Enslaved (14 page)

Whatever Barry came up with, whatever strange devices he was constructing, there was nothing she'd not already endured - was there?

Aware of her wet panties, she glanced around the park. There was no one nearby, no prying eyes as she slipped her panties off and leaned back with her thighs open. The summer breeze cooling her burning vaginal lips, she smiled, examining the crotch of her red panties - the white stains, the creamy wetness. Slipping her hand beneath her short skirt, she toyed with her distended inner lips, eliciting pleasing sensations from the soft, warm flesh, inducing her girl-come to flow from her spasming vagina.

Moving her fingers up her drenched valley to her stiffening clitoris, she closed her eyes, massaging her sensitive budling, breathing slowly, deeply, as the sensations permeated her quivering womb. Squeezing her nipple through her flimsy top with her other hand, she quickened her rhythm, rubbing her swollen clitoris faster, increasing the electrifying sensations.

A yapping dog at her feet suddenly disturbing the intimate pleasuring emanating from her erect nipple, her throbbing clitoris, Marianne quickly adjusted her skirt, covering her feminine nakedness as she scanned the park for the animal's owner.

'Go away!' she hissed at the dog. 'Bloody dog! Go on, bugger off!' Jumping up and snatching her panties from the bench in its jaws, the dog ran off towards a man walking some distance away. 'Oh, shit!' she breathed as the man took her panties from the dog's mouth and began strolling towards the bench.

'I'm so sorry,' he smiled as he approached Marianne. 'Are these yours?' Her face flushing as he held out her wet panties, Marianne returned his smile, wondering what to say, how to explain herself.

'Er. . . no, they're not mine!' she laughed awkwardly, gazing into his dark eyes.

In his mid-thirties, tall, slim and very good-looking, Marianne wondered what he'd do to her in the park, to her young body under the hot, summer sun, if he knew about the trigger word. Lowering her gaze to his bulging jeans, she sensed her insatiable clitoris stir between her pouting vaginal lips.

⁴
1 think your dog found them on the grass, over there,' she said, pointing behind the bench.

⁴
Well, someone must have left the park feeling rather chilly!' he laughed as he sat beside her, dropping the panties beneath the bench. 'Don't mind if I join you, do you?'

⁴
No, not at all.'

⁴
He's not my dog, by the way - he belongs to a very good friend of mine. I bring him here for a walk when she's working.'

Marianne's stomach sank.
A very goodfriend of mine. When she's working.
But what was she thinking? she asked herself. She could hardly be jealous, she didn't even know the man!
It was a neighbour's dog,
she hoped.

⁴
Do you come here often?' he asked.

The cliche brought a smile to her face.
What's a nice girl like you . . . What's a filthy whore like you . .
. 'Yes, quite often,' she replied.

'Always alone, or with your boyfriend?' he probed.

'Always alone. I don't have a boyfriend,' she lied, brushing her long blonde hair from her pretty face. 'Not at the moment, anyway.'

The words, the lies, tumbled from her mouth without her thinking. Eyeing his bulging jeans again, she wondered what he'd think if he knew that she was naked beneath her skirt -naked and hairless.

'Your
very close
friend, is she a . . .' Marianne began hesitantly.

'No, no, she's only a friend. I'm single,' he replied, obviously reading her thoughts, her body language.

'Oh,' she smiled, her heart fluttering. 'Do you live very far away?'

'See that house there, on the edge of the park?'

'What, that big place with the tall chimneys?'

'Yes - that's my house.'

'Nice! I live ... I have a small house. Nothing special, but it's home.'

'Fancy coming back for a drink?' he asked, lowering his appreciative gaze to her shapely thighs. 'I usually have a scotch after walking the dog.'

Her stomach somersaulting, she thought of Barry. He'd wonder where she was, where she'd gone.
So what?
she reflected.
He doesn't own me!
Imagining the man between her thighs, licking, sucking on her girl-flesh, his tongue stiffening her clitoris, she realized that she didn't even know his name - and she was about to go to his house!

Tm Marianne,' she introduced herself, holding her hand out as she stood up.

'Oh, sorry... My name's Rod,' he smiled, standing and shaking her hand. 'It suits you, your name. You remind me of Marianne Faithfull.'

'Do I?'

'Yes, your hair, your mouth. So, would you like to come back for a drink?'

'Yes, all right. I don't have a great deal of time, but I'd love to see your house.'

Following the yapping dog towards the large house, Marianne spoke of the hypnosis course she'd been on. 'I was thinking of setting up as a hypnotherapist, but I flunked the course!' she said despondently.

'Hypnosis is an interesting subject,' he replied as they

neared the house. 'But it can be dangerous if not used properly.'

'Dangerous?' she queried.

'Yes. In the wrong hands, hypnosis can be very dangerous. Delving into the subconscious, suggestion and all that, can be very dangerous indeed.'

Following Rod through a wooden gate and along the garden path to the back door of the house, Marianne wondered how to mention the trigger word without giving the game away.
What would he do if he knew the word?
she thought excitedly, her clitoris stirring again, her stomach swirling, her vaginal juices flowing down her inner thighs.

'Come through to the lounge,' he invited, locking the dog in the kitchen as she wandered into the hall. The lounge was big and expensively furnished. The walls lined with books and paintings, the red carpet thick, plush, it was more like a luxurious private study.

'What would you like to drink?' Rod asked, opening an antique cabinet as she sat on the sofa.

'Er... vodka-and-lime, please. As I was saying, I flunked the course but... Well, perhaps I shouldn't tell you about it.'

'Tell me what?'

'The lecturer was taken ill on the last day. He'd placed what he called a trigger word in my subconscious and .. . it's boring, let's talk about something else.'

'And the trigger word is still there, is that what you were about to say?'

'Well... yes, it is. Oh, thanks,' she smiled as he passed her a glass.

'I told you that messing around with hypnosis can be dangerous.'

'No, there's no danger. No one knows the word so ...'

'What is the word? Sorry, I didn't mean to ...'

'That's OK. My telling you won't do any harm. As long as you promise not to make me do a dance or sing or something!'

'Of course I won't!' he laughed. 'I'm just interested, that's all.'

'The word is
juxtaposition
,' she enlightened him trustingly.

'At least it's not likely to crop up in conversation!'

'No, hopefully not!'

Watching Rod sit opposite, Marianne wondered what the hell she was doing in a stranger's house, her pussy knickerless beneath her very short skirt - admitting to having had a trigger word planted in her subconscious!
I must be mad!
she thought, sipping her drink.

But it would be nice to get to know someone - to get to know a man other than Barry.
A clandestine relationship,
she mused, the thought exciting her. Rod probably lived alone, she reckoned, gazing around the room, imagining leaving Barry and moving in with Rod. / am
mad!

'You're not aware if the word's been used, are you?' he asked. 'I mean, if someone had mentioned the word and sent you into a hypnotic trance, you'd remember nothing about it afterwards, would you?'

'No, not at all. The course lecturer used it and told me that I was standing at the sink doing the washing up. Apparently, everyone had a good laugh watching me wash nonexistent dishes!' she giggled. 'And, when he clicked his fingers, I had no recollection whatsoever! I didn't even know that I'd been hypnotized!'

'I've seen it done on TV, but I'd always thought it to be an act.'

'Oh, no! It's real enough!'

Placing his glass on a low table, Rod moved forward in his chair.
Come on, come on!
Marianne urged in her mind, her pussy lips swelling, her clitoris ripening, her vagina

wetting. Perhaps all men
weren't
the same as Barry and John, after all?

Despondency setting in as she watched him pick his glass up, Marianne wondered whether to make her excuses and leave.
It must have crossed his mind to send me into a hypnotic trance and have his wicked way with me!
Perhaps, if _she were to call and see him again, he'd use the word and. . .

'Juxtaposition!'

Staring blankly across the room, Marianne smiled inwardly as her stomach somersaulted at the prospect of having sex with a stranger.
What will he do?
she wondered.
Ask me to strip? To open my legs and show him my pussy?
Her sexual arousal reaching dangerous heights, she waited, praying that he'd bury his face between her legs and suck an exquisite orgasm from her yearning clitoris.

'They
were
your knickers, weren't they?' Rod asked, his voice soft but firm.

'Yes, they were,' she replied, monotonizing her words to bring authenticity to her hypnotic trance.

'Why had you taken them off?'

'I was masturbating,' she confessed, her vaginal muscles tightening, her clitoris insatiable in its yearning.

'Do you always masturbate in the park?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Aren't you afraid that someone might see you?'

'No. The thought of being caught excites me. I love being watched.'

'Has anyone ever watched you masturbating?'

'Yes, many times. Last week, there was a man in the park. He was behind some bushes, watching me.'

'And did you come?'

'Yes, several times.'

'So, you're not wearing any knickers, then?'

'No, I'm not.'

'Show me how you masturbate.'

Her heart banging hard against her chest, her womb contracting, Marianne parted her legs as wide as she could. Moving her buttocks to the edge of the sofa, she lifted her skirt up over her smooth stomach, revealing her shaved pussy-slit, her soft mound, to the stranger's gaze.

'Why have you shaved?' he asked, moving across the room and settling between her feet.

'I prefer it that way, it looks good, feels good. It excites me to see my fanny naked, like a young girl's.'

'You look very sore, what have you been up to?'

'Using a can of hair spray. Pushing it into my cunt and masturbating.'

'You're a very attractive girl. I can hardly believe my luck!' he grinned as she parted her inflamed cunny lips and massaged the soft flesh surrounding her vaginal entrance. 'The chances of meeting a nymphomaniac in the park are slim enough, but to meet one who has a trigger word! The implications are incredible!'

His words exciting her, Marianne continued her female masturbating, her blatant self-abuse, as he watched the amazing spectacle. Suddenly aware of his hot breath on her inner thigh, she moved her buttocks further forward, opening the centre of her young body, offering her vaginal entrance to his mouth, his tongue.

'Ah, yes!' she gasped as his hot, wet tongue swept up her sex-valley. 'Ah, God!' Vigorously frigging her clitoris as Rod's tongue snaked its way into her vagina, Marianne was coming ever nearer to her desperately-needed orgasm. Suddenly, Rod's finger delved deep into her bottom-sheath, the delicious sensations of depravity lifting her higher to her sexual heaven. 'Coming!' she gasped as her body shook and writhed.

Moving her hand aside, Rod engulfed her throbbing clitoris in his hot mouth, licking, sucking, sustaining her incredible orgasmic pleasure. Her lustful sensations heightened by her wickedness, her trickery, Marianne could barely endure the waves of orgasm crashing through her young body. On and on she rode the crest of her climax, quivering, wailing her appreciation, almost forgetting her
hypnotic trance.

'Don't stop!' she cried as his finger delved deeper into her tightening anal sheath. 'Oh, God - don't stop!' His tongue sweeping over her pulsating crown, Rod elicited the final orgasmic palpitations, leaving the girl drained, her vaginal juices flowing from her hungry cunt.

'You enjoyed that, didn't you?' Rod asked as he slipped his finger from her tight rectum.

'Yes, yes!' Marianne gasped appreciatively.

'You'd like me to fuck you now, wouldn't you?'

'Yes, please - fuck me! Fuck my wet cunt!'