by Ray Gordon
She'd been aware of her clitoris, her flowing cuntal juices, since she'd first thought of masturbating with one of Barry's vibrators earlier that morning. Now, as Ian's finger penetrated her tight sex, she craved orgasm. 'The sooner you've done the housework, the sooner you can have my cock up your wet cunt,' Ian breathed in her ear as he kneaded the cushioned walls of her wet vaginal sheath.
All men are the same, Marianne decided as Ian massaged a breast, twisting and pulling on her erect milk bud. But Marianne herself was as bad. Delighting at using her body for sex, she was as bad, or as good, as any man. Slipping his finger from her tight cunt-hole, Ian turned Marianne round. Facing her master, her hands wet and soapy, she remained still as he cast his eyes over her pert breasts.
'You've a good body,' he breathed, his eyes lowering to the slight swell of her stomach. Gazing at her shaved mound, her swelling cunt lips, he grinned. 'Let's not worry about the housework now. You've got all day for that. But I can't wait all day for your tight cunt. Now, where shall I have you? Yes, over the kitchen table. Natalie would never allow me to do her over the table. For that matter, she won't allow me to do her anywhere. OK, bend over, my lovely, and bare your cunt in readiness for the fucking of your life.'
Following her master's instructions, Marianne bent over the table, her pussy lips bulging below her rounded buttocks as she rested her head on the tablecloth. 'I wish Nat was more into sex,' Ian complained. 'Bloody hell, if I could get her to do this sort of thing, I wouldn't be screwing her sister on the side.'
There's a turn-up for the books, Marianne thought as Ian slipped his stiff penis out and ran his knob up and down her wet cunt-crack. I could always blackmail him! But, she realized, all the time Ian was able to use the word, she was under his power. There was no point in blackmailing her master. He'd put her through sexual hell if she were to try to blackmail him. Sexual bliss, more like.
Poor Natalie, Marianne mused as Ian's bulbous knob slipped between her pouting cunt lips and sank into the welcoming warmth of her tight vaginal canal. But, she reflected, while Ian was away, Natalie had screwed his friend. They're as bad as each other, she concluded as Ian's knob came to rest against her creamy-wet cervix. And I'm worse than the lot of them.
'Ah, that feels good!' Ian breathed as he began his slow fucking motions. 'You like my prick up your tight cunt, don't you, Marianne?'
'Yes, I do,' she whimpered as her clitoris throbbed. 'Where else would you like my prick? In your mouth, perhaps?' he asked.
'Up my bum,' she replied, to her astonishment. 'Really? You're into that, are you?'
'Yes, I love it. I love having my arse fucked.'
Her words seemed to come from nowhere, bubbling from her pretty lips without her thinking. What the hell am I saying? she wondered as Ian slipped his penis out of her vagina and presented his wet knob to her anal entrance. Oh, my God, I'm no better than a dirty little slut. Her vile confession echoing around the murky depths of her racked mind, she grimaced as Ian slid his knob past her sphincter muscles and into the fiery heat of her rectal sheath.
'Ah!' Ian gasped as he drove his shaft deep into Marianne's anal canal. 'It's right in! Christ, if only Nat would let me fuck her arse. If only you could see your bum. God, your pretty hole's stretched wide open. Even Nat's sister won't let me fuck her arse. You must be a right little whore if you love having your bum fucked.'
I am a right little whore, Marianne reflected. Having had five penises sperming up her bum the previous evening, she was hungry for anal sex, craved the sensation of an orgasming knob buried deep within her hot bowels. Again she wondered where it would all end. Her new way of life had taken her to the very depths of sin. I'll burn in the eternal fires of hell, she thought fearfully, recalling the candles buried deep within her lust-holes as she had squatted on the church altar. Is this selling my soul to the devil?
'Ah, I'm going to come,' Ian cried as he thrust his solid organ into her anal-sheath. 'I'm come... coming! Oh, you're so tight, hot... ah, coming!'
Marianne felt the gushing sperm deep inside her pelvis as the anal shafting continued. Her body quivering uncontrollably as she reached between her thighs and massaged her glowing clitoris, she cried out in her coming. 'Harder! Fuck my arse harder!' Grabbing her hips, Ian drove his flesh pole into her tight tube, filling her bowels with his jetting spunk, using her naked body to satisfy his evil lust.
Hearing the front door close as the last of his sperm shot into Marianne's inflamed anal sheath, he quickly slipped his penis out of her luscious arse and zipped his trousers. 'Quick, get up!' he whispered, pulling Marianne from the table. 'Fucking hell, she can't be back already! Get in there! Get in the cupboard and don't make a sound!'
Stepping into the large cupboard, Marianne remained silent as Ian quickly closed the door and greeted his young wife. 'Hallo, love! What... er... what are you doing back?' he asked, his voice shaky, riddled with guilt.
'I missed the train,' Natalie replied, dumping her bag on the table. 'The next one wasn't due for over an hour, so I decided to go another day.'
'Oh, I see. Er... why don't you go upstairs and change?'
'Change? What for?'
'Well, you don't want to wear your best clothes around the house, do you?'
'No, I suppose not. Are you all right, Ian? You look nervy, uneasy. Is everything all right?'
'Yes, of course it is! Go and change and I'll make you some tea.'
'All right. I won't be a minute.'
Dragging Marianne from the cupboard the minute Natalie was upstairs, Ian marched her into the lounge and ordered her to put her dress and shoes on. 'Hurry up, for fuck's sake!' he grunted as Marianne slipped into her dress and stepped into her shoes. 'Quick, get out of the house and don't come back!'
Walking to the front door, Marianne decided to come back as soon as she was in control of her body. She'd have coffee with Natalie, sit at the table gloating over Ian's guilt, delighting at his predicament as she dropped the odd hint. She couldn't be blamed, she mused. Natalie knew all about the trigger word, about the hypnosis - the blame would lie squarely on Ian's shoulders.
Opening the door and pushing Marianne outside, Ian told her to return to her normal waking state as soon as she heard the door close. He had no idea how to bring her out of her trance - all he could do was hope that she'd wake up and go home. Grinning as the door closed, Marianne waited for several minutes before ringing the bell, delighting at the prospect of dropping Ian in the shit.
'Oh, you're back! Hi, Natalie!' Marianne greeted her neighbour as the pretty girl opened the door.
'Marianne! Yes, I've just this minute got home. Come in,' Natalie beamed, her blue eyes frowning as she glanced down at Marianne's thighs, the minidress barely concealing her girlhood.
'Thanks. Don't mind me popping round for a coffee, do you?'
'No, of course not. Come through to the kitchen,' she replied, leading the way through the hall. 'I like your dress. It's rather short, though.'
'Yes, it's too small for me, really. I was going to take it back but... Hallo again, Ian,' Marianne grinned as she entered the kitchen.
'Er... oh, Marianne. Er... how are you?' he stammered, his face flushing with guilt.
'I got locked out,' she said as she sat at the table.
'Locked out?' Natalie echoed. 'Have you lost your key?'
'No, locked out of your house. I came round to have a coffee with you earlier but you were out. Ian invited me in and... he was putting the kettle on, and then... I don't know what happened after that. I found myself out in the front garden so I rang the bell and you answered the door.'
'But I've only just got in,' Natalie frowned. 'You weren't in the garden when I arrived.'
'I'm just going up to the loo,' Ian said, moving quickly to the door and leaving the room.
When he'd gone, Natalie sat opposite Marianne and gazed into her wide eyes. Marianne knew what Natalie was thinking as she smiled at her friend - she knew that she'd ask about the trigger word.
'Did Ian use the trigger word?' Natalie asked outright.
'Trigger word? No, no, he didn't. Why do you ask?'
'Do you recall the things you do while you're hypnotized?'
'Normally, yes. But not always - why?'
'I think Ian used the word, Marianne. You said that you came here to see me, and Ian let you in.'
'Yes, that's right. He was going to make the coffee and... well, the next thing I knew I was standing in your front garden.'
'How do you feel?'
'What do you mean?'
'Your... your body. Do you feel anything?'
'Actually, my bum really hurts, and...' Her hand between her thighs, Marianne frowned. 'And I'm soaking wet!'
'What, your bum?' Natalie gasped, the colour draining from her cheeks.
'Yes! God, what's that white stuff coming out of my bum?' Marianne breathed, examining her sticky fingers. 'God, what the hell is it?'
'I know what it is, Marianne! It's sperm! Ian's sperm! The fucking little bastard!'
'Ian's... but... the word, you told him about the word, didn't you?'
'Yes, but I didn't think that he'd... I'll kill him!'
'And so will I! I'm going home to wash, Natalie. God, he must be some kind of pervert to... I'm going home!'
Leaving the house, Marianne concealed her wicked grin, imagining the row, Ian's futile denials, Natalie's hysterically screamed accusations. Natalie had seen the proof with her own eyes, she'd seen the sperm dripping from Marianne's fingers - her husband's sperm! Ian was a dead man. And it serves him right, Marianne thought as she walked down the street towards the park. And it serves him bloody right!
Sitting on the bench by the pond, remorse flooding her mind, Marianne sighed. I should never have done it, she thought. I should never have told Natalie. But, she consoled herself, she was innocent. Ian had used the word, and then used Marianne for debased sex. Natalie had a right to know if her husband was screwing around behind her back. And as for screwing his wife's sister! Cheating bastard!
But Marianne's innocence trip was wearing thin. Her recent acts of debauched behaviour had been committed under the influence of hypnosis - but she'd started the deceit, the lies, the incredible hoax. She'd been the one who'd faked hypnosis purely to have sex with anyone, male or female. 'Basically, I'm to blame for everything,' she sighed. 'But not for Natalie's husband screwing her sister.'
'I thought I'd find you here,' Barry bellowed as he approached the bench from behind and stood before Marianne. 'I'm fed up with your bloody disappearing acts, Marianne! What the hell do you think you're playing at?'
'I'm not playing at anything, Barry. If anyone's fed up, it's me. I'm fed up with you wanting to know where I've been all the time. And I'm pissed off with you following me. I saw you this morning, skulking around the park looking for me. What is it with you?'
'What is it with you, you mean. You're always wandering off, disappearing without so much as a goodbye. I don't know where you're going to be from one minute to the next.'
'I'm leaving you, Barry,' Marianne announced. 'I've made my mind up; I don't want to be with you any more.'
'Why? Why are you leaving me? Is there someone else?'
'No, there's no one else. It's just that I've had enough. I want to be free. I want to find myself. I want to work for Brooke-Smith without having to worry about you and what you think. I want to run my life my own way. I want to...'
'Juxtaposition!'
Her heart racing, Marianne knew that she could never escape Barry. As he ordered her to walk towards the trees, she recalled her time with Lydia, the incredible lesbian sex, the vibrator - but what had Barry planned, what was he up to? Why take her into the trees? Sex, she mused as they entered the wood. He wants to fuck me in the woods.
'Stop here,' Barry ordered as they emerged into the small clearing. The fallen tree brought more memories flooding back to Marianne - the rough bark, the thrashing, the incredible orgasms. 'Take your dress off, you little whore. I'll teach you to keep wandering off. And if you think I'll allow you to walk out on me, you've got another think coming! You're my meal ticket, Marianne. You're going to earn me a fortune. And when I've enough money, I'll dump you.'
Slipping her shoes off and pulling her dress over her head, Marianne stood naked before her cruel master, quivering as she awaited her inevitable punishment. But, to her astonishment, Barry clicked his fingers and ordered her to wake up. Gazing down at her pert breasts, she feigned disbelief.
'What... what am I doing here? Why am I naked?'
'You're going doolally,' Barry scorned. 'You tell me to come into the woods with you, then you strip off and ask me what you're doing naked. You need psychiatric help, woman.'
So that was his game, she mused. Make out that she was falling out of her tree, send her over the edge with his tricks. Christ, he'll try to have me certified next! Grabbing her dress and pulling the garment over her head, Marianne said nothing as she stepped into her shoes. What Barry was playing at now was despicable. To try to have her believe that she was going over the edge was evil.
A last-ditch attempt, she decided, taking a deep breath and gazing into his dark eyes. Her determination was incredible as she looked deep into his eyes, staring into his very soul as she mouthed her hypnotic words. 'You're feeling sleepy. Your eyelids are heavy. You're falling under my spell.'
Frowning as Barry closed his eyes and stood motionless with his arms hanging limply by his sides, Marianne ordered him to strip naked. Kicking his shoes off and slipping his trousers and boxer shorts down, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the ground. As he pulled his socks off, Marianne sat on the fallen tree, praying that, at long last, she'd mastered the art of hypnosis.
'Tell me, Barry, what were you doing in the garage last night?'
'My friends came round. I hypnotized you and took money from my friends and they fucked you,' he replied to her sheer delight. 'I made a videotape of them fucking your arse and...'
'Yes, all right - I know the rest. Now, you'll forget the word "juxtaposition", do you understand?'
'Yes, I understand.'
'In future, when you want to hypnotize me, you'll use the trigger word "delta". You'll remember nothing of this conversation when I bring you out of your trance. Also, you'll fall into a hypnotic trance and do exactly as I tell you whenever you hear the words, "time for sex". You'll remember nothing, unlike me, of what happens to you during hypnosis. Do you understand?'
'Yes, I understand.'
'Repeat all that I've just said so I know you understand completely.'
'When I want to hypnotize you, I'll say the trigger word "delta". When I hear the words "time for sex", I'll fall into a hypnotic trance and do exactly as you say. I'll remember nothing of what happens to me during hypnosis.'
'Good, that's very good! And now for a test. Ian, our neighbour, has just fucked my bum. His sperm keeps oozing between my buttocks. I'll bend over, and I want you to lap up his sperm, lick my bum clean. Do it now.'
Lifting her skirt and bending over, Marianne grinned as Barry knelt behind her and licked her small hole. 'Suck me,' she ordered. 'Suck Ian's sperm from my arse.' Sucking, Barry followed Marianne's orders to the letter. 'That's good, Barry. You're doing very well. Now, hurry up and finish cleaning me because I want to watch you wanking.'
Licking the last of the male come from Marianne's bottom-hole, Barry stood up. 'Right,' Marianne giggled as she pulled her dress down and stood grinning at her slave. 'I'll sit on the tree and watch you have a wank. Go on, off you go.'
Standing naked in the clearing, his stiff penis in his hand, Barry began his wanking. His eyes closed, he moved his hand up and down his veined shaft, groaning as his climax approached. 'Keep going,' Marianne urged. 'Come on, spunk for me.' His sperm suddenly jetting, landing on the soft grass, Marianne shrieked with glee. 'I've got you under my spell now, you bastard. Just look at you, wanking yourself off in the woods! You're pathetic!' As he finished masturbating, his legs sagging,
his breathing unsteady, Marianne put him to the final test. 'Kneel down and lick your sperm up,' she ordered.
Falling to his knees, he lapped up the white liquid splattered all over the short grass, swallowing his come until Marianne grew bored. 'OK, get dressed and we'll go home. I have plans for you, Barry - great plans. Now, hurry up and get dressed, and remember - you'll not be able to recall anything that happened.'
Watching him dress, Marianne's stomach somersaulted. She could do anything and everything now, she thought happily. At last, Barry was her slave! The tables have turned. 'OK, wake up,' she instructed him once he'd dressed. Walking through the trees, she turned to look back at him. 'Aren't you coming home?' she called.
'Yes, I am,' he replied, following her out into the open, clueless about the events in the wood.
As they walked across the park, Marianne wondered whether she'd really succeeded in hypnotizing Barry. He could have been faking it, she mused. Would he lap up another man's sperm from her tight bottom-hole in an effort to trick her? Yes, she decided, Barry would do anything to con anyone. But what would he gain from pretending to be under hypnosis? Then again, he was a devious bastard. No one would ever know how his mind worked, she concluded.
As they neared the house, Marianne turned and smiled. 'Time for sex,' she said loudly and clearly. Barry stopped in his tracks, his face blank, his hands limp. 'There'll be no great test to see whether you're faking it or not,' she said. 'I'll test you over a period of a few days. You'll start by running me a bath. While I'm relaxing you'll cook the dinner. After dinner you'll attend my pussy, lick me to a wonderful orgasm, and then I'll go to bed - I need an early night. Oh, yes - you'll sleep on the sofa tonight. I don't want you in my bed, Barry. Wake up.'
Entering the house, Barry suggested that he run a bath for Marianne. 'You have a nice long soak, love, and I'll cook the dinner,' he said as she climbed the stairs to the bathroom. Was he faking it? she wondered as she slipped out of her dress and climbed the stairs. Only time would tell.