Table of Contents

Dedication
Note from the Author
Epigraph
1. Chapter One
Epigraph
2. Chapter Two
Epigraph
3. Chapter Three
Epigraph
4. Chapter Four
Epigraph
5. Chapter Five
Epigraph
6. Chapter Six
Epigraph
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
Epigraph
9. Chapter Nine
Epigraph
10. Chapter Ten
Epigraph
11. Chapter Eleven
Epigraph
12. Chapter Twelve
Epigraph
13. Chapter Thirteen
Epigraph
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
More by Thea Masen
About The Author
OceanofPDF.com
 Stiff
An inanimate object shifter romance
Thea Masen
Dodgy Press LLC
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Copyright ©2023 by Dodgy Press LLC
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other noncommercial use permitted by U.S. copyright
law.
This book is a work of fiction. Resemblance to actual persons and things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely
coincidental.
ISBN: 979-8-9892432-3-5
Published by: Dodgy Press LLC
Cover Design by: Dodgy Press LLC
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Contents
Dedication
Note from the Author
Epigraph
1. Chapter One
Epigraph
2. Chapter Two
Epigraph
3. Chapter Three
Epigraph
4. Chapter Four
Epigraph
5. Chapter Five
Epigraph
6. Chapter Six
Epigraph
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
Epigraph
9. Chapter Nine
Epigraph
10. Chapter Ten
Epigraph
11. Chapter Eleven
Epigraph
12. Chapter Twelve
Epigraph
13. Chapter Thirteen
Epigraph
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
More by Thea Masen
About The Author
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For the women who have endured the orgasm gap quietly, thinking there was nothing they
could do about it. The women who believed their own pleasure wasn’t as important as their
partners. The women who’ve never tried a sex toy. This one’s for you.
***
“Your partner isn’t responsible for your pleasure, but they should be invested in it.”

Quote from Cassie Rattray, Sex Educator and Founder of Radical Love (used with
permission)
***

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 Note from the Author
I’m a chaotic, impatient, ADHD writer and spending too much time on research makes me
grumpy (which makes my family grumpy). So don’t expect the research in this book to be
100% accurate. It’s not serious research. It comes from quick google searches.
Take the book with a grain of salt and appreciate it for what it is—ridiculous smut with a
bit of heart. Nothing more.
***
Also, a little trigger warning… the premise of this book is that the male main character is
turned into a dildo as part of a curse. Because of that, he is used in dildo form without
consent. So the book contains both non-consent and dubious consent—hopefully in a way
that highlights how important it is that both parties are invested, involved, and consenting
when engaging in any kind of sexual encounter. But I recognize I was walking a close line
here and may have failed.
As always, read responsibly and take care of yourself.
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According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first documented use of the word cunt is
from 1230. At the time, it wasn’t a vulgar or derogatory term, but was simply used as a
slang word for female genitalia.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

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 Chapter One

W
LORD RICHARD OF NORTHUMBRIA IN THE YEAR 1341

e barely make it out of the feast before I press her against the stone wall and
yank up her skirts. Why is it fashionable for women to wear so much fabric?
It’s like they’re trying to make us work for it.
Lace, tulle, and satin, lift around her waist, held in place with one hand, while I pull out
my cock with the other. I give it a few firm strokes before lining it up at her entrance.
“Lick me first, my lord,” she says with a wicked glint in her eyes and a coy grin. Naughty
little vixen. She presses down on my shoulders, trying to guide me to my knees. Like I’d
kneel for her cunt.
“After.”
I stop her prattling mouth with a kiss and press into her. She moans, writhes against me,
gasps as I fill her. I pound hard, yank her corset down, pop out her breasts, and fondle her
tits.
My pleasure builds like a storm. She’s been tempting me for weeks and now that I have
her, I take everything I want. Leaning back, I drive my hips in quick thrusts, taking in the
view of her bouncing breasts.
“I need—” she gasps, but I don’t hear the rest of what she says because just then the
storm overtakes me. I shoot off like lightning, harsh and bright. Slamming deep into her, I
fill her with my seed. Just as it should be.
When the thunder rumbles to a stop, I drop my weight against her, pressing her back into
the wall. “Fuck, that was good.”
She mutters something that sounds like for you, then wiggles like she’s still trying to ride
my quickly softening dick.
“Eager little trumpet, aren’t you?” I laugh, slide out of her, and pull up my pants. “Maybe
I’ll find you again, if I’m in the mood, but for now, I’m satisfied.”
“Aren’t you going to return the favor?” She hikes her skirts up higher, revealing her
glistening cunt, dripping with my seed.
“Favor?”
“I have yet to come, my lord. You said you would help me… after.”
I chuckle. “You shouldn’t believe everything a nobleman says.”
She drops her skirts. “And what of noblemen who say they will marry? Should I believe
that?”
 “In this case?” I straighten my shirt, then smooth a hand over my hair, ensuring I’m
presentable. “No, my lady.”
Her face is as red as blood. It’s almost like smoke is coming out of her nose and ears. I
turn to walk away, but I’m stopped by an unseen force holding me in place.
“Lord Richard,” her voice sounds different. It’s lost its innocence and gained something
dark and sensual. It echoes in my ears as if three women are speaking the words rather
than one. “Henceforth, you will be a tool for a woman’s pleasure. You will give pleasure,
unable to take it for yourself. You will be fucked, rather than fucking another. You will
drown in the arousal you refused to taste. I curse you.”
I want to scream for the guards that a witch has infiltrated us, but my voice won’t work.
My body feels strange and taut, as if my skin is shrinking, pulled tighter and tighter,
squeezing the life out of me. A flash of light, a puff of smoke, and I lay on the floor
completely immobile.
I’m going to kill her.
She towers over me, but looks ten times larger than she did a moment ago. Her hand
reaches out, and she picks me up. In one hand! I try to move my arms and legs, and realize I
have none. She carries me over to a piece of polished glass in the hallway and holds me up.
She’s turned me into a fucking dildo.
Her cheek brushes against the smooth surface of my new form. I try to speak, to swear, to
scream, but I’m trapped in my thoughts, unable to make a noise.
“You’re probably wondering if there’s a way to break this curse,” she says, flicking her
tongue briefly over my tip. “Since you refused to give me the stimulation I needed—to
provide any sort of pleasure to me at all—and in particular, refused to use your mouth on
my cunt, you must stay in this form until someone chooses to put you in their mouth and
suck you off as you are now.”
Fuck! No one is going to put a dildo in their mouth. That’s not where they go. To prove
my point, she leans back against the wall across from the mirror, lifts her skirts, and sinks
me deep in her wet heat. She engulfs me. I thought I was spent, but immediately I’m
aroused as hell. Which is a strange sensation because I’m already hard. All of me is hard. As
she fucks herself on me, my own need builds, but goes nowhere. She cries out, tenses, and
spasms, squeezing me in a vice-like hug.
 It feels amazing, but not nearly enough. I want to come. Need to come. But she pulls me
out, wipes me clean with her skirts, and tucks me between her ample breasts. Which just
drives up my need even more.
She uses me for her pleasure three more times over the next hour. Insatiable bitch. By the
end, my thoughts are one long scream of sexual frustration. My phantom body aches for
release, my non-existent balls throb. I need to climax. And yet I can’t. Won’t ever be able to
again.
For who would ever suck off a dildo?
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In ancient Greece, people created dildos, or olisbos, by stuffing wool into softened leather
and then polishing it. There are also records of women making olisbokollix, or bread-
dildos.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

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 Chapter Two

T
FELICITY STIFF, MODERN DAY

he best part about writing a book is typing the words “ the end.“ Metaphorically, of
course, because no one writes that on the last page of their books anymore. It
would be especially out of place for a non-fiction book about the history of sex
toys.
Still, getting to that last page is the best feeling in the world, and right now it feels
centuries away. I’ve got three original texts spread out on the table in the library study
room and close to twenty tabs open on my computer, but I still can’t find my way into this
chapter. So when my phone rings, I jump to answer, even though I told myself I wouldn’t
get distracted.
Screw it.
“Hello,” I say, not bothering to look at the caller id.
“Felicity, good, I caught you.” My agent, Regina, sounds more flustered than I’ve ever
heard her. She’s usually the cool and collected one. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” I push back my chair and stand up. Sitting while talking on the phone is one of
those weird things I can’t do, like patting my head and rubbing my belly at the same time.
But pacing in the library study room isn’t easy. It’s barely big enough to take three steps
before I reach the wall and have to turn around.
“I just got off the phone with Megan at the publishing house. She wants the book by the
end of the month.”
“What? There’s no way.”
“Apparently, there’s a new sex museum opening in New York that’s gonna get a lot of
press. She wants to piggyback on that excitement and release the book at the same time.
You need to finish by the end of the month.”
It’s a smart marketing move, and I really want this book to get coverage. This could be
the opportunity I need in order to get enough recognition to solidify me as an expert, which
will hopefully lead to a full-time position at a museum.
“How far are you?” Regina asks.
“I’m stuck in the renaissance.”
“What’s the holdup?”
“I don’t know. I’m just not… feeling it.”
 Her cackle statics the speaker. “Well, start feeling it. Do whatever you have to. You need
to get this done.” My brain is still trying to catch up to the shift in my deadline when she
adds, “Have you thought anymore about my idea? Maybe it would help you feel it.“ She
laughs at her own joke.
“It seems kind of gimmicky, doesn’t it?”
“Give me gimmicky, Felicity. It’s what the readers want.” I hear typing in the background.
“I’ll order them for you myself.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I hate accepting help from people, and I know I’ll get past this
on my own. I just need more time.
“It’s already done,” she says. “You’ll get the three we talked about by tomorrow, and you
have the bread recipe, right?”
I’m not about to confess that I already made a bread dildo using that recipe, but
chickened out before trying it. Shoving yeasty bread up my vag just seemed like a bad idea.
“Do this for me, Felicity.” It’s not a question. “Firsthand accounts sell books.”
“Fine.”
“Good. Send me the next two chapters by the end of the week.” She hangs up before I can
argue.
Well, I guess I’m about to get fucked by some of the most notorious dildos and vibrators
throughout history.
I’m gonna need some wine. Or, better yet, vodka.
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The oldest phallus was found in southwestern Germany. It’s made of highly polished stone
and dates back to the Paleolithic era. There’s debate as to whether or not it was used as a
dildo, a tool, or some sort of idol.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

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 Chapter Three

T
FELICITY

wo vodka tonics and I’m still psyching myself up. I thought about skipping the
renaissance chapter and going right to the hand-crank vibrators of the 1880s. But
the contraption in front of me looks too intimidating. It’s a knockoff, not the real
thing, but it’s modeled after an authentic one used in hospitals for women who were “
hysterical.”
I giggle, feeling pretty hysterical right now. You’d think since I’m writing a book about the
history of sex, and sexual aides in particular, that I’d know my way around a vibrator, but
I’m a sex toy virgin. The culture I grew up in considered sex toys deviant and an affront to
men.
I only picked this topic for my next book because my agent liked it best out of the three
ideas I pitched to her. She said it was the most marketable and could boost the awareness
of my previous historical non-fiction book.
So, here I am, sitting on my living room couch in nothing but my silk robe, staring at a
replica of an 1800s hand-crank vibrator, a 1900s Chattanooga imitation, and an authentic
ivory dildo from the renaissance—I have no idea how Regina got her hands on it.
Better to start with the most basic. I pick up the ivory dildo and weigh it in my palm. It’s
hefty. Super smooth. And hard as fuck. I can’t imagine it’ll feel very good in me. Something
akin to dread gathers in my gut and sends a shiver across my skin.
Even though the thought of inserting it feels intimidating, the feel of the cool ivory makes
me want to rub it along my cheek. Maybe my nipples. Okay, vodka’s kicking in.
I get up and turn on some sexy tunes, hoping it’ll help. It doesn’t.
Okay, I know. I’ll read one of those smutty books my sister is always telling me about. I’m
not sure how we both grew up in the same family but came out with such different
attitudes towards sex. Sometimes I wish I could be as comfortable with my sexuality as she
is, but… it’s just not me.
Alright, what book is she recommending on her bookstagram today? Pulling up the app, I
scroll through her account for a minute until I find one that sounds like it could be
interesting. For now, I’ll ignore the dildos and just read. Once I’m feeling worked up, then
I’ll try them. That’ll be better.
Before long, I’m swept into the story. It’s actually a pretty fun read. When I get to the first
sex scene, my body immediately responds. Two monster men work this woman over with
skills that don’t exist in real life. My heart rate goes up. I feel pleasantly flushed. There’s a
dampness between my legs. I glance over at the dildo. Nope, still no desire to shove that
thing in me.
I keep reading. The next sex scene pushes me farther. This time the woman is in a sixty-
nine position, with one guy on his back under her. He licks her clit with his monster tongue
while she sucks his massive cock. That flush I was feeling spreads down my body, and I
untie my robe in an attempt to cool off.
This author has a way of making you feel like it’s happening to you. The scene is doing it
for me. My panties are soaked, and my body tingles all over. I’ve never been so turned on
just thinking about going down on a guy.
Then the other guy positions himself behind her and slides into her pussy while the first
guy keeps dragging his tongue over her clit and half-gagging her with his cock in her
mouth.
Fuck, now I’m sweating. My chest feels like someone lit a fire inside my ribs. The room
feels thick and stifling. The swell of the music, a sensual background beat. I need touch.
Hands on my body. My silk robe rubs against my skin, and it feels incredible. My hand drags
over my breasts, and I play with my nipples, tight peeks aching for more.
I should use the dildo. I’m open and wet. So needy. But I don’t want cold ivory in me, and
I want to come. I can’t imagine any of these contraptions doing the trick. How did women
get off from something like that? It would be better just to use my fingers.
But when I set down my phone, where I was reading the book, and touch myself, the
pleasure recedes enough to let my inner thoughts distract me. The stress of writing stalks
my thoughts, and the arousal I was feeling scatters like pebbles on a beach.
I need something to keep that image from the book in the forefront of my mind.
I glance at the renaissance dildo, maybe… I already cleaned it. Scrubbed it with straight
vodka. I’m sure it’s not the standard way of using a dildo, but… it could still be considered
research. What the heck.
Rather than putting it in my vag, I reposition myself so that I’m on my hands and knees
on the couch. I hold the dildo below my mouth and imagine that it’s the guy in the book.
The fingers of one hand plunge into my heat as I circle the smooth imitation cock with my
lips. With my eyes closed, I picture the scene I just read. Sinking into the image, I imagine
myself being worked over by one man’s tongue and another man’s cock, while I give a man
head.
 I can almost taste salty male musk in my mouth. Eyes closed, I adjust my position and no
longer have to hold the dildo to keep it steady. The friction of my leather couch must be
enough to hold it upright. There’s the phantom pressure of a hand on the back of my head,
driving me deeper. I moan around the hard cock, which isn’t feeling like stone anymore. It’s
warmer. Probably from my tongue.
Suddenly my mouth is full. Hot squirts of fluid soak the back of my throat. I gag, spit out
whatever the heck this is in my mouth, and pull off the dildo as my eyes fly open.
“What the fuck?” I scream, jumping off the couch and curling my robe around me. “Where
the fuck did you—? How did you—?”
There’s a man laying on my couch. A naked man. A handsome man. He repositions
himself, resting his hands behind his head like he’s lying on a beach. “You have no idea how
long I’ve waited for that.”
“What?” I swivel my head around, taking in my small apartment. The windows are shut.
My front door is locked. A dream. I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating? I rub my eyes.
“You’re not here,” I mutter.
A deep laugh follows my assertion. “Oh, I’m very much here.”
I blink at him. He makes no effort to cover his nakedness. His still-hard cock juts up
proudly. It looks an awful lot like… no.
I frantically look around the room, then drop to my knees to look under the couch. None
of this makes sense. How did he get in here? I’m losing it. Full-on losing it. I wrap my arms
around my waist to shop the shuddering nerves spiking my insides.
“If you’re looking for the dildo, it’s right here.” One hand sweeps down his body, and his
other fists his cock, giving it a hard pull. “Now, I’ve been blue balling it for centuries, so if
you would kindly get back over here…” His eyes flit down to his cock with the implication.
“I’m not going to fuck you!”
“You were about to a minute ago.”
“You weren’t real then.” What am I saying? He’s not real now. “This isn’t happening. I’m
delusional.”
He stands up and crosses the room. “I assure you, I’m very real.” He takes my hand and
places it on his cock. It feels exactly like the dildo, the same size and weight, though it’s not
as cold or smooth as ivory and it’s lined with thick veins pumped full of blood. Mouth dry,
my throat tightens as I swallow. The heat in his eyes makes my pulse pound. Despite my
shock and confusion, I’m still aroused. Maybe because of my shock and confusion, I’m even
more worked up.
Pussy wet with arousal, I squeeze my legs together and try not to look down at where
he’s holding my hand against his length.
“Now, be a good girl, and jerk me off,” he says. “I’ve got centuries of cum stored up, and I
intend to cover you in it as a thank you.”
A pleasurable shudder warms my core, picturing such an erotic image, but I force myself
to rip my hand away. “That’s your idea of thanking me?”
I’m about to ask what the heck is going on when a puff of smoke fills my living room,
accompanied by a popping noise.
The man snarls as the smoke clears, revealing a beautiful woman. She’s sinewy and tall,
wearing a purple dress that looks like it belongs more in a nightclub than my apartment.
She’s got the most perfect cat eye makeup I’ve ever seen and her long hair is like something
straight out of a shampoo commercial.
“Lord Richard.” She tilts her head in a sign of deference, but the sneer on her lips makes it
clear she’s mocking him.
“Witch.” He says with a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before. “It seems you were
wrong to think no one would ever free me.”
“I was right to think you’d never learn your lesson.” For the first time, she turns and
acknowledges me. “I’m truly sorry that you had to deal with this pig. Maybe that’s what I
should turn him into now.”
I pinch myself. Not dreaming. I close my eyes and open them again, thinking this will all
go away, but it doesn’t. Okay. Fine. This is fine. There’s a naked man in my apartment. A
woman he called a witch, who’s threatening to turn him into a pig. Yeah, all normal. “Can
someone please explain what’s going on?”
They ignore my question. The man, Lord Richard, I presume, drops to his knees. “Please,
Lucinda. I’ve changed. I’ve learned. Really, I have. But you can’t imagine what centuries of
arousal without release would do to a man. I’m half mad.”
She glares at him. “What have you learned?”
“How to pleasure a woman.” He answers quickly.
“Then why is there a woman right here, clearly worked up, who has yet to climax while
your seed is all over her couch? Not to mention the fact that you were demanding she
polish your wood without offering to polish the pearl in return? Explain that to me.”
 “I was going to give back. After I got some release from the pressure.”
“After.“ She circles him like a vulture circling prey. “I’ve heard that before.” Stopping in
front of me, she says, “What do you think?”
“Um… me? I think I’m going crazy. I was just trying to do some research. What the fuck is
going on?”
She glances around the room and notes the sexology books and the two remaining
vibrators, but also the vodka. Her eyebrows lift. “Well, this man, Richard—dick, that he is—
had a reputation for taking pleasure without giving it. When he thought he could get away
with doing the same to me, I cursed him to live as a dildo, hoping he’d learn a thing or two
about a woman’s pleasure. You released him from that curse, however unwittingly. It
seems he hasn’t learned his lesson yet and should remain under the curse. What do you
think?”
“Um… well…” I look from the hard features of the woman to the man still prostrate in
supplication at her feet. He seems to know better than to beg outright, but the look in his
gaze is pure, tortured, pleading.
“Um… I think… what he needs to learn isn’t how to please a woman, but the benefit of
reciprocity.”
She taps one finger against the dimple in her chin a few times, thinking. “I can see what
you mean. I’d still like to turn him back into the dick he is, or perhaps a pig to be led to the
slaughter.”
The man’s head falls to his chest. Utter defeat paints his handsome features. I actually feel
bad for the dude. Blue balling it for centuries has got to suck. Being constantly hard but
never able to come… yeah, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. No wonder I almost drowned in
his release.
“What about a test instead?” I pace behind the couch, needing to move in order to shake
off the shock and think clearly.
“Ye—“ he says, but the witch waves her hand and even though his mouth continues to
move, no sound comes out.
“Being with me in 1341 was his test,” she says. “I verified the rumors and cursed him for
their accuracy.”
“That was a very long time ago. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Go on.”
 “He needs to show that he’s not a selfish pig, right?” She nods. “I think that will be best
accomplished by him showing a genuine interest in a woman, without the motivation of
coercing her into bed.” I’m forming this thought as I go, which means it’s bullshit flying out
of my mouth, but I don’t want her to hurt this guy—or me. Who knows what she’ll do to me
just for knowing that the two of them exist. That magic is real. What the fuck? Magic. This is
insane. I can’t believe I’m going along with this, but I don’t know what else to do.
“How about he needs to date me?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.
His eyes widen, and he smiles like the devil. Shit. What am I getting myself into? “I mean,
let’s say he needs to… take me out to dinner, get to know me, that sort of thing, and…” Am I
really about to suggest this? The ache between my legs still throbs. It’s been a long time
since I’ve been with a man devoted to my pleasure—this could be an opportunity to ensure
that. It would be foolish of me to not take advantage of it. “And… pleasure me, without” —
his expression turns to panic, and he shakes his head— “without coming before me.”
His breath sputters as if he was holding it too long.
“But you’d let him finish?”
“It seems cruel not to.”
Her eyes narrow at my unintentional accusation. My hand flies to my mouth. I can’t
believe I just said that. “I just mean, it seems the best way for him to learn about an
appropriate give and take is to model it, right?”
“Interesting.” Her finger taps her chin again as she studies Richard. “Very well. Here are
the terms. He stays here and genuinely gets to know you—to the point that he can answer
any question about you I might pose when I return. If any… carnal delights are enjoyed,
they must happen on your terms, only because you want them, and he must pleasure you to
your completion before his own,“ —she holds up a finger— “without seeking any other
feminine company before I return. Then I’ll release him to live his life.”
“When will you come back?” I ask.
Her cheeks lift with her smile, carving deep lines into her stunning face. “When I want to.”
She surprises me by handing me a credit card. “This is to be used on clothes and food, so
that the cost of his sin doesn’t fall on your mercy.”
“Who are you?”
She grins. “A simple benefactor to women.”
 After she vanishes, I realize her answer was nebulous enough that she might be gone for
a very long time. I’m alone with a naked man who, an hour ago, was a dildo from the 1300s
that I had in my mouth. And now he’s supposed to live with me indefinitely.
What the hell was I thinking?
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In the 1800s, a hand-crank vibrator was developed, called The Macaura’s Pulsocon Hand
Vibrator. It could produce up to 5,000 vibrations per minute.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

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 Chapter Four
RICHARD

The moment the witch leaves and I’m able to speak again, I gasp a quiet, “Thank you.”
The woman who saved me tosses a blanket in my direction, which is disappointing.
Covering up is the last thing on my mind. I drape it casually over my shoulders, making no
attempt to hide my best features.
“Could you?” She waves a hand in the direction of my cock.
“Shy, now, are we?” I slide closer to her, still on my knees. “Didn’t you just have this cock
in your mouth?”
“Didn’t you hear what the nice witch woman said?”
“I believe the agreement was only that I had to pleasure you first. Not that I couldn’t find
my own release.“ Looking up at her, I give her the smirk that used to make women pull up
their skirts for me. My hands wrap around her calfs and pull her closer. “I wasn’t lying. I
have learned a thing or two in my centuries as a…” I shudder, remembering my
confinement. “Dildo.”
I drag my hands up the back of her legs, stopping just above her knees. To my surprise,
she doesn’t move away. The robe she wears gapes just enough to see the curls that hide her
cunt, teasing me.
One would think I would have had my fill of pussy, but far from it. For the first time in
centuries, I have the autonomy to enjoy a woman’s form for myself. I don’t plan to squander
it.
“Let me show you what I’ve learned.” I slide my palms higher up the back of her thighs.
The action shakes her out of whatever stupor her shock put her in and she withdraws,
turns away from me, and mutters something about being crazy.
“Crazy is being trapped in ivory with a hard on for more than 700 years.”
She snickers—an adorable sound—and sinks onto her couch. Her fingers clutch her robe
closed. “Is this real?”
I push the contraptions on her coffee table out of the way and sit down on it, so I’m
directly in front of her. “Do I feel real?”
My hands go to her knees, but she flinches. I may have been a selfish lover, but I was
never one to force myself on a woman, and I won’t be that man now, no matter how
desperate for release I am, so I withdraw my hands and sit up straight, putting distance
between us. “Forgive me. I don’t seem to be able to stop touching you.”
 She sighs and rubs a hand down her face. “I guess if I had the use of my hands for the first
time in centuries, I’d want to touch everything, too.”
I don’t want to touch everything. I want to touch her. But I don’t think she’d take well to
me correcting her.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Felicity. And I assume yours is Richard?”
“Lord Richard of Northumbria The Second, to be exact.”
She shakes her head and throws herself back, dropping her head over the back of the
couch and staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe this.”
“Perhaps I could convince you.” Taking a chance, I touch her knee again. This time, she
doesn’t flinch away. “I believe I still owe you an orgasm, my lady.” My palm skims higher,
grazing the hem of her short robe. “Perhaps it’ll clear your head.”
She gives me a wry smile. “Were you really as much of a bastard as that witch said?”
A shrug lifts my shoulders. “Probably more.” I had a lot of time to think during my
confinement. A lot of time to contemplate my sins and grievances.
“And you learned your lesson?”
Another shrug. “Probably not.”
My hand grazes higher on her thigh, dipping beneath the fabric of her robe before
returning innocently to her knee. I note the goosebumps that lift on her skin at my touch
and the pearling of her nipples poking through the silk.
Spreading her legs, I drop to my knees between her thighs. She doesn’t argue or try to get
away.
“A fucking 14th century Lord,” she says, shaking her head, clearly still trying to wrap her
mind around it all. I want her to wrap her mouth around me instead, but I’m not about to
risk being changed into an ivory husk again.
She lifts her head from the back of the couch and her eyes meet mine. The hunger there is
acute, though not as intense as my own.
“The historian in me wants to ask you a million questions,” she says.
“You’re a historian?” I rub the hem of that god-awful robe that’s keeping her hidden,
wishing I could rip it off.
“I’m currently working on a book about the history of sex toys.” Saying this brings a
giggle to her delightfully pink lips. “Hence the note cards and… well…” She motions towards
the old-fashioned vibrators on the coffee table and then swings her hand in my direction.
 “Me,” I say with a grin.
“Yes, you.” She quirks a smile and reaches out to twirl a lock of my hair in her fingers. A
good sign.
“Well, historian,” I say. “What questions do you have? I’m fairly certain I’ve seen it all at
this point.”
The fingers playing with my hair trail to my cheek then down to my jaw. “After.”
A giddy swell of anticipation floods through my body. Finally. I rip open her robe,
resulting in a squeak of dismay from her. “I meant after… we get to know each other a bit.”
Now, it’s my turn to chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, Felicity.” I kiss her thigh. “We both
know you meant something much more carnal than asking each other’s favorite color.” I let
my hands move higher up her sides. “Besides, I believe the witch said…” My palms frame
her ribs, thumbs grazing the underside of her breasts. “Is this alright?”
“Y-yes.”
I move my hands up, weighing her full bosom, cupping her over her bra. “And this?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
Smiling, I tweak her nipples hard. Aggressive, yes, but she arches into the touch, letting
me know she’s into it.
“The witch said I need to give you more orgasms than I take for myself, and I intend to
make up for lost time.” My teeth nip at her thigh. “I’d be happy to help you with your
research in the process.”
Her gaze flicks to the ancient vibrators on the table. Having spent some time in the
collection of a widow with an insatiable appetite in the early 1900s, I’ve seen my fair share
of hand-crank vibrators, so I pick that one up first.
Felicity’s eyes widen. “I don’t know…”
I spin the crank while I drag the tip over the inside of her thigh.
“Oh,” she gasps. “It’s… different.”
With my eyes locked on her glistening mound, I slide the vibrator along her clit. She
moans, and I move it over her swollen lips, then drag it down her thigh again. I repeat the
path, but this time, dip into her cunt. Using the vibrator the way I saw Madame Horish use
it, I crank a little faster, putting more muscle into it as I slide in and out of Felicities
entrance.
I want to call forth the witch again so she can witness how much I’ve learned. It’s a shame
this thing requires both hands, because my cock is as hard as the ivory I was encased in. I
want to jerk off while I pleasure her. No, I want to demand she touch me while I fuck her
with this vibrator, but I doubt the witch would like that, and the last thing I want is her
ruining my fun.
“Come here,” I growl at Felicity as I continue to work her up.
She gives me a confused look, as if to say, I’m already right in front of you.
“No, I want you closer. I need your tits in my mouth.”
She straightens up, a tentative look on her face. I circle one nipple with my tongue and
then the other. Returning to the first, I lap the stiff peak, suck it into my mouth, and suckle
her teat.
“Your breasts are divine.” I switch my ministrations to the other side, and she clutches
my shoulders with her nails.
She’s so quiet. I’ve never had such a quiet lover, at least not in my bodily form. Women
were often quiet when they used me as a dildo. Taking their pleasure the way I took mine
as Lord Richard, using me the way I used them. In secret. Without care or consideration.
Not that they could have known, but… No. I won’t think about that now. Not when I have
this delightful woman in front of me.
Her silence makes me uncertain. Is she liking this or not? I redouble my efforts, cranking
the handle on the vibrator faster, sucking her nipples a little harder. Still, she makes no
sound. But the clawing at my shoulders is a good sign, right?
I hesitate, and finally she breaks her silence. “No. No. Don’t stop.”
A grin cracks my face. “Never. I’m going to work your pussy so thoroughly you’ll forget
every care and worry you’ve ever had. You’re going to come so hard you’re gonna break
this damn vibrator.” I bite her nipple and spin the crank faster. “Now, come for me, darling.
My cock is hard enough to snap. I need you to come. Now.”
“I can’t—just come—on demand.” She wiggles her hips like she’s trying to get the right
angle. “Plus, this thing is… weird. Did women really get off with this?”
“Everyone’s different.” I toss the infernal contraption on the couch and replace it with
two fingers, sliding inside her with smooth motions, hooking my fingers with each inward
stroke.
At one time, I was owned by a woman who preferred pleasuring herself manually, but
she loved to look at me while she did it. Like the sight of a cock got her hot, but not the feel
of one inside her. I learned a great deal by watching her touch herself. Slipping my fingers
all the way out, I paint a circle around the top of her pussy lips, tracing my forefinger along
the sensitive opening. After doing this a few times, her breathing gets heavy, and she
squirms under my touch. When I glance up, she’s cupping her breasts. Hair disheveled. Skin
flush. Stunning. I’ve seen a lot of women in the throes of passion, but this one takes my
breath away. Of course, it could be that I have a breath to take for the first time in hundreds
of years.
Now that she’s worked up, I press the pad of my thumb into her clit and rub tight, firm
circles. It wouldn’t take much to pull her off the couch and impale her with my cock. The
temptation is almost unbearable. But I know the second I’m inside her, I’ll come and then
where will I be? Trapped again by the witch. No, thank you.
So I keep my attention on Felicity and watch as her pleasure escalates. How have I never
realized what a turn on it can be to turn someone else on? Seeing Felicity ride my hand
with such abandon warms something in my chest. A delightful, satisfied pride.
With my thumb pressed against her clit, I slide my fingers back inside her, finding that
rough patch I’ve seen from the inside so many times. There. She bites her lip, holding back a
soft whimper.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Let go.”
Her legs tense, squeezing my sides. Her face contorts in an expression of pure ecstasy as
she flies back against the couch, mouth open in a silent cry.
“Did you come?” I ask, needing to make sure she’s not faking it, not when my life is on the
line. Although, I don’t see why she would do that. She cared enough to argue with the witch
on my behalf. Faking an orgasm would undo the agreement she just arranged.
Her yes is barely more than a breath, but it’s enough.
I grab her hips and drag her straight down onto my cock.
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The term dildo comes from the Italian diletto, which means delight or pleasure.

“My little dildo…That bendeth not

And stands as stiff as he were made of steele…”

“[her glass friend] refreshes her well

And never makes her tender belly swell.”

From Thomas Nashe’s The Merie Ballad of Nashe His Dildo, published in 1592

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

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 Chapter Five

M
FELICITY

y body takes Richard’s cock like it was made for me. I’m so worked up already that
he slides in with almost no resistance.
Normally, I’m content after one orgasm, but maybe his desperation is feeding my own,
because right now, I’m ready to go again. Hands clutching my waist, he lifts and lowers me
on his cock.
“Fuck, Felicity. Look at those breasts, bouncing like ripe cherries on a branch.” He
hunches, wraps his lips around my right nipple, and takes long pulls of my flesh. Then
repeats the same thing on my left, flooding me with sensations.
Each time he slams me down on his cock, I want to scream with pleasure, but I bite my
lips. It’s always felt too awkward to talk during sex. I worry that whoever I’m with will just
make fun of me or get turned off by it. So I keep my mouth shut.
Another climax builds like a tsunami. Gathering speed. Pushing against my skin, like my
shaking muscles are trying to break free.
Before it crashes and crushes me, Richard slams deep and cries out his own release. “Yes,
fuck, yes. Finally!”
He fills me, hot cum dripping down my thigh as his cock spasms on and on and on. So.
Much. Cum.
When he came in my mouth earlier, when I thought he was still just a dildo, I was too
stunned to realize how massive his release was. But now… I feel all of it like a flood of
warmth inside me. He’s been saving up for a long time.
His release dripping down my legs is hotter than I could have ever imagined. I feel filthy
and hot as sin. It gets me even more worked up, but also minimizes the friction, making me
too slick to get what I need. I squirm, roll my hips, try to chase the wave that was coming
towards me before he came.
Fully spent, he collapses, head resting against my chest. “That was incredible.”
I want to whine, I’m not done. I need more. It feels trite to tell him, though. I mean, I
already got one orgasm. It would be selfish to ask for another.
I wiggle my way off him and stand, legs aching a little. Pussy still throbbing.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He looks up at me, eyes heavy-lidded.
“I’m gonna clean up, and then I figured we should probably eat something. I imagine you
missed food, too.”
 “I’m not done with you.” He stands and stalks towards me, his cock half hard, the fire in
his eyes pure desire. “And food isn’t what I want to eat.”
For a moment, I almost feel afraid of the potency of his passion. Like he’ll fuck my brains
out without a second thought and leave me a used rag doll, unable to move. But my body
sings a different tune. I want him to use me up. To devour me with all of that intensity. Fuck
me until I’m too weak to walk, too sore to go again. Completely ruined and defiled.
He fists his cock, giving it a firm tug as he stalks forward, backing me into the wall. “I told
you I was going to make up for lost time.” The tip of his dick rubs against my clit as he
strokes himself.
“But… but… I don’t know if I can come again.” Still pretty worked up, I feel like I could,
but it wouldn’t be normal for me. “It might… take a while.”
“I’ve got time.” He pushes his forearm across my collarbone, holding me in place as he
uses his cock to stroke circles around my clit. He’s hard again. Fully erect. If this is how
often he’s going to want to have sex, I’ll never get my book done. I’ll never get anything
done.
As much as I feel aroused, I also feel a little uncomfortable with the idea that he’s only
pleasuring me in order to earn the right to his own orgasm. I hadn’t really thought of that
when negotiating with the witch, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. He needs me to
come again before he can. Which means I’m just a hoop he has to jump through.
I push his hips away. “No.”
He stops immediately, stepping back with a puzzled look on his face, his cocky grin wiped
clean. I oddly miss it.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I pull my open robe closed. “Um, it doesn’t feel right to
make you work that hard to please me.”
He chuckles. “I’m fairly certain that’s exactly what the witch wants from me. Patience and
the willingness to work for it.”
“But you’d only be doing it so you can come again.” My voice sounds pitifully whiny, and I
hate it.
“Yes, I want to come again. We’ve already established I’m a selfish bastard, more
comfortable taking than giving.” He moves close to me, nuzzling his nose into my neck and
dragging his hands up and down my sides, making my robe hike up with each stroke.
“Do you know what I craved for years?” He says. “It wasn’t just my release from the spell,
or my own orgasm—though god knows, I craved both those things—it was also to
participate. To touch.” He slides his hands up and brushes his thumbs along the underside
of my breasts. “To taste.” He kisses the dip where my shoulder meets my neck and follows
it with a lick. “To grind.” He wedges his thigh between my legs and rocks his hips against
mine.
The friction against my wet center makes my eyes roll back and my hands scramble for
purchase on something, anything. They wrap around his neck as I instinctively grind down,
rutting against his thick thigh.
“You’re wrong about me not wanting to do this,” he says. “I want to make you come again,
Felicity. For my own sake, yes. But also as a selfish bastard who wants to taste and touch
you until you shatter.”
His words light a fire in me. I’ve never felt so wanted before, never had a man so
desperate to have sex with me. Even if it’s about this desire he’s harbored for years instead
of about me, it’s still enticing.
That wave that was coming for me before pummels me now. Building faster than I could
have imagined as I dry hump his leg. He latches his lips to my throat and sucks, hard
enough that I’m certain I’ll have a serious hickey tomorrow. It feels amazing. I don’t
remember the last time I just rode a guy’s thigh. Probably not since high school, but the
most consistent way I get myself off is something not so unlike this. Rubbing my palm up
and down over my clit, or rubbing myself against a pillow or my mattress. Why don’t
people do this more often?
The hair on his leg tickles my clit as I drench him with my arousal and his, finding exactly
the rhythm and friction I need. The orgasm hits me with the force of a storm, ripping me
away from my body. It’s even more intense than the last one. My muscles give out. I slump
against the wall, held up only by Richard’s hands and his thigh still wedged between my
legs.
“The witch might be on to something.” He’s cocky smirk is back. “Making you tense up
and come like that, well, it feels fucking incredible.”
Before I can get my footing, he lifts me over his shoulder and carries me to the kitchen
table, setting me on the wooden surface.
“You mentioned something about food?” His eyebrow crooks up just before he plops
himself into a chair right in front of me and licks my pussy.
“You… you don’t have to do that.” My hips wiggle back, trying to get away, even though
my core begs me to stay where I am and let him feast.
 I know guys don’t really like going down on a woman, and since I don’t like when the
person I’m with is doing something they aren’t into, oral makes me uncomfortable.
Before I can get away, he wraps both arms around my lower back and tugs me forward so
that his forehead is against my belly and I’m trapped in his tight embrace.
“You know what I think?” he says, looking up at me. “I think you need to learn to receive
just as much as I need to learn to give.”
His words strike like a hammer in my heart. I’ve never been very good at receiving
anything or letting anyone help me. My approach to life has generally been to make myself
the least burdensome possible. To prove myself through accomplishments and
independence. What does it even look like to let myself relax and receive?
“Did you know, in Ayurvedic literature, there was a firm belief that sexual fluids had
health benefits?” He says, licking his shiny lips. “Chinese emperors even used the semen of
young men, mixed with herbs, as medicine.” He rubs his hands down to my hips and kissing
the soft pudge of my belly.
“Is this your way of asking me to suck you off again?”
His look is hard when he answers, “No. I just thought the sex researcher might like to
know.”
“And how do you know all that?”
“I’ve been around, remember?” Dull teeth scrape my thigh. “I even spent some time with
Kinsey. And Benjamin Franklin.”
I tug his hair, forcing him to look up at me. “You didn’t.”
“I did. He was kinky as fuck.”
“Which one?” I laugh.
“Both.” He grins.
“You’re going to be very good for my research. Fortuitous, even.” If I can stay at my desk
and off his cock.
“Do you know how they referred to cunnilingus during the Great Depression?”
I shake my head with a smile, placing my hands behind me on the table. He kisses the top
of my thigh, my hip, then brings his head between my legs, but he doesn’t do anything, just
breathes on my pussy. It’s like a warm hug on my most sensitive parts. A hug that feels like
an invitation to something more. Something decadent and delicious.
“To go down on a woman was to sneeze in their satchel.”
 “No!” I laugh, one hand going to my mouth, and the other flying to cover my satchel.
“That’s horrible.”
“And true.” He pulls my hand away and huffs a breath that’s almost like a sneeze. It oddly
makes me melt like warm chocolate. He follows it with a soft cool blow that traces the lips
of my vulva. A shiver skitters up into my center, and a delightful heat follows.
“I’m going to lick your oracle now, Felicity. Or if you prefer, your fly-trap.”
I giggle. “Where do people come up with these things?”
He just smiles and continues, “And once you’ve had your little death, I’m going to stick my
Jasper in your nonny nonny.”
I don’t remember the last time I laughed this much. “I need to write these down.”
Twisting, I look for the legal pad I use for book notes. It’s on the kitchen counter, close
enough that I might be able to reach it, but when I try Richard, holds me in place.
“After,” he says with a smirk. And then he licks from my perineum up to my clit.
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The earliest references to oral sex come from the Egyptian myth of Osiris. His brother cut
him into pieces and his sister reassembled him. But they lost his penis in the process, so she
created an artificial penis (a dildo) and brought him back to life by “blowing” into it.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

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 Chapter Six

I
RICHARD

’ll admit, I never relished going down on a woman in my former life. It’s what got me
in this situation to begin with. But after spending so much time shoved up a woman’s
canal, I feel more than comfortable with the notion. In fact, it feels strangely like
coming home.
For the first time in centuries, I’m quite content right where I am. Dare I say, even happy.
I’m thoroughly enjoying being here, at this exact moment, with my tongue up Felicity’s
cunt.
For whatever reason, I find myself enamored with her. I want to drink her, to consume
her, to bring her pleasure, and feel her thighs squeeze around my head, to make my silent
little historian cry out in ecstasy and learn whether she comes harder from my tongue or
my fingers.
Resisting the urge to stroke myself, I focus all of my attention on getting up close and
personal with her pussy. I lick up one lip and then the other. I flick the tip of my tongue
back and forth across her clit. I lap the tender skin between her front entrance and her back
hole, having grown quite comfortable with both over the centuries. I wonder what my little
historian would do if I stuck my tongue in that tight little bud. A question to answer another
day, because I don’t think she’s ready for that yet.
She’s still as silent as an old book, but her hands are gripping the edge of the table like
she’s hanging onto a cliff, giving away her tense pleasure. I want to make her fall off the
edge. She bucks and grinds, and it’s tempting to redouble my efforts and speed up, but I’ve
learned a few things over the years. Sometimes slow and steady is best, continuous
uninterrupted friction. That’s what she needs. But she’s moving too much to get it.
I shove a hand to her chest and push her down onto the table, then grip her hips as I
feast. She takes in a deep shuttering breath, and her body relaxes, a concerted effort on her
part. This woman is always in her head.
The tension climbs higher. Her muscles, taut. Her legs, squeezing. I move my hands to her
thighs to hold them open. Glancing up as I continue to eat her out, I notice the swells and
dips of her body, so flushed, shaking. Gorgeous. I love seeing the effect I have on her,
knowing that I’m making her come undone.
My arousal grows along with her pleasure. Cock tightening and pulsing. Balls flexing and
lifting. The urge to plunge into her heat is almost unbearable, but I hold back. It’s not just
because of the witch’s edict. I meant what I said about Felicity needing to learn how to
receive, and I want her to learn it with me. I want her to receive her fill.
The desire to make her lose control, make her scream, make her gasp and pant and come
all over my face is as strong as my desire to feel her cunt around my cock.
When she tips over the edge, her legs spasm and shoot straight out. I feel her inner walls
vibrate, and I press the flat of my tongue against her clit to stroke out her aftershocks.
Still, the only noise she makes is a soft gasp. A lovely, musical gasp.
My new mission is to tear this woman away from her inhibitions and her control, to hear
her cry out my name as she falls.
I give her a moment to recover, and then when she’s limp and lank, I roll her over, belly
to the wood table.
With my hands on her hips, I stand behind her and hoist her onto my cock, sinking deep
into her chapel of ease. And fuck, is it easy. She’s so wet and ready for me.
“You feel so good, Felicity.” She’s open, but still hugs my cock like a glove. And she’s so
malleable, letting me manhandle her where I want. I lift her hips a little higher. And glide in
and out.
I bite my cheek, wondering if she wants her silence to extend to me, or if she secretly
longs for a filthy tongue to lash words at her like a whip. Does she want to be degraded or
praised? Does she want a dirty description of all the ways I want to defile her? Or sweet
nothings in her ear? Fuck, I want to give her all of it.
Reviving, she looks over her shoulder at me and offers me a luscious grin. That look
nearly undoes me. I can’t hold back anymore.
“You like being my desperate little slut, don’t you, historian?”
“I think, after centuries of use, you’re the slut here.” She smirks, pushes against the table,
and drives her ass into me.
I groan. “Oh my pretty historian, you have no idea how much I’d love to be your man-
whore. To fuck you every which way, any time you please.” My stamina is better after
unloading a few times, but I’m still struggling not to come. I could let loose. I’ve already
given her a few good orgasms, but I find I want to squeeze one more out of her. And I
suspect it’s going to take more than physical sensation to do it.
“Let me be your rake, your scoundrel, your deviant devil.” I run a firm palm up her spine
and twist it into her hair. “I’m going to make your most obscene fantasies come true.”
 “You—really—don’t—“ She’s breathless as I plunder her purse. And for a moment, I
think she’s going to tell me I don’t have to. I want to wipe that thought from her mind. Fuck
it out of her thoughts. But then she changes directions.
“You really…don’t want to be a dildo again, do you?”
It’s more than that. I enjoy this, pleasing you. The errant thought come unbidden, and I
stifle it before the words cross my lips, forcing a chuckle instead. “I don’t.”
I part her butt cheeks with my thumbs for a better view of where we join, where I enter
her and she devours me. “Look at you, still going strong after taking such a beating already.
Still so wet. Dripping all over my balls. Taking me so deep.”
My legs burn. Sweat drips down my back. Hot with need, I say, “Come for me, Felicity.”
“I... can’t…”
She thinks it’s too much, but she doesn’t know the limits of her own body. I’ve seen
women pleasure themselves five or six times in a row. I’ve never witnessed that many
orgasms with a partner, but I know she can do this. I just have to give her what she needs.
I slip one hand around her and press my palm against her clit, firm, but not hard, letting
the friction of each thrust be enough. My fingers graze my balls each time I slam into her.
“Now, be a good girl and squeeze my cock with your tight cunt.”
At that, my quiet little historian’s pussy clenches and cleaves the pin as I break my arrow,
calling out her name.
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In the Middle Ages, a pointy toed shoe called a poutaine was used as a sex toy at dinner
parties. Men wearing the shoes would pleasure the female guest across from them, lifting
their skirt with the pointy toe, and then using it as a dildo to bring the woman to
completion right there at the table.

One medieval Arab writer, Ali ibn Nasr al-Katib, wrote: “If she is slow in coming, he can
carve a wooden sandal into the shape of a penis, and either arouse her with this or his
fingers before intercourse.”

This gives a whole new meaning to playing footsie.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seven

A
RICHARD

fter the wait I’ve had, I could probably go again, but Felicity is exhausted. When
she tries to push herself up off the table, her arms give out, hands shaking like a
vibrator. She lays prostrate over the table, without the energy to get up.
My heart twists. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
There was a time where I wouldn’t have cared. When I would have preened at having had
so many orgasms in so short a time, and would have left whatever lady I’d fucked with
nothing more than a cursory goodbye. Perhaps if she was as spent as Felicity, I may have
helped her into a chair before taking my leave, boasting to my comrades of my prowess,
how I’d fucked a woman into a stupor. But now… I’ve seen the aftereffects that kind of
callousness has on a person. No one enjoys being used for sex without a second thought. I
should know.
“Are you alright?” I ask, pulling her onto my lap. “Did I hurt you?”
“Just…” She yawns and mumbles, “Tired.”
She keeps her eyes closed as I stand, her head lulling against my chest. I carry her into the
bathroom and help her get cleaned up before scooping her back into my arms and taking
her to her bed.
It’s my first time seeing her bedroom and, even though I don’t know Felicity well, it feels
exactly like I would have imagined. There’s a little desk in the corner, covered in stacks of
books, which also line a bookshelf so full I worry it might topple over. Next to that, there’s
an armchair that’s well used, the floral pattern worn off in the center. On her nightstand,
there’s another stack of books and a lamp in the style of an old library lamp. A queen bed
rests against the wall in the middle of the room, covered in pillows and thick, fluffy
blankets. It looks like a dream.
After laying her on top of the bed and covering her with a blanket, I return to the kitchen,
fill a glass of water, and gulp it down, cursing at the deliciousness of something so simple as
tap water. I refill the glass and take it into the bedroom.
It takes a bit of effort to rouse Felicity and get her to drink, but I know she’ll be glad for it
later. Once she’s had half the glass, she collapses into a deep sleep. For the first time, I feel
aware of my nakedness. How out of place I am in this room, this apartment, this time.
 I’ve been in touch with how the centuries and decades have changed things. I’ve heard
people talk, heard language change, seen styles come and go. But this is my first time
interacting with an environment so different from the one of my youth.
I’m too wound up to sleep, and besides, it feels too intimate to climb into bed with
Felicity, naked and vulnerable as she is right now. So I go back into the living room and
spend a few minutes trying to turn on the television. The confounded device isn’t as easy to
use as people make it seem. Giving up, I turn to Felicity’s research notes, which are spread
all over the coffee table, and occupy myself reading them.
It’s strange to see the history I’ve lived reduced to scribbles on index cards. Some of them
hold only questions, most likely something she still needs to research in order to answer it.
What better way to answer a research question than with an original source?
Glancing back at her bedroom door, I pick up a pen and hope she’s not upset with in the
morning for what I’m about to do.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eight

I
FELICITY

f I wasn’t sore, I’d think what happened last night was a dream. Wait, what am I
thinking? Of course, it was a dream. I’m probably just achy between my legs because I
did what Regina wanted and used a fricking prehistoric dildo made of ivory.
I groan and roll over, pulling my pillow over my face to block out the light and my
massive headache. Maybe the vodka was drugged or something. People hallucinate while
drugged, right? Not sure why I’d hallucinate a rakish medieval lord who spent centuries as
a dildo, but I guess minds are funny things.
I want to stay under the covers and sleep all day, but I have to pee, my mouth is as dry as
paper, and I’m on a deadline, so I pull myself out of bed, legs shaking, like I did a hard
workout. What the hell was in that vodka?
I make it to the bathroom, feeling like a newborn fawn the whole way. Deciding to forego
a shower, I tie my robe closed and stumble into the main part of my apartment, desperate
for coffee.
What I find is a naked man sleeping on my couch with index cards scattered all around
him. I yelp, jump, and stumble back into the wall. He stirs, but doesn’t wake.
Shit. Shit! The man from my dream—no, it wasn’t a dream—the man from the dildo is
asleep in my living room, as naked as the moment he appeared and just as hard.
I creep closer and study him more freely. Sleep shrouds him in a peacefulness I didn’t see
last night when he was all sexual tension and heat. I wonder if he slept when he was in his
dildo form, or if he was just perpetually awake.
His brown hair hangs around his shoulders, silky with soft waves. He’s got the slightest
bit of scruff growing on his chin that wasn’t there when he first appeared last night. Like he
was frozen in time, and now, he’s unstuck and changing again.
I pick up an index card from the floor. There’s elegant script scrawled across it, difficult
to read, but after a bit of examination I pick out what it says:
Merkins are pubic wigs first used in the 15th century when women had to shave their pubic
hair for sanitation reasons. Also used in theater productions to designate a male actor as
female, or so that a stripper wasn’t technically nude. In the 1700s, women decorated them
with things like ribbons and fabric flowers.
He was doing my research for me. Wait, is it research if you already know things because
you’ve lived through them?
 His knowledge of history is probably limited to what you can learn from being in
someone’s bedroom or stuffed away in a drawer. There was a time when people proudly
displayed phalluses in their living spaces, but I think that would have been before his
particular predicament.
“Ready for more, little historian?” Richard says without opening his eyes.
“You’re awake.”
An amused smirk lifts the lines of his face. “It’s difficult to talk to someone when you’re
asleep.”
Ignoring his cheeky comeback, I wave at the cards and say, “You shouldn’t have done all
this.”
He opens his eyes, meeting mine with sinful intensity. “Thought I’d earn some bonus
points.”
“Right. Well…” The room is a mess, index cards everywhere, all of them out of order. This
is why I do things myself. It was sweet of him, though. “Thank you.”
“There are other ways you could thank me.” One hand drifts to his morning wood, giving
it a slow stroke.
“Um.” My cheeks flare, and my sore insides give a soft protest even as a dampness
gathers between my legs and my heartbeat thunders in my pussy. He’s acting like the pig
the witch thinks he is, but for some reason, it’s working for me. I swallow my eagerness. “I
think I’m going to need a bit of time to recover.”
“That doesn’t need to be a hinderance.” He slowly sits up, spreading his legs as he leans
against the back of the couch. “On your knees, historian.”
“What about…” I wave at the place where the witch stood last night.
His heated gaze blazes into me as he palms his cock. “I believe you’re ahead at the
moment.”
Right. Because every orgasm he gave me last night was just a tally. A requirement from
the witch. A hoop to jump through in order to get his own. A burden.
I wonder how he’d react if I refuse. Would he whine? Beg? Demand? Threaten? I’m
suddenly aware that I’m alone with him. The only things I know about him are that he’s
selfish enough in bed to be cursed, and he’s been sexually frustrated for centuries. It
wouldn’t be hard for him to overpower me.
 Careful study of his lazy expression makes me think he won’t go that far. But I guess
there’s only one way to find out. It would be good to know if I can trust him, seeing as he’s
going to be staying with me for an indefinite period of time.
I take a few steps to the side, bringing me closer to my front door, before I say, “No.”
His eyebrows rise, startled. Then pinch together as he gives me an intense glare. “Okay.”
I hold his eyes for a few beats, breath matching the rise and fall of his chest. It’s clear he
doesn’t like it, but he’s not pushing or forcing the issue. Deciding to trust him, I breathe a
sigh of relief and move towards the kitchen. Definitely need coffee this morning.
From behind me, I hear a soft groan. When I spin around, I find Richard’s head lulled back
on the couch, eyes closed, micro-movements coming from his shoulder. It’s clear what he’s
doing. His head drops deeper over the couch cushion and his eyes open and snatch mine.
His expression is one of pure seduction, sensual and inviting. Daring me to move back to
the other side of the couch and watch. “She never said I couldn’t take my own pleasure. Just
that I can’t be with someone else. Or outpace you.”
I swallow, fight the urge to go to him, and turn my back. As I pour coffee grounds into the
coffeemaker, I hear footsteps behind me. Has he finished already? He really is hard up.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Never had it.”
I feel his presence like a furnace at my back and look over my shoulder. He’s leaning
against the opposite counter, his cock jutting proudly, wrapped in a tight fist. His hooded
eyes stray to my ass.
He’s a sight to behold. Cock in hand. Cocky expression. Cock-sure of himself. Giving off
some intense big cock energy. I can’t look away, so I turn to face him, gripping the counter
behind me for balance, and to keep from dragging my nails down his bare chest. I won’t
give him the satisfaction. Not when this is just a tally for him. In fact, from here on out, I’m
going to make him wait and work for it. I won’t give in unless he can prove he wants me,
not just a warm body.
Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view right now, though.
His cock strains against his hand, twitching as his abs tense. His free hand braces himself
on the counter. I lick my bottom lip and drag my fingers along the open collar of my robe.
His gaze follows the movement.
“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” He asks in a low rumble. “You seemed to enjoy my
cock in your mouth when I was a dildo.”
 I clamp my teeth together to keep my words from betraying my resolve. The desire to
give in battles with my desire to be more than the price he has to pay to get his next climax.
Maybe I need to be better at receiving, but this moment isn’t about that. He knows he’s up
on the orgasm count and can take whatever I offer without reciprocating, so if I give in, he
will.
I keep my feet grounded.
His eyes darken with disapproval, maybe even a bit of angry frustration. His hand moves
faster. He bites his bottom lip. His skin flushes with heat. His stare is punishing and fierce.
He steps closer.
Without touching me, one hand traps me against the counter as the other jerks up and
down his cock. He growls, groans, and lets loose. Streams of cum cover my thin robe,
soaking through to my belly.
I should be upset about the domineering act, but all I can do is shiver and fight to keep
from rubbing myself up against him.
With a finishing sigh, he steps away, turns his back to me, and saunters into the
bathroom.
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The Karma Sutra talks about men using dolls, hollowed out pumpkins, and oiled bamboo as
sex toys when a sexual partner is unavailable.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nine

I
RICHARD

enjoy playing with Felicity. Making her squirm. Once we’ve had breakfast and coffee,
which I find gives me a disconcerting buzz I don’t care for, Felicity pulls out her laptop
so we can order clothes online. I’m familiar with the concept, but I still marvel at it.
Everything I could want or need is right at my fingertips.
“What do you like?” She asks. “Wait, that’s a silly question. You haven’t worn clothes since
men wore tights.”
I chuckle and pluck at the sleeve of her sweater. “What sort of clothes do you like?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“I’m supposed to get to know you, aren’t I?”
She stares thoughtfully at the screen. “I guess I would call my style academic. I like soft,
cozy clothes, with warm earth tones. A little on the dressier side, but still comfortable.”
I’ve only seen her in a robe, but I can picture her in an elegant, intellectual style of
clothing. Something like Audrey Hepburn would have worn. It would be a good look on her.
Though, personally, I prefer the robe.
My cock swells again, remembering how she looked with that thin silk hanging open last
night, breasts and pussy on display.
Her gaze drops briefly before she fixes her eyes back on my face and starts rambling
nervously. “A lot of writers prefer to hang around in sweats and pajama pants, but I find I
get more done when I dress up. It makes me feel like Virginia Wolf or something, I guess.
Though, I’m no Virginia Wolf. I’m more of a hack than that. And writing about the history of
sex toys isn’t exactly prestigious.”
“Why are you doing it, then?”
She shrugs. “Sex sells. Sometimes you have to write something for mass appeal before
you can get the recognition to write what you want.”
“What do you want to write?” I scoot a little closer on the couch, close enough for my
bare hip to press the silky fabric covering the upper half of her thighs.
She clears her throat and focuses all her attention back on her laptop. I’m not sure why
she’s resisting me this morning, but it’s making her even more appealing.
“Well,” she starts. “I’d like to write about the history of women throughout the ages.
Women’s rights. Political and otherwise. The pleasure gap falls into that category, hence the
sex toys.”
 I wince, take the laptop from her, and start browsing through the clothes. “Perhaps you
should befriend the witch.”
I don’t mean for my words to sound bitter, but they do, and I wish they didn’t. I’ve
learned a lot about women over the years. They aren’t the inferior sex I thought they were
in my youth. Far from it. They’ve been abused, belittled, cut down, and taken advantage of
throughout the ages. And still they rise above it, providing the backbone of society. Without
thanks, recognition, or pleasure. I can see the value in wanting that to change, in educating
people on how things are, were, and could be again if we aren’t careful.
But her words fall so close to the witch’s, it makes my hackles rise.
“Hey,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “I don’t agree with what she did, even if
I understand some aspects of it. Making you into an object to be used may be poetic justice,
but it’s no justice at all. It’s abuse.”
I make a noise in my throat, not trusting my voice, or even her words.
“I’m sorry you still have to prove yourself. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to think of a better way
out of this.”
I turn to face her fully. “It’s not your fault, Felicity.”
“No. But I wish I could have freed you from her.”
“You’re helping me. That’s enough.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Well, that and the delight of
fucking you again.”
She laughs a little awkwardly and gives me a solid shove. “I’m going to shower. You pick
out clothes.”
She gets up and walks towards the bathroom in the hall.
“Felicity?”
“Hmm?” Her body angles to look back at me.
“How do you think someone changes, learns to be less… well, you know.”
There’s a moment of thought as she shifts her weight and looks down at her feet. “I
think… by putting themselves in someone else’s shoes. Imagining what the other person
might feel or want. Then… opening themselves up to caring for that person… even if it
means they might be hurt.”
After Felicity closes the bathroom door, I sneak into her closet, check the tags for her size,
and hurriedly add a few things I think she’ll like to the cart before checking out with the
witch’s credit card. I’m driven by a mix of spite for the witch and something else slightly
unfamiliar. I can’t remember the last time I bought someone a gift. Perhaps some flowers
for my mother, picked hastily off the side of the road.
I want to do this for Felicity. A thank you of sorts, though sorely inadequate. It feels good
to buy her something. To imagine her surprise and delight as she opens it.
But, because I truly am a selfish bastard, I add a few extra things to the cart. Gifts that are
as much for me as for her.
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The earliest recorded euphemism for penis is “pin.” It dates back to the 1460s.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Ten

W
FELICITY

hen Richard comes out of the bathroom after showering, he’s still naked.
Despite the fact that I gave him an extra large t-shirt and sweatpants he
could wear.
When he notices me glaring, he says, “They’re too tight. Besides, I’m not used to wearing
clothes.”
“You could at least wrap a towel around yourself.”
“Why would I do that?” He struts forward with his hands on his hips, drawing even more
attention to his hard-on. “I enjoy the way you blush when you’re trying to pretend you
aren’t eyeing my gospel pipe. Does it make your nethermouth drool when you see my egg
white cannon?”
He can’t keep a straight face and breaks into a laugh before he finishes the sentence.
I join him, barely getting out words through my giggles. “Those can’t be real.”
“They are indeed.” He points to a card on the table. “I listed all the ones I can remember.”
His grin is infectious, more than a little proud, and his euphemisms work to distract me
from his cock.
Still, when he sits down next to me on the couch, I toss a blanket at him. He drops it over
his shoulders, leaving his front completely exposed.
“That defeats the purpose.” I yank the blanket off his back so I can position it over his lap.
The moment I do, he grabs me and tickles my side. I laugh and squirm, only half trying to
get away. He pins me, no longer giving me the option to get free, tickling me hard enough to
make my side ache from laughing.
I don’t remember the last time I goofed off like this with someone. And now, a 14th
century English lord is tickling me! How is this my life?
There’s an erotic undertone to the fun, and when I can’t laugh anymore, I play dirty and
give his balls a tug. He immediately stops tickling me and moans.
“Don’t tempt a man who’s been horny for as long as I have, unless you want to be good
and solidly fucked.”
“Maybe I do.” What am I saying? Where is the resolve from just a few hours ago?
He rocks his firm length against me, and I swallow hard.
 My phone rings, snapping me back to my senses. I scramble out from under Richard and
lunge for it. My agent. This is good. An interruption is good. But my body puts up an achy
argument as I wiggle away from Richard and answer the call.
“Did you try them?” Regina says instead of a greeting.
My gaze flicks to the man lounging on my couch and the massive cock that looks exactly
like the ivory one she sent me. “Um… yes.” My voice comes out a little too high and squeaky.
“Were they horrible? I’m sure they’re horrible. Those last two look more like torture
devices. I’ll never understand why women aren’t content with their fingers. I mean, there’s
a lot you can do with your fingers and a good pillow.”
A snicker breaks out of me. I definitely don’t think my fingers or a pillow could do what
we did last night.
Regina spends the next ten minutes lecturing me on the importance of sending pages to
her as soon as possible. Apparently, the publishing house is very excited about this book
promotion. They’re breathing down her neck, so she’s breathing down mine.
When I hang up, I give Richard a stern look. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going
to stay right there and organize the mess you made last night.” I wave my hand over the
scattered index cards. “While I’m going to sit over there and finish this chapter. We’re going
to keep our distance and you’re going to remain on your best behavior.”
He scowls. “Fine. But I’m taking you to dinner tonight.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have time to—”
“You wouldn’t condemn me to the slaughterhouse, would you?” His eyebrows lift. “After
all, I still have to learn everything about you.”
With a resigned sigh, I sit down at my desk. “You can’t leave the house without clothes.
But we can go out tomorrow once everything arrives.”
We set to work, but it’s hard to focus when you’re writing about sex toys, and there’s a
naked man flaunting himself around your apartment.
Tomorrow’s clothing delivery can’t come fast enough.
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In the 1800s and early 1900s, when a woman had medical symptoms or mental health
issues that doctors couldn’t diagnose, the treatment was “pelvic massages” to the point of
orgasm.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eleven

I
FELICITY

’ve never been so happy to see delivery boxes before. Not that I haven’t enjoyed ogling
Richard’s dick, but it’s made it hard to concentrate on writing. Even harder to keep up
my bargain to myself about not fucking him again. I don’t want to be a conquest in
order to get his own orgasm. But my resolve is weakening.
When I bring in the boxes, he shuttles them into my bedroom and shuts the door.
“Don’t go through my underwear!” I yell, realizing he hasn’t been in my room before. At
least, not that I know of.
“Too late!” He calls back.
I can hear the grin in his voice, and I’m unsure if he’s just teasing me or if he really is
searching through my drawers. Shit. Leaving my computer, I go to the bedroom. It’s not like
walking in on him will reveal anything I haven’t seen before.
But the door’s locked. “Richard, this isn’t funny.”
“Just a second. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
I lean against the door and wait. “Do the clothes fit?”
“You tell me,” he says, swinging open the door and making me stumble into him before
turning around. I let my gaze roam, admiring the new look. He’s like a hot professor. The
dark brown sweater he’s wearing even has elbow patches. His outfit is a nice compliment
to the tan sweater dress I have on today. Together we look like a couple who should be
strolling through a bookstore or sitting in a cafe eating croissants.
He hasn’t shaved since he turned back into a man, so he’s got a two-day beard going that
compliments the look perfectly. I wonder how it would feel between my legs.
In his hands is one of the smaller boxes. “Is this for recycling?” I ask. “I can take the
other’s out too.”
“No.” He passes me the box. “This is for you.”
With one hand propped on top of the doorframe, he leans forward, waiting for me to
open the box. There’s an eagerness to his expression that’s different from when he wants to
have sex. It’s almost boyish and kind of adorable.
“What is it?” I peel back the top of the box and see a pile of neatly folded clothes.
“It’s a gift.” He leans closer, surrounding me with the citrusy scent of my shampoo,
though it smells different on him. He picks up the top item and holds it up. It’s a dark
burgundy woman’s sweater, beautiful, soft, and clearly expensive. Draping the sweater
over his arm, he picks up the next item. A t-shirt dress in a toasted brown. Then a pair of
slacks that are such a dark green they’re almost black, and a scarf with a blend of fall colors.
Each item is something I would have picked out for myself.
“You listened,” I whisper, looking at him rather than the clothes now. “Will the witch be
angry that you spent her money on me?”
He smirks. “She didn’t give me a budget, and I’m supposed to learn how to care about
someone else, right?”
The sweet warmth I was feeling retreats like a doe running from a hunter. “So this is just
a stunt to show her you’re not as selfish as she thinks?”
“No, Felicity.” His knuckles graze my cheek. “This is because I wanted to do something
nice for you.”
“In order to get in my pants?”
He chuckles. “Are you always this distrusting? Remember when we talked about
receiving?” He holds up the pile of clothes on his arm. “This was all just a thank you.
Because I wanted to give you something.”
He reaches back into the box. There’s more that he hasn’t pulled out yet. Before holding it
up, he leans so close his lips brush my ear. “But these things, well, I got these hoping you
would let me put my pin in your purse.”
If I wasn’t so turned on right now, I’d laugh at his latests euphemism, but all I can do is
swallow and lick my lips as he sets the box down on the floor and pulls out three smaller
boxes. “First, I got you a few friends.”
Two different vibrators and a butt plug. “Please tell me those aren’t really friends of
yours.”
He chuckles. “There’s no way I’m letting another man near this pussy. Not in any form.”
His thumb grazes my hip bone, rubs down the crease of my thigh over my pants, and
moves inward so he’s barely brushing my clit, watching my face to gauge my reaction.
We stay locked in place for a minute, a battle of wills and wants. “Someday soon, you’re
going to beg me to use one of these vibrators on your clit, and the other on your ass, while I
fuck your quiver.”
“Cocky,” I whisper, breath husky.
“I did spend hundreds of years as one.”
He puts a little more pressure on my clit with his thumb. My body sings a sharp note of
need. I hold my breath, trying to resist rocking against the friction, but I don’t move away.
 He withdraws too quickly, and my head spins. A tornado of conflicting desires.
Setting the vibrators back in the box, he uses both hands to hold up a tiny, lacy piece of
lingerie. It’s a body suit of sorts, the color of bitten lips and fresh bruises. Thin straps at the
top. A neckline that plunges to the pelvis. A barely there crotch. All of it lace and see-
through.
I’ve never worn anything like that before, but the thought of wearing it for him makes me
immediately hot and slick. He takes one of my hands and threads it through the spaghetti
strap sleeve, then the other, so that the barely there fabric hangs over my front.
“Try it on for me?” His voice is gravelly and deep. He steps to the side and motions for me
to go into the bedroom.
I glue my back to the door frame. “I don’t know if I should.”
“Why not?”
“Um… I’m… not sure.” My reasons for holding back suddenly seem flimsy and trite. He’s
proven himself to be thoughtful, helping with my research notes and even buying me
clothes I love but wouldn’t spend money on myself. The lingerie is bolder than I’d choose,
and clearly as much for him as for me, but it’s also beautiful. I’d feel beautiful wearing it.
Especially with the way he’s looking at me now.
Over the past two days, he’s asked me about myself and really listened to my answers.
We’ve talked about our families, my writing, even my past relationships. Never once has he
made me feel like he wasn’t paying attention or wanted out of the conversation. I think he’s
just grateful to have someone to talk to, eager to learn more about the world that he’s
missed.
It’s clear he wants another orgasm for himself, but what guy doesn’t? Heck, what person
doesn’t? I would gladly take another one. Especially after so much naked-man ass on
display. Is it so wrong for him to have some selfish reasons for wanting to do this? We all
do, don’t we?
I move past him sideways, not bothering to keep my distance, letting my breasts brush
against his chest. He grins and takes hold of my waist. “Maybe I should help you put it on.”
“Go sit on the couch like a good boy, and I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“First,” he says, holding the top of the doorframe and blocking the way into the bedroom.
“I’m not a good boy. And second, I’m not going anywhere without a kiss.”
For all that we did that first night, we never kissed. It felt too intimate. But now… “Do it.”
 He doesn’t dive in like he did the other times we’ve been physical. This time, he lingers.
His lips flutter over mine like a soft breeze. His hands stay on the doorframe, while mine
slide up his chest.
The trace of his tongue on my lips is excruciatingly slow. When I try to deepen the kiss,
he pulls back and kisses my nose before returning to my mouth, lips opening to wrap
around my bottom lip and suck. Long draws drift sensation down my body in waves. I use
my hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer until his hips press against mine.
My breasts ache to be touched, so I push them against his chest. The kiss changes, the
intensity rising like his stiffening cock against my belly. His hands leave the door to grip my
shoulders, locking me in place as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. I gasp, but the noise is
muffled and stolen. His teeth rake my bottom lip, and he soothes the sensation with his
tongue. When he lifts me, I wrap my legs around him as he carries me into the bedroom,
kicking the door closed behind us.
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One of the first vibrators was called The Manipulator. The engine was so large that it
intimidated patients, so they kept it in a separate room with just the vibrating tip
protruding through a hole in the wall.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twelve

F
RICHARD

elicity tastes like the strawberries she had with breakfast. Sweet and tart. I want to
savor every bit of her.
Lowering us to the bed, I let my hands wander under her tight sweater to roam her soft
skin. I drag a thumb under the bottom of her bra and smile into our kiss when she curves
her back, pressing her breasts closer.
“So hungry,” I murmur.
She doesn’t respond, but the urgency in her kiss intensifies and she struggles to pull up
her shirt while pressed between me and the bed. I pull back to help her, breaking our kiss,
which makes her pout. I chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose.
“Allow me.” The lingerie that was still draped over her goes first and then her sweater,
revealing a lacy brazier beneath. It’s a bright, naughty red. The color of sin and sensuality.
“Did you wear this for me, historian? Did you hope I would see it?”
She swallows and looks away, trying to avoid my gaze. I hook her chin and bring her
attention back to me. “Words, Felicity.”
“Maybe.” Her voice is soft and timid. It makes me wonder if my little historian is nervous.
“Do you want this? We can stop right now. Any time you want.”
“I don’t want to stop.”
The relief that fills me is as sweet as her taste. “Good.”
I hop off the bed, return to the box by the door, and pull out the vibrators. Her eyes go
wide and a little quiver runs through her body.
“I haven’t…” she starts, then cuts herself off.
“You haven’t what, Felicity?”
She sits up, looks at the floor, and rubs the fabric of her pants between her fingers.
“The hand-crank was the first time I’ve ever used a sex toy.” The words tumble out one
after the other without a breath between.
The idea that my historian is a sex toy novice causes a new excitement to permeate my
being. My cock strains painfully against the zipper of my pants. Who thought zippers were a
good idea? Laces were far superior. Now I understand the necessity of boxers. Perhaps I
should have worn some afterall.
“Stay right there and take off your clothes,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
 I take the vibrators into the bathroom and quickly give them a solid cleaning. Once that’s
done, I return to Felicity. She’s buck naked, like I asked, but she’s curled on her side in a
protective ball, shivering on top of the comforter.
“Come here,” I say, standing at the side of the bed and setting the vibrators down on a
towel I brought from the bathroom. She obeys beautifully and scoots herself over, still
trying to cover as much of herself as possible. I lay down on the bed and wrap my arms
around her, pulling her into my side and ignoring my angry cock.
“We can just cuddle,” I tell her, stroking her back.
“No.” She pulls back and looks up at me, a new determination in her voice. “I want to... I’m
just…”
“Nervous?”
“Um… no.” She plucks at my shirt and avoids my eyes again. Damn, I want to fuck the
timidity out of this woman.
“I think,” she says. “I’m… well, embarrassed.”
“About using sex toys?”
“About what I want.”
Oh. A new piece of the puzzle that is Felicity snaps into place. My new goal isn’t just to
make her pant and moan and scream her pleasure, it’s to make her own it, take it for
herself, enjoy it, figure out exactly what she wants and ask for it. Then I can give it to her.
It might take a bit of coaxing, though.
“Do you think there’s anything I haven’t seen or taken part in, Felicity? You won’t scare
me away.”
“What if… what if the toys make me come faster… or harder than, well, I mean…”
“Than you did with me?” I finish for her with a smile, and she gives me a guarded nod. I
chuckle and kiss her forehead. It’s sweet that’s she’s worried about my ego, but it’s
unnecessary. My understanding of sex toys has changed a lot over the years. “Does a hoe till
the soil or does the farmer?”
Her head cocks to the side. “The farmer.”
“And who will be using these toys on you, Felicity?”
“You.”
“Right. So who’s going to make you come? A bit of plastic or the hand that welds it?”
“You,” she says with a bit more confidence. “You’re going to make me come.”
 “I may be a selfish bastard, but I’m quite willing to use every tool at my disposal. I’m
going to make you come with my fingers, my tongue, my cock, and every sex toy I can get
my hands on. Fuck, I’ll make you ride a carrot if it’ll get you off—it wouldn’t be the first
time women have used food to their advantage.”
Her giggle breaks the tension in her body. She leans in and kisses me. “You’re going to be
very good for my research.”
“I’m going to be very good for your pussy.” I roll her to her back and kiss my way down
her body to the treasure trove between her legs. After only a few licks of her clit, she’s
soaked and shaking. “Are you ready, Felicity?”
She nods.
“Words,” I order.
“Yes. I’m… ready.”
I turn on one of the vibrators and roll it over her clit. Her legs buck and back bows.
“That’s it. Such a beautiful response. So perfect.”
Turning it off again, I slowly work it into her tight center, splitting my gaze between her
face and the toy disappearing into her cunt. My jealous cock protests by kicking my zipper
and making me curse the infernal contraption that keeps these modern pants up.
Felicity is biting her lips hard, like she doesn’t want to let out a sound. For now, I’ll let her
get away with it, but it only solidifies my determination to break her.
Greedy hands reach for my sweater, but I bat them away. “If you want something to do
with your hands, lube this up.”
I hand her a bottle of lube and the butt plug. “A little on my finger, too.”
Leaving the vibrator inside her, I switch it to the highest setting. Felicity bites back a
delightful squeak.
“Remember what you’re supposed to be doing, little historian.”
She blinks a few times, takes a sharp breath, and squirts some of the lube into my hand,
then over the butt plug. I switch on the second vibrator and wheel it across her nipples. Her
eyes roll back in her head. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction at the way she’s turning to
putty in my hands.
“Hold this where you want it.” I trade her for the butt plug, and she moves the vibrator
back to her nipples. “That’s it, my provocative little historian. You like your nipples teased,
don’t you?”
 She doesn’t answer. She’s still holding back. But not for long. I’ll get her to be so loud the
neighbors will worry. But I’ll be patient about it.
Redirecting my attention, I tease her back entrance with my fingers. She tenses at first,
but the sensations from the other vibrators soon distract her. When I slip in a finger, she
presses back, taking more of her own volition. When I’m certain that she’s open and
relaxed, I slip in the butt plug. It’s barely inside her before she orgasms.
She silently rides the beautiful quakes of her pleasure while I drag her by the shoulders
to the edge of the bed.
When her muscles relax, satiated from her orgasm, she goes to take the vibrator out of
her pussy.
“Oh, no, little historian.” I take her hand and bring it to her breast, fondling her with her
palm under my own. “We’re not done with that yet.”
“But I want… you.”
Her words make my heart soar and pinch. I want to give her what she wants. But she
hasn’t broken yet, and I have plans for her.
“First, you’re going to take my cock down your throat, and then, when you’re gagging on
my seed, I’ll give it to your cunt.”
I finally unzip my pants, freeing my grateful cock. Shucking my shirt and pants, I relish in
my nakedness. Clothes really are cumbersome.
Felicity dropped the vibrator she was using on her nipples during her orgasm, so I pick it
up off the bed. “Do you know where this is going to go, Felicity?”
She shakes her head. I grin and pour some lube into my hand, working it over the
vibrator. From my position at the side of the bed, with her head right in front of me and her
body stretched out, I bend over her and kiss her as I ease the sex toy into my ass.
Once it’s all the way in, I leave it there, like a butt plug of sorts, and turn it on. Shocks of
pleasure shoot through my body, up my cock, up my spine, vibrating in my teeth and
making my heart pound. I groan and throw back my head, fighting the urge to come too
fast.
When my eyes meet Felicities again, she’s looking at me with wide, wild eagerness. But
just to be sure, I ask, “Are you okay to continue?”
“Yes,” she says with a breathy moan, which she immediately covers by biting her lips
again.
 I tug her shoulders, pulling her so her head falls over the edge of the high bed, neck
supported by the mattress while her head hangs free.
I tap my cock on her chin. “Open.”
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes spark with something like defiance, but she opens
her mouth. Interesting. Does my little historian want to be a brat? Right now, I’m too eager
to find out.
The moment her mouth drops open, I lean over her, almost in a 69 position, but with her
head a little upside down, and my torso lifted. I groan with pleasure as I feed her with my
cock. She feels incredible.
“That’s it. Take my cock so deep down your throat.” I pause and pull back when she gags,
letting her catch her breath. “Tap my thigh if you need me to stop.”
With one hand propped on the bed for support, I take hold of the vibrator that’s still in
her cunt and drag it all the way out over her clit before pushing it all the way back in again.
Slow, steady drags that hit her clit, the deep parts inside, then her clit again.
All the while, hot electric pleasure shoots from my ass to my cock. She sucks me like a
pro, even in the awkward position, and I can’t keep my mouth off her. Driving the vibrator
deep inside, I bring my lips to her clit and suck. She tenses beautifully as she flies apart. I
barely have time to pull out of her mouth before I’m coming, spilling all over her neck and
chest.
It’s the best orgasm of my life.

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As batteries became smaller and vibrators became more accessible, they were advertised
as “cure-alls” for everything from complexion to constipation.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirteen

M
RICHARD

y tension and anxiety grow with each day that the witch doesn’t return. I
thought she would show up immediately, catch me off guard before I learned
anything about Felicity. Maybe that’s why I tried to get as much sex in as
possible that first night. If I was going to spend the rest of eternity as a dildo—or die as a
pig—I wanted to go out with a bang. Fully spent and used up.
But two weeks have passed without any sign of the witch. And every day, I grow more
and more attached to this life. Here. With Felicity. In this century of modern wonders like
Chicago style pizza, cold beer, and carbonated soda—I might have missed food more than I
thought.
The more I want to stay, the more my self-preservation instinct kicks in. The more hours
that pass, the more on edge I feel, worrying that the witch will pop back in at any moment.
Any sudden noise makes me jump in fearful anticipation. Why is she taunting me like this?
Showing me the life I want, just so she can rip it away?
I should be grateful for each moment I have with Felicity, but the more I get to know her,
the more I want. Selfish bastard that I am, I don’t want to give her up. She’s smart, funny,
thoughtful, and as sexy as an orgy wrapped up in one person.
I just need to be sure that the witch can’t stump me when she comes back.
“Favorite memory?” I ask Felicity.
She looks up from her desk in the corner. “That’s an impossible question to answer.”
It’s not. I know my answer immediately. It’s last night. We had sex snuggled up under a
blanket on the couch. It was different from our previous encounters, relaxed, but intense. I
fucked her slowly, never taking my eyes off her. Afterwards, we watched a documentary
about Egypt, still comfortably naked. She had her head on my chest and her leg wrapped
over mine. The moment was so ordinary and yet so magic. It did things to my heart I’ve
never felt before.
“Just pick,” I say in response to her hedging.
Her cheeks turn a lovely red. “Well, maybe, when we… you know.”
“No.” I walk over to her desk and drop to my knees at her side. “I don’t know. Tell me,
darling.”
“Um.” She clears her throat. “When you bought me clothes, and we… did things.”
My chest swells with pride. I use her knees to turn her body towards me.
 “It was mind-blowing,” she whispers.
“Agreed.” I undo the button and zipper on her pants. “And your worst memory? Lift.”
She does as I say and lifts her butt off the chair so I can tug down her pants.
“Probably the day I graduated with my masters.”
That stops me in my tracks. “Shouldn’t that have been a happy day?”
“It would have been, but it’s also the day my long-term college boyfriend broke up with
me. He did it right after the ceremony. I came off the stage elated and ready to celebrate
with him, but he was talking with another girl. It looked like an intense conversation, so I
stood back, not wanting to interrupt.”
My stomach twists as I anticipate where this is going.
“There was something about it that felt off,” she continues. “How close they were
standing. The way their heads bent together. The way he touched her cheek. But I gave him
the benefit of the doubt… until he kissed her.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah,” she tries to laugh, but it comes out choked. “We talked—well, yelled and fought—
right there in the middle of the crowd. He told me I was too needy and not available
enough. That he needed more from me, and I was always taking from him.”
I wrap my arms around her middle and tug her down onto my lap. She’s only wearing a
shirt and her underwear now, but what I had planned is the farthest thing from my mind.
All I want is to comfort her.
“I replayed our last year together so many times, trying to figure out what I’d done
wrong. I was busy with my masters, but so was he. We were living together, so we still had
sex regularly. It wasn’t great. But it’s not like he didn’t come. I faked more than a few
orgasms, but I know he didn’t because he made me clean up the condom each time.”
“He didn’t deserve you, Felicity.” I smooth a hand over her back.
“But I think he was right. I was needy and didn’t give much. I rarely cleaned the
apartment, dinner was usually takeout. There was so much going on, it was hard to balance
it all. I was selfish.”
“No. You deserve to be taken care of, too.” I place a light kiss on her lips. “You were
getting a degree. It makes sense that you wouldn’t be able to provide for every need he had.
He should have understood that.”
She sighs, not really seeming to believe me. “It doesn’t matter. I mean, it was a long time
ago. I’m over it.”
 But is she? Maybe this is some of why she struggles to receive, why she doesn’t want to
be a burden.
I lift her back into the desk chair. “Get back to typing. I’ll get you a snack.”
“You don’t have—”
I step behind her and cover her mouth with my palm. “I want to.” Sliding my hand down
her neck, all the way to her pussy, I add, “But don’t you dare put your pants back on. I want
to look at these gorgeous legs while you work. And once you finish your pages for the day,
I’m going to spread you out and lick your cotton-covered cunt until you come and your legs
give out.” I squeeze a little tighter. “Don’t even think about faking.”
She swallows, eyes wide, and whispers, “I wouldn’t. Not with you.”
That makes a big smile fill my face as I saunter away to get her something to eat.
OceanofPDF.com
In China in the 1200s, men used goat eyelids with eyelashes attached as cock rings with the
purpose of prolonging erections and increasing pleasure.

Later, in medieval Europe, cock rings were made of ivory or precious metals and used as a
form of jewelry. On occasion, they were created with additions that stimulated the clitoris.

Research Notes From Felicity Stiff

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fourteen

R
FELICITY

ichard’s edgy. I know he’s worried, but I’m not sure how to soothe him, apart
from a lot of sex. More sex than I’ve ever had. Better sex, too. The witch was
wrong about him; I’ve never had a more generous lover.
I know it’s only because of the witch’s edict, but I try to push those thoughts aside and
pretend he would be just as giving under other circumstances.
He’s pacing the livingroom again, so as I finish the paragraph I’m typing, I ask, “Siblings?”
“Huh?” He asks.
I turn in my desk chair to look at him. “I’m quizzing you in case it’s a question the witch
asks. How many siblings do I have?”
“Trick question.” He wraps his arms around me from behind, leaning over me and
planting a kiss on my cheek. “You’re an only child, which always made you sad, not just
because you wanted a sibling, but because of the struggle your parents had trying to give
you one.”
I kiss his forearm, which is just under my chin. Neither of us talk about it, but I know he
doesn’t think he’ll pass the witch’s test when she returns. Personally, I have to remain
hopeful.
“My favorite tv show?”
He pulls back and leans his ass against my desk, looking at me with a smile that’s
somewhere between amused and disgusted. “The Bachelorette.”
He shakes his head and goes to the kitchen. It’s clear he’s looking for something to do
when he dries the clean dishes in the dishwasher, even though there’s a heat dry setting.
Sometimes I wish the witch would just come and get it over with. But her return will
mean Richard leaving, getting on with his life. Without me. He has no reason to stay here
once he’s free. I’m sure he won’t want to keep bringing me coffee and playing the part of my
research assistant forever.
After that first night, when he made notecards for me, he convinced me to let him help
with the book. He’s been an invaluable partner in the work ever since. I’m getting twice as
much done as normal—even with the frequent sex breaks. I know the witch believes he
hasn’t learned his lesson, but I don’t think someone who is purely selfish would be this
helpful.
 “How old was I when I first had sex?” I call out. My apartment’s small, so even though I
have to lift my voice a little, it’s easy to hold a conversation with someone in the other
room.
“Twenty.”
“And where did it happen?”
He turns and looks at me over the small island, his gaze going dark and a little dangerous.
He pats the smooth surface in front of him. “Come here, and I’ll show you. We can reenact
it.”
I cross the room to him, sliding between his hands braced on the counter and cupping his
face. “You’re going to do fine. And each day just gives you more of a chance. You already
know more about me than most of my friends.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced, but he lifts me onto the counter with a soft smile.
“Favorite sex toy we’ve tried this week?”
I grin and slide my palm over his crotch through the sweat pants. “I prefer the real thing.”
“Answer the question.” He smirks and twists my nipples. I cry out in surprise and give
him a playful shove on the chest.
“If you must know, I’m partial to what we tried last night.”
After a long day of writing, and a solid round of oral for both of us, Richard surprised me
with another gift. A remote control vibrator that looked like a U. One end inserted inside
and the other rested on my clit. It had a remote, which he kept in his control. He didn’t do
anything with it for the first half of the movie, which just amped up my anticipation, since I
didn’t know when he would turn it on.
Then he played with me. Turning it on for a little while before shutting it off. Turning it
up and then down. Keeping it off while he peppered my neck with soft kisses, then turning
it back on again and fingering my breasts. All while whispering commands for me to watch
the movie, and asking me questions about it to make sure I was paying attention.
“I like your choice,” he says, unbuttoning my slacks. I’m wearing the lingerie I never put
on last week, and when he sees the thin stripe of lace revealed between the zipper of my
pants, he groans and immediately pulls off my shirt to reveal the whole of the outfit.
“Fuck, Felicity.” He holds me at arm’s length to take me in. “You look incredible.”
My cheeks warm as he pulls me into a soft kiss.
“Am I interrupting something?” The witch’s voice is like a stone dropped on my toe. “I can
come back. Or watch, if you like.” Her grin is devilish and feral.
 Richard angles himself in front of me, saying, “Get on with it, witch.”
I scramble to put my shirt back on as she pulls a chair out from my kitchen table and sits
down like a queen on a throne, ready to pass judgement. “I will ask you one question.”
“Wait.” I hop off the counter and step around Richard. “That’s not fair. It should be best
out of three or something. With only one question, there’s no wiggle room for error.”
Her eyes narrow to slits, giving the distinct impression of a snake. “Exactly.”
Richard sucks in a breath and takes hold of my chin, directing me to look at him. His hand
slides into my hair, grip warm and strong.
“Felicity…” He swallows. “Whatever happens, I want you to know I care about you a great
deal. These last two weeks have been the best of my life. You’re the sheath to my sword, the
bow to my arrow.” His grin spreads wide and mischievous, but there’s a hint of sadness in
his eyes as he tries to be teasing, “You’re the cunt of my cock.”
The playfulness drops away, turning into quiet seriousness. “You’re the heart in my chest,
Felicity.”
He kisses me before I can say anything in response. A hard, soulful kiss, full of goodbye.
Then he turns to the witch. “Do it.”
“What is Felicity’s middle name?”
Of all the things I’ve told him, why did I not tell him the most basic? He doesn’t know it. I
know he doesn’t know it.
His shoulders tighten. He doesn’t look at me as he guesses, “Anne.”
“Right,” I say, jumping in quickly. “That’s right.” It’s not right. But I can’t let her know that.
She’ll kill him. Or worse.
“Liar.” The witch stands and stalks towards us. “You shouldn’t protect an ass. Maybe
that’s what I’ll turn him into this time. Something like an ass. Oh, I know.” She snaps her
fingers. Her eyes glint with mischievous intent as she raises a glowing hand. “A cock ring, to
be fucked for all eternity.”
“No!” I push Richard out of the way and the force of the witch’s spell lands on me. My skin
stings like it’s being pulled and pushed at the same time. Pain whitens my vision. Suddenly,
the intense sensation stops. I fall to the floor with a sharp ringing thud, unable to move.
Richard drops to his knees, scoops me up, cradles me in his palm, and holds me out to the
witch.
There are tears in his eyes as he says, “Turn her back. Please, please, turn her back.
Felicity is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t see her suffer the way I did.
Please, turn her back.” He doesn’t hide the quiver in his lip or the dampness in his eyes.
“Take me instead.”
For a long moment, the witch just stares at Richard, silent. Then her lip twitches. Her
finger spins around the tip of my surface and I shiver internally. Nothing happens.
Richard’s eyes flash with anger. “Stop toying and change her back.”
“I can’t.” The witch smirks. “But you can.”
With that cryptic message, she vanishes.
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 Chapter Fifteen

I
RICHARD

have a guess what the witch meant, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Felicity
brought me back by sucking me off, so maybe if I tongue-fuck the cock ring, Felicity
will be restored to her human form.
I pop the ring around my tongue and lick around the circle, but nothing happens. I put the
whole thing in my mouth, sucking the cool metal. Nothing.
Fuck! Panic tightens my chest like a noose. The witch’s requirement to free me had been
something no one thought to do in centuries. So maybe I have to do something no one
would do with a cock ring. What the hell could that be?
I pace the room, unable to think of anything but the typical use. Maybe it was as simple as
that. The typical use. Running to the kitchen, I grab some olive oil and coat the smooth
metal with tender strokes. “Forgive me, Felicity. I know you can hear me, and I’m going to
get you out of this. I’m so sorry.”
Sitting down on the couch, I slide my cock into the ring, hoping…
Maybe…
Did it change? Grow…
No.
I wait.
And wait.
Nothing.
Do I need to orgasm using it? That feels like a betrayal, to fuck Felicity like this, to get
myself off when she has no say, when she doesn’t even have the option of her own climax,
when she’s not the full, lush individual I know and care about. I mean, I’m already inside
her, but taking my pleasure from her when she’s unable to participate feels… wrong.
“I can’t do it,” I whisper. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I’ll find another way. But… I can’t do
it.”
The moment the words leave my lips, the cock ring vibrates, and between one breath and
another Felicity appears before me, her pussy clamping down on my cock, her legs
straddling my lap.
A gasp spirals out of her, and she wiggles her hips. “Wow, that felt weird.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” I throw my arms around her and kiss her hard.
 She laughs into the kiss as if it was all nothing, but there’s a wobbly undertone to the
sound, and her eyes are damp with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” I say against her cheek. “So very sorry.”
“I have a whole new appreciation for how you spent the last few hundred years.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t have to experience that.” My lips meet hers in a slow, burning kiss.
I lift her up, scooting myself back, intending to pull out of her. Being fucked isn’t what she
needs right now. I’m just glad she’s okay, that she’s here with me, whole and well.
She grabs my hips and stops my retreat, tightening her walls around my cock. “Where do
you think you’re going?”
I want to give her space, not make her uncomfortable about the fact that I shoved my
cock into her when she was a cock ring. But Felicity—perfect woman that she is—holds me
steady inside her and arcs her back, shoving her breasts forward. My girl wants to be good
and fucked.
“I’m not going anywhere, darling.” I give her a full grin. “Just getting a bit of a windup.”
When just the tip of me is touching her lips, I pull her back down on my cock, and thrust
right back into her. Felicity moans.
“We just beat a witch.” She giggles with her lips against my chest.
With another full, long thrust, I add, “And defeated a curse.”
I grip her thighs tighter, just under her ass, stand up, and take her to the wall. Each thrust
is slow and steady as I use my hold on her to lift and lower her slick pussy along my stiff
cock. Sweet fuck, she feels good.
My muscles burn and sweat sticks to my skin. Felicity nuzzles into my neck, as silent as
ever.
“Do you like that?” I ask. “Being fucked against a wall with your legs wrapped around my
waist and your cunt wrapped around my cock?”
She nods her head. I nip at her chin. “Tell me, Felicity. Open that sweet mouth and say it.”
“Yes.” Her lips form the word with barely any sound. Too quiet. Too soft. Too timid. I’m
determined to get her to open up for me. Not just her pussy, but her mind. Her heart.
“Say it,” I command. “Tell me what you like.”
At my sharp tone, her eyes dilate, dark circles expand into her beautiful blue irises. Her
sex flutters around me.
“Do you like my cock in your cunt? Do you want more?” I stop thrusting, pin her to the
wall with my hips, and bring one hand up to cup her jaw, sliding my thumb into her mouth.
She sucks on the digit, and I let myself revel in the flare of heat that goes straight up my arm
and down to my cock before I tug her jaw down and wrench open her mouth. “Say it. Yell it.
Tell me what the fuck you want, all your dirtiest little secrets. Own it. All of it. Let me hear
what you want. Let me give it.”
She whimpers, but I’ve got four of my fingers shoved in her mouth now, holding open her
jaw, keeping her from doing what I ask.
“When I take my fingers out of your mouth, you’re gonna say every little thought in your
head. You’re going to moan, and whimper, and stop holding back, stop keeping everything
inside. Understand?”
Tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she nods her head.
“Good girl.” I kiss her forehead.
When I take my hand out, she swallows. Her mouth opens, then closes again. I rock my
pelvis against hers, watching her expression carefully. Deviance sparks in her gaze,
something almost mischievous, mixed with a heavy dose of self-doubt and insecurity. I
realize something in that moment. My little historian doesn’t want to be a good girl. She
wants to be a brat. She wants to break free from being the smart, capable, independent
woman who doesn’t receive well, who doesn’t want to be a burden and always pleases
everyone else.
No, my little historian wants to be bad. I suspected it before, but now I’m certain. If I give
her enough, push her enough to get over her awkwardness and insecurities, she’ll scream.
I’m sure of it. She’ll scream so pretty for me. She just needs a shove.
I tug her hair. “I told you to tell me what you want.”
She swallows again, nervous, then bravely pinches her lips between her teeth. Brat. I
smile. Perfect little brat. I let go of the leg I’m holding and ease up the pressure of my hips
against hers so she can slide to her feet. Gently, I stroke my hand along the edge of her
hairline, down to her jaw, and up to her mouth. This time I don’t force entry. I need her to
know something before we go where I’m going to take us. My fingers brush her lips. She
holds my gaze.
“I’m going to give you what you want, and you’re going to get real nice and loud for me,
but first, I need you to know, if you want this to stop at any point, just say so. You have the
power here. Okay?”
She takes a trembling breath. “Okay.”
 “Good.” Fire burns through my veins, flaming at the tip of my cock where all the blood is
gathering. I swear I get bigger just thinking about how this might play out. “Now tell me
what you want. No holding back.”
“I want…” She takes a deep breath before she finishes with, “to suck your cock. I want you
to be forceful. To command me.” Another deep breath. “I want to fight you and have you
take me. I want… to be your dirty whore.” Her face scrunches with nervousness. “Pretend,
of course. And only if you want to. We don’t have to, I just—“
“I understand, darling. I’ve got you. Be dirty, be needy, be vulgar. No judgement. I want
your wild, wanton, brazen sexuality. Let me make you feral.”
I feel the switch in her as she gives me a flirty smile and slides down to her knees.
“That’s my girl. Now, open that filthy mouth and swallow my cock.” I grip her hair, pull
her face to my crotch, and use the tip of my prick to pry open her lips. “Such a dirty girl,
stuffing me between your lips. Begging for a cock to fill every one of your tight little holes.
Maybe I should get the vibrator and the butt plug out again, work you hard while you gag
on me. You liked that, didn’t you?”
She fucking whimpers. The vibrations shoot up my shaft to tighten my balls.
“That’s it. My dirty little historian, be a trumpet for me, a whimpering, begging harlot.” I
tug on her hair, tilt her head enough to catch her eye. “Beg for me. Beg for me to fuck your
mouth and your cunt and your ass.”
She speaks around my cock, incoherent words, but she’s not completely holding back
anymore. Drool dribbles down her chin. I palm her skull and show her the rhythm I want,
then I let go and brace my hands on the wall as she gives me the best head of my life. My
blood hums like a thousand bees. I swear I’m vibrating enough to rival one of the sex toys
we’ve been using.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I cry out. “Take me down your throat. So desperate. Are you wet, Felicity?
Are you soaking wet for me?”
Just before I’m about to come, I grab her hair, wrap it around my fist and use it to yank
her up to standing. “Moan for me, seductress.”
The second she’s on her feet, I claim her mouth, rubbing my cock against her clit. She
whimpers a little louder this time.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes.”
I smile so big it hurts my cheeks. “There she is. There’s my girl.”
 Using her hair as a sort of leash, I gently tug her towards the bedroom and toss her on the
bed, hard enough that she whines, but not hard enough to hurt. Just enough force to make
her feel like she’s not the good girl everyone thinks she is, like she’s the naughty, wanton,
wanted, sexual woman of her dreams. Of my dreams, too.
I advance on her. Kiss the bottom of her foot. Suck her toe. Nibble on the inside of her
calf. Lick the inside of her thigh. Twirl my tongue around her clit. Bite her belly. Suckle one
breast. Pinch the other. Switch. Scrape my nails along her thighs. Pull her bottom lip
between my teeth. I can’t get enough. Can’t touch it all fast enough. I want every part of her
at once. To taste every bit of her.
Another whimper turns into a moan. Followed by a louder one. “Please, lord Richard—”
Fuck, that does it for me. She’s gasping and panting and calling me lord. A surge of victory
dances in my chest. I press my cock against her opening, so wet, slick with arousal. A cunt
that wants to be fucked. “How bad do you want my cock?”
A moan forces its way past her lips and into my mouth. The tip of my cock pressures her
clit and she rocks her pelvis, seeking more friction.
I dip inside her honeypot just enough to paint her opening with pre-cum, then blaze a
path with the head of my cock from her clit to her perineum. Again and again.
She makes noises that are downright feral. Each sound makes my dick pulse. So beautiful.
“You like that, don’t you?” I wrap my hand behind her and squeeze the back of her neck.
“You want me fucking you with my ivory dick. You want me spilling my cum in you, all over
you. Thirsty little minx, aren’t you? Say it.”
“Please, please, use your stiff cock to make me come.” She breaks out in a giggle and
buries her face in one hand. “No. That’s horrible. I can’t talk dirty. It’s too awkward.”
I thrust into her and bite the pulse point at her neck. “Lean into it.”
Rolling us over, so she’s on top, I moan. I growl. I curse. I show her what I mean. “Ride me
like I’m your dirty secret. Like I’m your history professor and you shouldn’t have come
here, but you’re such a naughty girl you couldn’t resist. Like you’re a fucking succubus sent
to send me to an early death. Like you’re my mistress who knows she’s the best fuck of my
life. Fuck me, Felicity. Be the sexually powerful woman you want to be.”
She groans, lifts her hips, and then impales herself on me. Her pace picks up. She wiggles
and squirms until she finds the angle she needs.
“Fuck, yes,” she gasps. “I need you. Ruin me.”
Finally, she’s breaking.
 My skin heats and stretches taut. Muscles tense. It takes all of my control to hold it
together as curse words slip out of Felicity’s mouth, filthy words mixed with ridiculous
historical euphemisms, like she’s searching for a vocabulary she can’t find. Nothing good
enough to describe the feeling.
She rocks her hips, squeezing me tight so we’re joined the whole time, cock rutting inside
her. Never straying far from where she needs me.
“Touch yourself,” I bark, breathless from the beautiful woman bouncing on my cock like
it’s a dildo made especially for her. “I said touch yourself, Felicity. Now. Take what you
want.”
She looks a little nervous, but with her eyes on me, she slides her hand down to her
pussy, forking my cock and rubbing her palm against the pearl between her legs.
“Oh,” she whimpers. “Yes,” she moans. “Fuck,” she whines. “Yes, my lord, yes,” she yells.
Lightening heat strikes me, fast fluttering pulses, hit and retreat. The spasming of her
pussy carries me away with her. I lose control, slamming, jabbing my hips up and down
until she’s bouncing like she’s riding a bull. Tits jiggling. Head thrown back. Panting as she
continues to clamp and come.
“Fuck, Felicity!” I yell as I spill myself inside her, swelling with a wave of pleasure that’s
followed by a deep pool of gratitude to be here with her.
“Thank you for saving me, Felicity,” I say, pulling her down on top of me.
Her smile is soft and satisfied. “Thank you for saving me, Dick.” She chuckles. “I just
realized something.”
“What?”
“For hundreds of years, you were a dick named Dick.” Her giggle turns into full laughter. I
don’t think it’s as funny as she does, but I grant her a soft chuckle before squeezing her
tight. “Would it be alright with you if I stayed here awhile longer?”
She sighs and nuzzles my neck. “More than alright.”
“Good,” is all I say, though I think a much more dangerous and compelling thought. I want
to stay forever.
***
Thanks so much for reading Stiff. This idea came to me hard and fast, after I read a few
other inanimate object romances this year (namely, Unhinged and Stuffed—go check them
out!). I couldn’t get the idea of a man cursed to be a dildo out of my head, it just kept
rubbing against me, demanding to come into the world.
 I’m not a particularly funny writer by nature, but I hope this book made you smile and
giggle as much as I did every time I thought about this project. I also hope it gave you a lady
boner—or made you stiff, as the case may be for any men out there reading (*winky face*).
If this story did any of those things for you, would you take three minutes to leave a
review?
Thank you so much for reading!
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More by Thea Masen
Rose Rising Alien Romance series:

CRASH
SNEAK
BEAST
YOURS
MATES
AGAIN
FEVER
OTHER

Speculative Holiday Quickies Series:

One Night on Fourth of July

One Night on Halloween
One Night on Thanksgiving
One Night on Christmas Eve
One Night on New Years Eve
One Night on Valentine's Day

And more coming soon

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 About The Author
THEA MASEN

Thea Masen never thought she’d write erotic romance. The first time she read a spicy book,
she was so embarrassed she couldn’t finish it. Now, she spends her days hiding her
computer screen from her teenagers, and her nights reading spicy snippets to her husband.
In her books, you’ll find interesting sex, emotional depth, and happy endings. If you want
love stories with a touch of the magical and imagined, you’ve come to the right place.
Follow @author_thea_masen on Instagram and TikTok for updates on her work,
recommendations for books she’s reading, and other bookish things.
***
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