Goldenrod: Hannah

The motel had been reserved for the dogfight a year in advance. Hannah watched the vehicles arrive at 10 p.m. Two or four to a car, couples got out in the parking lot and approached her to sign-in on her tablet, while she sat on a stool by the office like a bouncer.

"It's just so they know who to send the pictures to," one girl explained to her escort after he'd given his name. The other women tried not to laugh.

The place had been chosen for its remoteness and the infrequency of its visitors. The red NO VACANCY sign was humming overhead.

"This isn't much of a party spot," one of the males said, looking around.

"It will be later," his date assured him. "For now let's just get settled in." She took his arm adoringly with a backpack on her other shoulder, and let herself be led to the room indicated by the key that Hannah had given them. The rest of the crowd dispersed in the same fashion.

Hannah sighed and sat back against the wall. The night air was warm enough for her tight black tank top. The muscle of her thighs stretched her jeans. With no one to see it she let her thick, translucent dildo emerge from the canal of her sex to swell the crotch of her pants. As last year's ace, she'd earned the duty of sitting this tournament out while the other girls had a chance to prove themselves. With the registration completed, she had only to divert outsiders who might wander onto the premises, and to serve as referee in any disputes that occurred. Her fingers peeled the zipper, and her massive phallus spilled out onto her lap.

In Room Four, the first of the young men was getting his surprise.

"What kind of motel doesn't have wifi, anyway?" he asked the bathroom door. It opened, and out walked his date, topless and wearing a red pair of soft track pants. Her dark hair hung over the hand that pulled her long bulge repeatedly away from her leg.

"Get ready," she said.

In Room Six, a girl in a t-shirt and loose jeans was separating and lowering the halves of her fly to let a pink rod spring free of her right hip. Her companion looked up at her questioningly. She grinned and shrugged.

In Room Seven a similarly dressed girl sat beside her beau on the bed, with her arm around him and a rubber dick resting snugly between her thighs.

"You can touch it," she whispered to him.

Room Three's female occupant was kneeling on her bed in a black sports bra with gray trim. Her abdomen looked like sheet metal that had been hammered roughly and was ready to return the favor. Her thighs were braids of steel cable. The black seven inch dick that jutted from her harness curved upward at the end and was ribbed at the base. Her prey stared at her in terror.

Their upstairs neighbor also kneeled on a bed, the pale skin of her perfectly proportioned body completely exposed, except for the thin leather bands wrapping her pelvis. Her right hand was behind her thigh while the other gripped her flesh-colored phallus. She twisted to her left to show its length.

"Don't resist me," she advised her companion. "I'm stronger than you are. Take off your clothes, and get on your back."

The blond in Room Eight had fallen forward from a crouch, and supported her upper half with fists on the carpet. Also naked but for her strap-on, she looked like a gorilla that was about to charge.

In Room Five, a woman's latex penis protruded from the front of a belted pair of briefs. Her left hand brought its head to the trembling lips of the guy there.

The couple in Room Two were already fucking. The naked man was bent over the table and the slim girl held his hair with her left hand. Her own head was held over his right shoulder as she continually arched her back, bringing her black panties to his rear in a series of slams. While her small breasts swung gently in her sleeveless pink top, her mouth opened and closed to alternately express ecstasy and determination. The bun atop her head was waved in the air by her pounding.

The girl in Room One was all smiles while her hips rolled up and down on her victim's ass, stabbing it with her feeldoe. She held his wrists beside his head with her breasts squashed on his back and her legs draped over his. Both of them were naked and faced left with their eyes closed, her head atop his. The mattress bounced in time with her thrusting.

The man in Room Twelve was nearly unconscious. The fit Asian who'd brought him was kneeling upon a blanket which she'd placed on the floor. Her long ponytail wiggled as she insistently brought her hips forward with superhuman power. His knees clamped her thighs so that her bulbous ass hit his curling toes with each removal of the prong that was strapped to her. He leaned back on his straight arms, but she kept her hands clasped to the rear of his neck, so that he could see nothing but her swaying breasts as she fucked him roughly.

From outside, Hannah listened to the beds squeaking, being broken, and getting smashed into walls. The desert air was filled with the sound of gagging, pleading, screams of terror, and cries of orgasm. Some women had already completed their first round, and were waiting for others to finish so they could proceed with the rotation. Well before dawn, every woman would have penetrated every man in the motel, and the passive parties would be put to a vote to determine whose cocksmanship was the best. All the competitors knew that anyone who tried to coerce the men by other methods would fail. The strap-ons were the most direct means extant for witches to impose their magical Will, and the one who was truly most potent would be the winner. Hannah found her role in the event to be all too simple, and she yawned.

She almost missed it when a ground level door flew open, and a naked man ran madly from the room.

"Stop him!" yelled the petite witch in the pink top. She wore her harness, but held the dildo in her hand. She leaned against the entrance as though she'd been punched. The noise from the other rooms continued, unabated.

Hannah turned after the escapee, and like a long jumper took one, another, and two more slow leaps; momentum magically entering her body. Her pursuit was made with preternatural speed, and though the male was wiry and athletic, she was quickly able to overtake him.

"Just a minute," she said, grabbing the side of his neck at the shoulder.

"Let me go!" he screamed. He tumbled into the dust, and she stopped beside him. Clutching him by the bicep, she hoisted him to his feet. He knew from her grip he was no match for her, and he tried to tear off her dick. She smirked, and then chuckled, looking down as he tugged her member.

"Rub the head," she said encouragingly. He became still, and then slumped in defeat. The bun-haired girl caught up to them.

"Lose something?" Hannah asked her.

"Thanks for getting him," she said breathlessly, and loosened a strap of her harness.

"I meant your dick. You really came to this rodeo in third rate gear?" The short girl scowled at her, pushing her phallus down into the ring with her thumb, as though loading a rifle. She tightened the rig and the dick was pulled horizontal.

"Just because you were ace doesn't mean you get to give lectures. I'll take him now."

"I can't believe what you're doing here, Missy. Wait until I tell..."

"You won't tell anybody anything, Garrett. 'Yeah, she's a witch, and she fucked me in the ass until I saw stars.' I can just imagine how..." Missy looked up at Hannah when she realized they were holding him like a wishbone. "I said I've got him, Hannah." The larger girl shook her head.

"He knows our weakness, and you're still wearing that piece of shit. I can't let you have him."

"It just popped out. It was a freak accident. It's okay, now."

"No." The man looked at both women in turn as they stared at each other.

"Let me have him, Hannah. I can't be disqualified. I need that promotion."

"You won't get it this way, Missy. I'm sorry." The shorter girl turned red. Some of the other witches realized the contest had been disrupted, and were walking to the edge of the lit portion of the parking lot, trying to see them.

"Just let me go, the two of you!" Garrett cried. The women were calling to them from the motel, their male chattels in tow.

"Last time I tell you."

"No." The tiny girl seethed with hatred.

"He's disqualified, then," she said, and fired a jagged blue energy ray from her cock, that knocked the young man onto his back fifteen feet away. She lowered her eyes to mark his position in the darkness, and stiffened her back and arms for another volley, hands balled into fists. Hannah shot first, and the tiny girl collapsed roughly on her rump, her face a mask of outrage. As she rose, rubbing her sore arm, she again locked her eyes on the larger woman. The first of the onlookers finally reached them.

"When Karen finds out about this, you're finished," Missy said, and slouched into the crowd of her concerned friends. Some of them walked her back to the building, and a few stood looking to Hannah in confusion. She knew the girl was right.

She went over to the man. He stared up at her, in a daze.

"Get your clothes."

The participants began leaving the motel shortly thereafter.

"You need a ride?"

A month later, Hannah awoke in her bed wearing gray boxer briefs and her black tank top. Garrett was hogging the sheets behind her. She turned over and dragged them onto herself. This prompted him, though half-asleep, to roll over as well, and entangle his limbs with hers. They began kissing, and she brought their bodies to the missionary position, her arousal causing the heavy dildo inside her to emerge from her vagina. Her fingers shuffled on the fly of her underwear like she was trying to crack a safe, and opened the hole so her rubber phallus could pass through it. His feet kicked away the bedding. At last her dick was out, and she thrust it into his naked form, producing a strain in his back muscles that pinned his head to the pillow. His eyes crossed and his mouth opened, while his hands clasped her shoulders and his ankles crossed on her cotton-clad ass, as if all of the moving parts of his body had developed fevered minds of their own. Relentlessly, she fed the length into his rear, sending shivering climaxes, one after another, up his torso. Her member began spasming in unison with his, seeming to pump invisible gallons of her seed into his conquered flesh.

"Hannah!" he cried. Her toes dug into the mattress for traction and her calves added power to the floor-shaking pumps she made. He moaned.

After pulling out, she flipped him over onto all fours. She descended upon him in a crouch, and placed her hands on his midsection. While quickly grinding her pelvis forward, she dragged his trunk onto her rod in time with the rocking of the bed. Her powerful thighs clamped his hips for stability, but her shoulders rose and fell wildly on the waves generated by each hump. When the strength ran out of his limbs, she lowered with him, landing on her shins. Her heels rested in the backs of his knees. Though she kept aiming at his head, the vigor was absorbed in an up and down motion that made the springs sing and the metal frame groan. Hannah positioned her grips on his shoulderblades and gave slower, forward drives that made every inch of him jiggle. Garrett came again, and slipped blissfully back into unconsciousness.

Later, she reclined on her back, and he cuddled her with his head pillowed by her large upper arm.

"I think I can see why you won that contest," Garrett said absently. Hannah gave a quiet laugh.

"Those girls didn't stand a chance against me. The men were all two-bit whores," she replied. His face turned up to her.

"Is that how you see me?"

"No," she said, looking at him, "I don't fuck you the way I took the men in that tournament. I cheated."

"You did?" he asked, propping himself on his elbow. "How?"

"I used a kind of magic the other witches aren't aware of. I have a gift the others don't."

"What is it?"

"Well," Hannah said, "I was trained as a mechanic, before I fell in with their group. They teach strap-on sorcery in lots of different venues. The one I went to was a sort of Retreat, in this camp out in the woods. You've probably seen flyers for it and not realized what they do. Anyway, whenever I learned a skill from them, I always viewed it as fixing something; like a motor, an appliance, whatever. Somehow, and this is the way I won the dogfight, I gained the ability to bring a man I penetrated into sympathy with a machine; to use one of them to tune the other." He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, if I were to enter you while the TV was on, I could use your body to change the channel. Or, if you were anxious, and I had you near an idling truck, I could use the vehicle's rhythms to calm you down. When I called the men in that contest two-bit whores, I was speaking literally. I knew the beds at the motel we'd be using had Magic Fingers. Know what that is? You put a quarter in a slot by the headboard, and the mattress vibrates. I brought a sack of change with me, and just kept feeding the coin banks, while I plowed the men. Essentially, I turned them into robots. I made them think it was the best sex of their lives." Garrett stared at the wall.

"You can really do this?" Hannah nodded, keeping her head on the pillow. "Can we try?" She laughed again.

"I'm a little tired."

"Oh, do it! Do it, please!" The witch smirked.

"You're sure you want to? It's a little freaky." He nodded enthusiastically. She smiled. "Alright. Lie on your back, and raise your ass up. Keep your elbows on the bed and take hold of your thighs." While he got ready, she turned on the bedroom light, which had a dimmer switch.

Hannah leapt back onto the bed beside him, and let her unit slide out of her shorts. She nudged Garrett's ankles back a bit, to make his thighs level. He readjusted his grip to hold the legs steady. Hannah grabbed the base of her cock with her right hand, and Garrett's right thigh with her left. She pointed the dildo down, and by crouching, placed its head in his rear. The cock was completely vertical as she moved her right hand to his left thigh, and squatted slowly to sink the tool inside him. She extracted it once just as gradually by unbending her knees, and then with her hands on her own thighs, in a posture that both mirrored and overlapped his own, she drove the phallus home, once again.

"Okay, we're ready, now. Look up."

He felt the end of her dick circling within him like a stirring rod, and the light from the ceiling became weaker. The rotation reversed, and the brightness returned. Garrett laughed.

"That's amazing!" She smiled down at him open-mouthed. A man walking outside was carrying a portable radio. Hannah gently banged their butts together, and the song that was playing cut out for a moment every time she thumped. Garrett gazed at her in awe, and her grin widened. "Do something to me."

"What?"

"I don't know. Make me come without stroking."

"I can already do that."

"No, I mean..."

"Remember that time I put it in you and you came right away?"

"Hannah!" he begged. She laughed.

She brought her hands together in front of her, and her wristwatch beeped twice as she pressed buttons on it. She looked into his eyes, and he blinked his consent. Hannah started the timer function, and the numbers climbed, 1... 2... 3... The pleasure radiating from her girth increased.

"Oh... Oh, God... Oh, wow... What!..." His cock plastered the grimace on his face, and the large woman turned off the counter. She withdrew from him and jumped down to the floor with a thud. He was left to relax, with his legs resting back upon the bed.

Garrett was doing the dishes when she came home from work a week later. She left her raincoat on the rack by the door, and set her black lunchbox on the counter. After giving him a kiss on the cheek, she grabbed a beer from the fridge, and took a long swig. The man's eyes ran up and down the butch bulk of her overalls, with unabashed delight. Her glances began to linger on his backside. Before she could get her hands on him, he told her his idea.

"It sounds risky," she decided.

"No, it's perfect. The witches in that contest never figured it out, and they know all about magic. We can't get caught. Listen, I've got it all planned. We lose a few times to make it look real, and also win, and then we arrange one really big bet, and we clean up."

"But online poker? Those sites look so shady. Do they even pay real money?"

"I've got a list of the good ones right here," he said, unfolding a sheet of paper from his pocket. He put it on the table in front of her. She sat back and finished her beer. "You said you want to get us away from here." Her eyes went nervously to the window. "This is the ticket." His hand fell on the loose leaf, and her gaze moved to it. "Are you in?" She looked at his face.

"If we do get caught, it's not just your ass that's in trouble."

"It's your ass, too," he said. His hand reached out to clasp hers, and put it on his rear end.

"How much do we need to get started?" He grinned.

"I've got it covered."

On Saturday morning, Garrett's laptop was set up on the bedroom floor, with a long couch cushion at the keyboard.

"Make sure the camera's off," Hannah cautioned. "We don't want to give them a show."

"Here, I got you this," the young man said, and passed her a small white paper bag. She dumped the contents into her hand: a tiny navigational compass on a thin necklace. "So you don't get lost in there." She put it on silently. They continued getting ready.

When the page was loaded, Garrett got on all fours atop the cushion, and Hannah knelt behind him.

"Are we in?" she asked.

"Yeah." They played several hands without supernatural assistance, to get the feel of the table, and to make things appear normal. Their luck was better than average.

"Alright," Hannah said, and poked her dick into his asshole. He tensed and screwed his eyes shut as it ran through him. "Stay focused." He stared intently at the monitor, and felt her hands rest on his shoulders. The screen reflected her concerned face.

She found extending her consciousness through the fiber optic network no different from tracing the circuit of a clock radio or the fuel line of an engine. Instantly she acquired a mental picture of the path the signals used to get to and from her apartment, and of the small cluster of transistors in the server that hosted the program. The potentialities appeared to her like rings spinning on metal rods, and by reaching out an electrical hand to still some and quicken others with her ghostly fingers, she altered the distant computer's output. She'd unconsciously begun to sway her hips to and fro. Garrett's sighing brought her mind back to their home.

"We'll win the next three hands," she whispered. "Bet as much as you can. Then we're done."

The take was one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.

On Monday, Hannah was out severing connections with the town, and finalizing the moving arrangements. Garrett was having trouble walking to the door after having spent a whole day celebrating in bed.

He answered it, and saw Missy standing in the hallway wearing a sweet smile.

"Invite me in?"

"If I don't, you can't enter."

"That's vampires," she said, and walked past him. "Cute place. I guess you didn't spend it on furniture." She studied the small statue of an undine.

"I can get it back to you as soon as Hannah comes home."

"I don't want to see her, and I don't want the money you stole."

"What... Are you going to kill me?" She laughed, throwing a pizza crust back in its box. She turned to him, and shook her head.

"It's simple, really." Her fingertips landed on the fabric below her belt buckle, and she undid her zipper. Garrett stared at her burgeoning dildo. A small drop of moisture fell from its tip. "Remember this?" Her hand rose beckoningly, and his eyes momentarily took on a red glow. He was inflamed with lust and strode purposefully to her. They embraced like lovers.