"Get up – get up on your haunches!" she ordered, and brought the ruler down on his butt again. "I want to see your miserable cock!"
Price obediently scrambled into a squatting position, his shaft pointing at the ceiling.
"You lied to me!" Marcy said, touching the ruler to the swollen flesh. "You said it wouldn't get hard for hours."
"I – I didn't think it would, mistress," Price whined.
"I shall have to punish you for this crime," Marcy said, enjoying herself immensely. It was fun to bully the man she had once been afraid of. She had almost cum just from hitting his bare ass with the ruler. This would make an interesting addition to Dr. Villiers' notes. She hoped the secret recorder in the amulet around her neck was in working order, so he could make a firsthand evaluation of this new facet of her complex nature. They hadn't thought to investigate the sadistic side of her sex profile in the laboratory tests.
"Yes, punish me, please punish me!" Price begged, planting sloppy kisses on her dimpled knees and up the insides of her velvety thighs. "The flesh, the flesh, the firm young flesh."
"How shall I punish you?" the cruel mistress demanded.
"Any way you like, mistress! Any way you think is fitting!"
"Well, since this is what you lied about," she tapped the tip of his cock with the ruler, "perhaps that is what I should punish."
"Ouch," Price let out a frightened yell as she lightly struck the offending organ.
But as Marcy watched it shrink, she had second thoughts. That was the last thing she wanted! The whole point of this game was to get him hard and keep him hard.
"I have changed my mind, slave! Lie down on your back!" she commanded.
Entirely in her power and unable to disobey, Price stretched out flat on his back, his genitals exposed and vulnerable. Marcy slipped her shoes back on over her bare feet and moved to stand straddling him. She let her eyes flick contemptuously over his lean, strong thighs, his flat belly, and the ripe man fruit in his hairy crotch. The sight aroused her powerfully, but she didn't let it show in her expression. As he stared up at her fearfully, she slapped the ruler against her open palm.
"You have been bad and deserve to be punished," she said sternly, tapping her foot impatiently to call his attention to the menace of the high heels. His eyes kept darting from the ruler to his cock, from the spike heels to Marcy's sneering face and to the spread thighs with the open pink cunt between them.
"Pretty, so pretty," Price said huskily. "The golden glory of my golden Goddess."
Marcy smiled inside. No one would ever have said that to the old Marcy. Men had talked about her golden hair, but they had always meant the golden hair on her head, not the really golden hair that covered her cunt. That was one reason why it was so much more groovy to be the new Marcy. Another reason was the fact that this man was groveling at her feet and loving it. Before, men had been angry and sulky because she wouldn't, and now, because she would, they were willing to let her do anything that entered her head, indulge any whim she might express.
"Open your mouth, slave!" Marcy commanded, squatting over her boss's face.
"Wh-what are you going to do?" Price asked.
"I'm going to reward you instead of punishing you," Marcy said. "Because you were so good with your tongue a while ago, because you complimented my cunning cunt, I am going to honor you as I promised."
"Th-thank you, mistress. But how are you going to do that?"
"By allowing you to drink the golden water from the golden glory of my golden cunt! Open your mouth, slave!"
Price's mouth opened, and Marcy sent a stream of hot piss splashing into his face, spraying up his nose, spouting into his mouth, and running down his chin.
"Drink the golden drink! Show how much you love your golden Goddess!" she yelled. "Does that send you, Rodney Price? All those times you chased me around your desk and tried to trap me into falling on that couch, did you ever think about doing this? Does it give you a hardon? Is it making you cum?"
Marcy was working herself into a frenzy. It seemed that every time a new dimension of her liberated sexuality came to the surface, it seized control of her psyche and sent her into more violent states of sexual mania.
"Drink it!" She was sitting on his face now, rubbing her dripping cunt lips all over his head. "Smell it! Smell like it! You're part of Marcy now! You've been baptized in her personal holy water! You've drunk her piss, and so you're hers forever!"
"Yes, Goddess Marcy – yes, beloved mistress! I am your convert and your slave!" Price's hands came up to clutch her buttocks while he kissed her wet thighs, the soaked pubic hair, and the tiny hole from which the shower had come.
Marcy pulled away from him and stood up again. She stepped up onto his naked body, her high heels sinking painfully into his lean flesh as she walked up his legs and torso until she was over his face again. He was grimacing with pain and excitement, and whimpering with lustful anticipation when Marcy let loose another hot, golden blast.
And that was the shocking tableau that greeted Mrs. Agatha Price as she came through the door without knocking.
She was a tall, stately woman in her middle forties, with bluish-gray hair, a tight no-nonsense mouth, and a body whose curves would have been generous if they hadn't been so constricted by stays and heavy elastic. She was impeccably groomed, and her pink dress had the look of a Paris original.
"What in the name of…" The woman's mouth gaped open, and her eyes almost rolled out onto the floor.
"Come right in, Mrs. Price," Marcy said, settling herself on Rodney's face again. "Come on in and join the party!"
Mrs. Price's face turned scarlet, and she choked and sputtered. "I – what – are – you – doing to my husband!"
"Right at the moment I'm feeding him a mouthful of cunt," Marcy said cheerfully, "but I was pissing on him when you came through the door. We're having a ball, and we'd love to have you join us."
"You – you filthy little beast! Get away from my husband!" The woman almost turned purple with rage. "Rodney, get that woman off you! Put your clothes on! Have you gone mad?"
"Agatha…" Mr. Price began, as he made an effort to sit up.
"Lick that for me, will you, Rod old boy?" Marcy said conversationally, shoving him flat again and forcing her swollen labia against his mouth. "And you, Agatha, come over here where I can get a good look at you."
Caught off guard, Agatha took a step or two toward them, then gasped in recognition. "I know you! You're – why, you're Marcy McCall! I can't believe it!"
"You might as well believe it, because it's true. I'm Marcy McCall, onetime good girl and dependable secretary, who never had any fun. This is the new-Marcy McCall, Agatha, ex-virgin transformed into sexpot, and having nothing but fun!"
"This is vile… obscene!" the woman said. But she couldn't take her eyes away from the sight of the girl rocking her wet golden cunt into Rodney's mouth, and the way his tongue dipped into it as though it were a delicious fruit.
"Come on over closer so you get a better view," Marcy invited. "Your husband is a real great cunt-licker. You ought to let him eat you once in a while."
"You dirty, filthy child! If I come any closer it will be to grab you by the hair and throw you off – of that – that disgusting creature who used to be my husband!"
"Aw, come on, Agatha, don't knock it until you've tried it," Marcy said, reaching behind her to fondle Price's prick. "Look at that, Aggie! That's a nice big fat cock for a guy Rod's age. How would you like to suck on that while he eats my pussy? Or maybe you'd rather take my place and let me blow him while he uses his tongue on you?"
"Ugh! You obscene little beast! And as for you, Rodney…" The woman's voice died away in the middle of her threat. Her face was as pale now as it had been red before, and her eyes were glassy with a raging emotion of some sort. Marcy felt a surge of hope that she was getting to her.