Future of Porn

“There are some kinks to be worked out, for sure,” Bill Forrester agreed with the group of men and women around him. “Side effects, bodily responses, more accurate predictions, et cetera, et cetera. But we’re not going to be able to isolate the secondary responses to the deuterotone without further testing.”

“Meaning…?” This came from Ken Hastings, Forrester’s direct superior and the chief operating officer of Connecticut Pharmaceuticals, in its entirety. He was a balding man, in his mid-fifties, a bit pudgy like Forrester himself. And, over the course of the previous few weeks, he’d been playing devil’s advocate to those who had been short-of-breath due to the excitement of Erica Rivers’s experiment.

“Meaning,” Jake Rinaldi interjected, “that we won’t be able to isolate whether the concomitant is an individual psychological response to unrelated stimuli, or an effect of the deuterotone itself, without moving forward with Phase One trials.”

Rinaldi was the most junior executive in the room, a vice president in a throng of executive vice presidents, senior vice presidents, and members of the Board. He was, however, Forrester’s right-hand man, with direct responsibilities for the Human Hormones Lab, among other things. It was Rinaldi who worked directly with lead scientists, research principals, and – in this case – with Dr. Natalie Hart, director of the Human Hormones Lab itself. Thus, Rinaldi was perhaps the most informed person in the room, aside from maybe the peroxide blonde technician behind the ops desk, or the naked scientist writhing on the floor behind him.

There were fifteen men and women in all - not including Wendy Milne, who watched the group with disinterest from the far side of the room. Forrester had assembled the Board of Directors and all of management that Monday evening, leading them down to ConnPharm’s state-of-the-art data collection device, the Bullpen. The Executive Vice President of Corporate Strategy, the Senior Vice President of Sales and Marketing, the Senior Vice President of Finance, the Chief Medical Officer, ConnPharm’s General Counsel, Hastings the COO, and even Andrew Donnelly, the Chairman, President, and CEO, stood before him, peering through the one-way glass at the dark-haired woman confined to the Bullpen. They were joined by the seven members of the Board, six men and one woman, all of whom seemed enthralled in the peep show to which they were being indulged.

Erica Rivers could have perhaps better explained the science behind her recent breast augmentation, but Rinaldi had kept the group’s visit from the scientist, and had instructed Wendy Milne to do the same. There were concerns about Erica’s erratic behavior over the past few weeks, and Rinaldi had doubted that the girl would be able to divorce herself from the various perversions she had wallowed in to adequately respond to the queries of management and the Board.

Even now, despite being entirely unaware of the twelve men and three women on the other side of the mirror glass, Erica was on her knees, bent over and supporting herself on her left elbow, with her posterior in the air. Her right hand was moving rapidly back and forth between her legs, and it was clear to all present that the girl was both gasping for air and moaning with gratification. Thankfully to some, and perhaps disappointingly to others, Erica remained facing the wall to the left of the Bullpen, meaning her left leg blocked a direct vista of her vagina itself. Her forehead was resting against her left forearm, inches from the plastic keyboard she’d been heavily engaged with just minutes earlier.

Projected onto the wall were a series of biochemical structures, hardly pornographic, hardly arousing. Forrester and Rinaldi had both warned their audience that they might be exposed to “questionable” content being projected in the Bullpen, but Erica hadn’t needed visual depictions of nudity and sex to start masturbating sixteen days earlier, and she apparently didn’t need them now, either.

“Shouldn’t the deuterotone be out of her system by now?” Michael Yamamoto, the Chief Medical Officer, asked quizzically. His eyes remained fixed on the black-haired woman before him, but he seemed to be looking at her as a puzzle, and not as sexual object. Yamamoto had mostly been detached from the deuterotone project, though his underlings in Medical Oversight had nearly shut it down. He, like many in ConnPharm’s upper management, had doubted the results of Dick Abbott’s report – it seemed less likely that sweet, conservative Erica Rivers had been masking a vulgar exhibitionist streak all these years, and more likely that she was simply reacting to the drugs in her system. But the deuterotone had run its course, and after the girl’s final injection seven days earlier, the compound should have been flushed.

Which left Yamamoto, among others, to begin wondering if Dick Abbott’s report was indeed correct.

“There are trace amounts,” Rinaldi conceded, but it was clear from his answer, and his tone, that even he had begun to believe that Erica’s behavior was psychologically-induced, and not thrust upon her by foreign chemistry. He added, “And I should note that, even in the week following Dr. Rivers’s first injection, the level of deuterotone in her system was no higher than the level of testosterone in the bodies of each and every man in this room.”

“So she’s a…?” Jane Allard, the head of sales and marketing, obviously wanted to finish the question with a range of choice words, from slut, to whore, to nymphomaniac, but she instead just let her voice trail off.

“She was a poor choice for this early analysis,” Rinaldi answered, diplomatically, “given the amount of exposure she has undergone, and given what sort of personality quirks may or may not have existed in the recesses of her subconscious.”

“On the one hand,” Forrester stepped in, “we have twelve years worth of trials and experiments on rats and rabbits and chimps. We have a mountain of data, and any number of models that should predict side effects in the human body. On the other, we have one early analysis, performed upon a woman who might very well be battling her own inner demons and repression.”

“But the science works,” Donnelly said flatly. He had been quiet for much of the expedition into the Observation Room, taking in the beautiful girl that was hunched over on the clinically white floor of the Bullpen. Her paced had lessened, and the heaving of her chest had slowed with it. If she’d hadn’t just orgasmed and was coming down, than she was slowly building to her climax.

“The science works,” Forrester agreed. “We overshot the model a bit, but individual body chemistry is always going to prevent us from being exact.”

Donnelly raised an eyebrow.

“She was shooting for a D-cup, Andrew,” the head of research and development explained. “She’s a double D.”

“From a B-cup?” Harriet Vanoza asked. She was a member of the Board, a successful biochemistry professor at the state’s university in Storrs.

Forrester nodded.

The room was silent for a moment, each person staring in at Erica, each one of them lingering upon the girl’s breasts, dangling down beneath her in the Bullpen.

“If the science works,” Donnelly began, “and we’re at least fifty percent sure that Dr. Rivers’s behavior is, in fact, Dr. Rivers, and not the deuterotone, then I’d recommend that we go forth with the Phase One trials. Stephanie,” he gestured to the General Counsel, Stephanie Smith, who stood behind him, “can do a more thorough examination of whatever sort of legal implications we might be opening ourselves up to.”

Donnelly looked to Forrester, and asked, “Do we need to do a psych evaluation on our subjects?”

Forrester looked to Rinaldi, who responded for his boss. “It won’t be an issue, if we’re not using the Bullpen. I doubt, very much, that Dr. Rivers’s idiosyncrasies would have been triggered to the degree they were, had she remained fully clothed and gone home every night.”

“Hmm,” Donnelly replied. After a few moments, he turned to Ed Mollohan, the head of corporate strategy, and ordered, “Get in touch with Jagdesh Trivedi and Elisabeth Parker at Green College.”

Turning to the others, he explained, “If we do this, I want a small, contained community, like Hancock, New Hampshire, and I want both professors involved, Trivedi on the biochemistry side, and Parker on the women’s issues.”

Donnelly’s eyes moved away from his executives and his Board, and back to the shorthaired scientist, whom he swore was barking curse words through her climax. The sound was muffled by the heavy amounts of sensors, wiring, and glass between the Bullpen and the Observation Room, and given that none of the others was standing as close as the CEO, he doubted that the others had heard the same string of expletives. All of them, however, saw Erica roll onto her backside, satiated for the time being.

Glancing at Rinaldi, Donnelly suggested, “Have one of your people put together a reception for Wednesday of next week – in one of the function rooms upstairs, or at a restaurant nearby. Invite the Human Hormone staff, the technical staff, the Board, everyone here, and so on. Self-control aside, that little girl has done a bang-up job on this project, and I want to make sure that we all know how appreciative we are of her sacrifices.”

Donnelly looked back at the naked girl. Was it truly a personality fault that had set the girl off? Was she truly in the possession of a subconscious tic that had been the impetus behind her behavior? Or would another woman, given the same external stimuli, react that same way? Did the women around him – Smith, Allard, Professor Vanoza – secretly harbor the fantasy of being a wanton sex object? A nude goddess?

Perhaps it was an experiment for another time.

***

Hannah Cho slid her card key through the slot next to the Observation Room’s door. The light blinked three times, and the biologist was allowed in; into the small universe that her friend had made her home for the past four and a half weeks.

Erica was locked away in the Bullpen, watching something on the projection screen, something Hannah thought was familiar, but did not recognize or give much thought. She was, unsurprisingly, knuckle-deep in her own pussy, seated with her back against the wall and her legs spread wide before her. Initially, Hannah had been extremely uncomfortable about seeing her friend masturbate. But now, though the awkwardness had not dissipated completely, she was no longer shocked to find Erica in the throes of self-pleasure, in the Bullpen or out of it.

Colin Eggert was hunched over the ops desk, making sure the programs he’d spent the past few days on would all run smoothly once he’d gone home for the night. The Bullpen constantly needed to be tweaked, repaired, and improved, and the demands upon Colin didn’t stop with the deuterotone project – he was running analyses for Dr. van Guilder, doing prep work for Dr. Brigham, and completing feasibility studies for people like Hannah Cho. To Hannah, it seemed as if Colin’s life, at least lately, had been all work and no play – he was probably looking forward to the end of the experiment as much as Erica was, to find his release.

Hannah was dressed casually, wearing a pair of straight-legged, grey wool pants, closed-toed shoes, and a simple white-with-blue-stripes blouse. She had, slung over one shoulder, a small bag, which she set down in front of Erica’s locker. Erica’s pink panties, long hung on the hook inside her open locker, had mysteriously disappeared a few days earlier, though the scientist herself seemed unconcerned.

Hannah’s hair was shorter than it had been the previous week. She had explained to Erica, and to others, that the nude girl’s new haircut – courtesy of Colin – had inspired her to trim her locks, as well. Hannah had gone for a trim that weekend, and Erica had received another on Monday.

Erica’s experiment was entering its final week, and given the enormous breasts she now possessed, it seemed as if it had been a success. Most of the deuterotone had been flushed from her system, but the final seven days in the Bullpen were both necessary and precautionary. Erica and Noah wanted to make sure that their subject’s body was, in fact, clear of their artificial hormone. It was also important that Erica’s readings closely matched those of her first week in the Bullpen, when they had recorded her baselines.

Though Erica wasn’t quite sure why Colin needed to trim her hair back again, she hadn’t questioned him. He’d done a halfway respectable job the first time, and Erica knew that she could visit a salon in just over a week if there was repair work to be done. Her black strands were brought back above her chin, and though it didn’t look quite as professional as her Korean friend’s hair, Erica had to admit that it didn’t look awful.

If anything, the haircut had allowed Erica another escape from the Bullpen; on Monday morning, the technical staff had met with the lab staff to discuss a few “irregularities” in some of the readings.

During Erica’s forays into the Observation Room, she was forced to wear a corset, of sorts. Equipped with similar technologies and sensors that were built into the very walls of the Bullpen, the corset covered little, leaving Erica’s tits bouncing out in the open before her, and keeping her pussy exposed, as well. In the first few weeks, Erica had hated the corset – she had a measure of denial behind the mirror-glass as to who was looking in at her, and she felt that the little amount that the corset covered only drew more attention to those parts that were not. But, as the days passed, Erica began looking forward to her time in the Observation Room. She began enjoying the looks from her co-workers, she began feeling more comfortable with her body, and she began getting off on them watching her get off. If nothing else, Erica looked forward to escaping the sweet smell of her sex that had engulfed the interior of the Bullpen, owing the scientist’s near constant self-pleasure.

But the corset had its limitations. Readings were not as encyclopedic as those obtained by the Bullpen, which both the lab staff and the technical staff knew going into the experiment. But Erica needed time outside the small room, for food and exercise, and they’d agreed that the corset was a necessary evil.

Lately, however, there’d been problems of “phantom heartbeats” and confused readings. In addition to Erica’s own information, the corset would pick up data from seemingly thin air – most of it garbage. Most of the Bullpen’s staff believed that it was a problem with the corset – the tactile waves in the Bullpen were perfectly calculated for the rectangular box in which Erica sat. The corset was not. The misreadings seemed to happen during periods of increased heart rate, shallow breathing, and vaginal contraction – while Erica was bringing herself to climax outside the Bullpen. It didn’t happen every time, though, and the technicians couldn’t get the problem to recur during examination.

Erica had been quite willing to fuck herself in the Observation Room that Monday morning, to see if Colin could isolate the problem. She spread out, on her back, on the floor of the exercise area, and went to work. While Colin and Marty Coombs pored over the readings, Erica reached orgasm with one of her vibrators. And then with a simple dildo. And then with a different vibrator. And then with a different dildo. They were simply unable to recreate the problem.

Colin had been concerned, at first, about the timing of one of the malfunctions. That previous Saturday evening, when he had fucked both Erica and his wife every which way, the corset had misfired and picked up a second heartbeat. Colin grew concerned that his physical proximity to the girl, or Jamie’s, had caused the misread. He said nothing about this to his staff, or to the lab staff, but he shot a troubled look at Erica, who didn’t seem as anxious about being discovered as Colin.

But the echoes had first appeared the previous Tuesday, and had popped up a few times since then, when Colin was off-duty. Erica assured him, in private, that he was the only man she’d been with in the past four weeks, and Colin was left scratching his head.

In the end, it was Natalie Hart that stepped in. Since the problem seemed to be occurring between the hours of five in the afternoon through one in the morning, Erica would be forbidden from leaving the Bullpen outside the hours of nine to five. They’d gotten much more liberal with her trips into the Observation Room over the previous few weeks, and though there were only a few isolated instances of technology failures, it didn’t seem to hurt to try and stop them from happening again.

Secondly, Erica was asked to refrain from masturbating outside of the Bullpen. Natalie had been the one to tell Erica.

“No one’s asking you to stop altogether,” the blonde had assured the girl. “It’s not an issue of decency, or any sort of puritanical notion. You can touch yourself from the moment the door closes until the moment it opens again – I don’t care. But you’re going to have to remember some semblance of self-control for the short sojourns in the corset.”

Erica had acquiesced to her boss’s wishes. Self-control had not been her strength, of late, but she did not want to compromise her experiment if she didn’t need to. She, alone, realized that the problem wasn’t her masturbation, or the toys, or even the corset, exactly – it was the fact that she kept getting too close to her sexual partners. Colin had been right about his presence, and Jamie’s, that Saturday night. On the other occasions, Erica had been gasping in ecstasy as Wendy had eaten her out, for the total cost of $600 to date.

The hard part would be giving up her toys, though. Mike Takahashi had carried Erica’s entire cooler out of the Observation Room on Monday afternoon, on Natalie’s instruction. The older woman assured her protégé, who was visibly upset, that they’d be safe in Erica’s office until the end of the experiment.

Finally, Erica’s trips out of the Bullpen, even during the nine-to-five shift, would be drastically reduced. Erica would be allowed to eat breakfast at nine, lunch at 12:30, and dinner at 4:40, each meal taking no longer than twenty minutes. She’d exercise inside the Bullpen – stretching, sit-ups, push-ups, squat-thrusts, and so on – thereby spending twenty-three hours per day inside the Bullpen for every one hour that she spent outside of it.

Thus, when Hannah walked by the exercise equipment on her way to the lockers, none of it had been used in two days. Erica hadn’t complained, though – she had only a week to go, and she was getting plenty of activity inside the Bullpen, from her assigned drills to the more pleasurable calisthenics that she put her body through with her fingers.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Colin shouted across the room.

Hannah had seated herself upon the work out bench, facing the door back into the hallway, her duffel bag neatly against the lockers to her left. She glanced over at the technician, whom she’d known for years, though never to same level of intimacy that Erica had. She nodded. Admittedly, it was easier to do this in front of Colin than it might have been in front of the peroxide blonde technician coming in later that night.

“I do,” she said aloud. “Not that it makes it any easier.”

“Erica’s doing this for her science,” Colin offered.

Hannah paused for a moment, before meeting the technician’s eyes. She answered, “I’m doing this for my friend.”

She kicked off her shoes, sliding them temporarily under the bench, and began to undress.

***

It was official. Erica’s name had leaked out around the ConnPharm campus.

The Bullpen was both a terrifying and alluring place, and when inhabited by a human occupant, the subject of significant conjecture and speculation through the company. In the past, the test subjects forced to strip down and undergo examination had all been male, and thus the chatter throughout the halls had been a bit more subdued. But, with a female occupant, the experiment had taken on a hint of eroticism, from male and female employees alike.

It wasn’t as good as Melanie and I but I wasn’t the lowest any more. I felt better for that, but a little sorry for Amber. I knew what being the lowest meant. I had been there with Melanie and Erin enough to know that. But Amber didn’t seem to care or realize. She had gotten what she wanted. Almost everyone had. I had gotten more than I wanted, but this made up for some of it.

Eventually all four of us ended up in Melanie’s large bed, one mass of naked female flesh, breasts and asses everywhere. I licked Melanie to orgasm while Amber and Sara watched. Then the lights were turned off and Melanie and I held each other. I guessed that Sara and Amber did the same. Sometime during the night I felt someone pushing my legs open and then a warm, wet mouth was clamped over my pussy and I was kissed and licked to orgasm. I didn’t know who it was, I didn’t care. I really didn’t care. I just enjoyed being treated to a lovely orgasm.

In the morning everyone but Melanie seemed a little embarrassed. I slipped into a robe while Amber and Sara showered. Melanie sat up in bed with the sheet covering her completely. They came out of the bathroom dressed and thanked Melanie for the evening. Not me, I was a toy, but Amber did smile at me. She probably was more like me than I understood at that moment. They left, the door closing behind them.

“Come here, darling.”

I walked to her bed and she held out her arms. Smiling at long last, I dropped my robe and climbed into bed with my darling. We cuddled for a while and then finally had to get up and get dressed for out last final.

The next day our parents arrived to move our things home for summer vacation. Melanie and I were alone in the bathroom and I started to cry.

“Shhh, darling, we’ll try to get together this summer. It won’t be forever. You’ll be my roommate next fall, won’t you?”

“You know I will Melanie, you know I will.”

We kissed after Melanie had wiped my eyes and walked down the stairs together, hugged and smiled at each other, before turning to leave with our parents.

I had learned much about myself over this school year. I hoped that the next year would be just as enlightening.

“Do you have change for a fifty?”

“Ni ni No, Mamm, I sure don’t.” This young bellhop was either charmingly innocent, Emmy thought, or he was playing his roll perfectly.

“Well then why don’t you just take this as a special treat tonight, young man?” And she turned and leaned back against the low chest of drawers holding out the crisp fifty towards the bellhop.

It probably only took seconds but to Emmy it was a blissful eternity watching the bellhop nervously walk towards her.

“Thank you, Mamm.” His eyes covered her with that same adoration she felt from the choirboys. Emmy realized he was more uncomfortable than she was at this moment and she breathed in the delicious feeling of power.

Emmy held his hand as she pressed the fifty into his clammy fingers. Then she surprised herself. She went up on her tippy-toes, gave him a sweet wet kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Thank you, so very much, you have been wonderful.”

“Emmy, is that all you can offer this nice young man? He has put himself out to bring us this service this late.

“It’s alright, Sir; No problem at all.” The bellhop was clearly uncomfortable with this new turn.

“That’s all I have, Daniel. What did you have in mind?

“Something for his pleasure, of course; whatever you think you can manage.” The wicked glint in Daniel’s eyes spoke so much more to Emmy. She understood he was encouraging her to take more from this situation and that he was leaving it to her to decide how much. The prominent tent in the front of the bellhop’s uniform told her he was her captive. He reminded her of Johnny Thomas—the same mix of innocence and reserve; thinking of Johnny made it easier for her to take the next step.

“Open your pants, Johnny.”

“The names Rodger, Mamm,” the young man said as he fumbled with his zipper.

“Take it out for me, Rodger. I want to see it.” Emmy said as she devoured the sight of this young man standing so close to her, opening his pants, levering his hardened cock out for her inspection. This cock that was so hard because of her; it made her feel positively wicked to be so very naked in front of this young boy. It was what she wanted in the choir loft–to be utterly naked for the choirboys.

“Your cock is beautiful.” Emmy dropped to her knees on the soft carpet and yanked his pants down around his ankles.

“Step out of these.” From her kneeling position she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his taught, rippled, abdomen, up to caress his nipples. She pinched and twisted them and Rodger drew in a sharp breath. Emmy drew her hands back down his long torso and gently held his throbbing penis in her open hands. It was the most beautiful cock she thought she had ever seen. Emmy looked up at him and the bellhop saw that there were tears in the corners of her eyes. He nervously looked for Daniel but when Emmy began to slowly stroke him to full length he forgot about the other man in the room. She cupped his taught balls in her left hand, hefting their full weight. She gripped his beautiful cock in her right hand and jerked it an exaggerated, slow motion. Emmy smiled when he moaned but she wanted this night to last and she knew there was more to come after they were finished with the bellhop. Emmy stood up and roughly pushed Rodger back a couple of steps so she could see him better.

“Stroke it, Rodger. I want to see you make yourself cum–can you do that for me tonight?” The bellhop groaned and began pumping his cock for her, slowly at first but more rapidly as he stared into her damp eyes and listened to her urging him on.

“Rodger, I love looking at your cock. You’re so turned on. Do you like jerking off for me?”

“Yes, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“After tonight, Rodger, I want you to think of me when ever you jerk off. You’ll do that for me won’t you, Rodger—you’ll remember how you shot your hot cum all over my naked tits…” Emmy knelt in front of him again. She lifted her heavy breasts towards his angry dick, twisting her inflamed nipples.

The bellhop pumped wildly, “yesssss! You….are….sooo… fuck…ing…hotttt!” Emmy stared into his wild eyes and almost couldn’t control herself from taking him to the ground. But it was Daniel’s intense smile that gave her the composure to keep going.

“Come on, Rodger, I want to feel your hot cum on my titties.”

“…aaarrrrgggg, yesssss.” the bellhop groaned through gritted teeth as he shot the first pearly rope of his cum into Emmy’s delicious cleavage. She rubbed her breasts together in his hot slippery fluid as the succession of pulsing shots continued to drench her tits and her abdomen. It ran down through her neatly trimmed pussy, down the insides of her parted thighs. As soon as they both caought their breath Emmy stood and kissed the bellhop again.

“Good night, Rodger, you will remember me won’t you?” She turned and walked off towards the bathroom.

When Emmy was sure he had left she came out of the bathroom. Daniel lifted Emmy in his arms and carried her to the bed. They fucked until they both fell asleep, as the sun had just begun to break the night sky.

[[[[[[ O ]]]]]]

Emmy was brought out of her daydream by Daniel’s deep voice. “Come, Emmy,” was all he said as he led her to the center of the loft. He raised her arms over her head and clasped each wrist to the steel rings he had clamped to an overhead support beam. When she felt secured in her restraints she relaxed a little against her bonds. He removed her clothing slowly, arousing different areas of her body with the touch of his hands. When he slid her panties down her full thighs he spread her ankles a little farther than shoulder width.

“You have been waiting for this haven’t you, Emmy?” She felt the first heavy weight of a suede flogger as it fell upon her. It didn’t hurt; Emmy tightened the muscles in her legs and pushed her ass out to meet the flogger’s caress.

“Yesss, Daniel. I have waited a long time for you.” Gently, with only the force of its own weight, it cascaded down the full swell of her cheeks and through the cleft of her ass, like a heavy viscous fluid. He spoke softly to her, words of encouragement, as he repeated the action with the flogger.

“I am here now, Emmy and there are so many new things I can show you.” As Daniel spoke he swung the heavy flogger luxuriously against her voluptuous body.

After a while the flogger found a new direction. The next swing was just as slow and gentle but this time it came up from between her legs to caress her inner thighs and envelope her entire pussy. It ended its swing with a soft snap against the very top of her sex.

“aaahhhhhh,” Emmy swooned in response. She couldn’t help but raise herself on tiptoes and turn her breasts, trying to anticipate the lick of the flogger’s many tongues.

Daniel paused and Emmy wondered what he was doing. She heard the organ begin again and knew he had set it to self-play mode. She felt the blindfold being removed and in a moment her eyes adjusted to the sight. She was suspended from a pair of rings that were clamped to the thick curved beam that spanned the width of the loft. He had placed her dead center, facing the front of the church–a great symmetrical view. The Farfisa was to her right the choir pews in front of her and the arched loft door to her left; beyond the loft railing stretched the great expansive view–the nave of the Cathedral, the congregational pews and on towards the grand altar. On either side of the cathedral, framed by the ornate supporting columns were the vast stained glass windows. They diminished in the exaggerated perspective of Saint Sebastian’s Gothic architecture.

When she had arrived and was waiting for Daniel the sky was clear and the glass displayed its brightest complexion but now darkness had rolled in and the colored glass was brooding with the impending storm. The first rumble of thunder emanated from outside and vibrated in the base of her spine. The tiny hairs on her neck and arms stood with her anticipation. Then she felt the flogger again, down over full breasts then up between her legs, snapping at her clitoris.

The storm descended quickly. The lightning began with a blinding flash, illuminating the windows in a strobe effect. Sheets of rain fell upon the roofs and spires of the building. There was a seven second delay before the clap of thunder struck and with it Daniel brought the flogger sharply across her ass on her right side. Emmy yelped sharply but the timing was so perfect that she startled from the absence of any sound other than the thunder.

Her flesh stung from the many talons of the suede whip. Another flash of lightning and five seconds later, with the burst of thunder, the pantomime continued. Emmy screamed out in her passion as he swung the flogger with precision. She knew her flesh was cherry red and the stinging had turned to continuous and delicious pain. Emmy also knew Daniel would not harm her. She loved Daniel. She wondered about his feelings for her.

“Four, three…,” Emmy heard Daniel’s soft counting. She also thought she heard sounds below on the Cathedral’s main floor but she didn’t have time to think about anything else. She knew he had this storm synced with his own storm, the dark soulful storm that compelled him, “…two, one.”

“Aaaaaaiiiiieeee.” The crescendo of thunder masked Emmy’s theatrical scream. It was as if the three of them, Emmy, Daniel and the storm, were one in this profane dance.

In time it all came together for only a few pounding heartbeats. Daniel brought the whip down hard on those last two strokes and Emmy wailed out in ecstatic abandon. The thunder began to diminish and with it the flogger fell more lightly until it was gently sliding over Emmy’s sensitive flesh. She could hardly bare it, but Daniel was masterful. He held her on the edge of orgasm, keyed tightly to the surges of body electric coursing through her. Finally, Daniel slid his right hand between her legs from behind to caress her whole vagina. His left hand snaked around her side and under her left arm; he crushed her left breast in the crook of his arm and held her right breast so tightly she thought she might bruise. Her nipple was on fire from his violent pinching fingers. Daniel entered her hot wet pussy with his probing fingers and she buckled under the weight of her release. Though supported by her wrists in the overhead rings, Emmy felt like her whole body, her whole being, was off the ground, gripped in Daniel’s powerful hands. Perched upon his probing fingers and crushing hand, she came over and over again and when her own storming orgasm subsided he held her tightly.

Daniel unhitched Emmy and then he helped her dress. He led her to her car and sat holding her for a long time. Emmy, lulled by his soothing words and warm embrace, thought about the storm, about being one–being three; she, Daniel and that violent summer storm of his.

“Surprised you still have the energy,” she giggled. The rest of you might like to wait a little till you know what we have in store for the rest of the weekend.”

“To be continued…”

“I need a shower. You, too?”

* * * * *

After they left I somehow didn’t want to go back to the mainland. I planted the rest of the roses in September. Then I called my father to tell him I’d be staying on. Tom comes over most days and we make some repairs, but mostly we sit on the porch sipping beer.

I see them sometimes. They rent a place down the street, every summer, and walk together into town, not knowing or not caring that I’m watching. Sandy bobs along, looking over her shoulder, and Lee bends her head, listening, Then she catches up and slips her arm around Sandy’s waist. Just like I used to do. Sandy giggles and smiles up at her, and I remember the best, worst summer of my life.

“Yo, Tom. Another cold one?”