The Fern Tender (7 page)

     She couldn’t maintain her grip on the her reality anymore. The only thing that mattered was watching him. Untethering now, she gave herself to him as she had so many other times.

He could feel her stares, her energy, and knew they were ready. He moved his fingers across the top of the book and slipped two of them between the pages. Covering them up with words. Uncrossing his legs he leaned back slightly in his chair and rhythmically tapped his foot. After just seconds of watching him, she was lost in his spell.

     With all her senses struggling, shuffling to keep up, running over and into one another, almost as if merging into something special, something supernatural. This was the fleeting prelude of being with her Andrew, a short in her senses; the muffling of sounds, the feeling of touches, the smashing of lights together, taking breaths of air from some deeper place and letting it cycle into her veins and travel into her heart, her brain.

     Now the familiar immediate connection to him began its migration from within her sex. Rising like steam out of her depth, the low hum of orgasmic warmth was broadcasted throughout her whole body. Looking directly at him, penetrating him with her eyes. She could feel the waves of his magic fluttering across her skin.

     Just as her energy began to pour out of her on its journey to joining Andrew, he took her hand. The physical touch cooled the connection momentarily. She gripped his hand back and let him lead the two of them. Peering over his shoulder, she let her clouded gaze rest on the trees. “Going through trees’, she told herself. “Trees, rocks, path, bushes” labeling the soupy surroundings she was experiencing almost like a Richard Scarry book. That somehow made this feel more normal. “Table” just as she saw a short wood table. Her back crunched on to a surface, “table again, I’m on it”. “Clouds, I see clouds”.

     Her pussy was charged and crackling with electricity. She instinctively spread her legs and lifted them up letting the bottoms of her sandals rest on the table as well. Andrew put a firm hand under her bottom and then yanked off the green skirt she was wearing.  He then opened the palms of his hands and ran them in parallel up her thighs scrapping at the sweet sweat that she had accumulated under the tree. Massaging his palms into her. Almost grinding her electricity back up her legs chasing the charge lower into her deep tissue. With each wave of his hands moving over her inner thighs gentle natural pulses of orgasim were broadcasted towards him. She let herself succumb to the intensity.

     Feeling confident in their connection now she regained enough of her sense to whisper “Oh God, how do you do this?”. Andrew ignored her and withdrew his hands. Stepping back from the table momentarily she could make at the jingling of keys that he placed on the table. Next the thud of a cold steel pistol slapped down on the table. Finally she heard his jeans come off and fall into the dirt resting next to his T-shirt. She craned her neck up looking through the valley of her breast. She wanted a glimpse of him. He was beautiful physically, and also beautiful with whatever he was doing with her. An amazing sexual man, taking her away.

      He caught her looking and playfully pushed her face down and covered her eyes but his masculine hand automatically fit over the the top her lips too. Now blind and silenced he took his other hand and uncloaked her sex. He flicked her panties aside tossing them into the blackland prairie dirt so common East of the Capitol. He now stroked one of her breasts. Having no interest her chest, her bra stayed on.

     Wasting no time, he placed his cock in her hand. It was solid, and weighty. Fully erect, he instructed her “wrap your fingers around my black dick, and squeeze it”.

     Lying on the table she held out her hand and obeyed his instruction. She pumped a few times but instead quickly took back all control. She wanted him a certain way and wrestled out of his grasp. 

     Swinging her hips around she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso and with both hands grabbed his neck. Still sitting on the table, she leaned into him with all her weight forcing his firm ass down on top of the long straight 2X6 plank of the picnic table chair. Unwrapping herself  she commanded, “Lay your back and your legs down along the board.”

     She stood over him looking, letting her eyes lap up his beauty. His body laying flat on top of the weathered plank, his arms and hands crossed and resting in his pectoral muscles. Without warning she dug her face into his package. She held his cock with both hands lifted it and continued to gnaw underneath him. Kneeling beside him and hanging onto his dick she ravaged his genitals with her tongue tasting all of him everywhere.

     With each lick, his cock pulsed, growing even fuller.  Stepping back for a few seconds and standing over him, she admired her prey. Seeing his body flat on his back with his huge spire rising at full attention, she wondered if what she was about to do might hurt her a little. “I want every bit of you shoved in me, OK?”, she cracked at him.

     She turned sideways and faced his feet, then flung one leg over the top of his rock hard abs and straddled him now with both legs. In one quick move she traded her view of his beautiful face for a view of his feet. She chuckled a little knowing that his view of her would be a white hourglass backside and her throbbing asshole. But her positioning had a purpose.

     Sliding her walls carefully over the tip of his shaft she hitched herself into him for what she knew would be another great ride. No longer able to control herself, she slid down his pole, falling and falling for what felt like an eternity. Finally she reached bottom, and quickly bounced herself back up, then she turned her head to the side and placed her cheek on his ankles.

     Now firmly attached, she grabbed his feet with both hands locked herself into her personal scratching post. Crossing her feet together underneath the board they were both free of the ground, she began her ride.

     Fucking and fucking over and over, only stopping her rhythm every dozen or so pumps to mash herself against the end of him, round and round and round, then bounce, fall, bounce, fall, round and round, the cadence continued.

     A sheen of sweat began to cover both of them. The juice serving as a conduit for even more connection. Drilling and drilling him she could feel every inch of her fall, rise, fall, rise, bottom out, smash around, around again, around again, rise, higher, higher, higher, fall, fall, fall, around, around. She slammed her throbbing pussy into his cock watching his toes curl with each thrust.

     Tightening her legs and hands, she grasped him with all of her muscle and braced herself. He was now taking her on a wonderful journey, low, high, up, scratching at the blurry sky. She was riding him so hard his feet began shake. Finally, she checked over her shoulder, he seemed OK and she resumed her ride staring straight ahead giggling, and fucking her own cunt. Mashing into her stick and wanting more and more, she kicked them into another gear by reaching behind her ass slamming her left fist into his ribs. “Faster, faster, Ha!, Ha! Ha!”

     With one last punch into his rib, she got to the edge, broke through and could see it. The colors separated, and the blur sharpened into objects. Tugging upward with her tightened hands the view of the sky and a massive thundercloud on the horizon was amazing. Then relaxing her pull - she shot downward, streaming into the skyline of the Capitol fucking, flying, fucking and flying. As she banked a hard left, the force of the turn released drops of cum from her folds. Giggling again knowing that they were probably splashing into the brusselly dreads of her stick and then ultimately forming her own contrail.

     The Capitol building came into view. A grand building of pinkish marble, covering 6 city blocks. The rest of the city dwarfed and held in submission of the imposing structure. On the very top was a red aircraft warning light, and underneath it stood a statue of a woman, Lady Liberty as the called it.

     Gesturing upwards and relaxing for a minute, she coasted briefly, took in the view and then pumped her ass up and slid it back down again, slapping herself up and down building herself to a crescendo, letting her fluid pile up.

     Seeing the woman under the red light was just too much of a temptation, she now pushed down on her stick and violently and turned hard. Then as if shouting to Lady Liberty she cackled, “Oh, how I love the irony, a building dedicated to a man’s world that a woman of liberty presides over! Not only a woman but a woman with a red light! Bless you sister.”

     Making three tight loops around Lady Liberty, she watched as her cum rained down in a perfect trail surrounding the pink tower the Capitol. Now in a deep state of whole and pure orgasim she lost her view of the Capitol and gave into the rush of training climaxes. Suddenly the movement stopped. Floating, then falling just as the climaxes began to ebb, the buildings, the horizon, all lost their contrast and it began to blur again.

     Spiralling slowly down into the fuzzy shapes, she was jolted by the force of his load hitting the back of her pussy. The impact of his cum cleared her vision and created one final pulse of excitement. The hairs on her neck and arms straightened. She relaxed her positioning, and almost fell off the bench but Andrew caught her fall with a firm hug of his arms around her waist.

     Feeling an urge to blink her eyes, she complied with the demand from her body. Opening them up again, she saw him casually flip the next page in his book. Then he released his two fingers from the page, his foot stopped, and he crossed his legs. Shooting her a quick wink, he returned to reading, his eyes down. Panning over to the BBQ line, she could see the two men engaged in the brisket cooking discussion had only moved just a few feet up in line. Finally glancing at her watch, she realized no more than 2 minutes had just passed. “Wow….” she muttered.

     She had the same feeling today as always, joy. Joy was the word felt with him that first time a few years ago too. This time, she just winked back straightened her skirt walked to her car. She had an important meeting in the same capitol building in 20 minutes.

Chapter 4

Ellen’s Dungeon

     Black Magic. Ellen used it. It existed in the Colony as it did everywhere as long as there were people who knew how to summon it. The source of it was a mystery though. Women like Ellen could harness its energy, but could never tap its origins. It had no paradigm and rituals were unreliable for reproduction of magical events. Like fire, the energy it produced could be fun, but under the wrong conditions could be terrifying and deadly. The unpredictable nature was attractive to Ellen and she devoted much of her life to trying to understand it.

     Unlike the good magic of the Colony that dealt with math and probabilities as much as it did the supernatural, Black Magic was pure. You had to submit. Let yourself be led. Wielders of black magic knew it could not be controlled for long just glimpsed.

     Ellen left her job as Fern Tender in the Colony 25 years ago, but it still felt like yesterday when the realtor walked her through the giant hall, stone catacombs, damp basement, and airy attic spaces. The old Masonic Temple in the heart of the Capitol’s Colonial district was a perfect place for Ellen’s new home. It was a space of deep ritual with it’s own lingering magic. It was far away from Ellen’s self-imposed banishment from the Colony. Here she could practice her ideas of magic as much as she wanted while never worrying about the board, the ferns, or jaguars.

     Ellen’s Temple, as it was now called, was also a great place for Lillian’s vice - sex.

     The wheel had slowed again during Lillian’s last visit to the ferns, and she was back in the Capitol.  She was now seeing the President on a weekly basis. Running back and forth from the Spring to the Capitol reporting her findings. Just exactly what the President would do if the wheel stopped was never really discussed. Lately she felt like she was just a messenger, always carrying bad news.

     The stress of living in two worlds and the idea of a pending apocalypse was too much for anyone to have to live with on a daily basis. Feeling powerless, Lillian needed a release from the secret she and President shared. Andrew was great last week, but she was looking for something darker and stronger this week.

     This was a perfect time to see Ellen. The deep purple sign perched above the front stone triptych glowed and hissed out the words “Ellen’s Temple.” There was nothing secret about what this place was, and Ellen reveled in her advertisement of temptation for the masses. In reality, only a select few clients would ever feel and see the extent of Temple. Most of the clients, all women - Ellen had no use for weirdo men - got the standard treatment. A mock dungeon scene, a few spanks, maybe some taunting and a crisp whack of a whip or two, and then were shown to the parlor where the clerk more than happily swiped their credit card. The bill conveniently read Target with an apostrophe s (Target’s) which kept nosy husbands at bay.

     Outside of the pedestrian customers, there were a handful of women that Ellen adored and those chosen few could spend an entire day or afternoon indulging in all the rooms, for free. Black magic required power to run. Almost like a battery, it had to take from some where in order to give to another. The women Ellen chose for full treatments were aware of this trade off. They didn’t care. Like anything truly evil, Ellen’s rooms were irresistible, too good not to have or at least use fleetingly on a rainy afternoon far away from daily life in the Capitol or in Lillian’s case, far away from the ferns and the wheel.