Enslaved (21 page)

As Alan entered the lounge and closed the door behind him, Marianne pondered on Barry's hurtful words. But she was becoming used to his cruelty. If anything, his actions only served to strengthen her determination to turn the tables. Deciding to contact the course lecturer and confess, she stared blankly at her client's bulging trousers as he stood before her.

Moving forward on the sofa, following his orders, she unzipped his trousers.
A cock's a cock!
she consoled herself as she tugged his trousers and boxer shorts down to reveal his stiff penis. There was no need to look up to his face, to acknowledge the owner of the solid penis, she mused as she pulled the loose skin back to unveil his purple knob. She was now a real slave, having no choice other than to follow her master's instructions.

'Suck it!' Alan demanded. 'Hurry up, I haven't got much time!' No, he probably hadn't, Marianne thought. Christine, Marianne's friend of several years, would be waiting for her unfaithful husband to return home. 'That's good!' he cried as she engulfed his bulbous knob in her hot mouth. 'Ah, God! If only Chris would do this!'

So that was the reason for his infidelity. That was why he only demanded oral sex. Marriage vows broken, shattered, Marianne mused - and all because his wife wouldn't agree to use her mouth as she would her vagina and allow her husband to fuck her there.
Some marriage!
she thought, wondering how many men, how many clients, Barry would round up.

'Wank me while you're sucking!' Alan ordered crudely, thrusting his hips forward. Moving her hand up and down his veined shaft, Marianne licked and mouthed his glans, eagerly awaiting his sperm, wondering how many men she'd be told to suck to orgasm. 'That's good!' he enthused as his shaft twitched and his knob swelled. 'Don't stop! I'm. .. God, I'm coming!'

Gushing, bathing her tongue, his male cream filled her cheeks, running down her chin as she fervently slurped on the orgasming fountainhead. On and on the product of his climax flowed, sustained by Marianne's snaking tongue around his pumping fountainhead. Thrusting his organ deep into her mouth, his glans jetting sperm down her throat, he grabbed her head. 'Drink it, you dirty cow!' he bellowed. 'Ah, yes, yes! God, you've got a beautiful mouth!'

His flow of sperm finally slowing to a trickle, he gently rocked his hips, sliding his glans over her pink tongue, watching her lips roll along his wet shaft. 'God, I needed that!' he murmured as he slipped his knob from her mouth. 'Lick me, clean me,' he instructed, gazing at his sperm glistening on her full red lips. Holding his organ in her hand, she moved her head forward, lapping up the globules of come, cleansing his penis - the penis that rightfully his betrayed wife had exclusive rights to. Would he go home and fuck her? she wondered. Would he fuck his wife and picture Marianne's mouth encompassing his throbbing glans?

Pulling away and tugging his trousers up, Alan moved to the door, not even glancing at Marianne as he told her that she'd be drinking from his cock every evening. Muffled voices came from the hall as Alan closed the lounge door behind him. That was it, she'd done her job, played the role of a tart - sold herself for crude sex.

The front door slammed shut and Barry entered the lounge. The client had gone - spermed in her mouth and gone home to his loving wife, she mused as Barry clicked his fingers and ordered her to wake up. Looking around the room, the taste of sperm lingering, she forced a smile, wondering again at the powerful trigger word.

'When's Alan coming round?' she asked, licking her lips.

'I don't know,' he replied. 'It wasn't a definite arrangement. Marianne, have you been out today?'

'Why?'

'There's something missing from the kitchen.'

'Something missing? What?'

'Er.. . just a book. Did you go out and leave the back door open?'

'No, of course not! You've probably left it upstairs or somewhere. Which book was it?'

'It doesn't matter,' he sighed, his forehead lined, his expression pained.

So, he s discovered that his five hundred pounds has gone missing!
she laughed inwardly.
Poor Barry, all that money -gone!
And there was nothing he could say about it! But, she suddenly realized, if he were to use the word and question her, she'd not be able to stop the truth from falling from her pretty lips.

'Juxtaposition!' he bellowed as he stood before her. This was it, she thought anxiously, realizing that the word had worked, yet again. To her relief, Barry unzipped his jeans and offered his hard glans to her mouth. 'Now you can suck
me
off!' he chuckled, seemingly forgetting about the missing money.

As she took his knob into her mouth, Marianne guessed that he'd not question her about the money because he thought that she had no knowledge of his hiding place. There was little point in asking her about something she knew nothing of. What conclusion he'd come to, she didn't know, or care -she was five hundred pounds the richer, that was all that mattered!

'I liked watching you suck Alan's cock and drink his sperm,' Barry murmured as he pushed his organ-head further into her accommodating mouth. 'And watching you being thrashed by those lezzies was something else! Christ, the way you shoved that plastic pot up your arse was brilliant! Tomorrow we'll start making the videos! And I'll tell you something else, Marianne - I'm going to have you used and fucked by so many men that I'll be on a grand a week! Now, suck me off, you slag!'

Her fate seemingly sealed, Marianne endeavoured to regain control over her actions. Trying to pull away, to slip Barry's penis from her mouth, she realized the full extent of the strange trance she was in. Her head actually moved forward as she involuntarily took Barry's knob further into her mouth. Licking, sucking, she obediently complied with her master's demands and wanked his fleshy organ.

As his sperm jetted, filling her hot mouth, Marianne savoured the salty liquid, comparing the taste with Alan's, wondering again how many men would use her, fuck her mouth and drain their heavy balls. Swallowing Barry's sperm, she was surprised as he suddenly slipped his solid shaft out. Rubbing his throbbing glans against Marianne's lips, her face, he pumped his sperm over her youthful skin. Desperate to swallow more of his jetting come, Marianne engulfed his knob again, sucking, drinking from his massive cock. Her face drenched, dripping with the creamy product of his orgasm, she lost herself in her enforced act of debauchery, taking his cock-head to the back of her throat and swallowing hard.

'Keep still now!' Barry gasped. His knob absorbing the wet heat of her mouth, Marianne remained motionless. Slowly slipping his penis in and out, he shuddered in the aftermath of his climax as the last of his sperm bubbled from his cocktip slit and ran over her pink tongue. 'That was good! You did very well!' he commended as he slid his wet cock from her mouth and zipped his jeans.

Sitting opposite, he ordered Marianne to wipe her mouth on the back of her hand before clicking his fingers and bringing her out of her hypnotic trance. Again, Marianne was in control of her young body, and she gazed at Barry,

wondering once more what sort of man he really was. 'I've been offered a job,' Marianne announced. 'Really? Where?' he asked surprisedly. 'Brooke-Smith,' she replied, deciding to annoy Barry, to piss him off.

'Brooke-Smith!' he echoed angrily. 'When was this?' 'Today. He offered me a company car - a Mercedes.' 'You can't work for
him\
I don't want you . . .' 'Why can't I work for him? It's a very good job, Barry. I'd be his personal assistant and ...'

'Yeah, and I know what sort of personal assistant he wants! I forbid you to take the job, Marianne!' 'Forbid me? Do you own me now?' 'No, I didn't mean ... I care for you, love. I don't want you working for a randy old bastard like Brooke-Smith.'

Care for me?
Marianne thought angrily. Barry was more than a bastard, she reflected - he was a hideous monster! 'I'm going to bed!' she snapped. 'Don't come up and annoy me, I'm tired!'

Barry had spent the night on the sofa, leaving for work before Marianne had woken, much to her relief. Still fuming, she washed and dressed and nibbled on a sandwich, wondering about her next move. Grabbing her diary from her handbag, she flicked through the pages as she wandered through the hall to the phone.

'Mr Ducante?' she asked as a man answered. 'Speaking.'

'My name's Marianne, I was on the hypnosis course you ran.' 'Oh, yes - Marianne! How are you?' 'I'm fine, thanks. I wanted to ask you something, if you can spare me a few minutes.'

'Yes, of course - what's the problem?'

Marianne explained her predicament to her mentor, but he was reluctant to discuss the matter over the phone. 'All I can say is that never in all my life have I heard of a trigger word being implanted in the subconscious by autosuggestion. It's just not possible for a subject to implant a trigger word in his or her own subconscious, Marianne!'

'But it's happened!' she insisted despairingly.

'Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose. Look, I'm not calling you a liar, but... Why not come up and see me and we'll discuss it further?'

Not wanting to travel the long distance to visit him, she hung up, wondering why he'd not helped her, talked about it properly - why he'd even
mentioned
the word liar. Deciding to go to the park on the off-chance of bumping into Rod, Marianne left the house, ignoring the ringing telephone as she closed the front door.
I'll bet that's Ducante!
she thought as she walked down the street.
I'll bet he wants to use the trigger word and have his wicked way with me!

The sun was already hot in the clear blue sky, too hot, Marianne thought as she crossed the park. Flopping onto the bench, she sighed, again wondering what her next move should be. Gazing at Rod's house, she decided to visit him, just to talk, to get to know him a little better. She'd pretend that the trigger word didn't always work, she mused as she neared the house. Should he mention the word, unless it
really
worked and sent her into a trance, she'd just smile and ask him what he'd meant by 'juxtaposition'.

Finding the back door locked, Marianne wandered around the house to the front door. Ringing the bell, she gasped as she read the words engraved on a brass plate.
R.D. Bewick. Hypnotherapist.

Dashing around the side of the house at the sound of someone in the hall, she ran through the back gate and out into the park, her heart beating wildly as she recalled masturbating on Rod's sofa.
He must have thought, or known, that I was faking it!
she reflected anxiously, recalling Ducante's words.
God, what must he have thought of me?

Sitting by the pond, despondency set in. Her heart sinking at the thought of never being able to visit Rod again, she wondered why he hadn't mentioned that he was a hypnotherapist.
It's all going wrong!
she thought sadly. Her relationship with Barry was all but over, she hadn't seen John for a while, not that she really wanted to - and now she felt that she couldn't face Rod again. 'But the trigger word really
does
work!' she breathed in her rising confusion, leaping up and returning to Rod's house.

'Marianne!' he smiled as he opened the front door.

'Hi, Rod. Why didn't you tell me about this?' she asked accusingly, pointing to the brass plate.

'Because I... Come in and we'll talk about it.'

Sitting on the familiar - intimately familiar - sofa, Marianne recalled masturbating in front of Rod.
But I was innocent!
she consoled herself as he sat in the armchair.
I was completely innocent!

'I didn't tell you my profession, Marianne, because I didn't believe your story about the trigger word. No one in his right mind would place a trigger word in a subject's subconscious, and leave it there.'

'But the lecturer was taken ill before he ...'

'Then why hasn't he contacted you and removed the word? He would never...'

'All right, I'll be honest with you. I faked the word to have some fun with ... Anyway, the word, after faking it several times, actually worked.'

'Do you recall what happened when you were here the other day?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Do you remember what you did?'

'We talked, and then I left.'

'Marianne, when a subject is under hypnosis, he'll later recall everything that had happened during that time.'

'Yes, so what?'

'I used the word when you were here and you ...'

'That proves it, then! I have no recollection whatsoever!'

'But that can't be true, Marianne! Look, I'm only a hypnotherapist. I help people who want to give up smoking and the like - I'm not an authority on hypnotism. But I do know that subjects recall all that happened to them during hypnosis. OK, I'll accept that the trigger word really does work, but you must accept the fact that, whatever happens during hypnosis, the subject will recall everything afterwards.'

Marianne averted her gaze as Rod rose to his feet and opened the drinks cabinet. She'd have to admit to recalling her wanton masturbation if she were going to have Rod help her. Building up her courage, she took a deep breath.