I did as she was told and bent over the rink’s barrier. My bottom half was still on the ice with my skates holding me up. The other half was in the arena. It was too late to run away. I gripped the barrier for dear life. My future as an athlete was on the line.
Claire got busy lubing up the full length of the dildo. She applied several coats of a clear lubricant to every inch of the shaft. I didn’t know whether to be thankful she was oiling it up be intimidated by its length. It was going to take more than just lubrication to get that inside of my ass.
The dildo looked to have been made of a soft plastic. I wondered how its feel would compare to mine. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it would be.
Finally, Claire approached me from behind. She flipped up the hem of my skirt and exposed my panties. I immediately gripped the top of the barrier for support.
First, she jiggled the butt plug inside of me until it became loose. It was actually a rather nice feeling. In one quick motion she removed the plug from my anus. I immediately let loose a sigh of relief. “Oh….”
I had it inside of me for so long that I had nearly forgotten about it. I had been busier skating than worrying about the thing jammed up my ass. Nonetheless, the exercise had made me more aware of balance and movement when I skated on the ice.
And it had loosened me up for her strap-on dildo.
I prayed the butt plug had done enough to prepare me for what was to come.
With blinding speed, Claire thrust into with her strap-on. I gasped for breath as I felt my ass nearly take it to the hilt. Between the butt plug and the lubrication, I was loose enough for the dildo to slide in with relative ease.
She began steadily fucking me with the strap-on. I knew the dildo’s other end was grinding up against Claire’s clit. She started to moan with every motion. “Oh yeah…. AH!”
I couldn’t believe how wide the dildo could stretch me. Skating with a butt plug up my ass had done a real number on me. In fact, I barely felt any pain or discomfort at all. It was just wave after wave of pleasure.
My cock was getting unbearably hard in my panties. Its sensitive tip rasped against the soft cloth. Soon, the pre-cum began to trickle down my thighs.
I wasn’t the only one getting aroused. Claire’s strap-on teased her clit and sent her racing towards orgasm. The friction between our bodies was unbelievable.
The barrier held firm as the figure skater railed me. It was strong enough to stop a hockey player in full gear. It could more than handle a grown man getting fucked in the ass by a woman. Claire even used the toe-pick of her skate to anchor herself. Otherwise, her thrusts would send us flying all over the ice.
Claire was lost in the act of fucking me. It felt like this was a routine she was performing out of sheer instinct. The dildo entered and exited me like an oil derrick. She groaned as she steadily thrust into me. “Yes, take it in. All of it!”
Finally, I had managed to satisfy her. My skating skills didn’t impress her but my ass certainly did. Claire fucked me with reckless abandon. Soon, the force of our fucking pushed my entire body against the rink’s barrier.
The woman seemed to have bottomless stamina. I had seen her skate circles around rink without breaking a sweat. I got tired just doing a few laps. The figure skater was just as vigorous when it came to fucking me in the ass. Unfortunately, I didn’t have her stamina. “Mistress… I’m going to cum!”
Claire grabbed a fistful of my ass and thrust deep inside of me. “That’s it my little figuring skating champion... cum!”
We fucked.
We moaned.
We came.
My panties were already soaking wet when I achieved my climax. My throbbing erection erupted with my sticky cargo. Hot cum dripped down my thighs.
Likewise, Claire stopped thrusting to enjoy her final orgasm. Together, we came as the dildo stood at a standstill inside of me. My cock was as stiff as the shaft that had fucked me. Finally, it stopped spurting semen in my panties. My balls had been utterly drained dry.
I felt completely and utterly transformed into a woman. I wasn’t Jeremy the star hockey player. I was now Jenna, the graceful and elegant figure skater. This was even more exhilarating than getting the winning goal on a penalty shootout.
I barely noticed Claire take the dildo out of me. I had gotten so used to having it inside of me. She wiped the sweat off her brow and praised me. “Jenna-Jeremy, that was incredible. I’ve never seen a man endure so much.”
“You do this with other guys?” I laughed. It explained why she was such an expert at this. “Is that the training regimen that won you the Olympics?”
She giggled. “It’s a trade secret. Just know that I’ll be giving a glowing review to both your coach and my relatives at the NHL.”
I took her in for a hug. “Thanks. I don’t suppose I can keep this dress.”
Claire flashed a smile. “Only if you want to continue training with me.”
I knew my answer. “Deal.”
Together, we started a new arrangement. Once a week, we would train early in the morning where no one would see us. We didn’t want the existence of Jenna to get out of our sessions. The two of us needed some privacy in order to have some fun.
I loved being humiliated and pushed to my physical limit. It made me a stronger person and a better athlete. Coach Smith’s practices were nothing compared to Claire’s training sessions.
Soon, I applied the skills I learned to hockey. My speed had improved to the point I could skate circles around my opponents. I dodged tackles by enforcers with ease. Even if they hit me, it didn’t even hurt. Nothing compared to what I had done with Claire.
Our team sailed through the rest of the season. With my new skills and renewed confidence, no opponent could stop us. We even won the coveted championship thanks to my skills.
A win at the big game got the NHL’s attention. In particular, I was highlighted as the MVP of the team. After the press conference for our victory, I was swarmed by the press and scouts alike. Finally, I sat down privately with a scout who offered me a lucrative contact.
“Jeremy Thompson is it?” the NHL scout asked, eager to sign me on. “Claire Sears has told us a lot about your abilities.”
I knew Claire had put in a good word for me with her relatives at the NHL. I had to remember to thank her after all of this was over. Nonetheless, I gave the scout a smile and said. “Well, I hope she hasn’t told you everything about me.”
Life was good as Jeremy.
It was better as Jenna.
Chapter 1
Working as a security guard can be a pretty cushy gig. I could sit back with a cup of coffee and watch Netflix on my laptop whenever I wasn’t monitoring the security camera feed. It was hard to believe that I was getting paid to slack off.
Of course, I was technically the chief of security. This fancy title meant that I was a glorified security guard that didn’t go around doing patrols or dealing with bratty kids. Instead, I was in charge of security systems and training new staff.
It also helped if you worked for an art museum instead of a place like a mega-mall. You didn’t have to worry about annoying teenagers or people chocking on a peanut in the food court. You could sit in an air-conditioned control room and watch a bunch of security video feeds.
It wasn’t like I had to worry about art thieves. These types of criminals really just existed in Hollywood movies. It would take a ludicrous sum of money to plan a heist and bypass all the security measure to steal an artifact that probably wasn’t worth that much. You had a better chance of acquiring a rare item by buying it from the museum through a legal transaction.
The museum’s curator worried more about the cleaning staff damaging the art work than he did about art thieves. Some guy doing monthly maintenance on a priceless painting could easily blotch the job. That was where most of the damage occurred. Nonetheless, the art museum had to reassure all our investors and patrons that we were a secure establishment. That meant around the clock
security coverage.
It just so happened that I worked the night shift. As the chief of security, there were things I could do that none of the other security employees could do. Besides, the curator trusted me since I had worked here for so long. This meant that I encountered very few people during my working hours. I could go for half a day without seeing another soul.
This sort of life wasn’t for everyone. I slept most of the day. I usually ordered out food instead of enjoying a home-cooked meal. Sometimes, I even went a little stir-crazy from being stuck in a control room.
Nonetheless, a security gig was a good fit for a guy like me. I used to be in the Army Corp. They deployed me all over the Middle East. I wasn’t some trigger-happy glory hound. I was happy to do my stint and come home back in one piece. Hell, I never fired a shot and spent most of my days guarding a supply depot.
Most ex-military guys like me tended towards careers in law enforcement and security. It was a good transition for people like us. We could apply the skills we had learned from our military service to civilian pursuits.
Of course, watching a computer screen for hours was different from going on patrols in Iraq. Nonetheless, I figured I owed myself a little relaxation after going on a tour in a warzone. I didn’t have to worry about IEDs being hidden behind every rock and shrub I saw.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Hey Michael, are you up?”
I smiled as I opened the door. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t sleep on the job. What’s up, Tim? I thought your shift was over.”
My friend and fellow security officer took a seat. He had a medium-sized box under his arm. “No, just got caught up doing some last minute work for the curator. We’re security but he treats us like errand boys!”
“Tell me about it,” I laughed. Then, I pointed to the box. “That doesn’t look like a box of donuts and coffee.”
“Oh, that’s the thing,” Tim said, opening the box. There was something inside that was wrapped in foreign newspapers. “It’s supposed be a lamp from the Ottoman Empire. In fact, it predates the empire by a millennia. A relic this old would be worth tens of thousands of dollars. Of course, this thing’s a fake.”
“A fake?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I watched as Tim took off the paper wrapping. “How can they know if it’s a real or not?”
“The eggheads here are professionals,” he answered. “They can tell if something has the right look or not. Besides, the thing is supposed to be a thousand years old but it practically looks brand new. I didn’t know how they managed to get swindled so badly!”
Tim took off the wrapping and revealed a rather ordinary looking lamp. It was a reddish, coppery color and was divided into a base and a lid. There were lines written in some foreign language on its sides. Strangely enough, the metal looked absolutely flawless. There wasn’t even a small dent on it. This thing must have come straight off the conveyor belt at an assembly plant.
Well, I wasn’t an expert on ancient Middle Eastern trinkets but even this piece looked like a fake to me. I expected to see this in a toy section for Aladdin rather than at a respectable museum. I didn’t understand how anyone could spend more than a nickel on this.
“The curator must be pissed!” I whistled in disbelief. It was really tough to pull a fast one on them. “How did this happen?”
“They were working with a treasure hunter in Iran,” Tim replied. “Technically, he’s more like a scavenger but I’ll spare you the details. In any case, he started peddling this strange lamp to the museum. They immediately bought it since they thought it belonged to some famous sultan from over a thousand years ago.”
“What made them think this piece of tin was the real deal?” I asked. It just didn’t look like the other metalwork I had encountered in the Middle Eastern section of the museum. “I’ve seen the stuff on display at the museum. Something that old has to undergo a bit of wear and tear.”
Tim pointed to a set of engravings on the side of the lamp. “See these writings? They’re from a very ancient language. It’s very hard to fake. Not a lot of people outside of linguistics can even read it.”
I scratched my head. “Why go so through so much trouble to put a dead language on a fake looking lamp?”
“Beats me,” Tim said with a shrug. “I overheard the museum got it for a steal. It only set them back a few hundred bucks. That’s big bucks in a place like Iran. However, it looks like the seller made out like a bandit.”
“Well, why bring it here?”
“The curator got pissed and gave it to me,” Tim laughed. “It was either that or tossing it into the trash. I don’t have a need for it so it’s yours, Michael.”
I didn’t know what I was going to do with a worthless piece of metal. “How generous of you. I guess I’ll use it to light up my house in case of a power outage.”
“My wife’s on my case about being a pack rat at home,” he answered with a half-smile. I had been to Tim’s place before. His wife was right. That man had more stuff than he knew what to do with. “I figured you deserve a little something for working the graveyard shift. This thing probably sells for five bucks on eBay. Maybe more at a metal workshop.”
I chuckled. “Thank you. I’ll consider it a proper reward for my services.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “There is one weird thing about it. See this lid?”
I glanced at the ornate lid on top of the lamp and nodded. “Uh-huh?”
He tried to pull it off but it didn’t even budge. “I can’t get it open.”
“Maybe there’s actually a genie inside,” I joked. Tim was built like a linebacker. The lid must have been welded shut. “You know, like Barbara Eden.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me. ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ and ‘Bewitched’ is the only thing my wife watches during late night.”
“Hey, don’t hate the classics,” I said, taking the lamp. It may have been a bit of contraband but the museum didn’t want it. “Thanks for the gift, Tim.”
“See you around,” he said, heading out the door. “Stay out of trouble, Michael.”
I smiled. “In this line of work, trouble finds me.”
That left me alone in the control room. It would be hours before I would encounter another soul. It was times like this that almost made me wish for an art robbery. At least that would break up the tedium for the night.
I only had the lamp to keep me company. I held it in my hands and let my fingers trace the inscriptions. Even if it was a fake, the lamp looked nice. I didn’t want to sell it for a few bucks. I could keep it at the control room as a prop but it was probably better if I brought it back home. The museum staff were picky about keeping these kinds of souvenirs.
I remembered growing up watching Aladdin. That story about a magical wish-granting genie always stuck with me. Even being a soldier in the Middle East hadn’t diminished my fondness for fairy tales.
I almost didn’t notice my hand rubbing the side of the side of the lamp.
That’s when a puff of pinkish-red smoke poured. I dropped the lamp as the smoke blinded me. It had to be some ancient bobby trap that I had triggered.
I started coughing. “Damn!”
I wondered if this was part of an elaborate art heist. I wanted some action but not like this. I was afraid that the lamp was primed with some sort of explosive.
Soon, the smoke began to dissipate. I didn’t know where the red smoke had vented to but it had vanished as suddenly as it had arrived. I saw that lamp was on the floor of the control room with its lid finally off. However, my eyes were drawn to a woman next to it.
She looked young and dressed like a sexy belly dancer. I didn’t know what she was doing in a place like this. You needed to pass a few security checks to get into a protected location like this.
Nevertheless, the woman was beautiful in an exotic way. She didn’t look like those manufactured models you saw on the cover of magazines. Her strange clothes were flowing yet form fitting for all the rights parts of her c
urvaceous body. I’d be lying if that revealing outfit didn’t make me feel a little hot under the collar.
Her face was equally exotic. The woman’s lips looked full without the help of lipstick. Her dark, silky hair was tied up with an elegant headpiece. A set of bangles on her wrists and ankles went well with her flawless skin. Her breasts were full, her hips were wide, and there was an appropriate amount of exposed flesh in her abdomen for a belly dancer.
Since I was so speechless, the woman broke the silence. “Hello Master.”
Chapter 2
Regardless, I was confused as hell. “Who are you? How did you get into the control room? You need authorization to be here, lady.”
Her smiling lips broke out into a frown. It seemed like she was expecting a proper welcome. “Master, I am yours and yours alone. Did you not release me from my lamp? Only my master can awaken me from my slumber.”
The Trans Ultra Collection Vol 3 Page 16
