The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was dark and there was a chill in the air as Carol wandered the streets. It was not a part of town she was familiar with and she felt distinctly uncomfortable to be here as she realised that girls were roaming the street corners. She had received a mysterious telephone call telling her to look out for her friend Sara here. Who was it that called and why was Sara in this part of town she did not know? It all seemed puzzling and a little frightening. What did all this mean to Sara? She just hoped her friend was all right; walking these streets as the light was fading made her feel even more apprehensive for her friend. She was already in such a fragile state after all.

As Carol turned the corner she found Sara standing on the curb looking nervous, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and dressed like the other whores who were out. Carol ran up to her.

“Whatever are you doing here?”

Sara had her arms wrapped around her body and she was hugging herself tightly. Was it so cold or was it the reassuring comfort of her arms that she needed? Carol looked at her and then at the way she was dressed. After a pause with no response from Sara she said: “Come on. Lets go get ourselves a drink. Here put my coat on.”

Sara latched onto Carols coat as soon as it was over her shoulders. At last she could hide herself behind a cloak of normality. But what was normality for her now? Perhaps just the reassurance of her old life where she was confident and knew what she was after. Not the girl who suddenly found herself on a street corner touting for business. She allowed Carol to drag her away towards the city centre and the lights and buzz of activity where the lives of successful people were interacting and rushing headlong into well-planned futures. Behind her were the streets of the desolate, the people who had no well-planned future but the ones who had fallen through the cracks. Had she Sara fallen through some crack? Was here life about to disintegrate? What had she done to precipitate this downfall? She felt cold, very cold, and beyond shame in front of her friend Carol.

They dived into a bar and Carol got in some drinks, something to warm her from the inside to not only dispel the cold of the night, but also the cold loneliness of waiting on the street—waiting to be used. Sara sipped at her drink and felt herself slowly regaining her life. Once again she felt as if she were coming out of a dream, not a pleasant dream of innocence but a nightmare of frightening reality. Carol sat next to her and was chattering away words of reassurance that Sara allowed to wash over her, snuggling in their comfort.

As her mind cleared she started to piece together what had happened to her that night. She remembered the clothes she had bought after work on her way home. Shops she had never been to before, where the clothes were more provocative than wearable. She remembered wandering around the store trying on outfits just to have the feel of the material on her skin, to see herself in the changing room mirrors dressed as some slut. She felt that with each outfit she inspected herself in her acceptance of the image she was projecting became that much more real to her. Little by little she was wearing down the shock and revulsion of what she saw and started to look at its attractiveness, the smooth skin of her thighs flexing slightly in front of the mirror as if to entice, with the hard tight line of a pair of black latex hot pants stretched across her crotch; the smooth flat lines and the shiny material catching the light and drawing attention to her encased mound that so visibly bulged in the fabric; the gap between her thighs, that long line drawn across between her legs where her inner secret was pressed up tight against the material so very visibly. Her eyes were drawn to it and she imagined hands, strong male hands, unknown hands sliding down over those pants, the fingers probing the contours of her flesh, the material slippery between them.

Next she had tried on a tight PVC corset with very large and very obvious steel buckles. There were four of them that ran down the front of the piece and ample cups for her breasts. She had slipped it round her waist and shuddered slightly as the cold metal brushed against her flesh making it contract. She felt her breasts resting on the support of the cups her nipples hardening—was it from the cold or the slipperiness of the material, so thin and stretched so tightly, entombing them? She had relished the slow grinding pressure that her restricted waist had been put under as she buckled one by one the steel straps locking each one of them into place. She had struggled with each to try and reach the next hole, the next level of tightness, the still further compression. The sturdy batons inside the material were unyielding as they pressed back her soft skin, tightening their grip, forcing her breasts upwards and slightly outwards, her hips flaring as the material reached down between them stopping just short of her pubis. It felt uncomfortable and yet strangely comforting to be displayed in this manner, so openly sexual making a statement about a woman’s body, accentuating and exaggerating its shapeliness. How could anyone resist such a view? Her hand travelled down over the material and sank into her moistening crotch; she fingered her clit that was already throbbing from her heightened arousal.

Suddenly into her thoughts she started to recall that as she had waited on the corner, she had been scared. She had somehow realised the vulnerable position she had placed herself in, dressed to attract the attentions of any punter, with nowhere to go but as if waiting in the street for her friend. What would she say if someone stopped and propositioned her? Her heart started to pound at this thought, her throat dry she realised that through the horror of this thought, the feeling of helplessness, the lack of any explanation she could possibly give other than the obvious, the inevitability that she would be forced to accept for lack of any explanation she could otherwise give, she realised that she was excited by it. Something deep, deep inside almost longed for that punter to turn up, for the opportunity, for the point of no return. She found herself hoping that she would be tipped into this lifestyle of wantonness, that her indecision would leave her and she would have to follow it through regardless of whether she should, regardless of Tom or Carol or what her colleagues at work would think if they saw her. She would be made to do it, driven by her acceptance to be standing here dressed so loudly, so enticing.

Then slowly her recollections pieced together the car slowing, her eye following and the slight turn of her body to accentuate her profile in his mirror. Making herself more attractive, irresistible to whoever it was, the faceless punter. She recalled the car stopping, her slow purposeful walk towards it, the pounding in her head as the blood rushed, the slow motion of her fall into depravity. She recalled sitting in the car with him, opening his trousers and releasing his cock. It looked so large, so red, it felt so hot and so long. She had stroked it, her eyes glued to it with desire. At last, this is what she had wanted this was what she had been waiting for. Her lips had opened and she bent slowly down to take it in her mouth, she coated it in her moistness and let the feel of the silky skin glide over her tongue. It sent ripples of pleasure undulating down her spine as she realised how dirty this was. Her lips, bright red from the lipstick she had plastered on them, wrapped around this anonymous shaft. She felt him pushing at her mouth, striking the back of it, making her eyes water with the stab of its head at her throat. She was inexperienced and tried to suck round the shaft. He withdrew slightly so her tongue could curl over its head and she licked at it and sucked upon it until she tasted the salty precum coating her. She worked at it like someone starved and desperate for his cum. She wanted to draw it out of him and into her mouth, she wanted to feel his seed and taste it as it went swimming across her tongue in a desperate search to impregnate her. She wanted to feel it slide down her gullet, imagining its stickiness cloying at the sides of her throat as it made its way to her stomach. All this ran through her head as it bobbed up and down driving him wild. He started to buck his hips and drive faster and faster his cock into her, pounding her and pushing once again urgently at the back of her mouth. It finally pushed through and lodged for a moment in her throat, she felt the desperation of choking and her throat muscles tried to push it back out so that she may breath. He groaned in his ecstasy as she did this and suddenly there was a gush as his seed pumped straight down into her, burying itself deep within her core, pooling inside her gut. She was impaled upon his demanding cock, forced to accept his seed, forced to open wide and choke as he demanded entrance to her body. She felt her own orgasm grow, her breasts felt tight and strained towards him, the lips of her cunt spasmed and sucked at an imaginary cock she wished was pressing at her other entrance. How she wanted to feel another cock sink into her cunt as she sat so helpless, so accepting, so wanton and so dirty. He pushed her head back and she felt his cock plop out of her throat, she gasped for air and some of his sperm coughed out of her mouth and down her chin. She looked up at him, full of feelings of insecurity, wondering whether she had done her job well enough, worrying more about whether he was satisfied than her own feelings. She became only dimly aware of how damp her crotch felt.

Sara leaped up from the table and put her hand to her mouth. She looked like she was about to be sick and ran for the toilets. Carol stared up at her and let her go. When she got back Sara would tell her what had happened, and as the story unfolded Carol would sit in some shock.

“But tell me Sara, did you recognise who he was? Do you remember his face?” her eyes roamed over her friend’s features as if to read the answer to her question there, but she found nothing.

“Oh Sara... was it Ricky?”

Her lips glided slowly across his skin, her tender flesh grazing its roughness. Her nose filled with the scent of his manliness and she soaked it in through every pore. Her lips would tease him and make him squirm under her weight as she sat on top of him. She was in control here and she wanted to establish his desire, build it layer upon layer, wave mounting upon wave before crashing down onto the shore of denial. Then she would start up once again leaving him no chance to catch his breath between successive levels of anguished anticipation. Whenever he would raise himself up in an attempt to steal a forbidden kiss she would withdraw, then as he slumped back she would take up her ministrations once more. Her hair hung on either side of her face masking her expression. She was good, and she was learning how to pleasure a man, how to take her time with him or how to allow him quick and easy access, a fast fuck and finish—a furtive encounter en passant.

She sat back up and he felt the heat from her pussy on his groin as her weight shifted, he felt her hands sliding over his chest massaging and warming him. Then she would lean forward and he would feel the tips of her nipples jiggle on his skin as she watched his face intently. Then lifting her weight onto her chest and knees she reached down between her legs and grasped hold of him. He was already iron hard and she felt the length of his cock, enormous in her small hand. She wondered how she could possibly manage to take all of him inside her, but she watched his expression flicker between a pained creasing of his features to gasps and moans. At that moment she held him, she had his full attention and she drove away everything else from his mind. It didn’t matter who he was, where he had come from or what he would do tomorrow, she had him here and now, a fly caught in her web of enticement. She made him whimper, drove the breath out of his lungs, swelled his cock to bursting point and held the dam back. She drove him to lust after her body, to be obsessed by her flesh and in that moment that was all that was important.

Sara stroked his rod and tottering above its glistening tip she guided him into her. Her eyes closed, that was the moment she escaped from any responsibility for what she was doing. Caught up in the power and ecstasy of the moment, she needed to milk this man, she needed to perform, she needed to feel his need for her, her raison d’etre, she needed his acceptance and desire to want to come back to find this warm open place again and again. She pumped his cock with her vaginal lips as she rocked her hips back and forth, feeling the slick hot smoothness slide in and out. She felt his heat rising, it would not be long now, should she hold off a little longer, should she bring this time to an end and move on? At last he erupted inside her and she collapsed onto his chest, her hand sliding through his hairs as if thanking him for using her. She felt the warmth spread through her and the wetness seep out of her. As she lay next to him she heard Tom’s voice whisper in her ear: “I love you.” And she smiled at him, leant across and kissed him.

Sara lay on the bed, it was late morning and weekend and she didn’t feel like stirring just yet. She lay luxuriating amongst the sheets and the freedom to forget time. As she lay there she contemplated what had happened with Ricky and its subsequent effect upon her life. She had felt so silly about what she had done, allowing Ricky such freedom with her, and allowing things to get out of hand in their own home, behind her husband’s back. She did love Tom and she was not going to allow this man to ruin what they had together. She had told Tom that she didn’t want Ricky to come around for dinner at the house again. She had put her foot down and told him that they should talk work at the office and not bring it back home, and if he needed to stay after hours or at weekends to discuss plans with Ricky better that than his coming back to the house again. Tom had been surprised by her outburst, but conceded readily enough once he had seen how agitated she was. He had not understood her reaction, but like a typical male he had passed it off as some ‘flight of fancy’ or ‘time of the month’. He was almost smiling at her as he agreed which had infuriated her.

Sara’s thoughts were disturbed by a sound from downstairs. She looked at the clock and realised that Marie must have turned up and started work in the kitchen. She roused herself to go down and explain all that needed doing today. She found her wearing her uniform and tidying the kitchen.

“Hi Marie. There is quite a bit to be done today.” She started, but as Marie turned round towards her, something in the expression on her face stopped her short.

“What is the matter, Marie?” Marie was looking keenly at her with a sly, perhaps duplicitous smile playing on her lips.

“Is your husband not home?” she asked over casually. Sara a little taken aback by the change in direction replied: “No he is working at the office today. There are some meetings he needs to have with his boss.”

“Oh that’s a shame. I had something I wanted to ask his opinion of.”

“Well I am sure it....”

“Something very odd that I happened to see the other day. You see I saw this little butterfly: normally such a good little butterfly, so well dressed, neat, proper, assured and comfortable in her social scene. Yet the other day I saw this same butterfly dressed quite differently. I thought this odd, and followed my butterfly to see where she was going dressed so strangely and so erotically. And do you know where this neat wholesome butterfly went? She went into a very nasty part of town and there she associated with some very nasty people. Why do you think she did that?”

All this while Marie had been approaching Sara and talking to her with her head tilted first one way and then another quizzing her employer about what she thought of these strange happenings she was relating in such a detached manner. By this time Marie was standing directly in front of Sara and she was leaning forward slightly, still quizzically looking at her awaiting some answer. Sara felt a knot tie itself tight in her stomach and she felt her face start to burn. Was it possible that Marie had seen her? Could Marie really have been just in that part of town at just the right time and followed her? Even the possibility that someone else had seen her made Sara feel sick. She was shaking and backed away slowly from Marie. Trying to compose herself, trying desperately to bluff her way out, she said: “Well I suppose it probably didn’t mean anything. It may have been...”

“Oh but it was such odd behaviour, and you should have seen her climbing into some stranger’s car, willing to go with a man, not someone she knew, not her husband or a lover, just some anonymous cock. I don’t think she knew this man but it didn’t seem to make any difference to her. What do you think was running through her mind to make her act like that?”

Marie’s face was thrust further forward towards Sara as she pressed her advantage. Sara was backing against the wall her eyes locked onto the maid’s eyes. Her hands pressed with her palms sweaty against the cool wall, seeking some reassurance, some purchase from which to spring a counter-attack. Yet she struggled to find words to fend off her attacker, failed to find any words that would deflect the maid from the inevitable conclusion she was mercilessly driving towards. How could she make this evidence seem innocent when she knew her own guilt? Her throat was constricting from fear and a feeling of entrapment, both physically against the wall and by the words Marie fired at her.

“You see she must have been desperate. Don’t you think? She must have felt such a sexual tension, a need burning inside her, a lust that could not be quenched in any other way. She must have been driven like some mad thing to find someone, anyone to satiate her passion. What else could drive her to stand on a street corner like that?”

Marie paused to look at her prey, an expression lined with understanding and complicit confidentiality drawn across her face.

“Such a lonely picture of this little butterfly. A home so cosy, a husband so loving, money no problem, yet there she is in the cold night: wanton, driven, unable to hold back the feelings that are erupting within her. She is beyond the point of caring who may see her, wondering who will come along and demand the use of her, what she will be obliged to do for this stranger.”

Marie’s face was now so close to Sara’s who was staring back gripped by the knot of fear tightening with the screw that turned inside her with every word Marie spoke. She reached out with her hand and pushed it against Marie as if to ward off the sting of her words, push them back from invading her, protect herself physically when she had no other defence to offer. Marie grabbed Sara’s hand and held it tight up against her own stomach.

“I can feel that heat now, understand that passion. The need she had to be satisfied, no matter what the cost, such a dreadful pain to have to suffer alone and yet one that is so easily resolved if you have understanding friends; ones that she can trust to keep her secret and whilst taking care of her, satisfy her hunger. Don’t you think? All she has to do is ask them for help and she will not need to risk the unknown of the night. She does not need to expose her need; with understanding friends she can resolve her inner conflicts without leaving the safety of her home? What do you think Sara? Do you think she could escape her pain by letting go? Do you think she should share her desires and let someone else—a close friend, a confidante, someone who can understand her need and the need for secrecy? Wouldn’t that be such a burden to be released from? Should she not let go of the responsibility of her desires and allow them to be the care of someone she could trust?”

All this while Sara was unable to take her eyes off the face of Marie, so close, so earnest, so accepting of her. Meanwhile unnoticed, Marie’s hands had slid under Sara’s skirt and were resting on the mounds of her ass. Her fingers played with the elastic of Sara’s panties and while her eyes never left Sara’s, Marie’s fingers danced little circles across her flesh, caressing her, reassuring her, so complicit and so intimate. Sara found herself yielding, the need to relinquish her secret overwhelming her. It would be so easy to let go, acknowledge to Marie what she had done and feel safe that Marie would help her keep the secret that she must keep from Tom. She felt the weight of her burden of secrecy pressing down upon her, as if suddenly magnified tenfold. Marie already knew anyway, all she would be doing is acknowledging the facts. Why was she hesitating? She was about to speak when Marie’s finger came to rest on her lips silencing them.

“Hush.” She whispered. “You don’t need to say anything. Kiss my lips and I will know everything. One kiss and you will be released, free to feel no shame, no longer to feel alone. I will protect your secret and make you feel better.”

Sara stared at Marie’s lips. They were full and although there was no make-up on them, they seemed very sensuous and pink. She licked her own lips as she imagined what taste Marie’s lips would have. She felt the tension building inside her as she stood on the brink, but Marie was leaning towards her. Sara could feel the girl’s breath on her cheek and her hand was still outstretched, tight against Marie’s stomach, squeezed between their bodies that now stood so close. Marie leant ever so slightly closer to Sara whose eyes remained fixed on her lips, Marie’s words still spinning around inside her head. Sara shut her eyes and leant forward just a fraction, just an inch, just enough to bring her lips into contact with Marie’s. She felt the lush warmth of her flesh and sucked at Marie’s lower lip. Her hand was being pulled upward and came to rest upon Marie’s bosom, pressed into the soft flesh of her breast through the material that was holding it out, erect. She felt Marie lean forward and start to press her lips against Sara’s. She felt her tongue entwine with her lips and invade her own mouth. She felt her nipples respond with a tingling current and dug her fingers deeper into the mounds of Marie’s breasts.

Marie took hold of her hands and pulled them to her sides and whispered to her to undress and as Sara started to mechanically unbutton her blouse she watched Marie reciprocate as if she were her own reflection in some imaginary mirror. Marie pulled her blouse apart and freed her breasts from her bra while encouraging Sara to continue to disrobe. As Sara struggled with her skirt and panties Marie was kissing her neck and nipping at her flesh. Sara had never been attracted to women before, but there was something about the complicity that now existed between them, their shared secret, her dependence upon Marie to keep that secret. Sara felt safe, but no longer self-assured in front of Marie and this thought drove a sexual need deep within her, which she could not stop now to fathom. She stood before Marie totally naked, her arms limp by her sides awaiting instruction. She was not sure where all this was going, how this relationship was going to work. The model of employer and employee had just evaporated and she was mesmerised by the power she had just relinquished to Marie. Reinforcing her self-doubt, Sara realised that her reaction to these events was not so much one of fear, which her mind was telling her she should feel, but one of pure sexual arousal. She wondered whether secretly she hadn’t hoped that Marie or someone would see her out on the streets. What was that all about?

Marie stared directly at her, weighing up the extent of her power over her former mistress. They had started to behave like two little girls acting out some role-play game: “Open your mouth”. She said. Sara made a perfect circle with her lips, trembling slightly in front of Marie who proceeded to slide two of her fingers inside Sara’s accepting mouth. A smile of derision spread across Marie’s face as she looked down at Sara, a little doll that she could manipulate. Yes her victory was absolute. Sara stood there, her mind switched off as if time had stopped; yet she could feel its pulse through her heartbeat that reverberated inside her head. She felt rather than thought, that Marie was treating her like some slave at an auction. Fantasies circulated in her mind as she felt the heat growing between her legs. With her eyes still locked onto Sara’s not allowing her any reprieve from their derisive domination, she put her arms out resting one on each of Sara’s shoulders. She started to pull Sara towards her bosom, burying her face into her soft tanned flesh. Sara licked at Marie’s nipples as her face was squashed. She imagined she was a baby being solaced by its mother, wrapped in a feeling of safety and understanding, held within this bosom and protected from the frightening and incomprehensible world out there. Yet at the same time she felt dampness spreading between her legs, a need rising and gripping her, a need to be stroked, a need to yield to her maid.

Marie continued to push Sara down onto her knees in front of her. Sara looked up at the woman who they had now implicitly agreed was in command. Holding her hands behind her back she waited to be led further down this path into unknown territory. Sara had given up the struggle to make any sense of the feelings flooding through her and was willing for now to be led by Marie. Sara leant forward and started to kiss the maid’s inner thighs. She hadn’t been told to do so, and she didn’t feel desire for the maid, but some inner need that was driving her to pleasure this person, to pay her back for understanding her and keeping her secret. Sara kissed and licked at the soft silkiness of Marie’s thigh and started to work her way up towards the hem of the skirt. Marie slumped back against the wall and felt the excitement of her overwhelming power over Sara. At last she had her just where she wanted her: naked on her knees looking up at her former servant; cowed now into submission, accepting so readily the shift in their roles. It was all too delicious. She wondered as the sensations of her victory washed over her, the pleasure that rose as a tidal wave from her groin and the invisible head of her mistress buried under her skirt, just how far she would push Sara.

Sara stood motionless in front of Marie who leant forward whispering to her. There was no need to whisper, the house was empty, yet Marie was still afraid that if she spoke any louder then Sara might snap out of her trance, that she may reassert her previous role and Marie’s victory would evaporate. Marie had to press her advantage and make their shift in roles irreversible.

“Now I have agreed to do something for you—I am going to keep your secret safe. It is just something that you and me will know and no one else need know anything about it. But what will you do for me, eh?” She looked quizzically at Sara, as if they had been stupid not to realise there was a problem they had yet to address. Sara stared back blankly.

“I know” Marie continued, “You do the housework today and I will have a day off. It will be a day of paid leave for me! A reward for agreeing to help you.” It was so simple, of course. “It will be our little secret, one that you will keep for me by not telling your husband. That’s fair isn’t it, you keep a secret for me and I keep a secret for you, and that will bind the two of us together.”

She was laughing triumphantly at having found such an excellent and simple solution to this imagined problem.

“But...” Sara started.

“Hush now. I know you will want to help me too.” Then as if it were an afterthought: “But you’d better wear my uniform; you don’t want to get your clothes dirty. Here lets swap.”

Marie was now grinning with playful glee; yet her intent was far more serious. She had confused Sara with this child-like play, and while she was confused she hoped to lure her into not only dressing up as the maid but also assuming that role, and not just for today but from now on. Marie smiled to herself as she pictured turning Sara into a servant in her own home whilst at the same time being forced to keep the truth of her humiliation from her husband. Marie would continue to get paid for doing nothing! She would come round and treat the house as her own with the bonus of ordering Sara about to do the chores and at the end of the day Sara having to pay her for the privilege of being bossed around. As the possibilities started to fall into place she started to imagine turning Sara into her sexual slave too. Her pussy still felt wet from the girl’s ministrations earlier. After all she had turned herself into a street whore, even if she did appear as a respectable middle-class suburban housewife at home. Perhaps she would get Sara to do some more work on the street and take a camera with her next time to collect some evidence to strengthen her hold over Sara. Yes she must look around the house today for a camera.

Sara felt the shift in conversation rather than being consciously aware of it. All she knew was that she didn’t like this idea of doing the housework. How would she be able to tell Marie to do work in future if she agreed to pay her while doing the work herself now? Yet she felt safe at the moment following her shock at discovery, and she was afraid to lose that refuge. Marie could have confronted her more directly, and with less understanding. She was scared, scared of how Marie could use the secret she had admitted to her, although as yet Marie never considered such a possibility. Better to play along and keep Marie’s approval. She was being so kind and understanding which made Sara feel secure. While there was no hint of a threat, she didn’t want to upset Marie. To her it seemed to be just an innocent game and nothing more. If she was to keep Marie sweet she knew she would have to comply.

“Do I have to?” She hadn’t intended it to come out in that kind of whine. She was only dimly aware that she was actually asking Marie permission to remain mistress in her own house. Yet Marie was affronted: “You want me to keep your secret for you don’t you?” Not so much a threat as a whine in her own right. “You gotta do something for me, right? This will just be our little secret. Don’t worry no one will know. You do this for me and I will take good care of you.” Her hand smoothed over Sara’s cheek as if there had been an imaginary tear there. Sara relented. At least she had made Marie promise that no one else would know, and if that was the price of her looking after Sara’s secret, then it didn’t seem too high a price really. She picked up the black dress and looked at it without moving. Marie meanwhile was busy collecting up Sara’s expensive clothes and putting them on.

“Come on, there’s a lot to get done before your husband gets back.”

Marie was sitting on the sofa watching TV. She had helped herself to what was in the fridge and in spite of Sara’s attempts to protest, which had been brushed aside, she had used the telephone for some long calls. Meanwhile she kept encouraging Sara to get on with the chores. She even said that some of the cleaning was not really good enough:

“Would you have let me get away with that?” Sara considered this and thought that she would. She could not remember ever complaining to Marie that she didn’t clean well enough. Perhaps she had? Perhaps she gave the impression of being dissatisfied. Well she didn’t want to give the girl a bad example, so she would try harder to show how good a job she would do, an example for Marie to follow in the future.

It was early afternoon when the front doorbell rang. Sara was in the kitchen scrubbing at the grease. When she heard the bell, she froze. Into her mind flashed images of various friends walking in and seeing her on her knees, dressed as the maid scrubbing the floor while Marie told them how useless she was, only fit to be a whore out on the street. She must get out of these clothes, she must exchange with Marie. She got up to run into the sitting room, to demand her reinstatement, when Marie called out: “Get that will you. It will be my brother.”

Sara went into the sitting room looking flushed. “I... I can’t go out like this.” Her arms stretched out pointing at her clothes. Marie looked up, “Your fine. Just let him in, it wont take a moment. I am in the middle of this program on TV. Now hurry along.” She felt she had been scolded by Marie’s response, yet it was still said in a friendly voice. She hesitated whether to rebel further, weighing up the response she might get from Marie. At least it was no one she knew at the door. Yet why should she be allowed to invite her brother to their house to drink Tom’s beer? She felt angry, and as all these thoughts tussled within her mind she remained hovering in the doorway. The bell rang again.

“Go on, let him in. Don’t leave him waiting outside.” Marie was cross with her. Sara wanted to respond, she wanted to say that she shouldn’t be letting him in here, and that Marie shouldn’t have invited him. Yet she was frightened by how quickly Marie had lost her temper over Sara’s hesitation. What more anger would she feel if Sara refused—maybe she would threaten to tell Tom. Sara gritted her teeth. Well just this one time would be the payoff, and then she would put her foot down.

Sara opened the door and found the teenager standing there. He stared at her, somewhat taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected her to be at home. They stood looking at each other a moment and Sara felt the need to ask him in, to divert his attention away from the question that was forming in his mind and was burning across her cheeks. As he walked into the hall and Sara could at last close the door on the outside world, Marie called from the other room, “Come through to the sitting room, Juan!” He pushed past Sara seeming to be as embarrassed as she was. “Sara, bring Juan a beer from the fridge and tidy up in here.”

Sara resented the order all the more now that Marie’s younger brother was there. It was one thing to have a little secret between the two of them, but now it was being shared with her brother. She brought the beer in.

“Marie, I don’t think you should talk to me like that now your brother is here, and I don’t think he should be here anyway.” Sara was shaking as she defied her friend. Marie stared up at her for a moment with a look of authority over the insolent girl. She shouted: “Why should I not invite my brother round? It is my day off and I want to spend time with my family. You have things to get on with so you wont even notice Juan in the house. If you hadn’t acted like a street whore then you wouldn’t be in this position now. As it is you will serve him in just the same manner you will serve me. Get that!”

Sara froze. Marie hesitated as if working out what was wrong. Still angry she said: “Now look what you made me do. You’ve made me angry and through that I forgot to keep your secret. Now Juan knows everything. I am sorry, I didn’t mean to say anything to him, but you upset me. Don’t upset me like that!”

Sara had gone pale. She had been determined to rebel and put a stop to her humiliation, she had wanted to re-exert her authority before any more people took it for granted they could order her about. Yet all she had achieved was letting her secret become known to Marie’s brother. She looked at him with fear when she saw his puzzled expression. How stupid she had been to anger Marie like that. Juan turned to his sister and said: “You mean your boss was out on the streets offering herself? Was she really a street whore? Is that why she is dressed as the maid and you are here in the sitting room?”

His voice sounded more incredulous with rising anger at each question. He could see the answers to his questions in Marie’s triumphant face. She did not need to say anything for Juan to know the truth. He turned to Sara and studied her for a moment: “I bet your husband doesn’t know does he?”

There was a pause, as Sara could not think of anything to say.

“As I thought. Well that is a very bad thing to have done to someone who loves you and trusts you, don’t you think? That really makes me angry.”

There was an electrified silence that hung in the air. This teenager who she had never met before, who had just walked into her home had already learnt her secret and was rebuking her. She was humiliated and ashamed of herself. She could only agree he was right to rebuke her.

“You are a very bad person and you must be punished for such actions. Since your husband does not know and cannot punish you, then I must. Marie spread her across this table.”

They both got up. Sara was shaking her head in disbelief at how fast she had lost ground. She backed away as they advanced and each took hold of one of her arms. She pleaded and begged them to let her go as they forced her round to the coffee table and pulled her across it. Her knees buckled and she was stretched across the table, her rump in the air. Marie had now grabbed both her arms and held them like vices. She stared into Sara’s face with a malicious grin as Juan disappeared round behind her. Sara could only whisper the word Please to her captors as she felt the brother pull her skirt up and slide her panties down.

“You must learn to respect your husband and not act as the wanton slut you are.” His hand crashed down on her behind and she yelped in pain but more in shock. Marie tightened her grip as more blows fell.

“My brother doesn’t forgive as easily as I do. He believes that women should be dutiful to their husbands and not go off in the night to sell their bodies. You shouldn’t have made me tell him your secret. He knows people who run brothels in this town and rings of prostitutes. They know how to bend girls to their will and break them. If you make Juan think you are a hopeless case he will take you to them and you will end up working for him. You had better do as he says or you’re going to become Juan’s whore and then there will be no escape for you. Perhaps we should let him do that, then Juan can take care of you.”

As Juan’s blows beat down on her from behind, his sister’s words beat into her ears and her mind. Sara felt herself sinking into a bottomless pit. It was one she wished anything to escape from, yet dimly through all the voices in her head she could recognise her own longing. More shocking than anything else was the realisation that actually sinking into depravity thrilled her and the wresting of responsibility from her added to its sweet taste. She hated the beating and she hated the humiliation, yet there was a strange delight from both which she anxiously wished she did not feel.

Juan stopped and while her ass was still sore he drove himself into her vagina without warning. She gasped as she felt him slide in deep and the head of his penis drove against her cervix. He demanded from her and in the whirl of emotions that ran through her confused head she realised that her hot little cunt had been ready for him.

“That’s it my little whore, take it from a man who knows how to quench that thirst you have.” Marie was triumphant as she held on to Sara and watched her face distort in shame, fear, longing and ecstasy. As Juan continued to pound into her Marie leant forward and kissed Sara who opened her eyes and turned her head towards Marie. As their lips approached Sara opened her mouth and let Marie’s tongue invade her. She moaned in pleasure as her lips shrank tight around the invading tongue. She was caught between brother and sister, being used by both. She knew she should not have allowed this to happen, she should not have actively participated in these sexual games, but as she succumbed her fear grew and her sexual excitement grew with it. It would not be long before she reached her first orgasm.

As she allowed herself to be overwhelmed by her orgasm, she gripped Juan’s penis inside her willing him on, and in response he groaned and released his seed deep within her. Sara gasped and groaned as another orgasm rose up within her. She felt the hot gush hit her cervix and was strangely satisfied. She slumped back onto the table and felt the release on her arms. Marie was threading her fingers through Sara’s hair. She was tender and caring and Sara felt a calmness and satisfaction settle over her, totally inappropriate to her predicament. Marie was whispering words of encouragement and approval to Sara as she helped her to kneel on the floor. Marie sat in front of her, wearing Sara’s clothes, and opening her legs wide. Sara could see she had removed her panties and she felt Marie’s hands on the back of her head guiding her up under her own skirt towards the now familiar cunt that awaited her tongue. She thought vaguely that she must not crease the fabric as her face crashed against Marie’s opening. Her head was held firmly there as she licked and nibbled at her clitoris that already protruded in anticipation. The pressure at the back of her head evaporated as Marie lost herself, but Sara continued to excite her maid. It was a challenge to her, and one she seemed only too ready to rise to. In a detached way Sara could feel Juan’s seed dripping from her own cunt and onto the sitting room carpet as she continued to kneel before Marie.

“Let’s go upstairs. I want to fuck you in your own bed.”

Sara had recovered herself and had served them both more beers and had tidied up the sitting room after their adventure. She no longer felt rebellious about being treated as their servant, somehow it was all part of the game, and that was how she managed to deal with it. This was only a game, and would not invade her life. She would not allow herself to question that assumption, at least not right now. Juan had made her bend over a number of times to pick things up from the floor that he dropped, and Sara felt some strange satisfaction at his eagerness to see her exposed behind, still sore from his scolding. He had also made her kneel on the floor next to the TV, her hands behind her head and knees spread so that he and Marie could watch TV and look at her subservience to them at the same time. Sara had enjoyed these games too, in a detached way. She was exhilarated by their game and eager to please them while it lasted. She wanted to arouse their desire, it was a victory for her if she made them succumb and have sex with her. So she smiled as Juan made his suggestion and she led them upstairs. She knelt on the bed. Marie told her to face the wall, put her head down and stick her ass in the air. Having complied with this Sara then pulled her skirt back up and locked her fingers into the elastic of her panties. She pulled them down slowly and sensuously. She imagined what the sight of her sore ass cheeks being slowly revealed and offered to her inspectors would arouse in them. She pictured the scene as if she were a spectator, the wife dropping her panties and offering herself to them on her own bed in her own home. Being made to do it. She slipped her panties under her knees and they were off.

“That was great. I got it all.”

Marie walked round. She had found the camera and taken a little movie of Sara’s performance. Sara felt the heat rise in her cheeks and her heart quicken.

The front door slammed as the tangle of bodies slumped on the bed. “Honey I’m home!” Tom’s voice echoed around in her head as she was shaken out of the stupor of her orgasm. She suddenly realised that she was dressed in the maid’s uniform, with Marie wearing her clothes, and her brother sunk deep in her vagina on their bed. She leaped to her feet as all three sprung into action.

Tom wandered into the kitchen. He could here Sara moving about upstairs as he prepared himself a drink. It had been hard work at the office and he somewhat resented being made to work over the weekend and abandon his wife. He climbed the stairs and wandered into the bathroom. Sara was in the shower. “Hi Honey.” She called through the gush of falling water. “Did you get your work done?”

“Yes but we will have some more weekend sessions ahead. It seems that Ricky has some grand plans for the group.” Tom sat on the toilet and looked at the stunning shape of his wife partially obscured through the curtain. He was beginning to feel horny just looking at her.

“I wont be long” she called.

Tom went into the bedroom, but didn’t hear the quiet click of the front door as Marie and Juan made their escape.

“Honey, you changing the bedclothes again today? I thought you had Marie put clean sheets on yesterday?”

“Really? I must have forgotten. When I saw them I just decided to sweep them up into the wash basket.”

“Doesn’t Marie do that? She was here today wasn’t she?”

“Oh.. er yes, that’s what I meant. I asked Marie to change the bed linen.”

“But surely she remember that she had just changed them, didn’t she? You and Marie can be so scatty at times!”

Sara sighed deeply and leant against the wall of the shower. She allowed the hot water to cascade off of her, washing away the strain that she felt. Her heart was pounding from the exhilaration of near discovery and the jolt of fear she had felt as she dived into the shower to wash away the sperm of another man while her husband watched her dimly through the frosting of the curtain, innocently admiring her wanton body.