Amorous Goods: The Flute & The Magic Pen

Descripción

AMOROUS GOODS: THE FLUTE [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-the-flute] AFTER DINNER CONVERSATION PIECE. Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-05.mp3] at Explicit Novels [https://feeds.feedburner.com/explicitnovels]. https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg] Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-a-lit-anthology-series]. THE FLUTE Jeff had recently joined our small team of international shipbrokers. He was new in town and single. I knew he would soon sort out his social life, but he would be lacking some home comforts in the short term, so I invited him to our house for dinner one Friday after work. My wife, Hazel, is a wonderful woman and an excellent cook. After a superb dinner she offered to tidy up while Jeff and I went through to our lounge for a wee dram. I got out the Glenfarclas and poured us each a generous measure. "I see you have a flute of some sort on top of your mantelpiece" Jeff observed. "Do you play it at all?" "Not really," I replied. "I use it from time to time, but I don't actually play it. It's not really for playing in the normal sense of making music. To tell you the truth, it's a magical Japanese shakuhachi flute. I got it years ago from an old guy who ran a curiosity shop full of antiques and bric-a-brac. I think the shop was called Amorous Goods." Jeff grinned and settled back on the Chesterfield sofa where he was relaxing. "I'm sure there's an interesting story behind it?" he enquired. "There sure is," I replied. "Shakuhachi flutes are traditionally made from bamboo or cane, but this one is said to be made from the wood of one of the six ancient zelkova trees of old Roppongi. It's a district of Tokyo that's famous for its nightlife nowadays. Of those six old trees, three were cut down around a hundred years ago and the others were destroyed in the Second World War. The story goes that the six trees were invested with the spirits of six witches and the wood from those trees has magical powers." "And you believe that?" "I was skeptical at first, but the shop owner arranged a demonstration of the flute's magic. The old guy told me if I blew just one note on that flute, the next woman who came into the shop would give me a blow job. I had to pay a deposit of five hundred dollars then he let me use the flute." I paused and took a sip of the whisky, cherishing my memories. "From the look on your face, presumably it worked," said Jeff. "Less than a minute after I blew a note on the flute an attractive young woman came into the shop. She saw me holding the flute and without saying a word she dropped to her knees in front of me, unzipped my trousers and fished out my cock. As far as I'm concerned, any blow job is a good blow job, but I can honestly say that was one of the best blow jobs I have ever had. She licked and sucked me until I came like an express train. She swallowed it all, tucked me back in, zipped me up, thanked me profusely and left the shop." "So did you buy the flute?" he asked. "You bet I did." I said with a smile. "The five hundred dollar deposit was non-refundable on condition the old guy could prove the magic flute worked, but I still had to pay another five hundred bucks on top of that." "In other words, you got a blow job and a small wooden flute for a thousand bucks?" "Yes indeed and it's been well worth it." "You're kidding!" Jeff exclaimed skeptically. "I bet it's never worked since you tried it out in that shop." "Jeff, I can honestly say it's worked every single time since then," I said, "That's why it has a place of honor on our mantelpiece. I wouldn't say this to just anyone, but I can let you try it for yourself." "You want me to borrow your flute?" he asked. "No," I replied. "The flute stays here. You can have a shot at it right now, but you must agree not to breathe a word to anyone about it." "Okay," he said, standing up and taking the flute from its resting place on the mantelpiece. "It would be rude of me to turn down your invitation." Glancing at me almost suspiciously, as if he was expecting some sort of practical joke, he sat back down on the sofa and blew a squeaky note on the instrument. A few moments later Hazel came through the door from the hallway, looked at me enquiringly and then saw Jeff holding the flute. Without hesitation she went over to the sofa, got down on her knees in front of Jeff, unzipped his trousers and got his cock out. She leaned over his crotch and started to lick and suck his cock enthusiastically. He leaned backwards over the arm of the sofa in an effort to give her easier access, grinned happily, raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed the word "Wow!" I took the opportunity to recharge our whisky glasses while Hazel polished Jeff's knob, bringing him to a gasping finish. Afterwards she tucked his cock back in his trousers and zipped them up, got to her feet, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, thanked Jeff and smiled at me as she headed back to the kitchen. "Are you okay with that?" Jeff asked quietly. "No problem as far as I'm concerned," I replied. "Hazel absolutely loves giving blowjobs. Very occasionally a special guest gets to enjoy a happy ending after dinner. If Hazel likes them enough I let them toot the flute. It's just a good excuse for some adult fun." Jeff grinned from ear to ear. "Well, as far as I'm concerned that was truly a magical experience, but the real magic is not in the flute. It's in the art of the blowjob!" "Exactly," I replied. "The flute on the mantelpiece is my way of acknowledging my wife's special talent. No doubt she will join us soon enough for a drink or two before you leave. Just be aware though, like many magicians, Hazel prefers not to discuss her magic trick after a show." To be continued, in the series, Amorous Goods [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-a-lit-anthology-series]; a collaborative storyline for Literotica AMOROUS GOODS: THE MAGIC PEN [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-the-magic-pen] ERRANT PENMANSHIP DISRUPTS A MARRIAGE. Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-05.mp3] at Explicit Novels [https://feeds.feedburner.com/explicitnovels]. https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg] Nikki Feingold peered over her menu, its calfskin folder soft and supple in her hands, the offerings transcribed in an elegant Garamond font. "Dessert?" Her dark eyebrows arched. Leonard Reminger leaned back, feeling the tightness of his belt against his waist. "I'm not sure Nikki, the temptation is huge, and we don't get to do this very often, but I am quite frankly stuffed. Filled to the gunwales. Popping at the seams." "In a good way," he added, seeing the hint of disappointment in her face. "Often? This is only our first time here. But yes," her expression recovering, "I know what you mean." Alo's atmosphere was exactly what Leonard had hoped it would be, one of the finest restaurants in Toronto. Expensive, far above their normal night out, candlelight not so low that you couldn't read the menu, but soft enough to set a mood. And quiet, a lovely quiet hum of the other's diners' voices that didn't intrude, it was possible to have a whispered conversation with your paramour and still hear each other. Paramour, Leonard rolled that word around in his head. Yes, that was precisely the right term. And on this, their fourth wedding anniversary, that characterization was still accurate, redolent, meaningful. Nikki's eyes went back to her menu. "Why don't we split something, maybe on the lighter side? The baked apple slices in cognac with clotted cream perhaps?" suggested Leonard. Nikki smiled back. Leonard had hit the perfect note. "Yes, that sounds wonderful." She was pleased he would meet her halfway, even though she knew she might end up with three-quarters of the dessert herself. One of Leonard's many appealing aspects was his willingness to compromise, even indulge. She gave a little shiver, she had been so lucky to have met him back at university, that first time that she saw him at Angela's party, so well dressed compared to the other students at the gathering, understated and not flashy. With those hazel eyes that seemed to stare into you, the shoulders squared, no academic question that came up that night to cause the slightest fluster, his answers thoughtful, thorough, in fact, she had noted even then, unlawyerly. That was it, he was the quietest, least rapacious of all the other law students she had met at university, most of them courtesy of her then roommate, Angela, a law student herself, who had introduced her to Leonard that fateful night. But now, of course, during the day those hazel eyes scanned corporate contracts, torts case briefs, and other impossibly mundane, although lucrative, documents. She was glad her own work involved teaching Renaissance architecture at the city's second university, York, and not in a corporate office. When they were done, Leonard beckoned their waiter. "If I may, I have a large favor to ask." He held the menu in his hands, Nikki couldn't help looking at his long elegant fingers, ones capable of so many duties, intimate or purely functional. The young waiter, perhaps early twenties, bowed his head respectfully, and Nikki noted for the hundredth time how easily Leonard wielded his charm, all the more effectively for being completely authentic. "Tonight is our wedding anniversary. The dinner was outstanding, many thanks. Might we be able to take tonight's menu home? I'd be pleased to reimburse you for your consideration. But it would be most special to us." He gazed at Nikki, who smiled shyly. The waiter bowed. "Please allow me to check, I will be right back." "Leonard, such a sweet thought!" Nikki beamed. "It never would have occurred to me to ask. October fourth, four years ago! How symmetrical, how Jungian!" The waiter returned with the bill. "Please accept the menu with our compliments and wishes for many more years of marriage. We are honored you chose us for your destination tonight." "Shall we walk home?" asked Leonard, when they had made their way to the street. "I know we were going to Lyft it, but it's probably only a thirty or forty minute stroll. And I'd love to settle the food a little, before sleep." Nikki smiled up at him. "Yes, of course. I'd love to have you settled a bit, for later," giving Leonard a slightly wanton look. "We cannot have an anniversary without some other celebrating." Her taffy colored hair was done up in a chignon, and Leonard thought her pale rose-colored evening dress, tight about her waist, could have charmed the venom out of a cobra. Her soft inviting neck, uncovered by her hair, could still produce a frisson of excitement that ran up and down his spine, even now, six years after first meeting her. That the dimple on her left cheek appeared so easily when she smiled was a distinct bonus. "Excellent, then." They chose a slightly more roundabout route than they might have picked otherwise, the October evening air possessed of that last bit of summer warmth before Toronto's often abrupt shift to much colder weather. On a leafy street paralleling one of the main streets of the city, residential with businesses only at the corners, Nikki spotted an unusual dwelling. "Len, look at that! What a stately place, in the middle of the block." This was an older part of town, many of the buildings of Victorian era with expansive and well-tended yards, nothing built later than perhaps 1920. But the object of Nikki's attention would have stood out regardless. Unlike the other houses on the block, all two stories in height, with lawns sloping down to the street and manicured shrubbery, this place loomed. Dark gray, an almost black exterior, with a slate mansard roof, it sat forbiddingly in a tangle of trees, which shaded every corner. A spiked fence surrounded the front section, and as they crossed the street and approached, Leonard pointed out a sign near the granite steps up to it from the street. "Most Curious Goods," he red. "Hours 12-8 except Sundays." What an odd formulation thought Nikki, wrinkling her nose. She looked in the windows, struck by the intriguing light that came from within. "Len, let's take a look." Indeed the front door was cast wide, the light spilling from the threshold inviting one in from the street. "Good evening," intoned a voice as they passed through the door into a foyer. Leonard looked about, startled, and was greeted by the slightest bow from a tall man in a dark suit. "Please have a look around. We are open until the top of the hour." The man's face was guileless and open, in that middle-of-the-country way that contrasted with bustling Montreal or cosmopolitan Vancouver. His movements were careful but informal. "Welcome to Most Curious Goods, I'm Dylan," he said by way of introduction, "please let me know if you have any questions." Leonard nodded and they passed from room to room, each one seemingly arranged as a theme. The first, to their right as they entered, could have been the drawing room from an English townhouse in the early part of the Twentieth century. The bricked mantle shelf held knickknacks of every description, Montgomery mugs, silver candlesticks, wooden birds and small animals, a taxidermy owl, sitting proudly at one edge. Nikki admired a small secretary's desk, dark wood with fine inlay, little cubby holes for envelopes, documents. Another room seemed to be Oriental, in the old British sense of the East, with carvings of snakes, intricate carpets, exotic animal heads attached to the wall, fangs and antlers on display. They passed from room to room, finding one towards the back of the house of remarkable interest. Leonard examined a balance scale, perhaps a foot wide, with small brass weights on each balance plate. They were metric units, and the label attached to the piece indicated it was early nineteenth century, from Nuremberg. "Look at his!" Nikki pointed to a narrow grandfather's clock, the hands of polished brass, its woodwork striking in both intricacy and color. Leonard was drawn to a large table, the sort found in old libraries, with a smooth dark wooden surface. A place was set for a writer to work, a typewriter, blotter, and a fountain pen of exotic polished wood. Leonard held the pen in his hand, its weight pleasing, with a substantial easy-to-grasp thickness to it. Removing the top revealed an elegant golden nib, and the name of the manufacturer, Faustographia, Leipzig, engraved in a small, tidy script. "Mid-nineteenth century," said the male voice that had greeted them on entering. Leonard started, so engrossed with the pen he had been unaware Dylan had followed them into the room. "We are unsure of its original provenance, but it was last owned by the Earl of Northumberland. Would you like to try it out?" Leonard was tempted but shook his head. "We're just looking at the moment, we noticed your place quite by accident while passing." Leonard was not sure why he declined the offer, as the urge to write with the pen, while he held it in his hand, had been strong. "But we still would like to poke around a few minutes more, before home beckons." Dylan inclined his head. "Of course." They admired some paintings, a fin de si�cle lamp, and reluctantly left for home. Nikki's eyes were shining. "What a striking shop! I would never have expected to find it there." Their last steps up to their door were weary, welcome. Leonard arranged the menu on the corner table in their dining room that held their silver. He could still conjure up the taste of the apple-cognac slices. "Thanks for a wonderful meal, Leonard, that was sweet of you." Nikki sidled up alongside him. "My thanks to you. I could not possibly be as happy in my life without you at my side." Their kiss was short, anticipatory. After final bathroom ablutions, Leonard found Nikki spread out in bed, covers tucked to the side. Her legs were wide, she had taken the time to array her hair in a fan-shape on the pillows. Early on Leonard had said how ravishing she looked that way, her long hair loose, unruly and wanton. Leonard smiled. "Just the way you like it," Nikki whispered. "Hurry get your clothes off and bring me your erection." She wiggled her hips. Leonard complied, and knelt to her side. His cock had grown half stiff in anticipation while he removed shirt, trousers and drawers, and after dangling his cock for a few minutes in Nikki's soft limpid mouth, he was fully hard. He knelt at her notch, already damp, and fingered and licked her arousal to an almost unsustainable condition. He had learned early on this was always the best way to proceed before entering her. Their copulation was swift, explosive, and exhausting. Leonard lay on top of her, thinking there was no contentment greater than when he could feel his cock softening inside his Nikki. They kissed, and she rubbed his back and bum, as he felt the fluids surrounding his cock, within her, warm and comforting. While the next day meant work for both of them, Nikki arranged to leave her office early after lunch and was back at Most Curious Goods the next afternoon. "We were in yesterday," she explained breathlessly to Dylan, "my husband and I. I've come for the pen we admired." "Yes, I remember." Nikki could not quite decipher the clerk's expression, perhaps amused, maybe conspiratorial, but more likely just pleased at a potentially successful transaction. "You must take this ink as well," insisted Dylan. "Comes along with the pen." He held a silver polished ink bottle with a handsome cap. "You know of course the nib is gold alloy, yet must only have non-acidic ink. This is a special formulation." Dylan demonstrated the proper way to fill the pen, spoke in general terms of its care and use. "Thank you," she said, as she handed over her bank card. Although none of the items in the shop had indication of monetary value, she had known the actual price of the pen would be dear, and she had winced at the final amount. But worth it, she couldn't help thinking. Dylan bowed as she left. "May your enjoyment be complete." Su

Amorous Goods: Rebranded & Victrola

AMOROUS GOODS: REBRANDED [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-rebranded] SALLYBOT GIVES HER ALL FOR THE CREW. Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-10.mp3] at Explicit Novels [https://feeds.feedburner.com/explicitnovels]. https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg] Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-a-lit-anthology-series]. October 1, 12:01 A.M. Greater Magellanic Spiral near the freshly named planet of Wildhoot. Two trade-named space vehicles have just concluded a deadly confrontation. One continues establishing high orbit, the other falls slowly and inertia-less to the hospitable world below. The survivors are in a 4th hand Ford Space Explorer, hard used in many wiper years of use but lovingly cared for at last by five friends; they pooled their resources to purchase the tough old battered ship after becoming tired of it all near the clutter of civilization, extremely bored, between jobs, and looking to change their fortunes. Setting ship's time and date to GMT, the good ship Hoochie Mama made way outward through bad traffic, piloted by Sally, its factory AI, repaired better than new with logic parts from a very special sexbot. Harry became Captain simply because his name was on the title. Maestro claimed everything under the bonnet and a good deal more. Chyna took the garage. Nonny started an armory. Blynd worked with all the other four as needed and made music. Tired of it became an acronym and honorific between them. Along the way to this point of time and space, these Toi found themselves accompanied by a changing number of hangers on, hitchhikers, and fellow wanders called Interns, during some drunken party when there was enough spirits and frozen pizza to celebrate life aboard. The name defined them. There were adventures and misadventures out to the borders of the Empire. New friends, breakdowns, refits, slick deals and shitty luck; all shared equally until at the last Royal outpost, the planet Prime. Down on their luck and a near empty fuel tank, the opportunity to be persuaded handsomely by HRMN Prime to go search for one of the King's missing relations: a rather naughty Princess in fact. Crewman Stubbs, a primitive of some intelligence, was not impounded in gratitude for the favor. There was one hell of a party while the Toi used their carte-blanche privileges in the naval station to outfit and fill the Explorer to bursting for an armed expedition of some length with the condition W O Thaycher and his battle-tested squad accompany them in a strictly hush-hush manner. Fifty wiper days after a hurried departure they crossed a great empty space. Leaving wiper drive well short of the intended destination, disguised as inept tourists, to find they were being stalked by the craft falling away to the lovely planet selected for a base camp. So our story begins on the far side of the cold deep gulf between them and civilization. CAT'S CRADLE: The one thing to be found of interest in the burned out Nissan Star-Tripper, the object, device, Fay magic, avant garde art or summat, would be many things to the crew; they were still scrummy inebriated and Itchy zoned, shocked by the damage done to the attacking vessel and a little pleased to be on this side of Hoochie Mama's new dreadnought cannons. Most of all they would be puzzled about their compulsion to hold and never let go of the cherry red, squashed, bent, and twisted oblate spheroid still on the dead Nissan shown on the big galley screen above the dining room. The doomed ship bounced on the atmosphere of the planet below while 5 Standard shuttles tried to keep the wreck out of atmosphere until the inspection team finished a hasty look or retreated. There were cheers when at last the 6th pulled away in a shower of sparks to be passed by the other 5 still going full throttle as they released and ran home. They would remember the first sight of the artifact when the returning W O triumphantly reached in a bag, holding his trophy up for all to see; how it filled them with a sense that all their hopes and dreams would be at last fulfilled when it was in their possession. Thaycher was mobbed, losing control as it bobbed away on a sea of Intern hands, each fairing as well as he to acquire a grip. Toi Harry's first indication that something amiss was a screen opening over the last moments of the Star Tripper; it flashed red alert and began replaying from the start with his sight. "It's loose!" Thaycher's wildly waving arms tried to reclaim the sparkly What's it? Others reached as it bounced in unforeseeable directions. The Interns shoaled like fish around the glassy red beauty moving completely over the entire commons floor, always finding its way back to the center surrounded by happily adoring gropers hoping for a handhold of satisfaction. Nonny and Blynd walked in and were lost to the spell. "Dum, ah, hee, I got it!" A crash and amused Interns laughed. "He, he, he, nope, it's as slippery as a greased shoat at the fair." Crewman Stubbs watched, waiting to see what this new game was. "Hayaa!" Nonny joined the fray as her eyes saw a target long sought but never known, attempting to make it her own with no luck and much loving cursing. "Lock the ship down before anyone else blunders in, Sally. What the hell is it?" Her voice sounded close by Harry's ears where he lay flat back in the bridge command chair, no longer sleepily enjoying the end of Operation Planet fall or watching the fireworks descending prettily. "Breach conditions set, Captain sweetie. (kiss sound) The object appears seamless, but then so does the wall butler, however, there will be a composite rendering ready to examine if I can capture images of its entirety; one area is being very difficult to see as many times as it's been around the commons. There is no way for me to know exactly what it is. I am only the spawn of a Yertsberg and a Ford AI but we're the best you have." Another screen opened showing Maestro standing by the rear galley door just up the corridor from the maelstrom rolling around the commons. Text across the bottom red, (Your cabin). The screen closed before he could speak. The command chair returned ready behind the Captain's worried dash past the bridge loo. Sally opened and closed doors ahead and behind him. Harry ran up corridor, away from the bridge, then down the far side of the galley freezer bins to his cabin on the right, halfway between Hoochie's skin and the commons; he burst in then straight to the loo. He returned quickly to find Maestro in a remarkable state of agitation, something unknown in the wiper ages between them. "I don't like that thing, Toi; it's evil. If it gets in here close your eyes." Harry watched the futile efforts to possess the thing. He didn't know if it was evil, but it was bad enough to be a weapon if used correctly, even though it did no direct harm to those enamored with its sight, as yet. "Look at this." Maestro had a second screen opened with Sally�s current information. Harry marked the resemblance to a cat's ass saddle. He looked to see conformation in the old Fay's eyes. The puzzle grew deeper. "How are we going to get that cat back in the bag? Look at Stubbs." The adopted creature sat teddy bear like on the floor of the lounge while everyone tried to catch something she could not see. "It must be invisible to her, but how does that help us? What the hell is that thing, and where are all the rest of us? Ships roster, Sally." Engineering, Hangar, and Thaycher's squad were all in their spaces; the nerdy Interns were in a dorm of their own choosing. A screen showed each in real time with details. He stopped on the scene in the newest Toi's cabin. Bridget: still crying from when the first shot guaranteed no hope of survivors and the lusty eyes of the man demanding the immediate surrender of the Ford vanished with the heavy jar and thunder of non-calibrated light cannons. Once again violent death marred her otherwise pleasant life on board. Sallybot followed her tearful escape, bio-metric alarms activated by the young woman's distress; following to give the only comfort it could. Sex salves many wounds. The bot's mouth attended her wounds while Bridget sobbed into a pillow, writhing under the treatment. "Are we going to watch porn or come up with a plan?" Harry closed that screen and was left with the last group on the ship numbering 239 Interns, 1 puzzled Crewman Stubs, 2 Toi, and 1 supernumerary, W O Thaycher. 242 of them were trying to subdue the elusive saddle, Stubs followed behind. "My plan is staying far away from that thing." Maestro reopened the view of Bridget's cabin. "I thought we weren't going to watch porn." Toi Harry grumbled peevishly. "No, look. We can use Sallybot. She's the perfect solution." A plan was made to see if the device had any effect on it and then contain the troublesome thing if possible. After Bridget fell asleep on her tear-stained pillow, the bot covered her with a duvet and left, proving very quickly the first concern null. Sallybot followed for a bit. It was poetry watching the sexbot working its way between the Interns before reaching up and drawing it down to where the hands of the entranced mob made it difficult for the strongly built sexbot to hold as command circuitry argued with low charge protocols. At last Sallybot curled arms and legs around it; her form molded itself into a position that occluded all sight of the troublesome device, ending their desperate attempts to possess it and replacing it with blind stumbling sexual intoxication. Sally lost all connection to Sallybot, battery gone dead, left an erotic sculpture in the rudderless throng. "She's gone!" There was anguish never heard in the AI's voice, then silence. Even unseen, the force of its physic magnetism had them casting sluggishly about in search of its location, often as not lodged against similar searchers pressing to pass just past you. In the end they went to the floor, screwing like piles of blind undulating maggots as the device gave its last gift of rut and all the sweaty skin of the moaning afflicted shed what little clothes they wore. Maestro went with Grom to remove Sallybot from the mass of bodies in the lounge; it was grunt work shifting the Interns but, once loaded, a quick trip to the hangar to help Henry put the bot and the cat in shuttle dock. When at last they were anchored outside, the Interns slowly orgasmed to puddles of deep sleep. They would remember little except that first glimpse and their loving mates trying to help them catch it. Private bits warming and the machinery between their flushed ears made that memory slip. HOUSE CLEANING: The Toi remaining met in the wardroom. Nonny and Blynd still lay sleeping in one of the piles with Thaycher; a sad smile on a face exhausted beyond recognition. Chyna, looking singed from dragging the last searchers inside his shuttle and haul ass away, narrowly escaping the fireworks preceding crash and burn, but extremely clean having missed the second event while in the shower with a few Interns to soap him down. Maestro at Harry's right, grim faced, holding the bag Thaycher unknowingly drew the cherry red curiosity from. He closed his eyes, reached inside, and pulled out the only thing left. The goggles had milky white lenses, the material opaque to look at, but transparent when worn. The fact that they were in the same bag suggested some nullification of the visual lock of the cherry red amulet and were very sexy to boot. The frame had deep engraved AG on either temple of the slick ruddy unknown gleaming metal. "I want a pair of these." Chyna snagged them first and opened a screen to admire his image wearing the pimped-out shades that seemed made perfectly for his face. The pimp goggles were reluctantly passed around, each new wearer appearing to have a similar fit. Maestro watched the replay from the start through them. The object lost most of its glint and color but the commons and school of seekers appeared as usual to him. He gave a start then dashed out the server's door. "Toi Maestro, what the hell? Where is he going, Sally?" "He says he has an idea and to carry on, Captain sweetie." (kiss sound) The Toi were left alone with no further information. It was Chyna who spoke first, tiredly and with some ire while looking at the door the old Fay went through so quickly. "He took the goggles with him. We need coffee." They went to the galley for fresh brew and nibbles as the hours of late night turned to early morning. The view over the servers' line as they sipped from temperature controlled cups was surreal; so unlike any of the great parties that had ended on that floor. An erotic odor of sweat-slicked skin while they moved in sleep came in the opening. Vacfiber softly hissed like a lullaby as it removed spent fluids. Toi Chyna closed the opening with a shudder and turned away. The sight was gone but the smell drove them away from the preparation table, holding their snacks and cocks against the musk behind them, escaping the close confines. Sally guided them through a maze of engineering spaces to where Maestro tinkered with a device enabling the AI to look through the goggles at the entire replay. He gave a lecture while thus engaged about spectrums, wave lengths, and ju ju optics. On a screen, the composite image changed in glints and sparks as Sally sped through the library of multiple views of the release and capture until the last portion of the enchanted sex toy was revealed; a golden rectangular plate, incorporated along the curve of the twisted shaft connecting the two ends. Cherry red Amorous Goods filled the the channels of metal seamlessly. A long line of numbers and symbols suggesting an astronomical location ran under the caption. Toi Harry began making plans. RESET: "Time to unload and ponder while we square away. All Interns left will begin moving the stricken to showers and racks. Thaycher squad will retrieve and tuck him in then set tight. I'm going to wake Toi Bridget so she can catch up. Shore leave for the others as they wake. Anything else Maestro, Chyna?" Maestro walked out, again silent. The screen of the completed curse closed behind him. "Yeah, is he finished with the goggles? We should have everyone sight free wearing Mark 7 coveralls so we can tell who our specialists are. Cancel breach conditions so I can get my Specialists moving." "Sally, pass the word to those left; start a replay on Bridget's screen, tell her I'm coming if she asks or tries to screen me. Now get me out of here." Bridget met him just outside her door, pale and drawn. Together they began the long job of restoring a sense of normalcy to the areas affected by the ordeal and a sense of excitement for the awakening victims as they hurried them to waiting shuttles POST CAPTURE: OCTOBER 8, Aboard the Hoochie Mama things were different; so different that Harry was rethinking the decision to quarantine so many below for the sheer reason it was empty as hell with all of those poor souls, gone but not quite haunted, safe in a virgin paradise or summat. Nonny and Blynd were happy to go and Crewman Stubbs with them. Everyone left was on a common circuit now, easier that way with so few. It was too quiet; a lot better after all moving closer together, closer forever now. He tried to name them off in his mind, there was Chyna and Hank, Maestro, Grom, and Thaycher, unable to be left behind and carefully tended by his squad, whose names seemed to change daily. Anise, Fred, Dave, Cheryl, Debbie, Deborah, and a couple of more he hadn't sussed out yet. Bridget moved into Nonny's cabin, next to his, empty now of all the knives, spears, bows, energy guns and weapons strange to behold. She talked Maestro into making a connecting door into Harry's room as a modification. Soon the first class cabins close to the central shaft were changed into other systems to fit the needs of the Specialists and Toi. The commons and galley were changed as well. Dining was greatly abbreviated; gained space became a grand cozy party area below the big screen above. Chyna set up in the spaces beside the hangar booth. One floor up, Thaycher and his squad rearranged the weapons suites. Through it all Maestro worked tirelessly to accommodate requests and improve conditions aboard. When asked how so much was done in such a short time he replied 'It's amazing what you can do with a Plexiwelder and no interruptions.' Life became routine while preparing. PREPARATIONS: Harry shrugged off the Mark 7 coveralls, sighing as the wall butler snagged the discarded garment leg, drawing it inside to be cleaned and presented fresh for inspection the next time it was opened. Slowly walking to the shower and running an unusual amount of hot steamy water and Sudz to wash off the last two hours of exercise by the abusive, Ustis Thaycher, channeling his angst into teaching all specialist members and Toi for the expedition. Maestro was his pain partner in last place on the corridor runs. "I really miss Sallybot." He shut off the shower, wrung out his hair and walked away dripping the water normally removed by the inert sexbot outside. He rolled on the vacfiber floor, letting it suck the moisture from his body. Sally spoke above the hiss of the fabric. "Me too, Captain sweetie. (kiss sound) I could feel through her fingers and body, experience some of what she was doing; even use her in some particular fashion to fulfill my own curiosity at some of the descriptions in the user manual." Harry could only imagine what descriptions could be found the voluminous manual that Yertzberg was rumored to have written. "I'm so pleased Sallybot lasted long enough to immobilize the thing." There was pain behind the simple declaration. "She's a Hero and you are too. We're going to find out how to get her back. Bridget walked in the adjoining door, stripped her sweaty Mark 7 's off, and seated herself on Harry. RECCE: "So how are we going to do this?" Harry asked. The remaining crew were all gathered in the new screen lounge. Maestro, Thaycher, and Sally began explaining the process designed to inspect the co-ordinates found on the cat saddle. It sounded pretty simple but the reality was another thing. The big Ford torroids spun up as Hoochie raced to threshold for the first quick look. They left wiper drive some distance from the target. The torroids gave off a tooth-grinding wail as they were fed just enough thorium to hover below threshold. Harry gritted his teeth against the first in your face discomfort of near threshold as they stayed just on this side of normal space and all was the monochrome gray as a few eerie ghosts of Specialist laggards fled abed. "Mapping." Sally reported ship wide then a pause of seconds that felt like much more before the instant cold gray of wiper space that was almost a relief before the next jump. In all there were five; one more than their plan had called for then Hoochie was near Wildhoot again with the torroids winding down, taking all that discomfort away except for normal wiper landing nasty headaches. The last gray hell lasted twice as long then the cold of wiper space descended for the trip back to Wildhoot. "I'd rather go back and fight Assholes than do that again

Ayer1 h 0 min

Amorous Goods: The Pendulum & Music Box

AMOROUS GOODS: THE PENDULUM [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-the-pendulum] A DEMON-HAUNTED PENDULUM GUIDES A MAN INTO A LIFE OF VICE. Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-07.mp3] at Explicit Novels [https://feeds.feedburner.com/explicitnovels]. https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods.jpg] Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-a-lit-anthology-series]. The dreams had been getting intense since Jack returned from Canada. He always awoke with flashes of imagery: torchlight against stone pillars, the reek of incense smoke, a pair of inhuman green eyes. Also, a word ringing in his ears: "Rozrael". Jack didn't immediately make the connection between his dreams and the obsidian pendulum he bought from a store in Toronto. It was the weirdest pawn shop he had ever seen: a red brick mansion that seemed curiously out of place within the shopping district. It was called Amorous Goods, which sounded like a sex shop. When he entered, it looked more like a shabby antiques store. Its items were a curious mix of the mundane and erotic. Lamps and pill-boxes sat beside bizarre pieces of erotic artwork; statues of nude women, early twentieth century paintings of orgies. Jack really wanted the antique erotic art, but he couldn't afford it. The owner didn't seem open to haggling. But he had to get a memento of the weirdest shop in Canada. So, he picked up this obsidian pendulum, with a metal chain. It was cheap and interesting. The pendulum looked like a pyramid with a hexagonal base. He paid for it, chucked it in his satchel and left. The owner looked like he couldn't wait to see the back of him. Days later, he was back in the UK, and the life from which he had fled for a week. He returned on Saturday night, and was expected back in the office on Monday. Jack wondered if the money spent on the flight should have gone into something that could have improved his career prospects. Or if he should have spent that time doing something to get out of that job. But he had been down that path too long, and it led him straight back to where he was now; in his thirties, doing data entry, and living with his parents. He needed that holiday. Sunday night, the dreams came again. The exotic, torch lit temple. And that word: "Rozrael". He woke to see the pendulum, previously in his satchel, now on his bedside table beside his alarm clock. "The fuck!" He jolted upwards. Did he put it there? He was tired last night, maybe he forgot. He looked over at his satchel, which was still in the corner of his bedroom where he dumped it yesterday. Sitting on the bed, he picked up the pendulum, examining it in his hands. "Take me with you." Jack dropped the pendulum. He heard a voice. A female voice. Was he dreaming? He wondered if this was a side-effect of jetlag. He put the pendulum back on the table, took out a notepad and biro and wrote down "Rozrael". Amorous Goods, Toronto. One year later. Dylan entered the shop floor holding a ledger open in front of him. Behind the counter was a young woman with red shoulder-length hair, peering at a laptop. "Vikki, look at this." "Umm hmm?" "You know anything about a pendulum that uncle sold?" "Ask Marshall,' she replied, 'he knows about this stuff." "This one might be tricky," said Dylan. "What do you mean?" "Uncle sold it to someone in England." "England?" asked Vikki. "Someone came all the way from England to shop here?" "Ever heard of tourism?" Vikki slammed the laptop shut. "Goddamn it," she exclaimed. "Does this mean we'll have to pay for a flight to fucking England to get this thing back?" "Hey, relax," said Dylan. "This thing was just a cheap trinket. Could be nothing." "I hope so." They turned to see a middle-aged man with a stack of papers under his arm. Marshall seemed unremarkable in khaki chinos and a button-down shirt. He was big-built, but had developed a paunch with age. Once, he would have been physically intimidating, but he still moved with youthful energy. "I heard my name," said Marshall. "You know anything about this pendulum in the ledger?" Dylan asked. "Oh, the pendulum of Rozrael? That item has quite a history behind it." "I knew it," exclaimed Vikki. "It's cursed, isn't it?" "You could say that," said Marshall. "It houses a powerful demon." "Okay, tell us about this demon," said Dylan. Plymouth, UK. Jack had a whole morning to kill before work. He wanted to see if this pendulum was an antique, if it was worth anything. He sat before his PC with a coffee. First, he wanted to google this word he kept hearing for the past two days. Google turned up results, but they were scarce. All he could find was the name of a demon from some grimoire called Liber Virtute. There was an online archive of historical grimoires, scanned from public and private libraries across the world. This demon seemed to be on the lower end of a demonic hierarchy, nothing else to be red besides a name and a seal. While other demons had descriptions of their office and their position in the hierarchy, this one didn't seem to be worthy of description. So, he was being contacted by a demon. Or he was losing his mind. There was only one way to find out. Jack signed up to web forums frequented by occultists, people who actually practiced this stuff. He made his intro post to several of them, and then posted his request for information, along with a quick photo of the pendulum. Then he packed his rucksack and left for work. "The pendulum was created in sixteenth century Venice," Marshall explained, "on commission by an occultist named Marcilio Cellini for a merchant called Filipo d'Este. Filipo married into the family who became the Hapsburgs that ruled England since the British Empire. Filipo did not simply want money. He wanted power. "To get that kind of power, one must be a commanding presence. Filipo was simply a merchant who rode on the tails of his ancestors." "So, the only way he could get that kind of power was through magic," Vikki interjected. "Precisely. He hired Marcilio to create a talisman for this purpose. Unfortunately, he did his job a little too well. This thing housed a demon of immense power, giving her a foothold in this world. She piggy-backed on Filipo's earthly desires to establish her own kingdom." "And this demon was Rozrael?" asked Dylan. "Correct. When the she unites with the owner, her power shines through them, making them charismatic and unstoppable. She eventually was stopped when the pendulum was passed on to his eldest son. He made too many enemies in business and politics. And he slept with the wives of powerful men. One of whom had him assassinated, ending his reign, and ending Rozrael's influence." Jack's day at work was the same underpaid monotony he tolerated for years. He got off the bus at the local depot, where he worked in data entry for a communications company. Every day, for seven hours, he sat at a desk and typed in postal addresses. It was an open plan office. Thousands of black and white address labels passed his screen every day. Nearby, a huge window opened out onto an industrial landscape, where he glanced at the sun as it set each evening. Jack's attempts at leaving this job in the past had been met with a wall of silence: job applications, the occasional "informal chat" over the phone, a half-assed Linked In profile. All of which no one cared about. Every day Jack started his shift with this thought, which he kept to himself. Until he opened his rucksack, and found the pendulum at the top of the pile. He dropped the rucksack. Did he put it in there without thinking? He must have put it in there by accident. Somehow. Jack took the pendulum out, looking at it. He noticed the cluster of desks on the other side of the office where the managers carried out administrative tasks at their own computers. Among them was Sadie, striding between desks with papers in her hand, obviously busy. Sadie would have been plain and unnoticeable. However, she knew what she was doing with her hair, clothes and make-up, making the most of what she had. She had long, dark voluminous hair that framed mousy features, although her lips were full and luscious. She would flash a beautiful smile at him as he passed her in the corridors. Sadie was slim, but curvy in the right places, and she dressed in a way that accentuated her figure. Jack never forgot the Christmas Eve when the managers wore casual clothes. Sadie's tight jeans made a lasting impression on him. When she bent over the desk in front of him, his erection got so big, he had to spend his break sat at his desk. Jack absent-mindedly fingered the pendulum, thinking about that ass as Sadie walked towards his desk, a mound of papers clutched against her chest. He let the pendulum drop between his fingers, watching it swing back and forth, always in the direction of Sadie walking past. Jack looked at it, then put it back on his desk. "So, the pendulum," Vikki asked. "What's so sinister about it?" "It houses Rozrael and is used to communicate with the user," Marshall explained. "It answers simple yes or no questions. It points him in the direction of business opportunities. Sometimes, it will point to sexual opportunities. Filipo used it to judge which ladies in the Venetian courts would be open to sleeping with him." "Are you saying," asked Dylan, "that this pendulum dowses for pussy?" "Correct," Marshall smiled. "But to Rozrael, sex is a means to an end. Any domain she establishes won't be in the interests of humanity. It may be a portal between whatever hellish dimension she comes from into our world." During quiet moments, Jack would pick up the pendulum from his desk and let it swing. He noticed a pattern in its movements, always swinging in the direction of certain women. Perhaps he was just horny. Perhaps it was his imagination. He had not had sex in years. The pendulum swung in the direction of Donna, sat nearby. A Goth back in the day, she still wore band T-shirts in her thirties. Dark hair, pale skin, and impressive tits that Jack struggled not to stare at. Her big tits jutted through a black T-shirt with some obscure metal band print. Donna never showed him much attention. They never spoke. Jack never knew what to say to her. The pendulum was interested in her though. It swung in her direction, not wavering until Sadie walked past. Then it would follow Sadie, until her fine ass had sauntered around the corner. Then it would go back towards Donna, until Jack put it back on the desk, before someone noticed. His shift ended. He packed his rucksack, got up and caught the bus home. An hour later, sat at his PC desk, he logged on to see the responses to his queries that morning. Responses were few, but revealing. It turned out that the Liber Virtute had a small but dedicated following of experienced occultists, who had been experimenting with it for years. And they were happy to share their advice. "What else do we need to know?" asked Dylan. "She appears to the magician in a way that is sexually enticing. She appears as a woman, with certain features exaggerated." "Certain features?" asked Vikki. "Tits and ass, usually" Marshall replied. "Thanks for clarifying." "When she fully unites with the operator, she guides them, and her sexual power shines through them into all they meet." "How do we stop her?" asked Vikki. "You probably won't have to. In fact, I would classify this task low priority." "Low priority?" exclaimed Dylan. "A demon is trying to take over the world, and this is low priority?" "Our customer is highly unlikely to accomplish anything with the pendulum alone. He needs the grimoire containing Marcilio's notes. It tells us how to wake that demon back to life, and it tells us how to put her back down again. And it's in our vaults." "So, we're safe?" asked Dylan. "For now," responded Marshall. "We should get it back at some point, but let's focus on the real dangerous ones, the ones bought locally. Save this one for a vacation abroad." Vikki frowned and pulled out her laptop. "What did you say his name is?" Jack sat on his cheap office chair in semi-darkness. His bedroom was lit by a single beeswax candle on top of his cupboard. Illuminated by this candle was a piece of paper, on which Jack had scrawled the seal of Rozrael. In his hand was the pendulum, hanging between his fingers as he gazed at the seal. His online friends had given him a simple ritual to contact Rozrael, who was largely unknown and lacking established contact protocols. Jack was glad he didn't need the complicated, near-impossible tools that more established entities in the Liber Virtute required. Jack gazed at the seal and chanted the name over and over. He lost of count of how long this took. His eyelids drooped, blurring his view of the seal. The pendulum clattered to the fiber glass surface of the cupboard, jolting him upright. The room seemed to be lit by a golden glow. Jack swung around slowly in his office chair, and saw a light behind him. The other side of his bedroom opened out onto a bizarre scene. Where his bedroom ended was now a vast room, lit by flaming torches ensconced on huge stone pillars. A tall figure emerged from between the pillars, into the torchlight. A woman, slightly taller than Jack. She was clad in black latex, buckled and strapped across the front. She resembled a stereotypical dominatrix, her boots resounding across the stone floor. She appeared human, although unearthly. She gazed at him with bright green eyes, in a face that was inhumanly beautiful. Her should-length hair was blonde, shining with a fiery aura. Her fingers were a little too long to be human, slender with claw-like nails. She seemed too perfect, like a photoshopped pornstar come to life. Her tits were huge, straining to break free from the buckled latex. And yet she had the body of an athlete, slim, with long legs. "Rozrael?" Jack said. "Of course." She strode into his bedroom, standing a meter away. Jack stood, but remained silent. "What do you want?" she spoke in an echoing voice. "Are you the one who calls me in my dreams?" he asked. "Yes." Jack kept glancing at her tits, the cleavage behind the straps. "Why?" "I think we can work to each other's benefit. I can make you powerful." "How?" "When we unite, nobody will be able to resist you. Women will desire you. Men will fear you. This way, your status on Earth will rise." "What do you want from me?" She reached forward with a long, slender hand and brushed it down his chest, down to his crotch. Her touch was cool, electric. He let out a sharp intake of breath as she gently reached for his balls over his jeans, holding them. "Give of yourself to me," she said. "And I will give of myself to you." With her other hand, she unbuckled her top, revealing her magnificent cleavage. Huge tits burst out almost to the nipple, as her top opened down to her midriff, casting a shadow over her toned stomach. Jack was transfixed, as she ran her fingers up underneath his T-shirt, back towards his chest. His cock was hardening already, straining beneath his jeans. He needed no instruction. "It's a deal." Jack unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down, revealing a semi-erection in his black boxer shorts. Still with a hand on his chest, she pulled his boxers down with the other hand, releasing his cock and gazing at it with a smile, as she cradled his exposed balls with her other cold hand. He went fully erect immediately. She pushed him towards the bed behind him. "Sit." Jack lay back on his bed, his erect cock between him and the busty demoness. Her other hand reached down to the shaft of his cock, and she bent forward, swallowing his cock. She cradled his balls as she ran her mouth up and down his shaft, engulfing it right down to the base. He had never received a blowjob this deep before. His entire groin felt charged with a cold, fiery energy. Jack expected to shoot his load in seconds. Strangely, this blowjob was prolonged, like he wasn't allowed to cum, not just yet. He lay back as this energy engulfed his body from his groin. When he exploded in her mouth, he convulsed a few times. It felt like more than just semen leaving his body. The energy left too, and he felt empty. Jack lay back and watched her stand up from his body, releasing his spent cock from her mouth, to his thigh. She knelt between his parted legs and unbuckled her latex top further, pulling her top apart to allow her huge tits to fall out in the torchlight. Her tits were round and firm; large pink nipples with areolas that seemed stretched out by the size of her tits. Her nipples were thick and erect. The desire in him was strong, but he was tired and weak. She took his hands, pressing them to her tits. He squeezed and fondled them, feeling their weight, their smoothness. His thumbs went over her hard nipples, and they seemed oddly moist. She reached behind his head with one hand, pulling his head towards her tit. His mouth clamped eagerly over her tit, his tongue flicking against her hard nipple. It tasted faintly salty. He sucked harder, and more fluid trickled into his mouth, down his throat. He felt it build in his body. More fluid came out, and he felt his lust return. Eventually, he didn't need her to hold him. He sucked eagerly on her tit until she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled his face down between them. For a second it seemed as though he breathed in her entire body into his, before everything went dark. Jack woke up on his bed in darkness, his pants around his ankles, his stomach and chest wet with semen. The temple scene was gone. He got up from the bed, pulled his pants up and walked to the bathroom. Wincing when he turned on the light, he washed his hands. He splashed water on his face and looked in the mirror, running his hands over his forehead, his cheekbones, his jaw, like he had never seen them properly before. He liked what he saw. And he felt powerful. The next day, Jack walked into the office, as usual. But this time, things seemed different. People looked up from their desks as he walked in. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. He didn't know. He looked at the world around him with new eyes, and he saw a world ripe for the taking. Jack sat at his desk, got out his iPod and water bottle, and then the pendulum. When no one looked, he let it hang between his fingers. It swung towards the stairwell nearby. He watched the glass doors to see who it might be pointing towards. Sadie came up the stairwell towards the doors, and t

30 de may de 20261 h 0 min

Amorous Goods: The Flute & The Magic Pen

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