Poor Steve—Part 3
Heather, Steve’s lovely wife, had gone and left Trish alone. Heather went to find another phone, but had forgotten that the drugs were wearing off. Already, Trish could feel sensation returning to her legs. She couldn’t quite stand up yet, but would be recovered soon. It was like that Clash song, she thought, Should I stay or should I go?
On one hand, this was the worst kind of hostile situation. Heather had released a spider mite into Trish’s ear carrying a MEMS mind control chip. The mite was burrowing into Trish’s brain even now, securing the chip wherever in her head it needed to be so that Heather could control her.
On the other hand, Heather was horny to see Steve fuck Trish and was calling him home for that purpose. The sound and light bursts that Trish’s sound & light machine had subjected Heather to were working better than Trish ever could have hoped. It was a real possibility that she and Steve would live happily ever after. As for Steve being married, Trish didn’t feel guilty about that anymore. Heather was a bitch, and had wooed Steve with mind control, same as everybody else.
Should I stay or should I go? Trish considered the MEMS implant, whatever MEMS stood for... It must work from some kind of transmitter. She wondered how she might jam the signal, or even if she could discover the signal to usurp control over Steve. Trish was of the mind that there was always a way. What was the saying? The possible we can accomplish immediately; the impossible takes a bit longer. Something like that.
But she needed time, and parts. Trish wasn’t MacGuyver. Coffee filters and Tupperware weren’t going to cut it. She tried to stand, got her ass about three inches off the chair, then plopped back down. Nope, not yet.
In the other room, Heather was on the phone arguing with Amy, “Put Steve on the phone.”
“I told you, he’s in session.”
Heather was getting frustrated. “I can hear him talking in the background. I know he’s right there. Damn you, put him on the phone now!”
“Listen,” Amy said, “I’ve got a client. I’ve got to go. But I’ll tell Steve you called.”
“Steve!” Heather screamed, so Steve might hear, “I’m on the phone. This fucking cunt is keeping me from talking to you—”
Amy hung up on her.
Why would she keep Steve from talking to me? Heather wondered. Of course, she must want Steve all for herself.
The thought made Heather horny as hell.
Back at the massage parlor, Alexis was giving a woman a massage. It was one of her regulars. The woman was talking about how her husband couldn’t get enough of sucking her breasts. “I feel so close to him when he’s doing it,” the woman said.
“That’s because it’s stimulating oxytocin,” Alexis said, kneading her back.
“Oxytocin?”
“It’s the hormone that makes a mother and baby bond during breastfeeding. Him stimulating your nipples releases it in you.”
“But it’s in my breast milk? So he’s getting it too?” This amused the woman.
Alexis stopped massaging. “You’re breast feeding?”
“Uh-huh,” the woman said. “Why’d you stop?”
“I need some of your breast milk,” Alexis said. “I have this project I’ve been working on. I’m curious if oxytocin can be used for couples therapy. To bond couples...”
“I don’t know,” the woman said.
“I know it’s a strange request,” Alexis said, “but I’ll give you a coupon book for ten free hour long massages. I need as much milk as your big breasts can provide.”
Massages are expensive. This was a $600 value.
“Sure,” the woman said. Alexis smiled.
“Next day’s supposed to mean next day,” Amy screamed into the phone. “I needed that digital camera today. What? No, Wednesday is not fine for me. Fuck you! Cancel my order. I’ll buy one locally.” Amy hung up.
Julie was back with her new boots. Amy saw Julie was standing there, and smiled at her. “It’s to send perverted pictures of myself to men on the Internet.”
“Sure,” Julie said. What did she care? Julie went to find Cindy in the back office.
Cindy was being fucked doggie style by Steve.
“Shoo, Steve,” Julie said. “You have a session up front.” Amazingly, no matter how many times they lied to each other about this, it always worked. Steve pulled out, leaving Cindy looking like a girl drowning. She tried to follow him.
“Cindy,” Julie called after her, “like my new boots?”
Cindy stopped in her tracks. She looked at the boots and couldn’t stop staring.
Boots. Cindy could hear the voice in her head. Cindy has a fetish for cowboy boots. She’ll fuck anyone wearing them.
Julie smiled, “Can I lick out your sloppy pussy now?”
“I hate you,” Cindy said, but climbed onto the table.
“Not like that,” Julie said. “I want you over my face, so it all leaks out.”
“But I need it!”
“You’ll get more,” Julie said. “You’re a good girl.”
“But...”
“Sit on my face, Cindy, or I’ll take my sexy boots elsewhere.”
“You’re so mean,” Cindy whined, but did as she was told. Julie positioned herself beneath her.
“You’re too high,” Julie said. “Get on all fours, and spread your legs more. You can rest your head on my thigh.”
Cindy did, and Julie buried her face in Cindy’s sloppy pussy. It was so sloppy. The cum flavor made Julie’s mouth tingle, as it leaked out onto her face. It tasted wonderful. I’m more like Steve by the minute, Julie thought.
Meanwhile, Cindy’s self-esteem was leaking from her too. Julie’s tongue felt kind of nice, but Cindy was becoming more and more self-hating with every lick. She could feel it inside her, and knew Julie knew it. Julie was stealing her self-esteem on purpose, putting Cindy back in her place, punishing her for pretending to be better than she was. Cindy was a stupid loser twerp. Everybody knew it. Cindy knew it. Who but a twit like Cindy would willingly let someone lick out her self-esteem? But Cindy couldn’t pull her crotch away from Julie’s probing tongue. Cindy’s eyes fixed on Julie’s boots. Shiny, white latex boots like a stripper would wear, but with buckles and tassels to give them that cowboy look. Her eyes, Cindy couldn’t avert them... She had to get away, this was destroying her, but Cindy couldn’t get away. She was getting ever weaker. The longer she hesitated, the more Cindy lost herself to Julie, lost the only thing that made her special. She needed so badly to stop this now, but was already too unsure of herself. What right did she have to ask Julie to stop? What would Julie think of her? What would she tell the others? Cindy wanted to cry, so did, but Julie didn’t care. Julie just kept sucking it out, eating the cum Cindy earned, gobbling up her soul. Julie was in ecstasy, and Cindy wished their roles were reversed, that she was cleaning Julie’s pussy.
But Cindy was straight!
No, Cindy was a pathetic little whiner. What right did she have to say what she was? Cindy had no right to say anything, to decide anything for herself. She would be whatever anybody told her she was, do whatever they said for her to do. Cindy desperately desired acceptance. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs to the dogs! What was food, water or oxygen compared to Cindy’s need for acceptance?
She needed men’s cum, but couldn’t seek it out, couldn’t pull herself away from Julie’s face. Cindy was dying up here, losing her identity, withering. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her only life preserver was that which was destroying her: Julie’s sucking and licking. Cindy focused on it, and began to reinterpret her emotions. She was developing an association, associating her self-hatred with pleasure. As these feelings became increasingly intense, Cindy felt herself slipping closer and closer toward an orgasm. She was the biggest fucking loser. She deserved every bad thing that could ever happen to her. She wasn’t worthy to lick the shit from someone’s ass, to roll around naked in a dumpster, to be fucked by animals... Cindy thought about killing herself, but knew she was too chickenshit. She wasn’t even strong enough for suicide. Cindy didn’t have a single worthy quality. She needed cum so badly, and Julie was taking the little bit she had. But of course, Julie deserved it more. Julie was infinitely more worthy that she was, than Cindy would ever be. Cindy was crap, crap, crap, and she was cumming. Crap echoed in her head as Cindy’s pussy throbbed in pleasure. Cindy gushed—all over Julie’s face, flushing the last of the cum from her, tensing, arching her back, moaning, then finally collapsing, broken, her face pressed flat onto Julie’s thigh.
“Get up,” Julie said. “I’m not done with you.”
Cindy got up, and Julie saw she’d been crying. “Aw, poor baby,” she said, and meant it. Julie had excellent maternal instincts. She gave Cindy a hug, and Cindy hugged on tight to her.
“I bought a strap-on,” Julie said, caressing Cindy’s blond hair. “Can I fuck you with it?”
Cindy nodded, completely submissive, broken and docile.
“Okay, baby,” Julie said. “It’s okay. Lie down. I’ll put it on and fill that nasty emptiness inside you.”
“But I need cum,” Cindy whispered, and immediately felt stupid for questioning her.
“I know,” Julie said, “so I bought one that cums. It’s a lubricant that squirts out, but it’ll work for our purposes.”
“Okay,” Cindy agreed, not quite sure how she felt about that, but lying down on the table anyway.
The strap-on was big. Aren’t they always? And despite Cindy’s sudden bout of nymphomania, her twat was tight. Julie had to work the “dick” in slowly, changing angles often. It stretched poor Cindy out. Her pussy had never been so full.
“Please cum inside me,” Cindy pleaded. She held onto Julie, wrapped her legs around her, like she was afraid Julie would pull out suddenly. Julie liked being held onto. She teased Cindy like she might pull out, encouraging Cindy to cling even tighter.
Julie kissed her, so Cindy could taste herself, and when Cindy detected the faint taste of semen, she kissed back hungrily. Their tongues dug around in each other’s mouths, fighting for every last bit of sperm.
Amy opened the door without knocking, “Cindy, there you are. Alexis and Steve are sick of Rod Stewart, so we put in the other CD. I wanted to know how you like it so far.”
Couldn’t Amy see what they were doing? Julie wanted her out, but Amy closed the door behind her instead.
Cindy was glad to see Amy. Amy was like another part of herself that she’d been missing. And although Cindy hated herself, she felt really good about Amy. She never wanted to be apart from her. Amy was what she needed, had what she needed.
“Steve just fucked me,” Amy said. “He came twice. Would you like to lick it out?”
“Yes,” Cindy and Julie both said.
“Sorry,” Amy told Julie, “my pussy’s all Cindy’s.”
Julie frowned. So Amy had figured out how to make Cindy bisexual too... Julie hadn’t thought Amy swung that way, but hadn’t swung that way herself until recently. Julie supposed there was enough Cindy to go around. She pulled that huge strap-on out of her, letting Cindy flip onto her stomach, her little ass bent over the table.
Amy, climbing onto the table, positioning herself with her pussy close to Cindy’s face. Julie could smell spent sex radiating from it. That intoxicating cum scent... Cindy didn’t need encouragement. She was starving for it. The blond buried her little face in Amy’s pussy, putting her nose to the grindstone. Amy had never been eaten out by a girl before, but was pleased with the servicing. Amy told Cindy so, how good she looked down there, just the back of her head. Cindy gave no sign that she heard. She was focused on her current project. Cindy did seem to enjoy being fucked by Julie though, that huge rubber club forcing her pussy full with every thrust. It was as if she’d convinced herself it was a real dick. Cindy wiggled her hips onto Julie’s slow, deep thrusts, impressing Amy and Julie with her performance. Who’d have thought it? Cindy was a firecracker!
When Julie “came,” Cindy loved it. She groaned into Amy’s pussy, and never stopped licking.
“Steve,” Alexis smiled. “I’d like to try again with that tea party.”
“I can’t do that again,” Steve said. “You remember what happened yesterday.”
“Well, we’re going to drink something different today. It’ll be fun.”
Steve sighed, “What is it?”
“It’s creamy. Like coconut milk, but without the coconut flavor. Here, try some.” She poured Steve a glass. He sipped it cautiously. “Well?”
“It’s good, familiar somehow. I wonder if I’ve tried this before.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Alexis laughed, snuggling up to him. “Drink up.”
Steve drank. Like yesterday, Alexis kept encouraging him until Steve gulped down the entire gallon.
“You sure were thirsty,” Alexis giggled, leaning close to him to lick off his milk mustache.
“I wasn’t,” he said. “You just kept pouring that stuff in my mouth and I didn’t want it spilling on my shirt. Gosh, now I feel so tired...”
It was happening. Alexis made Steve sit down and pulled his head to her chest. He didn’t try to resist her. Actually, he cuddled. Alexis was thrilled this was working.
But then, a woman entered the massage parlor. It was the blonde who had given them the idea for mind controlling Steve. She had told them how by wearing the same perfume as his wife they could make him associate them with his wife.
“Am I late for our session?” she asked Steve. Alexis could smell they wore the same perfume. “And how did we like our latest CD?” The blonde said “our” instead of “my,” your” or “the.” It was subtle, but Alexis noticed. The blonde was trying to make Steve think of them as together. This girl was good...
“Loved it,” Steve said, but muffled-like because Alexis was still crushing his head against her fake breasts.
“Steve’s sick,” Alexis told the blonde. “He’s got to cancel your session for today.”
“I’m not sick,” Steve said.
“He’s not sick,” the blonde laughed, yanking Steve out of Alexis’s arms and leading him toward the back rooms. Alexis watched them go.
In the room, the blonde took off all her clothes. Normally, clients wrap themselves in a towel after undressing. The blonde ignored the stack of towels. She laid down on the table. “Tell us what we thought of our CD, Stevie,” she said.
“I listened to it to and from work...” Steve thought of the CD. It brought out a change in him, put Steve’s mind elsewhere, “I can’t stop thinking about your ass. Can I lick it?”
This was the gist of the subliminal messages on the CD she’d given him. The blonde laughed, “You want to lick my ass?”
“Yes...”
“But you know if you start, you’ll never be able to stop. Are you sure it’s okay?”
“I don’t know...”
“But you want to, don’t you? Your dying to lick my ass. Like you said, it’s been all you could think about.”
“I want to lick your ass,” Steve said, massaging it.
“But you’ll become my little, ass-slave,” the blonde warned. “You’ll want to follow me around everywhere, do my bidding... It’s such a bad temptation, Steve. If you lick my ass, even just once, it’ll take over your life. You mustn’t do it.”
“I know.” Steve looked tormented. He massaged her ass more vigorously, spreading her cheeks apart, dying to taste her little, pink asshole.
“But you want to lick it so bad, Steve. Go ahead. Lick it. Just once. Lick it.”
Steve went to town on her ass, slurping up and down her crack, around her asshole, in her asshole, celebrating life with his tongue in her ass.
The oxytocin from the breast milk was working on him too, bonding Steve to the blonde’s sexy ass.
Just then, the fire alarm went off. Alexis did it, but they had no way of knowing that. Everyone hurried outside, dressed or undressed. Julie was wearing that huge strap-on, but was otherwise naked. Cindy, Amy and the blonde were naked too, and in various stages of stickiness.
It was the best advertising the massage parlor ever had. Cars driving by pulled into the parking lot like a swarm of red ants. Alexis admitted to having pulled the alarm, and after some name-calling, they returned inside for business.
For a little while, things seemed to return to normal at the massage parlor. Everyone was in session, not necessarily giving massages, but out of each other’s way. The blonde and Steve were in one room, Steve becoming more her ass slave by the second. Alexis was sucking cock in another, reinfocing her addiction one blowjob at a time. In another, Cindy was collecting cum like a good girl, trying to replenish her self-esteem, filling her stomach and womb with it, fucking insatiable. As for Julie and Amy, they were just giving massages, though Amy kept thinking about her lunch break.
She was going to buy a digital camera.
Amy didn’t have the money for it, not really. She intended to put it on her credit card, and knew how bad it was to use credit cards, how it made people slaves to their interest rates, buried them in debt... But she needed that camera. There were men on the Internet who needed to see her tied up, being fucking with cucumbers, eating out Cindy, sucking Steve’s big cock, with fingers up her ass, maybe even toes. They depended on her. Everyone was depending on her. Men needing reassurance that there were girls out there who would cater to their twisted little fantasies, that loved being degraded, treated as sex objects, horny sluts they could jerk off to, and cum all over their keyboards, then e-mail and set up rendevous with. Amy was just that kind of girl. As of yesterday.
She thought about the pictures she would post. Cum all over her face. Oozing out her ass and pussy. The word SLUT written in red lipstick across her spread ass cheeks. And in every picture, Amy looking like she loved it. Loved being used. Smiling, with cum all over her face. Making eye contact with the camera with Cindy’s fist shoved deep inside her pussy. But she wanted dirtier. These pictures of herself couldn’t be dirty enough! Amy tried to think of the nastiest things she could. Those were the pictures of herself she wanted all over the Internet, that she wanted people to see...
Elsewhere, Natalie’s face was buried in pillows as Paul assaulted her hungry pussy from behind. Her pussy could never get enough of his dick. She knew that now. It would be this constant anxiety in the back of her mind, like wondering if she left the oven on. Her pussy needed constant filling by Paul’s skinny dick. Oh, how her plan had backfired... Natalie’s attempts to hypnotize Paul into transplanting his genitialia onto Julie had only made him angry. She had been so stupid, even with that subliminal CD playing in the background, and now was paying for it. Getting fucked by Paul’s raging hard-on. It wasn’t so bad, but what it meant... that she’d do anything for more, that Natalie was a slave to Paul’s dick... and it wasn’t even that great as far as dicks went. Good enough to sew onto Julie, maybe, but too skinny. Natalie had fucked Paul once, early on in their friendship. It was when he was teaching her hypnosis. They’d played that whole hypnoslave fantasy—taken advantage of her trance to plant the suggestion for her to fuck him immediately. His dick hadn’t impressed her then, and it didn’t impress her now. That’s why they were just-friends now. Paul’s dick was a scrawny thing that felt like being fucked with a pencil compared to Steve’s perfect full-fitting dick, hugging tight within her pussy. Natalie wished Paul’s dick felt as good as Steve’s, yet this was the one she was addicted to, that she couldn’t get enough of...
Sigh...
Natalie did her best to make Paul like it, so he’d give it to her again. She moaned. She tightened her muscles. She told him how big he has, how amazing he felt. Paul felt like a ten year old boy. It killed Natalie that she was addicted to this, that this skinny dick was what she’d go to the ends of the Earth to have slid inside her. She thought of Julie. It had probably been easy for Julie to take Paul in her ass, as far as anal sex went. Julie was Paul’s now, all except for her pussy... But Julie didn’t know it yet. Natalie wondered if she could protect her girlfriend, warn Julie away before Paul got his dirty little hands on her. But his dick... her pussy needed his dick soooo badly. She was afraid to piss him off, afraid he’d withhold his dick from her, even if it wasn’t all that filling. Natalie wouldn’t warn Julie. She couldn’t risk losing this. Paul’s dick inside her pussy. Natalie felt horrible. She wanted to protect Julie, but ensuring a steady supply of Paul’s dick in her pussy was her main priority. Natalie grimaced as Paul leaked his warm cum into her wet cunt, knowing it meant he’d pull out of her soon, not wanting him too, ever.
It killed her to want this.
Before this sudden couple of days, Natalie had been a pretty together person. She’d worked hard to get ahead in her career, representing Hollywood’s finest talent. Well, next year’s rising stars... But she was making it for herself, and this was cool because Natalie hadn’t always been sure she would. She was earning her career in California’s most competitive industry. Well, she didn’t have a boyfriend, but she sure was interesting at cocktail parties...
Natalie had met Paul through a casting friend of hers. The girl thought she might fix them up, but Paul was too scrawny for Natalie. She liked her men built like railroad cars. Fucking monsters.... Like Steve.
Steve was big in the way women liked, not like a body builder, though of course that’s what he was, but in a way that made him look natural. Steve looked easy, the kind of guy you might meet at a barbecue on the beach...
It made Natalie cream just to think of him. Steve was just that gorgeous....
But Paul? Why the hell was she fucking Paul? Because he had a soft voice? What was a soft voice combined with a skinny dick? Compared to Steve’s wider, longer massive beautiful glistening member pushing inside her... It was Steve’s Natalie had to picture so she could get off, and this was plain fucked up. She wanted to get turned on by the guy she was with, instead of just.... needing it. Pushing up inside her. Paul fucking her with her his skinny dog dick pushing red inside her.... Natalie imagined Steve. Tried to imagine it was Steve. Steve, with a smile a girl would never have to clean up after... Steve, who could rub a mean back after a hard workout at the gym... Steve, who knew how to pamper her... Natalie felt Paul push into her again, getting ready to squirt his nasty Paul-cum into her... And she took it... needing it inside her... trying to satisfy this craving she would never satisfy... like a little girl trying to sip water from a dying water fountain. Paul came inside her, filling her with the consequence on his actions, cumming inside her, like shaking off that last few drops of pee, spilling it into her pussy... It felt hot, diseased, and Natalie... needed it.
Heather was a crazy woman. The last time Trish saw her, Heather was naked, except tangled in her sheets. A phone cord wrapped tight around her left arm. Her hair was a mess. “You,” Heather screamed, “I hate you!” Then wandered back into her bedroom.
Trish leaned forward in the kitchen. She was beginning to regain feeling in her legs. She was a work in progress. Trish stumbled to her feet. Where to go from here?
Okay, to assess the situation—she had an insect burrowing into her brain that would shortly make her a slave to a secret shadow government. Or Heather was full of shit. Frankly, the odds were more toward Heather being full of shit, but Trish considered the other. Heather had gotten some nasty powerful drugs, but Alexis could probably have scored the same shit. There was that vial, but Trish had never clearly seen anything come out. Could it be a hoax? If so, it was pretty fucking twisted.
Trish, holding herself standing, taking a few experimental steps... Her options: stay in the house or run like hell. Trish knew she still wasn’t enough together to match Heather in a physical confrontation, but didn’t think it would come to that.
Not exactly. If anything, Trish thought, Heather would want to keep her there. Heather wanted Trish to fuck Steve. Hehe.
Appealing though that was, Trish needed her free will. This wasn’t being hypocritical either. Well, not so far as Steve was concerned. Trish had never impeded Steve’s free will. How could she, when she knew how important it was to him? Trish and Steve had had many talks about free will, and what it meant, back when Steve had any, back when he studied philosophy, before he was Amy, Cindy and Alexis’s wound-up sex puppet, back when Steve was smart, when he remembered he could fucking read.... Jesus, what had they done to him? What were they doing to themselves?
Excruciatingly pleasurable as being a kept, caged animal might be, Trish had her free will, enough anyway to know she needed to get her ass OUT.
But what if Heather was telling the truth. This might be Trish’s only chance to stop things before they got out of hand. Well, for her.. If Heather had some sort of transmitter, could Trish get it?
Maybe Trish should kill Heather.
Maybe she should.
She had to know if Heather was telling the truth, and whether, if she killed Heather, someone else would find her leash, the walkie-talkie transmitter device that would make her and Steve their slaves.
Trish looked for a weapon. It was the kitchen, so she grabbed a knife. Trish crept slowly down the hall, Heather’s moans coming from the bedroom.
Heather saw Trish when she came in, saw the knife. Her eyes widened. “You remembered me,” she laughed. “You remembered me on your way to steal my husband, so you could fuck him. Oh, god, and he would fuck you. Pumping his dick feverishly into your Steve-soaked pussy—fucking like animals—oh, gaaaaaaaawwwd!”
Heather was a mess. She couldn’t stop fingering herself. She liked Trish finding her like that too, humiliating herself in front of her. It fed into Heather’s new Steve-leaving-me-for-a-better-girl fetish. The fetish Trish had given her. Had Trish actually once thought she could give Steve’s wife so many availabilities for self-reinforcement, and that the woman would be able to continue functioning as a respectable member of the community? Well, that’s why she hadn’t started out experimenting on Steve...
“The transmitters,” Trish said, brandishing the knife. “Where are they?”
“You don’t need to threaten me,” Heather hissed, meaning the knife. “You’ve won. You know you’ve won. Look in the top drawyer of my dresser. You’ll find the transmitter there. It’s the same one for you and Steve. The signal automatically locks on whichever one of you is closest. So you and Steve can’t use it on each other. But if you bring Steve back here, I’ll use it on him for you. I’ll tell Steve anything you want. I just want to watch, okay? That’s not too much to ask, is it? I just want to watch him fuck you...” Then she was off again, fingering away.
Trish opened the top drawer of Heather’s dresser. Sure enough, there was something here. It looked like a cell phone, but with no buttons for numbers, just for on and off. Trish consider that Heather might be lying. There was no way to test it here to find out. Not without becoming Heather’s slave. Trish put the device in her pocket and left the condo.
In the car, Trish considered going to the police, then decided against it. She was as guilty as anyone else. She thought of Heather upstairs in the condo.
She had to make things right. With this goal, Trish started her car and set off to the massage parlor...
Amy had another session in about fifteen minutes, but couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted her digutal camera now.
Everyone wanted to come.
Amy supposed the CD was affecting them, hearing over and over how good it was to be soulmates with her and Cindy. Amy had thought it might affect them this way, but wanted Steve to hear it in first person, like he was thinking it. So she was giving the other girls a yearning they would never satisfy? So what?
Amy cared only about herself, and Cindy and Steve. She loved Cindy and Steve.
So she brought Steve along with her to the store. She’d have let Cindy come too. Amy would have loved Cindy to have come too, but Cindy was in session. All the men wanted sessions with Cindy.
Alexis and Trish looked crestfallen when Amy and Steve left them there. Cindy didn’t even know they left.
At the store, Amy told the salesman she wanted to buy a digital camera.
“Which one?” he asked.
“What’s the difference?”
“Quality. You get what you pay for. The more expensive the camera, the better quality the pictures. You do want great quality pictures, don’t you?”
Amy did want the dirty pictures of her on the Internet to be the best quality possible. “How much is the best one?” she asked.
The salesman smiled. They looked like a couple with money to burn. The good looking ones were always rich, and Steve and Amy were the best looking couple he’d even seen.
“I’ve got one here for $1499. It’s the best.”
Amy frowned. Her credit limit was only $1000, but she really wanted the best. If she was going to stuff foreign objects in her pussy for men to jerk off to on the Internet, she wanted to be seen in perfect detail.
And then Amy thought of Steve. She would convince Steve to buy it for her.
See, Amy believed all that stuff she told Cindy about girls being investments to men, about how spending money on them made a guy like a girl more, made him think of her more seriously.
“Steve,” Amy purred, “buy it for me.”
“What? It’s $1500!”
So he was going to make it difficult... Amy had to have that camera!
Amy threw her arms around him, brushing her body up against his, bringing her mouth close, so his breathing was all hot with her breath, but not close enough for him to kiss her. “Steve,” she said, “if you buy it for me, I’ll let you be my boyfriend. I know you were thinking it yesterday at lunch, how good it would be, if I were your girlfriend. We’re soulmates, Steve. It’s beyond your control.”
“Your control,” he whispered.
He was getting hard against her stomach. Amy let him know she noticed, and laughed. “Am I turning you on Steve? Is there something you need?” Amy paused while Steve imagined it. “It’ll be so much fun if you’re my boyfriend, Steve. I’ll be your best girlfriend ever. She sucked on his top lip, just enough to quench any doubts that might still be lurking. “Buy me the camera, Steve. It’ll be so much fun paying for it, Steve. You’ll have a hard-on the entire time. Know why, Steve? Because I’m going to suck your dick all the way home, as soon as you get me in the car. Then we’ll go to my place, that you’re going to pay the rent for me, and you’ll pull up my skirt, and I’ll be so slippery for you. You’ll push your cock into me, and my pussy will just swallow you in. It’ll be Heaven, Steve. Fucking your girlfriend. And when I’m your girlfriend, you’ll fuck me all the time. It’s beyond your control, Steve. I have what you need.”
Okay,” Steve said, close to cumming in his pants, “I’ll buy the camera...”
The salesman grinned. “That’s a sold-your-soul-to-the-devil kind of talent you have there, ma’am. Daaamn!”
Amy smiled, and led Steve to the counter. And Steve bought the camera.
And like she promised, Amy gave him a blowjob on the way to her house. It was the best kind of blowjob. It was a reward blowjob. Not the kind that you necessarily earn (or else it becomes a have-to-blowjob, less enthusiastic..), but the kind you’re only getting because she wants something else next time. And you know it, that she’s only doing it to reinforce your obedience, and Steve knew it. He was only a teensy bit dumb. But it was too good. He’d known it would be, known it as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Known it as he took out the card with he and Heather’s names on it, handed it to the salesman. He’d been hard like a monster, and the salesman had glanced, but tried to seem like he wasn’t looking. Then had looked again. Steve didn’t think the salesman was being gay or anything; it was just that he was especially good-looking.
Steve smiled at the salesman. It included a little shrug back in Amy’s direction, to say he didn’t like being pussy-whipped, but fucking look at her! She was a knockout.
The salesman shrugged back, like he understood, like he’d have done the same thing if she had happened to him.
Steve considered it was a pity-shrug, the salesman’s, for getting in the hole for $1500, plus tax. Maybe the salesman was queer, a homosexual like Julie. Not that Steve held that against him. It grossed him out a little, but he appreciated being attractive, even if it notice did come from someone of the same gender. He avoided eye contact afterwards.
In the car, Amy came through on her promise, gave him that dick sucking, like she was going to get his balls in her mouth too. It was impossible to focus on driving, and Steve had to pull over.
“Do you want me to stop?” Amy asked, like she wouldn’t even if he did.
Steve shook his head no.
“But what you really need is between my legs. You want it, don’t you?”
Steve nodded his head yes.
“Are you thinking about how much fun it was buying me that camera?”
Steve shook his head. He was dying to be back in Amy’s mouth.
“I want you to keep thinking about it, imagine handing the salesman your credit card. You made me so happy, Steve. Imagine it in your mind, Steve, while you drive us somewhere I can give you what you need...”
Amy went back to sucking Steve’s dick, and Steve imagined how much fun it was to buy Amy whatever she wanted. He imagined handing the salesman his credit card, the salesman checking out his dick... And Amy made him feel wonderful. He’d think about anything she wanted so long as she kept doing this. Amy asking for something she wanted. Him handing the salesman his credit card. The salesman glancing at his dick. Amy sucking his dick. Steve imagined it over and over in his mind, as Amy rubbed her nose in his pubic hair. She deepthroated him, and held it, and deep-throating Steve wasn’t that easy to do. Amy came up slowly, and sucked softly on the head of his penis. Steve thought how happy it made him to buy Amy things, how happy it made him for the salesman to look at his dick, how amazing it made him feel to buy things for Amy...
Steve brought Amy to his condo, not her apartment. He thought Heather was at work. Amy and Steve held hands walking across the parking lot, and made out in the elevator. She gave him hickies like he was her boyfriend, marking her territory, and Steve didn’t stop her. It was okay to get hickies from your girlfriend, right?
Some of Steve’s neighbors were waiting when the elevator doors opened. They must have known he was married. They gave him dirty looks. Steve didn’t notice. He had Amy’s ass in his hands, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms in his shirt, and her mouth on his neck. Steve and Amy stumbled out of the elevator and down the hall. Steve’s dick was sprung from his pants before they got to his front door. Steve fumbled with the key, Amy giggling and removing her new camera from its box.
Steve turned the key, and tried the door. It was locked.
Boy, Steve was dumb. The door had been unlocked and he just locked it. He unlocked it, and they went in.
They didn’t get past the living room. Amy pushed Steve onto the couch and started sucking his dick again. She enjoyed sucking his dick. That’s why she was so good at it. She worked him up until he was about to cum, then sat on his lap. Amy didn’t put Steve’s dick inside her yet. He needed a minute to relax, or he’d cum immediately.
“It’s only going to get better,” she said. “Our relationship, Steve. We’re going to get closer and closer, and we’ll get married. I’ll give you what you need all the time, Steve. And we’ll have babies. I’ll have your babies. I’ll be your bambino machino...”
She put him in. He groaned in pleasure as he entered her, loved her more than he’d loved anyone, was willing to serve her forever, buy her anything she wanted, fuck yeah, he was her’s. He was completely fucking hers. It just felt so incredible to be inside her. Amy had what he needed.
Heather could see it too. She recognized that look in his eyes. Heather was watching from the dark side of the room. She had the plastic end of a hairbrush in her pussy. Heather had this crazy desire to be under them, to catch whatever juices leaked out. She wanted to drink them. Heather hoped they’d let her suck the flavor of the girl off his dick when she was done with it. Heather wondered if the girl was on birth control, or if Steve was giving her the baby Heather told him would have to wait. She loved watching him fuck her.
Heather saw the camera on the table. Amy had set it up so it would snap shots of them while they fucked. There would be evidence. Heather felt her clit squirm with delight. Would they show anyone these pictures? Heather imagined one of her friends or family seeing them. Everyone would think she was such a loser letting her husband fuck other women. Heather’s pulse raced. She imagined her co-workers talking about her around the water cooler. Had any of her neighbors seen him bring her up here? Heather felt close to cumming.
There was only one thing that could make it better. Heather wanted to be in a picture. She wanted it completely obvious how much she enjoyed it, that she was even dirtier than them. Heather’s fingering quickened as she approached the couch. She slowly let her weight sink onto the cushion, gradually, so as not to disturb Steve and his mistress.
Heather spread her legs for the camera, working four fingers into her pussy, and massaging her clit with the ball of her hand. She stared at the flash and came, loudly. Amy almost fell off of Steve.
“Don’t stop,” Heather begged. “Fuck him. I’m about to cum again...”
So Amy kept going. Who was she to argue with Steve’s wife?
Cindy freaked out when she saw Steve and Amy had left her. She needed them. They were team. She felt incomplete without them. She knew they probably didn’t think that way about her. Why would anyone think that way about her?
Alexis was in session when Cindy freaked out, but Trish had just gotten there. Trish stayed out of Cindy’s way. Now that Cindy was freaking out, she started playing with the CD Player. It was like she needed control over something, so put Rod Stewart back on.
Shit, not Rod Stewart again, Trish thought, but then stopped, and gave Cindy a backwards glance. How did she know Cindy had been molested? Trish was sure nobody had ever told her. Now she was thinking all kinds of twisted things about Cindy. Ice cream? Cowboy boots?
It had to be coming from the CD.
Trish remembered it had been missing last night. Trish was smart. She put two and two together, figured out one of the girls had decided to play a practical joke on Cindy.
“Cindy, this isn’t your CD. You’ve got to shut it off.”
“It’s my CD,” Cindy said, but felt stupid disagreeing with her.
“There’s degrading subliminal messages on it. Trust me. They’re there.”
“What about sucking dick for ice cream?”
Cindy looked at the ground. “I’ve done it ever since I was little.”
“Do you remember doing it?” Trish asked.
“Not exactly. I’ve supressed it. I just know I do.”
“It’s the CD,” Trish said. “Shut it off.”
Cindy didn’t want to, but she shut it off.
“All this mind controlling has gone on long enough. Where is everyone?”
Now Cindy freaked out again, “Alexis and Julie are in session, but Amy and Steve left me all alone...” She began sniffling.
“We need to have a Rubbed-Right huddle,” Trish said. Rubbed-Right was the name of the massage parlor. It was a dumb name to say, so they never did except for Rubbed-Right huddles, when they all gave each other massages and talked out their problems. Sometimes, girls picked fights just for the massages.
“I’ll tell Alexis and Julie when they get out of their sessions.”
“Good,” Trish said. “I’m going in back for some Diet Coke.”
There was a strap-on on the table in the back room. It was still wet. Trish was a little freaked out with it. It was none of her business, but she found herself wondering who used it on who. Julie was a lesbian now, so was probably one of the participants. Which other girl had gone gay? Or bisexual? Trish supposed the other girl could just be bi. She hoped it was gay (less competition for Steve).
Trish got her soda-pop, and as she opened it, Julie walked in.
“You can’t just leave your toys laying out,” Trish said.
“Sorry,” Julie said. She worked the combination on her locker.
Trish wanted to ask who the other girl had been, but didn’t want to appear nosy.
Alexis walked in then. Julie noticed her and held up the strap-on, “Ever been fucked by something this big, slut?”
Okay, so it wasn’t Alexis, though might be soon, if Julie kept up calling her names.
Was it Cindy or Amy? Trish knew neither had been gay (bisexual?) before, but that everyone was tripping over each other with this mind control obsession. Which one of them had slipped into involving themselves with Julie? It could be Cindy, possibly something from that CD. Yet, Amy had been acting strangely yesterday, talking about perverted pictures of herself on the Internet. Trish considered herself lucky to just have a mite in her brain.
“Where’s Cindy?” Trish asked.
“Some guy just came in,” Alexis said. “You know what a slut Cindy is.”
Trish shook her head. What happened this morning while she was drugged with Steve’s wife? “We need to huddle. I’m getting Cindy.”
Trish went, and Julie and Alexis followed. They knocked twice, then opened the door to Cindy’s room. Cindy was riding some guy who was grinning like a dope.
“Paul?” Julie asked.
The man laughed, “I came to fuck you. But this nice girl offered to milk some of my tension. She’s such a good girl...” Cindy beamed.
“You said you were a lesbian,” Alexis hissed at Julie. “I knew you weren’t a lesbian.”
“I am a lesbian,” Julie cried, remembering blowing Paul and him fucking her ass.
“Natalie sent me,” Paul said, and a new look appeared on Julie’s face. She was horny as hell for him. Paul laughed, “You still a lesbian, Julie?”
“Please let me suck yor dick,” Julie said, “then I want you to fuck me in the ass.”
The girls all gasped.
“Natalie sent me?” Alexis asked. “Is that some kind of post-hypnotic trigger?”
Sure was. Now Julie looked really perplexed. But she knew which one she wanted first, the one with a dick. A dick she could suck. A dick to slide in her ass. A dick to give her cum so she could be a good girl for Natalie.
Then she’d see about Alexis.
Julie moved in, to push Cindy off.
“But I want him to cum inside me first!”
“Aren’t any of you using condoms at all?” Trish asked.
But they weren’t paying attention to her. Cindy and Julie were wrestling on the floor. Alexis was moving in to suck Paul’s cock, since it was currently unattended. Now Trish remembered she had left her purse in the back room, her purse with the MEMS transmitter that made she and Steve controllable. She left the others in the room to their own devices, and went to get it.
Her purse was right where she’d left it. Whew. She locked it in her locker.
Steve and Amy walked in the front door.
“Nice job you did on his wife,” Amy laughed. “I’m moving in there now. Steve and I are getting married, and Heather’s going to be our maid. Thanks, Trish. I owe it all to you...” Amy thought this was very funny.
“We need to talk about that,” Trish said. “I called a huddle, but the others are all gangbanging some poor client. This mind control insanity has gone on long enough.”
Amy laughed, “Are you trying to tell me what I can and can’t do again? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? I’m Steve’s girlfriend now.”
“Amy, please by reasonable,” Trish begged. “Let Steve decide for himself. His wife mind controlled him too. Steve’s never been allowed to decide for himself. But I have a way to free him.”
Amy knew about this. Heather had told her everything. “You can free Steve from his wife’s control?” Steve still loved his wife better than any of them. Amy was certain that if she could free Heather’s hold over him, Steve would choose her. “How?”
Okay, so Heather hadn’t told her everything. Or at least it hadn’t all made sense...
“I have a transmitter in my purse that Heather used to control Steve. She was going to use it to control me too, but I got away. That will free him of her control.”
“Let’s do it then,” Amy said. Soon, Steve would be all hers.
“The problem is that it controls Steve and me, whichever of us is nearest. I can’t be the one to use it.”
Now Amy was drooling. She had no desire for anything kinky with Trish, but it would be neat to control her. She’d make Trish happy to see her and Steve together, and give them most of her paycheck. “I would do it...”
Now Trish laughed, “Like hell! I don’t trust you one bit.”
“But we’re the only ones here. Steve can’t use it on himself.”
Trish needed someone she trusted. She supposed the old man next door at the dry cleaners could do it. He certainly wasn’t interested in Steve. “Mr. Whitney will do it,” Trish said.
Amy cursed silently to herself. Still, she was sure Steve was hers. Having Trish too didn’t matter to her nearly as much.
The three of them—Trish, Amy and Steve—went next door to the dry cleaners.
“Do you need more towels cleaned?” old Mr. Whitney asked them.
Amy laughed, and Trish smiled. “We need you to do us a favor,” Trish said.
“Sure, girls,” the old man said, grinning under his bushy mustache. “You know you can always count on Joe Whitney.”
Trish brought out the transmitter. “This may sound crazy,” she said, “but we need you to hit the on button, and tell Steve his mind is his own again, that he can discard any commands Heather gave him. Also, tell him he can read again. Can you do that?”
“I reckon I can,” Mr. Whitney said, spitting chewing tobacco into a styrofoam cup.
“Okay, Amy and I are going to go back next store. For reasons I’m not going to go into, we can’t be nearby when you’re doing it. When you’re done, just hit the off button, and give us a call on the phone, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
“Steve,” Trish told him, “you wait here.” Trish took Amy by the arm and dragged her back to the massage parlor. They were going to wait there for Mr. Whitney’s call.
But Amy was a bad girl. They were back at the massage parlor two minutes before Amy wiggled out of Trish’s grip and ran for the door. Trish hauled ass after her, but Amy was already out the door and running toward the dry cleaners.
Trish had to stop her from getting that transmitter!
She ran after her, but Amy got to the dry cleaners first and locked the door behind her. Trish pounded on the door, trying to get Mr. Whitney’s attention, to tell him he mustn’t give Amy the transmitter. But then he gave it to her.
But Steve was still closer. As long as Steve was closer, Trish was safe. She called for Mr. Whitney to open the door.
Now Mr. Whitney realized something was going on. Amy was talking to Steve, talking to him through the transmitter. Steve’s eyes were on Amy like he thought she was a goddess.
Now the door was open and Trish was inside. “Amy, turn off the transmitter. What you’re doing is wrong.”
Amy smiled. “Steve,” she said, “go back next door. Trish and I need to have a little conversation...”
Trish tried to stop him, but Steve pushed right past her. Trish couldn’t let Amy use the transmitter on her, so went with Steve, careful to keep him between her and Amy. Amy followed them out. “You can’t run forever,” she called after Trish.
Then, Amy was talking into the transmitter again. “Steve,” she said. “Run away. Come back in an hour.”
And just like that, Steve ran away. Now Amy spoke into the transmitter again, and Trish felt kind of strange, and forgot what she’d just been thinking. She looked over at Amy. Amy, talking on her cell phone, and Mr. Whitney coming out the door behind her.
“Are we picking up towels?” Trish asked. Amy just laughed.
When Amy spoke next, it was like she was talking to Trish. She was looking at Trish like she was talking to her, except she was talking to whoever was on the phone.
And now Mr. Whitney seemed different to Trish. Magnetic. How had she never noticed before? Trish wanted to be naked with him. She wanted to feel that mustache tickle her nose while she kissed him. She wanted to trace every line in his face with her lips, and lick his body all over. Trish wanted to suck his toes and his balls; his ball sweat on her face would feel like Heaven. She wanted to feel his calloused hands on her body, his thick fingers entering her...
Amy was still babbling on the phone. Trish was mildly curious as to what she was saying, but whenever she tried to listen, it sounded muffled, like when someone’s talking directly into your ear. Trish thought she heard Amy say, “sweet like honey.”
What could Amy be talking about, with that mischievious twinkle in her eyes? What would make her smile like that, like she was going to burst out laughing any minute? Trish thought about what tasted sweet like honey.
Mr. Whitney. Mr. Whitney tasted like honey. Trish suddenly remembered how much she loved the taste of honey. She wanted to taste Mr. Whitney.
“Walk up to him,” Trish heard Amy say, and walked up to Mr. Whitney. Amy kept talking, but Trish stopped paying attention to her. She was kissing Mr. Whitney, feeling his large tongue enter her mouth. Trish sucked on his tongue; it tasted delicious, like honey and chewing tobacco. She could get used to this, the addictive flavor of Mr. Whitney. His saliva tasted so sweet, and if his saliva was this good, Trish knew Mr. Whitney’s cum would taste even better.
A part of her kept wondering what Amy was talking about, who she was talking to... but that wasn’t important. All that mattered was that she loved Mr. Whitney. She’d do anything for the old geezer. He made her so horny.
In the back of her mind, Trish remembered Amy saying she and Steve were getting married. This made Trish really happy. Amy and Steve deserved each other. They were such a cute couple.
And Trish had Mr. Whitney. She had her hand down his pants and his cock in her hand. He was smiling at her, behind that bushy mustache, and the sight of his smile made Trish tingly all over. Mr. Whitney looked over at Amy, like he was thinking about something. Amy shrugged at him, and Mr. Whitney smiled again, and it was all Trish could do to not fuck him right there. Trish was going home with Mr. Whitney tonight. She would live with him for now on, devote her whole life to him... Except for her paychecks, which belonged to Amy and Steve. It was important to Trish that they lived the kind of lifestyle they deserved, and what did Trish need her money for now that she had Mr. Whitney? He would agree with her, Trish knew. Mr. Whitney appreciated Amy for bringing him and Trish together. Amy was such a good friend.
It had taken longer than Trish was used to for Mr. Whitney to get hard, but now she felt his cock responding to her, stirring in her hand, getting big all for her. Trish felt compelled to kiss him again. She wanted that luscious flavor of honey and chewing tobacco. Trish drove her tongue into his mouth, kissing him with everything she had. She loved the feeling of being in his arms, his mustache tickling her nose, his cock leaking out in her hand. Trish couldn’t wait to take him home. It was going to be wonderful.
Now Amy was off the phone, folding it and putting it in her purse. “I guess you’re not going to give me any more trouble, are you, Trish?”
Trish could hardly focus on what Amy was saying. She couldn’t pull herself away from Mr. Whitney. He was all she ever wanted to think about.
Amy pulled Trish off of him, stood between them to get her attention. Trish watched Mr. Whitney over Amy’s shoulder. She looked panicked.
“I’ll let you get back to him in a minute,” Amy said. “I just have a couple of questions for you first.”
Trish tried to reach past Amy, to touch Mr. Whitney.
“Who’s the smartest person you know?” Amy asked.
“You are,” Trish said. That was such an easy question. Trish didn’t even have to think about it.
“I’m smarter than you?” Amy asked.
Trish nodded, “I’m dumb.”
Amy was laughing at her now. Trish didn’t understand why. “How dumb are you, Trish?”
Trish didn’t answer. She had fogotten what Amy just asked. Amy had to repeat herself, but seemed delighted to. “How dumb are you, Trish?”
“Really dumb,” Trish answered.
“Can you read?” Amy asked.
“Heck no,” Trish said. “The only thing I’m good for is serving Mr. Whitney.” Saying that made her feel really good. It made her feel so good, she said it again, “The only thing I’m good for is serving Mr. Whitney.” And again, “The only thing I’m good for is serving Mr. Whitney.” Trish would have gone on repeating it forever if Amy hadn’t interrupted.
“And giving massages. You need to earn a paycheck.”
Trish nodded. She didn’t understand why Amy was asking all these questions. Even just trying to pay attention confused her. Amy would talk, and Trish would just stare into her eyes or watch her lips move. Hardly anything seemed to stick in her mind, except for her desire to please Mr. Whitney. Mr. Whitney was so handsome and sexy. Trish couldn’t get enough of him.
She was very happy when Amy left them. Soon as they were alone, Trish went behind the counter, sank to her knees and enthusiastically sucked Mr. Whitney’s dick. Trish really couldn’t get enough. When he came down her throat, Trish loved it. She swallowed his thick semen and kept right on sucking. Mr. Whitney didn’t get hard again right away, but Trish didn’t mind. His dick was beautiful, hard or soft. Trish went right on worshipping it, worshipping him through it. She was making Mr. Whitney very happy.
Back at the massage parlor, Alexis was taking dirty pictures of Amy, Cindy, Steve and Paul. They were mildly perverted, not quite as dirty as Amy would have liked, but Amy wasn’t that imaginitive when it came to perversion. A few of the pictures had Cindy fucking Amy with a cold can of Diet Coke. Another few had Amy with that same can of Diet Coke up her ass. That was painful, but Amy was willing to do anything for her fans. She had Alexis take pictures of Cindy pissing on her breasts, of Steve and Paul’s dicks in her mouth at the same time, of their cum all over her face and leaking out of her pussy and asshole. Soon the camera’s memory card was full, and Amy uploaded her pictures to the e-mail address clear in her mind, and got started posing for more.
This was so much fun!
Julie watched them. It made her horny watching Cindy lick Steve and Paul’s cum out of Amy’s creamy pussy. It made her want Natalie. But Amy was tying up the phone line e-mailing her perverted pictures...
That’s when Julie noticed the cell phone poking out of Amy’s purse. She went for it, but there were no numbers... Julie didn’t understand. She was a bit of a technophobe though, so that was to be expected. Maybe on this phone you just said the phone number.
Julie hit the on button. There was no dial tone. Maybe the phone was broken. Julie shook it. Nothing. “Amy, your phone’s broken...”
Amy, trying to run with a Diet Coke can in her ass... The can fell out and foam fizzed all over the floor. Amy snatched the transmitter out of Julie’s hand.
“What’s the big deal?” Julie asked.
“It’s a transmitter,” Amy said. “It makes Trish and Steve my slaves.”
She shouldn’t have told her. Amy realized too late. Everyone in the room heard. Steve was the only one not contemplating how to steal the transmitter. Amy could see the wanting for it in their eyes.
Amy wanted to get the hell out, take Steve and Cindy and the transmitter and go someplace no one would ever find them. But her perverted pictures... Amy knew two dicks was sexier than one, and she needed someone to take the pictures... This was a conundrum. Amy decided to negotiate.
“I presume you and Julie,” Amy was talking to Paul, “want your way with Trish. No problem. When we’re done, I’ll give her to you. I keep her paychecks. Alexis, you want Steve. Sorry, girl. You don’t stand a chance in hell, but if you want, after, I’ll let you suck his cock. Now stop staring at my transmitter, and let’s take some perverted pictures...”
The negotiation made not a bit of good. They all still wanted the transmitter. This was a room full of greedy people. Amy should have destroyed it, but she was greedy too. Who knew when it would come in handy in the future? Ah, but she was asking for trouble...
While Amy, Cindy, Steve and Paul posed and Alexis took pictures, Julie stole the transmitter. Paul saw her doing it, and distracted Amy. By the time Amy finally noticed Julie was gone, Julie was long gone. She was in her car, on her way to Natalie’s.
Natalie was thrilled to see Julie, and her eyes got big when Julie explained what the transmitter was.
“I can use this to control Steve?” Natalie was practically drooling. She wouldn’t stop touching it.
“And Trish,” Julie said, but Natalie didn’t care about Trish.
“Let’s go get Steve now,” Natalie said.
“Paul’s there,” Julie said. “If I go back, he’ll make me let him fuck my ass.”
At the mention of Paul’s name, Natalie’s pussy quivered. She wanted Steve, but her pussy was Paul’s, and Natalie was a slave to her pussy. She wanted them both: Paul’s dick in her pussy, and maybe Steve’s somewhere else. Natalie wanted Julie in the mix too. Oh, what a time that would be!
“I don’t care,” Natalie said. “He can fuck your ass, so long as he saves some of his hot cum for me too.”
“Oh,” Julie said, but didn’t argue. This was her chance to get cum and be a good girl.
They returned to the massage parlor.
The photo session had ended by the time they got there. Paul had gone back to work, presumedly, and all the girls but Alexis were in session. Alexis was very friendly to Julie and Natalie. She wanted to get her hands on that transmitter.
“Amy’s freaking out,” Alexis giggled. “She’s planning on taking Cindy and Steve to Hawaii to get Steve away from you.” Clearly, Alexis was glad Amy’s plan had been foiled. She didn’t want Steve going anywhere.
“Hawaii?” Natalie couldn’t believe the lengths Amy would go to to keep Steve for herself.
“Get this,” Alexis said, “she made Steve buy their tickets. Amy’s such a bitch...”
Julie knew Alexis. She knew Alexis would have done the same thing if she’d had control over Steve.
“Which room is Steve in?” Natalie asked.
Alexis pointed to the room, and Natalie went to the door. Natalie turned on the transmitter. She said, “All that stuff you feel towards Amy, you now feel towards Natalie instead.”
She was going to say more, but then Paul walked in the door. “Paul,” Natalie smiled. Her pussy gushed at the sight of him.
“Hi, Natalie. Hi, Julie. And my eager little cocksucker, Alexis...”
“I need your dick inside me, Paul. Nothing makes me feel as good as your dick.”
“Hey,” Alexis said, “shut that thing off.”
Natalie absentmindedly realized she was still holding the transmitter. She shut it off.
Paul was walking toward her. God, how Natalie longed for him to fuck her... She put her arms around him and kissed him hungrily. “Will you fuck me, Paul? Please?”
Paul took Natalie’s hand, and put it on the bulge in his pants. It was the hand that was holding the transmitter. Natalie had lost interest in it entirely. She set the transmitter on the counter so she could rub Paul’s hard-on with both hands.
Alexis watched her set it down. “There’s an empty room available,” she said.
“Natalie sent me,” Paul told Julie. Julie licked her lips.
Julie led Paul and Natalie into the available room, leaving Alexis alone with the transmitter...