Michael was alone one afternoon, reading in his parents’ large suburban house. Two sudden, separated tones: the bell rang. He got up to answer it.
There was Sam, standing as she often did, with her hands on her hips with authority, in the type of outfit she tended to favor; short shorts, a t-shirt, sneakers without socks, and no visible panty lines or bra holding her apple breasts. She smiled up at him with her head cocked, anxious and hopeful, and he returned her smile instantly, and opened the screen door to greet her.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, Michael. How are you doing?” “Good, good. How are you?”
“Good,” she said, and meant it. She eyed him like a wolf eyeing a steak, teeth bared and watering. “I got your address from the camp office. Do you mind?”
“No,” he said, but he felt it a little strange.
“Is this your parents’ house?”
“Yeah. Oh, sorry, please come in,” he ushered, and she was in.
The door closed, gently, and they were alone.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve come,” Sam said, wringing her hands in front of her, slightly nervously. Michael stayed politely silent. The possibility that this young, deific nymph could want him was not given entrance to his mind. “You’re humble,” Sam said. “That’s special.”
Michael couldn’t help but smile, but he was confused. He blushed, and then laughed a little.
“You wouldn’t believe the way guys look at me,” she continued.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She composed herself a little, put her hands gently up onto his shoulders, moving him so that her back was to the front door, and he was facing her. Then she reached into his hand, and took the book he was holding, and tossed it onto the couch.
“I think it would be a lot better if I just showed you.”
They stood, facing each other for a moment, in a relaxed silence.
“Okay,” the nymph suddenly said. “Cum.”
Michael was going to laugh again; his lips crunched into a small circle to say ‘What?’ when there was a fierce jolt of electricity through his shorts. His penis stirred angrily into alertness. Michael’s eyes widened, and he took a step back.
“Cum!” Sam said again, and his dick shot out hard and quick to a full erection.
“CUM!” she repeated. An invisible hand seemed to be rubbing him violently to orgasm, and the blood within the shaft seemed as wild as the tides. He was almost there, it had taken five seconds. Michael couldn’t move, and wouldn’t have had he been able, his neck muscles especially seemed impossibly tense. His cock throbbed so strongly, he thought he could hear it hum in his head.
“CUM!!!!” she cooed, and he completely plastered the front of his underwear and t-shirt.
Michael looked down at the dying, pounding bulge with his arms out at his sides in total awe, and then looked up at her. She smiled like a salesman who had just closed a deal.
“Come with me,” she said, leisurely walking past him, and picking up his hand, “and I’ll answer all your questions. I promise.”
An hour later, they were in the living room, drinking tea, and he was still wearing a towel.
“So... let me get this straight,” he said. “You’re a what?”
“There is no word for it,” the girl acceded. “Some people might call me a pranic vampire. That’s a parasite that doesn’t suck blood, but drains life energy invisibly. Typically this energy is most concentrated in a male, usually during the act of love.”
Michael stared blankly, but seemed strangely pleased.
“And you are how old, now?”
“Well, a lot older than I appear to be, definitely. You know it’s not proper to ask a lady her age, Mike.”
“And...” this was the kicker, “you can make me cum just, whenever you want to.”
“It’s a survival trait, like the camouflage of a lizard, or the sight of an eagle.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and stared into space, marveling. He loved science, and a mutation like this; a creature like Sam; real, present, and healthy was... unbelievable.
“This is no small choice I am offering, Michael,” Sam said seriously. He tuned back in. “I have had many lovers, many pets, many sources of nourishment. I am, as you’ve intuited, very, very old. I am kept young and beautiful by the life I’ve absorbed from men, but I am more than I appear to be. If you reject this, I will reach into your mind and reprogram you, as you would a computer, to never suspect that this meeting took place. If you accept my offer -listen carefully now- there will be no turning back. There is no escape.
“Many men I have enslaved have had second thoughts a few years down the road. This is what happens, every time: they come to me, dissatisfied, and missing their freedom, and I steal the doubt from their minds effortlessly. All of a sudden, they are mine again, but the depression remains. They don’t know why, they’ve forgotten the reason; but they are still unhappy, and they can’t figure out the cause. As always, I am there, and as always, I give them the pleasure promised to them in our pact. And in this way, and I am speaking totally truthfully now, this brings them deeper into irrationality, and dependence upon me. To sum it up, rebellion only would strengthen your slavery.
“There is no going back.”
Michael wondered at it all.
“What I am offering, is this. I will support you. You will live with me. I am vastly wealthy, but have no use for money. It cannot sustain me. What I need is physical love. And I need it constantly. I may conduct some affairs in the world, but you will be home for me, always, and I will pleasure you to degrees you have never known, heights only a few men have guessed at, and our relationship will remain stable and discreet. I cannot let my secret be discovered.”
He nodded.
“Be under no illusion. You will love me with your entire soul, but you will only be one of many men I have used to sustain me over the course of their lifetimes, in my trip through eternity. You will age, but I will not. When your time comes, I will release you, and you will die, but I will go on. You are cattle for me. This is the deal, that I am offering. There is only one provision.”
“What is it?” he asked, his mouth dry.
“You will never be allowed to procreate. I alone will be your immortality. I will be your Goddess, your life, and your all.”
She allowed him some short time to meditate on what she had said, as she peered at him from under her broad forehead.
“What is your answer?”
He raised his head and looked at her.
“Oh, hell yes.”
And so, they became a couple.
To celebrate, or initiate Michael, Sam fucked him violently across his bed. They didn’t speak, but Sam dropped telepathic hints into his mind in response to his confusion.
(Yes, I can make you cum with suggestion, but I cannot absorb your life force unless we are joined in sexual union.))
She was straddling his lap, lazily whipping her pelvis onto his in a subdued ecstacy, holding the back of his neck with her left hand and using supernatural strength to knead and jerk his ass into hers with her right hand.
(Yes, I am stronger than you. Strength is useless to me, though, except in the most dire of circumstances. I can acquire anything I need through mental suggestion.))
She was drawing to the edge of fulfillment, and pulled her hand off his ass and reached back between her legs to grab his left leg over the back of the knee, to move him with her as she rode him. He went loose everywhere but his cock and was flopped about by her like a doll.
(At minimum I can survive on one orgasm or so every three days, but I intend to take much, much more from you. Your life force is exceptionally strong.))
She punctuated this thought with some out-loud grunting, her pussy sucking hungrily at his manhood, one snake viciously devouring another.
“I’m cumming, now.”
(You can cum with me, every time. Stop thinking to me.))
With that harshly quieting thought, she put both her hands on the backs of his shoulders, sealed her mouth on his, and drained his life energy completely.
“Unnh!” she cried into him, her hands clawing the sheets under his back, as an uncontrollable shudder ran through her.
She sat up straight, put a hand on her forehead, and dismounted her ride. She stood, glorious, magnificent, naked on the bed.
Michael sat up with some effort, and swivelled on his butt to face the edge of the bed to go to the bathroom.
“Stop,” Sam commanded, and he stopped, suddenly forgetting the bathroom.
“Come here and clean my pussy of your cum,” she ordered, and he committed the most despicable of acts, kneeling before her, unaware of her manipulation. She stood with his head in her cunt, smiling down at him, pleased.
“Tastes good,” she said, and he smiled up at her with white lips.
Over the years, Michael alternately learned to love and fear Sam. The memory of something like the cleaning she forced him to perform on her never stayed with him for more than a few seconds after the act. When he realized, in terror, how alien and powerful she was, he suddenly found his mind awash in pleasurable feelings of celebration of the diversity of all creatures and the wondrousness of nature, that it should produce some fluke as perfect and grand as she was. She could force him to perform any act, and he never once questioned that it was his idea to perform her will for her. Still, the surreal nature of their relationship often disturbed him.
“Will we be together until I’m old?”
The whining, petulant tone he’d developed sometimes revolted him when he caught himself using it, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“There is a ritual necessary to my being. When the time comes, I will perform it, to let you go.” She didn’t turn to face him.
Sam enjoyed television a great deal. At that moment, she was riding him, in the lotus position, her hands on her knees with her back to him, as he sat on the couch and they both watched the tv in front of them.
“What kind of ritual?”
“I don’t kill you. It may hurt, but it’s necessary.”
For all of the pleasure he’d endured with Sam, Michael was open to a little pain. This seemed like a time to get to know her, and her ways, a little better.
“Can I escape you?” he asked.
She didn’t turn her head, but her eyes flashed over her shoulder at him for a moment, and she smiled.
“I told you about that.”
“No, I mean, if you don’t know where I am.” He was acting like a two-year-old, he realized, testing his boundaries.
“I can see your thoughts, wherever you go. I can change them, and bring you back to me.” Her ass tensed, a little, as she subtly feasted on him.
“I mean, I know you can’t force me to like you.” Suddenly, her pussy muscles were gyrating; he knew this meant she was finishing him. She was satisfied. She gave him the Pavlovian order to cum, telepathically, and he was once again conditioned to want to give his life for her.
“Let me put it this way,” she said, dismounting him, and then remounting his hard cock, this time facing him. She draped her arms over his shoulders. “If I asked you to eat my ass, right now, without forcing you, would you do it?”
“Yes,” he said.
She smiled.
Several years later, Michael was in his mid-thirties, and Sam was still a bronze 22 year old vision of female perfection. To keep Michael interested, as she often did, she tried some variations in the methods of their lovemaking. In this case, Michael was sitting naked in a chair, and Sam began a handstand on his knees, taking his energy through her mouth this time, resting her maddening thighs on his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his head like the long petals of an exotic flower, and crossed her ankles behind him.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Michael gasped as her pussy left his face, and consciousness and oxygen returned to him.
“Stay there,” she said, nonchalantly, as she tumbled off of him like a gymnast, and strode naked to the door.
She opened it, devoid of self-consciousness, and put a hand on her hip.
What Michael could gather in his dazed state was that the man at the door was a crack head, and he was asking for money. Sam’s mental powers kept him from realizing they were naked. She was about to send him away, when the man pulled out a gun and fired at Michael, breaking his spine. Sam put the addict’s worst nightmare on permanent replay in his mind, and as he ran down the street screaming, Sam gathered Michael to get him to a hospital.
Michael was paralyzed, from the waist down.
He sulked in his wheel-chair, back at Sam’s house, and she sat on a desk (wearing clothes, which was unusual and painful for Michael, who had truly come to worship her nude form, and wanted to see her prone to take life from him, as she had been, naked.)
She swung her crossed legs out in front of her. Michael realized that despite her mastered 22-year-old body language, she was really an alien, much older than she appeared. When she didn’t wipe this thought from his mind, as he had unconsciously grown accustomed to her doing, his feelings of uselessness increased.
“I will let you go,” she said.
He nodded.
“I can perform the ceremony, but it will have to be different than usual. These are different circumstances.”
Michael glowered at the steel cage he was sitting in.
“I’ll return tonight,” she said, and hopped off of the desk, girlishly.
She walked to the door, and was gone.
That night, Michael dreamed.
He was in a stone chamber, lit by low, wide pots holding fires, and straw was adorning the floor at the walls. Michael felt strange, and examined himself. He was tall, taller than he had been, and his skin was a deep brown. He was wearing a sort of sandals, and a straw loincloth, and nothing more. The hair falling about his ears was coarse, straight, and black. He was afraid.
Suddenly, Sam walked into the room.
She was physically the same girl, but her appearance was very different. She was wearing some shoes that increased her height, but he could not see them through her beaded robe. Her eyes were heavily darkened with kohl, and her hair was elaborately braided and beaded atop her head. She was obviously some sort of queen here. His heart pounded in his new, brown chest.
She smiled gently, reassuringly to him, and he relaxed a little.
“I am going to perform the ritual,” she told him. Her words were in Mayan, but he recognized them. “I have taken your mind with me, back in time, and put it in the body of one of my previous hosts. This way, we can complete the ceremony appropriately, using his healthy body.”
Michael felt a moment’s excitement, hoping that perhaps Sam could transplant his mind into some new body permanently, so they could continue to be together, but she squashed this hope telepathically almost instantly. She walked over to him, took him by the hand, still smiling, and lead him, by his side, up some steps to what appeared to be her altar. She was, he was reminded, worshiped by many more men than him.
She ran her hands lightly up and down his muscular arms, smiled again, and bade him kneel. He did.
She walked to the rear of the altar, put her hands on her shoulders, and pulled two attachments on her dress. It dropped off of her, and she was essentially naked.
At that moment, the walls at Michael’s left and right danced more wildly in the fire-cast shadows. Passages were opening in them, and men with black eyeballs and chalky white skin stepped out of the walls to attend their queen. They seemed like corpses, and Michael realized these were some of her former lovers. Two of them affixed something to Sam’s hips, and there were three distinct locking sounds. Michael couldn’t see it, because of the altar. Sam dismissed them with a nod, and they returned to the passages in the walls, and then the passages disappeared.
Michael looked at Sam, and she held a hand up to him. He rose from his knees, and walked behind the altar to her. He realized then she was wearing a strap-on dildo, made of roughly ribbed wood and metal, and a wave of fear and nausea overcame him. Sam lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, and swayed him again to his knees. She put another hand on the back of his head, firmly.
“Lubricate me. Suck well, and you will suffer less, later.”
Michael obeyed, compelled by her mental ascendancy.
He licked, and moved his head up and down the alien shaft, coating it as best he could with his saliva, knowing that he had to, knowing what was coming. Sam kept her hand on his head, mechanically, lifelessly, accompanying it to the base of her mystically throbbing dick with some insistence as he sucked her. She was in a daze, but obviously feeling the sensations he was giving her, as though hers was a flesh and blood dick, and she was getting greedy and impatient with him.
“Enough!” she cried, and pushed him off of her by the forehead with the palm of her hand. “Bend over,” she demanded, and though her powers seemed to be flagging, he decided not to disobey. This was her world, and his trust in her could guide him through it.
Sam was salivating, sweating through her rocking breasts, excited beyond reason and ready to take him. Michael wondered how this symbolic act of total ownership could really signal his release from her, but he grabbed the edge of the altar and readied himself. It never felt to him that he was more hers than he was at that moment. A moment later, she proved him right.
The wood and steel dick which had been leveled through the straw hanging over his ass, and sending Sam to hysterics, was propelled by her hungry hips into him shockingly. Michael was fucked up the ass by the young woman, who let out the most vulnerable and crying groans of orgasmic pain and pleasure he had ever heard from her. She shoved herself in and out of him, and at the moment in the universe, there was nothing else but that entrance, violation, and control. Sam began masturbating against Michael’s borrowed ass, the cock incidental, her clit and the head of her penis simultaneously ordering her brain to shut down from a pleasure overload. She clawed his shoulder blades and he cried out in a choked gasp yet again, and she felt the pressure threaten to pile out of her with a final thrust.
“I release you,” she cried with the very last ounce of her strength. “I give back to you all I have taken.”
She came, and Michael felt he was being tackled by an ocean wave, and the cock slid out of him as she collapsed to the floor.
He heard a voice in his head. (I am a creature of imagination. It is only in your mind that you shall find me, but I will always be there for you. Just look.))
Suddenly, he was looking at the raped man, and the lurid, fainting priestess from outside the scene. He was a chalky man, a ghost, and he was being pulled out of the past scene by a force he could not resist, into darkness, into oblivion.
Michael awoke on an airplane. He uncrossed his legs, and then crossed him again.
He had the strangest feeling he had missed his flight, but of course that was ridiculous. Soon he would be reunited with his wife, children, dog, and professorship. A flight attendant asked him if he would like a drink.
“Yes, I’ll have a...”
“Seven and Seven,” she said, handing the drink to him. She was bronze, gorgeous, only about 22-years-old.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“Lucky guess.”