Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories (11 page)

“I very much expect she is. But what do you think I was trying to do with all this? If, indeed, I planned you seeing it?”

“I imagine you wanted me cowed. You wanted me scared. You wanted me intimidated. Do I look intimidated, Mister Craft?”

She tossed her brilliant, lustrous dark hair back, standing proudly.

“No,” he said. “I have to admit, you don’t.”

He actually did look surprised now, thinking about that.

“That’s right. Do you want to know why?”

“I certainly do.”

She smiled, bending over at the waist, ass held high so that he could see its luscious arc, and purred, “I couldn't possibly be scared, because I am more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.”

His mouth hung open. “Beg pardon?”

“You heard me.” She tugged at her blouse, popping off a button, exposing even more of her perfect, toned visage. “I am turned on as hell. I want you to take me, right here, right now.”

With one hand, she cleared his desk, sliding up on to it. Her hair tumbled down her side, highlighting her sexy form. Craft was speechless.

“I’m not stupid, Sir.” She practically cooed the title. “I know you didn’t
have
to hire those other two models. And if you can exercise this much control and hire me, why not only bring me here? You wanted to show me how powerful you are.”

She moved one long leg over toward Craft—who had stood up, his hands wavering above her body. Her expensive heel slid up his crotch, pressing gently.

“You wanted me, in some way, to give in. But you thought you had to do it with intimidation, didn’t you?” She smiled sexily. “Only, power turns me on, Sir. It turns me on a lot. I want you to be able to own me, take me, break me, bend me to your will...but I want you do it
knowing
how badly I want you to do it.”

“Fuck.” Craft shook his head, grabbing at her leg now and touching it, as if to confirm that this was happening. She didn't protest in the slightest.

“Was I the object of your plans all along, Sir? Was it me you got all this money for? I did a little research, and if you offered Jacqueline and Marisol what you offered me, then you were giving up over three-quarters of your profits for the year.”

He nodded slowly, her hands on his shirt, drawing him in. She knew he was affected by her. Her beauty. He had probably watched her for years now—on the runway, on her swim shoots. Collecting candid photos of her from red carpet events.

“I bet you’ve cum to the thought of me before,” she said. “Looking at me in hot pictures of yours. Isn’t it so hot, so nice, so wonderful, that every time you’ve gazed lovingly into those pictures, feeling that hot connection, knowing I belonged just with you, only with you—isn't it so hot that every time you did that, that I was looking right back out, just at you, only at you? Don't you love knowing that even with all my beauty, all my perfection, that you were the only man I needed, this whole time?”

She tore his shirt open, revealing a broad, hot chest. Whimpering hotly, she stroked the muscles there with adoration.

“Isn’t it nice to know, Sir, that all I’ve really wanted this whole time was for your big, fat cock to fill me up?” Her green eyes were so open, so earnest. “I’ve gone on and on in interviews about being a virgin. Did you know that it was true?”

“Oh, man...”

With gusto, he ripped her pants off, revealing the sexy, hot, tanned flesh of her long, long legs. Tiny silver panties decorated her pussy—and were easily removed. Her pussy, waxed, waited for him, dripping out hot juice onto his desk.

“Did you know, Sir,” she drew her mouth up close to his, breathing so hard, “did you know that I’ve been saving myself...just for you?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Craft took her by the neck and cheek and kissed her hard. Vivian’s body ramped forward, an orgasm instantly rocking through her. She moaned tearfully into Craft, loving the cool, sublime slip of his control starting to slip over her mind. She could feel it, tendrils of his manipulation sinking into her brain...and she welcomed them. He probably couldn’t restrain himself.

Unbuttoning for a moment, Craft dropped his pants and kicked them aside. His cock—just as Vivian had hoped—was enormous, thick, and already hard. She
needed
it inside of her.

“How will you do it?” she asked him. “How will you take my mind? Am I feeling it already?”

“The crystals you saw, the shakes, the cameras...these are all extensions of my power. I can build them however I like, but the real power lies with me. Yes, to answer your question. I'm taking you already. Slowly. You'll be aware of every step.”

Vivian whimpered hotly. That was so fucking perfect. He
deserved
her.

Rancorously, she slipped her fingers straight into her gushing wet pussy. She only realized after she had done it that it wasn’t her idea—Craft had made her do that.

Mmm, god. He owned her already.

Grinning wickedly, he began to stroke his cock in front of her.

“Oh god,” she moaned, staring at it, feeling him raise her heat exponentially. “I need it! I n-neeed it! I’ve never needed anything so bad and I fucking need your cock so b-bad, Sir, please! I need you to get me
pregnant
, please? On my first time. Pregnant on my
first
time!”

As if making ready to oblige, he stepped closer, using one powerful hand to pull her in...but kept his cock a hand’s length away from her pussy. Vivian’s perfect, pouty lips moved up and down in hot, longing movements, needing to kiss him again.

“P-please...” she gasped. “Anything. I’ll d-do anything...”

“Beg for my cock,” he commanded. “Beg for only my cock.”

“Please! Please let me touch it! Let me suck it!”

“You may stroke me. But nothing else.”

Eagerly, she obeyed. She realized that, any other man would be begging to fuck her, right now. But Craft was so powerful, so incredible, that she was begging him. He
made
her beg him.

“Real power belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

Her hand slid so fast and easy on his slick cock. “Oh, yes sir. God, you’re so fucking right, sir. I love how much power you have.”

Gently, he stroked her hair. “Are you grateful to me? Are you grateful for becoming mine?”

“Oh yes, Sir! Thank you for owning me, sir! Thank you for making me yours.”

“I’m not sure I believe you. You know, you’ll never be able to fuck me if that’s all you’ve got.”

“Thank you for breaking my will! And all my friends, too! God, you fucking own them so good, Sir. You
destroyed
their wills, just like they deserved! Thank you for bringing me here to be owned just by you. Only by you! You’re my Owner, my King, my God, My
Master!
”

Finally he pushed her hand off his cock, and plunged himself into her cunt. She guided him in with eager passion, taking him into her like she had wanted for her whole, whole life. She had been born to be a supermodel goddess dedicated to fucking and loving her Master’s cock.

“My God,” she moaned. “My true Male. My Real Man. My Powerful Hunk.”

She said the words like that in her head as she spoke—capitalizing them, moaning them even in her mind as she moaned them out loud. She knew that was his domain now, and every small bit of affection she could coerce out of herself to give to him would be utterly his.

As he thrust into her again and again, bouncing her tits on his chest, her orgasm hovered right at the edge of her cascades of pleasure. It was building, building, building—and she knew that was him, once more, taking all the smaller orgasms he would have given her normally just from a single thrust (such a fucking hunk, her Master) and building them into one reality-breaking cum.

“I’m going to cum, Vivian,” he grunted. “My Vivian. My slave. My favorite. You want to feel it? You want my cum in your pussy?”

“Yes!” She begged him. “Please, yes! Do it now! Give it to me, Sir, please!”

Bucking and thrusting, he exploded inside of her, delivering his hot, amazing warmth just how she needed. Her own orgasm—just as she thought it would—broke the walls of her reality. Hot lines of light ran across her vision, pouring bliss directly into her brain. She was his, now and forever, and she wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.

After what seemed like an eternity, her mind flicked back on—to the sensation of her Master, hard and ready, already inside of her.

“Please,” she moaned up at him. “Take me again?”

He did not say anything, but he answered—his thrusts starting anew, his mouth adoring her perfect breasts. From across the office, her model friends walked in—Marisol and Jacqueline—along with Jacqueline's new fertile, lactating playmate. And yet, even so, he forced them down on their knees to watch as he took Vivian again.

Vivian was so happy to be the center of his attention, to be everything that he had wanted. She would be his ultimate trophy from now on—his personal declaration to the world about what a fucking stud he was. It was so, so unbelievably perfect, and so was she, to be the one he called his favorite.

# # #

––––––––

D
avid stepped into the antique shop, a little on edge. Even with the friendly little door bell ringing away; the interior was poorly lit and full of unsorted items. He wasn’t sure what to get, and had never really shopped for antiques before in the first place. But regardless, he was going to find the perfect gift for the girl of his dreams, and she was going to love him for it.

Never having shopped for antiques before was most of the reason why he was going to this store in the first place, this “Possessions.” It was brand new in town, having opened just the previous weekend, and if he didn’t know what they offered or what could be found there, he was certain that there were a great many others who had come in as of late who were in the same boat as him.

Somehow, going to some established antique shop run by lifelong antiquers who knew everything there was to know about the carving methods for seventeen different styles of cuckoo clocks just filled him with dread.

So, he was going to some place new, to help him with what would be hopefully a new chapter in his life. Whatever he got for slim, blond, beautifully busty nineteen year-old Amy, it had to be incredible. Jawdropping. Pussy-wettening. All of those things at once.

In his head, the ideal scenario was him sitting down with Amy and sliding the present across the table. They would have an isolate little spot in the coffee shop where no one could see. She would open it, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes, completely unable to form words before dropping underneath the table to suck him off.

Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. But it was good to aim high, he always thought. That way when he fell short, he was still doing pretty well. A kiss, maybe. Or a blowjob after she sequestered him back to his apartment.

Or her apartment, he wasn’t picky.

At times, David didn’t feel as if he was in Amy’s league. Even at twenty years-old, he had no idea of his own attractiveness—whether any woman would ever want to sleep with him or not. He was awfully skinny, and didn’t know what to do with the dark mash of his hair, but he was clueless as to whether that was something women enjoyed or not. He just hoped beyond hope that Amy—beautiful Amy, with her killer smile and deadly-gorgeous body—would love him for his heart, the way he loved her.

He scanned the store, looking for an attendant or clerk or something. He had left his wallet in his car, an old tactic to prevent himself from buying too much. Once he decided what to get, he would get a guaranteed time-out to go walk to the car and think about his decision. Lining the shelves, there were all sorts of items he basically expected—odd-shaped lamps, thick rugs, tall stacks of books with no names, chairs that didn’t look made for sitting, trays full of candelabras, tea-organizers made from old picnic tables.

But then there was weird stuff too—used notebook full of scrawly handwriting, packets of balls, long ornate handkerchiefs that could double as blindfolds, tiny ornate statues of women in high heels and tiny skirts who were vacuuming or doing the dishes. And...was that a dildo, on that back shelf?

“Can I help you?” came a lovely, exotic voice from the other end of the store.

He turned to see a shape of a woman behind a curtain; she was putting something up on a shelf.

“Oh, hi,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hi. Yes, I’d love your help. Yes, please.”

Objects shuffled around as she continued to stack behind the curtain.

“Just a moment,” she said. “Anything in particular you are looking for?”

“I don’t know. It’s a gift for a girl.” He struggled with the wording. “It’s a thing for her and me. An anniversary, I mean. The gift, what I’m getting, what it’s for. I’m not sure what to get, though.”

He didn’t know why he was having so much trouble putting words together. There was something about the woman that put him off.

“This girl, she is your girlfriend?”

David shrugged, embarrassed now. “Sort of.”

The woman stepped out from behind the curtain. She was mesmerizingly gorgeous. David couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She wore a tight green gown that left her shoulders bare, a wide v-shape of perfect porcelain skin on open display for him to admire. And she clearly, obviously, wanted him to admire her. There was no doubt in his mind. Her hair was thick, long, and dark, floating down her body like some blanket woven from shiny black diamonds, somehow sparkling in the dim light of the store. Her face was elegant—regal, almost, as if she was some empress in hiding, her eyes enormous and green, her lips thick and incredibly kissable. She was like the premiere example of femininity. Everything about her seemed so lusciously...fertile.

Insanely, he wanted to grab her. He wanted to press her against the wall and have his way with her, right then and there. It was a thought that previously only Amy had inspired. Of course, he would never give in to such thoughts—he was a gentleman, after all.

The only woman he had ever seen nearly as gorgeous as this woman was Catalina Rubia, former cheerleading captain at his old high school and the bane of his entire existence. Catalina and Amy traded off places in his jack-off fantasies—Amy when he wanted someone to adore and hold, but Catalina when he wanted someone to fuck and dominate.