The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Logan was insatiable. By the time she had finished with me my knees were numb and my whole face ached but her parting words echoed chillingly in my memory.

“Send me the contract and I’ll sign it. I’m really looking forward to a long and fruitful relationship…sweetlips.”

The office was empty and I assumed that Gemma had gone out to lunch. I noticed this with an enormous sense of relief and knew then that I was afraid of her. With a renewed sense of determination I set off across town to make the short trip to Jenny’s office only to find that she too was out at lunch and it was not known what time she would be back. The helpful receptionist offered me the assistance of another partner but I politely declined.

I went back to my flat and began to unload my car. I had crammed into it as many files as I could so that, for the time being at least, I could keep the business running from home. The first thing I did was to make a list to see which clients were likely to stay with me after the split. It was tempting to make a few phone calls to sound people out but I decided that it was better not to open myself up to a charge of poaching before the dissolution of the partnership.

The finished list looked quite healthy and I felt quite excited at the prospect of being a sole practitioner; the whole partnership arrangement had been a wrong move from the outset. Before going to sleep that night I decided that I need never see Gemma again. I felt an almost overwhelming urge to do her harm but common sense prevailed. Jenny could handle the paperwork and we could go our separate ways.

The next morning I rose as usual and thought about the day ahead. I was still ordering events in my mind when I realized that I was standing at the door of Gemma’s office. It was a terrifying moment. I had gone through my usual routine, shower, dress, breakfast but then I intended to work from my living room. Somehow, whilst pre-occupied, I had followed my routine through to its usual conclusion and driven into work.

“Come on in.”

With an ominous prescience Gemma had opened the door to usher me inside.

“I’m leaving.”

I said it with as much conviction as I could muster but Gemma merely smiled. She stepped back into the room and I followed her without thinking.

“I spoke to Logan. You really made an impression. Do you know that when she signs she’ll be our third largest client? I’ve drawn up a list of other prospective female clients. You might want to cast your eye over it. I’ve ticked those where I think your particular talents can be brought to bear.”

I was dumbfounded. The list had a dozen names on it, at least half of which were ticked, including that of one of my oldest friends.

“Gemma, this has to stop and it stops right now!”

“Do you think so? If that’s the case what are you still doing here?”

She was right. For a vain moment I entertained the hope that I was free of her influence but, try as I might, I could not leave her office knowing that to do so would incur her displeasure. I tried another tack.

“You can’t believe that all these women are lesbians.”

“I don’t, but they are all successful, broad-minded women and I ask myself, if I were to offer them the services of a pretty girl, willing to do literally anything they asked, would they turn it down?”

It was hard to argue. There were at least two women on the list that I thought of as unscrupulous bitches who would probably jump at the opportunity and, in an odd moment of self-doubt, I wondered what my own reaction would be if the offer were made to me. For an instant I felt faint and I wondered if I was losing my grip on sanity but just as I tried to drag myself back to reality Gemma pushed me to the edge once more.

“I’m going to spend the morning catching up on paperwork and I want you to help.”

I answered almost defiantly.

“I have two clients coming in.”

“I took the liberty of cancelling them. I have need of your expertise.”

My professional ego was flattered for barely a second before I saw her starting to unzip her skirt.

“Gemma, please, if our relationship means anything to you, don’t do this.”

She did not reply. She simply smiled as she took off her panties.

“Come here and kneel under the desk.”

“Gemma, for pities sake!”

“It looks a little like a kennel don’t you think? Just the place for a good dog.”

Any final vestiges of defiance melted like ice and I crawled into the restricted space beneath her desk almost like the dog she had made me become. She sat down on her leather office chair and rolled it forward until she could splay her legs on either side of my cramped body.

“Just keep me on the boil for a couple of hours and then you can show me some of those wicked tricks that Logan told me about.”

I suppose it should not have come as such a shock to find out that they had discussed the merits of my performance but it did nevertheless. I knelt there, unmoving, trying to take it in until I felt her knee pressing against the side of my head.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

I edged forward in the darkness, between the canyon walls of her thighs, and I applied my tongue to her sex. She was almost fully aroused from the start and she allowed herself an orgasm within the first few minutes but she took no pity. For the next two hours, as she rustled through paperwork above me, I was called back to service time and time again. She did not even miss a beat as she took the occasional phone call. My muscles were screaming in protest, not least my neck, but Gemma just laughed as I banged my head on the underside of the desk from time to time.

“Okay, you can take me the whole way this time.”

The atmosphere beneath the desk was hot and fetid. The smell was a heady mix of ancient wood, sex and, to my embarrassment, nervous perspiration but, once again, I put myself to the hated task.

“OOOhhh, that is so good…I think we’re going to have to reschedule your mornings for the foreseeable future.”

By lunchtime even Gemma had had enough. She dismissed me as though I was a servant of old and I went back to my own office where I could do nothing but sit and cry. She did not speak to me again until mid afternoon when she popped her head around the door.

“I’m off for the day. See you tomorrow, bright and early…keep your strength up.”

Once she was gone I felt something of my old resilience creeping back and I was inspired by a new idea. I found a phone number for the pub we had used for our celebration drink and spoke with the manager. He told me that the stage hypnotist was a late replacement sent by the agency that dealt with all his bookings. He was happy to give me a contact name and I made a second call. At first the agency was not forthcoming but when I suggested that I was a booker for the lucrative University circuit there was a sudden change of attitude. I was told that the hypnotist’s name was Helen Heller and she was new to their books. They would not give me a number nor would they pass on mine to her, presumably fearing a direct booking which would cut out their fee, but I had enough to be going on with.

I checked with Equity, the actors union, and, sure enough, she was a member. I left my contact number and, less than an hour later, I received a call. When I heard her voice on the phone it felt oddly comforting, like talking to someone I had known all my life. I explained that I had a personal matter that I wished to discuss and she sounded slightly intrigued when I refused to elaborate over the phone. She told me that she would see me that evening and gave me address which was only ten minutes away from my own by car.

I bathed and changed, all the while considering the wisdom of my proposed course of action, and then I summoned up my courage and left the house. The address she had given me belonged to a detached house the upkeep of which must have been beyond the means of a mere pub entertainer. I rang the bell and looked up to the security camera mounted in the corner of the entranceway. A few seconds later the front door opened and I had to do a double take to convince myself that it was the same women. At the pub I thought that she was a lot older than me but seeing her again, with her chestnut hair hanging loose about her shoulders I could see that there was probably only a couple of years between us at most. The business suit, too, had done her no favours. Dressed as she now was in an expensive silk kimono I could see that she had a body that any man would find desirable.

“Take a seat.”

She led me into a tastefully furnished living room which was dominated by a matching pair of leather Chesterfield sofas.

“Would you like a drink? I was having some wine.”

I accepted the offer and the first sip was enough to tell me that this was a woman who appreciated the good things in life.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I saw the show at the pub the other night. You put me under.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well since then I have remained susceptible to suggestion.”

“What makes you think so?”

“A friend, who was with me, tried the “good dog” command and it still worked.”

“In what way?”

I tried to choose my words carefully.

“She made me do things against my will.”

Heller raised an amused eyebrow.

“What sort of things?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“If you’re asking for my help, you’re going to have to be open with me.”

“Look, I thought that you couldn’t make a person do anything under hypnosis that was against their will.”

“That’s the commonly held belief. So would I be right in guessing that these things she made you do were of a sexual nature?”

I hesitated before replying.

“Yes.”

“This intrigues me. You strike me as a woman of the world; what could it be in the sexual arena that you wouldn’t enjoy?”

The conversation was not going at all as I had planned it in my mind.

“What if she had made me submit to a man against my will?”

“Some women secretly fantasize about non-consensual sex. Is that what she made you do?”

“No. I was just trying to make a point.”

“Well, if you force me to guess, you are a very beautiful woman, would this be something of a Sapphic nature?”

I felt my cheeks flush but it was as much with anger as with embarrassment. She was being altogether too presumptuous.

“I see from your face that it was. I take it then that sex with other women is not to your taste? I find that a great pity.”

As she said it she crossed her legs allowing the kimono to slide open with an almost imperceptible hiss. My anger threatened to get the better of me.

“She forced me to go down her against my will.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m bloody sure! I want you to put things right.”

“And what would be in it for me?”

She parted her legs slightly and I could not stop myself from glancing downwards; by the time I brought my eyes back to hers I knew that, beneath the kimono, she was naked.

“I’m not here to bargain. If you’re not prepared to help me I’ll find someone who will and then I’m going to report this whole incident to the police.”

She seemed totally unfazed by my tirade.

“There are two commonly held misconceptions about hypnotism. The first is that hypnotists are bound by a strict code of ethics, as though they inhabit a higher moral plane than the population at large, I’m here to tell you that this is not true. The second is this nonsense about not doing things against your will; if a hypnotist is given long enough a subject can be made to do almost anything. It can even be done subliminally. I could, for example, send you a series of e-mails with a suggestion buried in the text. I would then only have to meet you face to face in order to flick the switch.”

As she spoke a hideous realization dawned. Some weeks previously Gemma told me that she was reading a report from America concerning customer service. From time to time she had e-mailed to me parts of the text which she thought might be of interest. At the time I had scanned it and dismissed it as complete nonsense but now some of the phrases used come back to me. I remembered “Degrees of Humility”, “The Bended Knee Principal” and “The Customer Comes First.”

“You’ve done this to me deliberately!”

“Clever girl.”

“Did she pay you?”

In answer to my question she cast her eyes around the room.

“My services are both unique and expensive.”

“I’m going to the police.”

“No. I want you to go upstairs, you’ll find the bedroom to the right, get yourself completely undressed and wait for me.”

Her voice had a calm authority and assurance, like someone in the medical profession, and I got up and left the room. Once in the hall my anger rose again and I went straight out through the front door and headed for my car contemplating legal action as I went. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that it came as a shock when I found myself in a luxuriously appointed bedroom with my car key in my hand. I was appalled by my tenuous grasp on reality and I desperately searched my fevered mind for an anchor point. I then realized that everything would be alright if I got undressed.

I was lying naked on the bed when she walked in the room. She smiled when she saw me and pulled up a chair.

“I want to watch you masturbate.”

Somehow, I knew her request was offensive but I became aware of a tingling between my legs and it suddenly seemed perfectly natural to rub at the irritation. As soon as I moved my hand between my legs I felt more relaxed and, seconds later, my fingers began to flex and stroke in an all too familiar fashion.

“Open your legs and raise your knees.”

I did as she asked but it was almost like an out of body experience. On one level I found the lasciviousness of the situation ever more arousing but at a higher, imprisoned, level I was appalled. I continued to finger myself lazily and was surprised by just how quickly my fingers had become slicked with my own juices. I followed my own natural inclination and groaned softly as I slowly pushed them inside.

She sat quietly and watched as, over the next few minutes, I brought myself ever closer.

“I don’t want you to come yet.”

As soon as she said it I felt the wave of pleasure immediately begin to recede and no amount of effort on my part could get me back to the peak. I worked my fingers ever faster but only grew more frustrated. I was so lost in my own quest for satisfaction that I did not notice her leaving the chair. I only became aware of her again when the mattress yielded to her added weight. I opened my eyes to find her kneeling up over me. She was wearing an elaborate harness around her hips and thighs from which protruded a horribly realistic rubber phallus. It was cast in black and of a size that most men would have been proud of. As she held it just above my face I could see every tiny detail from the retracted foreskin to the gnarled vein running along the underside.

“Get it wet for me.”

She slowly pushed it between my lips and some deep-seated instinct balked at the violation and, for a moment, I flexed my jaw ready to bite down with all my strength but as quickly as the thought was formed it disappeared. I accepted the shaft which was more flexible than it at first appeared and I began to lick as though it was the real thing.

“You’ve done this before. A regular ten dollar whore.”

I knew that it had a strong rubbery tang but in my fevered mind I could only taste the tart, salty, taste of a man. As I lay there she used her hand to work the shaft around inside my mouth and I realized that it was, in fact, double ended; as she played with me she was stimulating herself.

She grew tired of the game after a minute or two and moved to straddle my hips. My heart was pounding both with anticipation and with fear at what I now knew was to come.

“Kiss me.”

She leant down and turned her head slightly so that our lips met and, at the same time, she eased her legs between mine so that I could feel the shaft pressing insistently at my groin. My eyes darted across hers as I tried to convey my distaste but I sensed that it was my stymied unwillingness that really excited her. Her lips were softer than any mans and her gentle breath was wine sweet but it made it no easier to accept. She sealed our mouths and I felt her tongue begin to probe gently and my own quickly joined it in play.

“MMmmm…”

She allowed me to become the aggressor and seemed pleased as I thrust my tongue between her lips and took the lead. I did not want this, and perhaps I was only trying to delay the inevitable, but, if so, it was in vain. Without breaking the kiss she brought her hand down between our legs and lifted her hips slightly. There was a brief moment of pain as she initially got it wrong but then I felt the pressure of the smooth head at my opening.

“Take it for me …”

She relaxed and let her weight bear down so that, inch by inch, she pushed the shaft home. I had an irrational fear that it was not going to stop, that I was going to be totally impaled, but, finally, our bodies joined and I felt it filling me.

For the next few minutes she seemed content just to kiss but then she began to fidget and soon she was moving hers hips gently and I could feel the shaft moving millimeters at a time. She was in no great hurry. For the next half an hour she carried on kissing whilst exploring my nipples with her knowledgeable fingers and the whole time she kept up a regular and ever deeper rhythm. A part of me was amazed at her stamina. I had known men who could stay hard for that long but I did not know of one who bear his own weight and keep up this sort of tempo but, in the final analysis, the longer it went on the greater my revulsion grew.

What made it worse was the way my body continued to react beyond my will. My nipples remained stiffly engorged encouraging her ministrations and my sex was a warm pool yearning to come to the boil. I had a vain hope that, if only I could come, I might regain control but it was only to be with her permission and her cruel smile told me that she could read my every thought.

“I need to come… but not like this.”

So saying, she slowly withdrew, and I could not help mewing in frustration. I feared that she had another use for my mouth but her next words made my blood run cold.

“Turn over.”

Blind panic almost broke me free.

“NO!”

For a second she seemed shocked by my rebellion but it was all too easy.

“Good dog.”

Those simple words shackled me as sure as iron and she watched with growing amusement as my body shook with effort as I tried not to do as she asked. I could not help myself but once I was lying face down I clamped my whole body as tightly as I could. She got up off the bed and moved around so that I could see her and then, with frightening casualness, she began to apply lubricant to the already glistening shaft.

“You’re a virgin?”

The question was rhetorical.

“How very sweet.”

Sebastian had pestered me for anal sex in the past but I had steadfastly refused. At the finish I presented him with crudely formed dildo. I told him that on the day he presented himself to me with it fully embedded in his arse would be the day I said yes. He never mentioned it again.

Now, I wish I had let him. At least then I would have had some degree of control for my first time.

“Relax, and lift yourself.”

My muscles were so tight it was hard to obey but, finally, the tension eased and she was able to slip a pillow under my hips. I lay there, my body arched, awaiting my fate.

“Don’t worry. It’s not so bad. You might come to like it.”

With that, she moved out of sight and then I felt her on the bed behind me.

“Tears? Surely not.”

I felt her hands on my backside. She still had some lubricant left on her fingers and she began to work it deep into the cleft. In my mind my buttocks were so tightly clenched that it was painful. In reality she was peeling me apart. I winced as I felt the shaft bump up against me but my fate was assuredly sealed.

Even under her influence, the natural reaction of my body was to resist but she applied the head of the shaft to my puckered rosette and gently turned it back and forth. The feeling of disgust is impossible to describe and I felt, somehow, unclean. She continued in the same unhurried fashion until I had to relax for a second in order to retrench. She read the moment to perfection, she had probably been waiting for it, because as soon as my guard was down she applied just a little more pressure. She pushed the head of the shaft barely into the opening and held it there. It was enough. With her weight behind it there was no way that I could expel the intruder and she knew it.

“Okay baby, here it comes.”

In those next few seconds I felt as though I was being cleaved in two. She slowly leant her weight into me and the shaft slipped in until I could take no more. Behind me she gave a heartfelt moan and then she spooned herself into me and began to nuzzle my neck. I tried to summon the will to resist, to throw her off, and was filled with self loathing when I failed. Surely this act, of all the things she could have chosen to do, should have galvanized me. Later, when the nightmares came, I understood that she could have programmed me to enjoy it but she chose not to. This was simply about her pleasure, and my discomfort, both mental and physical, was an essential element.

She lifted herself from me and purposefully took hold of my hips. I braced myself but it was not as bad as I feared. She began to work the shaft in and out of me but she did it with a practiced assurance and seemed to understand my limits. How anyone could find it pleasurable was beyond me unless pleasure was to be found in submission or the vicarious gratification of a partner. Fortunately, it was very much to her liking, and she drove the shaft in to the hilt once last time as she welcomed her climax with an uncharacteristically piercing shriek.

It almost felt worse when she withdrew altogether. I could still feel the phantom of the shaft inside me and my muscles seemed reluctant to work normally again. As soon as she got up from the bed I sat up with my knees drawn up under my chin. She looked at me as she slowly slipped out of the harness and then held up the shaft for her own inspection. It glistened with moisture and I would not have been surprised to see it giving off steam such had been the power of her climax.

“Clean it for me.”

Once again, she fed the shaft into my mouth but this time there was no mistaking the taste. It was a taste with which I had become unpleasantly familiar of late.

“Can you deep throat?”

She could see the uncertainty in my eyes. I had tried it once but vowed never again. I had not found the experience pleasant and, to my mind, it had undertones of servility. Now she was pushing gently but insistently at the shaft.

“Do it for me… or I’ll have you clean the whole thing.”

The threat was enough. I relaxed my throat muscles and started to breathe through my nose. The hardest part is to overcome the bodies natural gag reflex but she had obviously had some experience. She paused at the right moment and then continued until I had taken it all.

“Clever girl.”

She let me suffer for a few seconds and then eased if free but she still insisted that I continue to suckle it whilst she spoke quietly.

“Do you read Asimov? His first law of robotics?... “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.” When you leave here you will do nothing that might harm either Gemma or me. This obviously includes going to the police.”

Even as she said it I determined to defy her but I was confounded as soon as I left her house. Once I had served to amuse her she allowed me to leave and I stood on the pavement knowing there was something I desperately needed to do but, try as I might, I could not bring it to mind. In the end I got into my car and drove back to my flat.

At home I could not get my thoughts in order. I was now not only being compelled to please Gemma but I was looking out for her wellbeing too even though it adversely affected my own. Whichever way I twisted it in my head I was always drawn to the same conclusion, I had to go to the police, but as soon as the thought was formed I found myself starting to daydream and then I was back to square one. The worst of it was knowing that, the following morning, I was going to be drawn back to the office.

It was in the middle of the night that I had an inspiration. Gemma had implanted the idea that I had to go to work as usual but “work as usual” would include client visits. The first thing the next morning I rang Gemma’s office phone knowing that I would get the answering machine. I left a message saying that I had to see Jenny and that I would be in later. When I got into my car I was elated to find that I knew exactly what I was doing. I drove over to Jenny’s office which involved going in the opposite direction to my normal route and I felt no compulsion to turn around. Arriving without an appointment I was told that Jenny was working from home but even that seemed a good omen. I was not exactly sure what I would, or could, say to her but I was sure to feel more at ease outside of the office.

I felt a little guilty when she opened the door to me still in her in her nightgown and I realized it was still before nine o’clock. The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air and she invited me through to the living room where she had to clear piles of legal files from the sofa before we could be seated. I was not sure, in my own mind, if I wanted to speak to her as a friend or as a lawyer but as she sat there with her legs curled under her, wrapped in her toweling robe, the atmosphere was anything but formal.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The small talk was over and there seemed little point in prevaricating.

“I want to dissolve the partnership.”

“So soon?”

The smile on her face told me that she thought it was a joke.

“I’m serious. It was a mistake from the beginning.”

She paused for thought before speaking.

“You know I can’t act for you both. One of you will have to appoint another solicitor.”

The thought had not crossed my mind and it raised a quandary. Jenny and I had attended the same University where she had graduated one year later than me. I never made her acquaintance there but I was aware of her as almost everyone was. The vivacious red-headed Irish girl with the startling green eyes was a man magnet and she evoked no small measure of jealousy, and it was not just her face. She had a curvy, thirties film starlet, figure which she showed off to maximum effect.

I had been totally surprised to meet up with her again later. I was in need of legal counsel on a particularly thorny contract issue and Gemma had made the recommendation on the strength of some work that Jenny had already done for her. I now thought of her as a friend but it never occurred to me that Gemma might have a greater claim on her loyalty. She could see my dilemma and then she dropped her bombshell.

“It might be for the best if I act for Gemma given that you were going to dump me anyway.”

I did not know what to say. I had spoken to Gemma just a few days previously. I had huge ambitions for the partnership and I was not sure, in the long term, whether or not Jenny and her firm were going to be right for us. I had suggested that we retain her for personal matters but put out some feelers to see who else might be available. Gemma had not seemed averse to the idea but now it seemed she had spoken to Jenny unbeknownst to me.

I was still struggling for a reply when the doorbell rang.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

There was a sound business argument, all I had to do was lay my cards on the table and let Jenny see the logic. I composed myself but was immediately disconcerted when Jenny walked back into the room accompanied by Gemma.

“Well, well, who have we here?”

“You were right she wants to dissolve the partnership.”

“Gemma, it’s for the best, for both of us.”

“How could you think so? Did you not think that it would displease me? Besides, I’ve already made two appointments for you and both ladies have agreed that it might be for the best if you conducted the meetings at their homes.”

The inference was not lost on me but Jenny’s next remark startled me.

“Is it true then? Does she really do it?”

“Oh yes, she’s developing quite a talent. Would you like to see?”

I felt my world caving in. Not only had she made Jenny privy to my degradation she was prepared to demonstrate it.

“Please, Gemma, not now. Let’s go back to the office and discuss this.”

“Don’t be silly, we don’t have any secrets from Jenny, do we?”

I looked imploringly in Jenny’s direction but I saw a look of excited curiosity in her eyes that told me that there would be no help from that quarter.

“Kneel down.”

“Oh my God!”

The exclamation came from Jenny as I fell to my knees and Gemma stepped forward. She flipped her skirt over my head and stood with her legs slightly apart.

“Lick me.”

She was wearing tight sheer panties that were already moist with anticipation and, as I licked, it was as though the essence of her was being distilled. Her dark curls gave the panties a spongy softness but, after a moment of two, the material began to make my tongue sore.

“How long will she keep it up?”

“For as long as I wish. After all, what choice does she have?”

They were discussing me as though I were not in the room and all the time the increasing sense of claustrophobia grew as I laboured in the darkness.

“Have you ridden her face?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I do it to all my boyfriends. It let’s them know their place.”

“Show me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Never more so.”

Gemma stepped back exposing my perspiring red face to the light.

“Make her lie on her back.”

“She’ll do whatever you tell her to do. She’s such a good dog she’ll do anything to please you.”

Jenny looked dubious, and the more so when she saw the panic in my eyes, but any reservations she may have had were short-lived.

“Lie there, on the floor.”

“Jenny, please, this isn’t right.”

The faintest hint of a scowl crossed her face and that was enough. The switch closed in my mind and I immediately lay down on the floor.

“Do you mind if I make myself comfortable?”

She did not wait for Gemma’s reply and casually removed her robe beneath which she was totally naked. My eyes were drawn up along the length of her long legs to her freckle dusted upper body where her breasts were heavy globes surmounted with cherry red nipples which were already distended. She was aware of my gaze and, with a movement of her hand she dragged my eyes towards her pubis, where she brushed her fingers casually across the immaculately trimmed red thatch which covered her sex. She let her fingers linger for a moment and I sensed that the show was as much for Gemma’s benefit as for mine and I wondered if there was more to Jenny than met the eye.

“Lift your head.”

She broke my train of thought as she took a cushion from the sofa and slipped it under my head and I felt a knot of fear tightening in my stomach. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gemma take a seat, the better to enjoy the show, and then my whole attention was focused on the junction between Jenny’s legs as she stepped over me so that she was straddling my shoulders and facing down my body. She had a sense of the theatrical and she remained still for a few seconds allowing the tension in the room to increase and with it my heart rate. I gritted my teeth but my treacherous tongue was already readying itself.

Finally, she joined her hands at the back of her head and lifted the hair from the nape of her neck. At the same time she unlocked her knees and she began to slowly descend with a gracefulness that would have been the envy of an Olympic gymnast. I made a superhuman effort to turn my head aside but her calves were already pressed against the sides of my head, holding me in place, as her rounded buttocks came down to form the lid of my living coffin.

To start with she stayed poised, scant millimeters above my face, so that I could feel the heat radiating from her but then she began to move ever so slightly, in a tight circle, wafting her scent over me. I had never noticed before but she exuded a natural imperiousness and I imagined the men she had used this way in the past; she knew exactly how to play it, how to draw out the anguish of her prey. I could feel perspiration beading my brow but then there was a new wetness. Her fingers were at her sex, rubbing gently but insistently, and every few seconds another drop of sticky moisture dripped onto my face. I felt disgusted and degraded but this was only the prelude. After a couple of minutes of preparation she spread her knees a little more so that she was actually touching my face. She was like an artist carefully preparing a canvas. She brushed lightly using her buttocks to spread moisture evenly over my face. Nothing was missed. She brushed over my nose and my mouth and I was forced to close my eyes as she worked up and across my forehead.

I wanted to lick her, to spare myself anything worse, but now my mind had registered exactly what was to come, what she intended to do to please herself, I had no choice but to acquiesce. She gave one last wriggle and then with a load groan she opened her legs and her weight bore down. My head was pressed deep into the cushion and the next desperate breath that I took filled my lungs with her essence. She paused for a moment to let me get used to the burden but I could not overcome the panic. She was no lightweight and her buttocks were spread across my face plunging me into a stifling darkness.

It was obvious that she had been telling the truth when she said she had played the game before. She waited until my body began to twitch, until I reached the point of involuntary rebellion, and then she began to move. As she cleared my mouth I drew another gasping breath but I was inhaling moisture and I had to fight to keep from choking. After that her movements were both assured and measured. She worked her way back and forth across my face from my forehead to my chin. She kept her legs still and shifted her weight through her pelvis in a powerful pistoning action. As I struggled to hang on I could hear her urging herself on and she began to move faster rasping my face painfully with her pubis. By the finish there was no pretence at self control. She was grinding herself down taking her pleasure in any way she could until finally she came to a complete stop. She cried out as her climax ripped through her and I could feel her sex pulsating as she savoured ever last tremor. Even when it was over she was content to rest on my face until she had recovered sufficient control of her legs to enable her to dismount.

“That was awesome. Do men find that arousing?”

“Some do, most don’t, but frankly, who cares?”

I listened to their exchange as I tried to reanimate my face muscles and noticed that Jenny had seated her self next to Gemma with her legs brazenly spread.

“Come here.”

The tone of command seemed to come naturally to Jenny and I found myself doing as she asked without thinking. I stayed on my knees and shuffled between her legs to the spot that she was indicating.

“Clean me up.”

Her pubis was a damp nest and her inner thighs were smeared with moisture but I did as I was told. I put out my tongue and over the next few minutes I worked my way over every messy inch cleaning her as best I could. Just when I thought I had finished she brought her fingers down to her sex and held herself open.

“Do it.”

We both knew what she meant and I pushed my tongue between her swollen labia and toiled to bring her to another climax. At some point she leaned a little closer to Gemma and I was shocked to see a tentative kiss exchanged. Jenny was clearly taking the lead and she drew Gemma’s hand across to her exposed breast. I was so shocked that I almost forgot what I was doing but Jenny squeezed my head with her thighs.

“Don’t stop.”

There was no doubt that Gemma was uneasy but it was this very unease that excited Jenny and tripped her over the edge for a second time. Gemma moved away from her as Jenny pulled me more tightly to her sex and let herself go.

When it was over she reached her hand towards Gemma’s but Gemma’s mind was made up.

“I want to ride her face…”