Mind Control Pt. 05

In Part 4 we continued our exploration of the world of sex, meeting another couple for sexy fun, and attending a sex party where Chrissie was the ultimate ice-breaker. We have decided to visit a swingers' club to move further into 'the lifestyle'. We continued to meet our student friends, and plunged ourselves into supporting one of them with fund-raising - all the time pushing my ability to hypnotise and use post-hypnotic suggestion to dispel inhibitions and encourage those around me to overcome taboos.

It turned out that selling items of intimate clothing was not difficult. There were plenty of websites where people could advertise their used underwear for sale, and with five attractive students, there should be plenty of demand. This, then, would be phase one of our strategy to raise money for Cat's mum's life-saving treatment.

Selling photos was trickier, mainly because there are so many free photos available. We hit on an idea which might work, but would probably not be too profitable. We decided to set up public groups on several social media messaging services, share a few 'tame' pictures of the girls, then charge for 'special requests'. There was the risk, of course, that some requests might be too extreme, so we would need to control that to some extent, but by offering photos of the girls individually, as pairs or as a group should encourage some to part with their hard-earned cash.

For the third, potentially most profitable element of fund-raising, we decided to visit three swingers' clubs within easy travelling distance. Our idea was simple. We would select the club which seemed most acceptable and approach them with a view to holding a fund-raising evening. The girls, helped by Sophie's dance training, would perform as strippers, then auction themselves as 'home helps' for a day.

Our language had been carefully chosen - 'slave' auctions were regular fund raisers, but for some involved in S and M and the whole sub/dom lifestyle, 'slave' might contain meanings which the girls would find unacceptable. However, they were happy to offer various household services - dressed as French maids - for those willing to pay. Once there services were engaged, however, 'extras' could be requested, for a suitable donation.

We had been concerned that this could amount to prostitution - however, the young women, all former students of mine, felt that charitable donations were different - and anyway, there would be very firm rules about consent, so if they preferred not to carry out a certain act, that would be their right.

With this in mind, the discussion spilled over into security. We agreed that Chrissie and I would ensure that all of them remained safe, and to that end, we decided to buy a couple of cheap spy cameras, so we could watch what was going on, and interrupt if necessary.

We continued to discuss various 'rules' for some time, before deciding that all that mattered was, in fact, what each of these women were willing to do, and as that might vary, consent would, in fact, be the only rule.

From there, everything was quite straightforward. Our fundraisers got to work setting up accounts on websites to sell panties, while Chrissie and I looked in to swingers' clubs and identified three to visit, which might be suitable (and amenable to) our fundraising idea. Chrissie's excitement was almost tangible as we chose the clubs. We avoided our nearest town, mainly for the sake of the girls, and chose two in largeish towns about ten miles away, and a third in a city some twenty miles distant.

About an hour later, we had finished these missions, and came together to discuss my job for the rest of the day. It was not a tough assignment. After lunch, during which Cat and her friends planned to go shopping, I would be taking photographs for the panty-selling site. All I had to do was take pictures, as my models wore the panties and ground them into their wet pussies.

As I was now hypnotising Chrissie on a daily basis to dispel her inhibitions, my other five acolytes requested that I do the same for them. The main reason was that it would make their fund-raising task easier. I was very happy to do so, but also insisted that I limit their increased libido to fund raising - I was becoming very aware that my impact was, perhaps, far greater than it really should be.

I spent three hours, taking pictures of our friends masturbating, or playing together, the emphasis being on how wet they made themselves or each other, and how this was transferred to their panties. Then I would load the pictures on to their various laptops for them to post on their personal selling pages.

Each had worn several different pairs of knickers, in various styles (all bought while we ate lunch) and it was no surprise that, before I had even finished taking photographs, sales were being made.

Chrissie quickly took control, dashing to the post office to buy jiffy bags and stamps, and as the moist, aromatic thongs, Brazilian thongs, tangas, high legs, shorts etc were stuffed into bags, they were sealed, along with a personal note and a photograph from the former wearer. It was quite a start, and cheered everyone up.

After a while, I noticed that Chrissie had disappeared. I asked each of the young ladies where she had disappeared to, but the only response was a smirk and a tut.

It was not until I was pointing my camera between Emily's legs as she rubbed the silk of her French knickers deep into her pussy, labia protruding each side, that I learned what was going on.

"For god's sake," panted the highly stimulated young woman, "she's getting changed. You're going to a club in a few hours."

My wife, of course, would need to look perfect for such an outing - still, her preparations seemed a bit early, until I realised that she had several fashion consultants in the house, and would probably want to share whatever sexy look she was trying out with them. Personally, I would be wearing respectable trousers and open-necked shirt.

We continued our photography until all the panties had been worn, soaked, packaged and labelled, and as I packed away, Chrissie appeared.

Her dress must have been modelled on the one worn by Marilyn Monroe in 'The Seven Year Itch'. She, of course, had a darker skin tone and dark hair, but the dress plunged at the front, revealing skin from neck to navel. The lower section was less voluminous, but equally floaty. As she twirled, it lifted. Unlike Monroe, My wife wore a thong, suspenders and stockings, which were very visible as the dress lifted.

She looked incredible. Her hair was styled, her make-up perfect (both thanks to our guests), and she wore strappy stilettos to complete the look. I should have realised that she was taking advantage of the skills available - Deep had styled her hair, while Mel did her make-up. I could not have been more proud.

Our plan was quite simple. We would check out the clubs - if they were clearly unsuitable, we would move on. If they seemed promising, we would chat with the owners and see what could be arranged.

The first club, in a medium-sized town, was not great. Most of the people walked in with the assumption that anyone there would happily have sex with them. A polite 'no thanks' seemed to cause offence, and one person even asked why we bothered going if we were not going to fuck. It seemed that most guests were regulars, and there were several cliques who felt that they were very much in charge. Neither of us felt comfortable, and we left within half an hour.

The second club was better. People were respectful, and approached us for polite conversation, not being offended if we said no, and wishing us a 'fun evening' as they moved on. Our only concern was the facilities - there was no stage or area for our friends to perform. It also seemed rather pretentious - people over-dressing in suits and ties to create an illusion of over-respectability. I am all for dress standards, but this seemed uncomfortably excessive.

The final club was in another town, and we knew that it felt 'right' as soon as we walked in. People were friendly and welcoming - very non-threatening. The facilities were precisely what we needed - a small stage (where a band performed while people danced), plenty of space and several private rooms, should our young ladies decide to avoid the other activities going on.

We approached the owners with our idea, and not only were they amenable, they positively welcomed us. We agreed to set up the event for three days' time, when the club would usually have been closed. They would announce the event each night, and would even donate half the profits from the bar and at the door, and pay for the entertainment. We could not have asked for more.

Furthermore, Chrissie and I were given free drinks and invited to stay for the rest of the evening, which we willingly accepted.

We took our drinks to the bar and sat at a comfortable table listening to the music. The band were quite good, led by a female singer, dressed in tight shorts and a sheer crop-top - very much in keeping with the club.

We were approached by several people who showed no interest in sex. They shook our hands and welcomed us, before congratulating us on setting up the fund-raiser. They loved the idea, and were delighted to see the 'swinging community' getting involved in such a worthy event.

After a while, we were approached by a couple who, it turned out, were of Jamaican descent.

He was tall and elegant with an easy smile and a confident manner. His wife was lovely. Like us, they were in their late thirties, with children and had joined 'the lifestyle' around a year ago. We chatted for quite a while - it seemed we had many interests in common - he and I followed football and cricket, our wives discussed family and sex (in that open way that women have), and after a while, he suggested moving to a private room.

Chrissie and I barely exchanged a look before accepting. The next question was what sort of room would we prefer? A room with 'viewing', the hot-tub, the dungeon, modern furnishing, more gothic style ... we must have looked confused, so Jay (as we learned was his name) went to the bar to ask which rooms were free.

As it happened, there was a group room, with 'gothic' decoration and viewing available. I had been a little unsure about the viewing element (basically a room with windows for others to watch), but Chrissie seemed ok with the idea, and Jay and Chantelle were happy, so I decided to go with the flow.

The room itself was lovely - rich, black and red décor, with silk sheets on a huge, circular bed. The windows were quite high, to avoid being a distraction as we settled on the bed.

We all settled back, women in the middle, Jay and I on the outside, and began the foreplay which seemed necessary.

Chantelle - Chan - lay next to me, and I got a chance to appreciate her more fully. Her black hair was straightened to her shoulders, and beautifully styled as her deep brown eyes drew me in. She wore a pale blue dress, with a plunging neckline and short enough to show the tops of hold-up stockings.

Her figure was full, but not over-large. She had impressive breasts which rested on my arm as she lay beside me, my arm around her shoulders and her leg draped over mine. Next to us, Chrissie and Jay mirrored our position.

There was little talk from that point - occasional bits of prompting, some compliments, but little more. Only Jay directed a comment to the whole group:

"Hey - just a warning - if you're expecting some porn movie 'big, black cock', you ain't gonna get one. Sorry."

I was relieved. I had always assumed that the idea that black men were all endowed with twelve inch dicks was a myth, but had harboured the fear that Chan was going to be massively disappointed - and I certainly didn't want to be playing my penny whistle in the Albert Hall.

Chan ran her hand over my shirt, and without further ado began undoing buttons. As soon as my shirt was open, she stroked my chest and stomach, beginning with my chest and nipples, before working lower, running her fingers along and beneath the waistband of my trousers.

Glancing across, I saw that Chrissie was replicating these actions, and had lowered her head, licking Jay's nipples, her head lowering to rest on his stomach as his fingers found the zip of her dress, pulling it down to expose her back.

Chan wore a blouse and skirt, so I focused on untucking her blouse and raising it above her bra, which I unclipped with my well-practised hand.

It was quite odd how both pairs followed one-another's lead, but not a huge surprise really - we were learning, so anxious to fit in, while our new friends led the way. Inevitably, we would begin to follow our own preferred paths shortly.

For now, however, we continued to match. As Chrissie sat up and shook the upper half of her dress off her shoulders and to her waist, bringing a huge smile to Jay's face as he saw her impressive breasts for the first time. Chan also sat up, lifting her top over her head and shrugging off her bra, while I removed my shirt.

Her breasts were beautiful - deep brown, well rounded and topped with darker nipples, round and well-defined with firm points standing proud, demanding to be sucked. Apparently, she read my mind, lowering one soft mound to my mouth, encouraging me to run my tongue around the solid nub in the centre, before taking it in my mouth, drawing it in, biting gently.

"Harder," she whispered, as I bit down more firmly, a tremor running through her body. "Harder. Hurt me." I bit more firmly, not really wanting to hurt her, but happy to accept that she enjoyed a little pain - after all, Chrissie was the same.

After far too little time focusing on those beautiful tits, she pulled away, her hand returning to my waistband, undoing the button and sliding down the zip in smooth, easy motions, before plunging inside to grab my erection.

"Mmm ... nice," she mumbled, running her hands up and down my shaft. She pushed my clothing down, revealing me to the watchers at the window, and bent her head down to tease me with her tongue, licking around the small hole, before moving down to my shaft. Alongside us, Chrissie was performing the same service for Jay - as he had said, his cock was not enormous - but it was certainly big enough. Perhaps it was the dark colouring which made it look larger against my wife's skin, but I estimated it to be probably a similar length to mine, but of greater circumference.

As Chrissie worked her way up his length, she caught my eye and we exchanged a smile - she knew I was not prone to penis-envy. Size, as she often said, was irrelevant unless you knew what to do with it.

Chan, meanwhile, released my nether regions from her oral exploration, apparently satisfied that every centimetre of head, shaft and balls had been licked and mouthed with her full lips. She slid off her skirt and panties in one movement, before dragging off my trousers and underwear, leaving us both naked.

Briefly, we admired each other's body. As her clothed appearance suggested, she was very curvy. Her breasts were full and round, her hips equally broad, while a gentle roll of extra flesh adorned her waist. She looked wonderful - soft and flowing - feminine, in the same way as Chrissie - not a model figure, no artificial enhancement and no obsession with media images of what she 'should' look like - a woman content in her skin and with her age.

As if to answer my final question about her appearance, she turned, showing me her backside - full, slightly puckered and well-rounded - wobbling just a little as she moved.

She reversed along my body, until reaching the point where her leg could go over my head, placing her pussy directly over my face. I put my arms round her hips and drew her down on to my mouth, smelling her musky odour, as my tongue flicked into the wet slit, tasting her nectar, searching for her clitoris as she resumed her oral attentions on me.

We continued in our sixty-nine position for a while, until her juices seemed to almost drip on me, before she knelt upright, drew her knee over my head, and as I moved to take a more dominant role, pushed me back before mounting me and lowering herself on to rigid shaft, burying me balls-deep in her cunt.

For the first time in a while, I was able to see what Chrissie and Jay were doing. He was standing by the bed, while she took his broad member in her mouth. He was not passive, however. His hands were on her head, pulling her vigorously back and forth, forcing her to take him more deeply than I felt would be comfortable for her. As he face-fucked her, his head went back in evident pleasure - no surprise - and I wondered if I should intercede. I had learned, however, that Chrissie was very able to look after herself, and would probably be annoyed if I got involved.

As Chan bounced on me, holding her breasts and fingering her nipples, I gazed at her. She was magnificent. Despite her extra weight, she was clearly fit and athletic, and her movements were rhythmic as she brought herself to a climax against me. Only then did she pause, smiling at me and moving up to lie alongside me.

"Sorry," she whispered, "at home, Jay is very dominant - I don't always like being sub, so I like to take charge occasionally. Sub's fun, but not all the time for me."

Meanwhile, Chrissie and Jay had stopped their activities, and were listening. I glanced at Chrissie to make sure she was content - she was - and I noticed a trail of semen running from her lip to her chin. Jay was smiling.

"Sorry, Chrissie," he apologised, "I got a little carried away. At home we often do that - it's my thing."

Chrissie smiled, "it's ok. I like it. I've often thought about being used - it's a bit of a turn on."

Jay and Chan exchanged a brief glance, and I knew they had something in mind.

"Have you ever been tied up?" Asked Jay. "Chan likes it. They have ropes here, and handcuffs - maybe we could give it a go?"

Chrissie and I exchanged a glance. We had talked about it before, but never really got around to it. That was largely my fault, as I really had no idea where to start with a rope. This seemed like a good chance to learn.

Jay went to a cupboard, and produced a length of rope, handcuffs and several toys - vibrators, wands, butt plugs, a paddle and a small whip. I wondered if, perhaps, this room had been booked and set up in advance by our new friends - a suspicion which was later confirmed.

Jay sensed my uncertainty, and decided to treat this as a chance to tutor me.

He began with handcuffs, putting Chrissie's hands above her head before attaching her wrists. He folded the extremely long rope in half, so that it would be doubled - presumably to reduce any chafing.

He placed it around her shoulders and then ran coils around each breast, forcing the tissue into and almost spherical shape and pushing Chrissie's nipples up and out. Then he took the rope down each side, and pulled her legs up, leaving her vagina yawning, as he ran the cords around each thigh, before bending up the lower part of the legs, and tying them to her thighs. With her legs like that, Chrissie resembled a swimmer doing breast-stroke, preparing to kick - or perhaps a frog.

I was very conscious of my straining erection, and found that seeing my wife like this was quite a turn on - especially as Jay began to finger her wide-open pussy. I looked at Chan, who watched avidly, fingering herself almost casually. She saw my glance and smiled.

"You can try with me if you like," she offered, "but I'd rather we just fuck. I get this often enough at home. It's good to watch for a bit."

She moved next to me, her hand reaching for my cock, as we both watched in fascination.

Jay smiled, before addressing Chrissie. "If you don't like it, just say. It's not a 'make or break' thing. We can just go back to fucking if you like."