by Ray Gordon
'How's he getting on at the uni?'
'Not bad at all - fitting in quite well, considering that he's a total nutter! He says it's hard going, but he's enjoying it. Better than working for a living, he reckons. And as for the girls there! Well, you know what John's like when it comes to... the less said about that the better, I think.'
'God, he's not coming round this evening, is he?' Marianne asked agitatedly as the doorbell rang, wondering what the young man would think if he discovered the hot, girl-wet cucumber beneath the couch - the evidence of Barry's debased inner self.
'He did say he'd call round, yes. But he won't stay for long, so don't worry.'
Jumping up, Barry left the room to answer the door - and Marianne to ponder on her wicked game. She was in two minds now. Wondering whether Barry really would slip his penis deep into her bottom-hole, her stomach somersaulted at the thought of being penetrated, fucked there. I'd be completely innocent, she concluded, wondering what other debased fantasies he'd live out whilst she was supposedly hypnotized.
'Go into the lounge and I'll bring you a coffee,' Barry said, opening the door.
'Ah, Marianne,' John greeted her. 'How for art thou?'
'I'm fine, John. More to the point, how are you?' Marianne laughed as he sat on the sofa, the phallic fruit only inches from his feet.
'Bearing up under the strain of being surrounded by dozens of nubile young women! How was the hypno course?' he asked as he ran his fingers through his blond hair and perched expectantly on the edge of the sofa.
'It didn't work,' she sighed despondently. 'I failed miserably.'
'Oh, that's a shame. I thought you'd be giving us a demo or something.'
'A demo?' she echoed anxiously.
'Yes - you know, getting Barry to prance around the room like a prize prat!'
'No chance, I'm afraid. Still, at least I tried.'
'Better to have tried and failed, as they say - whoever they are.'
'There you go, John,' Barry grinned as he closed the door with his foot and passed his friend a cup of coffee.
'Ah, thanks.'
Feeling a wetness between her legs, Marianne made her excuses and left the room to cleanse her drenched pussy. Her thoughts still swaying between Barry's alien words, his uncharacteristic behaviour, and her incredible sexual arousal, she decided not to come to any conclusions until she'd enjoyed another session of wanton sex with him - and discovered what else lay hidden in the murky depths of his subconscious. Shame to spoil the game now, she mused as she closed and locked the bathroom door, again wondering whether Barry wanted her for the woman she was - or craved only her pussy.
'It's a shame Marianne wasted all that money on the course,' John remarked as Barry sat beside him.
'It wasn't wasted.' Barry's lips furled into a grin. 'She can't hypnotize people, but the course instructor has planted a trigger word in her subconscious - and I know the word!' he chuckled.
'A trigger word? What do you mean?' John asked, his eyes frowning.
'A word that sends her into a hypnotic state. When I say the word she'll do anything I ask - and remember nothing about it afterwards.'
'That's crap! You're having me on!'
'No, I'm not. I'll prove it to you when she comes back.'
'Trigger word, my foot!' John mocked.
'Shush! Here she comes.'
Sitting opposite the men, Marianne sipped her coffee and asked John about his thesis. He grinned, turning to look at Barry as he waited for him to utter the magical word and send the pretty girl off into some strange robotic state.
'Juxtaposition,' Barry articulated loudly and clearly.
Marianne's heart leapt, her hands trembling as she realized she was required to perform before John. Perform what? she wondered uneasily. Still holding her coffee cup, she awaited Barry's instructions, praying that he'd not ask her to masturbate. If the bastard does, I'll have to expose myself as a fraud!
'Stand up,' Barry ordered. Placing her cup on the table, Marianne stood before her audience, her heart banging hard against her chest as she wondered what she'd have to do to prove to John that she really was hypnotized. 'Do a little dance,' Barry laughed gleefully.
Leaping around the room, Marianne was relieved that a dance was all that was required of her.
'That proves nothing,' John jeered. 'You're both having me on. What do you think I am, stupid?'
'All right,' Barry replied. 'Marianne, stand in front of us and lift your skirt up.'
Frozen to the spot, the girl wondered whether to fake an illness or something, anything to halt the humiliation. 'Go on, do it,' Barry ordered impatiently as John scoffed at the very idea of trigger words and hypnosis. Thankful that she'd washed her pussy and changed her panties, she stood before her spectators and lifted her skirt, revealing the tight pink material following the contours of her swollen vaginal lips, the neat dividing groove between her warm hillocks of girl-flesh.
'There, proof enough?' Barry asked triumphantly.
'That proves nothing,' John returned, much to Marianne's horror. 'We've all seen a pair of knickers before. That proves nothing, other than that Marianne's a gorgeous bird.'
'Bloody hell,' Barry groaned irritably. 'What do you want, blood? Er... Marianne, keep your skirt up, and pull the front of your panties down.'
There was to be one ultimately humiliating test after another, it seemed. Her hands now visibly shaking, Marianne knew that the time had come to end her game of deception. As she made her decision and lowered her skirt, Barry repeated his instruction with a hint of exasperation in his voice. 'Pull your bloody skirt up and your knickers down - and show John your pubes.'
The devil emerging? Or had Barry changed? Marianne wondered as she tentatively lifted her short skirt again. He'd always been so possessive, so jealous - but here he was, asking her to display her feminine intimacy to another man. Wondering just how far he'd go, she decided to play along, if only to discover the full depravity of the monster she now thought her boyfriend to be.
Her thumb between the tight elastic of her panties and her smooth stomach, she held her breath, wondering how she'd feel by exposing her blonde pubes, her pink crack, to her voyeurs. Barry was a bastard, but she'd get him! Somehow, the tables would turn and the day would soon come when the whole thing would backfire on him, she promised herself.
Pulling her panties down, her eyes blank, her face expressionless, she felt her womb flutter as John gasped. 'God, she must really be under,' he finally acknowledged as she pulled the flimsy material down a little further to reveal her inner lips protruding from her pussy-slit.
'What did I tell you?' Barry quipped smugly.
'Fuck me, will she do anything? I mean, absolutely anything?'
'You should have seen what I got her to do earlier. Christ, you should have seen her! I'll tell you what... No, it's not fair to use her like this,' Barry smiled, sending a wave of relief rolling through Marianne's racked mind. 'Pull your knickers up and lower your skirt and then go and sit down, love,' he said softly.
Which is the real Barry? she wondered as he clicked his fingers. Picking up her coffee cup, she smiled sweetly as if nothing had happened. She'd passed the ultimate test, she thought happily, praying that, in the future, Barry would only use the word when they were alone together. The game was going well. Not only had she convinced John, but Barry was now completely under her spell.
But, ultimate test or not, she realized that Barry wouldn't stop there. His conscience had obviously won the day, and he'd not asked her to masturbate in front of John - but would it always win? Would his darker side demand that he humiliate her again and again? If that happened, then all she had to do was pretend that the trigger word no longer worked, that it had worn off.
Sipping her coffee, Marianne became aware of her vaginal juices seeping into her panties. To her horror, she realized that displaying her pussy to another man had sexually excited her. Her vagina aching, her clitoris stiffening, to her surprise she began to wish tha
t Barry would order her to masturbate with the cucumber while John watched.
'You all right, love?' Barry asked, noticing her face flush.
'Yes, fine,' she smiled as her womb fluttered. 'I'm just a little hot, that's all. I'm going to ring Jill again. There's something I forgot to tell her.'
'OK, see you in a minute.'
Phoning her friend for real this time and with the lounge door closed, Marianne slipped her hand between her thighs and gasped. 'God, I'm wet!'
'Sorry?' Jill asked.
'Oh, hi, Jill - it's me, Marianne.'
'Hi! Who's wet?'
'I was talking to Barry about the... about the kitchen floor. Anyway, how are you?'
'I'm okay. How was the course?'
'It was fun. I failed, but it was fun. Listen, the course lecturer has given me a trigger word which...'
Her words tailed off as she realized that if anyone twigged that she was playing games, especially the indiscreet young Jill, Barry would eventually find out. Not wanting to ruin her fun, she decided to say nothing about the word. Too late!
'A trigger word?' Jill asked.
'Er... yes, he...'
'That's where someone becomes hypnotized when they hear a certain word, isn't it?'
'Yes, that's right.'
'So, the lecturer has implanted a word in your subconscious, then?'
'Yes, no... Look, I don't want Barry to know about it, Jill. If he knew the word, there's no saying what he'd get me to do.' Why am I saying all this?
'What's the word? I promise I won't tell him.'
'I'd rather not... Oh, I might as well tell you - it's "juxtaposition".'
'Does it work?'
She'd have to concoct lies now - lies to cover lies.
'Yes, the people on the course all had trigger words, and we all had a good laugh making each other do this and that. But I don't want anyone to know that the word still works. The man running the course became ill and went home before he could erase the word from my subconscious.'
'I'll pop in tomorrow and you can tell me all about it.'
'Okay, great. But remember, tell no one about the word.'
'Don't worry, I won't. Oh, someone's at the door - I'll see you tomorrow. Bye!'
Returning to the lounge, Marianne sat down and smiled at Barry, wondering why she'd lied to Jill. If I carry on like this I'll convince myself? she reflected as the phone rang.
'I'll get it,' Barry said, jumping up from the sofa and dashing to the hall. Marianne looked at John, her full red lips half smiling. She knew only too well what he was thinking, what he was picturing! But, she reminded herself, she was completely innocent.
'Sod it!' Barry cursed as he opened the door. 'That bloody job I've been working on, it's gone wrong!'
'Which job?' Marianne asked.
'That advertising job I was doing for Brooke-Smith. The boys have fucked up the video tape. I won't get the contract unless Brooke-Smith is kept happy. I'll have to down to the studio and see if I can salvage something. If I can't Saunders will fire me.'
'It's not your fault, Barry,' Marianne complained.
'As far as Saunders is concerned, everything's my fault. I'll be a couple of hours, if not more, I'm afraid. Sorry to dash off, John. I'll ring you.'
'Okay, I'll just finish my coffee and then I really must be going - I've got my bloody thesis to finish. Fucking bore that it is.'
The atmosphere was tense as Barry left the house and closed the front door behind him. Marianne knew what John was thinking, she knew that the picture of her pussy was indelibly etched in his mind, and she prayed that he'd hurry up and leave so she could relax and contemplate the evening's events in peace.
'Barry works too hard,' John quipped, rolling his coffee cup between his palms as he moved forward, perching himself on the edge of the sofa.
'Yes, he does. This is always happening. They think they can ring him at any time of day or night and he'll go dashing to their rescue.'
'Perhaps he should say no once in a while.'
'That's what I've told him, but he won't listen. Anyway, John, I'm tired after travelling back from the course so, if you don't mind...?'
There was a pause. Marianne sensed an awkward silence as John shifted on the sofa. What was he thinking? But worse, what was he planning? He knew the word. Surely, he wouldn't...
'Juxtaposition,' he breathed softly as he looked down at the floor. Her heart missing several beats, Marianne stifled a gasp as the word reverberated through her aching mind. Juxtaposition. This was ridiculous, she thought, keeping perfectly still as she wondered what the hell to do. Surely John wouldn't...
'Marianne, you sexy little thing - I want you to stand up.' Desperately trying to think of a way out of the incredible situation, she stood up and turned to face him, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. Unless she played the game John would tell Barry - and she'd be exposed. She wanted to continue the game with Barry but, she decided, there was no way she'd follow John's instructions.
'Take your skirt off, Marianne,' he ordered firmly. No, no, her subconscious screamed. Her stomach churning, alarm bells ringing, she realized that her arousal was rising fast. But she couldn't bring herself to strip before John. Or worse, masturbate as he watched. 'Come on, take your skirt off,' he repeated indignantly.
The protesting voice in her subconscious fading, losing the battle, her clitoris swelling, urgent in its demand for attention, she knew that she was quickly falling prey to her darker side. Tugging her short skirt down, she decided to put a halt to the proceedings should things go too far - to take her deception a little way down the dangerous road, and then turn back.
Kicking her skirt aside, she stood before her master, her bulging panties wet, stained - blatantly on display. Her mind reeling, she was all too aware of her demanding clitoris now, her sex-juices seeping between her engorged inner lips.
'Panties,' John said firmly. 'Come on, take your panties off, I'm enjoying this. I want to see your wet snatch.'
Her heart fluttering, her hands trembling, she knew this was the ultimate test. Was it worth it? To fool Barry and continue with her games, to discover his secret fantasies, his inner desires - was it worth revealing her feminine intimacy to John?
John was in his late teens, at least four years younger than Marianne, which gave her a sense of control. He was good-looking, well-spoken, and he'd been friends with Barry for several years. They were like brothers, she reflected - surely he wouldn't use Barry's girlfriend like this and risk destroying the friendship? She knew only too well that, if she were to comply with his request, he'd come back for more and more. Who was really in control?
'I knew you were conning me,' John scoffed. 'You might be able to fool Barry, but you can't fool me. I don't know why you're playing this game with Barry, I don't know what you're up to - but I'll tell him that you've taken him in, tricked him. Trigger word, my arse.'
Pulling her panties down to her knees, Marianne sensed John's eyes on her swelling pussy lips. His amorous gaze was burning into her very femininity, piercing the sexual centre of her very being. But this was all part of the big con, all part of the game that had started as a joke and quickly got out of hand. Marianne's thinking was blurred, her mind confused as she tried to think what was driving her to display her pussy to another man - what goading monster lurked within her mind.
'Your knickers are stained with your cunt juice,' John observed crudely. 'Fuck me, you really are under hypnosis!' Her face flushing, her womb fluttering, Marianne's thoughts swayed between her dangerous game and the compelling need between her inflamed vaginal lips. What the hell would John ask of her next? Christ, if Barry were to walk in! But, she consoled herself again, she was the innocent party, blameless, guiltless - impeccable in her innocence.
'Take your knickers right off, and then undo your blouse,' John ordered as Marianne's conscience eased a little. Complying, her stomach somersaulting, she kicked her panties aside and unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her full, strainin
g bra. 'Okay, blouse off, and then your bra,' he said, picking her panties up and examining the stained crotch. 'There's nothing I like more than a bloody good pair of tits!'
Marianne watched as he held her warm panties to his face and breathed in her girl-fragrance. But strangely, she felt no embarrassment now - only a dangerous inner desire for sexual satisfaction. As she freed her firm breasts her nipples grew, hardening as her arousal continued to soar to frightening heights. Her areolae darkening, she stood completely naked before her new master, wondering what obscenity he'd demand of her.
'Come closer to me and open your cunt lips,' he demanded crudely. Were all men like this? she wondered as she took two steps forward and peeled her fleshy girlhood open, revealing her intimate inner sex-folds to his sparkling eyes. Perhaps Barry and John were no different from any other men? If that were the case, she mused wickedly, by playing her hypnosis game she could have any man she wanted eating out of her pussy. If word got round she'd be inundated by men offering her this and that and... But no. The game had been devised to fool Barry, and now John, it seemed. Two were more than enough!
'Finger your wet cunt,' John ordered as he moved nearer the edge of the sofa, his eyes wide, his penis straining the confines of his tight jeans. Marianne slipped her finger into her hot vaginal sheath as John watched with bated breath. Her stomach somersaulting again, she thought of the cucumber, wondering whether to accidentally kick it across the carpet and expose the phallus to her master. What the hell am I doing? she wondered as the cold reality of her wanton behaviour hit home.
'You've a nice body,' John breathed. 'I like your tits, and your cunt's beautiful. Would you like me to finger your cunt for you?' Things were going too far, she decided. Getting out of hand. 'Slip your finger out, and I'll finger-fuck your cunt for you.'
Standing with her feet slightly apart and her hands hanging limply by her sides, she closed her eyes as John's finger circled the entrance to her vagina. As his finger gently slid into her hot duct, her womb convulsed, her mind swirling with sex, lewd sex. She'd taken her game so far now that there was no turning back. With another man's finger invading her once-sacrosanct vagina, there was no backtracking.