Amorous Goods: Three Horny Monkeys Part 3

Amorous Goods: Three Horny Monkeys Part 3

AMOROUS GOODS: THREE HORNY MONKEYS [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-three-horny-monkeys] � PART 3 COMMUNITY ASSETS, AT AMOROUS GOODS Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-14.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]. CONTINUING FROM PART 2. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE. Sam responded to the Korean wife's question. "Yes, your gaping asshole filled with my cum is going to be an incredible picture. I think you and I will both jerk off to it for years to come." He was about to carry on with something about her not showing that particular image to her husband right away, when So-Young broke in. "Hmm, I just know you're right. But now I'm imagining the next photo and I want you to make it for me." Sam sat up, again realizing that So-Young had taken her involvement in the process further than any previous model. It seemed his normalization and inclusion process had reached a new level. "And what photo is that?" he asked. "Eat the cum out of my ass," she said strongly. "I want to feel your tongue digging your seed from my anus, but I also want to have that image to look at forever. Like you said, I can easily imagine masturbating while looking at just those three photos: my virgin ass filled with your cock, my gaping ass filled with your cum, and your stiff tongue going in after it." The little pervert sat back in shock. So-Young had outdone him and she was right. Sam knew he'd get lots of sales of the cum-filled asshole by itself and many more combined with the virgin reaming, but there was a whole other fringe audience that would gladly pay highly for the third shot So-Young mentioned. He considered for a moment. It really wasn't his thing, sexually, but from a business angle... But it would require breaking a cardinal rule, he never included his own face in any of the images he published. And then he remembered that the cum had been poured out of his condom; a condom coated inside with desensitizing lubricant. Nope, not getting Benzocaine-tainted spunk on his tongue, no thanks. Sam didn't want to break his best spell ever by shutting So-Young down cold, however, so he deflected with some half-truths. "You're right, Mrs. Lee, that would be a very exciting shot. That's part of what makes you such a natural erotic model, you can see the images in your naughty head as well as make them happen with your heavenly body. But men want to imagine it's them doing these things to you and including my face would go too far in knocking them out of that fantasy." "But what if only you and I got to see that picture?" she purred. "You're not afraid of your own cum, are you?" "Well, my goo is so mixed up with the lubricant that it would be pretty nasty, so yes, I guess today I am afraid," he laughed. "I'll tell you what, though, let's get an 'almost there' shot." Sam approached So-Young's ass from the side, on hands and knees. He leaned his head in with tongue extended and licked her bum, just an inch away from her creamy butthole. He had no intention of letting her have a copy of this image, but it did serve to keep the mood going for the rest of today's session. "How about we do something else special with the cum in your ass?" said Sam. The young wife still rested on one beautiful cheek, with her ass up in the air. Sam slipped a mid-sized dildo into her hand. "I couldn't get a good shot with my best camera when you had that incredible anal orgasm earlier." Now he got his mouth down close to her ear again and put some extra growl into his voice. "I want that picture. I want to capture you trembling in passion from fucking your own, cum-filled ass. It sounded so sexy when you said you loved having things in your ass and it looked and felt beyond sexy when your virgin anus clamped down on my hard cock." The defiled young woman could only manage to groan and whimper in delight as Sam brought back her outrageous words and actions. Again she wondered why she ever thought there was something wrong with that kind of action and behavior before. Now she could hardly wait to give her ass to her husband too. Sam slipped off the end of the bed and reset the video camera just off to the side a bit as he kept talking to So-Young. "Mrs. Lee, my cum is running from your tight ass, down to your beautiful pussy." She heard his SLR camera click. "What do you think about starting with the dildo in your pussy, then pushing the cum back up your perineum and into your ass? Do you think that's a picture you and John would like?" "Show me!" she suddenly said. Sam walked around the side of the bed as he brought the last pictures up on the viewfinder screen. He leaned across and held the camera so the hot Korean could see. He cycled through the three shots he'd taken of the line of cum connecting her anus to her cunt. "That's just the kind of sensuous image I knew I'd get working with you," he cooed. "Is it what you were hoping for?" "Oh, yes," she gushed. "It's really hot and you make my naughty bits look so pretty." "That's because they are pretty, So-Young. Pretty and hot and horny. Show me now how hot and horny they look with a dildo in them. Give yourself a good fuck, Mrs. Lee. Show Mr. Lee what you want him to do with his cock." Sam pulled the camera away and retook his position behind his bewitched model. The Korean beauty arranged herself to allow for the easiest penetration and then went to work with the dildo just as Dolan had directed. She rubbed it over her clit a few times; then dragged the tip up between her labia until she was lined up with her vagina, where she pushed. Sam's camera clicked all along the way. She poked her cunny for several strokes and then slowly pulled it out and dragged the tip upwards with a bit of sideward slant. "Yes," Sam said. "You have a nice gob of goo there." His camera clicked. When she reached her rosebud, she began teasing it with the tip of the dildo. Soon after, she had the first inches inside and then she got down to seriously fucking herself. "That looks so good," Dolan encouraged her. "Your pretty asshole is just swallowing it up and the cum is beautifully messy. "Your cock felt better," So-Young grunted. "But this is good. You made my asshole so slippery with your spunk; I love shoving it inside me." She had the toy buried all the way to its testes-shaped handle and twisted it around. "These pictures are going to be incredible," the photographer cheered. "You make the perfect cock-hungry ass-slut!" Mrs. Lee was once again a near-gibbering volcano of desire. "Ass-slut, yes," she grunted. "Pound, pound ass." The dildo was flying in and out. "Virgin ass, slut ass, fuck, fuck, fuck;� And then she was screaming and creaming and squirting from her pussy. Sam caught it all and cursed again that his pecker took so long to recharge. He was going to have to score some Viagra. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR. Morgana looked over the jewelry sale receipt that Dylan had recovered from the office upstairs in the AG store. "Well, it looks like we might have had a little luck anyway. I don't recognize this liquidator as someone involved with Ludwig or any of his Amorous Enterprises." "Amorous enterprises," sighed Vikki. "Why couldn't he just have left me a Victoria's Secret franchise at the mall?" Dylan laughed. "Vikki, Victoria, nicely ironic. Heck, you'd have the most successful Victoria's Secret store ever if you could sprinkle just a little AG magic over everything." "Yeah," his faux-cousin said. "Hot pants that really make you hot and Wonder Bras that lift your libido along with your boobs." The Delacroix Witch smiled slightly, glad to have her hesitant partners climbing out of their guilty depression. "So, I guess the next step is to call the liquidator and hope she hasn't resold everything. Then we'll just have to come up with the money to rebuy the monkeys and anything else that's enchanted," said Vikki. "Man, that's going to be tough," said Dylan. "That was months ago and most of that money has been spent on other recovery missions." "Well, imagine how much more money it would take to buy those things back from people who actually know what they are?" Vikki responded. Dylan nodded in agreement. Then Vikki added, "In fact I'm surprised that stuff, and lots more, wasn't scooped up by old AG partygoers who do know about the charms." "Well, if I remember correctly," said Dylan, "the lady who took the jewelry just happened to be in town at the estate sale of some rich old woman who passed away just before Ludwig. In fact, I think she heard about his death from someone at the estate sale and popped in here even before our sale was advertised. She obviously knew what she was doing when she looked over the jewelry and made an offer that was well within the price range I'd been thinking about, so I was glad to make a quick, first sale." Morgana said, "I think our own quick, first steps now should be for Dylan to call the liquidator and find out what she still has, what she's sold, and who she sold it to, while Vikki and I look over Ludwig's records and put together a priority list of what is most critical for us to recover." "And I take it the Three Horny Monkeys are at the top of the list." said Vikki. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE. Sam and So-Young were once again curled up on the sofa reviewing photographs. She had showered in the small bathroom in the corner of the studio and was back in her street clothes, although she hadn't put on her brassiere and her blouse remained unbuttoned. Sam played almost absentmindedly with her sweet tits, while So-Young scrolled through the images on the laptop screen. She was going through the final scenes, where she'd dildo-fucked herself to another anal orgasm. The pictures were dirty and hot, but still artistic, showing Sam really knew what he was doing. She paused at one where he'd changed his angle to clearly show the three monkeys bouncing on her wrist as she reamed herself. "The Sam Dolan trademark," she chuckled. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Just a lot of wickedness." She turned her head toward him and the two shared a deep, exploring kiss. "Should I tell my husband that the white stuff is your spunk?" she asked with her own 3-monkey wickedness. "Hmm," the little man considered. "I think it might be best if you hold off on that for a little while at least. First just show him the main album I put together for you and we'll keep this one in your private extra album. See how he takes everything in the main album and then decide if you want to share the other one or save it for your own private moments." "My extra private album? How much more are you going to charge me for that?" she said in a teasing tone. "Aren't I already paying you enough for fucking all my holes and turning me into an exhibitionist slut?" "Yes, yes you are," he agreed with a chuckle. "But I meant what I said about you being an exceptional model and I'll add the extra album for free because I enjoyed working with you so much." He gave her tit a harder squeeze as he went in for another hot kiss. "Well, I suppose we may as well get the business stuff over with," she said sadly, when he finally pulled away. "I've been here much longer than I expected and I still want to get home before John comes home from work." They moved to his desk and took the seats where they'd started their day together. When So-Young put her hands on the desk she realized she was still wearing the lovely antique bracelet. She reached out to undo the clasp, but Sam suddenly put his hand on top of hers. "Leave it for now," he said. "Don't want me to see any evil in the contract?" she asked. Sam froze a moment, she was exactly right, but did she really know it? So-Young picked the contract up off the desk and rifled quickly through the pages. "This isn't the same contract you gave me to look at before, is it?" It finally struck Sam that the young woman was smiling as she said it and looking at him with a glint of mischief in her eye. She was still on board the monkey train. "No, it's not," the photographer answered the model/client's question. "Your pictures are going to be so hot, so sexy, so classic, that I think we should share them with others. That will be easiest if I just keep control of the whole process, so we'll use my usual contract for when I hire a model, but slightly modified to say that you hired me." "So, I paid you to control me in the studio and I'm paying you to control me afterwards?" Dolan took So-Young's hands in his, brought them to his lips for a kiss, then stared directly into her eyes. "Mrs. Lee, you needed someone to control you, didn't you?" He felt her grip tighten. "And you've been happy with my control, haven't you?" She nodded shyly. "In fact, today you've both let loose of your control, while somehow also taking more control over your own pleasure, and you've loved both of those feelings, haven't you?" "Yes," his unsuspecting victim finally answered. "I never would have done any of the things we did today without you. I might say you made me do them, but that doesn't feel right. It feels more like you just made me understand there was no reason not to try them and no reason not to just relax and enjoy them fully." "I'm glad you feel that way," the deviant photographer said. "It means I did that part of my job properly and helped you be the terrific model I knew you could be. And with this contract I'll be able to do the rest of my job properly and make you a famous model as well." "Famous? So, my 'private' photos won't be private? The sexy photos that were meant only for my husband will be seen by other men?" "And women," Sam said firmly. "Some of them will want to be with you and others will want to be like you, free and confident." A thought suddenly struck So-Young. "Have you made Chae-Won famous?" Remembering how sexually-charged her friend had seemed ever since her own photo session with Sam Dolan, So-Young realized that Chae-Won must have had an experience like hers. "Yes," answered Sam with a little hesitation. "Show me," said So-Young. Now Sam really had to pause and think. No model had ever seen the true results of her work with Sam before he had their signature on a contract and it was their own image they saw up on the Web; too late to put the genie back in the bottle. If So-Young saw her friend posted as a visual sex toy for sale, would it cause her to refuse to sign her own model release? Or would it be more damaging to his efforts if he refused to show Mrs. Lee the pictures of Mrs. Park that So-Young obviously knew were out there? Sam looked down at the desktop to get away from So-Young's demanding eyes and there he saw his answer. The monkeys on the bracelet looked especially cheeky just then and Sam knew he should keep going with them instead of doing anything counter to their mantra. He raised his eyes back up to his new model's. "Of course." Sam pulled his laptop over, raised the cover and followed a bookmark to the teaser section of "Sam's Monkey house". After a couple of keystrokes to get to Chae-Won's collection, he turned the laptop around to face So-Young. There were two chairs on her side of the desk and Sam moved around to sit next to her. At this level of access, the models' faces were not visible; they were facing away or were out of the frame or Sam had covered them with a blurred oval. He started a slideshow that walked through Chae-Won's various lingerie poses. So-Young and Chae-Won regularly took saunas together at the local swim center, so she recognized her friend's body. Of course, her girlfriend didn't usually squeeze her tits together and hold them out to So-Young while they sat sweating, so that was a new way of thinking of her friend. So-Young suddenly reached out and hit the spacebar to pause the slideshow. "I wore that outfit today too, didn't I?" "Yes." Sam said. "And you looked at least as hot as she does, if not hotter." "Did you fuck her too? There, on the same bed where you fucked me?" Sam took the young woman's chin in his fingers and turned her face toward his. "Yes," he said firmly. "I fucked you both in the same bed." "Show me," she said again. Sam jumped up to the third level in the site and slowly walked through a series of shots that showed Chae-Won on hands and knees on the bed, ass to the camera, pussy wide open. In the last three photos, his cock entered the frame, entered the woman's cunt, and then buried itself to the hilt. "It's making my pussy wet again," sighed So-Young. "Does it make other people's pussies wet?" "Or their cocks hard, yes, that's what people tell me," Sam replied. "And will I make their cocks hard?" "Very hard," he assured her. "Rock hard." The corrupted housewife pulled the contract to her and picked up the pen that lay atop of it. She initialed each page as Sam had told her earlier and then signed the final page. She closed the document and pushed it and the pen to the far side of the desktop. "Did you fuck her on this desk?" she asked Sam. The photographer blinked, confused. "Um, no." "Good. Then you can fuck me on this desk and I'll be one up on Chae-Won." It was a good thing the monkey had his eyes covered, because there was definitely an evil-looking smile on So-Young's face. Sam had been feeling twinges of life in his crotch as they had been looking through Chae-Won's photos on the website and now there was a definite lurch. "Yes," he said. "Let's put you one up on Mrs. Park." And he did. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX. A half hour later, Dylan came back down into the AG basement archive. "Any luck down here?" he asked the women. "Yes," answered Vikki. "Fortunately, it looks like Ludwig acquired all the pieces we sold to the liquidator in three batches, so a few more of the items were on the list we started with. Then Morgana had ideas of when the other things had shown up at AG and those dates helped us find the other two inventories. And so far, it does appear that the three-monkey bracelet is indeed the most critical item we need to recover." "Good, because that's where I put most of my effort with Jill, the estate liquidator. As we figured, she wasn't too keen on just giving out information about her own customers, but ironically, we apparently were the ones who sent the guy who bought the bracelet to her." Vikki said, "You mean somebody showed up here looking for the bracelet back then? Why didn't you say so earlier?" Dylan raised his hands in defense. "No, it didn't go down that way. He never brought up the bracelet or any jewelry specifically

Amorous Goods: Three Horny Monkeys Part 2

AMOROUS GOODS: THREE HORNY MONKEYS [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-three-horny-monkeys] � PART 2 "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-13.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]. CONTINUING FROM PART 1. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 'Arising from its charm? WTF?' Sam had thought at the time. But old Freitag had sure been right, the photographer remembered now. Everyone had been very happy indeed with the pictures he'd taken that night. "How about we look at some of the images we've captured so far?" Sam said to So-Young. He grabbed his laptop and a cable from his desk, and then took a seat next to her on the sofa. Her nipples looked ready to cut glass and he could positively smell her musky sex, but he'd learned to take it slow and really build up the legitimate aspects of what they were doing together so that what followed would come naturally, with no hesitation or regret. Sam connected his camera to the laptop and booted up the viewer. He nodded at a throw pillow beside her, which the young model placed on her naked lap. Sam put the computer on the pillow. Whatever image he brought up for review in the camera viewfinder, she would see displayed on the computer screen. "You have been magnificent," he told her. "One of my best models ever. I know we have many pictures you and your husband are going to love. But we'll take a quick look through to make sure we have everything you want in this setting or if maybe a certain pose should be re-done for whatever reason. Okay?" So-Young glowed at the praise and nodded. As the pictures slowly rolled across the computer screen, she felt the warmth in her lower belly growing even stronger as she saw her body through his eyes. The first shots were in her own red baby dolls and So-Young thought she looked very nervous and unsure of herself, more like a teenager than a 24-year old woman, but Sam was praising the images. "You look so sweet and innocent here," he purred. "But your outfit and the way you hold your beautiful body are on the edge of dirty." He turned his head to look into her eyes. "Are you a young innocent, about to give yourself to your first lover? Or a dangerous Lolita about to take away a married man's fidelity?" The young wife blushed and re-examined the photos with Sam's perspective. As they progressed, she had changed outfits a few times, each one somehow more risqu� than the ones before. The looks on her face also changed, following the same progression from innocent interest to carnal desire. Then suddenly she realized the photos they were looking at now showed her completely unclothed. They were the last ones they'd shot, since she'd done her beauty poses for him. She was naked in them, just as she was naked now; but she was also somehow more than just nude. Her head raised from the monitor and looked at him with a hint of doubt. "You're surprised at how comfortable you feel, aren't you?" he crooned. He'd been on the lookout for the doubt and was ready. "I have to say how impressed I am with your poise, with your confidence. You truly carry yourself like a professional. Yes, a professional. I almost feel like I should be paying you for this session, not the other way around." A smile began to creep across her face. "I did say 'almost'," he offered with a small laugh. "I'm afraid I'll still need my fee." The humor did the trick and all doubt left her. She returned her gaze to the screen. There were full body shots from high and low, close ups of her ass from side and back, shots of her thick bush with a light aimed directly at it to show its texture and the shine of the wetness building beneath, and many angles of the tits that she secretly feared were too small, but now looked absolutely perfect. She especially liked some where he'd had her caress or hold her tits and you could clearly see the three jade monkeys dangling over tit and nipple. 'No Ludwig Freitag to stop me from taking pictures of the treasure now,' Sam thought as he looked at what had become one of his signature shots. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," So-Young said softly, almost like a mantra. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." Sam remembered hearing Mrs. Terwilliger saying the same thing to Mr. Terwilliger while he moved in to get pictures of their faces so close, so loving, so romantic in the midst of so much debauchery. "Exactly," the husband had replied. "I see no evil, only beauty. I hear no evil, only words of desire. And what we speak cannot be evil, because it comes from our hearts." Romantic words to go with the romantic kisses, Sam had thought, wishing he had a video camera. He'd suggested bringing one, since he'd shot video of the Terwilligers in their home. But Freitag had said no, it was too easy to capture inadvertent images and too hard to find and delete them afterward. Maybe on a future visit, Sam had thought, if I can prove myself this time. He'd gotten back to proving himself with his camera, but he'd really had to work at it because he kept getting caught up in the words between the Terwilligers. "Has it felt good; has it been exciting?" The Mister asked while staring into his wife's eyes. "Yes," was all the Missus said. Sam noticed the bank officer had his hand on the kindergarten teacher's wrist; the same wrist with the bracelet. In fact, his hand was covering most of it and Sam took the chance to get a shot he hoped would pass Freitag's censorship; there were just a few links of silver in one area, and just enough of one jade monkey to know it was the one with its hands over its mouth. "And there's nothing wrong with that, is there?" the man continued. "No," she answered. Sam thought she sounded a bit hypnotized at first, but then she repeated, "No," in a strong, clear voice. "There is nothing wrong with that at all." A full smile broke across her face. "It's been good to watch all these wonderful people making love and now it's going to be even better to take part; to enjoy the pleasure around us." "I've wanted to for a long time," she admitted. "And I'm ready." She paused. "Are you ready?" she asked with a slightly sinister tone. Mr. Terwilliger didn't have the charmed bracelet to banish his doubts, but he'd committed them to this step. "Yes. Shall I ask the first stranger to fuck you?" Of course, they weren't really strangers, but that was the play they'd scripted. "No," she answered, drawing a look of surprise from her husband. "I want the biggest one first, not the smallest one." The banker raised one eyebrow. The teacher carried on. "Instead of building up to the biggest one, I want to start with him, and then challenge myself to squeeze down on the smallest even after I'm fucked out." The look on her face was indescribably wanton and sensuous and challenging and Sam still thought it might be the best image he'd ever captured. A giant enlargement of that face, with that look, now hung on his bedroom wall, looking at him every night. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. Looking now at the exotic Asian beauty of the young Mrs. Lee, Sam wondered if he might not have a chance to capture another perfect moment. "Exactly," the duplicitous photographer responded to his bewitched model. "I see no evil, only beauty. I hear no evil, only words of desire. And what we speak cannot be evil, because it comes from our hearts." Sam had stolen this line from Mr. Terwilliger (although he suspected Terwilliger had stolen it first from Freitag) and used it often with his models. Sam took the computer from So-Young's lap and disconnected it from his camera as he walked to his desk. When he returned to the sofa, he snatched the pillow off her lap with a flourish and a smile and tossed it aside. He reached out, took her hand and raised her to her feet. He stood close in front of her and So-Young realized viscerally how much she towered over him, even though she was only 5' 6". She'd never had this perspective on a grown man before and found it remarkably sexy and powerful. She played the role of the man and bent down to kiss him. She hadn't kissed a man other than her husband this way for almost four years, but she didn't feel guilty. She just felt horny. Sam reveled in the passion of her kiss and almost lost his way. The charm had worked and she was his and he was more than ready to take her. Fortunately, he still had his camera in his hand and when it bumped up against the woman's naked thigh during their kiss, he remembered that he had much more to do with John Lee's wife before he fucked her. Sam Dolan pulled back, still holding the Korean beauty's hand in his. "Come my dear," he said softly as he led her over to the bedroom part of the set. So-Young couldn't believe the man's self-control and will power and it just made her want to give up her own control and submit to his will even more. She padded obediently behind him to the edge of the double bed. The man stroked her tits and belly as he said, "Your husband is going to love the pictures we've taken so far. But you know he'll really lose his mind when he sees your beautiful body laid out on a bed for his pleasure, won't he?" This little word play served a dual purpose for Sam. He'd found that every reference back to the original plan appeared to make it easier for his victims to think that whatever outrageous thing he asked them to do next, it fit properly into that plan. The other purpose was for his alibi tape. Sam had a couple of wide-angle video cameras in the ceiling that covered the entire set. Their microphones were mated to other mics by the sofa and bed. If anyone ever challenged him on the authenticity of a wayward wife's model release signature on his full-ownership/full-use contract, all he had to do was show them the video of the wife agreeing to everything; all in the name of pleasing her husband. "Yes, yes he will," So-Young said honestly. She could easily imagine her husband John taking her on their marital bed, with the Boudoir album lying open alongside them so he could be sure she was in the same position as in the photos. It made her pussy tingle even more and she wished John was here right now so Sam could take photos of them making love. Then, Sam's finger was inside her wet pussy and So-Young's imagination took another leap; to where John took Sam's camera to take pictures of her fucking another man. When the little man slipped a second finger inside her, So-Young grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to her tit. He suckled as he finger-fucked her and the enchanted wife felt an orgasm building up inside her. Then suddenly Sam was gone and So-Young felt desperately empty. He marched over to where her original red satin baby doll lay on a chair and tossed it at her. She barely managed to capture the outfit against her torso; her eyes were wide, wanting Sam's touch, his direction. "Put that on," he growled, struggling to hold himself back from attacking the dripping pussy. But he put the attention on her, to build up her own passion. "You liked my fingers inside of you, didn't you?" She eagerly nodded yes. "But that wouldn't be enough for you would it?" She looked a bit perplexed. "What do you want even more than my fingers?" A smile grew on her face. "Your cock!" she declared. "Won't you give it to me?" His return smile was decidedly more evil than hers. "Oh yes, yes I will. But we need other images first. I know that once I give you my cock, I won't be able to see straight and so won't be able to take any more pictures. And you want more pictures for your portfolio, don't you?" So-Young was very pleased to know that Sam thought she'd fuck him cross-eyed, but he was such a strong man, such a professional about his photography, and she knew he was right, she did want more pictures for her album. More naughty pictures to show her husband. And her friend Chae-Won, she thought suddenly. That would be a whole other type of fun to compare photos with her sexy friend. She kept smiling as she put on the baby-doll she'd brought from home. For the next 30 minutes Sam posed her on the bed in the red satin and in the other outfits she'd worn in the "living room." But this time each set ended up with her more exposed; finding different ways to pull the fabric of the outfits either up into her soaking wet crack, or away from her straining nipples or cutely wrinkled asshole. The last shots captured So-Young's face and body straining in orgasm as she frantically played with herself through a set of crotchless panties. Now she eyed Sam's crotch with almost ravenous hunger, but he forced a bottle of mineral water into her hand and told her to take a drink and then put on the red satin baby doll again. "No more wine?" she asked, though that wasn't what she was really frustrated about. "We want to be relaxed, not sloppy," he replied. Another link in the alibi tape; 'No, he hadn't gotten her drunk and taken advantage.' So-Young did what she was told. Sam walked over to a shelf against the wall and returned with a plastic box. He pulled off the lid and she saw it was full of different types of sex toys and lubricants. "It's time for the next stage," he told her in his firm, masterful voice. He brought over a video camera mounted on a tripod and set it up pointing at her sitting on the edge of the bed in her red pajamas with their wet stains. He turned it on. He picked up his still camera and started taking more pictures of her as he spoke. "We've taken the "safe" photos you can show your friends and the "exposed" photos you can show your nastier friends. Now we're going to take some toy photos that will make your husband really excited. Then we're going to take the pictures with the real cock. It's up to you if you share those with John." Sam moved so he was in front of and just to the side of the video camera, so she was almost looking into it as she looked at him. "And we're going to add video, to really capture your pleasure and excitement. Is that what you want, baby?" Sam demanded. "Do you want me to take photos and videos of you fucking yourself with your fingers? With toys? With another man's cock?" She began doing the first thing, pulling the crotch of her pajama bottom to the side and jamming her fingers inside her cunt before answering. "Yes! Fingers, toys and cock! I want you to record it all, to take pictures of everything." "Did you know you wanted to be an exhibitionist before? Have you ever wanted your husband to show you off in public? Or take dirty pictures of you and put them on the Internet?" "Oh, my God!" the bewitched young woman cried out. "I've never done that, never talked about it. But you're right, I do want to. God, the idea is so exciting." Her fingers were flying over her clit. "Let people watch me. Let them know what a slut I am! Ah ah ah," she screamed in another orgasm. Sam was feeling golden. He didn't plan on her, or especially her husband, ever finding out what he was going to do with her photos and video, but even if they did, this last little bit would make it very clear it was all with her consent and even desire. And of course, he wouldn't ever have to tell them that the consent had been obtained fraudulently by his three magic monkeys CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," said Morgana Delacroix to her two young partners in the basement of the Amorous Goods mansion. "What does it mean to you?" Vikki answered first, with her undergraduate studies in history and a graduate degree and experience in archiving academic and literary collections. "Most people tie it back to ancient China and the teachings of Confucius and/or Buddhism. Either way, we know it best in the west with its treatment in Japan after Buddhist monks introduced the maxim. And all of that boils down to living properly. Not taking part in evil or looking for it in others. Don't pre-judge, don't blindly accept bad things you hear; really look and listen and learn. And don't speak evilly about other people and ideas, even if you don't agree with them." Dylan's degree was in the much more pragmatic school of business and his post-graduate studies had been in the cold-blooded arena of deal-making and profit-taking. He laughed. "Gee, I always thought it was more a code of silence, like among the Mafia. 'Sorry, Officer, I didn't see anything, I didn't hear anything, and I'm not saying anything.'" Morgana smiled ruefully. "You two have framed it perfectly. From Vikki's side, imagine a bracelet with a light charm to help its wearer have a more open mind, not be judgmental of people different from her, and to be more open minded to new images, sounds and ideas. A very nice charm, intended for good. But over on Dylan's side, what if that charm was corrupted so that the wearer started to lose her sense of right and wrong? What she saw and heard while wearing the bracelet never seemed evil. And she wouldn't say anything to stop those acts. She might not even say anything after taking the bracelet off, because they'd never registered as evil actions." "How far could it go?" Dylan asked worriedly. "Is it like the hypnotist we talked about earlier? You can still only push a person up to their personal limit, but not beyond?" "I think that's why Ludwig put in that question mark in the ledger," the occultist replied. "I don't think he knew how far past their normal limits a person would go. Remember that even a non-evil enchantment can make people admit to and act upon fantasies they'd never really considered before; like the charmed lingerie. But a truly cursed item could potentially make the wearer think there was nothing wrong with murder. Or since Ludwig specialized in erotica, that there was nothing wrong with rape. Even their own. It could turn a person into a monster or a monster's victim." CHAPTER NINETEEN. Sam went into a frenzy of activity; switching between still and video cameras. He had So-Young use the different toys in different positions and different outfits. He had a mental checklist of special requests he'd received from subscribers and tried to fill as many of those as he could because they would bring in the biggest tips. He had her talk about craving her husband's cock for one audience and then belittle John's cock for another audience. He kept letting her know how beautiful, how sexy, how professional she was and how good she was doing with her photo shoot; her completely normal photo shoot. She'd never deep-throated a cock, but now she'd taken three different sized dildoes. The same was true for her ass. Sam had learned he could get anyone to give up their ass at least once, but if getting past that initial uncertainty and fear didn't develop some true pleasure from the act, it was better to let it go, rather than risk breaking the spell. So-Young clearly had been raised to believe it was tabo

Amorous Goods: Three Horny Monkeys Part 1

AMOROUS GOODS: THREE HORNY MONKEYS [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-three-horny-monkeys] � PART 1 IF NOTHING IS EVIL, THEN IT'S ALL GOOD AT AMOROUS GOODS Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-12.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]. AT AMOROUS GOODS CHAPTER ONE. Vikki Friday pulled a box off one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves that ran in rows across the basement of the Amorous Goods mansion and carried it over to a large oak work table. She took off the lid and was hit with the comfortably familiar scents of decaying paper and fountain ink one always found in older archives. The long unopened box also had a dusty odor, which was another normal element she'd come to expect when wading into a neglected collection like this. Except, the dusty odor she'd found in the Amorous Goods archive was unlike any she'd ever encountered before. It was spicy or smoky or flowery; she could never decide, because it always seemed to be shifting. Sometimes she wished she could bottle it as a perfume {Or an aphrodisiac! declared her Inner Voice.}, because it was so heady. Other times she immediately wanted to put the lid back on the box because the scent was more frightening than arousing {Brimstone!}. Her newest partner in this bizarre venture, Morgana Delacroix, said the odors were a by-product of the spell or curse that lay over so many of the items that Vikki's far-distant and now-deceased uncle, Ludwig Freitag, had collected. Ludwig had assembled an incredible variety of items, ranging from rare manuscripts and Louis the sixteenth furniture to first editions of Playboy magazine and furnishings from Fannie Porter's Texas brothel where Butch Cassidy was a favored guest. But ancient or modern, classy or trashy, everything was united by a theme of love, romance, or sex. According to Morgana, one of Uncle Ludwig's specialty areas was erotic enchantments, and items imbued with one of these enchantments raised powerfully amorous feelings in the people who used them. Vikki had naturally scoffed at such ideas at first and jokingly called the older woman Morgan le Fay for her witchy beliefs. But ever since the time Vikki had found herself apparently overcome by that musky "amorous" odor and succumbing to its influence, she'd had to temper her usual academic's skepticism. Vikki felt a warm feeling creep through her as she remembered that episode. She'd been here alone in this very room, like now. She'd opened one of the older specimen cases and found it held a collection of antique dildoes. The scent that had blossomed out when she removed the lid had hit her like walking into an Amsterdam coffee shop. An Amsterdam coffee and florist shop, she amended. {A French whore's bedroom inside an Amsterdam coffee and flower shop!} By the time the ventilation system had cleared enough of the odor away to allow Vikki to regain her senses, she'd found herself lying on this very table. Her skirt was up around her waist, her panties were hanging from one ankle, and she had two of the antique sex toys inside her, still moving slowly in and out as she came down from the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced just from masturbation. The ventilation fan in the ceiling kicked in just then, bringing Vikki out of her reverie. {That weak, old ventilation fan? You know it didn't save you from the fumes.} No, each time she'd thought about that episode, she'd become more certain that while the intoxicating odor had made her head swim and made her want to touch the dildoes, {And their touch had led to the rest}, it was only her orgasm itself that had finally broken the spell. Vikki hadn't told Morgana or her business partner Dylan about the episode with the unusual artefacts. {You mean the magic dildoes?} She'd simply cleaned them off (after putting on heavy rubber gloves over latex gloves), put them back in their box and moved them to the large walk-in vault that they'd found in the sub-basement. When she'd updated the collection inventory, Dylan had asked how she'd known the pieces were among the special items that required locking away. She'd simply said that the paperwork in the box with the antiques had been clear enough. Morgana had looked at her suspiciously, but thankfully hadn't pressed her on the subject. Now Vikki literally shook her head and looked into the open box on the table. Just papers here, no ebony or ivory cockes to entice an unattached archivist. Pulling on white cotton gloves, she brought out the pages of the first item and spread them across the table. She would appraise the item and enter it into the growing index of Amorous Goods holdings on her laptop. She needed this; a good old-fashioned session of appraising and cataloguing. Something mundane and pedestrian to help her re-center her mind after their most recent artefact recovery mission. CHAPTER TWO. Vikki had been sorting through the papers in the box for about half an hour when she heard the door from the upstairs open. That was followed by footsteps coming down the stairs and soon Dylan was standing by her side. "The shop's all locked up for the night, Cousin. Can I interest you in a glass?" He held up a bottle of red wine he'd carried down with him. The two young people didn't share a bloodline, but family marriage ties had brought them together as kids, when they'd spent several summers together and "cousins" was what the grownups called them. When Vikki had needed someone's help managing the expansive business inheritance left to her out of the blue almost a year ago now, she'd naturally turned to her 'cousin' Dylan. "Sure," she said, peeling off her cotton gloves. "How was business today?" Since they could no longer hastily liquidate Amorous Goods or the AG as they'd taken to calling it, they had to keep the business going and this had become their division of labor. Vikki worked as quickly as she could to curate the terribly disorganized collection of items spread across the classic 19th-century robber-baron mansion, trying to determine what was safe to sell or display and what needed to be moved down here to the basement or locked in the sub-basement. Dylan kept the antique store on the ground floor of the converted mansion, as well as the boutique hotel known as The Amorous Inn on the upper floors, open, bringing in revenue they needed to stay on top of taxes, utilities and the expenses of recovering items they had sold in ignorance early on. Dylan chuckled as he retrieved a corkscrew and glasses from a small galley installed in a corner of the basement. "Apparently, your Uncle Ludwig wasn't the only old pervert in these parts." He paused as he uncorked the bottle and poured out two generous balloons. Even after several months, it was still hard for Vikki to reconcile that the young man she'd grown up with as a cousin, wasn't really a blood relative, while some old German 'Casanova-wannabe', as she thought of him, was. Second uncle, thrice-removed or some such nonsense, but Ludwig Freitag had known the link between the Friday and the Freitag branches of the family tree and had left his odd estate to his distant niece Vikki. Dylan continued his story as he handed Vikki a glass. "We had an entire busload of senior citizens up from the city; I think they actually came from two or three different retirement homes." Vikki's jaw dropped open as she accepted her wine. "You're kidding, right?" Dylan lifted his glass up in a silent toast and said, "I kid you not," before taking a long sip. "Blue hair, liver spots, walkers and canes...and before you ask, no, they weren't here by accident. Naughty old Amorous Goods was one of the main stops on their itinerary." He took another sip, trying to wash away the memory of shriveled old ladies cooing over the life-sized molds of Famous Cocks in History. "May we have that sort of energy in 50 years," Vikki said, raising her own glass in toast to libidos that were not willing to go gentle into that good night. "How about you?" Dylan asked. "Any more possessed lingerie we need to recover before the new owners turn into streetwalkers?" "No, thank God." She shivered, remembering how close the wives of a nearby town's mayor and sheriff had been to sexually servicing a bunch of guys at a muscle car convention after they'd picked up some risqu� outfits that had made their way from the AG to a costume shop in the city. "But I have come across an inventory sheet that lists and describes some of the pieces we sold to that jewelry liquidator in one of the first lots we sent out the door," Vikki said. "Okay, I remember that one," replied Dylan. "It was like nine or ten nice antique pieces that didn't scream, 'I came from a whorehouse!' right?" Vikki nodded and Dylan continued. "I thought they were just nice jewelry that Ludwig and his cronies used as normal bribes to get sex from women. Please don't tell me they were cursed too? We got a decent price for those and can't really afford to have to buy them back." Vikki still had trouble using the word 'cursed', but was also still unable to offer any more rational explanations for things like two town matrons in their forties or fifties offering to let a dozen or more car collectors fuck them in the back seats of each of their cars. {Or a strait-laced archivist giving herself a dildo DP right here on this table.} CHAPTER THREE. Vikki took a sip of wine to collect herself and heard the upstairs door opening again. It was Morgana Delacroix. {Speaking of older women who could still rock a Madonna bustier hard enough to get conventioneers to shell out a few hundred dollars for a rumble in the back of their old 55.} "Perfect timing," Vikki said to their mentor in the Arcanum of bewitched erotica as she made her elegant way down the stairs. "I was just telling Dylan about some new information I've come across that I'm having trouble understanding." Dylan poured out another glass of wine and handed it to Morgana when she reached the table. The enigmatic beauty smiled her thanks and took a sip. Her smile widened. "Dylan, my dear, you've been reading those vintner books I gave you, haven't you? This is delicious." {He's blushing!} Vikki was going to have to talk to Dylan. Yes, they'd had to quickly take Morgana in as a quasi-partner because of her experience and expertise, but they really still knew very little about her. {Jealous? her pesky voice asked. He's not a blood-cousin after all, and he is pretty studly.} Vikki tamped the voice down. "So;� the archivist proffered. "I've been looking for information about more of the stuff we sold from the store and the Inn before we knew the...um...risks. Well, today I came across some inventory lists and recognized a couple of pieces of jewelry that Dylan and I sold as part of a larger lot to a liquidator soon after we took over the AG." A look of concern came into Morgana's face. "Anything dangerous?" "That's what's got me confused," replied Vikki. She slid one of the sheets she'd been examining over to the edge of the table so the other two could read it. "This is an inventory list of small pieces, like jewelry and some of the curios we've seen on shelves all around the mansion." "Okay," said Dylan, pointing. "I know these three items are in the store in the Love Potions and Charms display." "Yes," agreed Vikki. "You see the letter 'S' by each one? That indicates they're in the store. You can also see those three items were apparently all acquired by AG at the same time, some 5 years ago." She pointed to a column of dates. "And this other date; that's how old the thing is?" asked Dylan. Vikki nodded. "Damn! Each of those weird little things is more than 125 years old!" Dylan exclaimed. To Morgana he said, "The only reason we didn't try to sell those at the beginning is because they were marked with what seemed like such ridiculously high prices that we didn't know their real value or what we should ask. Now that we know they really are truly antique I begin to understand their price tags." "I suspect," Morgana replied smoothly, "That their cost is about much more than just their age. You see the next column?" She pointed at the paper. "Yeah," he replied. "What does the letter 'E' mean?" Fortunately, interpreting someone else's personal shorthand was one of the skills an archivist developed early on in her studies and Vikki answered. "It appears Ludwig had a system of labelling the, er, status of each item as either Clear, Enchanted, Cursed, or Unknown. You'll notice he used 'K' for Clear, spelling it 'Klar', like in his native German." Dylan's eyes widened. "All three of those pieces are labelled, Enchanted. Holy shit! You mean they really work? They can really make someone fall in love?" Morgana answered. "Knowing how precise Ludwig was, I'd say, yes, they all have working love charms on them." Vikki's eyebrows went up in automatic skepticism. "Love charms?" Morgana smiled. She knew the younger woman couldn't help herself, but she also knew that Vikki's doubts were being inexorably chipped away by everything she was seeing around her. "In layman's terms, yes," the occultist said. "Now, how well the charm worked, or for how long, or with what effect could be wildly different. For example, a skilled and subtle practitioner might cause the recipient of a charmed gift to simply be more open to the person who gave them the gift; opening the door for love you might say. On the other hand, a spell applied too heavily or handled improperly, could turn the object of your affections into an obsessed stalker." "But since these are marked Enchanted rather than Cursed, they shouldn't be too dangerous, right?" asked Dylan. "Well, in general, that's right. But as we've discussed, even a seemingly benign enchantment can have unintended consequences." "The Mayor's wife," said Vikki. "The Mayor's wife," Morgana repeated in agreement. IN THE BIG CITY CHAPTER FOUR. The Mayor's wife wanted to give her husband a special reward for winning his latest election. She enlisted the help of her friend, the Sherriff's wife, whose husband had also been re-elected. Because both men had run on law and order platforms and had made much of their success in getting hookers off the streets of their small, family-friendly town, the two town matrons decided it would be funny and fun to give their husbands a bawdy weekend in the big city. They would tell the men to meet them at a swank hotel for a supposedly normal celebration and then surprise them by acting like their own high-price call girls. The ladies wanted the proper attire, but didn't want to be seen buying it in their own town. So, they went into the city a day early, telling their husbands honestly that they would have one girls' day of shopping before their husbands came for two days of celebrating their re-elections; out of the public eye of the people who'd elected them. A look through the Yellow Pages led them to an exotic clothing/costume shop near the edge of downtown, where the neighborhood started becoming more disreputable. As the women perused the racks of leather and lace, they found themselves inexorably drawn toward the higher-priced end of the store. They'd seen camisoles, corsets and bustiers in the earlier sections, but the elevation of quality in material and workmanship at this end was obvious even to their unpracticed eyes. It was as if they'd walked from the Walmart Halloween costumes to Madonna's custom stage outfits. In the end, Mrs. Mayor picked out a crimson corset that gave an hourglass shape to her slightly chubby midriff, but let her big boobs spill over the top deliciously. Mrs. Sheriff was much thinner, with small tits, but her black bustier gave her a breath-taking cleavage, like she'd always envied in Mrs. Mayor. The garments were already partnered with perfectly matched panties, garters, stockings, sheer robes, and for Mrs. Mayor, a bandage strap bra if she didn't want to start with her boobs already hanging out over the top of the corset. In the end, both women ended up spending far, far more on their costumes than they'd ever imagined. But after handling them and then trying them on in the dressing rooms, there was no way they could deny themselves, or their husbands, the indescribable sensuality of such high-quality lingerie. As they walked out the door with their shopping bags, the proprietor was congratulating herself on scooping up such wonderful pieces at such bargain prices, and then turning them around with a massive profit. That young couple at Amorous Goods really had had no idea what they were dealing with when they let such special merchandise go at such cheap prices. When the ladies got back to their hotel, each was eager, almost desperate, to try on her new outfit again. Fortunately, they could see it in each other's eyes, so no fake excuses were needed as they parted ways in the corridor and went to their rooms. Soon the street clothes were off, the whore clothes were on, and two women in their late 40's were touching themselves in front of their mirrored closets. Then each got the same idea. Her girlfriend hadn't seen her modelling her outfit when they tried them on at the store. It would be good to compare and see if her friend looked as hot as she did. Mrs. Mayor had quickly discarded the bra when modelling for herself, but thought that for the sake of modesty as she walked down the hall, she should probably put it back on. Mrs. Sheriff also made a nod to modesty by donning the floor length sheer gown over her bustier, garter belt and thigh-high stockings. The idea that they were considering outfits from The Rocky Horror Picture Show as modest enough to wear outside their hotel rooms showed just how enchanted their AG outfits really were. Mrs. Mayor took one last look in the mirror and almost decided to lose the bra again and just let it all hang out. But, in the end, she decided she should wait and take it off for her girlfriend in Mrs. Sheriff's room. Yes, that would give her the whole effect. She grabbed her key card, stepped into the hallway and turned toward her friend's room on the other side of the elevator bank. Mrs. Sheriff's gown had no fasteners in the front and was cut to hang open just outside her tits, but as she modelled in front of the mirror, she decided to clutch it closed in her hand for now to cover up her new cleavage. Not that she was embarrassed, hell no. But she pictured knocking on Mrs. Mayor's door and when her friend opened up, Mrs. Sheriff would let her robe fall open and she would see her sexy friend's honest, surprised reaction. Mrs. Sheriff was confident it would be a very pleased reaction. Morgana Delacroix would have said the two sexy outfits were drawn to each other and thus mystically synchronizing the two women's movements, but to Mrs. Sheriff it was just a pleasant surprise when she stepped out of her room and saw Mrs. Mayor in the same position some yards down the hall. The two women walked toward each other; slowly, sensually, letting the other take her in step by step. Each immediately recognized that her friend was also wearing her new outfit and registered all the sexy details as she came closer. There were two elevators side-by-side in the middle of the hallway and the women stopped just

Amorous Goods: The Victrola Part 2

AMOROUS GOODS: THE VICTROLA [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-the-victrola] � PART 2 AN OLD RECORD PLAYER AND A RING CHANGES THEIR LIVES. Based on a post by ShowTime8 [https://www.literotica.com/s/amorous-goods-gaudus]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/amorous-goods/AmorousGoods1-11.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]. It was the end of the quarter for us, and I was tied up in meetings and spreadsheets for several days, making sure everything was as it should be. I went over all the expense reports, the balance sheets, and the spreadsheets provided by the various departments. I also spent a lot of time making sure our tax filings were correct, so I didn't have much time at work to do any research on the record player. I also spent that time watching Terri closely. I noticed some things after a few days. Call it a trend, if you wish. For starters, she always wore that ring on the days she went to the Parker house. I also realized that we never had sex on those days, or most of the other days for that matter, but Never on the days she wore that ring. I also noticed her temperament was quite different on the days she was at the house. Instead of the carefree, happy woman I married, she seemed distant and sometimes short-tempered. At first, I thought it was the stress of selling the place, but she was always under stress to sell more property, so that couldn't be it. What was so different about those days, I wondered. I also noticed that she was spending more days at the Parker house than before, and she was coming home later and later. Sometimes, she wouldn't get home before midnight. She always dressed professionally and she never appeared disheveled when she came home. I never said anything because I didn't want to set her off. The few times I asked if everything was okay, she simply said, "just fine," waving me off before she turned and went the other way. Eventually, the kids began to notice as well. Both of them came to me, asking if there was anything wrong between Terri and me. "It's just that damn house she's been trying to sell," I told them. "Well I hope she sells it soon. It's like she's two different people, and I want our old Mom back," April said. "Yeah, me too," I said. It was about the middle of October when things settled down at work. By then, I had found what I thought might be a solution to the volume issue. I found a couple websites where people said they used to put socks in the horns to quiet them a bit. According to one site, that's where the phrase, "put a sock in it" came from. Whatever works, I thought, but I didn't want to use anything that might scratch the ornate wooden horn, so I found a nice soft towel and decided to give that a try. The next day, I put the towel in the horn of the old player and tested it with "Stars and Stripes Forever." Sure enough, it worked like a charm. I could even open the office door as it played and no one was bothered by it. I decided to try it with the unlabeled record during my lunch hour. When the time came, I grabbed my lunch out of the refrigerator; a sandwich, a banana, a small bag of chips and a Pepsi; packed by myself, since Terri was too busy these days to really care about much except her work. I closed the door, put up my "out to lunch" sign and pulled the shades; a signal to everyone else to leave me alone; and fired up the player. I had just taken a bite out of my sandwich when I heard the voice of a man with a slight accent come out of the horn. "Good afternoon, Mr. Thornton," the man's voice said. I nearly spewed Pepsi out of my nose when that happened. I looked at the Victrola, shocked. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. Thornton. Jack, isn't it? May I call you Jack?" "Uh, yeah, Jack is fine," I said. "And who are you?" "I'm Jonas Parker," the man said. "But how can that be?" I asked. "You're dead. Aren't you?" "It is true that my physical body no longer functions and is what you would call 'dead,' at least on the physical plane you perceive as reality, but the essence of who and what I really am continues on," the man said. "You might call it the soul." "But how is that possible?" I asked. The man laughed before continuing. "What was it the Bard once wrote?" Jonas asked. "Ah yes, 'There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' You have no idea how correct he was." "But how can you be speaking to me through this phonograph?" I asked. "Because it was once mine," he said. "It was in my home for many years and like so many other things in my home, it has become what you might call enchanted. Or cursed, as the case may be. Although I am glad it is now in the hands of someone who appreciates history as you do. I know it will be well cared for." "You still haven't answered my question," I said. "HOW is all this possible?" "Very well," the man said. "I don't have time to explain more than 50 years of work, but I'll give you a brief synopsis. In 1921 an amateur archaeologist named Alfred Watkins discovered that ancient sites around the world, both man-made and natural, seemed to have a form of alignment. When looked at on a map, they seemed to be arranged in straight lines. These lines were later called 'ley lines,' and the points where those lines intersect were thought to be highly charged with pockets of supernatural energy that can be harnessed by some individuals. "It turns out that my house happens to sit at the intersection of six of these lines. My grandfather was something of a spiritualist in his day, and felt there was something special about the location, so he built the house there, long before Watkins made his discovery. Naturally, I took up his work and traveled the world looking for clues; anything that might give me answers. "Along the way, I collected a number of artifacts and trinkets that on their own, held some amount of power. But when brought together at that location, their power grew in ways you cannot imagine. I learned to harness the power of those objects for my own benefit. You see, the so-called 'scientific community' wasn't interested in hearing about what men like Watkins had to say. They dismissed it as just so much hokum." "So I endeavored to prove them all wrong. I spent over a half century collecting and researching. I sold many of the items I collected, but there were others I kept for myself. You wouldn't believe the mountain of information I gleaned. Eventually, I was able to understand nearly all of it, but there was one step I had to take before I could realize my ultimate goal," he said. "What was that?" I asked. "I had to let my physical body die," he said. "So I did. And voila, here I am." "You're mad," I said. He chuckled. "Perhaps," he said. "I've been called that and much worse, by experts. But consider this. Of the two of us, which one is holding a conversation with a machine?" "I see your point," I said. "Each of us has a purpose, Jack," he said. "Mine is to travel the space-time continuum and enjoy whatever is out there. Yours is to raise your two children to be responsible adults. And your wife is fulfilling her purpose even now as we speak." "What are you talking about?" I asked, my anger rising. "Oh come on, Jack, surely you know what I'm talking about," he said. "You mean selling your house?" He laughed out loud. "Selling it?" he asked. "Heavens no. She's not selling it. She preparing it." "For what?" I asked. "Quit talking in riddles, dammit!" "For our return," he said. "My wife was taken from me years ago by a cruel disease. In short, I was robbed of a lifetime of love and happiness. I intend to get that back." "How do you plan to do that?" I asked. "And what role does my wife play in your scheme?" "I'm sure you noticed the ring she was given," he said. "The pattern came from an ancient tribe of people who believed the dead could replace the souls of the living. The pattern on that ring makes it possible. Your wife's body will soon host my dear departed wife's soul for good. Haven't you noticed the changes in your wife recently?" "I have," I said. "That's because the human mind was not made to house two people," he said. "My wife's soul is slowly taking your wife's body and mind over. In the meantime, she's learning to adapt and use what your wife's body has to offer. And I must say, it's quite exhilarating. Your wife sure knows how to be a wild woman in bed, the way my Annabelle once was." "And what happens to my wife's soul?" I asked. "Eventually, it will replace Annabelle's in the great beyond," he said. "Before long, there'll be no need for the ring. When Annabelle gets strong enough, she'll push your Terri out completely." "You'll never get away with this," I said. He laughed. "Jack, Jack," he said condescendingly. "Please don't insult my intelligence. Look at the big picture here, will you? There's no way you can stop what has already started. And who would believe you? You'd be sent to a mental institution, and who would be left to care for your children. Hmm? Why not simply accept the inevitable and get on with your life? There are other women out there, you know. Many of them would love to be with someone like you." "This can't be real," I said quietly. "Oh, but it is real, Jack," he said. "It's as real as it gets. Look, I'd love to chat some more, but the record finished playing long ago and I really need to get back to what I was doing. I know this is a lot for you to embrace at one time. Terri has left a message for you on one of the records you bought this morning. The label is clearly marked. In the meantime, listen to this;� His voice went away and was replaced by moaning and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. I could hear a woman's voice in the background and knew it was Terri. "Oh God, yes," she moaned. "Fuck my pussy, Master. Keep fucking me. Cum inside my slutty cunt." I heard a man groan out loud and then there were no more sounds. I looked and saw the needle was in the final groove next to the label. How long had it been there, I wondered. Shocked, I lifted the needle and stopped the player. I pulled the wax record off the turntable and replaced it in its paper sleeve before putting it away. I looked through the other albums carefully and found one with an old RCA label marked, "To Jack From Terri." Strange, I thought. That wasn't there this morning. How could this possibly be? I thought about playing that record, but had another idea. I had a turntable at home that could play 78 RPM albums, so I decided I would take the record home and listen to it there, and if necessary, confront my wife. I looked at the time and realized my lunch break was nearly over. Could I really have been conversing with a dead man through an old phonograph that long? Stunned and shocked, I tossed the rest of my lunch away and went back to my desk. I called Terri's office, hoping to speak to her. "Is Terri Thornton available?" I asked the receptionist. "I'm sorry, Jack, but she's been out all day," the receptionist said. "I don't expect her back until sometime tomorrow. Can I leave a message?" "No, that's alright," I said. "I'll talk to her later." I ended the call, then pulled out the card and called Vikki. "Hello, Jack, I was expecting your call," she said. "Would you like to come over so we can talk?" "Yes," I said. "How did you know I'd be calling?" "Call it a woman's intuition," she said. "I suggest the sooner you get here the better." "Okay, I'm coming right over," I said, ending the call. I went to Alan's office. He looked at me and invited me inside. I walked in and closed the door behind me. "What's the matter, Jack?" he asked. "You don't look too well. Are you feeling alright?" "I need to take some time off," I said. "Family emergency." "Well, you've got comp time coming, and we don't have anything pressing, so go ahead. Take a few days and get it under control," he said. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know." "Thanks, Alan," I said. "I appreciate that." With that, I went back to my office, put the record from Terri in my briefcase and headed out. I decided to drive by the old Parker place to see if she was there. Sure enough, she was. I could see her car along with another parked in front of the house. I couldn't get in because the iron gate at the driveway was closed. I looked but didn't see any signs indicating the place was for sale. Odd, I thought. From there, I drove straight to Vikki's shop. I was desperate for answers and I hoped she could give me some. When I got there, I went inside and saw her behind the counter. She looked up as I walked inside. "Good afternoon, Jack," she said. "I assume you want some answers." "You assume right," I said. She nodded her head, went to the door and locked it, putting up a sign that red, "Closed." She turned back and started walking to the back of the shop, I assumed, where her office was located. She stopped and looked back at me. "Perhaps you should come with me," she said. I followed her into a small, crowded office with a desk and three chairs. One of the chairs sat in a corner and was covered with an afghan. She invited me to sit in the other chair as she took her place behind her desk. "I take it you listened to the record with the blank label," she said. I nodded my head. "You might say that," I said. "More to the point, I had a conversation with the man who recorded that disk. What can you tell me about your uncle?" "Well, for starters, he was actually my great-uncle; my grandfather's oldest brother," she said. "He held two degrees. One in archaeology and another in history. He got married and taught for a while, but after his wife died of meningitis, he left the college and began exploring the world, collecting artifacts from all over. About 35 years ago, he finally settled back into the old house and opened this place. He never remarried and always talked about how he and his beloved wife would one day be reunited." "Did he say how that might happen?" I asked. She shook her head. "No, but he did talk a lot about otherworldly things," she said. "Supernatural things." "Was he involved with the occult?" I asked. She shrugged her shoulders. "I can tell you that he was accused of that, more than once, and I can tell you he dabbled in things I never really cared to mess with," she said. I nodded my head in understanding. "Would you like to see a picture of his wife?" she asked. "Sure," I said. She turned to her computer and pulled up a digitized black and white photograph of a stunningly beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. I looked at the photo in shock. She looked like the spitting image of my Terri. Vikki saw the expression on my face. I pulled out my cell phone and showed her a recent picture of Terri. She looked at it, shocked. "What's your wife's maiden name?" she asked. "Hanson," I said. Vikki opened another file on her computer. "Uncle Jonas was really into genealogy," she said. "He originally had everything on paper, but put it into a computer a few years before he died." She pointed at one entry in a box. "This was his wife; Annabelle. Her maiden name was Simpson and according to this, she had a sister, Freida. We know Annabelle didn't have any children and Uncle Jonas never remarried. Let's follow Freida's line and see what we come up with." We both examined the screen, following the lines down through the generations. Fortunately, there wasn't much to go through, but Vikki found it and pointed to a box on the screen. I looked and saw it: Terri Ann Hanson. A box next to it was connected with a line and had my name inside. Below that were the names of our children. "There's your answer," she said. "He was waiting for someone who resembled Annabelle." "Do you have a picture of your brother on here?" I asked. "Sure," she said, going back to the pictures folder. She pulled one up and showed it to me. "How much does he resemble your uncle?" I asked. "Quite a bit," she said. "His name is Donald. They were quite close." "Is it possible that your uncle had him give her that ring?" I asked. "Anything's possible, I guess," she said. "Did your uncle keep track of the things he picked up over the years?" I asked her. "Yes," she said. "Mostly for keeping inventory. It's all here in the database. He spent years putting it together." "Can you search for 'ring' and 'soul' in that database?" I asked. "Yes I can," she said, pulling up what looked like a custom program built for a database. She entered the search terms and hit enter. There were a few items displayed and most were marked as "sold." The top item, however, caught my eye. It was the exact ring I saw on Terri's hand. Vikki clicked on the item description and we red the entry Jonas had input. "According to this, he discovered the ring at a dig in central Africa," Vikki said. "Local legend had it that an ancient tribe used a ring like this to commune with the dead. The wearer could supposedly channel the spirit of someone who passed away and even take on some of that person's personality traits. But there's a warning. If worn long enough, the departed spirit could displace the spirit of the person wearing the ring." "Oh my God," I said. "Did Jonas say anything else? Like, how to reverse the process?" "He has an entry here that gives a chant," she said. "According to Jonas, it has to be spoken by two females, and one of them has to be related to the person wearing the ring." Terri's mother lived in Florida, and was too far to get here in time. But there was one other person. It was a risk, but if we were ever to get Terri back, it had to be done. "Would you be willing to help me break that spell?" I asked. "Yes, I would," she said. "But we need two females. Where are you going to get the other?" "I'll have to get her out of school," I said. "Print out two copies of that chant if you would please. I have to call the school." "Okay," she said. As she did that, I called April's school and told them there was a family emergency and I needed to pull her out. They wanted to know the nature of the emergency, and I simply told them it had to do with her mother. The vice principal I spoke to reluctantly agreed and I said I would there shortly. By the time I ended the call, Vikki was finished

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