© Copyright 2003

I had just pulled out of the dirt track that serves me as a driveway, intending to go into town, when a reflection of sunlight off of unmoving glass, glimpsed through the woods in the other direction, caused me to turn that way. I could think of no reason for that reflection unless someone was parked, trespassing on my property, or someone was in trouble. In either case I wanted to check it out.

I had just eased around the curve when I spotted a yellow Honda pulled off the side of road. An athletic-looking girl with fiery red hair was kicking it, repeatedly.

In these hills, you don't leave anyone stranded, since it's miles to anywhere, and there are still carnivorous predators that prowl the woods, so I pulled in front of the little car and got out to see if I could help.

As I approached the car, the red-head, who still had up a good head of steam, turned to glare at me.

"Just look at this piece of shit!" she yelled, "My dad just bought it for me last weekend, and now the son-of-a-bitch won't even turn over!"

"Miss." I said, quietly. When she ignored me and went back to kicking the tires, I said it a little louder, putting some sharpness in my voice, "Miss!"

She still ignored me, continuing to kick the tires, as if it were their fault.

I said nothing more, just turned and walked back to my truck. I made a U-turn and headed back toward town. As I passed her, she yelled, "Hey! Wait! Aren't you going to help me!?"

I slowed and said out the window, "Not if you're going to continue being rude to me and acting like a maniac."

She had to trot alongside my driver's door to keep talking. "I'm sorry! Please! I was just mad! Please help me!"

I stopped the pickup and said quietly, "I can understand your being angry. That's no excuse for taking it out on the stranger who stopped to help, and it does no good to keep kicking a part of the car that, from all appearances, still works!"

She threw up her hands in frustration, "Are you going to help me, or lecture me on manners?!"

I looked around to call her attention to her surroundings, before replying, "Since I seem to be the only help you're likely to get for a while, I'm going to lecture you first, then, when you're sane again, I'll help you."

She, too, looked around, and seemed to realize for the first time just how isolated this stretch of road was. Her shoulders slumped and she seemed suddenly tired. "Geez, Mister, I'm really sorry! It's been a really bad day, but you're right, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

I smiled, put the truck in reverse, and backed it onto the shoulder across the road from the little yellow compact. I got out and walked across to where she had just arrived back at her car, holding out my hand.

"Mike Brenneman, Miss?..."

"Molly, Molly Pierce!" She blushed very nicely under a healthy spattering of freckles as she shook my hand with a good, firm grip.

"Hi, Molly!" I grinned, "nice to finally meet you! Do me a favor and pop the hood, will you?"

I could already smell burned wiring insulation, and sure enough, when she opened the hood, the primary battery cable had shorted out against the body of the vehicle because somebody having a bad day at the factory routed it wrong. I was surprised it took this long to wear through the insulation.

I closed the hood and retrieved my cell phone. Frank answered on the second ring.

"Frank's Garage!"

"Hey, Frank. It's Mike Brenneman."

"Oh, yeah! The new guy! Hey how, ya doin'!" Frank had been to my house to play poker many times, and still called me 'the new guy'. Probably would, until some other 'new guy' came along.

"I'm doing all right, Frank, but I've got a young lady here that's got a problem."

"Always willin' to help out the young ladies, New Guy, what's she look like?"

"Well, she's about five-six or -seven. Fiery red hair," I motioned to Molly to wait, as I could see her temper cranking up again, "and enough muscles to kick your ass up between your shoulder blades, you old letch!"

"Hmmmm," Frank replied, "Sounds like just my type, but I reckon if I come home with any more bruises, the Missus'll put me in the hospital! So how can I help the poor young thing?"

"I just took a quick look, but it looks like the battery cable and part of the wiring harness are fried on her new Civic."

"Wall, I c'n bring the tow around and get 'er off the road, but a repair like that'll have to go to a dealer, either in Spokane or mebbe Seattle. Can't get loose to haul it that far 'til early next week. Don't s'pose she's got Triple-A, does she?"

"Hold on!" I held out the phone and spoke to Molly where Frank could hear the exchange. "Your car needs to go to the dealer in Spokane or perhaps Seattle, and Frank can't take it that far 'til next week. Do you happen to have Triple-A or some other roadside assistance program?"

She nodded, "Yeah, my Dad got me a roadside assistance plan, hang on..." she reached into the front seat and started rummaging through her purse, pulling out a wallet. The card she extracted had an 800 number on it.

"Do you have a phone, Molly?" I asked.

"Yeah," she shrugged, "but it doesn't work out here."

"Hang on, Frank, I'll call you back."

I dialed the number on her card and let her talk to the person on the other end.

"Yeah, but... Uh, huh. Uh, huh." I could see her getting frustrated as she talked, "That long? But I can't wait out here that long! Hang on! Uh, huh, yeah, just hang on for a second, OK?"

She put her hand over the phone and said "They can't get a tow truck out here 'til next week, either. It's free, but they don't usually have to go this far. They'll tow it into Seattle, to the dealer where Daddy bought it, but I don't even know where I am, much less how I'm going to get home or where I'll stay tonight."

I wrote my land line number on an old business card that Frank had given me and I had stuck in my billfold. "Ok, tell them to pick it up at Frank's Garage..."

I finally had to get on the phone and give the person on the other end of the line directions on how to get to town. When we had that straightened out, I called Frank back and told him to come get the car, and bill me for the tow, then I handed the card and the phone back to Molly.

"There's an old hotel in town, Molly, but if you'd like, my place is just up the road, and you're welcome to spend the night in my guest room. Tomorrow, I'll see that you get wherever you need to be. In any case, you should call whoever's expecting you, and let them know what's going on. That's my number in case you or they need to contact me, and the other side is Frank's card."

She looked at me speculatively for a bit. "If I stay with you, you won't try to rape me or anything, will you?"

I grinned lasciviously at her, waggling my eyebrows like Groucho Marx, while tapping the ashes off an imaginary cigar, "Only if you want me to!"

She laughed and said, "Well, I don't want you to!"

I turned serious again. "Molly, it's a hard thing to trust a stranger, though in these parts we sometimes have to. I'll see to it that you're put up safely in the hotel, if that's what you want, but I would greatly appreciate the pleasure of your company at my table this evening. I was planning smoked salmon, a salad, and home-made apple pie a la mode!"

"That sounds delicious!" she beamed "Ok! Let me just call my Dad and let him know where I am!"

I wandered away to keep from eavesdropping on her conversation, and when she punched the 'End' button, she was looking upset again.

"Daddy has to go to Europe tonight! I've got my whole spring break ahead of me, and I'm just going to spend it sitting alone at home, talking to mechanics and people who want to tell me it was my fault that the car broke down!"

I helped her get her duffle out of the Civic, and followed her to my pickup, taking time to study her for the first time. She wore her wavy red hair in a ponytail that looked as though it might shake out to about shoulder length. Her clothing consisted of a pair of short cotton gym shorts and a T-shirt that hung straight down from the shelf of her prominent, but not overly large tits. Both garments bore the WSU Athletic Department logo. The shirt was cut short, showing a bare midriff that, though it seemed a bit thick, was flat and smooth and unadorned with navel jewelry. Her legs were muscular trunks covered in smooth tanned and freckled skin, through which the outlines of her muscles played as she walked.

Her face was pretty, and well covered with freckles. What little makeup she wore seemed only to highlight the natural colors of her facial features. She had strong cheekbones, straight, slightly pointed nose beneath clear grey eyes, and a wide mouth surrounded by delicate, narrow lips.

On the short drive to the house, I learned that Molly had decided to take the scenic route home from Pullman, and had gotten lost. As she tried to find her way back to the highway, the car broke down, leaving her where I found her.

Apparently, smoked Salmon was a favorite of Molly's, because she went through three helpings, two salads, and still had room for a huge slice of pie topped with a generous scoop of homemade ice cream (I used the electric ice cream freezer this time, though I really get better results hand cranking it).

I offered her a drink, and she accepted a snifter of brandy. This was an eighty dollar bottle that I had left over from a recent trip to the Domaine Chandon winery in Napa, California, and though it wasn't their top of the line, I liked it more than some of the better French cognacs.

With the brandy warming in our palms, I guided her into the living room and used the remote to start some soft jazz CDs. I sat on the sofa and Molly curled up in the chair opposite. We talked about school and sports, and she told me all about her role on the soccer team, and how she hoped to be the next Mia Hamm.

"Not Brandy?" I asked, to see if it would get a rise out of her.

"No, Brandy Chastain is a good player," she replied confidently, "but she doesn't have Mia's heart. Mia just won't stop for anything!"

We talked soccer for a while, but my knowledge of women's soccer was not up to a lengthy discussion with someone who lived for it, and we moved on to other things. As the level of brandy in Molly's glass dropped, the conversation turned to boys, then started skirting around the edges of sex. Suddenly, Molly was crying. She had gone from comfortable, sociable guest, to full-weep basket case almost between words.

I didn't think we were close enough yet that she'd take comfort in my embrace, so I just waited silently for the tears to work themselves out.

Eventually, the sobs diminished and I handed Molly my handkerchief to wipe her face.

She drained the last of the brandy and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Brenneman! I don't know what came over me!" after a pause, she shook her head and said, "No, that's not right. I know what came over me, but it's not your problem, so I don't need to bother you with it."

"Why don't you try me? You might be surprised what I can help with. If I can't help, it might be helpful to you to get it off your chest."

She looked at me through red, tear-stained eyes, but shook her head. "No, it's something I was born with, nobody can change that!"

Considering the topic of conversation just before she broke down, I played a hunch. "Does this have something to do with sex?"

She looked at me again, and gave a feeble nod.

I rolled the dice again and asked, "So something that you were born with interferes with your ability to have, or to enjoy sex?"

She nodded again, a bit more vigorously, while dabbing at her eyes.

"Molly," I said, and waited for her to look at me, "it just so happens that I have a great deal of experience with sex and sexual matters. Why don't you tell me about your problem, and even if I can't help, I might know someone who can? At the very least, I'm less likely to be shocked by anything you have to tell me than most."

She looked at me for a long moment, then, in the midst of shaking her head, suddenly sobbed, "I'm too BIG!"

I thought about that one for a moment. She obviously wasn't talking about her body, and her breasts, though of good size, were not likely to be the source of such anguish. That left only a few possibilities. I chose the one I thought to be most likely.

"Do you mean that your vagina is too large for you to enjoy sex?"

She pointed at me, nodded, then burst out in fresh spate of weeping. "My ex-boyfriend said I was CAVERNOUS - that he couldn't even feel me when he was inside!"

"Well, I'd say that makes him a good candidate for an EX-boyfriend!" I said, and got a tiny smile in return. "Look, Molly. There are any number of ways to look at this. If your ex wasn't a real needle dick, and just saying that to compensate for his own shortcomings?" at her headshake I continued, "then you just have to think about finding ways to engage in sex that allow you to get the kind of enjoyment out of it that you deserve."

She looked a little less desperate when she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," I tried to strike just the right note of seriousness and lightheartedness, "have you tried anal sex? Most anybody, even a needle dick, would have trouble complaining about the tightness of that opening."

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, "that's great for the guys, and I don't really mind it, but it doesn't get ME off!"

"Oral sex?"

"Mmmmmm!" she licked her lips, "Love it, but guys want to fuck, once the blowjob's over!"

I lowered the pitch of my voice when I replied, "Not all guys - not every time..."

Molly's eyes went wide and she shifted in her seat. "You mean - you?"

It was my turn to nod, "Me, among others."

She put a finger to her mouth, thinking. I took the opportunity to splash some more brandy into our glasses. Molly took a sip and inhaled some of the fumes from the snifter.

"This is good stuff!" she held out her hand for the bottle and took a moment to examine the label. "I thought they made champagne?!"

I nodded, "Yeah, their parent company in France makes 'em call it 'sparkling wine' since it doesn't come from the Champagne region, but a few years back, they started selling this stuff in limited quantities, and it kind of caught on."

I swirled the amber liquid around the walls of the snifter, watching the little rivulets run down the glass, then turned it up and took a small mouthful, swishing it around to savor the flavors, then inhaling over the puddle of alcohol it formed on my tongue. The vapors filled my lungs as I swallowed the liquid.

"Molly," I looked again into the glass as I spoke, "if you will put yourself into my hands for a few hours, I think I can show you some ways to enjoy and to understand how special your unique..." I paused to search for the right word, "... attribute is."

I raised my eyes and met her gaze. Through her eyes, I could see the turmoil that seethed within her. Could she trust me? Was I some sort of crazed sex maniac? Would I help her or hurt her? She really wanted help, but how could she take it from a man she'd just met?

To help her decide, one way or another, I got up and beckoned her to follow. This was a gamble, but somehow I thought (or perhaps hoped really strongly) that it would sway her in the direction I wanted her to go.

"I'm going to show you why I say I am experienced in sexual matters. You may find this shocking, but try to keep an open mind, ok?"

I led her into the pantry and triggered the remote to open the hidden door to my dungeon. So she wouldn't feel trapped, I preceded her down the stairs, and as she followed me, thinking hard about each step she took, I turned on the lights.

"Oh my GOD!" one hand flew to her mouth, the other to her chest, but she didn't run.

I spread my arms and turned, presenting my wicked little world for her enjoyment "Down here," I pronounced, "I have just about everything needed to produce sexual pleasure for just about anyone in the world. Turn your will over to me for twelve hours. Let me control your life for half a day, and I'll show you ways to enjoy your gift that you never dreamed possible."

Her troubled emotions boiled over. "Gift!" she said ironically, "More like 'curse'!". She clutched at the pit of her stomach and put her hand over her mouth. "I-I'm afraid."

I nodded, "You should be. You don't know me. This is all very new, and many of these things can be dangerous, even fatal if improperly used. That's why I don't want you to decide tonight. Get a good night's sleep, think it over, and I'll await your decision in the morning."

As I spoke, two large, furred, grey shadows slipped into the dungeon and sniffed at Molly, analyzing her scent. When Caesar's pointed red shaft began to emerge from his sheath, I knew she was aroused as well as frightened. I motioned the dogs to sit and introduced them to Molly, who, thankfully, hadn't shown any fear at their presence.

"Molly, the horny fellow on my right is Caesar. The more polite gentleman on my left is Czar." I waved a hand at each in turn, "Their mother was a Malamute who was bred by a Timber Wolf. These two boys, besides being an integral part of my life and my security system, are also chick magnets - all the ladies love them."

I didn't think it quite the right time to tell her what the ladies loved about them, as she knelt and extended a hand for each to sniff. They did so dutifully, and even suffered her to scratch them behind the ears and around their collars. The boys aren't much for being handled, but they love young ladies.

I ushered them all back upstairs and showed Molly the guest room and bath, bidding her good night.

I was up early and had breakfast ready by the time Molly had finished her morning ablutions and appeared in the kitchen wearing a starched white shirt and shorts tennis oufit that nicely complemented her hair, which, unfettered, shone brightly as it swirled about her shoulders.

We ate in silence. I had my usual hearty breakfast, while Molly made do with a couple of slices of melon and a piece of dry toast.

She sat silent as I cleared the table, but when I held out my hand and led her to the dungeon, she followed docilely.

At the top of the stairs, I stopped and, looking into her eyes, I said "If you follow me down these stairs, you agree to give me control of your body for the next twelve hours. In return, while I won't promise that you won't feel any pain, I pledge that you will suffer no physical injury. I also promise that when you emerge from here, you will be a very different person, and there will be no going back!"

Without waiting for a reply, I descended the stairs and started making preparations. I knew she had already decided, from the look in her eyes, but still had some issues to work through.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the dogs, who knew what kinds of things went on in this room and had preceded me down the stairs, pricked up their ears. A few moments later, Molly's white clad feet hesitantly appeared. It took her forever to make it down the stairs, and she was trembling when she reached the bottom. As she stood indecisively on the last step, I walked over and once again browsed through the emotions displayed within her eyes.

"Before you take that final step," I said evenly, but not harshly, "I want you to remove all of your clothing, including undergarments and shoes, as a sign that you understand into what kind of agreement you're entering. You may place your clothes on this table, and join me over there."

I pointed to the bench where I had been setting things up for her arrival.

I didn't wait to see if she complied, but returned to my preparations, my back toward Molly.

I could tell from the rustle of clothing behind me, and the dogs' increasing agitation, that she was doing as I had asked. I heard a small gasp as her bare feet touched the cold stone floor of the dungeon, and covered my preparations with a black velvet cloth.

When I felt her warmth radiating just a few inches from my bare arm, I flung back the covering fabric and waved my hand over the items on the bench like a salesman offering beads to the natives.

"Choose!" I said.

Molly stared as if hypnotized by the array of plastic phalluses before her, giving a small gasp, more at the suddenness of my movement than anything else.

"Choose?" she whispered.

I nodded. "The dildo you pick will be your first fuck of the day, so choose wisely. Pick one that will be big enough and of the right shape to satisfy you, but not one so large as to injure you, since you won't be given time to adjust."

"Oh my!" she breathed, and her hand extended to hover over the objects on the bench.

She caressed one or two, as if to feel their shape, picked one up but returned it to it's place and picked up the one to its right, holding it out to me as if it were made of glass.

"This one!" her breath was coming in short, quick gasps and I was afraid she'd hyperventilate.

I took the thick twelve inch monster from her, noting that she had chosen one whose diameter varied randomly along its length, making for a bumpy ride for its recipient. Without comment, I took her hand, as if leading her to the dance floor, and guided her to a fixture that was reminiscent of a weight bench, taking the opportunity to enjoy her naked form for the first time.

Her breasts were about a 'C' cup, with large, puffy, pale aureolae that camouflaged flat pink nipples and rounded off the tips of her pallid mounds. Her tanned, freckled stomach and thighs sharply outlined the white band of flesh that started just above her hip bones and ended about a quarter of the way down her thighs - clearly a soccer tan, rather than one got by lying in the sun in a bikini. The pale skin of her lower belly curved softly down the 'Y' of her pelvis to an unruly thatch of orange-red pubic hair. The muscular trunks of her legs were topped by well muscled buttocks that displayed no jiggle as she walked.

I had her lie on her back, and her breath quickened even more when I stretched her arms over her head and bound them with padded cuffs, kissing her lightly on the lips as I did so. I placed her feet in the stirrups atop arms that, on a weight bench, would support a barbell. When I fastened them in place, she lay on her back with arms extended above her head, legs raised and spread, with her feet just above and outside her shoulders, leaving her pelvis vulnerable and available for my manipulation.

Her red oulined vulva were glistening with moisture, but I lubed the rubber cock anyway, just to be safe, before attaching it to the hydraulic ram positioned between her legs. Molly watched in consternation as I adjusted the tip of her chosen weapon at the opening of her now dripping vagina.

"Your body is excited about what you see happening to you, Molly." I whispered in her ear, "but your mind is afraid. Does your fear feed your arousal?"

At her moan, I reached over and pinched both nipples to erection, finally causing them to stand out from her now smaller, darker aureolae. I triggered the pre-programmed sequence of the fuck machine.

Slowly, the ram extended, easily parting the lips of her vagina and meeting little resistance as it journeyed inward, accompanied by the moans of a woman whose passage was being stretched, though not painfully, perhaps for the first time.

With three or four inches of the phallus remaining outside her body, the strain guage stopped its inward progress. Molly's face was screwed up in concentration as her body adjusted to the fullness, but already her hips were grinding slowly against the intuder.

After a rest of several seconds, the ram withdrew as slowly as it entered, until just the bulbous head of the artificial penis was still embedded. Without pause, it started inward again. This time, it went in just a fraction further, and didn't pause as long before returning. The speed increased gradually, and soon, Molly and the machine were humping vigorously at each other, eventually burying another inch and a half or so of the plastic member.

Her nipples were still hard, so I took the opportunity to capture them in a pair of clamps whose weaker springs were designed to increase the sensation rather than cause pain.

Molly's moans filled the dungeon and I could hear the mechanical mounts on the fucking machine creaking and groaning as her muscular pelvis rotated around the shaft. The phallus had bottomed out with at least two inches remaining unbaptized.

I stopped the ram and withdrew it, over Molly's fevered protest. To protect the machine, I threw a sturdy, padded leather strap over her hips, and bound them to the table. Then I leaned over my panting guest and whispered, "You need to take the rest of it. I've got just the thing to help with that."

I took a long, slender instrument from a bench nearby and after lubing it, inserted it into Molly's gaping cavern. I don't think she felt a thing until its round, tapered tip bumped against the end of her cervix. Feeling my way, I carefully moved the tip around inside her until I located the indentation in the center of the tight ring of muscle at the entrance to her womb. Slowly, I increased the pressure until the tapered end parted the opening and slipped inside, as Molly groaned and squirmed under the strap.

"What are you doing!?" she asked, not sure whether it hurt or just felt strange.

"This is a little device I designed to open up your cervix." I smiled, "Since most phalluses that are large enough to please you are also quite long, you need to be able to take them deep. I think you'll find that will enhance your pleasure, as well."

While I was talking, her hips had started involuntarily trying to grind against the instrument.

When the device had penetrated far enough into Molly's womb, I withdrew the outer sleeve that covered the overlapping splines, each of which were attached along one edge to the elongated rubber bladder running through the center of the instrument.

Attaching the tube from a sphygmomanometer bulb (you know, the bulb from a blood pressure cuff) to the nipple in the exposed end of the cervix spreader, I started pumping.

Molly's eyes grew enormous and her breath started coming in small gasps once more as the bladder, constrained along the length of the device by the splines and the constriction of her cervix, grew in diameter. The flat splines slid over each other as it expanded, to form an enlarging cylinder.

With the cylinder fully expanded, I left it in place for a while and leaned over to lick at Molly's sheathed clitoris. This brought a different sort of gasp from her, so I continued, laving the top and sides of the smooth ridge of flesh with long, gentle strokes that had her cooing and trying to rotate her hips within the confines of the strap.

Occasionally I would concentrate on the bottom end of the sheath, rapidly vibrating my tongue back and forth, before resuming the longer strokes.

Within five minutes, Molly was on the verge of orgasm, and I pulled back, listening to her frustrated moan and watching the end of the enlarger pulsate with her internal contractions.

I released the valve on the bulb and let the air hiss out of the expansion device. When it had collapsed to about half it's former size, I withdrew it and immediately restarted the fucking machine.

This time, the ram didn't stop until the flared base of of the dildo was pressed tightly against the greasy lips of Molly's vagina. When the head popped through the recently expanded opening and entered her womb, Molly gave a gasp of surprise and rolled her eyes back in her head, shouting, "Aaaaaaghhh! What are you doing to me?"

I smoothed the hair back from her face and said, "Pleasing you!"

With that, the ram resumed its relentless fucking motion, pistoning the full length of the dildo into Molly's pliant body with each stroke.

In seconds, Molly's body went rigid and she moaned through her first climax. As the ram continued pounding her, faster and faster, she leapt from one peak to the next, climbing ever higher as the insistent mechanism wrung orgasm after orgasm from her sweating body.

I lubed a middle finger and elicited a gasp of surprise as I inserted it into her rectum and began fucking her in time with the machine.