Fantasy Pt. 07: Alice's Story

So, Sherrie didn't care much for Alice. Why then was she volunteering so much of her time? Oh, you know the answer. There's nothing to see here. Just keep moving.

There's more. A lot of people have marital issues, not Henry and Alice alone. Sherrie and Paul did. And as Sherrie and Paul left Henry's house, Paul showed that for him it was all about the sex.

"Man those pics were hot! And the video!" They weren't even to their car yet.

"Paul, stop that! Is that all you think about? I mean, he whipped her!"

"Yeah. I'd sure like to have seen that."

"Paul!"

"And you wouldn't? Admit it. You'd like to have done it yourself."

"I'd like to see her get what she deserves."

"Sexy! My wife the flagellatrix!"

"Paul! It's because of what she's done to Henry."

"Henry's a sap."

They walked silently for a moment. Then,

"Fine. Maybe he's a sap. If she plays her cards right, she may get her sap back."

"I'd like to watch you whipping her. You could make her beg."

"Oh, just shut up!"

Trouble in paradise? Or was that foreplay? Paul got behind the wheel and put his right hand between Sherrie's thighs.

*****

When they got home Paul started kissing Sherrie and feeling her breasts. "Take everything off."

It didn't take long, until they were both naked.

"You'd love the whip, wouldn't you?"

"No, Paul. Stop it."

"Yes you would. You're so wet already."

"No."

"Yes. You're Alice and you need a good whipping."

"Paul."

"I'm Richard. Get up on your knees, Alice. Get you ass as high up as you can." He got a belt.

"Please, Richard." She raised her ass.

He struck her once, lightly. "Count."

"Please! One." He whipped her again, a little harder.

"Count."

"Two. Please don't hit me again...harder."

Again. Harder still. "Count."

"Please Richard. Please! Three."

At 'four' she called out the number and added "Four. Oh, I'm so yellow!" So, he whipped her more softly. After ten strokes he kissed and licked her ass, which was covered in light, pink stripes, and ran his fingers up and down her vulva until she cried out and shuddered.

"Now, bad Alice gets her breasts whipped, too. Kneel up."

"Please, Richard."

"Link your hands behind your head and stick your Alice tits out. Hold them out."

He gave her ten of the best again, while she counted and begged. Or 'begged.' Her breasts, too, were covered in faint, pink stripes. "Now I'm going to fuck you hard."

"No. Please. I don't want you to fuck me." She guided his penis into her vagina and they went at it.

Afterwards Sherrie almost couldn't catch her breath, lying under Paul, sweaty, dreamy, exhausted, and happy, feeling just a little guilty about the role playing. But not all that guilty. Paul was right. Sherrie loved the idea of whipping and wouldn't have regretted it the way Henry did. The sap.

Why even bring this up? Well, is Sherrie really all that different from Alice? In her kinks? She doesn't approve of what Alice did, though I personally think she might have been just a wee bit turned on by the pics. She has a jerk for a husband (IMHO), though their sex life seems to be very good, and that can make up for a lot. She's never done anything "cheatful," that we know about. On the other hand, neither had Alice, previously. Is Alice fundamentally different? Or was she simply unfortunate enough to be chosen by a truly powerful demon like Richard? How could you tell?

*****

Once everyone was gone, Henry sat in the large, overstuffed chair facing away from the bedrooms and stared at nothing in particular. It's hard to say how long it was before he felt a hand come lightly to rest on his shoulder. Her other hand held the mist machine.

"Henry. You look so tired. Come lay down."

"I need to get us some lunch."

"I'll stay with you." When they started to walk her knees gave out on her. He had to help her to the kitchen--again--and when they got there her forehead was covered in sweat and her breathing was strained. She used the breathing device while he watched her.

"Let me get you back to bed. I'll bring you lunch."

"Let me stay out here with you. Can I?" Pleading with her eyes. Of course she could. He was a sap, you know. Or a saint. Or something. He made a can of soup for them.

"Can I ask you something, Henry?"

"Sure."

"Why are you being so good to me?" He became a statue. "I know you hate me, but you've been...so good. How can you stand being like that?"

The conversation. Or a conversation. Henry wasn't really prepared to talk, but she'd served and the ball was in his court.

"I don't hate you. Really, I don't. I care for you. And like you said, you didn't have anywhere else to turn. And after what I did, well, I owe you. Okay? There may be other 'ands,' but that's about it."

Her eyes welled and she rubbed them with her palms. White women's tears; their superpower. But she wasn't trying to use them. She was just weak. "After what I did to you?"

"Alice. Cripes. Alice, that's for me to get over. It's in the past. It's over. Don't bring it back up, okay? I don't need to think about it. Let's move on and get you healthy again, okay?"

She took a couple of sips of soup, then put her spoon down.

"I want to explain how it happened. Maybe you'll kick me out. I don't know. But I want to be open. And honest."

"There's no reason."

"I threw away our marriage, so I owe you. So you'll understand. I don't want to leave you in the dark, thinking maybe it was somehow your fault."

*****

And this is Alice's story of her fall--the first fall. It's not exactly verbatim, though it is longer than the version she told Henry, but it's as she recalled it, and as she recalls it today. I'll fill in some gaps. Henry understood her well enough and sometimes asked her for explication.

"To begin, is with my big secret." She took a breath. "All my life I've been driven by the fantasy of being dominated. Of being made to do things, and not to be able to stop them. Being degraded. Whatever. Made to do anything, everything, at one time or another. Really, it's all my life, from before I really knew what sex was."

She remembered being eight, and her older brother and another boy -- what was his name? -- leading her down to their basement to play 'Prisoner.' They made her take her clothes off, play-spanked her and made her lie down on a blanket and spread her legs out so they could touch her. She remembered how excited she became, the feeling in her chest that wasn't exactly like sex, which she didn't understand yet, but was profound, that grew even stronger when they began to unfasten their pants to make her touch their little penises just as her mother caught them. Her mother had consoled her while her father yelled at her brother and called the other boy's parents, never for a moment doubting that their little girl had been forced. She didn't mention the episode to Henry, but she would if he ever asked her about her past. She wondered if her brother remembered it.

"It wasn't anything in my actual sex life, but I'd get books or look at pictures. I never did anything, except, you know, self-pleasuring."

"I never guessed."

"No one ever knew. I'd read things, you know, 'The Story of O.' Things like that."

"'Fifty shades of ...'"

"Oh, that one was pretty bad, but yes, things like that too. But I kept the fantasies hidden. There are a lot of books and R-rated movies that are hot. I never gave you any reason to worry. I liked sex with you. It wasn't forced. I wasn't uninterested. I never, ever cheated. Not until Richard. I'm sorry."

"Then it changed almost overnight. Something snapped. That much I know."

"It was New Years Eve, when Richard appeared with his little sex slave. Right there out in the world. Right in front of me. I'd never seen anything like that, not in real life. Nowhere but fantasy. He led her around with the dog collar and chain, and whipped her ass, and used his finger on her right there. And he stared at me the whole time! Like he could tell. Like he knew my secret and was aiming everything at me. I swear he could. He could tell things! I was outraged, partly because he could actually do that, and that little nebbishy girl could experience it and I couldn't. I never had. I was outraged but I got so horny. So, we had really good sex that night and the next. You remember?" Henry nodded. "Things might have settled down, but a few days later he called."

Henry just went "Um, hmm."

"You weren't home. Somehow--I'm not sure exactly how he did it--he turned the conversation to fantasies, and a fantasy he had of me, tied up and helpless. I swear I don't know how it happened."

"I know," said Henry. "That part I know, because I've heard it. He sent it to me."

"He...what?"

"He sent it to me. The first thing he sent to me."

"I don't understand."

"He sent it to me. To let me know how he seduced you. It was part of his game."

"I don't understand."

"Well, it's there. I've still got it. If you want, we could play it later. You can tell how good he is. So, yeah, I know about it, and I know there was at least a second call."

And Alice's world spun out of control because this was all suddenly so much more complex--and what were Richard and Henry doing, talking about her and sharing her words? What was going on? She lost her train of thought and it was a moment before she realized Henry was speaking.

"Alice. Alice. I'm sorry. I know a few things because that bastard Richard played us both. I won't hide them from you. But just believe me that I do know what he did in that phone call. So...I'll let you finish."

That would have to wait because Alice became dizzy, and nauseous. She put her hands to her face, but after a moment she had to lay her head down on her arms, on the table, knocking the soup bowl, spilling some of the soup, shivering, afraid she would vomit, afraid of everything, wondering if somehow she were the butt of everyone else's joke, if Henry were somehow in on it with Richard.

Henry cleaned up the soup and put everything in the sink while Alice lay with her head on her arms.

"Let me help you to bed. Here. Up."

"Don't mock me. Please don't." He was half carrying her.

"I'm not. And I won't keep anything from you. But there hasn't been time since you came home. We haven't been able to talk. Okay. Can you walk? Do you feel you're going to throw up? Let's go into the bathroom. No? Okay, then here. Lie down. Let me get the nebulizer. I'll just be a second."

And she began to feel a little better. Her stomach settled. Henry thought she might even fall asleep, but she wanted to end the beginning, and then Henry would explain things to her. She wanted to know, and she wanted to confess. She needed to confess.

"There was a second phone call, Henry." By then she was mad with thinking about what Richard could do, and wanted it. "He called and I just let him reel me in. He could read me. I was transparent to him. I'd never cheated, not once in all our time. I know, I'm repeating myself, and it doesn't help anything, but please believe me. Somehow, he talked me into it. I talked myself into it. I convinced myself that everyone does it sometime. This would only be the one time. You would never find out. So, we set up a meeting."

"At your office? One of those days you stayed late?"

"No." A harsh little laugh. "Richard doesn't come to you. You go to him. It was a day I got home late, but he didn't come to my office. It was at one of his places, not far away. I left early to drive there."

A small place, actually, in a strip mall, near a Chinese restaurant she and Henry had dined at several times. It had a nondescript business name on the door, which Alice later found was usually locked, but inside it was a lovely, almost deluxe meeting space with thick carpeting, beautiful furniture, soft lighting, things like that. There was music, space music, the kind you'll hear in a spa.

"I thought it would be a scene like with his little sex slave."

"Diane," said Henry.

"Yes. Her. Though I never met her. I thought it would be like that, but it was completely different. There were two women there who did everything, Juliette and Justine."

"Probably not their real names," suggested Henry, thoughtfully.

"I know." Alice looked down and smiled. "I read de Sade along with everything else in my secret life. But those were the names they always used."

Justine and Juliette. The first blond and tall and willowy, the second shorter and dark and bigger breasted, though both looked natural enough. They spoke with heavy accents. They met Alice and escorted her in, being oh-so-formal, one taking each arm. Alice trembled at their touch because it was going to happen, whatever "it" was. They passed through a corridor and into the main room. It looked like a home theater, and Richard was sitting in a wide, leather chair. He rose; she doesn't remember exactly what he said, only that there was a servant with red wine in tall flutes on a silver tray, and she was served first. She never saw anyone else. She does remember that Richard introduced her to Justine and Juliette, and that he commented on her appearance and asked how she was. He told her that if she weren't ready for what was to come, she should leave now. At that, she trembled again and said, simply, "I'm ready, Richard." They finished the wine.

"Good. Those were your last words, unless I tell you to talk. Nod if you understand." Alice nodded, which thrilled her. She had begun feeling different, not just more apprehensive or excited but higher, shivery, physically hot, emotionally close to him and to the women. Her heart raced. The room seemed darker, then darker still, and it seemed to be rocking. She swayed to one side and Justine supported her. Or was it Juliette? The two helped her walk to the center of the room and turned her to face Richard.

"Now, keep your face and eyes forward, and your hands at your sides." Alice did it. "No." Richard chuckled. "You don't have to stand at attention. Just eyes forward and hands at your sides. That's right." He waited a moment.

"Now please take off your shoes." She did it, staggering a little. Juliette took them from her and put them someplace.

"Good. Now your skirt." Alice unfastened her belt and unsnapped and unzipped her skirt. She had to look to see what she was doing. "Did I say you could look down?" She started to say "I'm sorry," but stopped herself. Instead, she looked straight ahead and worked her skirt down. She felt beautifully helpless. One of the women took it. She could tell they folded it and put it somewhere, but she couldn't look.

"Your blouse." That was easier. Then something more complicated. "I see you're wearing pantyhose. Take them off. Girls, get her a stool to sit on while she does it." Once she was bare-legged he had her stand again. "Don't wear pantyhose anymore. Next time wear stockings and use garter belts. Nod if you understand." After her nod, he said: "Now you're dressed just like any woman at the pool, aren't you?" She nodded again.

The feeling in her chest was constant. Oh, it was in her pudendum too. Don't get me wrong. She grew faint, almost as though she weren't there all the time, and the only solid things were Richard's voice and the hands of the two women. She didn't provide every detail you are getting, my readers, not every single one, but Henry got the picture. He thought, "Why is she being so thorough? Does she really think this can make anything at all better?" But he listened, because Henry was unfailingly polite--when he wasn't whipping his wife--and he wanted her to recover. Maybe this would help her. Me, I'd listen because it was hot. A woman's fall into debauchery is always a good story for me. Would I think it was so hot if she were my wife? I'd have to think about that, but I might.

It was at about this point in the telling that Henry began to suspect that Richard had spiked Alice's wine. Maybe with MDMA, ecstasy? Though why would he bother? She was already gone. She'd probably been irretrievably lost by the end of the first phone call. She was certainly lost by the time she drove to this little den and opened the door. She wouldn't have backed out then even if she'd been scared to death. So why? Maybe it was just the last nail in her coffin. Making sure there were no last-minute screw-ups. Richard was thorough and would have thought of that. And, Henry thought, maybe to give her an even bigger charge than she was expecting, something a little chemical. Giving her a push to do more than fall off the marital wagon for a day. Who knows? He was speculating, but he's a pretty smart guy when the blinders are taken off.

Richard was talking again, and Alice was listening.

"Unhook your bra, but don't take it off. Good. And close your eyes."

She waited. A pair of soft hands pulled her bra straps forward and down, until it came off completely. Her breathing grew faster. Another person came up from behind. She was taller. It was Justine, who reached around Alice and caressed her breasts very, very softly.

"Keep your eyes closed."

Juliette knelt between Alice's legs--she could tell she was kneeling, because her hair touched Alice's belly--and rolled Alice's panties down. When they were down to the floor, Richard told her to lift each foot, in turn, so they could be taken away.

"Now you're completely naked before us, for whatever purposes we have. Almost naked. We're going to cover just one thing."

The woman behind her--Alice kept forgetting which was which--pulled a soft cloth over her eyes and tied it in the back. It covered her face from her forehead to the tip of her nose. She waited again. The women left her for a moment and Alice rocked back and forth, unable to see and barely able to keep her balance. When they came back each took one of her hands, gently bent her elbows, and crossed her wrists behind her back. They tied them with something soft.

"You can open your eyes now, if you want." Richard chuckled again. "Let's begin with some sweet kissing, for foreplay. Be active and sensual, loving, and deep."

At this point of telling the story, Alice sat up on the edge of the bed and bent her head down, staring into the palms of her hands. She was remembering what had happened.

Alice had never kissed a woman--not sensually, that is. A lot of things she'd never done before. But Justine began kissing her, open mouthed, with her active tongue, sucking on the soft insides of her lips, just oh-so-lively, oh-so-deeply. Alice knew it was Justine because she had to tilt her head back and kiss upwards. She sucked Justine's tongue in and let her tongue be sucked back, and they played against each other and breathed each other's air. And Justine--she was naked too! She'd disrobed and her breasts were rubbing across Alice's, her belly against Alice's, their sexes brushing now and again, while she held Alice's face between her hands. And Juliette was there. She pressed her naked body up behind Alice's and she reached around to rub Alice's nipples with some kind of heating ointment, her breasts rubbing against Alice's back, kissing Alice's neck and shoulders. But those nipples! Round and round went the fingers, squeezing them and letting them pop out, than catching them again. Over and again, while the deep kissing never stopped. Alice came to love them. There was a beautiful one-ness among the three that could go on forever, even after Alice began groaning up into Justine's mouth and then cried loudly into Justine during the kiss, an orgasm that came from playing with her nipples alone. No, she'd never experienced that, not from her nipples. It was a small club, this world of love that she never wanted to leave.

If Alice had imparted those specific facts to Henry, he would have been certain he was right, that Richard had spiked her wine.