Goldenrod Extended

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A tale from the Goldenrod universe.
2.8k words
4.52
18.7k
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 03/08/2014
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rlmmike
rlmmike
72 Followers

As I sat cross-legged in bed with my netbook on my lap, I got a video chat invitation from Ray.

"Come in, Ray," I said.

"Samantha, you are such a nerd." The camera on her was positioned at the corner of a massage table where Ray was reclining in a black sports bra and tight matching shorts. Shaky reception didn't fail to capture the pinkish, fourteen-inch plastic horse cock sprouting from her open fly, nor the thin strand of resilient fluid connecting its tip to the white sheet below her. Standard practice at her studio was to fill the hidden reservoir of such a device with a thoroughly diluted cottage cheese solution. Her eyes brightened as she propped herself up on her right elbow. "I like the new haircut!"

I smiled and nodded, acknowledging the increased similarity in our styles. The long, plain 'do of my youth was now officially a thing of the past. My hand ran through the hazel tufts.

"You think it's me?"

"It looks fantastic, and it'll help immeasurably when it comes time for you to penetrate somebody, not having all those loose strands flapping in your eyes, believe me." Ray adjusted her posture in response to some cue from off-screen. When she was flat on her back with her arms at her sides, and the dick pointing straight up, a male intern in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants entered the background. She craned her neck to look at the webcam without lifting her head from the tiny pillow. The assistant, whose name I knew to be Peter, rubbed oil between his palms and then leaned over Ray to vigorously coat and tenderize the fronts of her bare, heavy legs from the table's edge with long, deliberate lunges of his upper body. "Matter of fact, that's what I want to talk to you about," Ray continued.

My own back grew erect as I instantly became attentive to her orders. The young man kneaded the firm white flesh of Ray's thighs without affecting her concentration in the slightest. I realized that it must only have been a week ago that she had him leaving ads around the city, printed on vinyl footprints that were made to stick to the sidewalk. A short stay at her gym convinced many employees to sign on for a deeper instruction of some kind or another.

"I'm sending you a movie file. It's an interview conducted here with a troubled college guy who I think you might be able to help. This would be a first for you, understand?" I nodded.

"Study has been intense lately. I have no doubt about my grasp of theory. Physical application alone is untested." Ray's face darkened knowingly.

"We know how vital the difference between those can be." The boy ran his thumbs over the top of her shining foot while the pads of his fingers cradled the balls and arch. He was oblivious to her change in tone.

"Acknowledged." The message she had sent me was clear: a warning not to trust desire or the strength of my body in the performance of my art. To become intoxicated by them could prove disastrous not only for the client, but to myself as well. Fortunately for all concerned I was known at Ray's school as The Geeky Venus, and neither my passion nor brute force was likely to be any danger. That was of course why she was trusting me.

"Good," she said, and relaxed. "Give me a ping when you're done with the session to let me know how it went." Peter was cupping her voluptuous thigh by sliding both hands up its length. "By the way, Samantha?" She caught him gently by the wrist as he reached her hip, and carefully dragged his digits along the top of her thigh to her strapped-on phallus, so that his grip closed around the base. "Don't talk like a nerd." He gulped.

The grinning face bordered by spiky black hair disappeared, leaving a flashing alert on the screen to signify that I'd received her document.

"I'm not a nerd," I grumbled, and pushed my heavy black glasses up the bridge of my nose.

The person in question was named Jason T. In the file he sat at a table with a cup of coffee and recounted in detail how one of his neighbors had introduced him to strap-on sex during his senior year of high school. Apparently, she was a member of a women's baseball team, which enabled her to use her uniform as a fetish to ensnare him. Jason's countless fantasies of playing in the Major Leagues were twisted by the sadistic young woman into a powerful sexual obsession from which he'd found no escape.

A typical afternoon encounter had him completing overdue homework assignments in bed, when he heard someone attempting entry at the patio doors. After darting downstairs to the kitchen he would discover the cause of his crippling anxiety, the average-sized but athletic Nicole C. standing against the marble counter top with a sinister penile bulge in her pants and inky smudges under her cold, lusty eyes. At the sight of her black sneakers, white knee socks, and red jersey, he knelt helplessly before the dynamic and insistent sports-siren. She roughly and slowly unbuttoned her trousers with feigned disgust to let the flesh-colored latex dick she wore spring free, and he inched forward on his knees to take her impressive girth embarrassingly into his mouth, as she commanded. On an unknown number of occasions the dark girl with the brown ponytail skewered him mercilessly on the family's dinner table as his snappish schnauzer Marty watched the penetration uncomprehending. Jason described her fucking technique as authoritative, and claimed her strokes were brisk and powerful. He said she often poised one cleated foot on a chair while pumping him, with a hold on his shoulder and her other hand resting comfortably on her hip.

I called downtown to tell them I would take the case. Fifteen minutes later I received a response informing me that Jason was on his way to my apartment, and would be there shortly. Several deep breaths calmed me, and I quickly tidied up the modest living space.

When he arrived I was struck again by how handsome he was, so that I had to remind myself to keep a professional distance. His mid-length hair was sandy and full, and his face luminously optimistic despite the hardships he'd endured. We introduced ourselves and sat on the futon so I could explain my familiarity with his situation, and what steps I was prepared to take to help him out of it.

"Primarily important is that you trust me," I concluded.

"But what you can do, it's more of the same. It means fucking me. Like Nicole does, did."

"Not exactly. The act would have different associations for you, under my control. I would be able to offer closure; a happy ending, if you like."

"A 'happy ending'? Like at a massage parlor?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"You don't know what that is? I thought you were a sex worker."

"I'm a witch." He stood to go.

"Ah, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"You're free to leave, if you wish," I said, rising too. "Doing so however would leave you imprisoned in your present model of existence. I don't believe you have anything to risk by letting me try to heal your psychic wounds."

"My psychic wounds? I hyperventilate, sometimes just from thinking about her. I..." He began to pant.

"Feel peace," I said, placing a thumbnail on his solar plexus. His respiration returned to normal.

"What? How did you do that?" I merely smiled at him.

"Do you want to give it a try?" He stood shamefaced. Finally, he spoke.

"To be honest, I couldn't refuse if you demanded it from me."

"It has to be your choice," I said. At that, he warmed.

"Okay."

Naked, I inserted the realistic strapless dildo from Ray's school into my vagina, lubricated it, and accustomed myself to its feel. Through the door I could sense Jason's nervousness as he waited on all fours upon my Persian rug. By Osiris, I thought, it's now or never.

The door opened, but rather than experiencing fascination at the sight of a nude man crouched beneath me, vulnerable and waiting to be taken, I was shocked at my appearance in the darkened window that overlooked the adjacent housetops flowing down the hill and away into the night. I had never considered myself much to look at, but in the sketchy reflection framed by antique burgundy curtains like an old theater's stage, a vivacious if boyishly slender creature radiated enticing beauty into the room. My arm went up automatically to test that it was me, and surprise was replaced on the face by my usual sly expression. Two fingers restrained the rubber dick against my lower abdomen with a grace I ordinarily reserved for lifting my skirt when jumping over a puddle. With my other hand splayed over my hip, I advanced on my patient.

Pausing with my feet well apart at his rear portal, I understood for the first time the temptation to misuse Ray's teachings. A last glance at the window revealed again the undeniably potent and alluring agent of love who had met me, and I was almost godlike in the vision. Smirking suddenly at the possibility of betraying my trust, I descended to begin the work that was needing to be done.

After pushing his shoulders to the floor, I placed my right knee on the ground behind him and my small left foot beside his tilted ribcage. Then with a minimum of fuss I slid the veined rod into his posterior, and let my right fist swing beside me as I thrust at him gently, while the ends of the fingers of my left hand pressed firmly on his backside. The motion combined a slight down-and-up routine with the more typical in-and-out cycling. By utilizing my body's weight I thus ensured the movement was steadier and more forceful than anything I could accomplish solely with my musculature. In fact, by making a greater effort to restrain wild strikes than I made to create them, I projected the appearance of a surplus of energy as well as a calm confidence that gave me a psychological edge. Of course, this approach also held rational control at the forefront of my efforts, and eradicated the chance that my baser nature would prevail.

My left knee swayed to and fro next to his declining form as my hips described a circle that from my right appeared to run counter-clockwise. Momentarily I had both hands lightly on his fleshy rump and had shifted to a linear forward/down implantation, which announced itself in a series of thuds. In spite of all my intellectualizing, I found the vigor of my work was gaining and taking an increasingly downward pitch. I stuck out my chin in fierce determination, and reined my drive back to an easy fluidity. To be honest, the way Jason quietly suffered my assault inspired me to open up on him, but I kept a cool head, nevertheless.

His body lurched with every impact, and I mechanically slammed him in regular time. This proceeded for a quarter hour, the seconds of which I seemed to mark with kneads of his ass cheeks. Gradually his front end rose, and he glided softly backwards to meet the pounds of my crotch. When I felt his aura harmonizing with mine, I reversed this trend and depressed his torso to make him perfectly prone on the carpet. Then, I draped myself upon him and supported my trunk with bent arms while jabbing spiritedly into his back door. A wave of pleasure overtook me and I found my eyes scanning the room aimlessly, but I regained composure as quickly as possible and preserved the clinical tone of the activity, keeping my stabs measured and precise. All of a sudden I could perceive his mental block on the astral plane and I withdrew the cock, urging him to get upon his back on my futon with a cushion under his hips to elevate them. He complied without question.

I reentered him with my right foot on the floor and my left beside him on the folded mattress. As I slid toward him he covered my rocking knee with his own, and my arm hovered above the merged limbs as a skydiver's would for leverage. My pelvis hungrily supplied the quakes that eroded the negative cloud within him, but all he experienced was an electrically growing ecstasy that threatened him with premature ejaculation. We shook as one like the needle of a metronome, and I gripped both his ankles at my ears as though they were prongs on the steering wheel of a great ship.

At last I gained an ethereal awareness of his problem: the fucking he'd gotten from Nicole created a heightened vigilance that had been pummeling his mind constantly with sensory information. In order to relieve his tension, I would spur his unconscious wishes into prominence, and diminish the imagination that had enthralled him with thoughts of pro ball. Replacing his right leg on my left and stationing his left ankle on my right shoulder, I began to jerk his cock with my right hand between my abdomen and his thigh, in time with my bold thrusts I made into him. The fingers of my left hand caught the front of his vertical leg as my petite frame's undulations bounced it wildly.

Jacking down on his meat with every inward push of my dick, I again added the effect of gravity to my bobbing by alternately flexing and relaxing my lower ankle. The spiritual surgery was a total success, and in only a minute the torment of his previous invasions departed him. As if banging a drum with my entire body, I brought him off skillfully in unison with the evaporation of his bad feelings, and though he never understood how it happened, he was granted freedom from Nicole's curse. I pulsed with golden light that only an initiate could see as I towered over him, but through the fog of confusion on his face I made out some realization of the forces at work.

"How did you keep your glasses on?" was all he asked me.

"Magic," I told him.

Ray was in the middle of ass-fucking Peter when I videoed her back. The one-time masseur was trying to stop his face from smashing into the keyboard of her computer by digging his elbows into the collapsible table's cushion, and a beige wash towel was tied around his head at his mouth. Ray had him pinned beneath her pale, full body and was booming into him with her feet in the air above her knees and her hands securely gripping his shoulders from below.

"Say hi to Samantha," she grunted.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Actually, Petey here gave me such a good rubdown that I felt he deserved some extra credit." She stopped her raucous wailing and spoke to his ear. "Enjoying your bonus, new guy?" I smiled as Ray vibrated her large rear end at a cosmic frequency that produced an involuntary orgasm from the intern.

"Mm! Mm! Mm!" he exclaimed as his body strained and bucked against Ray's mass, and the crackling overload of pleasure she had given him. She jovially endured his attempts to thrash out from under her. "Mm," he sighed, and went limp. Her hips depressed his until a heavy drip of artificial come was audible from his ass, and she smiled. Then she resumed the playful hammering she'd been doling out when I called.

"He appears to like it."

"Pete's a real screamer. Hence the gag. He's got five minutes. I figure he'll come off two or three more times. What do you say, buddy?"

"Mm mm m," he responded deliriously. Without slackening her pace, Ray looked intently at the camera.

"How did it go with Jason?"

"Everything went perfectly. He's one hundred percent cured."

"Good. I knew you could do it, Samantha." Peter's head flailed lifelessly as she drove her tool through him. I tried to focus on her words.

"Thank you, Ray. I'm grateful that you trusted me."

"I do now," she said. "You passed my test. A mission of major significance is yours next. At dawn we'll chat here in person about a new friend of mine, named Tom." I nodded gravely, and her attention fell back on the assistant she was impaling. "For the moment, I owe junior here some spurts."

"No," he moaned through the fabric, but biting her lower lip and squinting tightly, Ray cast her ferocious bulk forward three times, each of which knocked him closer to unconsciousness and caused his head to drop a couple more inches. His face crashed into her laptop as he passed out and it fell from its table to the floor.

"Oh, damn!" Ray cried, as the connection was lost.

rlmmike
rlmmike
72 Followers
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