David

Oh, fuck!

There were voices – Troy and Mike. Oh, shit! Mike! What the hell was he going to say when he saw her holding this thing? In blind panic she did the first thing she could think of: she hurriedly placed the chunk of marble in one of her jacket pockets and walked quickly away, not looking back, waiting for that cry from behind her of shock and outrage. Thankfully, it never came. She sped past a confused looking Todd on the Security Desk – had he seen anything on the monitors? If he had done he was staying quiet about it to her. The power of a fifty dollar bill.

Ignoring everything and everyone else around her, Charlotte walked as if in a daze back towards her apartment block. The gravity of her situation was weighing more and more on her mind. She had just desecrated, vandalised one of the most famous and important works of art in history. She knew that this would mean an immediate sacking. Her name would be a disgrace in the art world. It would take her months; maybe years to find someone willing to hire her now into this kind of work again.

She stumbled a few times, but never fell over. Occasionally she would take light sips of the contents of the bottle, almost half-empty now. Yes, half-empty – pessimism was going to take roost in her life for a long time.

When she somehow made it up the flights of stairs to her floor, she half-wondered if she should knock on Di's door and cry on her shoulder, but she was still sober enough now to know that probably wasn't the best of ideas. So she went into her apartment, locking the front door behind her. As an extra precaution, she also did the latch of the door, something she very rarely did at night time. Sechs City was a safe enough area, and she felt it was just a hassle. Now she did it twice just to make sure it was still working.

The moonlight was just peeping through the skylight of her living room, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on. She unsteadily removed all the items from her pockets, leaving the marble cock and balls for last, placing it on the coffee table in front of her white sofa. She gazed at it miserably before grabbing the bottle of wine and once more taking a huge gulp of its contents.

***

She must have passed out sometime after that. She remembered strange images – faceless people, a deep shade of scarlet. She woke groggily on her front on top of the sofa, one arm hanging off the edge. Her hair was undone from its bunch and hung lazily over her pretty face. The jacket was lying on the floor, and a loose bra strap told her she had probably tried to take off the expensive and wasted lingerie earlier. An empty wine bottle lay on its side on the other side of the jacket.

The moonlight was now pouring in through the skylight; its brilliance providing a surprising amount of visual aid. Yet it was also calming, relaxing. It was just what Charlotte's head needed. Sadly, as she slowly shifted her body so that she was on her back, she felt the wetness below – the itch, the craving was still there.

The marble penis was bathed in this light. It almost suited it rather nicely. Charlotte sat up, hugging her bare knees. She'd have to face the wrap tomorrow – no point in denying what she had or hadn't done. There'd be a fair bit of explaining to do as to why she was there in the first place, obviously. Oh god, that would be embarrassing. Worse still, she was petrified that Mike may not be ready for the world to hear he was gay. Yet how was she going to explain why she did this stupid, horrible, pointless thing?

She reached over to pick up the piece of marble and almost immediately dropped it with a clatter back onto the coffee table. It was warm. The marble was warm all over. She shook her head. It couldn't have been. Impossible. It was just her hands – she'd been laying on them while she'd slept. That was what it was.

She picked it up again. This time, when she let go, she did so with a high-pitched yelp. No, she had been right the first time: that thing was warm. What the fuck?

Gingerly, filled with a burning curiosity, Charlotte picked it up one last time. Holding it in the palm of her hand, she studied it closely. It felt as warm to her as her own flesh and blood. It was crazy. Lightly she traced her left index finger along the side of the marble shaft. Her eyes widened as, almost as soon as she had made contact, the head lifted itself up. It was the tiniest of distances but it was still noticeable.

Mesmerised, almost hypnotised by this absurdity happening right in her hands, Charlotte raised it up to her face. Staring at the tip of it, she could swear she could see something glisten. Hardly daring to believe it, she put a finger right on the tip. As she took it away, for a brief second, a thin strand of something like a cobweb shone in the moonlight before vanishing. Looking at her fingertip, she saw something sparkle. Hesitantly, she sniffed it then placed it on the tip of her tongue. Salty. Familiar. There was no doubt about it, ridiculous as it seemed, but what she had just tasted was cum.

Charlotte's head was swimming. She had to be dreaming, she just had to be. This was all the after effects of the bottle of wine she'd drunk. And after all, who would ever have...holy shit, was this thing getting bigger?

She'd been absent-mindedly stroking the marble while her brain had been going into overtime. Now she was sure it had gotten bigger in its length. The head was slightly further up now. The tip of it glistened more. It fascinated Charlotte. It called out to her, drew her to it. She brought it closer to her mouth and gently, very gently, planted a kiss on the top of its head.

It didn't taste of stone or marble – the taste of pebbles at the beach that Charlotte used to put in her mouth when she was a little girl. It tasted salty and warm. It tasted of flesh. It tasted of cock.

Her insides buzzing all over, a loud purring from below, Charlotte kissed the cock again, longer this time. She felt it move more, expanding, raising its head again. All her fears, her worries – all her anxieties about what had happened that night vanished from her mind. This was all that mattered right now; this precious gift that she held in her hands.

Slowly, very slowly, Charlotte's lips wrapped themselves around the marble hood. Her tongue thrilled to the taste of hot white saltiness. Keeping her left hand under the balls, which now seemed to be made more of some kind of rubber than marble, Charlotte guided her free hand along the base of her neck and down, lightly stroking the material of her bra, feeling her nipples stand rigidly to attention, more like stone than the cock she was sucking. And she was sucking it. It responded amazingly to ever kiss, every lick, every suck; deeper and deeper it went into her mouth. It tasted wonderful.

Her hand went under the black silk, flesh touching flesh. She squeezed and toyed with her nipples one at a time, sending a volt and shudder through her body every time that, in turn, made her suck just a little bit harder. She squeezed her thighs together as she writhed on the sofa, letting her own juices really make their mark on the thong. The smell was unmistakably the equivalent of food being cooked in the oven – it was time for the carving.

She let her free hand trail down her smooth stomach and under, loving the wetness that her fingers found there. There was no time to waste. She kissed the marble penis goodbye and, in exactly the same way she had with her vibrator earlier that day, lifted the material of the thong to one side to allow easy access.

She gasped out loud as it went in. It seemed to have more and more a life of its own, getting excited by the wetness surrounding it. She slowly moved it in and out, in and out, licking her lips and sighing contentedly as she felt at last the pleasure she had been craving for. She laid back, head on the large white cushion of her sofa, her hair all over the place. She began to play with her breasts again, shivering and moaning softly at the touch of her free hand on them, adding to the thrill she had down below.

Suddenly Charlotte's eyes widened and she spat out, "Oh shit! Oh...oh fuck! Fuck!" Her hands scrabbled, their aim thrown by the sudden flood that had fallen upon her body. The marble had leapt out of her hands, out of her control, and was starting to bury itself deeper and deeper inside of her. It began to pump harder and harder, as if it were being controlled by some invisible being.

Charlotte started to pant, her heart beating quicker and quicker. She had never known anything to be as intense as this. She wanted the control back. She wanted to go at her own pace.

"God....fuck...please, no...ohhhhh....mmm....shit!"

Her attempts to beg and to retrieve the marble became half-hearted very quickly as pleasure overwhelmed her. She surrendered totally, throwing her arms back and writhing around on the sofa under every thrust. It seemed to go even deeper, even deeper. Yet, when she felt down there with hands that trembled, she could still feel the end of the balls, the bottom of the shaft in between her soaking lips. The only thing she could possibly think of – which even then was a difficult task to manage – was that it was increasing in size still inside of her.

Tears formed in her eyes as she began to cry out in broken whimpers. This was pleasure on a whole new scale, as if it was trying to make up for all those wasted months where a vibrator – a pithy little pink plastic toy – had been a weak substitute.

The orgasm built as she squeezed her thighs tight, gripping the pillows for dear life, crying out to the moon shining above her. When it hit her, it was as if it was her first ever real one, like all the rest she'd had in her life had been rehearsals for this one blissful moment of pure ecstasy.

She shuddered as it bounced around her body, before collapsing onto her back, sweat trickling down her forehead, deep breaths of air sucked into her heaving chest. The marble, true to its nature thus far, made no more sudden movements, though very slowly it began to shrink back to its original size and slid out of her soaking wet sex without any trouble. It landed on the sofa just under her lips and remained there, moving no more.

***

A week went past; still no answers. Mike was flabbergasted, the Italians were beyond themselves with outrage, and Todd was fired.

It was late one evening, as Mike sat in his office, trying to work as he had done so many times that week. A knock on the door awoke him from his confused thoughts and he smiled the first genuine smile that day.

"Thought you might want to see a friendly face," said Troy, closing the door behind him. He walked over and kissed Mike deeply. "Still nothing?"

Mike shook his head. "Haven't you seen the news? It's rolling 24/7. We're the laughing stock of the art world, when it's not too busy screaming bloody murder at us."

"It seems just so impossible. How could it have vanished like that? It's almost as if you guys never had it here in the first place. And then there's your boss..."

"Charlotte? Well, that's slightly understandable, though I can't think why she would have had any part in it."

"She's definitely missing too?"

"The police went round to her apartment yesterday afternoon. Nobody. But all her clothes, her belongings, and her luggage – they were all still there. They haven't a clue where she could have got to. She's not gone back to her family. They're frantic, as you can imagine. No one I know has seen her. But that's not the weird thing."

Troy put his hands on Mike's shoulders. "What's the weird thing?"

"The door to her apartment: they had to break it down to get into the place."

"So?"

"It was bolted on the inside."

***

The sleep this time was deeper, less restless. She was untroubled by dreams. Yet when she woke, she didn't open her eyes. She could tell she wasn't alone. She could sense that other presence in the room. Another body. Another being. She didn't want to open her eyes, afraid at what she might see, but she found now she had no control over anything. Even her breathing was being manipulated by another person: it was deep, soothing, almost trance like.

Her eyes slowly opened. There he stood, in the moonlight. There was no question of how anymore. No question of why. She knew why – all the answers had formed into her head while she slept. It was all to do with vengeance, but it was the vengeance of the gods: forever and ever lasting, just as they lived. They were in another world, now. Another place.

He looked at her with those unseeing eyes, that arrogant glare. Here I am, it said. Look at what I am. You tried to defeat me – to break me apart. But nothing can stop me. As if to prove a point, her eyes were moved downwards – yes, there it was, back on there, as if it had never been broken off in the first place. Good as new. Good as the day he was made.

He was shorter now, a more human-like size. But his body was the same as it had been: the ripples of the muscles on his chest, the bulges of the biceps, the strength of his posture and stance. Smooth and perfect in the moonlight.

Charlotte felt herself stand up. She didn't try to resist. She knew now. This had to happen. What she'd done – that stupid, petty thing she'd done out of spite. This was her punishment. She felt the heat move through her body; felt the nipples under the bra tingle with anticipation.

Her movements were slow, calm. Her controller didn't want to rush anything. Unhurriedly, her arms were moved to behind her back, her face remaining fixed upon his serene features. Her hands undid the clasp of the black bra, carefully slipping it off her shoulders as they returned, letting her small breasts free in the cold night air. They moved down to her hips, the two middle fingers slipping under the thin string of the thong. They carried on down, taking the silk with them along her smooth legs. She was stood back up straight. Now they were both naked.

They stood for a moment, observing each other, before her sex was taken under control. It moistened and began to ache, to yearn. As Charlotte watched, all reality now a blur long forgotten, as if in a mist around her, his piece moved once more; a steady rise up to just above horizontal, beginning to stretch out.

A buzz flowed through Charlotte's body now; the wetness below increased. Her legs were moved one step, two steps, three steps towards him. She was turned round and gently, gradually, tenderly her back was arched forward, her arms stretched out in front of her, her palms rested on top of the cool surface of the coffee table.

She felt him move behind her, resting his hands – warm as flesh – on top of her smooth behind. As he entered her she felt a sense of pleasure multiplied so many times. Her eyes closed and she sighed with delight.

There, in the moonlight, that night and forever more, David fucked her.