5 comments/ 207437 views/ 25 favorites A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 01 By: InYourDreams Chapter 1: Our minds are such fickle masters of our actions. What is it that makes us so suddenly fall in love so that we can no longer bear to exist without someone? How does our mind become so mesmerised that its judgment is totally abandoned? And yet how fickle it is, that we can just as easily fall out of love again and no longer care whether we see that same person? That suddenly our life seems so much better without them. How can such an irreversible change happen so suddenly and so absolutely? Yet if our mind is indeed fickle, then it is also very vulnerable. Are we the victim of random chance that dictates how our minds will respond? Or is there some purpose in the way it twists our behaviour first one way then another? Either way every one of us must guard carefully this power house of our daily actions, for if we are too open then we may let someone inside and like a maggot they will eat away at the very heart of our being, twisting and turning us in much the same way a maggot twists and tries to escape the inevitable once impaled upon the fisherman's hook. From the outside everything may seem untrammelled, but inside just as the rotten apple, we are transforming - slowly bit by bit, piece builds upon little piece turning us into some new design. But whose? They were happy times, those happy years with Tom. Perhaps not the exciting adventurer that would constantly have you with your heart in your mouth, but caring and dependable, always supportive, always the rock. Yes we were happy and life was good, whatever else life had in store for us, we were together and together we would face it. Yet somehow in this life we always pay for the small fragments of happiness we manage to pick up along our road. Someone always looks jealously upon your happiness and from somewhere deep within they find a need to destroy it. There must always be a price to pay and someone out there willing to exact that price from us. And it seems that the more happy we find ourselves, the greater must be that price we must pay. Well Tom and I were indeed very, very happy and as for the price... I suppose it started, or at least that is the earliest I can trace it back to, when the company Tom worked for went through a major repositioning in the market and there were new people brought in. One of these was Ricky who was hired in to head Tom's division. Tom was very worried about this brash new kid coming in and what changes he would bring. At the same time, however, perhaps this was Tom's chance for promotion. If he could impress and show that he could bring forward the changes Ricky needed then, he argued, he would be rewarded. So it was that Ricky was invited over to our house for dinner one night and the opportunity for Tom to impress him. Problem was, however, that Tom was not at home when Ricky arrived on the doorstep and so started to unfold a tale unimaginable to me at the time. Oh if only Tom had not been late that day, but then again there were many things that I didn't understand then... Sara and Tom had been married for only a couple of short years. They were very much in love and with their combined income there was every chance of a happy future together. With the arrival of Ricky on the scene, however, Tom was passing through a period of great uncertainty and he did not want to risk a chance for Ricky to form the wrong impression of him so as soon as the young whiz kid was installed Tom lost no time in inviting him round to talk about his ideas for the reshaping of the company. Tom was young and ambitious and with his wife Sara by his side he felt confident. Yet on the day, while everything was being got ready for Ricky's visit, the phone had rung. It was Sam from work. He had lost his job in the recent reshuffle and Tom agreed to go over and chat with him. After all, he had said to Sara, if it were the other way round he would need some support from his colleagues to cope with the lay off. So Sara flitted about the house trying to get all prepared. Fortunately she had Marie, their maid, to help her. She seemed to be very efficient and Sara was almost unaware that she was there, but could see how everything was under control. The food was cooking, and it smelt good, and the house was being tidied and readied for their guest. They worked together and there was a chemistry between them that helped them quickly to establish an understanding. Marie was a Latin girl of similar age and build to Sara and had only recently joined them, being sent by the agency. Ricky arrived and Tom was still not back from his visit to Sam. Sara felt some irritation towards him leaving her alone to tackle Ricky at their first meeting. She was a little apprehensive as she showed him into the house. Ricky was clearly a bright man; he looked too young to be Tom's boss so must have risen fast and had no trouble feeling at ease as he entered their home. Clearly he had plenty of self-confidence. Sara showed him into the sitting room as Marie called out she was off home and then fixed him a drink. She sat opposite him and they started to chat. Of course she had to apologise for her husband's absence and privately cursed his name as she did so. As they chatted Sara found it difficult to keep up with the conversation. She found herself strangely distracted, although she was not entirely sure on what. Ricky seemed to be asking quite personal questions about her and Tom which made her feel a little uncomfortable. Yet during their conversation she was repeatedly wrong-footed by her mind wandering off at a tangent and leaving her struggling to keep a focus on what he said. Perhaps she would have been a little more circumspect about her answers if she didn't have to work so hard to concentrate. Sara was not comfortable being alone with Ricky and hoped her husband would show up soon. She started to wonder what to do about dinner if he delayed much longer. Why was it so difficult to hear what he was saying? Was he whispering or was she just distracted? "My God, I hope he doesn't realise. He will either think he is boring me or that I am a complete Bimbo", she thought. "I must try harder for Tom's sake." Suddenly her thoughts cleared as she heard Tom's key in the lock. She felt the relief wash over her at the sound but at the same time felt confused as one waking from deep sleep. She wasn't quite sure where she was and as with a vivid dream as she awoke she could suddenly picture what had been running through her mind as it faded slowly beyond recall. She had been sitting opposite Ricky and running through her mind she had seen a picture of herself lying back in the curve of her armchair. She pictured her body, seen sideways on, the chair sweeping it round and raising upwards the lower half of her frame, up towards Ricky. In this picture painted in her mind, she could see her most private parts being pushed up by the chair like an offering to Ricky and she became aware that in reality her legs were planted apart as far as the tightness of her dress allowed. The mind picture had been so vivid, a woman wantonly displaying herself towards this man, ready and open for him like some offering. She had pictured his cock sliding into her wet hole; she could see the veins on his member bulge as they slid back and forth against her lips pulled tightly around it. She was leaning back supplicating as he drove himself into her. She could feel the submission deep within her as she saw the head of his cock push right up to her cervix. She could feel the knock-knock of it at her womb as he hammered into her and how she longed to open that door and feel his seed rush inside her. Sara's conscious was repelled by the vision it saw. How could she think such thoughts of a man she had just met and barely knew? She was Tom's wife and her womb should only open for his seed. What had she been thinking of? Yet as she replayed these scenes she became aware that she was very wet. For a confused moment she wondered whether these things had really happened, that Ricky had actually made love to her in her own armchair, in their own house while her husband was out. She became aware that these thoughts were driving a feeling of tightness in her chest and she could feel her nipples harden in response to the idea. Horrified she shook her head to escape the phantasm. As she did so she became a little more aware of her surroundings. She wasn't actually leaning back, but was sitting well forward, leaning towards Ricky. Her legs had been splayed and leaning forward made her feel more wanton. Ricky was on the couch somewhat sprawled, lying even, as he talked with her. His hands were in his pockets and clearly as she had leant forward her face had been pointed towards his groin. As her eyes focused she realised that he was clearly aroused, his monster was very obviously straining within the confines of his trousers, as it tried to reach up towards her mouth which she became aware, had been open. She became aware that her throat was dry and so she must have held her mouth open for some time. As she awoke from her trance she closed her mouth and looked up into Ricky's eyes as Tom entered the room. She found to her horror recognition on his behalf of her proffered state and feared what he must have been thinking. How could she have acted in this way? "Hi darling, sorry I'm late." Tom's words broke into her thoughts. Then turning to Ricky, "I hope Sara has been keeping you amused. Time just seemed to pass so quick. Sorry darling, I got back as soon as I could." Tom held out his hand and Ricky stood up and shook it. "No problem, Sara has been great company." And he turned towards her as he said this and winked ever so slightly. Sara felt her cheeks colour and excused herself to the kitchen to see about the dinner. The meal went well and Tom spent time talking work with Ricky while Sara tried to keep out the way as much as possible. She felt numb from her experience and her mind was still reeling trying to piece together how she could have got into such a state. Fortunately she had checked and there was no evidence that they had done anything. She cursed herself for even suspecting. She could be so stupid at times. But even so she was deeply disturbed by the experience and could not hide the fact that she was not herself for the rest of the evening. "That seemed to go well." Tom was leaning on the doorway of the study after Ricky had left. "He seemed pleased with what I presented to him and has asked me to develop some of the ideas further. He will come round one evening next week to discuss them. So it all seems to have gone well." "Are you OK Sara? You didn't seem quite yourself tonight." She turned towards her husband and felt her heart plummet. "It wasn't easy to meet him for the first time all alone you know." She challenged him. "I am so sorry about that darling. Sam was very upset and I couldn't just leave him and come to promote myself. I promise I will be here next week when he calls." Tom held Sara in his arms and she felt some reassurance. At least here she would be safe – safe from her own thoughts. "Ricky did say, however, that there would be more overtime for me over the coming months. As Ricky put it, we are all going to have to make some sacrifices, but there would be rewards for those who contributed most." -------------------------------------------------- "Do you believe in hypnosis?" Sara was sitting in the cafeteria with her friend Carol. They had been friends since school, and often met up during the office lunch break to chat. Sara could rely on Carol for comfort and discretion. Unlike Sara, Carol had a sensible head on her shoulders and would soon bring her flights of fancy back to the ground. "No, not really. Why do you ask?" "This meeting with Tom's new boss. It was so strange. Tom was not around when he turned up – I am still so mad with him about that, so naturally I was left to keep him amused while we waited for Tom to get back. I just seemed to lose track of what was happening as we talked and when Tom came and I snapped out of it I found there were these strange thoughts that had been running through my head." "What kind of things?" "Well unsavoury, I'd say; about Ricky, his boss, and me. Not the kind of thing for a healthy mind." "Wow Sara, and did anything happen?' Carol seemed to be getting a little too interested in this. "No, no." Sara protested. "Just my mind running away into a fantasy, but quite disturbing." "And you think he hypnotised you?" "Do you think it was possible? It was so unlike me." Sara looked up at Carol and her friend could see the concern in her face. "I don't think so, especially someone you don't know. If a person can be hypnotised I am sure it requires a higher level of trust than that. Tell me, did he make you do something – take your clothes off and parade round the room?" How typical of Carol to make a joke out of it, and with that joke dispels the worries that were circulating in Sara's head. "No I guess you're right." And Sara smiled as she felt relief that her friend had so easily evaporated her nightmare. -------------------------------------------------- "Marie... Marie!" Sara marches round the house looking for the maid. She has to be off to work before long and needs to give her a list of things to do. As she wanders around the house she cannot find her and finds herself in the bedroom. There on the bed is a large pot of cream. She wanders over to it, curious about what it is and how it got there. Lifting it up in her hand she reads the label on it: "Magic Hair Removal Cream" it says. She looks puzzled at it having no idea where it came from or who should want hair removal cream. Then she catches in the corner of her eye a pair of panties laid out on the bed next to the pot. These also she does not recognise, and decides she had better go find Marie to see if she knows anything about them. She picks the panties up and looks at them in her hand. They are lacy in style, but the lace is interwoven with a kind of rubber thread. It is dense so the feel of the material is rubbery. It looks rather enticing and she finds herself rubbing the material between her fingers. Her mind starts to wander as she imagines what the feel of the material would be like next to the delicate skin of her pussy. She is hardly conscious of the slight feeling of arousal that is creeping over her and she starts, absent-mindedly to open the pot of cream. Dipping her fingers into the tub of cream she lifts them out and looks at the large white scoop in her fingers. She watches it curiously for a moment and then turns to the panties and starts to smear the cream around the inside of the panty. Soon she is digging into the tub for more cream and smearing that over the elasticated material, turning the black of the fabric into a smooth layer of white. She makes sure the crotch is also well covered with the cream and then puts the pot down on the bed. She holds the crotch of the panties carefully in one hand, looking at it and balancing it to make sure the weight of the cream is in her palm. Without removing her eyes from them she pushes her other hand up underneath the skirt of her suit. She feels for the elastic of the panties she is wearing and slips her thumb inside them. She pulls on them and then shifts her hand to the other side and pulls again. Little by little, and it is not easy with only one hand and making sure not to drop the cream filled panties in her other, but slowly she eases them over her hips and eventually they drop to the floor. She steps out of them and brings the rubber down between her legs. She looks at the cream smeared over the crotch resting in her open hand between her legs and then very carefully eases first one leg then the other into them. Her hands now pull the panty up the long climb of her legs, and she concentrates so as not to wipe away any of the cream before it reaches her crotch. She lifts her skirt and holds it up around her waist as she eases the cream around her cunt. As she slides the elastic of her panties over her hips, her cunt lips plunge into the cream and with a firm hand she presses the material into her mons. She stands for a moment looking down over her breasts. Her breath is coming in short shallow gulps as her mind plays out for her the image of her lips and mound becoming smooth, watching powerlessly as her hair falls away from her skin. She is overwhelmed by the thought of this act signifying a former life pulling away from her future and feeling like a chrysalis that is about to step forward into a totally new and different life ahead. She bends down to pick up her discarded panties still lying at her feet, and feels the cream squeezed into her crack by the movement. She presses her lips together to feel the cream slip and slide between her tightly pressed thighs. As she takes her panties to throw in for the wash she starts to feel a tingling between her legs. Her whole mound is starting to itch from the action of the cream as her hair starts to die. She falls onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling, contemplating the inevitable changes she has wrought upon herself, unable to determine her actions. Her hand creeps down her skirt and finds the hem, pulls it upwards and grabs hold of her rubber-encased crotch. Her fingers splay between her thighs forcing them apart as she pushes the panties deeper and deeper between her lips. Her middle finger starts a dance over the material encasing her opening and her palm starts to rub back and forth to relieve this persistent itch that consumes her. She rubs harder and harder in an effort to feel relief and as she does so feels the sexual tension build within her. She can't seem to stop her hand roaming over her mound, through her crack and pressing the material and cream ever so lightly inside. In an effort of will she drags herself off the bed and tries to find distraction in the mundane matters of running the house. She was looking for Marie. She had to give her instructions before setting off to work. Where was the girl? As she wandered calling her, she was almost oblivious to her hand that appeared to be glued to the area between her legs. She pressed a finger against her mound through the material of her skirt and the panties underneath. She splayed her palm open over her skirt and started to buck her hips feeling her mound slide back and forth under the weight of her palm. She knew this action was smearing the cream over her pubic hair and that this would increase the itchiness that was distracting her. Yet she was powerless to prevent herself from making sure that she was coated in the cream and ensuring all her pubic hair would fall out. The intolerable itch would not be assuaged any other way, and her logic could make no impact upon her actions. She rubbed and rubbed until she managed to force herself back to her search for Marie. She went down into the sitting room and found her bent over the table dusting. She stared at her rear for a moment and suddenly pictured her naked and smooth too, like she would soon be naked and smooth. She felt the word smooth echo round in her head and she felt herself becoming aroused at the idea of Marie's naked ass pushed up into the air in front of her. She pictured herself moving over and kneeling behind her and burying her face in Marie's behind. The image shocked her, but at the same time she felt a quiver of excitement run through her body. She gasped out loud at the onslaught of the erotic images circulating through her mind. Marie heard the noise and stood and turned towards her. "Are you all right Miss?" Sara's eyes were half closed and in an almost dream like state she started to move her hand down under her skirt – right in front of the maid. As the thought ran into her mind she felt a quickening of her heartbeat. She looked towards the girl and saw an insecure smile break on her face. Why was she not as shocked by what she saw as Sara felt by acting in this way? The itch in her groin was now so bad she could not control herself. She had her hand up her skirt and was rubbing the heel of her palm over her mound, pressing as hard as she could and starting to feel sore from the friction. Marie looked at the twin pillars of Sara's white thighs revealed by the pulling aside of her skirt, and the join of her thighs buried in her hand that cupped the area between them and rubbed it in such an agitated fashion. She walked towards her, the smile undiminished, a look of complicity in her eyes: A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 01 "Is there anything you want me to do for you miss?' the insinuation blatant. Sara shook her head from side to side, but her body was wracked by the feelings of pleasure and the unbearable drive to have her hand buried between her legs. She turned and ran from the room out into the hall. She had to escape these feelings, she had to escape her embarrassment, yet she could find no escape. She felt dampness spreading down her legs and the smell of arousal cloyed the air in her nostrils. She shouldn't feel this way, she needed to wash this cursed cream off her skin before all her hair was gone. Marie wandered slowly into the hall, a little unsure of her mistress and her antics, and hovered in the doorway. There she was holding onto the post at the bottom of the stairs and humping herself against its length. She seemed wild and insatiable; there was no humiliation too much for her. Suddenly Sara opened her eyes and saw Marie watching. She turned red and ran up the stairs. Marie heard a banging of doors as Sara seemed suddenly unfamiliar with her own home. Groans intermingled with sobs echoed down the stairway as Marie hesitated, uncertain at the foot of the stairs. The sounds were more reminiscent of a cornered animal than her mistress. She climbed the stairs slowly and found her lying on her bed, her legs splayed wide and her hand tearing at the material of a pair of rubber panties. Marie saw the jar of cream and picked it up. She approached slowly. "Let me help. Do you want me to help you?" She lowered her face close to Sara's and stared straight into her eyes. There was a hint of mockery and a hint of duplicity in the face Sara stared up into. She was hot and sweaty lying underneath this girl whose eyes just stared down at her. All the while Sara's hand would not let up driving this evil cream deeper into her skin and tormenting her all the more. She pictured the hairs, one by one falling away and her mound starting to look bare. She felt the attraction of Marie's proximity and the smell of her perfume as it floated over her face. She felt the contrast of herself dirty and defiled in front of this clean and proper woman who was offering her help. "Let me ease your pain. Will you let me remove your panties?" Marie still looked her straight in the eye, and Sara was aware enough to understand how humiliating her position was. If she were to allow Marie to take off her panties she would have demeaned herself in front of the maid, who would lose any respect from her. Marie looked down at Sara, much like a wise parent trying to calm a naughty child caught in the act. Sara looked at her with pleading in her eyes, but the nagging in her groin would not let up. Slowly she started to nod and a sob escaped her lips. "There then. Just lie back," Marie cooed, and she smacked her hand away. Sara lay back and stared up at the ceiling trying desperately not to think about what was happening. Her hands clawed at the bedcovers to keep them busy. She felt Marie's hands cold against her flesh as she gripped the sides of the panty. With one swift stroke she yanked Sara down the bed as the rubber material pulled away from her. She felt her hair pulling away with it and yelped both in the sudden pain and with a gush of erotic energy. Sara lay panting and making guttural sounds, not attempting to move or cover herself. Her legs splayed, her cream saturated cunt in full view of Marie who was towering over her on the bed. Sara suddenly heard a snap of latex and saw Marie pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Now lets see the damage." She started to smooth away the cream with the gloves and collected it. The cream was dark with her hairs, which Marie smeared onto the bed cover. Sara felt a little relief each time the latex glove slid across her nakedness. It was soothing the slow glide of the slippery latex over her hairless skin. Into Sara's mind crept the thought that she was offering herself to Marie, that her nakedness before the maid was an invitation for her to be used, and she felt anxiety – was Marie pleased with her nakedness now that she had removed the cream? Would she prove smooth enough? Marie's fully gloved hand started to inspect the area between Sara's legs. There was an air of detachment about the way she pulled apart Sara's lips and looked upon her. Sara bit her lip, she felt she was under inspection to see whether she had done her job well. Yet a part of her brain screamed at her, this was the maid she was allowing to humiliate her. She should get up and rush to the bathroom to wash the vile stuff off. Yet she just lay passively while Marie continued to probe her. Suddenly she seemed to drag her mind away from her task and Marie turned matter-of-factly to her: "Are you going to work today?" She spoke like a friend, not like a maid any more. Sara noticed this but given her predicament felt it better to let it pass. She considered the question for a moment. She was still out of breath, her abdomen heaving under the maid's legs which straddled her waist. She pictured herself at the office and recalled how she had just run around the house finding anything to rub against her crotch. She shuddered at the thought of doing something like that in front of her colleagues at work. "No I need some rest." she gasped. Marie smiled, slid down the bed and kissed her clean mound. "That's great, but you are still a bit too rough down here for a proper kissing." Sara was too far-gone to be surprised by anything now. She just lay there trying to collect her thoughts and let Marie carry on. She did not notice Marie collecting more cream from the tub and refilling the rubber panties. Turning her back towards Sara she reached down and slipped the panties through her legs once again. As Sara tried to raise her head to see what she was doing and was confronted by the close proximity of Marie's ass to her face. She remembered the feelings of excitement she had felt earlier, about burying her face in her ass and fought to withdraw. "Wh-What are you doing?" "Just needs a little bit more," in a sing-song voice. Sara felt the material being pulled up her legs. She tried to struggle as the realisation of what Marie was doing hit here. Yet she was too tired from all her exertions to put up a fight. Sara felt the material slide over her mound and Marie's hand press the cream once again into her vulva. She closed her eyes in despair. More to follow... A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 02 This is chapter 2 of the story and before reading this you should read chapter 1. The chapters are not self-contained but part of the same developing story. Its just the story was too long for me to put it all together before posting and so I will post each chapter when I've had the time to get it to a satisfactory state. I want to express my thanks to all those who have emailed me or posted comments on the story. * * * * * Sara collapses in floods of tears as soon as they sit in the corner of the restaurant. "Why whatever is the matter?" Carol reaches across to put her arm around the shoulders of her friend. A look of concern impressed itself upon her face. "I... I can't explain. It is just too horrible for words." Sara appeared beyond consolation so Carol ordered some soup for her friend and waited for her to calm down. She could see the torment in Sara's eyes and knowing her friend of old she knew that she was fighting an inward struggle to tell her what had happened, or at least how much of it to tell. Sara was not very good at facing things and would talk about anything other than what she needed to unburden herself with. "I just need to get away and have a holiday on my own." Sara was beginning to master her emotions. "Is there a problem between you and Tom?" "No! No nothing like that. I just need to be on my own that's all." "What is it you are trying to escape from? Is there something at work?" "Its me. Not anyone else. Or at least... Do you believe in hypnosis?" "You asked me that before. What is it Sara? I'm your friend. I'm here to help." Sara struggled to find words she could get out. It took some minutes before she could say: "Yesterday. It was like I was somebody else and I could see what I was doing, but I couldn't understand why I was doing it!" "What did you do, Sara?" Carol could see that it was going to be a long lunch break. Sara again went quiet and refused to answer. Very patiently she tried to get Sara to relax and confide in her, coaxing each little nugget of information until she knew enough for Sara to feel she could spill the rest of her story out. Slowly, piece-by-piece, the story seeped out about Marie and the day off work. Sara couldn't bring herself to tell her friend about the cream and the fact that she was now entirely without pubic hair. She still recoiled each time the thought entered her head. She had lost count of the number of times she had slunk into the toilet at work to check once again, her eyes unwilling to believe the truth of what they saw. She willed her hair to grow back again and for her to regain her old self. All this she could not bring herself to speak of. But the insatiable arousal and Marie taking advantage of her and how she had to call in sick for fear of embarrassing herself at the office came tumbling out once she got going. Carol listened quietly trying not to disturb her friend while she unburdened herself. "And you think you've been hypnotised? Have you been to see your doctor, maybe there's just some simple explanation to do with hormone balance. Something she can easily rectify? I mean do you think somebody could hypnotise you? Who could do such a thing and wouldn't you know about it?" even Carol was finding it hard to keep calm. "I don't know. You can be told to forget the experience when you are under. I've been reading about it the last few days." "I see. But do you have any idea who is behind this and why?" "I thought at first it was Ricky, Tom's new boss. I started to act a little strange when he came over, but it was nothing like yesterday. I feel sure it must be Marie. She joined us recently, and she was acting pretty outrageously taking advantage of the state I was in. But what I can't explain is why? I have been good to her. We got along very well. Why is she doing this to me?" "Perhaps it is Ricky then?" "I just don't know what to do." "Well I don't think running away is going to resolve anything. If there is something about Marie then you don't need to keep her on. But we must be sure it's not Ricky first. Look Sara, if you ever feel like yesterday again you call me, all right? and I'll be right over?" Sara slowly started to calm down as they talked. She had at least someone she could turn to, someone she could rely on in her need. She couldn't talk about something like this to Tom. God, if he ever found out he may never want to see her again. A knot tightened in her stomach at this thought. ------------------------------------------------- Sara stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom. She had just got in and there was a pile of shopping bags lying on the bed as she studied her appearance. She was wearing the clothes she had just bought having come running upstairs to throw off her work clothes and try them on. The top she was wearing was mauve and rather low cut; the material silky clung to her waist. Her breasts stretched the fabric as it moulded itself around her twin globes. She stared at them for a while and swung first one way then the other admiring the effect on her tightly encased tits. Below this she was wearing a black skirt, very short – much shorter than she had ever dared to wear before. She wondered vaguely how come she had picked it, but as her eyes stared out at her legs she was pleased at how she looked. The material of the skirt swung round with her hips and revealed a little more of the softness of her hidden white thighs. It would certainly catch the eye as she walked down the street she thought. Her feet were encased in bright red shoes with huge heels – perhaps 3 inches! How did she manage to stay upright in them? Yet she felt comfortable and liked the slight arch in her body as she stood in front of the mirror. Her ass stuck out behind, the small flap of material resting on the curves of her buttocks accentuating the sweep down around to her groin. Her thighs silky smooth contrasting with the fabric white on black. She was half turned away looking back over her shoulder. Yes the look was great. She had not intended to go out and do some shopping but as she left the office the urge just seemed irresistible. She was so glad that she did, for as she looked around the shops she seemed to have no difficulty to find something suitable. Now, she thought, time for some makeup. She opened another bag of shopping. Inside she found some eyeliner and mascara. She started work on her lashes, making them long and black. Their darkness accentuated the angle of her cheekbone and made the whites of her eyes clear and bright. The black line drawn around her eyes defined a sharp intense edge, its very blackness designed to allure. She stared into the mirror as she applied her makeup, concentrating hard to get the look just right, as if in her mind there was a template that she was trying to recreate. As she leant forwards applying lipstick she became aware in the doorway behind her the faint outline of Marie. She was standing in the shadows watching her quietly through the jamb of the door. Sara let out a little gasp and reaching out for her robe she turned towards the girl. As she slipped the robe over her shoulders and faced the door the girl had gone. Sara sat down on the bed, a frown stretching itself across her face. Somehow the sight of Marie had broken a spell and she suddenly woke up to what she was doing. She struggled within herself to try and remember why she was putting make up on in the first place. She looked down and opening the robe examined, as if for the first time – and yet somehow as if she already knew, the look that she was creating. She stood again, this time a little uncertainly, and went over to the mirror. She pulled back her robe somewhat gingerly as if afraid at what she was about to reveal to herself. She looked like a tart. Where did these clothes come from? Her jaw dropped and she hung her mouth open before she became aware of how much worse that made the image that confronted her. She tore her new clothes off and angrily changed into some baggy house clothes. "At least," she thought, "Marie had not entered the room this time. She had been content to watch from the shadows." -------------------------------------------------- Tom lay on the bed. Sara was curled up asleep next to him, her head rested on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed; the soft press of her breasts pushed against his chest and would then retreat maintaining a steady rhythm. Her hair, long and flowing, wisped against his cheek with the slight movement and enticed his senses with her femininity. They had just made love and fallen asleep in each other's arms. It had seemed somehow more important to her of late, pleasing him in bed. She had worn soft silk that glided over her tender skin, its very fragile hold around her frame a reflection of her fragility in his arms. He had wanted to reach out and embrace her, to hold her tightly to him and squeeze her - to smell her perfume drifting across his face, to feel her softness against his cheek, against his lips. He wanted to feel the palms of his hands on her skin, to feel the warmth of the touch tingle his senses, and he felt aroused and needed to feel her womb grip hold of him as he was holding onto her. Tom was grappling with his own internal torment. So many feelings had been running through his mind these past weeks and they would lurch from one direction to another. His life was so complicated now and he wasn't sure how he felt about anything anymore. He struggled with these inner emotions as he wondered about Sara. She had been so much closer to him these past few days, so much more tender and loving, their sex life so fantastic. What was he to do...? -------------------------------------------------- Sara wandered into the kitchen. Ricky and Tom were still talking work in the other room and she wanted to keep out of the way. She couldn't believe how nervously coy she felt around Ricky, and every time he looked her way she would at least inwardly blush. She was acting like some sort of teenager desperate for a boy to notice her, yet somehow she knew it was not just any boy, but Ricky that meant so much to her. Well at least out here she would be away from his eyes and be able to concentrate on dinner. So far so good, but she needed to get the main course out of the oven. As she bent over and opened the oven door she felt rather than saw Ricky's presence at the doorway and she turned towards him. She smiled, but inwardly she felt the jolt of passion ripple through her body. She was now alone with Ricky, Tom still being in the other room. Ricky was looking straight at her and she could read the desire in his eyes. He was leaning against the doorframe with arms folded and seemed to be weighing her up. Deciding how should he approach her? Suddenly Sara felt an overwhelming need to make the first move. She stepped over to the table and slipped her shoe off her foot, letting it fall to the floor. She put her arm down on the top and leaned a little forward so her chest was in profile from his line of view, the curve of her ass accentuated. She looked around the table and her eyes lighted upon the olive oil jar. She picked it up and looked up at him. Her mind was in a little fog and she watched her actions as if scripted from somewhere else. She reached round behind her and undid the button that held her skirt. She slowly pulled the zip down ever so slightly to ease the tension in the material and then pulled her blouse out baring her belly button to him. Ricky is standing and watching, mesmerised by her actions, wondering what she is about to do. She picks up the bottle of virgin oil and pours it over her belly and with her free hand she rubs it around the flesh above her skirt. He watches it glisten in the glare of the spotlights overhead. The oil oozes over her flesh and she starts to pull her skirt forward at the hem and moves the oil across. It is now running down the curve of her belly and disappearing behind the defensive wall of her skirt. She looks up at Ricky as she continues to pour oil over herself and he imagines how the oil must be pooling inside her panties, swirling around her opening and making her clit slippery and wet. Ricky stands transfixed by this vision, a smile plays upon his lips, but the spell is broken by the sound of Tom calling from the other room: "Is everything OK?" Ricky steps back into the dining room to head Tom off as Sara hastily puts the bottle of oil back on the table and adjusts her clothing. She can feel the slipperiness of her panties, now soaked in the oil, sliding on her flesh and she sways her hips from side to side to feel the movement gliding across her well oiled flesh. She looks down and between her legs, twin columns standing perfectly straight and parallel, she sees drops of oil from her crotch splashing against the floor tiles. She leans her back against the fridge and closes her eyes. She cannot believe how alive she feels, how she tingles right across her skin at the feelings that her actions have stirred up in her. She could not believe what she had just done, and she slipped one well-oiled hand into her blouse to massage slowly her right breast. It felt so good the feel of the oil on her erogenous and engorged nipples, made their sensitivity so much more heightened. Forcing herself back to the job in hand she collected the dinner and took it through. Sara is sitting opposite her husband and Ricky sits to her left. She again slips her shoes off under the table and feels the touch of Ricky's leg against hers as she serves the food. She finds it hard to concentrate on what she is doing as she becomes so preoccupied by his touch, it seems to start a craving inside her, one that she has to satisfy at all costs. Her head screams at her that these thoughts are wrong, that her husband, whom she loves so much is sitting opposite oblivious to all that is going on, and she must behave more responsibly. After the meal Ricky sits opposite her and she lays semi-sprawled on the settee. Tom is off fixing drinks for everyone and Sara lifts herself slightly and eases her skirt up under her so that the hem is drawn higher along her thigh. She is looking straight at Ricky and he is smiling slyly at her in anticipation. There is already an unwritten code between them that enables them to transmit secret signals of desire to each other, signals that Tom is unaware of. No words are needed to express their shared intention. Sara rocks one leg sideways so that Ricky has a clear view up under her skirt where he can see that her panties are still saturated with the oil. Her cunt is coated, and the smoothness of her hairless skin clearly visible pressed up against the material. Her baldness leaves nothing hidden from Ricky who can see the lips protecting her opening, tightly held in place by the constraining fabric, yet straining to be free, straining to part and open for him. Tom, oblivious to this performance, continues to talk over his shoulder from the cabinet where he is fixing their drinks. Ricky keeps Tom engaged in conversation as Sara displays her lust and her desire to let Ricky see and understand everything, to let him know that all his desires will be made available to him. All they need now is the opportunity. After the drinks, Ricky suggests Tom prepares his presentation about the company changes. Ricky will go through them with him but first, while Tom is doing that, he will help Sara clear up. Tom tries to insist that he leave everything, but Ricky will not change his mind. The very breath in Sara's chest seems to hang frozen at his words. She knows perfectly well the game Ricky is playing and she sits electrified with excitement. They head into the kitchen, Ricky right behind her. She can smell his aftershave and the presence of his manliness so close behind is taking over her mind. She is shaking in anticipation of what she is about to let happen. Yet is she letting this happen? Did she not drive him to this with that display earlier? What was that about? Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as he pushes her over the sink. She feels the cold of the steel against her thighs as her skirt is wedged up high. He is right behind her angling her body which she leaves free for him to position as he wishes. She senses her ass forced out towards him, encouraging him by its allure, and she feels wet with the anticipation that prevents her mind and body from attempting to escape. She is robbed even from some semblance of resistance; her complicity blatant should her husband walk in. Ricky penetrates her with one swift motion, catches her by surprise and forces the wind out of her lungs. She grunts as he drives into her again and moans louder with each ensuing thrust. Ricky has his legs planted between hers, thrusting hers apart and is driving up into her defenceless sex. His right arm is snaked around her waist to hold her firmly in position and to silence her groans his other arm is coiled around her chest, his hand smothering her mouth in a strong grip. He does not ask permission, just assumes her consent, having offered herself to him before he has now come to collect. There is something primal about their coupling. He was not making love to her, not even fucking her; he was taking her – possessing her. With his cock thrust up her chute and his hand clamped tight over her mouth she is being quelled into submission, a submission as absolute as a dog owned by its master, and her submission to Ricky was being enacted in her own home where she should have felt safest, her husband just one call away in the other room. She thought of him busying himself with his presentation, full of hope at pleasing his new boss and progressing his career, while all the time she was wantonly giving herself away; no longer his dutiful wife, no longer his. At last she feels his cock ease up its rhythmic ploughing into her; it stiffens and she feels a series of pulses run along it. She can feel the spasms jolt against her abused lips and she feels the splash of his hot jism against her waiting and open cervix. She feels a frenzy of excitement rattle her frame spreading out from her cunt up her spine and making her legs weak. She has been violated, used and she has enjoyed every moment. His hand rests upon the small of her back as he leans his weight away from her. Impaled she awaits his initiative, trying to draw breath. Ricky seems to be searching around but Sara's eyes are tight shut, the sensations still ebbing and flowing through her. She feels a warmth spread over her limbs and wants to feel his body intertwined with hers. She hears a clatter and opens her eyes, she immediately thinks of Tom and fears he will come out to investigate. The sudden anxiety makes her cunt squeeze Ricky's cock which is still deeply buried inside her, and she feels his body tighten in response and the ooze of yet more of his cum into her channel. He holds a carrot in his hand, one she had prepared but not used. She is immediately struck by its phallic shape and senses what he is about to do. She is immobilised to either protest or pull away, she must accept whatever he does for she has given herself to him. Ricky eases his cock out of her soaked cunt. The slipperiness of the oil and their own lubrication has made her whole crotch saturated. He removes his cock and before she can close up her opening he inserts the carrot. It slides easily into her and he has to grip firmly the top as the lubrication quickly spreads over its surface. She has half sucked the carrot into herself in her need to feel the pressure still between her legs. Having made sure it is secure he pulls at the material of her oil soaked panties and wipes his cock clean then readjusts it over her baldness. The material pulls tight over the head of the carrot, keeping it in place as it's bright red colour, accentuated by the oil, is very visible through the now transparent material. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 02 "I'm ready." Tom calls from the other room. Ricky leans over her back and whispers, "Your mine now. I want you to come in and join Tom and me. You'll sit at the back and whenever I say the word `own' you will lift your skirt up and show me your cunt filled and coated by my seed. This will signify to you that you belong to me. Not only have I taken your sex, which you have given to me, but also I've now taken over your very being. Whenever I require it and say the word, you will demonstrate my power over you by lifting your skirt in submission to me in the same room as your husband whom you have cheated." Sara stares blankly out the window at Ricky's reflection, his words washing through her brain. She can only acknowledge the truth behind them and know that she will comply. She curses herself for her weakness, she wishes she could have been stronger and stood up for her marriage more – defended it. Yet she could not somehow resist this man and now she had given him everything. Tom sat in front of the computer terminal making some final adjustments as Ricky, followed closely by Sara, entered the room. Tom turned and smiled at his wife. "This wont take long dear; you don't need to sit in here through this. I'm sure there are much better things you would like to be doing." "It's OK darling," she beamed a smile at him as she felt the butterflies circulate within her, "I'll just sit quietly at the back here and watch if you don't mind." As Tom went through his presentation he was staring at the screen with Ricky standing over him – one arm resting on the desk and the other over the back of Tom's chair. He could easily turn his face from the monitor to Sara, sitting docilely behind them, and every so often he would throw in the word `own' in his commentary on what Tom was saying and as he did so each time he would turn expectantly towards Sara. She would look sheepishly first towards Tom's back and then at Ricky before dutifully lifting her skirt and displaying herself – her bald wet opening very visibly stuffed by a bright red carrot held tightly in place by her oil soaked knickers. Her legs would be pulled slightly apart to afford Ricky a clearer view. He would stare down at her as he continued to speak to Tom and admire the way the spotlight caught the oily stickiness that had run down her spread thighs. Then as if she bored him, or simply that she just didn't matter, he would turn back to what Tom was saying still lost in enthusiasm for his plans oblivious to the other story being enacted out behind him. It was only as Ricky left that Sara seemed to regain herself. She felt woozy from the shock of what she had done and sick in the stomach. Tom turned and as they walked back into the sitting room he remarked: "Hi Sara, you've spilled some oil down your leg." Sara's stomach churned, "Yes the bottle slipped in my hand. I'm off to take a shower." With which she rushed from the room to the sanctity of the bathroom. Sara sat on the edge of the bed and looked at herself in the tall mirror opposite. She looked very ordinary in her clothes, nothing unusual from any other day. Yet as she slid one leg sideways, just as she had done earlier for Ricky, she could see her panties very visibly. The oil had soaked into the material and made it completely transparent. There was nothing hidden about her naked mound and as she lifted her skirt as Ricky had demanded of her, she could easily see the grotesque carrot still poking out between her thighs. It looked like an engorged penis buried up to its hilt inside her, and being red looked ready to explode its seed within her. In the middle of the head of the carrot was clearly visible the green stalk. In a way it looked like a plug that had been pushed into her opening holding back the tide. As she thought about that tide she started to fret in case she became pregnant. Sitting on the toilet she held the carrot in her hands and looked at the semen cloying to it. Great globs of cum had collected around the sides and she could feel more of Ricky dribbling out between her legs into the bowl of the toilet. She cried and cried, mindful to make as little noise as possible in case Tom should hear. If only she could reach up into her womb and pull his seed out again. If only she could make herself clean on the inside. to continue... A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 03 This is chapter 3 of the story and before reading this you should read the previous chapters. The chapters are not self-contained but part of the same developing story. Its just the story was too long for me to put it all together before posting and so I will post each chapter when I've had the time to get it to a satisfactory state. I must apologise for the long delay in chapter 3 appearing. I want to thank all the people who have commented on the story so far and emailed me. All your comments are read appreciatively. It has clearly raised strong emotions both for and against the story, and I am pleased that my story has made some impact upon its readers. It is not my intention to offend anyone, nor my intention to write stories about role models. They are just stories about people and what drives their sexuality, which is something that is often quite uncomfortable. * * * * * It was dark and there was a chill in the air as Carol wandered the streets. It was not a part of town she was familiar with and she felt distinctly uncomfortable to be here as she realised that girls were roaming the street corners. She had received a mysterious telephone call telling her to look out for her friend Sara here. Who was it that called and why was Sara in this part of town she did not know? It all seemed puzzling and a little frightening. What did all this mean to Sara? She just hoped her friend was all right; walking these streets as the light was fading made her feel even more apprehensive for her friend. She was already in such a fragile state after all. As Carol turned the corner she found Sara standing on the curb looking nervous, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and dressed like the other whores who were out. Carol ran up to her. "Whatever are you doing here?" Sara had her arms wrapped around her body and she was hugging herself tightly. Was it so cold or was it the reassuring comfort of her arms that she needed? Carol looked at her and then at the way she was dressed. After a pause with no response from Sara she said: "Come on. Lets go get ourselves a drink. Here put my coat on." Sara latched onto Carols coat as soon as it was over her shoulders. At last she could hide herself behind a cloak of normality. But what was normality for her now? Perhaps just the reassurance of her old life where she was confident and knew what she was after. Not the girl who suddenly found herself on a street corner touting for business. She allowed Carol to drag her away towards the city centre and the lights and buzz of activity where the lives of successful people were interacting and rushing headlong into well-planned futures. Behind her were the streets of the desolate, the people who had no well-planned future but the ones who had fallen through the cracks. Had she Sara fallen through some crack? Was here life about to disintegrate? What had she done to precipitate this downfall? She felt cold, very cold, and beyond shame in front of her friend Carol. They dived into a bar and Carol got in some drinks, something to warm her from the inside to not only dispel the cold of the night, but also the cold loneliness of waiting on the street - waiting to be used. Sara sipped at her drink and felt herself slowly regaining her life. Once again she felt as if she were coming out of a dream, not a pleasant dream of innocence but a nightmare of frightening reality. Carol sat next to her and was chattering away words of reassurance that Sara allowed to wash over her, snuggling in their comfort. As her mind cleared she started to piece together what had happened to her that night. She remembered the clothes she had bought after work on her way home. Shops she had never been to before, where the clothes were more provocative than wearable. She remembered wandering around the store trying on outfits just to have the feel of the material on her skin, to see herself in the changing room mirrors dressed as some slut. She felt that with each outfit she inspected herself in her acceptance of the image she was projecting became that much more real to her. Little by little she was wearing down the shock and revulsion of what she saw and started to look at its attractiveness, the smooth skin of her thighs flexing slightly in front of the mirror as if to entice, with the hard tight line of a pair of black latex hot pants stretched across her crotch; the smooth flat lines and the shiny material catching the light and drawing attention to her encased mound that so visibly bulged in the fabric; the gap between her thighs, that long line drawn across between her legs where her inner secret was pressed up tight against the material so very visibly. Her eyes were drawn to it and she imagined hands, strong male hands, unknown hands sliding down over those pants, the fingers probing the contours of her flesh, the material slippery between them. Next she had tried on a tight PVC corset with very large and very obvious steel buckles. There were four of them that ran down the front of the piece and ample cups for her breasts. She had slipped it round her waist and shuddered slightly as the cold metal brushed against her flesh making it contract. She felt her breasts resting on the support of the cups her nipples hardening - was it from the cold or the slipperiness of the material, so thin and stretched so tightly, entombing them? She had relished the slow grinding pressure that her restricted waist had been put under as she buckled one by one the steel straps locking each one of them into place. She had struggled with each to try and reach the next hole, the next level of tightness, the still further compression. The sturdy batons inside the material were unyielding as they pressed back her soft skin, tightening their grip, forcing her breasts upwards and slightly outwards, her hips flaring as the material reached down between them stopping just short of her pubis. It felt uncomfortable and yet strangely comforting to be displayed in this manner, so openly sexual making a statement about a woman's body, accentuating and exaggerating its shapeliness. How could anyone resist such a view? Her hand travelled down over the material and sank into her moistening crotch; she fingered her clit that was already throbbing from her heightened arousal. Suddenly into her thoughts she started to recall that as she had waited on the corner, she had been scared. She had somehow realised the vulnerable position she had placed herself in, dressed to attract the attentions of any punter, with nowhere to go but as if waiting in the street for her friend. What would she say if someone stopped and propositioned her? Her heart started to pound at this thought, her throat dry she realised that through the horror of this thought, the feeling of helplessness, the lack of any explanation she could possibly give other than the obvious, the inevitability that she would be forced to accept for lack of any explanation she could otherwise give, she realised that she was excited by it. Something deep, deep inside almost longed for that punter to turn up, for the opportunity, for the point of no return. She found herself hoping that she would be tipped into this lifestyle of wantonness, that her indecision would leave her and she would have to follow it through regardless of whether she should, regardless of Tom or Carol or what her colleagues at work would think if they saw her. She would be made to do it, driven by her acceptance to be standing here dressed so loudly, so enticing. Then slowly her recollections pieced together the car slowing, her eye following and the slight turn of her body to accentuate her profile in his mirror. Making herself more attractive, irresistible to whoever it was, the faceless punter. She recalled the car stopping, her slow purposeful walk towards it, the pounding in her head as the blood rushed, the slow motion of her fall into depravity. She recalled sitting in the car with him, opening his trousers and releasing his cock. It looked so large, so red, it felt so hot and so long. She had stroked it, her eyes glued to it with desire. At last, this is what she had wanted this was what she had been waiting for. Her lips had opened and she bent slowly down to take it in her mouth, she coated it in her moistness and let the feel of the silky skin glide over her tongue. It sent ripples of pleasure undulating down her spine as she realised how dirty this was. Her lips, bright red from the lipstick she had plastered on them, wrapped around this anonymous shaft. She felt him pushing at her mouth, striking the back of it, making her eyes water with the stab of its head at her throat. She was inexperienced and tried to suck round the shaft. He withdrew slightly so her tongue could curl over its head and she licked at it and sucked upon it until she tasted the salty precum coating her. She worked at it like someone starved and desperate for his cum. She wanted to draw it out of him and into her mouth, she wanted to feel his seed and taste it as it went swimming across her tongue in a desperate search to impregnate her. She wanted to feel it slide down her gullet, imagining its stickiness cloying at the sides of her throat as it made its way to her stomach. All this ran through her head as it bobbed up and down driving him wild. He started to buck his hips and drive faster and faster his cock into her, pounding her and pushing once again urgently at the back of her mouth. It finally pushed through and lodged for a moment in her throat, she felt the desperation of choking and her throat muscles tried to push it back out so that she may breath. He groaned in his ecstasy as she did this and suddenly there was a gush as his seed pumped straight down into her, burying itself deep within her core, pooling inside her gut. She was impaled upon his demanding cock, forced to accept his seed, forced to open wide and choke as he demanded entrance to her body. She felt her own orgasm grow, her breasts felt tight and strained towards him, the lips of her cunt spasmed and sucked at an imaginary cock she wished was pressing at her other entrance. How she wanted to feel another cock sink into her cunt as she sat so helpless, so accepting, so wanton and so dirty. He pushed her head back and she felt his cock plop out of her throat, she gasped for air and some of his sperm coughed out of her mouth and down her chin. She looked up at him, full of feelings of insecurity, wondering whether she had done her job well enough, worrying more about whether he was satisfied than her own feelings. She became only dimly aware of how damp her crotch felt. Sara leaped up from the table and put her hand to her mouth. She looked like she was about to be sick and ran for the toilets. Carol stared up at her and let her go. When she got back Sara would tell her what had happened, and as the story unfolded Carol would sit in some shock. "But tell me Sara, did you recognise who he was? Do you remember his face?" her eyes roamed over her friend's features as if to read the answer to her question there, but she found nothing. "Oh Sara... was it Ricky?" * * * Her lips glided slowly across his skin, her tender flesh grazing its roughness. Her nose filled with the scent of his manliness and she soaked it in through every pore. Her lips would tease him and make him squirm under her weight as she sat on top of him. She was in control here and she wanted to establish his desire, build it layer upon layer, wave mounting upon wave before crashing down onto the shore of denial. Then she would start up once again leaving him no chance to catch his breath between successive levels of anguished anticipation. Whenever he would raise himself up in an attempt to steal a forbidden kiss she would withdraw, then as he slumped back she would take up her ministrations once more. Her hair hung on either side of her face masking her expression. She was good, and she was learning how to pleasure a man, how to take her time with him or how to allow him quick and easy access, a fast fuck and finish - a furtive encounter en passant. She sat back up and he felt the heat from her pussy on his groin as her weight shifted, he felt her hands sliding over his chest massaging and warming him. Then she would lean forward and he would feel the tips of her nipples jiggle on his skin as she watched his face intently. Then lifting her weight onto her chest and knees she reached down between her legs and grasped hold of him. He was already iron hard and she felt the length of his cock, enormous in her small hand. She wondered how she could possibly manage to take all of him inside her, but she watched his expression flicker between a pained creasing of his features to gasps and moans. At that moment she held him, she had his full attention and she drove away everything else from his mind. It didn't matter who he was, where he had come from or what he would do tomorrow, she had him here and now, a fly caught in her web of enticement. She made him whimper, drove the breath out of his lungs, swelled his cock to bursting point and held the dam back. She drove him to lust after her body, to be obsessed by her flesh and in that moment that was all that was important. Sara stroked his rod and tottering above its glistening tip she guided him into her. Her eyes closed, that was the moment she escaped from any responsibility for what she was doing. Caught up in the power and ecstasy of the moment, she needed to milk this man, she needed to perform, she needed to feel his need for her, her raison d'etre, she needed his acceptance and desire to want to come back to find this warm open place again and again. She pumped his cock with her vaginal lips as she rocked her hips back and forth, feeling the slick hot smoothness slide in and out. She felt his heat rising, it would not be long now, should she hold off a little longer, should she bring this time to an end and move on? At last he erupted inside her and she collapsed onto his chest, her hand sliding through his hairs as if thanking him for using her. She felt the warmth spread through her and the wetness seep out of her. As she lay next to him she heard Tom's voice whisper in her ear: "I love you." And she smiled at him, leant across and kissed him. * * * Sara lay on the bed, it was late morning and weekend and she didn't feel like stirring just yet. She lay luxuriating amongst the sheets and the freedom to forget time. As she lay there she contemplated what had happened with Ricky and its subsequent effect upon her life. She had felt so silly about what she had done, allowing Ricky such freedom with her, and allowing things to get out of hand in their own home, behind her husband's back. She did love Tom and she was not going to allow this man to ruin what they had together. She had told Tom that she didn't want Ricky to come around for dinner at the house again. She had put her foot down and told him that they should talk work at the office and not bring it back home, and if he needed to stay after hours or at weekends to discuss plans with Ricky better that than his coming back to the house again. Tom had been surprised by her outburst, but conceded readily enough once he had seen how agitated she was. He had not understood her reaction, but like a typical male he had passed it off as some 'flight of fancy' or 'time of the month'. He was almost smiling at her as he agreed which had infuriated her. Sara's thoughts were disturbed by a sound from downstairs. She looked at the clock and realised that Marie must have turned up and started work in the kitchen. She roused herself to go down and explain all that needed doing today. She found her wearing her uniform and tidying the kitchen. "Hi Marie. There is quite a bit to be done today." She started, but as Marie turned round towards her, something in the expression on her face stopped her short. "What is the matter, Marie?" Marie was looking keenly at her with a sly, perhaps duplicitous smile playing on her lips. "Is your husband not home?" she asked over casually. Sara a little taken aback by the change in direction replied: "No he is working at the office today. There are some meetings he needs to have with his boss." "Oh that's a shame. I had something I wanted to ask his opinion of." "Well I am sure it...." "Something very odd that I happened to see the other day. You see I saw this little butterfly: normally such a good little butterfly, so well dressed, neat, proper, assured and comfortable in her social scene. Yet the other day I saw this same butterfly dressed quite differently. I thought this odd, and followed my butterfly to see where she was going dressed so strangely and so erotically. And do you know where this neat wholesome butterfly went? She went into a very nasty part of town and there she associated with some very nasty people. Why do you think she did that?" All this while Marie had been approaching Sara and talking to her with her head tilted first one way and then another quizzing her employer about what she thought of these strange happenings she was relating in such a detached manner. By this time Marie was standing directly in front of Sara and she was leaning forward slightly, still quizzically looking at her awaiting some answer. Sara felt a knot tie itself tight in her stomach and she felt her face start to burn. Was it possible that Marie had seen her? Could Marie really have been just in that part of town at just the right time and followed her? Even the possibility that someone else had seen her made Sara feel sick. She was shaking and backed away slowly from Marie. Trying to compose herself, trying desperately to bluff her way out, she said: "Well I suppose it probably didn't mean anything. It may have been..." "Oh but it was such odd behaviour, and you should have seen her climbing into some stranger's car, willing to go with a man, not someone she knew, not her husband or a lover, just some anonymous cock. I don't think she knew this man but it didn't seem to make any difference to her. What do you think was running through her mind to make her act like that?" Marie's face was thrust further forward towards Sara as she pressed her advantage. Sara was backing against the wall her eyes locked onto the maid's eyes. Her hands pressed with her palms sweaty against the cool wall, seeking some reassurance, some purchase from which to spring a counter-attack. Yet she struggled to find words to fend off her attacker, failed to find any words that would deflect the maid from the inevitable conclusion she was mercilessly driving towards. How could she make this evidence seem innocent when she knew her own guilt? Her throat was constricting from fear and a feeling of entrapment, both physically against the wall and by the words Marie fired at her. "You see she must have been desperate. Don't you think? She must have felt such a sexual tension, a need burning inside her, a lust that could not be quenched in any other way. She must have been driven like some mad thing to find someone, anyone to satiate her passion. What else could drive her to stand on a street corner like that?" Marie paused to look at her prey, an expression lined with understanding and complicit confidentiality drawn across her face. "Such a lonely picture of this little butterfly. A home so cosy, a husband so loving, money no problem, yet there she is in the cold night: wanton, driven, unable to hold back the feelings that are erupting within her. She is beyond the point of caring who may see her, wondering who will come along and demand the use of her, what she will be obliged to do for this stranger." Marie's face was now so close to Sara's who was staring back gripped by the knot of fear tightening with the screw that turned inside her with every word Marie spoke. She reached out with her hand and pushed it against Marie as if to ward off the sting of her words, push them back from invading her, protect herself physically when she had no other defence to offer. Marie grabbed Sara's hand and held it tight up against her own stomach. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 03 "I can feel that heat now, understand that passion. The need she had to be satisfied, no matter what the cost, such a dreadful pain to have to suffer alone and yet one that is so easily resolved if you have understanding friends; ones that she can trust to keep her secret and whilst taking care of her, satisfy her hunger. Don't you think? All she has to do is ask them for help and she will not need to risk the unknown of the night. She does not need to expose her need; with understanding friends she can resolve her inner conflicts without leaving the safety of her home? What do you think Sara? Do you think she could escape her pain by letting go? Do you think she should share her desires and let someone else - a close friend, a confidante, someone who can understand her need and the need for secrecy? Wouldn't that be such a burden to be released from? Should she not let go of the responsibility of her desires and allow them to be the care of someone she could trust?" All this while Sara was unable to take her eyes off the face of Marie, so close, so earnest, so accepting of her. Meanwhile unnoticed, Marie's hands had slid under Sara's skirt and were resting on the mounds of her ass. Her fingers played with the elastic of Sara's panties and while her eyes never left Sara's, Marie's fingers danced little circles across her flesh, caressing her, reassuring her, so complicit and so intimate. Sara found herself yielding, the need to relinquish her secret overwhelming her. It would be so easy to let go, acknowledge to Marie what she had done and feel safe that Marie would help her keep the secret that she must keep from Tom. She felt the weight of her burden of secrecy pressing down upon her, as if suddenly magnified tenfold. Marie already knew anyway, all she would be doing is acknowledging the facts. Why was she hesitating? She was about to speak when Marie's finger came to rest on her lips silencing them. "Hush." She whispered. "You don't need to say anything. Kiss my lips and I will know everything. One kiss and you will be released, free to feel no shame, no longer to feel alone. I will protect your secret and make you feel better." Sara stared at Marie's lips. They were full and although there was no make-up on them, they seemed very sensuous and pink. She licked her own lips as she imagined what taste Marie's lips would have. She felt the tension building inside her as she stood on the brink, but Marie was leaning towards her. Sara could feel the girl's breath on her cheek and her hand was still outstretched, tight against Marie's stomach, squeezed between their bodies that now stood so close. Marie leant ever so slightly closer to Sara whose eyes remained fixed on her lips, Marie's words still spinning around inside her head. Sara shut her eyes and leant forward just a fraction, just an inch, just enough to bring her lips into contact with Marie's. She felt the lush warmth of her flesh and sucked at Marie's lower lip. Her hand was being pulled upward and came to rest upon Marie's bosom, pressed into the soft flesh of her breast through the material that was holding it out, erect. She felt Marie lean forward and start to press her lips against Sara's. She felt her tongue entwine with her lips and invade her own mouth. She felt her nipples respond with a tingling current and dug her fingers deeper into the mounds of Marie's breasts. Marie took hold of her hands and pulled them to her sides and whispered to her to undress and as Sara started to mechanically unbutton her blouse she watched Marie reciprocate as if she were her own reflection in some imaginary mirror. Marie pulled her blouse apart and freed her breasts from her bra while encouraging Sara to continue to disrobe. As Sara struggled with her skirt and panties Marie was kissing her neck and nipping at her flesh. Sara had never been attracted to women before, but there was something about the complicity that now existed between them, their shared secret, her dependence upon Marie to keep that secret. Sara felt safe, but no longer self-assured in front of Marie and this thought drove a sexual need deep within her, which she could not stop now to fathom. She stood before Marie totally naked, her arms limp by her sides awaiting instruction. She was not sure where all this was going, how this relationship was going to work. The model of employer and employee had just evaporated and she was mesmerised by the power she had just relinquished to Marie. Reinforcing her self-doubt, Sara realised that her reaction to these events was not so much one of fear, which her mind was telling her she should feel, but one of pure sexual arousal. She wondered whether secretly she hadn't hoped that Marie or someone would see her out on the streets. What was that all about? Marie stared directly at her, weighing up the extent of her power over her former mistress. They had started to behave like two little girls acting out some role-play game: "Open your mouth". She said. Sara made a perfect circle with her lips, trembling slightly in front of Marie who proceeded to slide two of her fingers inside Sara's accepting mouth. A smile of derision spread across Marie's face as she looked down at Sara, a little doll that she could manipulate. Yes her victory was absolute. Sara stood there, her mind switched off as if time had stopped; yet she could feel its pulse through her heartbeat that reverberated inside her head. She felt rather than thought, that Marie was treating her like some slave at an auction. Fantasies circulated in her mind as she felt the heat growing between her legs. With her eyes still locked onto Sara's not allowing her any reprieve from their derisive domination, she put her arms out resting one on each of Sara's shoulders. She started to pull Sara towards her bosom, burying her face into her soft tanned flesh. Sara licked at Marie's nipples as her face was squashed. She imagined she was a baby being solaced by its mother, wrapped in a feeling of safety and understanding, held within this bosom and protected from the frightening and incomprehensible world out there. Yet at the same time she felt dampness spreading between her legs, a need rising and gripping her, a need to be stroked, a need to yield to her maid. Marie continued to push Sara down onto her knees in front of her. Sara looked up at the woman who they had now implicitly agreed was in command. Holding her hands behind her back she waited to be led further down this path into unknown territory. Sara had given up the struggle to make any sense of the feelings flooding through her and was willing for now to be led by Marie. Sara leant forward and started to kiss the maid's inner thighs. She hadn't been told to do so, and she didn't feel desire for the maid, but some inner need that was driving her to pleasure this person, to pay her back for understanding her and keeping her secret. Sara kissed and licked at the soft silkiness of Marie's thigh and started to work her way up towards the hem of the skirt. Marie slumped back against the wall and felt the excitement of her overwhelming power over Sara. At last she had her just where she wanted her: naked on her knees looking up at her former servant; cowed now into submission, accepting so readily the shift in their roles. It was all too delicious. She wondered as the sensations of her victory washed over her, the pleasure that rose as a tidal wave from her groin and the invisible head of her mistress buried under her skirt, just how far she would push Sara. Sara stood motionless in front of Marie who leant forward whispering to her. There was no need to whisper, the house was empty, yet Marie was still afraid that if she spoke any louder then Sara might snap out of her trance, that she may reassert her previous role and Marie's victory would evaporate. Marie had to press her advantage and make their shift in roles irreversible. "Now I have agreed to do something for you - I am going to keep your secret safe. It is just something that you and me will know and no one else need know anything about it. But what will you do for me, eh?" She looked quizzically at Sara, as if they had been stupid not to realise there was a problem they had yet to address. Sara stared back blankly. "I know" Marie continued, "You do the housework today and I will have a day off. It will be a day of paid leave for me! A reward for agreeing to help you." It was so simple, of course. "It will be our little secret, one that you will keep for me by not telling your husband. That's fair isn't it, you keep a secret for me and I keep a secret for you, and that will bind the two of us together." She was laughing triumphantly at having found such an excellent and simple solution to this imagined problem. "But..." Sara started. "Hush now. I know you will want to help me too." Then as if it were an afterthought: "But you'd better wear my uniform; you don't want to get your clothes dirty. Here lets swap." Marie was now grinning with playful glee; yet her intent was far more serious. She had confused Sara with this child-like play, and while she was confused she hoped to lure her into not only dressing up as the maid but also assuming that role, and not just for today but from now on. Marie smiled to herself as she pictured turning Sara into a servant in her own home whilst at the same time being forced to keep the truth of her humiliation from her husband. Marie would continue to get paid for doing nothing! She would come round and treat the house as her own with the bonus of ordering Sara about to do the chores and at the end of the day Sara having to pay her for the privilege of being bossed around. As the possibilities started to fall into place she started to imagine turning Sara into her sexual slave too. Her pussy still felt wet from the girl's ministrations earlier. After all she had turned herself into a street whore, even if she did appear as a respectable middle-class suburban housewife at home. Perhaps she would get Sara to do some more work on the street and take a camera with her next time to collect some evidence to strengthen her hold over Sara. Yes she must look around the house today for a camera. Sara felt the shift in conversation rather than being consciously aware of it. All she knew was that she didn't like this idea of doing the housework. How would she be able to tell Marie to do work in future if she agreed to pay her while doing the work herself now? Yet she felt safe at the moment following her shock at discovery, and she was afraid to lose that refuge. Marie could have confronted her more directly, and with less understanding. She was scared, scared of how Marie could use the secret she had admitted to her, although as yet Marie never considered such a possibility. Better to play along and keep Marie's approval. She was being so kind and understanding which made Sara feel secure. While there was no hint of a threat, she didn't want to upset Marie. To her it seemed to be just an innocent game and nothing more. If she was to keep Marie sweet she knew she would have to comply. "Do I have to?" She hadn't intended it to come out in that kind of whine. She was only dimly aware that she was actually asking Marie permission to remain mistress in her own house. Yet Marie was affronted: "You want me to keep your secret for you don't you?" Not so much a threat as a whine in her own right. "You gotta do something for me, right? This will just be our little secret. Don't worry no one will know. You do this for me and I will take good care of you." Her hand smoothed over Sara's cheek as if there had been an imaginary tear there. Sara relented. At least she had made Marie promise that no one else would know, and if that was the price of her looking after Sara's secret, then it didn't seem too high a price really. She picked up the black dress and looked at it without moving. Marie meanwhile was busy collecting up Sara's expensive clothes and putting them on. "Come on, there's a lot to get done before your husband gets back." Marie was sitting on the sofa watching TV. She had helped herself to what was in the fridge and in spite of Sara's attempts to protest, which had been brushed aside, she had used the telephone for some long calls. Meanwhile she kept encouraging Sara to get on with the chores. She even said that some of the cleaning was not really good enough: "Would you have let me get away with that?" Sara considered this and thought that she would. She could not remember ever complaining to Marie that she didn't clean well enough. Perhaps she had? Perhaps she gave the impression of being dissatisfied. Well she didn't want to give the girl a bad example, so she would try harder to show how good a job she would do, an example for Marie to follow in the future. It was early afternoon when the front doorbell rang. Sara was in the kitchen scrubbing at the grease. When she heard the bell, she froze. Into her mind flashed images of various friends walking in and seeing her on her knees, dressed as the maid scrubbing the floor while Marie told them how useless she was, only fit to be a whore out on the street. She must get out of these clothes, she must exchange with Marie. She got up to run into the sitting room, to demand her reinstatement, when Marie called out: "Get that will you. It will be my brother." Sara went into the sitting room looking flushed. "I... I can't go out like this." Her arms stretched out pointing at her clothes. Marie looked up, "Your fine. Just let him in, it wont take a moment. I am in the middle of this program on TV. Now hurry along." She felt she had been scolded by Marie's response, yet it was still said in a friendly voice. She hesitated whether to rebel further, weighing up the response she might get from Marie. At least it was no one she knew at the door. Yet why should she be allowed to invite her brother to their house to drink Tom's beer? She felt angry, and as all these thoughts tussled within her mind she remained hovering in the doorway. The bell rang again. "Go on, let him in. Don't leave him waiting outside." Marie was cross with her. Sara wanted to respond, she wanted to say that she shouldn't be letting him in here, and that Marie shouldn't have invited him. Yet she was frightened by how quickly Marie had lost her temper over Sara's hesitation. What more anger would she feel if Sara refused - maybe she would threaten to tell Tom. Sara gritted her teeth. Well just this one time would be the payoff, and then she would put her foot down. Sara opened the door and found the teenager standing there. He stared at her, somewhat taken aback, as if he hadn't expected her to be at home. They stood looking at each other a moment and Sara felt the need to ask him in, to divert his attention away from the question that was forming in his mind and was burning across her cheeks. As he walked into the hall and Sara could at last close the door on the outside world, Marie called from the other room, "Come through to the sitting room, Juan!" He pushed past Sara seeming to be as embarrassed as she was. "Sara, bring Juan a beer from the fridge and tidy up in here." Sara resented the order all the more now that Marie's younger brother was there. It was one thing to have a little secret between the two of them, but now it was being shared with her brother. She brought the beer in. "Marie, I don't think you should talk to me like that now your brother is here, and I don't think he should be here anyway." Sara was shaking as she defied her friend. Marie stared up at her for a moment with a look of authority over the insolent girl. She shouted: "Why should I not invite my brother round? It is my day off and I want to spend time with my family. You have things to get on with so you wont even notice Juan in the house. If you hadn't acted like a street whore then you wouldn't be in this position now. As it is you will serve him in just the same manner you will serve me. Get that!" Sara froze. Marie hesitated as if working out what was wrong. Still angry she said: "Now look what you made me do. You've made me angry and through that I forgot to keep your secret. Now Juan knows everything. I am sorry, I didn't mean to say anything to him, but you upset me. Don't upset me like that!" Sara had gone pale. She had been determined to rebel and put a stop to her humiliation, she had wanted to re-exert her authority before any more people took it for granted they could order her about. Yet all she had achieved was letting her secret become known to Marie's brother. She looked at him with fear when she saw his puzzled expression. How stupid she had been to anger Marie like that. Juan turned to his sister and said: "You mean your boss was out on the streets offering herself? Was she really a street whore? Is that why she is dressed as the maid and you are here in the sitting room?" His voice sounded more incredulous with rising anger at each question. He could see the answers to his questions in Marie's triumphant face. She did not need to say anything for Juan to know the truth. He turned to Sara and studied her for a moment: "I bet your husband doesn't know does he?" There was a pause, as Sara could not think of anything to say. "As I thought. Well that is a very bad thing to have done to someone who loves you and trusts you, don't you think? That really makes me angry." There was an electrified silence that hung in the air. This teenager who she had never met before, who had just walked into her home had already learnt her secret and was rebuking her. She was humiliated and ashamed of herself. She could only agree he was right to rebuke her. "You are a very bad person and you must be punished for such actions. Since your husband does not know and cannot punish you, then I must. Marie spread her across this table." They both got up. Sara was shaking her head in disbelief at how fast she had lost ground. She backed away as they advanced and each took hold of one of her arms. She pleaded and begged them to let her go as they forced her round to the coffee table and pulled her across it. Her knees buckled and she was stretched across the table, her rump in the air. Marie had now grabbed both her arms and held them like vices. She stared into Sara's face with a malicious grin as Juan disappeared round behind her. Sara could only whisper the word Please to her captors as she felt the brother pull her skirt up and slide her panties down. "You must learn to respect your husband and not act as the wanton slut you are." His hand crashed down on her behind and she yelped in pain but more in shock. Marie tightened her grip as more blows fell. "My brother doesn't forgive as easily as I do. He believes that women should be dutiful to their husbands and not go off in the night to sell their bodies. You shouldn't have made me tell him your secret. He knows people who run brothels in this town and rings of prostitutes. They know how to bend girls to their will and break them. If you make Juan think you are a hopeless case he will take you to them and you will end up working for him. You had better do as he says or you're going to become Juan's whore and then there will be no escape for you. Perhaps we should let him do that, then Juan can take care of you." As Juan's blows beat down on her from behind, his sister's words beat into her ears and her mind. Sara felt herself sinking into a bottomless pit. It was one she wished anything to escape from, yet dimly through all the voices in her head she could recognise her own longing. More shocking than anything else was the realisation that actually sinking into depravity thrilled her and the wresting of responsibility from her added to its sweet taste. She hated the beating and she hated the humiliation, yet there was a strange delight from both which she anxiously wished she did not feel. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 03 Juan stopped and while her ass was still sore he drove himself into her vagina without warning. She gasped as she felt him slide in deep and the head of his penis drove against her cervix. He demanded from her and in the whirl of emotions that ran through her confused head she realised that her hot little cunt had been ready for him. "That's it my little whore, take it from a man who knows how to quench that thirst you have." Marie was triumphant as she held on to Sara and watched her face distort in shame, fear, longing and ecstasy. As Juan continued to pound into her Marie leant forward and kissed Sara who opened her eyes and turned her head towards Marie. As their lips approached Sara opened her mouth and let Marie's tongue invade her. She moaned in pleasure as her lips shrank tight around the invading tongue. She was caught between brother and sister, being used by both. She knew she should not have allowed this to happen, she should not have actively participated in these sexual games, but as she succumbed her fear grew and her sexual excitement grew with it. It would not be long before she reached her first orgasm. As she allowed herself to be overwhelmed by her orgasm, she gripped Juan's penis inside her willing him on, and in response he groaned and released his seed deep within her. Sara gasped and groaned as another orgasm rose up within her. She felt the hot gush hit her cervix and was strangely satisfied. She slumped back onto the table and felt the release on her arms. Marie was threading her fingers through Sara's hair. She was tender and caring and Sara felt a calmness and satisfaction settle over her, totally inappropriate to her predicament. Marie was whispering words of encouragement and approval to Sara as she helped her to kneel on the floor. Marie sat in front of her, wearing Sara's clothes, and opening her legs wide. Sara could see she had removed her panties and she felt Marie's hands on the back of her head guiding her up under her own skirt towards the now familiar cunt that awaited her tongue. She thought vaguely that she must not crease the fabric as her face crashed against Marie's opening. Her head was held firmly there as she licked and nibbled at her clitoris that already protruded in anticipation. The pressure at the back of her head evaporated as Marie lost herself, but Sara continued to excite her maid. It was a challenge to her, and one she seemed only too ready to rise to. In a detached way Sara could feel Juan's seed dripping from her own cunt and onto the sitting room carpet as she continued to kneel before Marie. "Let's go upstairs. I want to fuck you in your own bed." Sara had recovered herself and had served them both more beers and had tidied up the sitting room after their adventure. She no longer felt rebellious about being treated as their servant, somehow it was all part of the game, and that was how she managed to deal with it. This was only a game, and would not invade her life. She would not allow herself to question that assumption, at least not right now. Juan had made her bend over a number of times to pick things up from the floor that he dropped, and Sara felt some strange satisfaction at his eagerness to see her exposed behind, still sore from his scolding. He had also made her kneel on the floor next to the TV, her hands behind her head and knees spread so that he and Marie could watch TV and look at her subservience to them at the same time. Sara had enjoyed these games too, in a detached way. She was exhilarated by their game and eager to please them while it lasted. She wanted to arouse their desire, it was a victory for her if she made them succumb and have sex with her. So she smiled as Juan made his suggestion and she led them upstairs. She knelt on the bed. Marie told her to face the wall, put her head down and stick her ass in the air. Having complied with this Sara then pulled her skirt back up and locked her fingers into the elastic of her panties. She pulled them down slowly and sensuously. She imagined what the sight of her sore ass cheeks being slowly revealed and offered to her inspectors would arouse in them. She pictured the scene as if she were a spectator, the wife dropping her panties and offering herself to them on her own bed in her own home. Being made to do it. She slipped her panties under her knees and they were off. "That was great. I got it all." Marie walked round. She had found the camera and taken a little movie of Sara's performance. Sara felt the heat rise in her cheeks and her heart quicken. The front door slammed as the tangle of bodies slumped on the bed. "Honey I'm home!" Tom's voice echoed around in her head as she was shaken out of the stupor of her orgasm. She suddenly realised that she was dressed in the maid's uniform, with Marie wearing her clothes, and her brother sunk deep in her vagina on their bed. She leaped to her feet as all three sprung into action. Tom wandered into the kitchen. He could here Sara moving about upstairs as he prepared himself a drink. It had been hard work at the office and he somewhat resented being made to work over the weekend and abandon his wife. He climbed the stairs and wandered into the bathroom. Sara was in the shower. "Hi Honey." She called through the gush of falling water. "Did you get your work done?" "Yes but we will have some more weekend sessions ahead. It seems that Ricky has some grand plans for the group." Tom sat on the toilet and looked at the stunning shape of his wife partially obscured through the curtain. He was beginning to feel horny just looking at her. "I wont be long" she called. Tom went into the bedroom, but didn't hear the quiet click of the front door as Marie and Juan made their escape. "Honey, you changing the bedclothes again today? I thought you had Marie put clean sheets on yesterday?" "Really? I must have forgotten. When I saw them I just decided to sweep them up into the wash basket." "Doesn't Marie do that? She was here today wasn't she?" "Oh.. er yes, that's what I meant. I asked Marie to change the bed linen." "But surely she remember that she had just changed them, didn't she? You and Marie can be so scatty at times!" Sara sighed deeply and leant against the wall of the shower. She allowed the hot water to cascade off of her, washing away the strain that she felt. Her heart was pounding from the exhilaration of near discovery and the jolt of fear she had felt as she dived into the shower to wash away the sperm of another man while her husband watched her dimly through the frosting of the curtain, innocently admiring her wanton body. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 04 This is chapter 4 of the story and before reading this you should read the previous chapters. The chapters are not self-contained but part of the same developing story. I wish to thank all the many people who have emailed me their appreciation of the story so far, I really appreciate all these comments. The battle of the sexes: What turns such strong physical attraction; the need to be with the opposite sex, their acceptance and validation that overwhelms us and twists around our personalities. How does it degenerate into a battleground? What drives such strong insatiable need into a person forcing them to assume the role of a tormentor who must degrade, belittle and ridicule their partner? Is it because men are driven to destroy what no longer challenges them? their obsession with their need to be the conqueror and not the conquered? Their desire that once satisfied evaporates like some will-o-the-wisp? Men who look for a whore and once they find one suddenly realise that what they really desire is a mother? How can a woman be both a whore and a mother to the same man? What chance has she to fulfill such conflicting roles? Does she not get duped into becoming the mother only to find him chasing another whore down the street. It is not possible for a man to caress this girl he loved when he is torn apart by divided needs. Always there must be something lacking, something to yearn for elsewhere. Yet for the woman too, is she not susceptible to similar contradictions? Does she not want to be seen as the person she is, capable and intelligent as well as beautiful? As well as beautiful: yes there it lies, a few simple yet tricky words. Does she not seek a man who will understand her and be attentive towards her? Yet at the same time, does she not yearn for the animal in him to desire her and to take her, willing or no? To be the object of desire that he cannot control, is that not also what she seeks? How often does the girl run off with the philanderer and leave the supportive steadfast husband behind? Yet what a terrifying admission it is for her to own up to, acknowledging that she will yield to his demands just because he has demanded access to her. Is it not little wonder she shrinks from accepting this truth locked within her? So she too lives the lie, the inbuilt contradiction that will keep her forever not quite fulfilled. She wants to be an equal and she wants to be hunted too. Oh what a delicious contradiction that keeps both sexes hungry, never able to find and keep that perfect partner... * * * * * Sara stood in the doorway staring at Ricky, her heart thumping in her chest as she felt the electrifying tension of excitement and fear. She wanted to be angry with him for just turning up uninvited; she and Tom had just got in from work and were about to prepare dinner. She was still dressed in her suit from work, and the sudden overtaking of family routine by this unexpected confrontation with her sexuality unnerved her. Ricky was just smiling at her waiting to be invited in. "Who's that?" Tom called from the kitchen. Sara let Ricky pass, telling him, almost a murmur, that he'd better come in. Ricky called out to Tom as she closed the door and followed him into the sitting room. Ricky slouched on the sofa feeling at home, his legs spread revealing the bulge in his crotch as he surveyed her standing above him. Sara stood uncertain. She seemed drained of the confidence she would normally have in her own home, entertaining her guest. She sensed her feelings of being hunted by this man, unsafe even at home, even so close to her husband. She felt a fear and became aware that her pussy was involuntarily opening and quivering in anticipation. Sensations of being filled by this man's cock, it sliding into her and the lurch as it struck home, hitting her cervix overwhelmed her. The dryness in her throat choked her as she pictured the veins of his penis pushing past her lips parted in compliance to his insistent desire. She had to escape, she was exposed and had to run. She had to flee this predator, yet from somewhere deep inside her, a dark locked door that she couldn't open, she knew that she would not permit herself to escape. However desperate she may feel, however much her conscience screamed to stir her into flying, she was hooked like a little fish on the end of a line. She would allow herself to be reeled in, to be taken, because it was inevitable. She felt powerless to do anything, not because Ricky had deprived her of the power, but because she had robbed herself of it. Because somewhere there was a need burning deep inside her and she could not understand where this need came from, but it riveted her whole body on the spot in the glare of his gaze. As these thoughts pushed her to distraction she was unconscious of the fact that she stood in front of Ricky legs parted. Not obscenely spread, but not held together. She had not moved away from him, nor signalled any lack of interest, but had stood before him waiting for him to release her. She was there for his inspection, lost in those dark grey eyes of his, deep pools in which she would swim and drown herself. There she could escape the uncertainty of what lay inside her head, what was driving these impulses that she battled so hard to suppress. It would be like a breath of fresh air sweeping through her if she were rid of the doubt, the soul-searching that unnerved her so, the need not to let go when all she wanted at that moment was to feel the strands of decency slip through her knotted and clenched fingers. Sara looked towards the door to the kitchen as Tom entered to greet his boss. They talked and Tom's face was lit up. It was obvious that for Ricky to come round to see him of an evening was an act he valued highly. Sara felt resistance slipping inside her. It was just too easy to tell herself she would give herself to Ricky so as to help her husband promote himself at work. "You two make yourselves comfortable. I will prepare us a feast." he said. Through his smile Sara detected a wary sidelong glance at his wife. He was unsure of Sara's reaction to Ricky turning up out of the blue after the fuss she had created about never inviting him round to the house again. He hoped that she would take it ok, would not think that he had arranged this with Ricky, and to try and placate her, he wanted to let her relax and feel free of any stress or pressure to prepare a fancy meal. Ricky smiled wickedly up at Sara as he put down the drink she had brought him. Tom was clattering about in the kitchen. "You don't look very comfortable. Here I've brought you a present." He held out his hand and lying in his palm was a pair of thin almost transparent panties. They were white and very sheer, made from some synthetic material. "Why don't you slip out of that hose and panties you have hidden up there under your skirt and try them on." He was so bold, as if uncaring whether Tom could hear him from the kitchen. He seemed supremely confident that she would comply with this outrageous demand, and Sara felt the surge of rebellion rise in her chest. Sara hesitated, feeling her heat rise, feeling anger and feeling shame. She had allowed him to be able to talk to her this way by her actions at his last visit. The lump in her throat robbed her of speech as her mind vacillated between showing indignation, or escaping the confrontation by looking away and doing as told. She had to stand up to him, yet somehow her willpower could not muster the resistance. She hung in limbo not wanting to do what she knew she was about to do. Why could she not stand up to him! "Go on. You'd better be quick before your husband comes back in." Her eyes never left his as she leant forward, reaching up under her skirt. She felt the weight of her breasts shift as she bent at the hips. The material, so safe, so warm and so protective, was slowly dragged down her legs. She had hold of hose and panties together and lifted her leg. She tottered in front of him, and almost urged herself to fall forwards into his lap, as she struggled to unhook the material around her ankle where it had caught. Yet she managed and the other leg was simple. Meantime, Ricky had taken out a small bottle holding a clear gel and had smeared some of it slowly over the panties he had brought for her. He rubbed the material in his fingers to spread the sticky oil and she watched as it oozed out from between his palm and thumb. A trickle of clear viscous liquid which slid down the side of his hand. All the while in the background she could hear the bustle of her husband in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke, yet both conspirators communicated their complicity by the way they stared at each other. His gaze held her and drove her to comply, never leaving her a moment through which to escape. She held the panties open and gingerly stepped inside them. Her business suit, which made her look so much in control of her destiny, seemed somehow incongruous as she slid the oily material up her legs. As it rose inch upon inch over her calves Ricky's eyes were glued to its progress, watching it like some thoroughbred he had put money on. She slowed her progress to enable Ricky's eyes to dwell upon her legs a little bit longer, craving their attention. Long before the panties reached her crotch she shivered in anticipation of the cold of the gel against her pussy lips. She pulled them higher and raised her skirt draped over her wrists; she slowly revealed her hidden thighs to this man. In a distracted air she wondered what was the hold this man had over her. Why she could not refuse him? What was it about his requests (demands?) that no matter how outrageous forced her to comply? The panties were now slipping over her hips. She felt the pull of the material as it stretched wide across her pelvis, the cloying coldness of the gel sliding over her pubic mound and the slimy gusset drawn tight up against her groin. Her legs forced apart by the material and the shrinking of her flesh from the cold. Ricky lifted the front of her skirt to view the last ascent and as it locked into place he reached forward with his hand. He cupped the material and pressed it firmly into her mound. She stood over him, her hair falling around her face, her hands now lifeless at her sides as his active hand rocked between her thighs. She felt the slipperiness spread and smother her as his hand slid back and forth forcing the material to slid effortlessly across her sex, his finger pushing the material with each lunge forward further into her opening, brushing her labia, coating them and then withdrawing. Like waves upon the shore she felt the rhythm build as he pushed and pulled at her. She responded to his call by leaning back slightly, pushing her breasts outwards and upwards, revealing the long slender climb of her neck, and opening more widely her hidden sex for the rough pounding of his hand. Her lips and mound were being coated with the slippery gel, his hand slipped and slid in the excessive lubrication. As the gel warmed, his hand made sucking noises as he drove the liquid into her. His finger slid past the material of the crotch and buried itself effortlessly into her sex. She started to feel her heat rising, there was now a hot moistness that trickled out in response to his probing, it mingled with the gel as she pressed her hips forward to push his fingers deeper inside her. Ricky looked up into her face: "How's the dinner coming Tom?" he called casually. Sara's heart skipped a beat as she heard him call back from the kitchen. Ricky dug his finger in deeper warning her not to move. "It'll be a while yet. Don't worry I'm getting on fine out here. Is Sara taking good care of you?" "Oh yes, the perfect hostess." "Darling why don't you take Ricky to the wine cupboard. He can choose a bottle to have with our dinner." All this while Ricky's fingers plunged deeper into her sex, stroking the inside walls and sending ripples of delight racing through her. She felt her body responding, her breasts straining against her bra. Here she was dressed in her work clothes: so very proper, a strong defence against the outside world, a statement that she should be treated with respect; and yet she was impaling herself on this man's hand like some sex-crazed beast. "Go on." Ricky encouraged. "Tell him you'll take care of it." Ricky's attentions did not abate as she collected herself and tried to respond to Tom as naturally as she could: "Ahh.... Ok darling, we'll sort it out." She immediately wished she had not used the word darling. She felt so cheap, yet the thought evaporated as Ricky withdrew his hand and she felt the sudden pang of her anticlimax. The wine cupboard was large enough to walk into and as soon as Ricky followed her in he pushed her against the far wall and kicked the door closed. The wind was pushed from Sara's lungs as she hit the wall and instinctively she raised her arms against the wall and pressed her ass back towards her attacker. Her eyes closed as his hands gripped her waist. He pushed himself against her, his chin resting on her shoulder. She could hear his ragged breath as his hands fumbled with her skirt and his trousers. As he freed himself his hands went up and pressed her wrists against the wall. Both her hands were now trapped in his large grip, while with his other hand he steered himself into her. The force of his thrust pinned her against the wall and she was dimly aware of the coldness of the wall against her crotch exposed by her uplifted skirt. The cold contrasted with the heat in her cunt as he started to pound into her. Her hands held tight, her body trapped against the wall she could do no more than surrender to his onslaught. As he pummelled into her, her body rocked in rhythm to his. He whispered in her ear: "You are mine, you fucking slut. I want you ready and willing any time. Don't you dare tell your husband you don't want me to come around, do you hear?" She gasped feeling the rising wave of sensations building within her. His words, his urgent desire probing inside her, her husband innocently working in the other room and her lust and shame melted any resolve. Her mind overwhelmed by her desire. She could feel Ricky's hot breath almost spitting the words at her: "You better tell that husband of yours you don't have any objections any longer to my coming over, because you and me both know how much you like this. Your husband downstairs preparing our meal, while I am up here fucking his wife!" Sara could only moan as the battering of his pelvis against her buttocks forced her to open more to him. She found herself pushing into him, driving him deeper into her womb. The sudden hot gush of his discharge strikes the walls of her womb and her legs tremble as she milks him of his seed. She feels the cool wall against her forehead as she slowly climbs down from her peak. Ricky pulls away and draws her wet panties up, pulling them hard against her opening sealing in their joint cum pooling with the oily slickness in the material. "We'll leave that in there over dinner. You may notice some discomfort from that gel. It will keep you hot and open for me while we eat. I'll be sitting opposite you as you squirm, but I'll be out of bounds with your husband there sitting between us. That is to teach you that you are to be constantly ready for me, but I'll decide the moment." It would be sometime before Sara would digest the words he had said, too busy with her own high and trying to recover herself to concentrate on what he was saying. Yet just as he had said, she found herself sitting opposite Ricky feeling the tremendous itch in her groin, wanting to feel his penis sliding into her. She was so wet, and as she ate and tried to keep up with the conversation, her mind played over and over again the scenes in the wine cupboard. How frustrated she felt that Tom was there. If only Ricky could fuck her right now. She wanted to lie across the table, spread her legs wide in front of Ricky, beg him to take her right in front of her husband. She could not shake these thoughts which assailed her, as her hand slipped under her skirt and squeezed her pussy so tight she could feel the juices leak out down her thighs and across the chair. "Tom, that was delicious. Why don't you put the kettle on for some coffee?" Sara beamed at her husband. She tried to look genuine, but inside was a pent coil waiting to spring. She had to get him out of the room. "Okay. Won't be a second." As soon as he disappeared through the door Sara jumped up and went across to Ricky. She grabbed his head and bent to kiss him, but he pulled back. She stared at him in surprise. "You may be horny, but I am the one that decides when anything happens. Do you get it now? Tomorrow I want you to make a copy of your front door key and post it to me. There are to be no more obstacles between me and your cunt." With that he reached out and dug his finger into her. She spread her legs and tried to slide onto him, but he pushed her back with his other hand. "Tell me you understand." He searched her eyes, but they were glazed over with desire. As he withdrew his hand she looked at him and at last started to focus. She nodded her consent and he pulled her to him. His hand up her skirt spread the mixture of juices over her thighs and around her buttocks. He was amazed at how wet she was and how much she smelt of sex. "You'd better go and clean yourself up. We don't want your husband getting any indication of how his wife whore's herself to his boss, do we?" He again looked at her waiting for her to reply. She didn't want to answer, she didn't want to go - she just needed to be fucked by this man and the more he taunted her, the more she needed his cock buried inside her to still the voices of appalled admonition in her head. But Ricky was not going to do that and she started to realise that he would make her suffer all the more if she didn't respond. She nodded dumbly again and then she was dismissed. As they stood in the doorway, Ricky turned and thanked them once again for everything. He looked directly at Tom as he said: "It was a lovely evening. I have rarely enjoyed myself so much." Tom was about to reply when Sara piped up: "You must come again soon. Perhaps next week, what do you say?" Tom turned to his wife, a look of surprise and delight on his face. Ricky stared at Sara for a long moment before replying: "Yes I'd like that. I'll see you next week then." * * * * * Tom put his arm around her shoulder and Sara smiled up at him. He squeezed her shoulders against his chest and kissed her head. "I know that last night was not easy for you, Ricky coming to the house out of the blue and on top of a hard days work. I really appreciate you inviting him back again though. You see, Ricky may be ruthless in getting what he wants, but while we are in his favour it will really be to our advantage. He seems to like you, and it shows in the way he respects me and listens to my opinion at the office." Sara took his hand and kissed it tenderly. She couldn't find words to express the whirlwind of emotions that were welling up inside her. "You'd better get going. Don't want to be late." He kissed her again and set off. Sara's heart sank - was she betraying him or helping him? It was clearly both, but which one was incidental? As she too got herself ready to leave she heard the front door go. Marie had arrived and was whispering with Tom downstairs. As Sara came down Marie was walking into the sitting room. She radiated a smile at Sara: "Good morning my little chickadee! Will you come home early today and give me a hand?" Marie smiled warmly at Sara who had been stopped in the process of collecting her thoughts about what Marie needed to get done, and suddenly felt cautious, as if she were unexpectedly walking out on thin ice. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 04 "Well I have an important project meeting this afternoon. I don't think I can get away." Marie walked purposely over towards her, still smiling. She stood very close to Sara, invading her space. Sara could feel the presence of her body so close to her own, she could feel the swell of her breasts, aware of the sensitivity of her own, and she smelled the faint scent of Marie's perfume. She was not aroused but intimidated. "But you could make some excuse to get home a little early to help me can't you? I'm sure you can find a way. After all we are good friends, friends who share secrets. And we are more than just friends aren't we?" She put her hand to the side of Sara's face and leant into her. Marie's lips brushed over Sara's, she kissed and nibbled at them as Sara found her mouth opening involuntarily in response. Marie started to invade her mouth and the warmth of her body so close to Sara's reinforced the message that she was being crushed, that she must comply. Marie kissed her for some long minutes and Sara felt her heart beat quicken. She felt herself being swallowed up, consumed by this friend, subservient to her. As she pulled away, Sara looked away. She could not look directly into the maid's eyes, she had suddenly been forcibly stripped of all authority. "I'll see what I can do then." "That's it. We'll look out for each other." Sara was about to make a move for the door when Marie stopped her. "Here, I've smudged your make-up. Let me put it right. She quickly pulled out a small pack of powder and started to dust Sara's face. She took out a lipstick and with great attention to detail focused herself entirely once more upon Sara's lips. "So irresistible" she breathed. She pulled back and admired her handiwork. Sara moved over to the hall mirror to check. She saw her face paler than she usually made it, like porcelain. Yet her lips redder than the colour she usually wore, standing proud and inviting - too inviting. She pulled out a tissue instinctively, but Marie stayed her hand. "You look fine, now run along." Sara turned to her, full of doubt and indecision, before picking up her bag and scurrying out of the door. Once she was gone Marie laughed out loud and started to sing to herself as she went in to make herself comfortable. The slut could sort out the house when she got home. * * * * * Sara sat at the desk in her office and stared at the key in her hand. She turned it over and over as if hypnotised by it, unable to draw her attention away from it. She had rushed out and got the copy made, but now she sat there at her desk with the envelope before her. It was already addressed to Ricky and she was now at the point, the very moment she had kept herself from thinking about. Now she could duck it no longer. If she were to put this key into the envelope and seal it, then she would have given Ricky everything. She stared at the key and thought how phallic it looked. She ran her finger slowly down the rough undulations of the freshly cut side and imagined it as his penis. Every bump sending a shiver through her as it slid inside her, forcing her lips to part and re-close over them one after the other. She thought that this key was the key that would unlock her cunt, her own opening was the keyhole and it was tightly closed behind a locked door. That was their castle, their home. The front door there to be slammed shut, to push back the outside world. It allowed her and Tom to be alone. But if she sent this key, then she would have undone everything. She would be at Ricky's mercy. He would have the key to unlock the door, to unlock her cunt and as he had said she knew he would come and make use of it whenever he would want. There would be no more hiding, no more escape. Her inner sanctum would have been violated. She could not do this. As she placed the key down on her desk she started to remember last night. She had had a little victory over Ricky instigating that next invite, seizing the initiative. But it had also meant that she was offering herself to him at the same time. Her very victory had also been her defeat. Why had she offered herself to him so willingly? Why did it excite her so much that Tom didn't know, yet was so close by when she descended into lust? Ricky was right, she was a whore and had even prostituted herself out on the street. Yet she could not deny that she had felt so excited by his attention. The fact that he dared to take her in the very next room to her husband, that he could not give her up when she had rebelled to Tom. He had forced his way back into her life and had made her so desperate to fuck him that it took all her self-control not to beg to be fucked over the dinner table in front of Tom. She remembered how much cleaning up of herself she had had to do and wondering how Tom could not notice the strong odour of sex as she cleaned the seat cover in the dining room. Yet she had been excited as she cleaned it. She had leaned over and licked up some of Ricky's cum which had seeped from her. It had tasted a mixture of sweet and salty, but as with all forbidden fruits, it had tasted better than anything she could have legitimately asked for. Sara realised that she needed this sex, she needed this clandestine wanton out-of-control fucking, and the more out of control it was the more it excited her. Her hand started to shake is she picked up the key again. It glinted in the desk light, as if winking acknowledgement to her that it too understood what it was she was about to do. She had never felt so excited as she dropped the key into the envelope and although she struggled to seal the envelope with her hands shaking so much, she felt electrified by the thrill. She rushed to the post room before she could stop to think, and then had to rush to the loo. She would not be able to concentrate on anything until she had found some relief. * * * * * "The thing is, when I opened the door and saw him standing there I didn't feel angry with him. I just stared at him asking myself why shouldn't I be angry. I had expressly forbidden him to be invited round, and he had invited himself! Yet I could only feel pleased and excited like some stupid teenager. I was angry with myself rather than with him. I just can't seem to resist him. I love the liberties he takes with me. I love the excitement of screwing around right behind Tom's back. I feel as guilty as sin, but it such an aphrodisiac that I am immediately excited and ready for him. I let him get away with way too much, and the more he demands from me the more excited I become! What is happening to me?" Carol stared across at her friend and she reached out to pat her hand. "Its just an infatuation. It doesn't mean anything. You don't have to leave Tom. He doesn't need to know anything. It will pass, you'll see. You will get up one day and know that it is over and you won't want to see Ricky ever again, then you can make it up to Tom. Meanwhile, just let it flow. It really seems to have livened you up Sara. You are quite radiant today." Sara stared at her friend and felt some relief. The idea that she was not permanently damaged, that she may not have to pay for her sins was a huge weight from her shoulders. She didn't know why she had become so infatuated with Ricky, but each time she played through the events of last night she could only feel the thrill that ran through her. She shivered with pure delight. She was totally happy for one brief moment. She didn't need to understand it, she just knew that right now this was what she needed. "You know, I've been wondering about that time you were out on the street that night. I was really worried about you and thought the worst. You haven't done anything like that again have you?" Sobering up from her private euphoria, Sara shook her head and looked down at the table. She had pushed this memory right out of her mind, and Carol's reminder was unwelcome. "I was just wondering whether that was a guilt reaction. Perhaps you felt so worthless after that first time with Ricky that you thought you were not worthy of anything more than to be out on the street. I think you were punishing yourself." Sara just stared at the table taking in what she was saying, but feeling really uncomfortable about the way the discussion was going. "Don't you see." Carol took her arm and leant forward. "If you can just accept that this is some wild fling, some really intense affair that will burn bright and then fade, then you don't have to feel so guilty any more. You just have to accept this thing that has overtaken you temporarily. Who knows why you started to feel this way for Ricky, but hey this is the 21st century. Everyone today seems to have affairs. It's nothing to feel so bad about. As long as Tom never knows then you'll be able to pick up the pieces once the whirlwind has passed. You don't need to punish yourself that way, and that will stop giving me such scares!" Sara embraced her friend for her comforting words. As they hugged she seemed to feel a little bit stronger. Yet she knew that she had not yet told Carol anything about Marie and her brother. She wondered whether she should but somehow she couldn't admit to too much. Not all in one go. She needed Carol's support, and she didn't want to push that support too far. As she pulled away she said: "I don't know why, but I keep thinking there is something about hypnosis when I try and think back to how I started to get into this mess. I just don't know why that thought should hang in my mind, just out of reach, but somehow I have this vague uneasy feeling deep down inside of me." * * * * * Sara had worked hard around the house since she had got back from work. Once again she was dressed in the maid's uniform as Marie wore Sara's clothes. She had to make a stand about that. She was angry with Marie who was clearly exploiting her. Yet she also knew about the videotape she had made of her with Juan and the other secrets that she kept. Sara was angry with herself for stupidly allowing the opportunity of her discovery. Yet she could think of no way out of her predicament. Sara heard Marie call her from upstairs and she dropped what she was doing and went to see what she wanted. Marie sat her on the end of the bed and leant over her. She started to kiss her, the soft lips pressing lightly against her skin as Sara turned her face towards them. She felt a warm tingle run through her and her anger started to melt into guilt. Maybe Marie was not exploiting her, but did love her. Marie caressed her hair as she continued to kiss and inflame her mistress. Her hands started to unbutton the front of Sara's uniform. Sara felt her hands a bit useless and with her eyes held shut in acceptance, she reached out to remove Marie's clothing, but Marie pushed her hand away. It hung limply on Marie's arm as Sara moved her head back slightly so that Marie's kisses could reach down to her neck. As the buttons popped open Sara felt herself becoming more acceptant of Marie's advances. She felt excited and exhilarated by the attention. Sitting there on the bed like some rag doll that only just had enough strength to keep herself upright. Marie was pushing the uniform over her shoulders now and pressed forward to bury her face in the crook of Sara's neck. The uniform folded around her elbows and was trapped, but before Sara could try and free her hand to slide it the rest of the way off, Marie's hand had moved to her breast. Sara stopped again, frozen in mid-motion, trapped by the captivation of Marie's advance. Soon the straps of her bra slid uselessly down the top of her arms and her breasts were exposed to Marie's lips. Sara's breath was becoming more ragged. She felt herself the object of someone's desire, and she was unable or unwilling to move, just accept. As Marie sucked on her nipples they became erect, little daggers of lust trapped in the open. She felt them cool and contract into hard points as Marie's lips moved away. Now Marie was invading her mouth, her tongue pushed its way inside, meeting no resistance. Sara welcomed the intruder, the hot moist invader that pushed her own tongue around inside her own mouth. The sensations were by now so over-powering for Sara that she had almost no conscious realisation of her skirt being yanked upwards around her waist. Marie was leaning right over Sara who was lying back at a steep angle, just managing to prop herself up and not fall away from the welcome intruder in her mouth by pushing out an elbow onto the bed behind her. Marie's hand reached down to her crotch, rubbing and inflaming her passion further. She felt the nudge over her clitoris, back and forth, back and forth again. She felt the press of Marie's breasts as they rose and fell with each heartbeat. Marie pulled away and smiled down at Sara. With her hand she took hold of her chin and turned her face away towards the mirror on the wall opposite. "Just look at you," she said. Sara stared a while before she could focus her eyes again. It was as if she had lost the power of sight, as if her efforts had been so absorbed by her desire that she was having difficulty to remember how to see again. As the vision slowly focused she saw a very elegant woman, dressed in fine clothes, standing over a harlot. A cheap servant who was falling out of her uniform that lay bunched up behind her, framing her breasts that stood wantonly on display, the nipples very red and very erect. She saw the whores legs spread apart, the skirt pulled up, the clear and visible panties pulled tight over her very obvious mound thrust outwards by her posture; the lace in the material emphasising the allure and drawing attention to her groin. Her silky thighs now exposed among the folds of material stretched tight between them, yet forced up out of any role to hide her inner self. The soft flesh disappearing into the white fabric of her panties, and the large gusset pulled tight between them, a damp patch very visible in the middle. She felt cheap, a whore, who had laid bare her inner self, her wanton desires in the drawing room of some fashionable lady, exposed to her society friends. She was no longer worthy of such a society. She wanted to run downstairs. She wanted to hide. "You see. This is how you and I really are. You can see for yourself how I am mistress around here, and you are the sex-craving whore of a servant that I have taken pity on. That is why you come home and clean when I tell you with no excuses. What you say at work is up to you, but I expect you here. If not, then I will expose this little slut you see in the mirror to her husband and her colleagues at work. If you don't make me feel you are worthy to be my servant, if you insist that you should be treated only as a common whore then that is what you will become. I will tell Juan to come and take care of you. Just remember that. Remember how much you owe me." Sara stared at the vision before her, accepting however reluctantly the truth behind the words Marie spoke. She felt lost, spiralling out of control. How far she had come from being that elegant lady dressed in the fashionable skirt that now towered over her. She was unworthy, and she felt the revulsion of what she had become, she felt too the anxiety of disappointing Marie. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 05 This is chapter 5 of the story and before reading this you should read the previous chapters. The chapters are not self-contained but part of the same developing story. I apologise for how long this is taking me to put it all together but a good story like good sex is best when it is prolonged. Chapter 5: The morning is such a rush. Never enough time, everything squeezed into a precise routine, a well-rehearsed schedule through which we rush with no time wasted in thought. Sara and Tom's routine was completely disrupted one morning when Sara pulled open the draw containing her underwear and with that prickly feeling of fear crawling across her skin she stared down at a foreign set of black latex that was definitely not hers. Pinned to the panties was a simple note - no frills, just a few brief line of words scrawled across a scrap of paper, as if to remind her to buy some groceries on the way home. It simply said: "Wear these today. Ricky." Sara recoiled from the draw as she pushed it firmly shut pressing her hand flat against the front of the drawer as if it might otherwise open by itself. She was staring at her hands, white with the force she exerted to hold the drawer closed. She turned to Tom, still lying in bed right next to her and tried to compose herself. Normally Tom would lie there and watch her getting dressed before going to have his shower, but this morning was not normal. Perhaps no future morning will ever be again. "You'd better get ready Tom. Go have your shower." Tom looked up at his wife and smiled with a slightly quizzical look on his face before he heaved himself out of bed. Tom too felt the strange unfamiliarity enveloping them from the break in their routine. It had an unsettling effect upon him. He could not put his finger on it, but he felt slightly apprehensive as he turned the taps on. Once Tom was outside the room Sara again stared at the drawer before slowly pulling it back open. She looked at the dark shiny foreign material lying amongst her underwear. She felt a pang of anxiety at the realisation that someone else, no not someone, but someone who knew her; not just someone who knew her, but Ricky, had been looking through her underwear drawer. He had stood where she now stood and had examined everything that she wore so intimately and so privately. He had held them in his fingers, felt the material that pressed up against her body, felt the passion for her that had brought him all the way into her home to deliver his gift. What had he thought of them? Were they repulsive to him, surely they would be… Sara felt embarrassed. Perhaps he disapproved and that was why he had brought these new panties for her to wear. She picked them up and felt the glossy smoothness slippery in her hand. She became aware that her hand was damp and as she looked closer she saw the familiar oily gel that Ricky had used on her the other day. She started to shake as she remembered the effect it had had on her, how excited she had become, and how driven to distraction she was by her desire to be fucked by Ricky. Fucked, the word fuck echoed around in her mind, she toyed with it examining her reaction to this vulgar word that so aptly described her feelings that night. Yes if she wore these today then those unresolved feelings of desire would plague her throughout the day. She already felt excited at the mental picture she had concocted of herself sitting at her desk at work, legs splayed under it, dreaming of being spread across that desk top Ricky pumping in and out of her, her sloppy wetness in reaction to his onslaught, the fear and thrill of someone coming in at that precise moment and her true self being revealed, finally forced out into the open: her desire to be a fuck toy to this man. To give herself as the object of his desire, to deny him nothing, to be wanton for him and feel the grip of his passion freeze her. To openly and with complete disregard to whoever would see her, abandon herself and display herself being ripped open by him, to let all see how she too could not shake herself free from her desire, and to be so thoroughly fucked. Her need drove her: her need for her debasement, her animalistic need that was overriding all her normal behaviour, flouting all that was expected of her. Sara gasped as these phantasms overtook her, drowning her in their reverie. She was still shaking, feeling appalled with herself. Some corner of her mind screaming for her to stop, she lifted her nightclothes and slipped her panties off. The latex with the gel oozing out the sides of the crotch, lay in her open palm. She marvelled for a brief moment at the jet black material contrasting against the whiteness of her skin, in her mind she watched herself standing before the mirror - the black V of the material rising up over her abdomen, forcing her long white slender legs apart, tapering down as an inverted V mirroring the rising dark material. The whiteness of her skin contrasting with the black smooth V forcibly pressing between her legs, holding her in, holding her open. Sara pulled her nightie off and slipped the panties on. She pulled them up as high and as tight against her crotch as she could, making sure there was no fold in the material. It had to be smooth to match the picture in her mind; the cool slickness of the gel pressing into her, a familiar and welcome tormentor. As the sounds of Tom's shower dribbled into the room she looked back at the drawer. She stood before it, her legs spread, the sensations of the sticky gel coating her once more already disturbing her train of thought. She found there a black latex bra to match. She lifted it out. It seemed very small, the material very thin. She pulled it round her and found it was too small. She could not quite get the clasp to catch. She took it off and examined it to see if she could let it out more. Then as she slipped the thin insubstantial straps over her shoulders she felt the loose latex cups brush and tickle her nipples. Once again she tried to draw the strap around behind her. The thin material pulled tight across the mounds of her breasts was stretched and seemed too feeble to take the strain. The dark blackness dissolving with the stretch of the material, the tension it was placed under fitting round her breasts pulled it tight and thin. She could see her breasts and her nipples clearly in an inky black tone, the roundness of her breasts accentuated by the tightness of the material. She almost had the clasp done as she felt the cool material into which her nipples were pulled, excite them and extend them. She felt them harden as the clasp caught and locked into place. She felt the tightness around her chest as she stood before the mirror. Her breasts seemed so much bigger encased in the material that strained so hard to encompass them. The latex now so thin she could see every detail of her breasts, and her nipples that pressed into the latex making dark points surmounted upon well-rounded creamy black domes. Quickly now she got ready to hide these pleasures under her work clothes and rush off to work. Yet so excited was she that she couldn't resist picking up some more revealing items from her wardrobe than she would normally wear to work. The neckline a little lower, the skirt just above the knee, flaring slightly. She put her makeup on and once again made herself slightly more provocative than usual: the eyeliner a little darker, her lashes a trifle longer, her lips a more pomegranate shade of red and her foundation a paler tan. Her hair was loose as she pulled it out and let it fall. She would normally tie it back, but she liked the feel of the feminine flow of the strands brushing against her cheeks. As she stared back at herself in the mirror she saw an altogether more feminine woman looking back at her, she had an insecure allure and a hint of her secret peeking through her expression. She presented an image of a more docile person, her mind elsewhere more aware of her shapeliness and how others perceived her. At that moment Tom came into the room and wrapped his arms around her. Somehow he needed the feel of reassurance, to feel her solid form, that she was not some ethereal mirage. "You look gorgeous. Anything special happening today?" She caressed his hands and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Her head bent under his chin as she said: "Just hoped you'd like it." She turned her head and kissed him. Tom smiled back and they broke their embrace and continued with their separate days. ***** By the time Sara was walking across the car park to her office she was annoyed with herself. Back in the reassuring surroundings of her work she felt she had been acting stupidly to allow such fantastical notions to pervade her. She would go straight up to the bathroom and clean herself off and remove that stupid underwear. She had felt the restriction around her chest and although it did not actually inhibit her breathing, she still found herself breathing more deeply, her chest heaving in sighs and with long indrawn breaths. Her breasts each time rose up and pushed themselves forward, her mounds pressed still tighter against the fabric of the bra. She felt her flesh stick and fuse into the material. The sensations brought her mind constantly back to her erect nipples, the soft roundness of her flesh, the forward display of her bosom and how much more conscious she was of men looking at it. As she sat in the toilet she had pulled her skirt up slightly and saw the sleek black material poke out from underneath of the cotton fabric. She saw the long stretch between her thighs and the glint of reflected light from the sweeping curve of the material hugging her so closely. She stared at it for a moment and felt the rise of excitement burn her neck. That stupid gel had already got to work and she was feeling the now familiar itch in her groin as blood engorged her clitoris. She should pull them off and wipe herself clean, she should stop this behaviour; she had to get a grip on her life. How could she have let herself drift into these abusive situations? Yet as she looked down at her latex encased crotch she felt a thrill, something quite extraordinary outside of everyday experience. Life suddenly seemed so dull, just plodding along, getting by. If she took them off then today would become just another ordinary day and in years would be lost in the babble of background noise that was her life. Yet if she kept them on, if she experienced that unrelenting need, that overpowering desire, that inability to draw her mind away from her sex and Ricky, then today would indeed stand out and its memory remain with her forever. She would always remember the coiled tautness that pulled imaginary strings in her body making her tense, making her more alive and her body more sensitive. She thought about Ricky and felt a surge of dampness as she pictured him stealing into their apartment. The risk he had taken - of being seen, being found by Tom or Marie, or by the neighbour; and how would he have explained the inexplicable? He could not. He had taken risks for her in order to share with her these feelings of excitement. She imagined him sitting at his desk all day today thinking of her, wondering how incapable she too would be to drag her thoughts away from him, to lay herself open before him. He had shown her that he wanted her and the desire she instilled in him was driving him to crazy acts that surely no sane person would contemplate. She thought of him looking through catalogues or wandering around stores trying to decide what underwear to buy her. She pictured him surrounded by lingerie weighing up in his mind, which would suit her frame, which would arouse him more once he saw her dressed in it. She smiled at the thought of his taking so much trouble over her. Surely she should wear them for him. That was not too much to ask after all that trouble, was it? She was gripped by the thoughts of complicity. All this while her hand roamed across her mound, stroking it, inflaming it further. She remembered Ricky's firm grip between her legs, pressing into her, as Tom had prepared dinner. He had pushed the gel deeper into her skin, coating her more and more liberally. She found her hand reciprocating, spreading the inflaming juices around to ensure no part of her could escape the pleasure that was now rippling up her spine and embracing her. NO, she must stop this. She had to grasp her own identity and take hold of her destiny once more. She had to pull them off and clean herself up before it was too late. She must take these panties off; she would wander around without panties today… NO, she couldn't go about without panties! What was she thinking of? Yet the thought of her nakedness so close to her colleagues, barely hidden under the thin slip of her skirt, so available as she talked with her innocent male colleagues captivated her. She was lost once more absorbed into the images that conjured up as some magic trick in her mind. Her hand slipped under her blouse and caressed her latex coated breast. The smooth material and the heat flowing through it, the small nubbin for her nipple which she rolled between her fingers, so prominent. No she would ride out this storm today and succumb to her fate realising that she doomed herself at the end of the day to quivering disloyal pleasure. She flushed the toilet and left for her office, her over-excited clitoris pressed firmly against the tight fabric that brushed back and forth against it as she strode down the corridor. ***** All through the day she had tried in a vain desperate attempt to focus upon her work. Every time she talked with her colleagues she wondered what they would think of her if only they knew. Her excitement had risen throughout the day and by the afternoon she could not draw her eyes away from the crotches of her male co-workers. Her mind dallying on their cocks wrapped neatly up, tucked away but ready to spring forth, to grow and expand like some giant reaching out toward her. She imagined herself impaled upon their cocks, riding them thinking dimly that this was wrong, but being so overwhelmed by satisfying her need, her body could not respond. She had to shake her head to dispel these images and once or twice caught a quizzical look on their faces. Had they noticed her eyes being drawn to their crotches? Her face went red at the thought and her cunt clenched in response to the humiliation of the thought. Other times she would look at their hands. Look at their fingers – some long and thin, others quite dumpy. She imagined them running along the length of the slit and imagining how it might feel. So used was she to Tom's fingers that she started to feel curious about the different sensations. She wondered whether she would be able to tell if she was blindfolded and all she could feel was the touch of a man playing with her. Could she know whether it was Tom, could she guess who among these men she fantasized over was pleasuring her? But she would never dare to let them know what thoughts were running through her mind. She had kept herself in check, but she had found her hands drawn more frequently under her skirt and rubbing themselves, pressing hard against her clitoris, making herself moan with pleasure that radiated from her hot crotch. She felt it was not enough, she needed to feel something bury itself inside her, but she kept herself going through the day with the thought of saving herself for Ricky. By the time she had got home she was exhausted but in great need. She was home early, anticipating that Ricky would come over before Tom got back. She planned what they would do, where they would fuck and there would be no chat, no pleasantries. They would be together for too short a time, they needed to spend all of it in desperate passion. She would keep her clothing on, for certainly Ricky would want to see her wearing it, but had taken off her clothes and wrapped herself in her dressing gown. It would provide quick and easy access to her. Sara heard the key turn in the lock. She rushed out into the hall. "Hi honey. How was the day?" She stopped in her tracks as she saw that it was Tom. She felt her heart lurch. This was not what she had expected and a sudden coldness swept over her as reality finally penetrated her thoughts. Of course it wasn't Ricky, this was the time Tom usually got back from work. Why had she been surprised? As she kissed him on the cheek she felt her disappointment and a black depression suddenly swamped her. Tom was smiling at her but she pulled away. "I've had a lousy day. Not too good at all. In fact I think I'll take an early night." Tom looked concerned for his wife. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Sara just shook her head as she turned away. What could she say to him? How could she explain to her husband that she felt bitter disappointment that it was him and not another man who had come in through the door? She knew that it was not his fault. She knew that actually she should be much more compassionate with him, but she just could not manage that on top of the feelings that had so dominated her during the day and the build up of expectation that had accompanied it. "No I'll just have a lie down. I have such an aching head." Sara went and collapsed on the bed. She felt like crying, she was so frustrated. She could not bring herself to talk or read or think of anything else. How could Ricky have just left her like this? Surely he had wanted to come and fuck her? She felt betrayed as she sank into sleep – at least she could escape her feelings for the night. Into her dreams she felt the warm breath against her cheek, the closeness of a masculine body, one that she could not make out but whose presence dominated her. She felt her head move towards his hidden face and her lips parted as he kissed her. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth and she became instantly more passionate. Suddenly she felt the touch of real flesh against her lips and the contradiction startled her awake. She found the room dark, but leaning over her was the frame of a man's head. She was about to shriek when his hand slipped over her mouth and she felt rather than heard his whisper: "It's me, Ricky." Her eyes strained to focus, and dimly she could make out that it was indeed Ricky. She turned to her side and found Tom fast asleep next to her. The room was dark. He must have had his dinner and crept into bed without disturbing her. She wondered what time it was, but then she felt her heart start to quicken as her fogged mind started to appreciate that Ricky had crept into her bedroom as she slept next to her husband. What danger he was in should Tom hear anything and rouse. Her eyes acknowledged Ricky and he withdrew his hand. She slipped out of bed still wearing her dressing gown and padded silently out of the room behind him. Downstairs she stood before him as he pulled open her gown. He had lit the fire and he surveyed her in her underwear in the flickering light of the flames. They were silent as they watched each other. Her eyes followed his, nervous and attentive, seeking some acknowledgement that he was satisfied with how she looked. She knew he must be comparing the sight of her with an image that must have played across his mind all day. She too realised that he must have felt equally frustrated at not being able to get access to her until now in the dead of night, and that this shared frustration bonded them still more together. He was smiling and Sara felt relief relax her tense muscles. He slipped his hand around her waist and stared down at her tits. She felt the warmth of the fire caress them through the thin fabric and Ricky bent down and took one of her nipples between his teeth, through the material. He bit slightly and she felt the pain, then as his head moved away she looked down and saw the material torn around her nipple that stood bright red in the glow of the fire. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 05 Ricky pulled her towards him and kissed her violently, she lay in his grasp as a rag doll and received him. She felt tender all over her body and every sinew seemed alive. She took his hand and placed it on her latex crotch. He rubbed her with the heal of his palm and she arched her back revealing her long neck, her eyes closed, her hair draped down her back. It felt so much more complete when it was Ricky's hand she felt through the sodden material than her own feeble attempt. Her hands hung limply by her side as his fingers pushed at the material and tried to force their way inside her. But the material would not give and he pulled the panties down her leg. She was hot, she was wet, she was ready for him and Ricky took her. No foreplay, no words, just brute lust as he drove himself into her lying there on the floor in front of the fire. The orange glow and half hidden forms just added to the supernatural nature of the experience. Sara's heart pounded in her head as she was buffeted by orgasms pent up throughout the day. At last she felt whole, she felt stretched, she felt his hot desire radiating its passion inside of her. On and on they fucked with an energy that could not be abated. He took her in so many ways and she encouraged him, held him, pulled his cock deep into her cunt. She was more than an acquiescent partner, she wanted him to fill her, to feel his seed slide down her leg, seep out of her cunt. She wanted it to last, not a wild snatched moment in a cupboard. She lay on the floor holding Ricky's head as he slept. She thought of these two men in her life, both sleeping one in the room above the other, and her need for both of them, their intertwined and yet clandestine relationships. Silently she slipped under the covers of the bed as Tom twisted around in a stupor. "You feeling OK?" he mumbled. She felt his concern, even though he was far too sleepy to express it properly. "Yes, go to sleep." She kissed him gently and affectionately. ***** As they got ready the next morning Tom was looking at Sara. He had an expression of concern on his face. Sara pretended not to notice in order not to encourage any questions. "Is everything OK?" he eventually asked. "Yes sure. Must get ready as Marie is coming in today and I need to think about what needs doing." That seemed to keep him quiet for a moment or two before he spoke again. "It's just that you don't seem to be yourself these days. I was just wondering whether there was something on your mind." She turned and smiled at him. She had to find some way to deflect him. "No everything is fine, darling." Tom contemplated her before adding, "You are doing a lot more around the house these days too. Its great to see you take such pride in the place, but don't you think Marie should do that? After all that's what we pay her for." Sara turned towards her husband. She felt this conversation was leading into dangerous waters. "I just like doing some of the things around the house. Don't worry, I just couldn't possibly manage without Marie. There is plenty for her to do as well. Besides she is such a good friend of mine, we get along so well." "Well if you're sure. But you never used to take such an interest in the house. You were always focused on the office." "Its just that there is a lot of pressure at work at the moment, and I just feel the need to get away and do some mindless work to get it out of my system. You shouldn't read so much into things." She admonished before adding, "How are things going at work with the changes Ricky wants to bring in?" This started Tom talking animatedly about his work and Sara felt relief. Tom was very much wrapped up in his work and getting on. She loved him very much and she knew that whatever else all this meant, she didn't feel any less for Tom. Somehow she just needed that feeling of being wanted. She thought back to last night and making love in front of the fire. It had been so wonderfully erotic and unlike the other times Ricky wasn't just grabbing for himself, but was taking trouble over her. She knew that this would help Tom and while she felt uneasy about what she was doing, she felt that this was at least some compensation for him. After all, as Carol had said, if he didn't know anything then he wouldn't get hurt. She would end it with Ricky when she felt ready, but not right now. Somehow she needed him. As Tom was on his way out the door Marie turned up. "Good morning, sir." He smiled and greeted Marie. As he walked out she turned and watched him leave before turning to Sara. "Can you get back early today? I need to go into town." She smiled at Sara and waited her response. When Sara hesitated wondering how she could possibly get back early that day, she added, "You know my brother Juan was asking after you. He wants to come round and see you. I told him that we were just fine and that he should stay away. Us girls can manage, can't we?" she was still smiling as if the hidden threat in her words had passed over her head unnoticed. They were not unnoticed by Sara however. She felt her throat dry as she nodded and said, "I'll be back about an hour earlier today, OK?" Marie smiled and gave her a hug. "I knew we could manage things between us." She gave Sara a kiss on the cheek and hugged her. "We are so lucky to have each other, eh?" ***** Sara looked at the clock. She knew she had to get back home. She had got through her work in double quick time today. It may not have been up to her usual standard, but it would do. She had to get back home and not disappoint Marie. She thought about Juan and his threat to punish her. She remembered him calling her a whore, and the word rang in her head. She had often reflected upon that incident when she went out onto the streets. She had hated the thought and recoiled from the memory, but at the same time she knew that however much she wished not to admit it, she had been excited by the adventure. There was something utterly degrading about what she had done, somehow it was somebody else and not her, it could not be the same person. She imagined her colleagues coming in and out of the office during the day, wondering how each would react if they knew her secret. She had to make sure that Marie would keep her secret, she could not imagine how she could cope if they found out. Yet there was something strangely compulsive and disturbing about the implications of acting the whore. Sara had to get going. She started to pack up. Always there was some last thing she needed to do; one last file to be put away, one last little reminder to jot down for the morning. She started to leave but came running back. She remembered a quick letter she needed to put together, she had promised her boss. She felt the anxiety of the conflicting demands upon her. She must get going yet she had promised to do this letter today. She felt the anxiety settle in her groin and she could not sit still. She must go, she must stay and finish this. It would only take a moment. Yet she had to run to the bathroom before she could do either. She sat in the cubicle and felt the heat rise from her pussy, all the time feeling the agony of the passing of the minutes. Somehow she felt herself trapped there, the inevitable tardiness feeding the impatience of Marie, driving her inexorably to the conclusion that she would call Juan to come and discipline her. The thought reverberated through dark corridors in her mind as her fingers strayed over her clitoris and opening her pussy lips wide to some unseen eyes of a voyeur she now imagined was standing at the open door to her cubicle. Suddenly she shuddered through an orgasm, her pussy becoming damp and her legs twitching wanting to run, wanting to hide, wanting the inevitable. As she drove back to the house she felt afraid. She was shaking, she knew she was late and could feel Marie's anger at her even from a few blocks away. Yet there was something inexorable about the wilful way she had delayed herself. One part of her had been telling her to get on with that letter earlier. Yet another part had deliberately put it to one side to do later. This simple act of negligence was the doom that wrested control of the situation from her. She did not have to actively participate in her destruction; she could just allow it to happen by passively standing by. Marie was indeed furious at her when she got home. She threw the uniform at her and told her to get on with the work. She flounced out of the house saying Sara would regret disappointing her after all she had done to help her. This was no way to treat their friendship. ***** It only took a few days. Sara was sitting quietly reading her book when Marie and her friends burst into the room. The quiet of the afternoon evaporated under the exuberance of these guests that seemed to fill the room with their presence. Tom entered the room behind them as Marie was announcing: "It is my birthday today and we came to celebrate with you." Sara looked from Marie to her brother Juan and the other men who stood in their sitting room. They all seemed to pay special attention to her, looking down at where she was curled up on the sofa. She felt a shiver run down her back and averted her eyes turning to look at Tom. There were six men there with Juan and Marie, all smiling and laughing together and talking in Spanish. She turned back to Marie. "Hey I didn't know." She got up and went over and hugged Marie. Marie held her tight and pulled her in towards her. She felt Marie's breasts dig into hers and the tight grip of her fingers as she held her waist tight. Sara's nostrils filled with the scent Marie was wearing and it strangely excited her, or was it the strength with which she was being held? Marie pulled back and was babbling she was so excited. She held on to Sara's hand as she was explaining to everyone about how they had been celebrating. She wanted Sara to come with her shopping to buy some party clothes. They would go out tonight and have fun. Tom came over and kissed Marie. "That is a truly wonderful idea. We would love to come and I know how you and Sara get on so well together. How kind of you to think of us on your birthday." Juan put his hand on Tom's shoulder. "You have been very good to my sister and we think of both of you as part of our family. Let the girls go and shop and we can stay and have some beers, watch the game. We brought some beer along with us, what you say Tom?" Juan stood next to Tom, a hand on his shoulder, looking like his younger brother. All the men started to talk about the match and Tom was soon engrossed. Marie slipped her arm through Sara's. "Come on, let's get going." Tom waved to Sara as she was being ushered out of the door. "Have a good time." He shouted before being drawn back into conversation. The sound of the beers being popped echoed into the hall behind Sara. Once they were out of the room Marie pushed Sara suddenly against the wall. Sara was winded, looking up with surprise and fear at Marie leaning into her. "I told you not to be late. Now you must learn a lesson." She stuffed a cloth into Sara's mouth before she could react. As her hands flew up to her face to pull the material out Marie gripped both her wrists. Her fingers bit into them and with surprising strength she pulled Sara's hands down and together. Sara was staring into Marie's face, panting out her sudden fear at the change in her attitude. Yet the sounds she produced were muffled by the material locked between her jaws. She felt the cold touch of steel at her wrists, as it gripped and pressed into her skin, locking tightly around her. She heard the clink of steel sliding over bearings. Each minute click adding further to the pressure she felt at her wrists, sealing her, locking her in, immobilising her ability to resist. Marie took out a length of rope and tied it round Sara's face over the cloth gagging her mouth. As Marie pulled on the rope at the back of Sara's head she felt the cloth being pressed more firmly into her mouth, her tongue forced down, her jaws pushed wider. Sara's eyes were filling with tears as she stared into Marie's neck, the cloying sweetness of her scent still arousing the girl as she stood motionless, unable to flee or fight, her hands locked tight together in front of her. In her mind the thought of struggle, of fighting back, was grappling to get her attention as her senses were being overwhelmed by the disbelief she experienced at what Marie was doing. Yet somehow before even trying to struggle she had already defeated herself. As her acceptance of her impending punishment sank in to her consciousness she felt a reassuring warmth spread from her groin. She feared what was about to happen; yet somehow she had wanted to be forced to accept it. She recoiled from these thoughts and the thrill she felt at not knowing how she would be punished, being at the mercy of these people who would humiliate her and pleasure her; fearing more that Tom would emerge from the sitting room rather than Juan or the other men. The door to the sitting room indeed started to open and Sara's eyes opened wide in their fear. She started to become animated as she heard the door quietly close upon the noise of conversation bursting from the sitting room. She had heard Tom's voice talking excitedly with the other men as Juan wandered down the hall towards them. Sara was shivering in front of his gaze. She felt naked and vulnerable as she stood with her hands so visibly held tight together by the handcuffs and her mouth completely gagged unable to call out for help. She just stared at him, shaking and crying as he approached. He held his sister's arm and kissed her on the cheek. "You'd better get going, leave her with me." Marie laughed and slipped her finger around Sara's gag as she said, "Enjoy yourself!" Marie made sure to close the front door loudly calling out as she went, "I want to show you this new shop in the mall. I know you'll find something to wear there. Bye all!" As the door slammed shut, Sara felt a wave of despair sweep across her, as if a prison door had closed heavily against her. She was now left in the charge of Juan and although Tom was so close by, he had just called out to her to enjoy herself and not hurry back. Juan stared at his victim. "Your husband is in the other room, but he believes you have gone out and won't be back until Marie returns. That may be some time. Poor Tom, so much that he doesn't know about his pretty wife, no? Should we tell him, should we take from him the bandages you have wrapped over his eyes? Why should you treat him like this? And when my sister agrees to help you, because she likes you, because you were good to her, how do you repay her? All you had to do was get back home and help her when she asked. Yet even that was too much for you. Now you must learn why you must be more help to my sister and listen to what she says." With that he grabbed her arms. Sara tried to scream but the gag drowned it out. Juan pushed her along the hall, opened a cupboard door and pushed her inside. She fell heavily to the floor as Juan leant in over her. He grabbed her locked wrists and pulled them above her head. Sara was in a daze and whimpering in her gag as she felt a chain dangle over her imprisoned arms. She heard the click of a padlock sealing her wrists high above her head. She could not come to terms with how easily he Juan had walked into her house and lured her into his mercy. She had been snatched right from under her husband's nose. She was shocked how easy and quick it had all been. She sat on the floor in the gloom, the shadow of Juan towering over her. He reached out and she first felt the pull then heard the tear of material as he pulled at her blouse. Her breasts sprang free and immediately she felt the chill of the cold air inside the dark cupboard. "Now bitch, I will leave you here for a while and go and talk with your husband. You can contemplate your position – a nothing locked away in a cupboard until we decide you can come out. You can think about why you are here and how much you owe to my sister. Just to help you understand your position, let me leave you with something else to think about." With that Sara heard a swish through the air cutting it like a knife. She felt pain rip through her exposed breasts and she squealed into the cloth. She heard the swish again and before she could steal herself the pain wracked her once again. He repeated a few more blows and then dropped a riding crop on the floor in front of her. Sara looked at it with fear, and then looked at her thighs that had not escaped his onslaught. She saw thin red lines swell across them. Juan knelt down next to her. He brushed her hair back from her cheek. "Pain, is wonderful for concentrating the mind of a whore I always find. Just think about what you have received and when I return you will tell me that you will not disobey my sister again." Sara was shaking, her head turned away from her tormentor, her mind still reeling from her attempt to come to terms with the pain and humiliation she felt. The door closed and she was drowned by the darkness. She heard his footsteps heading back into the sitting room. She imagined herself standing in the hall looking down at herself bound and beaten in the closet. She thought about her husband talking and drinking with her tormentors just yards away. How could he let them do this to her? Why couldn't he have taken more care of her! She sobbed into her gag and as the acuteness of the pain from her welts receded into a dull throb, she started to feel the ache in her arms suspended above her. She had to make some noise, she had to alert Tom so that he could rescue her. Yet she was afraid of Juan hearing the noise and instead of rescue he would come and beat her some more. She shivered at this thought. She felt useless, degraded and debased. Not human any more, just some object to be stored away in a cupboard until useful. Time seemed to drag and Sara sat in the dark shivering and as her eyes became accustomed to the light she found herself staring at the riding crop. She contemplated how it was used to train animals. Was she some kind of animal that needed to be trained? Was she responding to its urgent demand? Is that why she would cede to Juan's demands when he returned? For she knew as soon as he gave her the chance she would apologise and ingratiate herself to him. She also knew she would look forward to it, that somehow it would excite her and inflame her passion which she had felt mounting within her. The loss of control, being locked away in her own cupboard, not knowing when she would be let out, what she would have to agree to in order to regain her temporary freedom all aggravated an itch she felt in her groin. It was the growing urgency of this itch that eventually drowned out the dull pain, and the feeling of her pain dissolving into need made her wish her hands were free to bury themselves between her legs. Yet the feeling of inaccessibility to her own slit made her feel still more open and vulnerable. She had been denied access to her most intimate parts. She thought of her legs parted on the floor and started to imagine a spider crawling out of a dark hole and wandering across the floor towards her. She pictured its long legs feeling their way in the darkness, her slit pressed up against the floor in front of it, with its musky smell drawing the spider towards her, attracted by the honey sweet smell of the juices that she felt collecting about her opening. She tried to draw her legs up, to lift herself off the floor, away from danger, but there was not enough space. She could not stand or even raise herself a little. She would be completely at its mercy, unable to defend herself. She pictured it drawing closer, its front legs feeling around ahead of its body, and as it closed in its sense of direction improved by the cloying scent. She felt the lips of her pussy contract and try to squeeze shut, yet she imagined the soft damp fabric of her panties spread wide before the creature. In her mind it approached closer and started to disappear under her skirt. She started to wriggle, to try to discourage it by threatening it with the movement of her large body, yet instead of running away it ran towards her opening, as if rushing to enter her before being squashed in the earthquake it must have felt erupting around it. Sara felt her heart lurch at the prospect; she felt the cold sweat of fear. She imagined it climbing over her crotch, the gentle tap of its legs pressing at her opening, finding the way in. A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 05 Suddenly the door opened and light washed away Sara's nightmare vision. Her eyes looked up instinctively but screwed themselves almost tight shut to protect her from the invading energy. She could just make out the looming form of a man when she heard Juan say, "Your husband is enjoying himself in the other room. He drinks plenty of beer but he does not worry about his little wife. He thinks she is very faithful to him. He trusts her. But we know, don't we, how little trust he should place in her. What have you been thinking all this time in the dark? Are you ready to accept your place now?" Sara started to focus, but still had difficulty seeing his form clearly through her tear stained eyes. She just nodded mutely at him, feeling all resistance totally quashed. He leaned forward. "That's a good girl. He kissed her face and stroked her with some kindness. Now I will take you out and we can go upstairs." He reached above her head and she felt the chain slacken and her hands dropped into her lap. They were still bound together by the handcuffs that even in the poor light stealing in over Juan's shoulder, glinted menacingly at her. Juan helped her up and out of the cupboard. He collected the crop and then they walked slowly, Sara stumbling with the cramp she felt in her legs. They made their way along the hall and up the stairs. Juan got her to the bedroom and made her sit down. He massaged her arms and legs to improve her circulation while he talked to her. She did not need to respond, she just needed to listen to his instruction. She felt the blood flow once again through her limbs as he lay her gently on the bed. He had not removed her gag but wrapped a rope over the handcuffs and pulled them above her head to fasten them to the bed. He had said this would not be painful as the bed would support the weight of her arms. But she could not reappear downstairs until Marie got back. He then removed her skirt and panties and smiled at her as he bent low studying the dampness seeping out of her and the aroma of her arousal. "You are such a little slut, Sara. You like this treatment don't you? I know, I understand. You hate it, and you hate yourself for liking it, but your body reacts to what goes on in your mind. This is a part of you Sara. You may wish you were a simple middle class career woman, but somewhere deep inside you there lies a slut longing to be forced out into the open. Being locked up, being beaten, turns you on. Don't worry about this. You will come to accept it, because you are just accepting a part of yourself that you have been denying for too long." As he spoke he started to remove his jeans. He knelt between her naked legs, leaning forward he started to kiss her. Sara struggled and moaned again. She didn't want this, yet part of her wished he would be less gentle and just drive himself into her. She imagined that spider again, softly inflaming her whilst leaving her unfulfilled. She needed him to force his entry deep inside her. She needed raw sex right now, to shut out the space to think, but Juan knew what he was about. Juan raised himself and placed his penis at her entrance. He enticed her with its velvet touch, encouraging her to beg him to enter her. She didn't want to comply, she wanted to be taken, but he insisted and her need drove her to raise her hips to offer him swift entrance; she had complied, she had participated. This was not rape, and she was ashamed that she had invited him to drive himself down and into her. His shaft slid in and out of her, pushing her body up against the headboard and back down along the bed once again. She was squeezing him in rhythm as he pumped into her, trying to pull his seed out of his balls and up into her cunt. Her groans fell into the same rhythm as his as she was panting into her gag. His hands landed upon her breasts as he towered over her. She stared up at him with a look of lust, her body responding to him as he played it. She felt his tension build and felt Juan's load shoot into her deep recesses. He thrust violently with each spasm erupting into her warm soft womb, and her eyes watered as his cock tried to drive its way still deeper into her belly. Then he fell on top of her and she felt the tension snap inside her and she started to climb down from her own orgasm. She thought briefly and distractedly of the spider again and this time it had a huge phallus which had just raped her. She felt satisfied. Juan raised himself slowly. He seemed drained of energy and fought to get himself dressed fighting his tiredness. He smiled down at Sara still tied to the bed. "You are fucking good. You even get off fucking some stranger on your own marriage bed. Wait till I tell the others. Your husband will be too drunk to notice them slipping one by one out the room, acquainting themselves with his wife in his own bed." Sara lay defeated staring up at Juan the now familiar mix of excitement and humiliation sweeping through her. She felt too tired to even try and resist. He continued to smile at her, leaned over and kissed her forehead and then left. Sara lay there on the bed, she felt Juan's seed ooze out of her, but was unable to do anything to stop its sticky progress across the bedcovers. As she lay there she found herself lost once again in an ocean of time to think, and she felt unnerved by this space. Waiting, just waiting, sooner or later the others would be upstairs following the smell of honey that she could do nothing to stop. She did not know what would happen next. As she lay on the bed she wondered where these cravings of humiliation came from. She realised that she needed to feel she had responded to the men who abused her. She needed to be a good lay, yet she did not understand why she felt this way. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls landing heavily on the stairs. Someone was coming up to see her. As the sound of the footsteps approached she felt a sudden fear that it would be Tom. That he would see her tied to the bed, firmly gagged, Juan's cream filling her slit and waiting for anyone to enter. She was sweating from the exertions of fucking Juan, but she now felt the cold chill of exposure run through her. She turned her head towards the door in fear. She struggled against her bonds in a vain attempt to escape, her heart pounded and she felt the blood beat through her ears. She was unable to move, unable to stop what was about to happen. She just lay there available. She could not put out a hand even to pretend some modesty before Tom as she lay falling out of her torn blouse, her skirt and panties somewhere abandoned on the floor. She could not even use her mouth to try and explain, to say something that would make her seem less willing. She was a slower that just waited for a bee to come and bury itself deep within her, unable to move yet drawing the bee towards her. As the door opened, one of Juan's friends entered. His eyes opened wide at the sight of her and he walked slowly around her. Her eyes followed him, patiently waiting, knowing there was nothing to say, nothing for her to do. She was just his fuck toy. He studied the damp patch that had grown between her open legs and dipping his fingers into it, he brought them up to her face. He held his fingers for her to smell her own arousal and said something to her in Spanish. She did not know what it meant, and she found herself incongruously trying to remember the Spanish word for whore. She wanted to be able to tell if that was what she was being called. He smeared the juices over her breasts and kneaded them, then licked his tongue over her face. She pulled her head back as far as she could, but was unable to escape him. He knelt across her chest and unzipped his pants. His thick cock leaped out already erect and looking huge before her eyes. He started to jack off in front of her, pointing his cock at her face. She could not look away, mesmerised by his thick cock. She felt sick at the thought he was about to shoot his load over her face and she was unable to move away. She felt her throat constrict and a feeling of sick revulsion, but he was working his cock faster and faster by now. He rocked his hips back and forward as if he were thrusting into her face. She saw the little slit of its opening draw closer to her eyes and then withdraw. She was powerless, only able to wait for what was to come, and after what seemed like an age he finally spurt a long silky spurt of creamy fluid that hit her cheek just above her lip. She felt the strand dangle down and come to rest on her chin as wave upon wave of spurts landed over her face. She could taste the saltiness of it as it oozed down behind her gag and into her mouth. She could not close her mouth, she could not protect herself in any way, she was just a receptacle for these men. She felt a strange calm wash over her with this thought, as if it was alright because she could do nothing. She was not responsible. One by one she heard the men approach up the stairs. Each time it seemed a long and interminable wait, the sounds of their approach getting slowly louder, making her agonise over the anticipation. She was fucked over and again, abused in a language she could not understand, her body inspected, so thoroughly fingered, so completely inflamed. She felt hot from all her exertions. One of the men had turned her round and sank into her from behind. Sara had become more involved as time went on. No longer the innocent victim, but the enticing whore. She had responded as best she could, pushed back at them as they thrust into her, screamed into her gag with each mounting orgasm. When one of the men forced himself into her anus, the pain and humiliation were mingled with her most exquisite orgasm. She was out of control. She longed to have her hands back, to stroke those cocks, to pull them into her, to jerk them off and run her fingers smearing their cum over her body. Her mind was given over to sex and craving. She had forgotten her husband Tom downstairs, or where she was. She was being played by these men like some musical instrument, and the reward took her breath away.