For the seventh night in a row, Sonya Berg was dominating Daniel with her strap-on. It had been a week since she applied psychology to gain leverage over his body, and, unbeknown to the Golden Flower lodge, his library. Now she could rely solely on brute strength to reinforce her sovereignty in his mind, and her style of pegging was modified to do that.
The man was bent over with his hands on his thighs. Her arms ran horizontally to his shoulders, and her back was vertical. Keeping her focus on the rear end getting pounded by her crotch, she shed any concern for his reactions, and was intent only on delivering the most quick and agile performance conceivable. Her hips swung at his, deftly and decisively, sometimes bouncing his body upward, at other moments compelling him to seize his own dick. The motion resembled nothing so much as a ride on a speeding horse, though the rider was the one harnessed, and the steed was spurring her on.
"Yes, Sonya! Please! Fuck me! Kill me with your dick! Oh! Oh! Ah!"
Three more pumps came and she held it inside him, her jaw dropping in amazement. She had to bring her left hand to his hip to steady it as she sported, her torso shooting upward with every precise, deep insertion. Then her hands held his pelvis fast and he bent down farther to fix a hand on her bed. She smiled luminously at her power in play and leaned back to a forty degree angle so she could drive up the rapidity of thrusting even higher. Both of his hands clawed the bedding and she shifted gears to supply an instantaneous intrusion every two seconds, the pauses between the slams spent focused on the feeling of owning him. She entered a contest with herself to make each slide into the defenseless man's ass more direct and assertive than the one that fell before it. As though posing for a trophy while she fucked him, she set her left hand on her hip, and he came.
Daniel slumped against the side of her bed as the stoic beauty stood erect beside him, her mind reaching into the distant plans of her future. Without further thought of him, she strode to her bathing chamber, and he lost consciousness, curled into a ball.
At that time, Casey was meditating in her quarters downtown. The Wheel Of Fortune card was on the floor before her, but she sat with her eyes closed, in the lotus position, the backs of her hands upon her knees. Her right heel was beneath her left shin, and the end of her drawn dick rested lightly on her left ankle. Having had no luck investigating Reece's death using rational methods, she turned to the disciplines of her Order. With her mind cleared of naturally arising thoughtforms, she awaited a vision.
"Goddess, speak to your servant," she prayed.
The twin candle flames at her sides fluttered slightly, and in her mind's eye the woman saw a growing light. It expanded to the right and left simultaneously in her imagination, and before long it served as the tablet for a grotto scene. From the heavens cut a bright golden ray that exploded on contact with a raised blade, that she realized was also gold. The light seemed to have congealed into a sickle, which was brought down in a weak slash upon a sprig of mistletoe. The plant fell from the oak branch on which it had been growing, and continued plummeting into an endless chasm of total blackness, from which a malevolent and alien consciousness was watching the witch. She started to awareness as a cold draft killed the lights beside her, and she shivered.
"There you are," she said sternly.
A short time later she was on her laptop holding a cup of herbal tea, and reading about mistletoe. Parasitic in nature, it doesn't send roots into the earth, but instead grows upon other plants, draining their water and nutrients through invasive tendrils, called haustoria.
"Haustoria..." She picked up the tarot card and examined it. "Of course," she said, staring. Zipping up her tight jacket, she retracted her dick and shut down the computer.
Sonya lived on the fourteenth floor of her building, which was across from a park. At that hour no one was about, except Casey. She looked up and down the street, extended her ready cock from the slit in her pants, and bent forward to clasp it with both hands, the right at the head and the left at the base. Her thumb pressed down on the glans. Magically freed from gravity, she floated stably upward in the classic posture of a witch traveling on a broomstick. In ten seconds, her sporty sneakers landed gently on the balcony of Sonya's apartment.
The glass double doors parted, and she stepped inside. There was no movement, and the room was dark. On the desk were freshly penned documents. Casey turned on the lamp and found ownership papers for the Lucan Library.
"You can't beat her. She's too powerful."
