Breaking Esther Ch. 1

Finally she could not take it any more and went off to the loo. She put the bowl with the one whole egg still rolling back and forward coated with the egg white. She placed it on the floor in front of her as she sat on the loo. The excitement she felt was not to be denied. Her hand was shaking with the desire she felt as she considered the feel of the egg pushing up through her protective lips, forcing them apart and demanding entrance into her most private love canal. The egg glistened in the light from the ceiling as she picked it up. She looked down between her legs and noticed how wide the parting between her legs was as the hair of her pubic mound disappeared over that little precipice. She brought the egg up to that little bud that burned here so persistently. It felt cool as she touched her clitoris and almost orgasmed at the touch. She felt her lips open instinctively as if they knew their fate and willingly complied. She rubbed the egg up and down her slit smearing the egg white generously over them. It felt so cool and slippery that she became more aroused with the touch of it. She dipped the egg back in the clear fluid and continued to paint herself with it, rolling the egg around her slit making sure everything was well lubricated. She turned the point of the egg towards her and cupping the wide end in her hands, stared down over her bush at it. It looked like an arrow pointing up towards her entrance. She brought it slowly up to her cunt lips and pushed ever so slightly. Her lips parted and it glided past them.

She was by now very hot as she tortured herself with the egg, but as she tried to push it in deeper she found the width of the far end of the egg hard to accommodate. It started to hurt as she was stretched wider open. She pulled it back out and looked down at it. A strand of fluid stretched from her opening to the egg. The image symbolised to her the inevitability of her submission to this egg, this suggestion that had been implanted into her brain and persistently and slowly overtaken her as the day had progressed. She raised the egg once again to her crack and pushed a little harder. She gave a squeal of pain mixed with pleasure as she felt it plop inside her. Suddenly she felt really full and wasn't sure she could stop it from falling out again. She stood up slowly and felt the weight inside her move as it pressed against her G spot. The build up at her nerve endings as she felt this foreign weight inside her rubbing against her as she walked about drove her to greater levels of pleasure. She had to concentrate on the muscles at the entrance to her womb to keep the egg in. It made her walk slightly oddly but she felt so much excitement at the hidden depravity of what she had done. She wondered why she had never thought of doing something like this before.

Returning to the kitchen she continued to prepare the cake mix, squeezing her muscles all the time to push the egg further up inside her and then let it fall back towards her opening. She had lain down in front of the mirror to look at her cunt and had seen her labia fully stretched and unable to close perfectly around the egg. She could just make out the shell of the egg peaking through from inside. With her fingers she had rolled the egg round in her vagina and marvelled at the exquisite delight she had felt from this movement.

Suddenly the phone rang and she picked it up. It was her mother. She almost lost her voice from the shame and humiliation she felt, and conversation was difficult with her mind constantly in fear of discovery that she had an egg up her fanny. She had always been so good and had always pleased her mother in every way. What would her mother say if she knew? Ridiculous as it sounded she was feeling like some naughty child found out and confronted. As soon as the conversation was over she ran back to the loo to remove the egg, but how could she get it out? With her fingers she could not get a proper purchase on it. The damn thing just rolled around inside her. Why had she not thought of that before? She would also need it for the cake since she had destroyed all the other eggs.

Panic tied a knot in her stomach as she went back to the kitchen. Suddenly she grasped the bowl with the cake mix and squatted over it. She pushed with all her might as if she was giving birth. She felt the egg move down and start to prize her labia apart from within. She continued to push and groaned from the effort. Eventually the egg plopped back out and landed in the bowl where it broke. The effort and the pressure from the egg had made a small amount of urine escape from her into the bowl before she could control it. The fright at urinating into the cake mix made her orgasm again. She couldn't believe the pleasure she could derive from such depraved behaviour. She looked at the cake mix with the small pool of her urine in it. She couldn't start again as she didn't have the ingredients. She wondered whether anyone would be able to taste the urine in it. She decided to press on and plunged her hands into the mixture. She felt a tightness of her breasts as the thoughts of what had just happened drove fear and excitement through her like a bolt of lightening.

The next morning she awoke exhausted having roused several times in the night with multiple orgasms. She had had such weird dreams of being a sex object, servicing people with sex without knowing anything about them. Walking about naked and chained in large houses where many men sat and talked dressed in normal clothes, occasionally stopping to fuck her. She had felt such excitement arising from her role as whore in her dream. She started to fear that maybe these dreams were in fact reality and that she really spent her nights as this man's sex slave. She didn't know what to think any more, but every morning she would wake up with a cunt so wet and stained sheets. She could not believe how much fluid she produced during these dreams. At least it convinced her that she didn't actually leave her bed during the night.

That day she travelled up to town to meet her friends for shopping. As usual the train was very crowded and she was standing pressed in on all sides. She felt the warmth of their bodies against hers and as usual this made her feel uncomfortable. Suddenly the voice started. She couldn't get used to the idea of hearing a voice as if someone was there talking out loud to her in front of all these other people and they not being able hear a word of what was said. She felt the public humiliation from the way he spoke to her. As he spoke the now familiar feeling of arousal started at her clitoris.

"Esther, reach round behind you and feel the bulge in the pair of trousers pressed up against your ass. Don't you realise what a turn on you are to that man. Don't you think you should do something for him? Reach round now and touch his bulge. Feel how big his bulging cock is, locked away inside his trousers."

Her hand was moving automatically and she couldn't stop it. Her body knew that if she obeyed him then she would soon be wracked by powerful orgasms the like of which she had never experienced before. Slowly her hand moved round behind her. She rested it on her buttocks and then as the train rattled through the tunnel she leaned ever so slightly backwards pressing her buttocks into the man behind her, and sandwiching her hand between them. Her eyes widened as she felt the strong bulge in his pants. The buzz on her clitoris moved up a pitch and without being conscious of it she parted her legs slightly and arched her head back slightly to rest it against his chest.

"That's very good, Esther. Now I think you owe this stranger something for teasing him so. Pull that zip down and reach inside for his penis. Picture in your mind how thick it is. Picture it sliding in and out of your hot little cunt. Imagine your juices sticking slickly to the sides of his long member as it slides effortlessly in and out of you driving you to ecstasy."

Slowly she drags the zipper down. Her throat dry with fear that someone will notice what she is doing. As she reaches inside his trousers she wonders what this strange man must be thinking of a woman who without invitation reaches inside his trousers and pulls his penis out in a crowded train. Her mind is overwhelmed by the erotic fantasies circulating inside it. Her little hand tries to circulate his massive pole and she realises just how huge it is. Her eyes widen, even though she can only see it in her mind's eye.

Overwhelmed by the thought of it sliding in and out of her hole, slippery with the juices she can feel on her inner thigh, she starts to pump his penis. She hasn't been told to do this, but her own fantasies have taken her over and she does not even consider what her hand is doing, lost in her own reverie. Soon she is brought back to the crowded train as she feels spurts of hot cum fill her hand. In shock she realises what she has done and wonders what she can do to avoid everyone from knowing that she has just jacked off a perfect stranger in a train. She stares ahead of her, her mind whirling. She closes her hand around his member to ensure none of his cum leaks onto her coat. Just imagine walking around London with a cum stain on her coat!

"You'd better bring your hand round and drink what's in it before someone sees what you have done."

The voice again, always knowing what to do. She struggles to bring her hand round to the front in the crowded train and she doesn't want to have to open it. She coughs and brings her hand to her face. Without a moments hesitation she shoots the load into her mouth and gulps it down. It is salty and cloying in her mouth. She feels disgusted as it makes its slow progress down her throat and settles in her stomach. She licks her hand clean and then licks her lips to make sure that every last drop has gone and that she doesn't embarrass herself with cum dripping from her lips. She reaches back round and puts his member back into his trousers and zips them up again.

"We are coming to a station. Don't turn round until I've gone."

Her spine runs cold as she realises that this is the man who has been controlling her. She tries to turn to see him, but the train has reached the station and a great press of people are trying to get off. Pushed this way and that she cannot turn round and by the time she manages all she can see is a large press of people moving down the platform. Which one was he? She tries to guess which one of them was it.

Esther gets off and sits on a bench on the platform. She weeps as she thinks about what she has done, but also feels the frustration, for he hadn't even touched her. She had been left so excited with his persistent attention to her clitoris, yet for the first time he had left her without an orgasm. She was ready to explode. She sat there pressing her cunt into the cold metal of the bench and parted her legs to ensure better contact with her lips. She pressed down with her arms on either side of her. Her head was bowed as she contemplated what she had just done. She had opened a perfect strangers trouser, gave him a hand job and then drank his cum. She hadn't been made to do it just the suggestion was enough. She had even liked her lips to ensure that all his seed had made its way into her stomach. She felt sick as she remembered the taste of it and the thought that she didn't even know what the person looked like, yet accepted to drink his cum.

Once again she found herself berating herself for her actions and unable to justify blaming the voice in her head. There had been no compunction and yet she had willingly complied just to experience that exquisite delight of orgasm. She had to find a way to fight this. She needed to find a way to reach orgasm herself and not be driven into these wanton acts by her own frustration. She marched out of the station and into a sex shop. She had never ever entered a place like this before, but now she knew she needed a dildo with which to satisfy the ache that had been generated in her. As she walked around the shop she looked in amazement at all the toys and magazines there. She couldn't even guess how to use some of them, but she could picture herself in some of the outfits and that thought excited her. She picked up a whip and wondered what it felt like to be whipped.

She shuddered at the thought she could even contemplate it and moved quickly on. She chose her dildo, a silver one. She liked the idea of a large metal column being forced up inside her cunt and vibrating inside her. She could feel she was moist already in anticipation. She also chose a round metal vibrating egg. It had a small chain connected to it, the other end of which was connected to a thin metal belt. She thought of the egg she had held inside her the day before and the idea of having another that would also vibrate deep within her made her excited. She imagined the chain slick with her juices emerging from between her lips and riding up the crease of her ass. She thought of walking about wearing this contraption underneath her normal ordinary looking clothes. It would be her little licentious secret.

On leaving she went straight to a department store and dived into the loo. There in the cubicle she rammed the dildo up her crack and buried it deep within her. She was rough with herself demanding sex from the object and needing to feel release from her pent up tension as soon as possible. When she re-emerged she was flustered but at last she had had several orgasms which had made the whole escapade worthwhile.

The next few days passed much the same way. He would continue to excite her by painting pictures in her head while providing electronic stimulation of her clitoris remotely. She could counter the build up of her desire by diving into a public toilet and bring herself off with her dildo. She carried it everywhere she went, it was just one of the many ways he had changed her normal routine. She also found that she thought about sex and her wet cunt more and more often. Even if he wasn't pushing her to excess she would still think about the orgasms she had received and the many devious thoughts that he had implanted in her mind seemed to have become more and more acceptable to her. She even caught herself imagining screwing various men she encountered in the street or in shops. She wondered about taking them into the changing cubicles and giving them a blowjob. She remembered drinking her owner's cum on the train. Why did she use that word owner? The thought of his control excited her, and she was flattered that he had paid so much attention to her. He had wanted her and had gone to such trouble to get her, so in a perverse way she had become flattered. She started to wonder what it would be like to drink the cum of several men in one orgiastic bath of cum. She imagined the slimy fluid smeared over her breasts and face, licking it off her fingers. Would he make her do that too? She hoped so. These thoughts were exciting her and she could no longer tell whether this was autosuggestion or her own deviant desires.