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Subject: {ASSM} Demeter's Pet {Varkel}[4/19] (MF Mf Mg mF mf mg Fm Fb Mm Mb mb bb oral anal pedo fantasy 
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Date: Thu, 06 Nov 2008 21:10:05 -0500
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Demeter's Pet
a Novel by Varkel
Late Winter, 2008


Chapter 4: _Training_


"All right, let's take stock," said Pester as they reclined on a grassy
Olympic hillside, this one bare of satyrs and nymphs.  "What have you 
learned?"

"One thing, for sure!" Sam responded.  "You really do prefer sucking 
cock to fucking.  How about explaining that.  It doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't it?  Open your mouth wide."

He blinked but obeyed.  She leaned close to stare into it and nodded.  
"Yep, you've got one too."

"What?"

"You humans call it an 'uvula,' the little hanging-down part in the back
of your throat."

"I could've told you that.  Who'd you ever see without one?"

"Every satyr and every nymph but me."

"You're kidding!  Let me see."

She opened her mouth, let him peer briefly and said, "But I told you, 
_I_ have one too."

"Huh!  It looks more like a clit."

"Give the man a snigger."

"A 'snigger?'"

"Isn't that what you say when someone guesses the answer?"

"Uh, do you mean a ci-_gar_?"

"Whatever."

"I get a cigar for what?"

"Guessing that it's a clit.  Look."

She rolled onto her back and spread her legs.  Sam rose on his elbow and
studied the hairless pink mound.  "That's the smallest clit I ever saw.
A baby's is bigger."

"It's not a clit.  It's what's left of one."

He blinked.  "You mean ..."

"Yep.  Her high and mightiness shoved it up into my throat."

"Wh-what?"  He chuckled slightly.  "You ever see the movie, _Deep 
Throat_?  The girl in that --"

"What's a movie?"

He looked at her.  "I'd guess you've never been to the Human Preserve."

"You get another snigger."

"Cigar.  Then where'd you hear 'Give the man a cigar?'"

"I helped out another visitor just before you.  He talked like that."  
She grinned fondly.  "His name was Sam too."

"Sam?  Sam what?"

"Oh, that's right: you people have more than one name."  She thought a 
moment.  "Samuel Langhorne Clemens.  What are _your_ other names?"

"Samuel Parker Dearborn.  Wait a minute!  Sam _who_?"

"He was an old man, wrinkled and skinny with hair white at first, but of
course nobody's hair stays the same here.  Wrinkles either.  He was very
witty.  He could tell jokes that were even funny."

"Mark Twain?  You mean he was actually here?"

She nodded.  "He said he sometimes used that name.  Actually here?  I 
often sucked his cock and he _allowed_ I did it very well."  She 
smirked.  "You must think so too."

"You ought to do it well!"

She giggled.  "That's what _he_ said when I told him about my uvuclit 
and all my experience.  He was indignant, you know, claiming the gods 
oppressed me.  What does that mean, 'oppress?'"

"Making you do things you don't want."

She chuckled wryly.  "He surely got that wrong, didn't he?"

"Have you sucked many famous cocks?"

"Famous?  I don't know.  Are you famous, Sam?"

"Infamous, maybe."

Pester sat up and shook herself.  "We're really off the subject, aren't
we?"

"Wait a minute.  What do you mean, he was here just before me?"

"Just what I said.  He went to back to the Human Preserve and I hardly 
turned around before Demeter laid you on my couch."

"But he died in 1910!"

"Whatever."

"A hundred years before I did."

"What's a year?"

"You say Mark Twain went back to Earth?"

"'Earth?'  Oh, yes, he called it that too."  She shook her head sadly.
"He couldn't find what he wanted here and Dio' wouldn't make it for him.
He told a joke about Dio's brains being in His cock, which though witty
and possibly true wasn't very smart."

"Oh, from what I hear they're certainly in His cock and not very many of
them eith--"

Pester hastily pressed her hand over his mouth.  "I shouldn't've said 
that.  Hush!"

"But you said --"

"How well would you suck if yours was in the back of your throat?"

"Hmm.  I take your point."

"Sam Clemens wasn't much good either, though Dio' didn't move his cock."

"What did he want back on Earth?"

"Girls of all the different human races.  He really pined for the very 
dark ones."

"No kidding!  Sam Clemens, a southerner and ...  Of course he didn't 
stay in the south.  Hmm.  How would you seduce a girl after you're 
dead?"

"Seduce?"  She blinked.  "You mean girls don't like to fuck?"

"Umm.  Well ..."

She shrugged.  "I'll show you some ways to get their attention if you'll
let us get on with your practice."

He sat up and grinned.  "I'm at your disposal."

"So what have you learned besides my love for cocksucking?"

"Well, mostly this."  With his eyes locked on hers he faded -- that is,
his image became increasingly transparent until she could see only the 
faintest representation of his body.  Under his buttocks grass blades 
that had been depressed sprang up.  He grinned.

She waved her hand in a complex flutter: _How deep are you?_

He waved back.  _About five universes._

_Oh, no.  I'd guess at least 20._

_Maybe I didn't count right.  I can barely see you._

_Yes -- so I don't see.  Prove you can go all the way, then come right 
back._

He vanished completely but reappeared almost immediately, fully solid, 
wriggling his buttocks as he had been taught to clear the space.  He 
made a face at her.  "Everything went black except for some distant 
lights.  I don't like that one."

"Ones.  We'll work on identifying the black ones.  You must go through 
them to reach the Human Preserve."

"You made a joke: 'So I don't see.'"

"Then laugh."

"Ha, ha.  But I'm proud of you.  Humor seems to be rare here."

"Thank you.  You should've heard Sam Clemens."

"He joked a lot on Earth too."

Her eyes lit.  "You knew him?"

"I told you: he died a hundred years before me.  I read a lot of his 
stuff."

"He was proud of his writing."  She looked away.  "We don't need that 
skill."

"Why not?"

"The gods can remember anything."

"The _gods_!"

"They say humans developed reading because of their poor memories."

"It has other advantages.  Without it you can only learn by the Socratic
Method.  Or by inventing the knowledge yourself."

"Whatever.  What else have you learned here?"

"Well ..."

She stood up.  "Follow me to Demeter's talkroom."

"Her what?"

But the nymph had vanished.  Talkroom?  He recalled the first interior 
scene to which the goddess had conducted him, the room of beach chairs,
open balcony and breeze.  Imagining it around him, as he had been 
taught, suddenly he was there.

The nymph was shaking her head.  "You'll be no fun at universe tag."

"Is that the game it sounds like?"

"Yes.  Of course you win it by guessing where your quarry is going 
before she does.  You remember Dobbit?  He's very good at it."

"Say ...  It seemed like ...  Are we in the same universe?"

"Not the one we came from.  Look."  She stepped out on the balcony.  He
followed her and saw the hillside populated with nymphs and satyrs.

"How would I get back to the one we came from?"

"Only by luck.  If you want to return to a non-unique place, you have to
first make it unique, maybe with a stack of stones.  Though Dobbit says
that every universe truly is unique if you study the fine grain, like 
the arrangement of grass blades."

"Huh!  Who can learn _that_?"

"You, if you had a good memory."

"Or a camera, maybe."

"What's a camera?"

"Say, can you transport non-living things between the universes -- 
anything besides your own body?"

"Living doesn't matter.  Anyone can pull as much weight as she can."

"'Pull?'"

"You can probably pull me, for example, but you're too big for me to 
pull you."

"How do you tell?"

"By pulling.  Try it.  Pull me somewhere.  Umm.  It's polite to stick 
out your finger, like this, to let the other know you're offering, but 
you don't really have to be touching."

Sam contacted her fingertip.  They regarded each other gravely.

"Well?" she said after a pause.

"How do I do it?  Pull you where?"

"You imagine going there and me coming with you, then _step_ in your 
mind, as you've been practicing.  Pull me to Demeter's fuckroom."

"Her what?"

"You know: the room where you awoke to me stroking your cock."

He grunted.  "She ought to get better couches.  Her cushions feel like 
padded wood."

"What do you expect, padded stone?  Let's go."

He imagined that room with its couches and window, carefully including 
Pester within his sense of self, and took the mental step.  Oddly he 
felt her mass as a very slight addition to his own, and instantly he 
stood in the target room with the nymph just behind him.

They were not alone.  A man and a woman were fucking vigorously on the 
longer couch.  One rounded couch arm supported her head and shoulders.
Her drawn-up knees enclosed the man's hips -- not a man, not with 
heavily furred thighs below a goat's tail, the high ankles of a goat 
bent like reversed knees and a goat's hooves.  A gray mane of hair 
curled to his shoulder.  And not a woman either.  Her face was on Sam's
side of the pair.  She was Demeter.

"Uh-oh!" murmured Sam, gauging the height of the window sill, expecting
to see a lightning flash.

Even this slight sound popped the goatish god out of goddess and 
goddess's legs.  He spun to his feet, glaring at the interlopers, 
displaying a full gray beard below goat's horns and a large erect cock 
having a flanged and purple knob that fixed Sam's attention.

The apparition roared, "Be this your new pet, Demi?"  Eyes narrowing on
Sam, He snarled, "Damn you to Hades, you unmannerly cretin!"  His hand 
thrust out a pointed finger.

The room vanished.  Sam with Pester still included in his sense of self
felt himself lifted and transported.  He also felt the mass of the 
hairy-assed god, seemingly greater than his own, and clutched it to him
inadvertently.

He found himself standing on the barren shore, lapped by slight ripples,
of a huge still lake, its extent hidden by gathering fog.  The light was
dim but enough to show Pester at his side and the god standing before 
both.

The half-goat crouched, looking around with the staring eyes of 
bewilderment.  "Wh-where --" he stuttered.  "How --"

"The River Acheron," pronounced Pester, "gateway to hell.  As to how 
..."  She smiled.  "Pan, god of shepherds, may I introduce Sam, demigod
of girls."  Her smile became a smirk.  "Isn't he powerful?"

"Damn you both!" screeched the baffled god as He vanished.

"Ooo!" murmured the nymph, not in pleasure, suddenly clutching her 
bosom-less chest to Sam's back.  "That curse would worry me if you 
weren't here."

He took a deep breath.  "Pester, what just happened?"

She giggled.  "You surprised the goat god out of His goatskin, that's 
what."

Sam mused, "I felt Him leave just now.  I don't know where He went 
except He didn't go back to Demeter.  But that's not what I mean.  How'd
we get here?"

"He pushed you here to the entrance of Hades.  You can do that too: push
as well as pull.  Just don't imagine yourself going.  You were still 
holding onto me and you grabbed Him, pulling as He pushed.  You must 
have felt a thrill of fear.  Fear makes you stronger."  She laughed with
pleasure.  "Wow, did you see His expression?  All that godly arrogance 
shot to ... Hades.  Good thing I taught you how to pull, isn't it?"

"Yeah.  And, uh, I thank you very much."  He looked around, trying to 
note landmarks.  "You say this is a river?  Where's the current?"

"Umm.  I don't think it has a current.  It doesn't go anywhere."

"Then it's really a lake.  Is the water fresh?"

"Fresh?  It's been here since the beginning of everything."

He grimaced.  "I don't think I'll bother to taste it.  Where can I find
some rocks to mark this place?"

"You'll have to bring them from somewhere else.  Want to come back, do 
you?"

"I might.  I might want to, ah, _push_ somebody else here."

She gestured.  "It's all the same.  I doubt another shore so desolate 
exists in any universe.  Nothing lives here.  If you really want to mark
it, dig a huge hole and pile up the soil."

"With what?  Oh, I know: go find a shovel."

"What's a shovel?"

"A tool to dig with."

She regarded him wonderingly.  "You've got a tool between your ears."  
She grinned a challenge.  "Or maybe between your legs.  You can pull and
push dirt too, you know."

"I can?  How much dirt?"

"Try it."

He experimented, first with a handful then a lump as massive as the 
nymph, finally at something like full exertion, a clump as large as an 
automobile.  He stood back and quickly enlarged and lengthened his hole
while huge lumps and lesser clods rained on the strand before it.

"God, that's impressive!" he gasped, staring at his mindwork, a deep 
ditch before a mound ten feet high and fifty long.  "I can't believe _I_
did that."

"Who else?" 

"But good god, Pester -- ten times faster than a bulldozer!  At least 
ten times!  Can I do it on Earth too?"

"You can make one just as ugly in any universe."

He stared at her and suddenly vanished.  She frowned but hesitated.  
Almost immediately he returned.  His eyes brightened.  "It works!"

"Of course it does," she said.  "Anyone can return to that!"

He smiled.  She found herself standing with him in Demeter's talkroom.
His eyes were speculative.  "Could I build my own talkroom?"

She nodded.  "Yes, but unless you have artistic --"

Suddenly the goddess Demeter stood beside him, looking hard at the 
nymph.  "Pester, take time out right now and teach him how to see who's
already in a place before he transports to it."

"Yes, your goddessness.  Will You tell me something first?"

"If you dare ask."

"Hmm.  Forget it."

"Oh, go ahead," said Demeter, cocking an eyebrow curiously.  "I'll 
permit one question."

The nymph straightened.  "What in the world do You see in Pan?  He 
stinks."

The goddess raised Her chin.  "His goat droppings fertilize My fields, 
you know.  Unlike some creatures, natural aromas do not offend Me."  She
sniffed and vanished.

Sam asked thoughtfully, "Did She mean stinks don't bother Her or that 
some creatures do?"

"Why not both?"  Pester sighed.  "Let me do my duty.  You can see who's
in a target place before you jump, but more than that you can also find
the place where someone you know is located."

"A place you've never been?"

"Yes, if the person or the thing is there.  Let's try finding Dobbit and
going to him.  You only have to make a mental picture of him and step 
there."

He formed the image and including Pester almost as an afterthought, 
transported them both to the populous hillside.  The satyr with olive 
green eyes and goatee knelt on the grass before him, busily sucking the
cock of another one who lay with knees drawn up.

"Are they all queer?" asked Sam disgustedly.

Pester answered, "I believe you call them swillers."

He blinked around at her.  "You mean, as in jism swillers?"

She blinked in return.  "No, I mean back and forth between male and 
female.  Of course they love to swill jism too, when they can get it.  
We all do!  Is that what you call a double-pun?"

He chuckled but shook his head.  "No, dear.  We call guys like Dobbit 
'swingers,' not swillers.  Why did you think of swilling anyway?  It's 
my understanding that satyrs don't make jizz."

"Well, what do they swing?  Their cocks are almost always hard."

"'Swinger' like the pendulum of a --  Huh!  No clocks here, right?"

"What's a clock?" he said mockingly along with her.  "Just remember: 
_swinger_, not swiller.  Huh!  Where do you learn your idiomatic 
English?"

"English?  What's that?"

"Ugh!"  Sam gritted his teeth.

She rested her hands on shapely hips, suddenly all business.  "See if 
anyone is in Demeter's fuckroom."

"How do I do that again?"

"Imagine the room and look around without stepping."

He stood with eyes seemingly turned inward.  "Someone ... two people are
there, Demeter and ... I think a satyr.  He's eating Her out."

"It figures.  You interrupted Them before She finished with Pan."

"You mean ...  This implies She could just reach out here and grab 
anyone."

"Of course.  That's what they're out here for."

He sniffed.  "Then Sam Clemens was right."

She grinned.  "Not according to your definition of oppression.  The gods
made us to fuck, Sam.  We love it."

He said dryly, "And consider it an honor when They snatch you up into 
Their temples and fuck you silly, right?"

"We consider it heaven."

He shook his head.  "What's the protocol for visiting a fucking couple?"

"You don't unless you have an urgent reason -- or unless you're the more
powerful."

"That makes sense, not too different from Earth practice.  You say I'm 
powerful.  How do I compare to the gods generally?"

"They wouldn't make you more powerful than themselves, Sam.  You got 
away with Pan because he didn't expect it."

"What other powers do I have?"

"Other powers?  You have a truly godlike Climax Spell and you can 
transport yourself with all the side effects.  I don't know what else.
You should ask Demeter."

He studied her thoughtfully.  "Weren't you supposed to show me how to 
control that Climax Spell?"

She grinned slowly.  "You want to practice fucking, Sam?"  She extended
her finger.  "Come on.  I know just the place."

Behind him someone shrieked.  "Oho, it's Sam!  He's come back!  Sam, 
Sam, may I have a taste?"


* * *


Pester got off him and squatted at his foot.  "I think you've got the 
hang of it.  At least with me."

Sam was enthusiastic.  "I even impressed me!  Conscious control of when
you come means you can fuck forever."

She blinked.  "Can't any man do it?"

"No.  It's more like a reflex.  How long it takes depends on how long 
it's been: the longer, the shorter."

"Umm.  Don't you have that backwards?"

"Whatever.  But your case is even stranger.  You really can't come from
fucking unless your partner makes you."

She nodded.  "Not since Her interfering goddesshood moved my clit."

"That's ... that's ..."

"But I can from sucking cocks.  I couldn't before.  Sam, we've got to 
try you with somebody else."

"How about Demeter?"

"Huh!  Remember: She calls you, you don't call Her.  I know.  Fetch us a
nymph."

"Which one?  I don't know one with a name.  Except you."

"You don't need a name if you can picture her face."

"Well ..."  His eyes seemed to turn inward.  "The first one ...  How 
wonderful!  I can see her, brown eyes and all."

"Then pull her here."

"She's got three satyrs in her bottom at once.  Oho, so that's how it's
done!"

"I see the one you mean.  She's greedy.  You can still grab her."

"I wouldn't be so rude."

"All right.  Lend me your strength."

Her hand clutched his bicep and urged him to stand beside her.  In a 
moment one of the larger nymphs appeared before them, conical breasts 
outthrust, blonde hair above and below, seemingly about 14 years of age.
The newcomer's wide eyes, disconcertingly yellow, swung right and left 
before her gaze settled upon the man.  Her face brightened.  "Sam!"  
With a wide smile, she dropped to her knees, head bowed submissively.  
The tip of her wagging tail appeared, swinging back and forth.

"Sam," said Pester, "this is Tolis.  Why weren't you fucking, Tolis?"

The blonde lost her smile.  "Who're you to ask?"

The green-haired nymph grinned humorlessly.  "You know who I am, Tolis.
You want Sam to bump your butt with a bolt?"

Tolis's eyes widened almost comically.  "Oh, _please_, Sam -- please 
don't!"

Pester was relentless.  "Then why weren't you?"

Tolis rose to her feet and looked away.  "You know why."

"Satyrs don't love boobs?"

The blonde nodded, eyes lowered.  She blushed slightly.

Pester asked, "What's your opinion, Sam?"

Tolis looked up hopefully.

"Tits are okay on --" he began thoughtlessly but paused to take a 
breath.  "They're perfectly natural," he concluded.  "Don't all nymphs 
grow them eventually?"

"Boobs mean Artemis is your sponsor," said Pester in a dry voice.

"Is that an advantage?" he asked.

"It was, when Adonis would call us," said Tolis plaintively.  "The last
time was long ago."

"Sam Clemens liked boobs too," Pester confided.  "If Tolis is 
attractive, Sam, give her a full jolt."

"'Jolt,'" he repeated, shaking his head.  "And 'bump her butt with a 
bolt.'  What are you talking about, Pester?"

"If you don't want her, just send her back.  You saw where I got her."

Tolis cocked her head and asked in wonder, "You let her speak to you 
so?"

He chuckled.  "She can't help it.  It's all in her name."

The yellow eyes narrowed.  "Are you saying the gods like impertinence?
Demeter doesn't."

"Doesn't She?  Has She ever punished anyone for it?"

"Mmm."

He said to the smaller nymph, "What was I supposed to demonstrate with 
Tolis?"

"Control of climaxes with someone besides me."

"Are you up to a little hanky-panky, Tolis?" he asked, reaching out and
touching the blonde's shoulder.

She blinked.  "'Hanky-panky?'"

"He means fucking," said Pester dryly.

Her face lit.  "Oh, Sam!"  She clutched herself to his chest.

He squeezed a pointed breast, admitting, "Tits have their uses, 
especially these slender immature ones."

"Ooo!"  The nymph in his arms shivered.

"Sensitive, are they?"  Lowering his head, he took a pink nipple into 
his mouth.

"Oh, oh, oh!" murmured the blonde.  Her hand went to her crotch and her
eyes opened wide on Pester's.  "He's making me come!"

The smaller nymph with the green hair said with a hint of envy, "I hope
he's doing it on purpose."

The larger nymph screamed and sagged to the ground, flopping on her back
with an arm over her eyes.  Sam grinned around at Pester.  "How's that?"

"Wonderful!"  She gritted her teeth audibly, staring at his erection.

He laughed.  "Your eyes are the right color for this, aren't they?"

Her face blanked.  "My _eyes_?"

Tolis lay at his feet with undulating hips, legs spread.  He sank 
between them and matched her motion.  Her knees came up, enwrapping his
hips, heels drumming his buttocks.  He stopped her screams with a kiss,
but she continued to produce stentorian moans through flaring nostrils.

Pester let herself down on the grass nearby, head low enough to see his
face.  "Come when I say 'now.'"  She waited several hip thrusts before 
crying, "Now!"

He stiffened at deepest penetration.  Tolis tore her lips away to scream
again, a long drawn out wail that dribbled off to blubbers.

"Wow!" exclaimed Pester.

Sam backed away and got to his feet.  Tolis's body twisted and turned 
but soon quietened.  Her yellow eyes fluttered open.  "Oh, Sam!" she 
murmured and immediately began transferring his deposit to her tongue.

He shook his head.  "What is with you people and jism?"

To his surprise Tolis answered.  "The life power!  I think yours is 
stronger than Adonis's."

Pester fell to her knees, bent forward and sucked at Tolis's groin.  The
larger nymph hitched herself away but when the smaller pursued, let her
take possession.

"My god," exclaimed the man, "I've been fucking you all day, Pester!"

"We love your juice," explained Tolis, grinning.  "Ooo!  And you know, 
Lesbos is a Greek island."

He agreed, "And goes with the swinging Olympian mountainside."

"Ooo, Sam, that's almost poetic!"

Without warning Sam was lifted powerfully.  Stumbling, he found himself
in Demeter's talkroom, a wet-faced Pester beside him.  The goddess 
reclined on a couch, one knee raised against the back, the other leg 
extended to the marble floor.

She eyed his wet cock.  "No one can say you've ducked your duty."

He caught his footing.  "No, ma'am."

"What do you report, Pester?"

"He has learned all I can teach him."  Quickly she added, "Though he 
could use more practice."

The goddess smiled.  "Not yet tired of his juice, are you?"

"It even beats nectar, Your goddessy."

Demeter twitched and chuckled a little.  "'Goddessy!'  You are 
imaginative, Pesterous."

"Sam Clemens called me that."

"Well, it's obvious.  Did she tell you about Clemens?  He was a pet of 
Dionysus."

"She told me," Sam answered.  "Sam Clemens was a great humorist."

"Whatever.  You have two more subjects to master: mind entry and time 
selection.  I have equipped you with both powers."

"Wha-what do they involve?"

"You must return to the Human Preserve for the best study of time 
selection, but I think Pester has enough mind -- barely enough -- to 
indulge you in mind entry.  Sit here on the couch beside me.  Pester, 
you can squat before us."


Contact:
Varangian: ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis: kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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