Chapter 8

Elaine leaned against the wall, unsteadily holding herself up with both hands placed flat against the wall, her head pressed against a hairy, male chest. The man she was coupled with lay on a slanted platform that allowed him to fuck the Golden Goddess as she straddled him. He didn't have to move much to keep himself aroused – the man fucking Elaine's ass from behind moved her enough to keep them all sexually stimulated as he pounded away.

That, plus psychic contact with the Goddess kept everyone in the room ready, willing and more than eager to find some part of her voluptuous body to rub their cocks against in their ardent worship of life, sex and the simple glory of being alive and well in a world where such a heavenly creature as the Golden Goddess existed for them to worship.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, still in the middle of her orgasmic worship service, Elaine suddenly felt a distant wave of panic. Pure terror washed over her soul, radiated by thousands of souls suddenly dying.

What the hell...

The world cracked and through the archway leading to the balcony, she could see distant stars through ever-widening fissures where the landscape was suddenly missing. A brilliant wave of blinding white light rapidly expanded to fill her vision, then she and her beautiful white tower, her worshippers and her entire world were vaporized.

Tabatha was standing on her balcony, her eyes closed as she savored the feel and the smell of springtime, her mind spread to listen to the people in the town below as they prepared for Spring Festival. Tonight there would be musicians and dancers, singers and jugglers, lots of food – and sex, of course.

Her husband, Jake Hedron, watched her from their huge bed for a moment, relishing the play of light and shadow as the Southern Sun began to glow, radiating its light through Tabatha's silky shift and displaying her lithe form through the nearly transparent material. A chilly zephyr, created by the expanding heat of the crystal sun, lifted her shift nearly up to her waist, baring her silky legs, making her squeal in the near freezing temperature.

Jake smiled, and quickly climbed out of bed. It was obvious that Tabatha needed a warm body to comfort her.

"Morning, love," he whispered as he hugged her from behind, his arms squeezing her breasts together. Her nipples, hardened from the cold air, pressed against his forearms and he pressed his lips against the side of her neck, sucking gently as he relished the heavenly vision the swell of her breasts presented against his arms.

"Don't! You'll give me a hickey!" Tabatha squealed as she squirmed in a half-hearted effort to escape.

"You're immortal; it'll heal," Jake murmured, and released his hug enough for Tabatha to turn in his arms so they were face to face. When her breasts were pressed against his bosom, he squeezed her again, enjoying the press of her womanly flesh and the sound of her soft wheeze as he forced all the air out of her lungs.

"Shall we go down for breakfast?" he asked, releasing her enough so she could answer. His hardness was trapped between his stomach and hers, and tingling more than a little bit. Of course, Tabatha noticed his ardent desire.

"It seems my breakfast has been delivered," she murmured, reaching up to scratch his bare chest while she squirmed against his ready cock. "And it's all hot and ready to eat."

She pressed forward, her mouth and teeth closing on the flesh of his chest, nipping and licking her way down toward his right nipple. Laughing, Jake hunched his shoulders and tried to back away from her ticklish tongue and fingers, but only succeeded in dragging Tabatha down to her knees. On her way down, she ardently rubbed her face against his chest and stomach, smearing saliva along in an uneven trail down his torso.

She settled onto her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around Jake's buttocks, happily gnawing on his lower belly and pubic hairs. Jake's cock was quickly expanding to press against her neck and chin, attracting the attention of Tabatha's lips and tongue as she slid her face along it's growing length.

"Ummmm," Jake murmured as he dug his fingers into the mess that the bed pillows and the early morning breeze had made of Tabatha's unruly red hair.

Tabatha groaned with increased pleasure at the sudden pull against her scalp. She closed her eyes and imagined she was being worshipped like one of the goddesses, taking one cock after another and often more than one at a time, working her way through a roomful of aroused men with hard, ready members eager to fuck her.

"Easy, sweetie," Jake complained as Tabatha's teeth accidentally scraped the length of his hardness. He pulled her back, his fists still buried in her luxurious hair, until he could see her staring up at him, her mouth open, drool covering her lips and chin. "Not so hard, okay?"

"You're immortal; it'll heal..." she murmured, her words barely understood around the thickness of his fully aroused cock.

With an eager growl, he shoved himself forward until his length pressed against the back of her throat.

Pulling back to keep him from choking her, she returned to her multi-cocked fantasy and pressed forward again, swallowing the head of his cock so that when he came, it would shoot directly down her esophagus. And, about a minute later, that's exactly what happened.

Jake grunted and shook with each amazing spasm as she swallowed him. When he could breathe again, he gently backed away, his droopy cock falling out of Tabatha's slack mouth. He suddenly realized that the only thing holding her up was his grip on her hair. She was completely unconscious, her airway having been blocked during the last minute or so by his cock.

"God," Jake murmured as he awkwardly lifted her up to carry her inside. He didn't feel guilty or anything – he knew that she'd no doubt had an incredible orgasm as she passed out from lack of oxygen. It was a trick that Béla or Lisa or one of her over-horny vampiric friends had taught her many years ago.

'Asphyx sex, I think they called it... ' he thought to himself as he struggled to lift her unhelpfully limp form up into his arms. He himself had never gotten the whole strangled-into-unconsciousness idea, although he knew the vampiric blood that 'infected' them all created an incredibly self-destructive sex drive – especially in human females.

He laid her out on the bedcovers and opened her filmy shift. Baring a breast, he leaned forward and suckled it, causing an immediate reaction from the apparently sleeping beauty. Then her hands were against the sides of his head and she was pressing his face harder against her, moaning softly with desire as he bit gently into her puckered flesh.

He switched breasts, bringing his knees up underneath him so as to free up his hands. With one hand, he covered her recently abandoned, wet and sticky breast while with the other, he buried two knuckles into her stomach just below her navel, digging into her soft belly just enough to make her squirm with newfound delight. He attacked both her nipples then, pinching one while gently biting down on the other. Tabatha's entire body shook with orgasm.

Jake relaxed, then moved to kiss her on the lips. "Like that, did you?" he asked.

In response, Tabatha reached down to touch his flaccid, sticky cock, then sighed in pretended frustration and purred, "Was that all I get?"

"What would you like?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be. Tabatha was as much a pain slut as his grandmother, Tanya. The main difference was that Gramps was willing to do whatever Tanya could dream up, and ... well, Jake wasn't ever eager to hurt a single luxurious red hair on his wife's head – much to Tabatha's disappointment.

Tabatha thought for a moment, then opened her mouth, hopefully. "Would a fist up between my legs be asking too much?"

Jake grinned. This was something he was willing to do. Sometimes, anyway. Tabatha had asked for much harsher gifts – a gun, a knife, a razor-tipped whip – which he abhorrently denied her, especially when he discovered where she wanted him to use such cruel devices on her.

When he agreed, Tabatha pushed her next earnest hope; "Can you wear this glove when you do it?"

Twisting around, she pulled a supple, metal-studded glove out of her dresser drawer and offered it to him. Jake stared, frowning, at the tiny, glistening, sharp bits encrusted on the black, silky material, then angrily stared up at her angelic face to see her upper teeth pressed against her lower lip in hopeful supplication.

"Please?"

"Jesus, Cat," Jake whined. "You always have to draw blood?"

Tabatha slumped back, unwilling to argue. "Alright, just your hand, then. At least, you haven't trimmed your nails for a couple of weeks."

Jake took the glove from her hand and threw it down on the bed, then pulled her legs down flat so that her torso was more available. Right this instant, Tabatha was frustrated but not particularly aroused, he knew. But she would get there, with a little coaxing. After all, an orgasm was an orgasm.

But feeling guilty about refusing her wish wasn't going to make him ready and able anytime soon, and he knew it. As he drew his hands down her torso, she emitted a soft sigh that he knew she really didn't feel, knowing that she also felt bad about forcing the issue of her sexual proclivities and wanted him to feel better about being able to please her.

In response, Jake dug his fingernails into her soft flesh and made ten light pink furrows down her ribs and stomach. The grunting sigh she made that time wasn't faked.