A story inspired by Goddess Marquesa
The package arrived at my office wrapped in plain brown paper and addressed to “Dr. Fletcher, PsyD MD.” Inside was a wooden box, stained a light red-ochre color, with the name “Pandora” painted on the cover in gold leaf. It was accompanied by a note in a round feminine hand: Read more…
“Goddess be praised, he’s alive,” a strange man’s voice declared as strong hands fished Edward out of the churning surf.
This time I’ve bitten off more than I could chew, not to say I have any regrets because I don’t, but I was with people who have been at this for a long time and I felt like a freshman. The events of this week began with an invitation to spend time with Mistress M. on Saturday and that it was just for fun, a social gathering and that it was not going to be a session, “How could I say no?”
Six months have passed since my complete surrender to Marquesa. Six of the happiest months of my life. She has sculpted my body into olympic condition. She has taken control of my mind to the point that I don’t even look at or think about any other women. She haunts my dreams, controls my thoughts, and makes all my fantasies come true. She is my goddess, my idol, the seductive siren who enslaves me with the mere sound of her voice.
The envelope was on heavy stock suitable for a formal invitation, Inside was a card announcing a limousine service exclusively for executives visiting Southern California; also enclosed was a short, handwritten note that said simply “We’re so certain that you will want to use our services that we are offering you complimentary pick-up and full time limo service on your next trip. Please call MarquesaCo.” A number was printed on the bottom. 
