Goldenrod: Rosegarden
The sun was setting on the plaza when Rick's pick up truck pulled in. He got out amid the departing employees and noticed the only storefront with a light still on was Amelia's. Two girls checked him out as he walked to the door: he was used to that; a handsome man with a trimmed beard and the height and musculature of commanding presence. His attention at the time was fixed squarely on Amelia, or on his hopes for her. Having been asked to meet her alone at her yoga classroom, he was feeling more than a little optimistic about what the night might bring. Instantly he began moving more quickly.
Stepping inside and finding the place empty, he felt a note brush his shoulder. Taped to the door was a piece of scrap paper asking him to come in and lock up. He obliged and stood in the middle of the wide floor, visible to anyone who might pass the window and wondering how long he would be waiting there. It was only a few moments before she appeared from the back room, and Rick enjoyed the sight of her.
Dressed unpretentiously in a white t-shirt and jean shorts, she nonetheless projected forced casualness with her Beatle boots, though her tool belt suggested she might have worn them for work. Her physique was what one would call average, but the curves of her rear and belly were exceptionally pronounced, her torso shaped like a kidney bean overall, and her thighs were long without hinting at the great physical strength she'd cultivated throughout her body. Her black hair was a bird's nest, and lines on her jaw added years to her age, but the suggestion of a ready older woman complemented her powerful vitality to create radiant sex appeal that reminded Rick why he first thought of crossing the line between student and instructor.
"Thanks for coming," she said, hiking up the rig around her waist, as if to buy time for a handshake before it slid off of her. He pleasantly shook with her in disappointment at the formality of the gesture, but cars were still pulling out of the lot outside, and hugging her might have caused a cut on his abdomen from the back of the hammer head that sat atop the long handle dangling between her legs.
"Can we talk in the back room? I'm in the middle of something." She was already waving him to it as he started following her. He'd never been in that part of the studio, and he felt his confidence return at the suggested intimacy.
"I wanted to talk about some of your postures." She reached onto a long row of high metal shelves to take down a cardboard box. The space was unfinished, like an access tunnel in a mall. "Is there anything that could be affecting your concentration?" Readjusting the position of the pocketed belt again, her hands rotated it on her hips slowly to the right, and to the left. He watched the screwing and unscrewing of her shirt.
"Maybe a couple things."
Her hands clasped the leather at the sides of the buckle and she flipped the tapered end out, to let it point limply at him. She gripped it in her right fist and yanked slowly but very firmly to displace its hole from the shiny prong; and keeping a tight hold with her left hand she replaced her right and let the weight of the tools pull the end gradually through the circle formed by her thumb and forefinger, until she seized it so it couldn't drop away. Her bottom lip glistened, he noted unconsciously.
"I think I'm on top of it." Amelia drew her hands behind her back as though she was being cuffed, and let the left one emerge holding her belt like a snake she had caught. It dropped into the box.
"If you need help freeing your energy, I can give you focus," she said in an even rhythm, and her right thumb and forefinger closed again to clamp the tab of the zipper on her shorts. She let it growl softly as it parted.
He knew instantly that her sex was bare beneath the denim, and its scent found him in a moment. More gradually came the realization that throbbing between the red lips of her vulva was the brown latex head of a dildo, that had until then been buried in her canal. Her right foot and shoulder both drew back as the full ten inch length of the artificial member was projected out of her fly by some mechanism Rick didn't pretend to understand, holding its place proudly in front of her like an exclamation that electrically charged the air.
"Suck me," she urged, with the same seductive cadence as before, and an image of his top front teeth clicking against the steel ring of her harness formed so vividly in his mind that he couldn't doubt it was inserted there by psychic means. His will no longer his own, he swooped to clutch the waist of her shorts as he sank, dragging them down her taut legs as he fell pathetically at her feet to fellate her.
Reaching back into the box, she retrieved a white sports bra that she let dangle from her fingers while ruffling his hair, and gave assisting pushes and pulls to his wet mouth as it climbed along the rubber symbol of her desire. Closing and unclosing her hands rapidly ordered him to raise his arms, and she drew his shirt from his torso and flung it aside, before quickly jerking down into its place the women's undergarment. In accord with her unspoken wishes, he kept sucking her rod during her process of redressing him.
Moments later she was on her knees behind him, pounding spiritedly away with both hands locked on the lower bands of the garment that bound his chest. Her holds kept his shoulders elevated: he could only with difficulty rest his palms upon the mats on the floor. Her boots were gone, and he was naked but for the bra that she reeled and yanked before her like horse's reins. Eventually, she gently clasped his hips as she continued to hammer him, and kneaded the upper sections of his cheeks with the butts of her hands, while letting her fingers lightly caress his lower back. As much as possible, she relied only on the bending and unbending of certain joints; in this case those at her waist and her knees; and she never tired or slowed from employing contractions of other groups of muscles, such as her rump or abs. The whole weight of her feminine body utilized in every strike, she was an even more capable lover than the man she was impaling, who surpassed her in size and strength, but who was totally without her skill.
Next she moved her right hand below his crotch, and raised his right thigh, so that after adopting a wide stance with her knees once again well bent, his pelvis was at the same height as hers, supported entirely by his left foot. Amelia continued to straighten and close her joints, delivering an astounding sexual performance with mere tightenings of her ankles, knees, and hips. Her feet shot forward a couple inches, the right after the left, and her pistoning increased in frequency.
Finally she released his leg, and with him on all fours she brought her left calf beside his left thigh, and extended her right leg behind her onto her toes. The positions of her hands mirrored those of her feet; her left on the center of his back, and her right clutching his right ass cheek. Moving primarily up and down, she drove the intimidating rod in repeatedly to the hilt; five, six, seven times, and then bang; held it all in, letting the nerves of the man's filled ass report to his brain of the total devastation she had wrought.
Her stamina well preserved by her method, she knelt once again behind him and resumed in doggy, to fold and unfold her erect form thoroughly, moving and removing the entirety of her chocolate length. Her fingertips hooked his hips and she kept her trunk in line with her thighs, bending only her knees then, to slide it in and out, and she was so pleased that she placed her hands on her hips authoritatively while leisurely watching the cycle occur before her.
Gracefully, she draped her mannish hands onto his posterior, wrists together and digits splayed toward his thighs, and leaned forward to divide her weight between her stiffened, corded forearms and her legs, which she kept straight and poised on their toes. Again bending at the waist, she accomplished her most acrobatic feat yet, pumping the long dick for all it was worth in and out of the stunned man beneath her. The mechanical motion drove home the point that she was the more able lover; were their positions reversed, his mass would not have been supported; the girlish beauty of her spritely dips entitling her to his patient endurance though he wouldn't have been able to ask the same of her. She slid into him again and again with the purposefulness of a desert oil rig, silently proclaiming her superiority. He jolted upward once in an attempt to accomodate the burrowing probe, but the evenness of her swaying was unaffected. It went on that way for several minutes.
When her dominance was definitely established, she got back on her knees, and simultaneously bent toward him and drew his obliging body onto her girth with the fingers of her left hand on his back. She grabbed the flesh of his right hip as a handle, and kept maneuvering him that way.
At last she squatted over his portal and rested her hands flatly on his mid-back. Her perfect technique was employed one last time, bends in her knees continually slamming the cock in at a steep angle, while slabs of muscle became visible in her thighs. Faster and harder than before, but with the impassiveness of an exercise routine, she owned his body, as the clear lube she had packed into him began dribbling out onto his scrotum. More and more her thighs brushed his hips, and when the time was right she telepathically initiated his climax. His mind completely conforming to her will, he then regained his composure, got dressed, and left the studio with no memory at all of having been there that evening. He locked the door behind him when he left.
"Very admirable work," came a voice from the end of the narrow room. Amelia was standing with arms akimbo, still only in her t-shirt and harness, the dick now drooping as from fatigue.
"Maybe it's time you told me what this is about," she replied.
Filling the empty air a young woman became visible, revealing a slim, short body in form-fitting clothes; navy fashion sneakers, a pair of navy jeans, and a navy track jacket zipped all the way onto her neck. Her pale pretty face was rectangular and framed soft dark eyes, and her dark hair was a close-cropped fluff. She smirked.
"I can't believe I have to tell you anything after that. Incorporating asanas into your style increased its efficacy tenfold. I recognized the Upward Dog, the High Lunge, and the Goddess Squat. Did you implant the post-hyno?" Amelia nodded.
"He won't do any business with the dark witches. But why didn't the Order just dismantle their racket after discovering it?" Lin lowered her head and strolled over to her comrade.
"That's what I'm here to tell you about. Working secretly through you is a precaution we have to take." She leaned against a wooden table and crossed her arms over her chest. "We're facing the possibility that the Order may soon be destroyed." Amelia shook her head and chuckled.
"After thousands of years, you think it could simply vanish? I don't buy that." Lin stared at her, her own face inscrutable. "Why would you think it could end?" The other woman finally looked away.
"Some time ago one of the elder sisters, a senior witch named Rowan, was working undercover with the Renegades. She gained their trust, infiltrated their group, and in the process of disrupting one of their high magical workings, she caught a glimpse of the distant future."
"Oh, come on."
"It's true. There is a prophecy called the Night Of Ages. It was uttered by a madwoman in the thirteenth century, on the steps of one of our temples. In essence, it says that the Golden Lotus Order will be ruined. We lose our battle with the dark witches. The secrets we've safeguarded for millennia are co-opted and rendered meaningless, commercialized and disseminated. There will simply be no need for the Order after that. The field of magic will become too big for us to police. We'll disappear." Amelia was calmly serious, and considered Lin's words carefully.
"You think the Renegades, and their mission to popularize our work, are fulfillments of a prophecy. It could just be a coincidence, or someone with a weak sense of identity treating the prediction as a template for their existence."
"It has logical force," Lin retorted. "This is something we should have seen coming even if it hadn't been forecast."
"It's not certain, though," Amelia stammered. "The elder sisters..."
"They don't know about it. The prophecy was discovered by Rowan. She was quite the research buff, you see. Aside from you and I, the Night Of Ages was known of only by her." Amelia's arms fell straight at her sides.
"Are you telling me that this business I've been conducting, the creation of this studio as a front, none of it has the authorization of the Order? That I've been working for a Lodge within the Lodge?" She was livid.
"That's what I'm saying. You've answered only to me, and I answered to Rowan. The code name for this operation is Rosegarden. The mission is Top-Top Secret. Its goal is the preservation of our ideals in the event the Golden Lotus sisterhood is dissolved. As far as anyone else knows, you opened this studio on your own."
"Why are you informing me now?"
"Because you're ready to recruit others. And when they're ready, they'll prepare others, still. Through yoga you will impart ethics, fortitude, and practical forms to legions of new witches. Ambient magical energy will become so great that they'll be able to tap the information they need to master their strap-ons directly from the World Mind. There will be no spells, and no initiations. There will be no Order of the Golden Flower, but there will be a force in society strong enough to prevent the use of sorcery for theft, oppression, or senseless destruction. There will be a new normal, and women will rule the coming millennia. It will be a just rule."
Both of them were silent for some time.
"I should report you. I can't believe this, but if it's true... I don't know what to do."
Lin stood upright.
"Think about it," she said, not without warmth. "The golden wand of Hermes is passing over the Earth now. What the world becomes next may be entirely up to us."
She exited the room.
***
One year later, Amelia waited in a hotel room with a younger witch, named Devin.
"Are you nervous?" the elder asked.
"No," Devin replied, shaking her head. "Just curious about how I'll perform." Amelia half-nodded. The girl had foregone her usual tomboyish attire for a black skirt, dress shirt, black stockings, and heels. Her light brown bob cut seemed suited to either style. The older woman had on her t-shirt and jeans, with a tight leather jacket. She balanced the heel of one boot on the toe of another as she leaned back against the wall with her arms folded. Devin flipped over the folded newspaper she'd been reading disinterestedly, and looked up when she heard a knock on the door.
Amelia's dildo slid out of her vagina to form a bulge at her crotch, and over the fabric a blue arc of electricity traveled from the lowest part of the outline to the highest. The lock clicked telekinetically, and the door fell slightly ajar. A young man's hand pushed it open while he stayed nervously in the hall. Devin put the paper on the wardrobe and stood up, smoothing her outfit.
"Well come in, boy. That ass isn't going to fuck itself." Devin reacted to this remark by smiling expectantly at the escort, who hurriedly joined them and closed the door behind him. Amelia's cock throbbed emphatically, and the the bolt slid closed once again. "Let's see what we got."
Devin walked beside her to appear equal in rank, so the prostitute wouldn't perceive any weakness that could be exploited, or any opportunity to offer resistance. He was picked up by the back of his belt, and deposited face-down on the bed, with the tops of his shoes on the floor. The younger woman took her cue, and stood over his knees. A sucking noise announced the emergence of her own dick, an unrealistically thick but veined rubber organ which pushed up her skirt as it became erect in front of her. She seemed distant while she concentrated, and in a moment a tiny, sparkling ball of light appeared at the tip of her member. Through that focus her psychic power yanked the man's pants down to his ankles, and he grasped the bedspread in terrified surprise. Devin descended upon him, supporting herself with her hands on his upper arms.
As she swiveled into him, her right stiletto was raised, and she slowly rotated it in what for her was an uncharacteristically feminine gesture. The man's rough breathing indicated he was having trouble accomodating her mass; in response, she ground more determinedly, communicating that the only way out of this for him was through. His knuckles turned white as his grips on the blanket tightened.
Carefully she raised and lowered her fine, light form in a way that reminded Amelia of herself as she'd been only a year ago with Rick. She walked over to the window as Devin sported, no longer concerned for her protege's ability, nor bothered by the red light of the setting sun that was shining directly at her eyes.
When she finally turned to them again, Devin had the stranger on his back at the end of the mattress, with his thighs on his belly, and his feet in the air. She moved with a merciful gentleness, her hands delicately rocking his submissive form, her every motion a combination of deliberate forward leaning and strained retraction. The rhythm she established erased all tension from his body until suddenly she began thrusting in earnest. She grabbed his shaft with her right hand, and polished its head with her left palm, continuing the measured pounding. He surrendered to her totally, and after a few warning spasms, he spent himself freely on his chest, and passed out.
As the man slept soundly, Devin teased her hair into shape at the mirror, with little pats of her fingers.
"They say you should open with a joke," she mentioned absently. "It gets the crowd on your side."
"I'm sure you'll be fine."
"I've never addressed an audience this big before. Even reading in front of the class when I was in school, I'd get nervous. And this is a convention hall."
"They're all yoga instructors like you. They'll have a proclivity for pegging, though some may not know how to express it, yet. Really, they're already on your side."
The girl stood at attention before her. Not hearing any comment, she knew that her appearance was okay. From the top of the wardrobe she took the leather folder that contained her speech and the supplemental materials for Q&A, and she looked once more at Amelia. The older woman smiled, and Devin nimbly left the room to call the elevator.
With the man resting peacefully on the bed, Amelia turned back to the window. Though night was falling, tiny lights were coming on in the city's tall buildings around her to push back the dark. She took one last look at the fading sunshine, zipped up her jacket all the way to the neck, and disappeared.
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