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Signed First Edition Ch. 01

By: blacknight99



Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. In order to develop the plot, it was necessary that the protagonist suffer from a particular medical condition. I chose to have him develop this malady by being present (albeit in the past tense) at an actual natural disaster. I apologize to the reader in advance if I have misrepresented any of the facts surrounding this event. Also, I do not wish in any way to detract from the recognition of the hundreds of real heroes that proved themselves on that fateful day. Their selfless actions and sacrifice (in some cases, the ultimate sacrifice) should be an inspiration to us all. 

*

October 24th, 2011

I sat in bed and contemplated horror.

I had been on a Robert E. Howard kick of late, and, having finished most of his Conan stories and novels, I was now perusing his horror short stories, most of which had been originally published in Weird Tales Magazine in the late 1920's. In my opinion, he far surpassed both Merritt and Lovecraft in sheer readability and content. Most of his stories and novels, long out of copyright, were available free online in just about any e-reader format you could want. But now, I wondered if I could advance his writing through blogs or re-released books. 

I sighed. This was yet another preoccupation on my part. I was filthy rich and bored ... both maladies relatively new in my life. I was also lonely. My wife had gone to one of her parties, leaving me in the sole company of Mr. Howard ... not bad company, I'll admit, but as good as he might be, he can't hold a candle to Elaine. 

Now, I realize that you, the reader, did not come to this website in search of either literary criticism or to hear about a guy who was lonely for his wife's companionship. You came here for a tale of "erotic mind control"... which I promise to deliver. However, I must insist that you bear with me, at least for a few more paragraphs, while I dedicate these opening passages to necessary "back-story" explanation. Without it, the reasons why I was alone (and lonely) that night are sorely wanting, not to mention the events and people that shaped the actions that followed. 

I learned shorthand on my own, back in high school. I keep a small journal ... in shorthand ... for the sake of exactness and historical accuracy. Let's face it; if it isn't written down, it eventually ceases to exist. That's why I can be accurate about the dates in this story. It doesn't take a journal to remember the most important date, though. Friday, March 11th, 2011. That date might not mean anything to you ... but it will live forever in the memories of about two percent of the world's population. I had just finished my third year of grad school, and with the distinct possibility that the United States would soon approve its first nuclear power generating plant since 1978, a team of experts (including a hand-picked contingent of grad students) was making the rounds of the largest generating plants in the world. That's why I was at the Daiichi (Number One) reactor in Fukushima on that fateful date. You remember it now, don't you?

That day, I had the distinct opportunity to do something that very few individuals ever have. I was suddenly given the ability to save the life of another human being ... the lives of several, in fact. Maybe I should have thought more about it ... but I didn't. I acted. Right away. Even after all that's happened to me since, I'm sure I would do so again. I do not consider myself a hero. There were lots of those ... that day, and the days that followed. But I had just been in that classroom across from the reactor room, and as I left, another group of students entered. And so, I knew exactly where it was ... exactly how to get there ... exactly what I had to do ... after the ground finally stopped shaking ... after I had my bearings again. The doors had all been secured, of course ... just as they were supposed to automatically secure in the event of an emergency. But, in truth, nuclear facilities are nothing like Hollywood depicts. There was some construction going on near me, and the sledgehammer just happened to be there. And a door is just a door. I got back in after about thirty seconds of moderating pummeling; and eventually, I got through the rubble, and another door, and more rubble and yet another door. 

The group was a little frantic, to say the least, knowing (as experts inevitably know) that a quake of that magnitude wouldn't end the troubles along a coastline. It took more than half an hour to dig one young lady out of some debris, and, hoisting her inert form over my shoulder, I led them out of there ... back out the way I had come. There were twelve of them. A few minutes after regaining our freedom, I had the horrible experience of watching one of them drown in the second half of the disaster. Another one eventually died from radiation exposure. Still, I feel pretty good that so many are still around ... including the young lady I carried. We've stayed in touch. She later sent me a letter, and her little two-year-old daughter drew me a picture that I still have to this day.

It would have ended much differently for me if that had been ALL I did on that day. But the tsunami had overflowed the reactor building itself, including the backup generators that provided coolant to the reactors. I joined a team that immediately went back in and tried to get them running again. Not that it did any good ... at least at that point. Ah well ... the best laid plans.

Now, your entire concept of nuclear radiation may be overshadowed by Hollywood definitions, as well. Let me just set the record straight. Radiation does NOT lead to superhuman mutations, nor (on the other end of the spectrum) is it always fatal. But radiation and live tissue do not, as a rule, mix well, whether it be through exposure from the sun or some open gamma source (though in the hands of a radiological oncologist, for example, it can obviously be bent to do our will). Normally, however, when radiation meets humans, it heats and destroys. That's all. Period.

The bad luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time was followed by three incidences of incredibly GOOD luck ... all of which were family related. There is no tissue donor better than a sibling ... and of all the types of siblings, an identical twin is absolutely perfect. I am fortunate enough to have one. When Elaine was finally able to get there, a week after the quake and tsunami, she was carrying my first blood marrow transfusion from Tod. By that time, I was sick ... REALLY sick, and Elaine, my wife of one year, was my best luck by far. She never left my side ... there in Japan, a month later when I made the trip back to L.A., and through all the convalescence after that. 

The third stroke of luck was my father, a soft spoken, understated, savagely ingenious lawyer. The insurance company somehow determined that I had been exposed to radiation only after choosing to disregard my own safety by going back into the reactor area; and in so doing, I had also chosen to voluntarily terminate my policy BEFORE being injured. My medical bills were already in the high six-figures ... bills that Pop was paying ... even while he was quietly putting legal machinery in motion that was spectacularly choreographed. He fast-tracked a suit for actual and punitive damages, and the week before the lawsuit was to be heard, articles ran in all the Tokyo newspapers decrying the fact that "America's Machiavellian Healthcare System" would abandon a "hero." The State Department somehow got wind of it (I wonder how?), and a letter even came out of the White House. It was only a max-$250,000 policy from the University's chosen insurance agency, but after they looked up dear old Pop the day before Jury selection was to begin, the company begrudgingly decided it was in their best interest to settle out-of-court for fifteen mil. Pop took no fees except the money needed to settle the hospital bills thus far.

And so, we finally find ourselves back at the beginning of our story. Elaine and I had moved into a VERY nice house in a very nice neighborhood in Pasadena. My career in nuclear research was over (hell, I wasn't even allowed to get an X-ray for the next several years), though I certainly didn't NEED an occupation. Elaine had quit her job as a copywriter in order to care for me ... and she had more or less decided she would never go back to work, either. The unspoken truth was always with us ... I might not be around for very long. The immune system problems were finally over (or at least "in remission") thanks to Tod's bone marrow. My hair had grown back, and there had not been any signs of cancer ... yet. But we had decided to live life to the fullest. I tried hobbies ... lots of them. Book collecting, literary blogs (hence my current fascination with Mr. Howard), clock repair, sketching ... even fly tying. We planned to start travelling soon.

Elaine had turned to charity work, fund raising, book clubs, garden clubs ... and most recently, "theme" parties. You know ... cookware parties, fashion wear parties, lingerie parties ... that sort of thing. The previous week, she had somehow been invited to a "sex toy" party, which, I must say, turned into quite an interesting diversion after she brought her purchases home. I wasn't sure what this current "party" was, but she'd been gone a long time now. I was just about to give in to my impatience and call her cell phone when I heard the car in the driveway.

"Hi, Honey!" She swept into the room, lighting it up with her presence. "You're looking great!" (She, to her benefit, had never started a conversation with "How do you feel?") She practically ran to the bed and kissed me, then just as quickly pulled away before I could capture her in my arms. "Here, I got something for you. I'm going to take a quick shower before bed."

"What's this?" I asked, digging into a paper bag which obviously contained a book. "Where have you been, anyway? You've been gone for four hours!"

She stopped suddenly and looked at the alarm clock. "Really?" she asked quizzically. "I could have sworn I'd only been gone about an hour." She shrugged, dismissing it, and continued on. "It was a book signing," she said loudly from the bathroom. "Strangest literary event I've ever attended! There were only four of us there ... four girls, I mean ... plus the author. I bought you a copy of his book. It was kind of expensive ... a hundred dollars ... but it's a signed first edition! That makes it valuable, right?" The shower started running.

I grimaced. In the vast majority of books, "first edition" actually means "only edition." And if the author was signing for small groups, it most probably meant that he was desperate to sell any books at all. Someone had wrapped the book in gift paper and I was struggling a little to get it off. Finally, it came clear of its wrapping, and I was stunned at the title. "Using Erotic Hypnosis to Voluntarily Enslave Your Wife or Girlfriend," by Reginald Cathwright. I stared at it, unbelieving. Elaine was in the shower, and I couldn't very well question whether this was some kind of joke until she got through. 

Now, one of my hobbies (recently acquired) was collecting books. You can always spot a bibliophile when he first picks up a volume. He checks things ... the dust jacket, the binding ... and then, once he finally opens it, the first place he goes is always the title page and title verso (the page after, or flip-side of the title page). This particular volume sported neither dust jacket nor cover illustration. I nodded silently at the title page, realizing something, at least. It was a "small press" book ... that is, a book published by a small, private printer. Many small press books were limited editions, and this was one, too. 

"Laid out in Octavo and printed entirely in Altadena Medium Serif Semi-Bold by Ralph Gray Publishing, Altadena, CA. Book # ____ of 500 Signed, Limited copies." The number "147" had been written into the blank in ballpoint pen, and the author's signature had been scrawled in the space below the title. The verso showed that the book was, indeed, a first (and only) printing, published earlier that same year. The volume was slender ... only about a hundred pages, and printed on glossy paper. It sported numerous photographs of a woman in the process of being hypnotized, though it didn't take a keen eye to spot that some of the images had been manipulated. Whoever the hypnotist was (out of frame), he was dangling a clear gem in front of the entranced woman ... but the gemstone (or whatever it was) had been added after the fact, obscuring the actual thing she was so enthralled with. In some of the pictures, geometric lines and angles had been added, showing the reader where best to hold the trinket in relation to the woman he intended "enslaving."

The woman in the photos was certainly attractive. She was slender of figure, had a smooth, clear complexion, dark hair and sensuous features. She wore a strapless garment in the opening pictures, and her eyes were bright and intelligent. In successive frames, her eyes dulled, her eyelids drooped and then finally closed as she slumped in her chair, asleep. Further along in the book, she was pictured without the garment, her breasts prominently featured, though her nipples were always just below the edge of the pictures, out of view. Her eyes, when open, were vacant and staring.

The shower was finally turned off, and a few minutes later, Elaine appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, naked and fresh, her brown hair slightly damp and wild. She issued a sort of giggle and ran to the bed, jumping in and burrowing under the covers, pressing her spectacular body against mine. This surprised me. When Elaine was "in the mood," she liked to primp for me, spending time on her hair, trying to entice me with a slinky nightgown, having fun by encouraging me to seduce her. Now, she used my lower chest as her pillow, and she reached down and laid her hand on my cock, gently stroking my balls with her fingernails.

"Mmmm, I missed you tonight," she murmured. She snuggled even closer to me, and then sighed deeply. "Oh, wow," she continued, barely above a whisper. "Suddenly, I'm really sleepy."

My cock was responding to her gentle stroking with rigid resolution, if you'll pardon the alliteration, but now her sensuous exploitation began slowing even more. "Hey," I told her. "You're not going to go to sleep and leave me like this, are you?"

"It's been a long evening," she muttered groggily. "I'm awfully tired. Can we wait 'til morning?"

"And just what DID you do this evening?" I asked in what I hoped sounded like mock indignation.

"I was hypnotized," she answered bluntly.

"Oh WERE you, now?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded her head against my chest. "Cathy ... the girl who asked us there tonight ... she volunteered to be the 'subject' and let Reggie hypnotize her. But Reggie told all of us that lots of times, girls in the audience would go into trance, too, and that we shouldn't feel bad if we felt ourselves going under. So Cathy just sat there, looking at this diamond-looking thingy that Reggie was dangling in front of her, but the way they had the chairs arranged, all of us could see it, too. And it was really ... shiny. Really ... really ... um ... shiny." She sighed again. "Really ...."

Her hand had long since stopped its movement, and it lay heavy on my balls, my cock jutting at gallant attention between the base of her thumb and index finger. Her breathing was deep and steady in sleep, and she stayed like that for a long two or three minutes; then her body jerked ... a falling sensation ... only to recover as she took her hand away from my most sensitive parts and she threw her arm across my chest, her right leg coming up and resting on my upper thighs as she hugged my whole body to herself. She moaned slightly, sighed once again, and then her breathing returned to the steady rhythm of slumber.

Well THIS was another fine mess! What the hell was I supposed to do now? I didn't want to disturb her, and I hadn't been inclined toward masturbation recently, anyway ... not since we'd decided to try to have a baby. Elaine had shown no reticence toward sex at all in the past few months. But her full breasts pressing into my side, her thigh pushing insistently against my full balls ... not to mention the prurient topic of the book I was holding in my hands ... left me yearning for far more than a peaceful night's sleep. With a shaky exhalation, I abandoned all hope of an immediate erotic encounter and I turned my attention instead to the thin volume she had presented me.

The first time I perused it, after examining the title information, I had simply flipped through the thing, taking in the photographs. Now, I went to the first page ... the introduction ... and I was shocked at what I found. The author was presenting the book as a first-person, one-on-one sort of narration meant specifically for the volume's new owner. He tended to be a bit verbose, so please allow me to paraphrase a bit. 

It seems that the author and his lovely wife (the hypnotic and photogenic subject presented in the book) felt that they had a "gift" for spotting a woman with profoundly ingrained submissive tendencies ... a woman who would be susceptible to hypnotic suggestion, and in fact, a woman who actually yearned for the loss of emotional control that was possible only through an especially deep trance state. Since I, the reader, was now holding one of these signed, numbered books, my wife (or girlfriend) was considered to have had the privilege of being deemed such a woman by the author and his spouse. The introduction went on to explain that this hypothesis was confirmed during an intimate get-together with these two, along with one or two other lucky ladies who had been deemed to possess the same proclivities. 

During this little gathering, Mrs. Author (i.e., Mrs. Cathwright, unless a pseudonym was in play), agreed to volunteer to be the hypnotist's subject for the evening, but the seating chart was designed so that each of the ladies present would have a clear view of the hypnosis-inducing trinket used to instill this loss of consciousness. Once again, the fact that I was holding this book was proof that my wife (or girlfriend) did, indeed, succumb to the deepest levels of hypnotic surrender. (Unwritten logic, of course, implied that the other ladies present did an equal job of "succumbing," since a conscious member of the group would undoubtedly have raised bloody hell.)

I was to be assured, the introduction went on, that nothing "physical" had happened to my wife (or girlfriend) while she was taken into the deepest depths of her subconscious. I could be equally confident that nothing was implanted in her mind in the way of "triggers" that would alter her perceptions or cause her to suddenly reenter such a trance. In an effort to persuade me that hypnotic control was real, and that her suggestibility could permanently "enhance" our relationship, one simple, innocent change had been accomplished while she was "under;" one which would manifest itself in the near future. 

The goal of this exercise was to convince me, the lucky spouse (or lover), that hypnotic control of this special woman was not only possible, but preferable. She loved this loss of power ... and what red-blooded dominant individual would not jump at the chance to provide all the control she so desperately craved by making her a personal sex slave?

Now, it just so happened that the gem which was used to place her in her hypnotic nirvana was specially cut ... a unique design, specific only to her (and presumably, at least, the two other women who had been chosen for tonight's "book signing"). If I wanted to give my wife (or girlfriend) the special control she yearned for, I could call Mr. Cathwright at the phone number provided at the end of the introduction, make an appointment, and arrange to buy an exact duplicate of this specially-designed gemstone. While my wife (or girlfriend) was in her trance, she had divulged a few little facts to her hypnotist ... one of which was an approximation of her spouse's (or lover's) net worth. Based on that information, the price for this invaluable device might vary from person to person, and my particular price would be so noted ... but I would be sure to understand that it was one hell of a bargain, considering the fantasies ... hers as well as mine ... that were sure to be fulfilled through the possession of this artifact. 


Signed First Edition Ch. 01



On the last page of the introduction, a phone number with a 626 area code was written in pencil in a blank specifically designed for the purpose, along with an amount in another underlined blank. That amount was twenty-five thousand dollars. The area code, of course, meant that Mr. Cathwright (or whatever his name was) lived in the northern portion of the Los Angeles metropolitan area.

The rest of the book gave step-by-step instructions on how to enslave my wife (or girlfriend) using the gem I was intended to buy. The "Introduction" imparted slightly more information than Mr. Cathwright intended to relinquish, of course. Obviously, quite a bit of "triggering" had been done during Elaine's trance time, or else the "specific gemstone" wouldn't have to be "specific." I also had to believe that such specificity was, in fact, accurate, since the photos had been altered to change the object's appearance. More to the point, since the "instructions" had been provided to the "lucky spouse/lover" beforehand in book form, I had to assume that an especially deep-set suggestion had been implanted which prohibited her from being placed into a trance by anything BUT this special trinket.

Not that that mattered a whit to me. Mr. Cathwright had clearly not figured on one very profound truth. I happened to like my wife exactly the way she was. I had no intention of trying to seize control of her ... mentally or otherwise. The problem, of course, was: what been "done" to her up to this point? How had he "changed" her? What was this "enhancement" that was supposed to manifest itself? How could I protect her from this scumball? Should I threaten him? And if so, with what? Legal action seemed a little farfetched, especially if word of this got out somehow. Talk about a news item going viral! Something like this was just MADE for the internet gossip sites!

Elaine muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep and snuggled her fantastic body into mine again. It was a long time before I fell into a fitful doze.

...................

October 25th, 2011

I was awakened sometime after dawn, and through the hazy background of an especially erotic dream, I became slowly aware that Elaine was once again stroking my iron-hard erection. Sunlight filtered in through the bedroom window, casting a cheery glow across a tableau that I believe I shall never forget. My buxom wife still lay beside me, but she had moved lower in relation to my prone figure, her face just inches from my stiff manhood, watching in mute fascination as her fingers stroked up my shaft, then paused before moving back downward, caressing, fondling. Her hand felt slick, slippery; and as I strained my eyes to see what was happening, I observed that my cock was coated and shiny. Elaine's hand went to her mouth for an instant between strokes, and I realized that she was using her saliva to make her efforts more enjoyable on my part.

I couldn't suppress a loud groan. "And good morning to YOU, Pet," I managed to mutter.

"I couldn't wait," she said, never taking her eyes from her task. "I watched you sleeping for the longest time ... but then I just had to do this. Lie back and let me. Please, Rod." Her rhythm never slackened, and with a shuddering sigh, I nestled my head back into my pillow and basked in the feelings she was causing.

But then something changed. Warm. Wet. Sucking. I struggled up to look again, but her long brown hair was obscuring the view. This wasn't right, I told myself. Elaine had given me head only once during our two years together ... back before we were married. She had told me that night that she "didn't like the taste," even though I had stopped her before I came. She had demurely refused to repeat the act, and I had never argued with her about it, nor had I made any effort to make her feel guilty about withholding oral pleasures. She loved it when I gave HER enjoyment through the use of tongue and lips, but it had always been an unspoken agreement between us that pleasures were to give and take at our individual discretions, and never to be a cause for hard feelings. This was love, after all, and respect was the greatest manifestation of love.

"Pet," I moaned, "I ... I ... thought you didn't ... um ... like to ...."

"Oh, Rod, shut up," she chided, continuing the rhythmic stroking with her strong, slim fingers while she pulled her lips away from me long enough to answer. "I can't believe how your cock is throbbing! I can't believe how much you're enjoying this!" She ran her free hand up and gently rubbed her palm across my stomach. "Your muscles are so taught! They're quivering!" The errant hand came back down and cupped my balls. "I am going to make you cum SO hard!" She lowered her head again and began sucking.

I hesitated. Was this the "enhancement" I had read about in the book? If so what should I do about it? I reached down and put my hand on her head with the intention of forcing her away from me and perhaps breaking this hypnotic spell she was under. But WAS she? Oh, God this felt good! Her head was bobbing up and down, and her hand on my slick pole was moving as well, matching the movements of her spectacular mouth. There was a sudden, familiar welling up within my loins, and before I could react, I was past the point of no return.

"Elaine!" I croaked. "I'm ... I'm going to ...!" And my body convulsed, arching up, my hips straining off the bed. "Aaaahhh!" I screamed, and I felt my fluids gushing through me, out of me, into her. Over and over. It seemed to go on forever.

She gave a surprised, pleased little "Mmmphhh!" of a sound as my cum started flowing, kept up the suction with her mouth, stopped for a moment, sucked again, stopped, restarted. It took me a long twenty or thirty seconds to realize that she was swallowing ... over and over, while her pumping hand continued to milk every drop from my quivering, shaking, euphoric body. She finally stopped her manual stroking and held my shaft at its base, while she licked it, full length, like a long, fleshy popsicle, then sucked at its tip again and licked some more. I just lay there, my muscles relaxing, my mind floating.

She relinquished my cock at last and scooted her body upwards until her face was even with mine, our noses touching, her full breasts flattening against my chest. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh my GOSH, Rod! That was so fantastic! I can't BELIEVE how hard you came! You were cumming forever! God, I LOVED doing that! I can't WAIT to do it again!"

My breathing had finally slowed. I was really concerned by this, but her enthusiasm had caught me off guard. "Pet," I stammered, "that was really great. But I thought you hated doing that. I thought you hated the way it tasted. You told me that once."

"Oh, that was a LONG time ago. And I always LOVE the way you make me feel when you go down on ME. And ... and ... I realized that I'd been awfully unfair to you by not reciprocating. I've been horrible! I'm SO sorry. And being here looking at you while you slept ... and you were really hard ... and I love you SO much ... and suddenly, I just HAD to do it to you like that. And Rod ... you tasted GOOD! I LOVED it! And I've wasted SO much time by not doing it until now. And ...."

"Elaine!" I interrupted. She fell silent, looking curiously into my eyes. "Pet, don't you think it's a little strange that this revelation came over you so suddenly?"

"Well, like I said, you look so delicious lying there, sleeping, and I ...."

"What happened to you last night?" I implored.

"Last night?" She really seemed puzzled now. "What do you mean?"

"During your 'book event?' You said that the author at your little party hypnotized you. What do you think happened?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't suck him off, if that's what you mean." I didn't respond to that, but I kept my eyes tender and filled with concern. Eventually, her countenance softened ... she blinked ... her brow furrowed in thought. "You think I liked doing that to you so much because ... because I've been mentally altered somehow. You think this is some sort of post hypnotic suggestion." She made it a statement.

"What do YOU think, Pet?"

She has a habit of nibbling on the corner of her lower lip when she finds something troubling. Her eyes had shifted and lost focus, and it was obvious that she was thinking hard about this. Despite her preoccupation, she obviously found something to her liking as she chewed her lip, and her pink tongue began licking at the corners of her mouth. It suddenly dawned on me that she had just discovered a few wayward drops of my semen that needed tending to.

After a long minute, her eyes focused on mine again. "I had a crush on Reginald Rollins when I was fifteen," she told me earnestly. I could only look at her blankly. She smiled. "I had a crush on Pete Smithers when I was eighteen ... and I secretly hoped Ron Hopson would ask me out on a second date when I was a sophomore at UCSB, and I cried when he didn't." I gawked a bit. "But in my whole, entire life, there's only been you, Rod. I was a virgin when you took me that first time, and even though I gossiped with my girlfriends in high school and college about sex, the truth of the matter is that everything I know, YOU taught me. I may have THOUGHT about other guys, but I've only loved you, Rodney Haversham!"

I kissed her lightly. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"If that hypnotist planted something in my brain that made it easier for me to please you, then I don't think it matters, does it? It's still only YOU that I'm pleasing. Right?" Her eyes narrowed accusingly again. "And what makes you think that I don't have the ingenuity to come up with a new way of satisfying my man all on my own?" She stretched her arms up and put them around my neck, flattening her body against mine even more.

"Ingenious, yes," I told her lightly, and kissed her. I rolled over onto my back, dragging her atop me, and I put my arms around her waist, lowering my right hand to clutch her left buttock. "After all, I married you for your magnificent ... mind."

She giggled, but then sobered and gazed imploringly at me. "And Rod ... PLEASE let me do that to you again soon. Please?"

I smiled. "It's a terrible waste, you know. Every sperm is sacred." Since we'd started trying to get pregnant, we'd often invoked "Monty Python's Meaning of Life."

"I never really knew just how much of it there was until just now," she told me, blushing. But then she looked imploring into my eyes. "Please?"

.........................

Breakfast that morning was an interesting affair. I was desperate to determine just how "under the influence" my beautiful wife was after her evening's dalliance into the realm of hypnosis. On the other hand, she simply didn't seem worried about her sudden shift of preferences concerning oral sex, and in fact, genuinely relished her newfound ability to satisfy me with toe-curling, spine-tingling, screamingly fulfilling orgasms. Now, when we happen to engage in either morning or afternoon sex, the hours immediately following provide a subtly changed atmosphere. Elaine goes about her chores with a sort of dopey, contented countenance that is, quite frankly, contagious.

And so it was that, sitting across from each other over our bowls of oatmeal, she reached out and played with my fingers, gazing rapturously into my eyes, sighing often, and looking as if our breakfast nook was Cloud Nine.

"This morning was fantastic," she muttered dreamily.

I groped for something to say. "I can't believe you act so satisfied. I didn't please YOU."

"You ALWAYS please me," she responded earnestly. "You ALWAYS make me cum. Every time. And you work so hard at it. It felt so ... so ... WONDERFUL to do that for YOU."

I cleared my throat. "I never thanked you for the book."

"You're welcome," she said simply. 

I was really having to struggle for information here. "What did YOU think of it? Did you look through it before you bought it?"

Her brow furrowed for a long moment, but then she seemed to dismiss it. "No, I just thought you'd like a copy." The smile faltered for another instant before settling back on her pretty lips. "Do you think it's worth anything?"

"Probably not very much," I answered, trying to find some way to figure out how much she really knew about the book without coming right out and asking point blank. "I'll keep it, though. It will remind me of you." We just looked into each other's eyes for awhile, holding hands like a couple of smitten teens. "It's sort of a strange subject though, don't you think?"

Again her brow wrinkled in puzzled thought. "Um ... I ... uh ... didn't really get a good look at it. What's it about?"

I regarded her closely. "Hypnosis."

But that seemed to satisfy her, and her contented smile returned. "Well, that makes sense. He's a hypnotist, after all. I'm glad you like it. Do you want some more cinnamon toast?"

I decided not to press further. She was obliviously happy, and I didn't want to upset her if I didn't have to. I was going to have to attack this problem at the source. While she busied herself with the toast, I went into my study and phoned the number from the book. 

............................

The address was in San Gabriel ... not very far from Pasadena at all. But the Los Angeles area can be exasperating at times ... most of the time, actually ... and there was no direct way to get there. So I just followed my GPS in the late afternoon traffic through what seemed to be dozens of traffic lights and turns. It was a fairly nice apartment complex, but nothing outstanding. The units were larger than they appeared from the outside, though, and when I rang the bell I was ushered into a small den-slash-library. I was not surprised to recognize the lady doing the ushering as the girl in the photographs which adorned my signed first edition. Other than saying "Good afternoon, Mr. Haversham," she was very closed-mouth, and I got the impression she was angry about something. "My husband will be with you in a minute. He's just finishing up with another ... client." And she turned on her heel and left. 

Since I'd been summarily dismissed by my hostess, I decided to explore a little. I scanned the bookshelves ... maybe two dozen shelves altogether, containing, I estimated, three or four hundred books. Half of them were modern softcover fiction. There were only a few books on hypnosis, but there were several copies of the same book Elaine had brought me. And to my utter amazement, there were a number of an identically bound volume entitled "Using Erotic Hypnosis to Voluntarily Enslave Your Husband or Boyfriend," by Catharine Cathwright. I took down a copy and examined it. It was set up identically to the book I had at home ... same publisher, same everything, technically speaking. The pictures showed a handsome man of about thirty in the same poses and undergoing the same various levels of hypnotic trance induction as the lovely Catharine had displayed in my book.

As I stood there, gawking at this new concept in literature, I was interrupted by the sound of two men talking. I watched them walk past the den and on to the front door. The elder of the two opened the portal, seeing the other man out. "Henry, I know you and Jenny are going to love this new lifestyle. I guarantee you that she's going to be overjoyed by your new level of control over her. You're a very, very lucky man to have found such a girl. Give me a call if you have any questions or run into any problems ... but if you just follow the directions in the book, you won't be sorry about any of this. Goodbye."

He walked back to the den and approached me with an outstretched right hand. "Mr. Haversham ... may I call you 'Rod?' Rod, I'm Reggie. Thanks for coming over on such short notice. It's really a pleasure to meet you."

I hesitated before shaking hands with him. If he noticed, he didn't show it. The dark-haired beauty had followed him in, and stood behind him with pursed lips. I still held the book I had been examining in my left hand, which dangled by my side. I figured his age at about thirty, though he was definitely NOT the hypnotic subject pictured in the second book. His eyes were sharp and clear ... but above everything else, cheerful. He wore an expression of openness and friendliness and his handshake was firm and genuine. I was absolutely astounded to find that my first impression of him was good. I don't know what I'd expected ... but it wasn't that.

Before I could say a word, he turned toward his wife. "Cathy, please get a bag." 

That, of course, didn't mean a thing to me, but it had a profound effect on her. She seemed to be having several conflicting emotions ... exasperation, anger, perhaps desperation. At his command, her lower lip started to tremble and a tear slid from her left eye. "Reggie ... Reggie, please! Twenty-five grand! I worked SO hard on that girl! She didn't want to come at first, but I just KNEW she'd be a PERFECT subject, and I ...."

He turned and held her by the shoulders. "Cathy," he said in a stern, placating tone. "We've been through all of this. I do not charge my friends. Period."

"Friends? You only just met him!"

He let go of her left shoulders and gently stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, wiping away the tear. "You need to obey now," he told her gently. "You need to smile at me and nod your pretty head and obey me. You don't need to understand my reasons, you just need to be my submissive ... compliant ... obedient ... acquiescent ... subservient little girl." With each adjective, her breath seemed to catch, her eyes fluttered, her body quivered. He let go of her, and she swayed slightly. "Now, go get a bag, Cathy."

She blinked. She seemed defeated. "Twenty-five grand, Reggie," she said quietly.

"Tell you what," he told her cheerily. "I'll charge him double for the second one."

Her lips twitched at the corners until she was giving him a little smile. "Now you're making fun of me. They're both still head-over-heels in love, and they probably always will be." She glanced briefly in my direction and blushed, as if realizing for the first time that I had heard everything they'd said. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

"Listen," I told the man as he turned back toward me, "I don't know what's in the 'bag' you're talking about, but you can save it. I'm not in the market ... for any price. I only came here today because ...."

"Rod," he interrupted, "there's a bar downstairs at the street corner. Can I buy you a drink? No catches, no gimmicks. I'd just like to talk."

Once again, I was caught completely off guard by his friendly attitude. I hesitated, uncertain. Cathy came back into the room and handed him a small green velvet cloth bag, which he put into his pocket. "My dear, we're going down for a drink. I should be back in about an hour. I'll call you if I'm going to be later." And he stepped closer to her, took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She seemed shocked, and her hands went instinctively to his upper arms, hesitated, then snaked up and around his neck. Slowly, her knees buckled, and her body hung limply in his embrace. Finally, he hoisted her upright and she struggled to get her feet back under her. She was breathing hard. "I'll see you in about an hour. Don't hold dinner," he told her.

"Yes, Reggie," she panted.

And he held out his arm as an indication that I should precede him to the front door. I was almost out of the apartment before I realized that I was still holding the book. Apologetically, I handed it to him, and he barked a laugh and tossed it unceremoniously on a table in the foyer. "I guess you have a lot of questions about our little 'family business,'" he said, leading the way out and down toward the neighborhood bar and grill. "I'll tell you all about it. Have you eaten yet?"




Signed First Edition Ch. 01



Now, in the last chapter, I described dear old Reggie by using the moniker "verbose," and paraphrased the introduction to his book. Allow me to do pretty much the same thing here, since the personal Reggie turned out to be surprising like the written version. The first thing he did in that booth in the bar was pass me his business card, which proved him to be a sales rep for a restaurant supply firm. He told me he could make me a very good deal on an industrial deep fat fryer. The hypnosis thing was evidently a sideline, but one that had, slowly but surely, become their primary source of income.

Reginald Cathwright (assuming everything he told me was accurate), became interested in hypnosis during his junior year in college. His biggest surprise at the time was the fact that there was no shortage of sweet young lady volunteers whose greatest desire was that they be given the distinct opportunity of surrendering their free will to him. He, being a chivalrous chap, was more than happy to make those particular dreams a reality. Sex was assumed to be part of the deal, and he certainly was not averse to making those assumptions come true. Word of his "abilities" spread of its own accord, and by the end of his senior year, women from all over the campus were seeking him out, hoping to experience firsthand the sense of emotional hypnotic submission they subconsciously craved. 

Things were going splendidly until a graduate intern from a financial institution approached him, asking (as they all did) if he wouldn't mind stripping her of all the dreary burdens of a free-thinking woman and please, please take her heart, take her free will, take her soul, and use her as he wished. Pretty routine, by that point, actually; except for one small thing. HE fell in love with HER. Who would have guessed?

Cathy, as a newly minted hypnotic sex slave wife, tried to give her husband everything she possibly could in life. That's evidently just what hypnotic sex slave wives DO, I guess. Because she worked in the financial industry, she decided that one of the particular things she could provide was her help in making him rich. He, unfortunately, was not as inclined toward monetary rewards as she. He wanted to take her places ... do things ... have fun; and all of these fine goals were far from advantageous in furthering his wealth. They argued from time to time, but she always capitulated, for that, too, is just what hypnotic sex slave wives do. However, that did not stop her from making suggestions ... one of which was the scheme for spotting women with an obvious proclivity toward sexual slavery and helping them attain their goal ... for a fee. 

He had his standards, though, and morality ranked far above riches in his book. He needed to make sure this was what the girl really wanted ... and he needed to make sure it was what her husband or boyfriend really wanted ... before he would begin the process of enslavement. Still, Cathy's idea seemed to work from the very beginning. There were still points of disagreement, of course. Cathy thought they should charge more ... but he considered it primarily a hobby, rather than a job. Eventually, they compromised by charging different prices depending on what the couple could comfortably afford.

Then Cathy had come up with the concept of hypnotic enslavement for subservient MEN, as well. Reggie had found the whole idea a bit of a turn-off, but his pretty wife believed that, through instruction during deep hypnosis, he could adequately teach HER to become adept at the art. They'd tried it, and he found that she had a great knack for it. She was very beautiful, and by dressing for the part of hypnotic dominatrix, obedient men were practically entranced as soon as they set eyes on her. There were far fewer couples who sought out this particular relationship, of course ... not necessarily because there was a lack of submissive men, but because their wives and girlfriends often lacked adequate dominant tendencies; and Reggie refused to let hypnosis get involved when he knew that the end result would not be mutually satisfactory.

There were a few instances when they provided a "dual service," in which both husband and wife were convinced to share hypnotic fantasies, then "trade off" by letting first one be dominant, then the other. Cathy implanted hypnotic suggestions in the man, and Reggie did the same for the woman. These cases proved quite gratifying, at least to Reggie, but it meant double the effort for no greater financial reward. 

And through it all, Cathy remained firmly enslaved by her husband, not because he chose to keep her submissive and subservient, but because it was her choice to be so.

Then, just lately, Cathy came up with yet another variation on the same theme ... gays and lesbians. This really made Reggie uncomfortable ... not (he told himself) because he was homophobic ... but because it just "wasn't his cup of tea." Cathy made a persuasive argument, though, especially when she suggested that they simply continue as they had been, with her taking all the men clients, and he concentrating only on the women. And the number of homosexual couples who fit their "profile" was surprising. It made sense, however, when they realized that there tended to be naturally dominant and submissive partners in a majority of such pairings.

Finally, after doing this "hypnotic enslavement for profit" gig for almost five years, the money started pouring in. Cathy began talking more about Roth IRA's and other tax deferred retirement accounts. Reggie suddenly had his eye on a house up at Lake Arrowhead.

The concept of the books had been his idea, though it had irked Cathy a little. One of their "clients" had turned out to be the wife of a printer/publisher from Altadena, but for once, they had wound up spending money rather than making it. It had been a great business investment, however. They had even written the text in such a way that it didn't matter if the "couple" was straight or gay. Thinking back on it, I realized he was right. The "wife or girlfriend" had been the main subject in my book, but her significant other had always been referred to as "spouse or lover." The hypnotist was always out of frame in the pictures, and a girlfriend is always a girlfriend, after all. (I won't get into all the political upheaval that California was going through in 2011 about legalizing gay marriage, but even THAT context would be acceptable in the book.)

By this time in the diatribe, we were well into our hamburgers and Reggie had ordered yet another round of beer. "I wound up being real friends with that publisher," he told me, eating and gesturing with his free hand. "And you would not BELIEVE what that guy does for fun! He gets modeling clay, and he ...."

"Makes letters of the alphabet," I guessed.

He gawked openly at me. "How the hell did you KNOW that?"

I shrugged. "He runs a small press. I doubt it's enough to keep him alive financially. It's more a hobby. People might hate their jobs, but they all LOVE their hobbies. AND, he set up your book in a totally unique typeface. He created it. Those letters of the alphabet were a labor of love. Professional printers nowadays all do it on the computer ... but the old timers, they still like to get their hands dirty."

"Damn!" he muttered. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-eight."

"And you're a nuclear physicist?"

"Nuclear engineer."

"What's the difference?"

"Physicists think deep thoughts. Engineers make them happen. And I'm not even THAT, anymore. I'm ... um ... sort of ... on hiatus."

He shifted in his seat almost guiltily. "Would you ... uh ... would you mind telling me about that?"

"About what?" I leaned forward and found some of that righteous indignation I'd lost after meeting him. "Just what, exactly, did you DO to my wife?" I asked firmly. "What did you make her tell you?"

That didn't seem to have the desired effect on him at all. For the first time, I realized he was drunk. "Well, naturally, the woman is immensely proud of you. She was scared to death by your illness ... she told me that you'd almost died ... but she simply couldn't BE any more in love with you." He swayed slightly in his seat. "Could you tell me about it? You're a genuine hero, dude."

"I am NOT a hero!" I said angrily, emphatically. "The REAL heroes went back into that place the next day ... and the day after ... KNOWING that they might not come out again ... KNOWING that even if they did come out alive, they would probably be critically sick. They did it for their families and for their friends and for their country! THOSE were the heroes. Don't even begin to TRY to put me in THEIR league!" I suddenly suspected that I had raised my voice, and I glanced around the bar. People were staring at me, and even when I made eye contact with them, they kept looking. "Oh, crap," I muttered, staring at my empty beer glass and realizing it had been my third. The waiter was putting a fourth full glass down in front of me, and he was staring, too.

I took a deep breath and gazed at the drunken hypnotist. "Your wife was right," I told him calmly. "You're a financial idiot." He just gazed at me with some stupefied sense of wonder. "Let's just say for a moment," I continued, "that maybe I WOULD have paid you twenty-five thousand for that silly piece of quartz in that little bag you have in your pocket."

"Cubic Zirconium," he corrected pleasantly.

"You would give that up to hear a guy tell you a war story in a bar?"

"Dude, I'd give it up just to KNOW you."

I shook my head slowly, but I couldn't seem to clear the cobwebs. I hadn't really talked about this during the past eight months with anyone except members of my immediate family. One reporter had gotten wind of it, but he'd been easily discouraged. It was something I just didn't do ... with anyone. But Reggie sort of has that affect on a person, I guess, because now I did talk about it. I talked about it all. I talked a lot. I must have droned for the better part of an hour. At times, a small crowd formed around us and listened.

I told him what I'd done, and I answered all the questions that people usually ask, and even more. How bad WAS the earthquake? (It was so strong and lasted so long that three people in my group had gotten seasick ... one violently so.) How long between the earthquake and the tsunami? (It varied all along the coast, but where I was, it was 41 minutes. We had known it was probably coming, of course, but not when it would arrive. And it was not really a wave ... at least, not the way most people think of a wave ... not like a wave on the beach. It was more like a "swell." The water just started rising, and it didn't stop.) How had I escaped it? (Someone had lowered the fire escape ladder on the Security Building, and we all climbed up to the roof, one at a time ... but I had been burdened by the dead weight of my unconscious lady, her body slung over my shoulder. I was the next-to-last person in our group to make the climb. Perhaps if I'd been a little quicker, that last member would have made it, too. He was halfway up, but was swept away.) A Navy guy asked me why they didn't scram the reactor. (One of the reasons that there's never been a nuclear accident in the U.S. Navy is that they run drills constantly whenever they're at sea. Even the non-nuclear types hear all the announcements on the ship's 1MC system, so every sailor knows SOME of the vernacular.) (If you don't know what it means to "scram" a reactor, you can look it up on the internet. And the answer was that they DID scram them. They scrammed them ALL, just as soon as the earthquake struck. But the quake had cut all the power lines, and the tsunami flooded the emergency generators, which were providing cooling flow to the reactor chambers themselves. They immediately started overheating. That's why we put together a team to go back in and try to start them back up ... unsuccessfully). 

And on and on and on I talked. Somebody bought another round ... and another. But finally, I put up my hands and declared that was all ... I'd talked enough. Those listeners-in around us simply nodded and left us alone. A couple of them insisted on shaking my hand.

I staggered to the bathroom, then used my cell phone to call Elaine and tell her where I was, and I asked her to please come and get me, since I was certainly in no shape to drive home. I sat heavily again across from Reggie.

"Thanks, dude," he told me sincerely. I suddenly noticed the green velvet bag sitting in front of me. 

I slid it back across the table toward him. "I have no intention of doing anything to Elaine," I told him seriously, "using hypnosis, or anything else. I love her just the way she is. I don't WANT to change her."

He smiled warmly. "Rod, hypnosis wouldn't change her ... it would simply allow her to be who she IS."

I gave him a sour expression. "You're drunk. You're not making any sense."

His smiled didn't falter. "Drunk, maybe. But I'm not making sense to you because you're not willing to accept the truth about her. She's submissive, subservient, obedient .... She contains all the traits of the perfect sex slave. And outwardly, she is NOT your sex slave only because she believes you do not WANT her to be your sex slave. Make sense?"

I blinked at him. "No."

Finally, the smile changed to a look of patient consternation. "Dude, for someone so smart, you can be kinda dense. I did not do ANYTHING to your lovely bride. Well, except for one or two itty bitty little suggestions. But she is who she is. I did NOT change her."

I considered this for a moment. "Good," I told him.

Now he finally frowned. "Rod, do you love your wife?"

"Well, of course I love her."

"Don't you want to give her what she wants?

I studied him. "You're speaking in riddles."

"Dude," he said imploringly, "give her what she craves! Let her be the girl she WANTS to be! While she was really deep in trance, I asked her what her greatest regret in her relationship with you was. Can you guess her answer?"

The question was like a cold shower. Suddenly, I felt sober. I refused to respond, but I locked him with a stern, questioning stare.

"She told me that she wished she could give you a really good blow job. She said that she didn't like doing that ... that she didn't think she COULD do it. But she wanted SO much to give you that pleasure. Don't look so shocked, dude. That is ... BEEEEP! ... the NUMBER ONE ANSWER among submissive chicks. She just wants to please YOU, and she felt she wasn't doing that because of HER shortcomings. And so ... I made a few really deep-set hypnotic suggestions, and I turned a dislike into a 'I gotta have me some of THAT' sort of desire." He leaned forward toward me. "In other words, I gave her what she WANTS. Is that a crime, do you think?"

I sat back and put a shaking hand to my forehead. "Elaine is incredibly bright and fun and witty and ...."

"Rod, you wouldn't change any of that. She will still be HER! You would just let her be the 'HER' she wants to be."

Suddenly, I was out of arguments. Could it really be that simple, or was I being entranced by this professional hypnotist into believing what he wanted me to believe?

"Look," he said, confidentially, leaning toward me again and lowering his voice. "When you get her home, tell her to do something outrageous. Something embarrassing ... something sexual .... something humiliating. She'll do it, I can guarantee you. Not because of some hypnotic suggestion on my part ..." he raised his right hand, "... I swear to God. She'll do it because it's in her NATURE to do it. She'll do it, because deep down inside, she is ALREADY your sex slave. Obeying you pleases her. It arouses her. Try it, Rod. You'll see. And then, ask her what she thinks about when she makes love to you."

I glowered at him. "Man, nobody should EVER ask a question like that."

"Do it, dude. Ask her. I didn't prompt her ... (again, he raised his hand in a Scout's honor gesture) and you'll never guess what she's going to tell you. I can absolutely guarantee you that you're going to be super-surprised." He took a breath and thought a minute. "If two people are in love, then the ONLY problems they have boil down to a simple lack of communication."

I couldn't help but give him a sad smile. "If only it were really that simple."

"But it IS!" he persisted. And then he hesitated and examined me carefully. "What DO you think your problem is, Rod?"

I paused, too. I felt very uncomfortable talking about such intimate things with a man I had virtually just met, but the beer was flowing through my veins and the guy was so damned personable. "We're ... um ... having a small problem with conception."

He blinked at me. "Well, I guess you're right. You can hypnotize her all day long, but you can never give her a deep enough suggestion to make her pregnant." He thought some more. "I suppose you've been to experts about it." And his eyes widened with a sudden thought. "Holy shit! It's what happened to you in Japan, isn't it? It's the radiation thing!" 

I nodded glumly. "Sperm count is practically nonexistent," I commiserated. "I guess I should be happy that all the rest of the plumbing still works."

"Damn straight," he told me with feeling. "You SHOULD be happy ... you DESERVE to be happy ... and so does your wife. Now, don't be a Bozo! Take this thing," (he held up the little green pouch) "try doing what I've said, and give the little lady what she yearns for." His eyes suddenly shifted past me, over my shoulder. He slid the velvet bag back across the table to me. "Shit! She's here! Take this! Put it in your pocket!" Without thinking, I did what he said, and then I looked up into Elaine's questioning brown eyes. 

"Uh ... Hi, Reggie," she said, glancing at him nervously. Then she turned her tender gaze on me again. "Honey, you shouldn't be getting like this. Not yet. We've worked so hard building your strength back up!" She faced my drinking buddy again, this time with an angry expression. "And YOU! If I'd known you were going to be a rotten influence on my husband, I'd have never bought your silly book about ... um ..." she struggled for the right memory, "about ... uh ... whatever." She dismissed the thought and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Rod, let's go home ... please? Where's your car?"

I held up my keys. "Bartender moved it into his parking lot for me. Said I could leave it there overnight. Really nice guy. Have you eaten yet?"

"Please, Rod? Let's go home."

"Sure." I stood up, and found that I really enjoyed the feel of her arm around my waist. "Thanks for all the kind words," I told Reggie.

He smiled up at us. "You two have a great life," he told us, with what I believed to be a great deal of sincerity.

I can remember thinking that I hadn't been this drunk since my early years of college. I can remember counting out four aspirin tablets and taking them with a glass of water. I can remember hiding the little green bag in a drawer in my dresser. Sometime in the middle of the night, I can remember Elaine pressing her naked body into mine and holding me very tightly.

But that's about all I can remember about the remainder of that evening.

.........................

To Be Continued... 



Signed First Edition Ch. 02



Chapter Two

October 26th, 2011

I had often heard it said that the older we get, the milder the effects of a hangover. I wasn't sure what that ripe old age was supposed to be, but I obviously had not yet attained it. I awoke early to a horrific headache, and I just sort of existed for the next few hours. Elaine didn't help matters, as she simultaneously hovered over me like a mother hen and accused me of attempting to sabotage my improving health. By noon, however, I was beginning to feel somewhat normal, and so we went back to the bar in San Gabriel to eat lunch and collect my car. A large bowl of chili and half a dozen glasses of water seemed to do the trick at last, and I returned home an only slightly worse-for-wear copy of my former self.

While Elaine busied herself with making dinner that evening, I again skimmed the book she'd "purchased" two nights before. I'd been thinking all day about the comments Reggie had made, and while I could come up with several arguments refuting this concept that she was a "natural-born sex slave," I had to admit that my opinions were based on faith rather than scientific observations. Now, I had to face the real question: if I did as he suggested and "tested" her regarding his assertions, would it have a detrimental impact on or relationship? What were the possible benefits and were they worth the risks to find these answers? In the end, his assertion that doing this was for HER benefit, rather than my own, was the deciding factor ... whether I truly believed that to be the case or not.

We watched the news on TV while we ate our breaded chicken and pasta off of trays in the living room, though my mind was in such turmoil that I can't tell you what was going on that particular day. When we were done, I cleared the dishes and returned to sit beside her. Elaine has a habit of snuggling up to me on the couch in the evening, and she did so now, grasping my arm and ducking under it, so that she could press her face against my chest, tucking her long legs under her. In this position, my arm draped naturally over her shoulder, and my hand just as naturally found her breast. Her voice had the quality of a purring cat. "Mmm. Are you in the mood?"

I cleared my throat. "What would you do if I asked you?"

She canted her head up and looked into my eyes, curiosity curving her lips into a smile. "What an odd question."

"Answer me, Pet."

The smile didn't disappear, but she studied me with growing interest. "You know you never have to ask me that."

"I want you to take off your blouse. Do it now, please."

The smile spread into a full-fledged grin. She patted my right hand, which had been idly squeezing her right breast, and I reluctantly removed it so she could extricate herself from my embrace. She stood, looked down at me, then she moved toward the front window. "No," I told her firmly. "Do it here. Do it now."

"Rod, the drapes are open."

"Leave them," I chided. "Do it, Pet."

And finally, the smile left her pretty face. She blinked. "Someone might see me." She stared at me for several long seconds before realizing that I wasn't going to comment further. It had turned chilly that afternoon, and she had put on a pullover turtleneck blouse. After nibbling the corner of her lower lip for a few moments, she reached down with both hands, grasped the bottom hem of the garment, and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. She looked at me, her eyes a nervous question, then glanced hesitantly at the front window again.

Now, I don't expect you, the reader, to remember the autumn of 2011, but daylight savings time ended in November of that year. The sun was still shining at six thirty. Our new house had a relatively long driveway, and it was perhaps a hundred feet to the sidewalk beside our street. I could see the wheels turning in her head ... weighing the clear day, the distance to the street, the fact that it was brighter outside than in, the shade cast by several Knobcone Pines in our front yard, the single light that was on in the room. There were no pedestrians in sight ... at least at the moment.

"Take off your pants, Elaine."

She kept glancing between me and that undraped window. Her fingers fidgeted with the button on the front of her jeans, then she resolutely unfastened them, peeled them down over her generous hips, stepped over the pooled garment and stood uncertainly, her hands by her sides, her fingers twitching slightly. Her breath was coming in long, deep inhalations, her chest rising tantalizingly with each lungful of air, her bra staining around her ample breasts, the nipples prominent against the thin fabric. I made a simple motion with the fingers of one hand, indicating that I expected her to keep going. Now, she turned to face the window, her lips slightly parted and her body trembling a little, and she watched for anyone who might be looking as she quickly stripped out of the bikini panties and shucked off the bra. Nervously, she sat next to me on the couch, sitting bolt upright, staring at that offending window. I watched while her hands crept upward several times as she started to unconsciously cover herself with them, but each time, she caught herself and forced them back to her sides again. She sensed that it was my intent to humiliate her sexually by requesting this odd demonstration, and she was obviously doing her best to comply.

With a sharp gasp, she brought her hands up to her breasts, but then took them away and clutched my upper arm. "Rod!" she hissed in a sharp whisper, as if she might be heard. I looked out the window and observed an elderly couple walking a small dog of indeterminate linage. Without a word, I patted her hands away. She hesitated only a moment before dropping them to her sides again, but she stared incessantly at the couple, who continued on without once looking in our direction. 

I moved my hand to her lap. "I want to touch you. Let me."

She gulped, shivered a little, and then spread her legs for me. I moved my fingers to her slit, stroked it several times, then moved my palm to her inner thigh. "Wider," I told her, and she spread herself several more inches immediately, her eyes, her nipples and her open pussy all facing directly at that large picture window. I started at her lower thigh and stroked slowly upward with my palm on her leg, parting her lips with the base of my little finger when I reached the gap of her sex. She gasped sharply, and her entire body gave a single jerk, then shivered. "You're sloppy-wet," I accused.

"I ... I can't help it," she said in a whispered, little-girl voice.

"You're actually a little bit of a slut, aren't you Elaine?"

Her eyes remained locked on the big window. "I can't help it."

I stroked again with the same response from her agitated body. "Pet, I'm going to ask you a question. You'll answer me, won't you?"

"I ... I .... Yes, Rod." She shook again, and a small moan escaped her throat.

"When we make love ... after I've made you cum ... when I'm pumping into you with my cock ... what do you think about?" I stroked her again.

"Ooohh! Oh, Rod! I ... I ... I don't think about anyth ...." She caught herself. Her eyes finally moved away from the window, and she looked imploringly up into mine. Her hands came up to clutch my arm, but they only stayed for a moment before she forced them back to her sides again, leaving herself entirely open to me, entirely visible to whoever might look in. "I ... um .... Do you remember the fifth time we made love?"

Reggie had predicted that I'd be shocked by her response, but I hadn't imagined that I'd be totally flummoxed. Suddenly, I was the one on the defensive. "Uh ... I ...."

"Of course you don't," she said, her voice lower and perhaps a little disappointed. "There's no reason why you should." She shivered violently as I absentmindedly stroked her again, the base of my hand scraping slowly against her clit.

"I remember the FIRST time we made love," I implored.

"Silly! Everybody remembers their first time. Ooohh!" Another shiver.

"I couldn't BELIEVE you waited until I was all the way inside you before you told me you were a virgin!" She took a ragged breath but didn't comment. I continued haltingly. "Um ... and then on our next date ... our ... (I wracked my brain) ... our fifth date ...."

"Fourth," she corrected in a whisper.

"... you told me that your roommate was out of town, and that you wanted me to come in. And I told you that I wanted to make love to you again. And you just said 'Okay.'"

"I was so inexperienced about love," she whispered.

"And afterwards, I told you that I wanted to take you skiing up at Big Bear that weekend. And of course, you just said 'Okay.' And on Friday, I drove you up to Pop's cabin ...."

"In a blinding snow storm. I didn't think we were going to make it."

"We almost didn't. And it snowed all weekend, and we couldn't even get out on Monday. We were stuck five days!"

"With a dozen eggs, a canned ham, a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter," she accused.

"And a case of beer ... along with Pop's fully stocked wine cabinet. It could have been a lot worse. We never did make it to the ski slopes, but we made love so often in front of that little fireplace that I'm sure even YOU can't remember how many times!"

"Eleven." She shuddered as I kept up the stroking with my hand on her inner thigh and pussy. "Ooohhh!"

I was stumped. "So it was the third time while we were up there. I did something, and it made such an impression that you fantasize about it when we make love now?" She didn't respond. "Have I done it again since then?"

"No." She whispered so softly that I barely heard.

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed, suddenly angry. "If you wanted something, why didn't you just come out and ASK me for it?"

"I only want to love you, Rod. From the first moment I met you, I just wanted the opportunity to love you. That's all I've REALLY wanted, EVER. Nothing else matters to me."

"Tell me," I ordered, almost savagely. "Tell me now. What did I do to you?" I continued to stroke her the same way, rubbing up into her sopping vagina with the side of my hand, scraping against her sensitive, swollen clitoris with long, slow, savage caresses.

"You ... you put your hands on my sides," she panted. "And you touched me and rubbed me and stroked me ... up my sides ... up my sides ... under my arms ...." 

I altered my manipulation of her sex now, reversing my hand when I finished my upward movement and scrapping it back downward, so that her clit was always feeling me, always getting the full amount of friction, over and over again, up and down. Her hips began gyrating unconsciously, her sex arching upward toward my hand. In one smooth, slow motion, she brought both of her hands up away from her sides and up, up, until her arms were stretched straight up over her head, her wrists touching each other. She began gasping for breath between each comment, and the level of her voice was rising ... in volume as well as pitch.

"... Under my arms ... on my arms ... up my arms ... past my elbows ... to my wrists ... on my wrists ... holding my wrists. Oh, Rod ... you ... made me ... feel so ... helpless ... so ... helpless ...." Her arms were locked above her head now, her wristed clasped together by unseen hands. She strained up at my invading hand, her back and chest arched upward like a bow under stress, her nipples thick and swollen and hard. I couldn't resist the temptation any longer and I switched hands, rubbing the tips of all four fingers of my left hand against her enlarged clit, rubbing harshly up and down rapidly. This allowed me to roll slightly toward her and lower my mouth to her left breast, where I sucked hard with my lips while taking the inflamed nipple between my teeth and flicking it savagely with my tongue.

"Helpless ... holding ... my ... WRISTS .... WRISTS ... UH! ... UH! ... WRISTS! ... Oh GOD, Rod! ... OH! ... WRISTS!"

I'd never known her to cum like this. She was almost never loud during sex, and the most I could ever get out her vocally were semi-suppressed moans, gasps and grunts. Now, her body writhed uncontrollably, and every part of it seemed to be rocked by straining movement. Well, every part save her hands, which remained locked over her head. She brought her knees up slightly, spreading herself wide for the benefit of my grinding fingers. Her chest pressed longingly up against my mouth, and when I naturally encircled her waist with my right arm, I found that her entire body was being supported by the bottom of her rump on the forward edge of the couch and the top of her head on its back. Her body shook savagely for many long seconds, then convulsed a few times and fell limp in my arms. Her head lolled against my shoulder, and the only thing moving was her mouth, forming soundless words. I pressed my ear to her face. In a barely audible whisper, she was muttering "... wrists ... helpless ... helpless ...."

I held her and stroked her with gentle fingertips, her hair, her back, her waist, her butt, as she nestled into my shoulder and relaxed. After two or three long minutes, she stirred and looked up into my eyes. "I'm sorry I was so loud. I don't know what came over me." But her body suddenly stiffened and she cast a quick glance at the window again. "Oh, God, Rod. Do you think anybody saw me?"

I ignored the question. "Get up," I ordered matter-of-factly. She studied my eyes for another moment, then complied, standing upright, facing the window, her hands back at her sides again. She swallowed and took a shuddering breath. I watched her for half a minute and rose, then I walked to the only lighted lamp and switched it off. Dusk had fallen outside. I wasn't sure if Elaine had figured out yet that given the differences in lighting inside and out, it had been virtually impossible to see into this room, and that degree of anonymity would continue now that I'd switched off the light. "Stay there," I told her, and walked casually into the master bathroom, where I took one of her nylon stockings off the shower rod and brought it back into the living room.

"Give me your arm," I said. She blinked at me for a moment, then held out her right hand toward me and watched, mute, as I looped it around her wrist once and double-knotted it. I gave her a few seconds to think about this before reaching down and taking her other wrist, crossing them in front of her and securing them tightly together. She made a little noise, high pitched, but deep in her throat, uncertain, alarmed, excited. Slowly, I moved to her, put my arm around her waist, and I pulled her gently toward the side of the couch. She allowed herself to be lead, shuffling her feet a little, until I had her at the side of the overstuffed piece of furniture, then she made that noise again as I used one hand on her waist and the other on her upper back, and slowly made her bend over the couch's arm. She wound up resting her upper body's weight on her elbows, her clasped hands resting against her left cheek. She raised herself a little and looked back over her right shoulder at me, her face a mask of confusion and lust, watching as I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and shoved them down to my knees. Her eyes widened when she saw how hard I was. Without preamble, I stepped up to her upraised ass, pushed her knees apart, and shoved my quivering member into her cunt as far as I could go.

Her head fell back onto her hands and she groaned loudly. She was wet and slippery, and I slid inside her easily, but the suddenness of this had obviously shocked her. "OH! Oh, Rod! So deep! You're so deep!" she muttered loudly. I withdrew slowly until only the head of my cock was still in her, then I rammed it savagely home again. "OH!" she wailed. I set up a steady diet of this treatment, and she screamed out the same exclamation as she received each brutal forward thrust, even as I increased the tempo when I began nearing my peak. "OH!OH!OH!OH!OH!"

I bent forward and snaked my arm underneath her, trapping her left breast in my clutching hand, and I pulled her upper body back toward me until her hips were lifted partially off the arm of the couch. Then I reached around her lower body with my right hand and I began rubbing her clitoris hard. She reacted as if she'd been plugged into an electrical outlet. She cried out a high-pitched, plaintive "AAAaaaaaa!" and her entire body shook uncontrollably, the walls of her pussy clenching hard at the invading beast inside of her. My balls contracted and I began gushing my fluids into her, holding her firmly, my cock pressed as far into her as possible. It was a full minute before I was spent, and I gently leaned forward, pressing her into the cushions with my weight.

After a long while, I roused myself and lifted my bulk from her glistening body, then I helped her stand. She swayed a little unsteadily, then shuffled her feet again as I lead her back to the front of the couch, her arms hanging limply in front of her. I was about to lower her onto the seat cushions when she finally protested. "Rod, please. Your cum is running out of me! I'll stain the upholstery!"

I told her to stay there, went once again into the master bathroom and fetched a thick towel. I also stopped in the bedroom long enough to get the now-infamous signed first edition that she had given me two nights before. I STILL was not convinced about Reggie's assertions, but I was obviously beginning to weaken, and now was as good a time as any to proceed to the next logical step on my trail to justification for turning my wife into something she might (or might not) really want to be. When I returned to the living room, she stood in the same place, looking meek and humble, but she had lifted her hands and was now seemingly transfixed by the sight of her bound wrists. I set the slim volume face-down on the coffee table, folded the towel and placed it on the cushions behind her, then I gently forced her to sit down. Finally, I went to the window, drew the drapes shut (was it my imagination that she seemed slightly disappointed that the cause for her humiliation was now ended?) and switched on the lamp next to the couch.

I sat beside her and took her bound hands in my right one, obstructing her view of the nylon restraint and breaking the mesmerized spell she seemed to be under. She sighed heavily and rested her head on my shoulder. "Gosh, Rod," she muttered dreamily. "That was ... the best. Ever. I could feel you cum SO hard inside me. And I was SO helpless." She sighed once again. "But you've absolutely ruined a perfectly good sexual fantasy, you know. I'll never dream about that night in Big Bear again. Now, I'll dream about THIS one." I didn't respond, and she snuggled against me silently for a couple minutes. "Do you think you made me pregnant?" she whispered hesitantly, as if putting the idea into words might jinx the concept. 

"Aw, Elaine," I groaned.

"You MIGHT have!" she countered imploringly. "It MIGHT have happened!" She looked up into my eyes and waited patiently for me to respond. "It only takes one," she continued, trying to talk herself into a false sense of hope. "All it takes is one."

I couldn't help but smile (if, perhaps, a little sadly) at her earnestness. "You never can tell," I answered quietly. That little admission seemed to satisfy her, and she lowered her gaze from mine and was silent again. I reached forward and picked up the book, but kept it so that its back was still toward us. "Pet, I'd like to talk about this. Do you know what it is?"

She looked down at it for a couple seconds. "It's a book. What is it?"

"It's the book you gave me the night before last. Do you remember what it is?"

She thought about it for awhile. "You've asked me that before. You told me, didn't you? Um ... I don't remember what you said."




Signed First Edition Ch. 02



"Reggie wrote it. Can't you guess what it's about?"

She considered this a moment and then shrugged. "He talked about it that night I went over there, but ... but I think I fell asleep."

"Elaine, you've got a better memory than I do. Don't you think it's just a little bit odd that you can never remember anything about this particular book?"

She fidgeted a little. "Um ... it's probably technical. You love that sort of stuff, but it really bores me. I'm sure that's why I went to sleep when he talked about it."

"You didn't fall asleep, Pet. You told me what happened when you climbed into bed with me after you got home. Have you forgotten what you said?"

She looked up at me again, but this time it was clear that she was uncomfortable with this train of thought. "I ... I don't think it's a big deal, Rod. Why do you keep going on about it? Maybe you should untie me now."

But without further comment, I turned the book over so that the title was facing her. The words seemed to scream up at her: "Using Erotic Hypnosis to Voluntarily Enslave Your Wife or Girlfriend." She drew in her breath with a savage gasp and she froze into such immobility that I began to wonder for a moment if one of Reggie's little "suggestions" might have come into play. But after a long twenty seconds, she exhaled raggedly and shifted a little. "Is ... is THIS the book?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Well, of course this is the book. Do you remember now?"

"I ... um .... He hypnotized me. Well, not me exactly. He hypnotized Cathy, but then I started to fall asleep, too. And ... and I KNEW it was happening. I KNEW he was hypnotizing me. I felt ... guilty because I was letting some other man do something to me. But ... but, Rod ... it felt ... so ... GOOD. It felt so good to surrender ... and just let go ... and ...." She lapsed into another long pause. "Are ... are YOU going to do this to me?" She still hadn't looked up from the book, which was sitting on top of the backs of her bound hands in her lap. "Are you going to hypnotize me again? Are you going to ... to enslave me?"

I barked a little laugh. "I've got you tied up like a sacrificial lamb. Aren't you feeling just a little bit 'enslaved' without all of this hypnosis rigmarole?"

She thought about this for awhile. "I think this would make it even ... um ... more ... intense. Don't you?" I reached down and started opening the book. Her reaction surprised me. She struggled to bring her hands up and stop me, but they'd gotten pinned underneath the volume for the moment. "No, Rod! The book is just for you! I don't want to KNOW how you're going to do it to me. I don't want to SEE how ...." But I'd already gotten the thing open to a bookmarked page, and she froze again, staring dumbly at the picture of Reggie's wife in which she was presumably naked and in the most profound depths of her hypnotic trance, her eyes looking up at us and yet also looking at nothing at all.

Elaine gasped again and shrank back from the picture a little, shaking slightly in fright, then fascination, then anticipation. She drew closer to the photo again, and closer still, raptly staring. I hadn't commented at all; I'd just watched her intently to see her reaction. With slow, calm deliberation, she finally pulled her bound hands out from under the book, and now she gently touched the picture with trembling fingertips. "It's Cathy. She's hypnotized." Another fifteen seconds went by. "Rod ... she's ... she's so ... so ... BLANK! Look at her! She's ... empty! He's ... he's controlling her! Controlling her mind! She's given EVERYTHING to him! She's given everything she has ... given it ALL to him. Her body ... her mind. There's nothing left. Everything there is, she's given to him. And now that she's empty, he can fill her up again with anything he wants. He can make her do anything. Anything at all." Another long pause. "You can't love a man any more than this," she said to herself rather than to me.

"Now do you think you'll be able to remember the book and what happened that night?" I asked gently.

"I remember it all," she answered without looking up. "And at night, I start to remember. I start thinking about what he made me feel. But as soon as I think about it, I start to get really, really sleepy. I fell asleep while he was hypnotizing Cathy, but then ... then he woke me up. And then, it was just me. He was only talking to me ... sitting right in front of me ... holding ... something on a string ... a crystal on a string. And he was telling me that I was about to go back to sleep again ... only ... deeper. Deeper and deeper ... each time ... each time I woke up ... and ... went ... back ... to ... sleeeee ...."

"Focus, Pet," I chided.

She jerked awake. "Um ... each time I woke up ... he made me go to sleep again ... deeper each time. And, I TRIED to remember ... I really did. Last night, in bed, I tried to think back on what happened ... and I couldn't stay awake. And I didn't do anything ... um ... improper with him. I didn't, I'm sure. But Rod, I don't know what I'd have done if he'd tried. I can't even begin to describe the power he had over me. I couldn't stay awake. I tried SO hard! I didn't mean to give into him ... over and over again ... going back to sleep when he ordered me to. I feel so guilty about it! And ... and ...." She faltered and seemed to give up her argument. "Are YOU going to do that to me, Rod? Are you going to do THIS to me?" She hadn't looked up from the picture in the book.

She was so earnest and serious about it that I couldn't keep a smile from my lips. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," I said simply.

Now her head snapped up and she looked imploringly into my eyes. "You ... you can't just show me a thing like this and then not DO something!"

I laughed. "Pet, you're sitting beside me hogtied and fucked silly. Do you really think I need to hypnotize you to make you do my bidding?"

Her frantic gaze switched back and forth twice more between me and the photo. She was deeply agitated. "I ... I ... I want you to ... um ...."

I pulled her into a hug, during which the book slid off her lap and onto the floor, despite an unsuccessful grab on her part. She made a funny little sound deep in her throat when it hit the floor. I laughed again and shifted her body back so that it leaned against me, my arm around her naked body. "Not another word," I chided. "We'll discuss it tomorrow, when I'm good and ready." She lay stiffly against me for several seconds, and then I felt her body relax into my own. "Now," I continued. "I want you to do something for me. Will you?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Yes, of course."

"I want you to remember once more about Reggie waking you up and making you go back to sleep. Do it now, okay?"

Again she hesitated a few seconds. "Can ... can you do something for me, too?"

This request surprised me for some reason. "What is it?"

"Will you let me sleep this way tonight? Please?" She held up her bound hands.

I grinned. "We'll see. Now, do as I say. Think about it again."

In thirty seconds, she was asleep.

..........................

To Be Continued ... 



Signed First Edition Ch. 03



Chapter Three

October 27th, 2011

I was not as strong as I was seven months before, but I had been recuperating nicely and Elaine had more or less forced me to go to a health club three days per week. It was a bit of a struggle, but I managed to lift my lovely wife's sleeping form and carry her to bed, rather pleased with myself that I was only moderately exhausted after doing so. She slept through the night, though she tossed around a little more than usual, probably due to her bound condition. I tired of this about three AM, and without awakening her, I used a pair of scissors to cut her free of the stocking. After that she hugged and snuggled me, as was her custom in bed most of the time.

That morning, I awoke to find her already awake, lying on her back, looking forlornly at her wrists. "Did it leave a mark?" I asked her.

She seemed startled that I was awake, and she lowered her hands almost guiltily and reached under the covers for my cock. "Of course not," she responded. "You've ruined my best pair of nylons, though." She grasped me gently, then slid her hand down to cup my balls. "I can suck you this morning. Can I do that? I really want to."

"Whoa, you little tigress!" I chastised, reaching down and moving her hand away. "I've created a monster! Didn't you get enough last night?" She pouted and rolled her body atop mine, pressing her ample breasts into my chest.

Then she giggled. "I can't WAIT to see what you're going to do with that other stocking!"

"Well, you're going to have to," I replied firmly. "I have plans for today." I rolled her back off of me and then kissed her. "Now, make me breakfast."

She laughed again. "You really only want me chained to a stove!" she accused. 

I don't, as a rule, take long in the bathroom, and I was sitting at the breakfast table sipping coffee for the better part of half an hour before she finally made her appearance, clean-scrubbed and fresh. By the time she'd prepared the French toast, I'd finished the online news, found the store I wanted on my laptop, checked traffic conditions and finished making my plans. We chatted idly as we ate, but as the meal was finishing up, she lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Finally, she couldn't withhold the subject that was uppermost in her mind.

"Rod ... about the book ...." For some reason, she was blushing crimson.

"Ah. Suddenly, you can remember the book."

"I ... I don't think I'll be able to think about anything else until you ...."

"Not now," I interrupted. "I have things I want to do today. We'll talk about it later."

She seemed very disappointed, but didn't press the issue. I rinsed the dishes, but she had to unload the dishwasher before she could load it, and so it took her longer. I used the opportunity to sneak back into the bedroom and find what I wanted. Several months after we were married, we'd gone to a Halloween costume party, and she'd let me pick out her outfit ... an peasant skirt and blouse that proved to be VERY risqué (I went as a nasty Scottish Laird, demanding my "Right of the First Night"). I laid out the outfit, then went back and confronted her. "I want us to go somewhere," I told her simply. "I want you wear what's on the bed."

"Rod! I'm not going to go ANYWHERE wearing that thing!" she protested when she'd seen what I'd picked. But I simply ignored her, walked back out into the living room and made a phone call to make sure the store I wanted was open. Fifteen minutes later, there she was, her entire body covered in a soft blush. 

She looked fantastic. The blouse had such a low-scooped neckline that only the brassier she purchased especially for the costume would work without showing. I was browsing the internet once for "famous TV ad campaigns," and came across a commercial by a famous 50's actress named Jane Russell that touted brassieres for the "full figured gal" ... and that fit Elaine to a "t." She was big up top (and rather generous in the hips department, as well). In the low-cut blouse and push-up bra, it was practically like she was offering herself to every man that looked. And every man WOULD look, believe you me. But I just nodded as if I had fully expected the effect, as well as her compliance. "Leave your purse," I stated frankly. "You won't need it. Let's go." And I held the door to the garage. She blushed some more, but walked past me with lowered eyes and got in the car.

We took the 134 to the 5 to the 118. The San Gabriel Mountains were on our right, the Hollywood Hills on our left. Now, I realize that every city in the world has its own culture and its own language, at least to some extent. For the 99% of my English-speaking audience that has never been to Los Angeles, please allow me to tell you a little about ours. First, it's a bit of a standing joke that if anyone asks you how long it takes you to get from ____ to ____, then no matter what you put into those blanks, be it your home, Great Aunt Sookie's house, Disneyland, whatever, the answer is ALWAYS "Oh, about 45 minutes, depending on traffic." The last part of that sentence, of course, could add two hours, easily. And so, when Elaine asked me where we were going, I told her that she'd find out when we got there in about 45 minutes, depending on traffic. This won me a small smile before she blushed even more and tried not to look at the truckers who were all looking down at HER.

Yet another oddity in L.A. is our habit of naming every freeway "THE." Odder still, we simply can't fathom why visitors to our fair city ask us why we do that. There is, of course, no answer to the question. It is simply so. Anyway, from the 118, I turned off on Sepulveda. (For you 99%, that's pronounced "se-PUL-ve-da.") Now, there are a lot of cities that boast about having the longest street in the world. Our entry to this claim is Sepulveda Boulevard, which stretches 42.8 miles from Long Beach to the San Fernando Valley, under the runways at LAX, over hill and dale, through some great neighborhoods and ... well ... some not so great. I had researched where I was going ... which is pretty much a necessity, if you actually want to GET anywhere in L.A., and after several more miles and several turns, I pulled into the parking lot of the store I was seeking. 

My last little entry in your Los Angeles trivia lesson is a comment on business. California is the number one state economy in the country. It almost doubles the second-place state, and is ten times the GNP of many others. Don't get me wrong ... there are problems, too. Several manufacturers bailed out of Southern California in the 1970's and 80's citing high taxes and stifling environmental restrictions. But, without exaggeration, there are more professionals per capita here, in just about every conceivable market, than anywhere else on earth. Be it rocket propulsion or lawn care ... folks WANT to work, and pride themselves as the best in their fields. So, it's the people that make California work ... and it works very well. However, in L.A., there is only one industry that earns the moniker "THE Industry," and that, of course, is entertainment. TV, movies, music recording, you name it. You're either in THE industry, or you know somebody who is, be it a writer, editor, actor, set designer, hair stylist, grip, or any of the hundreds of other occupations involved.

And just one of the multitude of sidelines in THE Industry is porn. They like to call it:"The Adult Industry." Oh, there are a lot of people that frown on it, obviously. But let's face it, when you've got a business in your community that's responsible for billions of dollars in revenue, it only makes sense that you would tend to overlook some of the detractors. 

It was at one of the vendors of this industry that we now arrived. It was a rather non-descript building, as you may imagine, but it announced a few of its wares in large red letters that were trimmed in neon bulbs, though those sat unilluminated in the daylight. "Adult Books -- Videos -- Accessories." Elaine's eyes widened, and she sat stock-still, even when I got out, walked around the car, and stood holding her door open. She looked up at me like a young doe caught in the headlights, then she took a deep breath and swung her shapely legs out of the vehicle and stood. She held my arm tightly as I walked into the structure.

Behind the counter sat one of the skuzziest individuals I've ever seen. He was a man of about forty, slightly shorter than my five-foot-eleven, and perhaps two hundred thirty pounds. His beard wasn't so much long as unkempt, and his oily hair was drawn back into a short ponytail. He looked up at us with a minor attempt at showing interest and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I called earlier," I told him. "Your website advertises that you have the greatest selection of sexual restraints in the area. My wife here would like to see what you have."

The guy silently closed a paperback novel entitled "Ravished Nuns Tied and Trained," stood up and walked around the counter to us. He wore stained leather pants and a pair of scuffed cowboy boots, and his brawny right forearm displayed a Hell's Angels tattoo under the sleeve of his filthy white tee shirt. He stood inches in front of Elaine, who clutched my arm with crushing fingers, and he said: "Madame, it is indeed superlative luck on your part that you happened to find your way into our establishment. We do, indeed, possess an impressive assortment of the devices you so desperately seek. If you would please precede me into the area at the rear of the edifice, I would be most pleased to explain the differentiations between those items which make up the finer echelons of our inventory."

I might have made a small sound in the base of my throat, but I gallantly kept from laughing. Elaine, on the other hand, continued to regard the man with mute, wide-eyed wonder, and after a long pause, I gently urged her in the direction indicated. The biker followed us as we walked through a hanging curtain of wooden beads and into Bondage Wonderland. The room was large ... maybe twenty feet square ... and the walls were stocked with so many displayed restraint devices that I came to a flabbergasted halt, staring around me in stunned awe. To this day, I have no idea what half the stuff in that room was supposed to do, but our guide slid past us with a quiet "If you will pardon me ...," and stood in front of the far wall, which looked as if it was the all-encompassing final word in sexual discipline. 

I glanced nervously at my wife, who was staring in open-mouthed shock, before I finally realized that my own mouth was agape, and I tried my darnedest to put on the mask of one who was supposed to be a little more urbane about such matters. When I finally turned back to our salesman, he was holding up a pair of standard handcuffs, the bright silver finish having already captured Elaine's unwavering attention. "Now, these are obviously customary, regular-issue restraining paraphernalia used by the constabulary in The City of Angels, as well as other centers of urban population. Their only strong selling point is their ease of operation." He held out his hand to Elaine as he said this, palm up. Automatically, she reached out and put her hand in his. In a wink, he had brought the cuff up, smacked it gently against her wrist, and the narrow ratcheting portion spun around her arm and snapped into place with a metallic click. He let go of it and turned back to the wall for something else, and Elaine watched with bulging eyes as the thing swung gently to and fro from her slender wrist in front of her. She was utterly enthralled. "Been on the receiving end of a pair of those me-self, once" he muttered under his breath, before turning back to her with another pair ... this one with a chain almost two feet long between the cuffs.

"Now, this little beauty is a pair of leg restraints, obviously designed to be used on your lovely ankles and hamper proper mobility. Ah, but you see, used in another context, it also has the propensity for marginalizing movement of the arms, as well." He had walked around her, and now held both of her wrists by her sides from behind, though he hadn't actually attached the thing to either wrist. Elaine simple stood there, blinking her big eyes, staring straight ahead of her. "You can well imagine the degree of utter helplessness this might elicit," he told her. "If you were lying prone on your back, you understand, your hands would be trapped. Useless. Unmoving. You would be utterly immobile. Defenseless. Powerless. Vulnerable."

With each new adverb, Elaine gave an almost imperceptible shudder. There was a loud click, and the man came forward, in front of her, holding both pairs of restraints and put them back in their proper places on the display. Her eyes widened in sudden recognition, she held up the wrist that only seconds before sported a shiny metal cuff, and she reached out for a brief second toward the devices, as if she missed them and wanted to reclaim the feel.

He turned back to her, holding another pair, these lined with furry cloth. "And these," he continued, holding them up but looking fixedly into her eyes, "are fur-lined. But these are not for you, my lovely, are they now? Ah, no. I know your sort, I do. You don't want to feel fur ... oh no, my lass. You have no taste for that, now do you? You crave the feel of metal on your fair skin. Now that you've experienced that, there's no turning back, is there? No, I'll just put these away again. These are for the pikers ... not for the likes of a wench with your tastes." My wife made a slight noise, almost like a whine.

The guy picked up a flat white box and turned back to her. It suddenly occurred to me that he had never once dropped his gaze below her eyes; something that, given the circumstances of her dress, was really quite amazing. I wondered if he was gay or just a consummate salesman. "I'll tell you what, my dear," he continued. "Tell me what strikes your fancy." And he stepped back a pace and waved a casual arm at the wall displaying all those shiny wares. Her eyes obediently slid away from him to the wall of chains, clamps and restraints. 

They did not wander far, however. In only a few seconds, she was pointing a shaking finger. "What is that?" she asked in a whisper.

The man smiled smugly and removed a duplicate of the thing she had pointed to from the white box. "You have very discerning tastes in the finer submissive arts, my dear lady. This item is one of our own designs ... a chainless set of handcuffs, cast in stainless steel and finished in nickel-chromium. The cuffs are oval and designed to fit the slave perfectly, so that they cannot twist on the wrist and are snug without pinching. We can cast them to hold the hands side-by-side, one atop the other, or so that the wrists cross, such as the one you have picked out." For the first time, he looked toward me. "They are also our most expensive cuff, since they are custom made." I smiled at this and gave him a slight nod. He turned back to Elaine and looked questioningly into her face, but she seemingly could not take her eyes off the shiny device he had just handed her. "Please, allow me to demonstrate," he continued, gently taking the thing and opening it with the key, one restraining arm lifting up and the other downward from a solid, single center portion. "It is imperative that you learn how to restrain yourself in this apparatus, so that if your Master insists you be ready for him upon his arrival home, you can bind yourself."

Placidly, she allowed him to attach the thing to her right wrist, then she struggled for almost a full minute, following his patient instructions, until she was able to snap the other half of it to her remaining hand by using the edge of a table to push against. When she was done, her wrists were crossed, one atop the other, and bound firmly together. "As you can envisage," he continued patiently, "you can attach it with both palms down, as it is now, or both facing upward, or one in each direction ... palms either facing each other or apart." He paused and glanced back at me, since all of Elaine's attention seemed to be centered on her hands. "Shall I wrap these up for you, then?"

"The lady would like to wear these home," I commented casually, eliciting a sharp gasp from my wife. "And she would also like two pairs of standard cuffs, as well as one of the ankle shackles you showed her." She looked frantically in my direction for a full five seconds before returning her gaze to her bound wrists.

"A most excellent choice, Madame," he said formally, bowing slightly. "And while you are here, could I interest you in a pair of nipple clamps?"

She made a sort of gasping little moan and looked up sharply at the guy, then glanced quickly at the display he was indicating with his outstretched hand. "I don't think that's necessary," I said, at the same moment she answered "How do they work?" He glanced quickly from me to her, uncertain if he had overstepped his bounds in the interest of a quick sale. Elaine blushed crimson, and lowered her eyes, obviously believing herself guilty of a slutty comment. But I barked a laugh and broke the tension by saying: "Why don't you ask him which set he recommends, Pet."

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before looking up at him. "I ... I ... um ... don't have to ... to ... show you my ... um ... my ...?"

He coughed politely and peered earnestly into her questioning eyes. "If I may be so bold, perhaps if Madame is unfamiliar with their operation, I might suggest this set. It is not our top-of-the-line, but it is fully adjustable, and it would not be necessary to ... um ... fit you with the device at this time. You and your Master could explore the boundaries of the item at your leisure." He plucked a chain from the display, opened a drawer and chose three boxes, and then took all the packages toward the front of the store.

Elaine seemed to shuffle as she moved after him, as if her bound wrists had in some way impaired the rest of her movements as well. I followed up the little group and plopped down my credit card on the counter. "Pet, could you please sign for this? All these items are yours, after all." I went away and browsed the absurd titles of the books, trying not to laugh at them. I only got involved again when he insisted on seeing some ID to accompany the credit card. Elaine found that it was difficult to write her signature ... indeed it was difficult to do ANYTHING with her hands bound in that fashion, but at long last, the deal was consummated. I couldn't help but notice that while she was bent forward, busy with the credit receipt, our biker friend was unabashedly feasting his eyes on her ample cleavage, so I inferred that his sexual orientation did indeed allow a proclivity toward beautiful women. As we walked out of the shop, I handed him a twenty dollar bill and thanked him for his professionalism. 

"You're one lucky guy, dude," he smiled, pocketing the bill.

"Tell me about it!" I replied, and led Elaine to the car.

Back to Sepulveda. Back out on the 118. I turned to my silent, blushing wife and said calmly: "Take off your panties, Pet."

She hissed slightly as her breath caught in her throat, and she looked inquiringly at me, but I refused to look back. She had to take off the seatbelt to do it, of course ... and this was awkward, because I had to snake the seatbelt between her arms to get her strapped into the car's seat in the first place, since I didn't want to take off the wrist cuffs. Eventually, she got the belt off and the hem of her dress hiked up sufficiently, but with both palms of her crossed hands facing the same direction, getting her fingers underneath the waistband of the panties was exceedingly difficult. Finally, finally, the deed was done. But I wouldn't let it end there. "Pull up your skirt so that your bottom is directly on the seat," I ordered. Her chest was heaving slightly from what I assumed was the exertion of struggling with the panties, but even after working further until the back of the skirt was tucked back behind her, the rising and falling of her prominently displayed breasts continued, and I concluded that it was from sexual excitement rather than physical effort. She got the seatbelt back around her, but I had to reach over and snap it into place. She didn't seem to care that this effectively trapped her hand under the belt.




Signed First Edition Ch. 03



"You ... you're ... testing me," she said quietly. "You're making sure I'm worthy."

I looked questioningly at her. "That's an odd comment. Worthy of what?"

"Of ... the book. Worthy of ... taking me ... taking my ... mind. Taking all of me. Worthy of letting me give you ... all of me." She turned her eyes to me. "I'll do anything, Rod. I'll do anything you ask me to do." She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes again to her hands. "You don't have to, if you don't want to, of course. Or you could do it just once ... just so I could experience it ... just once. Take me just once ... all of me. My body ... my mind ... all of me ... just once."

I sighed. "Elaine, fun is fun, but don't you think we're taking this a little too far?"

She regarded me out of the corner of her eye. "What do you mean?"

"Look, I like a little role-playing as well as the next guy. And maybe you DO really get off on discipline and bondage. The question is: Where did these ideas come from?" She looked at me suspiciously but didn't answer. "Pet, I'm not being critical. What did you think Reggie and I were talking about when we got together day before yesterday? Why do you think I went to see him in the first place?"

She frowned, considering this, absent-mindedly chewing the corner of her lower lip. At length, she gave me her full attention. "You think I've been manipulated. You think these feelings have been implanted, deep in my psyche, by a hypnotist. You think they aren't real."

"What do YOU think, Pet?"

She shook her head determinedly. "I think I've felt this way since I was a teenager. For as long as I can remember, I've wished I could surrender to a strong man. I used to think I was evil ... or that I was being tempted by the Devil. My mother has always been VERY religious. I've kept thoughts like that secret forever. I've never told ANYONE ... not even you. I was afraid you would think less of me. And then ... for the past twenty-four hours ... it was like you suddenly ... finally ... understood me; understood how I've felt all this time." She sighed and shrugged. "I can't remember WHAT I did while I was hypnotized that night. Maybe ... I don't know ... maybe he asked me. Maybe I told him. But it isn't something HE thought up, I can guarantee you that."

We were back on the 134 and about ten minutes from home. There was some construction in the center lane and I had to steer the car onto a temporary lane, across the rumble strip on the shoulder. Elaine suddenly gasped, shuddered and shivered. "Oh, gosh, Rod!"

"What is it?"

"I ... I mean ... with all of this ... the handcuffs ... watching people looking at my ... my ... breasts ... and then taking off my panties ...." The lane shifted back onto the normal surface again, back across the rumble strip, and she gasped again. "And now, the vibrations from the road ... Oh, Rod ... it's made me ... um ... wet. I'm afraid I'm going to leave a stain on the seat."

She blushed even more when I laughed. "Well, let me know if you can't clean it up," I told her. "I'll write a strongly-worded letter to the maker of the fabric guard they treated the seats with. Of course, I'll have to tell them exactly what the stain IS."

When we finally pulled into the garage of our house, I went around, held her door and helped her out. She couldn't stop herself from looking back at the seat, and yes, indeed there was a wet spot where she had been sitting. "Please let me clean it up," she begged, though she was unable to look up at me.

I chuckled. "Just come into the living room when you're done." And I went into the house and got the little cloth bag from my dresser drawer and waited for Elaine in the living room. Eventually, she came in clutching the bag containing the merchandise we had just purchased in her cuffed hands.

"The ... I mean ... I didn't stain the seat. It cleaned up okay," she stammered. "What do you want me to do with ... with this?" She held out the bag toward me.

"It's my gift to you," I explained. "I want you to put it with YOUR things. When I want you bound and helpless, I'll tell you to go and get it. Put it away, and then come back out here. I want to talk to you." She turned to leave. "Wait!" I ordered, and when she turned questioningly back toward me, I held up the little key the biker had tossed me after shackling her with the custom-made cuffs. "I want you to put THOSE away, as well." She looked very disappointed, but held out her hands toward me.

"You ... you don't have to ... I mean ... you can leave me like this if you ...."

"Do as you're told please, Pet."

"Yes. Of course," she muttered sadly. But after I'd released her and put the cuffs into the bag with the other goodies, she remained, shuffling her feet a little. "Can I use the bathroom?" she asked nervously, blushing, looking down at her toes.

It was then that I realized that I could take this thing as far as I wanted ... and, in fact, that I was the only limiting factor in this little game. I would have to give it some serious thought. She, given the opportunity, would sink so far into emotional "slavery" that she would seek permission for the smallest of acts. I didn't want a wife who begged my permission every time she needed to go to the can. I needed to establish a set of rules. Still, her meek innocence melted my heart, and so I resolved to give her the control she sought for now. "Yes, you may," I said gently. "But hurry. Come back here to me quickly."

"Yes, M ... uh ... Rod. I'll hurry."

She'd almost called me "Master." I sighed. I had the urge to look through the book once again, but I chided myself for my indecision and ... yes ... lack of originality. I didn't want to be a slave myself to Reggie's "script." I felt that I understood now ... both what he had done to her when he had her in a very deep trance, and what he was trying to tell me in the bar. I DID love her enough to give her what she secretly wanted in our relationship, and I was now resolved to do it. But it had to be on MY terms, not Reggie's ... and not even Elaine's.

She was back, standing in front of me, her hands clasped (but unfettered) uncertainly in front of her, her gaze submissively lowered. I patted the couch beside me. "Sit here," I ordered. She quickly obeyed. There was little room in the space I had indicated, and she was blocked snuggly between me and the arm of the couch. "Do you know what this is?" I asked, holding up the little green velvet bag.

She had to turn toward me a little to see it properly. "No."

"Can't you guess?"

Her brow furrowed. I was surprised. Elaine is remarkable bright, but she didn't seem to have a clue. "Um ... no. Did you get me some jewelry? You didn't spend a lot, did you?"

I reached inside the bag with a thumb and forefinger and found the end of a thin silver chain. It dawned on me suddenly that I'd never actually looked at this thing myself, and I found myself fervently hoping that the little fake gem was still there and attached to the other end. I slowly, dramatically lifted the thing up and up and finally clear of the velvet bag, then kept lifting it until it was dangling a few inches above her eye level, at the height the book had suggested. As soon as it came into view, Elaine's breath escaped in a soundless exclamation, followed by a sort of shallow gasp that seemed to leave her incapable of speech altogether. Her eyes were locked onto the little object, and she was obviously unable (or she lacked the desire) to look away. 

I took the opportunity of her frozen state to examine the little trinket myself. It was shaped a little like an hour glass with a thick middle ... or perhaps two ovals that had somehow managed to merge, one atop the other. However, it was cut with hundreds of facets, so that light seemed to refract and reflect from both halves simultaneously, sending sparkling shivers of color scattering willy-nilly in every direction. I had to admit that it was apparently unique ... at least, I'D never seen anything like it, and so it probably fit the requirement for something that could easily be used to trigger a hypnotic suggestion without fear of a subject accidently stumbling across a duplicate.

"Do you know what this is, Elaine?" I asked quietly but firmly.

"It's ... it looks like ... I mean ... it's ...."

"Stop and take a deep breath," I ordered. She halted her attempts at speech and obeyed me. "Okay," I continued. "Tell me what it is."

"It's the gem that hypnotized Cathy," she replied without emphasis. "It's the gem that hypnotized me."

"And what happens to you when you see it?"

"I get sleepy," she answered matter-of-factly. She paused, awaiting my next question, when, after about ten seconds, she suddenly realized what she had just said. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes blinked slowly, struggling to reopen after they'd closed.

"And ARE you getting sleepy, Pet?"

"Oh, Rod ... I'm so ... um ... SO ... sleepy. I'm .... Rod, PLEASE make me ... uh ... make me ...."

"Make you WHAT, Pet?"

"Please make me sleep, Master. Please. I'll be a good girl, I promise. I'll obey. Please, Master. Please make me sleep. Please ...."

This was going pretty much the way I'd expected, after reading the book. I was more than a little dismayed by the whole "Master" gig, but she was following the script that I'd been given ... approximately. "Will you really obey me, Pet? Will you obey everything I tell you to do?"

"Oh, Master, please. I promise. I'll be a good girl."

"Wait until I tell you, then. Be sleepy for me, but wait until I let you. Just be sleepy. So sleepy."

She whimpered softly. Her head began nodding forward and jerking back upright as she fought hard to stay awake until I gave her the go-ahead. After fifteen seconds, her neck began wobbling slightly from side to side, as well, and her eyes struggled to remain open even a slit. At last I gave her the command she yearned for: "Sleep!" And she heaved a great sigh and fell against my shoulder, her eyes now sealed shut. This was why I'd wedged her in between the arm of the couch and my body ... I hadn't been sure how she'd react when I finally let her trance overtake her, and I didn't want her toppling over onto the floor. I let her slumber for a long minute before moving to the next step. "Elaine?" I asked tentatively.

Immediately, she sat upright and opened her eyes. "Yes, Master?" This shocked me. The book hadn't said anything about her opening her eyes, and for a moment, I thought I'd done something that had forced her to lose her hypnotic state. She was staring blankly straight ahead at the center of the room, however, and I finally realized that she was, indeed, in a deep trance.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Elaine."

"I think that I've finally gotten the better of that prissy bitch," she said, smiling. I decided that I didn't like that smile.

"What do you mean?"

"She's always so calculating," she explained, still staring at nothing in particular. "She's so goody-goody and sophisticated! She's SO worried about her appearance and what people will think about her! She's constantly worried about EVERYTHING! But we showed HER, didn't we, Maser? We showed HER that she's just a submissive little harlot, isn't she? She just wants to be tied up and used and abused. What a slut!"

"Um ... Elaine ...." I stammered.

She turned to face me, and her eyes focused on mine. "And you, too, Rod. Now I've got YOU right where I want you!"

I suppose it's time for me (the narrator of this saga) to explain things to you (the reader) regarding what I had read in my signed first edition. What I have failed to explain up to this point is that my new drinking buddy, Reggie, actually had a professional system with regards to his secondary vocation in the field of hypnotherapy. From what I could ascertain through a bit of online research, his methods were actually rather unique, if perhaps unorthodox.

When Reggie hypnotized a perspective "slave," he worked to deepen the subject's trance state through a series of awakenings and sleep inductions, each time intensifying his level of control and dominance ... each time taking her to a deeper and deeper state of submission and obedience. When she was sufficiently susceptible to permanent suggestions, he convinced her that while she was hypnotized, her subconscious self had actually separated from her "aware" self, and could now communicate freely while her logical side slumbered. His hypothesis was that, given proper emphasis, a person's subconscious would be easily swayed through hypnotic suggestion, and then would eventually overcome the constraints, restrictions and propriety that govern everyday life, so that she would finally become the type of individual that she truly wanted to be.

I had assumed this was working with Elaine, at least to some extent, since in a few short days, she had developed a side to her character that I had never seen before. This, however, was obviously the first time I had ever seen Reggie's induced "split personality" in action, and I was more than a little surprised that one "side" of my wife might exhibit contempt for the other. I was also having trouble keeping up with her thought processes, though with her "logical self" suppressed, I suppose I should have expected that to some extent.

"So, you've got me where you want me, Elaine," I told her, returning her triumphant gaze. "And just where, exactly, is that?"

"I noticed the way you leered at me while I was wearing this outfit, Master. I felt your desire for me. So did she. I felt her blush and stammer, and she was SO embarrassed when her pussy got sloppy wet and drippy. Oh God, it was delicious. When you went over those bumps in the road, she almost lost it. I think we came ... just a little bit. And you're acting so STRONG and sure of yourself! And you make me feel so sexy and feminine and submissive and ... and ... THAT's where I want you, Master. I ... I want you to ... to make me DO things, and FEEL things and ... and make me be who you WANT me to be. I want you to make me BELONG to you!"

I sat back on the couch and contemplated this for a moment, but she kept going. "And I LOVE it when you call me your 'pet!' It makes me feel like a little baby kitten, so helpless and reliant on you." I grunted without comment. "And Miss Sloppy-Cunt loves it, too. But, of course, SHE would never come out and tell you ...."

"Shut up, Elaine," I muttered.

"Yes, Master." And she turned and stared blankly at the center of the room while lapsing into silence.

This new entity, "Subconscious Elaine," was an air-headed bimbo, I decided. This entire situation was something outside the comfortable world I had built with my wife, and I wasn't sure I liked it. When I faced a problem that I had no ability to solve (such as almost any problem that dealt with emotions), I could always ask Elaine. However, THAT Elaine wasn't here at the moment. She was being suppressed by this ... this vixen who had replaced her. Ah, but THAT wasn't true either. This girl was Elaine, too, of course. She was just an Elaine with whom I had seldom had contact.

"Pet?" I asked.

She turned to me and smiled brightly. "Yes, Master?"

"I want to ask you some things about the Elaine who is asleep right now."

"The silly little slut," she said, shaking her head in pity. "She just doesn't understand ...."

"Enough!" I snapped, and she instantly stopped her tirade. "I don't want you to comment on her further. I just want you to answer my questions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," she said humbly.

"Tell me what she wants in life. Tell me what she desires," I ordered.

"She wants the same things that I want," was her answer. "She just doesn't realize it sometimes. She longs to be restrained, and dominated, and forced to submit, and to please you in any way you want us to."

I desperately sought the words I wanted. "If SHE was alert and responding to my questions, and YOU were asleep right now, how would she answer me? What does she want?"

She struggled for a moment before replying. "Most people want to be loved," she said slowly. "But SHE only wants to GIVE love. She loves the feeling of loving you. THAT is what she wants ... to feel the love for you that she felt when she first met you ... that she felt when she married you. Right now, she's just mainly scared. She's afraid she's going to lose you."

"Lose me?"

"She's afraid you're going to die ... from all your problems with the radiation exposure. She's afraid that if she lets herself feel that same degree of love, she's not going to survive losing you. And she desperately wants to experience the love for a child ... YOUR child. She's afraid she's never going to have that."

I was stunned. My mortality was just something that was part of our lives at present. We almost never spoke of it. There really was no reason to do so, since there was nothing else that could be done. We were already jumping through all the medical hoops that we needed to. All we could do now was wait and see what happened.

"And that's why you need to put ME in charge," Elaine continued.

I smirked. "And just what do you mean by that?"

"She also wants what I want," she explained. "She LOVES feeling submissive and helpless. She LOVES being your slave, just like I do. When you embarrass her, we get SO wet and excited! And when you take her, you make us come SO hard! You might not be able to be healthy for her, but you CAN give her what I want ... because SHE wants it, too!"

And that's when it hit me. I might be able to give them BOTH what they desired. Well, up to a point, anyway. It was a bit of a revelation, actually. I needed to study things a little ... needed to set things up ... arrange things. But suddenly, I KNEW what I had to do. I smiled and turned to her. I'd settle with the bimbo first. That part was easier, and it could be done right away.

"Pet, I want you to stare straight ahead of you ... yes ... just like that." I positioned the gem in front of her again. "That's right, just watch the gem dangling in front of you ... sparkling and turning on its chain. That's it. That's a good girl. And now, I want you to go deeper for me. Deeper and deeper. And I want you to let all of your thoughts just go away."

"You're going to empty me," she said in a flat monotone. "You're going to empty my mind and fill it up with the thoughts you want me to think."

"No more talking, Pet. Be quiet and relaxed ... and go deeper and deeper. Let go of your thoughts and think of nothing. Deeper. I want you to tell me when you've gone as deep as you can go ... when you have no thoughts at all."

"I'm there, Master," she replied almost at once. I studied her carefully. Her expression was identical to that of Cathy's in the book.

"What are you thinking about, Elaine?"

"Nothing, Master. I have no thoughts at all."

"Stand up," I ordered. Slowly, mechanically, she stood. "I want you to take off all of your clothes, Pet. Be careful, but do it now."

She didn't actually hesitate, but she moved very slowly, removing first the peasant blouse and then the push-up bra. She never looked down as she did this ... and her eyes remained fixed ahead, unfocused, blank. While she worked with the skirt in the same manner, I left her and went into my study to retrieve my digital camera. 

When I returned, she was sitting again, removing her sandals, and then her panties. After she was through, she placed her hands at her sides and simply stopped moving. Her blank gaze was unsettling, and she reminded me just a little of a corpse. Everything that made her alive seemed to be absent from her eyes. Her mouth hung slack, her lips slightly parted.

"My words are your thoughts," I told her, reciting lines from the book from memory. "My words are true. You KNOW them to be true. Don't you?"

"Yes," she replied dully. 




Signed First Edition Ch. 03



I stepped in front of her and took a few pictures, full-length seated, closer to include her naked upper body, and finally just a face shot. The flash went off several times, but she didn't blink, and I suddenly found myself flabbergasted by the fact that her pupils hadn't reacted to the blinding light. I put the camera aside.

"You want to obey me, don't you, Pet?"

"Obey," she intoned.

I had hoped to get at least a LITTLE more reaction than this. "You will always obey me. Always. Won't you?"

"Always."

"And you will be rewarded. When you obey me, you will feel pleasure. Personal pleasure. You will feel great satisfaction, knowing that you are obedient to me. Your obedience will give you physical pleasure. Sexual pleasure. Every time you obey. Physical, emotional, sexual pleasure. Every time."

"Sexual," she said dully.

"And if your logical mind decides that my commands are not good, you may question me ... but only AFTER you obey. You will ALWAYS obey me. Always. And you will be rewarded for your obedience. Always. With pleasure."

"Sexual," she intoned.

"And emotional and physical satisfaction. Obedience means pleasure. And you will always obey me."

"Always."

I took her two wrists and held them in front of her. Her arms were limp. "Now, look down at your hands, Pet," I ordered. She did so. I dropped her right wrist, which remained stationary where I had left it, and I held the left one in my left hand. Slowly, I began tracing a line around her left wrist using the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. I'd read this in an online mind control erotic story and decided to use it on her. "I am wrapping an invisible string around your wrist, Elaine. You can't see it ... and you can't even feel it, but when I do this, it will be very, very real. The string is unbreakable ... and you cannot untie it. Only I can do that." I placed her right wrist against her left one and continued to wrap the "invisible string," tying her hands securely. "When I do this, your conscious mind will tell you that there is no string. But that won't matter. For you, the string is real. You like being tied up, don't you, Pet."

Finally, she gave a little response in the form of a slight shiver. She took a deep breath. "Oh, yes."

I stopped "wrapping" the string around her wrists. "And even when you are awake, this will be true. Doing this to your wrists will ALWAYS cause them to bound like this. Actually, physically bound. REALLY bound. They will be bound until I tell you they are not. Your logical mind can tell you differently, but THIS is what is real. Every time."

"Every time."

"Obedience. Pleasure. The invisible string. These things are true. These things are real. Do you believe me, Pet?"

"Oh, yes."

"Are these thing true? Are they real?"

"Oh, yes. Always. Every time."

"I will count to five, and you will awaken. You will feel happy. And you will feel love. You want to feel the same intensity of love toward me that you did when we first met ... that you felt when we were first married ... don't you, Pet?"

Now, she paused a few seconds. "Yes," she answered in a quiet voice.

"And you will," I commanded. "I will count of five, and you will feel happy and sexy and shy and helpless because of your bound hands. You will feel that same intensity of love for me, and that love will stay just as strong and just as fresh from now on. And now ... One ... Two ... Three ... Four ... and ... Five."

Oddly, the first thing she did was to close her eyes. Then, slowly, they blinked open, as if she was awakening from a long night's sleep in a sunlit bedroom. She blinked again, then smiled and stretched, yawning. A moment later, she finally noticed that she was sitting upright, naked, and she reached her hands up toward her chest, perhaps with the intent of covering herself ... but her hands froze in front of her, then advanced farther, so that her wrists were in front of her face. She studied them intently, confusion wrinkling her brow.

"What's wrong with my hands?" she asked, examining her wrists carefully. I didn't answer, and I sat observing her with interest. Presently, she lowered her hands to her lap and gave me her attention. "You did it, didn't you, Rod? You hypnotized me. I was in such a DEEP sleep! And now, my hands are tied up ... even though they're not really tied up, are they?" She raised her arms again, just a little, and she struggled for a few moments, trying to separate her wrists. Finally, she gave up and let them fall into her lap again. "You've done it, haven't you? You've done what's in the book. You've made me your slave, haven't you?"

Again I was silent for several seconds while I studied her. Her eyes were a mixture of emotions, yet she was apparently unconcerned. "Stand up, Pet. Obey me. Do it now," I told her at last. Without hesitation, she rose and stood facing me with her hands hanging together in front of her. She took a deep breath and her eyes became unfocused for a moment. She shuddered slightly. "Oooh," she moaned quietly.

"What's the matter, Pet? What just happened?"

"Nothing," she said, blushing.

"How do you feel?"

She hesitated. "I ... I feel good. Really good."

I stood and took a small step forward, so that there were only a few inches separating us. "Raise your hands over your head," I ordered.

Again, she acted immediately. With so little distance between us, her hands scraped against my chest, and against her own as she raised them, causing her breasts to bounce, then flattened a little as her body stretched, her crossed hands high above her. I let my eyes roam up and down her body, from her blushing face to her hard, erect nipples, to her sex, and back up. She had shuddered again as she obeyed me, and she had made a small noise, deep in her throat. I stepped forward again, pressing my body against hers. "Put your arms around my neck. Do it now," I ordered.

She stood on tiptoes and lowered her arms until they encircled my neck. She shivered.

"How do you feel, Pet?"

Her breathing was ragged. "I ... I feel SO good, Rod. I ... I don't know what you've done to me." She looked into my eyes. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

"You're being a very good sex slave. I guess I could reward you with a kiss." I let my hands roam up and down her bare sides and back. "But first, I want you to tell me exactly what you're feeling. Obey me. Tell me now."

"I ... I feel SO naked and helpless. My ... my hands are tied up, even though I know they're not ... not really. But I can't move them. And I just want to do what you tell me to do. It ... it feels SO good to do what you tell me to do. And I ... I feel so ... so sexy and ... and your chest is rubbing on my nipples ... and your hands are touching me ... and I can't do anything about it ... because I'm tied up and vulnerable and powerless ... and I want you to kiss me SO much ... and ... and .... Oh, God, Rod. I think I'll cum if you kiss me!"

"Cum for me, then," I told her, and I lowered my lips to hers.

Her body froze for a moment. Then it began to shiver. Then it began to quake. And then her knees buckled and she clung to me with her crossed wrists around my neck, trying to press every square inch of her bare skin into my body. Her lips parted and she moaned loudly into my mouth, her frenzied form pressing frantically up toward me. She started making funny little mewling sounds while her arching, straining muscles began undulating sinuously forward and back, up and down, rubbing her nipples and thighs against me, over and over. But her movements finally slowed, and at last, with a rippling sigh, she gave another panting moan and relaxed.

I broke the kiss and looked into her unfocused eyes. "That's a good, obedient pet," I told her.

She gulped a few times and tried to get her breathing under control. "How ... how did you DO that?" she asked in a whisper. "I ... I've never had an orgasm without you touching me ... down there. But ... but you just TOLD me to ... and I did."

I smiled, looking into her questioning eyes. "You obeyed me, Pet. I told you to cum, and you obeyed. I love it when you obey."

"But ... but ...."

I reached down and grabbed her, filling my hands with the areas where her buttocks meet her upper thighs, and I lifted her. She gave a little, laughing "eek!" and threw her legs around me, then clasped me around the neck with her forearms, using the fingers of her "bound" hands to stroke the back of my head. There is a heavy end table at one side of the couch, and, thanks to her clutching legs, I was able to use one hand to grab a lamp and set it onto the floor, where it fell over but fortunately didn't break. The table was the perfect height, and I plopped her ass down on its surface and started unfastening my belt and trousers.

"I'd like to help you," she told me breathlessly, "but you've ... um ... tied up my hands somehow. They're not REALLY tied up, are they? It's ... it's some sort of posthypnotic suggestion, isn't it? But I really, really can't move them! You've ...."

"Shut up, woman!" I growled. I finally finished with the trousers and shoved them, along with my underwear, savagely down my legs, then worked to line my engorged cock up with its target. Just as soon as she felt me pressing against her, she raised both feet and used her heels to pull me forward toward herself almost violently. We lunged together with equal enthusiasm, and she issued a deep-throated moan as I filled her. Her breasts ballooned against my chest, and we were closer than we'd been for a long time. I reached up and filled my fingers with her hair and pulled back, forcing her face to lift up toward the ceiling, and I began kissing her ear, her throat, and that funny little place where the side of her jaw meets her neck that I love to nibble and lick because it makes her body shiver in my arms. At last, I relaxed my grasp on her hair, and as her face came back down, I captured her mouth with my own. I started pumping into her almost violently ... but I was surprised because her feet and legs were pulling her slippery, clingy cunt forward toward me with equal aggression. Our stomachs were making rhythmic slapping sounds as our bodies pounded into each other. This went on for a few minutes. Our kiss had to be surrendered because the exertion was making us both gasp and pant.

The feeling of impending orgasm started in my scrotum and spread rapidly through my whole body. I put my lips next to her ear. "Obey me! Cum again!" I growled, then lifted my face and roared as the throes of pleasure overcame me. For several long seconds, I failed to hear the cadenced grunting squeals coming from her open mouth, and she was clutching me so tightly with her arms and legs that it was becoming difficult to draw breath. I felt the inner walls of her vagina gripping me, squeezing me, and that only spurred on my own continued, gushing bliss. 

Gasping, I picked her up again by the ass and reeled backward, spinning around and collapsing back on the couch. She refused to let us part where we were joined, however, clutching me with her legs, and so we simply toppled over in a heap on the cushions and held each other. Her nose was touching mine, and she was gazing into my eyes with an expression I'd never seen before. 

"You did it again," she said between breaths. "I came again ... just because you told me to. How do you do that?"

I kissed her lightly. "How do you THINK I do it?"

"It's a posthypnotic suggestion, isn't it? But Rod, it's all so ... so ... REAL! I really can't move my hands. I really, really can't! Even though I KNOW it's just hypnosis!"

"Just hypnosis?" I asked her. "Everyone says that a hypnotist can't make a subject do something that she doesn't want to do. Assume that's true. NOW, what's the answer?"

She thought about that. "It ... it means that I'm reacting to all of this because I WANT to," she said, more to herself than as an answer to me. 

"You're not reacting, Pet. You're obeying. You're doing all of this because you want to obey me ... and you want to obey me so completely that the suggestions have become reality." I watched her closely as she considered this. "And, now that you know the truth, what will you do? Will you fight me?"

And she didn't hesitate. "Oh, Rod, no! I ... I'd NEVER do that! Please don't tease me. I'll obey, I promise. I'll ALWAYS obey you!"

I smiled at her earnestness. "Okay, then. We'll start with your obeying this: Your hands are free. Now!" And I snapped my fingers.

Immediately, her wrists pulled apart as if someone had just cut that invisible rope. The suddenness of it made her gasp and start, and she brought her hands from around my neck and stared at them with genuine shock, as if she expected there to be marks on her wrists from the restraining cord. She was silent for a long, long time.

"You ... you can make me do ANYTHING now, can't you?" she whispered. "I'm really your slave now, aren't I? I really am your pet. I belong to you. Really and truly."

In response, I rolled over, causing my now-flaccid member to slip from between her legs. I reached toward the coffee table and picked up the camera, punched a few buttons until the digital display showed the picture of her, bare-breasted and empty-minded, and let her see it. Her gasp seemed to resonate in the room, and all she could do was stare in open-mouthed astonishment and silent wonder. After a full minute, I pressed the off button and put the camera aside again. For the briefest second, she grabbed at the instrument, trying to keep the image that so enthralled her, but instead, she lay meek and silent against me. I put both arms around her again and held her. She snuggled closer.

"I need to know how you feel about that," I told her seriously.

"I'm in love with you, Rod. I have more love for you than I knew existed. I want to belong to you. I want to be yours. And now ... now, it's as if a dream I've had all my life has suddenly come true. You have made me your slave. And now ... now, I'm happy. No, I think I've always been happy with you. But now ... I'm satisfied with my life." She sighed.

We lay like that on the couch for a long, long time. After awhile, it started getting dark, but we still didn't move. From time to time, I thought that perhaps she'd drifted off to sleep, but she hadn't. And we just held each other. Peaceful. Content.

.............................

To Be Continued 



Signed First Edition Ch. 04



Chapter Four

NOVEMBER 21st, 2011

I consider myself to have a scientific mind. I don't know if that's something a person is born with, or whether he or she endeavors to acquire it as life goes on. At any rate, I tend to look with suspicion upon urban legends, old wives tales, and general suppositions; and when someone starts a conversation on socioeconomics with the statement: "Well, it's a known fact that ...," I can't help but physically cringe.

And so, keeping that little predilection in mind, let me try to dispel some of the common conceptions about identical twins. Yes, they tend to be emotionally close, but then, so do other siblings who are generally near in age. And yes, they sometimes form little bonds ... unique mini-languages, for example ... but then, so do other intimate childhood friends. It's not that our mother (may she rest in peace) didn't try. She gave us rhyming names and dressed us in identical cutesy little outfits. But from very early on, it became pretty evident that Tod and I were identical in appearances only. He loved crowds and I loathed them to the point of nervous illness. He was extroverted, I introverted. He was the jock, I the nerd. In high school, we'd even started having outward differences, for while the PE requirements had kept me in physical shape, Tod had gained twenty pounds on me ... all of it pure muscle. He was in baseball, football and, at least for a couple years, basketball. He finally goaded me into trying out for the track team, but the only thing I actually placed in was the two-mile, and that only when the other teams couldn't come up with the required number of participants and all I had to do was finish. 

I did, of course, join most of the academic clubs, while Tod never even considered them. But, as friends, we tended to feed off of each other's attributes. I got him past critical exams on lots of occasions. I mean, he may have been a jock, but he was a remarkably intelligent one, and there didn't seem to be a subject made that he couldn't get at least a "C" in through an all-night cram-session and the right tutor (i.e., me). On the flip-side, he often got me dates ... almost always with some discarded love interest. I was more than satisfied to settle for his cast-offs, which was clearly much more than I was capable of attracting on my own. I never actually got to go "all the way" with these girls, but it gained me a LITTLE experience with the opposite sex in high school, anyway. 

We went our own ways to college, me with a scholarship to Berkley, then on to grad work at the UCLA Nuclear Engineering School, while Tod got a baseball scholarship to USC. He won two MVP's while there, and was picked up right out of college by the Albuquerque Isotopes, the Dodger's AAA farm team. That first season, he caught a cleat in a slide, resulting in a horrific collision at second base and a fractured right knee that had no chance of ever healing sufficiently to allow him to play again. We make quite a pair, huh? A ball player who can't play ball and a nuclear scientist who can't get near anything radioactive.

That fateful evening, not quite a month after my having "enslaved" Elaine, found him sitting in that same living room on that same couch with an Amstel Light in his hand and shaking his head in disbelief, while I nursed my beer and sat across from him in the overstuffed chair.

"Bro," he urged, holding up his hand and silencing me, "you're jumping all over the spectrum here! Slow down! I appreciate you trying to hand me a little slice of nirvana, but you're not making a whole lot of sense! Let's start at the beginning. What are these "tests" that you've flunked?"

I leaned back and took another swig of beer before explaining. "They're called 'Tumor Marker Tests,' and there are several types of them. They're blood tests. One was a PSA, the standard test for prostate problems ... and it can be high for a lot of reasons, not just cancer. The other is called an AFP ... I'm not going to get into technical names for these ... and it tests for liver cancer and a couple other things. It doesn't mean anything dire at this point. They'll retest again in a month, since both are notorious for false positives. And we're still a long way from determining anything, anyway ... there would be biopsies, scans and other tests first."

"But you think maybe the bone marrow transplants didn't work?" he asked, concerned. He had a right to be. He'd gone to a lot of time, pain and effort to do that for me.

"Quite the opposite," I said. "We know that they DID work. All the Total Blood Count tests show that they did. But that's just for my immune system. Healthy blood doesn't necessarily prevent cancers."

"Well, why are you so hot to trot with this little sex scheme of yours now?" he asked. "Seems to me like you've got a long way before you have to go to this extreme. You can do it yourself."

"That's the problem. I can't. My sperm count is in the toilet. It's only about two thousand."

"Two thousand WHAT?" he asked.

"Two thousand sperm per milliliter."

"Two THOUSAND?" he asked incredulously. "Dude, all it takes is ONE!"

I barked a laugh and shook my head. "You sound like Elaine. She's made that her battle cry." I tried to explain it to him in simple terms. "Tod, the sperm count of a sexually healthy thirty-year-old male can be as high as two hundred MILLION. It's considered abnormally low if it's under twenty million." I leaned forward for emphasis. "Look, suppose there's a cruise ship sitting off the coast of Santa Catalina Island. Now, suppose you take a speedboat and launch it from Long Beach, but you leave without a compass and in pea-soup fog that lasts for the whole twenty-six miles. What do you think your chances are of hitting it? Realistically, they're not actually zero ... but they're just about as close as you can get to it. If you launch two boats, you've doubled your chances, but ...."

"But two times zero is still zero," he muttered, nodding.

"The average ejaculate is three to five milliliters," I went on. "There's a REASON that there are a quarter billion of those little buggers wriggling around in there. If both participants are healthy and TRYING to get pregnant, it takes them three months, on average, to achieve their goal. My chances are one fifty-thousandth of that. That comes to roughly twenty-five hundred years."

"I am NOT going to go in for this for the next three months!" he groused. "No way!"

I laughed. "Just leave it to the old scientist, my friend. There are ways to dramatically improve the odds. In fact, if you follow my suggestions, there's a really good chance we'll only have to do it once."

He sighed. "Okay, let's shift gears. You've turned your pretty little Elaine into some hypnotic sex slave zombie, according to what you've just told me. Why the hell don't you just force her into insemination?"

"She's still Elaine," I insisted emphatically. "She hasn't really changed ... I've just given her the chance to do what she really wants to do. And what she WANTS to do is be sexually submissive. So ... now, she is. But you still can't make a hypnotic subject do something she doesn't want to do. And she simply refuses to believe what I've just told you. She still continues to cling to that 'It only takes one' ideology. I can't convince her, even under the deepest trance, to go in for the procedure. She wants to wait."

"So why don't you? It doesn't sound like things are imminent at this point. Have a little fun with her and wait until things get dire?"

I sighed. "I'm feeling mortal, Tod. Elaine wants something very much ... something that I can't give her, even though she clings to the idea that I can. Now, my cancer tests are starting to go sour ... and I want to have the chance to get to know the little munchkin myself."

Such talk was making him irritable. "Well, if you can't convince her to inseminate, what makes you think she's going to go for THIS?" he bellowed.

"Trust me, she'll do it. Insemination is medical ... it isn't really sexual. This is. Through hypnosis, I can convince her to do ANYTHING sexual."

He sighed and looked down at his now-empty beer bottle. "Bro," he said sadly, "I've never told you this before, but I've sort of got a thing for Elaine. I mean, I've never tried anything, so help me God! But ... but ... Dude, I think you're just about the luckiest guy in the world to have scored a girl like her."

"More's the better," I said, nodding. I rose as I heard Elaine's key in the front door. I thought of one other thing. "Say, you're not ... um ... involved with anyone, are you?"

He was frowning, and for a moment, I thought he hadn't heard me. "What?" he asked absently. Then: "Uh ... no. No, there's no one right now."

I nodded and turned as Elaine came into the room. "Hi, Lover!" she squealed, and ran toward me, throwing her arms around my neck. Then she suddenly stopped and backed away from me. "Oh! Tod! I didn't know you were coming over tonight! How are you? You're looking great!" Her lips were smiling, but her eyes were full of disappointment. I knew the reason, but I'd neglected to tell Tod THAT little detail. She went to him, and they engaged in a little hug-and-mutual-kiss-on-the-cheek that was their standard greeting.

"Tod came over for a couple beers," I told her. "We were just about to have another. Would you like something?"

"Um ... no. No, thank you." The disappointment turned into something more. She was hurt, as if I'd forgotten some important romantic event ... which, in her mind, was exactly the case.

"Pet," I told her gently, "please don't be sad. I was just about to show Tod what we do. I want to show him."

"Um ... do?" she asked uncertainly.

I pulled the little green velvet bag from my pocket and drew the mouth of it open. She gasped when she saw it, then issued a frantic "Rod!" while she took a half step back away from me. She cast a nervous glance toward my brother, who had retreated backwards himself and lower his bulk onto the couch again, watching us uncertainly. "Rod," she continued in a high-pitched whisper, "Tod is here!"

"Well ... obviously," I told her, smiling. "Just as I said. We're going to show Tod what we do." Slowly, slowly, I started lifting the thin chain, holding its end between thumb and forefinger.

She moved no further away from me, but remained frozen to the spot, staring intently with a mixture of dread and fascination as the chain grew longer. "Rod," she urged, still in a voice that was barely audible, "this is ... private ... intimate ... I .... Oh, Rod, I don't understand. What are you going to do to me?"

"What does the gem ALWAYS do to you, Pet?" I asked.

The chain had finally, finally reached its end and the hourglass shaped, multi-faceted little object came into view. She gasped loudly, but her hands, which had been raised in front of her in an uncertain gesture, slowly fell to her sides and her shoulders slumped slightly though perceptively. "It makes me sleep," she said, her voice low, but no longer a whisper. "It takes my thoughts away and makes me sleep." She never looked at Tod. Her eyes were locked on the fake crystal.

"Very good," I said mildly. "And now, tell Tod WHY it does that."

"It does that because I ... I like it ... because I want it to."

"Excellent." I advanced toward her, lifting the thing as I did so, and now the trinket was positioned (as I knew from experience) at the ideal level; just above the horizontal plane of her vision, so that her eyes would rapidly grow tired and heavy. They immediately fluttered, but remained captured by thing. "And now tell Tod what you want me to do next."

She hesitated. "I ... I want you to take away my thoughts and make me sleep. But ...."

"But what, Pet?"

"But, Tod is here. I get ... I mean, I feel ... um ... sexy when I do this," she answered, blushing. Her eyes blinked slowly. She was beginning to drowse, her thoughts becoming more dreamlike.

"You mean you feel horny?" I asked her.

She blushed even more. "Um ... yes."

"Very well, Pet. We've talked enough. It's time. Just let the crystal spin ... and watch it. That's it ... very good. What is the crystal doing to you?"

"It's taking away my thoughts," she droned. She was starting to slur her words.

"Just let them go, Pet. And now, let yourself become sleepy." Her eyes closed and struggled to open again, while her head nodded forward, wobbly. "You're doing exceptionally well. I'll count to three, and then I'll let you sleep." I paused for only a moment. "One, Two, Three," I said firmly, authoritatively. At the same time, I lowered the gem and stepped into her, capturing her in my spare arm. Even after a month of this, I still wasn't absolutely positive how she would react while in a standing position. I'd dropped her once, and while no real harm had been done, I didn't want a repeat performance of that little episode, especially with Tod looking on. This time, however, she kept her weight balanced on her legs, though she settled herself into my embrace and rested her head on my shoulder. "Very good, Pet," I continued. "Now, tell me when you are very deep."

She did not respond immediately, and I waited patiently for a long minute. I stole a peek at Tod in the interim, but he was just sitting, watching her closely. He shifted in his seat once, as if his pants were too tight.

Finally, Elaine sighed heavily, opened her eyes, lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me ... then at Tod. She smiled broadly. "I'm there, Master. I'm very deep, and the tight-ass slut is fast asleep." She blushed for some reason, and she lowered her head slightly, but her eyes never left Tod, so that now she was looking at him under slightly hooded lids, making her smile appear more than a bit sinister. "Hi, Tod," she cooed.

I laughed at my brother's unsettled expression. "Tod, I'd like you to meet Elaine's subconscious," I told him. "She's much more ... uh ... compulsive than 'Conscious Elaine,' who is sleeping right now."

"Compulsive," she echoed, not taking her eyes from Tod. "Yes, I'd really like to be ... compulsive right now."

"She's also much less logical than her sleeping counterpart, aren't you, Pet? In fact, there's practically no logic here at all, is there?"

She finally turned her head and looked at me. "Desire isn't a logical frame of mind, Master. Want, need, longing, craving ..." she looked back at Tod, "... lust. Those aren't the building blocks of logic, are they? Those are the things I am made from, not her. But you boys don't mind, do you?" Her smile broadened. "I dreamed about you once," she told Tod. She snapped her head around and looked at me again, her thick brown hair flying. "She never told you about THAT, did she, Master? She didn't have the guts. She was so ashamed!"

I was just a tad intrigued, and perhaps more than just a tad jealous. Still, I had to admit, this was the realm of scientific discovery. This was the way my life had always been. You make a plan based on observations, only to find, once that plan has been set into motion, that there were other important variables which had NOT yet been observed. Tod evidently "had a thing" for my wife, and now, as it turned out, Elaine felt ... well, I still wasn't sure WHAT Elaine felt. "Tell me about your dream, Pet," I ordered. "It was, after all, YOUR dream, wasn't it?"

She laughed. "Well, of course. ALL of her dreams are my doing. This dream was almost a year ago. In that dream, we went to some party somewhere ... and YOU were there," she told Tod. "You took me upstairs to an empty bedroom, and you started kissing me and taking my clothes off." She sighed heavily. "And Miss Prissy-Ass tried to wake up ... but she couldn't ... and so she started, like, 'No, Tod, we can't. We shouldn't. We just can't!' And I was like: 'Oh God! His hands feel so strong on my breasts! And his kisses are making me cream!' and finally, we were naked, and you threw me down on the bed. And, by that time, she was so turned on that she wasn't protesting anymore ... and I spread my legs really wide, and you shoved into me ... and ... and we woke up. We woke up cumming. 

"And YOU were beside her!" she said, turning back to me at last. "And she was cumming and cumming, and she couldn't stop. So she got up and ran into the bathroom. You didn't even wake up. And it really, really scared her. She felt SO guilty. That's just like her, the silly cunt! Feeling guilty for a dream she had no control over! What an idiot!"

I cleared my throat. "Perhaps I should explain that this half of Elaine is prone toward excessive speech," I said to Tod.

She laughed. "If you'd like me to stop talking, Master, I can think of other things I'd MUCH rather be doing. Aren't you forgetting what we were going to DO tonight? We've been thinking about it all day, she and I. My panties are absolutely soaked!"

"Shut up, Elaine," I ordered.

"Yes, Master," she replied simply. The smile dropped off her countenance and she stared silently straight ahead ... which unfortunately, was directly at my twin brother. He was looking very unsettled.

"Okay," I told Tod, though I couldn't really make eye contact after of all that. "Enough of this crap. Remember that this side of Elaine is completely illogical. It IS a part of her, but not the most important part. It was necessary for me to bring this side of her to the fore because she WANTS to give into her feelings. And recently, she HAS been giving into them. And, I'm certain that she'll give into them tonight, as well." I took a breath. "We're almost ready. I'll give her some deep suggestions, and we'll get on with this." Tod still hadn't so much as grunted. 

I put a hand on Elaine's shoulder and turned her toward me, then raised the crystal until it was directly in front of her. Her eyes locked onto it, and she sighed deeply. It was almost a moan. "I am going to take you deeper, Pet," I told her. "Tell me your deepest need. After all the talk about sex, what is it you need to do more than anything else?"

"I need to obey you, Master," she said earnestly.

"What is obedience?" I asked.

"Obedience is pleasure," she replied from rote. "Obedience is a necessity. Obedience is everything."

"I command you to stare into the crystal and go deeper, Pet. I want you to believe. I want you to believe absolutely, completely, utterly ... that you WILL obey me. You will obey without comment or hesitation. You will obey now and when you wake up. For the rest of the night, you will obey. Every single time. After you awaken, you may question my orders ... but that will not alter the fact that you WILL obey them. Always. Do you understand, Pet?"

"Oh, yes, Master."

"Take off your clothes, Pet."

She shivered. Her hands went to the buttons of her blouse. "Oh, Master ... this is ... delicious."

No one spoke further until she was nude. I took away the pendant, but her gaze remained fixed forward as she worked on the task of shedding her garments. Somehow, without looking, she knew right where the chair was, and she draped each article across the back of it. When her task was finally done, she lowered her hands to her sides and waited patiently. Tod made a small noise, deep in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. He was impatient ... not with the pace of events, but with himself, and I got the impression that he had expected his own reactions to be more self-possessed. Elaine, for her part, was obviously turned on. Her nipples were easily twice as thick as they usually were (though Tod, of course, didn't know that, this being the first time he had ever seen her bare breasts), and they were pointing almost accusingly at him. The light from the lamp reflected off a thin sheen of moisture on her inner thighs.

I moved to my wife and stood behind her, then grasped her shoulders and pulled her back into me. She offered no resistance, and when she canted her head back toward me, I placed my lips next to her left ear, speaking low, but not in a whisper. I wanted Tod to hear my instructions.




Signed First Edition Ch. 04



"My words are your thoughts," I told her firmly.

"Yes ...." She shivered as my breath blew lightly across her ear.

"My words are true, and your thoughts confirm them."

"Yes."

"You are confused, Pet," I told her.

"I am?"

"Yes. Your thoughts have been confused all evening. They will be for the rest of the evening. Luckily, my suggestions will guide you. Why did you take off your clothes?"

"I ... I thought .... Didn't you want me to?"

"I believe that you were so horny tonight on the way home, that you took them off right away ... just as soon as you came inside ... because you wanted so badly to make love to me. You took them off before you noticed that Tod was here. You were naked before you noticed that he was in the room."

"I ... I thought ...."

"You are very confused, Pet."

She swayed slightly, frowning. A blush spread across her upper chest and face. "Oh, my gosh! She is going to be SO embarrassed! She is really going to freak!"

"No, you won't," I told her calmly. "The damage has already been done. Tod has already seen you. There is nothing you can do now. You will just stand here, with your hands at your sides. You might be embarrassed ... but now, the only thing you are going to do is wait and see what I SUGGEST that you do. Why is that, Pet?"

"Because ... because I'm really confused tonight. You'll know what's best. I'll just obey you."

"That's very good, Pet. That's exactly what you're going to do." I paused. Her breathing had gotten a little ragged. "And we must consider what all of this is doing to Tod." I gave her a moment to consider this. "What do you think is happening to Tod right now, Pet?"

"He's getting turned on, of course. I mean, I'm standing here in front of him, bare-ass naked! You KNOW that he is going to want me!"

"That's only natural, of course," I told her matter-of-factly. "And whose fault is THAT?"

She nibbled the corner of her lower lip. "It's mine. I'm the one that's naked. It's not HIS fault. He's just acting naturally."

"Exactly. You are making him VERY uncomfortable. And you are VERY confused, aren't you? I mean, what can you do to relieve his discomfort?"

"I ... I don't know. I'm very confused."

"Yes. And so, when I suggest something that you can do to relieve his discomfort, you will accept that suggestion, won't you? You will treat my suggestions as if they are orders, won't you? You will do that, because Tod is very, very uncomfortable, and because YOU are the reason for that terrible discomfort, aren't you, Pet?"

She whimpered. "I ... I'm so sorry, Tod. I ...."

"And when I wake you up from your trance, you won't remember going to sleep or what we said or did ... you'll just know that everything we've discussed is true. And you'll accept the fact that you're very confused this evening. And you won't try to run or cover yourself, because Tod has already seen you; and it wouldn't do any good, anyway; so you'll just stand here with your hands at your sides, and you'll hope that I will make a suggestion that can make things better. And you'll hope that I will suggest how you can ease Tod's discomfort, because it's your fault, after all. And you'll be very embarrassed, I'm sure. What happens to you when you get embarrassed, Pet?"

She swallowed hard. "I get aroused. I get really, really aroused."

"Wake up, Pet!" And I snapped my fingers loudly, just behind her head.

She swayed slightly, left, then right. She made a small, uncertain, noise, then spun around and looked at me, her expression somewhere between utter panic and abject guilt. She reached out for my hand, but stopped herself, lowered her arm back to her side, and turned slowly back toward my brother.

"Tod," she faltered. "Tod ... I'm SO sorry. I ... I don't know what got into me. You see ... Rod and I have been trying for so long to have a baby. And I've been timing myself ... my cycle, I mean ... and I've even been taking my temperature four times a day, so that I can determine the exact moment of ... of ovulation. And we KNEW it was going to be ... to be sometime today. And ... and it's happening now. Right now. So I rushed home, and I ... I didn't know you were here. And I started getting ready to have ... to have ... um ... sex with Rod. And ... and ...." She shuddered for a moment, almost as if she'd had a small orgasm. A tiny squeak escaped her. She cleared her throat and heaved a large sigh. "Tod ... I know that I'm the reason for your ... uh .... I mean, you must have a big ... uh ... I mean, I've made you really uncomfortable, and I wish there was something I could ... uh ...." 

While all this was being said, I'd moved up a step, so that I was standing beside her. Now, she turned to me frantically, desperately. "Elaine, what's gotten into you?" I asked softly.

"I ... I'm very ... confused tonight," she told me softly.

"Perhaps if I took away your choices, you wouldn't make the wrong ones," I told her.

She blinked up at me. "What?"

"Give me your right hand, Pet," I ordered. 

Immediately, she held her right arm out to me, then blinked in consternation. 'What ... what are you going to do?"

I held her right hand in my left one, then I began tracing a line around her wrist with the thumb and forefinger of my other hand. Her eyes widened, and she gasped audibly. "Rod ... you ... uh ... shouldn't be doing that here ... uh ... now. Tod is watching!"

I barked a laugh. "Yes, you're right. Tod doesn't understand. Why don't you explain it to him? Tell him what we're doing. Don't you think you owe him that?"

For a moment, she looked like she was going to cry, but she swallowed nervously and took a deep breath to steady herself. I took her left wrist without resistance and laid it across her right one, then continued to trace around and around the pair of them. She looked uncertainly back at my brother.

"Tod, Rod is tying me up with an invisible string. There isn't REALLY an invisible string, of course ... and I'm sure that all of this sounds incredibly ... um ... strange ... and ... uh ... I guess it is. But you see, the string is real for me because ... um ... because I WANT it to be real ... because ... um .... Well, the truth of it is, I LIKE being tied up, and so he hypnotized me, and I want it so much, that it IS real ... at least to me." She looked at him imploringly. "Does that make sense?"

Tod just stared at her, and she began flexing her hands nervously in front of her. I broke the perceived tension. "Pet, could you please go get Tod and me another beer?"

She backed away from him, shuffling her feet as she went, then turned abruptly and fled into the kitchen. I took the opportunity for a little last-minute fine tuning of my plan. "When she comes back, just sit there and relax," I told him. "It's libel to get a little strange."

He looked at me aghast. "Gosh, Bro, 'ya think?"

I didn't have a comeback for that comment, and before I could come up with any other instructions for completing my nefarious scheme, Elaine was back, trying desperately to keep the two bottles from sloshing and spilling in her crossed hands. She gave me the bottle that was most in danger of dribbling, then approached my brother, still seated in the middle of the couch. He just sat there for a long half-minute, looking her up and down while she held the bottle out to him and blushing crimson. Finally, he sighed and reached out and took it. 

"Elaine, are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed and took a breath. "Actually, I'm ... uh ... very thirsty," she stammered.

He grinned and handed the bottle back to her. She smiled wanly and took a deep gulp of the beer, then another, and another. She sighed with some small show of relief, started to hand the beer to him again, then quickly took two more gulps before giving it back. Tod laughed and set the near-empty bottle on the small table beside the couch, then he sat back and continued scrutinizing my wife's naked body. Elaine made a small noise, deep in her throat, but remained standing with erect posture, her crossed hands not quite able to cover her pubic region. At first, I thought her eyes were lowered submissively downward, but slowly, I began to realize that she was staring at his crotch.

I coughed gently but neither of them seemed to notice. Finally, I said: "Pet, what do you intend to do about Tod?"

She didn't look at me. "Do?"

"He's very uncomfortable, and it IS your fault. You should do something for him."

She took a shuddering breath. "I ... I'm ... uh ... really sorry, Tod. I know you must find it hard ... um ... I mean ..." She swallowed again. "I mean ... Rod's right. I should do something to ... um ... ease your ... your ...." Her words stalled, and she glanced up pleadingly into his eyes before allowing them to wander back down to the bulge in his jeans. In a move that shocked everybody, she was suddenly on her knees between his legs. Instinctively, as a man will always do when something is travelling toward his lap, he moved his knees together, but this only succeeded in trapping her body between them. Her hands were groping at this belt buckle, which was one of those big western-style things. "I'll ... uh ... I'll just touch you, Tod," she muttered in ragged, breathless speech. "I'll touch you and relieve your ... um ... your stress ... that I made you ... um ...."

Tod had pushed himself back into the couch cushions as she leapt toward him, but now he put his hands on her shoulders, a look of stunned uncertainty in his eyes. "Uh ... Elaine ...."

"It's okay, Tod," she told him almost frantically. "I'll just touch you for awhile and make you ... um ... I mean, I'll relieve your ... uh ...." She exhaled an exasperated groan. "Oh, Tod, I need to make you cum, okay? I'm going to touch you and make you cum, because I took off my clothes, and now you're really hard, I can tell. You're really big, and it's my fault, and so now, I'm going to touch you and make you cum, because ... because .... How do you make this stupid belt buckle work?!?"

HE was flustered now. "Um ... you ... uh ... Oh here. Let me do it." He reached down beneath her struggling fingers and did something that made the buckle suddenly spring loose. Her hand went immediately to the button on his jeans, but because of their crossed position, she found it impossible to accomplish this task, either, and he aided her further by releasing that, as well. In the next instant, she had his zipper down. She reached up and grabbed a fistful of waistband and frantically began tugging the jeans and underwear down over his hips. He shifted his lower body upward toward her, and as the garment was pulled below his hip level, his hard cock sprang upward and hit her on the chin.

He sagged back into the cushions of the couch as Elaine wrapped the slender fingers of one hand around his rigid member and began stroking him full length, from tip to base, and a deep groan found its way out of his throat. A smile flickered across her lips momentarily and she increased her tempo. "Do you like this, Tod?" she queried, glancing up into his eyes momentarily, then back at her task. "You really ARE just like Rod. You're exactly the same size ... only you get hard much sooner. But you feel the same way ... you throb in my hand the same way." She stroked a few more times. "Rod likes me to massage his balls." She shifted her grip to his nuts, then found out that if she switched hands, she could stroke his cock and squeeze his balls at the same time.

"Oh, Christ, Elaine!" he moaned, and tilted his head back against the rear cushions of the couch.

"That's not enough, Pet," I told her firmly. "He obviously likes it. It's turning him on. And I can tell it's turning you on, as well, isn't it?" She shook her head for a brief instant, her eyes never leaving the dripping cock in her gripping fingers, but then she took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. She was shaking slightly, and a sound issued from her lips, somewhere between a moan and a whine. "He wants that," I told her, "but he wants more, too. Look how hard he is, Pet. Look what you've done to him. You need to do more."

"Oh, Tod," she said, still not looking away from his cock. "Tod, I'm so sorry."

He coughed, then looked back down at her. "Elaine, you don't have to feel sorry about anyth .... Oh, fuck!" And he watched in awe as my wife suddenly lunged forward and engulfed half of his iron-hard prick in her warm, moist mouth. Slowly, he allowed his head to lean back once again. His hips strained forward involuntarily and she took even more of him orally. Unpredictably, his body jerked and a small cry escaped him.

It suddenly dawned on me what he had told me before. He wasn't seeing anyone at the moment. I didn't really keep up with Tod's liaisons, dalliances or sexual conquests. I had no idea how long it had been for him, but I knew how I got when I hadn't had sex in awhile, and I was immediately cognizant of the possibility of things approaching a conclusion before my plans had the chance to come to fruition (so to speak).

"Stop, Elaine!" I ordered firmly. At once, she drew back away from him, her lips making a wet, smacking sound as she did so, and she turned her questioning eyes toward me. "That's still not enough, Pet," I told her more tenderly.

"But ... but there's nothing more I can do," she said plaintively, nervously, hopefully.

I was having problems with concentration myself by this point, no doubt due, at least in part, to the third empty beer bottle sitting beside my chair and the steel-like bulge in my pants, not necessarily in that order. I swallowed and returned her gaze as steadily as I could. "Of course there's more you can do. You would be aware of that if you weren't so confused this evening ... or so aroused. You aren't thinking clearly. Look at him, Pet." She shifted her gaze back before her and did as I ordered. "You've made him like this. Like it or not, you need to make it better. Do it, Elaine. Do it now."

In an instant, she was on her feet and moving onto the couch, one knee on either side of his hips, and she was inching forward, shuffling her legs, drawing nearer and nearer, until she could feel his cock, which was straining straight up from his lap, against the moist crevasse between her legs. She froze then, and looked frantically back over her shoulder at me, her eyes one big imploring question mark. Her lower lip was trembling and she was breathing hard. "Rod ... what do you ...?"

"Don't ask me," I interrupted. "Ask Tod what HE wants. Or do you already know?"

She turned around and looked into his eyes, studying them intently. But then, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Her arms were in front of her, between them, bent at the elbows, her hands near her face. Now, she leaned back slightly, lifted her hands upward, and put them over his head, resting her forearms on his shoulder. "Yes, of course, I know what you want," she told him. "It's something you've wanted for a long time, isn't it, Tod?" She moved forward even more, and now, her large, soft breasts flattened against his chest.

Tod opened his mouth to answer, but she didn't let him have the chance. "Please," she said softly. "My hands are tied, and I can't reach down. Please put it inside me. Do it now, Tod. Do it right now, before I have a chance to think about it anymore."

He breathed a ragged exhalation. "Elaine, we don't have to do this. I don't want to force you ...."

But she had raised her hips up, then lowered them, once, twice, trying to find the tip of his cock with her gaping sex. Yet again, she lifted herself. "Please, Tod. Don't make me beg for it. I'm so ashamed. Please put it in. Please."

With a groan of resignation, he reached down and grasped himself, then began moving the head of it fore and aft, making her gasp loudly each time he rubbed it against her clit, before finally finding the target and thrusting his hips upward, sinking deeply into her. She threw her head back and issued a guttural "Ooohhh!" and forced her body down fully onto his. And then they stopped moving altogether for a long while, just sitting there, shivering from time to time, clutching each other.

At last, Elaine forced herself to move her face until it was in front of his, their noses touching, their eyes locked into one another's. "Tod, please," she whispered loudly.

"What, Elaine? Tell me what you want," he answered tenderly.

She took another deep breath. "I'm ... I'm so confused tonight. It's just that ... that ...."

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Please, Tod. Kiss me. Please kiss me."

And his lips assaulted hers passionately. Her fingers laced themselves in his hair. His hands, seemingly, were everywhere ... her back, her ass, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. All I seemed to be able to do was look on unbelieving. I had planned it. I had orchestrated it. Never had I envisioned THIS! The evening was supposed to be a "slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am" sort of affair ... at least in my mind's eye. My first inclination was to call out and interrupt them, but I had to admit, this was my own moronic doing ... not theirs; and so I remained silent and watched them miserably, though my suffering didn't seem to be making my own erection subside.

At long last, they broke the kiss, and seemingly automatically, Elaine began lifting her body up and lowering it on his shaft. "Tod ..." she groaned.

"Y... yes?"

"Tod, I ... I'm very ... um ... fertile right now ... and we ... we're not ... um ... protected." She pumped up, pumped down. 

"Elaine," he husked. "I'm sorry. I ...."

"It's not you, Tod. I ... I ... Oh, my gosh! Oh, Tod ... this feels SO goooood!" She pumped up, pumped down, over and over.

Now, finally, Tod shifted his gaze over her shoulder and look at me. I cleared my throat. "More than two thirds of all women find it impossible to achieve orgasm through coitus alone," I told him in as steady a voice as I could find. "Elaine is like that. All women WANT to have that ability, of course. And so ... I used repeated deep hypnotic suggestions to give her that gift. She will cum when you have thrust into her twenty-five times. She is mentally unable to count the thrusts ... but she KNOWS she will cum. She can't help it."

My wife was losing control. Her frantic, frenzied plunges onto his cock were picking up tempo, and she was leaning back, so that he was achieving maximum penetration. Tod took a ragged breath. "And just what makes you think that I'M going to last that long?"

But Elaine was there. She climbed to her peak and her whole body crashed into the chaos of sexual oblivion. Her breaths were coming short and hard, and each exhalation was a shout: "OH! OH! OH! OH!" which she moaned into the side of his neck, clutching his body to hers. She had stopped her vertical manipulations on his cock when she had begun cumming, and she had ground herself down hard onto him, but her hips now began rocking forward and back to the pace of her cries. At long last, her movements slowed ... then finally stopped, and she cuddled into him, sighing contentedly.

No one spoke for a long minute. Then, she drew her face back and looked into his eyes again. "You didn't cum," she told him softly.

"Elaine," he told her earnestly, "we need to talk about this. You need to know ...."

But she silenced him with a tender kiss that went on for several long seconds. Her hips began to gyrate again, slowly at first, then more rapidly. When she drew back from the kiss, she kept her face close, intimate. "Do it, Tod," she told him. "You need this. You REALLY need this." Her pace continued to quicken.

"Wait," he urged. "Elaine ... if you don't stop, I'm going to ...."

"Yes!" she told him firmly, not quite a shout. "Yes, Tod! We can't stop it! Neither one of us can stop this! Do it, Tod! Do it! Cum for me! Please! Fill me! Fill me up! OOOHH!"




Signed First Edition Ch. 04



He roared like a wounded lion, threw his arms around her waist, low, forcing her hips hard onto him and his body shook violently. Elaine leaned back, back, until her hands slipped from around his neck, and she arched rearward, forcing herself even more violently onto the invading, spewing cock inside her. Her head tilted back toward me, her hair trailing down toward the floor, and I was shocked to see that her eyes had rolled back into her head, her mouth shaped in a voiceless "O." 

After a long half-minute, she slowly brought herself back to their comfortable embrace. They were both breathing hard. "Oh, gosh, Tod," she told him. "You came SO hard inside me. OH! Oh, my gosh! You're STILL cumming! I can feel you! Mmmmm."

I let this go on for another couple minutes and then finally got to my feet. I had to readjust the front of my jeans before I could walk to them. Gently, I laid a hand on her shoulder, and she turned and looked up into my eyes.

"He came inside me, Rod," she told me.

"Yes, Pet, I know."

"What should I do?" she asked, confused, concerned.

"You should do what I order you to do," I told her firmly.

"Yes," was her automatic response.

"Now, listen to me, Pet. After a woman has sex, after the man pulls out of her, it is a very normal reaction for her to contract the muscles in her vagina. I mean, there was something big in there, and when you suddenly feel empty, those muscles just naturally clench because of the void. That's what makes the famous 'wet spot.'" She and Tod both looked at me like I was more than a little crazy. "But this time, I order you to make a conscious effort NOT to let the muscles of your cunt flex or contract. Do you understand?"

She blinked up at me. "I ... uh ... I ..."

"Just think about it as it happens," I commanded. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Tod demanded.

"I'm improving those odds I told you about earlier," I said. I looked back at my wife. "Now, Elaine, Tod is going to bend you way over the edge of the couch, and he's going to stay inside you while he does that. I don't want you to pull away from him. Just let him move you and hang onto him ... and keep him inside you."

"Uhhh ..." she hesitated.

"Tod," I said, "lie on your side on the couch." He looked as if he was going to protest strongly, but did as I asked, lying down while keeping himself inside her. "Alright," I continued, "now, twist both of you so that Elaine's head is down on the floor and her hips and legs are up here on the couch." It took a lot of concentration on his part, and he winced once when he twisted his knee beyond the extent he should have, but eventually my wife was in the position I had describe. "Okay ... now pull out of her very, very slowly. And Elaine, remember what I said earlier, and keep all the muscles inside you very loose and very, very relaxed."

Eventually, Tod moved away from her, leaving her with her shoulder blades on the carpeted floor and her hips up on the couch. I grabbed a pillow from the corner of the couch and put it under her knees, only accentuating this weird posture.

"I ... I don't understand what what's happening," she said in a small voice.

"That's because you are very confused tonight," I told her. I lay down on the floor, spun around and shimmied toward the couch on my back until I had matched her strange position, my back on the floor, my feet on the couch. As an afterthought, I toed off my shoes. "There, I told her. We're just going to lie her for an hour or so, okay?"

"An hour?" she asked blankly.

"Yes, but first, I'm going to insert something into you. I want you to remain very, very relaxed, and don't fight it, okay?"

She blinked at me. "What?" She stared at me for a long minute, looked over at Tod, who had just finished re-buckling his belt, and then returned her gaze to me again.

I had stashed a couple items related to my plan under the couch. I stuck my hand under the front of it and pulled out a short, fat dildo that Elaine had purchased during her sex-toy "party" many weeks before. Her eyes widened in shock. "Rod! What are you ...?"

"Do as I command, Pet," I ordered sternly. "Relax all your muscles ... and let me ...." I rolled slightly toward her, then positioned the rubbery device at her opening and began slowly, slowly pushing it into her. Her breath caught for a long moment before being exhaled in an extended groan. She was looking up at Tod, and her body was shaking slightly. Finally, the thing was in her. Some of my brother's fluids had been forced out of her as it had been driven in, but now, whatever was inside her was trapped. I reached back under the forward edge of the couch and fished around for a few seconds before pulling out the vibrator ... another of the purchases from that "party." I set it abuzz, then adjusted the base of it, turning it to its maximum setting.

She whined pitiably. "Oh, Rod! What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Do as I command, Elaine ... then I'll tell you. I want you to take this and put it on the exact spot that is most sensitive. I want you to make yourself cum. Put it on just the spot that will do that. If you don't know where that is, experiment until you find it ... then leave it right there until you have an orgasm. Don't argue. Do it now."

"Oh, Rod!" she groaned, giving a little sob. But she took the growling device and stuck it between her legs.

"What the fuck!?" Tod barked, his eyes almost savage.

"I think you're familiar with my prejudice against old wives' tales," I told him levelly. "And yet, it's obvious that at least SOME of them would be based on a degree of scientific proof." He blinked at me, uncomprehending. "In medical science," I continued, "no one really knows WHY women have orgasms. I mean, why would nature instill such a thing, when there is no good reason for its evolution?"

Beside me, Elaine issued a breathy "Ooohhhh!" and shuddered perceptively.

"Did you find the right spot, Pet?" I asked.

"Ah ... oh ... yes, Rod."

"Good girl. Now don't move it until you've cum." I looked back up at Tod. "Oh, there are lots of scientific hypothesis, though nothing really conclusive. But there's always been an old wives' tale that suggests pregnancy is more likely if the woman experiences orgasm during sex. Oddly enough, while it is obviously VERY possible to get pregnant without one, the increase in odds is statistically significant. The big question, of course, is: why? There are several opinions. I happen to have one, myself."

"But she already came with ME," Tod told me harshly. "Why embarrass her further now?"

I smiled at him. "No, Tod, she didn't. She THOUGHT she came ... and in fact, she is incapable of telling the difference. It was intense, it was immensely satisfying ... but it was all in her mind, triggered by deep-set posthypnotic suggestion. And even if she HAD cum, I don't think it would have made a difference, conception-wise ... because YOU hadn't cum yet."

"OH GOSH!" Elaine exclaimed, beginning to shake and arch her back off the floor. Idly, I reached over, pinched her swollen right nipple and began rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.

"I really believe that the only way a woman's orgasm could possibly increase the chances of pregnancy is if her internal muscles contract and physically draw the sperm toward the ovum."

Elaine screamed. Her body involuntarily sat up toward her raised knees and ass, then smacked back down onto the carpeted floor, shaking violently, her head rolling from side to side. Her "bound" hands dropped the buzzing device and went to her breast, trapping my hand against her nipple, while the vibrator slid between us and continued its incessant humming. She was panting hard, a sort of "Huh! Huh! Huh!" sound as the muscles of her stomach and ass continued to spasm involuntarily. Perspiration was beading all over her straining body. 

At long last, she subsided into breathless panting, then finally relaxed against my shoulder. She looked weakly up at me. "You're ... you're trying to make me pregnant," she said in a small voice. "You're trying to make me pregnant with Tod's baby."

"The magic of it is," I told her softly, "we will never really know for sure."

"What?" she asked.

"There's not a DNA test in the world that's able to determine paternity between identical twins," I told her.

"DNA?" she asked, really confused now.

My brother started walking toward the front door. "Tod!" she cried plaintively. "Don't go! Please!"

But he kept walking. He opened the door and then paused. "Bro," he said seriously, "you can be an A-Number-One asshole, you know that?" And with a slam, he was gone.

I looked after him, baffled. "What the hell is HE so pissed off about?" I groused. "It's not like I asked him to do something horrible or anything. I think he's wanted to take you for a long time now."

"Take me?" she asked incredulously. "Rod ... he's in LOVE with me! Can't you see that?"

I couldn't think of anything to say. Finally reaching down and turning off the damned vibrator didn't seem to help. I guess we made quite a strange picture, lying on the floor like that, our butts in the air, me fully clothed and her naked as the day she was born. We were silent for a long, long time before she finally spoke in a sad whisper.

"What are we going to do about him?"

...............

To Be Continued... 



Signed First Edition Ch. 05



I'm afraid that I'm going to have to make a small administrative note. The reader has been very patient with me thus far in my tale. However, to maintain accuracy with regards to the timeframe from this point forward, I must dramatically abbreviate some of my entries. As you notice the days flying by, please take note of the relative high points as I plunge recklessly toward the introduction and integration of one new major character in our little drama and a brief reintroduction of an older one.

.........................

NOVEMBER 24th, 2011

For the first time ever, Tod did not make it to Pop's house for Thanksgiving dinner. He called to make his regrets (though he didn't talk to me, personally), and explain that he had a job interview on Friday in Salinas. That, of course, was a lie. He was so pissed off about what I'd had him do that he didn't want to be around me.

...........................

DECEMBER 2nd, 2011

This was the first day I became cognizant that Elaine was away from the house more and more often. When I asked her about it, she told me that she was really getting into the Christmas spirit this year, and was hanging out at the mall and other shopping centers. I didn't question her further. Looking back on it, I should have known that her devious little mind was hatching some exotic scheme ... the type that only Elaine seems capable of putting together.

.........................

DECEMBER 9th, 2011

I decided to phone and have it out with my brother, and if he didn't answer my call (the way he'd refused to answer my three previous attempts) I was going to track him down and talk to him in person. To my surprise, however, he picked it up on the second ring. 

I told him I was sorry, and he said he accepted my apology. That sort of threw me a little. I was expecting a bit more indignation, and maybe a verbal fight. Somewhat at a loss for words, I mentioned that we'd missed him at Thanksgiving ... that we should go out and do dinner soon ... that maybe we could do some skiing up in the mountains. I tried to start all sorts of lines of conversation, with only non-committal comments and grunts in response, until I finally broke the code. He was still pissed off at me, but it was going to be alright. He just needed to nurse his righteous anger a few more days before finally allowing the hard feelings to slip away. I'm not sure just HOW I knew that, but I did. Maybe some of those old wives' tales are right after all. Maybe twins DO just know.

.............................

DECEMBER 14th, 2011

I arrived back from a day at the UCLA Library. I had decided to finish up the doctorate, taking one or two courses in the next semester. After all, I only had five courses and the thesis to go. Traffic was bad, and it took me two and a half hours to make it home. I'd phoned ahead twice to tell Elaine that I was going to be late. Whatever foul mood the freeways had produced fled, however, when I walked in the front door and was assaulted by the wonderful aroma of the meal my wife had prepared. I walked into the kitchen just as she was finishing with the salad, and she turned to me, smiling and shy in a wonderfully slinky negligee, rushing to give me a deep kiss. I asked her the occasion, hoping beyond hope that I hadn't forgotten something important, but she just moved away from me and took a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. I tried to take it from her to pop the cork, but she insisted on doing it herself. She'd obviously orchestrated this, and after finally bouncing the cork off the ceiling and squealing as the bottle frothed onto the tiled floor, she poured a full flute for me, but only two scant drops in her own glass. She smiled broadly while the glasses dinged musically together in a toast.

"Is that all you're having?" I asked, with a lifted eyebrow.

"I'm not having any alcohol for nine months," she told me merrily, and then shrieked in laughter as I picked her up and twirled her about several times.

Through the course of the meal and the hour in bed making love afterwards, she told me about her appointment at the doctor's office, confirming what the home pregnancy kit had already indicated. She was wonderfully excited and happy, and glowed almost constantly. We talked about the future, where the nursery was going to be, what colors we were going to paint it, where the little tyke was going to go to college, and on and on and on.

Finally, lying in my arms after a very, very tender lovemaking session, she began tracing circles through my chest hair, which meant, I knew, that she had something serious to say. "What is it, Pet?" I asked her.

"I am better than you," she said softly.

"Oh, ARE you now?"

"Yes," she answered without humor. "I am capable of more diverse thought processes."

"More ... diverse?" I asked, grinning. "Diversity isn't always better, where thought processes are concerned."

"But yes, it is," she told me. "I believe it is, anyway. It is the way I am. I would like you to respect me, please. Respect the way I am."

I frowned. "Elaine, you should never doubt my respect for you ... ever. What is this all about?"

"I have faith, Rod. You do not. For you, faith is only a belief that needs to be proven scientifically. Without that evidence, faith ceases to exist. For me, faith doesn't NEED to pass a test to survive."

"Are we talking religion here?" I asked curiously. I looked down at her, into her eyes, and couldn't read whatever was there. "Tell me what it is that you believe," I urged. "And yes, I WILL respect whatever it is."

She took a breath. "Rod, this child is yours. Not Tod's ... yours. We had sex the day before Tod and I ... um ... did it. And we had sex the day after." I couldn't stop a small smile, and I instantly regretted it. She looked away, hurt.

"Pet, I ...."

"Rod, this is just a feeling I have. Call it a conviction, if you want. Deep in my heart, deep in my soul, I just KNOW that this baby is yours." She sighed deeply. "Now, I realize that you have the power to make me change my mind. I know that you can hypnotize me and ...."

"Ah, THAT's what this is about!" I said, nodding. Now, my smile was genuine, and she seemed to pick up on that, a look of hope in her eyes. "Pet," I told her earnestly, "first of all, I cannot MAKE you think something you don't WANT to think. Hypnotically, I can suggest something ... but your conscious mind doesn't HAVE to accept that suggestion if it doesn't want to. And secondly, I would never try to force you to believe something that you didn't want to ... or vice versa. Of course I respect you. I love you."

She was silent for a long time, and I, being a rather dense fellow, didn't realize that she was crying. Maybe there's a reason guys are dense. As it turned out, being silent and just holding her was exactly what I should have done. I decided to consider such actions in the form of a scientific theorem. I could call it "natural male dominance through denseness."

..................

DECEMBER 19th, 2011

I don't know what there was about Southern California that attracted pulp authors from the early Twentieth Century, but there sure were a lot of them (many transplanted from out east ... the way most Californians were). Carroll John Daly, Raymond Chandler, Erle Stanley Gardner ... the list goes on and on. But right at the top of most critics' lists sits Edgar Rice Burroughs. Burroughs' large ranch, between Burbank and Thousand Oaks, eventually became the city of Tarzana (and if you can't figure out how they came up with that name, then you obviously don't know who the man was). I had just returned from a fan convention there when I was verbally accosted by my lovely wife.

"Where have you BEEN!?!" she shrieked, pushing me back toward the door.

"I told you ..." I stuttered defensively, "... they were having this pulp convention ...."

She was shoving me back in the direction of the car. I wisely decided not to argue. "I've been trying to call you!" she shouted accusingly.

Now, I WAS feeling guilty. "I ... uh ... set my cell phone to vibrate because we were in a theater watching outtakes from the first Johnny Weissmuller movie," I tried to explain. "I forgot to ... uh ...." I gave it up and climbed behind the wheel. "Where are we going?"

She shushed me and worked frantically with the GPS for a few moments, reading an address from a scrap of paper. The device started barking orders and I sighed and set off. "We're going out to dinner," she said, fastening her seat belt.

"Where?"

She replied with our favorite restaurant in Burbank, which really confused me, because the GPS was sending us to someplace here in Pasadena. In response, she broke into a twenty-four carat smile and said: "I've FOUND her, Rod!"

I cleared my throat. "Okay. The way you said that makes me think that perhaps I should know what in the hell you're talking about. You found WHO?"

She sat back and grinned in a self-satisfied way. "I found ME!"

For a moment, I wondered if maybe I shouldn't be driving to the nearest mental health facility. "And you live ..." I pointed at the GPS, "... there?"

She laughed. "Oh, Rod, just wait until you meet her! You'll see! She walks like me, she talks like me, she THINKS like me! She's closer to me than ... ME!"

I shook my head slightly, as if something was a little loose in there. "And ... um ... how did you happen to meet ... you?"

She laughed again. "Her name is Sandy. And I saw her coming out of Trader Joe's and walking toward the downtown shops. I've been looking for ... um ... likely candidates for a few weeks now. And suddenly, there she was! So I followed her, and when I saw her sit down at an outdoor café, I got something and asked if I could join her. And we just started talking about ...."

I was just about to ask the obvious question, but this last sentence pushed it right out of my head. "You sat down with ...?"

"I know. That's so incredibly UNLIKE me, isn't it? I mean, I'm too shy to EVER do something like that, aren't I?" She hesitated, blushed, looked at me askance for a moment and said: "Remember our first date?"

My thoughts were suddenly going in so many different directions at once that I had to concentrate hard on my driving. "Um ... of course I remember our first date."

"Remember how I went to the ladies' room and I was ... gone for awhile?"

"I was afraid you'd run off and left me," I answered, nodding, as the GPS barked another order.

"I was in there throwing up," she said.

I shot a glance at her. "Well, THAT's a hell of thing to tell a guy!"

"Oh, you can take the truth now," she said confidently. "But you were SO charming, and SO nice ... and all at once, I was SO in love with you! And, you know how nervous and shy I am ... and I just KNEW I was going to blow it! My first big chance at happiness!" She sighed, grinning at the past. Then, she turned and looked at me for emphasis. "But that's the way SHE is! Sandy is just like a little baby bird that you hold in your palm, and she's frightened of the world and the evil things in it, but all she REALLY wants is to have faith and trust, and lose herself to friendship and love ..." she paused again, "... just like me."

The GPS announced that we had reached our destination. I pulled over and stopped, when I suddenly remembered the forgotten thought. "What do you mean you were looking for 'likely candidates?'" I asked. "Likely candidates for WHAT?"

She blinked and looked at me. "Why, for TOD, of course."

I was thunderstruck. "Elaine, what have you done?"

"We're picking up Sandy, and then we're meeting Tod at the restaurant ... in ..." she checked her watch, "... twenty minutes."

"You got Tod to agree to a blind date? Tod has never been on a blind date in his LIFE!"

Now, she fidgeted. "Well, I didn't really tell him we were bringing her."

I closed my eyes and opened them again. Nope, this wasn't a nightmare. This was horrifyingly real. She got out of the car. Then I, rushing too fast, fumbling with the handle, somehow got my door open and got out, as well. "Elaine! You can't ...."

She stopped her quick pace toward the front door of an apartment building and turned back toward me. "Rod! Get back in the car! She doesn't know YOU'RE going out with us, either. Remember what I told you ... she's very nervous ... and painfully shy. Just sit there and ... uh ... be charming." And she spun on her heel and sprinted into the apartment house.

I got back behind the wheel and tried to understand the magnitude of what was happening. Without giving it a second thought, I took my cell phone and dialed Tod's cell number. It went right to voice mail, and I left an urgent message to call me. Just to make sure, I called his apartment number, as well, but it rang the requisite four times before going to voice mail, too. I sighed. As if he wasn't torqued off at me enough as it was! Oh man, he was NEVER going to forgive me for THIS!

Elaine was suddenly back with another girl at her side. Protocol demanded that I do something more than just sit there, so I once again opened the car door and got out to meet this lady. I don't like to boast, but I believe I deserve some sort of award for not laughing out loud.

The woman was so incredibly UNLIKE Elaine, that at first, I considered the comparison to be as close to an opposite as I could imagine. My wife is moderately tall. Sandy is so short that the word "petite" hardly does her justice. Elaine's brown hair is long, Sandy's is dramatically short ... almost a butch ... and it was fiery red rather than blonde, as you'd expect a "Sandy" to be. A smattering of freckles adorned the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Also, if you were to put Elaine in silhouette and digitize the picture, every pixel would fall on an arc. She is made up entirely of curves. But Sandy's outline is all conjoining straight lines. And while Elaine is far from fat, her body is full and soft. Sandy, on the other hand, while far from skinny, is slender, muscular, athletic. 

I put out my hand to her as my wife introduced us, and her initial reaction was to shrink back from me. She was sort of a cross between a frightened rabbit and a deer caught in the headlights. I seemed to fascinate and terrify her in the same instant. She blinked up at me, then resolutely took my hand and gripped it firmly, though her eyes were able to make contact for only a few seconds. I held the back door for her, and the way she looked at it, you'd think I was asking her to enter the cavern leading to the River Styx. She gulped and shivered, then resolutely got in. I glanced questioningly at Elaine, who uncharacteristically smiled, rolled her eyes toward the heavens and gave a self-congratulatory fist-pump, before dashing around the car and climbing into the front passenger seat.

There comes a time of the day in Los Angeles when the traffic breaks free and proceeds almost instantaneously from bumper-to-bumper-stop-and-go to full-speed-ahead. It's a different time every day, of course ... as well as a different time for each freeway. For whatever reason, that time had passed on the 134, and we made the restaurant right on schedule. All the way there, Elaine chattered like a caged finch, never giving either of us other occupants the chance to chime in or begin a conversation.

Sandy followed along like a little child trailing behind her parents as we made our way into the restaurant and toward the place where Tod already sat waiting. We stood facing each other at the table for only a second before Elaine started in on the introductions; but then, for what seemed like an hour, time stood still. Sandy looked as if she'd been stricken with a sudden fatal disease. Tod, however, seemed to think the whole thing was preposterous to the point of hilarity. He threw back his head and laughed, which, at first, angered Elaine and practically caused Sandy to swoon. But while most laughter is contagious, Tod's is particularly so, and I couldn't seem to stop myself from joining in. Elaine finally followed suit, and even Sandy cracked a smile. 

As we all sat down, Tod accused me of high treason, and informed me that he was already beginning to think in terms of payback. I indignantly pointed out that his cell phone was off (actually the battery had died), which now made my wife accuse me of the same crime. Sandy, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, interrupted with that age-old question: "Are you guys TWINS?"

And so the evening progressed in a series of fits and starts. This was one of the thousand eateries in the LA area that boasted the "Best Burger in Town," and we decided to test that claim; the ladies splitting something with avocados on it, while Tod and I each went whole hog, with bacon and cheese and sundry other ingredients. To my amazement, as the meal was ending, we learned that Sandy worked at JPL in Pasadena as a data coordinator for nuclear space systems, which prompted me to try to explain the differences between nuclear power generation and nuclear propulsion. Before I could really get into that wonderful topic, however, Elaine kicked me under the table (the first time she'd ever done that) and announced: "Yes, I'd LOVE to dance."

"Dance?" I asked, dumbfounded. A band had just struck up, though that particular thought had NEVER occurred to me. She was already up and heading toward the dance floor, so I was forced to stumble after her. "I can't DANCE!" I protested, as she stopped, spun and grabbed me in her arms. And indeed, I cannot. I might be able to attempt it someday, if I happen to gain any sense of rhythm at all. Or coordination. Or balance. Or any of the other things that are necessary for that particular pastime. Fortunately for my wife, it was a slow dance, and so we just sort of held each other and rocked back and forth. When the music switched to something more animated, I tried to escape, but Elaine wouldn't let me, and I was forced to self-consciously jerk and gyrate in front of my spouse, who looked lithe and sinuous and sexy. Finally, finally, she relented and let me lead her back to our table, which was empty now, and I spotted Tod and Sandy out on the floor. I wondered casually how long my wife would have forced me to make a fool of myself out there if they hadn't taken the hint, and I cringed at the thought.

I had to admit they made an interesting couple. He towered over her, and yet somehow they just seemed to "fit." I suddenly became aware of the fact that she was very athletic, and she remained balanced and sure of herself as he led her more rapidly and dramatically all over the dance floor. "Maybe you should dance with Tod," I muttered, feeling jealous and insecure.

"Mmmm, maybe I will, sometime," she responded dreamily. "But not tonight. I bet you that they stay out there for two or three more numbers. And I bet you that he drives her home."

"You're on," I said at once. She'd forgotten, of course. Pop, as a college graduation present, had told us that he'd buy us any car we wanted. I had asked for a Toyota Prius, but Tod wanted a Harley Electra Glide. Now, I hate to keep talking about how different everything is in California, but if you've ever spent a few hours on our highways, you are probably very aware that, when it comes to motorcycles, there is NO place like here. Dudes on bikes have their own rules ... literally. They can ride in any lane ... or choose to ignore them entirely and maneuver between vehicles ... between lanes ... whenever they please, usually doing so a breakneck speeds. Pop likes to call motorcyclists in California "Organ Donors." I will admit that Tod is saner than most riders, but the fact remained ... if he was going to give sweet, shy Sandy a lift home, she'd be on the back of a Harley. There was just no way. "What do you want to bet?" I asked my wife. "Put your money where your mouth is!"




Signed First Edition Ch. 05



She smiled sweetly. "If I win, you have to let me suck you," she said.

I barked a laugh. "And if you lose?"

"If I lose," she said, her smile spreading across her face, "I'll suck you."

They danced for three more numbers. When they finally came back to the table, Tod announced that he was driving her home tonight. I stammered a few incredulous interrogatives, but Tod just shrugged and told us that he carries a spare helmet. Sandy stood there and blushed rather cutely ... then gave us a little wave as she followed him out.

And as soon as I opened the door to our house that night, Elaine attacked me voraciously. It was the best blow job I've ever had.

......................

DECEMBER 22nd, 2011

Elaine had lunch with Sandy. It was a full workweek for most people ... Christmas was on a Sunday that year. Later that evening, over dinner, she confided to me that Tod had taken Sandy out the preceding evening, as well.

"And they did it," she said, solemnly. 

"Hmmm. And on the second date. That is NOT proper protocol. You and I had the decency to wait until our third."

But that didn't earn the smile I had hoped for. "Just like me," she muttered. "She gave him her virginity."

I cleared my throat. "Okay, THAT's a little more information than I needed." She didn't respond to that, either. I couldn't figure it out. "What's eating you, Pet?"

She sighed. "Two dates," she told me. "I knew they'd be attracted to each other, but after just two dates, she's head-over-heels in love. She would do ANYTHING for him." She was silent for a long minute. "Rod, I'm worried. She's such a ... delicate girl. Do you think Tod's intentions are ... honorable?"

That was just too much, sorry, and I threw back my head and roared with laughter. Unfortunately, mine is obviously not as contagious as my brother's, and my pretty wife grew a tad impatient with that response. "Pet, I am NOT going to ask my brother what his 'intentions' are with your new friend. I realize that you feel responsible for their relationship, but it is THEIR relationship, after all."

She sighed and refused to address the topic further.

..........................

DECEMBER 23rd, 2011

Evidently, according to Elaine ... who seemingly was getting daily phone calls from her new friend ... the two lovebirds spent the night together again. Then, she had called in sick and they spent the next day in each other's company, as well. That evening, she had set out for her parents' house in Palm Springs for the holidays. I called Tod that evening and causally asked how he was doing.

Just fine, he had replied.

............................

DECEMBER 25th, 2011

It was a really nice holiday. Elaine and I spent the morning together, opening presents and just enjoying a special day. And that evening, as was our custom, we went to Pop's house for dinner. Tod was there, and as a special "gift," we announced the pregnancy. Everyone was happy, though Tod didn't ask me the question that I'm sure was uppermost on his mind ... then or any time since.

Just after the meal, he excused himself and went into what was once his old bedroom to make a phone call. More than an hour later, he emerged to tell us that he intended to drive to Palm Springs that evening. This was the first time Pop had heard that there WAS a current girlfriend in his life. Tod explained that he wanted to "meet her people," and that this was a great time to do it. But he astounded us all when he asked Pop if he could use the cabin in Big Bear to "do a little skiing" on the way back. Pop's response was that sure he could, as long as he left the "damned motorcycle" in the garage ... and he flipped Tod the keys to his SUV.

I heard later that Tod and Sandy actually DID do some skiing while they were there. Of course, as it turned out, they stayed in that cabin for almost two weeks.

......................

JANUARY 20th, 2012

They'd only known each other for a month at this point, but I don't think I've ever witnessed a relationship that was more "full speed ahead." This assessment, however, is not completely accurate, since their association was certainly unique. (Then again, I guess each relationship is unique, to some degree or another.) Elaine was right; Sandy really WAS just like her ... emotionally, anyway. She seemed to go along with just about everything Tod wanted, and never made any demands on him at all. He was in a pretty tough spot at the time, having just been laid off from the position of assistant coach and PE instructor at a high school in the valley due to a seemingly never-ending series of state budget cuts. 

Since they'd returned from their little extended jaunt to the mountains, they were spending many of their days together, and most of their nights. Tod didn't like the commute between their places and had started hinting at moving in together; and Sandy seemed to support him in that decision, just as she apparently supported him in all of them.

Elaine had somehow found the opportunity to get together with Sandy four or five times in the intervening weeks for lunches or a girls' night out. Tod and I had gotten together for drinks once; and we'd all gone out together for dinner once, as well. From what I could gather, Tod couldn't be happier about the situation, and Sandy seemed content to be floating along on Cloud Nine, just so long as that cloud was somewhere in his general vicinity.

And so, it was with mild surprise that I returned home late one afternoon to find Sandy in our living room, sitting with Elaine in a rather stiff posture and with an air of impending confrontation. I got the feeling that I was a referee who had just shown up late in the ring for a major title fight. They didn't seem actually angry, but the atmosphere was electric with tension and perceived friction. I cleared my throat, insisted on kissing my wife hello, and engaging in a little hug-and-peck-on-the-cheek with Sandy, who was stiffer than usual, but shy and pliant enough to acknowledge the greeting as friendly. Finally, unable to stall any longer, I asked what the matter was.

"Rod," Elaine began hesitantly. "Sandy has become my best friend, and I can't keep secrets from her."

"Ah," I said. Well, this was bound to come out sooner or later, I thought. "And just how much did you ...."

"She needs to know, Rod. There's really no reason that ...."

"Of course," I interrupted. I was sitting in the easy chair, facing the two of them on the couch. Sandy was leaning forward expectantly. I sighed and put my forearms on my knees, gesturing with my hands toward her. "Alright, Sandy, it's true. Elaine and Tod have been together, but it was all my ...."

Elaine gave a little gasp, and Sandy rocked back away from me in shock. She turned toward my wife and exclaimed: "You've SLEPT with Tod?"

Elaine looked at me frantically before turning back to her friend. "No! I mean, yes we ... uh ..... That is, we ... weren't sleeping."

Sandy's jaw dropped open. "Weren't sleeping ...?"

I studied Elaine curiously, and found that she was looking rather ill at the moment. "Well, what in the world ...?" I decided I could try to figure out the topic of this odd situation later. Right now, I had to do some fast damage control. I turned back toward Sandy. "Look, you don't have to feel ... um ... jealous or anything. They did it because she wanted to get pregnant and ...."

Sandy's eyes got a big as saucers, and she again turned accusingly to Elaine. "You mean ... your baby is HIS?!?"

"NO!" Elaine exclaimed, at the precise instant I said "Yes." Sandy glanced from her to me, and back again, and again. She'd turned more than a little pale, and her mouth was opening and closing to form questions, but she didn't seem capable of producing words. She rose from the couch and Elaine rose with her, her hand outstretched as if she was trying to recapture a friendship that had just flown away.

"ENOUGH!" I barked at the top of my lungs. They had both turned, one to flee, the other to pursue, but now they froze and glanced at me questioningly. "SIT!" I screamed. And as if it was choreographed, they sat back down, each with their knees together and their hands in their laps. The movement was so funny that I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, which, at this juncture, would have just about been the last nail in my coffin. Trying to solve emotional problems at the spur of the moment is definitely not my strong suite, and I tried desperately to come up with some way to put a positive spin on things. I took a deep breath and plunged in.

"Sandy, whatever happened between Tod and Elaine was entirely my doing, and I take full responsibility. You see, a little less than a year ago, I was involved in a nuclear accident. I was exposed to an awful lot of radiation, and it damn near killed me."

She blinked up at me. I could almost see the analytical wheels spinning in that pretty head, but the change in subject matter had confused her. "Yes," she said, choosing her words carefully, "Elaine told me about it. You were at Fukushima." I should have known. She was involved with those areas of the science herself.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to oversimplify. Well, there were the problems you might expect from that level of absorption: immune system breakdown, internal burns, destruction of some soft tissues. It really did a number on my reproductive system."

"Sperm mutation," she muttered.

She really DID know about it. Such mutations are a common side effect of radiation poisoning ... though it is usually connected to long-term exposure ... and can lead to birth defects in offspring. "No," I answered. "Fortunately, there's been no sign of that at all. But sperm production is extremely low. I've also been worrying about some bad tumor marker tests, and that's why I asked Tod to do this for me. It was only once, and only at my insistence. Obviously, it was before he met you. He didn't want to do it."

Finally, she smiled, though it was a sad sort of smile. "Don't lie, Rod. Of course he wanted to do it. He's in love with her." My wife made a small noise, as if she wished to refute this, but she remained silent. 

"I give you my word," I told Sandy solemnly. "He told me beforehand that he didn't want to do this ... in fact, he tried to talk me out of the plan. But he went ahead and did it, anyway, because ... well, because we're very close, and he knew how important it was to me. I was being too ... well ... analytical about the whole thing, while he was worried about the emotional repercussions. Afterwards, he refused to speak to me for weeks, he was so pissed off." She looked confused for a moment, and perhaps a little hopeful, and I pressed on. "So, the bottom line here is that both parties that evening were only doing it for ME. Elaine refuses to believe that it did any good ... that the baby is ours and not Tod's. Quite frankly, it simply doesn't matter to me. I chose a course of action ... and whether that action was the CAUSE of our success or not is superfluous. Anyway, blame me all you want ... but you shouldn't blame either Tod or Elaine."

She actually managed a genuine smile at my sincerity and nodded up at me. I sighed deeply. "And now," I said, turning almost accusingly toward my sweet wife, "if you want me to be so open and honest with Sandy about everything, but 'everything' didn't include that evening with Tod or the pregnancy, just what the hell ARE you talking about?"

Elaine blushed and fidgeted even more, hesitating, and at last, it was Sandy who supplied the answer. "You hypnotize her," she said, almost in awe. "You've enslaved her. She's given herself to you completely, and now, she's your hypnotic sex slave."

This caught me a little off guard. I just couldn't understand why she would consider my relationship with Elaine particularly important, especially compared to the significance of a supposed love child with her boyfriend. "Um ... yes ... she and I have a rather ... odd relationship. It's what she wants, and I love her ... so I found a way to give her the feelings she ... uh ... desires. Why are you so concerned about that?"

"Does Tod know?" she asked bluntly.

Again I was surprised into a fit of stuttering inarticulation. "Um ... well, it was sort of hard to manipulate ... uh ... I mean ... yes, of course, he'd have to ...."

"He KNOWS?" Elaine exclaimed.

"See? I told you," Sandy told her. "They're twins. They tell each other everyth ...."

"NO!" I interrupted so loudly that they both again resumed their identical silent poses. "I mean ... we do NOT tell each other everything. And Pet, if you think back on that evening, you'd understand that I couldn't have gotten you to do it without having you ...." I suddenly stopped and thought about this entire conversation. Why was I suddenly trying to defend myself? And what was it that I was suddenly defending myself from? I looked curiously at both of them. "What in the WORLD is this all about?" I asked bluntly.

Elaine turned pleading eyes toward her friend. Sandy, in turn, fidgeted and blushed, looked as if she was trying to get her courage up, and finally said: "Rod, you MUST know that Tod is in love with Elaine. I mean, it's just in his posture, his manner, the way he looks at her."

"Alright, now see here!" I barked. "You two are either imagining this, or putting much more emphasis on something that simply isn't significant. Men can be attracted to other women without falling in love! Hell, I don't mind telling you that I find YOU extremely attractive. But that doesn't mean I LOVE you the way I love Elaine ... or that I love Elaine any less. Tod is madly, insanely in love with you. And if you feel threatened by his ...."

I fell silent at the expression on her face. She was looking down, unable to meet my eyes, blushing deeply and shaking her head. "You don't understand," she told me softly.

I sighed. Women! Why did they have to be so infuriatingly secretive? "MAKE me understand!" I ordered.

"He didn't date anyone else after you married her," she explained almost patiently. This physically shocked me. I quickly scoured my memory to figure out if it was true, and I was stunned to realize it was entirely possible. Oh, on occasion, I knew that he'd gone out... but possibly nothing more than one-night-stands. "I know I'm just catching him on the rebound," Sandy continued "... and I'm content with that. I'll take him anyway I can get him. But I want to be like her. I NEED to be like her." She paused to let that sink in, and I guess my confused countenance convinced her to press on with her argument. "I want you to hypnotize me, Rod. I want you to make me a slave, as well. HIS slave. I NEED to be his slave!"

I suddenly found it necessary to sit back in the chair. Next, I consciously closed my mouth, which had somehow fallen open. I blinked. "You want me to turn you into a sex slave?" I said dully.

"HIS sex slave," she emphasized, then blushed again and dropped her gaze. "I trust you, of course. I will put myself entirely in your hands. I know you would never hurt him." She breathed a sigh. "You can do whatever you want to me. I'll just give in and allow you to take charge ... I'll surrender to you, and you can do whatever it is you need to do to make me the way Elaine is."

I was quiet for several minutes, thinking this thing through. Each of them started to speak ... to say something to further accentuate their cause, but I held up a hand to silence them each time, and the minutes crept on while I contemplated courses of action. Now, some of you more devious-minded souls in the reading audience might suggest that the idea of enslaving them BOTH and keeping them for my own amusement probably crossed my mind during this period. I can say with a clear conscience that it did not. However, the concept of presenting my brother with a newly-minted sex slave of his own DID have a definite appeal.

Finally, I nodded to them. "Alright, let me talk to Tod about it and ...."

"No ... please!" Sandy begged. "Please, Rod, do it tonight! Do it now! I promise that I'll explain to him that you didn't WANT to do it ... that it was me who begged you to do it. And if he's really upset, you can ... undo it or turn it off or something. But when he sees how important it is to ME, I'm sure he'll ... he'll let me be the way I want to be ... to give myself to him ... utterly, completely. Please?"

Again I fell into silent thought for a long two minutes, contemplating not only "if," but "how." At long last, I rose. "Okay, let me make a phone call. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"But, who are you going to ...?" Sandy began, but I was already out of the room, heading toward the study.

I keep my signed first edition in the side drawer of my desk, and before I could lose my nerve, I dialed the phone number inscribed on the last page of the introduction. I had done a quick rehearsal of what I wanted to say, realizing, of course, that quick rehearsals rarely result in a proper rendition of the script. Oddly enough, this one went pretty much according to plan.

"Hello?"

"Reggie? This is Rod Haversham, the guy you drank under the table in your local pub a couple months back."

"Rod! Of course! How are you doing? How's ... um ...."

"Elaine. We're doing fine. Great, in fact. We're expecting a baby in August."

"That's tremendous! I think about that evening often. You made quite an impression on me. I really learned a lot."

"Me too. Say listen, Reggie ... I was wondering if you'd do me a big favor ... a personal favor."

"Sure, Rod, anything. Just name it."

"My brother's girlfriend ... she and Elaine got to talking, and this girl ... Sandy ... has suddenly gotten it into her head that she wants to be for him ... for my brother, that is ... what Elaine is for me. She wants to be his slave ... to surrender herself to him ... to the same extent that Elaine has to me. I was wondering if you could do me that favor."

There was pause. "Uh ... sure, Rod. Absolutely. Just have her drop by the apartment for a quick interview ...."

"Interview?"

"Well, like I explained to you before, we don't do this for just anybody. In fact, Cathy researches and recruits ...."

"Ah," I interrupted. "Reggie, I can absolutely guarantee you that if Elaine was a good subject for your work, then Sandy will be, too. Perhaps even more so. Emotionally, they are practically identical. They're both trying to talk me into this ... the pair of them ... and Sandy is actually begging me to allow her to become his slave."

"Both of them are there now, huh?" Reggie paused again, considering. I heard him give a small sigh. "Alright, have them come over right now. I'll use Elaine as a preliminary trance inducer. Her friend Sandy will see how quickly and easily it's done, and she'll be more at ease when it's her turn. Do you think Elaine remembers the way here?"

"Yes. I'll give her the address and apartment number again, to make sure. And Reggie, thanks a lot for this. I really mean it."

"No problem, Rod. Don't be a stranger." And he hung up.

It had gone so much according to my plan that I was stunned. I opened the word processing program on my computer and started typing; but then I thought better of it, closed it, and instead took a sheet of blank paper and hand-wrote a brief letter:

Dear Reggie,

Thanks again for the great recommendations you gave me regarding my marital relationship with Elaine. And now, if you don't mind, allow me to give you a brief suggestion regarding your marital relationship with Cathy. Please show her the enclosed check for fifty thousand dollars and remind her that you told me that you'd "charge me double for the second one." Explain to her that you know a great investment opportunity when you see one. If that doesn't earn you the best blow job of your life, I'll eat my hat. Then take the aforementioned check and make a down payment on that cabin up at Arrowhead you said you always wanted. Explain to her that, in this market, it's purely for capital speculation purposes ... and then hang onto it forever.




Signed First Edition Ch. 05



Best regards,

Rod

I wrote out the check, put it and the letter in a legal envelope, and walked back to the living room. But I halted just before I turned the corner to the room and listened to their hushed conversation.

"And when he finally kissed me, I just sort of melted and surrendered to him," Elaine was saying.

"He DOES tend to have that effect on a girl," Sandy replied. "Is he ... uh ... I mean, is he like Rod? I mean ...."

"I guess they ARE identical, after all," my wife confided. "I mean, size-wise. But they ... well, the way they ... USE it ... it was different. In some ways, they aren't the same at all."

"Gosh," Sandy replied, and she was silent for several seconds. "Did ... did he make you cum?"

"Oh, God, did he ever! When I think about it, I ...."

"Yeah, I know. He makes me ... uh ...." She didn't finish, but after a pause, she asked: "Does Rod make you ... uh ... you know ... like that?"

"Oh, gosh, you'd better believe it! Every time! Every single time! But like I said, he's different. I mean, he's not the same ... way. It's hard to explain."

I thought that was quite enough of that, and rounded the corner and walked in on them. "Okay, it's all set," I said loudly. "Sandy, are you absolutely SURE you want to do this?"

They had both fallen guiltily silent upon my entry, and while our redheaded friend couldn't muster the internal strength to meet my gaze, she answered swiftly and surely, "Yes, Rod. Yes, I'm sure."

I handed Elaine the envelope. "Here, give this to Reggie Cathwright. I put his address on the back, if you've forgotten the way. Do whatever he says, and then drive Sandy back home." I turned to Sandy. "Be sure and call Tod and tell him you're going to be back late. This will probably take a few hours."

They were both stunned into immediate silence. "Reggie?" Elaine finally asked when she'd found her voice. "Do I have to ...?"

I silenced her with a gesture, then held out my hand to her and helped her to her feet. I put my hands on her shoulders and held her so that our faces were very close. "Obey me, Pet," I commanded.

"Yes, Master," she replied, then was immediately cognizant that she had disobeyed the rules by calling me that when there was someone else present. But this only emphasized to Sandy what was about to happen to her, and we both realized that the slip of the tongue was beneficial in this case. Elaine swallowed hard. "Rod, if he shows me the crystal, I'll probably ...."

"I've given you a command, Pet."

She took a deep breath. She blushed and cast a quick glance at Sandy before purposefully saying, "Yes, my Master." She picked up her purse and gestured to her friend to follow her toward the door.

"Oh, and Elaine," I said as an afterthought. She paused and looked back at me. "I want you to ask him a question for me. Make sure you remember. Bring me the answer." She nodded and waited for me to continue. "Ask him ... Dodgers or Angels?"

She gave a small smile, nodded, and walked out of the room. Sandy, her eyes large and doe-like, followed in her wake.

I knew it would probably take awhile, but man, time drags by when you're awaiting the outcome of something important. I fixed myself a salad, perused the news online, and finally decided to get ready for bed and read awhile. I was suddenly on a Robert Leslie Bellem kick. Bellem wrote an awful lot of stuff back in the pulp era ... a million words a year at his peak in the mid-1930's, and he dabbled in all sorts of genres. But his most famous serial character was "Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective" in Spicy Detective Magazine. The stories were sexy, but the sex was all assumed ... nothing too risqué could actually be printed in those days. They were also loaded with so many hardboiled similes and metaphors that the works are downright hilarious to today's readers. I'd found dozens of the stories in free online e-reader websites, and three them kept me preoccupied for a little while, anyway.

At long last, I heard her coming in the front door, and she entered the room, rather subdued and shy, and sat on the edge of the bed beside me. "Did you eat any dinner?" I asked her.

"Yes," she answered softly. "Cathy fixed us sandwiches after about an hour, but ...."

"What is it, Pet? What happened?"

She sighed. "Well, he sat us down in his living room as soon as we got there, and then he took the letter you'd given me to deliver, and he excused himself for about ten minutes. Sandy was really nervous, so I kept telling her it would all be okay ... and besides, it was too late to back out now. But to tell you the truth, I was pretty anxious myself. Anyway, when he came back, he told Sandy that he'd demonstrate how deeply and completely a good subject could be taken into a hypnotic trance by doing it to me first. So he held up a little velvet bag, just like ours, and I think I made a noise before I could stop myself, but then he was holding up the gem in front of me, and suddenly, I was SO sleepy. And I wanted to fight it, because I didn't want anyone else to have that much power over me ... but I remembered what you had told me, about doing whatever he said, so I decided to surrender ... to just let myself go ... and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a chair in the dining room, and an hour had passed, and Cathy was serving us sandwiches."

She took a breath to calm herself. "He was talking and talking about how lucky he was to be able to help women who wanted to release their 'latent suppressed submissive desires,' and I think Sandy was listening to him, but my mind was in turmoil, because I realized that he could do ANYTHING to me, and I wouldn't be able to fight it. After we'd eaten for awhile, he got up and walked around the table and stood behind Sandy's chair, and he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward and whispered in her ear. And, oh Rod, it was like he'd just flipped a switch in her head. Just like that, she was asleep, and I think she'd have hit her head on the table if he hadn't been holding her ... and he lowered her slowly, until her cheek was resting on the table in front of her. And then ... then he started walking around the table toward me. And I couldn't make myself get up and run, though I really, really wanted to. I just sat there. And suddenly, I felt his hands on my shoulders, just like he'd done to Sandy. And then ... then I felt his lips next to my ear. And then ... I was waking up, and we were back in the living room again."

My wife shuddered almost violently for a moment, then she stretched herself out across my body and rested her cheek on my chest. "It was time to go then, so we thanked him for his time, and he told us it was nice to see me again, and to meet Sandy. I was halfway out the door before I remembered your question, and he told me he was an Angels fan, but Cathy followed the Dodgers. And then we went back to the car and I drove Sandy to Tod's apartment. We were both so quiet on the drive back, lost in our own thoughts ... and finally, I asked her what had happened, and she just shrugged. I asked her how many times she'd gone to sleep for him, and she shrugged again and told me she didn't know ... and for awhile, I don't think she even remembered being hypnotized at all. But she was obviously agitated about something, so I kept asking her what was wrong. And finally, she asked me if I ever sucked you when we made love.

"And I asked 'You mean oral sex?' and she really blushed and nodded. So, I told her that I didn't used to because I didn't like the taste of you, but I'd decided to try it again a couple months ago, and I found out that I really, really LOVED it, and that now, we do it all the time. And suddenly, she was asking all sorts of questions about it ... what it was like having you in my mouth, and did I swallow your cum, and do men truly love it as much as everyone says they do? And she told me that she thought she'd been tremendously selfish for not doing it for Tod, and that she just HAD to try it again, like I had." Elaine lifted her head and looked at me. She was flushed and excited. "And then we were at their place, and she grabbed the paper bag she she'd gotten at Reggie's and she yelled goodbye, and she literally ran inside." She sighed again. "But even while she was talking so excitedly, it was hard for me to pay attention. I was thinking about ... something else."

"What was that, Pet?" I asked.

She looked imploringly into my eyes. She had to work up her courage for a few more seconds before she could verbalize it. "Rod ... how come you've never ... never done it in my ass? I've read articles and stories, and I've ... uh ... I've heard that men really, really like doing it that way to a girl. But you've never made me ... I mean ... you've never asked me if you could. And, of course, I'd do it if you wanted me to. You've told me you like my ass. You pet me there all the time ... and touch me there when we're making love. And I'll bet it would be really tight, and that you'd really like it, if you tried. And ... I stopped at a drug store after I dropped Sandy off, and I bought some lubricant, so I'd be super-slippery for you. And if you were patient with me and did it ... you know ... slowly at first, so that I could get used to you being in there ... I bet that I'D like it too. Maybe I'd like it as much as when I suck you. Rod, do you think you could ...."

"Enough!" I laughed. She blushed crimson and looked away. "I would love to try something new with you, Pet."

Her head snapped up and there was hope and lust in her eyes. "You would?"

"But ... um ... don't you think it's just a little odd that you suddenly have this craving? It's a little abrupt, isn't it?"

She blinked up at me. "It's just something I started thinking about on the way home," she answered, crawling up my body until her lips were even with mine. "Isn't a girl allowed to think about having sex with her husband?"

And the night was suddenly filled with the types of very graphic actions that pulp authors were never allowed to write about.

....................

To Be Contiued



Signed First Edition Ch. 06



Now, thus far, you might have thought that this narrative is just that ... a sequence of events with no apparent rhyme or reason. You would be wrong. There is not only a rousing conclusion in the offing, but an actual moral, of sorts. And indeed, it is THIS chapter that will bring about that conclusion. Further, before we get on with it, I'm going to tell you how the story ends ... without so much as "spoiler alert" warning. We all lived happily ever after. There; you know. Ah, but getting from there to here covered an awful lot of territory.

The event that changed all our lives did not transpire immediately. Indeed, it took a year for circumstances to line themselves up properly. And so, once again, please hang onto your hats while I hit the high points.

......................

JANUARY 21st, 2012

The day after I sent Sandy off to get her hypnotic training, I phoned my brother to ask how things were going and to make sure he had received his own signed first edition and the accompanying velvet bag. I was expecting just about any reaction ... but he told me that he couldn't talk at the moment ... that he was busy getting yet another blow job from his dedicated hypnotic sex slave girlfriend, and would I mind if he returned my call later?

......................

FEBRUARY 4th, 2012

There was an injury on the U.S. Olympic gymnastics team earlier in January. (The Summer Games were scheduled that year in London.) There was already an alternate to take her place, but trials were held on this date to replace the athlete for the alternate spot on the U.S. team. It was a Saturday, and more than sixty girls showed up to compete (from the L.A. area alone) ... including Sandy. I hadn't known until now that she WAS a gymnast, but it sure explained her athletic build. Elaine and I went to cheer her on, of course, and together with Tod and Pop, we managed to make a lot of racket. I thought she did a tremendous job in the floor exercises, but she was eliminated after the first round.

We all went out to eat French Dip sandwiches at Philippe's afterwards, and Sandy announced her retirement from gymnastics (at the ripe old age of 25). She told us she had other preoccupations to keep her busy, and she hugged Tod's arm rather affectionately.

......................

FEBRUARY 20th, 2012

We went to Pop's for dinner, along with Tod and Sandy. It was Washington's Birthday, a federal holiday (we also call it "President's Day," but officially, old George has it all to himself). Okay, for you folks who are not from the U.S., it wasn't REALLY Washington's Birthday ... that's actually the 22nd. But we recognize ten federal holidays per year, and many of them fall on Mondays, because we love our three-day weekends more than we love accuracy. So this was the date for that year. Make sense? Pop grilled steaks.

And Tod and Sandy announced their engagement. Hugs and kisses all around.

......................

MARCH 11th, 2012

This was the one-year anniversary of the Japanese earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster. I had purposefully scheduled three major medical tests that day. Some were repeat tests for past positive results. Elaine was sort of hovering around me wherever I went. We both knew she didn't have to go, but she insisted ... to emphasize that we were in this together through thick and thin, I guess. 

Bottom line: they were all negative. As I mentioned earlier, these tests are prone to produce false positives ... and that, obviously, was what had plagued me. Nothing more.

Remember a few paragraphs back when I told you there was a moral to this story? I'll spring that on you early, too. It's this: If you are ever faced with severe medical problem, and if you are a true fighter, you should face each day as if you expect to live ... not as if you expect to die. Life is NEVER long enough. I wasted too much of mine being negative.

......................

JUNE 11th, 2012

It was awfully expensive, but I rented part of a party room at Dodger Stadium for the Angels game. I invited Reggie and Cathy, as well as Tod and Sandy. I don't know why it surprised me, but Tod and Reggie really hit it off, despite rooting for different teams. 

Pujols got a game-winning hit in the top of the ninth, and the Angels won 3-2.

......................

JUNE 17th, 2012

Sandy is now officially a Mrs. Haversham. The wedding was at some fancy B&B mansion in Riverside, not quite halfway between LA and Palm Springs. It wasn't a large affair, but it was really nice, and Sandy looked spectacular. So did Elaine, as a very pregnant maid of honor.

Pop sent them to Hawaii for their honeymoon.

......................

AUGUST 4th, 2012

Zachary Edward Haversham entered this world at 11:03 am, tipping the scales at seven pounds, one ounce. Mom and son healthy and happy.

......................

NOVEMBER 6th, 2012

The second Tuesday in November is Election Day in the U.S., and this was a presidential election, to boot. We all know how that turned out, of course; or if you can't remember, you can look it up. Tod and I usually don't vote, and we renew our pact not to every election day. He's a moderate Republican and I'm a liberal Democrat, so we just cancel each other out, anyway. This year, Sandy rather vociferously insisted that we do our patriotic duty.

So, we went ... and cancelled each other out.

......................

JANUARY 12th, 2013

The night that changed our lives was a Saturday. Tod and Sandy had come over for dinner, and I had done the honors in the kitchen, pounding the hell out of some chicken breasts to make scaloppini, with linguini and red sauce for a side. Not too bad, if I do say so myself. Tod had brought a large bottle of nice Cabernet, and even Elaine had a glass while she nursed Zack (a nurse-practitioner had told her that if she drank a single glass while nursing, the alcohol should all be out of her system by the time she nursed again). I had strongly suggested that she stay in the room with us while she breast-fed, and she had blushed, but complied. I think it turned us all on a little ... especially her. She sort of gets off on humiliation.

The girls wandered off to play with the baby in the nursery, but Tod and I had things to discuss that evening, and we planned and plotted secretly, just like we did when we were kids. I had to put the meal on hold for about half an hour while we waited for the baby to fall asleep, but eventually, he was down at his regular time of eight o'clock. Recently, he'd been sleeping through until about two in the morning, then one changing and feeding, and he was asleep until around seven. A "schedule" had been a long time in coming, but we were happy with the way things were turning out. There was a white noise generator in his room, and the sound was with us in the dining room, too, through the baby monitor.

The dinner conversation was mostly about Tod and Sandy's latest ski trip to Big Bear, where they had met up with Reggie and Cathy, and even visited their new place at Lake Arrowhead, which is only about forty minutes west of there in the same mountains. It sounded like a fun time, and I was sort of jealous of their freedom.

We chattered about the baby a lot, of course, and I talked as much as I dared about my thesis (which was due in a few weeks) without boring them to tears. We all pitched in on the dishes and then retired to the living room, where I lit a fire in the fireplace using one of those wax logs that last three or four hours. Sandy had consumed two glasses of wine, which isn't much, until you consider the fact that she only weighs a hundred pounds. In other words, she was comfortably tipsy. Finally, with a nod in my direction, Tod decided to get our plan underway, and he reached into the pocket of his jeans and tossed me his little green velvet bag.

The girls, who were sitting side-by-side on the couch, gasped in unison at the sight, and the room fell into a silence which was only broken by the droning white-noise sounds in the baby's room through the monitor. But, for some reason, that only seemed to intensify the girls' drowsiness when I pulled the little hourglass-shaped crystal into view. We had never attempted to hypnotize them together before, and it was a bit of a shock to watch them. They had the same look of shocked surprise, the same wide eyes, and then those eyes drooped and blinked at precisely the same time. They sagged into each other on the couch, their shoulders and arms relaxing, their necks struggling to hold up sleepy heads, which nodded and finally rested onto one another's.

I didn't even have to say anything for a long minute or so, but finally, I started giving them guidance. "You are about to surrender and fall asleep together," I intoned softly but authoritatively. "You are going to go very deep tonight ... and so, follow my words, and watch the gem. Let your thoughts ... just slip away. Slip away. Think of nothing. Nothing at all ... because my words ... will become your thoughts. So just let them go ... and be sleepy for me. Sleepy for me. And so ... surrender ... and let your thoughts ... go away ... now!"

They were both gone, deep in their trances, propping each other up in the center of the couch. Their arms hung limp at their sides, and between them, Sandy's right hand had fallen naturally into Elaine's left. Tod and I just stood there, watching them. I was a little shocked when Sandy sat up, opened her eyes, looked directly at me and said: "I am very deep, Master." Only a few seconds later, Elaine followed suite, also looking at me, and saying distinctly: "I'm there, Master. I'm as deep as I can go."

I sighed and turned to Tod. "You're sure you're okay with this, right?"

He was smiling at the two of them. "Yes ... just as long as YOU'RE okay with my new rules."

"I'll be good," I promised him. "I'll go back into our bedroom and leave you two all alone. You remember everything you did that evening? It's been more than a year."

He barked a laugh. "I doubt I'll ever forget it, as long as I live." He paused a few seconds. "She's breast-feeding. Isn't it hard to get pregnant when you're breast-feeding?"

"There is a statistical reduction in the odds," I admitted. "But her cycle is prime again, and since we want the kids close together in age, we don't have a lot of choice. This is the best night, considering all the factors."

"And it's going to be Elaine I'm making love to, right? I want her to know what's happening. I don't want any alter-ego floozy ... I want the real thing."

"I may be a floozy, big boy," Elaine said in a rich, sultry voice, "but I bet I can curl your toes and make you howl!"

"Shut up, Elaine," I said calmly.

"Yes, Master." And she fell silent and stared straight ahead.

I turned back toward Tod. "Give me ten minutes with her to get her ready, then she's all yours. And she'll be cognizant, I promise. You can put Sandy to bed in the spare bedroom."

He nodded, then went and took Sandy's hand and gently ordered her to get up and follow him. She rose, but to our astonishment, she looked directly at me, her eyes almost curious. It slowly dawned on me that I was the one who had put her under. Perhaps she was awaiting orders from me instead of him. "Sandy, go with Tod. Do as he commands."

She nodded and answered: "Yes, Master." Tod gave a little laugh and led her toward the hall.

I plopped down beside my pretty wife and took her hand in mine. "What do you think of our plan?" I asked her. "Do you think she's going to freak out?"

"Why don't you just leave me in charge, Master?" she responded deviously. "I can pretend to be Miss Prissy, give him the ride of his life, and he'll never know. I'll bet I can turn him on so much that he'll fill me with enough sperm to make me have twins. That's what you really want, isn't it, Master? Twins of your own?"

I smiled and shook my head. "You know ... one of these days, with my REAL wife's permission, I'm going to give YOU a try, you little vixen."

"Oh, Master ... I could rock your world."

I gave her another laugh. "Enough!" I held up the gem again, and her eyes locked onto it obediently. "I need you to go deeper for me ... and deeper, still. No thoughts ... no thoughts at all. Just be blank ... perfectly blank ... so that my words become your thoughts ... become your beliefs. Let me know when you are there."

Her face was slack and empty. "I'm there, Master."

"Very good. Stand up ... that's it ... and now, take off your clothes. All of them. Give them to me ... you will not need them the rest of the night. Alright, now sit down again, and listen carefully, because my words will define what you will do tonight." I sat back down beside her and took her hand. "You know what I'm going to tell you to do, don't you, Pet?"

"You're going to tell me to make love to Tod again. You're going to try to make me pregnant again." Her voice sounded resigned ... almost sad.

"How does this make you feel?"

She sighed. "We knew you were going to do this ... but it scares her. In fact, it terrifies her."

This answer only elicited two more questions ... but I felt rushed. Tod would be coming back into the room in just a few more minutes. I decided to tackle the important question and find out later how she already knew about my plan. "What do you mean it terrifies her? Why would Tod scare her?"

"Tod doesn't scare her; he excites her. But BEING with Tod scares her. Oh, Master, what would she do if she fell in love with him? Don't you see how close she is to doing that now? She tries to force herself not to think about him ... but sometimes ...."

"What do you think would happen if you did? Everybody keeps telling me that he is in love with YOU. And yet, he is obviously very dedicated to Sandy. Do you think his attraction to you reduces his love for HER?"

"I ... I guess not. We love you SO much, my Master! It's just that emotions make us so confused ... so ...."

"Enough!" I ordered. "Tonight, you will obey. You will obey every order given to you ... no matter who commands it. Tell me what obedience is, Pet."

"Obedience is pleasure. Obedience is necessary. I must obey."

"Tonight, your pleasure will be doubled when you obey. That will be your reward for complete and total obedience."

"Thank you, Master."

I took her wrists in my hands and began tracing my fingers around and around first one, then the other, and finally both together. She watched intently as I did so. "You are bound and helpless tonight. How does that make you feel?"

"Nervous. Expectant. I think so MANY things are going to happen to me tonight ... and I am helpless ... and ..." (a shudder seemed to wrack her body) "... obedient."

"And when I count to three, you will awaken. And all the things I have told you will be true for the rest of the night. You will accept them as real and undeniable, and you will not try to resist them. One, two, three."

She blinked up at me, shuddered, and again leaned forward into me, her "bound" wrists lowered so that she pressed as much of her naked body into mine as possible. "Oh, Rod, what have you done?" she whispered.

"I've done something that you have no power over, my pet. Whatever happens, it is not your fault. Simply surrender and obey." She shuddered yet again. I heard Tod's footsteps thudding in the carpeted hallway, and I rose, grasping her by the shoulders and lifting her to her feet beside me. Gently but firmly, I turned her around so that her back was toward me, facing my brother.

"Tod," she said. I couldn't see her eyes, but her voice carried a note of awe.

Tod's eyes seemed to take in every detail of her nude form. "Elaine," he said simply.

I let go of her and stepped around her, walking past Tod and toward the hall. "I'll be in my bedroom," I said rapidly, as if I was suddenly afraid I'd back out of my own plan.

"Read the letter, Rod." It was a simple sentence, but it shocked me. Because it was Elaine who had said it.

I spun around to face them. "What letter?"

"In the bedroom," she answered simply, but when I cast looks full of questions toward her, they went unnoticed. She was looking only at Tod, and she appeared mesmerized by him. They just stood, facing each other, for ten long seconds, before he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture and she rushed forward to be engulfed in his embraced. I had felt this way before, fourteen months ago ... jealous and unsure ... but everything had worked out alright since then. I started to say something, but thought better of it, and simply licked my suddenly-dry lips. Then I turned once again toward the hall and left.

Now, I am not, generally, the type of person who is inclined to jump when someone hollers "Boo!" And so, I can say with some degree of confidence that I did not cry out (as some people later said I did) when I opened the door to our bedroom and Sandy jumped me. I should say, rather, that she jumped ON me, leaping as if she had vaulted from some mini-trampoline, and she wrapped her arms completely around my neck, pressing her left cheek into mine. My hands just sort of naturally went to her waist, and they told me instantly that the little lady was naked as a jay bird. Her lower body hung limp, pressing itself all along the front of me, and the first rational thought I had was that there was little about her body that was like Elaine's, save for the inalterable fact that they were both very, very feminine. Elaine's breasts were full, soft and wonderfully pliant. Sandy's were far from flat, but they were most certainly smaller in size, and they seemed smaller still in this stretched-out posture. Her nipples, however, were much longer than my wife's and incredibly erect, so that I felt them pressing into my chest in such a way that my mental abstraction was only acerbated.

"Oooohhh, Rod, you're here!" she announced.

I swallowed hard and tried to push her away. This had a sort of comic effect, since her toes were a good ten to twelve inches from the floor, and she refused to lessen the grip of her arms around my neck; so that her body swung out away from me, like a half-swing of a pendulum, then rushed back to my own with a sort of plop. I couldn't help but be assaulted by the fact that she was amazingly light, and I thought that, if I had to, I could hold her effortlessly for a very, very long time. She sighed. "You don't think you're going to get rid of me that easily, do you, lover?"

My hands went up to her arms. My God, she was strong! "Sandy, what in the world?" I tried again to wrench her free of my neck, but she clung emphatically.

"I KNOW you want me," she growled in my ear. "I've seen the way you look at me. You looked at me that way the first time I met you. The mouse almost bolted, the little nit! I want you to rape me!"

"Rape you!?!" I repeated incredulously.

"You know ... ravish me. Violate me. Enrapture me. Defile me. Fuck me until I beg you to stop ... which I promise I won't do until tomorrow afternoon."

"This was NOT part of the bargain!" I said through clenched teeth, trying again to push her marvelous body away from mine.

And suddenly, she let go. "OH! The letter!" she exclaimed, then turned toward the bed and grabbed up a folded sheet of paper. I couldn't help but take in the marvelous view of her back. There wasn't an ounce of fat on the girl anywhere, and her skin was young, smooth and without blemish.

"What is all this about a letter?" I queried, snatching the paper from her hand. She made as if to leap toward me again, and I put out my hand toward her, like a linebacker avoiding a tackle. She barked a delighted laugh, grasped my wrist, and stepped forward until her breast nestled into my palm. I tried to ignore this, but failed, and I gulped nervously. I shook the paper with my other hand until it unfolded itself. The "letter" was not long at all.




Signed First Edition Ch. 06



"We know you are going to ask Tod to try and impregnate Elaine again. He, in turn, insists that you make love to Sandy. This only seems fair, and we give our full consent." It was signed by both girls.

"This makes no sense!" I groused. "There's no goal to achieve. It wasn't part of the procedure."

She threw back her head and laughed merrily. "The scientist to the end!" she declared. "Very well then ... how many times have unintended achievements been made that were not part of the planned procedure?"

I gawked at her for awhile, then smiled, despite myself. "That's a logical fallacy. Argumentum Verbosum."

"It's hard to think logically when your strong, masculine hand is rubbing against my erect, throbbing nipple," she replied.

I laughed. "Sandy, this is a side of you that I've never ...."

"Oh, don't worry about the mouse. You WANT this, Rod. And I want this!"

Finally, I broke the code. I jerked my hand away, making her groan in disappointment. "Who ARE you?" I asked accusingly.

"I'm someone who WANTS you, Rod. I ACHE for you. Please, let me suck you. I can make you cum SO hard, and I'll drink every drop, I promise!"

"Shut up, Sandy," I ordered calmly but firmly.

"Yes, Master," she intoned, and immediately ceased her struggle to embrace me.

"If everybody is so all-fired determined for me to make love to you, why did he leave you like this?" I asked. "Why didn't he just give you some instructions and wake you up? Did the REAL Sandy sign that letter, or was it you?"

"Oh, no, Master. She signed it, alright. She wants you ... she always has. She's in love with you, but she'd never admit it, the silly mouse! She's SOOOOOO afraid!" She held up both hands just under her chin, wriggling her fingers, imitating a mouse. "It would never occur to her to just reach out and take what she wants! If I was in charge, I'd have seduced you MONTHS ago!"

"Does Elaine know how you feel? Have you talked about this?"

"Ha! Are you kidding? If ONE little mousie can't talk about it, what would you expect when TWO of them get together? Oh, she KNOWS, of course. But DISCUSS it? Give me a break!"

"Enough, Sandy," I ordered.

"Yes, Master."

I thought about it for a long minute, joyously uninterrupted. Finally, I tilted her chin up until she was looking directly into my eyes. She didn't resist. "Wake up!" I ordered, and snapped my fingers loudly, just inches from her eyes.

She blinked, and blinked again. She made a small noise, deep in her throat, then she reached up and covered her breasts. "Oh, Rod ..." she said plaintively. She took a deep breath and lowered her hands to her sides, where they shook slightly. "Did you ... uh ... did we ... um ... did you ..?"

I smiled tenderly down at her. "No, of course I didn't."

A tear suddenly formed at the corner of her right eye. "No," she whispered softly. "Of course you didn't."

"Is that the way you really want it, Sandy? Do you desire doing something ... but not want to know when you've done it ... or remember doing it at all?"

"But ... she's so much better than I am," Sandy whined. "Tod likes her better. I just want him to be happy. I just want YOU to ...."

"And what makes you think that you aren't capable of giving either of us exactly what we need?" I insisted. "Just look at you!" I reached out and took both of her hands in mine, then held them out to either side of her and feasted my eyes on her body. She blushed hotly, but didn't try to stop me. "You're beautiful, Sandy."

"But this is HER body, too. When Tod wakes me up sometimes, and I'm tingly and breathless and full of his cum ... and I can tell he is SO satisfied by whatever she's done to him, then ...."

"Yes," I interrupted, "but I've met her, briefly, and while you share a gorgeous body, YOU are sharp and witty and shy and loving. If I had to choose, I'd pick you ... every time."

"Met her briefly?" She suddenly appeared flustered. "How long have we been here together?"

"Just a few minutes. Why?"

All at once, she appeared determined about something. "Then ... they've just gotten started." She looked past me, toward the closed door. "Rod ... I want to see them together. Can I? Please?"

I shook my head. "I promised him I wouldn't interfere this time. He got pretty pissed at me last year because I sort of orchestrated things."

Before I could react, she'd ducked past me and opened the door. "We won't interfere, I promise!" She snatched my hand and pulled me after her, down the hall. I'm sure we made a fine sight ... the petite naked beauty creeping silently down the carpeted hall, leading her husband's brother in search of voyeuristic pleasures. I tried to stop our forward progress twice, but she finally dug in her heels and pulled me like she was leading a stubborn mule in her wake, until we'd finally gotten to the corner that would allow us a view of the living room. She stole a look and gasped slightly, tightening her grip on my hand, and despite all my good intentions, I leaned forward, pressing my body into her back as I did so, and I peeked over the top of her head around the corner.

They were on top of a throw blanket that was usually draped across the back of the couch, but now it had been spread out on the floor in front of the fireplace. They were in a classic missionary position, she on her back, her feet flat on the floor but spread far apart, her knees bent and splayed, as he lay atop her. We couldn't actually see the penetration from this vantage point, but he was obviously buried as far inside her as he could possible go. Her hands, crossed at the wrists, were pointed straight up toward the ceiling, her arms encircling his neck, and their kiss went on and on and on. Slowly, his hips rose upward from hers, then just as slowly, he pushed back downward. Her left leg lifted and stretched sinuously upward, then wrapped itself around his hips, her heel urging him deeper. She groaned loudly into his mouth, and her elbows bent until the fingers of her hands could lace themselves in his hair.

Sandy's butt began grinding back into my erection, and she took my hand, which was resting on her hip, and moved it so that my arm wrapped itself around her, to her flat tummy ... and slowly higher. She tilted her face upward toward me, and at first, I thought that she was seeking a kiss, but her eyes told me that she wanted to say something, so I tilted my head and she placed her lips to my ear.

"What's wrong with her hands?" she breathed.

I did NOT want to get caught in this compromising position, especially since I'd made that promise to Tod. Now that my arm was around her, I kept applying backward pressure until she had to relinquish her front row seat and back down the hall again. When we were safely out of view, I took her hand gently, tenderly, and led her back to the master bedroom. She followed without protest.

"She enjoys being bound," I told her as soon as the door was closed again. "I found a way to hypnotically tie her hands. She knows that there is really nothing there, but somehow, she's convinced herself that the hypnotic suggestion binds her physically. I've watched her try ... really try ... to break free, but even long after she's awakened from her trance, she's unable to do so. It truly turns her on. It's a real sexual rush for her."

Sandy's eyes were huge. "Can you do that to ME?"

I laughed. "No," I answered, and her countenance fell dramatically, making me laugh even more. "Not without Tod's okay. And, if he DOES agree, I can't guarantee you that you'll respond the same way Elaine did ... though I'm beginning to think that you two are so much alike emotionally that you'll react identically in whatever you do." I walked over to the Elaine's dresser and opened a drawer, then I opened a box that resided there and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "In the meantime ...." And I dangled the shiny thing in front of her.

But her eyes hadn't followed the cuffs as I held them up. Slowly, she allowed her mouth to fall slightly open, and she pointed back at the box. "What is THAT?"

I smiled, replaced the cuffs, and picked up Elaine's favorite plaything. "It's a special restraining device. It's made with a solid center piece instead of a chain."

"How does it work?"

In answer, I took her wrists and held them together in front of her, then I started to fit the device to her; but abruptly, she snatched her hands away, spun around and repositioned them behind her, near the small of her back. "This way, please, Rod. Please? I'll be SO much more defenseless and helpless this way, won't I? I won't be able to ...." And she gasped sharply as the thing snapped shut around her wrists. She was breathing hard, raggedly, and she turned back around to face me while trying with all her might to get free of the contraption. She only tried for a few seconds, though, and now she simply stood in front of me, wheezing slightly. A shudder assaulted her, and she rushed a step toward me and pressed her shivering body against mine. "Helpless," she whispered. "So helpless."

"Sandy," I said quietly.

"Rod, please. He asked me to give myself to you, and I promised both of them I would ... as if I was agreeing to do some chore or something. But all the time, I was wanting this ... I was craving this." She shivered, and I put my arms around her as if to warm her. "Rod, I ... I think I've wanted you since the first time I saw you. Can't you see? Tod fell in love with me because I reminded him of Elaine. And I fell in love with him because he reminded me ... of you. And now, here I am, bound and helpless in your arms, and my pussy is so wet that it's running down the insides of my legs. Oh, Rod ... I ache for you."

I couldn't help but chortle. "When you met Tod, you'd only known me for twenty minutes."

"Yes," she said quietly. "But I'd known Elaine ... talked to her ... all that day. I know that it was pure covetousness, but I envied her. I fell in love with what she HAD in life. She had YOU ... and the first moment I set eyes on you, I longed for you ... loved you ... knowing that I'd never have you."

I sighed and pushed her back a step. At first, she seemed hurt, but then she understood that I just needed a little bit of space to unbutton my shirt. She stood, watching intently, as I took off each item of clothing, but when I had finally removed my underwear and stood before her so she could see me, instead of looking, she moved so quickly that I could barely follow her motion. She was suddenly on her knees in front of me, and she was licking my cock like a lollipop with her hot, wet, pink, little tongue. The quick movement toward my privates made me step back a half pace, and my hands came up for protection, but she had somehow followed me, so that her chest and nipples were rubbing tantalizingly against my thighs and my hands were somehow filled with her hair. My prick was at full attention following her little confession, and her mouth didn't quite have the altitude necessary to capture the tip of it, though she tried over and over to achieve this goal. At long last, instead of continuing this lost cause, she decided to strike out on a different tack, and she sucked my left testicle into her voracious mouth. I gripped her head and moaned, my pole throbbing and jerking.

"Please, Master ... may I taste you?" she panted after she'd let my ball slip out of her mouth. Dutifully, I grasped my rod and bent it forward. As soon as it was within striking range, she had engulfed it with her hungry lips and she sucked like a vacuum. Again, I moaned out loud, just once. But I wasn't the only one in the room moaning. She was making little suck-suck-suck fluctuations with her mouth, giving a grunting little "Mmmmmph" sort of groan between each one. In the meantime, her body itself had started undulating against my thighs, rubbing her stiff, elastic nipples up, then down, then up again.

I didn't want our first session to end like this. "Enough, Sandy," I told her gently, but she either didn't hear me, or she didn't want to comply. "Sandy, stop!" I ordered. But she seemed like a girl possessed, and her funny little noises were increasing in tempo. "STOP!" I barked, and instead of waiting for further developments, I fell to my knees in front of her. To my utter astonishment, as soon as we were on the same level, she lunged forward against me, hitting my body with her own, and the next thing I knew, I had sprawled over backwards onto the floor.

To this day, I'm not sure how she did it exactly. The impact had knocked her in the opposite direction (Newton's Second, and all that), so that she was on her back, as well. As I lifted my head up to observe happenstances, her body gave sort of an undulating jerk-and-snap, and somehow, she was standing on her feet. She took three quick strides forward, so that she was standing above me, straddling me, and then she lowered herself effortlessly onto my cock, not stopping until I was totally, utterly, completely buried in her steamy, dripping pussy. She issued a long, loud moan of absolute satisfaction. Keep in mind that everything I've explained in this paragraph was somehow accomplished with her wrists locked firmly behind her back.

"Fuckin' acrobat!" I cried out plaintively.

"Oooohh, Rod," she whined. "Do you always have to be so literal?"

I started laughing, despite myself, and she followed suit for a few second. But then the laugh morphed into another moan, her smile became an expression somewhere between pain and sublime ecstasy, and her eyes rolled up into her head. She panted. She exhaled raggedly. "SO DEEEEP!" she said, very loudly.

And that's when it started. Even now, I'm not sure I can find the words to adequately describe it. It felt like a hand, slick with something very warm and very wet and very slippery all over it, fist-fucking my cock. And yet, her body was not moving at all. I mean, I've heard of Kegel muscles (pubococcygeus muscles to you medical types), but whatever was at work inside this girl's body, I'm guessing that 99% of the women in the world have never known they possessed such muscles, much less utilized them. Whatever it was that she was doing, it seemed to require all of her attention, judging from the expression on her face ... and, also judging from said expression, it was causing her almost as much pleasure as it was me.

"Where did you learn how to do THAT?!" I gasped.

She was panting. "I ... I kept trying ... different things ... hoping to find ... something he really liked ...."

I couldn't hold myself back much longer. Reaching up, I cupped her firm breasts, tweaked her long, rubbery nipples, and then I just let my grasping, clutching fingers roam unregulated. She moaned more loudly when they were pinching her nipples, so that is where they spent most of their exercise period. But after a few minutes of this, I reached up with both or these unfettered marauders and clasped her firmly behind the neck. Then I sat up, pulled her against me, and kissed her. I kissed her hard, and tenderly, and passionately, and lovingly, and I did it for a long, long time. She made a funny noise into my mouth, and then another, and I became cognizant that she was crying ... sobbing. I slowed my kisses into little pecks and licks. And all the while, her cunt was working on me like an electric milking machine.

"I love you I love you I love you," she bawled and whimpered into my mouth. I began rolling her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she stiffened and began making a strange, mewling sound.

"You are going to cum for me," I told her matter-of-factly, breathing the words into her ear. And her odd sound began rising in pitch, though not in volume, as her rigid torso started heaving and straining, forward and back, grinding against my pubic bone on the fore stroke, gripping me like a vise on the backstroke. She was shaking uncontrollably, wailing plaintively like a banshee from far away, when a strong, sudden jolt hit her hard, and she cried out ... and again ... and yet again. I wrapped both arms around her and hung on for all I was worth as my cock swelled and began jerking and spewing inside her. Her fingers, behind her, suddenly found my balls and began squeezing and teasing, and I growled like some wild animal. I kept spurting, heaving, shuddering, spurting again ... and again. I never knew I had so much fluid to give a woman, and I wondered if I was ever going to stop.

I don't really know how long it was over before we actually began thinking again. Slowly, slowly, I became aware that I was still holding her very hard ... probably hard enough to hurt her, and while I consciously relaxed my grip, I realized that she was still crying. I shushed her gently, and told her that I loved her, too, realizing for the very first time that it was true.

"I'm thinking very terrible thoughts," she said softly, sadly.

"Tell me," I ordered.

She sighed deeply. "Elaine is my best friend in the whole world. But ... but I hope that she does NOT get pregnant tonight. I hope we have to do this over again. And over, and over ...."

I glanced toward my nightstand and tried to register the time in my foggy brain. It had been an hour since I had formally turned my wife over to my brother's care, and I needed to get back out there and make sure they were following the plan. But now, the enormity of my own emotions crashed over me like a wave. "All my life, I've tried to live according to a plan," I told the naked lady in my arms. "Suddenly, I don't know what to do."

"Love is like that," Sandy replied, studying my eyes for a hint that what I had just confessed to her was true and not some post-coital rambling. In response to her unspoken question, I kissed her. When I stopped, she sighed and shivered and leaned against me. "I absolutely adore being handcuffed and helpless for you," she said softly. "But if you don't let me put my arms around you and hold you, I think I'm going to go insane."

I laughed and struggled to get up. Once again, I'm not sure how she did it so effortlessly, but she was suddenly off of me and standing, waiting patiently for me to join her in the world of the upright. I turned her around and unfastened the metal cuff, and in another instant, she was holding me around the neck, feeling exactly like her alter-ego counterpart had an hour before. She started crying again.

"Listen, you little minx," I chided. "We are in love, you and I ... but that does not diminish our love for our spouses ... or at least, I can honestly tell you that's the case for me." She drew back a little and allowed me to read what was in her eyes.

"Yes, I still love him," she said softly. "I love him just as much as I always have. I am very, very confused."

"I think that's because these are uncharted waters for both of us. We are going to have to do a little exploring."

She hugged me firmly again. "Oh, Rod ... I can't WAIT to explore some more!"

I pushed gently against her body. "Give me your hands again," I ordered. She stepped back and stood, meek and unresisting before me while I fastened the cuff back onto her wrists, this time in front of her. "And now, let's go out there and talk about this." I held out my left hand to her, and she grasped it in both of hers, then she followed submissively behind me as I led her back to the living room.

She halted just as soon as we rounded the corner into the room, however, and stood, agape, looking at the two of them. They were both at one end of the couch, but they were lying with their backs on the floor and their legs draped over the seat cushions. "What ... what are you DOING?" she said loudly.

Elaine looked back over the top of her head at her friend and laughed. "We look really weird, huh? This was Rod's idea. If I lie like this, with my butt elevated, gravity pulls Tod's sperm toward my womb." She shifted her gaze toward me and smiled tenderly. "That's what Rod thinks, anyway."




Signed First Edition Ch. 06



With a strange movement that was so sudden that it made me draw back, Sandy snatched her hands from mine, sprang forward while doing a half twist, and she was suddenly standing on her hands, her face toward the couch, her body rigid as a board, and her toes together and pointing at the ceiling. She "hopped" forward on her hands (remember, they were crossed at her wrists), a little to one side, then, with another hop, she turned so that she was facing me. She stayed like that for several long seconds while we all gawked at her nude, perfect body, then she just sort of collapsed, arms first, ducking her head, rolling backwards ... and with a PLOP, she was nestled on the floor beside Elaine in exactly the same position, her legs draped across the couch seat cushion. 

Elaine shrieked with laughter, then hushed suddenly as the baby monitor sputtered with baby Zack's plaintive crying. Still chuckling, she told us to wait ... that he'd settle down and go back to sleep; and sure enough, in another thirty seconds, he was quiet again. In the interim, I, feeling very self conscious and naked, struggled to attain the same posture as the others. I cannot imagine what someone would have thought if they'd seen us, all lined up like that on the floor, naked, the guys on either end next to their respective sisters.

"What do you have on your wrists?" Tod demanded, talking over Elaine's body toward his spouse.

"It's one of Elaine's little restraining devices," I answered for her. "I can tell you where to get one, if you want. I think you'd really enjoy talking to the proprietor."

"Is THIS the position I need to be in to get pregnant?" Sandy asked me, smiling. Before I could say anything else, she turned to Elaine and continued. "I'm just FULL of him ... he was dribbling out of me and down my legs." She took a breath. "Elaine, we need to talk."

My wife laughed again, then answered quietly "Yes, we do."

"I've never been on the pill," Sandy continued her diatribe, as if those last two lines of narration had never existed. "My very first lesson in actual, real sex education was watching Tod put on a rubber. And then, after the wedding, we never used anything. We've been trying to get pregnant and give little Zack a cousin for six months now."

"Um ...." I stuttered.

"What are you DOING?" Sandy asked Elaine, ignoring me. The vibrator had just growled into action.

"This is another of Rod's ideas," my wife explained. "He believes that if a woman has a big orgasm after a man has cum inside her, that the increase in odds of her becoming pregnant is ... how did he put it? Statistically significant. That is what you said, isn't it, darling?" She lifted her head a little and peered past Sandy at me.

"Uh ...."

"OOOoooohhh, my gosh!" Elaine said, moving her head back, arching and groaning as the humming device found its target under her own exploring fingers."

I couldn't really see Sandy's face, since it was turned away, watching Elaine, but we were all silent for awhile. "Let's suck on her nipples, Tod," she said at last. "That makes ME cum harder." And without another second's hesitation, she lowered her mouth to my wife's right nipple. Tod, however, just laughed softly at the whole scenario and remained resting, staring up at the ceiling. Elaine moaned loudly. In only a moment, Sandy's head snapped up and she exclaimed "Milk! Oh, Tod, I'd forgotten that there'd be milk! You have to try this!"

He laughed again. "You forget, my darling, that she and I have been going at it hot and heavy for the past hour. I am well aware of the taste of her."

But Sandy wasn't listening. She lowered her head and resumed her suckling, making rhythmic little slurping noises as she did so. This elicited yet another noise from my wife, and idly, she lifted her right hand and ran her fingers through the hair in the back of her friend's head, holding it there. "I ... I'm going to ...." Elaine moaned "... Oh, Sandy, this is going to be a big one. OOoohh! It's coming, Sandy. Oh, God. Here it comes!" She began thrashing about with a rather sizeable degree of gusto, and because she refused to relinquish her hold on Sandy's head, the vibrations in this human chain were being translated on to me as my sister's body bumped against my own. Elaine was moaning, Tod was laughing, Sandy was making surprised little noises that included occasional gulps, and I reached out my arm and put it around my nearest partner in an attempt to not get bumped off my position at the end of the chain.

At last, things settled down again, Elaine relinquished her hold on her friend, who fell back on the floor again, this time finding herself nestled in my arm. We all lay like that for several minutes. "May I borrow that, please?" Sandy asked quietly. And without a second's hesitation, Elaine handed her the vibrator. It had been switched off, and Sandy fumbled with it for a few moments until it snarled back into operation. "I've never used one of these," she said, studying it. "Where's the best place to put it?"

Oddly, Elaine didn't laugh at all. "Oh, you'll figure it out," she told her friend casually. Sandy nodded and lowered the thing to her vagina. She shivered violently. "Holy cow!" she groaned.

Still Elaine refused to laugh. She rolled toward us. "Suck on her nipple, Rod," she ordered. I looked at her questioningly until she lowered her mouth to her friend's straining, erect, hard nipple; then I took a deep breath and followed suit. Sandy shuddered again.

"Statistically significant," she moaned, her body beginning to undulate.

I stopped my sucking and raised my head. "Sandy ... you have to know that ...."

Elaine also raised her head, though her mouth made a small "pop" when it let go of the nipple. "What my husband is attempting to explain," she said, "is that he doesn't believe his low sperm count is capable of producing the desired results." And she sucked the tit back into her mouth again. After a long second, I followed suit.

Sandy's body arched up toward us, her breathing labored and loud. "OH! Oh, Rod ... Rod ... UGH! For someone with a ... Ahhh! ... with such a ... scientific mind ... OH! ... you can be ... pretty dense sometimes. Don't you KNOW? ... Oh, gosh! ... Don't you know ... that ... AHHH! ... all it takes is one?"

And then she was lost, spiraling up and up and up into the loving arms of her orgasm.

.....................

THE PRESENT

I learned two of my life's greatest lessons that night. First of all, when it comes to love, scientific reason is superfluous. It simply has no bearing. And secondly, as all-encompassing as is the love and respect between a man and a woman, the love and respect between a man and his brother is just as strong. Different, of course, but equally strong. It took both women to help us break the code. And while they are two separate, individual persons with the same personality, Tod and I are two halves of a whole ... for he has faith in human emotion, while I seek logic and understanding in people's interactions. Through the directions provided by the Signed First Edition, we had been allowed to see those two halves in action in each of the girls ... but it took the love of both of them to show us what we men lacked individually.

That evening, after discussing our "situation" thoroughly, after each of us had his or her say ... so that we all knew exactly where we were emotionally ... we began our new life together. Sandy and I slept in the guest bedroom. I got up in the night and took the baby to Elaine for his feeding. Tod, beside her, slept through it all.

Sandy got her wish ... both of her wishes, actually. Elaine was not pregnant, and it would take four more months of trying before she achieved that particular goal. And Sandy was. I suppose that makes the odds that I am the father of her baby ... well ... statistically significant; though, of course, there is no way any of us can ever really know for sure.

Pop came through with another miracle. Did I ever mention that he is a criminal lawyer in Pasadena? That, of course does not necessarily mean that he only defended criminals from Pasadena ... but ... in some cases, he actually did. One of those just happened to be a real estate broker, and just one of the dozens of new houses this scumball acquired through a bank fraud scheme just happened to be in our neighborhood. When he found out that Tod was in the market, Pop gained control of the title as partial payment for services rendered and then gave his son a great deal. So now, it was only a short walk between our home and Tod & Sandy's.

Our "relationship" was unlike any other ... but then, EVERY relationship is unique. It's just a matter of degree. When we wanted to be with someone in particular, we made a few plans, and it happened. Once a month or so, Tod would take both women for a night as a threesome ... and I would do the same. On some occasions, Elaine and I, or Tod and Sandy (or Sandy and I, or Tod and Elaine) would take off on an overnight getaway, leaving the other two to watch the kids. Often, though, we would simply swap for an evening. 

Things changed (things ALWAYS change ... it's just the nature of "things") one day when Elaine and Sandy and I were enjoying a morning "encore," and all three kids (now ages two and three) rushed in demanding breakfast. (Tod, as an assistant coach for a college team, was out of town.) It didn't faze the little rug-rats at that age, of course, but we knew we had to become more discrete for their sakes. And so ... we did, getting motel rooms or otherwise making sure they weren't exposed to our sexual lives. But, once again, discretion becomes a part of EVERY family, where sex is concerned. Like I said ... just a matter of degree.

Of one thing, I'm certain. Our kids grew up in households full of love. My two sons and I are very close, but if there was ever a time they didn't want to discuss something with their dad for some reason, they always knew that Uncle Tod was there for them. And on many occasions, I walked in on Elaine and our niece during an emotional heart-to-heart talk.

And as for the sex ... well, I think you can imagine. Two guys who look alike, but are not. Two girls who look different, but are not ... both longing to submit to the dominance their men are willing to provide. Each of us with two lovers. And all of us with complete trust and faith in each other.

Yes, I think you can imagine.

THE END