Incubus of the Stone
Table cloths billow out from under the multiple picnic tables dispersed among the rose beds and maple trees of Gebhardt University Estate. Corrine peers past her reflection for a moment to look at the mingling crowd, who are all dressed in their spring bests, and then makes the last stroke of gloss on her bottom lip. Since moving to this neighborhood she’d heard about the doctor’s equinox tea party almost constantly for the last several days, and she had been honestly surprised to have found an invitation in her mail box last week. The envelope and card within had been soft and strong, clearly a paper with a good cotton content, and obviously very expensive. Elegant brownish-red script indicated day, time, and address. The only explicit instruction was that all guests were to wear white.
Another burst of warm almost summer-like wind drifts through the gathered people, pressing the fluttering cotton dresses against the silhouettes of the many women at the party. Corrine makes note of that, as she pushes open the car door and steps out. The wind catches her thin linen skirt and slips it between her legs before pulling it free again. She walks across the street to the waist high iron gate. It opens smoothly on its well oiled hinges. Another quick scan reveals that she only knows the faces and names of some of the other guests, but does not know the people.
After a few moments within the large garden, which could measure at least half an acre, Corrine recognizes her host among a cluster of his guests. She notes he is talking to another older man attached to whom is what seems a small entourage of young student-aged girls. Corrine smiles inwardly, remembering a time when having a chance at a professor was like having a chance with a celebrity. Since finishing grad school five years ago she’d let go of a lot of those notions. Now she appreciated the company of well studied men for the sake of having something to talk about between the moments of intimacy.
On her way to the fully manned tea table, Corrine waves a noncommittal greeting to Dr.Gebhardt as she passes his small cluster of discussion. He merely nods his noble gray bearded face and resumes what appears to be a stern debate. She is impressed by the prim white uniforms that the servers wear. With everyone in white, and so many long dresses among them, Corrine soon feels like she is drifting through a sea of lilies among roses and verdant trees and hedges. There are many smaller gardens within the larger garden, often with a bench or swath of grass where more intimate groups of party goers converse. Feeling out of place, Corrine keeps moving, mingling with some of her nearer neighbors and drinking cup after cup of delicately spiced tea. As she enjoys the aromatic scenery she pauses in the dappled green shade of one of the taller trees. She breathes deeply and looks upon the white clad groups enjoying the classic tea party. Corrine soon feels as if she’s stepped into a Renoir painting.
The need to find a restroom soon interrupts Corrine’s reverie. Chastising herself for drinking so much tea before having bothered to find out where guests were meant to use the facilities, she turns to face the old Victorian mansion encased by the garden. Corrine heads up one of the rose quartz laid paths that wind through the greenery and is led to the steps onto the mansion’s covered porch where there is a side door into the house. She casts a glance to either side, embarrassed, but no one pays her any attention. Corrine tests the doorknob shyly, afraid to make a fool of herself with a locked door, but it turns without protest and she finds herself entering a gourmet kitchen. The small heels of her white sandals clack loudly in her mind as she crosses the yellow tiled floor. She winds her way down a hallway that makes her feel like she is walking down a hall of fame. Generations, of who she assumes are Gebhardts or the family’s relatives, line the walls. Some meters into the house, the hallway being central to its layout with rooms branching to each side, she finally comes to the more recent generation, including the doctor himself.
Here Corrine takes some time to indulge a sudden rise of curiosity. In short order she finds the doctor’s younger years: his first day of school, a museum field trip, high school prom photos, and then some college buddies. At the end of this cluster is a frame in which she thinks she recognizes two of the faces. In it are the doctor and his female laden companion she noticed earlier, toasting themselves with bottles of champaign at what appears to be some kind of graduate school celebration. Further distinguishing itself from the other photos, this frame has a plaque: “To two new doctors who can achieve anything they want. Congratulations Doctors Gebhardt and Lien.” Recalled to her mission by an impatient bladder, Corrine spies one last detail, the two men seem to be in a lab with a television showing some sort of psychedelic 70’s music video.
A small smile of discovery turns up the corners of Corrine’s mouth as she continues down the hall. All the way at the end, where to one side there are narrow stairs going up, on the other side is a powder room filled with the aroma of rose potpourri. She flicks on the lights and steps inside, closing the door quietly. Before exiting again, she stops at the mirror to run her fingers through her shoulder length blond hair. She frowns, catching sight of a chip on one pink polished and manicured nail. Another moment in front of her reflection to reapply her bubblegum lip gloss and she cautiously opens the door, still wary of being caught sneaking around Dr.Gebhardt’s home. Glad to see it, she finds a door leading out on this end of the hallway.
Corrine finds herself in a courtyard barricaded within tall hedges. To her relief she can see a gate to the main garden at the other end of the single path. Gingerly walking across the gritty gravel, a sudden glint, like a reflection off water, stops Corrine in her tracks. She looks to her side where an artfully placed pile of rocks make a small hill at the center of a large stone planter. Corrine squints her eyes. Something at the center of the pile is fuzzy, though clearly shaped like a rock, she just can’t seem to focus on it. She shuffles closer and leans down. The image of the stone seems to shimmer more like a mirage than something real. Hesitantly, Corrine reaches out. In the moment it takes her to inhale she is overcome with the sensation that the stone under her fingers is icy cold but melting away like an ice cube. Before her body manages to flinch away in surprise, the sensation flits up through her entire body. She feels goosebumps spring up over her arms, legs, and back. Her nipples stand erect as if she had just been blasted by a winter wind. Suddenly, she finds herself standing up straight on the path and is alarmingly aware of how hot her body feels compared to that sudden cold. She stares down at what now looks like a simple quartz stone, about the size of a woman’s forearm. Corrine remembers to breath and lets go of a soft sigh.
“Excuse me? Miss...?” Corrine jumps with a small squeak and twirls around to find Dr.Gebhardt smiling at her.
“I’m sorry to startle you,” he says with a short bow, making him seem suddenly much older, or old-fashioned, than he is. “Were you looking for something?”
“Uh, yes, actually, I was looking for a restroom. I found your powder room at the end of the hall... I...” Dr.Gebhardt interrupts Corrine’s stuttering response with a wide smile and a shake of his head,
“It’s quite alright,” he raises his eyebrows before continuing.
“Corrine Mathews,” she manages to blurt out to fill the doctor’s pause.
“Miss Mathews. I see you’ve stumbled upon my little collection,” he says, indicating the mound of rocks with a flick of his steady gaze. Corrine suddenly realizes how green his eyes are. “Each one of those is from a different country I’ve visited over the years. The quartz stone at the center is my personal favorite.”
Corrine tries to recover control of the muscles in her face, to take a deep breath, and slow her heart. Again she notices how sensitive her skin is after being doused by that icy sensation. She feels flushed. Dr.Gebhardt seems to sense her discomfort and he looks her up and down, his eyes lingering on her chest where her nipples stand out from her light white blouse. Corrine is almost shocked at his straightforward glance. After what seems an interminable and awkward moment his eyes come up and lock on to Corrine’s. She feels weak in the knees but the sensation passes as suddenly as it arrived. Finally Dr.Gebhardt turns his gaze away.
“Ah yes, that is the one that I’ve had the longest. It came from the rocks at the base of a South American waterfall, where I was snorkeling in the river. I was much younger then...” his voice trails off as takes a moment to remember.
“Well, I must be returning to the rest of the party. Thank you for joining us Miss Mathews, I hope to see you around the neighborhood. Feel free to continue exploring,” the doctor starts to walk away but before exiting he glances back at Corrine. Again, those eyes!
“Mi casa es su casa,” he says cheerfully, and goes on his way.
Monday night traffic is sluggish. Corrine slams on the brakes of her steel blue Civic to avoid being cut off and loosing a bumper to a gigantic SUV. People really do drive crazier when there’s a full moon, she thinks to herself as she gazes up through her windshield at the silver sphere. The honk from the driver behind her brings her back to the task at hand and she obliges by creeping forward the few feet that she can go.
Once home, Corrine kicks off her shoes at the door and shuffles into her bedroom. She slips from her clothing, her supple hips swaying to shake loose her skirt after unzipping it. Corrine wears stockings with a lace fringe at the top in the pattern of roses and bows. The girlish pattern is in stark contrast to her long shapely legs, clearly those of a beautiful woman. She rolls off the stockings and exits her room, only her white panties and blouse still on.
Corrine leans against her kitchen counter until her microwave gives its lonesome peep. Another reheated dinner alone.
Corrine turns over in her bed. Sweat soaks her pillow and mattress, her silk men’s style pajamas long soaked through. She kicks off the covers and sighs, coming awake long enough to see the digital display show the crimson time. 11:45 PM. She sinks back into the feverish sleep, her last ounce of consciousness used to pull the top of her pajamas off. She reveals her large breasts to the cool air of her apartment. As her shoulders touch the mattress her honey golden nipples stiffen. Another bead of sweat forms on the porcelain white dome of one breast and trickles down to pool on Corrine’s sternum.
Corrine’s eyes open. In her hot incoherent dreams she kicked off the pants to her pajamas to reveal the neatly kept curls of hair over her sex. She teeters to her feet, her body glistening in silver moonlight as it filters between the slats of her blinds. Her eyes are open wide, her pupils oily pools and consuming almost all of her blue irises. Corrine exits her bedroom and pads down the hall on naked feet. On her way through the kitchen, the clock on the microwave reads 12:00 AM, and casts an eerie watery glow over Corrine’s naked skin. A glint of worry seems to flash over her face before the muscles relax again as if in sleep. She steps out the front door of her rental without hesitation and lopes down the stairs. Her pace seems determined but not hurried, and her luxuriously full bosom sways and bounces tantalizingly on her way down two flights. Corrine turns down the pathway that leads from her upscale gated complex. Her bare feet slap against the concrete in time with the racing beats of her heart. The pebbles and rocks that stick to her soles are ignored.
Corrine marches through her neighborhood naked; all the while she is screaming inside. She can hear her voice echoing down a long corridor and filling her head with her pleas to stop. Corrine screams louder when she realizes no sound is coming out of her mouth. The cacophony of her shouts fills her head with wave after wave of fear and despair. She tries to will her eyes to look around for cover. All she can see at the end of her dark imprisoning tunnel is the street she is walking down. Her legs are leaden pendulums she cannot stop, her arms weighted beyond her ability to lift them and cover herself. Corrine struggles against her body until she feels dizzy. Some instinct inside her knows that to faint now would not stop her, but only black her out. After a few blocks and some turns Corrine stops screaming and the noise in her trapped conscious mind is washed away with a silence that is devoid of even her breathing and heart beat. In her silence and acquiescence is where Corrine finds peace. This is when she recognizes where she is going.
Corrine enters the Gebhardt grounds through the front gate. Her bare feet grind into the gravel path sending prickling points of pain to Corrine’s mind, but she cannot stop herself. Sprinklers rattle like watery snakes around the grounds. Drops of water blanket the leaves of the garden like tiny bits of broken glass. Corrine whimpers into her personal echo chamber as she goes down the path without deviation and is soon glittering with icy cold droplets. To her inward relief the sprinklers are providing more of a mist than a spray. As she continues toward the side door to the mansion water catches in her golden hair to make a net of diamond-like beads. She feels goosebumps rise from every inch of skin, she feels her nipples go hard and fully erect, and she suddenly feels how hot her cunt is between her legs, she feels the watery icy dampness between her thighs. She thinks of the slick chill feeling of the stone and suddenly the sensation is sliding up into her, fucking her. Her vision at the end of the prison corridor to her mind is blurred over with blinding passion. Her legs wobble though her body continues without her. Corrine’s feet rejoice once she gets onto the porch. Her vision returns and shows what her eyes see as if displayed on a television screen. Her hand reaches out and turns the doorknob. The door is unlocked. She enters.
Inside the kitchen the coolness of the tile is even more relief to Corrine’s stone pricked feet. She moans in her captured mind, the echo rising like from the bottom of a well. There are still pebbles stuck to her soles. She closes the door behind her and stops. Corrine makes futile attempts to grab power over her eyes and look around, though soon she is aware of the sound of footsteps in the hall. She fills her mind with more echoing screams, trying to hide, to get away, to not be caught. Her knees tremble again but balance is not possible this time. Dr. Gebhardt enters the room and Corrine falls to her knees with all her weight. She cries out but her lips do not move, she can feel the hot sting of broken capillaries and the sensation of bruising in her knees. She turns her head up to look at the professor, tears the only thing of Corrine’s that threatens to break through to the outside. Dr. Gebhardt is dressed in only an open linen bathrobe. He is in very good shape for a man his age, the muscles of his chest and stomach mildly defined with a light downy covering of grayed hair. Corrine can feel the same slick icy feeling filling her from within again, she feels the tightness in the muscles of her sex and the firm ache in her pert nipples. Dr. Gebhardt only smiles down at her as he approaches to reach out and run his fingertips through her hair. Corrine screams again terrified by being here against her will, but also feeling how much she wants Dr. Gebhardt to have her.
“Beautiful,” is all he says as he circles around her like a predator. He reaches over to the counter to grab a dishtowel and starts to dry the water droplets from her skin. Each stroke sends shivers through Corrine’s body and captured mind, the texture of the towel so detailed as to feel like sandpaper.
“Yes, my Sir,” Corrine says. She fights the movement of her lips, she shouts with all her strength as she hears her voice from the end of her prison corridor. Then, nothing but tears that only Corrine knows she is shedding. Dr. Gebhardt smiles and nods approvingly and then shrugs his shoulders to let the robe fall away. He lets it lay crumpled on the floor as he reaches down under Corrine’s elbows to lift her back to her feet. His arousal in viewing her helplessness and her great beauty comes into Corrine’s view, his long more than adequate cock filling with blood to rigidity. He guides Corrine over to the kitchen table and bends her over the sturdy wooden top. The heavy maple wood stained deep brown is polished so well that Corrine faces her reflection. She can see the doctor standing behind her looking down on her, his fingertips wandering from the nape of her neck and along her spine to the curves of her buttocks. She then hears the friction of skin on skin as he begins to pump his stiff cock to in one hand, his other exploring her labia, probing to find her hot wetness.
“You’re much more responsive than most are, at first, Corrine,” he says, his fingers slipping into her as he does. She moans, this time the sound both echoes in her mind and escapes her lips. She arches her back tightening herself on the inside and making herself more accessible on the outside. Dr. Gebhardt pulls his fingers from Corrine’s slippery cunt and runs them over her lips. Her tongue darts out to clean and suckle his fingers and draw all the taste of herself from her lips before she knows what she is doing. Her breathing is heavy and like a wind beyond a window as she watches her reflection and listens to herself from the murky distance of her consciousness. Dr. Gebhardt’s only reaction to Corrine’s supplicant gesture is to plunge into her, his thick cock spreading her open and filling her entirely. She feels his heavy testicles sway and brush against her swollen clit. She wriggles on the table top, her face wanton and begging when she wishes it was horrified and tear-stained. The cold wood warms quickly to Corrine’s body heat, her nipples press against the smooth surface and tingle with their own need as the doctor starts to pound in and out of Corrine with a feral hunger she has never experienced before in sex. His thick member massages every detail of the light hot warm sticky slick textures inside Corrine. She begins to dribble her juices down onto the kitchen floor and moan in time with each harsh thrust that presses Dr. Gebhardt’s cock head against her cervix. Soon Corrine feels herself bucking back against him, twisting her hips back and forth around his shaft. The doctor’s breath becomes rapid and loud, his cock twitching and then spurting thick jets of his seed into Corrine’s depths. As the cum splashes into her Corrine is overcome by her own passion and orgasms wildly. Her muscles flutter hungrily around the doctor’s cock and suckle on him. He groans with a primal pleasure in the tone.
Corrine is lost in a sea of echoing moaning and crying. She feels so good, so hot, so hungry for more. She doesn’t want to stop. Smack. Dr. Gebhardt brings his hand down on her soft buttock. She whines, the sounds again in sync with her trapped mind and her controlled body.
“You’re forgetting something, Corrine,” the doctor says, inelegantly pulling his still half hard cock from her.
“Thank you, my Sir,” Corrine says, the voice a little closer to her captured mind than it had been before.
Corrine wakes up in bed. She tosses the covers aside and stretches out her arms and sits up in bed. What a crazy dream. She thinks while rubbing the sleep from her eyes and getting up. She starts to unbutton the top of her pajamas and then stops with a wince. Something is stuck to the bottom of her foot. Absently she brushes the sole of her foot against the opposite calf and continues on to the bathroom for the rest of her morning ritual. The small rose quartz pebble bounces a few times and comes to rest under the corner of Corrine’s bed.