The Chosen

But—

Paul remembered something else, vaguely in the most distant recess of his brain, from that night…

“Oh, Paul, that’s so good,” she slurred. “I-I-I think I’m gonna have to…”

She slid her sex off his lips. Her right thumb stayed pressed against his eye, while she rubbed the large pink bud of her clitoris with her left index finger. Her body tremored in waves.

“Do you remember, Paul?” she whispered. “Sure you do. I’m the Zyramon, I’m one of his most special concubines…I’m synoecious, Paul. Do you know what that means?’’

Paul gasped in a musky breath.

“I’m an hermaphrodite, and I have a big surprise for you…”

Paul watched in his daze, her soft milk-white thighs still clamping his cheeks. Her finger continued to tend to her clitoris, and soon she herself began to gasp. And then—

You’ve gotta be shitting me…

Something began to emerge from the fissure of her vagina. Very slowly yet very clearly, he realized what was coming out of the place of her womanhood:

An erect penis.

And a very large one at that.

“Okay, Paul. You’ve already sucked my pussy, now you’re going to suck my cock.” She added a bit of pressure to her thumb over his eye. Then she inserted the tumescent penis into his mouth.

Paul began to fellate her. I’m sucking a woman’s dick, came the insane awareness. He tried to do the best he could but…he couldn’t help but shudder…

“Goddamn it!” she yelled above him. “You’re not doing it right! Do it right!”

Paul gave it the All-American try but this was no easy thing, since he’d never sucked cock before, much less a woman’s. He gagged repeatedly as the swollen glans slid against the back of his throat. One thing he noticed, though, with his free eye, was the sharp purple glint…

What is that?

A well-cut purple stone had been sunk into her navel.

An amethyst, he realized.

And then he remembered the much larger amethyst he’d seen mounted in the transom of The Inn’s front door…

“You little peon piece of shit!” she yelled. “Can’t even suck cock, I should’ve known.” She withdrew her penis, then pinched his lips together hard. “What’s the matter, is little Paulie nervous, hmm?” she suggested in a chastising tone. “Little Paulie too scared to suck a good dick like a good little boy?”

Paul exhaled long and hard when she got off him. Into the dim candlelight, she was walking away. Keep walking, he thought, traumatized, exhausted. But he wouldn’t be so lucky. Before he could even try to muster the energy to rise, the bald woman returned, bearing a bottle of wine. “Remember that blow, Paulie?” she said, standing with one beautiful hip cocked. Of course, the image of that hip lost some of its beauty considering the nearly foot-long erect penis that bobbed betwixt her legs. “You know, the blow? Shit, you probably snorted a pound of it that night—”

The cocaine, he remembered. Or whatever it was…

“Well, let’s just say that it comes from a very special place, and we use it a lot around