by Ray Gordon
Her face flushing, Marianne closed her thighs, wondering what else Brooke-Smith knew about Barry. But she was to blame, she reflected. She'd deliberately flashed her pussy, delighted in exposing her feminine intimacy to Brooke-Smith.
'It's not all Barry's fault,' she sighed. 'I knew full well what I was doing, so I'm as much to blame. Anyway, I know he's been having affairs, someone told me all about Barry when they thought I was under... The whole thing's ridiculous. I wish I'd never played the stupid games, I wish I'd never invented a trigger word.'
'But you wouldn't have discovered that Barry had been...'
'That's true. The thing is, I can't walk out on Barry. We own the house jointly, and the furniture, and if he discovered that I'd been with men, and girls, with my eyes wide open, so to speak, he'd...'
'You'll have to do something. Unless you want to carry on the way things are.'
'I don't know what I want. You see, I've changed, Jonathan. I'm not the person I used to be. I enjoy... well, let's just say that I've discovered another side to me, as well as another side to Barry.'
'You're happy with the way things are, then?'
'I wouldn't say I'm happy. Anyway, about the job - I'll need time to think it over. Until I decide what I'm going to do with my life, I can't really give you an answer.'
'Fair enough. I'm glad you came, Marianne. I'm pleased that we've talked about this, about Barry.'
'Yes, so am I. Thanks for the drink. I'll...'
'Let me get you a cab.'
'No, no, I'll walk - it's not far,' she smiled, rising to her feet.
Shaking his hand as he stood before her, Marianne left the office and made her way outside, wondering about Brooke-Smith - and why Barry was going to get his marching orders from Saunders. But Barry had already said that he was thinking about giving his job up, so he probably wouldn't be bothered - especially as he thought he had Marianne's illicit earnings to live on.
Walking through the park, Marianne sat by the pond, gazing across the expanse of freshly-mown grass to Rod's house. Contemplating her ever-changing life, she thought about Rod, wishing she had never mentioned the trigger word to him. There's no chance of a proper relationship there, she mused sadly, deciding not to visit him that day as he'd asked her to. Maybe tomorrow.
Turning her thoughts to Brooke-Smith again, she couldn't work him out. Why on earth tell me all about Barry? she wondered. And why not use the trigger word? There was more to Brooke-Smith's job offer than met the eye, she thought, wishing she hadn't confessed, told him of her trickery. He was probably trying to gain her confidence - get Barry out of her life and move in, ease his way into her life and... 'Sod them all,' she sighed. 'I'm making money from prostitution, and I don't care!'
Leaping to her feet, Marianne made her way home. Whatever the trigger word had or hadn't done, she'd had her eyes opened, realized not only the beautiful sensations her body had to offer but the money she could earn. 'No, I won't leave Barry,' she asserted. 'He thinks he's using me, but I'm using him.'
Walking down the street she felt happy, happier than she for a long time. Her amazing transformation was complete, she thought. The old Marianne was no longer. Out with old, in with the new.
Ringing Jill the minute she arrived home, Marianne decided to invite her round for the evening - and Lydia. 'Sorry about last night,' Marianne began as Jill answered. 'I was held up and couldn't get to a phone.'
'That's OK. We chatted to Barry for a while and then went to a pub for a drink so the evening was all right.'
'What about this evening? Come round.'
'All right, I'll do that. Will Barry be there?'
'Why do you ask?'
'I... I just wondered.'
'I think he'll be going out. Yes, in fact, he did say this morning that he'd be out until quite late tonight,' Marianne lied, knowing Barry would pretend to go out and then hide in the dining room.
'Oh, good!' Jill replied excitedly. 'Er... what I mean is, good that us girls will be alone together.'
'Yes, it is. Anyway, about seven, if that's OK?'
'Yes - see you at seven. I'll bring Lydia.'
'Oh, right. Yes, bring Lydia. OK, Jill, I'll look forward to. Bye.'
Replacing the receiver, Marianne sat in the lounge imagining Jill and Lydia ordering her to strip. Picturing Lydia thrashing her taut buttocks, a quiver running up her spine, Marianne grinned. 'Not a bad day, so far. Five pounds, the offer of a Mercedes, sex on the lawn with Dave - and Barry's losing his job. Not a bad day at all!'
She decided that enough was enough - for the time being, at least. Looking forward to her evening of lesbian sex, she went upstairs and lay on the bed to rest for a while, to conserve her energy. She'd have many multiple orgasms that evening, she was sure. And she'd delight in licking and sucking between the lesbians' pussy lips - bringing them to their shuddering climaxes.
Imagining a six-inch-diameter phallus inserted deep in her bottom-hole, she pulled the quilt across her abused naked body and finally drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming her dreams of lewd sex.
Chapter Six
Slipping into her miniskirt and emerging from the bedroom at seven o'clock, Marianne found Barry in the lounge talking to Jill and Lydia. 'Where have you been?' he asked dejectedly, looking up from his armchair. 'I phoned you several times today. And then I got home to find Jill and Lydia waiting for you on the doorstep. Where have you been, I was worried about you.'
Worried about your ruined evening if I didn't turn up, more like, she thought.
Having had the previous evening's voyeurism session ruined by Marianne's no-show, Barry was obviously looking forward to watching the three girls writhing in lesbian lust. She should have waited another half-hour or so, she thought, just to torture Barry mentally. Forcing a smile, she wondered at his reaction if she were to tell him the truth about her day. But no, her visit to Brooke-Smith was her secret and, possibly, her lifeline if she were to leave Barry.
'I was asleep upstairs,' Marianne smiled, turning to the girls sitting side by side on the sofa. 'Sorry, but I was really tired, she added, gazing at their microskirts, the small triangular patches of silky material concealing their pussies.
'That's OK,' Jill replied, tossing her auburn hair back and licking her full red lips. 'We've been chatting with Barry.'
Not about the trigger word, I hope, Marianne thought excitedly, imagining the word actually working and the three of them using her naked body for group sex. Two girls and a man attending my most intimate needs! But Barry wouldn't let on that he knew about the lesbian trio, she was sure.
Recalling the trigger word working when Barry had used it, she decided that there must have been something about his voice that had sent her into a hypnotic trance. The word hadn't worked for Rod, or the girls, so it must have had something to do with his dulcet tones. God, if the word worked for the girls I'd have a real problem, she mused. Some real fun!
'Are you off out this evening?' Marianne asked, looking at Barry as she sat in the armchair opposite him.
'Yes, I've got a client to see. Actually, I'd better get going. I'll probably be late home so don't wait up for me. Have a nice evening,' he added, moving towards the door, glancing at each girl in turn.
'We will,' Jill grinned enthusiastically as he left the room. 'So, Marianne, what have you been up to today?' she asked accusingly. 'Anything... er... anything interesting?'
'I went to see my boyfriend,' she replied impishly as the front door slammed shut. 'We spent a couple of hours together in his huge bed,' she smiled, wondering when Barry was going to slip in through the back door and hide in the dining room.
'Boyfriend?' Jill echoed, her dark eyes frowning as she perched herself on the edge of the sofa.
'Yes - his name's Rod.'
'But, I didn't know you had a...'
'No one knows,' Marianne laughed, delighting in her game, praying that Barry couldn't hear her. 'I've been seeing him for six months.'
'But I thought you and Barr
y were a permanent thing?'
'Nothing's permanent, is it?' Marianne asked cynically. 'No relationship is permanent.'
'No, I suppose not,' Jill replied, glancing at Lydia. 'I must say that you surprise me, though,' she said, turning to Marianne. 'I mean, you, seeing someone on the side.'
'Why not? It's fun, having a clandestine relationship. Sex with the same person all the time becomes boring. It's far too staid, don't you agree?'
'Yes, I do,' Jill reluctantly replied.
'Besides, no matter who your partner, you can never trust them one hundred percent so it's best not to put all your eggs in one basket.'
Smiling at Lydia, Jill moved closer to her lover, her eyes longing for a reassuring smile. But, rather than a comforting smile Lydia had a wicked glint in her eyes, Marianne detected as she poured three glasses of wine and passed them round. Marianne wasn't a threat to their relationship, she knew. She was simply their plaything, a sex object - their sex slave. But Jill was obviously suspicious, untrusting of her lesbian lover.
'Juxtaposition,' Jill breathed quietly as she turned her head, her eyes glued to Marianne.
'Sorry?' Marianne smiled, averting her gaze, noticing a large leather bag by Jill's feet. Jill looked at Lydia and frowned, thinking that perhaps Marianne hadn't heard the magical word. 'If you don't mind,' Marianne began, 'I have an awful headache - it's just come on. When you've finished your wine, I think I'll go up to bed. I'm sorry to spoil the evening but...'
'Juxtaposition!' Jill repeated loudly, desperate for the trigger word to work.
Her muscles locked, Marianne was unable to move, to protest. To her horror the game was no longer a game! The word doesn't work! It can't work, she asserted mentally as the girls giggled excitedly. Desperately trying to move her limbs as she stood motionless before her audience, Marianne couldn't believe that she had no control over her vulnerable body. A battle raging in her mind, she affirmed again and again that there was no trigger word - that this wasn't happening.
'She can't have heard the first time,' Jill said nonchalantly as she reclined on the sofa, sipping her wine, wondering how to begin the evening of lesbian sex. 'Start at the beginning, I suppose,' she grinned. 'Marianne, remove all your clothes. We want to have a good look at your lovely body.'
Her hands working mechanically, Marianne pulled her top over her head, tousling her long blonde hair as she flung the garment to the floor in her involuntary wanton abandonment. Unclipping her bra, still desperately fighting her mental battle, she peeled the red, silk cups from her firm breasts, amazed by her elongating nipples, her darkening areolae.
'Suck your nipples,' Lydia ordered crudely, moving forward on the sofa in anticipation. Cupping her breasts in her hands, Marianne lifted her warm mammary spheres as she lowered her head. Taking each nipple into her hot mouth in turn, she sucked, stiffening her milk buds, darkening her areolae. 'Lick your tits, lick them all over,' Lydia cried in her arousal. Complying, Marianne swept her tongue over her breasts, wetting the firm flesh with her saliva.
'Take your skirt off now,' Jill instructed, eager to see the girl's shaved pussy.
As Marianne released her rounded breasts and slipped her tight skirt down, revealing her knickerless pussy to her audience, her heart leaped, her stomach somersaulting as an urgent desire coursed through her contracting womb at the thought of lesbian sex.
Marianne had no choice other than to concede to the fact that she was in some kind of hypnotic trance. How the faked trigger word had worked she had no idea. Autosuggestion? she wondered. Was that possible? But it didn't matter how it had worked, she mused as she kicked her skirt aside. The point was that it had worked.
Having all her faculties about her, she was well aware of the girls, of their chatter as they discussed the debauched evening ahead, what they were going to do with their naked sex slave - what they were going to order her to do to their naked bodies.
'Let's ask her a few things,' Lydia suggested.
'Ask her a few things? What sort of things?' Jill replied irritably, more eager to get down to lesbian sex rather than have a chat with Marianne.
'Ask her about her sex life,' Lydia returned. 'About masturbation and...'
'Do you masturbate, Marianne?' Jill interrupted.
'Yes,' Marianne replied, the words falling from her lips without her thinking.
'What do you masturbate with, your fingers, a vibro, or what?'
'I expect she uses a cucumber,' Lydia laughed impishly.
'A hairspray can, a plastic container, a deodorant bottle, a perfume bottle, a...'
'What, all at once?' Lydia broke in, disbelievingly.
'No - I use the plastic container for my bum, and the hairspray can for my pussy,' Marianne admitted, desperate to halt her involuntary confession.
'Go and get them,' Jill ordered. 'I must see this!'
As her legs carried her from the room and up the stairs, Marianne again tried to regain command over her nude body. Taking the plastic container, the hairspray can and baby lotion from the dressing table, she moved to the bedroom door. Passing through the doorway onto the landing, she resigned herself to the fact that she was in a state of hypnosis. She was a slave to the girls - a sex slave!
'This should be good!' Lydia cried as Marianne placed her masturbation equipment on the floor. 'I can't believe that you put that huge plastic container up your bum. It must be at least four inches across!'
'Come on then, show us how you do it,' Jill breathed excitedly.
Lying on the floor, her legs wide apart, her femininity blatantly displayed, Marianne grabbed the baby lotion, lubricating the container in readiness for anal penetration. Reaching beneath her thigh, she pressed and twisted the rounded end of the huge phallus against her brown portal, trying to push it past her sphincter muscles as the girls watched with bated breath.
Slowly, Marianne's bottom-hole opened, yielding to accommodate the huge shaft. Further she drove the container into her abused rectal sheath, gasping as the delightful sensations permeated her quivering pelvis. Her sensitive tissue stretching, gripping the slippery plastic cylinder, she lifted her buttocks off the floor, pushing the phallus further into her hot bowels, leaving half its oily length protruding from her anal opening.
'I can hardly believe it,' Lydia gasped. 'Surely she won't be able to push that hairspray can into her fanny as well?'
'With that container up her bum, I doubt that she'd get a finger up her fanny, let alone the can.' Jill laughed as Marianne lubricated the metal phallus. 'It's at least three inches in diameter. She'll never do it!'
Peeling her hairless vaginal lips apart, exposing her juiced-up pinken hole, Marianne eased the can into her hot sex-cavern, her stomach rising and falling as her womb rhythmically contracted. Gently pushing and twisting the can, she drove it deeper into her abused body, gasping as the erotic sensations roused her inner base desires. The can fully home, pressing gently against her cervix, she lay with her arms by her sides, her legs wide open, displaying her stretched pinken flesh, her taut brown tissue.
'She's done it,' Lydia gasped, eyeing Marianne's erect clitoris, its entire length forced from its protective hood.
'Incredible,' Jill rejoined, wondering what to get the girl to do next. 'Shame we haven't got a man here, we could have watched Marianne have her mouth fucked.'
As the girls discussed their slave's naked body, Marianne again wondered about the trigger word. Under the total control of her mistresses, she was enjoying her lewd act, abusing her tight holes - but this wasn't the way she'd envisaged the game developing. If the trigger word was to really work, send her into a hypnotic trance, then she'd have no power to put an end to Barry's vile plans. She'd be used as a prostitute, a sex object - and there'd be nothing she could do about it, she thought. Apart from collect her earnings from beneath the kitchen floor.
'I'll get the rope out,' Jill said, opening her leather bag.
Rope? Marianne thought excitedly. What the hell are they going to do to me? Barr
y, no doubt, was lurking in the dining room by now - listening, spying through the serving hatch at the obscenities. The thought of a voyeur excited Marianne as she turned her head, noticing that a vase of flowers had been placed in front of the partially open hatch. But she was completely innocent, she reminded herself, wishing again that she'd not opened up to Brooke-Smith.
Taking Marianne's hands and placing them over her stomach, Jill bound her prisoner's wrists together. 'And now for her legs,' she laughed, binding her ankles with rope.
'I've got an idea,' Lydia cried, dashing from the room. 'Don't tie her feet together,' she called from the hall. Returning with a garden cane, she grinned impishly. 'Tie her feet to each end of the cane. It'll keep her legs wide open - and her cunt.'
Taking the seven-foot cane, Jill bound Marianne's ankles to the ends, forcing her feet wide apart, exposing the full glory of the girl's bloated holes, her inflamed flesh taut around the massive phalluses. Marianne lay defenceless, unable to move, to conceal her girlhood, wondering what was coming next. Her legs painfully held apart, her thighs aching, she prayed for some mercy, at least.
'I know,' Jill cried excitedly. 'Tie some rope to the centre of the cane, and fix it to the ceiling so that her legs are up in the air.'
'How are we going to fix the rope to the ceiling?' Lydia asked.
'Oh, that's a good point. I know. Tie a rope to the centre of the cane, and pull her legs up over her body and fix the other end of the rope to the radiator. That way her fanny lips will be bulging between her open thighs, ready for anything.'
Quickly carrying out the girl's suggestion, Lydia stood back and admired her handiwork. Marianne's feet high in the air, her legs straight, held wide apart, the sexual centre of her body was open to the lesbians' every perverted whim.
The end of the plastic container protruding between her splayed buttocks, Marianne grimaced as Jill tried to force it deeper into her bowels. Pushing, twisting the massive phallus, Jill wouldn't give up her debauched quest. 'Help me,' she ordered Lydia. 'Pull her bum cheeks as far apart as you can. I want to see whether she can take the entire length.'