"I noticed
Gary's car in his drive as I came up the lane," Tony said, slipping
his phone into his jacket pocket. "I think I'll go and see
him."
"What for?" I
asked.
"Just to say
hallo. I'll ask him about David, I really would like him to get
started on the garden. I'll see you later."
Leaning over
and planting a kiss on my cheek, he left the room. Gary might ask
Tony about my sister, Jackie. He might tentatively question Tony
about my past, my supposedly sordid past - my child. But no, Gary
would talk to me first, threaten to expose me. I'd play along with
him, play the game, pretend to be horrified and beg him not to tell
Tony. He'd order me to his prison cell to sexually abuse me in
exchange for keeping quiet. I wouldn't go.
I felt quite
smug thinking about Gary and his imminent threats, his futile
threats. Jackie should have said more, told him that I was having
an affair, really give Gary some ammunition. I could ring him,
pretending to be Jackie, and tell him dreadful things about Helen.
All in good time, I reflected - all in good time.
My thoughts
turned to the two young men I'd met on the common, one with his
penis in my mouth and the other ramming his cock deep into my cunt.
For some reason, I wanted Tony to know about my wicked adultery.
Did I want to hurt him? I wasn't sure. Becoming bored, I wandered
into my studio and unveiled my painting. Cocks, cunts, tits,
spunk... It was good, very good, and I decided to finish it and
send it to my agent.
After an hour,
I'd completed the painting. Pornography, I mused, standing back and
scrutinising my work. Should I use a pseudonym? No, I wouldn't hide
behind a false name, I'd stick to Helen Hunter. What would Tony
think? A girl sprawled out on the grass with cocks spunking over
her nipples, fucking her mouth, her cunt... Would Tony enjoy
sharing me, my body, with another man? Would he fuck Lydia while I
watched, watched his penis driving into her tight, wet cunt? The
notion aroused me.
"What the
hell's that?" Tony asked as he entered the studio and started
open-mouthed at the pornographic painting. "Christ, Helen! What the
hell..."
"I told you,
I'm painting nudes," I smiled sweetly, innocently.
"Nudes? That's
disgusting!"
"Yes, I
suppose it is."
"You've shaved
your... you ask me about anal intercourse, you paint pornography,
and then you wonder why I keep asking why you've changed!" He
paused, staring into my eyes, coming to his conclusion. "Are you
having an affair?"
"An affair?
Why do you ask that?"
"Because I
believe you are, Helen. It all adds up, the expletives you use,
shaving, the painting... it all adds up."
"Have you ever
had an affair, Tony?"
"No, of course
not!"
"Neither have
I." I grinned salaciously. "I'm thinking of having my nipples
pierced."
"
What
? I don't
believe this! There's something very wrong with you! I'm going out
for a walk!"
In his anger,
his confusion, he stormed out of the studio. The front door
slamming shut, I giggled, wondering at my wickedness, why I'd tried
to hurt him. Should I have my nipples pierced? Gold rings would
look attractive, sexy, sluttish. Yes, I decided I would. Perhaps
Tony would have his foreskin pierced, a gold ring would look nice,
massage my cunt as he fucked me. No, perhaps not. I didn't want
Tony to fuck me.
Grabbing the
ringing phone, I wasn't surprised to hear Gary's voice. "I've met
your sister," he began. The perverted bastard sounded
triumphant.
"My sister?" I
tried to sound horrified. "I... I haven't got a sister."
"Jackie,
that's her name. She told me quite a lot about you, Helen, about
your past."
"I... Gary, I
haven't got a sister!"
"I met her at
your place. She told me that you used to work together, on the
game. There's no point in denying it, Helen. This revelation puts
things in a different perspective, don't you agree?"
"A different
perspective?" I echoed, my stomach somersaulting in my
excitement.
"You have a
child, too. I don't think Tony would be too pleased to..."
"You just dare
to tell him!" I returned.
"I won't tell
him, Helen - not if you do as I ask."
"I'm not going
to..."
"Helen, I'll
decide what you are or aren't going to do. By the way, I've added a
few extra novelties to my sex room. We're going to have some real
fun, some really dirty fun. I've arranged something for this
evening, I want you here at seven o'clock."
"No, I...
Tony's here, so I can't."
"There's no such thing as
can't
. You'll be here at seven or I'll
have a word with Tony. I mean it, Helen - seven o'clock, or
else!"
He slammed the
phone down, obviously thinking he'd got me where he wanted me. Oh,
Gary, poor misguided Gary! I was enjoying the game, the excitement,
and I didn't want Tony to spoil my fun. Dialling his company, I
asked for Stephen Giles, my mind brimming with ideas.
"Stephen, it's
Helen Hunter," I said as he replied.
"Helen, how
are you?"
"I've changed
my mind, I want Tony sent abroad."
"Why?"
"Because... it
doesn't matter why, just send him away somewhere."
"All right, if
that's what you want."
"Yes, it's
what I want."
"We have a
problem in Tokyo; I'll send him out there to deal with it. I'll
ring him on his mobile now."
"Thanks."
"I'll be
needing your intimate services soon. I'll ring you in a couple of
days to see whether you're free."
"I'll always
be free for you, Stephen, you know that."
"Good, I'll be
in touch."
It was
incredible, I could have Tony sent here and there simply by lifting
the phone. My cunt was incredible, the power she had over men was
unbelievable. Did she have power over women? I thought of Lydia,
wondering why she'd not been to see me, her cunt brimming with
David's spunk, begging me to drink from her sex hole, lick her
clitoris to orgasm. Perhaps she'd decided to go straight, stick
with David. Whatever, it didn't matter. I'd find men on the common
when I was desperate for a fix, or call Stephen Giles and drink
from his orgasming knob.
Tony finally
came mooching back from his walk, sulking. "Stephen rang me," he
murmured, barely looking at me. "I'm going to Tokyo."
"You can't,
you've only just come home!" I protested.
"I don't want
to go but... Helen, we are OK, aren't we?"
"Yes, of
course we are!" I giggled. I put my arms around him and held him,
but felt nothing. "I was only joking when I said I'd have my
nipples pierced."
"Really?"
"Yes, really.
You don't think I'd have gold rings through my nipples, do
you?"
"I don't know.
I mean, you've shaved, so..."
"It's not the
same as having my nipples pierced!"
"No, I suppose
it's not. I don't want to go away again; I want to be here with
you, so I know what you're up to."
"I'm not up to
anything," I smiled, stroking his lips with my fingertip.
"You've
shaved, you..."
"I did that for you, Tony. Look, you really must stop worrying
about me. All I'll be doing while you're away is working, going for
walks most days and working. You do trust me, don't you?"
Trust the Devil's daughter
?
"Yes, of course I trust you. I'd better go and pack my case;
he wants me on the next available flight. Christ, I've only
just
un
packed!"
"I know you
don't want to go, but you might not get your promotion if you
refuse. Go and pack your case and I'll ring a cab."
As Tony
wandered upstairs, I thought it best to be nice to him, even though
I still felt that I wanted to hurt him. I felt nastiness. Perhaps I
felt like that because I felt nastiness towards myself - be nasty
to myself for my adultery, my debauchery. I never did understand
even the rudimentaries of psychology, the mysterious ways of the
subconscious.
Tony finally
left and I grabbed the yellow pages, searching for somewhere to
have my nipples pierced. I'd made the decision, and that was that.
What Tony would think didn't matter, they were my nipples. I found
a place in town, it would cost a lot and hurt a lot, but they could
fit me in that afternoon. I agreed and hung up and went up stairs
to change into Suzie. Suzie was going to have her nipples pierced,
not Helen.
A young man
did the job, the painful but incredibly arousing job. Lying on a
couch with my firm breasts bared, my nipples erect as he examined
them, I'd wondered whether he was aroused, his penis stiffening as
he tweaked my milk buds. I watched his face as he carefully
inserted the gold rings, wondering what he thought of me, Suzie the
slut. How many nipples had he pierced? Did he wank at home at night
picturing breasts, erect nipples? I imagined that he did.
I returned
home, my nipples sore, swollen, aching like hell, the gold rings
beautifully sexy, decadent. I'd bought a gold chain to use once the
pain had subsided. I'd hang the chain around my neck and clip the
ends to the rings, pulling my tits up, stimulating my milk teats.
Within two or three days, the man had said, by then the pain will
have gone. Did I want the pain to go? I didn't know. Pain brought
me pleasure, immense sexual pleasure. Should I have my clitoris
pierced? No, perhaps not!
The phone rang
twenty or thirty times during the evening as I planned my next
painting and listened to Tchaikovsky in my studio. I ignored it,
and the doorbell, sure that it was Gary wanting to know why I'd not
turned up. He'd be fuming, incensed, desperate for my mouth, my
cunt, my tight arsehole. Arsehole, the word didn't seem so
disgusting now. I was becoming accustomed to obscenities.
I lifted my
smock and gazed at the gold rings, my elongated nipples. I felt
incredibly decadent. I was still going through the process of
change, changing from a virtual prude, a monogamist, into a rampant
nymphomaniac. When would the transformation be complete?
Gently tugging
on the gold rings I grimaced with the pain, my cunt wetting with
the pleasure, my clitoris stirring. I couldn't wait until I was
able to fix the chain to the rings, to abuse my tits. I could have
gold rings through my inner lips. God, I was changing fast!
After three
days my nipples had healed, and my craving for sperm soared. Tony
had phoned every day, as had Gary. Tony had told me that he loved
me, Gary had told me that he wanted to arse-fuck me, to cane my
buttocks. I didn't mention my pierced nipples to Tony, but I told
Gary - just to arouse him, force him to resort to masturbation.
He'd said that he'd be working from home for a week or two longer
so that he could be close to me. He wanted to see my nipple rings,
I'd told him to bugger off.
It was
midmorning when I phoned David for sperm, but there was no reply.
My panic was worsening by the hour, I was desperate. But what to
do? There was no way I'd go to Gary, no way! Suzie's favourite
haunt, the common? Yes, why not? Donning her awful clothes, I left
the house and strutted down the lane in my stilettos. The gold
chain around my neck clipped to the nipple rings, my tits painfully
pulled up, I felt aroused beyond belief, incredibly perverse in my
lewdness. Never before had I been so acutely aware of my breasts,
my nipples - my femininity. What man could deny himself the
pleasure of Suzie's naked body, her hot mouth, her wet cunt? No
man, I decided.
It was time
for a change, I mused as I sat on the grass by the bushes. I wanted
more than a mouth-fuck, more than a cunt-fuck - but what? Sperm was
my priority, followed closely by an overwhelming desire for
perverted sex. Not like Gary's perverted sex, not as debased and
degrading as anal intercourse, but something lewd. Six men?
There was no
one on the common. By the look of it, I wasn't even going to get my
fix, let alone satisfaction from perverted sex! Again I thought of
Gary, his erect penis, his bulbous knob, his spunk slit. But no,
never would I visit him, no matter how bad my craving - I'd die
first!
My breathing
fast and shallow, my chest tight, I picked up a small round stone,
rolling it between my fingers like a worry bead. It worked for the
Greeks, but not for me. I tossed the stone away, noticing a larger
one - rounded, smooth. Picking it up, I opened my legs and eased it
between my swollen pussy lips, forcing it deep into my drenched
vaginal sheath. Heavy, cold, stretching my inner flesh, filling me,
the stone brought me extraordinary pleasure, lewd pleasure. But I
still needed a tranquillizer - sperm.
Noticing Lydia
walking across the common as I rhythmically squeezed and relaxed my
vaginal muscles, I wondered whether David had fucked her, filled
her cunt with his spunk. I couldn't call her over; I was Suzie, not
Helen. I still owed Lydia one hundred pounds, perhaps I'd ring her
later and suggest that she come over and collect her earnings.
Another hour
passed and I leaped to my feet. This was pointless, hanging around
on the common for a man, a pair of spunk laden balls. The sun was
beginning to set, time was running out. There was only one thing
for it, go into town and hang around on street corners, shop
doorways - prostitute myself.
Walking down
the lane past the postman's cottage, the stone massaging my inner
vaginal flesh, my nipples painfully yanked by the chain with each
step I took, I noticed his wife in the garden watering the flowers.
She wouldn't recognize the new Suzie, the ginger-haired Suzie. Was
her cunt full of spunk? No, probably not.
Why hadn't the
postman made a pass at me, at Helen? Having seen the photographs
and the painting, I'd have thought that he'd approached me. There
again, after his wife had spoken to Suzie the prostitute, I suppose
he'd thought he'd better behave himself for a while. I walked on,
not wanting to waste time upsetting her. I could distress her
whenever I wished, cause her untold anxiety, misery.