The Desire Principle

Author's Note:

This is the first chapter in the Desire Principle series to include NonConsent/Reluctance. I apologize to any members of my readership who do not enjoy these sorts of stories, as there will be several more before the end of the storyline. I hope that most of you will be able to read this objectively and enjoy it as what it is intended to be, a work of fiction.

Chapter 4: Perchance to Dream

Late in the day Jake pulled into his drive and turned off his car. He had thought that over the course of the drive home he would have been able to process his experience at the mall, but apparently that was not to be the case. While he was at this point quite certain that all of the strange occurrences - the bed, the pizza delivery, the shopping trip - had all actually happened, he did not feel any closer to understanding the

reasons

that they happened.

Jake took his one bag into his dark house, flicking on lights on his journey to the bedroom in an attempt to push back the nighttime. He left one lamp alone, still hesitant about his new bed despite his recent acceptance of it. Quietly he gazed into the room, a faint illumination trickling inside from the ambient light of the hallway. He allowed his eyes to adjust until he could make out the bed, disheveled blankets strewn about on its surface. He tossed his bag in, able to hear but not see it land in the corner. Having enough of the preamble, he stepped inside.

*****

The light of the sun predictably repeated its performance from several days prior, sneaking through the curtains to lazily fall upon Jake's bed. His shaggy mop spread out on the pillow, the light russet strands illuminated as if by a fading halo. Lazily he blinked his eyes open, yawned, and stretched all of his limbs as far away from one another as he was capable. He balled up his fists and wriggled his toes in sheer bliss. There were no cramps or aches to speak of anywhere on his body. The bed, soft and comfortable, had successfully alleviated any of the strain he had afflicted himself with from his accommodations on the night before.

Jake's eyes adjusted to his surroundings unhurriedly until he could distinctly make out his closet, smattering of framed pictures, and alarm clock that currently claimed that the time was eleven forty-seven in the morning. With very little concern he also examined the bed he was resting on, and was impassive when he found that it was the same one that had invaded his home so recently. Jake wasn't entirely certain of the cause, but when he arrived home last night he began to feel that all of his concerns over the Heart of Gold and the gifts it had brought him had been unfounded. With a clearer head over the whole ordeal he discovered that there was really nothing to fear at this point. The Heart seemed to only have his best interests in mind.

With a theatrical sigh Jake slowly drew himself up from the mattress. He looked about the room again and scratched at a few places on his body as he began to formulate a plan for the day. Embarrassed as he was to admit it, he wasn't immediately tantalized by the concept of going out and engaging in some new sex act. Over just the last two days he had quite effectively shattered any previous concepts he had about casual sex. It might be hard to keep things fresh at this rate, so he figured that caution was the better part of valor, for now.

In addition to his simple worry of not managing to retain an interesting and varied bouquet of sexual activities for himself to choose from, Jake was forced to admit that he still had utterly no idea what the Heart did exactly, or how. His wisest course of action might be to step lightly to avoid overusing it. If there were stipulations or requirements that he was not privy to, he might already have caused a good deal of harm. Finally satisfied with the fact that he was very likely not going to make any headway in his decision for the day's itinerary while in bed, Jake stood up and wandered to the bathroom to relieve himself.

As he moved past the medicine cabinet's mirror on his way to the toilet he caught a glimpse of himself, and was immediately reminded of the other reason that he seemed instinctively opposed to courting women. Jake wasn't an unattractive man, and in fact he was fairly typical for your average American. Of course that meant that he was carrying some extra pounds around the midsection and didn't pay much attention to his outward appearance beyond making certain that he didn't smell like a trash heap or appear visibly dirty.

While taking in his own body Jake couldn't help but have his gaze pulled to the Heart of Gold. He'd slept the night before in just a pair of boxer shorts, and the little golden trinket set out starkly on his bare chest. There were a few bruises still, and some yet healing cuts, from the night that Jake came into possession of the little mystery. Idly twisting the Heart between a thumb and forefinger, Jake surveyed himself again, this time with a new perspective.

Though clearly not perfect, or really even close, he realized that he had in his grasp an item with amazing powers that he simply couldn't understand. It wouldn't be a stretch to claim that the methods used by the charm could be magical in nature. Whatever the source of it however, it clearly had the potential to bring Jake whatever he wanted. Knowing this, he straightened up a little. He felt a surge of confidence run through him as he discovered that he didn't care if he looked like a model. Good looks and an impressive suit might turn a few heads, but with what Jake now wielded he could get more than a flirty glance from a pretty girl. With new eyes Jake appraised himself, and where he once saw a pauper, now he saw a prince. A smug smirk spreading across his face, he stepped into the shower and drew the curtain closed.

*****

Clean and feeling like a new man, Jake ran a comb through his flaxen locks as he surveyed the clothing available to him. His wardrobe consisted of ultimately one style of slacks and three types of shirts, with the only variation being color. He fished out a clean pair of black pants from a laundry basket that he had failed to sort and put away and pushed aside his closet door to find a suitable shirt.

Clearly work shirts were out, and Jake felt even a little annoyed looking at them as he knew that he wouldn't be needing them any time soon. That left him with the business-casual look of a polo, or the entirely casual look of a t-shirt. Jake took a moment to determine what his needs for the day might be.

He could, if he so wished, go hunting for a new job. That would mean a polo shirt would suit him best, but Jake wasn't all that eager to fall back into the usual routine so soon after discovering the wondrous item that he now owned. An entire world of experiences were almost literally within his grasp. It would be a terrible waste, and given the events that led directly up to his acquisition, he felt justified in determining that on some fundamental level he was owed a bit of time to relax and simply enjoy things.

Examining his assortment of t-shirts he was forced to realize that these too seemed rather tailored toward specific instances. Many of them had been purchased from online stores that pandered to an audience of tech-geeks and featured generally obscure references to video games or other media that the average passer-by might not be privy to. Jake tugged at a few, assessing them each in turn. "Too 1980's cartoon-y. Too online inside joke-y." He moved down the line with various similar comments, and began to wish that he'd been a little more mainstream. There had to be one that fit his style, but could appeal to a broader audience.

Jake spun around with sudden recollection, searching his bedroom floor for a bag that he had thrown there the night before. He spied it under the window, partially obscured by the floor-length curtain. He nearly dove for it, plunging his hand inside and drawing out his prize. Jake smiled as he inspected the shirt that he had purchased the previous day, after his encounter with Rosa. It would perfectly suit his needs, being subtle enough to not immediately identify him as an introverted moviegoer, but memorable enough to those that might actually be able to carry on a conversation about its origin.

It took a moment for Jake to realize that there was something still inside the bag, other than his receipt. Tossing the new garment onto his lush bed, he brought out the other article. Jake eyed it speculatively, at first thinking that it looked like a sock that had been rolled into itself. He shook it once to unravel the colorless fabric, and had to stifle a gasp when he came to understand what he was holding.

After their encounter in the specialty shop's restroom, it would seem that Rosa decided to sneak her panties into the Jake's bag, hidden by his purchase. Like many of the other things that had happened in the days past, Jake wasn't prepared to understand the ramifications of this latest turn. He simply stared at the underwear, his mind drifting to replay the course of events that had led to it being slipped off of Rosa's legs, and then again to it being tucked under Jake's new shirt.

Almost as if instinct were driving him, Jake brought the pristine white fabric to his face and inhaled deeply through his nose. He detected the heady aroma of a woman's arousal, feeling a sudden rush of blood sweep away from his brain and toward his groin as a result. Fearing that he may actually collapse from the dizziness, Jake made his way quickly to his bed and sat, contemplating the article of clothing.

It was again time for Jake to speculate over the exact workings of his charm. He had thought that something was amiss when he had first noticed the stark difference between Rosa's demeanor and that of the pizza delivery girl with whom he first used the Heart. Without ample time to consider the disparity Jake had been content to simply enjoy the moment, but now he found that he had an abundance of time and the questions began to form.

The delivery girl bolted as soon as I was done

, thought Jake, mentally drawing the comparison to Rosa's actions, which were coherent enough that she had managed to ask Jake's name, leave the restroom, and hide her own undergarment beneath his new shirt.

Maybe she was actually into it.

Jake found himself eyeing the heart-shaped trinket as he speculated whether or not it had anything to do with Rosa's actions.

Jake flopped back onto the bed, his shirt slipping to a crumpled heap on the floor and Rosa's underwear still looped around his thump, collecting in his palm. He stared up at the ceiling with the hope that somehow inspiration would strike him and shed much needed light on the function and operation of the Heart of Gold. No such revelation seemed to be on its way, but as Jake rested there he found that the almost undetectable weight of Rosa's panties in his hand brought to mind imagery of a different sort.

The previous day played out in Jake's mind like a movie being projected onto his ceiling. He could almost hear the sound of Rosa's panting breaths, smell the heady aroma of her arousal, and feel the slickness of her perspiring skin. Jake allowed his hand to drift down his own abdomen toward the clasp of his trousers. He languidly brought the undergarment toward his nose again, this time with a purpose that had been lacking in his reflexive actions before. With his hand sliding against his own skin, still moist from the shower, and the scent of Rosa's underwear filling his nostrils, Jake found himself even closer to his memory. When his fingers snaked under his waistband and touched the top of his shaft he exhaled sharply, adding the final audible element to his fantasy.

Jake's button and fly could have opened themselves on their own for how quickly they were bypassed, his eager erection not allowing him to delay. He took a more gentle approach however as he wound his hand around the waking serpent. He gingerly tugged at his foreskin with his thumb and three digits while his index finger softly brushed against the vein under the head. Another heavy whiff of the panties lifted him to a higher plane of arousal. His member stood with strength and resolve, his stroking becoming more rhythmic and forceful. Jake groaned softly into the cotton underwear, stretching his legs and arching his back.

A vision began to form, the byproduct of an active imagination. More realistic than a waking fantasy or a dream, Jake could actually almost see Rosa sauntering into his bedroom. He kept his eyes shut tightly, half in fear of losing the image and half in fear that he might actually find Rosa there as the soulless creation of his mystical trinket. She simply glided in as if on the wind, and Jake now noticed that she was wearing an arrangement of lingerie that revealed just enough to leave him wanting. Jake's hand began to pump faster up and down his pole. A grimace spread across his face as he battled with himself to keep stimulating his cock while attempting not to overdo it and draw himself rapidly to climax. He licked his lips subconsciously as he watched her move with supernatural grace until she was standing beside him.

Sensuously Rosa began the erotic motions of a dance, her hips twisting side to side as she gently caressed her own skin. The sheer peach-colored bra she wore already revealed so much, but when one of her hands slid up over one breast and around her neck, Jake was treated to a display of her arousal. The thin material began to mold to the shape of her hardening nipple, and just as Jake began to think that it would tear through the fabric, she turned to hide her chest from his wanton gaze.

In the mean time Jake was however being allowed a glimpse of her fantastic cheeks. They were prominently displayed in a pair of lace boyshorts that patently matched her bra, and as she pressed herself against Jake's bedroom wall she delicately turned her hips over to give him a view between her legs. Jake was certain that he could make out the shape of her alluring lips, and as she softly swayed he could almost definitely smell the scent of feminine excitement in the air. The very realistic aroma threatened to pull him out of the little fantasy, but he fought hard and managed to keep his eyes closed and enjoy the show as it continued.

A quiet click and whirr signaled Jake's air conditioning unit turning on, and moments later a cool breeze played over his naked chest and neck. Head still turned toward where his fantasy female danced for him, he used the hand not holding Rosa's white panties to stroke gently but persistently at his rapidly hardening erection.

Rosa pushed herself away from the wall cautiously, her swaying hips resuming their flirtatious maneuvers. Closer and closer she came to Jake, bending her knees so that her luscious buttocks approached the tip of his cock. Jake could feel her warmth hovering over him, and his fist reacted on instinct. He pumped his cock up and down, already envisioning his seed spurting out to splash against Rosa's pert cheeks. He began to feel the sensation at the base of his shaft, and gritted his teeth in preparation.

Rosa spun quickly, gazing down at his hand as it furiously brought him toward his approaching climax. She smiled and spoke. "Wouldn't you rather put that somewhere else?" Jake was stunned by the clarity of the sound, his hand stopping just before the point of no return. It was as if Rosa was actually there, and not just some phantom created by his active imagination. He was tempted again to open his eyes, but his will was stilled as Rosa lowered herself to a kneeling position beside the bed. Her hands came up to pull the drapery of he hair away from her face, and she gracefully descended her mouth to contact the tip of his prick.

Jake was certain of it now. He could actually feel the heat of her lips, the slickness of her tongue. She bobbed down to take in the first inch and his hand fell limply to his side. He whimpered slightly with pleasure, and drifted off to sleep.

*****

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Jake rolled out of the tangled mass of blankets on the floor of some ramshackle apartment. He stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in his arms and legs from the chase the night before. Taking a moment to survey his surroundings, he found that he was in the kitchen of the dank abode. The lights were off, having not been paid for in weeks. Natural illumination flitted in the window, peering around the large black and orange blanket that he used as a curtain.

Jake scratched at the back of his scalp, feeling the stubble that meant it was time to shave again. His head ached, from the inside. Too much running the night before. Too much fighting, too much tumbling, too much alcohol. He made his way for the toilet to relieve himself.

After pissing in the dark and making a general mess of the already vile bathroom, Jake pulled the window open. This one had no drape, but had been sprayed with black paint to keep out the light. Now unfettered, the sun's rays bounced off the yellow tile and gave him vision again. He stared in the mirror, seeing a chiseled face looking back at him. Cold grey eyes, naturally tanned skin, a bald head, and a smattering of scars made up the image. It was not Jake's face, but somehow, in this setting, it was the correct one. Jake blew his nose in some tissue he found by the sink and tossed it where he assumed a garbage can would be, but it simply landed on the floor, adding to the pile of other refuse.

His immediate needs satisfied, Jake turned and went back to the hallway. He looked to one side and saw the kitchen and living room, and looked to the other to find two doors, both closed. There was a nagging sensation in the back of his mind, telling him that he needed to do something. Slowly, and with purpose, he turned back to the closed doors.

Coming to the first, he opened it calmly. A closet. At first he simply thought that he would move on to the next, but he lingered. His hand, as if on its own, reached in and pulled out a knife. Long and wicked, it glinted in the errant light that reached from the bathroom window into the hall. Jake stared at it, one part of him filled with a terrible wave of horror, another part elated at seeing it, overtaken with a rush of adrenaline, a sense of power. He closed the closet and move on.

Standing outside of the next door, Jake could hear sounds within, barely audible. He felt a tingling sensation in his loins at the quiet rustling. Some part of him knew what was beyond the wooden barrier. He coaxed the door open silently, peering inside.

A figure was clearly lying in the center of the room, moving just slightly as if struggling against chains. There was a scent, which at first was hard to recognize. Jake's eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting, and he saw more and more with each moment. He stepped inside, attempting to make no noise.

The figure stirred, perhaps having heard him, perhaps simply sensing his proximity. Now, with the door closed behind him and his vision growing clearer, Jake made out the female shape. Slender, nude, and facing away from him, there lie a woman who couldn't be older than her late teens. She whimpered very quietly, and Jake thrilled at the sound. Her mouth was covered, he realized. She was gagged.

Jake stepped a little closer, taking in more of the scene. Though wearing no clothing, the girl had straps of cloth, or leather, tied to her ankles and wrists. Jake thought at first that they bound her limbs to each other, then noted several bolts in the floor. She was being tied down, so that she could not rise off of her hands and knees. He moved in closer. Her eyes were covered by a simple blindfold, knotted tightly behind her head to the straps of a ball-gag, which was what impeded her speech.