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Author’s notes,
This was written for the “Amorous Goods, Season 04” Author Challenge which I can’t find on the website and the Literotica Halloween Contest 2024. Everyone depicted is over 18, and obviously, this is a fictional . I have published this work in the Erotic Horror category. There are also elements of violence, flogging, , anal penetration, bondage, revenge, and a whole lot of things like that. You know, erotic horror. If you are offended by this subject matter, please skip this work. I love comments because that is how I learn.
Be sure to vote. If you read it, I hope you enjoy the .
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Prologue:
A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on her own career path. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate, liquidating the business, and collecting it. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.
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Fall is in full swing, and two starcrossed lovers, John and Amy, were out adventuring on the weekend. The weather was the usual rainy and cold of October.
John, an only child, was somewhat fearless. He had a wild upbringing with parents who were more interested in their wants and needs than his. It seemed the parental unit thought the Sun, Moon, and Stars all revolved around them, so John was left on his own to do as he wanted, which mostly meant getting into trouble. In such an environment, John saw things he shouldn’t have seen, did some things he shouldn’t have done, and learned things he shouldn’t have learned, at least at his age. Once he had attained his majority of eighteen, his counselors wrote him off as incorrigible. Although he had avoided fullblown juvey, he was undoubtedly destined for fullblown prison.
Now, he wasn’t a big strapping brute, but at his reasonable five feet ten inches and one hundred and eighty pounds, he was highly muscled, strong, and knew more dirty tricks in a fight than the entire male population of his high school knew. Several times, he had fought those much larger than himself or groups and, after using some much complained about dirty tricks, vanquished his foes, not caring about their complaints. It was, in fact, coming to Amy’s aid some three months prior that they had met. A bully was harassing the girl, and being in the mood to hurt someone more than a desire to help the poor girl, John had thoroughly thrashed the bully, leaving him in a small pile on the street with a broken arm.
Amy was a mouse. She was brought up in a caring, loving household and was on the cusp of being too overshadowed by parental involvement and concern. The Sun, Moon, and Stars revolved around Amy in her parents’ minds. Amy was naïve in the extreme, sheltered from all the less gentile parts of society. Once she had attained her majority of eighteen, her counselors, although she did well academically and never was in trouble, wrote her off as an incorrigibly shy waif who would never amount to anything.
Now, Amy wasn’t a homely nerd. She was five feet three inches tall, beautiful, well figured with rounded hips and large breasts, and although shy, had an interest in the seamier sides of life. The browser hi on her laptop was scrubbed often, and late at night, Amy would explore. She knew more about and kinks than most of her contemporaries but had never acted on them like some. Several times, she had allowed a boy to go farther than she should and lived with their complaints when Amy made them stop, but it was never as far as she wanted. Shy, she had been bullied many times by girls and boys. When a boy she had refused tried to force her, she was thrilled by John when he came to her rescue. Like most women, whether good or bad themselves, she was attracted to bad boys. So, Amy was John’s antithesis.
John and Amy were now a couple of years past high school, and she was in her second year of Junior College. He was a gearhead and worked in his uncle’s auto repair shop. They were out doing what John loved most. John loved to tool around town in his father’s midlife crisis, a new red Camero. Amy was along for the ride. She, too, loved the excitement of exploring, but only when knowing John was with her. Too timid to do it alone, she reveled in the excitement but lived in the security of his presence.
Completely lost, a condition John relished more than anything, they found themselves in an area they had never explored. The neighborhood wasn’t seedy. It was just a neglected mix of industrial interspersed with residential. There were several abandoned houses in varying states of disrepair, several large open lots, and the odd dilapidated industrial shop or residence. As they rounded a bend in the road, it came into view.
“What is that, the Bates’ Motel,” John chuckled, referring to the house in Psycho, the 1960 film.
Indeed, it did look like the house in the posters, but rather than having a motel sign out front, it had a sign saying Amorous Goods.
“It looks like some kind of store,” Amy said, wondering.
“Yeah, it looks like a dump to me,” John mocked.
The word amorous is what caught Amy’s eye. She knew what the word meant and had been dating this gorgeous hunk of a bad boy for three months. Of age now, she had snuck out and gotten herself a prescription for birth control pills and was fully protected from pregnancy anyway. She knew bad boys don’t carry condoms, and she had been planning not so much the next step in their relationship, she knew that the relationship was doomed. Rather, she was planning the next step in the progression of her womanhood.
“Aww, let’s stop, John, please. I need a costume for the Halloween party, and maybe they will have some antique oddity that will work,” she said in her shy, timid Waif way.
“Fuck, OK,” he whined, having passed the place necessitating his turning around.
Looking for a driveway he spotted one as they went around a couple of large curves in the road. Rather than use the driveway because there was no curb or ditch, he just drove onto the rainslick lawn, hit the gas, spun the car, dug up the lawn, and sped back on the road, leaving an ugly gash mark in the once neat lawn.
It was exciting for him, and he laughed. It was equally thrilling for Amy. She felt the dampness begin down there, and she would have laughed, but she knew he expected her to whine, so Amy did.
“John, what if they call the police?” she whined.
“Did you see a car in the driveway? No,” he said as she shook her head. “There ain’t nobody home. Stop worrying,” he said, pulling into the small parking lot of Amorous Goods, revving the engine several times to hear the loud glass packs, and shutting the machine down.
They entered the establishment. It was dusty, and things were piled seemingly haphazardly.
The clerk introduced himself as Dylan and explained how he and his coowner Vikki had acquired the place. Her uncle had been a lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide. When he passed away, he left everything to his niece, his only living relative. She had her career and had no interest in maintaining the business. Vikki took on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the collection and business. Since liquidation can be tedious, timeconsuming, and expensive, she had taken on Dylan as a working investor.
“Is there anything you are particularly looking for?” Dylan asked.
“Naw, we are just looking,” John grumbled.
Amy was of a completely different persuasion.
“This place is remarkable. You have so many interesting things,” Amy said, picking up a small statue of a half man half goat having with a goat.
“That is a copy of the famous Pompeii goat statue. The statue is of the God Pan…um…having with a goat and demonstrates the importance that the Roman culture put on ,” Dylan instructed. “And if that interests you, there is one of Pan teaching the man Daphnis. Legend says Pan taught Daphnis to play the Pan Flute and that they became lovers.”
“So, two fags,” John laughed.
“Well, in Rome and Greece, they looked at homouality differently,” Dylan replied, unused to and uncomfortable with John’s crudeness.
“John, be polite,” Amy scolded.
John growled and hung his head. It was strange because all his other girlfriends would have been told to go to hell, but with Amy, it was different. He couldn’t understand it because she was the mousiest bitch, he had ever dated, but she would turn on that helpless shit and have him eating out of her hand.
“Yes, these are very nice. What other kinds of things do you have?” Amy asked.
Refreshed by her apparent interest and good manners, Dylan began, “Why, yes, we have…”
He then began to go from stack to stack, discussing and explaining all the various items. Dylan enjoyed doing this more than he liked selling the items. He would have bought them all if he could have afforded them because he appreciated their hi and . Alas, often, those who appreciate something the most are those who can afford it the least.
“What are these?” Amy asked, touching it with her finger.
“Those are slave shackles,” Dylan replied.
“Slave shackles,” Amy exclaimed, stepping back like they had turned into a serpent. “These are so pretty. I thought they were all iron and stuff.”
“Oh, yes, those are not midAtlantic slave trade shackles. They are a special set of shackles from the east. They belonged to a Muslim Sultan and were used to bind his harem slaves,” he said.
“Oh, you mean…” she began, unable to continue.
Squinting confused, Dylan thought a moment and then replied, “Yes, slaves.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she said, her breaths shallow and rapid.
Amy had looked at some of this slave stuff on the internet. She reached out and picked them up, and she felt her dampness grow.
“They are so beautiful,” she said trancelike.
“Why don’t you try them on,” John said, taking them from her and trying to figure out how they worked.
“Let me show you,” Dylan said, showing John how the key and release worked.
“I don’t know,” Amy said, backing away.
“Aw, come on, it will be fun. They will look cool at the Halloween Party. You can be my slave girl,” John said.
“OK,” Amy the mouse capitulated.
John snapped them on her wrists held out in front of her. They fit as though made for her. Then he followed the chain down to the ankles and snapped the ankle restraints on her ankles. They, too, fit perfectly.
“How do they feel? They aren’t hurting you, are they?” Dylan inquired, nervously concerned.
“No, they aren’t hurting me,” Amy said without fear or panic, even though she was now helpless.
“How much?” John said.
“We haven’t been able to absolutely verify the I told you. We know they are old, but the particulars are not available. We do know they are old,” Dylan said.
“How much?” John said rudely and way too loud.
“Two hundred dollars,” Dylan replied, irritation slipping into his voice’s timbre.
“I will give you a hundred in cash,” John replied, just as incensed.
“I can’t possibly…One hundred and fifty,” Dylan countered.
“One twentyfive and not a penny more,” John said, extending his hand.
Unused to this belligerent negotiating, Dylan finally croaked, “Alright,” and shook John’s hand.
“Let’s settle up,” John said, stepping out and heading to the cash register at the back of the store.
Dylan, dumb, struck, stuttered, “Shouldn’t you release the lady? The ankle chain is only a foot long.”
“Ah, she’s my Slave now. I’ll pick her up on the way out,” John brazenly said.
Amy was gobsmacked and stuttered, “John, John, come and release me.”
“Shut up, slave,” he said, laughing.
Amy didn’t know what to do. She stood with her mouth hung open, shackled like a death row inmate, only able to take a sixinch shuffling step at a time. It took some time for the transaction to be accomplished, and Amy became increasingly tense. She also became more and more wet. Her skimpy thong was awash with her fluids. A drop started a ticklish route down her inner thigh when they returned. She held her hands out in front of her as much as she could, expecting John to remove them. Instead, he took her upper arm and walked her to the door. She was flabbergasted.
“John, please take these off,” she begged repeatedly as he laughed and continued.
At the front step, she couldn’t maneuver. It was too high, and her chain seemed too short. With her eyes pleading, John bent, took her over his shoulder, and carried her to the car. She could feel her skirt blown up by the breeze, exposing her naked ass, thighs and thong. The chilly drops of rain wet her bare cheeks. This overpowering her and domination produced a flood of juices as she tried to relax and go with it.
He set her on her feet at the car and said, “Here, let me help you.”
John released her left arm and then her right. Amy rubbed her irritated wrists and sighed in relief. John knelt and passed the wrist restraints between her legs and then grabbed her right wrist. Before she could react, he quickly snapped the wrist restraint on it. Shocked, Amy couldn’t respond fast enough, and she now found herself in the same position, just with her wrists restrained behind her, not in front. He picked her up and put her in the car, fastening her seat belt, her skirt riding up scandalously.
“John, please let me go,” she begged as he drove laughing.
He pulled into an abandoned industrial shop, drove around back, and parked out of sight of the road. Shutting the engine off, he turned to Amy.
“Now, Slave, you have a choice. You can let me play with those luscious tits of yours, or you can stay locked up. Your choice,” he said, laughing.
“John, this is not funny. Let me go,” she begged timidly.
John continued to laugh.
“John, please!” she squealed, fearful and angry.
“Your choice,” he replied, sneering.
Helpless, she nodded as tears began to fall, defeated. She whimpered, “Yes, OK.”
Camaros with bucket seats and a large console may be the dreams of gearheads but are not convenient for romance. At first, John tried to unbutton her blouse, but his right dominant hand was useless, and his left was his left. It didn’t go too well. Frustrated, he began to tug.
“Stop, please don’t tear my blouse,” she whined.
“Fuck,” he bellowed, frightening her.
John popped his door open, came around the car, and yanked her door open. He then reached in and undid her blouse, quickly flinging the lapels open and exposing her lacy bra. She tried to force her back against the seat so John couldn’t get his hands on her bra straps. He released her seat belt and, grabbing a handful of her hair, forced her forward as she begged, and he released the strap. John pushed her bra up and off her tits, exposing them to his wanton desires.
Amy had never had her nipples sucked by someone else. Her breasts were large enough that she could easily lick and suck them if she wanted, but she had never experienced another doing it. It felt wonderful. The floodgates of her pussy opened, and she could feel her wetness grow. John was very adept at playing with breasts and nipples. His tongue ringed deftly around the nipple, beginning its erection, and then he would take the beginnings of the nub and suck hard, bringing it to full erection. He twisted and pulled the hard nubs, playing with one using his hand and his mouth on the other alternating, driving her out of her mind.
“Oh, god,” the timid but aroused Amy squealed.
John took his lips off her nipple just long enough to say, “You like this, don’t you bitch.”
She didn’t answer as he redoubled his attack on her breasts. Then, a strange feeling came over Amy. She was no longer frightened. A calmness came over her and a confidence that she had rarely felt. There was still anger. He was forcing her. Even though it was something she had wanted to do and would have let him do soon enough, he was still making her do something she did not want to do.
The anger grew, and now fed up with his slobbering on her tits, she said, “John, enough.”
It shocked her because the voice she heard was not hers. It was a fierce, angry, and commanding voice, almost a guttural growl, virtually a male voice. The sound was also different and inhuman. John reacted to it and stopped, looking into her eyes.
“Release me,” she said, again in that odd voice.
Stunned, John reached behind her and released her hands and then her ankles, gathering up the shackles.
“I will keep those,” she said, taking the shackles from him. “Get in the car and take me home.”
Amy only replaced the bra and buttoned her blouse once they were near her house. The look on John’s face was more trancelike than anything else. When he parked in front of her home, he started to seem to come out of it.
“What?” was all he could mumble.
“Thanks for taking me home, Sweetie,” she said in her natural voice, using an endearment he hated.
Frowning, he said, “Sure.”
“See you tomorrow then?” she said coquettishly.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied.
Giving him a peck on the cheek, she exited, thankful her parents were not home and she would have to explain the shackles. Amy went to her bedroom, immediately closed the door, and then sat on her bed, trying to process what had happened. As she sat thinking, she absentmindedly stroked the shackles. A whisp of green mist came from them. She knew she should have been frightened, but she wasn’t. The whisps grew and coalesced into the form of a man with broad shoulders, chest, and muscles galore.
“What the?” she exclaimed.
The form or being or whatever was ethereal, seethrough, more a whisp than a solid thing, and then it spoke.
“I am the jinn of these shackles. The you were told about them was incorrect. They are not the shackles of a female slave. A powerful sultan had a large harem. The women were well hidden in the innermost courtyard of his palace. A peasant fool, cocky and violent, thought himself invincible. Using deception, he entered the palace and made it to the harem. When he arrived there, he forced two slaves and one of the sultan’s virgin daughters, shaming her and eliminating the possibility of a suitable marriage.”
“He was caught, and the sultan’s anger was an unquenchable fire. Everyone, including the young fool, expected him to be beheaded according to Islamic Law. The daughter begged her father not to kill him, for the punishment of death was too quick. Since he had ruined her life, she asked that he be given to her to do with as she willed. So, a separate living facility was made for her, and the fool was shackled and brought to her.”
“The daughter then called on a great wizard who called out to the Jinn to enchant the shackles. The pleasure of the enchantment to punish such fools was given to me by the Jinn. That worthless man meat dishonored you, and I am at your service, but know there is a price,” he concluded.
“I am confused. What is it you want me to do?” Amy said timidly.
“You will know when the time comes,” he replied.
Still confused, a warmth came over her, and the confidence she felt earlier returned. She felt her nipples harden and another gush of her fluids.
“What is the price?” she said, panting.
Without a word, all of the sensations went off the chart. It was as though John were slobbering on her tits again, but these sensations were exquisite. Ripples of pleasure coursed through her body. Amy unbuttoned her blouse, frantically shrugging it off and deftly unhooking her bra, casting it across the room.
ero
