The Lesser Evil Ch. 03

"Mrs. Maxwell?"

She recognized the room immediately. The living room of her first and closest friend in the neighborhood, Connie Townley. But not her current living room. The original room, with the orange shag carpeting, the floor to ceiling wall of mirrors and the 70's style décor. She'd helped Connie redecorate to a more modern look. It'd been one of the things that had provided a bond for the two of them – a shared love of decorating and change. But now it was all back to the way it had been.

"Mrs. Maxwell?"

Kyra looked over to see Brian Townley addressing her. He'd returned to the way he'd been too, probably about six years ago. An overweight, pasty-faced 16-year-old. Always on the computer in his room. Never outside hanging with friends or going to the mall or dating. In the intervening years he'd gained a lot of confidence, shed a lot of pounds, and turned into a smart, charming college student. But that was now. And this was then.

"Mrs. Maxwell, take off your top and your bra."

Kyra looked at him in amazement. Had she just heard him correctly? "I beg your pardon?" she asked.

"Take off your top and bra. Now!" Brian stated firmly.

"I will not," she replied hotly, wondering what had gotten into him. Was he on drugs?

She watched as he mumbled an obscene word, then consult a piece of paper on the table next to him. "I knew this wasn't going to work. Why isn't this working?" he said to himself.

As Kyra turned to leave, not sure what she'd tell Connie when she saw her next, Brian called to her, "Mrs. Maxwell, please, stop. I'm sorry..."

She turned to give him a piece of her mind, saw his lips move in an odd way, then felt the familiar buzzing flood her brain. Suddenly she had no will of her own. Her heart started racing in anticipation of serving him. She could feel the lust spreading through her body, emanating from her pussy in waves of need.

She could see his lips move again, but couldn't hear through the storm of noise in her head. After several attempts to communicate, he gestured at her, and she hastened to comply, quickly unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall to the floor. She removed her sports bra just as quickly, cupping her breasts and offering them to the grinning young man.

Kyra stood trembling with anticipation as Brian caressed and sucked her breasts. His every touch sent jolts through her body, and soon she could feel that her panties had dampened. Her heart leapt when he gave her another order, and her slacks and panties quickly joined her other clothes on the floor. She stood still as his fingers frantically explored her slit, fumbling though the folds, and then squeezing her ass cheeks. He licked and sucked at her sensitive skin wherever he could find it. Finally, he gestured her to her knees. Working quickly, he undid his pants and pushed both his pants and underwear down, leaving her face-to-face with his hard and quivering manhood. At a nod from him, she happily took his cock into her hand. But just as she touched him, his balls spasmed and a spurt of liquid launched from the tip, splashing across her chest and tits. As the rest of his cum dribbled out over her hands, she looked up at him, expecting to see pleasure that she'd served him so well. Instead, his eyes were filled with disappointment.

The observer part of her had already reached the inevitable conclusion, but the active part of her mind raced to answer the question. Why was he disappointed? Hadn't he wanted to cum? She puzzled over it even as the sticky, white jizz slid down the globes of her breasts, and seeped in between her fingers. She waited for his next order, body still trembling with the need to serve. But he simply stood before her, his cum-soaked cock still cradled in her cum-covered hands. Looking up at him, she begged him with her eyes for another order. Finally, he licked his lips, as if readying to say something. Her heart leapt with excitement, thrilled that he would give her another order, another way to serve him. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and began licking the cum from his cock and her fingers, lapping at it with the eagerness of a baby animal that had discovered a treat.

Only when she was done did she look back up at him. This time she was rewarded with a look of pure pleasure. She could tell that he had other orders for her as well, and the very thought brought her even closer to the edge of orgasm. At a gesture, she lay face up on the coffee table and lifted her spread legs high in the air. She quivered as the boy explored the hidden recesses of her body, pulling her pussy lips apart, fingering her open hole, pinching and tugging at her erect clitoris. She moaned aloud, though she couldn't hear it, as he kissed and bit her upthrust breasts, leaving them wet and hot and shivering. She sucked at his tongue when he kissed her hard, his inexperienced lips sliding all over hers, pinning her head against the table with his carnivorous lust.

All of a sudden the buzzing doubled, and the need to have his cock inside her threatened to split her open. She reached down to find it hard between his legs, and she opened herself to him, thrusting her hips into the air and willing him to enter her. He responded by motioning her to the floor. She quickly rolled down, laying flat on her back and exposing her swollen pussy to him. He clambered between her legs, his cock scraping against her skin and bringing volcanoes of heat to the surface wherever it touched.

Af first he seemed to be teasing her, his ripe cock head splitting her pussy lips but never entering. Finally she grasped his monster shaft and guided it to her hot hole. She could feel the tension leave him as his cock slid all the way into her, greased by the hot juices that'd been collecting inside her for the past half hour. His cock head felt as big as a fist, his shaft as thick as an arm. He fucked her inexpertly, just hard and often enough to fuel the fire building deep in her cunt. Whenever his cock would slip out, she would pull her legs way back and fully expose her juicy pussy, giving him a target for his next penetration. One time he missed the mark and penetrated her anus to the hilt, but she merely adjusted her position. In her absolute compulsion to be fucked, one hole was as good as the next.

She could feel her body poised on the edge of an orgasm, her cunt pumping out juice by the gallon, her nerve-endings twitching for relief, her clit keening with every tiny touch. Yet she couldn't go over the edge until the cock inside her had been fully pleasured, and its owner had given her permission to release her pent-up energy. Suddenly, he pulled out of her and stood up. Her brain screamed with anguish. What was he doing? Why was he stopping? She understood when he lay down on the floor, his cock sticking up straight and true like a flagpole.

She quickly sat astride him, sighing inside as her cunt encased his rod. Facing him, she wiggled her hips until he was as deep inside her as possible. Then she bent forward so he could suckle her hanging tits, staring down at him with desperate lust shining in her eyes. Her body was slick with sweat, her hair plastered to her face. She squeezed his cock hard with her pussy, smiling as he gasped at the power of her cunt. Wiggling her hips and ass, she started riding his thick cock, bouncing up and down on it violently. Occasionally he would stop her and chew on her breasts, bringing a pleasure that caused pinwheels to spin in her eyes. She pistoned up and down on him, using her cunt to squeeze his cock on every up motion, then shaking her ass as she sat back down on him.

Finally she felt his cum boil up inside her, which only served to trigger her own orgasm. Her body spasmed out of control, her cunt contracting in waves along the length of his cock, milking out the rest of his cum even as his balls pushed it out with the force of a firehose. She threw her head back and screamed, the primal cry coming from the depths of her sexual being. The orgasm continued to rebound within her, jolting her nerves, causing her toes to curl and her nipples to harden even more. The sensitivity of her skin went beyond anything she had ever experienced. She could feel the air currents along her back. She could feel the veins of the cock within her. She could feel the ridge of its helmet, and the puckered hole that was still disgorging cum into her overflowing cunt. She could feel the contour of his balls against her ass, and his body sweating wherever their skin touched. For a moment, just a moment, she lost herself in the reward. But just moments later, the compulsion to fuck and be fucked, to serve and be taken, took hold again.

As she eased herself off the boy's portly body, she could see that her pussy was a nasty, wet mess, with globs of cum clinging to her pubic hairs and her pungent juices coating her skin well down her thighs. Still, she ignored herself when he gestured down at his groin, and she was soon smiling around his cock as she cleaned it of the amalgam of liquids that had smeared along his shaft, through his pubic patch and down below his balls. She was serving him again, and she could feel the pleasure beginning to build again down inside her still steaming cunt.

Her desires were not to be fulfilled again, though, as he gestured for her to return to her feet. She stood patiently as he again played with her heavy breasts, her nipples already hard as diamonds at the very thought of serving him in any way. At another gesture she was donning her clothes, but just her slacks, bra and top. She watched dispassionately as he kept her panties, stuffing them in the crack between the sofa cushions. He spoke, and the buzzing in her head lessened by half. Another word, and she...

Blinked with surprise. What had she been doing? Why was she in Connie's house? Why was Brian looking at her so strangely? And what felt so strange between her legs? She took a step, then stopped in shocked realization. She wasn't wearing any panties! And her pussy was very, very wet! She glanced at Brian to see if he'd noticed, but he showed no sign that anything was amiss. She had to get home right away!

"Mrs. Maxwell? Like I was saying, Mom's not home on Tuesdays and Fridays. She's taking classes at the community college. So I've got the house to myself," Brian said.

"That's nice, dear," Kyra replied. "I'm sure you'll enjoy that. But now I think I better get back home."

"Yep, I'm going to enjoy it, twice a week," Brian said, smiling. "It's been nice seeing you. You're my favorite of all Mom's friends."

Suddenly, Kyra found herself back in the mote sphere, trembling from the onslaught of emotions and realizations. She looked back at the hundreds of motes streaming around her. How many contained experiences with that fat little pervert? And why hadn't she ever noticed anything odd about his demeanor? Sure, she'd seen him leering at her every so often, but she just figured it was the wild hormones of a teenage boy. But to imagine him with her? Prematurely ejaculating all over her tits? Shooting his cum inside her while she rode him to a violent orgasm? Whatever had happened to bring her to this point, it was far worse than she had feared.

With a twist of her will, she returned to the bedroom. The silhouettes were gone, the fingers no longer touched her skin, and the whole setting was peaceful. Except that she still couldn't move, hear or talk. She decided she wouldn't miss anything by taking the next step.

Surprisingly, it was easy to touch the next mote. It could either consign her back to the outer rim, or propel her into the center. One way or the other, she'd have some sort of an answer. Madness in one direction. Some sort of a conclusion in the other. Hopefully.

Upon touching the mote, she immediately found herself on her knees, staring at three semi-erect cocks. She looked down and found her breasts exposed, her dress pushed down to her waist, her skirt pulled up and her panties visible. Again she relived the whole sordid elevator scene, the heat in her cunt, the cocks in her mouth, the cum on her face, the ecstasy, the pleasure, the shame. And finally, found herself back in the mote field, floating right next to the center.

The center was actually two bright lights, one behind the other. She could see immediately that the outside one circled the inside one at exactly the same rate as she circled them both, so she would have to go through one to get to the final center. She felt some trepidation at what she might discover, but dismissed it. She'd experienced innumerable cocks in her pussy and ass, sucked off strangers, performed lewd acts for neighbors, and had even been the plaything of a teenage boy. What could be worse than all that?

It took a moment to orient herself after touching the next mote. She and Tom sat at a small table in a dark room. He was handsome in a sport coat and tie. She was wearing her favorite sexy black dress; the one that looked best without a bra. Around them other couples were also squeezed in at little tables, drinks in their hands. They all laughed uproariously, facing in one direction. She turned to see a stage before her, not two tables away. On it, seven people sat single file in chairs, all sitting straight up but with strangely vacant expressions. One, however, seemed to be doing an enthusiastic impression of a chicken, being directed by a man in a tuxedo.

Oh. Now she remembered. They were in Vegas, on the first trip after their honeymoon. She and Tom had decided to take in one of the shows in the hotel, a hypnotist act. Not a big name headliner. They'd try that the next night. Just something to pass the time before they went upstairs to the room to make love.

She looked back to the stage. The hypnotist snapped his fingers, and all the people seemed to wake up, not knowing the ridiculous things they'd just done. Not that she believed it. They were probably all part of the act. She'd tried hypnosis before, and it hadn't done a thing for her. Still, it could be fun to watch.

"Ladies and gentleman," the hypnotist intoned as the lights got even darker, "now it's time for the R-rated version of our little experiment. The one where we determine, who has the greater will, husband or wife? And who is brave enough to volunteer for our little experiment."

Kyra looked around to see who really was brave enough to volunteer, and when she looked back was shocked to find Tom waving his hand in the air.

"Tom!" she hissed at him, but he just grinned stupidly at her. Great. It was clear that he'd drunk too much.

As she'd feared, the master of ceremonies noticed him right away, and gestured for the two of them to take the stage. When she tried to beg off, the hypnotist brought the crowd into play, their chants, applause and catcalls urging her to the stage. She thought she could sense an undercurrent of something noxious in their behavior, but it was quickly buried in the excitement and noise.

Eventually she allowed Tom to drag her to the stage, passing very close to a table of three men who literally appeared to undress her with their eyes. Her observant self registered the shock of recognition, but both sides of her were quickly buried in an avalanche of stimuli.

The lights on stage blinded her, and she could barely see the audience. But she felt very self-conscious standing before them in her sexy black dress. It was tight and short, with spaghetti straps, and low-cut enough that you could get a good look at her cleavage. She immediately wished that she'd worn a bra, because her nervousness was making her nipples hard. And she was afraid that the tables in the front could see her black panties up her skirt.

"So, welcome to the show!" the hypnotist's voice echoed from the speakers. "And what are your names?"

"I'm Tom, and this is Kyra," Tom leaned into the microphone, speaking too loudly in an inebriated tone.

"Tom and Kyra. Great! And you two are married? How long?"

"Nine months, just about," Tom answered with a bit too much enthusiasm.

"Nine months! Newlyweds!" the man shouted, inviting applause from the audience. "So," he whispered conspirationally, "how's the sex?"

Kyra groaned inside. She did not like where this was going. She was just about to grab Tom and leave the stage when she was shocked to hear Tom answer, "Pretty good, as you can imagine."

"I can imagine just fine," the man laughed dirtily, leering exaggeratedly at her. "But it can always be better, can't it?"

"I don't know," Tom answered seriously. "We're doing pretty good."

"But what if we could make it better? How about that? Are the two of you up to the challenge?"

Kyra tried to twist away, but Tom had a vise-like grip on her wrist. "Yeah," he answered, "What have you got in mind?"

In seconds a beautiful assistant had brought a chair, and Kyra found herself seated facing the audience, trying to keep her legs closed so no one could look up her dress.

"What I'm going to do, Kyra, is put you under for a few minutes. Nothing harmful. Just have a bit of fun with you and Tom. Is that O.K?" he asked her.

She tried to say no, but Tom answered first, "Sounds like fun."

"You can't hypnotize me," she managed to blurt out, as the man took up his position in front of her.

"They all say that," he said with an exaggerated laugh, as the audience joined in.

She watched the swinging pendulum in his hand, hating Tom for putting her in this situation, and planning her revenge, when...

She recognized the sensation immediately. After all, she'd just experienced it over and over again. One part of her was peacefully sitting in the chair under the hot lights of the nightclub show, and the other part of her was observing it all, able to watch but not change anything. The buzzing was there, of course, but much more muted than in previous experiences. Muted enough, in fact, that she could hear the audience in the background, and the voices of those on stage around her. And the observant part of her could watch herself sitting on the stage, courtesy of a monitor that was hidden in the floor. She hadn't noticed that from the audience.

"What most men want is an obedient wife. Am I right, or am I right?" the hypnotist asked the audience, which roared its approval. "So, Tom, we'll reward you with an obedient wife. Kyra, focus here."

Kyra could actually feel her focus narrow to the voice and the man before her. "Kyra, when you hear these words, you will be immediately obedient. You will not stop until you've followed every order. And only then will you receive your reward."

The hypnotist said two words, and though Kyra thought she'd heard them, they dissipated as quickly as smoke in the wind, and suddenly she couldn't quite recall what they had been.

"Now, obedience is fine and dandy, but what every man deserves is a woman who will do anything for him... in a sexual way," he said to the crowd, pausing only for the raucous laughter to die down. "Kyra, when you hear these words, you will be possessed of an insatiable need to perform oral sex, to give blowjobs as required." He paused. "And to enthusiastically taste and swallow every drop." Only the observant part of her registered the uproarious cheers. The rest was keenly focused on the man and his voice.

There followed a number of additional instructions. To enthusiastically want to fuck on command. To want to get herself off on command. To forget everything that happened...on command. And finally, to have a powerful orgasm as a reward for correctly performing her duties... on command.

"Of course, it's one thing to program a wife like this. But the proof, they say, is in the pudding. Kyra, when I snap my fingers, I want you to wake up, feeling refreshed. One, two, three..." He snapped his fingers.

Kyra awoke, still so bothered with Tom that she barely heard the cacophony of noise coming from the audience. What were these people all worked up about? She clearly couldn't be hypnotized. That one doctor had tried it just last year, when she'd been trying to lose weight. And even though he said he'd used an extra strong compulsion, it hadn't worked for her. Besides, hypnotism couldn't make you do something you didn't want to do.