The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The battle of the sexes: What turns such strong physical attraction; the need to be with the opposite sex, their acceptance and validation that overwhelms us and twists around our personalities. How does it degenerate into a battleground? What drives such strong insatiable need into a person forcing them to assume the role of a tormentor who must degrade, belittle and ridicule their partner? Is it because men are driven to destroy what no longer challenges them? their obsession with their need to be the conqueror and not the conquered? Their desire that once satisfied evaporates like some will-o-the-wisp? Men who look for a whore and once they find one suddenly realise that what they really desire is a mother? How can a woman be both a whore and a mother to the same man? What chance has she to fulfil such conflicting roles? Does she not get duped into becoming the mother only to find him chasing another whore down the street. It is not possible for a man to caress this girl he loved when he is torn apart by divided needs. Always there must be something lacking, something to yearn for elsewhere.

Yet for the woman too, is she not susceptible to similar contradictions? Does she not want to be seen as the person she is, capable and intelligent as well as beautiful? As well as beautiful: yes there it lies, a few simple yet tricky words. Does she not seek a man who will understand her and be attentive towards her? Yet at the same time, does she not yearn for the animal in him to desire her and to take her, willing or no? To be the object of desire that he cannot control, is that not also what she seeks? How often does the girl run off with the philanderer and leave the supportive steadfast husband behind? Yet what a terrifying admission it is for her to own up to, acknowledging that she will yield to his demands just because he has demanded access to her. Is it not little wonder she shrinks from accepting this truth locked within her? So she too lives the lie, the inbuilt contradiction that will keep her forever not quite fulfilled. She wants to be an equal and she wants to be hunted too. Oh what a delicious contradiction that keeps both sexes hungry, never able to find and keep that perfect partner…

Sara stood in the doorway staring at Ricky, her heart thumping in her chest as she felt the electrifying tension of excitement and fear. She wanted to be angry with him for just turning up uninvited; she and Tom had just got in from work and were about to prepare dinner. She was still dressed in her suit from work, and the sudden overtaking of family routine by this unexpected confrontation with her sexuality unnerved her. Ricky was just smiling at her waiting to be invited in.

“Who’s that?” Tom called from the kitchen.

Sara let Ricky pass, telling him, almost a murmur, that he’d better come in. Ricky called out to Tom as she closed the door and followed him into the sitting room.

Ricky slouched on the sofa feeling at home, his legs spread revealing the bulge in his crotch as he surveyed her standing above him. Sara stood uncertain. She seemed drained of the confidence she would normally have in her own home, entertaining her guest. She sensed her feelings of being hunted by this man, unsafe even at home, even so close to her husband. She felt a fear and became aware that her pussy was involuntarily opening and quivering in anticipation. Sensations of being filled by this man’s cock, it sliding into her and the lurch as it struck home, hitting her cervix overwhelmed her. The dryness in her throat choked her as she pictured the veins of his penis pushing past her lips parted in compliance to his insistent desire. She had to escape, she was exposed and had to run. She had to flee this predator, yet from somewhere deep inside her, a dark locked door that she couldn’t open, she knew that she would not permit herself to escape. However desperate she may feel, however much her conscience screamed to stir her into flying, she was hooked like a little fish on the end of a line. She would allow herself to be reeled in, to be taken, because it was inevitable. She felt powerless to do anything, not because Ricky had deprived her of the power, but because she had robbed herself of it. Because somewhere there was a need burning deep inside her and she could not understand where this need came from, but it riveted her whole body on the spot in the glare of his gaze.

As these thoughts pushed her to distraction she was unconscious of the fact that she stood in front of Ricky legs parted. Not obscenely spread, but not held together. She had not moved away from him, nor signalled any lack of interest, but had stood before him waiting for him to release her. She was there for his inspection, lost in those dark grey eyes of his, deep pools in which she would swim and drown herself. There she could escape the uncertainty of what lay inside her head, what was driving these impulses that she battled so hard to suppress. It would be like a breath of fresh air sweeping through her if she were rid of the doubt, the soul-

searching that unnerved her so, the need not to let go when all she wanted at that moment was to feel the strands of decency slip through her knotted and clenched fingers.

Sara looked towards the door to the kitchen as Tom entered to greet his boss. They talked and Tom’s face was lit up. It was obvious that for Ricky to come round to see him of an evening was an act he valued highly. Sara felt resistance slipping inside her. It was just too easy to tell herself she would give herself to Ricky so as to help her husband promote himself at work. “You two make yourselves comfortable. I will prepare us a feast.” he said. Through his smile Sara detected a wary sidelong glance at his wife. He was unsure of Sara’s reaction to Ricky turning up out of the blue after the fuss she had created about never inviting him round to the house again. He hoped that she would take it ok, would not think that he had arranged this with Ricky, and to try and placate her, he wanted to let her relax and feel free of any stress or pressure to prepare a fancy meal.

Ricky smiled wickedly up at Sara as he put down the drink she had brought him. Tom was clattering about in the kitchen. “You don’t look very comfortable. Here I’ve brought you a present.” He held out his hand and lying in his palm was a pair of thin almost transparent panties. They were white and very sheer, made from some synthetic material. “Why don’t you slip out of that hose and panties you have hidden up there under your skirt and try them on.” He was so bold, as if uncaring whether Tom could hear him from the kitchen. He seemed supremely confident that she would comply with this outrageous demand, and Sara felt the surge of rebellion rise in her chest. Sara hesitated, feeling her heat rise, feeling anger and feeling shame. She had allowed him to be able to talk to her this way by her actions at his last visit. The lump in her throat robbed her of speech as her mind vacillated between showing indignation, or escaping the confrontation by looking away and doing as told. She had to stand up to him, yet somehow her willpower could not muster the resistance. She hung in limbo not wanting to do what she knew she was about to do. Why could she not stand up to him! “Go on. You’d better be quick before your husband comes back in.”

Her eyes never left his as she leant forward, reaching up under her skirt. She felt the weight of her breasts shift as she bent at the hips. The material, so safe, so warm and so protective, was slowly dragged down her legs. She had hold of hose and panties together and lifted her leg. She tottered in front of him, and almost urged herself to fall forwards into his lap, as she struggled to unhook the material around her ankle where it had caught. Yet she managed and the other leg was simple. Meantime, Ricky had taken out a small bottle holding a clear gel and had smeared some of it slowly over the panties he had brought for her. He rubbed the material in his fingers to spread the sticky oil and she watched as it oozed out from between his palm and thumb. A trickle of clear viscous liquid which slid down the side of his hand. All the while in the background she could hear the bustle of her husband in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke, yet both conspirators communicated their complicity by the way they stared at each other. His gaze held her and drove her to comply, never leaving her a moment through which to escape.

She held the panties open and gingerly stepped inside them. Her business suit, which made her look so much in control of her destiny, seemed somehow incongruous as she slid the oily material up her legs. As it rose inch upon inch over her calves Ricky’s eyes were glued to its progress, watching it like some thoroughbred he had put money on. She slowed her progress to enable Ricky’s eyes to dwell upon her legs a little bit longer, craving their attention. Long before the panties reached her crotch she shivered in anticipation of the cold of the gel against her pussy lips. She pulled them higher and raised her skirt draped over her wrists; she slowly revealed her hidden thighs to this man. In a distracted air she wondered what was the hold this man had over her. Why she could not refuse him? What was it about his requests (demands?) that no matter how outrageous forced her to comply?

The panties were now slipping over her hips. She felt the pull of the material as it stretched wide across her pelvis, the cloying coldness of the gel sliding over her pubic mound and the slimy gusset drawn tight up against her groin. Her legs forced apart by the material and the shrinking of her flesh from the cold. Ricky lifted the front of her skirt to view the last ascent and as it locked into place he reached forward with his hand. He cupped the material and pressed it firmly into her mound. She stood over him, her hair falling around her face, her hands now lifeless at her sides as his active hand rocked between her thighs. She felt the slipperiness spread and smother her as his hand slid back and forth forcing the material to slid effortlessly across her sex, his finger pushing the material with each lunge forward further into her opening, brushing her labia, coating them and then withdrawing.

Like waves upon the shore she felt the rhythm build as he pushed and pulled at her. She responded to his call by leaning back slightly, pushing her breasts outwards and upwards, revealing the long slender climb of her neck, and opening more widely her hidden sex for the rough pounding of his hand. Her lips and mound were being coated with the slippery gel, his hand slipped and slid in the excessive lubrication. As the gel warmed, his hand made sucking noises as he drove the liquid into her. His finger slid past the material of the crotch and buried itself effortlessly into her sex. She started to feel her heat rising, there was now a hot moistness that trickled out in response to his probing, it mingled with the gel as she pressed her hips forward to push his fingers deeper inside her. Ricky looked up into her face:

“How’s the dinner coming Tom?” he called casually.

Sara’s heart skipped a beat as she heard him call back from the kitchen. Ricky dug his finger in deeper warning her not to move.

“It’ll be a while yet. Don’t worry I’m getting on fine out here. Is Sara taking good care of you?”

“Oh yes, the perfect hostess.”

“Darling why don’t you take Ricky to the wine cupboard. He can choose a bottle to have with our dinner.”

All this while Ricky’s fingers plunged deeper into her sex, stroking the inside walls and sending ripples of delight racing through her. She felt her body responding, her breasts straining against her bra. Here she was dressed in her work clothes: so very proper, a strong defence against the outside world, a statement that she should be treated with respect; and yet she was impaling herself on this man’s hand like some sex-crazed beast.

“Go on.” Ricky encouraged. “Tell him you’ll take care of it.”

Ricky’s attentions did not abate as she collected herself and tried to respond to Tom as naturally as she could: “Ahh…. Ok darling, we’ll sort it out.”

She immediately wished she had not used the word darling. She felt so cheap, yet the thought evaporated as Ricky withdrew his hand and she felt the sudden pang of her anticlimax.

The wine cupboard was large enough to walk into and as soon as Ricky followed her in he pushed her against the far wall and kicked the door closed. The wind was pushed from Sara’s lungs as she hit the wall and instinctively she raised her arms against the wall and pressed her ass back towards her attacker. Her eyes closed as his hands gripped her waist. He pushed himself against her, his chin resting on her shoulder. She could hear his ragged breath as his hands fumbled with her skirt and his trousers. As he freed himself his hands went up and pressed her wrists against the wall. Both her hands were now trapped in his large grip, while with his other hand he steered himself into her. The force of his thrust pinned her against the wall and she was dimly aware of the coldness of the wall against her crotch exposed by her uplifted skirt. The cold contrasted with the heat in her cunt as he started to pound into her. Her hands held tight, her body trapped against the wall she could do no more than surrender to his onslaught. As he pummelled into her, her body rocked in rhythm to his. He whispered in her ear:

“You are mine, you fucking slut. I want you ready and willing any time. Don’t you dare tell your husband you don’t want me to come around, do you hear?”

She gasped feeling the rising wave of sensations building within her. His words, his urgent desire probing inside her, her husband innocently working in the other room and her lust and shame melted any resolve. Her mind overwhelmed by her desire. She could feel Ricky’s hot breath almost spitting the words at her:

“You better tell that husband of yours you don’t have any objections any longer to my coming over, because you and me both know how much you like this. Your husband downstairs preparing our meal, while I am up here fucking his wife!”

Sara could only moan as the battering of his pelvis against her buttocks forced her to open more to him. She found herself pushing into him, driving him deeper into her womb. The sudden hot gush of his discharge strikes the walls of her womb and her legs tremble as she milks him of his seed. She feels the cool wall against her forehead as she slowly climbs down from her peak. Ricky pulls away and draws her wet panties up, pulling them hard against her opening sealing in their joint cum pooling with the oily slickness in the material.

“We’ll leave that in there over dinner. You may notice some discomfort from that gel. It will keep you hot and open for me while we eat. I’ll be sitting opposite you as you squirm, but I’ll be out of bounds with your husband there sitting between us. That is to teach you that you are to be constantly ready for me, but I’ll decide the moment.”

It would be sometime before Sara would digest the words he had said, too busy with her own high and trying to recover herself to concentrate on what he was saying. Yet just as he had said, she found herself sitting opposite Ricky feeling the tremendous itch in her groin, wanting to feel his penis sliding into her. She was so wet, and as she ate and tried to keep up with the conversation, her mind played over and over again the scenes in the wine cupboard. How frustrated she felt that Tom was there. If only Ricky could fuck her right now. She wanted to lie across the table, spread her legs wide in front of Ricky, beg him to take her right in front of her husband. She could not shake these thoughts which assailed her, as her hand slipped under her skirt and squeezed her pussy so tight she could feel the juices leak out down her thighs and across the chair.

“Tom, that was delicious. Why don’t you put the kettle on for some coffee?” Sara beamed at her husband. She tried to look genuine, but inside was a pent coil waiting to spring. She had to get him out of the room.

“Okay. Won’t be a second.”

As soon as he disappeared through the door Sara jumped up and went across to Ricky. She grabbed his head and bent to kiss him, but he pulled back. She stared at him in surprise. “You may be horny, but I am the one that decides when anything happens. Do you get it now? Tomorrow I want you to make a copy of your front door key and post it to me. There are to be no more obstacles between me and your cunt.”

With that he reached out and dug his finger into her. She spread her legs and tried to slide onto him, but he pushed her back with his other hand.

“Tell me you understand.” He searched her eyes, but they were glazed over with desire. As he withdrew his hand she looked at him and at last started to focus. She nodded her consent and he pulled her to him. His hand up her skirt spread the mixture of juices over her thighs and around her buttocks. He was amazed at how wet she was and how much she smelt of sex.

“You’d better go and clean yourself up. We don’t want your husband getting any indication of how his wife whore’s herself to his boss, do we?” He again looked at her waiting for her to reply. She didn’t want to answer, she didn’t want to go—she just needed to be fucked by this man and the more he taunted her, the more she needed his cock buried inside her to still the voices of appalled admonition in her head. But Ricky was not going to do that and she started to realise that he would make her suffer all the more if she didn’t respond. She nodded dumbly again and then she was dismissed.

As they stood in the doorway, Ricky turned and thanked them once again for everything. He looked directly at Tom as he said: “It was a lovely evening. I have rarely enjoyed myself so much.”

Tom was about to reply when Sara piped up:

“You must come again soon. Perhaps next week, what do you say?”

Tom turned to his wife, a look of surprise and delight on his face. Ricky stared at Sara for a long moment before replying:

“Yes I’d like that. I’ll see you next week then.”

Tom put his arm around her shoulder and Sara smiled up at him. He squeezed her shoulders against his chest and kissed her head.

“I know that last night was not easy for you, Ricky coming to the house out of the blue and on top of a hard days work. I really appreciate you inviting him back again though. You see, Ricky may be ruthless in getting what he wants, but while we are in his favour it will really be to our advantage. He seems to like you, and it shows in the way he respects me and listens to my opinion at the office.”

Sara took his hand and kissed it tenderly. She couldn’t find words to express the whirlwind of emotions that were welling up inside her.

“You’d better get going. Don’t want to be late.”

He kissed her again and set off. Sara’s heart sank – was she betraying him or helping him? It was clearly both, but which one was incidental? As she too got herself ready to leave she heard the front door go. Marie had arrived and was whispering with Tom downstairs. As Sara came down Marie was walking into the sitting room. She radiated a smile at Sara:

“Good morning my little chickadee! Will you come home early today and give me a hand?”

Marie smiled warmly at Sara who had been stopped in the process of collecting her thoughts about what Marie needed to get done, and suddenly felt cautious, as if she were unexpectedly walking out on thin ice.

“Well I have an important project meeting this afternoon. I don’t think I can get away.”

Marie walked purposely over towards her, still smiling. She stood very close to Sara, invading her space. Sara could feel the presence of her body so close to her own, she could feel the swell of her breasts, aware of the sensitivity of her own, and she smelled the faint scent of Marie’s perfume. She was not aroused but intimidated.

“But you could make some excuse to get home a little early to help me can’t you? I’m sure you can find a way. After all we are good friends, friends who share secrets. And we are more than just friends aren’t we?”

She put her hand to the side of Sara’s face and leant into her. Marie’s lips brushed over Sara’s, she kissed and nibbled at them as Sara found her mouth opening involuntarily in response. Marie started to invade her mouth and the warmth of her body so close to Sara’s reinforced the message that she was being crushed, that she must comply. Marie kissed her for some long minutes and Sara felt her heart beat quicken. She felt herself being swallowed up, consumed by this friend, subservient to her. As she pulled away, Sara looked away. She could not look directly into the maid’s eyes, she had suddenly been forcibly stripped of all authority.

“I’ll see what I can do then.”

“That’s it. We’ll look out for each other.”

Sara was about to make a move for the door when Marie stopped her.

“Here, I’ve smudged your make-up. Let me put it right. She quickly pulled out a small pack of powder and started to dust Sara’s face. She took out a lipstick and with great attention to detail focused herself entirely once more upon Sara’s lips. “So irresistible” she breathed. She pulled back and admired her handiwork. Sara moved over to the hall mirror to check. She saw her face paler than she usually made it, like porcelain. Yet her lips redder than the colour she usually wore, standing proud and inviting – too inviting. She pulled out a tissue instinctively, but Marie stayed her hand.

“You look fine, now run along.”

Sara turned to her, full of doubt and indecision, before picking up her bag and scurrying out of the door. Once she was gone Marie laughed out loud and started to sing to herself as she went in to make herself comfortable. The slut could sort out the house when she got home.

Sara sat at the desk in her office and stared at the key in her hand. She turned it over and over as if hypnotised by it, unable to draw her attention away from it. She had rushed out and got the copy made, but now she sat there at her desk with the envelope before her. It was already addressed to Ricky and she was now at the point, the very moment she had kept herself from thinking about. Now she could duck it no longer. If she were to put this key into the envelope and seal it, then she would have given Ricky everything. She stared at the key and thought how phallic it looked. She ran her finger slowly down the rough undulations of the freshly cut side and imagined it as his penis. Every bump sending a shiver through her as it slid inside her, forcing her lips to part and re-close over them one after the other. She thought that this key was the key that would unlock her cunt, her own opening was the keyhole and it was tightly closed behind a locked door. That was their castle, their home. The front door there to be slammed shut, to push back the outside world. It allowed her and Tom to be alone. But if she sent this key, then she would have undone everything. She would be at Ricky’s mercy. He would have the key to unlock the door, to unlock her cunt and as he had said she knew he would come and make use of it whenever he would want. There would be no more hiding, no more escape. Her inner sanctum would have been violated. She could not do this.

As she placed the key down on her desk she started to remember last night. She had had a little victory over Ricky instigating that next invite, seizing the initiative. But it had also meant that she was offering herself to him at the same time. Her very victory had also been her defeat. Why had she offered herself to him so willingly? Why did it excite her so much that Tom didn’t know, yet was so close by when she descended into lust? Ricky was right, she was a whore and had even prostituted herself out on the street. Yet she could not deny that she had felt so excited by his attention. The fact that he dared to take her in the very next room to her husband, that he could not give her up when she had rebelled to Tom. He had forced his way back into her life and had made her so desperate to fuck him that it took all her self-

control not to beg to be fucked over the dinner table in front of Tom. She remembered how much cleaning up of herself she had had to do and wondering how Tom could not notice the strong odour of sex as she cleaned the seat cover in the dining room. Yet she had been excited as she cleaned it. She had leaned over and licked up some of Ricky’s cum which had seeped from her. It had tasted a mixture of sweet and salty, but as with all forbidden fruits, it had tasted better than anything she could have legitimately asked for. Sara realised that she needed this sex, she needed this clandestine wanton out-of-control fucking, and the more out of control it was the more it excited her.

Her hand started to shake is she picked up the key again. It glinted in the desk light, as if winking acknowledgement to her that it too understood what it was she was about to do. She had never felt so excited as she dropped the key into the envelope and although she struggled to seal the envelope with her hands shaking so much, she felt electrified by the thrill. She rushed to the post room before she could stop to think, and then had to rush to the loo. She would not be able to concentrate on anything until she had found some relief.

“The thing is, when I opened the door and saw him standing there I didn’t feel angry with him. I just stared at him asking myself why shouldn’t I be angry. I had expressly forbidden him to be invited round, and he had invited himself! Yet I could only feel pleased and excited like some stupid teenager. I was angry with myself rather than with him. I just can’t seem to resist him. I love the liberties he takes with me. I love the excitement of screwing around right behind Tom’s back. I feel as guilty as sin, but it such an aphrodisiac that I am immediately excited and ready for him. I let him get away with way too much, and the more he demands from me the more excited I become! What is happening to me?”

Carol stared across at her friend and she reached out to pat her hand. “Its just an infatuation. It doesn’t mean anything. You don’t have to leave Tom. He doesn’t need to know anything. It will pass, you’ll see. You will get up one day and know that it is over and you won’t want to see Ricky ever again, then you can make it up to Tom. Meanwhile, just let it flow. It really seems to have livened you up Sara. You are quite radiant today.”

Sara stared at her friend and felt some relief. The idea that she was not permanently damaged, that she may not have to pay for her sins was a huge weight from her shoulders. She didn’t know why she had become so infatuated with Ricky, but each time she played through the events of last night she could only feel the thrill that ran through her. She shivered with pure delight. She was totally happy for one brief moment. She didn’t need to understand it, she just knew that right now this was what she needed.

“You know, I’ve been wondering about that time you were out on the street that night. I was really worried about you and thought the worst. You haven’t done anything like that again have you?”

Sobering up from her private euphoria, Sara shook her head and looked down at the table. She had pushed this memory right out of her mind, and Carol’s reminder was unwelcome.

“I was just wondering whether that was a guilt reaction. Perhaps you felt so worthless after that first time with Ricky that you thought you were not worthy of anything more than to be out on the street. I think you were punishing yourself.”

Sara just stared at the table taking in what she was saying, but feeling really uncomfortable about the way the discussion was going.

“Don’t you see.” Carol took her arm and leant forward. “If you can just accept that this is some wild fling, some really intense affair that will burn bright and then fade, then you don’t have to feel so guilty any more. You just have to accept this thing that has overtaken you temporarily. Who knows why you started to feel this way for Ricky, but hey this is the 21st century. Everyone today seems to have affairs. It’s nothing to feel so bad about. As long as Tom never knows then you’ll be able to pick up the pieces once the whirlwind has passed. You don’t need to punish yourself that way, and that will stop giving me such scares!”

Sara embraced her friend for her comforting words. As they hugged she seemed to feel a little bit stronger. Yet she knew that she had not yet told Carol anything about Marie and her brother. She wondered whether she should but somehow she couldn’t admit to too much. Not all in one go. She needed Carol’s support, and she didn’t want to push that support too far. As she pulled away she said:

“I don’t know why, but I keep thinking there is something about hypnosis when I try and think back to how I started to get into this mess. I just don’t know why that thought should hang in my mind, just out of reach, but somehow I have this vague uneasy feeling deep down inside of me.”

Sara had worked hard around the house since she had got back from work. Once again she was dressed in the maid’s uniform as Marie wore Sara’s clothes. She had to make a stand about that. She was angry with Marie who was clearly exploiting her. Yet she also knew about the videotape she had made of her with Juan and the other secrets that she kept. Sara was angry with herself for stupidly allowing the opportunity of her discovery. Yet she could think of no way out of her predicament. Sara heard Marie call her from upstairs and she dropped what she was doing and went to see what she wanted.

Marie sat her on the end of the bed and leant over her. She started to kiss her, the soft lips pressing lightly against her skin as Sara turned her face towards them. She felt a warm tingle run through her and her anger started to melt into guilt. Maybe Marie was not exploiting her, but did love her. Marie caressed her hair as she continued to kiss and inflame her mistress. Her hands started to unbutton the front of Sara’s uniform. Sara felt her hands a bit useless and with her eyes held shut in acceptance, she reached out to remove Marie’s clothing, but Marie pushed her hand away. It hung limply on Marie’s arm as Sara moved her head back slightly so that Marie’s kisses could reach down to her neck. As the buttons popped open Sara felt herself becoming more acceptant of Marie’s advances. She felt excited and exhilarated by the attention. Sitting there on the bed like some rag doll that only just had enough strength to keep herself upright. Marie was pushing the uniform over her shoulders now and pressed forward to bury her face in the crook of Sara’s neck. The uniform folded around her elbows and was trapped, but before Sara could try and free her hand to slide it the rest of the way off, Marie’s hand had moved to her breast. Sara stopped again, frozen in mid-motion, trapped by the captivation of Marie’s advance. Soon the straps of her bra slid uselessly down the top of her arms and her breasts were exposed to Marie’s lips. Sara’s breath was becoming more ragged. She felt herself the object of someone’s desire, and she was unable or unwilling to move, just accept. As Marie sucked on her nipples they became erect, little daggers of lust trapped in the open. She felt them cool and contract into hard points as Marie’s lips moved away. Now Marie was invading her mouth, her tongue pushed its way inside, meeting no resistance. Sara welcomed the intruder, the hot moist invader that pushed her own tongue around inside her own mouth. The sensations were by now so over-powering for Sara that she had almost no conscious realisation of her skirt being yanked upwards around her waist. Marie was leaning right over Sara who was lying back at a steep angle, just managing to prop herself up and not fall away from the welcome intruder in her mouth by pushing out an elbow onto the bed behind her. Marie’s hand reached down to her crotch, rubbing and inflaming her passion further. She felt the nudge over her clitoris, back and forth, back and forth again. She felt the press of Marie’s breasts as they rose and fell with each heartbeat. Marie pulled away and smiled down at Sara. With her hand she took hold of her chin and turned her face away towards the mirror on the wall opposite.

“Just look at you,” she said. Sara stared a while before she could focus her eyes again. It was as if she had lost the power of sight, as if her efforts had been so absorbed by her desire that she was having difficulty to remember how to see again. As the vision slowly focused she saw a very elegant woman, dressed in fine clothes, standing over a harlot. A cheap servant who was falling out of her uniform that lay bunched up behind her, framing her breasts that stood wantonly on display, the nipples very red and very erect. She saw the whores legs spread apart, the skirt pulled up, the clear and visible panties pulled tight over her very obvious mound thrust outwards by her posture; the lace in the material emphasising the allure and drawing attention to her groin. Her silky thighs now exposed among the folds of material stretched tight between them, yet forced up out of any role to hide her inner self. The soft flesh disappearing into the white fabric of her panties, and the large gusset pulled tight between them, a damp patch very visible in the middle. She felt cheap, a whore, who had laid bare her inner self, her wanton desires in the drawing room of some fashionable lady, exposed to her society friends. She was no longer worthy of such a society. She wanted to run downstairs. She wanted to hide.

“You see. This is how you and I really are. You can see for yourself how I am mistress around here, and you are the sex-craving whore of a servant that I have taken pity on. That is why you come home and clean when I tell you with no excuses. What you say at work is up to you, but I expect you here. If not, then I will expose this little slut you see in the mirror to her husband and her colleagues at work. If you don’t make me feel you are worthy to be my servant, if you insist that you should be treated only as a common whore then that is what you will become. I will tell Juan to come and take care of you. Just remember that. Remember how much you owe me.”

Sara stared at the vision before her, accepting however reluctantly the truth behind the words Marie spoke. She felt lost, spiralling out of control. How far she had come from being that elegant lady dressed in the fashionable skirt that now towered over her. She was unworthy, and she felt the revulsion of what she had become, she felt too the anxiety of disappointing Marie.