T68 story exhibition, Post here.

[Twisted 68]

The Summary/Stories  place.  8)

This post has been updated

I hope everyone is having fun with this Exhibition and has good luck with their stories.   Go ahead and email them to Nab(moderater).  The deadline is June 12th.  We won't hold it against you if its turned in late.


After the moderater posts the stories, please take time and fill out the poll.   you have two votes to cast.   This is just for future references, if we have a simular event,  whether we could turn up the difficulty or tone it down.   


This thread is now open

[Nab]

Payback Is A Bitch

[/size]

I didn't run that last red light, not exactly; but if any cops had been watching, I might've been hard pressed to prove otherwise. Without slowing, I tore down the Manhattan side street to the next corner; my boyfriend was already late for his noon meeting, and another minute might make all the difference.

As I not-quite screeched to a halt, he pushed open the car door and leaned over to peck my pale cheek. "Ciao, Maryanne. I will meet you later at the studio." A moment later he was striding toward the glass entrance, Armani briefcase in hand.

I made ready to pull away; it was, after all, illegal to be double-parked. But in turning to check my blind spot, a silver glint from the back seat caught my eye. Instantly twisting back around, I shouted, "Camilo, wait! You...."

But it was too late; the revolving door had already cut us off.

"...forgot your camera case," I finished lamely to myself. Oh, well; in his mad rush he'd probably just decided to leave it behind. If his new clients insisted on seeing the Hasselblad--assuming, of course, that they were still waiting for him at all--he could always invite them downtown. Speaking of which....

I pulled away and headed toward Tribeca. Ten minutes later, I parked my Nissan in the Leonard Street lot, grabbed the contents-worth-more-than-my-job aluminum case, and carried it with both hands the last block to the studio.

The case was definitely heavier than usual; by the time I got there, I was almost out of breath--and there was a dark vee of sweat on my blouse, between my ample cleavage. Good; maybe Camilo had finally splurged on one or two of the new Zeiss lenses he'd been eyeing for the past six months.

I wet inside; Sylvia was on the phone, speaking perfect French. Montréal, most likely; it'd be the middle of the night in Paris and Cannes. I smiled and she waved, as I marched into Camilo's office and shut the door. One's boyfriend owning the company does allow a girl some privileges, after all. I lay the silver case on his mahogany desk and eagerly propped it open, curious as to what it was he'd just bought.

To say the least, it wasn't what I'd expected.

First off, the book was old, with an embossed leather cover--and written in English rather than Italian. Second, the accompanying printed invoice told me that Camilo had bought it two weeks ago from an online book dealer at Half.com, eBay's kid brother. And third, there was the title of the book itself.

"Hypnosis For Fun and Profit: How To Control Just About Anyone."

It took me a minute to realize that my mouth was hanging open; a few more to wrap my mind around the idea that my boyfriend--a reasonably handsome, fairly wealthy, somewhat famous photographer--had bought this particular book for reasons yet unknown. And, once I did so, mere seconds to figure out how to handle the information.

I made myself comfortable and began to read.

+   +   +

I didn't stop until I heard muffled laughter through the thick door; Camilo had finally arrived, and was no doubt flirting with Sylvia in Italian. I didn't bother to begrudge them their fun; after all, she spoke seven languages to my one--which was why she was his assistant in the first place.

That's not to say that I had no talent of my own; give me the right cosmetics and some brushes, and I could make Tammy Faye Bakker into an international sex symbol. But let's face it: being a makeup artist is mostly behind-the-scenes work, appreciated by the models and the photographer, but not always by the public. Still, it was how Camilo and I had met, so I shouldn't come down too hard on my chosen profession.

And speaking of choices, I knew it would only be moments before my boyfriend, the head of the studio, decided it was time to burst into his own office. (He always burst, never knocked; like most artists, he had quite the flair for the dramatic.) So I did with the book what any respectable American woman would, in the same situation.

I put it on the desk in plain sight, and kept reading.

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, the door flew open. I looked up to see Camilo's silhouette framed in the doorway, both hands pressed against the doorjambs at about head height; and mouth half open, as if he'd just been about to say something. He saw the open camera case, and the musty old book in my hands--and blanched.

Have you ever seen a Latin gentleman blanch? Let me tell you: it's not pretty.

I knew ignoring the situation would make him squirm--so that, of course, was exactly what I did. "Hello, sweetheart. I assume things went well with Mr. Yamanouchi?"

It took him a few moments to parse the question, a sure sign of just how much the situation had thrown him for a loop. "Ah, sì, yes.... Mr. Yamanouchi has agreed to a four-day shoot in the Caribbean next month, for six of his top models.... Maryanne, mia cara, why do you have this book?"

I looked at him. "Don't you mean, Camilo my darling, why do you have this book?"

He had no answer to that; so I picked up the damn thing and marched past him, stopping just long enough to give Sylvia a Significant Look (complete with a brief eye-roll in his direction) that said, "I'm mad at him, so I'm leaving; if he has any plans this evening, feel free to take my place and make him even more miserable."

We women can be such bitches when we want to.

+   +   +

I left my car in the lot, and caught the subway home; it took longer, but gave me a chance to continue my reading. I grabbed something quick from the noodle shop on the corner, and headed straight up to my apartment, all set to spend the evening in. It was almost ten by the time I turned the last page, at which point I went straight to bed; I had to be back at the studio by five-thirty a.m., to begin prepping the models for a seven o'clock shoot.

My dreams that night were particularly vivid, intensely arousing--and completely impossible to recall upon waking. I disposed of the evidence (soiled sheets and sweat-slicked undergarments) into the hamper, to be dealt with at some later time. After a brief and lukewarm shower, I started to get dressed, but all of my underwire bras seemed a little too confining. So I threw on something comfortable over a stretchy sports bra, grabbed my handbag and the book, and headed in to work.

The subway wasn't yet crowded at that early hour, so I sat undisturbed, thinking about both everything and nothing. The book sat in my lap, my fingertips absently tracing the embossed cover. I didn't open it again; I didn't need to. Yesterday's marathon reading session seemed to have been enough for me to pretty much memorize its contents.

By the time I got to Canal Street, an idea had worked its way to the front of my mind. A devilishly clever idea, as to how I could best wreak my revenge on my wayward boyfriend, while enjoying myself at the same time:

I wasn't good enough for Camilo anymore? He was bored, or perhaps greedy; he'd bought the book in order to seduce his models? Fine.

I would use the book to seduce his models. Starting with Nadja and Oksana, the two Russian bimbettes scheduled for this morning's shoot.

For some reason, the fact that I was thinking of Noddy and Oxa, both nineteen years old and absolute sweethearts, as bimbettes didn't bother me. Neither did the idea that I was contemplating my first lesbian encounter since my sophomore year of college, almost ten years ago.

And as to the supposition that I might well have been jumping to some rather precarious conclusions about Camilo's reasons for having the book--it quite literally never crossed my mind.

+   +   +

I let myself in as the sky was first beginning to brighten; Sylvia wouldn't be there for at least another hour; Camilo, an hour and a half. Twenty minutes later, the girls arrived by limo, right on time--by which time I was ready for them, in more ways than one.

I locked the door after letting them in; this was New York, after all. They'd both worked with me before, so they knew where to go and what to expect.

Or so they thought.

We had a satellite sound system; I'd selected a soft classical music channel, rather than the usual upbeat show tunes. Both models chatted away excitedly in Russian; when we got to the changing room, they dropped their outfits as casually as if they'd been on a nude beach. Which, in retrospect, they probably had, more times than I cared to count.

The blonde, Nadja, was (by about an inch and a half) the taller of the two; while her auburn-haired friend was a bit heavier on top--though nowhere near as top-heavy as I was, of course. Oksana had also gotten a full Brazilian, while Noddy had chosen to maintain a thin yellow 'landing strip' below--perhaps to prove to any doubters that her hair hadn't come from a bottle.

And in the coolness of the early morning, both sets of nipples were as perky as their personalities--though, ironically, Oxa's weren't quite as dark as her fairer-skinned friend's. I could see why that bastard Camilo wanted to seduce--I mean, photograph--them together; they complemented each other perfectly.

They each grabbed a silk robe from the rack, and settled themselves into my makeup chairs. Neither of them bothered to close their robe; we were all girls here. Though, to be honest, I don't think a man's presence would've made a difference to these two; the catty part of me wondered if they even knew the meaning of the word 'inhibited'--in English, or in Russian.

Anyway, I had these two right where I wanted them--and, I silently gloated, they didn't even know it. I grabbed a brush and palette, and started applying a foundation to Nadja's face, while also laying the foundation for taking over their minds....

I won't bore you with the details; suffice it to say that the book had not only taught me the techniques I used to hypnotize my hapless beauties, it had also somehow given me the confidence and charisma I needed to pull it off. Not quite half an hour later, I laid down my tools; the girls' faces were only half-finished, but their minds were completely mine.

I looked at the clock; we still had at least thirty minutes of privacy. I told my subjects to open their eyes and disrobe, then gather some of the various pillows and other soft props scattered around the studio.

While they did so, building up a makeshift bed in the middle of the changing room, I quickly doffed my own clothes. Compared to the bimbettes I now controlled, my own much larger breasts were just starting to lose the battle with gravity and time--though for some reason, oddly enough, that didn't seem quite so obvious today. And my pubic bush was a thick black curly mess, nothing at all like the simple but stylish bob cut I wore. Further proof, as if any more were needed, as to why I'd so obviously fallen out of my photographer boyfriend's favor.

Lying on my back in the middle of the pillows, I called my bimbettes to me. And let me tell you: contrary to what some of you may have heard, revenge is a dish best served warm. And soft. And oh-so-wet.

+   +   +

It's easy to lose track of time, especially when one is surrounded by a pair of nubile young women with supermodel bodies, both of whom are willing and eager to lick, suck, and rub every part of one's anatomy (and have every part of theirs licked, sucked, and rubbed in return). So I could perhaps be forgiven for having forgotten all about Sylvia, until she walked in on us forty minutes later.

If I'd been listening, I almost certainly would've heard her knocking, or calling my name--or, at the very least, her heels tapping on the lacquered wooden floor as she entered the room. As it was, I was recovering from my third climax (the most blissful one yet) by biting and suckling on one of Oxa's angry nipples, while Noddy blissfully returned the favor on mine.

However, it'd probably be fair to say that she was even more surprised at the discovery than I was. Given the volume of her shriek, I'd say that was a no-brainer.

And speaking of no-brainers....

I turned to my bimbettes, and whispered, "Grab her, hold her, and cover her mouth."

Wonderful thing about total control: before she even knew it, Sylvia found herself trapped and helpless, held fast by two pairs of gorgeous (yet surprisingly strong) arms.

And ten or twelve minutes after that, she officially became the latest member of my ever-expanding lesbian harem.

Once she was most of the way under, I'd had my bimbettes start undressing her; so that by the time she was completely mine, she was also already gloriously naked. She was easily the shortest of the four of us, though it only had the effect of making her seem even curvier. Her breasts were close to mine in size, but didn't sag at all; I could just make out the tell-tale surgical scars around each nipple. And, as I'd always suspected (and unlike Nadja), she was obviously a bottle blonde as well: her light brown bush didn't come close to matching the platinum on her head.

Knowing that she'd resorted to tricks to maintain her looks just made it all the sweeter, I thought, as I ordered my latest conquest to grab a pillow and drop to her knees. She complied immediately, and even while we were both busy enjoying her discovery of what her new mistress tasted like, a part of me was already plotting and planning for my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend's imminent arrival....

+   +   +

"Cara mia, I don't understand. Why do you treat me like this?"

I laughed; I couldn't help myself. The question was funny, especially considering its source: a thirty-something Italian gentleman, tied down to a makeup chair and stripped of his pants and shorts, his rigid shaft obviously enjoying the attention it was receiving from Sylvia's well-practiced mouth.

"What's the matter, Camilo my love? Isn't this what you had in mind when you ordered that book? Be honest."

It took him a few moments to work out a response to that; whenever he's aroused, his English is the first thing to go. "Il fatto è che--I mean, the truth is, Maryanne mia ciccina, that I purchased the book at the insistence of my family. It had been ... taken? stolen? ... da nostra biblioteca--from our library--around the time of my birth."

Suddenly less sure of myself after that unexpected confession, I forced a laugh--quickly followed by a genuine moan. Oxa and Noddy were obviously still aroused, probably from watching Sylvia at work; their hands were pretty much wandering my body at will, as well as each other's. "Y-you really expect me to believe that this book used to be a part of your family's library? C'mon, Camilo; it was written in English!"

He shuddered; his own climax was fast approaching. "For you, it was in inglese. When I look inside, the words are in, in, italiaaaaaah!" With that, he arched his back as much as the ropes would allow, and exploded into Sylvia's mouth, a number of times over the course of half a minute. Good girl that she was, she swallowed every drop--then, at my nod, quickly frigged herself to her own screaming orgasm, while the bimbettes did the same for me.

The delay gave him time to recover; when our climaxes ended, he was already speaking. "Listen to me, amore per mio cuore. You may not believe me, but the book has magic--is magic?--is magic. Whoever reads all of it gains a power over women, a power that grows with each woman taken. On top of that, the book makes its reader desire women, desire the conquering of women. Look at you, Maryanne; would you have acted this way yesterday, with Sylvia and these other ladies?"

He paused, looking me up and down as best he could from his near-horizontal position. "One last thing. If the one who reads is a woman, the book has an additional effect, which I am also sure you are starting to notice. You are feeling like more of a woman, sì? Breasts are tighter, and maybe a bit fuller? Skin is maybe softer, wrinkles are less?"

"Yeah; I've noticed some changes. So?"

"So, the book is making you into a more ideal woman, one that every other woman cannot help but be attracted to. It is to make your next conquests easier--which is why you have to release these women now, and stop yourself before it is too late."

During his speech, the four of us had been getting dressed; more accurately, my girls had first dressed me, followed by each other. By the time Camilo made his plea, everyone besides him was fully clothed, and I was ready with my answer.

I walked over, bent down, and gave him the best and deepest kiss of his life; more of a tongue-fucking, actually. I'm sure it raised his hopes; I know it raised something else.

Then, petting his newly-erect cock, I dropped the bomb. "Sweetheart, it was already too late by the time you showed up. But thanks so much for the explanation; I really do appreciate it." I snapped my fingers and Nadja stepped forward, a bottled water in hand, followed by Oksana with a cloth gag.

As they watered him and covered his mouth, I added, "Don't worry, Camilo my love; because of your honesty, I'm not going to harm you--I promise. I just need a few hours head start, to pack some clothes, close out our bank accounts, that sort of thing.

"I've already had Sylvia call Noddy and Oxa's agency, clearing them for the rest of the day; as well as setting the 'called away on emergency' message on your voice mail. And sometime this evening, an anonymous tip will bring the police here to free you--by which time, I assure you, we will have completely disappeared."

Satisfied that I'd covered all the bases, I turned to my three acquisitions. "Come along, ladies; we need to get a move on, if we're going to conquer the world."

Dutifully, they headed out of the room--but I couldn't resist turning back and delivering one final zinger. "By the way, darling, you may want to work some more on your English colloquialisms. For starters, have someone finish this sentence for you:

"Payback is a...."


Synopsis:

Cam buys a book that teaches how to control minds on E-Bay, but leaves it in his girlfriend's car. Can Cam get it back before she builds a harem? Will she at least include him if he fails?

Contains MF, FF and takes place in the girl's change rooms.

[Nab]

"Not Enough Silicone in Iowa"

I was getting old - Winter in Iowa chilled me to the bone in a way it never did when I was a kid.  I'd taken to wearing hats and gloves and even grown a goatee.  My old lady laughed at me but I gotta tell you, a goatee really helps on those cold mornings when you have to brave the East wind to bring the cows in for milking.  And it's not as difficult to care for as a full-on beard and moustache.

My weekly respite from the cold was a drive into town with my old lady to pick up supplies: first Ewan's feed store, then the McFannon's grocery store, then home.  It ain't much of a respite, now that I think on it.  But the truck had a damn fine heater and the old lady usually had something funny to say about Ewan.

Shucks, I think I must be feeling guilty - I've mentioned my old lady three times now.  I ain't seen her in, what, a month now, maybe.  Can't say I miss her, the old bag, but she did have wit and she was good with calving.  Can't say I've met anyone with that talent here in LA.  Here they respect you if you've got two cell phones, a beeper, a Blackberry, and a laptop.  I ain't got none of those.  They don't respect you if you talk about cattle.  Heck, it's the only thing I can converse on for any length of time.

But the women here are fine and I get much more pussy than I ever thought I would.  Cuz of my goatee.  I ain't lying.  I ain't saying I get every woman I want, but I came to LA so I could get just about every woman I see.  Any one of 'em with those silicone things in their breasts and they're mine.  I mean it, too.

Take Chrissy, for instance.  She's the McFannon's daughter.  She was working the checkout line when me and my old lady came through with our cart of groceries.

"Hi Mr and Mrs Alder," she said in her cute high voice.

"Chrissy, how are you today?" my wife asked.

''I'm fine.  You know me, just working to save money for school next Fall."

"I hope your daddy's paying you enough."

"Yep.  Slowly but surely I'm getting that money together.  Helps that I still live with them.  I can't imagine how I'd be able to go to college if I had to pay the bills right now."

"But you've thought about going off on your own, I'm sure," I interjected.  I was just making small talk, as we regularly do when we get into town.

"Yeah, I've thought about it," she agreed.

"You know, Widow Peterson's got a little place for rent off of her house.  You know that addition she made for her mother-in-law back, what, fifty years ago now, maybe?"

"Yeah, I know the place.  It's had a sign in the window for a while now," Chrissy nodded, looking a little uncertain.

"I'm sure she can't be asking that much," I said.  Chrissy looked thoughtful.

"What are you trying to do, convince her to move out on her own?" the old bag said, looking at me with a frown.  I shrugged.

"Chrissy can do what she wants," I said, " she doesn't have to listen to me or anyone else."  Chrissy nodded and then the nod turned into a vigorous nod and then the vigorous nod turned into her taking off those ugly green aprons the McFannon's make their employees wear.  She walked away from us, muttering under her breath.

My wife and I looked at each other, completely surprised.

"Well, who's going to ring us up now?" she asked.

So that was my first clue, but it still took me a while to figure things out.  I mean, a long while.  I'm just glad it didn't get warm enough for me to want to shave before I figured it out.

Chrissy moved into Widow Peterson's rental and dyed her hair green and pierced her tongue.  I have to say her parents weren't too pleased about that.  She'd quit working for them and was waitressing at Al's Bar.  My second clue fell into my lap when I stopped by for a beer on one of the few nights my old lady lets me out of the house.

The place was pretty crowded, considering how small our town is.  I knew everyone I saw and Al had my Coor's lined up for me when I sat at the bar, Joe and Alex making enough room between themselves for me.  We all made small talk: price of feed, how everyone's favorite milker was weathering the Winter, that sort of thing.  Out of the corners of our eyes we were all watching Chrissy.

Wasn't like she was whorin' or nothing.  She was just being nice while she helped the customers at the tables and the pool table.  But she just looked so, well, grown up.  She was already two years out of high school, saving up for college all that time.  And her parents never let her date or nothing.  So it was almost like a new woman had moved to town.  We didn't know who this Chrissie was.

A few hours later the place was half-empty.  Joe and Alex had left so it was just me and Al at the bar.  Chrissie came up to me and said,  "Hey, Mr Alder, I just wanted to thank you for helping me realize I could do whatever I wanted."

I blushed and hemmed and hawed.

"No really, I was just so fed up with my parents and thinking I'd never make it to college and what's the point, anyways?  But I didn't have the strength to change things.  Not 'til you told me I could, anyways," she gave a small smile and kissed my cheek.  I could feel her breasts brush against my beer arm.

"I was just talking out my butt, as they say." I said, trying to sound nonchalant.  Inside I was thinking gosh those are firm breasts for being so big.  I mean, I think everyone had noticed when she got the boob job, but nobody was going to say anything about it.

"So you ain't going to college, then?"  I asked.

"No.  I'd spent a lot of the money on... other things," she admitted, looking a little embarassed, "and I'd rather find a nice man and settle down than bother with college.  It ain't that I don't have the brains for it, cuz I do," she said a little too eagerly - I nodded to show I agreed - "it's just that the money it would take!  I can't make that much at any job around here.  Better to save up that money for something else.  Like a house or something."

"Well best of luck to you," I said, "I just hope you find something new to dream about, if you ain't gonna dream about college any more."

She nodded and looked serious.

"A dream.  It's true, I've got to find a dream.  Wow, Mr Alder, you say the smartest things!"

I laughed, "Yeah, and I never went to college, neither.  You should go ahead and call me Bill, anyways, Chrissie, seeing as how you're all grown up now."

She nodded again, that same odd look in her eyes, like everything I said was real important.

"Bill.  Okay, Bill.  Yeah, I'm all grown up now."  She sighed and sat down on the stool beside me.  "You know, Bill, I sometimes don't feel like a woman."

"How do you mean?" I asked, trying to be a gentleman and not think ugly thoughts.

"Oh, I don't know.  I guess I mean it would be nice if I had a boyfriend."  She paused and then looked up into my eyes and laughed, "Don't suppose you can recommend anyone?"

I chuckled and shook my head, "The men around here are either too old for you or just plain not good enough."

Again with the nod and the look.

"Yeah, not good enough.  My parents said that, too.  It's a shame, Bill.  I wish I had someone to snuggle with at night."

"Well you could always just do like they did when I was kid.  I mean, kids nowadays don't do this no more, but when I was in high school we just dated just to date.  Nothing serious, you see, just a movie and hanging out with other friends.  Gettin' to know one another type of thing, see.  You could date a different boy every night of the week and just see how you like them.  A date didn't mean you had to do nothing other than talk."

"Really?  I could?"

I looked at her, a bit confused.  Maybe it was the beer, but I was having trouble seeing how she could think I meant her when I meant the girls my age back then.  But I didn't correct her.  Instead, I nodded.

"Yes, I could!  I could just date and not do anything but talk."  She turned away from me a little bit, looking at herself in the mirror behind the bar.  Al was trying to give her the signal to get back to work but she either couldn't or didn't want to see.  "Just talk.  Just like you and I are doing."

"Of course, a kiss would be nice," I said, teasing.  She immediately turned back to me and gave me a kiss.  On the lips.  I was stunned and all I could do was blink at her as she sat back down.  Al finally came over and sent her along.  I drank the rest of my beer and paid up and went home and undressed and got in bed and all the while I was thinking about that kiss.

Chrissie dated a lot after that.  A different guy every time.  Until she'd dated all the available men.  Then she started at the top of the list again.  Her parents talked to Widow Peterson, concerned that their daughter was being too loose, and she confirmed what Chrissie had already told them: one kiss on the porch and then the boy would leave.  Everyone was bewildered.  Even me.  I knew it was me who had given her that idea but it was beyond me why she'd take my advice seriously.  I was starting to worry.  Out with the cows I'd talk to them about my thoughts.  Milk cows are good listeners.

It was when I was trying to get Alice back out into the snow that I first thought maybe Chrissie would be open to doing other things I suggested.  I was cursing at Alice, who never wants to go outside once she's in, and telling her she better do as I say before I sold her off to Old Man Carson down the road.

"Even Chrissie listens better'n you do," I said.  Alice ran forward at that and it made me pause.  Of course, Alice don't know Chrissie from a hole in the ground, so it wasn't like I thought she was giving me a sign.  No, it was what had just come out of my mouth.  Chrissie was a good listener.  She took me seriously.  I said she could do as she liked and then she did.  I said she should date lots of men and just talk and then she did.  What else would she do?  I swear I tried hard to keep my mind pure about that - trying to think of all the ways I could help Chrissie.  But my mind kept circling 'round to all the ways I could help myself.  'Swhy I ended up in LA, I think.  Harder to feel guilty about fucking air-headed bimbo models than taking advantage of Chrissie.

But I did take advantage of her.  I'll admit it.  No one knows I did.  I didn't leave in shame or nothing.  But I know what I did and I'm sorta ashamed of myself.  But heck, I'da done it again.  Chrissie was one good lay.  I'd tell you about it but I'm a gentleman.  I may be a hick from Iowa using my goateee to control women with silicone breasts, but I'm a gentleman.


---

The summary:  "For the first time in his life, a man grows a goatee. He discovers that it allows him to control the minds of only women with silicone breast implants. The locale can be anywhere. The story must contain MF, MD, but anything else is up to the assigned author."

[Nab]

The Ten-Year Itch

Debbie sat at table #14, nervously folding and unfolding an old sheet of notebook paper she'd stashed away ten years ago, stopping sometimes to read the sketchy contents of the page.

'I'm going to do it. I will. I will. I'm going through with it,' she repeatedly told herself, building her resolve. She'd started preparations for this night a decade ago, when she was younger, less careful, and constantly horny. The very first step was actually taken well before that week when she, her best friend Misty, and then-boyfriend Joe went on that overnight field trip at the end of their senior year... much before that trip, in fact. Continuing to fidget with the piece of paper, she delved into her memories and relived how her life changed before she was even a teenager.

Esmeralda Connings, Debbie Hatcher's grandmother, was a rather famous (for her day) stage hypnotist. Debbie was twelve years old when she first met her very wealthy grandmother, and when she had spoken a few words of greeting to the elderly woman, she noticed her grandma's eyes light up slightly. In one day, Esmeralda had convinced Debbie's mother and father to let Debbie spend the summer with her.

It took her all night long to convince Simon, Debbie's dad—and the argument must have been harsh indeed, because even to this day Debbie could remember the screaming and pounding on her grandma's bedroom wall that went on all night; it even sounded like they were tearing the room apart! During the fight, when Esmeralda's strange and incoherent screams were particularly loud, Debbie's mother gently reassured her daughter and told her that everything would be alright.

By the end of the summer, Debbie would agree. She had a tone of voice that her grandmother noticed right away, and with a little instruction and a lot of practice on the people in her grandma's neighborhood, she figured out how to do more with hypnosis than most Freudian hypnotherapists ever dreamed possible. Within a week of moving home, she had both parents wrapped around her finger, and she got nearly everything she wanted.

Nearly.

There was one small thing she was too nervous, too self-conscious to get.

Sex.

When she started getting really interested in boys, she initially thought she had it made. Debbie was very pretty and her chest was well-developed, even as a teenager—at 15, she graduated to a D-cup bra, something she was very proud of. Her face was free of blemishes, her skin was creamy, her eyes dark and piercing... and her ass was to die for, if you could look all the way up her very long legs to find it.

But, there was a problem. As much as she loved watching the boys, looking at their asses, and imagining what their cocks would feel like in her hands, in her mouth, in her pussy—and even at that age, she wondered what they'd feel like in her ass—she could not deny her growing confusion, a confusion that reared its head at the end of every gym class when the girls were all naked and showering. She thought the girls were just as hot.

One time, in fact, she faked a stumble so she could grasp the breasts of Cindy, a cheerleader who was the prettiest girl in her gym class. She had to leave her next class early to frig off in the bathroom just from the memory! And, with one hand fiercely massaging her clit and the other under her bra and twisting her right nipple hard, she started to build a fantasy that involved her, a hot boy, and a hot chick.

She'd started dating the son of her father's friend after a surprisingly successful blind date. His name was Joe, and he was unaware of how good he looked—or if he was aware, he was much too shy to use his looks to his advantage. Debbie had found the shyness pretty cute for such a hot boy, and a series of movies, dinners, kisses, and even a few awkward minutes of "heavy petting" followed over the summer between her sophomore and junior years at high school.

Because he was so nervous one night when they were necking in his car, she offered to help relax him with her well-practiced techniques. That night, she somewhat-entranced boy became a man. In a flash of inspiration, she had kept him from climaxing until she was good and ready—and two hours of fucking later, she was satisfied enough to let him get off.

Debbie repeated this several times, working and tinkering with her boyfriend's mind. As she did, she realized that she wanted her, Joe, and her best friend Misty to have a threesome. That presented a few major problems, though: Misty hated Joe, Joe hated Misty, and Misty was straight.

As the mid-terms for her senior year's classes approached, she and Misty were studying nightly. Finally, when Misty was talking about just winging it on the tests, Debbie got her opportunity to get inside Misty's mind and root around. With the door to Misty's room locked for privacy, she began the process.

An hour later, she was rubbing her pussy into the face of her best friend, smearing Misty's makeup and bringing herself to a quick (albeit quiet, as Misty's parents were in the house) orgasm. While Misty was in the alternate personality Debbie had made for her ("Bislut," she called it), she was a very horny and active lover... even if she didn't remember any of it when she woke up.

Suddenly, the song changed, and Stone Temple Pilots' "Plush" started playing, snapping Debbie back to reality. Debbie looked down at the words on the paper, carefully going over her notes from the old days at Kackenburg High when she first started to use her abilities to get sex.

"I can't believe I used those words as triggers," Debbie said out loud. She had the scenario already set up in her mind—that had been done ten years ago—and now, she even had a room set up in the hotel this ten year high school reunion was being held that would have all the necessary amenities to make that fantasy finally come to life.

Looking up, she saw Joe wander in, stag. 'Big surprise there—I bet he's still the biggest introvert in the world. I bet he also drives all the women he works with crazy without knowing it,' Debbie mused. Joe was as handsome as ever, dressed nicely... and, thankfully, dateless. Debbie got up to say hello to her ex-boyfriend, and after exchanging the normal pleasantries one expects to hear at a meeting of this sort, she noticed a gold band on his left ring finger.

And then, in walked a beautiful woman with large breasts, flared hips, and a tight blue dress. She put her arm possessively around Joe, kissed his cheek, and offered her hand to Debbie.

"Hi! I'm Gwen, Joe's wife. You must be Debbie, he's talked so much about you...." she said, but Debbie heard no more than that. This "Gwen" was a Goddess, and Debbie knew that possessive hold she had on Joe... it was one she herself had enjoyed a decade ago. Apparently, Joe was OK with the idea of not wearing the pants in a relationship—this angel probably told him when to breathe.

"Hi, I'm Debbie. And yes, I'm the one you've heard so many tales about, if Joe ever talks about high school anymore!" Debbie said, feigning mirth and excitement at meeting a woman who was more than her match under normal circumstances. As they talked (Debbie being pretty much on "small-talk autopilot" and not paying attention to either what was being said to her or what she was saying), she caught sight of Misty.

Misty hadn't filled out much. At just over five feet tall, she was pretty much as short as she'd been in school. Her black cocktail dress (a little too dressy for the hotel, but not too much so) revealed a nice body, albeit without many curves. This was the type of woman, Debbie thought, who came to her practice for help in quitting smoking—and the ones who looked this good also got some additional therapy that usually involved the patient tongue-massaging the therapist while under trance.

As Debbie's panties dampened at that brief thought, she realized that she was more than a match for even Gwen's divine beauty. She was going to take this man from under her grasp, even if for one night... and there'd nothing Mrs. Hotstuff would be able to do about it.

As the four of them took a seat at a table Debbie had arranged for her, Joe, and Misty to sit at (an additional chair and place setting had to be brought in for Gwen), she sprung her plan into action by first separating everybody. Since Joe was with Gwen, she dropped a lot of hints that they should have some drinks so she and Misty could catch up... and when Gwen agreed and held out her hand to Joe, he took it and followed her like a dog follows his master... 'Or Mistress,' Debbie thought as she set her eyes on Misty.

"So, Misty... how's it been for you? We haven't talked much since graduation," Debbie began. "You look a little tense, honey," Debbie added, suddenly remembering the only trigger she left Misty that would make her want to relax. It was a weak trigger, but it worked to get her in a state where she would appreciate a good relaxation technique or two.

Immediately rubbing her suddenly tense shoulder, Misty responded, "Well, girl, so much has happened. After college, I got an entry-level job at an accounting firm in St. Louis, so I was far away from the old gang here... and let's just say that 50-hour-plus weeks don't leave much time for getting a man... much less getting laid! I see Joey isn't having too much trouble though—I wonder, have you kept up with him? Is he still..." Misty began to ask, suddenly lowering her voice to a whisper, "a real asshole? And how did he get a girl like that?"

Debbie had by this point moved behind Misty and had begun to massage her shoulders. "Wow, you are tense. No, we haven't kept in contact too much," Debbie began, slowly turning Misty so that she was facing directly the decorative plasma ball on the table. "Hey, go ahead and play with the ball while I rub your shoulders... it's very relaxing. Trust me, I'm a pro," Debbie said.

"Yeah, I heard you became a therapist," Misty said, leisurely dragging her fingers along the glass sphere, watching the colorful streamers meet her fingertips as Debbie relaxed her. "Hypnosis, isn't it?"

"Yes," Debbie answered. "If you like, well, we have a few minutes... I could help you relax a bit. You look a little tense, honey," she said, reinforcing the probably-stale trigger.

"Yesssss... that soundsss... nice...," Misty slurred as she stared deeply into the center of the plasma ball, occasionally shifting her focus onto the various streamers that now randomly struck the inside of the globe since Misty had ceased touching it.

"Just listen to my voice, Misty. Focus on the colors in the ball. I'll get you all fixed up and relaxed, OK?" Debbie said softly into Misty's ear, barely able to resist a little lick or nibble.

"OK...," Misty dreamily said, sighing as she started to slip under.

"Just relax, hon. Relax your legs, your back, your arms. Let you face slacken, don't force any expression. Just slip down to that spot just above sleep...," Debbie intoned. "I'll even count down for you, so you don't go too fast... and when I get to one, you'll be totally stress-free, totally relaxed, and it'll feel great, I promise. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yesssssssss...." Misty, who for some reason beyond her conscious understanding, wanted more than to forget her troubles and just... relax.

"Each number will drive you further down, till all you hear is my voice... not the crowd here, not the music, not even your own thoughts. Just me. Ready?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," Misty moaned. Debbie took it as a "yes," although at this point Misty was already beyond being able to say "no."

"Three. Deeper and deeper... way, way down...."

Misty's eyes fluttered.

"Two. Deeper and deeper. Way down...."

Misty's head bobbled slightly and pitched forward.

"One. Deeper. Way, way, way down...."

Misty's eyes closed and her head tilted forward. And there it stayed.

"Let's go back ten years or so, honey... do you remember Bislut?" Debbie began. She'd done a lot of "research" on her own brand of hypnosis over the years, and was pleased by Misty's monotone responses—they indicated that even after a decade, the suggestions were still fresh.

By the time Gwen and Joe were back, Misty was more than a little horny... and trying not to check out the babe who had managed to land Joe. She even started to hope that Joe wasn't the shithead he had been in school... although remembering how he looked, Bislut Misty was surprised that she had never overlooked her raw hatred for the smart-ass and fucked him behind Debbie's back.

"Hey Misty," Debbie said, "didn't you say you had to visit the power room?" Debbie asked, knowing that her recent instructions would help separate Joe from his apparent owner.

Suddenly needing to do just that, Misty nodded and invited Gwen to come along. Gwen kissed Joe on the cheek and sauntered off behind Debbie, allowing Debbie the minutes alone she'd need with Joe.

"Hey, Joe, what do you know?" She smiled as she said his initial trigger, one that worked on him like "you look a little tense, honey" worked on Misty. Moving quickly behind him, she started to put him under, realizing that this was the point of no return.

Joe appeared to be his normal self when Gwen and Misty returned. He didn't notice when Misty pulled Gwen's chair out for her, or when she gently brushed Gwen's shoulders with her hand as Gwen took the offered seat. Misty licked her lips and looked at Debbie, who had noticed the tiny twin peeks of Misty's nipples showing through her black satin dress.

With Debbie watching, Misty—still behind Joe and Gwen—rubbed her nipples to quiet them down. Debbie knew that by now, she was horny enough to fuck a horse... male or female. 'She doesn't even know she's still in a sort of trance,' Debbie thought with a bit of pride. 'Fuck, I'm good.'

Except for Joe hanging on Gwen's every word, motion, breath, etc., everything went as planned. The dancing started around 8:00 PM, and Misty had a little too much fun (for Debbie's tastes) dancing rather closely with anyone who showed interest in her—and that meant just about everybody. By the end of the third song, she was literally flush with desire. Finally, after the fourth song, Gwen left for the lady's room—the one place she couldn't drag Joe—and Debbie made her move.

It didn't take much coaxing to get Misty to go to room 409. Joe was a different story.

"I don't know, Deb... I mean, I'm with Gwen now...."

"Joe, I just want to catch up. Seriously. C'mon, Gwen won't care...."

"No, I think I should wait... besides, Misty is there, and she never really cared for me...."

"Joe, look. That's in the past. C'mon, I just want to talk."

"I still don't think it's a great idea... I don't want Gwen to get mad or wonder where I've wandered off to...."

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I told Gwen where we'd be, gave her a key, and she's OK with it," Debbie said, lying.

"Ehhhhh... I don't know...."

'This guy could never make up his mind... no wonder he needs a woman to do it for him!' Debbie thought as she finally decided to use his trigger. "It makes me happy when you obey, Joe."

Joe's expression faded slightly, then returned to normal. "Well, as long as Gwen's OK with it. Let's go," he said, his cock slowly but surely stirring to life. He followed Debbie, watching her heart-shaped ass the whole way to the elevator... and in the elevator... and down the 4th floor hall... and finally into room 409. When they got there, his dick was so hard, a cat couldn't scratch it.

As they closed the door, a moaning sound brought them both to the bedroom in the large suite. There, spread eagle, was Misty, one hand on her left tit and the other rubbing the upper part of her pussy. Quickly, she found her clit and rubbed it to a quick orgasm before returning to the slower, gentler action.

"Well, are you two gonna fuck me, or do I have to beg?" Misty asked.

Debbie, who had started to disrobe as soon as she and Joe arrived in the suite, descended on her previously straight (and temporarily bisexual nymphomaniac) friend, kissing her on the mouth. Joe looked confused, apparently trying to process in his modified mind the scene before him.

"Hey... I have an idea," he said suddenly. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and produced a long, silk scarf. From his other pockets, he managed to come up with two pair of handcuffs.

'I think Gwen had some ideas for tonight... well, I guess I'll have to test-drive my little Joe out before she gets a crack at him,' Debbie thought as she saw Joe take off his jacket, tie, shirt, belt, pants, and...

'Oh fuck, it's bigger than I remember,' Debbie thought as she caught sight of his member. It was every bit of eight inches, a size that never sounds impressive until it's in any orifice of a woman's body. In his current mode, he would not cum until commanded to do so. 'Not that he knows about that,' Debbie mused as she imagined how long she'd ride him before allowing him any hope of release.

'It's too big for my ass, but Misty does have fingers for that... hey, what's going....' Debbie's mind wondered as Joe approached her and cuffed her right hand to the right side of the headboard on the hotel's bed. He glanced at Misty, nodded, and she moved between Debbie's legs and started licking her pussy with vigor—Debbie's legs spread out reflexively in response. Before Debbie could say anything, her mouth was covered with Joe's, and any questions she had about his sudden assertiveness were washed away by his always-talented tongue.

As he kissed her, he moved around so he could use his other pair of cuffs to attach Debbie's left wrist to the left side of the bed's headboard. Releasing the kiss, he whispered into her ear (licking between every other word), "Shhh, baby... this will be better than you remember... quiet now...."

With Misty between her legs and driving Debbie to her first orgasm, Debbie could not resist as Joe used his belt to bind Debbie's left leg to the left post at the foot of the bed. He used the necktie he'd been wearing to tie her right leg to the appropriate corner of the bed, and then went to the night stand.

He produced a small vial of liquid from the drawer, and she watched as he put two drops on the scarf he'd shown her. He tied it around her mouth as Misty finally brought her to her first climax, and as she breathed in, she passed out quickly.

The first thing Debbie could see as she woke up was a strange, sparkling light. As it moved around slowly, the light source split the white light of the ceiling fixtures into a multitude of rainbows that played in Debbie's eyes and brain as a soft, feminine voice droned on just beyond comprehension.

Then, darkness... but only for a moment or two; because the sounds of a woman screaming, moaning, screaming, moaning—back and forth went the voice, alternating between moans and screams at an erratic rate—brought her back to reality. Suddenly, she felt her head clear... mostly. The fact that it wasn't totally clear was trouble, and she knew it—after all, she'd been doing this to people for years and kept detailed notes on how they perceived their active trance states or alter egos.

'They got me....' she thought as she realized something had happened to her mind. She took stock of her situation when she could see again: she was tied to the bed, gagged, and... 'What the fuck?' her mind screamed as she saw what was happening on her bed.

Joe was on his back, draped over Debbie's left leg somewhat. He was using one hand to play with Debbie's left tit, and the other to pinch the nipple of the girl above him.

'Oh fuck, that's Misty! What the fuck's going on here??' Debbie's mind screamed in lieu of any ability to make a verbal sound other than "mmmmmpff!" Then she saw that Misty wasn't just getting fucked by Joe. Behind her, wearing a strap-on and taking Misty's ass with it, was Gwen; her hands roamed Misty's body possessively, occasionally slapping Joe's hand away so she could torture both of Misty's nipples—much to Misty's agonizing delight, if her facial expression could be believed.

Joe leaned up when he met Debbie's surprised eyes, mumbled something to Gwen, and she smiled and slowed (but didn't stop) her hip movements.

Responding to some trigger word Debbie was too shocked to comprehend, Joe reached down from Debbie's breast, licked his finger, and started rubbing it over Debbie's clit. As the sensations quickly made her body tense up even more than the erotic scene had already done, Gwen started to speak.

"So, you are the famous Debbie. You're the one who left a bunch of shit in my man's head. I'll have you know it took weeks to get it out of there so I could make him mine," she said.

Debbie tried to say something to deny the truth, but all she could manage was "mmmmf!"

"Joe, let's give Misty one more quick one," Gwen said as Debbie watched. Gwen leaned forward just a bit and held on to Misty's body as she rapidly increased the motion of her anal intrusion. Joe took his teasing finger from Debbie's pussy and picked up his pace as well, and Misty's head rolled around slightly at the fierce penetration that was building so much pleasure in her loins she would explode with it soon. To hasten what she knew would be another orgasm she could only call "the best" she'd ever had, Misty started to rub her own clit and play with her nipples.

Within a few seconds, Misty came again, finally collapsing on Joe from exhaustion—but still impaled on Joe's prick, and still moving on it slightly.

Gwen withdrew from Misty and took off her strap-on. She moved onto the bed, placed herself between Debbie's legs, leaned forward, and licked Debbie from asshole to clit very slowly. Sitting up a bit, she put her finger on Debbie's clit and rubbed it quickly, bringing Debbie to the edge of release—and then nearly stopping; her finger suddenly moved so slow that it would not give the orgasm it had promised earlier and now just pushed Debbie further towards the edge.

"Yes, Joe told me all about you. All about what you did to him, what you made him do... not that he didn't enjoy it," she said, turning her head and leaning over to give Joe a passionate kiss. His hands went to Gwen's tits and pinched her nipples slightly, making her quiver a little. That motion almost caused Gwen to lose control of her slow pace, and Debbie was hoping it'd happen so she'd get to ride the wave of sexual energy building within her to a climax. But, Debbie regained control and took Debbie to the edge of release, only to bring her back down again.

As Debbie started to wiggle and writhe as much as her bound position allowed, Gwen continued. "Mmmm, yeah, little Debbie. I found all those old triggers you left laying about in Joey's noggin. Whatever hold you had on Joey here was wiped out a few weeks after he met me." With that, Gwen again quickly rubbed Debbie's clit, but this time she used her other hand's fingers to enter her dripping cunt. She curved those fingers up slightly and moved both hands to expertly bring Gwen to the most powerful orgasm she could remember.

While Debbie was still seeing stars from that climax, Gwen licked her fingers, tasting her latest conquest for the first time.

"It took a little while to track Misty down. You were pretty sloppy; I'd expect more expertise from a fellow member of our exclusive club. You see, you blabbed about your plans for your never-realized ménage à trois while Joey was under, when you programmed him for your encounter... and then you didn't even capitalize on it. Shame, his cock has more than satisfied little Misty here," Gwen said, motioning towards the thoroughly fucked body that slumped over Joe, "and I enjoy it immensely myself." Misty had started to rouse herself during Gwen's conversation; her hips were now moving in a steady rhythm over Joe's stationary cock.

"Anyway, when Joey got the invite to this reunion a few weeks ago, I figured you might try this. I barely had time to work on Misty; getting my man here to overlook her inherent bitchiness was easy enough but making her docile enough to live with us... well, that was a bit more involved. And now," Gwen said, rising up from between Debbie's legs and placing her pussy above Debbie's mouth, "it's time for you to join the family. I must admit, it'll make my job of getting slaves a little easier. You are fairly talented... for an amateur. Joey and Misty, it's recruiting time."

Gwen produced a knife from the nightstand and cut the scarf, allowing Debbie's mouth to gasp for air. Joe and Misty had moved into position between Debbie's legs and were taking turns licking her feet, legs, pussy—basically, anything they could get their tongues on. And above Debbie's face was the glistening cunt of a terribly gorgeous woman. And it was getting closer. The tongues working her lower body were starting to drive her nuts; she'd thrash right off the bed if she could only move.

"When you lick my cunt, you'll be my newest fuck toy. I've already 'taught' you all you'll need to know, but I favor triggers that aren't verbal. You have to lick me, and when you do, you'll be mine." When she was done talking, Gwen's perfect pussy was resting just above Debbie's mouth, easily within licking distance.

Debbie understood the consequences of giving in. Her mind fought to keep her mouth closed, and not being able to move seemed to help—for the first few seconds. But as her body was racked with sensations she was powerless to move against or with, and as her desperation for release grew, she started to reconsider. Joe was fucking Misty now, in the ass or pussy—she couldn't tell because of the wonderful obstruction to her vision that floated above her face.

But, Debbie wasn't getting off. Misty would go fast and then slow down right before Debbie came. Desperately, her body forgetting its disposition, Debbie tried to move her hand to her snatch to finish off the orgasm... but her arms were both bound. She tried to close her legs to ease the intense pleasure coming form her sweltering sex—but they too were bound. Against her own volition, her body struggled against the restraints to either stop or control the sensations assaulting her—even the musky scent of the goddess above her was something she could not escape, now that Gwen was holding handfuls of Debbie's hair to make sure she looked straight up.

Debbie's tongue licked her lips as her body continued to frantically try to free itself—anyone in the neighboring room would probably think she was having a seizure. Debbie held back, mouth open and tongue out, for what seemed like an eternity. In a frenzy of hopeless motions, she tried to free her body so she could do something—anything—to get herself off. She wanted to 69 Misty, have Joe fuck her hard, play with her clit, slap her clit, twist her nipples... anything would do, and her body could not move more than an inch! Unable to speak for reasons she was to horny to even think about, she snaked a tongue up, somehow knowing that licking Gwen, the beautiful creature above her—no, the Goddess above her—would bring sweet release. She stopped her tongue as some half-asleep part of her brain tried to warn her.

'You know what she's doing! Stop thinking with your cunt! You need to get out!'

'Fuck... so fucking hot... so hot... need to cum... need to cum for Gwen... need to taste....'

'Don't... do it... escape... get out....'

'Need to cum... need to cum... need to cuuuuuuuum....'

To Gwen, the tongue stopped for only half a second before it made contact with her pussy, but as she bore her pussy down on the screaming face below her, she knew that Debbie's last half second of freedom probably lasted for a day and a half to her.

Grinding into Debbie's face, she said, "Welcome to the family, slut." Misty then sucked on Debbie's clit into her mouth, silencing the motion in the top woman's hips, and washed her tongue over her love button in a circular motion, bringing her new Mistress to the first of many orgasms She'd enjoy that day.

Needless to say, none of the four made it back for the rest of the reunion party.

Epilogue

Two days later, looking a little haggard but also somewhat rested (and thankfully freshly-showered), they all finally emerged from the room. Gwen walked in front of Joe, as she had done since they started dating several years before—and Joe was more than happy to know that he'd been "promoted" from face slave to "Fuck Drone." With Debbie and Misty both serving as the new face slaves, Joe's only job was to use his big, hard cock to satisfy any woman in the house at command.

They all knew his triggers after a few days at Gwen's and Joe's house—the one that'd turn him into little more than a living sex doll, unable to cum until ordered to do so, and the other that turned him into an hyperactive fucking machine also unable to cum until allowed. For his part, Joe didn't mind being the sex slave of three women, performing at their amazingly frequent whims—after all, nobody would mind that, especially when surrounded by three women who seem to eat, sleep, and breathe sex.

Misty, in particular, was happy to have finally realized what a great guy Joe could be... when she wasn't busy licking Gwen, anyway.

As for Little Debbie (her new name)—her mind was left intact at the conscious level, acting out robotically her programmed responses to unusual choices for trigger words. Gwen had done this on purpose; Joe was Gwen's slave, and when she took him, she was bound to look out for him. To her, Debbie's punishment of living inside a body that crudely acted on command like the saps she'd used her stage hypnosis tricks on was just and fair. That, and Gwen got a little thrill every time Little Debbie flashed her tits to the nearest person any time she heard the trigger, "T.H.O."


The synopsis I got that was used to write this story:

Set on the weekend of a 10-year high school reunion. The main character is female, who, during her high-school years, struggled with knowing that she was bi. She's nervous about seeing her ex-boyfriend as well as her old best friend, who always hated each other. As a joke back in high-school, she hypnotized them both, but never had the courage to use the triggers to play out her fantasies.....
The story should incorporate MF, FF, FD, and BD.

[Nab]

Seidh, Od, and Other Hnossir

I know a sixteenth [rune]: If I see a girl
With whom it would please me to play,
I can turn her thoughts, can touch the heart
Of any fair-armed woman.

I know a seventeenth:
If I sing it,
The young girl will be slow to forsake me.

-- Words of the Most High, from the Elder Edda, c.800-1000 A.D.

*   *   *

The bars in Reykjavik aren't notably different from the bars in Brighton, or Boston, or Berlin, or Bali, or Bombay.  Sure, everyone talks about the joys of taking in the cultures of other lands, and in the day-- at work, at play, on a beach-- it's possible to see differences in attitudes, mores, taboos.  But alcohol and a sizzling dance beat are the great equalizers, and no one pays enough attention to what the deejay is saying to care about what language he happens to be speaking.

That was Ada's train of thought as she returned from the restroom to the poorly-illuminated table she shared with her friends.  It was evident from Callista's slightly bored look that she shared this unspoken revelation; the redhead was looking around the club for something vaguely unique.  Brandy, on the other hand, was oblivious to these kinds of thoughts.  She'd started early by consuming the small bottle of Finlandia in the hotel room's mini-bar and was smiling broadly at several gentlemen in the establishment she would never have even glanced at cold sober.  They were staring back.  Evidently they liked blondes.

Ada's lips quirked.  Same club.  Different country.

"How's the loo?"  Callista inquired.

"Cleaner than the one last night.  Ick."

Both girls looked to Brandy for comment, since it had been her overconsumption which had ruined the aforementioned ladies' room the night before, but Brandy had stood up and wandered in the direction of the bar, where two average-looking guys awaited her.

Ada was hardly shocked.  "Again?"

"Shouldn't we stop her?"

"Nah, it'll be fun to give her shit about it in the morning."

"If we see her in the morning."

"You don't think she'll go off on another unscheduled ski trip without us, do you?"

"I don't know what to expect on this holiday, really.  When we're back in London, she never acts this... overt."

"No, but she doesn't drink much there, either.  She's been quite the greedy one on this trip.  In more ways than one." 

Brandy had her arm around one guy's back, and was giving the other a "come hither" look.

"I can't watch!"

"Darling, we have to!"

"No," Ada replied, knocking back the rest of her drink, "I'm going to go off on a trip of my own.  Just around the club, is all."

"My feet still hurt from the hike today and these bloody pumps.  See if you can't scare up some gents for us, dear."  Callista looked almost wistfully toward Brandy, again.  "Preferably better-looking ones than that lot.  Or else a few more drinks so we're like her and don't care so much."

The American girl chuckled at that, then stood up and left her companion nursing a cocktail.

It had been a fun trip, if perhaps a bit more on the relaxing side than on the exciting, for her.  Unlike Brandy, Ada and Callista had spent each night in their own beds, unaccompanied.  Not through lack of opportunity, of course-- Ada's curvaceous figure and creamy complexion got her hit on in nightclub after nightclub, and tall, leggy Callista was no slouch either.  For whatever reason, however, neither girl had found what she was looking for in the selection of men they'd been granted.  Brandy had been less choosy and, when Callista had made a not-quite-joking comment about her promiscuity, had replied back, "I've just spent three months slaving away at physics and maths, and I'm damned well going to have a rutting good time before we have to jet back to London.  And when I say 'rutting', I mean plenty of it."

Her friends had smiled and shaken their heads, and expressed mild disapproval... but it was hard not to admit that after nine days of seeing Brandy hook up at every possible occasion, the other two were starting to feel a bit left out of the game.

Ada passed the second dance floor (there were three)-- fairly empty, though somewhat respectable for a Tuesday night.  Certainly no one... er... nothing interesting, though.

On the other hand, sitting alone at the bar with a martini glass in hand (sans olive) was a broad-shouldered blond man with a big smile and wire-rims.  She liked his look and sat down next to him.

"Hello," he said to her as she took her place on the barstool, crossing her legs.  He very decidedly did not look her up and down (or at least did it surreptitiously enough that Ada missed it).  She found this refreshing, and the Texas drawl was something else she hadn't encountered in awhile.  Not too many Dallas natives in London, let alone Iceland.

"Hi," she replied, flashing her teeth at him.  "What's a corn-fed boy like you doing so far from home?"

"Buyin' you a drink, darlin', what else?  What'll it be?"

"A Red-Headed Slut."

Instead of the expected Had one of those.  I asked what you'd like to drink... the gent offered a no-nonsense, "That's cranberry, Jaeger, and Peachtree, right?"

Ada nodded, deciding she liked this man.  "What's your name, darlin'?" she inquired in a decent emulation of his accent. 

He took no offense, of course, and after ordering for her, he replied with, "Zeke Rutledge.  And yours?"

"Zeke?  Your parents not like you much?"

"Hey, it beats 'Ezekiel' all to hell.  And my cousins Nebuchadnezzar and Ahasuerus never cease to express their envy."  He grinned.

It was infectious.  "Ada," she replied, to his unrepeated query.

"'Ada'.  I like that."  The bartender took the cash he offered and set the drink down in front of her.

"I'm glad."

They talked and flirted for a while.  He was on a business trip for his father's company, where he was a regional manager; she told him about school in England and her concentration, world history.  His glasses did not hide his beautiful brown eyes from her, nor did they conceal his obvious admiration for her.  She was about to ask him if he'd like to go someplace more private when Callista showed up, clearing her throat.

"Um... hi, Callista.  This is Zeke.  Is everything okay?"

Callista nodded politely at Zeke. From Callista's look, everything was not okay.  "That tart has done it to us again!"

"Brandy?  What did she do, now?"

"You know those two blokes she was throwing herself at?"

"She left with them?"

"No, that's the worst part. She can't even stay that faithful.  She left with a totally different gent, and the other two apparently decided I was the consolation prize." 

"Did she at least tell you where she was going?"  Callista cocked her head and inclined an eyebrow.  "Hmmm... apparently not.  Cell phone?"

"Voice mail, dammit." 

"Maybe she just went back to the room?"

Callista looked unconvinced, but hopeful.  "Maybe.  Could we go check?  We've got those reservations for midnight golf tomorrow, and she's the only one who even likes the sodding game.  If she's not there, we can get our money back and not have to endure the tedium."

Ada looked despairingly at Zeke, but he smiled and gestured that she should go.  "I would like to see you again, though, darlin'."

What a nice guy.  "I'm so sorry!"

"That's okay.  Do you have a phone number with you?  We can have dinner tomorrow night.  It sounds like your plans may be canceled."

Ada used a pen from her purse to write her cell phone number on a cocktail napkin, then gave him a hug and a kiss on he cheek, waving goodbye.

Callista complimented her on her selection on the way back to the hotel.  "I should have known you'd snap up all the quality ones for yourself!"

"He is pretty cool, isn't he?"

"He is pretty, anyway.  Blond is my favorite flavor."

"Mine!"

Callista giggled.  "I'm just joshing you, dearie.  But find out if he has a chum or something for me, all right?"

"Will do."

*   *   *

There was a knock at the door, and Ada, with a last glance in the bathroom mirror, slid on her pumps and went to answer it.

The door opened to reveal her new friend, Mr. Rutledge, decked out in a sport coat and one of those ridiculous string ties.  Somehow, on him it managed to look good.

This time, Zeke was unable to refrain from looking her up and down-- though he tried to make it seem casual-- but this only served to give Ada a secret inner thrill.  A girl liked to be rewarded for her efforts, after all, and she'd spent more than an hour and a half getting made up for tonight.

"If I were a man o' less culture, I'd whistle at you, Ada.  You look great."

She dimpled.  "You look quite dashing yourself, Mr. Rutledge."

"Ah, it's that formal, is it?  Or is 'Zeke' too goofy for you?  Can't say as I blame you."

She blushed.  "It's not that.  It's just that I've been at university for three years now, and I'm used to seeing boys, not men.  I guess it's had an effect."

"I'm only twenty-five, darlin'.  'Mr. Rutledge' is still my daddy, not me."

"I'm sorry, Zeke.  It won't happen again.  I reckon."

"Are you making fun of a Texas boy, now?"

"No sirree, nohow.  Um... yee haw?"

They shared a laugh, then she grabbed her purse and took his arm as they let the door close behind them.

"How'd things fare with your friend last night?"

She's been a whore all week, why should last night have been any different? she didn't reply.

Brandy had, unsurprisingly, not been present in their room, but she had returned the following afternoon, ranting and raving over Ellis, the man she had met last night.  Despite Callista's best attempts to make her feel terrible or even a teensy bit guilty about abandoning her friends, Brandy had steadfastly defended her actions by describing the sexiness of her companion.  When they had told her that they'd canceled the golf reservations, she had laughed and commented that she would be doing something much more exciting tonight than playing golf... though it would still involve balls and long hard objects.

Callista had wrinkled her nose at Brandy's crudity, but Ada'd thought she sniffed more than a little bit of jealousy there.

"You lot should come with me tonight when I go back there.  Ellis has a friend named Dorian, and one of you could hook up with him.  Or both of you could."  She had grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Callista had looked interested, despite herself, but Ada had replied that she already had a big date planned.

Ada had waited for Brandy to make some semblance of a polite inquiry about the guy she would be with, but Brandy had ignored that particular revelation other than to utter a snide, "Good!  More for me!"

Callista had decided to go with Brandy, then; Ada, annoyed with Brandy for being so self-centered, had bid them both a cool goodbye and had hopped in the shower to get ready.  By the time she'd turned off the spigot, they'd been gone.  And good riddance.

"She'll be okay.  I'm just glad I didn't have to go golfing."

"Yeah, I'm not a fan myself.  Golf, to me, is like bein' a queer: a lot of people do it and seem to like it okay, and I'm very happy for them, but it just doesn't interest me very much."

"Well, that's okay.  I like you just fine, even though you're under par, in the queer sense.  Your clothes, for instance, could benefit from a Queer Eye.  The string tie has to go.  It's way too 80s to be seen out of the Lone Star State."

"Ma'am, I am insulted by your disrespect for my cultural heritage, and you will definitely pay for that by eating whatever it is I choose to order for you.  And since they probably don't even have rattlesnake where I'm taking you, it's bound to be something even scarier."

"It's a deal, Texas.  Now show me the way."

*   *   *

In the end, he refrained from ordering the singed sheep's head, though it was a near thing.  He did not let her escape unscathed, though: he interviewed the waiter in an effort to find something disturbing.  After eliciting blank looks when he asked about rattlesnakes and "gators", he ultimately asked if there was anything on the menu "which eats people", then watched in glee as she sniffed tentatively at the cured shark meat appetizer he ordered as a result.  She found it a little tough for her taste, but not at all bad. 

The main course was some roasted fowl she'd never heard of (ptarmigan?); she found it delicious, and Zeke described it as tasting "like chicken should taste".  Dessert was some yogurty stuff called "skyr", and they shared it out of the same bowl.  And the same spoon. 

When he started popping blueberries into her mouth with his fingers, she decided it was time to go somewhere more intimate, though she hadn't yet decided whether to take him to her room or go to his.  In the end, because he was too polite to ask, she made the invitation, hoping Country-Boy wouldn't find this too forward.  Indeed not, as he smiled broadly and called for the check in response.

He was an utter gentleman the entire walk home, and she very much hoped that he wouldn't continue to be so once they were in the room.

She needn't have worried overmuch.  As soon as the door closed behind them, he grabbed her with his muscular arms and crushed her mouth to his own.  She threw off her jacket and wrapped her hands around his neck, tongue wrestling with his-- sometimes probing into his mouth, more often accepting him into hers. 

"Accepting him into hers" became the theme of the evening, actually; he put his hands on the backs of her thighs, and began sliding them upward.  She tried to assist by hiking her dress up higher, but he grew impatient and yanked it up with a ripping motion that tore seams.  His hands entered her panties from behind, and she gasped into his mouth when his fingers entered her and started slowly, deliciously, rhythmically to thrust in and out.  She felt her dampness wet his palms and the silk of her underwear, and he deftly used his left hand to unclasp her bra through the back of her dress.  I could love a man who uses his hands... came her inner soundtrack album, and she shushed him as he asked why she was giggling.

He responded by suckling her breasts through the dress, and eventually she unbuttoned the top so he could access her more directly.  Yes, there... Between the fiery invasion of her pussy and the nipple stimulation, she melted in her shoes and began fucking back at his fingers as she came.

She couldn't see his face in the dark, but somehow she knew he was grinning at her.  She pulled him back on the bed and demanded that he take her, now.  He was happy to be her guest, pulling her panties down with the same fervor he'd used to yank the dress up.  With a minor pause to add protection-- she was thankful; she'd been too aroused to even remember to ask-- he was inside her, his powerful thrusts teaming up with the solidity of his cock to make her breath come in sharp bursts.  She felt his weight on her hands as he held her down for his use, and when he slowed, stopped for an intake of breath, and then really started pounding her in his own orgasmic fury, she met him all the way with a screaming climax of her own.

It wasn't until he got out of bed in the morning that she saw the claw marks she'd made on his back, but she'd liked the look of them.  They looked like ownership.  Mine... she thought, and sank back into a sated slumber.

*   *   *

He'd left her a note on the table: "Tried to wake you, but you were kinda tired for some reason.  Want to see you again tonight.  Texas."

She smiled fondly and laid back on the bed.  She wasn't sure how serious she wanted this to be-- they weren't even living on the same continent, after all, and long distance relationships sucked bigtime... but for now she was just reveling in the excitement of someone new... someone wonderful... someone who wanted her a lot.  She stroked her body lightly, remembering last night, and her arousal started to resume--

The door opened, then, and she covered up with a sheet as her roommates entered.

Both were somewhat bleary-eyed; apparently they'd not gotten much sleep, whatever they'd been doing.

They weren't too shy about discussing it, either.  "Well, look what we have here!" Brandy declared.  Looks like we're not the only ones who got royally shagged last night."

Ada reddened as Callista picked up the bottom of the tangled sheet and peered underneath.  "I'll say.  And from the aroma, I'd say she enjoyed it a lot.  And still is.  Should I smell your fingers, dearie?"

Ada leapt out of bed, the sheet wrapped around her torso.  "What's gotten into you two?"

"Ellis."

"And Dorian."  Brandy shuddered with the memory.

"You simply must come with us to meet them, Ada darling!"

"Yes.  The backwoods boy is pretty enough, but you just don't know what you're missing with Ellis and Dorian.  Why waste your time with a man in a cowboy hat?"

"Because I fancy him, that's why!  Look, just because I haven't gone from normal college gal to playing the tart for a couple of two-bit pickup gents--"

"'Fancy'?  'Tart'?  'Gents'?  I do believe she's been in London too long, Brandy.  She's even talking like us."

"I do so hate when 'Merkins try to sound British."

Ada was repulsed, and she was sure it showed on her face.  Brandy she would expect this from, given the past week's example, but Callista was just as bad, if not worse.  "Sure, Brandy, whatever you say.  Look, I don't want to meet the men who've made you into fucktoys.  I'll be even more British for you, now: bugger off!  I'm getting in the shower."

"Shall we join you?"

"Right!  I smell like rut."

"No, thanks."  Ada nearly ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her and leaning against it, freaked out.  She heard the two giggling through the door, and then a hushed conversation which she felt certain contained her name several times.  Finally, she shook her head, turned on the faucet, and waited for the water to get warm.

When she emerged a half hour later, her girlfriends were asleep, mutually entangled in the remaining sheets.  And naked.  She hurried to don a pair of slacks and a blouse, grabbed a pair of shoes, and fled.

She didn't see the face of the man who seized her outside their room and dragged her, hand over mouth, down the hall into an executive suite.

*   *   *

After gagging her with a torn slice of bed sheet and binding her to a chair with leather cords, the big bulk of a man left her to sit alone in the living room.  He made a hushed phone call, but she didn't understand a word of it.  It sounded Icelandic, but it could have been anything Germanic; Ada was not big on languages.  And she was terrified; she didn't know if he was going to rape her or kill her or both.  Nor in which order he was going to do them.

The fellow hung up the phone, and approached her slowly.  He looked at her, not unkindly, and wiped away her tears with one of his hands.  His words were possibly meant to be soothing, but all she could think of was where his hands might go next.

Across the room, evidently, along with the rest of him.  He sat at the kitchen nook and sipped at a glass of water while he watched her, and after more than a half hour of this behavior there was a knock at the door.  Ada didn't know what horrors to expect next, and the door swung open to reveal...

... a dark-haired woman.  She was tall, looked to be in her early thirties, and was quite pretty, really.  She spoke to the man in the same language he'd used before, and then started... singing to him.  He swayed a bit in rhythm with her music, then slowly bowed his head and walked out the door, leaving the two women alone together.

"I'm sorry for the way you were brought here, but there was no good way to do this and be sure of my safety, so I had to use the large oaf who just left.  I've released him, and after he gets home and drops off into a mid-morning nap he will forget all of this ever happened.

"You won't, however.  You're going to help me get what I want."  She caressed my face, and I flinched.  She smiled into my eyes.  "Don't worry, I promise you'll thoroughly enjoy it.  One way or another."

The woman, who was wearing a shift dress that belied the temperatures outside, sat on the sofa opposite her.  Glancing down at her watch, she sighed.  "You know, I could wait another hour or so to be sure, but I have never been very patient.  Besides, the extra seidh I just gave him should still carry enough power to get him to his pillow, even if he's released in all other ways.

"Let's begin."

The brunette began humming an almost familiar tune, but Ada couldn't place where she'd heard it before, unless it was moments ago before the man left.  But it was so much more complex than that, using unfamiliar notes too subtle in differentiation to be found on the keys of a piano.  To Ada it sounded vaguely Indian-- it wasn't harmonic, but it did have a certain melody of its own.  She was a bit fascinated by it, but the bound-and-gagged state she was in was hardly conducive to music appreciation.

When the woman opened her mouth and the tones had actual words, Ada lost all those concerns.

The words were meaningless to her; they were not English, but even if they had been she wouldn't have been unable to decode them on a conscious level.  No, these words spoke directly to her soul, to deep parts of her brain which weren't accessible under normal conditions.  She felt her heart soar, and her mind bend, twist... Anger, fear, even confusion all faded, replaced by peace, sweet tranquility, and love.

Love for this woman who sat before her, an undying affection striking to the core of her being.  Desire to make her proud, to make her happy, to seize some of the same love from this woman in return.  And suddenly Ada knew her name, it slid into her and made her sigh: Gullveig.  Many other names danced in that song, but the only other than Ada could feel was appropriate was "mistress".

The song went on for hours, days... but probably really only minutes.  When it ended, Ada wept at its absence.  She'd never known anything so beautiful.

"Now, my pet, I'm going to remove this so we can talk together.  I know you'll remain very quiet so you can learn what I need to tell you.  Isn't that right?"

Ada nodded vigorously.  She wanted to taste her mistress's name on her lips, and this makeshift gag was preventing that.

As lovely hands twisted the knot loose behind Ada's head, welcome air rushed into her mouth.  She sucked it in, and panted out, "I love you, Mistress Gullveig.  I will do anything for you."

"I'm sure you will, pet, I'm sure you will."  Gullveig said to her, caressing her cheek.  "And that is my truest name, indeed, but I prefer 'Heidi' right now.  It's less conspicuous, even though I've used it before, too."

"Mistress Heidi, I--"

"Enough with the 'mistress', love.  I know it's there, you've no need to say it aloud.  Simply 'Heidi'.  If it makes you feel uncomfortable to be so familiar, you may downcast your eyes.  But I would prefer to see them.  They are quite lovely and green.  You remind me of a pet I had a thousand years ago, and thrall by the name of Lin.  Her eyes were the color of yours, and it gave me such a thrill to make her mine.  Tell me, girl, what is your name and how do you feel?"

Ada gave this vision of beauty her name, and would have followed with a long personal history if she didn't feel it would be boring for her mistress.  "I feel great love for you, but... scared.  You... you had me dragged here, against my will, and I don't think that's right.  But, in my heart..."

"Yes, pet?"

"In my heart, I know I can't help myself.  I'm weak for you, mis-- Heidi.  I know what I want, but I know that I should not..."

Heidi sat down on her lap, smelling delicious, and Ada struggled not to sink into the black, shoulder-length hair.  She knew she should be exerting every ounce of her being to resist this woman's touches, holding her breath to ward off the woman's perfume, closing her eyes to blot the woman from sight.  She knew she should be doing all these things, but in truth she didn't... want... to.  And Heidi could tell.

"Yes, my pet, you're feeling it, now.  I can see it in your eyes.  You couldn't stop wanting me even if I asked you to."  She leaned in.  "But I won't ask you to, Ada, darling.  Desire is where I want you to go, and that is the path you're on, now."  Then Heidi's mouth was upon hers, the taste of the tall woman's tongue fresh and moist, breasts crushed to breasts as the kiss went on and on.

"Indeed," whispered the cajoling voice as lips parted, "if I were to let you loose right now, you'd not even run, would you, my pet?"

Ada's answer was an urgent attempt to reclaim Heidi's mouth with her own, and the moan she emitted as she did so left no doubt what her answer was.

In a moment, the cords which held fast her wrists and ankles were severed by Heidi's knife.  True release, of course, was not to be so easily obtained, even after the worship of her mistress's body commenced.


*   *   *

"The song I gifted you with is my seidh, my spellsong.  Its secrets lie far back in time's depths.  I have forgotten when or where or how I knew it, but known it I have for countless lives of women.  Woden I gave this gift in years past, the gift of magic in the voice, and in return... well, that is the entire point of this discussion, isn't it?"

Ada propped her chin up on a pillow, trying to follow every last word Heidi threw out to her.  It was difficult to concentrate when what she really wanted to do was take her mistress into her arms once more and shower her with orgasmic bliss once more, as she had in the hours before.  Heidi sprawled atop the mattress, nude, relaxed, restful, but alert to her thrall's attention.

"The seidh was my bargaining chip, but what I am missing, now, is far greater.  And my loss has been the gain of two useless men who do not know what they carry.  It is both tragic and amusing.

"Your friends are enslaved by the men they just met, by..." here she paused, searching for words.

It struck Ada as obvious, when she thought about it, "You mean Ellis and Dorian."

"Ah, is that their names?  I hadn't gotten that close, yet.  Interesting."

She was filled with joy, knowing that she'd helped her mistress in some small way.

Heidi continued.  "Long ago I lost the totem, and I had no idea it had come to Iceland else I might have recovered it.  But now it has been found, and its first use called to me like a lover.  And so I came here, and watched, and waited.  I know much seidh besides the love-compulsion, and soon your friends became known to me, and their plight, and their masters-- at least from a distance.  And you, also, my pet."  She stroked Ada's hair.

It felt delightful, but Ada was still confused.  "Heidi... Love, I don't understand.  About seidh, about totems, or what Ellis and Dorian are doing.  Or Woden...?  Wasn't he a Norse god or something?"

"He was that, darling, and the best of them.  I could tell you such tales...  You have heard some of them, corrupted by the ages.  The Norse told many tales of my time, but as with any oral tradition, things went awry."

"I promise, nothing will ever go awry with my oral traditions."

Heidi grinned in mirror-image to Ada's own lascivious expression.  "I don't know what you mean, precious, but I trust you'll show me.  Later, though.  There are things you need to know, now, for the task ahead. 

"The Norse poems were eventually collected into the Edda, but by then they were so garbled that they had long lost any real historical worth.  My first death, as Gullveig, was closest to the truth, and when I arose again as Freyja, Hoern, Mardoell, Syr--"

"Your first death?"

"Pet, I am of the Vanir, the Eldest.  I can die, but I am reborn into a direct-line female descendant by the next sunrise..."

Ada was fascinated.  She had known her beloved was long-lived, but hadn't realized the form the immortality took.

"...which was troublesome back in the early days, when plagues could take hold and eradicate entire populations of my descendants, and I was reduced to a mere disembodied sprit.  Now it is much different.  Better.  Most of the world is descended from me in some way.  I don't like dying, but at least I don't spend as much time dead as I once did."

"The Aesir... killed you?"

"Dozens of times.  Sometimes rather painfully.  It was an age of misogyny, but Thor was the worst of the lot.  I could tell he actually enjoyed it.

"Anyway, I don't know where Woden got his runes, but at some point he found a pair that were very potent when placed together, and the girls all flocked to him.  Needless to say, I was very intrigued by this, and I offered to teach him my magic in exchange for the runes.  The runes were all fine and good for controlling mortals, but his fellow Aesir weren't affected.  Seidh, on the other hand... seidh is universal.

"So I taught Woden seidh, and he forged for me the runestick, Od."  Ada watched Heidi's mouth as she said the word.  She pronounced it "ode", with perhaps a hint of a rolled "R" at the end.  "And for a long time the Aesir watched as I bent womankind to my will."

It excited Ada to imagine this, hordes of womanflesh worshipping her mistress, the sounds, smells, tastes...  She began squeezing her thighs together slowly, subtly, rhythmically.

"Eventually it was Thor who was my undoing.  He was angry with Woden for accepting my bribe and decided to take matters into his own hands.  He found me in my temple, making love to my worshippers, and bludgeoned me to death with a metal club.  Years later I returned to Sweden, dug up the corpse where my followers had buried it, and searched desperately for Od, but it was gone... Gone, and nowhere to be found, by gods or men.  Thor was gone, too, damn him, and I was never able to wrest the secret out of him before he was... killed..."

"What happened to him?  I thought you could never really die."

"No, pet, the Aesir are truly immortal, but they don't die and come back the way I do.  They heal, though it can take a long time depending on the damage.  And the damage can be extensive.  The Aesir aren't as casual about death as I can be, so they've adopted a somewhat mortal existence.  Last I heard, Woden was the top executive of a law firm in Berlin.  Loki owns a string of used car dealerships in California."

"And Thor?"

Heidi looked conflicted.  "I'm not sure.  The Inquisitors couldn't kill him, so they just repeatedly tortured and mutilated him.  It was an ugly fate, even for someone like Thor."

She shook her head.  "At any rate, back to the matter at hand...  Od has... limitations.  The men who are using it on your friends have likely figured out that its power doesn't extend very far.  Not even a mile, really."

"But... Brandy and Callista have been farther away from them than that.  How is that possible?"

"Your friends don't know they are enslaved.  They probably just think the men are somehow the most arousing people they've ever met, and want to do everything for them, even when not under Od's direct influence."

"Are you saying they're in love with Ellis and Dorian?  Even when they're far away?"

"Love is probably too strong a word, too complex an emotion.  Od is limited to unbridled lust, but within that space, its effects are much, much stronger than seidh."

"Impossible, my love."

Heidi smiled at her and touched her cheek.  "You only think so, now, pet.  Wait until you've felt its presence.  Truly, it is hnoss, as the old songs said."  She sighed, but Ada looked blank at the reference, so Heidi explained further.  "In the poetry traditions, it was said that Freyja was wed to Od, and that they had a daughter, Hnoss, 'delight'.  Which was close to true, in a way-- I brought much delight to the world of women when I possessed Od.  And will do so again, when you've retrieved it for me."

"Me?  Mistress, how?  What if they use Od to... to..." Ada couldn't finish out loud.  To take me away from you?  "Couldn't you... use your seidh on them, as you have on me?"

Heidi shook her head.  "I have considered it, but it's too dangerous, my pet.  My seidh cannot own more than one person at a time-- that is the rule-- and I don't know which one of them has it.  Also, if you try and fail, I can send another minion and try once more.  If they take me... all is lost."

Something deep inside Ada felt hurt to hear this callous disregard for her, a replaceable "minion", but she wanted to please her mistress in any way she could, and if that meant self-sacrifice, then so be it.  Imagining her wonderful Heidi at the whim of those men...  She shuddered.

The other woman went on.  "Od is not seidh.  Its enslavement is entirely sexual in nature.  The body is subjugated to Od, and the mind is subjugated to the body's wants, the body's needs.  In days long gone, I would use the runestick to reinforce my hold of the mind using bodily lust, and augment the body's feelings with seidh.  The end result was that my control was not limited to one slave, and distance from Od became irrelevant.  The mind and body were tamed and the will was malleable in my hands."  She was lost in memory, and her breathing grew deeper and faster.  She broke her reverie.  "And it will be so, again, my pet.  Soon you will see.  And feel."

Heidi discarded her gown, and Ada nearly wept with joy at the sight.  "Pet, I believe you were going to illustrate your oral traditions for me?"

Ada didn't respond with words because her mouth was otherwise engaged.


*   *   *

[Nab]

*   *   *

"I want to talk to them."

"I thought you didn't want to meet either one of them.  You were pretty adamant about it."

Ada was back in her room now; Brandy was gone already, presumably off servicing Ellis and Dorian or whoever else was in their little fuckhut.  Zeke had stopped by to visit and make googly eyes at her; he rested on the couch and observed the exchange.  Callista was staring into the mirror, putting on eye shadow that made her look like a whore.  Ada thought it was entirely appropriate... and something deep in the recesses of her libido now found it exciting, too.

"I've changed my mind."

Callista looked mischievous.  "Good.  I know you'll like them.  A lot."

Ada looked as skeptical as she felt, but she knew what she had to do.  "Maybe.  Right now I just want to tell them that I don't appreciate them treating you and Brandy like pieces of meat and ruining our vacation."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind hearing that from you, darling.  They're very... open-minded.  And they've been wanting to meet you, too."

Sure they had. 

Ada turned to Zeke.  "Zeke, I'm going to go and have a chat with these guys.  I should be back tonight in time for our dinner date."

He frowned, grabbed his coat, and pulled her aside to the door.  "Ada, I don't think this is such a good idea.  Your friend seems... I don't know... drugged or something.  And you don't know anything about these guys.  I'm worried about you."

She smiled mildly at him, grinning internally at how right he was.  "I'm sure everything will be okay.  I can take care of myself, and I'll be back before tonight."

His expression read "unconvinced", but Ada shrugged, kissed him on the cheek, then shooed him out and gently closed the door on him.  She focused on Callista as she heard his retreating footsteps.

She could smell her friend's arousal from here, and it made her think of what her own face had smelled like before she'd showered: Heidi.  That thought was getting her horny again, and she resisted the urge to throw Callista on the bed and tongue her into submission.  If all of this worked out to her mistress's satisfaction, Callista could easily be hers.  Heidi's, that is... but she hoped her mistress would be generous in sharing cuntslaves.  Ada refrained from acting on her desires and allowed herself to be led out of the resort, to the street, and into the rental car. 

Callista knew the way well, evidently.  She drove like a native, though Ada was soon lost amid the maze of streets.  They left the city and headed east on the open road, and about fifteen minutes into the drive they turned onto a secondary road, then to a gravel side street.  Callista parked the car in front of a largish house whose windows gleamed with welcoming yellow light, and Ada noticed Callista's nipples solidly poking forward through the tight nylon of her blouse.  Her eyes were shifty, too; she looked agitated and distracted, and she tried half-heartedly to conceal from Ada the hand that she pressed against her mound through the stretchy skirt material.  "Come on," she said to her friend.  "They're waiting."

They left the car and approached the front porch, where a door opened on a luxurious wood-paneled space.  Hunting lodge style, with a large hearth and a roaring fire.  A second floor balcony overlooked the vast room, with a staircase leading up to it off to the side.  On an overstuffed sofa sat a blond-bearded man of about twenty-five years, his shirt casually open at the neck, a leather thong disappearing into it.  Ada had a pretty good idea what was hanging there.  She gulped.

Callista was thrilled, and ran toward him ecstatically.  "Ellis, Ellis!  I brought her!  She's here!"  She seized his face in her hands and kissed him, molding her body to his, trying to touch as much of him at once as possible.  She hiked up her skirt urgently.  "Will you fuck me, now?  Please?"

Ellis mumbled soothing words to Callista, and she smiled and calmed down.  "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" he asked, turning to face Ada directly.  Callista stood slightly in front of him, her ass against his upper leg, and he affectionately stroked her belly as her breathing quickened.  She moved her body upward in an effort to get his touch lower.

"Ellis, lover, I want you to meet my best friend, Ada.  Ada, this is Ellis."  Ellis didn't wave, since his hands were now in the depths of Callista's panties.  The girl cooed.  "You are going to like him soooo much."

Ada didn't think so, and evidently the reaction had shown on her face, because Ellis noticed and gave a wry smile.  "Perhaps not now," he admitted, "but soon." 

She saw him thrust his hand hard into her girlfriend's panties, and Callista emitted several squeals of delight.  Hnoss, Ada thought absently.

Ellis removed his fingers from their playground, and Callista slowly licked them clean, staring at Ada all the while.  Her arousal intensified at this display; after Heidi's seizure of her sapphic virginity, the way she looked at girls had changed profoundly, and her own panties grew damp while watching her friend devour her own juices.  This was not at all according to plan, and Ada tried to ignore Callista completely and strode forward to this man who held the reins of her libido.  She intended to reach down into his shirt and rip her goddess's rightful property from the neck of this usurper, and something in her eyes must have warned him, because he snatched his hand out of Callista's mouth and wrapped his fist around the bulge inside his shirt.

Ada felt it seize her, felt Od's effect, seething on the edges of her mind, filling her with a lust she'd not known before.  Her excitement at Callista's antics was nothing, not a ghost of arousal  compared to this.  Every heartbeat pulsed in her cunt, every breath in and out seemed to tantalize her nipples with the brief stretch of her skin.

Ellis's Cock beckoned even as she sank to her knees and gently pulled down his trousers.  She wanted it inside her, in her pussy, in her ass, in her mouth, everywhere, invading her.  Pervading her.  Her tongue made love to it with a fervor, hoping that if she made this Cock pleased, if she could get it to spurt down her throat or on her face then maybe, maybe, Ellis might put it in her slit for an encore.

That looked plausible at the moment; Ellis was pleased with her efforts, and his hands tangled in her hair even as she gripped his ass for traction.  He'd doubtless have come already from her oral ministrations, but it was evident from the taste on the Cock that he'd been fucking Brandy or Callista or both today-- who knew how many times?  The thought made her excited, and she wondered if she'd get to fuck them, too.

Ellis paused, and Ada felt the cheeks of his ass stiffening, and she plunged the Cock as deep into her throat as she could.  He went over the edge, then, grunting and snarling, and fucking her face like he was doggy-styling her pussy.  Which, in Ada's imagination, he was.  She came once from this vision alone, hard, without even touching her clit, and swallowed what he offered her in a fit of bliss.

Ellis smiled down at her, sated and elated, like a benevolent deity, as she cleaned him off and lovingly licked the sweat from his balls.  He sat down on the sofa and watched her work, patting her hair as he would a prize bird-dog.  "You'll be a welcome addition to the crowd," he giggled.  "You give seriously great head, baby.  I think you'll be my special girl."

She got a little thrill from that, but she wanted more.  She intensified her "cleaning" efforts in a no-so-subtle effort to entice him into trying one of her other openings, and it seemed to be beginning to work when a voice rang out from the other room.

"Ellis, dude.  It's my turn."

Ellis looked momentarily annoyed, but then shrugged and nodded.  "Yeah, okay.  I'll send her in.  You send out Titty-Fuck?"

"I was planning on keeping Titty-Fuck for the event.  I want to make them cunt-munchers like last night."

"That can wait.  The deal is you get her right after me, not that you get to do everything you want to her immediately."

"The Redhead, then?"

"No."

"Aw, all right.  Just send her in."

"Okay."  Ellis put his hand under her chin, looked into her eyes, and told her to go and serve Dorian.  "If you're good, I'll fuck your pussy." 

Ada was reluctant, but hopeful.  Would he, really?

He answered the unasked question. "Hard."

The muscles in her womb clenched with eagerness, and she found the will to stand up and move to the door to the adjoining room.

There she met Callista, clothes discarded, curly auburn locks unruly, everywhere, enhancing rather than concealing her nude form. She kissed Ada deeply, providing an enticing taste of herself, and stroked Ada's ass as she passed.  "Later," she promised with lust-glazed eyes.

On the other side of the door she met Brandy, who was clad in nothing but a thong and a smile.  The space between her breasts was red from friction, and her face and neck displayed evidence of lotions L'Oreal would not sell.  She hugged Ada and said, "Welcome to the family, dearie!" then rushed through the door to get to Ellis. 

Dorian was on the bed, the covers a tattered mess, an adult video playing on the television.  "Come 'ere, bitch.  Let's figure out what to do with you."

She longed to flee, but knew that if she satisfied this man, Ellis would fuck her.  Hard, she heard him say again in her memory.  And that was more than enough for her.

Ada strode, excited, to the bed.  "Anything you want, Dorian.  It's my pleasure."

*   *   *

Ada's nipples sent tingly bursts cuntward as Brandy gently but insistently twisted and pinched them, and the taste and smell of Callista's steamy pussy filled her senses.  She could barely breathe with the other girl astride her face, but she wouldn't have it any other way, for Ellis was inside her at last, reaming her ass for all he was worth.  Dazzling light played in her brain and her fingers played in her snatch, all of her senses raw and excited at the pleasure she was feeling, and as he squirted into her she sighed her muffled climax into her girlfriend's muff.

Ellis lay back, momentarily satisfied, and watched Ada finish Callista off while Brandy sank to her knees to service them both with fingers and mouth.  Places switched several times, and the tangle of bodies pulsed together once or twice more, then lay spent across the sofa.  The air was full of the smell of sweat and sex, and Brandy and Callista smiled contentedly and want to sleep.  Only Ada was left to talk to her wonderful Ellis.

He smiled and beckoned to her, and she came and sat at his feet, massaging them.  "Thank you, my little slut."

The word was wrong, but despite that (or perhaps because of it), it gave her a tiny thrill.  "Anything to give you pleasure, Ellis.  Just please use me."

"I will, kid, I will.  A lot.  And for a long time.  Can't imagine getting tired of doing you, but my cock is sleepy for the moment, so we can talk."

"I... I have questions..."

"Oh?  And what are they?"

"I've never felt... the way I'm feeling with you.  Have felt with you ever since I got here.  What is--"

"Why do you feel like you need to fuck me and will do whatever I say in order to be allowed to do so?"

She blushed, and when she heard the word "fuck" she glanced down at his Cock, which was, alas, still recovering.  "Yes.  Why?  When I first saw you, I didn't feel that way at all, but things are so different now."

He looked thoughtful.  "I'm not exactly certain myself, babe.  It has something to do with this."  He pulled the thong around his neck, slowly revealing what hung on its loop.  The revelation of Od was relatively anti-climactic-- for all of its power, it looked like a terribly old clay idol with a couple of marks scrawled in it.  "Me and Dorian found this in a cave while we were spelunking in the fjords a couple of weeks back."

"What... what is it?"

"I don't know.  It's pretty ancient, I know that, and I thought I'd sell it to an archaeologist or somebody, but it became pretty obvious that it's much better than a quick source of cash.  See, soon after I started carrying it around, women started doing whatever I wanted.  Begging to fuck me.  Literally begging.  I know it's hard for you to believe right now, but I've never really been much of a ladies' man-- Dorian's more successful at that."

Ada was dumbfounded.  If she thought about it hard, tried to distance herself from her libido, Dorian was objectively a little better looking than Ellis.  And he was certainly very kinky and creative in bed.  But the way he treated her, the way he acted when he knew the girls in his bed were a sure thing... he was a total asshole.  Ellis had Od, and there was no question it had an impact on his attractiveness, but he looked at all of this from a different perspective, and Ada could appreciate the difference even from a non-sexual standpoint.

"Anyway, when I figured it out, I told Dorian, and it was his idea to see how far we could take it.  We... um... switched off on one of the local girls, then a couple others... but they had too many ties, here, and there were problems with family and friends.  Nothing I couldn't handle, of course, but I don't enjoy controlling angry boyfriends or fathers very much."

Ada noticed he said nothing about angry girlfriends or mothers.  She thought there was likely a good reason for that, and the image of him taking her mother made her uncomfortably horny.  The more disgusted she became with herself, the more she juiced.  She tried to ignore her feelings and listen to him talk.  Such nice lips, and tongue...

"Eventually, we decided to move out here to the countryside and to limit our pickups to tourist gals.  And you're the first set.  I haven't yet decided whether to send you back to London or to keep you here to recruit some more hotties for us."

"Oh, please keep us!"

He chuckled. "We'll see how good you stay.  This thing," he indicated Od, "doesn't work too well the farther away you get, I've learned that much.  But I do like to have you here, and I can think of a couple of occupations for you girls which will ensure you're able to help support the household."  She shuddered and imagined herself fucking people for money, and giving it all to Ellis.  "I'm an old-fashioned guy, and I think I'll make everyone contribute to the household upkeep.  Except for Dorian, that fucking freeloader."  He wrinkled his forehead.

"If you're so annoyed with him, why don't you take control of him as well?  Make him be less annoying?"

"Nuh uh.  This thing is all about sex.  When I made the banker get me loads of cash from the vault, the guy spent most of the time begging to suck my cock.  Which I'm very not into.  Creeped me out.  Plus, I just wouldn't do that to Dorian.  We've been friends since the second grade!  He pisses me off now and then, but he's still like a brother to me.  Someday, if I get bored with girls..."  He shrugged.  "Well, never say 'never', I guess. 

"But that day's not going to be soon, hon.  You are fine, and smooth, and clean where it matters and dirty where it's best, and I am going to fuck you again, in your pussy this time.  What do you say to that?"

Intense thrills danced in her synapses.  She spread her thighs astride him in the chair and begged, "Oh, please!  I've been hoping and waiting soooo long..."

He was happy to oblige, and the shock to her clit as his bulk filled her sent her into instant paroxysms of joy.  Her body thrust of its own accord, hard, fast, pulling him deeper, wishing she could take his entire body into her, every centimeter of his skin a source of pleasure.  He had been doing little else but fucking for days on end, so he was hardly on a hair-trigger, but the passion with which she seized him and the desperation in her eyes as she plunged him into her over and over again...  It was mere moments, rather than tens of moments, before he gripped her shoulders for leverage and pushed up into her in his own thrilled climax, and as his come entered her it was as if a chime went off in her head.  It sounded like her mistress's chime...

His breath was ragged, smoothing into exhausted pants, and then drifting him into slumber atop the table surface.

Ada, sated and giddy, crept across the room to the sofa, where she collapsed beside her friends.  She was almost asleep, herself, when she heard, distantly, the sounds of a parking car.  The front door opened and Heidi stepped inside.

"Mistress!"  Ada was embarrassed to see her lover, partly because of her own disheveled state (and what it revealed about what she'd been doing), but also because from the moment Ellis had invoked Od she hadn't given a single thought to Heidi or the love they shared.  She felt shame.  "I-- I'm sorry, mistress.  I-- Od-- it felt so wonderful, and..."

Heidi paid her little heed.  "Is that the one?"

"Yes."  She was embarrassed at her betrayal, but wanted to be honest.  "I... fucked him.  And the other one, too."

"I don't care who you 'fucked', little fool.  The spell I cast on your womb last night was potent enough to exhaust ten men, let alone two men.  Or women," she remarked absently, with a glance at the unconscious girls on the couch.  There was something cold and distracted in her tone.  "Is he the one who holds Od?"

"Oh... oh!  Yes!  He is!  I will get it for you..."

"NO!" snapped Heidi, or Gullveig, or Freyja.  Whoever she was right now, she didn't seem like the caring woman who had caressed her soul for the last several nights.  Without touching Ada physically, the tall woman pushed her aside with a hand wave.  Ada tripped back and fell on the sofa.  "You'll not touch Od.  No one again ever will.  No one but me.  And all the world will once more dance to my seidh."

Heidi strode to the center of the room, slowly, deliberately, as to her coronation.  She whispered to herself in a long-dead tongue, but no translator was necessary to understand the meaning of her words: Finally, and once more, Od is mine!  She neared the table, already extending her arms  across it toward the man sprawled opposite her.

With a buzzing noise and a thwok, the feathers of an arrow sprouted from the table in front of Heidi, who froze, poised in the midst of reaching for Ellis's neck.  The source of the arrow was evidently Ezekiel Rutledge, who looked mildly ridiculous in a snowsuit and a longbow.  He may have been aware of how he looked, as he was grinning, but the smile never touched the brown of his eyes.

"It's really a damn shame I couldn't bring my Glock, but, gun control, you know?  This'll have to do.  Get away from that man."  A new arrow was nocked and poised to spring.  "I placed fourth in the national championship, lady.  Don't play games."

She smiled, glancing toward Ellis, calculating timing.  "I can't be killed that easily, pet.  Whatever threat you offer, believe me, it's been done.  The burning was the worst, and they tried that three times."  She was pensive.  "Yet I am still here, and they are not.  And now I will have Od once more."  She reached for Ellis and the thing he held.

"Step the fuck back, lady.  I'm warning you."

She ignored him and got her hand pinned to the table with an arrow.  Zeke was indeed a hell of a shot.

Heidi grunted, trying to free her hand so she could reach Ellis.  The pain didn't seem to bother her at all: just the annoying reduction in mobility.  She glared up at him even as she tried to loosen the arrow in the oak.

"I will recover it.  I have always recovered it, regardless of the cost.  Once, I pleasured four dwarfs for several days in order to get it back."

"Ick."

"On the contrary, Ada.  They were very creative.  I highly recommend it, should you have the opportunity.  In fact, I can arrange--"

"This is all very amusing," Zeke interrupted, "but I think it's time for you to get away from that nice gentleman, there.  Now."

The uncertainty in Heidi's eyes was evident-- could she get to the runestick before the archer hammered a shaft into her chest, or would his aim be true and fast?  And would it matter if she got the precious thing in hand, only to have her heart pierced by an arrow before she could use it?  Finally, her shoulders sank in defeat.  She waited calmly, ignoring her jagged mess of a hand on the table as Zeke took the stairs down, his eyes never leaving her body.  Her eyes never leaving his.

It was Ada who realized what was happening, who heard the alto hum coming from Heidi's chest, microtones sounding alien in the warm firelight.  She grinned at her mistress's cleverness, seeing Zeke come slowly, deliberately under her thrall.  It wasn't until the seidh had escalated to actual speech and Zeke's eyes were becoming half-lidded that Ada felt the reins on her mind loosen, fall away, disappear. 

In that instant, Heidi was no longer an object of worship, the emotional and sexual center of Ada's universe-- she was a dangerous and power-crazed madwoman whose plans for the rest of the world were to make them all her eternal servants.  Worshipping her as Ada had, selflessly and adoringly.  And while Ada had enjoyed it at the time, was still enjoying looking at Heidi's tight ass and horrendously turned on by the fact that Zeke's arms were lowering slowly in an obedient sleepiness... she knew it was just the tattered remnants of seidh clinging to her brain.

And that was why, as Gullveig triumphantly thrust the Texan aside and leapt for the thing around Ellis's neck, Ada took a two-handed swing at the other woman's head with the fireplace poker.  The feelings for her mistress had not fully subsided, and tears streamed down her cheek as she whispered, "Forgive me, mistress," and hit Gullveig/Heidi again, this time square in the forehead.  The tall woman dropped to the ground, motionless, without so much as a groan, and Ada wept hopelessly into her fists, refusing to look down at her once-lover, mistress, goddess.  The pain was still too great.

Zeke had collapsed into smiling slumber, and Ada let him rest as she stepped over him to climb atop the table.  The thong Ellis wore broke easily with a yank, and he barely paused in his snoring.  She paused to smack him (Hard! she thought to herself), and was about to pocket the totem when fingers gripped her ankles from behind.

In horror she shrieked, spinning around, Heidi's ruined face jabbering at her in a futile attempt to speak, to threaten, to demand.   No seidh could be pronounced through the destroyed jaw, but the light of intelligence and fury still shone from those eyes.  The clawing, grasping hands that caught at the table legs in some incoherent fashion, trying desperately to pull closer to Od, promised rending torment of the girl who had stymied triumph, and it was this image that shook loose Ada's last filaments of sympathy or affection for this woman.  Raising the iron rod once more, twice more-- a third and final time-- she completed in anger and fear the work she had neglected moments before out of sentiment.  And the witch finally lay dead.  Again.  For now.

*   *   *

Mount Hekla loomed ahead of her.  Use of Od had permitted her to dominate one of the patrolmen stationed at the "safe limits", and he'd not only bowed at her feet, begging to serve, but had told her the quickest and safest means of getting to one of the lava flows.

She gagged on the sulfurous fumes long before felt the scalding heat on her face.  Figuring she'd regret it later, she removed her jacket and hat.  She was sweating profusely, now, and it would only get worse.  But what else could she do?  It was imperative she destroy this thing; otherwise, Heidi/Gullveig would eventually find it and submerge everyone in her thrall again.

But would that be so bad? a voice inside her chanted, almost musically.  Lulling, the rhythm matching her steps, and...

She stopped, shaking her head to clear it, recognizing the voice.

"Ahem.  Aren't you supposed to be entering some poor woman's birth canal right now?" she thought at the disembodied spirit, wherever it was now.

Alas, my pet, this time I'm to arise in a great-granddaughter from Norway, and it will not be daybreak there for another week, now.  I really hate that sunrise stricture in the northern latitudes.

"I'm so sorry you're inconvenienced.  Look me up in twenty years or so and you can tell me about it over a beer.  I'll let you know how Od looked as it melted into slag."

Silence.

Ada, darling, do you really want to do this?  Just to get back at me?

"I'm not doing this to get back at you, you self-centered bitch, I'm doing this because no one should have this kind of power.  You just especially shouldn't.  And I know that no matter where I put it, you're eventually gonna find it again, so it's time to destroy it."

Dearest, I am not infallible.  It's entirely possible that I will never find you-- I mean, it-- again.  And you would be throwing away a very interesting lifestyle, no?

Images filled her head, then, of a life of opulence, hedonism... powerful orgasms delivered constantly by the world's most beautiful people.  Zeke was great... but why not more?  Of both sexes-- Gullveig had already had that effect on her preferences, her experiences with Callista and Brandy having been mere icing on the cake.  Her nipples tightened, but she still dismissed the pussy-dampening thoughts with, "No."

Why not?

"Because it would be wrong."

You are deceiving someone, pet.  And it is not me.

Sigh.  "And because you'd eventually come for me and take it away.  I'm no match for your seidh and I know it.  I learned that in the chair a week ago.  I won't give you that chance."

I can still reach you with the seidh, dear, even if Od is gone.  The tone was threatening-- the voice of a woman who'd been clobbered from behind with a long piece of metal from an erstwhile servant.

"What purpose would that serve?  You're gonna spend the rest of my life tormenting me because I torched your little trinket?"  She thought of Heidi's half-dead body, clawing its way up the table leg, trying desperately to touch Od before collapsing...  "Okay, so maybe you would.  I'll take my chances."

There is another way, you know.  We could share Od.

"Huh.  I don't think so.  It would only be a matter of time before you took it and I ended up worshipping your cunt day in and day out."

That's not what I meant.  Although I admit you do paint an arousing picture.  When I said "share", I meant... There is no reason we have to be in two different bodies, pet.

"What?"

I don't have to be born again tomorrow.

"Next Thursday."

Whatever.  I can take permanent form in an adult, but it has to be consensual.  I have done it before.  Several times.  I think you would like it.  I could teach you seidh.

"I think I would hate myself.  Plus, I don't trust you."  Nonetheless, she was tempted.

I can't blame you for that.  Gullveig was getting singsongy again, and Ada knew that was why she was weakening.

"Cut that out."

Why, pet?  Your decision has to be free-willed, I assure you.  The ancient codes are clear: you cannot be coerced into saying, "Gullveig, I invite you inside me."  It must be what you want.  Humming, now, while the witch-spirit paused.  You told me you're interested in the world's history.

"It's my major, yeah.  What's your point?"

Would not a person who has lived for thousands of years prove an insightful resource for a first-hand account of that history?  I have seen many lands beyond this one.

Wow.  Now that was an offer that had teeth.  Fascinating teeth.  (Or did it just have seidh?)  "How do I know you won't just take me over once you're inside?"

Do you think such a thing would be permitted, darling?  There are rules, you know.

More silence.  Ada trudged onward, the air growing less palatable and more dangerous.

I will let you subject me to Od.

Ada stopped walking.  "What?"

You can use Od on me.  Right now.  I will teach you how.

"But you... can that work?  On someone who's not even alive?"

It can.  That way you will be sure of my allegiance.

"What do you get out of it?  Slavery for the next umpteen years?"

Until you die, pet, yes.  But then I will have Od forevermore, and I would pay the price of a thousand years' slavery for that.

Fucking ghoul.  But... this was now something to consider.  Enslave the witch, learn all she could teach... and then the fame, fortune, and fucking imagery to come true?  Oh, and the history stuff.  That was important, too. 

Did she really care what would happen to the world after her death?  Well, of course she did, but...

"I can't decide right now.  This air's getting me nauseous."

Ada, precious, you don't have to decide now.  Just sometime in the next week.  But you can't do that if Od is destroyed.

And there was the capper.  If she went back to Reykjavik now with Od intact, would she have the will-power left to make this trek to the volcano again?  She thought not.  But was it even probable she would make it there today, anyhow?  She could barely breathe the foul air, and if this was how hot it was two hundred yards away from the pit, what would it be like standing throwing-distance from the lava?  What if she missed by a couple feet-- could she get closer for another throw?  Suddenly, this bright idea didn't seem quite so clever...

"I'll need to think about it, Heidi."

That is all that I ask.

"Okay.  You win.  For now.  There will be no melting, today."

Good, pet, good.  I'll be in earshot any time you wish to talk.  Just don't wait too long, all right?

"All right.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long hike to go.  And possibly a patrolman to service."  She was only joking.  Wasn't she?

Farewell, pet.  I just know you'll make the smart decision.

Or the wet decision.  Ada found her hat and coat where she'd left them on the way out, noticing as she put them on that, while her sweat was freezing to ice on her shoulders, her panties were far from cold and dry.

*   *   *

The war I remember, the first in the world,
When the gods with spears had smitten Gullveig,
And in the hall of Hár had burned her,
Three times burned, and three times born,
Oft and again, yet ever she lives.

Heid they named her when she came to the house,
The wide-seeing witch, in magic wise;
She performed seidh where she could, worked seidh in a trance,
To evil women she was always a joy.

-- The Prophecy of the Seeress, from the Elder Edda, c.800-1000 A.D.


Original Summary:
Brandy, Ada and Callista are best friends on vacation in Iceland from England. Brandy meets Dorian and Ellis and falls under the spell of powers granted to the two young men by an old runic totem they found while exploring one of the many fjords. Can Ada and Callista save their friend or will they get caught themselves? MD - and perhaps FD if you want to give it a twist - MF FF - and perhaps MM if you want to add even another twist.

[Nab]

Happy Fucking Birthday

    “Happy fucking birthday,” mumbled Julie, as she imagined herself wearing the dress on display in the window.  It went well with her eyes, but it was a little too . . . flirty.  She had the body to pull that off, of course, seeing as she was short and cute; not killer gorgeous, with the legs and boobs and all that, but she had an elfin face with a nice smile all framed by light brown, shoulder length hair.  Her body was fine too, developed through years of ballet (too short to ever make it big, assholes), gymnastics (too developed to be taken seriously, jerks) and trying for the school dance squad (not developed enough, bitches).

    She was pretty, but not pretty enough obviously; she wouldn’t have been dumped by four guys last year alone if she was hot.  She certainly wouldn’t be celebrating her birthday alone.  Karl dumped her the day before her birthday, what sort of asshole does that?

    Same sort of asshole Mr. Crenshaw is.  Julie’s lips pursed into a deeper than usual frown.  A lab and a huge homework assignment due tomorrow and I can’t work on it at home because dad wants to have some time with his new bimbo.  Now I have to go to Ben’s house.  Fuck.  I have to spend my birthday doing fucking homework with a fucking loser while his bitch sister laughs at us.

    I’ll come back for the dress tomorrow.  It goes with my eyes and maybe flirty is more my style.  The change might get me a better grade of guy.  Fucking Karl.  I would have dumped him in another few weeks anyway.

    Cursing her dad for not letting her have the car (he was too fucking busy fucking tonight to need it), she walked another block before entering the strangely misshapen shadow of her oasis.  To most people it was a dumpy three story building that housed both Seth Grünwald and his shop full of new age garbage.  Julie saw the building and the Shoppe that way too, but Seth was cool.

    Seth was one of mom’s old friends and an attentive ear.  Sometimes it felt like the only balance she had in her life was Seth.  He was more father to her than her dad was, certainly the only connection to mom she had left since dad started taking up with bimbos.  And pretending that the shit Seth sold actually did stuff was very seductive.  Easily half her fantasies were based on seducing Orlando Bloom with one of Seth’s “magic” crystals.

    Inside the Shoppe, crystals and pendants and things littered the place with no rational ordering.  The only way to navigate the Shoppe was with Seth’s help, and he wasn’t all that helpful most of the time.  Julie’d watched him with customers when she was burning time or just looking for a sympathetic ear.  People would come in for one thing and Seth would sell them something else or nothing at all.  Mostly nothing because when he couldn’t totally dazzle someone with flim-flam, they just walked out empty handed.  Seth made more money doing magic routines at parties than he did off his store, that was for sure, but somehow the store survived.

    She looked around the Shoppe.  Seth always insisted on the old spelling and funny pronunciation—“not ‘thuh’ shop,” he always said.  “‘Thee’ Shoppe”—and it had sunk in over the years that she had known him.  I felt more natural now; while other people had shops, Seth had “the Shoppe”, but right now he was nowhere to be seen.

    He was pretty stupid sometimes; leaving while the Shoppe was open and the door unlocked.  Anyone could just walk in, grab stuff and walk out.  She flicked large, blue, eye-shaped crystal with a finger and looked around.  There were a couple of darts in the Copperfield poster as usual.  Seth used to use a Siegfried and Roy poster for target practice, but he took it down after Roy got mauled.

    “Hey!” Seth had appeared behind the counter, soft smoke clearing around him; he’d probably come from the back room and snuck across the store while she was looking at something and let off a stage bomb.  Seth loved making his dramatic entrances and it was silly shit like that that made him hilarious at parties.

    “Happy birthday, Julie.  Seventeen . . . you do not look a day over the old one-six, darlin’.”

    “You’re the only one who noticed so far, Seth.  I think Dad maybe did, he gave me a wad of cash, but he does that all the time when he just wants me out of the house for a while.  He’s got a new ‘girlfriend’, you know.  Met her in the city, probably on a corner, and brought her back with him.”

    He cocked an eyebrow.  “Not good mother material?”

    Julie gave him the look of death.  “Fuck you Seth.”

    Seth’s eyes darkened.  “Julie, you know you should never swear in the Shoppe.” Despite the stupidity of what he was about to say next, what he always said next, he looked dead serious.  “You will misalign the crystals.”

    “Sorry,” Julie lied.  “I forgot.

    “He’s dipping in the bottom of the barrel again, Seth.  Mom was smart and beautiful.  She loved me.  Dad’s new model, Carrie,” her voice dripped giggly scorn over the name, “is just like the others he’s had since—long legs, tits like cantaloupes, and she’s about as smart as one too.  And if he brings home anyone younger, she could be my little sister.”

    “‘Carrie’ sounds like my kind of girl.  You don’t like her much, so how about you introduce us?  I can steal her away from your dad, no problem.”

    Julie looked at the affable, overweight, balding, middle aged lump.  No way was her first thought, but then, Seth . . ..  Something about Seth.  Maybe he could.  Could do . . . something.  Hypnotize her like he did with my babysitter Brit at my thirteenth birthday party.  Watching her chase Seth around like a lovesick puppy was hilarious—and hot.  I almost wanted a go at her and I still dream about it, sometimes.

    Seth had a smirk on his face, his “I know what you’re thinking” grin.  He didn’t because he couldn’t, but if he did . . . well, if he really knew he’d probably be laughing his head off.  “I wouldn’t wish her on you.  She’s just so . . . stupid.”

    “But she does have something you want.”

    “Like what?” Julie snarled.

    Seth leaned on the counter, his dark eyes seizing hers and not letting go.  “Well, she does know how to get and keep a guy’s attention.  How would you like to be able to get any lover you wanted?  How would you like to keep them forever?  How would you like to have, and keep, real friends?”

    “Stop teasing me, Seth.  I never should have told you about that dream.  I suppose you have a ‘crystal’ for enslaving movie stars?”

    “No, no, no.  crystals are good for the small stuff.  For this you need some honest-to-god gems and gold.  Real, pure gold.”

    “A ring?”

    It was Seth’s turn to glare.  “Pha!  Rings . . . rings are for amateurs—about as hard to make as . . . as building a snake of clay and pressing it into a circle.  As hard as this.” Seth gestured, pulled a balloon from somewhere, and made a poodle.

    “Rings are for clowns,” he said, popping the poodle with a conjured pin and dropping its deflating corpse to the ground.  “This is a work of craft.”

    He had a necklace in his hand.  How it had gotten into his hand, Julie didn’t waste any more thought on than she had with the balloon or pin; Seth had been confusing her with little tricks since mother hired him to perform magic tricks at her eighth birthday.

    Where it came from didn’t matter anyway; the necklace was beautiful.  Glittery diamonds were embedded in the links to catch and throw off a rainbow of delightful colors and dangling from the chain was a gold, heart-shaped medallion.  Five blue, almost completely transparent, crystals were set equidistant and, with one large pentagram shaped red stone set dead center of the heart, made a star.

    The medallion dropped between his fingers, and dangled from where the shining chain looped around a finger.  It swung softly and the red gem drew at Julie’s eyes, her mind, and her soul.  She felt herself being pulled into a pleasant arousal.

    Seth was such a great guy, a fun guy to be around, to be with.  If only he was her age, then she’d . . . well she wouldn’t have suffered through Karl or the other losers over the last few years.

    “Neat, yes?” asked Seth, speaking slowly.

    “Yeah, wow.”

    “Wearing this, you would be the most popular girl in school.”

    “Yeah.”

    “People would do what you wanted.  You could captain the dance squad.  You could have everything you desire.  You could pick any lover you wanted.”

    “Yeah.”

    “You could arouse the very hottest of lusts in your lovers.”

    “Yeah.” She turned on, grew horny, got wet.  Lust scorched her, the tingly arousal no longer as pleasant a feeling as it had been mere seconds ago.  She wanted Seth carnally.  She needed him, his hands on her body, his lips and tongue exploring her sensitive body, his stiff cock between her legs, in her mouth, anywhere, it didn’t matter.  Seth inside and all around her was all that mattered.

    “You could raise their passion to such a level that their fingers would stroke themselves for relief that will not come and they would beg for the pleasures only you could give.”

    “Yeah.” Julie leaned on the counter, panting as her hands slid beneath her skirt.  One hand pulled her panties out of the way and the other stroked and stroked.  Hotter, she just got hotter, but no satisfaction.  The more she stroked, the more she wanted and the less she got.  “Please!  Your cock!  Please!  I’ll do anything, fuck me, take me . . .”

    She turned, eyes following Seth as he came around the counter.  Her babbling pleas died with a gasp.  Seth was ready for her.  Hard for her.

    “You could command them to pleasure their lover, the way their dreams have trained them.  You could . . . Ahhhhhh.  You could instruct them to remember their forgotten times of pleasure with their lover and forget once again once they were done . . ..  Yesssss.  Cum with me, my Jewel.”

***

    “Oh my god.  Did you just hypnotize me?  I-I couldn’t . . . you were my best friend.  I wanted to be with you always.  I felt like I would do anything for you!”

    Julie looked in Seth’s mirror at the reflection of the necklace she wore.  She was already fantasizing like crazy, going down on Orlando Bloom and sucking him off, swallowing his cum while she shook with an orgasm of her own.  She must be soaking her panties.  She wasn’t wearing panties.  What happened to my . . .?  Orlando took them in my dream before he . . . his cock, hard, throbbing in my . . . Fuck.  No way.  I must have forgot to wear any today.

    “That was not hypnosis.  It was the necklace, it attracts love and desire.  If it made you fall for me for a moment, imagine what will happen when it is worn by a lovely girl like you.  Boys will be falling all over you.  All the girls will want to be your special friend.”

    “This is a trick right?  It’s so beautiful . . ..  This is like what?  A birthday present?”

    “Oh, I can give nothing away, you know that, but I can give a birthday discount.  Your dad gave you a ‘wad of cash’, did he not?  That and services rendered.”

    “What?” Julie pulled her eyes off of the mirror and glanced at Seth before drifting back to the reflection of the sparkling necklace and Orlando pulsing, thrusting between her legs.  “What services?”

    “Oh, just you being you.  Your friendship and the way you’ve been dropping in now and then, keeping me company since your mother died.”

***

    Keep having happy thoughts, concentrated Julie as she fingered the necklace.  Happy thoughts. 

    “Think happy thoughts to train the crystals, Julie,” Seth had said.  “You want them to do what you want, not the other way around.”

    What kind of bullshit is that, Seth?  What happy thoughts do I have, anyway?  Not many since mom died.  There was the look on dad’s face when I walked in on him and mom fucking, that was pretty funny, but Mom died just after.  That weekend with Karl where I lost the big V, the week where I was with the dance squad.  No, that didn’t end so well—I lost the slot.

    Happy thought, happy thought . . . Orlando’s eyes go foggy with lust as they follow the medallion back and forth, back and forth . . .

    The necklace glinted.  Julie got wet.  The crystals learned.

***

    Julie had been partnered with Logan when the class started, but that sort of went downhill fast when they broke up a few weeks into the term.  She wasn’t working with an asshole, she made that clear to Mr. Crenshaw, so she wound up with Benjamin.  Obviously Mr. Crenshaw thought he was being funny.  Ben was a nobody.  Not pathetic enough to be recognizable as a nerd, not a jock, not a brain, just a ‘you know’ guy.  The best thing you could say about him was that he was there.  A nerd or brain at least would guarantee an ‘A’ on the lab work, a Jock might be the next boyfriend, but Ben . . ..

    What the fuck was she supposed to do with Ben? she wondered as she rang the doorbell.  Duh!  Test the necklace!  Ok necklace, when he answers the door, make him want me.

    Clack.  Click.  The door opened.

    Horny!  Horny!  Horny! Julie chanted mentally, feeling herself getting hot at the prospect.

    “Be-en!” Julie stopped the chanting dead.  It was Christi, Ben’s twin sister.  “You better stop surfing for porn.  It’s your date for the evening!”

    “Christina,” called a voice over a blaring TV, “No hassling Ben.  And apologize to the girl—that was rude.”

    Christi was a sickening case.  Ben didn’t look like much, but Julie had to admit he made a fine looking girl.  Christi made Julie sick.  Christi was an elf.  A tall, slender, blue eyed blonde with all manner of bounty scattered across the right parts of the body.

    Christi got a dance squad slot, even though she didn’t have the moves.  Bitch.  She’d be a perfect first person to try the necklace on, Julie realized.  You like me.  You like me!  Happy thoughts!  You like me.

    Ben slouched his way around a corner and into sight.  Seen alongside his sister he looked even more the loser, but Julie guessed he had an excuse.  Why bother trying to compete with sis?  Come to think of it, a hair cut and a bit of working out and he wouldn’t be too bad looking.  Kind of a fixer upper project and he wouldn’t dump me for a shot at his sister.  Fucking Karl.  I bet Ben would be so desperate to get a girl like me that I could get him to do anything I wanted. 

    Mmmmm?  Nah.  He’s a loser.

    “Hey Jules,” mumbled Ben.  “I got the first part done, but I think the measurements for the second test are wrong.  The math won’t work”

    Sigh.  Moron.  “Where are you working?  I’ll look it over.  Hi Christi.” Sarcastic sugar dripped from the words.  “Nice to see you again.”

    The two girls shared a glare.  Julie’s was certainly the nastier one, but Christi didn’t need nasty, the bitch already had everything Julie wanted.  Besides Christi looked like the one who had been up to something nasty.  Her face was slightly flushed and the braless bimbo was beaming.

    Nice nipples, Julie thought before she caught herself staring and stopped.  Please tell me I’m not going bi.  Oh god, please not with her.  I’d rather do her loser brother any day.

    Ben straightened up.  “Hey Jules, this way.  I’m set up in the dining room.”

    God, look at that!  Is this a family of perverts?  His pants are packed!  How come Karl couldn’t have been hung like that?  Fucking Karl.

    Julie absent mindedly dropped the necklace out of the way under her shirt and then followed Ben into an entertainment room.  Ben’s parents had a huge TV and a really nice stereo.  Logan had been into audio systems and showed Julie a bit about home entertainment systems in the two and a half months they’d been together before she dumped him.  TVs and videogames were ok once in a while, but then he’d started playing World of Warcraft and totally ignored her.

    “Thanks Mr., uh, Carmichael,” Julie said as Ben lead through the living room and past his dad.  “But I can take care of myself.”

    “Doesn’t matter Miss—Julie,” Mr. Carmichael amended when prompted by Ben.  “I didn’t raise my daughter to be a gutter mouth.  I’m still waiting Christina.”

    “DAD!” Christi didn’t look anywhere as angry as she sounded.  It looked to Julie more like it was a family ritual.  Julie drifted after Ben and missed Christina’s eyes lock on the sway of Julie’s departing skirt.

    Cute.  Wish my dad had the time to goof around with me.  Julie thought and then followed Ben past a sliding door and into an ornate dining room.  The stuff in here was beautiful, probably scavenged from a dozen dead and elderly relatives, and very classy.  It certainly met with the Julie seal of approval.  Ben’s family came from some serious old money, why’d they play it down? 

    Hung, quietly rich and a little on the stupid side.  Maybe I should play up Ben a little.  Just a little fixing up and he might be worth my time.  Nah, I’m just still horny from day dreaming earlier.

***

    “Ok.” Julie dropped her pencil in disgust.  “You’re right, we did something wrong in the lab or we both don’t get it.  Your dad any good at this stuff?”

    “Nah.  Dad runs screaming from the room when someone brings up math.” Ben pushed his seat back and stood up slowly, like he was being careful about something.  “Gonna grab a drink.  Be right back.”

    “Fuck.” Julie fidgeted.  She was going to masturbate so hard when she got home.  All night she’d been edging around being seriously horny and now she was so distracted she forgot where she was for a moment.  “Sorry.  You think your dad heard?”

    “Nah.  Dad’s lost in TV land from six PM to eleven PM Monday to Friday.  Want a Coke?”

    “What else you got?”

    “Orange Juice, Milk, Ginger Ale . . . Sprite?”

    “Bring me a Sprite.  Uh.” There it was again.  Just when she was starting to calm down, suddenly she’d start feeling horny for no reason.  “But what I really want is to get this stuff done and go party.”

    “Uh, Julie . . . you got a match or a lighter or something?”

    “Nooo.  Why would I?”

    “Nuts.  Pretend this’s lit ’kay?” Ben kicked the refrigerator door shut and turned back to the dining room.  One hand clumsily held two cans of pop and the other a cupcake with an unlit candle in it.

    “Happy birthday to you . . .,” he warbled in a so-so voice.

    “Don’t be stupid, Ben.  You’re a lab partner.  I’m not in the market for a guy and if I was, it wouldn’t be you.  Especially with that bitchy sister of yours.”

    Ben looked like he’d been slapped.  He handed her the pop, but dropped the cupcake on the table.  “’Kay.  You don’t get it at all do you?  A guy can be nice to you without wanting to get into your pants.  I was almost starting to like you right up ‘til then.  Some people try not to be jerks, you know.  I know it’s your birthday, ’s what the cupcake is for, but we could have done this assignment on Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, but no, you hadda do it today.

    “I was busy,” he mocked in a shrill voice.  “Now we got part two totally wrong, we need the measurements from part two to get part three and we won’t be able to redo the lab before it’s due.  I try to grease things and be nice and what do you do?  You ever wonder why you don’t have any friends?”

    His hands flew up and cupped his face.  “Gosh!  Maybe it has something to do with you stomping all over people when they try and be nice!  My ‘bitchy sister’ almost had you on the squad before you flipped off Katie.”

    Uh-uh.  Told off by a half assed loser trying to say he wasn’t after her body while sporting a huge boner.  No fucking way was Julie going to put up with this, even though it was a nice looking boner.  She shook her head; something had set her on edge, swinging from horny to angry, all night.  Angry again, she leaned forward and glared back.

    “OK right back.  Nice to hear your side of the story, but what about mine?  I never get any respect.  I’m just a pair of tits to the nerds and not enough tits to the jocks.  My dad’s a complete slut; he just . . . brings home fucking bimbos and kicks me out of the house so they can screw all night.  I can dance, do flips, do all sorts of stuff your sister can’t dream of and she makes the squad because she’s better looking!”

    “She makes the squad because she’s a team player and you’re a bi—”

    “Shut up!” Julie yelled.  “I don’t want to hear it.”

    A long and uncomfortable silence lay between them until Julie broke it.  “I wish you’d at least try to see things from my point of view.”

    “You are stunningly beautiful,” said Ben, “talented, and no one treats you the way you deserve.”

    That didn’t sound nearly sarcastic enough.  “Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

    Ben’s eyes shot up and locked on hers.  They looked weird, sort of . . . empty.  They also looked sort of sexy; they must have because Julie felt really turned on this time, that angry-horny thing had flip-flopped again.

    “You are stunningly beautiful, talented, and no one treats you the way you deserve.”

    “Right.  Next you’re going to tell me you love me.”

    “I love you,” Ben said.

    Julie stood up and leaned in closer.  She took a deep breath and wet her dry lips.  Their lips closed, almost touching.

    She poked him in the ribs.

    Ben jerked back.  “Hey!  What’d you do that for?”

    “Just checking.  You went . . . weird for a minute.  You think you love me huh?  Say it again and mean it.  Uck!”

    Ben hauled her in close, a really deep tight embrace.  A hot embrace that felt really . . . nice.  “God, I love you Julie.  I’d die without you.”

    His lips attacked hers with more skill than she would have expected.  The loser must have or have had a girlfriend somewhere because he actually did know something about kissing.  His hands played up her back and a firecracker went pop in her brain.  She started to melt into him before realizing who she was starting to enthusiastically neck with.

    With a bit of struggling, Julie finally got her hands up onto Ben’s shoulders and pushed.  She was breathing heavily, who’d have guessed she could get so worked up over Ben.  As good as it felt, this had to end.  Now.

    “Let me . . . go, you fuck!” She heaved backwards and toppled over as Ben let go at the same time.  Another rush of heat ran through her, consuming and transforming her anger without reducing her temperature a bit.

    Oh, that felt good!  What’s wrong with me? Julie sat up.  Ben was doing his statue thing again, looking sort of confused.  Confused and really horny, Ben filled up a pair of pants really nicely.  “Help me up, moron!”

    Ben took her outstretched hand as a hungry pleasure exploded through Julie’s body.  Ben pulled her up and in close again, this time she went with it.  The necklace bounced.

    I forgot about the necklace!  It does work!  I just made Ben fall in love with me!  This is way better than fantasizing about some movie star, Ben’s totally mine.  I’m going to make him mine completely.  I hope he’s a virgin, I want it.  Since I wasted my big V on Karl, it’s only fair I get Ben’s.

    As his lips worked on hers and his hands began to play across her back, the heat of having her very own sex slave burned through her body, her fantasies and the magic both playing with her emotions, stoking the fire.

    “You love me, Ben.  You’ll do anything for me.”

    “Anything,” he moaned

    He’s not so bad looking either.  She and Ben both could touch more standing and she felt him pressing into her belly and lower.  Awesome.  Fantastic.  Cock.  Love slave cock.  She rocked against it.  He’s definitely bigger than Karl; Karl was a disappointment.  I never felt anything like this with him.  I’m going to cum any second.

    Her slave’s hands were under her skirt, each one kneading an acrobatically perfected cheek and timing her grinding.

    Where did my panties go?  she wondered as his wandering fingers became more intimate.  Kissing was abandoned in favor of gasping into each other’s mouths.  There wasn’t enough air and her blood was boiling in her veins, but it felt so good.  Better than good, she felt like she did in her fantasies: hot, sexy and incredibly horny.

    Julie looked at Ben’s empty eyes and knew hers must look the same “Do you really love me, Ben?  If I asked you to go down on me would you do it?”

    Her slave practically dropped to the floor in his haste and buried his face between her legs.  It wasn’t enough.  While she got off on the feeling of power from making Ben do what she wanted, he wasn’t any good at it.  Karl hadn’t even tried, so, slave or not, Ben was one up again.

    “Forget it Ben,” Julie said after a minute of partially effective fumbling.  “You don’t have a clue, but I bet Christi does.”

    “Forget what,” Ben moaned into her pussy in between pathetic attempts to please her with his tongue.

    “Nothing.  Your mouth is useless, but even Karl could figure out how to use a dick.  Get your pants off.” With a palm on his forehead, she pushed him over.  “I want to see it.  I want to feel it, I want to taste it, I want it.” The khaki sport pants didn’t last long between them, but they did last longer than they would have had four hands of fumbling fingers not fought over the zipper.  Julie sitting on his legs certainly didn’t help either, but she was in great position to get her first look.

    He is bigger than Karl.  Oooooo! Ben groaned as her fingers encircled it.  She heard herself sigh as she fondled the Holy Grail and the sigh made up her mind.  She could play with her slave later.  Right now I’ve got better things to do.

    “Like, aaaaahhhhhhhh, this.” She missed the gurgling sound Ben made as she pressed down onto him, but that’s ok; she made more than enough noise for both of them.  “Love this!” she gasped, settling all the way down with her slave’s cock deep inside of her.  “Gotta lose my panties more often.  Much easier!”

    Julie was right. Ben figured out the basics pretty fast, but he didn’t really get going until she moaned out, “Fuck me, fuck me!”

    Ben exploded into action.  No longer content with being ridden, he started to thrust upwards.  He sat up, embracing and lifting and finally rolling her over onto her back, never stopping with the pounding between her legs as it built and built and roared through her body with the little and big pops that came with shudders of ecstasy.  Her blood was lava, heat igniting everything it came in touch with.  Her whole body was twitching, her neck twisting, and she had no idea what she was saying anymore.  It didn't matter anyway, the slapping of flesh did all of her talking for her.

    Nothing in her body was working right. Her fingers tingled, opened and closed; her mind burned; her head twisted back and forth as she shouted out total nonsense.  She couldn’t even wrap her legs around him the way she had with Karl; they just kept spreading and kicking whenever she tried.  Then things really went wrong, not at all the way she fantasized them.  Ben came too soon and his dad popped his head into the room to see what was going on with all of the moaning and shouting.

    “B-ben?” was as far as the stunned Mr. Carmichael got before Julie beat him in the race to gather enough wits.

    “Go w-watch more TV Mr. Carmichael.  Huuuh.  N-nothing unusual about this.  We’re just stuh-studying.  Fuck, don’t go soft Ben, stay hard!  Har-harder!  Al-almost there.”

    “Dad?” mumbled her fuck drunk sexual servant as his father calmly walked back to the TV room.  Ben had stopped fucking.

    “Keep going Ben!” she begged.  “Harder!  Yeessss!  Harder!”

    Distraction and need were growing in Julie, she was almost there.  The fire that built with every command burned hotter and the feeling of Ben swelling, thickening, stretching her out as he regained tumescence blasted out from between her legs and set her whole chest on fire.  Pressure built within, heart pumping molten blood.  Her hips quaked.  Then her brain erupted.

    “Oh, Fu huck!”

    A few minutes later, after the white fuzzies had come and gone and left her still burning with a lust for more, Julie worked her body contentedly.  Her thighs rocked her back and forth, up and down, as Ben thrust in counterpoint.  Savoring the friction and building pleasure, all she could think was . . .

    More!

    Then Ben came again and, as he softened into uselessness again, Julie knew he was going to need some help.

***

    “Hey sis, Can I talk to you for a moment?” and pounding on the door cut through the mix tape Christina was blasting to cover her moans.

    Ben, your timing sucks!  Almost there.  Almost! Christina took a breath, a deep one, and tried to calm herself.  Within a few taps, but not before Ben hollered again, she hit pause on the stereo.  She swallowed and called back, “Just a sec-cond.”

    Oh god.  My voice cracked.  I’m nipping out and I’m going to look red as an apple.  I can’t go out looking like this! Her jeans slid up an admittedly fine pair of legs and she was buttoning up when the arousal, horniness, she’d been feeling all evening got worse.  A lot worse.  The funny thing was it came with Julie’s voice.

    “Christi, you will open the door.”

    Bitch.  She thought as Christina shot to her feet and opened the door, realizing too late she hadn’t buttoned up.  Or pulled her tee shirt back on.  Her brother and Julie got a brief flash before Christina slammed the door back shut.

    “Let us in Christi,” Julie demanded.  “We need to talk.”

    I need to cum, not talk! raced through her mind along with an increasing need for satisfaction, but she opened the door anyway and grabbed for her bathrobe.  Fingers aren’t going to be enough this time.  God, I’m just too horny.

    “Don’t bother covering up,” Julie said as she walked in.  “Nice room.  Hey, I didn’t know you played softball.  Sit on the bed, Ben.”

    It was only Julie and her brother, so Christina dropped the robe and looked over at the trophies Julie was examining.  “Uh, yeah, last three years.  I pitch.  What do you want Julie?  Say it and get out.”

    “You have nice breasts.” Julie sat in Ben’s lap and her focus shifted to Christina’s bare chest.  Christina watched in amazement as Julie undid the few buttons holding her blouse closed and Ben’s arms slid around her waist while his lips teased her ear.  Julie wasn’t wearing a bra. 

    “You think I have nice tits,” said Julie. “You think I’m sexy.  You’ve been fantasizing about me aaaaall night.”

    There was something weird about the way Julie said that, she wasn’t asking.  She was telling and she was right; Julie was hot.  A lot of sex appeal was packed into that short body with those perky boobs.  “What?  Get out Julie.  I don’t want to hear this.”

    I want to get back to getting off.  Imagining your sweet breasts, your legs, your . . . omigod.

    “Ben?  What’s going on?” Ben didn’t even look at her.  He always looked; it was kind of funny she could turn on her twin brother, but, despite getting an invitation to ogle his half naked sister, his eyes were fixed on his lab partner.  His hand was down Julie’s waistband and it was obvious what was going on under the skirt.  Julie rocked softly in time to Ben’s hand.  When did those two get intimate?  Why him and not me?  I want to be doing that.

    Julie smiled and connected the line from Ben’s working hand to Christie’s eyes.  “He’s getting better at it, but, oooooo, some things need a female touch.  You’d love to be that female, wouldn’t you?”

    Christina felt herself nodding.  No, I-I . . . I want to.  I really do.  How’s she doing this?

    “There are other things you want, don’t you?  Like your brother.  He’s cute, don’t you think?”

    Christina’s eyes shifted from Julie’s hot body to her brother’s.  Ben sat stroking Julie’s pussy and fondling her sexy tits, a stupid happy grin on his face.  Julie writhed, breathing heavily, softly sighing, and moaning sometimes.  Her nipples looked so sweet, the one being stroked by her brother was making her jealous and the other making her hungry.

    “Your brother.  So good at this.  He feels nice.” Julie moved faster, wilder.  She bunched her skirt up around her waist to watch Ben’s fingering, her babbling was becoming more incoherent.  “Yes.  Hands on tits.  Lookit my pussy.  Fingers in my cunt.  So hot.  Fuck.  Want more.”

    Christina felt all tingly, like just before she came or when her sex fantasy of the moment did something she really liked or really wanted to try out.  Sitting in Ben’s lap, being stroked, felt up, while sucking on Julie’s nipples . . . she’d die to do that.  She wanted more.  She wanted what Julie was having, with her head thrown back making guttural sounds as her body quaked.  Then came the contented sigh and Christina knew she had to sigh like that.  She had to be made to feel like that.

    She didn’t realize she’d gotten in so close until her lips brushed Julie’s.  A hand was on the back of her head, pulling her in closer and, like sometimes when she kissed Tom, a tongue pressed on her lips.  Unlike with Tom, her mouth opened and accepted the tongue, played with the tongue.  She wanted more.

    She pulled free of the hands and lips and took what she really wanted: Julie’s tempting nipple.  Christina used her tongue, her hands, and her lips to do all the things that she liked to Julie.  In response, Julie stopped moaning long enough to shout something that made absolutely no sense.  Christina knew what it meant anyways so she kept licking and sucking.  Her hands caressed indiscriminately, she rubbed herself, stroked Julie, and explored Ben; he was so cute.

    When Julie really started thrashing, it was all Christina could do to keep working.  Her tongue stopped rolling around the nipple she was in love with because the nipple, the breast, and the body kept moving and devoted herself to sucking and nibbling.  Fortunately her brother was helping hold Julie still enough for that.  He wasn’t doing it deliberately, but, since she’d replaced his hand in Julie’s gushing pussy with one of her own, Ben had to fondle something.  But it wasn't her.

    My pussy!  Feel me Ben, you’re so good at it.  God, you’re cute.

    As Julie came down, Christina had a thought.  I just helped bring off another girl.  Oh, Lord help me.  It felt so good.  I want that.  I want more.  I want . . .

    “ooooohhhhh” Julie’s mouth pressed up against her belly and kissed downwards, smooth hands slipped her jeans down and fingernails teased the firm flesh of her legs.  Lips teased her opening.  She stepped out of her jeans and panties and a tongue slipped through the folds looking for . . .

    “AAAHHHHHH!” Christina’s hands locked onto the head between her spreading legs and buried themselves in sweaty brown heir.  She felt herself being pulled onto the bed.

    Ben made a cute pillow.

***

    Julie sat part way up on her elbows, looking down her body at Christi.  The cheerleader hadn’t known a whole lot better than Ben did at the start, but she figured it out a lot faster.

    Mind you, thought Julie, she had a pretty good example to learn from.  What did I do tonight?  I totally lost it.  So horny.  I was sooo fucking horny.  I’m still horny, but, fuck! 

    The clock on the bedside table read 8:00.  Whoa, it was like five thirty when I got here.  It took about fifteen minutes to check Ben’s math and we’ve been fucking pretty much non-stop since.  How many times did we all fuck?  I fucked Ben again, didn't I?  Hard to remember.  I think I did, I know he did from behind at least once when I was eating Christi.  I wonder if I had him screw his sister?

    A big smile spread across Julie's face. “You can stop now, Christi.”

    Christi’s eyes told it all: she was still horny, you’d have to be an idiot to miss the blush, but she couldn’t seem to decide what too look at: Julie, with her ‘nice tits’ hanging out, or her buck naked and ‘cute’ brother Ben.

    When Christi buried her face back between Julie’s legs, she was a bit surprised.  The tongue slithering into her pussy almost made Julie forget the tiredness, but enough was enough.  Christi was enjoying herself way too much.  She needed another distraction, and maybe a taste of revenge.

    “Stop Christi.  Don’t go anywhere.  I want you to watch.  Pay close attention.  Don’t move, just respond.” Julie drifted in close, their lips brushed for a moment before stood.

    “Stand up Ben.  His cock is wonderful, isn’t it Christi?  Remember how big and hard it was when I was fucking him.  You really want it.  Think about it parting your pussy lips, tickling your insides, sliding in and out.  Stretching your cunt.  Making you horny.  Making you scream.  You’d really like that wouldn’t you?”

    “Yeah” Christi’s eyes were almost all pupils and totally focused on her brother’s flaccid shaft.  Julie could see Christi’s mind working remembering earlier when Ben’s cock was swollen, throbbing and disappearing into a hungry cunt.  Christi was fantasizing about it now, Julie could tell, the cheerleader’s face said that her mind was replacing brown muff with the blonde her fingers stroked through.

    Time to ramp things up a bit more, Julie thought, and make sure Ben gets practice in satisfying me.  Can’t have slave number one suck in bed.  Suck poorly that is.

    “You dream ’bout it every night.  You masturbate thinking about it.  Your brother’s cock, sex with your brother would be heaven, bliss, ecstasy.  The only thing that can compare is me.”

    Julie felt the heat building again.  Christi looked like she had it bad too, she looked about ready to jump and rape her brother.  Tough.  “Too bad he’s your brother and you can’t do him.  That would be wrong, but you can do some stuff.  Like this . . . watch and learn.  You’re going to love doing this for guys, any guy who asks.  Except Karl.  You never blow Karl.  He’s an asshole.”

    Julie had to do it.  She was so horny again, but she was getting the pattern now.  Every time she made someone do something she got hornier.  So did they fortunately, but she’d have to watch where she made commands in the future.  That was the future though, right now she just blew softly on Ben’s flaccid cock, licked the tip softly and then, with her tongue slowly worked Ben into her mouth.  Finally something Karl had been good for: practice.  Every trick that haunted her dreams, everything she fantasized about doing with Orlando, she would teach Christi.  Teach her on her brother. 

    As she moved her mouth back and forth on the stiffening cock, she wondered, I hope Karl paid good attention when I did it for him; otherwise the football team’s going to be really disappointed next week.  Come on Ben.  I could order you to get hard again, but this is way more fun.  A dream come true!

***

    “So that’s OK then?” Julie said, a satisfying three-way fuck and quick discussion later.  “Christi, you’ll bring me to a team meeting.  Don’t worry; I can convince those bitches to let me on the squad.  Ben, you’ll have that list of their new boyfriends for me tomorrow right?  Nobody too disgusting—just some run of the mill regular guys who won’t mind their girls being a bit on the lesbian side of bi.  I don’t want anyone finding out what I’m doing yet.  Do a good job and as a reward you can have all the cheerleader pussy you want.”

    “I just want you Julie.  I love you.”

    “You sure Ben?” asked Christi, looking more than a little jealous.  “She’s fucking hot, but love’s a bit strong.”

    “Yeah, I love her,” said Ben, becoming all glassy eyed at some memory.  “I love her.”

    “What about me?” Christina asked, face alight with a saucy expectancy.  “You know, fucking is out of the question, ’cuz we’re twins, but we can do, like, other things.”

    She hunkered down and rubbed his worn out cock.  “All sorts of other things . . .” Christina blew on it softly and then began to try and pull it into her mouth with her tongue.

    “Get hard for her Ben,” whispered Julie.  “Give her something to practice on and make sure you thank her properly.  I want you to practice a lot too.  And start working out.  I want stamina.  It’s fine to practice on other girls, any girls I give you, but you save the real thing for me, ok?”

    Julie watched the two settle on the bed sucking passionately on each other, hands caressing writhing bodies.  She got an evil idea.

    “Oh, hey Ben, Christi, you know . . . anal’s not real sex.  You two could try that, you know.  Have fun!  I’ll sort stuff out with your dad and let myself out.”

    If I can get past your dad without stopping for a quickie.  Fuck, I’m still horny.

***

    “Oh, hey.  Mr. Carmichael . . ..” The look on his face was hilarious.  Ben liked her tits; Ben’s dad liked them too from the way he was staring.  It occurred to her that maybe she should have buttoned up her shirt first, but he hadn’t freaked out yet.

    “Don’t get upset and tell me the truth.  Are you any good at licking pussy?”

    “What?  I don’t think so, Em and I don’t go for that sort of stuff.”

    Julie smiled; her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Sure you do.  Give it a try—you’ll love it.  Practice on your wife.  There is me, and there is your wife.  You practice on your wife, but you live for me.  Got that?”

    Julie looked down at Mr. Carmichael and not so shyly checked him out as his face changed from bemusement to lust-filled awe.  She kissed him quickly and then sat back to watch his pants tent out.  Ben inherited a lot, but not all, from his father’s side. 

    As the heat of her suggestions started her back up again, Julie checked her watch: eight thirty.  She had plenty of time to get the renewing burning between her legs taken care of and she knew just how she wanted to start.

    “Your wife, she ever suck you off?”

    “N-no . . ..”

    “Great.  I love virgins.  Give me a hand here.” As she reached for his zipper she came to another realization.  Fuck homework, I’ll never have to do that shit again!  I’ve got all night.  Then I have to find some way to “thank” Mr. Crenshaw for trying to wreck my birthday. 

***

    “Samuel!” screeched Mrs. Carmichael when she looked in the TV room and saw her husband.  And the brunette wearing nothing but a dazzling necklace that bounced with her.

    “Hi, M-missus Carmichael!” Julie sang as the sofa springs squeaked.  “Omigod!  Is it really after ten already?  We’ve got to talk about a f-few things so just stay calm and wait while I get off.  You husband’s got a great cock and you’ve been totally wasting it! 

    “I want you to f-fuck him more, or at least suck him off whenever you get a chance.  You really sh-should and I want you to love it and do it as much as p-possible because he came way too soon the f-first time. But wow!  An hour and a half at his age.  Your son only luh-lasted two and he had Christi helping for m-most of it.”

    “Hi hoooooney,” moaned Mr. Carmichael, smiling happily as Julie accelerated her ride.  His son’s new girlfriend was a real hot lay and she tasted wonderful.  He couldn’t wait to try some of this out with his wife; they’d really missed out on a lot over the years, but Julie would be his special girl forever.  She bucked, went still, her pussy clenched, and the beautiful sigh as she milked him inspired him to spray her insides one more time.  Just like she’d said, they always came together.  His wife could never match that, but, from the look on her face, she couldn’t wait to try.  Em looked so sexy standing there all horny and confused.

***

    “Hey daddy!” Julie sang.  “I’m home!”

    “Keep it down,” shouted her dad.  “Carly’s crashed out and I’m in the den working.”

    Not for long, dad.  Julie smiled and unbuttoned her blouse.

    The necklace glinted.






Basic characters:
•  Julie, a pretty girl with an attitude problem, age of 17.
•  Benjamin (Ben)], a regular-Joe-type classmate who is Julie’s lab partner, age of 16
•  Samuel (Sam), Ben’s dad, a fit man in his mid 40’s
•  Christina (Christi), Ben’s twin sister
•  Seth, a man who runs a "new age" gift shoppe that Julie frequents

Type of sex: MF, FF, Incest is optional

Method of induction: Magical device

Location: a small, rural Midwestern (USA) town

Basic plot: Julie has issues with...  everything.  She is very pretty but has few friends because of her attitude.  Seth, owner of a local shoppe that specialized in the metaphysical, sells her a charmed necklace that he says will make people around her like her more—it literally draws love to her, he says.  So, she buys it and goes to Ben’s house to work on a lab project (the particular science is not important; could be Chemistry, Biology, or Physics).  One by one (or all together, if the author so chooses), she finds that the charm makes everyone around it very aroused—including her.  With it, she can even control the other people within its influence, even if she can’t control the necklace’s effects on her.  Basically, it makes her horny and gives her the power to make anyone nearby fuck her.  Ben’s family is in for a hell of a night.

[Nab]

A Little Delicacy

Beth’s boyfriend Doug was a major in the United States Marine Corps. He was flying out tomorrow morning to Georgia, then off to Iraq for at least six months. They wanted to enjoy their last remaining time together.  Beth currently lay on her bed in the dark while Doug plowed his thick cock into her pussy.

She rubbed her hands along his muscular back, his musk all around her. His cock felt good, and she ruminated on how long it would be before she felt it again.

He twitched. “Ah, fuck, fuck, damn!” He bellowed as he came inside of her before rolling off to her side.

“Fuck baby, it’s gonna be a while before I get that again,” he said.

She turned to look at him. “I’m going to miss you. My new job is so boring.”

Beth had recently got a job with a large insurance company. It was not what she had envisioned while going through college toward a business degree. But, she thought, you had to start somewhere.

“Why don’t you do something with that secretary of yours?” asked Doug.

“Kristin?” Beth laughed. “ I don’t think she is much of a socialite. It’s enough to get a decent conversation out of her. She is more concerned with her two cats.” Kristin had pictures of her cats in small frames around her work space.

“Well, you’ll think of something to do while I’m in the desert thinking of these.” Doug leaned in and started sucking at the nipple of one of Beth’s large breasts. His hand tugged at her other nipple.

Doug’s cock hardened again, and they fucked in a frenzied doggy style.


At eight the next morning, Beth walked through the glass doors of the large, stout, impersonal building where she worked. She took the elevator to her floor. Kristin was just settling in to her desk right outside of Beth’s modest office.

“Hi Beth,” she said, a broad smile on her face. “What a great morning, isn’t it?”

“My boyfriend flew out this morning, Kristin,” responded Beth.

Kristin winced. “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

Beth and Kristin worked their eight hours, answering phones and doing paperwork. At 5PM, Beth locked the door to her office as she prepared to leave for the day.

“Do you want to get a drink, or some coffee?” Kristin shrugged, “ It might help you to take your mind off of Dan.”

“You mean Doug. No, I think I am just going to go home and get some rest.” Said Beth.

“OK, see you tomorrow.” Both woman left the office.

Beth stopped in the lobby of her apartment to check her mail. Opening the box, she found a few pieces of junk mail and a key. A package had arrived for her. She took the key and opened up one of the larger communal mailboxes set aside for packages that would not fit into the smaller personal boxes.

She found a rectangular white box. The address label had a green border. There was a hand-drawn pink heart where the return address should be.

Beth took the package up to her apartment and set it on the kitchen table. Opening it, she found a small typewritten card. “For my special girl,” it said. Nothing further was written.

“How sweet,” Beth said to herself as she thought of Doug. She pulled away some thin tissue paper that had been used as packaging, and then pulled out a silky garment. She held it in front of her.

It was skimpy with spaghetti straps. A dark blue silky nightie. Doug, she thought, always thinking about sex.

She went to her room and stripped out of her business suit. She rubbed the fabric across her cheek, savoring its softness. She draped it over her head and down her body.

In the bedroom mirror, she looked at herself. Her black bobbed hair and long tanned legs went well with the dark color of the garment.

Beth felt dreamy and sleepy, even at the relatively early hour. She padded back out to her kitchen table. She sat down and looked again at the card.

For my special girl. Beth looked at the card, dazed and sleepy. She studied the intricacies of the small, sturdy piece of paper. Green, loopy bordering. Soft ridges of imprinted text and writing. She snaked her hand down to her thighs while holding the card directly in front of her eyes.

Her vision became fuzzy as she pulled the hem of the blue nightie up her thighs. Her hand met with the soft flesh of her pussy lips. As her eyes were transfixed on the card, for my special girl, an additional message appeared, as if written in disappearing ink.

It was a telephone number. Call it. Beth stoked her pussy a few more times, getting it wet and blooming. She walked over the telephone, squeezing her full succulent breast while continuing to hold the card in front of her face. She called the number.


The next morning, Beth awoke in her usual state – nude. She had an incredible night’s sleep. She did feel something on her face, however, something sticky and coating. I must have drooled, she thought, slightly embarrassed.

After taking a shower, she looked over at the silky gift lying on her dresser. She had only worn it for a few minutes; it should still be good to wear. Plus, it would feel so good against her skin at work. She put the blue nightie on under her dark suit. She decided to wear a skirt to accommodate it easier.

At work, she met up with Kristin who was already at her desk.

“You have this package here,” said the mousy young girl with large, open eyes and a bright smile. Was she blushing, thought Beth.

The package was identical to the one that arrived at her apartment the day before. Beth took it from Kristin and placed it under her arm.

Kristin spoke. “Mr. Stokes wants to see you.” Stokes was Beth’s immediate supervisor.

“When?” asked Beth.

“Now, I suppose,” answered Kristin.

Beth put the package into her office. She walked over to Stokes’ door, knocked, and entered at his reply.

“Beth, please sit down.” Beth took a seat in front of her boss.

“Well, I’ll just cut to the chase. We have been happy with your performance so far, and we want you to take on additional responsibilities,” he said.

“A promotion?” asked Beth, trying to suppress her glee.

“Yes, a promotion. An increase in pay and responsibility. Starts immediately. We’ll have Kristin remain with you for an easy transition.”

“Wonderful, Mr. Stokes! Thank you!” she jumped up, delight in her eyes, and shook his hand.

Back at Kristin’s desk, Beth told her assistant the good news. Both women beamed. In celebration, they decided to get some drinks after work.  Beth threw the package in the back seat.

After drinks, Beth felt lightheaded and Kristin offered to drive her home. It struck Beth as odd. The handful of drinks she had should not have affected her this way.

Outside Beth’s apartment, Kristin offered to walk Beth up to her place, carrying the green and white package under her arm.

Inside, Kristin set the package on the kitchen table. “What is it?” she asked.

“Some frilly stuff probably. I think that Doug is sending them to me, but I don’t know how from Iraq.”

“Open it,” insisted Kristin.

Beth opened the package and took out some sleek black garments. She held them up to her counterpart. A black bra and panty set and a pair of black thigh-high stockings.

“Beautiful,” said Beth, caressing the dark fabric. She loved the feel – not just the texture, but also the euphoria that the gifts produced in her.

“Try it on,” said Kristin, “Let’s see how it looks on you.”

Beth was anxious to do just that. She walked into her room and removed her executive clothing. She slowly put on the bra and slipped the stockings up her smooth tanned legs before walking back out to the kitchen area to show Kristin.

Kristin was sitting at the kitchen table, hands folded in her lap. Beth came around the corner in her black night clothing. She made sure to put on a show for her subordinate. She was modeling after all.

Cold trickles of arousal floated through Beth. She felt no shame or embarrassment as she walked over to Kristin. She sat on the tabletop next to her co-worker, looking down at her. Kristin handed her the greeting card that was inside the package.

“What does this mean?” Kristin asked.

“You hot, little minx,” the card read, “Enjoy yourself with this gift.”

Beth stared at the card. There were more than just the two lines. Her vision blurred, and she dropped the card. She looked at Kristin in a new way.

Beth cupped her tits. “How do I look?”

“Hot,” answered Kristin. “I’ve been lusting after your body since I saw you.”

Beth giggled. “Really?”

“Yes,” Kristin released the clasp of Beth’s lacy black bra. “I love these tits. I can lick on them for days.” Kristin gave one of Beth’s smooth breasts several lavish licks and lightly chewed on the nipple. It hardened. “Yum, as good as before.”

Kristin slipped her hand into the small black thong panties and instantly into Beth’s hot twat. “You’ve got a body made for fucking.” Beth moaned.

The two women kissed deeply in the kitchen for an eternity before making it back to the bedroom. On the bed, Kristin satisfied her lust with Beth’s pneumatic body. Beth basked in Kristin’s ministrations. The silky feeling of her thigh-high stockings made her feel naughty. She wanted to be used and fucked for someone else’s enjoyment.

Kristin climbed atop Beth’s torso. She lowered her swollen pussy lips onto Beth’s mouth and quaked when her boss’s tongue snaked in between.

After the marathon sex, Beth soon fell asleep. Kristin washed herself in Beth’s shower, and quietly left the apartment.

Beth could not believe her luck. Over the next few months, she zoomed up the corporate ladder. Three more promotions in three months! She was now the VP of the Western region.

The packages kept coming. Beth was starting to have quite the collection of frilly, sexy undergarments. She enjoyed wearing them under her business suits. They made her feel like a sex goddess. Sometimes, she fantasized about her body being used as strictly a vessel for sex.

Kristin had traveled along with her up the ladder of success. Her workspace got larger, as did her paycheck. Beth thought that her secretary was even getting sexier in her increased station in life.

They had been spending more time together, getting drinks after work, going to business trips out of town. Kristin got a big kick out of the gifts.

At first, Beth wondered how Doug was able to arrange for their delivery from a warzone. While his name was never actually signed onto the frequent packages, she just figured he was behind them. After a while, she didn’t care. His telephone calls became more and more sparse. One day, Beth had an epiphany. She thought about the way he would paw her body and how thick his scent was whenever they were in bed naked.  The cretinous ape was disgusting. She needed to be handled better, with delicacy.

Beth walked back to her office and saw Kristin sitting at her desk. She smiled at her.

“What’re you doing this weekend?” she asked. It was Friday.

Kristin looked up at her boss. “No plans. I’m open. You?”

“Nothing. Maybe we should get some dinner.” For some reason, Beth thought of the turquoise baby doll outfit she had recently received. She had the perfect heels that would make that outfit so hot.

“Sure,” answered Kristin with a smile, “Then, I’m sure we can think of something else to stay busy.”

SUMMARY


A formerly docile and content young businesswoman suddenly starts climbing the company ladder with a fervor; as her position in the company rises, the lingerie beneath her tame business suits becomes more and more risque.  Her administrative assistant-- the quiet one-- stays with her through her whole rise to a vice-presidency, and it isn't until the end of the tale that we realize that the admin's the source of our young businesswoman's surge in ambition.  And of her sexual deviances on the way up.  And of the pussy juice on her face she can't quite remember acquiring.  MF, FF

[Nab]

Melvin and his wishes.


Melvin  went over in his head what he would like to say to Carol as they sat eating their lunches.  Everyday they shared lunch together in the park.  Everyday for the last 10 years.  Carol Parker was the love of his life but he couldn't tell her.  He wanted to ask her out but he was a chicken.  He knew that she would probably say yes, since it was obvious that she liked him too.  But still, he couldn't find the courage or the words to ask.   What made the situation worse?   She was just as shy as he.  Back at the clinic, they both worked side by side with steady coordination,  They moved in sync with each other, always knowing what the other was thinking and finishing each others sentences.  But on a personal level,  they couldn't find the right words to say, making each other feel  awkward.   There was always an uncomfortable silence, followed by both trying to fill the void at the same time, talking over each other. Then embarrassed both would apologize for interrupting the other. then the silence again.   That is how it went everyday.   

Melvin felt pure frustration sitting next to the woman. Why?  He was an accomplished Scientist with acknowledgements in medical journals throughout the world in the study of  fungus.   So why did he feel so stupid when it came to Carol.   she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world.  She wasn't ugliest either.  She  always wore her hair in a bun, he wasn't sure how long it was.  She had thick rimmed glasses and never painted her face with makeup.  her lab coat and white slacks were the only clothing he had ever seen her wear concealing her trim body.  Oh it was agony.

Melvin looked at his watch.  "Oh my, we're late,  we better get back to the lab.  Those cultures need to come out of the oven in 5 minutes."

Carol stood up, "You go ahead Melvin,  I need to run by the mailbox and drop some bills in."

"OK. See you back at the lab."

Carol walked off the other direction and Melvin took the path back to the office.  Along the way, Something shiny caught his attention.  Something was glimmering in the pond.  Melvin walked to the edge of the pond and looked in.  Yes there it was again gleaming under the water.  It looked like a silver dollar or something.  With Melvin’s luck, it was probably a crushed pop can.  Melvin pushed his thick glasses up and tried to get a better look.  No, it definitely was a Coin of some sort.  One of Melvin’s hobbies was collecting rare coins and he couldn't pass up this one.  So Melvin kicked off his  loafers and pulled up his pant legs.  The bottom was mushy and gross but Melvin was used to handling Fungus and Algae.  As he waded out to the Coin, he had a pretty good view of it. It was a Silver dollar.   Melvin rolled up his shirtsleeve and stuck his arm into the cold water.  His had fished around at the bottom for the coin,  He felt the hard round object in his fist and pulled it out of the water.   Melvin was filled with glee,  "Now let's see what kind of coin you are."

Melvin opened his hand to find,  no silver dollar, not even a coin.  What looked like a coin a moment ago was a frog.   "Hey, your no coin at all. Your just a dumb frog.  Where did that silver dollar go?"

Melvin was about to toss the frog back into the pond when the frog spoke.

"Silver dollar?  I saw no silver dollar down there." croaked the frog.

Melvin was stunned.  the frog had spoke to him, but that’s crazy.  "Did you just say something to me?"

The frog croaked again. "I said, there is no silver dollar down there. But, I could give you one if you like"

"That's ridiculous?  Frogs don't have any money. Besides, where would you keep it? I don't see any pockets on you." Melvin answered, skeptical of this frogs ability to produce a coin.

"Magic.  could give you one with magic if you so wish."

Melvin thought the frog had to be pulling his leg. "Magic? There is no such thing as magic.  I have a  master's degree in  biology and I believe that anything can be explained with science."

The frog laughed " Oh really;  but you believe in talking frogs? Tell me Melvin Brooks,  how do you use science to explain me?"

Melvin scratched his head, "I don't know.  It is pretty absurd.  Besides being able to talk, you also know my name."

The frog stood up In Melvin’s hand and spoke with pride "Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Ruprick, Prince of the swamp,  My father is King Rupert, ruler of all amphibians.  I have been given this pond to start my own kingdom.  Since you are a guest in my pond, I shall give you three wishes."

Melvin stood listening to Ruprick's story,  it was quite an amazing tale.  He never thought about how tough a frogs life was.  he listened intently to Rupricks close encounters with hungry catfish, battling toads and salamanders, avoiding bloodthirsty leeches and hopping in terror from a sadistic 4th grader with cherry bombs. People hurried by giving Melvin dirty looks.  He must have looked quite loony standing knee deep in the pond, talking to a frog.

Ruprick Finished his story and added. " All this adventure  becomes quite boring once you get used to it.  That is why you interest me Melvin Brooks.  Everyday, I watch you and that tadpole sit by the pond and eat lunch.  You two are the most boring humans I have ever laid my segmented eyes upon.  That is why I want to grant you three wishes.  I would love to see someone else have an adventure."

Melvin thought about it.  "What could I wish for?"

"Anything you want, if you so desire it. but be wise with your wishes for you only get three."

Melvin didn't have to even think about it.  He so desired to have Carol that he couldn't think of anything else.  Anyone else would probably wish to be a million are.   Melvin knew If he wished for money , he would still be too shy to ask Carol out.  He knew he couldn't buy confidence.  That’s it!  Confidence,  If Melvin was Brave and confident,  he could smoothly say the words that would melt Carols heart.

Melvin asked the frog.  "Could you give me confidence?  I am really lacking in self-esteem and courage."

Ruprick did a little hop and croaked happily. "Confidence you wish for then Confidence you have."

Melvin instantly felt light headed and about fell over; but it passed quickly enough. "Whoa, I feel strange.  Did you grant my wish?"

Ruprick croaked "I will let you answer that.  What are your plans with Carol?"

Melvin pictured Carol.  He knew what he wanted to say to her now and he knew he could say it.  "Yes,  I'm pretty confident it worked. Why I'm just burning to get back to my love now and tell her how I feel."  Melvin was grinning with joy that he hadn't felt in a long time.  "Ruprick, I can't thank you enough my amphibian friend, I have to get back to the lab.  Carol will probably put out a missing persons alert."

Ruprick  added, "Remember my friend, you have two more wishes.  Anytime you are ready to use them,  just say Ruprick three times really quick and I shall appear."  and with that  Ruprick leaped gracefully back into the pond leaving Melvin with his new found confidence.

2
Back at the lab,  Melvin found carol studying the cultures they had been baking in the incubator.  Man she looked good.  Melvin paused for a moment to gaze upon the woman he lusted for.  Her petite figure hunched over the microscope.  Carol  was aware of Melvin’s entrance,  she turned to ask him why he was late, but felt slightly uncomfortable at the look on Melvin’s face.  She pushed her glasses back up and avoided his gaze.  "Where'd you go?  I thought you were right behind me."

"Oh about that Carol, If I told you why I was late, you might think I was crazy." Melvin walked up behind her and rested his hands on her hips. "Lets not talk about me anymore." his hands wandered up to her chest. "Lets talk about you woman. You know how hot you are?"

Carol blushed and felt a panic attack coming on. "M, M, Melvin, wha,what are you d,doing?" she stammered.  She always stammered when she felt nervous. "M,Melvin, are you f, feeling alright? Your acting very strange."

Melvin grinned, "I feel great, never better."  seeing Carol backing away with a look of fear on her face turned Melvin on even more.  She looked like a little frightened bunny and Melvin was the dog hunting down his prey.  "Where are you going Babe?  I was think, you and me could quit this drama and get busy.  I know you want it as much as me.   I am a man and you are a woman."

Melvin tried grabbing Carol but she was as quick as a bunny too and darted passed him. "Oh C'mon,  quit playing hard to get.  I know you can't resist me."

Carol  was cornered with Melvin waiting to pounce on her. She had pepper-spray on a keychain and pulled it out of her pocket.   "Stop, Melvin I am warning you.  D, Don't c, come any closer."

Melvin Smiled and took one more step towards her.  "Oh, do you think I believe, you would actually use that on me.?"

Before Melvin could take another step, Carol gave him a healthy squirt.  Melvin’s eyes began to burn. the pain was intense. he stumbled away from her, half blinded. "Owe, You sprayed me.  How could you do that?"

Carol was poised ready to give him more if he persisted.  "I warned you Melvin.  I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you don't stop this right now, I will be forced to give you more."

 This wasn't supposed to happen.  Melvin had felt confident that Carol would see how much of a man he had become and fall instantly and passionately in love with him.  He needed to get Ruprick here to grant him another wish.  Maybe he could straighten this out and win her affections at the same time.  lets see now,  Melvin needed to say Ruprick’s name  three times in a row.  "Ruprick, Ruprick, Ruprick."

*Poof*
The prince of frogs had appeared in a split second  perched on Carol's shoulder. "Ha ha ha, oh that was damn hilarious.  Boy, you know how to crack a frog up."  Ruprick croaked.

Melvin could barely see him through his watering eyes.  Oh no, if Melvin’s advances hadn't freaked Carol out by now, a talking frog might just push her over the edge.  But it wasn't.  in fact.  "Carol?"

Melvin was amazed,  Carol should have freaked out by now under the current circumstances.  From his advances to a talking frog sitting on her shoulder, but she didn't.  in fact,  she didn't do anything.  she was frozen in place, holding her can of pepper spray. 

"Ruprick,  what have you done to Carol?"

Ruprick "Oh, she is fine.  I have frozen her till you figure out what to do next."

Melvin walked over to Carol and waved a hand in front of her face but there was no change in her expression.  She had the same frightened look but she was still as a statue; not aware of what was going on. "I can see you froze her, but she looks awfully frightened, like she's caught in a nightmare."

Ruprick added. "Well, she was totally caught off guard by your advances.  Here let me fix it for you. Ruprick whispered something into Carols ear.  Carol's look of shock evaporated, her hands fell to her sides and she stood calmly.  she now looked totally lost in bliss.  "There, is that better?" Ruprick croaked.

Melvin took a real close look at his frozen love. He had always  been too shy to actually look her straight in the face but now he couldn't take his eyes off of her.  Carol had beautiful hazel eyes hidden behind  her thick rimmed glasses.  He caressed her soft cheek with the back of his hand; so smooth. her lips were so kissable, it was tough for Melvin to resist. Carol was more beautiful than he had ever remembered. "

Ruprick Cleared his throat and snapped Melvin out of his daze "Let's see now, Your confidence made you overbearing and aggressive.  and she shied away from you.  But if she was less timid and more outgoing."

Melvin started getting the picture. "Yes, yes that's it. If she was more outgoing, and maybe attracted to me, then I am sure that I could win her love.  Ruprick,, Can you make her more spunky and outgoing?"

"So let me see now,  You are wishing for Carol to be more spunky and outgoing and  to be more attracted to you."

Melvin added, "Hot,, make her hot for me.  I wish she would want me like I want her."

Ruprick chirped and did a little hop, "Oh I like it.  Jolly good Melvin,  Jolly good.  Your wish is my command." with that Ruprick vanished with a pop sound.

3
Carol took a deep gasp and was back to the land of the living. "Oh, my head.  I feel so dizzy.  Carol took a step and staggered.  Melvin was right there to catch her. "Oh thank you Melvin.  I don't know what happened.  I must have black out for a moment."

Melvin guided her over to a stool. "Just sit down a catch your breath. I'm sure you will feel better in a minute or two."

Carol was gripping his arm for added support. "My,, Melvin,  what strong muscles you have.  Do you work out?"

Melvin grinned. "Well no, but I'm on the bowling league. You would be surprised how tired your arms could get swinging a bowling ball."

"Oh its getting hot in here.  I think I'm beginning to have hot flashes."  Carol began unbuttoning her lab coat.

"Let me get you some water" Melvin headed over to the fountain.

Carol watched as Melvin bent over filling up a glass. her pussy started to throb. oh god, she tried squeezing her legs together to intensify the sensation she was feeling. The sensations were becoming stronger. She couldn't take it any longer.  she needed something more stringent.  She didn't realize that Melvin was starring at her in disbelief. "Oh dear."

"Are you O.K.?." Melvin watched as Carol squirmed and gasped for breath.

Carol stood up and  ripped her lab coat off "Oh Melvin,  You look so hot.   I want to fuck right now." Carol took her glasses off  and threw them on the counter.  "I want your cock inside me Melvin. I can't take it anymore; day in, day out, working next to your manly cock"  Carol pulled the pins out of her bun and shook her head.  Her silky hair spilled down her back, touching her ass.

Melvin was speechless.  He had expected Carol to be more spontaneous and outgoing but she had skipped the romance and jumped right to the sex.  But what stunned him now was how Carol kept revealing her hidden beauty. With her lab coat off, Melvin could see her cleavage poking out of her blouse.  He never knew she had a nice set till now.

Melvin began backing away from Carol as she stalked him around the lab. "Carol,  maybe we should save it till after work. oh dang,  look at the time.  We need to get the data in on them cultures."

"Fuck the data, Mel.  We can do our own experiment. You stick your specimen in my oven." Carol had Melvin Cornered just as he had her earlier.  She began ripping his own jacket, trying to get it off.

Melvin panicked, he didn't know exactly what to do.  Carol was moving to fast for him. She was vicious, grinding her hips against his crotch.  "Carol,  please,, not here,, someone might see us."

Carol Jerked his head back and stared him straight in the eyes.  those hazel eyes that felt piercing under her seductive gaze. "Then let them see us Mel.  I need to fuck right now."

This was all wrong. this was not what Melvin meant by hot.  He wanted someone to rescue him from this sex kitten, he had wished for.  "Damn it!  Ruprick,, Ruprick,,"

Carol interrupted "Yes, prick!"

Melvin said it one more time "Ruprick."

*poof*
"Blimey! What's wrong now?"  Ruprick was perched on Carols shoulder again.

"What’s wrong now?" Melvin said as if it weren't obvious.  "Just look at her." 

Carol was frozen in her sexual pose. she was starring seductively into space. her cleavage showing, her hair down, lips puckered, ready to kiss.  Melvin's dick was starting to harden just looking at Carol frozen in this pose.

Ruprick lick his eye and said "Would you like me to freeze her in a different pose?"

Melvin shook his head. "No, this is fine, but that's not what I'm talking about.  She was an animal.  I wished that she would be spontaneous, outgoing and have the hots for me.  not become a nymphomaniac."

Ruprick sighed. "I know what you wished for, but I thought I would step it up for you.  I thought you wouldn't notice."

Melvin's temper rose, "Wouldn't notice?  you didn't step it up a notch, you stepped over the edge.  She's a raging succubus. She'll suck the life out of me."


"First she's too shy, now she's to aggressive. So what do you want to do now?"

Melvin thought about it for a moment. "What I want is to take things slowly.  If I suggest something, then she will be obliged to listen,  that way, we can move along at my speed.  I wish she was susceptible to my suggestions."

Ruprick nodded, "As you wish Melvin"

4
A split second later, Ruprick was gone again, followed by another pop sound.  Carol blinked and gasped again. unsteady on her feet she nearly fell over again.  Melvin held her up.

Carol looked shocked again. "What happened?  I think  I blacked out, I can't remember how I got here."

Melvin guided her back to the stool  "Your OK,  You said something about feeling dizzy and I caught you."

Carol rubbed her head. "My hairs down.  Oh gosh, It must be a mess,"  She began fixing it again, trying to roll it back up.

Melvin liked her hair down, "Carol, you should leave it down for a change, I like it that way. It makes you look sexy."

Carol was pleasantly surprised by Melvin’s compliment. "It does? Well OK, I'll leave it down, just for you." Carol noticed the top buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned but she didn't care.  She felt comfortable around Melvin and she liked the way she caught him sneaking a peek.   Carol and Melvin were moving in a positive direction.  She could sense something different about Melvin.  She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he spoke with more authority.  She felt compelled to listen to him. What ever it was, she liked it.

Melvin was in a good mood.  this was the perfect wish and Ruprick hadn't screwed it up.   Melvin didn't want instant gratification.  it felt too much like cheating.   Although his wish was like cheating, he still had to work for the prize. That's why he didn't wish for money  or fame.   He wanted to earn those rewards.   All afternoon, he had been working at gaining Carols trust, opening her up and learning about what she liked and didn't like; planting little suggestions here and there."

"Carol, would you care to go out with me tonight?"

Carol frowned, "I'd love to Melvin, but my sister is arriving into town and I haven't seen her in a long time."

Melvin grinned "You don't understand;  I want you to go out with me tonight.  Your sister can see you some other time."

Carol couldn't let Melvin down  "Ok Mel,  lets go out.  my sister can wait till next time to see me."

Melvin walked her out to her car. "Well,  I will pick you up around 7 O'clock.  Wear something sexy, a beautiful woman shouldn't hide her looks. she should be proud of them."

Carol giggled, "Oh Mel,  if your trying flatter me, its working."  Carol Gave Melvin a quick peck on the cheek and drove off.

Melvin couldn't believe it.  Carol had kissed him on the cheek and he didn't tell her to do it.

5
Melvin  parked in front of Carols house right on the hour and his eyes about popped out of his head.  Carol was standing on her porch,  her hair flowing over both shoulders.  She was wearing a Black dress that showed off her cleavage.   the dress stopped halfway down her thighs exposing her gorgeous legs. She was stunning.  Carol waved at Melvin and walked down to his car.  she was wearing high heels and nylons.   She was stunning.  Melvin got out of the car and opened the door for her.
She thanked Melvin and got in.  As she passed by him, he could smell her perfume.  Melvin had never been this attracted to any woman in his life. Carol and Melvin chatted on the way to dinner but Melvin was deep in thought again.  he couldn't help getting lost in Carol's beauty.  She wasn't wearing her glasses and she had put on make-up.  He had never seen her wear make-up before.  Melvin treated Carol out to the fanciest restaurant in town.  He wanted to show Carol off. He asked the Waiter to seat them in the center of the restaurant.  Carol was absolutely gorgeous. Melvin caught men checking her out when they passed by to sit down.  He was the king now.  He felt like the big dog with the babe.

After dinner, Melvin and Carol parked up in the hills over-looking the town.

Carol had a look of anticipation, "What do you want to do now Melvin?"

Melvin was eyeing Carol, he had been wanting to hold her in his arms all night and kiss those hot lips of hers. "Come over here Carol,"

Carol smiled and lay in Melvin’s arms  They began kissing; gently at first, but becoming more passionate with every kiss.
Melvin unzipped her dress. "Take it off babe. I don't want it getting wrinkled now."

 "Ok, Mel,  If you want me too."  Carol wiggled out of her dress and snuggled back into Melvin’s arms. 

Melvin fumbled with the clasps of her bra. Damn those things were beyond a scientists comprehension. Carol must of sensed his desire to remove it, cause a second later, it was off and her breasts were free.  Carol smiled at Melvin as he explored her tits like a child with a new toy.  Melvin massaged them and sucked on them.  His dick was hard and ready to explode.

Melvin slid his hand down inside her panties.  It was the first time he had ever felt a woman's pussy. 

Carol let out a gasp, "Oh Melvin,  I'm ready; please, take me now." Carol  laid back and removed her panties exposing her cunt.

Melvin was stunned for only a moment before he understood what she was saying.  "Oh Carol."  Melvin  pulled his pants down and began crawling on top of carol,  He tried finding the hole himself but Carol ended up guiding it in.  38 years of age and he was finally losing his virginity.  the car was cramped and not the best place to make love, but they managed.  Melvin knew that they would do it again eventually, over and over again.

6
The next morning,  Carol and Melvin awoke in each others arms.  It was the first time a woman had ever been at his house.  Melvin was the happiest he had ever been.  Carol got out of the bed and stood looking out the window.  The morning sunshine highlighted her long mane.  Melvin was in love for the first time and he knew she loved him back.

They walked to work.  It was such a beautiful day.  Melvin hadn't thought about Ruprick since he was granted his final wish.  His life had definitely changed for the better.  Hand in hand, Carol and Melvin entered the clinic.  Some of their fellow biologists had to look twice at Melvin's Woman. 

Dr Robert Vaughn  called out, "Dr Brookes, I had no Idea you were involved with anyone.  Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Melvin and Carol laughed, "Dr Vaughn  I think you already know Dr Parker, She has worked with us for the last 10 years."

Dr Vaughn was shocked, "Carol, is that you,  Why you look absolutely fantastic.  Why I have never noticed you before is mystery."

Carol interrupted him before he could continue, "Robert,  We have work to do, so if you don't mind, we have to be going."

Melvin tried not to snicker as they left Dr Vaughn standing alone in the hall.  As they entered the lab, Melvin saw an aquarium sitting on a table with hundreds of frogs in it.  In the past, this wouldn't have surprised Melvin because animals were brought in occasionally for study. Dr Peter Fields was counting them.  "What the hell are you doing with those frogs?" Melvin barked at Fields angrily.

Fields looked up shocked, not only at Melvin snapping at him, but also by Carols transformation. "Uh,  these frogs were accidentally shipped here. They were supposed to be sent to the High School Biology class."

"So they can be tortured and mutilated? I don't think so; I'm taking them back to where they belong." Melvin said in revulsion.

Melvin grabbed the aquarium and headed out to the park.  Carol didn't understand why Melvin cared so much about a bunch of frogs, but if it was important to Melvin then she was going to stand by him.  Melvin thought about Ruprick the whole way. How could he let anything happen to these poor creatures; they deserved to live and breathe like any other creature on earth.

When Melvin Reached the bank of the pond, he poured all the frogs out carefully into the water.

Melvin smiled at them swimming away. "There you go little fella's, swim and be free. If you see Ruprick tell him Hi for me."

Carol looked puzzled. "Who's Ruprick?"

*poof*  A frog suddenly appeared, sitting calmly on Melvin’s Shoulder.

To Carol's Amazement, the frog spoke. "I am Ruprick. Prince of the Swamp. It is an honor to finally get to speak to you, my dear."

Melvin was amazed that Carol hadn't passed out or run in terror at the spectacle of a talking frog. Quite the opposite. 

Carol smiled and Curtsied "No, it is my honor to meet a prince.  But  I must warn you,  I am already spoken for. so don't expect me to kiss you."

Ruprick laughed in delight. "Oh Melvin, don't ever let this one go. She's a keeper."

Melvin grinned. "I won't.   Its good to see you again Ruprick."

"Anyways, Melvin, it was a noble thing you did saving all my subjects.  You didn't have to go through all that trouble but you did.  And for that,  I am going to grant the both of you, one more wish.   The wish will only come true if it's something you both desire.  So Cheerio, Maybe someday we will cross paths again."  And in a Flash, Ruprick was gone.


Carol looked puzzled. "A wish?  he has granted you wishes before?  What did you wish for?"

Melvin blushed. "I'd rather not say,, it's kind of personal."

Carol grinned "So what should we wish for?"

Melvin scratched his head. "I don't know,  maybe you should decide."

Before Carol could tell him what she wished for, Melvin saw it floating in the pond.  A ring box.  Carol saw it too and said. "it can't be." 

Melvin waded out in the pond once again and grabbed it.  He was praying it wouldn't turn into a frog on him before he could see what was in it.   He opened it in front of both of them.   to their amazement shining in the sunshine was two wedding rings. Carol could hardly contain her excitement, she went to grab one, but Melvin pulled the box out of reach. 

"Wait a minute, lets do this right." Melvin got down on one knee and held Carols hand  "Carol, you are the love of my life.  Would you make a mans wish come true and marry me."

Carol had made the same wish and had to say yes.  "Melvin, the answer is yes.  of course I'll marry you."

The end.

Summary
A man who is just taking a break and just happens to be in the woods or near some kind of water (fishing perhaps?) and finds the magical frog prince who will grant him 3 wishes as long as it doesn't involve killing anyone. Preferably MD with MF, but not necessarily, try to keep it light and upbeat and just a little silly.

[Nab]

Gingerbread
by,
A Grimm Sibling.

“Damn it, John, do you really have to be a walking, talking, driving cliché? The road isn’t even paved anymore…where in the hell are we?”

John had known the silence was drawing to an end. Historically his sister could only hold her tongue for so long and, once she’d crossed her arms over her ample chest, he’d known the quiet would soon be interrupted.

He clasped the steering wheel tighter. “We’re not lost—just a little turned around. We’ll hit a town soon.”

“Yeah, well, you’d better ask for directions the first chance you get so I can stop staring at acres and acres of identical trees.”

He knew he shouldn’t take the bait and yet he did. “Or what? What are you going to do, Greta? You know what was the best look for you? When you had the red spikes in your hair—like horns. It allowed people to get a head start.”

“What I’m going to do is call dad and tell him you screwed up…again.” Greta reached for her purse.

“We can’t even get any radio stations to play…good luck getting a signal.”

“We’ll see,” she said, pulling out her phone. After several seconds, she tossed the cell over her shoulder and into the backseat in disgust. John fought back a smirk.

“Gah! I still don’t know what this stupid fieldtrip is going to accomplish,” she said. “Want to sing ‘Over the river and through the woods’…goth style?”

He explained once again -- even though they both knew the answer. “Dad thinks that seeing the grandchildren she disinherited will move our grandmother.  Maybe he’s right—since you washed the blue streaks out of your hair, you come across as pretty innocent…until you speak.”

“Fuck you!”

He began to chuckle. His sister really did look innocent, wearing a sedate summer dress and with her hair back to its natural blonde, but she still had the vocabulary of a sailor.

Greta seemed to be fighting back her own laughter, but then her expression became sober. “John—you know dad isn’t looking out for us anymore, right? It’s all about Lily…he’s worried she’ll leave him if he can’t support her. If he still cared about us, he’d have shown some interest in the last couple years.”

Their step-mother was a real alpha bitch—no doubt about it. Marriage to her had altered their once loving father. For a few years John found himself hating all women just a little, thinking them all capable of using their bodies to manipulate a man. Recently he’d come to the conclusion that a guy who’d let his dick do his thinking deserved what he got.

“I know,” he answered.  “I figure we still owe the old man a few things from before Lily got her hooks into him. If it works you’ll have money for your band and I’ll have money for the restaurant.  It’s worth a day or two of kissing up to some old woman.”

“Sure, if we actually get there in one piece,” Greta said, but with no real animosity in her tone this time. He understood—she was not alone in feeling better about saying what they both had been thinking.

He’d never let his sister know it, but he trusted her instincts. She had a way of knowing things. When their mother became ill, she seemed to know from the beginning that she wouldn’t rebound. Or the first time they saw Lily, Greta just seemed to know that she was no good, even though she'd looked like sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth. Greta underplayed her knack though, pointing out that most of the time she was just as in the dark as everyone else.

Suddenly a deer appeared in the middle of the road. John swerved to avoid it, and the next thing he knew, he felt a jolt as they went off the side of the road and down a sharp incline. They narrowly missed a row of trees as the car came to a halt, pitching both of them forward.  Only then did he have time to feel fear.

“Jesus, Greta, are you okay?” he asked, looking at his sister.

She inhaled and slowly blew it out before answering. “Yeah, you?”

He gave a ragged sigh. “You mean, with the exception of knowing that deer is somewhere laughing its ass off and telling all her friends that she bagged a big one?”

“I bet Lily’s car has airbags.”

“I’ll take that bet,” he said, looking behind them. “I’d also bet that there’s no chance of getting out of this ditch on our own.” He felt frustration boiling up.  “You might as well bitch me out right now.”

“I’ll save it for later. How ‘bout that? I’ll call you at 3am a month from now, and really let you have it.” Greta unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed into the backseat, apparently to give her phone one last try. John felt tender toward his sister at that moment: a strange brew of thrilled that she was okay, and glad that she wasn’t in the process of ripping him a new asshole—even  if it was, in part, due to bitching out her useless cell phone instead. “Yeah, right, ‘can you hear me now?’ my ass! No, I can’t hear you now, you nerdy freak[!”

“Hey Greta, wanna go for a walk?” he asked, sounding resigned.

They changed into more comfortable shoes and got out of the car. Greta began up the incline, but John stopped, noticing a trail.

Greta protested “That will lead us into the woods. I want out of the woods.”

“Hear me out. We hadn’t seen a house for miles and there was no sign of anything but more road and more trees on the horizon. A trail has to lead somewhere, right? A trail is bound to be shorter than a road—it’s a path for people to get from point A to point B on foot.”

Greta stared at him for several seconds, considering his words, and then her own. “If we do the road a car might come by.”

“When was the last time there was a car? Though I suppose there’s a chance.” Greta could be right and he’d already gotten them lost once. If they went with her plan and it went to hell, at least they’d be even. There was also Greta’s occasional party trick of knowing things she wasn’t supposed to know.  “Okay, road it is,” he finally offered.

Greta sighed. A wrinkle appeared in the center of her forehead. “Know what? Just grab the flashlight in case it gets dark and let’s do the damned path.”

It figures, he thought, grabbing the flashlight and taking huge strides to catch up with his sister. Maybe later they could have a debate over whether the sky was blue or plaid—whichever one he chose, Greta would choose the other one.

They were silent for several minutes as they walked along the path—no sounds but their feet scuffing against the natural debris. Light filtered through the trees, dappling everything it touched, and John could hear small animals scurrying through the brush. Despite their predicament John felt his stress ebb away at the beauty around them and, as near as he could tell, Greta felt the same.

Soon they began to talk, joking and speaking in phrases that only they would understand—the language of siblings. Neither of them noticed when they strayed off the path until they were boxed in on three sides.

After a brief argument over whose idea it was to take the path, and whose fault it was that they veered off the path, Greta said, “Whatever! What now?”

“Track back—what else?”

After a few minutes it became clear they were lost two times over. John turned to his sister in an attempt to come up with a new plan of action, only to find that she was crying. As he wrapped his arms around her he couldn’t help but be amazed at how she could piss him off one minute and a moment later bring out every protective instinct he possessed.

“C’mon, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out,” he said, stroking her hair, and trying to comfort her.

She pulled back and looked at him with huge blues eyes which matched his own. “You can’t know that. We could just go in circles forever and it’s going to get dark soon.  Remember when we’d go on family trips to grandma and for a joke dad would turn out the headlights, and we’d all scream? It’s going to be dark like that!” She brushed away a tear with the back of her hand and, in that moment, looked much younger than her age.

“There are still a few hours. We’ll probably find a way out by then and, even if we have to spend a night in the woods, I’d never let anything happen to you.” He hoped he sounded convincing.

They walked on, trying to make note of landmarks and stopping only to dine on berries. As the day went on, the same scenes which were peaceful and relaxing felt ominous, the scurrying of animals seemed sinister, and the bugs were showing up in droves. He could see Greta’s nerves fraying as she swatted mosquito after mosquito. He tried to keep his stride confident while figuring out what the safest plan was for sleeping in the woods—other than “don’t.”

Greta touched his arm, looking to her right. “That way,” she said, sounding sure as she pointed, and heading off without waiting. Again he found himself following his sister. He assumed she’d heard something or had an intuition, but he couldn’t help but notice she’d looked none too happy. It was as if she was about to begin a much needed, but unpleasant, task and wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. It was the same way she’s walked up to their mother’s casket.

He stopped short for a moment as they came to a clearing with a little house and goats and sheep grazing on deep green grass. The sight was jarring in contrast to where they had been and instantly made John feel ridiculous for his earlier concern. He began concocting a version of the story where he’d not been the least bit worried and knew everything would turn out fine—and that he’d known Greta was worrying for nothing.

The house was small, cozy looking, and in excellent shape for being in the middle of the woods. As they approached the door, John looked around, seeing no clear path. The dwelling seemed to be completely isolated, though for all they knew they were close to a town. There was the smell of something delicious cooking behind the door.

Greta knocked on the door, looking strangely solemn, and they waited for several seconds before it opened.  John speculated that the owner would be some modern day Grizzly Adams or an old woman resembling a woman in a story he once read about a woman who lived alone on an island for 40 years. What he wasn’t expecting was for the owner to be relatively young and quite beautiful.

She had to be approaching middle-age, as indicated by a few strands of grey in her wavy black hair, and the beginning of wrinkles around eyes the color of emeralds, but she was still eye-catching. She looked pleased to see them, but not at all surprised. She smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth.

“Visitors. Delightful. I was just making stew...come in.”

John looked at Greta and she shrugged. They followed the woman into the house and looked around at the one room cottage with minimal furnishings and a huge fireplace where the stew was cooking. There was a surprisingly large bed in the corner – reminding John he was pretty tired – and a ladder that reached to what appeared to be a loft. The only covering on the wood floor was a large worn rug.

The woman went to stir the pot and John couldn’t help but notice the shapeliness of her behind through her thin, worn dress.

“Ma’am,” John said to the woman’s back, “We were lost in the woods and…do you have a working phone or a way to get to a town?”

The woman turned around. “Stew will be done soon. I’m sure you’re both starving. Of course you were lost, dear, but—in the words of the song—now you’re found! You would be surprised how many lost people end up here. No phone.”

John thought that strange. It seemed like finding her cabin would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Unless…

“Then we’re close to a town?” he asked.

“No, I cannot say that’s true—at least not close enough to be going anywhere tonight. I’ll try to be a good hostess even though what I have to offer is humble.”

“Oh no! It’s lovely,” said Greta. “We weren’t trying to say there was anything wrong with your home. It’s cozy, and what a beautiful view! We didn’t want to put you out at all. I’m Greta Ostrander and this is my brother, John."

“I’m Rabea.” The woman held a slender hand to each of them. As her hand lingered in his own, he noticed the ring she wore—it seemed to be encrusted with many sparkling jewels, and completely out of place. He had the incongruous thought that in the position they were in, they could play Ring-Around-The-Rosy.

She let go and John felt strangely bereft as the warmth of her skin was taken away. “Are you by any chance twins? You both have the same big blue eyes and blonde hair.”

Greta laughed. “No, John’s two years older. Not twins—just pure Scandinavian. John’s name is really Johannes,” she said, sounding all the world like a little sister trying to get a rise out of her brother.

“A pleasure to meet both of you.”

Greta looked around the small cabin “Do you live here alone? That would have to be scary at night!” she said with a certain amount of wide-eyed interest.

“Anything that comes around is more scared of me than the other way around,” Rabea said with a laugh. “Why don’t I make you both a little snack of gingerbread and root beer and you can cool off in the spring behind the house?”

John, no fan of gingerbread or root beer, almost said he’d prefer to wait for dinner—until he heard Greta’s stomach growl in the quiet of the cabin. It had been a long day and he knew she hadn’t had breakfast. He also didn’t want to seem ungracious.

The spring seemed like a good idea too. He was pretty damned tired and was afraid that, hungry or not, he would pass out in his stew. Looking back, he realized that he had heard the sound of bubbling water earlier.

Greta offered to stay in the cabin, helping with dinner, but Rabea would here none of it. John smiled at how, even after two years of being in a goth band and doing God-Knows-What, his sister remembered the manners their mother had taught them.

As Rabea gathered their snack he found himself watching her again. Living there, and being self-sufficient, had obviously kept her in fine shape. When he looked at Greta she was silently laughing, having witnessed his perusal. She looked him in the eye and mouthed the word, “pig.” He smiled and shrugged.

He noticed Greta kept looking at something on the ceiling of the loft and John followed her gaze. Across thick beams there was yarn woven into an elaborate pattern like a spider’s web.

“Hoping to catch flies?” John joked when he noticed Rabea looking at them.

“Something like that,” was their hostess’ reply. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his sister shiver. He looked over at her, questioning her with his eyes, but she smiled apologetically and shrugged.

They headed out to the spring with their root beer in tin cups and each with a thick slice of gingerbread. Greta munched along happily and in the two minutes it took to get to the spring, her piece was gone. John handed her his, noting the crumbs around her mouth. She thanked him with a small belch.

“Niiice manners.” He looked at the clear spring with the water bubbling toward the surface. “Since we don’t have bathing suits how are we going to do this.”

“We could strip down to our underwear and then after slip into our clothes, letting our ‘unmentionables’ dry on that rock over there,” Greta suggested, around mouthfuls of gingerbread. “This is delicious! You drinking the root beer?”

He turned his empty tin cup upside down and echoed her earlier belch. The root beer had been surprisingly tasty and he’d gulped it down. “Sorry. Hey, I thought of something weird. It’s summer…”

“That’s odd alright.”

“Shut-up. What I meant is, it was pretty warm even in the shade of the forest and we’ve been sweating all day...”

“You’re saying asking us to use the spring was a not-so-subtle hint.”

“Could have been. But, here’s the thing, the cabin wasn’t that hot at all—even with a fireplace that you could use as a parking garage.” He took a sip of root beer and, finding it surprisingly tasty, he quickly gulped down the rest.

Greta’s brow wrinkled. “Hey, you’re right. Maybe because of the proximity to the spring?”

“Okay, that could make sense,” John said. He wasn’t sure if it did make sense, but what did he know about springs? There had to be a logical explanation and that seemed to work as well as anything.

Greta set aside her empty cup and lifted her dress over her head. Even though what she wore was no more revealing than a bathing suit he averted his eyes and slipped out of his own clothes.

The bubbles tickled and Greta began giggling. John had to admit it felt invigorating after the long day. After a few minutes he looked over and noticed his sister was rather flushed, even in the chill of the spring. She was also staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.”

“You were staring—is there something bothering you.”

“Other than being lost because you can’t follow directions?” she snapped, sounding defensive.

John didn’t think he would ever get used to his sister’s mood swings. He’d had a long day too, which explained why he splashed water in her face. Soon it became a full-fledged water fight which left them both soaked. Finally they settled down.

“Greta? Is there something weird going on here? Something I don’t see, but you do? You were acting really…odd in the woods.”

Greta didn’t speak for several seconds. “I had a weird feeling—like I knew the way to the cabin, and I was scared about going there, but with every step I took it seemed a little better.”

“So it’s all okay?”

“What’s it like for you going on a roller coaster?”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” he asked at her abrupt change of topic.

Greta looked into John’s eyes. “For me it’s really scary. I know that as safe as it all seems, things happen…things go wrong. But then, well, it stops being scary and becomes exciting…or maybe it’s both—scary and exhilarating. You’ve committed yourself to it and they can’t stop the ride. You’ve given up your power and it’s freeing.”

John looked around at the peaceful surroundings and the little cottage. “This is a roller coaster?”

He noticed his sister was massaging and stroking herself in an idle way. He knew she must be sore, and still he couldn’t help but thinking that her fingers lingering along the top of her bra or along her inner thigh was not something he should really be seeing. Maybe it was not the massage so much as the strange gleam in her eyes that on another woman he might label as arousal. He knew that was crazy—Greta was just sore and tired.

“Maybe not, but I was scared and I’m still a little scared, but there is not a damned thing I can do about it.” Her fingers made lazy circles by the elastic waist of her panties.

“You’re not saying Rabea is dangerous?” He laughed. She seemed strong and self-sufficient, but a serious threat? No way.

“I’m saying that it doesn’t matter either way—we’re here. For the time being we have no control over where the ride goes.”

When they exited the spring John noticed that Greta’s nipples were jutting out against the material of her bra. He caught himself staring before he realized what he was doing. Greta noticed his stare but only smiled. He quickly looked away and changed into his clothes.  When he looked again, he noticed that the thin dress was not much better cover. In fact, with the setting sun behind her, the fabric was near transparent. He had the strange feeling she knew that.

“Let’s go see if dinner is done,” he said, rushing toward the house.

Rabea was setting the small table when they entered. There were three tall red candles in the center of the table and a large red stone in the center of it all. She turned and looked at them. “You both look refreshed. Did you enjoy the spring?”

“Mmm, yes, it was terrific!” Greta answered for the both of them.

“Have a seat, please—both of you. Did you enjoy your snack?”

“I did! So much that I ate poor John’s gingerbread too!” Greta said as each of them picked a chair.

Rabea frowned for a moment, her face darkening, and then just as John was beginning to process that her expression cleared. “Oh, what a shame. Your sister was a Greedy Greta!” Rabea joked, “You’ll have to try my spiced wine, John, and this time perhaps your sister gets none!”

Greta laughed. “Aww, not even a sip?”

“Oh, maybe a sip!”

Rabea set a bowl of steaming stew in front of each of them, and John again made note of the comfortable temperature of the cabin. She also presented them both with a cup of wine. There was also a pitcher of water on the table.  When she bent down to give him his stew he got a view of deep cleavage—he didn’t mind at all.

Dinner was appetizing and John hoped he’d managed to not eat like a complete glutton. The wine was also delicious and seemed to be spiced with ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and something he couldn’t quite name. Being a chef, he was slightly annoyed when he couldn’t place the final ingredient. When he asked, Rabea told him it was a family secret.

“Whatever it is was also in the gingerbread,” offered Greta.

Rabea gave a slight smile at Greta and she smiled back.  John noted again how flushed his sister seemed—he hoped she was not coming down with something.  A couple times when he looked over at her he caught her staring at him and a few other times she seemed entranced by the candlelight reflected in the red stone. The color in her cheeks was attractive though. He realized he was dining with two quite striking women.

Come to think of it, he was feeling odd too. Not quite jittery…but alert and…horny? Strange. He knew there was not much to be done about that under the circumstances. It’s wasn’t like he could give his sister a nickel to go for a walk while he seduced Rabea.

The woman looked at Greta and observed, “John, doesn’t Greta look beautiful in the candlelight?”

“Yes, and so does our hostess.” He hoped he didn't sound as clumsy as he felt.

“Thank you,” Rabea said, pouring more wine. “But don’t you think whatever man ends up with your sister will be lucky? Wouldn’t you want a woman that lovely?”

John hesitated. If he didn’t know better he would think that Rabea was playing matchmaker…and trying to set-up something between he and his sister. He knew that was absurd. “Yes, she’s terrific,” he said finally, taking another sip of wine, and noting his sister’s flush deepening. He changed the subject. "I hope we’re not taking advantage of your hospitality.”

“Not at all – being around younger people keeps me young!”

After dinner Rabea asked John if he couldn’t cut a little more firewood. She flirtatiously felt his biceps and said she believed him to be up to the challenge. He knew he was being played, but he didn’t care.

When he got there he looked at the wood, the ax, and the chopping block and faced the fact that – other than *Little House on The Prairie* reruns – he had no idea what he was doing. Oddly enough, he found it to be simple, almost as if the ax knew exactly where to go. In a short while he had a considerable stack of wood chopped. He reentered the cabin, stopping short at the sight which greeted him.

The two women were sitting in front of the fire and Rabea was alternating weaving blue flowers through Greta’s hair, having apparently using a silver handled brush on the thick locks. It was a surprisingly intimate scene, especially with what he knew of his sister’s almost phobic dislike of people she didn’t know well getting too close to her. She looked content though, leaning back against the raven-tressed woman. John had to wonder if Rabea reminded Greta of their mother somehow.

Rabea looked at him and purred, “Come join us by the fire, John.

“Only if you promise not to weave flowers through my hair," he joked.

“I’ll try to hold back. Your sister has such lovely hair. So soft and silky,” she said, continuing to weave the tiny flowers into the blonde locks as John pulled up a chair. John could finally feel gentle waves of heat emanating from the fireplace.

Greta stopped the woman’s left hand for a second, holding it in her own, and gazing at the ring. She seemed to be transfixed by it, looking at the many facets of the semi-precious jewels.

“It’s so beautiful, Rabea…may I have it?”

“Greta!” John said in amazement at his sister’s boldness.

Rabea just gave a rich deep laugh. “No, Greta Love, this ring has been mine longer than you can imagine. I can’t give it up,” she said, gently pulling her hand away and returning to her task. “Later on I can show you all sorts of jewelry…different sizes and styles.”

“Okay. Rabea?”

“Yes?”

“You make me really horny.”

John almost fell out of his chair. He couldn’t believe he’d heard his sister correctly. She was always outspoken, but why would she say that? And was it true?

“Good. You’re a very sexy girl, Greta and you are quite arousing. Would you like for us to have some fun?”

Greta turned around to look at the older woman. “Oh, yes! Can John please join?”

“Eventually. He looks like he needs a couple minutes to adjust to his sister being a hot little slut though. Maybe we’ll give him a little while to accept that fact.”

 “I really don’t think…” John said, beginning to stand up.

“Sit down, Johannes! Your sister is an adult woman—what can you do, really?”

John felt himself obeying. He realized he was powerless. Greta was of legal age and they were lost in the woods. Where could he take her, presuming he had that right? She didn’t seem to want his help.

“I can go for a walk,” he offered, watching as his sister leaned over and began kissing Rabea’s neck.  He realized he didn’t want to leave. Not really. He’d offered because he felt he should…out of a habit of respecting his sister’s privacy. He felt sudden shame, knowing he wanted to stay and watch.

Then it hit him that it had to be a joke. Even if he could accept that Greta wanted to do this in front of him, he couldn’t believe she could seriously want him to join in. He also couldn’t believe that Rabea would call Greta a slut in front of her brother.

Rabea said, “We’d prefer you stay. Don’t men like watching two women?”

“Not if one is his sister," he said, knowing he sounded unconvincing. "What do you want, Greta?” he asked, looking for her to break character.

Greta reluctantly pulled away from Rabea, living a gleaming path of saliva on the older woman’s throat. “I want to fuck, John. I want to fuck both of you. And I never want to leave here.”

John realized he was hard. “Okay, Greta, okay.” He wasn’t sure what which part of her words he’d agreed to.  He only knew that at some point he’d stopped seeing Greta as merely his sister. As much as he tried, he couldn't help but want to see her and Rabea together.

“You want this too, don’t you, brother?”

Why did she have to call him that? “Yes.”

His sister smiled. “Then watch...for now.”

Greta and Rabea began to kiss: soft, full lips touching, tongues mingling, bodies pressed together. The firelight made the women look lit from within. He’d look at women together countless time on the internet and in movies; he’d often wished he could experience something like that, but he’s never anticipated this exact scenario. It didn’t change the effect it had on them.

He knew that he was supposed to find it wrong and yet there seemed something natural, and beautiful, and right about the way Rabea and Greta looked with their bodies pressed together. Greta was more than capable of speaking her mind—never more so than just a few minutes before, and so she had to really want this. In fact, Greta seemed more than willing—she seemed eager; he could hear her ragged moans from several feet away and see the urgency with which she encouraged the other woman. It occurred to John that if he tried to stop them now his sister might rip his eyes out.

Greta’s hands ran up and down Rabea’s slender back.

Rabea pulled back and ordered, “Take off your dress.” Greta eagerly obeyed, thrusting out her chest to show it to maximum advantage. Rabea reached out and touched the blonde’s generous breasts.

“Mmmm, from the second I saw you I wanted to get my hands on these. You have a pretty face, but your tits are out-of-this-world, and you know it don’t you?” she asked, pinching Greta’s nipples. “Tell me.”

“Yeah, I’ve always known it.”

“How?”

Greta laughed, reaching out to stoke the older woman’s hair. “In the way guys looked at me from thirteen on. Some girls and women, too. Teachers even. They would do things for me if I trust out my tits and let them get an ‘accidental’ look down my top. Even John here—although I’m not sure he even let himself know what it was about. But I knew it and I loved it.”

“It’s fun to control people, isn’t it?”

“To them I’m just a pair of tits, but I get what I want, so the joke’s on them. It's how I got lead singer in the band...by implying I'd put out. Then when the guys saw I had talent they kept me on.”

“My, my John—your sister’s manipulative. Greta, you are just a pair of tits *to me* right now…that and a cunt.”

Greta looked at Rabea with adoration and lust. “That’s okay. I want to be whatever you need and want. I want it so bad.”

“Convince me, Cunt.”

“I’m so wet…so horny. I’ve never felt like this before. Rabea…oh…I’d do anything for you. Anything at all. Do you want me to eat you out? I’ve never done that before, never wanted to, but I’d do it for you. I want to do it.”

Rabea looked at John. “Would you like to see that?”

John swallowed hard. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Louder John.”

“I can’t—she’s still my sister.”

“That doesn’t change the truth. Your sister is a cunt…my cunt for now. And you know it. Greta, tell John what you are…exactly what you are.”

“Mmmm, I’m a cunt, a hole, a pair of tits…”

Rabea took Greta by the chin and their eyes met. “Just in case he missed the message —show your brother what you are."

[Nab]

Greta turned her body to face John. “I’m this,” she said, cupping her breasts and presenting them for inspection. “And I’m this,” she continued, spreading her legs wide to show him the hidden folds of her femininity.  Her pussy gleamed with moisture and her clit stood erect. She was almost panting, her arousal obvious.
   
“Do you understand now, John? I can tell from your face and that huge lump in your lap that you do.” Rabea laughed a bitter, cold laugh. All pretense of the wonderful, giving hostess was gone. Part of John wanted to see just how cruel this woman could be.

“Yes, Greta…I like your plan a lot,” she said, slipping out of her dress and revealing a body which women half her age would envy. “Lick me.”

Few people had ever accused Greta of being shy, but there was no hesitation to obey. As open as she’s always been, he’d never seen her this completely without inhibitions. Now she seemed not only eager to please, but also eager to make sure he knew just what she was willing to do.

Rabea lay back against the floor as Greta began to lick her with long, thorough stroking movements of her tongue. It wasn’t long before the older woman began to arch her back and murmur encouragement.

She grabbed Greta by the hair to indicate she should stop, and they changed positions until the blonde was on her back with the darker haired woman straddling her face. It would almost seem cruel the way she ground her pussy into the helpless girl’s face if it wasn’t obvious how much they both were enjoying it.

The firelight showed their bodies to perfection as their writhing shadows were cast against the wall. At one point he saw his sister reach down to touch her own pussy, but Rabea grabbed her hands instead, denying her access, grinding herself into Greta’s face harder, moaning her orgasm.

Rabea moved away from the blonde with a contented smile. “We don’t want John to feel neglected, do we?”

Greta crawled to John. “Let me take care of you,” she murmured. “Let me take good care of you.”

John stood up and he didn’t know if he had meant to make one last effort to do the right thing or because he wanted to make it easier for his sister to undress him. All he knew is that Greta was about as beautiful as any woman he’d seen before and made all the more beautiful by her desire.

He closed his eyes, feeling Greta remove his clothes, knowing that each moment that passed took them away from morals that they’d never even questioned before. He couldn’t say he’d never had a passing thought about his sister, but never had he considered crossing the line between dirty fantasies and reality.

He felt his sister’s body rubbing against his own. Her firm full tits rubbing against him was pretty much on of the best sensations he could ever have imagined. He felt her body slide down his and knew she was on her knees before him. Her fingers brushed against his naval as she unfastened his jeans and then the sound of his zipper filled the room. He felt himself spring free as Greta removed the last of the barriers. And then he felt her hot breath.

“Mmm, I always knew you’d have a big cock, John,” purred Greta.

His eyes popped open and he looked down at his kneeling sister. “You…you thought about that?”

“Yes, all the time.” Her hands wrapped around his aching cock. “And I’d play with myself when I did. Did you suspect that I was in the room next to you, touching myself, and imagining you inside me?”

John gasped as she began to stroke him. Greta looked mesmerized as she watched her own small hands wrapping around him.

“Would you like me to suck it? Because I really want to…suck it, I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

She knelt there and looked up, gazing at him with big blue eyes. “Tell me. Order me!”

“Suck my cock, Greta! Dammit, suck my cock, slut.”

Never taking her eyes off him, she began to take him into her mouth. She was slow, deliberate, and teasing as she slid him further into her mouth. He sensed she was teasing herself as much as him. He no longer doubted that his sister wanted this. He couldn’t believe how much of him she was enclosing between her lips.

He felt the silken warmth of her mouth as she began to lightly apply suction. She was quite adept, and with what was left of his critical mind, he wondered how often she’d done this before—something he’d never thought about previously. He had apparently missed out on a lot. If he had known how talented a slut she was…

Once he began to think of his sister as there for his use, it all became easier. She was born to be used and suck cock, so why not him? Didn’t he deserve something for hearing her whine and bitch and moan? All the times that she snuck out at night – probably to do this – and he covered for her, meant that the very least he should have gotten a little something in return.

She as much as admitted she knew how hot she was, using it to her advantage to get what she wanted. How was she different from a cunt like Lily? His step-mother was another tease he could have probably had a thousand times over if only he hadn’t been so weak before. He laughed at how determined he'd been to believe the essential goodness of most women.

Greta was going at it like a pro—and unlike any girl he’d dated. His last girlfriend had been reluctant, only doing it to please him or receive something in return, but Greta truly seemed to love every moment of it. He felt her moan around his cock as if sucking his cock was as exciting for her as for him. She was so good at it that he was surprised at his own stamina. It was almost as if, somehow, his control was being bolstered.

He looked at his sister and still felt love, but it had change and mutated—it was as if he had to use her a lot and hurt her more than a little in order to express that love. If she was a cunt then what better way to love her than to make her his receptacle?

It was as if Rabea heard his thoughts. “There is always time to throat fuck her later, why not use one of her other holes?”

He felt his lips curl up in a somewhat malicious grin. “How about her ass? Have you ever taken it up the ass before, sis?”

Greta removed her mouth. “No,” she sighed in seeming regret. Then her look brightened. “But then you can be the first!”

He laughed at her eagerness. “Maybe later if you are extra good. I wouldn’t want to damage you too much right away…then you couldn’t play.”

He heard their hostess laugh and looked over at her sitting unabashedly naked in the firelight. “It’s nice to see you take care of your new toy, but perhaps you’re being a bit too cautious…after all, toys get broken, but I have ways of fixing them. Have your fun, John.”

“I will, but for now I want to fuck her cunt.”

Rabea walked over and straightened a flower in Greta’s hair. “Suit yourself but that girl is all cunt.”

John laughed – he didn’t know why it was so funny, but it was. “Yes, she is!” he agreed.

The woman moved closer to John, leaning in so he could smell the cinnamon and cloves on her breath. “She’s yours. Completely yours. She’s whatever you want her to be. She can be your sister, Greta, or the step-mother you hate, or the girl you could never get. She can be as smart and as dumb as you desire—as submissive or as dominant. She can play a virgin or a slut. And all because she knows that her happiness is based on your cock, and she will put on an award winning performance to get it.

“Just don’t forget that as much as her act and her eagerness might please you, it’s also proof of what a manipulative bitch she is at heart. You would be a fool to trust her. A cunt will do what it takes to get what she wants.”

“And you are, on the other hand, incapable of manipulation.” He gave a bark of laughter. Damn, he wanted to fuck her too. He could tell she knew all sorts of nasty tricks.

“Oh, I’m quite capable of doing what I have to do to get what I want, but I’m not your cute, sexy little sister with bouncing tits. I would assume by now that you know not to trust me and soon I imagine you will see me clear for what I am, if you don’t already. Of the two women here, fear me the least.” She stepped back. “I’d like to fuck you too…perhaps tomorrow, although I have to admit I tend to prefer a more feminine touch. I think you’re hurting your little sister’s feelings.”

John looked at Greta again. She looked so neglected and a little jealous – like a lonely puppy. He grinned wider. “Let’s play ‘Bitch in Heat, Sis’ – somehow I think you’ll be good at it.”

She smiled and eagerly presented herself to him with her ass sticking in the air. “Mmmm, fuck me! Fuck me hard and make me yours forever. Please forget about Rabea…about all other women…and use me. I need your cock in me…I’ve always needed you more than any other woman ever could.”

A perfect invitation, and irresistible, he soon found himself entering Greta for the first, but far from the last, time. For a non-virgin she was incredibly tight as she sheathed him in her heat. He’s never felt anything as wonderful as the wet warmth of his eager plaything. With no foreplay geared toward her or direct stimulation, she was as eager as any woman he’d had. His pleasure seemed to truly be hers, and her goal was only to be one with him. She came around his cock almost instantly, loudly moaning, her vaginal muscles milking his cock. Time ceased to matter as he thrust in and out of the perfect woman, who just happened to be related to him.

Her strongest orgasm was when he finally moaned his own pleasure as he exploded into her. His completion seemed to complete her as well. What more could he ask? He found out a few minutes later when she began to delicately lap her own juices off his cock, her little pink tongue darting playfully along the underside of his shaft.

John decided it just might be time to try her ass. He had just finished telling Greta that when Rabea suggested they use the loft and allow her to get some rest. As she joked about old women needing their rest, John made note that the raven haired woman didn’t look like any old woman he’d ever seen…in fact, and maybe it was just the lighting, he couldn’t even see any grey in her hair any longer. Maybe he’d get Greta to pretend to be Rabea – she might be jealous, but she’d do it to get his cock.

Greta scrambled up the ladder and John followed. He noticed a trickle of wetness running down her inner thigh—his come—and he felt a strong sense of ownership. He was eager to complete his claim by filling her other holes.

Up in the loft they fell into another embrace, falling back on the spread blankets that seemed to be there just for them. They couldn’t get enough of one another. John just wanted to use Greta again and again, only realizing in the abstract that what they were doing was considered wrong, and not caring the least bit.

As he continued to use her for his pleasure, he could see in the moonlight from the window the beginning of bruises appearing on her pale skin and it only aroused him more. He could imagine her at a slightly younger age going to their father for every little problem and expecting him to solve it. He realized with clarity why Lily shut them both out, but more so Greta…competition. While he knew his father would never cross that line, or even admit that the thought had entered his mind, it became clear that his sister being a hot blonde with big tits got her a little extra leeway.

He was filled with anger and desire and he realized how often his sister had used her wiles to get her way and he knew his anger was reflected in the renewed freedom he felt to take what he wanted.

Besides, she objected to none of it, encouraging all of it; pain, abuse, and humiliation all seemed to stimulate both of them more. He lost count of how many times they fucked, realizing that it was more than he should probably be capable of, and yet they continued.

At one point he began to ask her what else turned her on—other than eating pussy and fucking her own brother. And she told him. She whispered and moaned embarrassing secrets, no longer secret—a steady dialogue of hidden fantasies and perversions. John loved it as she stripped away any residual desire to treat her with respect. He told her if he’s known what she was, he would have used her much earlier. Her response was a loud orgasm, her pussy clamping and spasming around his cock.

He eventually fell into an exhausted sleep. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was shoving Greta away from him; now that he was through he had no more need of her.

John woke up to another erection and a feeling of overwhelming nausea. Even as he vomited he considered how he would use Greta next. But after his stomach was empty things began to look different.

He looked at the bruised woman next to him, with the wilting flowers in her tangled hair, and saw his sister—the sister he loved, and never thought he could hurt. The realization of what had happened washed over him, and he began to cry. He was filled with self-loathing.

A tear hit Greta’s face, waking her. “Good morning,” she purred, reaching for him.

John whispered, conscious of the closeness of Rabea. “No, Greta, no. What are we doing? What did I do to you?”

“You gave me the best fucking of my life. I’m so sore…mmm. And sticky.” She laughed throatily. “I want your cock in me again…and again.”

John looked over the edge of the loft; the cabin was temporarily empty. He turned back to his sister. “Greta, listen to me! We don’t have much time. There is something wrong with both of us. I…I think I need you to throw-up.”

She looked confused, trying to figure out what strange new game John wanted to play. “I don’t get it. I just want to fuck!”

“Just fucking do it, you cunt!” It tore him apart to talk to her like that, but he knew it was the quickest way.

She obeyed. When she was done she looked confused, but the unthinking desire had left her eyes.

“John…what, I don’t understand,” she said, positioning her body as modestly as she could.

“Rabea did something to us…something to make us want that. Want each other. Want to be perverted”

“No, I did want you and those things. I mean, maybe they were just fantasies, but they turned me on. I masturbate thinking of these things and I had a boyfriend who liked to spank me…and I’d always wanted to do another woman. When I was a kid I used to have a fantasy about a woman kidnapping me and making me her little whore. I loved fantasizing about fucking you…”

As Greta spoke horrified look can across her face and she clapped one hand over her mouth, although she kept talking. John realized that she clearly could not censor her thoughts and he scrambled to figure out why she couldn’t stop revealing secrets. John reached over and pulled the blue blossoms out of her hair, causing her to at last fall silent.

She began to cry. Where before she couldn’t stop talking, now she seemed too ashamed to speak, and John couldn’t comfort her under the circumstances. The last thing she needed was to be held by her nude brother.

“Greta, I know—it’s okay. We’ll deal with this later. I need you to pull it together for now and I need you thinking. We have to get out of here!”

Greta nodded, but neither moved toward the ladder. John found it odd that Rabea left the ladder. Perhaps she was done with them, and wanted them to leave. Then why weren’t they leaving?

“Can you go down the ladder?” he asked. “I mean, can you *make* yourself go down the ladder.”

Greta shook her head. There was several seconds pause and then she looked up at the web made of yarn. She went to reach for it, but seemed to realize she would be unable to protect her modesty.  Instead John stood up and grabbed for it, tearing it down and away from them.

He could feel whatever held them there fall away with the falling of the web. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, moving toward the ladder.

“Don’t look, okay?”

There was no answer he could give her that would make it right so he nodded with his gaze averted. When they were at the bottom of the stairs John looked around the cabin but didn’t see their clothes. There was a simple wardrobe next to the bed; he quickly grabbed one of Rabea’s dresses, tossing it toward his sister.

Finding no men’s clothes he wrapped a shawl around his waist. He would have preferred something a little more masculine until the situation was under control.  He looked out the windows, making sure the witch was nowhere in sight.

Finally he looked at Greta.  The dress was snug around her breasts but being covered seemed to help her.

“Now what?” she asked. “We leave, right?”

“Well, we don’t know where we’re going. We should probably gather supplies…look for a map…”

“She can’t be far. She’ll be back!”

“I’ll handle her.”

“Do you not get that she’s not just your average chick living by herself in a clearing in the woods?”

“There’s such a thing…an average one, I mean?” He saw her disapproving look. “I know, but we need to at least find something to help us leave a trail, markers, something so we don’t go in circles.”

“Knives! We can use them as weapons and to make notches in tree.”

“Good.” John headed to the area where she’d prepared food the night before. He found one large knife, which was seemingly used for everything. Walking to the table, he picked up their flashlight.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a root cellar beneath us—the door is under the rug.”

John turned around to see Greta staring at the rug in the center of the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.” She trembled. “Just like I knew something was wrong when I saw the house and Rabea—before I saw them—but I went ahead anyhow. I had to come here and bring you.”

“What’s down there?”

“I…I think people like us. Other people she trapped.” Seeing John’s look of alarm she added, “I don’t think they’re alive. We have to leave now...please believe me.”

“I have to look,” said John, pressing the knife into Greta’s hand. “You know that, right?”

Greta stepped aside, resigned, helping him to move the rug. He wasn’t surprised to see the door. His sister turned away, seeming to know that was there, but knowing he was right – he would never have peace until he saw it for himself.

The door wasn’t locked, and as he lifted the door he saw there was a ladder. He hoped that Rabea was so secure in her magic that she would be in no hurry to return.

When he got to the bottom of the ladder he saw there were rags which were once clothes, and there were rats, and another web of yarn with several of the real article. And there were bones.

In the corner two skeletons were embracing. He wondered with a shudder if they had fucked to death or died holding on to each other for comfort at the end. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

But Greta was right…no survivors.

“John, hurry!” There was urgency in Greta’s voice. John imagined the real hell, as bad as it was down there, had to be in the waiting. He started up the ladder, and once at the top, his sister hugged him in relief. He tried to ignore what he hoped to be the residual effects of whatever was in the food.

As they headed toward the door, Rabea walked in, making John think, *Of course.* She looked younger—not just refreshed, but as if years had been erased. She appeared to be only slightly older than them.

“Just let us go,” Greta cajoled. “We’ll leave you alone and just forget this.”

“I’d believe you—except I’m not simple minded. You might as well drop the knife. It can’t be used against me—if you attempt to stab me you’ll either stab yourself or John instead. Clever, huh?” Rabea laughed. “I should have just let you do it, but we had so much fun last night. My friends are much more fun when they are alive and fucking—instead of victuals.”

John thought of the stew and hoped like hell she meant her “friends” ended up as rat food. Of all the things he’d hoped for in life, this was my far the oddest.

Greta dropped the knife and slugged Rabea in the face. “Fuck you!”

John stepped forward to help her out, but fell to the ground as his heart began to pound painfully in his chest. Through his pain he heard the woman’s mocking voice.

“Want to see his heart explode? I’d prefer to keep him alive to mate with you more, but I have other ways if need be. Ever hear the expression about being hornier than a two-peckered goat? Would you like to meet my goat, Greta?”

“Stop, just stop hurting him! I’ll do whatever you say.”

John felt the pain receding.

“Of course you will. Hey John, stop being a pussy and watch your girlfriend.”

John looked at both of them. Rabea smiled and said, "Verzectus Voluptis.”

Greta fell to the ground. His heart pounded again—this time naturally—as he wondered that agonies his sister was suffering. She threw back her head and began to moan. Then he knew then she was not in the midst of pain, but pleasure. He now knew the sounds of his sister’s release as well as he knew his own.

Rabea commented, walking the couple feet toward John “You know, someone can actually die from pleasure? She’s far from that though. You’d be surprised how long Greta will last and what a big puddle she will make on the floor.”

She reached out to stroke his hair and he flinched. “The smell of her arousal will permeate the room soon. You know all about the smell of her desire though, don't you? She’s yours now. Why not take her again? Won’t it be hotter to know you’re choosing it?”

“Stop!” He pulled back from her. “I’m not interested.”

Greta was muttering a steady stream of profanity as her body betrayed her again and again.

“Really? I think you are, and I know she is from, oh, everything she said last night. Maybe I’ll offer her the goat again if you don’t want to play.”

Rabea walked toward the helpless girl. “Would you rather have your brother or the goat? Beg for it.”

Greta grabbed the woman’s hand, looked up at her with parted lips and said, “Verzectus Voluptis” twisting the ring off Rabea’s hand and thrusting it onto her own finger.

Rabea fell to the ground, mirroring Greta. “But how…mmmm...no…that shouldn’t work!”

The two women orgasmed next to one another, clinging to one another in the end while John looked around the cabin for a new weapon. John grabbed a cast iron skillet and brought it crashing down on Rabea’s head. She collapsed as his sister rose.

Greta gave a shaky laugh. “Thank God she never charmed the rest of her cookware.”

“Look!” John said.

Rabea was aging quickly.

Greta leaned over and grabbed an arm, beginning to drag the woman toward the fire. “C’mon John—a little help here? Or are you set on the final scare when she wakes up and grabs for us?”

When she put it that way, what else could he do? He grabbed the other arm, trying not to think of exactly what they were doing. When the flames hit Rabea she awoke and began to scream. He clamped his hands over his ears and look to his sister. She looked surprisingly calm as she gazed at the suffering woman. She mouthed something he couldn’t make out, and the witch fell silent.

Greta looked back at John and spoke calmly. “We should leave for now. I’m not exactly fond of the smell of burning flesh—at least I don’t think that I am.”

John followed his sister outside where she began to spin around like a little girl – joyous. He considered the possibility that Greta was having a breakdown. A well-deserved breakdown. He considered joining her. Finally she collapsed on the ground, her laughter echoing in the clearing.

He knelt next to her. “Greta, we have to figure out what to do. The smoke might bring people and who in the hell will believe us? I know you’ve been through a lot, but you need to pull it together.”

Greta pointed to the chimney and the smoke which seemed to instantly dissipate as it touched the sky. “You know how they say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…Vegas has nothing on an enchanted cottage.”

“We still have to get out of here.” There were many things John didn’t understand, but he knew that nothing could be served, no help could be given to Greta, as long as they remained.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m meant to leave—at least not yet. I wouldn’t like to piss off Baba.” The juxtaposition of big, blue innocent eyes and cunning smile was jarring. Greta fell back into the thick grass and stared up at the sky. “What does that cloud look like to you? I think it looks just like that dog our neighbor used to have, Hobo.”

John grabbed Greta by the arms and sat her up. “Okay, what in the fuck are you talking about? Who’s Baba and what do you mean, you’re not leaving?”

Greta moved a few inches away, breaking John’s hold. She rubbed her upper arms. “Brother, you do like to leave your mark, don’t you? It’s okay…like it rough myself, but you know that.

“Baba came to me last night after you were done with me.” John flinched. “I dreamt her but she was as real as you and I. She told me that she was the one who brought me here – not Rabea. We sat right here and she explained to me that Rabea had displeased her and that she needed my help. She taught me the words and phrases to get me started – provided I got the ring. Echoing Rabea’s spell was all improv though. It was really intense and hot the way we clung to each other – a shame you had to end it so soon.

“I woke up this morning, and it all seemed so simple initially. Then you made me vomit and I had to face what we had done—all those nasty, filthy things you did to me and with me. I knew I had a dark side, but you John…? Women piss you off, huh?

“I was ashamed. I thought maybe we could get away and forget all this – I even convinced myself the dream was just a dream. Then Rabea caught us and I knew what I had to do. John, why did you have to delay us by going in the cellar? I have to admit that I prefer you pinning my ankles behind my ears to playing the boyscout. Boyscout John just bumbles along and gets us lost or near killed.

“It’s okay Big Brother – I took care of it all, but when I did my last chance to be free left. As soon as that ring slipped on my finger I knew this was where I was meant to be.

John was frantic as the words sunk in. “No, Greta, we can get out of her and go back to normal. First we’ll get the ring off.”

“Over my dead body…literally. What normal life, John? We slept together a ridiculous amount of times. Tell me you can sit across from me at Thanksgiving and not remember what we did? We have been as intimate as two people can be…not just because we screwed, but because we shared our most secret desires…and they were soaked in sin.” Greta laughed in delight. “We will never have sex that good again with anyone else, so why try?”

He reached out to grab her arms again and then stopped, knowing her looked absurd with his arms stuck out in front of him. “I can’t leave without you…I won’t!”

Greta tore off the thin material of her dress revealing a body as perfect in sunlight as in firelight. He tried not to stare. “Of course you aren’t leaving. At least until we are both ready. Eventually I really must pay daddy a visit!”

Greta crawled into John’s lap, straddling him. He knew he should push her away. “No Greta, we can’t.”

“Of course we can – we did. And you want to because you can’t forget..never. Still, you are my brother and so I will help you…” And then she began to whisper in a strange language.

He grew harder, knowing they weren’t going anywhere for a very long time.

The End.

Summary:
Modern day Hansel and Gretal.
MC'er is a Voluptuous Witch
victims  are  Hansel and his sister Gretal
Method of induction,  spells and magic ring
story should contain  FD, FF, FM, Inc, humiliation

Hansel and Gretal on the way to Grandma's house take a wrong turn and end up lost.  Car breaks down in the middle of nowhere near a strange house Where a seductive woman invites them in to use the phone.

[flibinite]

Lonely Too Long

"I think Jimmy's party is going great so far, don't you, Mom?"

Vivian Olmstead nodded to her daughter, who had just hustled into the kitchen.  She smiled, admiring Caroline's energy, her enthusiasm about her son's seventh birthday party.  She remembered when she had felt such things.

"You're right.  It's going great, sweetie.  Jimmy and all his friends seem to be having a great time."

"They seem to be," Caroline said, moving past her mother to the refrigerator.  "They're certainly going through the lemonade like crazy."  She pulled out another full container, closed the door and grabbed a new bag of chips from the counter.  She turned, then noted her mother's slight frown.

"Look, Mom.  Birthdays were invented for junk food.  You know I'm normally very careful about such things."

"I know, hon, and I'm sorry.  But cholesterol killed your stepfather as much as anything, and you know I want you getting Jimmy off on the right foot.  Here... let me get the door for you."  Vivian moved to re-open the door to the deck, the sound of laughing and squealing children filling the kitchen.

Caroline stopped next to her mother and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Thanks for helping out with this, Mom."

Vivian smiled and nodded.  "Well, I had forgotten it was Isabel's day off when you asked if you could have the party here.  But I'm not helpless, you know.  I still know my way around a kitchen, and know how to clean a bathroom and all."

"I know, and it's one of the things I love about you."  Caroline gave her another quick peck.  "Though Daddy was already rich when you married him, you never got all hung up in the trappings of a big house and lots of money, the way some of your friends are.

"But he's been dead just over a year now," Caroline continued, a concerned look on her face, "and you know how I worry about you just hanging around in the house here, and out on the grounds.  You have to get out more, meet new people... meet some new guys," she finished with a wink.

Vivian nodded again.  "I know, dear, and I think I'm finally getting to the point where I can do that.  I won't become a hermit, I promise."

"Good, because I've talked with some of your friends, and rich or not, they all say that they've been missing you.  You're only 47, Mom, not 74.  There's no reason for you to simply look back on a life when you've got so much more of it left in front of you.

"I loved him, too, and I miss him a lot.  He wouldn't want this, though.  He wouldn't want his memory and your love for him to be the things keeping you from a full life, from moving on and finding another man to be with."

"Yes, Caroline.  I understand, and I am working on it."  Vivian smiled at her daughter, knowing she was right, of course.  She couldn't help but envy her daughter's marriage and husband and child.

"Why don't you come out and watch the party, Mom.  It looks like the clown's just finished and the juggler I hired is coming on.  When I went to interview him for the party, I was really impressed with him.  He looks to be about 40, and truthfully, he's a real stud," Caroline finished with a laugh, giving Vivian a conspiratorial bump with her hip.

Vivian knew better than to argue with her daughter, and it was a beautiful day out, so said, "Sure... why not?" and followed Caroline out onto the lawn.  Her daughter had been correct, and they could see the juggler just starting into his routine before about ten enthralled children and a couple of other parents who had showed up to help with the party.

While Caroline went over to the food table with the lemonade and chips, Vivian watched him perform.  She could see he was good, juggling first three brightly colored balls... then four... and then five, all the while keeping up a friendly, avuncular banter with the children in a rich, clear voice.  Vivian listened, too, and thought she noted just the slightest trace of a French accent.

He was smooth and fluid, and Vivian had to admit... handsome... with short brown hair, a well-trimmed goatee, and pale blue eyes that matched his accent to a tee.  He was tallish and athletic-looking, too, and she felt the tiniest traces of longing building within her.

It had been so long since Franklin had died, and she still missed him terribly, missed being with him.

Caroline came up next to her and the two exchanged comments about how good a juggler and performer he was, about how much the children were enjoying him.  Vivian found out his name... Richard Carpentier, and that seemed to fit him perfectly, as well.  And when he finished his routine, with six balls in the air at once, she found herself applauding just as enthusiastically as any of the children.

Richard bowed to the children with a flourish, gave Caroline and Vivian a bright smile, and began to collect his props and put them into a small tote bag behind him.  The children, being children, were already out of their seats and starting to move and run around, looking for something new to do.  Before Caroline went after them to try to organize the next bit of fun, she whispered to her mother, "Why don't you go over and talk to him, Mom.  You know that you want to."

Vivian smiled indulgently at her, and was going to protest that assumption, when she realized Caroline was right.  She did want to talk to him.  There was just something about him that she felt drawn to, and he was a guest in her home, after all.

So she patted Caroline on the arm, then pointed past her shoulder to where one of the girls was trying to climb up into a small maple tree.  Caroline squeaked, and took off at a fast walk, calling out, "Rebecca Lynn... you get down from there this instant!"

Vivian watched her daughter head off, took in all the children having a good time, and felt happy as she let old memories cascade through her mind.  It had been a while since she had been truly happy.  Lost in thought, she was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder and soft voice speaking to her...

"An excellent party, Madame.  Jimmy is a lucky boy."

She turned to see Richard standing there, smiling down at her.  She found herself gazing into his eyes, unable to speak for a moment, feeling tingles where his hand rested on her shoulder.  Then she blushed, embarrassed to have frozen like that in front of him, then embarrassed to have been embarrassed.

He took his hand away, frowning and apologizing.  "I'm sorry, Ms. Olmstead.  I did not wish to appear so forward with you."

Gathering herself, she replied, "You weren't being forward, Mr. Carpentier.  You simply startled me.  And it's Vivian, please."

His smile returning (such a charming smile, she thought), he said, "Then let it be Richard, as well.  So very nice to meet you, Vivian.

"Nice to meet you, too, Richard.  The children really enjoyed your performance."

His smile was slightly sardonic as he replied,  "I suppose.  But they are children, Vivian; easily distracted, yet so imaginative.  I imagine they only wondered why I wasn't juggling 10 balls like some silly cartoon character they'd watch on the television."

Vivian nodded, "Yes, I can see your point.  Such feats of skill are perhaps beyond their ability to appreciate."  She looked into his eyes again, feeling a bit silly, but moved enough to say, "But I appreciated it, Richard.  I admired your talent and how good you were with the children.  But for the life of me, I can't comprehend how anyone can keep six balls in the air at once."

His slight bow at her words was both surprising and charming.  "Why thank you, Vivian.  And I, in turn, appreciate your kind words."  He reached out and took her hand lightly in his.  She surprised herself a bit by letting him keep it.

"It... it must have taken so long to learn how to juggle six balls.  I can't imagine myself ever having the patience to do such a thing," Vivian said softly, trying to retain her composure in the face of the feelings beginning to churn within her.

"Well, true... it did take years of dogged practice to master the six.  But the basics of juggling, using just three balls, is very simple and easy to learn."  His smile turned somewhat conspiratorial.  I could teach you how to juggle three balls in about 15 minutes; and in 30, no one could tell you hadn't been juggling for years."

"Oh, go on!"  she said, almost starting to laugh.  "I'm not terribly coordinated and you know what they say about teaching an old dogs new tricks.  I doubt if you could teach me to juggle in 15 hours, much less 15 minutes."

Richard actually did laugh aloud, then said, "Vivian, please.  You are far from uncoordinated, judging by the shape you're in, by the strength in your hands."  He squeezed hers, sending another tingle all through her body.  "And to my eyes, you are neither old, nor anything that even remotely resembles a dog."

He hurried on before she could respond to his compliments.  "Answer me this," he said.  "Do you play tennis?"

More than a bit nonplussed by his words, Vivian simply responded, "Yes, I used to play more than I do now; but I do play."

"Can you catch a tennis ball with one hand?"

"Oh sure."

He let go of her hand, finally.  "Can you clap your hands quickly in front of your breasts?"

A bit startled by the ease with which he had used that word, rather than simply saying "in front of you", Vivian automatically raised her hands and began to pat them together as quickly as she could, looking up at Richard for his approval. 

And she got it.  He smiled broadly and said, "I'll have you juggling three balls like professional in 20 minutes.  You appear to have excellent muscle tone and coordination."

She blushed a little, having hoped he would say something exactly like that.

"Thank you, Richard.  I'll stop downplaying my own abilities now.  But I think the 20 minutes is just a polite exaggeration on your part."

He stop smiling for a moment, but did wink at her.  "Care to bet on it?"

She laughed.  She was having fun here, remembering the games of the past, the ones a man and woman play to see where they stand in each other's eyes, to sort out what each other needs and desires.  Her attraction to Richard was growing, and with it her own feelings of attractiveness.

"I'm game, as I think you'll lose, Richard.  But what's the bet?"

He took her hand again.  "The bet, my dear, is that I'll have you juggling three balls in 20 minutes.  And that means keeping them under control and moving for a minute straight, not just five or six tosses."

"You are dreaming,” she said, almost giggling.  "But what do I win when I fail and you lose?"

They both laughed at the silliness of her words, but then he grew more serious.  "If I lose the bet, then I have to take you out to an expensive dinner."

She stared at him, a small smile on her lips, really starting to get into this.  "And if you win the bet?"

"Then I get to take you out to an expensive dinner."  There was a certain feralness to Richard's smile as he said that which Vivian found both disconcerting and arousing.  She was not automatically drawn to "bad boys" the way some women were, but her ex-husband had not been a Boy Scout by any means, and she doubted that Richard was, either.

"Do you always attempt (she emphasized that word with a wink of her own) to charm the socks off your employers with such obvious flattery?"

"Oh, always.  I find that’s good for business," he said as he stepped away from her a bit.  He let his eyes move up and down, making an obvious show of looking at her whole body.  Then he stepped back next to her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "But you aren't wearing any socks, Vivian, so I'll just have to make do as best I can."

She shivered, the implications in his words obvious and blatant, her own reactions to his closeness, his tone, even to his masculine scent, the same.  She found herself feeling a bit breathless as he stepped away from her.  God... it's been so long for me, she thought.  But with this wave of what she could only describe as arousal, came the same old wave of guilt and remorse, the same old feelings of love and passion that she had felt for Franklin.

She struggled with them, fighting them down, fighting to just not call this whole thing off, turn, and walk back into the house by herself... all alone.

"So... well, so... when to you want to see who wins this bet, Richard?"

"No time like the present, I say."

Vivian looked around them at the milling, yelling children and observing parents.  "Here?"

"Well, no.  I was thinking of some place more private... perhaps the patio in the back or a quiet room inside. I think the others can handle the children for awhile."

She looked up at his attractive features again, finally managing to make the decision that she knew was right. 

"Let's go inside then, to the den.  It's private, and I won't be so distracted by the heat and sun and noise.  I really do want to try to lose this bet."  It was warm out, but Vivian wasn't totally sure that she was beginning to sweat just from that.

"Perfect," he said, hefting his small bag.  "I have everything we need right here.  Lead on, my lady."

She nodded and turned, leading him into the house.  As they walked through the kitchen towards the den, she imagined him checking her out from behind, hoping he liked what he saw, but desperately trying to keep her walk normal, to not flaunt herself.  She couldn't tell if the chills she was feeling were any more a function of the air-conditioning on her skin than the heat outside had been on her.

After they entered the den, she let Richard slip past her so that she could slide the two ornate wooden doors to the room closed behind her.  She stood there watching him as he shifted a couple of leather chairs to the side to give them an ample space to "practice", just in front of her large work desk.

He put his bag on one of the chairs and fished out three colored balls.  They were all yellow, but one had a red stripe, one a green, and the last one a blue.  Richard looked at the large grandfather clock in the corner, and turned to face her.

"It's five-to-three, so by three-fifteen I must have you juggling all three of these.  Ready to begin?"

"Yes," she said, moving up close to him, reaching out for the balls.

"Oh no, Vivian.  I'll juggle, and you do what I say while you watch.  Okay?"

She frowned, not quite sure how this would work.  However, he was the expert, so who was she to question his methods?  "Certainly.  Just tell me what to do."

"Excellent," he said with a wide smile.  "This is how I teach... I juggle, and you mimic my actions while you listen to my instructions.  Trust me... you'll be amazed how well this works.  You already know how to catch, so now you just need to learn the tossing motion and the rhythm."

"Okay... I think I understand."

"Good.  So watch as I start to juggle these.  Watch my hands, then you match my motions and positions as best you can with yours.  Ready?"

"Yes, Richard."

He hesitated for a moment, then looked her in the eyes and said, "This isn't just a bet to me, you know."

"It isn't?"

"No," he replied, looking almost embarrassed.  "You'll forgive me if I preach to you a little about the joys of juggling, I hope.  But it's really a great activity for the mind just as much as the body."  Vivian said nothing to that, letting him go on, seeing how much he wanted to.

"It's like this... if you need to think deeply about something, or need to make plans, juggling helps you to keep your thoughts focused, to keep them organized and moving forward.  Conversely, if you simply want to forget about your troubles, it's a wonderful way to just let yourself drift, to let your problems melt away, at least for a little while."

"You make it sound almost like meditation, Richard."  She smiled up at him, admiring a man who had enthusiasm for his job, or even for just his hobby.  She had no idea what he actually did for a living.

"It's practically Zen-like, actually.  The "trick" to it is almost exactly the same, you see... to create the perfect balance between relaxation and concentration, to clear the mind yet at the same time use it to its greatest potential.  I think you can do it, Vivian, so are you truly ready to try your best?"

"Of course, Richard.  I'm really intrigued now."  And she was... this all sounded very interesting and entertaining, and she was feeling as excited about this, in so many ways, as anything should could remember since Franklin had passed.

"That's fantastic," he said, then put his hands out and started to toss the balls up and over from side to side.  He flipped each ball about two feet in the air, catching and tossing them smoothly and easily.  "Put your hands up and do what you see me doing, Vivian."

She did, raising her hands to just in front of her chest, trying to duplicate what Richard's were doing.  It wasn't difficult to do, but she felt a bit foolish, and couldn't resist saying so.

"Don't worry about looking foolish, Vivian.  No one can see you and I'll have you using the balls shortly.  But for now, just concentrate.  Concentrate on just my hands at first; then, when I tell you to, we'll slowly expand your sight to include each of the balls as they move up and down through the air."

She tried to do as she had been told, working her hands upward and inward the same as Richard was.  She listened as he made small corrections to her motions, having her keep her forearms more still and using her wrists more.  Vivian could barely hear him when he told her to open her fingers wider and to not allow her thumbs to point upward so much, but followed his instructions anyway.  She was finding it easier and easier to match the rhythmic movement of his hands, and was inwardly pleased when his corrections turned to words of praise for her efforts.

"Excellent, Vivian.  You're doing wonderfully now, concentrating on my hands, thinking simply about matching the movements of them as they catch and toss each ball back and forth, up and down, over and over again.  You're beginning to see just how easy it is, just how relaxing it can be to make such small, repetitive motions again and again.  You can feel yourself learning, can't you?"

"Yes, I can," she replied softly, trying not to lose the rhythm as she spoke.

"I know you are, Vivian, and you've started to balance those two things I mentioned... relaxation and concentration.  You're relaxing your hands, your wrists, and your forearms, keeping them moving, keeping them matching the movements of mine.  And you are concentrating on my hands, on my instructions, on doing the things that will train you to do exactly what you need to do."

Vivian only nodded this time, finding that relaxation part of juggling now, but struggling a bit to keep her concentration on anything... the balls, her movements, Richard's voice.  Apparently, she was succeeding well enough, though.

"You're doing so well, Vivian.  I can see you relaxing your arms and hands, letting them just be loose and fluid.  Now let the rest of you relax, too.  Relax your shoulders, flex at the knees, and relax your legs.  That's the secret to being able to go on for a long, long time.  I juggled for two straight hours once, without a drop, without any pain or fatigue at all, simply by totally relaxing, by letting everything go except the balls."

She could never imagine juggling for that long, but she had to admit, the more she relaxed the easier it became to continue.  She didn't feel tired at all.  In fact, she felt rather good...

"Okay, Vivian.  I'm going to step back one pace, and I want you to see the balls moving through the air now, as well as my hands.  They are one single thing now... the balls, my hands, my voice."  Richard made his tosses a bit lower, about a foot-and-a-half into the air.  They both picked up the tempo to compensate for the smaller arc.

"Perfect!  You saw me speed up and matched me perfectly.  You're a natural, Vivian, so smooth and graceful, such wonderful concentration on the balls, watching them move through the air, up and down."

She was surprised she didn't blush at his compliment, though she noticed another brief tingle deep inside her.  She just felt so languid right now, so at ease.  The balls were pretty as they floated through the air, barely spinning, their stripes hardly rotating at all.  There was nothing jerky about the motions, just the three of them rising and falling.  She could barely hear the light, rhythmic slapping sound they made when Richard briefly caught each one.  It had been more noticeable at first, as had been as his voice.

But now it was almost a struggle to hear anything, and Vivian didn't really feel much like struggling at the moment.  The slaps were no problem anyway, the sound so constant and almost musical in nature, and if Richard wanted to make sure she heard him, she was certain that he would simply raise his voice.

"You're doing so well, Vivian, continuing to let your body relax, to match me, to watch and listen to the balls as I toss and catch them, toss and catch them.  It's so much easier now to see only the balls moving, to see only our hands so perfectly relaxed and matched, everything so easy and effortless now, everything so relaxing.  No reason for thought or words now, simply relaxing, becoming one with the balls, one with the sound of my voice."

Something about Richard's tone and choice of words sounded a bit strange to Vivian, but she couldn't say exactly why.  After a few seconds of fumbling thought, she gave it up as simply too much bother.  It was so much easier to just watch and listen and to keep her hands moving in time with his.

"Just continue exactly as you are now, Vivian, relaxing more and more with each ball I toss and catch.  So easy to see only the balls floating, drifting so smoothly.  No reason to think about anything now; only to watch and listen, your body so relaxed and comfortable, easily moving your hands, feeling them matching mine all by themselves.  No reason to think about them, to think about anything, really.  Only the soft sound of my voice and the balls hitting my hands... such pleasant, relaxing sounds."

Vivian found she could still hear those things, but they all seemed so faint, seemed to be flowing together in her mind.  The balls were pretty and easy to watch, though, and appeared to be simply moving through the air now, almost as if Richard wasn't even there.

"Continuing to watch the balls as they move up and down and side to side, Vivian.  Continuing to relax your entire body.  Feel yourself floating and drifting with the balls now... so easily, effortlessly.  No thoughts at all, no reason to think, only motions and peace and a deep relaxation, the balls and my words all you can see and hear, all you want to see and hear.

"You feel totally wonderful and relaxed, and will let your hand motions stop, let your arms drop to your sides, just watching the balls and listening to the sound of my voice now."

Vivian stopped "juggling", letting her hands drift down to rest comfortably against her hips.  She thought she had heard Richard tell her to do that, but wasn't really sure, as all she could think of were the pretty, floating balls.

"Excellent, Vivian.  You're doing remarkably well, doing the right things, doing what I tell you to do, which gives you such pleasure, such a deep feeling of satisfaction now, doesn't it?"

She nodded.  It did feel good, and Richard's praise just made it feel that much better.

"Yes... so easy and peaceful and pleasurable to obey, to do everything I say.  Pleasure is a wonderful thing, Vivian; pleasure is what you need and want, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Exactly!  Feel pleasure now at answering honestly and correctly, Vivian, let yourself feel so wonderful about pleasing me with your answer."

Vivian did feel pleasure, felt it like a warm pulse flowing inside her, feeling pleasure that she had pleased Richard, as well.

"Continue to see only the pretty balls drifting in your sight, Vivian, continue to hear only the sound of my voice; both of these things give you pleasure, make you feel happy and relaxed and wonderful..."  He stopped juggling then, catching the balls and reaching back to put them on the desk.

"Can you still see the balls floating and spinning, Vivian?"

"Yes..." she breathed.  They were so pretty and free, and she wished she were one of them.  She didn't see Richard smile, then move around behind her.  She did continue to hear his voice and felt him ever so gently massaging the muscles of her neck and shoulders.

"You are totally relaxed now, my dear, not a care in the world, no reason to think or worry, feeling the pleasure begin to build inside you at hearing my voice, at answering all my questions honestly and completely.  You are in a wonderful, peaceful state now, one that you will find and sink into any time you hear me say to you 'six balls in the air'.  Repeat that phrase for me."

"Six balls in the air," she whispered. 

"That's correct, Vivian... very well done.  Now tell me... you find me to be an attractive man, don't you?"

"Yes," she replied, the brief image of another man quickly washing away as she pictured Richard in her mind.

"You find me sexually attractive, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."  A momentary feeling of guilt disappeared as quickly as it came, too.  She felt Richard press against her from behind, felt him moving gently against her ass, his hands stroking up and down along her arms.  She shivered.

"You're having sexual thoughts about me now, wondering what it would be like to lie naked with me in bed, to feel me moving inside of you... aren't you, Vivian?"

She could feel Richard pushing and grinding his obvious arousal into the cleft of her ass, his hands on the front of her hips now, pulling her back against him.  It felt so good to her, sparking her memories, building the pleasure inside her. 

"Yes... sexual," she said, her voice getting thicker, huskier.

"You're in wonderful shape for your age, Vivian, firm yet mature, sexy and exciting."  His hands moved up her body to cup and fondle her breasts through her clothing, still riding her ass with his erection.  "You want to feel sexually excited now; you need to feel sexual pleasure... don't you?"

This time her "yes" came out as a soft moan, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder as his hands and body continued to tease and massage her.

"You need to feel things, Vivian.  Carolyn has told me that it's been so long for you.  You're feeling more excited and aroused with every second that goes by, with each touch of my hand, with every word I whisper in your ear.  Don't think, just feel... feel your arousal and need growing, Vivian.  You can't resist it; you don't want to resist it."

Vivian could feel it.  She could feel it building and growing within her like a summer storm.  Her nipples were growing ripe and sensitive under her clothes, making her gasp every time his fingers moved over them.  And her pussy was starting to respond to all this as well, his manhood relentlessly grinding into her ass making it jealous, making it demand some attention of its own.

"You can't stop your arousal from growing now, Vivian.  You need to feel pleasure... sexual pleasure.  You need to be wet and aroused... aroused for me.  You can't deny your needs any longer; your body demands release.  The sexual pressure inside you won't stop building.  You need this; you can't help yourself any longer, because you need this so badly."

As Richard was whispering these words in her ear, one of his hands had moved down to press the fabric of her sundress between her thighs, to wantonly rub and stroke her cloth-covered pussy.  He was also using this as leverage to work his cock even deeper between her buttocks.

Vivian was completely beside herself with desire now, one hand on his as he tormented her swollen breasts, the other on the hand using and igniting her sex.  Her head was still back on his shoulder, her eyes closed, dizzy with arousal, the balls in her vision swirling faster and faster.

"All you can think about is your lust now; all you can feel is the passion and need swelling up in you.  Your body is begging for release.  You need someone to help you, to set your body free.  You need me to help you, don't you?"

"Yesss... please help me, Richard.  Please!"  The pressure within her wouldn't stop growing, becoming almost a painful thing now.

"Yes, I can help you, Vivian.  I am the only one who can help you.  Feel your vision clearing, no longer seeing the balls in your mind's eye.  But your mind and your body will remain in their current state until I release you."  Richard pushed Vivian away from himself to arm's length, and spun her around to face him.  "Look at me.  Can you see how much I want you?"

She stared at him, at his slightly flushed face, at the obvious bulge in his trousers.  "Yes, I can," she murmurred.

"And do you want me, too?"

"Ohhh...yes, Richard!"  She couldn't remember ever wanting anyone quite so badly.

He smiled at her, stroking her cheek with his fingers.  "Then if I am to help you, then you must help me.  I will help you release your need, but first you must release my need," he said, looking down at himself.

For a moment, Vivian's sex-starved mind couldn't comprehend exactly what he meant by that.  But then it dawned on her, and she moaned out another "Yes, Richard!", dropping to her knees in front of him.

"Yes, my dear.  You help me, and I will most certainly help you."

Vivian didn't reply, eagerly pulling down his zipper and fishing inside his clothes for his swollen cock.  She worked it out as quickly as she could, not wanting to hurt him, but driven to hurry by her terrible need.  She finally pulled it free, holding it firmly in her hand and looking up at him, expectantly.

"Do what you know I'll enjoy, my sweet, and then I will give you everything that you could possibly want and desire.  I will quench the flames of desire that burn so strongly within you."

She knew what he wanted, and hesitated only for a moment before beginning to lick all over and around the head of his shaft.  She was so needy right now, so wet and excited that she could barely breathe.  She removed her hand for a moment to let her long tongue slide all over his exposed length, up and down, smelling the musk of his arousal and enjoying the way his cock twitched and moved as she licked it.

Vivian hardly considered herself an expert at oral sex, and it was generally something she and her... her ex-husband could take or leave.  But this was different.  She moaned as she opened her mouth and engulfed him, felt herself moving closer and closer to the edge of orgasm every time she dipped her head, every time his stiffness filled her mouth.

She sucked and pulled on his cock almost desperately, juicing more and more, trying her best to please Richard.  Her mind was totally locked on him and what she was doing, now.  She helplessly worshiped him with her mouth and tongue, her pussy spasming every time she heard him grunt in arousal.

She worked him faster and even deeper, pumping the base of his shaft with her hand as her mouth and tongue drew on him, teased him, both of them tight and demanding as they slid over him, up and down, again and again.  Vivian couldn't help herself any longer, and her own growing pleasure cried out for his pleasure. 

She wanted his seed to swallow, and, unlike any other time in her life, she wanted it badly.

Vivian felt him pull hard on her hair, heard him groan a "stop".  She did, though her body begged her to continue.  She looked up at him again, afraid she had somehow messed up.  But he was smiling, his face covered in the same sheen of sweat that hers was.

"Take care of this," he said, pulling a hand from his pocket and handing her a condom.

She realized what this meant, and quickly tore open the package, her hands shaking.  She lovingly rolled the condom down his cock, tucking the end of it inside his zipper.  Then she swirled her wet tongue all over the tip of it, coating it with her saliva and looked up at him once more, her eyes begging. 

"Stand," he commanded -- and she obeyed, not even trying to think anymore, literally incapable of it.  He grabbed her, pulled her close, and kissed her hard.  She moaned, kissing him back, their tongues dueling, writhing and pressing against him everywhere.

"Who do you want?" he whispered, his hands gripping her ass, pulling her mound tighter to him.

"You," she gasped, pumping her hips at him, feeling him thick and rigid against her.

"Tell me what you want!"

No hesitation, no second thoughts, now.  "I want you to fuck me!" she hissed, pulling her dress up to her waist.  "Fuck me... please!"

Richard pushed her way, squatting down and practically ripping her sodden panties down her legs and off.  He stood, glaring at her, his eyes wild looking.  "Tell me again!"

"Please god, fuck me, Richard!"  She felt as if she were going to orgasm on her own if he didn't do something right now.

He did.  He bent his knees to get lower, lifted her right leg onto his hip, and rose up.  His shaft found her greased entrance and entered her.  Vivian was so deeply ready for him that with two quick thrusts he had buried himself inside her up to the hilt.  She almost came, simply from that; but his grunted, "don't cum yet", stopped her somehow.

She moaned wildly though, somehow realizing she was not in control of her own body anymore.  That thought made her even more aroused.  That, and Richard standing up, dragging her other leg up around his hip as she clutched at his neck, as she kissed him passionately.  She gasped and shuddered as he began to walk around the room with her, carrying her around like some kind of trophy.

Vivian didn't care, using her legs to move herself against him, to fuck herself on his cock.  As her body writhed and she threw her against him, her pussy spasmed and clutched all along his length.  She groaned when Richard stopped walking and pushed her away, pushed her back against a wall, almost slamming her head and back against it.

When he barked, "feel your arousal growing!", and began slamming his hips at her, fucking her in earnest now, she thought she would either pass out or die, her mind and body totally overwhelmed.  She lost all semblance of control, her cries of "Do it..." and "Fuck me...” growing louder, growing as insistent as Richard's driving thrusts into her.  Everyone at the party was going to hear her, but she no longer gave a damn. 

Richard did, though, reaching out to cover her mouth tightly with his hand.  She could barely breathe now, and that, along with his groaned command for her to cum, pushed her into the abyss of her own repressed needs.  It had been so long.

Everything became white to Vivian... sight and sound turned into distorted, hypersonic white noise, while white-hot explosions enveloped her mind and loins.  She squealed and shrieked into Richard's hand as she came, everything below her waist spasming and tightening around him.

She was so trapped and overpowered by her own nearly endless orgasm that she couldn't tell if her partner was cumming or not, too.  She simply couldn't see past the wave after wave of intense release that was swallowing her up.

She came and came, almost passing out twice as she lost track of the rest of the universe.

When she finally started to come down, could finally see and hear again, she saw Richard smiling at her, his face flushed and sweaty.  She knew that look, remembered it from somewhere, some time in her past, and knew that he had joined her in sexual nirvana.

"You're quite the Tigeress," he told her with a weary grin.

"Thank you, Richard," was all she could even think to say.

"You're most welcome, sweet Vivian."

He helped her lower her legs, dipping down to pull out of her as she continued to lean against the wall for support.  She reluctantly closed her eyes when he told her to, and settled completely when she heard him whisper, "six balls in the air."

"You're totally relaxed and happy now, Vivian," he continued, "... totally content and peaceful.  You will remember all of this, all of this pleasure.  You will remember your need and how it was I who filled your need, who filled you.  You will remember all of it so deeply, so visceral, and it will make you want and need to be with me so much.

"Now, on the count of five, you'll awaken completely, and you'll feel as you always do, but deeply remembering all the feelings of pleasure that only I can give you now.  One; feeling so wonderful... two... three; awakening and remembering... four, and five... thank you, Vivian.  You were marvelous... are marvelous."

Vivian looked up at him, feeling so tired, but so wonderfully relaxed and... relieved.  "I think we'd better get ourselves together here, Richard, before someone comes in and finds us."

"Of course, my dear.  Just direct me to the bathroom when you get a chance," he said with a wicked smile, already tucking himself in and fixing his clothing.  Vivian did the same, and then walked over to pick her panties up off the floor where Richard had tossed them.  She cleaned herself up as best she could with them, surprisingly unembarrassed to be doing it in front of him. 

However, she couldn't suppress a small flush as she was forced to wrap them in two sheets of writing paper from the desk, and shove them into a drawer.  She would have to come back after the party was over to retrieve them.

Richard just laughed, and she joined him, thinking about how silly it was to have to do such a thing in her own home.  She came back around to stand in front of him, reaching out to fix his hair and collar.  He reciprocated as he asked, "So, did you enjoy your lesson?"

"Oh, yes.  I certainly did.  But I still haven't really juggled yet, have I?"

He laughed again.  "Not quite, Vivian, and now I must take you out to an expensive dinner very soon.  But trust me... after your next lesson you will be juggling just fine."

"I trust you, Richard.  I'm sure I'll be able to juggle, now."

"You will be," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.  "But tell me... do you think that any of your female friends would like to learn to juggle, too?"

That question surprised her, as did the quick pang of jealousy at the thought of Richard teaching any of her society friends what he had just taught her.  She was formulating how to tell him "no", when she heard a knock on the den door, heard her daughter's voice.

"Mom?  I need a bit of help out here."

Vivian looked at Richard, then called out, "Coming, Carolyn."

Carolyn apparently heard that, or heard something, and opened the doors and walked into the room.  Vivian saw her daughter's eyes widen as she and Richard broke apart a step or two.  But the whole room still reeked of sex, and she realized that Carolyn must know what had been going on.

"I said I was coming, hon," Vivian said with the faintest of smiles.

"Oh, I certainly believe that, Mom," Carolyn smirked.  "And I'm sorry to be bothering you."  Carolyn didn't look sorry at all to Vivian, standing there smiling like a Cheshire cat, and Vivian now wished she had perhaps phrased things a bit differently.

"What do you need, dear?"

"Oh... right.  The pool house door is locked, and I can't find the key.  It's getting very, um... hot now, and we want to take the kids swimming."

"I know where it is.  I'll get it and go unlock the door for you."  She turned to Richard.  "Would you like to see the pool house?"

"Of course, Vivian.  Lead on," he said, giving Carolyn a wink and a smile.

Vivian hooked her arm around his and pulled him along past her still-smirking daughter, and out of the den.

"Way to go, Mom..." Carolyn whispered to the air after they had gone.

Her smile barely faded as she walked over to her mother's desk and picked up the three colored balls.  She stared at them for a moment, and then began to juggle them, smoothly and easily, humming a happy tune.

**********

Summary:  A juggler deliberately uses his talent to put just one person under, and then has his way with them.  Can be public or private, friend or stranger, MF or MM, but must be MDom.