myself from the sofa and headed for the shower. After I had showered I remembered that I had wanted to weigh myself on the scales. I got them out and stood on them. I weighed what I had weighed for the past seven years, no more, no less.




Venus Goddess of Love



I went naked to the bedroom and looked at myself in the long mirror. There was now no doubt about it, I had changed. What had been a flabby belly and hips had become firm and sensuously rounded. My breasts no longer drooped, but stood out firm and proud with pink nipples the size of ripe acorns. Thighs that had been fat and ungainly were now tight and temptingly led the eye to my firm cleft nestling beneath a neat vee of pubic hair.

However impossible all this might seem, it was no more impossible than my experiences as I became absorbed into ladyship. 

I went to the kitchen and carried ladyship and her box back to the bedroom and, placing both on the bedside table I lay gazing at them. My eye caught the inside of the box lid and its little verse.

“Now who my bosom friend may be

Pray tell thou me tomorrow.”

Who indeed? Was I to have a “bosom friend,” a lover? “If only I had some yarrow,” I thought. I glanced at ladyship and despite the fact that she had no visible face I could have sworn she winked at me. I held my breath, waiting to be absorbed into her once more, but instead I drifted off into sleep.

The following morning when I began to dress I found none of my clothes fitted me properly. To hide what I had always thought of as my fat grotesque body I had always bought sack like dresses. I had avoided anything that might cling to the body like jeans and close fitting shirts. My dresses were indeed sack-like, or perhaps bell tent-like better describes them, and instead of hiding my fatness, they now concealed my newly acquired curves.

Being in somewhat straightened financial circumstances, I had to decide whether my poor savings would stretch to at least one new outfit. As I had to go to the bank at lunch time to get some eating money, I thought I might make up my mind then. So, having no alternative, I put on one of my bell tents and set off for work.

During the course of the morning I got an invitation from Mike and Rod to join them again for lunch. As I had to attend to my finances I turned them down and their disappointment was obvious.

I did not need to question why Mike and Rod had taken this sudden interest in me. However mysterious it might seem, I had now firmly accepted that it was the presence of ladyship in my life that had started to make me more desirable. How far this new found desirability might extend I was yet to discover. It might be limited to the office guys, and since my new curves were not being shown off by an appropriate garment, I did not expect to draw much male interest.

I was wrong.

When I got to the bank there was the usual lunch time queue of workers doing their banking. Among them were a number of men waiting and as I joined the queue I seemed to draw their attention. 

It was one thing to be in receipt of attentions from Mike and Rod, both of who I had known for some time, but another to be gazed at by strangers. I felt a hot flush that seemed to start at the soles of my feet and move upwards to flow over my entire body. 

There was a couple standing there, husband and wife or boy and girlfriend, and when she saw her swain staring at me she gave me a grim look and said something to him. He looked hastily away, but kept sneaking glances until they had finished their business and departed.

I finally got to the counter, and having made up my mind I would splash out on a new outfit, I drew out far ore than I could afford.

The bank happened to be just around the corner from the shop where I had bought ladyship, so I set out to fulfil my other resolve.

I pushed the shop door open and the bell clanged. This time the old man was standing behind the counter and he looked up as I came in.

He gave his lopsided smile and said, “I’ve got it all ready for you.”

“What?” I asked.

“Your yarrow. That is what you’ve come for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but how did you…”

“Experience, madam. I invariably find that ladies who purchase the Love goddess and take the box, but do not buy the yarrow, return a few days later for it. I have your’s here.”

He picked up a little cloth bag.

“I trust you are finding your relationship with the goddess a happy one?”

“Well, I…”

“I can see you didn’t keep her in the box.” 

“How do you know that?”

“I only have to look at you, madam to see the change in you. You look, if I might be so bold, quite enchanting.”

“Thank you, I …er…”

“Some ladies find it rather bewildering, even a little frightening, at first, but I can assure you that soon you will grow used to her funny little ways, but I must counsel you to be careful.”

“You said that before.”

“Yes, but you see, to receive the many attentions of members of the opposite gender when perhaps one has not been used to it, can be a little overwhelming. Added to this, should madam choose to, if you will allow me to say so, engage in intimate relations, then madam will almost certainly find herself…er… blooming unless stern precautions are taken.”

I thought to find myself blooming would be a most desirable outcome.

The yarrow plus its bag cost me very little, so thanking him I left the goblinesque fellow smiling his asymmetrical smile.

Chapter 4: I Have Gratifying Interlude

I had no time to purchase my new gear that lunch time, so I returned to work, there to receive the further attentions of Mike and Rod. They seemed to find any and every excuse for coming to my desk, leaning over me and touching me. When I went to leave work they were waiting for me.

They wanted to know where I was going and would I like to have an after-work drink with them? 

When I told them I was going shopping for food they immediately suggested that they took me out to dinner. Whilst I agreed to their suggestion, I pointed out the necessity to go shopping first. That led to them driving me in Rod’s car to the supermarket to accompanying me and carrying my purchases.

The shopping finished I was whisked off to a very nice restaurant the prices of which had me reeling. The boys were all over me with their attentions and after eating my way through a substantial amount of their money, I was invited back to “their place.”


This was the first time I learned that Mike and Rod shared a small house, and tempted though I was to accept their invitation, I decided to let it go for that evening, telling them, “Perhaps some other time.”

This led to an immediate invitation to have lunch with them again the next day and an after work drink. These invitations I accepted, and with that I was driven home.

Arriving home it was talk time with ladyship. I lay on the bed with ladyship on the bedside table and addressed myself to her.

“This is all very well, ladyship, but I’ve got to get used to the new situation. I mean, you’re doing a remarkable job with me, but it’s all happening a bit fast. Could you slow down a bit?”

I felt the jolt of the influence and the sexual arousal began again and I began to plead with her; “Please don’t do it to me...please…its torment…I can’t stand it…don’t please…”

It was no good; she had me thrashing about on the bed trying desperately to alleviate the agonising craving for sexual gratification. I had lain down on the bed still clothed, but now I ripped my clothes off. I felt as if my entire body was one great sex organ every part of it crying out for gratification. 

In the turmoil of my craving it was born in upon me that I was being punished. I also knew why I was being punished. I had refused to go back to the boy’s place. Yet it was not just me. I was in some way a vehicle for ladyship. It was she in me or I in her that needed the gratification and more than this, fertilisation. I was to fulfil her desires. 

Those words I had heard in the cave rang in my head; “For the good of the kin.” Ladyship was a fertility goddess and in purchasing her I had become…become what? Was I partner, slave or worshipper? 

The thoughts dissolved as pressing a nipple with one hand and penetrating my vagina with the other, I was drawn out once more on the rack of a shattering orgasm. My yelps and moans rose to a shriek that must have frightened the neighbours and then ladyship began to release me from my ordeal.

I lay exhausted and gasping from the overwhelming anguish I had experienced, and then as I began to recover my inertia was replaced with anger. I turned on ladyship;

“You bitch,” I yelled, “You put me through hell. I’ll get rid of you – throw you away with the rubbish…I’ll…Oh God no, please…don’t…”

She was glowing again and I felt another wave of desperate sexual hunger beginning to consume me but this time with redoubled force. I was writhing on the bed weeping, my hands fluttering over my body trying to find some way to quell the torture being inflicted on me, but she was merciless. I was being driven insane with insatiable lust. My fingers once more entered my copiously discharging vagina, thrusting in and out in my wild endeavour to find release.

The agonising pleasure of my orgasm struck me and this time there were no more yelps and moans, no shrieking; I simply whimpered and wept as I passed through the tumult of the climacteric moment and then sank into merciful peace, drained of all energy and with no power to resist the domination of ladyship. I was to be her creature, her worshipper, her alter ego, and I knew that from now on whatever I did to be rid of her, she would find me out again. 

She now permeated me and I was to fulfil her desires. I who had in the past so readily scoffed at all that occult stuff, who had mentally derided the old man’s warning to “be careful”, was now a victim. I dared not even try to put ladyship back in the box for fear I might anger her again and be hurled helpless into another sexual whirlpool.

“All right,” I said to her, “You win. I’ll do what you want, but don’t make me suffer again.”

She no longer glowed and had returned to being a stone figurine, but my eyes were drawn to the box and its little verse. I remembered the bag of dried yarrow I had bought that day and felt impelled to fetch it from where I had left it in the kitchen.

I knew what was required of me so after showering away the residue of my two soaking orgasms, I took the bag with its yarrow into my hand and after saying the verse, I put it under my pillow.

I did not expect to go off to sleep easily that night, but when I laid my head on the pillow I felt myself being drawn down into darkness and oblivion.

I don’t know when the dream or vision came to me but on awakening I knew I had seen, not one lover, but three. Three faceless men had appeared in my sleep.

I took the bag of yarrow from under my pillow and flinging it across the room I yelled, “Bloody useless thing; you’re supposed to tell me who my lover will be, not hide his face.”

I saw a flicker of light pass over ladyship and decided it might be better not to pursue my scolding of the yarrow. 

As I prepared and ate breakfast I contemplated what I had dreamed. “Three men?” I queried. I didn’t need to be told who two of them were likely to be, but a third? Who could that possibly be? Perhaps some man I had not yet met. “Well, wait and see,” I told myself.

Gathering my courage I picked up and installed ladyship in the box, getting no reaction from her, and set off for work.

The day mostly went as expected, lunch with Mike and Rod, then dinner with them at the same restaurant we had used before. The unexpected was that I got no invitation to go back to their place. Instead Rod announced that they were having a “bit of a do” at their place Saturday night, and would I like to come?

“Yes I would,” I replied, but felt a bit disappointed that the situation would not be as intimate as I would have liked.

It was arranged that Rod would pick me up in his car, but no arrangements were made to have lunch or dinner together for the next day.

That evening I did not take ladyship out of the box, but I now realised that it made no difference whether the figurine was in or out of the box. The real influence of ladyship was always with me. She had become part of me, or I of her. I was careful not to make any moves that might offend her, setting in motion her punishment technique of agonising sexual arousal.

At work and for what remained of the rest of the week Rod and Mike tended to stay in the background and I began to wonder if they were as interested in me as I had thought.

Saturday morning was spent buying the new outfit I had depleted my savings for. For so many years I had been buying the concealing bell-tent type dresses, I hardly knew what I was looking for.

I tried a number of shops without finding anything that appealed and then I met an assistant in one shop whom I shall forever bless. She questioned me about what I wanted the outfit for, so I told her I was going to a party that night and wanted it for that.

She let me pluck things from the racks for a while, but the seeing I really was at a loss to choose she said; “You know, with a figure like yours, (I waited for the covert criticism I had got so used to in the past) I’d be tempted to go for something revealing. It would be a shame to hide what you’ve got.”

I was staggered and looked at her to see if I could detect sarcasm or an attempt to be humorous. The girl was obviously sincere. She took a dress from the rack and said, “Why don’t you try this?”

It was a sea green colour and much to my perplexity came in two pieces. I noted that it was a size sixteen so I protested, “I’d never be able to get into that size, and anyway it would show too much of me.”

“Please, just try it,” pleaded the girl.

There was nothing to lose by putting it on, or at least trying to, just to prove the girl was mistaken.

I went into the changing room and stripping down to panties and bra I first slipped on the lower part of the garment which was really a skirt that finished just above my knees. I had no trouble getting into it as it seemed to fit perfectly. It was the top that I had extreme doubts about. It was a sort of halter arrangement with one tie round the neck and another across the back. It left the back, arms and midriff very exposed, plus quite a lot of breast, and despite my doubts, it fitted me flawlessly.

The girl came in to look at me and I said, “It fits well, but I couldn’t wear it, it shows too much.” I suppose the truth was I had spent so many years trying to hide my ungainly shape, that even now, when I seemed to have undergone a mysterious physical reshuffle, I still wanted to hide my body.

The girl laughed and said, “If I had what you’ve got I’d want to let everyone know it. One suggestion I’d like to make, don’t wear any bras. I think you’re firm enough to do without them and you would look really sexy.”

I was having a struggle to adjust my thinking to this new assessment of my physique, but following the girls suggestion, I took off the top, removed my bras and replaced the top.

“There you are,” said the girl, “absolutely lovely.”

Through the cloth my breasts stood out firmly with the nipples plain to see, and with just sufficient movement to give them almost a life of their own.

Forgetting her professional stance momentarily, the girl looked at me and sighed, “My God, if only I had breasts like that.” Then she snapped back into the sales assistant role and said, “What did I tell you, you look fabulous.”

Looking in the long mirror I had to agree with her, except that I felt as if it wasn’t me I was looking at. If that was the reflection of Dawn Barker, then it was a strange new Dawn Barker mysteriously transformed in the course of a few days. 

I am not claiming I now conformed to the emaciated models of the media, size sixteen demonstrated that, but I was looking at a curvaceous young woman who seemed to have everything in the right place.

I agreed to buy the dress, and as the girl put it carefully on a hanger and covered it with a zip up plastic cover, she said, “You’ll knock the guy’s eyes out in that.”

If I had inspired the interest of Rod and Mike in my bell tents, then the girl was probably correct in her assessment of what would happen when they saw me in this dress. 

I paid and thanked her profusely for her help and as I parted from her she said, “Have a lovely party, but be careful.”

“Be careful!” Just what the old man had said when I bought ladyship. I felt a little shudder of trepidation pass through me. I now had no doubt about the power of ladyship, which power now seemed to be adhering to me. 

I also had no doubt that the dress would have a marked effect on men. “But,” I thought, “Suppose there are lots of guys at the party and they all started to fancy me, how would I cope?”

I shrugged off my anxiety and decided to leave it up to ladyship to see me through any difficulties.

In the afternoon I decided on taking a rest to prepare myself for the coming event. I hung my new acquisition up where I could see it and dozed off still looking at it.

When I woke up I found I had slept a large part of the afternoon away. Rod was picking me up at eight so I began my preparations. While showering I also washed my hair and blow dried it. I then brushed it for some time until it shone and decided I would wear it with just a loose ribbon tied behind my back letting the hair fall to just below my shoulders.

Getting into my new dress I hesitated over whether or not to wear bras. The problem was, all my bras were suited to my old figure and breasts that needed powerful support. If I wore any of those the bra would be clearly seen. I decided on the bold look and omitted the torturous item.

I opted for minimal make-up, thinking that as so much of me was going to be exposed, they might as well see my face unadorned as well. It was a case of “what they see is what they get.”

The evening was cool so I needed a coat. The problem was all my coats were of the bell-tent type, so having nothing else I took the best looking one I had and wore that. 

By the time I had finished my preparations it was nearly time for Rod to pick me up. As I waited for him my gaze fell on the box containing ladyship.

I had not been to a party for years, in fact I had hardly socialised outside work at all. I was therefore going through that stage where one questions what to talk about with people. The box and ladyship seemed to offer me a way through this.

When I purchased her I had thought she would make a good talking point, so why not take the box and ladyship along with me. The coat I was wearing had capacious pockets, so in went the box and ladyship. They would be my defence against verbal paralysis. 

At one minute to eight a grinning Rod was at my door and off we went.

A ten minute drive and we were there. I hadn’t been sure what to expect. A couple of young bachelors suggested something run down and domestic chaos, so I was pleasantly surprised when we pulled up outside an obviously well cared for house with a garden that had been looked after.

Inside the house was neat and tidy and tastefully furnished. I made some comment to Mike about the place being charming as he helped me off with my coat, but I got no response.

Mike was standing holding my coat staring at me. Rod came in from putting the car away and he also seemed to freeze.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

Mike came out of his reverie and said, “Er…I…er, no, nothing wrong, it’s just that you look absolutely fantastic, Dawn.”

“Bloody wonderful,” echoed Rod. 

Blushing I was escorted into the lounge and invited to sit down. We parked ourselves in armchairs round a coffee table, and an awkward silence ensued. For a party it all seemed a bit formal and as only the three of us were there I asked what time the others would be arriving.

Rod and Mike gave each other a slightly embarrassed glance and Rod began, “Well, you see Dawn, we thought…er…we thought it would be nice and…er you if didn’t mind…we might just have…”




Venus Goddess of Love



“A threesome,” Mike completed. 

“You mean there’s no one else coming? There’s just going to be the three of us?”

“Er…yes,” muttered Rod. “We hope you don’t mind, but…”

“It doesn’t matter now whether I mind or not, does it? That’s how it is.”

“We thought we might get to know you better if there was just…” Mike’s voice trailed away as he became lost in his contemplation of me again.

“Would you like something to drink?” asked a clearly uncomfortable Rod.

Since I had really wished to be alone with the two of them, I decided to make no fuss about their deception in implying there was to be a larger gathering. After all, they had not actually said it was a party, just “a bit of a do.” So I accepted the offer of a drink and asked for a brandy and dry. 

Rod made three drinks and we sat sipping them in another a slightly uncomfortable silence with the two boys gazing at me as if they would like to eat me. I decided to try and break the conversational deadlock and said, “I bought a funny little thing earlier this week.”

“What’s that?” asked Mike.

“It’s a little figurine; it’s a copy of one that’s over twenty thousand years old. I brought it with me. Would you like to see it?”

Without any great show of enthusiasm the boys agreed they would like to see it.

“It’s in my coat pocket; where did you put my coat, Mike?”

“It’s on the bed in my bedroom,” he replied. “I’ll get it for you.”

“No,” I said hastily. “She takes some rather careful handling. Just tell me where the bedroom is and I’ll get it.”

Mike shrugged and gave me directions to his bedroom. On entering it I could see that Mike at least did himself proud. He had a huge double bed that I conjectured must have often held more than just Mike. “Sexy bugger,” I muttered to myself, then chuckled and added, “I hope”.

The coat was lying on the bed so I retrieved the box and made my way back to the lounge. 

The two boys looked far from interested in what I hoped would promote conversation, but I pressed ahead.

“I paid a small fortune for this” I said, opening the box to display ladyship. “She’s a primitive fertility goddess.”

The boys glanced casually at my prize from where they were sitting, still evincing no particular interest. As I took ladyship into my hand the influence juddered through me and I knew something was about to happen. 

Mike began to say, “An ugly little devil….” He stopped in mid-sentence, seemingly transfixed by ladyship. She had begun to glow and Rod started to speak but he too got no further than a few words; “What the hell is…”

Ladyship was taking control of me, but that wasn’t all; she seemed to be taking control of Rod and Mike as well. From staring at the figurine, their gaze had transferred to me and their looks spoke volumes.

Inexperienced in the ways of men I might have been, but it was clear what was going on inside Rod and Mike. Perhaps it was ladyship’s vast experience with men that I was benefiting from, but I knew I was looking at a couple of guys who were really fired up. 

They moistened their lips as if a favourite dish had been placed in front of them, and their eyes were hooded. Most marked of all was the trembling of their hands and the lumps I could see through the cloth of their trousers at groin level.

They said nothing and made no move, so in spite of my own agitating sexual condition I tried to speak. My voice seemed to come out as a squeak; “She’s an ancient fertility goddess. She’s also a mother and love goddess.”

The boys could hardly keep still in their seats and instead of the ravening wolves I thought men would be when sexually aroused, they seemed more like hungry puppies soulfully begging to be fed. It made me feel very tender towards them, rather like a mother desiring to satisfy her children.

I went on with my explanation of the goddess.

“The idea was that one of the men of the tribe had sexual intercourse with her in the presence of the tribe, and this was supposed to encourage the other men and women to copulate and begin the process of reproduction. It was a way of ensuring the continuation of the kinship group.”

How much of what I was telling them they actually heard I couldn’t tell, but I felt their eyes stripping me. It must have been clear to them what I wanted and needed, but they seemed to be unable to make the first move. 

Even in their lust there was something reverential in their gaze, rather like the man in the cave. He had come to me in a manner resembling an act of worship making a prayer like appeal to me. It had been me, or the goddess in me, that had invited sexual contact. It had been me who had released him from the constraints of the sacred, and freed him to enjoy my body. Was it now my role to invite and release from constraint these two young men?

I felt the pressure of my own sexual craving increasing, and I knew ladyship was at work again. It was upon me that the creative act between man and women was to take place. It was within my womb the new life was to be carried. Even though I might desire the act and its outcome, it was for ladyship’s sake it must be done. The fertility goddess was not to be denied.

I knew ladyship’s ways now. She would increase the sexual stress in me until I broke under it and would say or do anything for liberation from its torment. The boys were still in something resembling an hypnotic state, looking at me with voracious hunger, yet unable to speak or move.

It was then I spoke in a manner so audacious that had I been just plain Dawn Barker I would never have thought myself capable of it. But I was not plain Dawn Barker, I was Dawn Barker possessed by the fertility goddess, and her will was irresistible.

“Make me pregnant, boys,” I said.

I stood and untied the two ties that held my halter top together, and let it fall to the floor, exposing my naked breasts.

Rod and Mike stirred and began to come out of their frozen state as I unclipped the top of my skirt to let it join the top on the floor.

I stood for moment clad only in my panties as first Rod the Mike stood up their gaze still riveted on me. Then I slipped my panties down and stepped out of them and into Rod’s arms.

His hands were on my breasts fondling them as he murmured, “My God, Dawn, you’re beautiful.”

Mike came up beside me and said to Rod, “Let’s take her to my bedroom.”

I should like to say that they carried me to the bed, but I was still too large a girl for even these young healthy bucks to easily carry. Instead they came on either side of me and gently impelled me to the bedroom as if they feared I might change my mind.

They lay me on the bed and then there was another pause in the proceedings. They didn’t seem to know what to do next and looked even more like hungry puppies that were not sure if the meal was for them. I decided to break the ice again.

“Well, are you going to strip, or do you intend taking me with your clothes on?”

This galvanised them once more and they began divesting themselves.

What was revealed, despite their apparent reticence, clearly indicated their need. Two long light brown shafts with purple heads stood out clearly and I could see little silvery droplets of precum dripping from their urethras. 

They were both nice looking young men with fine physiques and I had no particular preference as to who took me first. The chances were that the first one would be the one to fertilise me, but there was no guarantee that it would be so. In fact I was not really concerned which of them fathered a child on me, as long as it was one of them.

I could see that there was unlikely to be any foreplay at this stage so opening my legs and pulling apart the outer lips of my vagina, as I had in the cave dream, I asked the blunt question, “Who is going to be first?”

Rod looked at Mike who nodded, so it was Rod who came over me and between my legs. I guided his penis into me and as he entered he gave an ecstatic groan and said, “Oh God, Dawn, that’s beautiful.”

I clenched my vaginal muscle round his shaft and this extracted another groan from him. I felt his shaft beginning to move up and down in me and at long last I was really being fucked by a man. I wanted to suck him into me, to devour him and never release him. Unless my cave dream had been something more than a dream, this was the giving of my virginity. 

Very quickly Rod needed to release himself into me, and as his orgasm approached he cried out, “I love you Dawn, I want to fuck you for eternity.” Then he descended into incomprehensible cries as he thrust his hot sperm into me. 

He ended with a long sigh as if of relief from the terrible tension he had been experiencing. He stayed with me for a few moments, then rolled away to be replaced by Mike.

Mike had been witness to my coupling with Rod, and this had stirred him up even more ferociously than Rod. He came very quickly, but fortunately his orgasm coincided with mine and we ended up howling and moaning together.

Mike stayed with me longer than Rod, but eventually he rolled away from me, and I lay there with one on each side of me.

Despite my orgasm I was still in a state of high arousal and was ready for more, but ladyship was not only a fertility goddess, she was a goddess of love, and I wanted love. I wanted my body to be caressed, my breasts fondled and nipples sucked. I wanted to be kissed deep and long, and perhaps my vagina…would they? Could they?

Both boys had discharged large amounts of semen into me and it was dribbling out of me combined with my own juices. There was that slightly fishy odour that as I later discovered, seems to follows sexual union.

I asked Rod where the shower was, and he accompanied me to it and we showered together. Half way through our ablutions he took me standing up against the shower wall and then carefully washed my vagina to remove the new discharge of sperm.

Returning to the bedroom we found Mike still laying their. “What have you two been doing?” He asked.

“Showering and fucking,” replied Rod with a grin. “You should have joined us.”

“Yes, perhaps I should,” Mike responded. “Next thing you’ll be having Dawn all to yourself.”

“No he won’t, Mike,” I said with a laugh, “I’ll always have some for you.”

“In that case, I’ll go and have a shower myself, and I’ll hold you to that when I come back.”

When he had gone Rod and I lay on the bed. Now I began to get my wish. With his hands exploring my breasts, he started to kiss me. It was kissing like I’d often imagined it to be. Our mouths wide open and tongues vying with each other to enter the other’s mouth and to lick up each other’s saliva.

Rod’s fingers gently squeezed my nipples sending little thrills through my body as he pressed and released. Soon he had given up kissing me and his lips closed over a nipple to suckle me. I held him close to me as if he was a little child and felt waves of maternal love pass through me and I longed to have milk in my breasts that I might feed him with it.

“The mother goddess,” I thought.

Into the midst of this Mike re-entered the bed room and laughingly said, “Is that the best you can do for her,” and with that he spread my legs and I saw his head go down between them.

I had fantasised being given oral sex so many times I knew what he was going to do. I felt his fingers part the outer lips of my vagina, and then a soft, warm tongue, slipped into me, to flash in and out and that drew little yelps and cries from me. These intensified when he got to work on my clitoris, but I became distracted when Rod brought his penis close to my mouth.

Again I knew what was desired, so taking his penis into my hand I drew it to me thinking, “If a guy can put his tongue into my vagina, I guess I can take a penis into my mouth.”

As I took him in Rod’s hands came up behind my head, holding me firmly so that I stayed with him.

It was difficult to focus what was happening to me. I was receiving oral sex at one end and giving it at the other, and whilst I seemed unable to concentrate fully on either, the combination had its effects. The first quivering of an orgasm began, and at the same time Rod began to move quickly in my mouth. As my own orgasm began to rise to fever pitch I wanted to be free of Rods organ so I could scream, but he would not let go of my head.

Suddenly everything seemed to flow together. Rod’s sperm was shooting into my mouth and I was wracked with orgasmic torment. In the midst of my own climatic struggle I tried to swallow Rod’s semen but couldn’t manage all of it. 

When he had finished his discharge Rod drew his penis out of my mouth and dropped down beside me. At that moment Mike stopped giving me oral sex and came over me and entered my vagina.

I was still suffering my orgasmic waves and as Mike shot into me I passed the climax and had the pleasure of him still being with me as the vibrations of my climax diminished.

Mike held into me for a while after he had finished then dropped away on the other side of me. The three of us were now exhausted and lay silent for a while. Then I had the strong feeling that I must leave them.

I asked if I could be driven home and the boys protested, saying they wanted me to stop for the night, but for some reason I could not define, I was resolute about leaving.

Regretfully the boys agreed to drive me home, so putting on my dress, picking up ladyship and the box, I put on me coat and Mike drove me home with Rod sitting in the back of the car.

When we were outside my flat they begged me that I would come to their place again, but I smiled and made gave a vague answer. However much I had enjoyed our evening, I knew I would not be repeating it with them.

Something or someone else was awaiting me, but I knew not whom.

Chapter 5: I Gain a New Position

I had not been to church in a long time, but that Sunday morning I made my way to the local place of worship. 

I was now in a sort of limbo, not being clear about what was going to happen to me, but I felt the need to give thanks to someone or something for what I had experienced with the boys. I was thankful the preacher did not take up the subject of fornication.

For the rest of Sunday I was at peace with myself. I risked taking ladyship out of her box but there was no influence, and I took it that what had passed between me and the boys - or was it her and the boys? - had met with her approval.

Monday morning, instead of my usual gloom at returning to work, I went on my way rejoicing. I did not know why I was rejoicing, but rejoicing I was.

The days work began as usual but with the boys giving me covert glances. About mid morning Sparks came out of his rat hole and asked, “Would you come into my office, Miss Barker?”

“This is it,” I thought, “I’m to be given my marching orders.”

To my amazement Sparks seemed to smile upon me, and invited me to sit down.

“Miss Barker,” he began, “or may I call you Dawn?”

“By all means I replied,” still waiting for the storm to break.

“Dawn,” he began again, it seems to me that you have for some time been occupying a position with us well below your capabilities.”

He paused as if he expected me to respond, but I simply said defensively, “Oh?”

“Yes,” he said, “and I think it is about time we took advantage of your obvious abilities.”

He paused again, but this time I made no response, thinking this might be a sarcastic lead up to the sack.

“A new position is to be created and the person occupying it will act as a personal assistant to me. It would mean, where you are concerned a considerable increase in salary, but it would also entail very flexible working hours. Would you consider such a position?”

I was flabbergasted. Why in the world was he offering me the job, the person who had stood up to him so defiantly? I gulped and began to ask what exactly this work would entail apart from flexible working hours. 

The answers I received were somewhat vague and I was inclined to refuse the offer, but then I felt something happening to me. Ladyship was still in her box at home, but now that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Her influence could reach me no matter where she or I were.

I knew it would be hell trying to hide the appalling sexual arousal she was capable of administering, so I quickly told Sparks I would be very interested in the job.

He beamed his delight upon me and said that upper management would be most pleased, as I was the one they had selected.

Sparks went on, “We shall need to work in close collaboration, Dawn, and so I think it best if you move into this office with me.”

That I didn’t care for, but now felt I had no alternative but to go along with it. It was a large office, and a desk was to be moved in together with a computer. I could finish out the week in my present position, and begin the new one the following Monday, but my new salary and conditions could start immediately.

I left the rat hole in a state of bewilderment, but this was less because I had been offered the job and more because ladyship had warned me not to reject it.

In fact I did not really work the rest of the week in my old job and found few receipts and invoices arriving at my desk, they evidently having been transferred to one of the other girls until a replacement could be found for me.

I had some computer skills but Sparks seemed to think I needed to acquaint myself with the working of the one set up in his office. Thus I was in and out of his presence, either to play with the computer, or to receive bits and pieces of information from him about the ins and outs of my new job.

I was wary of being in close proximity to Sparks and was always waiting for him to start his sarcasm. But on the contrary, he seemed to be going out of his way to be pleasant. I even got to like him a bit.

The salary increase I was to receive was considerable, amounting to fifty percent more than my previous salary. In the light of this I withdrew the last of my savings from the bank, and returning to the shop where I had bought my dress of the “bit of a do,” I sought the assistant who had helped me before.

Finding her I outlined my needs for clothes appropriate for work, yet not frumpy, and further clothes for my leisure hours. What I had in mind would cost much more than the money I had available, but the assistant pointed out that “Madam could make a deposit for whatever she decided on and the items be held for her until she was at leisure to pay the rest of the money.”

That was to let Dracula loose in the blood bank. With the girl’s aid I selected a range of clothes that only the day before would be beyond my wildest financial dreams, and a month before would not have fitted me. I managed to pay for a couple of rather sexy work outfits, and duly paid the deposit for the rest.

The session with Rod and Mike had given me confidence in myself as a sexually desirable female, and now, as I stood naked before my long mirror, I could clearly see the difference. Weighing myself I found that there was still no change, but everything seemed to have moved into what I thought of as, “The right place.”

To reinforce this change in my physical appearance I began to be more careful about what I ate and, rising earlier in the mornings I walked to work, and often walked home. That took about an hour each way. I began to feel really fit and that boosted my self-confidence still further.

It was strange, but although I had thoroughly enjoyed my evening with Rod and Mike, I had no desire to repeat it. They both continued to make overtures, suggesting we had “another get together.” As sweetly as I could I put them off with vague excuses. 

Finally they gave up and began to focus their attention on the new girl who had taken my place in the office. I think they had success with her as the three of them always went out to lunch together, and the girl took on a very contented look after a while.




Venus Goddess of Love



My own reasons for rejecting Rod and Mike were not clear to me, but I dimly felt there was something or someone else waiting for me.

Ladyship was quiescent; handling her evoked no response and she sat openly on my bedside table never giving out the slightest glow. I distinctly felt that something was looming, but I knew not what.





Chapter 6: I Start to Get Flexible

I began my new job with some trepidation, wondering how I could possible manage being in the same room as Sparks, and not being sure that I would be able to handle the work.

I needn’t have worried. My time seemed to be spent preparing tables, charts and graphs on the computer based on statistics Sparks gave me. His suggestion that I might have to work “flexible hours” seemed to me irrelevant since there was barely enough work to fill up the normal hours. 

As for Sparks, a subtle change seemed to come over him. From being the grim, scowling and sarcastic creature I had known since the day I first started with the company, he actually turned pleasant, even making the odd joke. In time this shift in the Spark’s aspect began to rub off in the general office, and the place became much more relaxed and far more productive.

Jokes began to pass round the office about what I was doing to Sparks to bring about this change in his demeanour, but since I was doing very little except to work in the same room with him, I could only think it was the fact that he was now no longer constantly isolated in the Rat Hole, and he was actually enjoying my presence.

After a couple of weeks this thought was reinforced when, addressing him as always as “Mr. Sparks,” he said, “Since we are working in such close proximity, perhaps you would care to address me as Paul?” 

To all of us in the office he had always been “Sparks” behind his back and “Mr. Sparks” to his face. That he had any other name was something that had barely occurred to us.

I agreed to the new form of address, and this gave rise to a number of thoughts. We knew nothing about him outside the office whether he was married, had children; whether he was gay and had a lover. “I suppose like the rest of us he was once a little baby with a mother who thought he was beautiful,” I thought.

I think it was in about the middle of the third from when I began working in Paul’s office that I arrived at work to find on my desk a single red rose in an attractive crystal vase. My first thought was it was someone playing a joke. I asked Paul, “Do you know who put this here?”

He flushed and muttered, “I thought you’d like something to brighten up your desk.”

Startled to learn he was giver I stuttered out, “Thank you Paul; that was very sweet of you.”

From that day on there was a fresh red rose in the vase every morning.

My first “flexible” working hour occurred in the fourth week in the new job. Around mid morning Paul asked if I’d mind working through my normal lunch break to complete series of graphs he needed for the afternoon management meeting.

“Perhaps I could have lunch brought in for us?” he queried, hastily adding, “At my expense of course.”

I accepted his offer but was puzzled to discover that the work he required hardly warranted a working lunch and its accompanying expense. The task he gave me took only a few minutes to complete and I could easily have gone off for my normal lunch, but by that time the “brought in” lunch had arrived.

What a lunch it was! It made a grand entrance on a trolley wheeled by a uniformed waiter. It consisted of chicken and salad, with a number of sweets plus a bottle of white wine.

I am not normally a white wine drinker, but this bottle must have cost a mint and the wine was superb.

As we ate and drank for the first time Paul began to ask me questions about my life – nothing very personal you understand – just things like “Where do you live?” “How long have you lived there?” “Do you like living there?” Actually he could easily have seen my address since it was on the staff files.

A couple of glasses of wine brought on further questions like, “Do you get out much, socially I mean?” “What do you like to do in your leisure time?” Clearly this was a “Getting to know you” rather than a work session. 

Relaxed by the wine I counter questioned along the same lines. I gained little information, but had the feeling Paul was a lonely man.

When we finished lunch Paul left the office for the management meeting carrying my pathetically few graphs. He was still absent from the office when I left for home.

Chapter 7: I Get an Invitation.

Nothing further transpired to enhance our first tentative “getting to know you” session, until Thursday in the following week.

Mid afternoon Paul came up behind me and harrumphed a few times. I turned and looked at him. He had a shy cautious look, so to encourage him I asked, “Did you want something, Paul.”

He flushed in the manner I had seen before and stuttering slightly said, “Dawn, I er…er… I’ve got a couple of…er…couple of tickets for the theatre tomorrow evening, you wouldn’t care to accompany me, would you? It’s er…er…a Ray Cooney play.”

This negative approach to asking me out to the theatre confirmed what I had already begun to suspect. Paul was a shy man with pretty low self-esteem. Why this should be so I couldn’t understand since he was not bad looking and was clever as far as his work was concerned.

Negative approach or not, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I seen a couple of amateur performances of Cooney’s rather erotic comedies, and I accepted without any pretence at reluctance. 

A great weight seemed lift from Paul. His face lit up with a smile and he said, “I say, would you really, that’s wonderful; could we go out somewhere to dinner first?”

Inexperienced I may have been in my relations with men, but I was not so naïve as to not realise what was going on. Paul was starting what in old fashioned terms would have been called, “Courting me.” The daily red rose, the expensive office lunch, all added up to this.

What I had to decide was whether or not I wanted Paul to court me. Since I had been working closely with him I had at first felt wary of him. This was followed by feeling a bit sad for him in what I perceived to be his loneliness. From there I had gone on to actually feel some affection for him.

Putting these things together I decided that yes, I would let the courtship proceed further and see what transpired.

Having accepted both the dinner and theatre invitation I pointed out that I would have to go home to change for the evening, and I would not have much time.

Paul responded by suggesting we leave the office early and he would run me home in his car. He would then return to pick me up for dinner. This was real gentlemanly behaviour, and I liked it, but I wondered how long it would last.

We duly left the office and I was dropped off outside my flat. I hastened in to shower and take a look at myself. In the process I weighed myself and discovered that my careful eating and exercise was paying off; I had actually lost weight.

As with Rod, Mike, and when I was working at the office, I decided on minimal makeup. “No point in covering the goods up,” I thought.

Next came the decision what to wear. I had managed to retrieve a number of articles I had placed the deposit on and decided on a plain dark green dress that descended to just below the knees. 

Modesty below, but a little more daring above; the dress showed off what I was rapidly coming to see as my best feature, my breasts. The dress neckline had little to do with my neck as it plunged down into the valley between my breasts. No longer needing those marvels of underwear engineering, the all embracing bras I once wore, I put on my newly acquired bras that served – but only just – to cover my nipples and give a little under lift.

Polished and ready to go I took out another new item of clothing, a warm woollen coat in a paler green than the dress. I was of the view that green suited me.

There was about ten minutes before Paul was due to pick me up, so I went and presented myself to ladyship. “What do you think?” I asked her. Ladyship seemed to glow slightly. 

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” I queried somewhat petulantly. There was a more positive glow and I felt the first rumblings of sexual arousal.

“All right, all right, I didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t get me going or I’ll have a hell of an evening,” I pleaded.

Her glow faded and I calmed down.

Paul was ringing the doorbell of my flat, so I hastily put ladyship in her box and answered the door.

I think we were both equally amazed. I had not yet put my coat on, so Paul stood at the door trying to pretend he was not looking at my breasts. “D…D…Dawn, you…you look b…b…bloody mar…marvellous,” he stammered.

I had never heard him swear before, which suggested he really was overcome by my appearance.

On the other hand, he looked pretty good himself and I told him so. I had only ever seen him in the rather drab single breasted suits he wore to the office. Now clad in a white double breasted jacket and black trousers, he looked the epitome of elegance. 


We went to a restaurant that I would never have dreamt of entering on my own. My coat was removed and we were bowed to a reserved table and served by a waiter a trifle too obsequious for my taste, but it was all done with the utmost elegance. 

I looked at the menu I was offered and was surprised to see there were no prices listed. As I hesitated Paul said to the waiter, we will order shortly, would you send the wine waiter over, please?” 

The waiter bowed and left us. This was my opportunity; “Paul, I whispered, there aren’t any prices.”

He looked up from his menu and smiled at me. “They don’t, in a place like this. Just select whatever you fancy.”

I knew what that meant. The prices would be astronomical. “My God, I thought, this guy really is serious about wooing me. I bet I know what he’ll want as repayment.”

The wine waiter arrived and Paul considered the wine list for a moment then asked, “Since this is our first time going out together, shall we celebrate with champagne?”

I had never had champagne and had always viewed it as a truly exotic drink, so I nodded my agreement.

Pointing to the wine list Paul said to the waiter, “A bottle of the ’83 please.”

The waiter bowed and retired. 

I continued to study the menu and the other waiter returned.

With an anguished thought at what it would cost, I made my choice, followed by Paul.

The champagne arrived with a silver ice bucket and Paul now realising I was unused to such a plush environment said; “We can take our time over the wine, the food we take some time to arrive.”

I sipped the champagne tentatively and found it lively and a bit like apple juice. A few more sips and I began to relax. 

We chatted about the play we were going to see and Paul told me about other plays he had attended. I told him about seeing the two amateur performances of Cooney’s plays and he laughed saying, “I think you’ll find tonight’s performance a little different. This is one of the finest companies in the country and they specialise in Cooney’s work. 

He told me of concerts he had been to, the places he had visited, but still there was nothing of his more intimate personal life mentioned. I wondered what other women he had brought to this restaurant; I even considered if he might be married and I was to be his “bit on the side,” but somehow that did not seem to fit.

Still suspecting that the evening would have to be paid for in bed, I was rather glad that for all their efforts, Rod and Mike had failed to fulfil my instruction to “make me pregnant.” I had menstruated dead on time, as was my habit. I conjectured whether I might become pregnant to Paul, and what might follow from that.

He had been right about the meal. It arrived half an hour after our order had been made; it was worth waiting for.

My mind rambled on under the influence of the champagne, and I thought, “I think this guy might be in love with me.” Rod and Mike certainly had not been in love with me. They had simply lusted for me and even if I had got pregnant to one of them, I felt sure there would be no follow on by way of a permanent relationship, even if I had known who had fathered the child.

“Stop it, Dawn,” I admonished myself, “you’re thinking marriage on the basis of one night out with this guy, and you’re not even sure what you feel about him.”

As if by prearrangement, that afterwards I found had in fact been planned with the restaurant, the meal was finished and the bill presented with just the right amount of time to get to the theatre.

I tried to get a peep at the bill but failed. I saw Paul present a tip for the waiter that would have covered what I would normally expect to pay for a whole meal. I thought I would see what he paid when we went to the desk, but to my amazement all he did was to sign a duplicate copy of the bill carried by the waiter.

We were bowed out of the restaurant, and the theatre only being a couple of minutes walk away, that is what we did, walked.

In the theatre foyer they did have the ticket prices listed over the box office. My stomach lurched at the enormous prices they charged.

There were a lot of people milling around in the foyer and Paul seemed to be acquainted with quite a few of them. He stopped and chatted, introducing me, and as we passed on from one couple I saw out of the corner of my eye the man touch Paul’s sleeve and, as it were, out of the corner of my ear, heard him ask; “Where did you find that beauty, you lucky bugger.” Paul gave a slight laugh and we moved on. 

Time to enter the auditorium and we were guided to the second row of the stalls. I had seen what they cost, and was beginning to wonder where Paul got the money from. “My God,” I thought, “is he cooking the books at work?” I suppressed that as an unworthy thought, but continued to wonder.

The play began and it was as Paul had predicted, something different from the amateur companies I had seen. The audience was in stitches of laughter and titillated by turns.

We came out of the theatre at the end still laughing and made our way to Paul’s car. “This will be it,” I thought; “Time for me to pay the bill.”

I was wrong. Paul drove straight to my flat and pulling up outside, got out of the car and came round to open my door. I got out even then anticipating whether he would suggest that he come in for “a cup of coffee.”

Nothing! He came to the main door of the building and no farther. 

“Goodnight, Dawn,” he said, “I’ve enjoyed our evening immensely. Perhaps we could do it again some time?”

“Yes,” I said weakly. 

“See you at the office on Monday, then,” he said by way of a goodnight.

“Yes, goodnight, Paul,” I murmured, “and thank you, it’s been lovely.”

He smiled and left me.

I watched the tail lights of his car diminish up the street and then he turned the corner and was gone.

Chapter 8: I Discover I Am Loved 

I went into my flat wondering what the hell it had all been about. I tried to analyse my feelings and found I felt delighted, angry, disappointed and elated all at once. Delighted that I had enjoyed the evening so much; angry because I might have botched it; disappointed because Paul had not even physically touched me; and elated that I had been called ‘a beauty’ by a complete stranger.

I wondered just how much he meant it when he said, “Perhaps we could do it again some time.” 

“Well, Dawn,” I told myself, “You’ll have to wait and find out.” 

I took ladyship out of her box and sat her before me. I stared at her for a moment, then summoning up my courage, I addressed her.

“Well, ladyship, it was a lovely evening, but I suppose I shall have to be punished because it didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

There was no response; not even the slightest glow. I took her in my hand again and there was no influence. I sighed and giving a mental shrug put her back in the box.

To bed, sleep and dreams of some of the more erotic scenes from the play. One scene was so realistic I awoke and had to masturbate before I could get off to sleep again.

Saturday was spent in catching up with some of the left over chores of the week and when evening arrived I got ready to settle before the television and its wretched offerings. 

I was about halfway in to a cop show when the telephone rang. I was not expecting anyone to call, so I picked the thing up and muttered, “Dawn Barker.”

“Dawn, this is Paul Sparks.” A thrill speared through me. What did he want? Did he want to come round now and bed me, or what?

“I’ve been thinking, Dawn, you walk to work now, don’t you?”

“Er yes, I like the exercise.”

“I wondered…I mean I’ll understand if you don’t want to…but I wondered if we might take a drive into the country tomorrow afternoon; then take a bit of a walk?”

The thrill shot through me again. “I’d love to, Paul.”

“Wonderful; pick you up about one thirty, then? Don’t wear anything fancy because it could be a bit rough.”

“Fine, Paul,” I said, trying to not sound overly thrilled.

“Bye for now, then. Sleep well.” 

“You too, Paul; goodnight.”

The phone went dead but I held it in my hand for a moment or two, wishing we were still connected, but not sure why I wished it.

I hugged myself; “He loves you girl, I’m sure he loves you, even if he didn’t try to fuck you.”

The television programmes droned on but I had no idea what they were about. I could only think about Paul loving me, and wondered if I loved him.

Right on one thirty Paul was there. I had put on an old tweedy skirt, flat heeled walking shoes and a jumper that fitted rather tightly round my bosom. I opted for giving Paul a thrill and wore no bra, so that my nipples could be clearly seen pressing against the cloth. 

This had the desired effect because I saw his eyes rivet onto my breasts when I opened the door. Gentleman that he was, he strove with slight success to drag his eyes away from my now shapely mounds.

He said, “You look lovely, Dawn,” he muttered, and that could hardly have applied to my rather scrappy clothing ensemble.

We drove out into the hills and eventually turned into a side road and after a few minutes stopped.

“I love this particular walk,” Paul said, “It has some wonderful views.”

If ever there is such a thing as a perfect day, this was one of them. The sky was clear and the sun would have been hot except that a cool breeze was blowing.

I was wondering if Paul was one of those guys who like to have sex in the open air, and shortly he would suggest we sit for a while, and then would begin the breast fondling, etc. Not so; we walked, we looked at truly beautiful views, we chatted about them and all sorts of odd things, reminiscing on our evening at the theatre; things like that. He did not even try to hold my hand.

Chapter 9: I Find I Am in Love

Should I go on in this vein I shall weary you, my reader. You no doubt seek more erotic literature. So suffice to say that in the following few weeks, invitations from Paul came thick and fast. Theatres, concerts, films, walks and visits to all sorts of places of interest; of sex, nothing.

Of truly intimate talk there was little. I learned that he had been married; his wife, Mina, had died childless of cancer. He learned from me I had no boyfriend in tow, and that was about it. He didn’t even ask me what my star sign is.

That I was in love with this strange and remote man I had no doubt. I wanted to tell him so; I wanted to invite him to my bed, but if I had behaved like a slut with Rod and Mike, it was partly because I was responding to what I knew they wanted, and also because I so desperately wanted my first sexual experience. With Paul it was somehow different. Not once had he made anything resembling a direct sexual approach.