Mary Anne was a forbidding presence. In the large, provincial town where she lived not many people ever talked to her and those that did only had businesslike contacts and no more. She had an inborn fear of anything physical. She had abhorred PE at school and she had always steered clear from the other sex. She dressed in strictly utilitarian clothes, plain and simple, and never wore any make-up. She wore her auburn hair in a severe bun, sported unbecoming glasses she didn't really need and kept herself tot herself. Anyone approaching her on non-businesslike matters was treated barely civilly at best. She neither drank nor smoked, and she had long ago convinced herself that she only liked reading historical novels in her little spare time - she conducted medical research that allowed her to arrange things in her own way but left her hardly any time for relaxation; she always went to sleep at nine-thirty. She had no living relatives and had dinner every night in a dingy little restaurant.
When in repose - if anyone could have seen her then - she looked very different. Then the prim, thin-lipped woman looked rosy, full-lipped, shiny, with a mass of auburn hair round her head as she lay curled up under her quilt. But nobody suspected she looked like that - she was too well-guarded against any eventuality.
But one night something went wrong. She was so occupied with her work - an unusual problem that had occurred - that she suddenly crossed the road in front of a car on her way home from the restaurant. The driver braked, the car screeched to a halt but he did hit Mary Anne, who fell, hit her head against the grille and lost consciousness.
The driver, who recognised the woman he'd often seen going about her joyless way, got out of the car. To his relief he found she was still breathing. The road was deserted, so he had to lift her into his car on his own. She carried a purse and a key, but no address, so he took the unconscious woman home.
Having got her there he first put her down on the couch. He removed her coat, loosened het bun, took off her glasses - one glass had got broken - and looked in amazement at her face. She was beautiful! He'd only experienced her acid unfriendliness a couple of times, but he'd discussed her with friends and they all confirmed that she was a misanthropist and a man-hater. Well - this was an interesting situation alright.
When Mary Anne came to she found there was something unusual going on. She was obviously no longer walking home. But she wasn't home, either. When she looked up at the ceiling she did not see the familiar wedge of light from the streetlight below. The place was pitch-dark. Nor did she feel the weight of her duvet - she got the impression that she didn't have any cover, not even her flannel pyjamas. She tried to sit up. Damn! She couldn't. Nor could she close her legs - she was bound fast to the bed. She could feel with her hands there were very smooth sheets - silk or satin or something. Bur she could not move her hands any further - no way. Suddenly there was some light - and she saw that the ceiling was a mirror that reflected her face - the rest was still in total darkness. She saw her hair carefully laid out around her face - a face she hardly recognised for the immaculate make-up someone must have applied when she was unconscious - blusher, eyeliner, eye shadow, very shiny red lips - that wasn't her! She squared her cheeks and drew in her lips as she always did. At the same time the light went out.
"Look here," she said, "whoever you are and wherever I am, I demand to released straight away."
Nothing happened. She screamed, something she'd never done before. She had so little practice that she started to cough violently. Overhead a text appeared. Apparently it was no mirror but a screen, and her face must have been a camera projection. The text read, "Go on and scream. We will come back when you are done - no one will hear you. It's not very ladylike."
She bit her teeth and stopped screaming at once and to her dismay she found herself start to cry. The room went dark again and she heard footsteps and a hand started to stroke the top of her head.
"There, there," a voice said. "It's not that bad; no one's going to hurt you, you know. Sit up and have a drink."
She felt she could sit up and before she realised she'd accepted a glass and drank deeply. The liquid was nice, but she didn't recognise it. The glass was taken from her again, and she was softly forced back onto her pillow again. The hand stroked her hair again for some moments. Then she was left to herself.
For the next forty-eight hours she was kept tied to the bed. She was helped off to relieve herself, and she was fed and drenched regularly, but that was all. She did notice others in the room, though - whispering inaudibly and producing all sorts of strange noises, like wettish sounds or a sort of rhythmical slapping, interspersed with ragged breathing or strange cries - as if they were in pain, she thought. She couldn't quite make out what it was - especially the male grunts seemed rather disturbing.
The she was taken down again and led into a bathroom. She was untied and told to wash. She rather felt like bathing so she complied. She ran her hands over her body. To her surprise she felt that her pubic hair must have been removed - she was quite smooth and unfamiliar down below. But she washed long and dried herself. Then she was led back to the bed and told to lie down. Somebody redid her restraints, and the overhead she saw a projection of female sexual parts and a well-manicured hand with short, red nails playing with it. From somewhere behind the screen there was a sound, similar to the ones she'd heard before but this time from a loudspeaker overhead. She did not want to watch and closed her eyes.
The voice became very insistent, very regular in a panting rhythm - and suddenly she felt a finger touch her own sex but just for a second only. It made her body tingle - with aversion, she thought. She opened her eyes to see how repulsive the act was, and closed them again straight away - for the hand in the picture was now moving something black in and out of her vagina. She fervently hoped they would not do that to her, too. They didn't. After some time, the noise ceased. She opened her eyes - the room was dark.
Almost immediately afterwards there was a repeat performance in sound, somewhere beside her. She heard some woman or other get worked up in the same way, panting and moaning louder and louder - and then the voice became audible: "Oh yes... eat my pussy... please..." and the moaning continued while she heard muffled sounds of lapping. The room filled with a rather strong smell of which she wasn't certain whether she really disliked it or not. After some time the woman panted, "Oh... come, Bob, give me your dick... fuck me.. oh..." The rhythmical slapping she's heard so often commenced. So that was what happened here? Suddenly overhead a projection of the girl's face appeared - sweating, moaning, eyes closed. She seemed to enjoy herself immensely and looked very happy. Then there was some heavy grunting and the image disappeared, together with the sound. Instead she saw a close-up of a female pudendum which looked somewhat swollen. A man's finger approached it - and then she realised it was her own, for when the finger stroked the clitoris she almost jumped. Immediately afterwards the room went dark and she was left to herself for some time.
When the ordeal began again she was shown a long, slow shot of a man's head between a woman's legs. She could see the tongue moving in and out of the inner labia, twirling around the clitoris and she heard the woman moan with delight. That, at least, was clear to her - it was no pain. Then the head went away and she saw the woman's hand reach out for the man's penis and guide it into her slowly. She didn't feel like watching - and yet now and then she opened her eyes to see if the woman could really accommodate that penis - the first one she'd ever seen. To her surprise it posed no problem at all - the man could move into her completely. When they started rocking in rhythm she watched surreptitiously. She didn't want anyone to notice, but she did watch. Obviously both parties enjoyed the experience, and to her surprise she didn't feel as much of a shock, as much abhorrence as she'd expected.
Her nipples got hard. She wondered if it was cold in the room - but she didn't feel cold, really. The opposite if anything. Suddenly the image on the ceiling disappeared to make place for her own private parts. She recognised them by now - but there was a difference. The labia seemed bigger, the inner ones seemed to peep out of the outer ones. She tried to wiggle, but she couldn't move very well, and those glistening fleshy bits didn't seem to want to retract.
That, and those almost painful nipples made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. She'd always been sure that any physicality was reprehensible - and somehow she wasn't completely sure she didn't feel faintly, sneakily envious of the girl she heard moaning still.
Her own nether parts disappeared almost as soon as they appeared. The girl suddenly stopped moaning. "Come..." she panted. "I want to suck you off!"
There was a sort of plop and then the girl's face reappeared. She held the man's member in her hands, close to her face, and to Mary Anne's horror she opened her mouth and took the purple head between her lips. She saw the girl run her tongue around it, through her opened lips, while she squeezed and kneaded the stem of the penis with one hand and wrapped her other hand round his balls. Then she started to move he mouth up and down the stem, while rubbing the thing between her fingers.
Mary Anne felt her throat go dry. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to watch - this was too awful. But she opened her eyes again soon - it seemed to have a mysterious fascination to her, and the woman really didn't seem to feel what she did was filthy. She let go of the thing for a moment, kissed the tip, smiled up at the fellow who was not in the picture, and went on again. Mary Anne had to swallow hard. She didn't know what she felt, how she felt - she just wished herself far away.
She kept her eyes closed and tried to drive the sounds away, to close her ears to them - only to open them when the man started to moan loudly. She saw the girl's throat - she seemed to be swallowing - and the a trickle of liquid ran down the corner of her mouth.
There was a quick shot of her own nether parts. They looked even more swollen than before.
Then the screen went dark again. Immediately she felt something brush against her left thigh - and then there was something touching her down there - it didn't feel like a finger - it must be a tongue! Someone was licking her labia. She tried to close her legs, but of course she couldn't do so. She remembered not to shout. Instead she tried to ask the tongue to stop but her throat was so dry she could only squeak at first. And when the tongue hit her nub it was impossible for her to speak or think any clear thought. She didn't know what was happening to her - she didn't understand the way her body reacted at all when a shiver went through her loins and she tautened, then relaxed while she felt the top of her legs go wet. But she had not peed.
The mouth belonging to the tongue planted a kiss on her clitoris and then she felt a washcloth being applied to her legs and pubic area. Immediately after that all went quiet again - no sounds, no disturbing pictures - just silence. She was so exhausted she fell asleep practically at once.
When she woke up she was treated to a lot of pictures of the hand she had seen before playing with herself, rubbing her nipples, her breasts, the her pubic area - and the her own vagina appeared, with a difference from last time. It seemed smaller, and not so swollen. But when the lights went out she felt fingers that worked on her without touching. They seemed to insert something into her. "Don't, please," she whispered, but the fingers took no notice. One, two, three, four, five times she felt something being lodged inside her. Then, nothing. She tried to make the things come out by flexing her vaginal muscles, but she didn't succeed. It felt weird, she thought. "Please, take them out," she whispered and to her surprise she felt how the things were pulled out of her, a feeling she found impossible to place, let alone to describe. The biggest deception was that she didn't feel better because they had gone - she was rather shocked that she found she would ratter still have harboured them. Overhead her sex appeared again. It was back to the puffed-up size she'd seen before and in front of her opening lay a string of what seemed big, purple beads.
The image faded to make place for the other girl's, complete with the tongue she'd seen before lapping at it. She could see the beads of moisture on the labia, and she could smell the girl's excretions, heady on the close air. She didn't look away now, but watched intently while she felt her entire pubic area tingle. Soon, she thought, the tongue would come to her. She waited patiently, but to her disappointment it did not come. When the girl had had enough - she supposed - the screen went black and there she was. This sorry scenario was repeated various times over the next couple of hours. She found her disappointment harder and harder to bear. At last she couldn't help herself any more and begged the couple to help her - to stop her waiting and longing for that tongue.
"We're very sorry," the girl's voice came, "but you don't want any physical contact - you said so yourself."
"And so we feel we should let you go home and resume your joyless way of life," the man's voice added.
"Please - please help me - I can't stand it any longer," Mary Anne whispered while some slow tears messed up her make-up.
"If we do, we won't stop there, you see," the girl said.
"Oh - I don't mind - I don't know - please, give me your tongue..."
The room stayed dark - and then she felt the tongue she wanted come back, tracing her labia - between the outer and the inner ones then closer and closer to her clitoris - into the mouth of her vagina, back to her nub - and then she felt someone straddle her chest, and the smell she'd so often smelled came closer and closer to her face until
she felt the girl's vagina press against her mouth.
"Try and return the compliment," the girl said hoarsely. Mary Anne was so confused that she complied.
"Oh, good, good..." the girl groaned. "Go on!"
It wasn't as horrible as she'd expected; it actually tasted rather nice, and it felt nice, too. She abandoned herself to her task and to the feeling below. The girl on top of her felt behind her for Mary Anne's breasts and started to fondle them. The nipples felt as if they were about to burst, very sensitive and almost painfully erect - and it wasn't long before she erupted intro a long orgasm.
The couple got off the bed, and . Mary Anne, who was still shaking, felt the ball being reinserted into her vagina. Then she was left alone.
She gathered her thoughts together and tried to analyse her feelings. It had been great, the feeling coursing through her body - much greater than anything she'd ever experienced before. So, perhaps, a penis - She didn't finish the thought but tried to roll the beads in her vagina back and forth. It left her feeling swollen and puffed up down there.
After dinner, and a good, long shower, she was taken back again and to her horror she was shown a double picture. One was her old self, dressed in her stern clothes, the hair in her bun, without any make-up, and the other was a girl with loose hair, beautifully made up and wearing a quarter cup bra, a garter belt and stockings with a piece of string emerging from her labia. She did not really enjoy the first picture any more. But the second... still, this would be under her upper clothes for those who weren't supposed to see her that way. The pictures slowly faded. She lay waiting in anticipation of whatever they'd make her experience next.
She sensed someone's presence near her. Then something touched her hand. She wondered what it was and tried to feel it - and felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. It was an erect penis. She let go of it at once. But though she felt she shouldn't touch a thing like that, the other half of her emotions thought, "So that's what it feels like" and wanted to try again. Shyly she extended her hand and touched it again. It was warm and felt curiously soft and hard at the same time. She traced the contours and felt the rubbery tip. Underneath the head she noticed a small, hardish bit of skin; there were veins outside that seemed to be full of blood. She wrapped her hand around it, almost reverently.
"Don't be afraid," a female voice whispered in her ear. "It won't break, you know."
She wrapped her hand more firmly around him, and tried to roll him in her grip. The man moved back and forth a bit, and she felt the skin of his member move up and down.
"That's it," the girl egged her on. "That's how you do it. Go on, then!"
Mary Anne got into the rhythm and started masturbating the penis. It didn't take long before she saw her hand and the tool overhead, and then the girl came into the picture, dressed in some very thin, black underwear that made her look - well, sexy, Mary Anne thought. The girl knelt down to watch what she was doing, and the opened her mouth while the penis contracted and started to shake. A string of white stuff squirted out of it. Mary Anne let go of it as if stung, and the girl took the penis in her mouth while the image faded away.
Mary Anne lay staring into nothing, very much aroused and with a head full of conflicting emotions. Fortunately she hadn't been the one to come into contact with the ejaculation - or was she the unfortunate one? She felt the beads still in her vagina, moving almost imperceptibly yet enough to keep her labia swollen and hot, and her nipples puffed up. What would it be like to feel a penis in there? Would it hurt? Would she like it? She didn't really know if she wanted to try and finally fell into a fitful sleep.
When she awoke she felt she had been dressed in different underwear. Looking at the ceiling she saw herself in a corset that ended just below her breasts, with garter straps extended to shiny stockings, and with a pair of panties that had fabric where her vagina was, but only very briefly. Then the room went dark and she heard the couple she'd heard so often have sex in the room.
"Oh, Bob, put it in me and kiss me... please..." then only muffled sounds of kissing and the by now familiar slapping noise. Her whole body seemed on fire and before she knew she said, "Please - let me have some, too - " to her own amazement.
The sounds stopped at once, to be followed by the sound of two girls giggling and making gulping sounds at the other end of the room. If only she could join... If only she could get off that bed... She felt the tip of a penis against her hand - a quite different sensation from the last time. This one was soft and pliable. She kneaded it desperately - this one was no use to her. To her joy she felt the thing grow in her hand, slowly at first, but then very fast.
"Do you really want to try?" the man said. "I'd love to touch you, but..."
" Oh yes. Yes I do." Mary Anne was almost crying. Then the restraints were taken from her limbs and she felt the man mount her bed and move between her legs. He took the piece of string and pulled out the beads, slowly, slowly then he bent down over her supine form. She felt the tip of his penis touch her labia, and then enter her - slowly, softly. It was amazing to her that she could easily accommodate all of him. He lay down on top of her for a moment then he raised himself on his arms, and moved in and out of her, once only. She put her arms around him and tried to pull him towards her which seemed to work like a trigger - he suddenly began to move in and out in earnest. Mary Anne was delighted with the sensation. So this was what she'd always been afraid of? Involuntarily she raised her stockinged legs, thus making him plunge into her even more deeply, and wrapped them around the small of his back. She began squeezing the penis with her vagina the way she'd squeezed the purple beads - and before she knew the two of them collapsed in a shattering orgasm. She could feel the sperm spurt against her cervix, and she ventured to kiss her partner, shyly, softly - but very lovely indeed.