Web of Sensation Ch. 02

Evelyn didn't know if she should try to make this girl believe her, or even know she was there, but she was connected now and wanted to help her in some way. Why was a smart girl like that stuck with such bleak choices?

Tonight she would try to enter her mind enough to find out her circumstances and see what she was like. She wanted to share the girl's experiences and see how she could help. The girl was at certainly partially telepathic, so she should at least offer her a chance to join their little group. That was enough of an excuse for Evelyn to intrude on her mind.

Evelyn laid back on the bed and closed her eyes and willed herself to float into that distant girl's mind like a patron who arrives late at a movie and sits in the back row of the theater so as not to disturb the other people.

She worked to regain the feeling of the girl, the spark of her thoughts. Relax and drift. She was out there somewhere.

Yes. There she was.

* * *

"Fifty bucks for a blow, but I'm not touching you without a rubber." Sylvia Dean was insistent on that point. Twenty-two years old, working part time at a convenience store and selling her body to cover the rest of her debts, but she wasn't about to risk disease just to pay the power. She'd sooner go on government assistance.

"I'll pay sixty." The man was in his mid thirties, with a pot belly and receding hairline and crooked teeth. He should be happy to get his rocks off any way he could.

"Take a hike," Sylvia said. She turned back to the bar and picked up her drink. The bartender rolled his eyes, and she winked in return.

"Okay, fine." The man dropped his argument.

"Let's go," Sylvia said, holding her hand out low beneath the bar. The man put his money into her outstretched palm and stood from his stool. "Back there," she told him, indicating the hall leading to the restrooms.

As he led the way back, she slipped forty dollars into her pocket and laid ten on the bar. The bartender smiled as he palmed the money.

Sylvia walked after the desperate man with a swagger that was missing in her usual stride. Normally, she was felt that she was showing nothing but deficiencies in her body and her manner, even in her voice. But, when she'd taken some man's money for a few minutes use of her body, she felt herself in control.

Sylvia was five two, with blonde hair and a round face and small mouth like a child's mouth. She was slim and pretty and very perceptive, but she didn't see her own good points. She saw only uselessness. She saw nothing there until she took a man's money. If nothing else, her body had monetary value. If she had no control of anything in her life, at least she had control over whether some poor bastard had a chance to come. That was quite a bit of control.

The man was waiting at the end of the hall, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Sylvia opened the door to a storage closet opposite the restrooms, and a look of relief came over the man's face. She wasn't going to do him on some toilet.

"Hey, I don't usually, well…"

"Yeah, nobody usually," Sylvia said as she switched on the light and closed the door behind them. "Drop your pants, big boy. Let's see what you got."

She rather enjoyed talking like that—like a hooker in a movie. It was fun to put on a character. At the store she was little miss helpful, all smiles and "thank you sir." Here she was a wench who'd seen it all—even though that was far from true.

On a scale of one to ten she'd probably only seen five. Of course she was trying to keep a low profile to avoid notice from the cops or the pimps who might want to interfere with her sideline. This wasn't a career. All she wanted was enough money to get by.

Sylvia knelt before the man and looked up at him as he undid his belt. He wasn't really so bad when she looked at him in better light. He had friendly eyes. She wondered briefly what his problem was but decided that it wasn't worth thinking about it.

When he dropped his pants and boxers, Sylvia thought she saw what might be part of his problem. The guy was huge. His cock was half limp but hung down a good ten inches, and it was already thick as her wrist. Sylvia knew damn well it wouldn't fit in her snatch.

"Well, ain't that something," she said out of the corner of her mouth. Just like a moll in a movie. "Can you even get your hand around that thing?"

"Well, I…" He laughed nervously.

"Come on, show me how you pump it. Give me my little thrill before I give you yours."

He complied, clearly embarrassed as he stroked his cock quickly. It filled like a balloon as he manipulated it. Probably twelve inches. Fat like a summer sausage. Would the damn rubber even fit?

It wasn't easy, but it went on, and Sylvia opened her mouth to take the head inside and begin working her tongue over the huge knob at the end. The man sighed and leaned back against the wall while Sylvia sucked him, stroking the shaft slowly with one hand and feathering her fingertips of her other hand over his balls. Working patiently, she tried to play the part of a willing partner. But it wouldn't do to be too patient. Fifty dollars wasn't much if it took her an hour to accomplish her task.

Fortunately, it didn't take that long. Ten minutes of attention brought forth an eruption that caused the end of the rubber to fill and droop like a bag of thick milk.

"Thank you," he said, holding his dick as it began to soften. "I'm, well, thank you."

"Sure," She said, standing. "Come back with a hundred fifty bucks and we'll see if I can fit it in me. Probably can't, but it's worth a try." She patted his cheek, smiling. "Better pull your pants up and waddle over to the toilet. You don't want to leave that thing lying in here."

He did as he was told, holding his pants up and scurrying across to the man's room, and Sylvia returned to the bar.

"So what's wrong with him?" the bartender asked. "He ain't deformed or anything. Why can't he get some free pussy?"

"Guy's got a dick about the size of the baseball bat you've got behind the bar," Sylvia said. "It would scare anyone away. I'm going home, Phil. See you later."

"Sure, Sylvia. Sleep tight, okay?" The bartender gave her a nearly fatherly look, showing much more concern than might be expected from their acquaintance.

"Yeah. See ya."

It was only seven thirty when Sylvia left the bar, hardly bed time. She'd earned a hundred and ten dollars from two hand jobs and a blow, and could probably pick up a couple more if she stayed. She hadn't even had to open her legs yet tonight. But Phil got a cut for providing a safe place to work. She didn't begrudge him the money, but she'd rather go some place where she could charge a bit more and keep it all for herself. Besides, he was always lecturing her about how she could do better. She hated to see that look in his eyes.

Sylvia walked six blocks to the convention center, where a computer convention was taking place, and crossed the street to the Metropolitan Hotel. Dressed in a short black skirt with boots and a simple white blouse, she was just different enough from the guests to attract some attention but not so different that she'd get the wrong kind of attention.

Of course, she had a contact at the Metropolitan, too. Julio was the bell captain, a middle-aged fellow with an athletic build and sexual appetite to match. He didn't take a cut of the men he steered her way. She would just fuck him in an empty room at the end of his shift. Payment in kind.

Julio smiled when he saw her and motioned with his head for her to come over.

"You're just in time," he said. "A man upstairs is desperate for company. I said I'd see what I could do. I'll tell you, thought, he's not alone. Got a lady up there with him."

"A lady?"

"Yeah. His wife. Want me to call him?"

"You bet. Thanks, Julio. Any others?"

"Not yet. I can let it be known you're available."

"Cool."

* * *

Evelyn was dimly aware of her surroundings as she lay immersed in Sylvia Dean's mind. She'd shared her boredom waiting at the bar drinking a Coke and watching TV, almost enjoyed the experience of jerking a couple salesmen off at their tables in the back of the bar. What was missing was the sexual thrill. Sylvia only felt power in her activity. Power, and pride at earning money. The girl was smart, setting up in inexpensive network of help to avoid having to stand on a street corner to ply her trade. She was too smart, really, and the evening was leaving Evelyn feeling somewhat lonely.

What happened after Sylvia knocked on the door of room 1034 was a different matter.

* * *

It was a couple. Early fifties and obviously well off. Neither was beautiful, but they were in shape. They answered the door together, each looking rather embarrassed and shy and terribly turned-on.

"Julio said you wanted room service?" Sylvia said.

The pair nodded, stepping back. Suddenly, the woman threw her hands into the air and said, "My God, John, she's got a gun!"

Confusion flooded Sylvia's mind as the couple stumbled backward, trying to stamp looks of fear over their laughter. What the hell?

"Don't hurt us!" John said. "Just take the money and leave Gail alone!"

"Please don't tie me up and fuck me!" Gail said. "My husband could never stand the shame of being forced to watch!"

Oh, a game. Sylvia smiled, she could play along.

Sylvia lifted her purse and pointed it at them. "Just do as I say and nobody will get hurt," she told them as gruffly as possible. "Get in the bedroom!"

The couple raced each other through the bedroom door. Sylvia thought they weren't being very convincing. She had to hurry behind them and quickly took stock of the bedroom in their suite.

Two double beds. Two chairs with wooden arms. A dresser with mirror, television, table—the usual stuff. But one of the beds was covered with a fine assortment of sex toys all laid out for tonight's "assault." There was a vibrating strap-on with a fancy corset harness, a couple glass dildos, a rubber whip, straps and several handcuffs. Everything an enterprising girl might want.

"You," Sylvia said, motioning her purse toward the man. "Sit down."

The trouble was that Sylvia didn't really know what to do next. She felt that Julio had set her up to fail. He should have recommended a call service for their special needs.

Evelyn felt her consciousness slipping out of the girl, rocked by her indecision. "Cuff him to the chair!" she called out to her. "Just the left wrist and right ankle!"

Up in the city, Sylvia started and looked around. Had she heard a voice? No, she couldn't have, but she began to piece together a useable scenario.

"On your knees," she told the woman, as she hurried around to the far bed and gathered up the cuffs and restraints. "Remember, I've got a gun."

When her supposed victim hadn't complied by her return, she looped a length of nylon rope around her neck and pulled her back against her hip. Gail sighed, trembling with anticipation. "Do it!" Sylvia snarled, and pushed the woman down.

"Just do what she says, dear," John said, from the chair. "You don't want her to hurt you."

Sylvia cuffed the man to the chair by his left wrist and then turned to his wife. "Okay, little lady," she said. "Let's have some fun."

Evelyn marveled at how fast Sylvia picked up the game and worked with the couple's desires to create exactly what they wanted. When she did falter, Evelyn nudged her in the right direction, but mostly she held back in her mind and watched.

She watched as Sylvia forced to Gail strip and insert a dildo into herself while Sylvia and John watched. Then Sylvia used the strap-on to take her from behind while her husband called out curses and promises of retribution and rattled the chair that retrained him. Sylvia took on the role of a man, forcing Gail to perform fellatio on her false penis while her husband watched, his own cock straining at his expensive slacks. When Gail didn't obey fast enough, she used the whip on her breasts and buttocks.

"Strip," she told John, feeling real pleasure in the power they'd given her.

"What? You've got me tied to a chair," he protested. "How can I possibly…"

"Rip it off if you have to!" Sylvia pushed Gail to the floor and cuffed her hands behind her back. "Get your cock out where I can see it!"

"No!"

Sylvia spanked Gail with her hand. "Strip!" she commanded.

"Okay. Just please don't violate my wife any further!" John said, as he fought to undo his shirt buttons with one hand. "Anything but that!" His acting was a bit over the top, but that seemed to increase the couple's sense of fun. It was like an amateur theatrical production, and the cast was enjoying every minute of it.

Through it all, Sylvia's sense of power increased. She reveled in the control she had over the couple, and worked to think of new commands for them.

Evelyn became lost in the sensations emanating from the trio. As Gail and John became more excited, their feelings began to flood into Evelyn's mind along with Sylvia. She felt the rubber penis enter Gail's pussy as Sylvia pulled her back to sit on her lap in the other chair, even as she felt the back end of that penis pressing against Sylvia's vulva and compressing the flesh against her clit. She felt John's penis harden to a nearly painful point as he watched his wife bouncing on the fake cock, a nylon strap around her throat pulling her back as the girl beneath her mauled her breast.

Evelyn winced a bit when Sylvia used the rubber whip on John's cock and balls. "Too hard," she thought, and Sylvia lessened the force of her blows until Evelyn felt John's penis respond with increased tumescence. His sense of excitement only increased when Sylvia commanded him to masturbate and brought his wife down to kneel between his legs and accept his release on her breasts.

Sylvia reveled in the control, the power to both command and satisfy her charges. She fell into the role of sexual captor with glee, and pushed them to new heights of dirty bliss while feeling a nearly orgasmic surge of pride at owing them so totally.

Evelyn felt John's reticence when Sylvia commanded him to take his wife anally, but she also felt an elation in having no control over consummating an act the couple had never committed before. He couldn't help it; she was whipping him. And Gail pushed herself back against him, increasing the pressure of his thrusts eagerly while shouting, "Oh, please, not both of you at once! I couldn't take it."

But of course she could take it, and rolled to lay atop her husband while Sylvia completed her double penetration. Another first, another dirty pleasure, and Gail was nearly faint from the sheer excitement of it before she even had her orgasm.

There was even a first for Evelyn that night. She was totally connected to all three people, feeling all of their sensations. She felt John's shameful excitement when Sylvia commanded them to turn again and positioned herself behind him, her false penis pressing against his anus while he continued to move within his wife. Evelyn felt the explosion of blissful pain as Sylvia entered his ass and felt the stiffening of his cock in response to the intrusion. She felt the eager movement of Gail's fingers on her own clit, the movement of John's cock in her anus as well as the feeling of her hot butt tightening on his cock. And she reveled in how the movement of the false dick in John's ass caused him to come again, filling his wife so that the hot spurt in her ass prompted yet another orgasm to explode through Gail's body.

The couple collapsed to the floor, lying as though dead for a moment. Their minds were nothing but bliss, totally lacking coherent thought. They had achieved the goal of total sexual satisfaction.

Sylvia could tell they were finished. Frankly, she couldn't think of another thing to do to them. One thing, yes, but it went against the grain to pull the woman up by her hair and force her to tend to Sylvia's needs. She had nearly gotten off tonight. While she was willing to enjoy the power, she wasn't about to let herself start having orgasms doing this work. That would be sick.

Even sicker for a client to eat a prostitute's pussy.

Prostitute. The word brought Sylvia back to earth. She undid the buckles on the harness and removed the strap-on. Everything seemed so dirty with the word "Prostitute" hanging in her mind. She dressed while the couple on the floor struggled to get onto the bed and finally gave up and sat on the floor, heads back against the rumpled sheets, clasping each other's hands.

"Thank you," Gail said. "That was really…something."

"Oh, yes," John agreed. "Wonderful."

"Why don't you just do this stuff on your own?" Sylvia asked. But she knew the answer. They'd been raised right. Good husbands don't sodomize their wives. Good heterosexual men don't get off taking it up the ass. They don't whip or need to be whipped. They were good people. They had to be forced.

"We're such wimps," Gail said. "We just can't bring ourselves to risk hurting each other."

"But it's such a damn thrill to feel that you might be hurt," John said.

"And a stranger, well.." Gail let her thought drift off.

Sylvia stood expectantly before them, waiting. She hadn't been paid up front, and now she worried about the fee. Glancing at her watch, she saw she'd been there nearly three hours. She didn't even know what to add the charge up to if they were to ask.

"Oh, goodness, John, we've got to pay her," Gail said. Then she giggled, saying, "That's so naughty. Paying for it."

"Yes." John waved one hand limply toward his pants lying in a heap beside the handcuff still attached to the chair leg. "In the wallet."

Sylvia found the wallet in the pocket of the trousers and looked inside. It was stuffed with enough money to pay her bills for several months. Evelyn was relieved that the girl felt no impulse to take the wallet and run. She merely pulled the bills up a bit and fanned through them.

"You better take a bunch of Benjamins," he said, lightly. He was feeling magnanimous. "Six, you think, honey?"

"I believe that's low," his wife told him. "Three hours, after all."

"Sorry. Nine," John said. "Is that all right?"

Sylvia pulled the money out and let the wallet drop to the chair. She spread the bills open, and Evelyn felt a sense of desperation growing inside her. Why? What was wrong?

When Evelyn focused in on what Sylvia was seeing, things didn't look right. The denomination and engraving of each bill appeared clear, but the words seemed jumbled and out of focus. Evelyn was looking right at Benjamin Franklin's portrait on the hundred dollar bills, but she couldn't decipher the name beneath the face.

Sylvia's heart lurched in her chest, and a feeling of worthlessness and defeat overcame her, nearly forcing tears from her eyes. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned back toward the sated couple.

"Here." She held out the money to them. "I'd rather you gave it to me so you don't think I took too much."

"I'm so sorry." John stood, his penis wobbling limp and red beneath his slight pot belly. "Not fair to put you in that position, is it?" He counted out nine bills and handed them to Sylvia.

"Can we contact you again?" Gail asked as she, too, stood. "I mean, well, we can easily find an excuse to come back to town. We'd like to make it even better." She spoke haltingly now, the way "good" people talk about sex when it is finished.

Sylvia nodded, looking at the money. Looking through her eyes, Evelyn was aware that the name beneath the picture was legible now. The jumble of letters had magically turned into "Franklin"

"Yes, you wouldn't have to identify yourself, would you?" John said. "We know you now."