by Ray Gordon
Obviously it wasn't Tony's fault, but I blamed him for spoiling my fun and games, my dangerous games of perverted sex, lies and deceit. My dual identity idea didn't seem feasible now. With Tony around, it would be difficult to keep Suzie under wraps. Again, I wondered whether Tony would succumb to Suzie's charms, her hot cunt.
"How did David get on with the garden?" he asked as he walked across the room with two cups of coffee, his white shirt crisp, his tie perfectly straight. Tony was a bore.
"He... he didn't turn up. I saw him the other day, he said he's been pretty busy."
"Oh, that's a shame. So, what are you working on at the moment?"
Filth. "Er... I've been experimenting. Nudes, I've decided to paint nudes."
"Really?"
"There's money in... in nudes." In filth. "Have you ever thought about anal intercourse?" I asked, immediately wishing I hadn't!
He frowned, probably wondering whether he'd heard me correctly. "Thought about it, what do you mean?"
"Thought about doing it, having anal sex."
"That's an odd question, Helen."
"Is it? Lots of people have anal sex, I just wondered whether you'd ever wanted to try it."
"No, certainly not! Good grief, you really have changed!"
As Tony answered his mobile phone, I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to test his fidelity, to discover whether or not he'd succumb to Suzie the tart. The danger excited me, the excitement wetted my vagina, stiffened my clitoris. But no, it was too risky; I'd never get away with it.
Tony was beginning to annoy me as he rabbited on the phone to a client. I didn't want him there, in my way, under my feet. He'd spoil my plans; interfere with my new way of life. But he had a supply of sperm, I concluded - and a pay rise. I had to stay with him, for at while, at least. I'd contact Stephen and have him send Tony abroad again. Stephen would do anything for me, for my cunt.
"I noticed Gary's car in his drive as I came up the lane," Tony said, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket. "I think I'll go and see him."
"What for?" I asked.
"Just to say hallo. I'll ask him about David, I really would like him to get started on the garden. I'll see you later."
Leaning over and planting a kiss on my cheek, he left the room. Gary might ask Tony about my sister, Jackie. He might tentatively question Tony about my past, my supposedly sordid past - my child. But no, Gary would talk to me first, threaten to expose me. I'd play along with him, play the game, pretend to be horrified and beg him not to tell Tony. He'd order me to his prison cell to sexually abuse me in exchange for keeping quiet. I wouldn't go.
I felt quite smug thinking about Gary and his imminent threats, his futile threats. Jackie should have said more, told him that I was having an affair, really give Gary some ammunition. I could ring him, pretending to be Jackie, and tell him dreadful things about Helen. All in good time, I reflected - all in good time.
My thoughts turned to the two young men I'd met on the common, one with his penis in my mouth and the other ramming his cock deep into my cunt. For some reason, I wanted Tony to know about my wicked adultery. Did I want to hurt him? I wasn't sure. Becoming bored, I wandered into my studio and unveiled my painting. Cocks, cunts, tits, spunk... It was good, very good, and I decided to finish it and send it to my agent.
After an hour, I'd completed the painting. Pornography, I mused, standing back and scrutinising my work. Should I use a pseudonym? No, I wouldn't hide behind a false name, I'd stick to Helen Hunter. What would Tony think? A girl sprawled out on the grass with cocks spunking over her nipples, fucking her mouth, her cunt... Would Tony enjoy sharing me, my body, with another man? Would he fuck Lydia while I watched, watched his penis driving into her tight, wet cunt? The notion aroused me.
"What the hell's that?" Tony asked as he entered the studio and started open-mouthed at the pornographic painting. "Christ, Helen! What the hell..."
"I told you, I'm painting nudes," I smiled sweetly, innocently.
"Nudes? That's disgusting!"
"Yes, I suppose it is."
"You've shaved your... you ask me about anal intercourse, you paint pornography, and then you wonder why I keep asking why you've changed!" He paused, staring into my eyes, coming to his conclusion. "Are you having an affair?"
"An affair? Why do you ask that?"
"Because I believe you are, Helen. It all adds up, the expletives you use, shaving, the painting... it all adds up."
"Have you ever had an affair, Tony?"
"No, of course not!"
"Neither have I." I grinned salaciously. "I'm thinking of having my nipples pierced."
"What? I don't believe this! There's something very wrong with you! I'm going out for a walk!"
In his anger, his confusion, he stormed out of the studio. The front door slamming shut, I giggled, wondering at my wickedness, why I'd tried to hurt him. Should I have my nipples pierced? Gold rings would look attractive, sexy, sluttish. Yes, I decided I would. Perhaps Tony would have his foreskin pierced, a gold ring would look nice, massage my cunt as he fucked me. No, perhaps not. I didn't want Tony to fuck me.
Grabbing the ringing phone, I wasn't surprised to hear Gary's voice. "I've met your sister," he began. The perverted bastard sounded triumphant.
"My sister?" I tried to sound horrified. "I... I haven't got a sister."
"Jackie, that's her name. She told me quite a lot about you, Helen, about your past."
"I... Gary, I haven't got a sister!"
"I met her at your place. She told me that you used to work together, on the game. There's no point in denying it, Helen. This revelation puts things in a different perspective, don't you agree?"
"A different perspective?" I echoed, my stomach somersaulting in my excitement.
"You have a child, too. I don't think Tony would be too pleased to..."
"You just dare to tell him!" I returned.
"I won't tell him, Helen - not if you do as I ask."
"I'm not going to..."
"Helen, I'll decide what you are or aren't going to do. By the way, I've added a few extra novelties to my sex room. We're going to have some real fun, some really dirty fun. I've arranged something for this evening, I want you here at seven o'clock."
"No, I... Tony's here, so I can't."
"There's no such thing as can't. You'll be here at seven or I'll have a word with Tony. I mean it, Helen - seven o'clock, or else!"
He slammed the phone down, obviously thinking he'd got me where he wanted me. Oh, Gary, poor misguided Gary! I was enjoying the game, the excitement, and I didn't want Tony to spoil my fun. Dialling his company, I asked for Stephen Giles, my mind brimming with ideas.
"Stephen, it's Helen Hunter," I said as he replied.
"Helen, how are you?"
"I've changed my mind, I want Tony sent abroad."
"Why?"
"Because... it doesn't matter why, just send him away somewhere."
"All right, if that's what you want."
"Yes, it's what I want."
"We have a problem in Tokyo; I'll send him out there to deal with it. I'll ring him on his mobile now."
"Thanks."
"I'll be needing your intimate services soon. I'll ring you in a couple of days to see whether you're free."
"I'll always be free for you, Stephen, you know that."
"Good, I'll be in touch."
It was incredible, I could have Tony sent here and there simply by lifting the phone. My cunt was incredible, the power she had over men was unbelievable. Did she have power over women? I thought of Lydia, wondering why she'd not been to see me, her cunt brimming with David's spunk, begging me to drink from her sex hole, lick her clitoris to orgasm. Perhaps she'd decided to go straight, stick with David. Whatever, it didn't matter. I'd find men on the common when I was desperate for a fix, or call Stephen Giles and drink from his orgasming knob.
Tony finally came mooching back from his walk, sulking. "Stephen rang me," he murmured, barely l
ooking at me. "I'm going to Tokyo."
"You can't, you've only just come home!" I protested.
"I don't want to go but... Helen, we are OK, aren't we?"
"Yes, of course we are!" I giggled. I put my arms around him and held him, but felt nothing. "I was only joking when I said I'd have my nipples pierced."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. You don't think I'd have gold rings through my nipples, do you?"
"I don't know. I mean, you've shaved, so..."
"It's not the same as having my nipples pierced!"
"No, I suppose it's not. I don't want to go away again; I want to be here with you, so I know what you're up to."
"I'm not up to anything," I smiled, stroking his lips with my fingertip.
"You've shaved, you..."
"I did that for you, Tony. Look, you really must stop worrying about me. All I'll be doing while you're away is working, going for walks most days and working. You do trust me, don't you?" Trust the Devil's daughter?
"Yes, of course I trust you. I'd better go and pack my case; he wants me on the next available flight. Christ, I've only just unpacked!"
"I know you don't want to go, but you might not get your promotion if you refuse. Go and pack your case and I'll ring a cab."
As Tony wandered upstairs, I thought it best to be nice to him, even though I still felt that I wanted to hurt him. I felt nastiness. Perhaps I felt like that because I felt nastiness towards myself - be nasty to myself for my adultery, my debauchery. I never did understand even the rudimentaries of psychology, the mysterious ways of the subconscious.
Tony finally left and I grabbed the yellow pages, searching for somewhere to have my nipples pierced. I'd made the decision, and that was that. What Tony would think didn't matter, they were my nipples. I found a place in town, it would cost a lot and hurt a lot, but they could fit me in that afternoon. I agreed and hung up and went up stairs to change into Suzie. Suzie was going to have her nipples pierced, not Helen.
A young man did the job, the painful but incredibly arousing job. Lying on a couch with my firm breasts bared, my nipples erect as he examined them, I'd wondered whether he was aroused, his penis stiffening as he tweaked my milk buds. I watched his face as he carefully inserted the gold rings, wondering what he thought of me, Suzie the slut. How many nipples had he pierced? Did he wank at home at night picturing breasts, erect nipples? I imagined that he did.
I returned home, my nipples sore, swollen, aching like hell, the gold rings beautifully sexy, decadent. I'd bought a gold chain to use once the pain had subsided. I'd hang the chain around my neck and clip the ends to the rings, pulling my tits up, stimulating my milk teats. Within two or three days, the man had said, by then the pain will have gone. Did I want the pain to go? I didn't know. Pain brought me pleasure, immense sexual pleasure. Should I have my clitoris pierced? No, perhaps not!
The phone rang twenty or thirty times during the evening as I planned my next painting and listened to Tchaikovsky in my studio. I ignored it, and the doorbell, sure that it was Gary wanting to know why I'd not turned up. He'd be fuming, incensed, desperate for my mouth, my cunt, my tight arsehole. Arsehole, the word didn't seem so disgusting now. I was becoming accustomed to obscenities.
I lifted my smock and gazed at the gold rings, my elongated nipples. I felt incredibly decadent. I was still going through the process of change, changing from a virtual prude, a monogamist, into a rampant nymphomaniac. When would the transformation be complete?
Gently tugging on the gold rings I grimaced with the pain, my cunt wetting with the pleasure, my clitoris stirring. I couldn't wait until I was able to fix the chain to the rings, to abuse my tits. I could have gold rings through my inner lips. God, I was changing fast!
After three days my nipples had healed, and my craving for sperm soared. Tony had phoned every day, as had Gary. Tony had told me that he loved me, Gary had told me that he wanted to arse-fuck me, to cane my buttocks. I didn't mention my pierced nipples to Tony, but I told Gary - just to arouse him, force him to resort to masturbation. He'd said that he'd be working from home for a week or two longer so that he could be close to me. He wanted to see my nipple rings, I'd told him to bugger off.
It was midmorning when I phoned David for sperm, but there was no reply. My panic was worsening by the hour, I was desperate. But what to do? There was no way I'd go to Gary, no way! Suzie's favourite haunt, the common? Yes, why not? Donning her awful clothes, I left the house and strutted down the lane in my stilettos. The gold chain around my neck clipped to the nipple rings, my tits painfully pulled up, I felt aroused beyond belief, incredibly perverse in my lewdness. Never before had I been so acutely aware of my breasts, my nipples - my femininity. What man could deny himself the pleasure of Suzie's naked body, her hot mouth, her wet cunt? No man, I decided.
It was time for a change, I mused as I sat on the grass by the bushes. I wanted more than a mouth-fuck, more than a cunt-fuck - but what? Sperm was my priority, followed closely by an overwhelming desire for perverted sex. Not like Gary's perverted sex, not as debased and degrading as anal intercourse, but something lewd. Six men?
There was no one on the common. By the look of it, I wasn't even going to get my fix, let alone satisfaction from perverted sex! Again I thought of Gary, his erect penis, his bulbous knob, his spunk slit. But no, never would I visit him, no matter how bad my craving - I'd die first!
My breathing fast and shallow, my chest tight, I picked up a small round stone, rolling it between my fingers like a worry bead. It worked for the Greeks, but not for me. I tossed the stone away, noticing a larger one - rounded, smooth. Picking it up, I opened my legs and eased it between my swollen pussy lips, forcing it deep into my drenched vaginal sheath. Heavy, cold, stretching my inner flesh, filling me, the stone brought me extraordinary pleasure, lewd pleasure. But I still needed a tranquillizer - sperm.
Noticing Lydia walking across the common as I rhythmically squeezed and relaxed my vaginal muscles, I wondered whether David had fucked her, filled her cunt with his spunk. I couldn't call her over; I was Suzie, not Helen. I still owed Lydia one hundred pounds, perhaps I'd ring her later and suggest that she come over and collect her earnings.
Another hour passed and I leaped to my feet. This was pointless, hanging around on the common for a man, a pair of spunk laden balls. The sun was beginning to set, time was running out. There was only one thing for it, go into town and hang around on street corners, shop doorways - prostitute myself.
Walking down the lane past the postman's cottage, the stone massaging my inner vaginal flesh, my nipples painfully yanked by the chain with each step I took, I noticed his wife in the garden watering the flowers. She wouldn't recognize the new Suzie, the ginger-haired Suzie. Was her cunt full of spunk? No, probably not.
Why hadn't the postman made a pass at me, at Helen? Having seen the photographs and the painting, I'd have thought that he'd approached me. There again, after his wife had spoken to Suzie the prostitute, I suppose he'd thought he'd better behave himself for a while. I walked on, not wanting to waste time upsetting her. I could distress her whenever I wished, cause her untold anxiety, misery.
The walk to town would take about half an hour, which wouldn't be easy in my unfamiliar stilettos. My heart palpitating, I didn't know that I could wait that long for my fix. The situation was ridiculous, there I was, a sexy slut dying to suck a man's knob and swallow his spunk, and there wasn't a man in sight! I stopped, grinning as I noticed a young man working in his garden. He'd do nicely, I mused, leaning on the wall.
"Hi," I smiled. "Nice day, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," he replied, walking across the grass to the wall. "I haven't seen you around here before."
"No, I've only just arrived. I'm looking for somewhere to stay; do you know whether anyone locally has rooms to let?"
"I'll ask my wife, she has a friend who owns a boarding house. I'll get her to give her a ring," he replied, heading for the house.
I t
urned and walked home as he entered his house. Of all the luck, his bloody wife would be in! It was proving impossible to find a man, and I wasn't sure how long I could last without spunk. Doctor bloody Harvey was evidently useless; I'd ring him when I got home and tell him so.
Opening my front door, I bounded upstairs and slipped out of my slaggish clothes. Looking down at my stretched nipples, the gold rings, I grinned. I was pleased that I'd had my brown teats pierced, abused my tits. Unclipping the chain from the rings, I gasped, the sensations permeated my breasts, tightening my vagina around the stone. My body abused, desecrated, I dressed as Helen, wondering why I couldn't find a man. No Geoff, no Tony, and Stephen hadn't phoned.
Making coffee, I tried to fight off my terrible symptoms, but it wasn't possible. Gary? No, I couldn't! I'd vowed never to return to his prison cell and I wasn't going to break that vow. Taking my coffee out into the garden, dusk rapidly falling, I began to panic. I'd not be able to sleep without my fix, I'd not be able to work or do anything!
Gulping down my coffee, I became frantic for a fix and returned to the house. I couldn't get Gary out of my mind, his penis, his sperm-laden balls. Grabbing the phone in my weakness, I dialled his number, praying that he was in. This was to prove my biggest mistake yet, I knew as he answered his phone.
"Gary. I..."
"Come round now!" he interrupted me. There was aggression in his voice. "I'm fed up with you messing around like this, get yourself round here now!"
"Gary, I..." He slammed the phone down. Bastard!
No doubt he was in the prison cell, preparing for my visit, my sexual abuse. He'd added a few extra novelties to his sex room, he'd said. What other horrendous things could he have added? My mind ached with worry, reeled in my ever-rising panic. I had to go and visit the pervert, I had no choice.
Walking down the lane in the dark, my palms wet, my heart racing, I sighed. I shouldn't be doing this, I knew, but I had no will power. Desperately trying to fight my craving as I reached Gary's house, I prayed to God that he'd allow me my fix before using and abusing me. That was a condition, I decided, ringing the bell - no fix, no abuse. Was I in a position to make conditions?