A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 02

This is chapter 2 of the story and before reading this you should read chapter 1. The chapters are not self-contained but part of the same developing story. Its just the story was too long for me to put it all together before posting and so I will post each chapter when I've had the time to get it to a satisfactory state. I want to express my thanks to all those who have emailed me or posted comments on the story.

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Sara collapses in floods of tears as soon as they sit in the corner of the restaurant.

"Why whatever is the matter?" Carol reaches across to put her arm around the shoulders of her friend. A look of concern impressed itself upon her face.

"I... I can't explain. It is just too horrible for words." Sara appeared beyond consolation so Carol ordered some soup for her friend and waited for her to calm down. She could see the torment in Sara's eyes and knowing her friend of old she knew that she was fighting an inward struggle to tell her what had happened, or at least how much of it to tell. Sara was not very good at facing things and would talk about anything other than what she needed to unburden herself with.

"I just need to get away and have a holiday on my own." Sara was beginning to master her emotions.

"Is there a problem between you and Tom?"

"No! No nothing like that. I just need to be on my own that's all."

"What is it you are trying to escape from? Is there something at work?"

"Its me. Not anyone else. Or at least... Do you believe in hypnosis?"

"You asked me that before. What is it Sara? I'm your friend. I'm here to help." Sara struggled to find words she could get out. It took some minutes before she could say:

"Yesterday. It was like I was somebody else and I could see what I was doing, but I couldn't understand why I was doing it!"

"What did you do, Sara?"

Carol could see that it was going to be a long lunch break. Sara again went quiet and refused to answer. Very patiently she tried to get Sara to relax and confide in her, coaxing each little nugget of information until she knew enough for Sara to feel she could spill the rest of her story out. Slowly, piece-by-piece, the story seeped out about Marie and the day off work. Sara couldn't bring herself to tell her friend about the cream and the fact that she was now entirely without pubic hair. She still recoiled each time the thought entered her head. She had lost count of the number of times she had slunk into the toilet at work to check once again, her eyes unwilling to believe the truth of what they saw. She willed her hair to grow back again and for her to regain her old self. All this she could not bring herself to speak of. But the insatiable arousal and Marie taking advantage of her and how she had to call in sick for fear of embarrassing herself at the office came tumbling out once she got going. Carol listened quietly trying not to disturb her friend while she unburdened herself.

"And you think you've been hypnotised? Have you been to see your doctor, maybe there's just some simple explanation to do with hormone balance. Something she can easily rectify? I mean do you think somebody could hypnotise you? Who could do such a thing and wouldn't you know about it?" even Carol was finding it hard to keep calm.

"I don't know. You can be told to forget the experience when you are under. I've been reading about it the last few days."

"I see. But do you have any idea who is behind this and why?"

"I thought at first it was Ricky, Tom's new boss. I started to act a little strange when he came over, but it was nothing like yesterday. I feel sure it must be Marie. She joined us recently, and she was acting pretty outrageously taking advantage of the state I was in. But what I can't explain is why? I have been good to her. We got along very well. Why is she doing this to me?"

"Perhaps it is Ricky then?"

"I just don't know what to do."

"Well I don't think running away is going to resolve anything. If there is something about Marie then you don't need to keep her on. But we must be sure it's not Ricky first. Look Sara, if you ever feel like yesterday again you call me, all right? and I'll be right over?"

Sara slowly started to calm down as they talked. She had at least someone she could turn to, someone she could rely on in her need. She couldn't talk about something like this to Tom. God, if he ever found out he may never want to see her again. A knot tightened in her stomach at this thought.

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Sara stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom. She had just got in and there was a pile of shopping bags lying on the bed as she studied her appearance. She was wearing the clothes she had just bought having come running upstairs to throw off her work clothes and try them on. The top she was wearing was mauve and rather low cut; the material silky clung to her waist. Her breasts stretched the fabric as it moulded itself around her twin globes. She stared at them for a while and swung first one way then the other admiring the effect on her tightly encased tits. Below this she was wearing a black skirt, very short – much shorter than she had ever dared to wear before. She wondered vaguely how come she had picked it, but as her eyes stared out at her legs she was pleased at how she looked. The material of the skirt swung round with her hips and revealed a little more of the softness of her hidden white thighs. It would certainly catch the eye as she walked down the street she thought. Her feet were encased in bright red shoes with huge heels – perhaps 3 inches! How did she manage to stay upright in them? Yet she felt comfortable and liked the slight arch in her body as she stood in front of the mirror. Her ass stuck out behind, the small flap of material resting on the curves of her buttocks accentuating the sweep down around to her groin. Her thighs silky smooth contrasting with the fabric white on black. She was half turned away looking back over her shoulder. Yes the look was great. She had not intended to go out and do some shopping but as she left the office the urge just seemed irresistible. She was so glad that she did, for as she looked around the shops she seemed to have no difficulty to find something suitable.

Now, she thought, time for some makeup. She opened another bag of shopping. Inside she found some eyeliner and mascara. She started work on her lashes, making them long and black. Their darkness accentuated the angle of her cheekbone and made the whites of her eyes clear and bright. The black line drawn around her eyes defined a sharp intense edge, its very blackness designed to allure. She stared into the mirror as she applied her makeup, concentrating hard to get the look just right, as if in her mind there was a template that she was trying to recreate. As she leant forwards applying lipstick she became aware in the doorway behind her the faint outline of Marie. She was standing in the shadows watching her quietly through the jamb of the door. Sara let out a little gasp and reaching out for her robe she turned towards the girl. As she slipped the robe over her shoulders and faced the door the girl had gone.

Sara sat down on the bed, a frown stretching itself across her face. Somehow the sight of Marie had broken a spell and she suddenly woke up to what she was doing. She struggled within herself to try and remember why she was putting make up on in the first place. She looked down and opening the robe examined, as if for the first time – and yet somehow as if she already knew, the look that she was creating. She stood again, this time a little uncertainly, and went over to the mirror. She pulled back her robe somewhat gingerly as if afraid at what she was about to reveal to herself. She looked like a tart. Where did these clothes come from? Her jaw dropped and she hung her mouth open before she became aware of how much worse that made the image that confronted her. She tore her new clothes off and angrily changed into some baggy house clothes.

"At least," she thought, "Marie had not entered the room this time. She had been content to watch from the shadows."

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Tom lay on the bed. Sara was curled up asleep next to him, her head rested on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed; the soft press of her breasts pushed against his chest and would then retreat maintaining a steady rhythm. Her hair, long and flowing, wisped against his cheek with the slight movement and enticed his senses with her femininity. They had just made love and fallen asleep in each other's arms. It had seemed somehow more important to her of late, pleasing him in bed. She had worn soft silk that glided over her tender skin, its very fragile hold around her frame a reflection of her fragility in his arms. He had wanted to reach out and embrace her, to hold her tightly to him and squeeze her - to smell her perfume drifting across his face, to feel her softness against his cheek, against his lips. He wanted to feel the palms of his hands on her skin, to feel the warmth of the touch tingle his senses, and he felt aroused and needed to feel her womb grip hold of him as he was holding onto her.

Tom was grappling with his own internal torment. So many feelings had been running through his mind these past weeks and they would lurch from one direction to another. His life was so complicated now and he wasn't sure how he felt about anything anymore. He struggled with these inner emotions as he wondered about Sara. She had been so much closer to him these past few days, so much more tender and loving, their sex life so fantastic. What was he to do...?

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Sara wandered into the kitchen. Ricky and Tom were still talking work in the other room and she wanted to keep out of the way. She couldn't believe how nervously coy she felt around Ricky, and every time he looked her way she would at least inwardly blush. She was acting like some sort of teenager desperate for a boy to notice her, yet somehow she knew it was not just any boy, but Ricky that meant so much to her. Well at least out here she would be away from his eyes and be able to concentrate on dinner. So far so good, but she needed to get the main course out of the oven. As she bent over and opened the oven door she felt rather than saw Ricky's presence at the doorway and she turned towards him. She smiled, but inwardly she felt the jolt of passion ripple through her body. She was now alone with Ricky, Tom still being in the other room. Ricky was looking straight at her and she could read the desire in his eyes. He was leaning against the doorframe with arms folded and seemed to be weighing her up. Deciding how should he approach her? Suddenly Sara felt an overwhelming need to make the first move. She stepped over to the table and slipped her shoe off her foot, letting it fall to the floor. She put her arm down on the top and leaned a little forward so her chest was in profile from his line of view, the curve of her ass accentuated. She looked around the table and her eyes lighted upon the olive oil jar. She picked it up and looked up at him. Her mind was in a little fog and she watched her actions as if scripted from somewhere else. She reached round behind her and undid the button that held her skirt. She slowly pulled the zip down ever so slightly to ease the tension in the material and then pulled her blouse out baring her belly button to him. Ricky is standing and watching, mesmerised by her actions, wondering what she is about to do. She picks up the bottle of virgin oil and pours it over her belly and with her free hand she rubs it around the flesh above her skirt. He watches it glisten in the glare of the spotlights overhead. The oil oozes over her flesh and she starts to pull her skirt forward at the hem and moves the oil across. It is now running down the curve of her belly and disappearing behind the defensive wall of her skirt. She looks up at Ricky as she continues to pour oil over herself and he imagines how the oil must be pooling inside her panties, swirling around her opening and making her clit slippery and wet. Ricky stands transfixed by this vision, a smile plays upon his lips, but the spell is broken by the sound of Tom calling from the other room:

"Is everything OK?"

Ricky steps back into the dining room to head Tom off as Sara hastily puts the bottle of oil back on the table and adjusts her clothing. She can feel the slipperiness of her panties, now soaked in the oil, sliding on her flesh and she sways her hips from side to side to feel the movement gliding across her well oiled flesh. She looks down and between her legs, twin columns standing perfectly straight and parallel, she sees drops of oil from her crotch splashing against the floor tiles. She leans her back against the fridge and closes her eyes. She cannot believe how alive she feels, how she tingles right across her skin at the feelings that her actions have stirred up in her. She could not believe what she had just done, and she slipped one well-oiled hand into her blouse to massage slowly her right breast. It felt so good the feel of the oil on her erogenous and engorged nipples, made their sensitivity so much more heightened. Forcing herself back to the job in hand she collected the dinner and took it through.

Sara is sitting opposite her husband and Ricky sits to her left. She again slips her shoes off under the table and feels the touch of Ricky's leg against hers as she serves the food. She finds it hard to concentrate on what she is doing as she becomes so preoccupied by his touch, it seems to start a craving inside her, one that she has to satisfy at all costs. Her head screams at her that these thoughts are wrong, that her husband, whom she loves so much is sitting opposite oblivious to all that is going on, and she must behave more responsibly.

After the meal Ricky sits opposite her and she lays semi-sprawled on the settee. Tom is off fixing drinks for everyone and Sara lifts herself slightly and eases her skirt up under her so that the hem is drawn higher along her thigh. She is looking straight at Ricky and he is smiling slyly at her in anticipation. There is already an unwritten code between them that enables them to transmit secret signals of desire to each other, signals that Tom is unaware of. No words are needed to express their shared intention. Sara rocks one leg sideways so that Ricky has a clear view up under her skirt where he can see that her panties are still saturated with the oil. Her cunt is coated, and the smoothness of her hairless skin clearly visible pressed up against the material. Her baldness leaves nothing hidden from Ricky who can see the lips protecting her opening, tightly held in place by the constraining fabric, yet straining to be free, straining to part and open for him. Tom, oblivious to this performance, continues to talk over his shoulder from the cabinet where he is fixing their drinks. Ricky keeps Tom engaged in conversation as Sara displays her lust and her desire to let Ricky see and understand everything, to let him know that all his desires will be made available to him. All they need now is the opportunity.

After the drinks, Ricky suggests Tom prepares his presentation about the company changes. Ricky will go through them with him but first, while Tom is doing that, he will help Sara clear up. Tom tries to insist that he leave everything, but Ricky will not change his mind. The very breath in Sara's chest seems to hang frozen at his words. She knows perfectly well the game Ricky is playing and she sits electrified with excitement. They head into the kitchen, Ricky right behind her. She can smell his aftershave and the presence of his manliness so close behind is taking over her mind. She is shaking in anticipation of what she is about to let happen. Yet is she letting this happen? Did she not drive him to this with that display earlier? What was that about? Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as he pushes her over the sink. She feels the cold of the steel against her thighs as her skirt is wedged up high. He is right behind her angling her body which she leaves free for him to position as he wishes. She senses her ass forced out towards him, encouraging him by its allure, and she feels wet with the anticipation that prevents her mind and body from attempting to escape. She is robbed even from some semblance of resistance; her complicity blatant should her husband walk in. Ricky penetrates her with one swift motion, catches her by surprise and forces the wind out of her lungs. She grunts as he drives into her again and moans louder with each ensuing thrust. Ricky has his legs planted between hers, thrusting hers apart and is driving up into her defenceless sex. His right arm is snaked around her waist to hold her firmly in position and to silence her groans his other arm is coiled around her chest, his hand smothering her mouth in a strong grip. He does not ask permission, just assumes her consent, having offered herself to him before he has now come to collect.

There is something primal about their coupling. He was not making love to her, not even fucking her; he was taking her – possessing her. With his cock thrust up her chute and his hand clamped tight over her mouth she is being quelled into submission, a submission as absolute as a dog owned by its master, and her submission to Ricky was being enacted in her own home where she should have felt safest, her husband just one call away in the other room. She thought of him busying himself with his presentation, full of hope at pleasing his new boss and progressing his career, while all the time she was wantonly giving herself away; no longer his dutiful wife, no longer his.

At last she feels his cock ease up its rhythmic ploughing into her; it stiffens and she feels a series of pulses run along it. She can feel the spasms jolt against her abused lips and she feels the splash of his hot jism against her waiting and open cervix. She feels a frenzy of excitement rattle her frame spreading out from her cunt up her spine and making her legs weak. She has been violated, used and she has enjoyed every moment. His hand rests upon the small of her back as he leans his weight away from her. Impaled she awaits his initiative, trying to draw breath. Ricky seems to be searching around but Sara's eyes are tight shut, the sensations still ebbing and flowing through her. She feels a warmth spread over her limbs and wants to feel his body intertwined with hers. She hears a clatter and opens her eyes, she immediately thinks of Tom and fears he will come out to investigate. The sudden anxiety makes her cunt squeeze Ricky's cock which is still deeply buried inside her, and she feels his body tighten in response and the ooze of yet more of his cum into her channel. He holds a carrot in his hand, one she had prepared but not used. She is immediately struck by its phallic shape and senses what he is about to do. She is immobilised to either protest or pull away, she must accept whatever he does for she has given herself to him.

Ricky eases his cock out of her soaked cunt. The slipperiness of the oil and their own lubrication has made her whole crotch saturated. He removes his cock and before she can close up her opening he inserts the carrot. It slides easily into her and he has to grip firmly the top as the lubrication quickly spreads over its surface. She has half sucked the carrot into herself in her need to feel the pressure still between her legs. Having made sure it is secure he pulls at the material of her oil soaked panties and wipes his cock clean then readjusts it over her baldness. The material pulls tight over the head of the carrot, keeping it in place as it's bright red colour, accentuated by the oil, is very visible through the now transparent material.