Venus Goddess of Love

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Moondrift
Moondrift
2,281 Followers

It was odd, but running my hands over my body as I washed, I felt as if I had somehow tightened up. There didn’t seem to be so much flab and flap. This was ridiculous of course, as one could hardly expect that sort of change in one day even with the most strenuous exercise and dietary effort, neither of which I had engaged in.

“Imagination again, Dawn,” I admonished myself. Never the less, going back to the bedroom and looking at myself in the long mirror, I seemed to detect a change. It was nothing I could exactly focus on as a definite restructuring of the anatomy, but I did look a little different.

I gave up trying to work out what might have changed and clambered into bed.

No sooner had I got between the covers than my eyes fell on the box. I got out of bed and went to the dressing table and picking it up, I carried it back to bed with me. I opened the lid and looking at ladyship I felt emboldened to take her out.

When I took her into my hand I prepared myself for the “influence”; nothing happened!

“You see, Dawn,” I told myself, “It was all imagination. You were getting sucked into a lot of silly superstition.”

To reinforce this decision that it was all nonsense the old man had talked, I decided that I would not hide ladyship away, but have her on display. I stood her on the bedside table and lay on my side gazing at her. Through the thick mat of her curly hair she seemed to stare back at me.

I looked at the pendulous breasts and swelling belly with her firmly indented sex organ clearly indicated, and below the belly the great bulging thighs. Everything about her was clearly intended to emphasis female fertility.

“You’re like me, ladyship,” I complained, “an unappetising fat sexy bitch. I bet the guys back in your time didn’t fancy you any more than they fancy me now.”

There was a pause, and then to my horror the figurine began to glow and throb with a pulsating red light or, more accurately an aura or mist. It gave the impression of anger and rapidly grew in intensity.

I wanted to hide beneath the bedclothes but found myself unable to move. The figurine seemed to grow and instead of being made of stone became flesh and blood and, terrified, I felt myself being irresistibly drawn into and absorbed by her. She was taking me over and there was nothing I could do to resist, not even scream.

As ladyship and I became one being the scene around me changed. The painted walls of the bedroom were transformed to become rock and the floor uneven stone littered earth and discarded animal bones. I was in a cave and seated on an elevated stone platform covered with animal skins.

A little distance off I could see the cave entrance and a fire burning just inside it, some of the smoke drifting back into the recesses of the cave, making my eyes smart.

There was the malodorous smell of rotting meat and other unidentifiable odours. They were smells that normally I would have found revolting, but somehow they now did not seem to trouble me. It was as if they were part of scene I had always known and was accustomed to.

My terror had receded and I found myself in the curious situation of being the watcher and the watched. I was looking at the scene, yet was part of it. I was her ladyship, but also Dawn Barker looking at myself being her ladyship.

I became aware of sounds around me, the muttering of guttural voices, and looking around I saw a half circle of people standing gazing intently at me. They gave the impression of being like people as they are in our contemporary world, but at the same time they were different. For the most part they were clad in animal skins or some sort of coarse cloth, a few were completely naked and this brought to my consciousness that I was naked too.

All the women were bare breasted, some suckling infants. Their hair fell in wild tangles and their bodies were coated with grime and ash. The men had not only matted hair but also beards to match. They all looked as if cleaned up and dressed in the clothes of our time they would not have been distinguishable from twenty first century people, except perhaps, they tended to be shorter and stockier.

Children sat on the cave floor staring at me in silence with what looked like awe while the adults muttered among themselves.

One man stepped forward and spoke in a guttural tongue that I had never heard before yet now understood.

“Garusha.”

Everyone fell silent and looked at me intently.

“Bachidisha gurik.”

They all sank to their knees except the man who had spoken.

He approached the rock platform on which I was seated and bowed his head then he knelt as if before an altar or shrine.

“Grinda barak fotint damek.”

A voice inside me whispered, “For the good of the kin folk.”

“Grinda barak fotint damek gesh cupulat?”

It was not a command but a reverential request such as one might make in a prayer offered to a god or goddess.

I responded by lying back upon the furs spread over the rock and parted my legs to expose my sex organ.

The man stood and turned to the watchers saying “Tuguta.”

The watchers began a slow chant accompanied with hand clapping, repeating over and over the words, “Grinda barak fotint damek.”

The man turned back to me and bowing again said, “Grinda barak fotint damek gu witush chakala.”

He bent over me and kissed the nipple of each breast in turn, then kissed my sex organ.

I placed my fingers on the outer lips of my vagina and parted them to expose the inner lips and my entrance as an act of invitation.

The chanting and hand clapping increased in intensity and the watcher’s bodies began to sway.

The man came over me placing his body between my legs and I could see his massively erect penis ready to plunge into me.

He said once more above the chanting, “Grinda barak fotint damek,” and with my hand guiding his shaft he entered me, not in any brutal fashion, but as if he entered some holy place.

I heard myself say the words, “Grinda barak fotint damek petic dupaskit.”

These words seemed to release him from what had seemed a reverential reticence and he thrust deep into me.

It was strange this union between us. It was as we might say now, “Objective.” There had been none of the foreplay I had read and fantasised about. We were engaged in a primitive fertility rite whose end was to stimulate the fertility of the women of the kinship group, yet for all its apparent detachment it became intensely erotic.

The man, beginning slowly to slide his organ up and down in me, and then gradually speeded up. I responded with hip thrusts to meet his downward strokes. The chanting and hand clapping tempo increased.

Suddenly the man gasped out “Gruk.” I responded “Petic dupaskit gruk.”

He gave a violent thrust and I felt hot semen exploding into me and with it came my first ever orgasm with a man. I screamed out “Petic dupaskit,” and dragged him deeper into me with my legs wrapped round him.

Now all veneration and detachment disappeared completely. We were man and woman wild and free engaged in the great primordial act of creation. “Be fruitful and multiply.” Those words sang in my head as we coupled in fierce orgasmic union.

With our sexual climax came the climax of the chant, and as the man finished emptying himself into me and I began to climb down from my earth shaking orgasm, I saw the watchers frenzied with sexual excitement, men seizing on women, women with legs wide open inviting, copulating, while children looked on laughing at these adult antics.

The fertility goddess and her partner chosen by the kin had fulfilled the great rite and the earth and kin would be fruitful and multiply. The eternal round of new life and death had begun again.

The man had risen and bowed to me once more and moved towards the back of the cave.

As I watched the turbulent scene, the men rejoicing in their power to impregnate, the women proud of their hoped for fruitfulness, it began to dissolve.

A mist seemed to rise up to engulf me and I became increasingly conscious of myself as Dawn Barker. The cave began to melt away and the fertility goddess diminished and I was lying in my bed staring at the little figurine.

She gave forth no glow, red or otherwise. She was simply the little stone carving I had bought for an astronomical price in a funny little shop off the High Street.

I started to tell myself I had experienced a vivid dream brought on by my sexual deprivation, but then I felt the wetness beneath me.

I had somehow managed to push the bed covers from me during whatever had happened. I looked down at the under sheet and saw a huge wet patch. My inner thighs were soaked and I knew I had never had such a large discharge of lubricant before.

I rose and went to the bathroom and began to clean myself, and then saw what I had not noticed before. There was a thick creamy substance slipping out of me. At first I was at a loss to know what it was. Perhaps I was sick, damaged inside in some way, and the thick discharge was the result. Then the light came.

“My God, its semen; a man has put his sperm into me!”

Yet how was this possible? My own discharge I could account for because of the power of the dream, but however vivid a dream may be it was madness to think that the actual presence of sperm would result. Yet there it was.

I finished cleaning myself and went back into the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed looking at the carving. It was what it was, a piece of stone carved to copy an ancient figurine. It did not glow; it did not grow or absorb me. I did not even have the sense that it was looking at me. It simply sat there on the bedside table looking decidedly unremarkable.

I changed the lower sheet on the bed, not wishing to spend the night sleeping in my own discharge and that of someone else, if that is what it was.

I summoned up the courage to take her ladyship into my hand. There was no influence. I addressed myself to her in what I hoped was jocular fashion; “If you’re going to do that again let me know in advance and I’ll get a towel to put under me.”

No response.

I gave up and put her back in the box. For all my bewilderment about what had occurred I felt at peace. I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being before. In addition, I felt at ease with my femininity. I even tried to think of myself as fat and undesirable and I simply couldn’t manage it. I was woman, the earth mother and yes, the fertility goddess.

I lay down and faded away into dreamless sleep.

Chapter 3: I Assert Myself and am Punished

I woke late in the morning and knew I would miss my regular bus and consequently be late for work. I thought of Mr.Sparks lurking at the door of his rat hole, waiting to scold me, and I didn’t care. I ate a leisurely breakfast and caught the later bus.

I was ten minutes late and sure enough, Mr. Sparks was awaiting me.

“Ah, Miss. Barker, you’ve deigned to join us. So glad to have you with us. This is the second occasion this week that I have had to draw your attention to your time keeping. Of course, I realise that the needs of the office are secondary to the no doubt far more important matters that engage you in your private life, so we are very gratified that you can spare the time for…”

He got no further because I cut in.

“Don’t you speak to me like that Sparks. I’m sick of your bloody sarcasm and your pleasure at making the girls cry. You’re a bloody bullying coward picking on people you think can’t hit back; well here is one who can and will. You speak to me with respect in future and I may reciprocate, but one more bloody sarcastic remark from you and I’ll break your bloody nose, and I don’t care if you do sack me.”

Sparks stood as if paralysed for a full minute, the rest of the staff sitting or standing staring at us. Sparks’ face had turned a sickly grey and I could see his hands shaking. He tried to speak, but only managed to emit a gurgling sound. Finally he turned and scuttled into his rat hole, not to be seen for the rest of the day.

I turned to my desk to start work amid a storm of applause from the others that could not have been lost on Sparks.

Rod and Mike the other boy came over to me; “Congratulations Dawn,” Mike chortled, “at last someone’s had the guts to stand up to the bastard.

Mike had put his hands on my shoulders from behind and now I felt him touching my hair.

“Gosh, Dawn, I hadn’t noticed before, you’ve got really beautiful hair. He began to run his fingers through it.”

Rod came in with, “That isn’t all she’s got that’s beautiful.” He didn’t specify what, but I could see his eyes fixed on my breasts.

After I had given up trying to work out what was different about me as I looked into the long mirror the night before, I hadn’t thought any more about changes that might have taken place in my contours. Now I became aware that regarding my breasts at least, something had changed. They didn’t seem to droop any more, but were standing out large and firm. My buttocks that were normally flabby and spread out over my office chair now seemed to have tightened up. It didn’t seem to be the case that I had lost weight, although I would have to check that up on the scales at home. It was just that everything seemed more in place and compact.

It was nice to have two young men mooning over me but I decided it was better not to give Sparks any more ammunition, especially if it would be fired in Rod and Mike’s direction.

“You two guys had better get back to work in case Sparks comes out of his rat hole, but you can both take me out for a cup of coffee at lunch time.” I was staggered at my brashness in suggesting they should take me out, but they responded enthusiastically.

“Great,” said Mike. “Fantastic,” rejoined Rod, and they made their way back to their desks.

I ploughed into my work really hard that morning, not wishing to give Sparks any further reason to report me to upper management. He had enough ammunition already.

At lunch time I had two eager guys champing at the bit ready to go. Instead of the usual café our staff frequented, they took me to slightly more upmarket place where you got served by a waitress. Not only did they buy me coffee, they plied me with a variety of delicacies, all of which I refused, silently telling myself that if I wanted to stay firmed up, I’d better watch my diet. I settled for a nice salad that didn’t cost them nearly as much as the other stuff.

As they plied the delicacies they also bombarded me with personal questions. What did I do with myself in the evenings and weekends? What sort of things was I interested in? Did I like to go out and where? Did I have a boyfriend? Did I live alone? What was my star sign? And so on. I had never had attention like this from males in my whole life.

It was all bit embarrassing because I didn’t want to tell them that I went home from work in the evenings and at weekends to a little stone effigy and the offerings of television. To get around the problem I told them that while I didn’t really have a boyfriend there was a man I went caving with occasionally. Well, it wasn’t really a lie, was it?

Rod and Mike seemed mightily impressed with my caving and I only hoped they wouldn’t suggest the three of us go on a cave expedition. They didn’t but they did question me rather closely about the coming weekend.

It was me who had to almost drag them back to work or they would have hung around with me in the café all afternoon.

When time to go home came Rod and Mike seemed to be waiting for me, so I told them, “I’m working a bit late this evening to make up for the lost time.”

They looked slightly glum about this, but taking the hint they departed.

I intended to put in an extra half hour and after about ten minutes of this over time Sparks came out of his office. It was the first time I or anyone had seen him since the morning fracas.

He stopped a little distance from my desk and harrumphed, then said, “Very good of you to make up time like this Miss Barker. Very much appreciated…yes…very much appreciated.” He seemed to linger for a moment staring at me with an expression I could not interpret, and then he scuttled off.

“Hmm,” I thought, “It obviously pays to stand up to people like him,” and bent over my work again.

I had not gone to the bank at lunch time as I had intended so scraping the last of the cash from my purse I managed to find enough for a pizza on the way home. Perhaps I should have taken more advantage of Rod and Mike’s offers at lunch time.

Arriving home I retrieved the box with ladyship in it from the bedroom and putting it down on the kitchen table began eating my pizza. When I finished eating I decided that it was time for ladyship and me to have a heart to heart.

I took ladyship out of the box and was disappointed when once more I did not feel her influence.

I was beginning to seriously wonder if what the little old man had told me about ladyship was true. Had there been only one incident I could have put it aside as pure chance, but the dream, or whatever it had been; what I had taken to be sperm after I came out of the dream; my changing shape that normally would have needed weeks, even months, of dieting and exercise to attain and the attentions of the boys. There was also my reaction to Sparks as I asserted my dignity as a woman. These things seemed to go beyond mere chance.

I looked at ladyship and addressed her; “Can you really do these things?”

For a moment I thought I saw her glow, and although I was not touching her I felt the influence ripple through me.

“You do have the powers the old man said you have,” I affirmed. Again the glow and the tingling sensation, but this time more vigorously, making me gasp.

“Either you have the power or I’m going mad,” I murmured. This time the glow was more prolonged and the influence was a jolt that made me gasp as I began to feel sexually stimulated. The feeling of sexual desire began to grow ever more forceful, so I took off my panties and lay on the sofa, and parting my legs began to masturbate while still staring at ladyship.

Waves of carnal lust began to rack me rising to a state of torment I had never known before. Along with this I felt myself being once more absorbed into ladyship and in the anguish of frustrated sexual lust I began to weep and cry out.

“My God, what are you doing to me?”

I felt as if I were being sucked down into some sexual vortex that whirled me round at ever increasing speed causing me to scream; “Ladyship, I want the real thing, I want a man, I must have a man, please…please…I need a real man.”

I was maddened with unendurable desire as with one hand inside the top of my dress I caressed my breasts while with the other I alternated between stimulating my clitoris and thrusting my fingers deep into my vagina.

I had ceased my pleadings and instead gave out little moans and yelps of anguish as I experienced more fiercely than ever before the exquisite torment of supreme sexual arousal and the torture of deprivation.

I burned not only with the desire for a man, but also the deep and primal need to be fertilised, to feel growing within me new life.

I climaxed irrationally screaming for mercy, weeping for my lack of the “real thing.”

I found myself once more separating from ladyship. I was Dawn Barker again, lying on the couch, a hand still on my breast and fingers still in my saturated vagina, the tears streaming down my face as I called out to ladyship; “Please…please don’t do this to me if you can’t give me the fullness of sex. If you have the power, send a lover to me, but don’t torment me.”

For a moment she gave out a softly throbbing glow, and then she became once more just a stone effigy. I lay quietly weeping for my lonely hunger.

As I gradually calmed down I found I was once more saturated with my fluid. I dragged myself from the sofa and headed for the shower. After I had showered I remembered that I had wanted to weigh myself on the scales. I got them out and stood on them. I weighed what I had weighed for the past seven years, no more, no less.

Moondrift
Moondrift
2,281 Followers