
Advisory:  If you must read story codes, they are included at the 
end of this story.  It is the author's opinion that this story is 
more satisfying if read without expectations.   

Doctor's Orders
By OneIdleHand



The steam hung in the bathroom, but the hot water from the shower 
had long since cooled to lukewarm.  Steven's thoughts were 
elsewhere, as he tightened the grip on his cock, bringing it to 
its full 6" length.  He had that sense of energy that follows the 
tiredness from hard work, and the sweat and dirt from mowing the 
lawn had long since been washed from his body.   The bathing 
forgotten, it was the hardness of his cock in his hand that 
captured his complete attention, as he soaped and lathered it, 
stroking repeatedly.  His balls hung loosely as they swayed back 
and forth, occasionally hitting against his hand.  

He wasn't thinking of anything particular, but just enjoying the 
time alone, comfortable with the thoughts of how satisfying sex 
had been lately with his wife.  He felt the familiar stirrings 
within balls, and slowed his pace somewhat, enjoying the ride 
along the edge that precedes orgasm.  He replaced the bar of soap 
in the tray, and tried using his right hand to stroke himself.  
Steven was right handed, but for whatever reason, his left hand 
did that particular job the best.  It wasn't long before he was 
coming down from his sensual high, and, really, he hadn't planned 
on cumming in the shower, anyway.  He didn't want to have to 
clean it up or explain any sticky remains to his wife.  Hayley.  
His wife!  Thoughts of her quickly restored his cock to its full 
size.  Brunette, blue eyes, 37 years old, maybe 125 lbs.  Perfect 
tits.  They hung only a little lower than when they had first 
married 15 years earlier, and they had grown two inches.  38 C's.  
Perfect.  Looking down, there was one sizeable drop of pre-cum 
perched on the slit of his cock, and he cleaned it off with the 
tip of his finger before the shower could wash it away.  The drop 
of pre-cum he savored on his tongue.  Why?  Because he liked it.  
As he did this, he caught himself on the edge of cumming, and 
abruptly stopped the furious stroking of his cock...just in time.  

Knowing that dinner would soon be ready, he turned off the water 
and opened the shower curtain.  He had just an instant to 
recognize that his wife, clothed, was kneeling on the floor at 
the edge of the tub.  Her hands shot out and grabbed his cock, 
pulling him into her mouth.  His wife had never particularly 
enjoyed giving blowjobs, and as far as he could remember, hadn't 
let him cum in her mouth since before they were married.  That 
was likely to change.  She devoured his cock, sucking it so 
fiercely that he had to step out of the wet tub to keep his 
balance.  She moved with him, using one hand to pull the skin of 
his cock toward the base, with the tightest of grips.  The head 
of his cock swelled purple and massive as her mouth again 
descended on it, her head bobbing furiously as she alternately 
sucked and licked it.  Her eyes never left his as she ravished 
his cock, the picture of pure submission.

Just as he knew she had to be surprised to find him with a hard 
cock just after a shower, he was also sure she didn't know that 
he had a load of cum "cocked and locked" before she even touched 
him.  His body tightened as he fought to control his orgasm, but 
she sensed it, too.  Both of her hands reached around and 
clenched his ass, pulling his balls deep into her mouth.   After 
less than a minute of what was otherwise the perfect blowjob, he 
unloaded.  Spurt after spurt kept shooting the short distance to 
the back of her mouth.  And still her blue eyes looked up at him, 
pleading to please in their way.

He could see cum escape her lips, dripping down her chin and onto 
her blouse as the last of his orgasm subsided.  As she pulled her 
mouth away, she licked her lips before extending her tongue to 
wipe the cum off the head of his cock.  Steven could see the 
gooey whiteness of his cum on her tongue and teeth as she 
continued to bathe his cock.  She licked her fingers, wiped her 
chin, and then licked them again.  Then, she stood, and, in a 
casual manner, as if she was telling him the forecast had a 30% 
chance of rain, she said, "Dinner's ready."  Her breath carried 
the powerful scent of his cum, making his senses reel.  She 
turned and let herself out of the bathroom, closing the door 
behind her.  Unreal.

What was going on?  And who was this stranger that looked like 
his wife?




When Hayley returned to the kitchen, she decided that battling 
herself was pointless.  She had a need to cum and, therefore, 
would.  Steven would be at least a few minutes, anyway.  She 
moved quickly to their den and sank into their couch.  She raised 
her skirt, and she felt the heat of her body quickly remove the 
coolness of the leather couch.  She felt...wanton.  And she had 
been.  She reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit.  
If Steven came down the steps and saw her, he would find his wife 
giving him a perfect view of her cunt.  She didn't really want 
Steven to find her this way, but the naughtiness of it, and of 
what she had just done with Steven, gave her all the imaginative 
fantasy...  But it wasn't fantasy.  She had actually done it.  
Remembering the sight of his swollen cock, and the velvety feel 
of his cock in her hand, against her tongue, in her cheeks, and 
finally filling her mouth to her throat, she gave herself over to 
her climax, cumming with loud moans.  Her desires hoped he would 
hear her, find her spread and fuck her; her shyness hoped that 
the orgasm would quickly diminish in time for her to straighten 
herself up.

She managed to stifle her moans as her orgasm finished its 
convulsing, and, catching her breath, she climbed off the couch.  
She went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel to wipe up the 
wetness she had left behind.  So much wetness for so short a 
time.  She returned to the kitchen and was about to use the ladle 
to scoop out stew that had been cooking in the crock-pot all day, 
when she realized that she hadn't really cleaned her hand.  She 
wiped her gooey hand and fingers on the edge of a bowl.  That 
would be Steven's bowl. She couldn't help but grin. And now that 
she was returning to her senses, the wetness of her cunt was 
giving her chills because of the air-conditioning.  She wasn't 
wearing panties, but for the life of her, she couldn't think why 
not.  She had planned on the blowjob, and Steven wouldn't recover 
fast enough to give her a good fuck.  What had she been thinking?   
She raised her skirt slightly and raked a couple of fingers 
across her cunt, scooping her fluids.  She wiped her fingers on 
Steven's bowl.  Damn!  She was wet.  She scooped again, and 
again, until she was more or less dry.  

Most of her juices had gathered in a small pool at the bottom of 
the bowl, but were otherwise stuck on the downslope of the bowl.  
She emptied a ladle of stew into it, obscuring what she knew was 
mixing with his dinner.  Screw him if he can't take a joke, she 
thought. He'll probably never taste it anyway.  She placed their 
bowls and drinks on the table and went to the bathroom to check 
herself.

Some of Steven's cum had dried on her chin, and she saw that some 
was on her blouse.  She was about to wash up when she felt a 
sense of wrongness about it.  What seemed right was to leave it 
as it was, tantalizing Steven through dinner and beyond.  A grin 
again spread across her lips, and a wonderful sense of 
fulfillment washed over her.

Although she felt good physically of late, she had developed a 
concern that she wasn't pleasing Steven sexually.   She fairly 
frequently had assorted sinus infections, back and neck pain, and 
just general aches that seemed to reduce her interest in physical 
intimacy.  But for the last few months, she only had some minor 
neck or back pains, and even that occurred on rare days.  She 
loved Steven, and with her body feeling good, he had to know that 
she loved him. To have and to hold, that was the vow.

The love was there.  The commitment was there.  But something 
nagged at her, telling her that she needed to prove herself 
sexually to him, to be the aggressor, the experimenter, the 
temptress.  She wondered where all these ideas for sex had been 
hiding, because for the past 15 years, love-making just 
occurred...naturally...in its own time.  It was rare that she 
fantasized about anything.  She did enjoy romance novels, but she 
never actually fantasized about Steven.  Anything other than 
watching his cock spurt cum onto her breasts.  That was still her 
favorite.  Oh yes.  She heard Steven descending the stairs, so 
she quickly rubbed yet more fluids from her cunt, then hurriedly 
wiped it off on her napkin, except just a little "bit" on 
Steven's spoon.  She gave him a nice smile as he entered.





Steven was driving to work the following morning, a grin his 
face, where it had been stuck for weeks, it seemed.  The visual 
images of the perfect blowjob the previous evening and of his cum 
leaking from Hayley's lips, which were wrapped around his cock... 
He had to stop thinking about that.  It was unsafe to drive with 
one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his rock hard cock 
through his slacks.  Still, he marveled at it, now certain that, 
yes, that was only the second "complete" blowjob she had ever 
given him.  And then to have to eat dinner seeing small globs of 
white cum drying on her black blouse...and those bits on her cheek 
and chin...  It was more than he could take.  Still, it didn't 
limit his shock when, after finishing dinner, she had stood up, 
dropped her skirt, bent over the dinner table, spread her legs 
and said, "Don't ask.  I just need to be fucked, right here, 
right now!"  As he stood behind her, removing his shorts, she had 
reached between her legs, parting her cunt lips, moist - no - 
wet, forming the perfect invitation.  He couldn't think of Hayley 
ever having offered her cunt so brazenly. His cock had been kind 
to both of them, and he was able to watch for what seemed like 
forever as he slid in and out of his wife's cunt, before shooting 
whatever jism remained into her.  

Dammit!  He felt his balls tighten, and he came in his pants.  At 
the next light, he looked for napkins in the glove compartment 
and couldn't find any.  And, it was still a 30-minute commute to 
the office.  He thought that surely there couldn't be much cum 
left over after last night, but the wetness in his pants didn't 
reassure him. 

What WAS going on?  Only a couple of months ago, he was happy to 
get a nice feel of one of her tits without getting snarled at.  
Why couldn't he just jump into this slice of heaven that she was 
presenting him?  Everything felt right...but something felt wrong.  
It didn't make any sense. Anything other than vanilla "making 
love" had always been left to him to initiate, and always with 
the possibility that she wouldn't be interested.  Why the change?  
He had to think.

For the past 6 weeks or so, her desires had been more frequent 
and much more imaginative.  It had begun with little changes.  
Sex on the couch.  Sex on the floor.  A slow grind of his cock 
with her hand under a restaurant table, a night out without a 
bra.  She had been willing to do these things before, but it was 
never her idea to it.  But it was more than that; she was getting 
clever about it.

As he thought back, he hadn't even noticed that she wasn't 
wearing the bra that evening, because it had always been safe to 
assume that she was, particularly if wearing dresses or anything 
at all that revealed her form.  She was always so shy about 
revealing her figure, and particularly wearing anything tight on 
her chest.  She had let him know that she wasn't wearing a bra as 
she was getting into their van, after dinner, in a crowded 
parking lot.  For once, he had acted the gentleman and opened the 
door for her.  She had sat, with her feet on the door well, and 
making a pained face and twisting in some sort of discomfort 
said, "There's something in my shirt."  With the door still open, 
she raised her blouse, slowly, to expose one of her 38 C's, the 
nipple hardening quickly.  She grasped under her breast raising 
it, looking down at it, and then pinched her nipple, rolling it 
briefly between her fingers.  "Oh, that's all it is."  She had 
winked at him, turned forward in her seat, fastened her seat 
belt, and only then did she lower her blouse back into place.  He 
was faced with walking around the car with an obviously stiff 
cock in his pants, capturing the eye of a lady who had just 
parked her car.  This type of exhibition just didn't happen with 
his wife, and especially in daylight in an area with people 
around.  His previous requests for quick flashes were always 
greeted by a deep sigh, followed by a "if I have to" roll of the 
eyes and the briefest of glimpses of a breast.  He loved her 
breasts.  He wouldn't stop asking. 

Before they were married, Hayley had a spirit of adventure, or at 
least, a nympho's desire for a cock within her cunt at every 
available chance, which was still limited due to a long distance 
weekend romance.  He could remember sex on the roof of a dorm in 
college, in a lobby of a locked building that they had sneaked 
into, on her parent's den floor while her parents were asleep, in 
a car on the side of a road, on the roof of a downtown hotel, in 
a motel room when four friends were sleeping, on the beach in the 
afternoon, in a golf fairway at night...  It didn't surprise him 
that sex in married life would become less frequent, or that 
their likes and dislikes would settle into more or less a 
permanent, less exciting, compromise.  But it did surprise him 
now that, after all these years, she seemed to be getting 
spontaneity back.   Again, why?  He arrived at the office, and 
after a brief detour to the restroom, began thinking on other 
matters.




It seemed to Hayley that since mid-morning, all she could think 
about was "5:30."  That was when Steven would be home from work.  
It had been about a week since her last surprise, and although 
they had made love once during the weekend, her doubts about her 
sexual inadequacy were rising again.  At 4:30, she took a bath.  
A long, luxurious one.  Scented bath oil.  A candle on the edge 
of the tub.  "5:30" crossed her mind.  She checked the clock.  
No, not yet.  She re-read her favorite Romance novel, a wickedly 
sensuous story in which a young woman is captured by a muscular 
pirating Viking, who rapes her for weeks following his conquest, 
then falls in love with her battling spirit.  And she for him.  
She fingered her clit.   She imagined how horrible it would be to 
be captured, and taken like that.  The thought of "5:30" awakened 
her from her dreamy masturbations.  It was now 5:10, and the 
water had cooled.  She got out of the tub, toweled herself dry, 
brushed her hair, and sprayed herself with just a hint of perfume 
on her neck. 

She went downstairs, removed the vacuum cleaner from its closet, 
plugged it in, and waited by the window to watch for Steven 
returning home.  She was sure this would please him.




He entered the house, admittedly thinking about sex.  Steven was 
thinking all had returned to normal, as the weekend's sex had 
been "ordinary," in their bed, but very loving, very satisfying.  
He parked the car in the garage, entered the kitchen and heard 
vacuuming from the Den.  He turned the corner and found Hayley 
vacuuming the den, naked.  Only once before had she done 
housework naked, and that was just topless.  The air-conditioner 
had broken and it had been hot in the house.  The air-conditioner 
was working now...  And yet, here she was... The noise from the 
vacuum meant that she probably hadn't heard either the garage 
door opener or the kitchen door, and he was able to watch from 
behind as her breasts gently swung with the sweeping motions that 
she made.  Her back was slightly bent so that the fullness of her 
breasts jiggled in a way that made his cock instantly hard and 
uncomfortable in his pants.  She leaned over to pick something 
off the floor, and he could see her wispy cunt hair between her 
legs, visible clearly against the light coming in from the den 
window.  

He retreated into the kitchen slightly, so that she wouldn't see 
him.  After he quickly shed his clothes, he raced to her from 
behind.  With his left hand, he seized her dangling breast, 
rolling her nipple between his fingers, finding the nipple 
already stiff.  At the same time, his right hand reached around 
her waist and found her cunt with his fingers.  She was wet.  She 
gave a startled jump, dropped the vacuum cleaner, and leaned 
forward, placing her hands on the window sill, arching her ass in 
invitation.  She hadn't even looked to make sure it was him.  As 
he placed his hands on her pelvis, he saw that she had written, 
somehow, the words "FUCK ME" on her ass in red ink.  He rammed 
his cock home, his hands still on her pelvis, pulling her against 
him with each thrust.  And even as the pleasure within his cock 
fought coherent thought, he wondered what had made her so wet.  
Vacuuming in the nude?  No.  Being nude in front of the window 
where others could see?  Maybe.  Probably not.  It would be 
unlikely that anyone would see her.  Her panting turned into 
moans, becoming short screams, her whole body bucking against 
him, crying out a desire for passion.  With the smacking sounds 
of his balls slapping against her ass and a slight reflection in 
the window of her breasts swinging savagely in time with each 
thrust, he felt his cock swell to a rare fullness.  It was a 
fullness that he knew she had to feel stretching her cunt lips, 
because the tightness and the furnace that was her cunt gave him 
no choice but to shoot his load.

She wasn't done with him.  She pushed him onto the floor, and 
somehow his cock remained stiff enough for her to sit atop him 
and grind her cunt into him.  She tantalized him with her 
breasts, lowering them to his lips and then pulling away just as 
he was about to capture them with his mouth.  She knew her 
breasts were the tools that could keep him hard as a rock.  She 
finally raised herself on her legs, squatted over him, slamming 
herself down on his cock repeatedly, which gave him a great view 
of his cock piercing his lovely wife.  As she began her orgasm, 
he could feel their fluids run down his cock and between his 
legs.  She finally placed her fingers at her clit and brought 
herself off to a climax that ended with a throaty "yeeeeesSSSS!" 
that sounded like it had waited ages to emerge.  He came again, 
just as her leg strength gave out and she fell across his chest.  
His cock slipped from between her legs, and after no more than a 
minute, she rose to turn the vacuum cleaner off, and she went up 
the stairs.  It was the best way possible to come home from work, 
but he hoped, maybe, they could actually share a kiss later.





In the bathroom, Hayley felt that she was, truly, the best wife 
in the world.  How could any woman please her man more?  She had 
been provocative and surprising, and it was downright fun!  It 
had seemed that she was out of her mind, unable to think, as her 
body responded to Steven's cock spreading her sensitive areas, 
pistoning within her as she was "taken" by "her" unseen man.   
Her body was satiated, her mind satisfied that "5:30" had been 
worth the wait.  She was absently staring at herself in the 
bathroom mirror, when she began to focus on her body.  Maybe her 
right breast hung a little lower than the other, but she was 
pleased with her luminous skin.  She marveled at all the pink 
flushes in her skin, the redness of her swollen cunt lips.  She 
turned, watching, and...  What?  How - WHEN - had Steven managed to 
write THAT there?  





He was thankful, yes.  But now the suspicions wouldn't go away.  
He couldn't admit to himself that she was having an affair, but 
the seemingly weekly regularity of this sexual lioness invited 
all kinds of unsettling thoughts.

A few days later, Hayley went off to run some errands, so he used 
the time to search around the house for any clues as to what 
might have ignited her libido.  He searched under the bathroom 
sink, through her closet, her desk, and her bedside table.  He 
booted her computer and checked her e-mails, documents and any 
other place that might provide a clue. He didn't know what he was 
looking for, and he didn't find it.  X-rated videotapes, letters 
from an admirer, appointments on her calendar...nothing.  He 
decided to start recording these "events" on his own calendar, 
hoping they would continue, but fearing a pattern would emerge.

One night, after watching baseball on TV, all was quiet in the 
house, and he wondered where she was.  It was time to go to bed, 
and they usually went together.  He found her already in their 
bed, eyes closed, legs spread wide, with a huge black vibrator 
humming noisily as she cycled it in and out of her cunt.  A 
welcome sight, yes, but where did she get the vibrator?  She 
already had a couple of others.  Why that one?  It was certainly 
fatter, thicker than his cock, by far.  And black.  It contrasted 
nicely against her flushed skin, but why black?  What part of 
town had she been in to buy it?  Despite being disturbed, his 
cock throbbed at the sight, and he was in need of release.  He 
didn't know if she knew he was there or not, but with the TV off 
downstairs, she probably did.  He found his release on her 
breasts.  Hot cum splashed across her tits, and she didn't even 
open an eye.  That was one of her favorite turn-ons.  Just what 
was the fantasy she was into?  

He recorded the date on his calendar.  It was curious, but for 
some reason he couldn't bring himself to talk to Hayley about 
their sex life.  With her being so aggressive, it seemed like she 
would bring it up, but she didn't.  In fact, she seemed to avoid 
the subject, and had avoided the subject over the past months, 
almost as if it had never happened.  He brooded with suspicion.

The "events," as he recorded them, he realized were very easy to 
identify.  The next event happened while shopping at the mall.  
When clothes shopping, he was in the habit of finding a seat, or 
more often, standing near the women's dressing room in those 
stores that didn't provide seats, a pet peeve.  Hayley would step 
out periodically to see how he liked the outfits she was trying 
on.  At Macy's, on an obviously slow night, after trying on 
several evening dresses that hadn't quite worked, she stepped 
into the dressing room entry area naked, except her heeled 
leather shoes.  She had taken a chance that nobody would be 
around, and he hadn't paid any attention to where the security 
cameras were.  She struck a pose, reflected on all sides by the 
mirrors placed there.  She stretched out a hand and curled a 
finger in invitation. He accepted.  He couldn't help but wonder 
if others didn't notice the smell of sex that went with them as 
they left the store ten minutes later.   He later recorded the 
date on his calendar.





Hayley had been horny for over a day.  She had seen the 
chiropractor the day before, and her back felt great.  It had 
been giving her problems lately, but the adjustments seemed to 
work.  She had really wanted to jump Steven's bones when he 
returned home the day before, but she had an idea that required 
more time, and she put it to work.  She had written a note to 
Steven and placed it on his passenger seat late the night before, 
so that he would find it on his way to work.  It said, "When you 
come home, I'll be cumming too.  On the deck."  That would give 
him something to think about.  And it had given her something to 
do.  She looked down at her cunt.  It was a little sensitive, but 
it looked remarkably different without the curls of her brunette 
hair.  She replaced the razor on the soap dish and rinsed herself 
with water.  He would like this.  She better follow through with 
some wax to make sure all the hair was gone.  Once this was done, 
she abated the stinging with some lotion.  She inspected herself 
in the mirror, covering her face with her hands, embarrassed at 
the sight of her own clit, sticking out, asking for attention.  
She gave it a little rub, which sent jolts of pleasure through 
her.  She stopped, feeling it was wrong to pleasure herself, as 
if it might somehow stop her from giving her all to her husband.  
Besides, she had some painting to do.  





It had been another week since our clothes shopping expedition 
and the note Steven found in his car said it was time for another 
"event."  A few newspapers were on their neighbor's driveway, so 
he assumed they were away.   Besides, their deck was relatively 
private when leaves were on the trees.  That was good, as he had 
no doubt that whatever she had planned on the deck would have to 
include sex and nudity.  In fact, he recorded it on the calendar 
before he arrived home.  There wasn't much risk involved with the 
neighbors away, but exhibiting herself in any way on the deck was 
still completely out of character for her, at least, until 
recently.  He hadn't gotten much accomplished at work, his 
thoughts always drifting to what he might find at home.  He had 
called, but there was no answer.  The thought of her having an 
affair kept recurring, and he had decided that he might follow 
her around the next week.  It would be easy enough to appear "out 
on sales calls."  He parked the car in the garage.  Although he 
had suspicions, it didn't stop him from being excited about the 
prospects awaiting him.

He found her, as the note had said, on the back deck, with her 
hands pumping the black vibrator in and out of her cunt.  She was 
reclining in one of their swivel deck chairs, with an unusual 
looking bikini.  He approached her.  Ahhh, she was wearing paint.  
She had used fluorescent body paint that they had purchased years 
ago at a gag store and never used.  She had painted her nipples 
orange, one breast "cup" blue and the other green.  Pink 
"strings" completed the bikini top.  The "bottoms" were also 
pink, and he realized, happily, that her cunt was shaved to allow 
for the paint.  She had shaved herself once a couple of years 
earlier, with the comment afterwards that she would never do it 
again, due to the itching that followed.   Well, she had lied.

No shorts, T-shirt, or even a towel could be seen anywhere on the 
deck.  Her head was leaned back against the chair, her eyes were 
closed, her legs were wide open, and her feet were propped up on 
a couple of upside down flowerpots.  It was a new standard for 
brazen exhibition of her sex.  He removed her hands, kneeling 
between her legs, and worked the vibrator himself.  She never 
opened her eyes, but gave herself to the sensations, both vocally 
and by rocking her hips into the vibrator.  After several 
minutes, having increased the speed of the penetrations, she came 
loudly.  He sure hoped the neighbors weren't home.  He helped her 
up and led her to the deck railing.  In a rare instance of self-
control, he enjoyed her slick, hot, cunt for half an hour, with 
her leaning over the handrail, her breasts swaying in time with 
the pace of his slow thrusts, before he went over edge and came 
in her.   

Steven was not at all pleased when he soon afterwards walked to 
the mailbox to get the mail, and saw their neighbor, a married 
man, mouth the words "THANK YOU" while picking up his newspapers 
from the driveway, 40 yards away.  Steven's face turned red as he 
heard a chuckle, and he only hoped that this was the first, and 
last, time his neighbor had seen Hayley naked.  Hayley had never 
said anything about him, and they had remained only acquaintances 
despite having lived beside each other for over 5 years.  He was a computer techie of some sort, Steven couldn't recall.  They didn't have much in common.  Still, Steven couldn't help but put him on his imaginary "possible 
affair partner" list.  It was now a list of one.  On the other 
hand, he realized how awkward it was going to be around him at 
the neighborhood party that weekend.  And, presumably, awkward 
around his wife, assuming he told her.  Or was she home, too?  
Oh, man...  

A week later was "that time of the month."  Nothing was likely to 
happen in "event" terms, and... nothing happened.  A week 
afterwards, however, he decided that the time was right to follow 
Hayley around a bit.  He parked the car near the entrance to 
their neighborhood.  He had no good place to "hide" as far as 
watching wherever she might go on foot, such as their neighbor's 
house.  Their neighbor didn't really seem her type, but he was 
becoming less sure now of what her "type" might be.  He didn't 
have to wait in the car too long, however.  Shortly after 8:00, 
her van left the neighborhood, and he followed, a discrete two or 
three cars behind.  

She stopped at an ATM machine, then continued on.  This was 
pretty cool.  Steven, Private Investigator.  He admitted to 
himself that he didn't expect to find anything unusual, so he 
approached this day with a certain amount of humor.  Her second 
stop was the chiropractor.  That lasted about 30 minutes.  
Another $30 gone.  After that, she went to Wal-Mart.  This took 
her about an hour, coming out with two plastic bags of what 
looked like cosmetics and some hardware.  He wondered what PI's 
listen to in their cars.  Steven, PI, was having a tough time of 
it.  Talk radio seemed to be saying the same thing 20 different 
ways.  FM music was pretty much the same old stuff he already had 
at home, if he liked it.  He should have gotten a book-on-tape or 
something.  

Hayley pulled into Home Depot.  So did he.  Maybe Wal-Mart didn't 
have everything she needed.  For what?  He didn't know.  She had 
never really repaired anything before, but she could get very 
motivated in her hobbies.  Another sack accompanied her return to 
the van.  She drove maybe half an hour to another part of town, 
where she pulled into a small restaurant.  That was good.  He was 
getting hungry too.  She sat at the window of the restaurant, 
obviously waiting for someone.  He'd wait, too.  After a few more 
minutes, her friend Denise entered the restaurant.  That made 
sense.  Denise worked in this part of town.  He drove off to a 
Wendy's drive-thru before resuming his watch.    There wasn't 
much to watch.  After an hour or so, Hayley drove home.  And he 
figured he better make at least one sales call, so he called it a 
day for his PI job.  Steven checked his voice mail and found that 
another customer needed to see him in the late afternoon.  He 
called Hayley on the cell phone and let her know he'd be 
returning, he thought, around 7:30 or so and not to cook for him.   
He'd get a free dinner, at least.





Hayley's pulse raced.  She had so much to do, to try.  She 
unloaded her bags from the van, left them in the garage, and went 
into the kitchen.  The phone ring startled her.  It was Steven.  
The short of it was that he would be home late and she knew when.  
Good.  This gave her even more time to do something she had never 
even thought about before.  She fixed herself a Coke, found an 
old comforter they sometimes used as a picnic blanket and 
returned to the garage.  She opened the first sack.  Cosmetics.  
She put that by the door to the kitchen.  The second sack.  What 
WAS she doing?  She felt she HAD to do this.  The thought 
terrified her, but at the same time, her cunt was becoming wet.  
What had happened to her?

She enjoyed making love, but even more enjoyed the unexpected 
hug.  Flowers.  A passionate kiss in a setting where sex was not 
expected.  Holding hands while walking.  Good conversation over a 
dinner out.  Just a look that says, "I love you."  And making 
love that included a comfortable bed, sheets, background 
lighting, or perhaps a fire in the fireplace.  And here she was, 
her thoughts captive to what she assumed were Steven's sexual 
desires...the love was there, but it was focused more on the sexual 
act, not the sensuality.  A rough fuck...nudity in the house...nudity 
out of the house...displaying her cunt to him like a slut...sucking 
his cock...swallowing his cum.  Avoiding these things had come 
naturally to her.  It just wasn't romantic. These things she did 
only rarely, on special occasions, and only if he had been 
meeting her needs.  Recently, however, it seemed she couldn't 
orgasm unless she was breaking her own standards for what she 
regarded as appropriate in marital lovemaking.  Were her needs 
changing?

Hayley looked at the items she had purchased, and realized with a 
start that her hands had been fingering her clit and that she was 
about to cum.  She stopped.  She couldn't do that until later.  
She had to give Steven all of her love, her body, her sex, and if 
she came now, she would be "less" later.  Or, she might chicken 
out.  But she knew she wouldn't.  She had to fulfill him.  She 
needed to be had, to be taken, just like the heroine in the 
romance novel she had read.  Who had she talked to about that 
book?  Her thoughts became confused, and she went in search of 
Steven's tools.






As the garage door opened, Steven began pulling the car inside 
and was astonished by what was in the sight of the headlights.  
He had to brake, rather hard, and pull the car back out.  He 
stared at Hayley from within his car.  His wife was in the 
garage, kneeling on a blanket in the floor.  She was facing the 
garage door, naked except for panties, which apparently held a 
vibrator in her cunt.  The panties were soaked.  Across her chest 
she had written "fuck me" in large letters with a black magic 
marker.  Her hands were behind her back, and ropes were tied 
around her arms, each connected to eyebolts mounted on the 
ceiling.  Her eyes were covered by a blindfold.  Her lips had the 
glossiest, bright red lipstick he had ever seen.  He turned off 
the car, went inside the garage and closed the garage door, 
thankful that their neighbors were not outside. 

After the garage door opener stopped, all he could hear was the 
muted rumbling from the vibrator within her, and rather quick 
breaths from his wife.  He found that her hands were tied behind 
her back.  She couldn't separate her wrists.  She could stand or 
sit, and that was about it.  He didn't see any possible way that 
she could get herself free.   He didn't see any way possible that 
she could tie herself up like that, either.  Who helped her?  
Then he saw the slipknots, and it appeared to make a little sense 
how she could have bound herself.  

He knew he had told her what time he would be home, and he was 
perhaps an hour later than that.  How long had she been like 
this?  Then he noticed her kneepads.  She had thought about this, 
prepared for it.  Her trip to Home Depot made sense.  This chick 
needed to be fucked.  

Steven stripped out of his clothes and began to lightly touch her 
- her chin, her cheeks, her ears, her shoulders, the side of a 
breast, her thigh.  He didn't say anything.  If she wanted the 
blindfold, then she obviously wanted some mystery.  She hadn't 
said a word either.  Whatever fantasy this was, he was willing to 
step right into it.  In fact, he had dreamed something close to 
it himself.   He untied the ropes to the ceiling, but left her 
hands tied behind her.  He gently leaned her forward, so that her 
head was on the blanket.  She still hadn't said a word.  As he 
went behind her, he lowered her panties, and removed the vibrator 
that, judging by her soaking panties, had been inside her for a 
long time.  He moved forward, and placed the vibrator at her 
lips, catching her by surprise.  Still, she managed to lick some 
of it as he spiraled it past her mouth.  He turned it off, and 
squeezed her nipple, slightly, then harder, as she remained bent 
over.  He was afraid he might have squeezed it to roughly when a 
small squeak emerged from her.  He moved behind her.

Her ass now raised, her cunt visible, he saw that she had 
written, not to neatly, but in small block letters, "H A R D" 
across her butt, in red ink.  Of course. A two sided message, 
"fuck me, HARD."  The light on the garage door opener turned off, 
and it was almost black in the garage.  He slid a finger between 
her legs, probing the slick wetness of her cunt.  The heat she 
was generating took him by surprise.  His fingers followed the 
trail of her juices, finding both of her thighs soaked.  An hour 
like this?  Longer probably.    He inserted two fingers straight 
into her cunt.  She shuddered.  He found her special little spot, 
not her G-spot, but a ripple slightly larger than others in her 
vaginal canal, and pressed it with his fingertips.  Her moans 
filled the garage.  He alternated pressing her spot and 
retreating, until she seemed too tired to moan any longer.  Her 
body began convulsing, forcing her cunt against his finger.  The 
feelings this spot produced she had always said were "too 
intense."  Apparently not this time.  

Enjoying her vulnerability, he inserted a third finger, pushing 
them in as far as he could go, then spreading them as much as 
possible.  His fingers didn't seem to stretch her as much as he 
expected, probably because of the size of the vibrator.  He 
fucked her, not to carefully, with his fingers, enjoying the feel 
of her clit and bare pubic mound with his other two fingers.  He 
removed his fingers and smelled them.  Her juices smelled 
good...fresh, if that was possible.  In fact, she smelled good all 
over.  She had prepared herself well.  

He lowered his head carefully, and without any warning, gave her 
cunt a wide lick with his tongue.  She jerked in surprise.  He 
did it again, because he could.  She couldn't do anything about 
it.  Hayley, for whatever reason, hated oral sex on her.  She had 
never explained it, but now she was hardly in a position to 
refuse.  He wanted to do this some more, but the position was 
uncomfortable, and to roll her over would mean that he would have 
to untie her hands.

So, he fucked her, hard.  Just like the sign said...  He relished 
the power of fucking a bound woman, a helpless woman, and loved 
it that it was his wife offering herself to him in this way.  She 
apparently shared this excitement.  The garage was unfinished, 
and her shrieks seemed to echo through the room, and he worried 
that the neighbors might hear.  Then, caught in his own passion, 
he decided, so what?  





The sex had been fantastic.  After Steven came in her, she hadn't 
counted on him extending his opportunity for playing with her 
body.  It shouldn't have surprised her, though.  That's just the 
way it was in her story.  The man tied the girl up, raped her, 
and then played with her body until he tired of it.  Steven had 
untied her hands, and she thought that was the end of it.  Then 
he rolled her over and tied her hands to the ropes connected to 
the ceiling.  Then, after a brief absence, during which he 
apparently found more rope, he somehow tied her legs open.  He 
had feasted on her pussy.  He had called it that, knowing that 
she didn't like the term, saying that her pussy tasted so good.  
She didn't particularly agree, but had no choice in that position 
but to kiss him, her juices on his breath.  And certainly he had 
his content of groping her breasts.  It seemed like he had played 
with them for hours.  Maybe he had.  Then he had fucked her 
again.  He lasted so long when he was able to fuck her a second 
time.  That, she hadn't wanted to stop.  Secure in her own house, 
but tied up and at the mercy of a man.  Her body shivered again.  
He left her down there alone for a while, still with the 
blindfold on.  

She could tell by the plumbing sounds that he had taken a shower.  
She had heard him descend the steps, then whisper her name - 
"Hayleyyyy..."  A smile had formed on her lips, then faded abruptly 
as she realized he had taken a Polaroid picture of her.  What a 
mess she must have looked.  Why would he want a picture?  That 
reminded her of something, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

When he had freed her, she went to take a shower, noticing that 
he had again written "FUCK ME" on her, this time with a black 
magic marker.  She didn't remember him doing this.  She felt 
confused, and a part of her wondered if she was losing her mind.   
Still, she felt like she had a purpose, and even though she 
didn't know what it was, it had been met.  Hayley cried a little 
that night.  It wasn't Steven's fault.  She was frustrated 
because she didn't understand herself.  After a couple hours of 
tossing and turning, her body fell into a sound, needed, sleep.






Another week, another "event."  Steven was paying bills and 
balancing the checkbook on the computer, when he heard Hayley 
make some noises in the kitchen.  The freezer door, perhaps.  He 
went back to what he was doing, when he heard her say behind him, 
"You will kneel before me."  He turned around, and he was 
stunned.  Besides the vibrator, Hayley had made another purchase.  
She had purchased leather boots that went to her knees, and the 
boots had at least 3" heels.  This drew her leg muscles 
wonderfully taught, but his eyes couldn't linger there.  He 
couldn't stare at her bare cunt or her exposed breasts either.  
Both of her arms were covered with leather gloves, which extended 
almost up to her shoulder.  

One hand was placed on her hip, fist clenched, with her elbow 
out, in the manner of angry parent, perhaps.  The other was held 
like a waiter's, with the palm open, holding a bowl of chocolate 
ice cream.  This struck him as curious, but he didn't say 
anything because of the serious look in her face.  She wore a 
black mask over her eyes, with holes cut out so that she could 
see.  It wasn't a cheap Halloween mask, either, but a leather one 
that obviously cost some money.

She repeated, "You will kneel before me...now!"  Last week Jeckyll, 
this week Hyde?  He knelt.  She stepped closer, so that her pubic 
mound brushed against his nose.  He could smell her wonderful 
scent, her juices adhering to his nose.  She stepped back and 
placed the bowl of ice cream in front of him.   "Look down."  He 
did.  "That is where you will cum."    Hmmm.  "Pull down your 
shorts and underwear, and begin stroking yourself!"  He did.  "Do 
not cum until I return."  Huh?  She was back rather quickly, with 
a video camera.   Great.  He finally came, and it seemed like the 
semen factory must have been doing its job lately.  It was hard 
maintaining his balance and aiming his jism, and the ice cream 
began to look like a photo negative of vanilla ice cream with 
chocolate syrup.  Sort of.  "Sit against the wall!"  He did.

She put the recorder down, and picked up the bowl of ice cream.  
She took a spoon and slowly shaved a small amount of ice cream, 
with a lot of cum.  She moved it to her mouth, then stopped.  She 
passed it several times under her nose, smelling it, and then she 
replaced the spoon in the bowl and handed it to him.  She picked 
up the camcorder, used her boot to spread his legs, and then 
leaned forward with one foot, the sole against his cock, the heel 
threatening his balls as she slowly twisted her foot.  

"Eat...the...ice...CREAM!"  His cock raged to life, and he didn't even 
want to think of the reasons.  Despite liking the taste of pre-
cum, he had told her some months ago that he didn't really want 
to eat his cum anymore, despite the turn-on that it was for her.  
He realized the lie.  And Hayley knew it, playfully grinding his 
cock as he took the first bite.  With the camera, the feel of her 
boot on his cock, the heady sense of eating cum (with chocolate 
ice cream, of all things...), and the sight of his dominating, 
naked wife standing above him, with a finger rubbing her clit, he 
ate the ice cream, and the cum, greedily.  She somehow made 
herself climax, standing, which he had never seen before.  When 
he had finished the "cream," she stopped the camcorder, turned 
and walked away, without saying anything.  That was beginning to 
be her trademark...

He recorded this on the calendar.  An "event" almost every week, 
but on different weekdays, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday.  
Something was wrong here, but at least now he had a place to 
start looking.

While she was asleep, Steven removed her checkbook from her purse 
to see where she had been writing checks.  Gardening store, dry 
cleaners, Wal-Mart, drug store, grocery store.  They didn't sell 
boots and gloves like that at Wal-Mart.  He went to her desk and 
removed her credit card bills.  The most recent bill she had just 
received, and he quickly found two charges to x-items.com.  He 
booted the computer, logged onto the net, and checked the site.  
Adult novelties.  At least she wasn't going into seedy stores 
around town.  He couldn't help but give a thorough look into 
their products, just for fun.

He began to wonder how she had found that site.  It wouldn't be 
too hard to type in a few keywords in a search engine and find 
it, he supposed, but there was a part of him, a jealous part, he 
admitted, that wondered if wasn't someone else behind her recent 
change.  The irregular regularity of her sexual throes had 
started much sooner than the purchases, so he looked at the 
previous month's bill for anything unusual.  Clothes stores, a 
few restaurants, chiropractor visits.  The two preceding months 
were much the same.  The chiropractor seemed to be doing pretty 
well, with several visits per month.  Their insurance didn't 
cover the visits, and he more or less had given her the 
responsibility of paying for her visits.  She hadn't been 
complaining about her back lately, so he had guessed it was 
working.  

A thought occurred to him.  Without having to pay the bills for 
her visits, he hadn't realized how often she had been going to 
the chiropractor.  He carried her receipts to his desk, found his 
calendar in which he had been taking notes, and started comparing 
the dates.  

He was sure that checking each number in a winning lottery ticket 
would be more thrilling, but the succession of dates matching 
perfectly at first seemed coincidence, then an exciting 
discovery, then shocked realization.  She had been to the 
chiropractor on each of the dates he had recorded, or the day 
before.  He feared the worst.  An affair seemed the only possible 
answer to explain Hayley's heightened sexuality.

The following days were a torment.  Each appointment had been on 
a weekday, when he was at work.  It was impossible for him to 
follow her around every day, and she didn't write her 
appointments on the calendar.  He tried to ask what she was doing 
each day, without sounding pushy or mistrustful, but he didn't 
hear a word about the chiropractor.  Her part-time job included 
working half days several days each week, and it was before or 
after her job, likely, that she would find it most convenient to 
go to the doctor.

He cursed his stupidity.  After she went to bed, he ransacked her 
purse, and unearthed what he was looking for, in the change 
pouch.  An appointment reminder.  He should have thought about 
this sooner, and avoided the anguish.  Her next appointment was 
in 5 days, on Tuesday, at 8:00 in the morning, at Dr. Richard 
Gilliam's.  He had seen his name on the credit card bill, but 
finally he was forced to name his apparent enemy, and it twisted 
in his thoughts like a black downward spiral into which he vented 
all his rage.  Dr. Gilliam.  As the days came closer to her 
appointment, he became frustrated as to how he was to find out 
what was going on.  Challenge her?  Accuse her?  Of what?  If Dr. 
Gilliam...The name escaped his lips as would an expletive that he 
didn't want anyone to hear... was behind this, the result, from his 
perspective, was that he was receiving a tremendous benefit, but 
he couldn't enjoy it if it meant that she was having sex with 
him.  A troubling thought flashed through his head that, perhaps, 
he could still enjoy her.  He didn't pursue the thought.

At work on Monday, in his search for a yellow highlighter in the 
office supply cabinet, his eye caught hold of a small box, and 
then he found the proverbial lightbulb flashing above his head.  
Tuesday morning, he remained around the house later than usual, 
with the lie that he had an appointment away from the office.  
Hayley left the house at 7:30, and he only hoped that his plan 
would work.

When he returned home that afternoon, his wife was napping, which 
wasn't unusual for those days she worked.  Or, maybe she wasn't 
napping.  Maybe she was masturbating with the memory of her visit 
with Dr. Gilliam.  That sour thought led him to her purse, where 
he retrieved a small Dictaphone from an outside pocket that she 
apparently didn't use except for stuffing trash papers.  He was 
happy to find it.  It had occurred to him that the tape probably 
made an audible "click" when it reached its end.  If she heard 
it, and found the unit, he would have some explaining to do.  
Which maybe wouldn't be a bad thing, anyway.  Still, he preferred 
it this way.  He took the Dictaphone to the garage, where he 
could play it without being heard.  If she woke up, he would hear 
her steps on the floor above, where their bedroom was located.

He had been frustrated all day by the fact that a simple, good 
plan could easily unravel.  He had waited around the house in the 
morning so that he could start the tape as close as possible to 
when she left.  He caught a break when she went to the bathroom 
just before she was to leave, and he had quickly inserted the 
recorder in the pouch.  It would record for two hours, so giving 
her a half hour of travel, the inevitable doctor's office wait, 
the wait in whatever type of room he used, and the actual 
appointment, he had felt he had a good chance to record her 
entire appointment.  After all, how long does a chiropractic 
appointment take?  No more than 30 minutes when he followed her.  
But he didn't know.  He'd never been.  It might take longer if 
she was screwing...He stopped that thought.  He rewound the tape 
approximately 75%, figuring he would avoid the car ride portion. 
He hit the "play" button, with the hope that it had been able to 
record decently through the fabric of her purse.

The car radio.  He had rewound too far, but at least it sounded 
clear.  Fast forward.  "...one appointment ahead of you."  Good, 
the tape should be long enough.  Fast forward.  The sound of 
magazine pages.  Fast forward.  The sound of laughing, then, "the 
doctor will be with you in just a few minutes."

It started very professionally.

	"Good morning, Hayley.  How are you?"

	"Fine, thanks, I've had a good week.  And you?"

	"Sometimes I think that my days are too long, but it's a 
	good problem to have.  There's a lot of starving 
	chiropractors out there.  Not that they're bad, of course, 
	but there's just too many for the area.  How's the back, 
	getting better?"

	"Yes, I think so, but after 4-6 days after my visits with 
	you, my neck and back still gets stiff, and, usually in the 
	mornings, I have that stabbing pain between my shoulder 
	blades that goes away after a couple of hours."

	"Same old story.  Well, let me take another look at your x-
	rays to make sure that the Atlas adjustments I've been 
	making are proper.  For most people, 3 months of treatment  
	is the maximum before I've done all that I can do, and they 
	almost always don't need any more adjustments unless 
	they're in an accident or exert themselves unusually.  
	You've been coming here pretty regularly, for a little 
	longer than that.  Have you seen this video?"

	"Uh, no."

	"Okay, why don't you watch this while I go check the film.  
	It gives some history on Chiropractic, problems with the 
	spine and some of the things we do to correct it."

Steven heard the tape being pushed into the player, the sound of 
the TV being turned on, and the door being closed.  Good, he 
thought to himself, no affair.  But the dates matching perfectly 
were beyond matters of chance.  He continued listening as the 
tape explained Chiropractic.  He heard most of it very clearly 
and even learned a few things.  The videotape concluded and 
rewound.   Dr. Gilliam, the name no longer a metaphor of evil, 
re-entered the room.

	"How was the tape?"
	
	"What tape?"

What Steven heard afterwards chilled him.

When he entered the kitchen, the surprise that greeted him didn't 
surprise him.  His wife was standing in the informal dining area, 
which had a glass door built into a bay window, which leads to 
the rear deck.  She was wearing a short T-shirt that was pulled 
above her breasts, and her breasts were pressed against the 
glass.  She was working a dildo in her cunt, a wide and long 
dildo, but made of ice.  He had been in the garage maybe 45 
minutes, replaying the tape, and based on the water dripping from 
the dildo and pooling on the floor, she had apparently been at 
this a while.  What's a husband to do?  

He fucked her standing up, her hands against the doorframe, 
feeling a biting mix of cold and heat as he plunged within her.  
As he fucked her, he noticed they were being watched.  Their 
neighbor, again, on his deck, staring through the trees.  He 
apparently there to water his plants, but, instead, he was 
rubbing his crotch.  Steven guided Hayley's head to the right, 
and he could tell she was confused.  He tightened his grip on her 
pelvis, and thrust hard and fast within her, cumming just as she 
recognized their voyeur.  She made an unusual squeaking sound 
before sliding his cock out of her cunt and all but running from 
the door, then upstairs.  Steven picked up what remained of the 
ice dildo from the floor and quickly walked it to the sink.  Like 
Hayley, he didn't want to see their neighbor, either.

Two days later, he had a chiropractic appointment.  Without the 
least bit of surprise, Dr. Gilliam was good looking, with soap 
opera type looks - tan, graying at the temples, not a real 
doctor, just playing one on TV...  Steven fought to continue the 
role of patient.  He told him that he had woken up several days 
earlier with a "crick" in his neck, but unlike others, it didn't 
seem to go away.  The doctor asked a standard variety of 
questions, marking a checklist on his clipboard.  Steven almost 
missed it, but Dr. Gilliam was using a red ink pen.  So Hayley 
probably hadn't written the messages on herself, after all.  It 
made some sort of perverted sense.

Dr. Gilliam indicated that he would need x-rays to provide the 
proper adjustments, and they proceeded with that.  The doctor 
then had Steven sit in the examination room, including little 
more than a padded table, a chair, a small counter space, some 
posters, and a TV/VCR.  The doctor then suggested he watch a 
video about Chiropractic while the x-rays were developed and he 
saw another patient.  Uh-huh.  Sure.

He inserted the video, and Steven closed his eyes.  He already 
had heard the video, thanks, and he had no intention of watching 
it.  After it was over, the door was closed, and he quickly 
looked in the cabinet below the VCR to see what other movies were 
there.  There was only one, about spinal construction.  The label 
was very similar to the one in the VCR, so he swapped it and 
placed the video the doctor had shown him in his inside jacket 
pocket, which was hanging from a chair.

More than a few minutes later, the doctor returned and invited 
him to a viewing room to review his x-rays.  Dr. Gilliam pointed 
out how his neck was unusually straight and that, as he aged, how 
the vertebrae were likely to become fused to a degree and 
painful.  Steven actually hadn't made up the neck story; it just 
didn't hurt now.  Maybe a couple of months ago.  The doctor 
explained how several months of adjustments, moving this 
vertebrae this way and another that way, should work well to keep 
everything the way it was meant to be.

He took Steven to another room, which had a strange device with 
an arm that stood by a padded table.  He asked if Steven had 
understood the video.

"Video?"  He looked confused.  There was an uncomfortable pause.  
Hopefully, this would work.
"Tell me, how has your sex life been lately?"
Steven looked straight ahead, with minimal movement, not sure how 
he was to play this part.  He tried to copy his wife's tone.  
"It's been great.  My wife has been acting like a nympho the past 
several months.  She's never acted like this before."
"Really, tell me about the last time."
Steven told him about the ice cube dildo and the show by the back 
door.
Dr. Gilliam chuckled, seeming quite pleased with himself.  
"Excellent.  At our next appointment, you will bring me the 
videotape your wife recently made while you were eating ice 
cream.  You will not remember anything I've said in this room 
when you hear me count '3.'  One, two, three."

When he finished counting, Steven looked at him.  Dr. Gilliam 
resumed, "you need to lie down on the table with your head at the 
far end, so I can make the first adjustment.  You'll need to be..."

Steven cut him off.  "I don't think so."

"Excuse me?"

Steven removed the Dictaphone from his pants pocket, and hit the 
PLAY button.

The doctor's voice sounded.  "So tell me, what type of 
outfit did you choose?"

Hayley answered, "What I knew he would like.  Black leather 
boots, black leather gloves, black leather mask."

"And you wore nothing else?"

"No."

"That would be quite a sight. Okay, two things.  First, 
this is what I want you to do tonight.   First, when you 
get home, take a plastic coke bottle, the 20 oz. size, and 
fill it about 2/3 full of water.  Lay it on its side in the 
freezer.  Tonight, sometime after your husband comes home, 
cut the plastic bottle away from the ice, then run water 
over the ice to shape a dildo, a nice fat one, maybe as 
thick as your wrist.  Pick out a room in the house and let 
him find you using the dildo, with your legs spread.  Do it 
by a window or door so that there's a chance someone will 
see you.  I think maybe you should just wear a T-shirt this 
time, but pull it above your breasts.  No bra.  Let him 
fuck you.  After that, you'll be embarrassed about your 
little exhibition, and leave to another room.  After you 
dress, you will feel satisfied, and personally rewarded, 
that you were able to offer yourself to your husband this 
way.  Then it will occur to you that sex really felt so 
much better after a visit to the chiropractor.  

Secondly, when we begin talking again, you will tell me 
that you continue to be concerned that your breasts hang 
unevenly.  You will then ask me if an adjustment can be 
made to make them level.  My seeing, touching, and taking 
pictures of your breasts will seem a very appropriate part 
of my job.  While I am doing this, you will only feel some 
guilt about how surprisingly good it makes you feel that 
someone besides your husband is touching your breasts.  
When I count '3,' you will not recall this conversation.  
One, two, three."

"Oh, I guess I forgot to get the videotape for you.  So 
tell me, where does it hurt today?"

"Well, I'm really embarrassed to say this, but, I think my 
breasts are hanging unevenly.  Is there an adjustment that 
can fix that?"

"That's not something I can capture on x-ray..."

"I know.  Here, let me show you.  I want your opinion."  A 
few faint noises, obviously the sound of her blouse and bra 
being removed, then, "What do you think?"

"Well, I don't want to jump to conclusions.  Which breast 
do you think is hanging lower?"

"The right one."

"Are you sitting up straight?  Ah, that's better.  Okay, 
lift your hands and touch the top of your head.  A little 
higher.  That's it, yes.  Hold that position.  Let me take 
some measurements for my file."  The sound of a drawer 
opening and closing.  "Let's see, that's just over a 38" 
chest.  That's not unusually large, so the weight by itself 
is not likely to be a factor.  Let's see.  I'm afraid my 
fingers are a little cold.  Hopefully you won't find this 
uncomfortable."  There was a long silence, as presumably, 
he felt her breasts.  "Okay, perhaps some small alterations 
in your spine can adjust this over time.  For comparison, 
I'm going to need to take some photos, which we'll probably 
have to update every several weeks."

Steven stopped the tape.  Throughout the tape, Dr. Gilliam had 
been having a very difficult time making eye contact, no doubt 
trying to think of a way out of this.  He backed away a little.  
Maybe Steven looked dangerous.  The doctor stammered for words, 
then began in earnest.  "I must admit, you are quite the Sherlock 
for figuring this out.  But let me explain."  Yeah sure.  "I have 
a successful practice.  I paid a lot of money to purchase an 
existing practice after working with my predecessor for several 
years.  He had a number of other hobbies, one of which was 
hypnotism.  I don't understand it at all."

"There's a lot of chiropractors out there.  You see their offices 
everywhere - in run down shopping centers, in older homes that 
have been commercialized because 4 lane roads run where their 
front yards used to be.  Very few do you find that are in medical 
complexes or in newly constructed, stand-alone buildings like 
this one.  There's a lot of reasons for that, but buying this 
practice seemed the best way of avoiding becoming one of the 
'have nots.'  My wife, you know, she spends as much as I can 
make.  And I can spend pretty well myself.  Club memberships, 
clothes, cars, the loan to pay for this place.  That's where the 
video comes in."

"The video was made by my predecessor.  The hypnotic part comes 
during the first couple of minutes, when people will pay the most 
attention.  I'm a doctor, you understand.  I've been to college, 
learned the skills, and devoted my life to Chiropractic.  I 
believe in what I do, and that it also helps people lead more 
comfortable lives.  At the same time, it's a challenge.  Many 
health insurers don't pay for visits, so it's left to my 
customers to foot the bill.  At $30, we charge a reasonable rate.  
The problem is, when it's their money, they only come long enough 
to feel better, then they skip the remaining appointments that 
our science says they need to help reduce symptoms now and 
recurrences later.  Someone may need eight visits over three 
months.  If they come twice and can resume their normal 
activities, they don't come back.

The idea behind the video was for them to feel good about their 
lives, and then relate those feelings to the benefits of my 
service.  That way, they come back.   They're better off for the 
visits, and I rarely have any openings in the appointment 
calendar.  It's a win-win situation."

"I can see that," Steven said.  "But then you got greedy."

The doctor gave a slow nod.  "My predecessor didn't give me much 
instruction on the limitations of the video.  He said I couldn't 
force people to do things they didn't want to do, and I haven't 
really pushed the envelope, so to speak.  But I first became 
tempted with a quite attractive blonde several years ago.  Let's 
just say that it's worked every time so far.  But I can only go 
so far.  There's too much disease out there, and, really, I'm 
quite happy at home.  Also, after a patient's first appointment, 
I usually only schedule fifteen minutes per appointment, so 
there's no time to use the video."

"But in certain situations, you do."

"Well, yes.  The good looking women are a weakness."

"And what do you do with them?"

"I really don't want to go into that."

Steven raised an eyebrow.  "Oh really?  I have your medical 
license hanging by a thread."  He dangled the Dictaphone in front 
of him.  "Tell me, what have you done with my wife?"

"I've never had sex with her, if that's what you mean.  I've 
never even had her remove her pants.  There just isn't enough 
time, for one thing, plus I have two female assistants who are 
always about.  There's too great a chance I'd get caught.  I've 
seen your wife's breasts, yes, and taken some pictures (see Hayley's 
tits at www.asstr.org/~IdleHand/Contents/hayley.html).  I've 
done that with a lot of women.  And rather than make them just 
feel good about their backs, I've expanded the benefits of 
Chiropractic to fulfilling sex.  They're happy.  You should be 
happy.  They feel better.  I get to satisfy my libido while 
filling my bank account.  And that's really about it."

Steven gave him a skeptical look.  "That all sounds very 
reasonable, but I have my doubts.  You could use your video so 
that patients forget that they had to wait an extra half hour for 
their appointment, and you could use it to make your patients 
think their appointment started late, when in fact, you had 
liberty with them for as long as you wanted.  And as for your 
staff, you could easily have them watch the video and have them 
forget what they've seen you do.  I can only think of one 
solution here."

He looked at me, emotions mixed between panic and hope. What hope 
did he have? "Your office, does it have a VCR?"

"Yes."

"The only way I'll let you out of this is for you to watch your 
video, and then answer the questions for me.  That's your only 
option, short of being exposed."

The doctor gave a somewhat defeated look.  He said, "I know what 
you're thinking, but the film won't work on me.  We've got to 
find some other terms.  I'll be happy to give you your wife's 
pictures back, and the videotapes she's brought me.  This has the 
potential of too much trouble.  How about this?  There's two more 
copies of the videotape in my safe.  We can destroy them 
together.  Just to give you some reassurance, I'll give you a few 
pictures of my wife."  He reached into his desk drawer and 
removed several pictures.  I looked.  If he was a graying Ken, 
she was a nude 30ish Barbie.  Wow.  The face in the picture 
matched a photo on his desk, a portrait that pictured them 
together.  It seemed legit.

"Keep those under wraps.  If she finds out, I've had it.  I can't 
afford a divorce."  Dr. Gilliam opened the safe and removed the 
videotapes.  He had a hammer in another desk drawer, and offered 
it to Steven.  They stepped outside through his private door to 
the rear of the building, and Steven smashed the tapes, pulling 
the film from them.  He then threw them in a dumpster.  

Dr. Gilliam looked worried, and he had reason to be.  His 
business was likely to go on the decline.  "I'd appreciate it if 
you left that little tape with me," he said.  

"No, I don't think so," Steven said.  "I have no way of knowing 
whether you have more tapes, or more pictures of Hayley and me.  
We'll call it a draw." 

He nodded, reluctantly accepting the terms.  "Okay.  A draw.  
Anything else?"

"Yes, this visit was free."  He nodded again and escorted Steven 
to the lobby before taking his next patient, an absolutely 
gorgeous 20 or so year old that Steven couldn't imagine had any 
problem with her back.  The things he could do with that tape...  

Steven figured it was probably best not to tell Hayley about what 
had happened.  No doubt her Chiropractic visits would soon end, 
without the hypnotic suggestions that it was working so well.  He 
thought about telling her to see another doctor, but that would 
just arouse suspicion.  With any justice, the doctor's practice 
would be meeting its end in the next several months.






Dr. Gilliam seethed.  Steven was smart to figure him out.  But he 
was also gullible.  He removed the master copy of his videotape 
from an unlocked file cabinet...the best place to keep your 
valuables.  He amused himself and laughed shortly.  Steven's 
audiotape was too incriminating, and many of his clients were too 
distinguished to hear about the "privileges" he allowed himself.  
If they found out, he'd be in jail.  Worse, two were wives of pro 
football players.  He'd be dead.

In a way, Steven had answered a question that he'd been 
tantalizing himself with.  As a recent widower, the prospect of 
using his tape to get more than a titty grab HAD occurred to him, 
and Hayley was a fine piece of ass.  It was finding an 
opportunity that he had been careful with, and with Hayley, he 
now had an opportunity and a purpose.  Sweet.

If Steven had just made him watch the tape, he would have 
revealed everything.  Sucker.  He had  no idea how the thing 
worked, but if he could suggest to a woman that she couldn't see 
"Fuck Me" written on her body, his personal signature of sorts, 
it seemed like the tape could be used for about anything.  It was 
time to push the envelope.





Hayley arrived on time for her Chiropractic appointment the 
following Tuesday, after her part-time work.  Dr. Gilliam's 
assistant had called and asked if a later afternoon appointment 
would be okay, as something had come up, and she found that she 
was the last appointment for the day.

When she got to the patient room, Dr. Gilliam held up a video and 
asked if she had seen it.  It looked familiar, but for the life 
of her, she couldn't remember anything about it.  The doctor 
started the tape and left the room while she watched.  

They chatted a bit, he made an adjustment to her back, and she 
headed home.  Her van clock said 7:00.   She looked at her watch.  
7:00.  What?  Where had the time gone?  The video must have been 
longer than she thought, although, thinking about it, she didn't 
seem to remember much about it.  She wondered if she was having a 
problem with her memory.  She hurried as best she could through 
traffic to get home.  She was surprisingly tired, so she fixed 
sandwiches, ate and then went upstairs to shower.  Steven seemed 
to accept that she got hung up in traffic.

She felt unusually sticky.  In the bathroom, she started the 
shower water, undressed, then looked in the mirror and saw what 
she recognized as cum, dried on her cunt, and a trail of small 
dried drops leading up to her breasts as well.  This panicked 
her.  She looked again in the mirror. She had what Steven 
referred to as her "just fucked look," red splotches on her skin 
with a healthy glow.  But she hadn't had sex with Steven in a 
couple of days, and she had showered since then, at least twice, 
and just this morning, in fact!  The time lapse occurred to her.  
She couldn't remember anything, but the only possible answer was 
that Dr. Gilliam had...  

Just then, Steven opened the bathroom door, naked, with a raging 
hard-on, and pushed her into the shower.  She was being taken, 
all over again, just like her Viking story.   How many times had 
she been taken lately?  Dr. Gilliam!  She didn't remember telling 
him about her favorite book, but somehow she knew she had!  
Steven engulfed a breast with his mouth, then sucked her nipple 
fiercely, just short of biting it with his teeth.  The pleasure 
almost became pain when he lowered himself to her cunt, and 
horrified thoughts of "NO!  NO!  NOOOOOO!" raged through her 
mind.  He didn't stop the licking.  Couldn't he taste...?  Maybe 
the shower water would wash it away in time... The pressure of his 
tongue on her clit and the thought of her husband slurping 
another man's cum from her cunt sent her pulse racing.  And the 
realization that she had been fucked without knowing it was a 
taboo far beyond a rape by a conquering Viking.  She screamed in 
her orgasm.  Loud.

The following week, Hayley received another call from the 
Chiropractor, requesting another appointment change, and again, 
it was for the last appointment of the day.  Fine.  While she had 
shared in a fantasy she didn't even know she had, a confrontation 
was at hand.





Dr. Gilliam almost couldn't concentrate on his patients through 
the day.  Hayley had been a great fuck, and he would fuck her 
again, but he had a purpose to achieve.  And while Hayley had 
been quite a willing participant under his spell, the next time, 
and from now on, he would have her of her own will.  Sweet.

He finished with his last patient, and told his receptionist she 
could go ahead and leave, for which she gave him a disapproving 
look.  Time for her to watch a video...  It wouldn't do to have his 
receptionist suspect he was getting intimate with a married 
patient.   He locked up.

He opened the door to the room in which his forthcoming fuck 
awaited, and, ...what a mixed signal!  Hayley stood, fury on her 
face, but her nipples were rock hard, poking through the fabric 
of her blouse, apparently without the restriction of a bra.   As 
he stared at her breasts, she raced forward, slapped him hard 
across the face and yelled "Bastard!  You bastard!"  Yeah, he 
thought, I am.  But you're turned on.  Otherwise, why no bra?  
And a skirt?  She always wore slacks or shorts.   How much did 
she know?

She slapped him again.  He apparently wasn't paying enough 
attention.  "How could you?  You fucked me!  I found your cum all 
over me when I got home!"  Huh?  Hell.  He had forgotten to make 
her oblivious to any signs of sex.  He had only made her forget 
about having sex and to suspect the video for being longer than 
she remembered.  Well, it really didn't matter if she knew.  He 
was about to tell her anyway.  But something about it turned her 
on...of, course!  Her rape fantasy.  Her favorite book.  He had 
drawn that out from her about two months ago, and he had used it 
subtly in his suggestions.  Subtlety was at an end. 

"Hayley, we need to talk.  Step into my office and I'll show you 
a couple things."

She followed him in, and sat in one of his chairs.  He opened his 
safe and retrieved a video.  The best lies are mixed with truth.

"Your husband is a smart man, Hayley.  He visited me a couple of 
weeks ago and confronted me with an audio tape, from a recorder 
he had placed in your purse."  Hayley looked intrigued.  This 
likely wasn't at all the conversation she had been expecting.

"The tape proves that I use a videotape about Chiropractic terms 
to hypnotize some of my patients,... in this case, you."  He could 
see that Hayley seemed to register understanding about how she 
had been fucked, as well as the loss of an hour and a half or so.  
He explained how the particular audiotape suggested that she make 
an ice dildo, and exhibit herself to whatever world was beyond 
the door or window she had stood by.  "The tape also, I might 
add, unfortunately, included me suggesting that your breasts were 
uneven and that you should display them to me in hope of an 
adjustment."  Hayley looked down at her breasts briefly, again 
understanding.  "That's right, they're perfectly matched."

"Bastard," Hayley snarled in a low voice.

"Steven asked me if I had done anything further than that.  I 
told him 'no.'  There wasn't time during normal appointment 
schedules for anything beyond, basically, teenage petting.  I 
gave him all the photographs of your breasts I had taken.  As he 
thought about it, I think the potential power of the videotape 
got to his head.  He demanded a copy.  I refused, for which you 
should be grateful.  And I'll show you why."

He placed his video in the VCR and hit 'play.'  He saw the 
mistrust on her eyes.

"Don't watch the video until you're confident that it's not the 
hypnotic one.  Go ahead.  Look away."  He started the movie.  He 
stifled a chuckle as Hayley's voice filled the room, from the TV.  
It was soft.  Submissive.  "Fuck me.  Please?  I've been 
admiring...wanting you for weeks."   

Hayley's eyes opened wide and turned her head to watch, so Dr. 
Gilliam, knowing his fish was hooked and all but pulled on board, 
watched with her.  It showed her walking on her knees, to his 
crotch, unfastening his belt, unfastening his pants, reaching in 
his underwear to pull out his cock.  My 8" cock, Dr. Gilliam 
thought.  Bigger than your husband, aren't I?  You aren't used to 
that, are you?  He had to control another chuckle.  He had 
watched the video repeatedly the night before, but now, he was 
enjoying watching Hayley, shock on her face, her mouth open, 
paralyzed in stunned silence.  Her face was a magnificent glowing 
red.  Her nipples hard.  Sweet.  He would enjoy her.  He let the 
video continue.  There wouldn't be any more dialogue in the 
video, he knew.  He started talking after the movie showed his 
first orgasm, into HER pussy.  

"It goes on for another 30 minutes or so.  You sucked my cock 
back to life, and we had another go.  I had mixed feelings about 
doing this, Hayley, and here's why."  She looked at him, 
skepticism mixed with fury, fury mixed with passion.  Or so he 
hoped.  Soon now...

"That audio tape threatens my business, you understand.  Steven 
threatened my medical license, newspaper exposure, that kind of 
thing.  Although I had given him pictures of my wife, naked..."  He 
sounded downcast.  "You know she died several months ago."  
Hayley was watching the video, which showed her sucking his cock 
like a porn star.  "So he took those pictures of my wife, and I 
gave him the pictures I had taken of you.  He wins, you know?  I 
asked him what it would take for me to get the tape back from 
him.  You're not going to like his answer."  Hayley turned to 
look at him.  Her nipples were still hard nubs.  Sweet.  Worth 
lying for.  He tried what he hoped was his most sincere voice.  
"He said he would trade it for a video of me fucking you."

With that, the color draining from her face.  "He didn't!"  She 
looked distant, her thoughts unfathomable.

"He did.  And I don't know if I can trust a man who would have 
his wife fucked by another man.  I have a business and my 
reputation to protect. Unfortunately, that's going to make things 
more difficult for you."  He could tell Hayley was sensing an 
impending doom.  "Step over to my computer."  This was going to 
be fun.  Hayley sat in a rolling chair, still showing some spirit 
in that she wasn't afraid to look.  He logged onto the internet, 
and went to his own website, www.boughtandpaidfor.com.  Tears 
formed in Hayley's eyes.  In bold capital yellow letters across 
the screen was her name.  "H A Y L E Y."  And underneath, in 
slightly smaller print, "Slut wife."  As he scrolled down the 
screen, he revealed that the website included the photos of her 
breasts he had taken, stills from the video she had just been 
watching, and stills from a video of her fucking Steven.  He 
clicked on a thumbnail picture.  A picture of Steven's cock in 
her cunt filled the screen. He hit the "back" button, and then 
clicked on a link for effect.  A small square appeared on the 
screen and a video began of Steven cumming on her face, audio 
included, with her giggling after he was done.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you about those.  I had you bring me all 
your sex tapes and nude photos a couple months or so ago.  Steven 
took them back, but not before I digitized them.  See?  Here's a 
Polaroid of you posing naked.  I believe you said that was 12 
years ago.  Look how young you look.  It's too bad the color is 
fading.  But I digress.  Here's the point.  Your sister is a 
client.  She even sent me a joke e-mail that went out to all her 
friends, including their e-mail addresses.  She told me who your 
friends are.  Who your pastor is.  I have clients that go to your 
church.  I know where your husband works.  All of them are going 
to get an anonymous note that lists this website."  He let that 
sink in.  Hayley hunched over in her seat, placing her hands over 
her face.  "UNLESS, you do what I want."  Hayley looked frozen, 
probably just beginning to imagine what things he would do with 
her.  "Hey, look, the counter shows 18 people have been to the 
site already, and I haven't even registered it with the search 
engines."





Hayley had searched all over the damn house before finding the 
cursed audiotape, hidden in one of Steven's jacket pockets in his 
closet.  She had searched his closet first, but hadn't thought of 
checking the pockets until she came up empty everywhere else.  
She had played it, and it said exactly what the good Doctor had 
said it did.  Damn him!  She didn't have the means to copy a 
micro-cassette, so she played it next to an old cassette 
recorder, and got a poor copy as a backup, at least, if things 
didn't work out the way she hoped.  And it was only hope.  She 
had no plan.  She could try blackmailing him with the audio, but 
he could likely hypnotize her all over again and make her forget 
she even had it.  She was stuck.

The good doctor had known that Steven was away on a fishing trip 
this weekend, which she somewhat remembered telling him a few 
weeks earlier.  As she approached his house, she felt, simply, 
ruined.  The website would be disastrous.  She didn't think that 
the video had been Steven's idea, but she couldn't be sure, 
especially the way he had charged in on her before she showered, 
just after she had been fucked by the doctor.   He hadn't been at 
all curious or upset that she was so late.  Did he know?  In any 
case, the video didn't show the doctor's face, but the body was 
obviously not her husbands.  If her friends or family saw it, 
they would have to move.  Or worse, even if it was his idea, 
Steven could divorce her, blaming her for cheating on him.  The 
evidence would show it.  But he loved her.  She knew he did.

And she loved him.  Yet, here she was, at the Doctor's house, 
knowing that she would have sex with some number of guys.  She 
had no bags, although she knew she would be there two nights 
until midday Sunday, so that she would be home in time for 
Steven's return.  She parked the van, noticing that others' cars 
were already there.  She walked to the front door, feeling a 
mild, cool breeze blow through her blouse and hair, across her 
flesh.  Which, in contrast to the ruin that lay beyond the door, 
made her feel surprisingly sensuous.  She rang the doorbell.  

Dr. Gilliam opened the door, all smiles.  "Super!  You're here, 
right on time.  I knew you would be.  You look fantastic."  She 
smiled at the compliment; she had worked on her looks all day it 
seemed, in a dreamy nightmare of sensual pleasures and utter 
humiliation.  But here she was, and she would go through with it.  
She didn't have a choice.  Her hair was placed perfectly, well 
brushed and pulled back to fall below her shoulders.  Steven 
liked it loose during sex.  She wore high heeled spaghetti strap 
sandals, an olive skirt, and a very light beige sweater vest, 
which hinted at a lacy bra beneath.  It was something she had 
worn on a night out with Steven.  Alluring, but not trampy.  "Do 
you have the...?"  She cut his question short by handing him the 
audiotape.  He looked delighted.

She followed Dr. Gilliam to his entertainment room.  It included 
a pool table, a card table, a wide screen TV, two recliners, and 
a couch.  There were two men seated at the card table, both good 
looking, which, frankly, disappointed her.  She was hoping they 
would be ugly so that she could just hate them and the entire 
experience, rather than herself.  They looked at her quizzically, 
however.  Not the eyes of sex-starved maniacs.  Late 30's, early 
40's.  Marriage rings.  

"Gentlemen, this is the surprise I promised.  Her name is 
Hayley."  At least he didn't say my last name, she thought.  
"Remember the convention we went to in the Bahamas a few years 
ago?"  They looked at her with more interest.  "Hayley's not a 
hooker for the evening, though.  She's married, and she's a 
patient.  But she's also mine to fuck.  And tonight, Hayley will 
perform just about anything we want her to."  He grabbed her ass 
as he said this, giving her a good squeeze.  At this, their eyes 
did turn to hunger, and she was surprised as a baritone emerged 
from the kitchen.  "Well, hello there!"  A black man, well... 
chocolate brown, maybe even a dark bronze,... walked in.  He, too, 
was good looking.  Muscular. Big.  She was going to hate herself.  
Why was she doing this?  She knew the answer before she even 
asked the question.  

Dr. Gilliam led her to the kitchen, where he showed her around.  
Her first duties of the night would be to serve as a waitress to 
them as they played cards and watched a pre-season Friday night 
football game.  She carried in a tray of beers and set them on 
the table, which had cutouts for holding drinks.  She expected to 
be groped, and she was.  As she leaned over placing the last 
beer, a man introduced himself as Mac, held her left tit between 
his hand and didn't let go.  He said, "Richard, I seem to 
remember in Nassau that our...waitress...was topless.  How does this 
work, do  you tell her what to do or can we?"

"Hayley will only obey me, but I'll tell her do anything you 
want.  She knows what this is about, and she came of her own free 
will.  Didn't you Hayley?"

The Doctor had given her specific instructions on how she was to 
play her role.  She died inside as she answered, but in a 
surprisingly eager voice.  "You know I'm yours," she winked, and 
after a pause concluded, "to do with...whatever...you...want."

"Hayley, remove your top."  Her face turned red as the men turned 
to watch.  "And the bra."  Dr. Gilliam had said that she was to 
perform, actually, to happily perform whatever he said.  He had 
actually driven the role home when he had said that she should 
consider herself his tamed captive.  Just like the book.  And 
this was why she would hate herself, and had been hating herself 
all day.  She could still hate him for what he was making her do, 
but she feared the guilt of enjoying herself even more.  Her 
guilt began with the breeze tantalizing her skin when she arrived 
on his porch, when she realized she was already excited, already 
wet, already willing to fuck, without even putting up a fight.

So she turned her back to them, humiliation burning within, 
removed her bra, and then turned to give them a look at her tits.  
The excitement quenched her humiliation with an even stronger 
fire.  They were staring at her breasts, the breasts of a captive 
slave who, truly, had no choice in the matter.  

Dr. Gilliam soon took control as they began to move towards her.  
"Wait guys.  Remember Nassau.  Winner of the hand gets to suck 
her tits for a minute.  Hayley, go get the Readi Whip."  The term 
"whip" startled her, before she understood what he was asking.   
Whatever game they were playing was some variation of Poker.  Mac 
won.  She stood in front of him as he left his chair to get a 
better angle of attacking her tits.   The good doctor handed Mac 
the can of Readi Whip, which Mac sprayed onto each of her 
nipples.  Her nipples were already hard.  The Readi Whip was 
just...cold.  Mac licked around her breast before closing in on her 
nipple.  She saw the desire in the men's eyes, and then her cunt 
went crazy on her as Mac seemed to swallow the front half of her 
other breast at once.  Her juices were flowing.  

Dr. Gilliam took control again.  "That's good, Mac.  I think 
she's hot already.  Hayley, there's a jar of cherries in the 
refrigerator.  Bring them here, and return, let's see...how was it?  
Oh, yes.  Return only wearing your shoes."  The other men had 
grins, obviously having done this before.  "You guys know what 
the next hand wins."  There was a tense laughter that followed 
her.

Safe in the kitchen, she stopped a moment to catch her breath.  
This was it.  She was about to be gang-banged.  From a steady 
diet of her husband the past 15 years or so, to two trysts with 
the Doctor, one unbeknownst to her and the other a quickie after 
he confronted her with the web site.  He had enjoyed it, not just 
physically, she knew, but due to the power of breaking her will, 
making her decide, or rather admit, then and there that she was 
trapped.  His to use.  Yes, he had enjoyed the power, the power 
of stripping her as she trembled before him, the power of making 
her beg to fuck him, the power of making her get on her knees, 
spread her cunt lips, and guide his shaft within her.  The power 
of making her a slut.  Of her own will.  

Did it really matter in the great scheme of things that she would 
be fucked yet again?  Not if Steven never found out.  That was 
her goal.  Steven must never find out.  She found the cherries.  
She saw chocolate syrup on the same shelf.  She hoped that 
wouldn't be next.  What a mess that would make.  She closed the 
refrigerator door.

She looked down.  Her naked breasts hung there, as they always 
had.  The sight of her breasts had never meant anything to her 
sexually, but the fact that another man, a stranger, had sucked 
them, that others would, ...turned her on.   She removed her skirt 
and then her panties.  Soaked.  They would find her...wet...so, wet.

She returned to the entertainment room, all eyes on her.  Why was 
the football game still on?  She would be the entertainment.  She 
felt wetness trickle down her thigh as she walked.  She hadn't 
thought about the effect her hairless cunt would have on them.  
Catcalls.  The doctor waved for her to stand beside him.  He took 
the jar of cherries from her, and gave them to the black man, 
whose name she didn't know.  The men stood, and the Doctor placed 
a heavy cover that fit over the card table.  The card game, she 
knew, was over.

Dr. Gilliam said, "Anyone done this since Nassau?"  They all 
shook their heads, no.  "I liked it so much I put that portrait 
with the hooker on my desk at work for the fond memory."  They 
all laughed.

The black man had apparently won the round.  He came around the 
table, put the cherries down, and grabbed her pelvis with both 
massive hands.  He lifted her up onto the table, where she 
quickly understood she was to spread her legs.  He reached for 
the cherries.  Long stems. 

"Man, she's wet!  Did you see how that slid in there?"  Hayley 
felt two more pushed in, the last of which he apparently 
controlled by holding the stem.  He lowered his face, biting the 
stem, and pulled the cherry out of her cunt.  He ate it.  The 
doctor said what she hoped the black man was thinking, "Sweet."  
A black man hardly touching her, and she was ready to be fucked.  
The man inserted a finger, then another, easily into her cunt.  
He found her G-spot, but she was distracted by the remaining two 
cherries being moved about within her.  He removed his hand, 
holding the two stems.  She was certain the other two cherries 
were crushed inside her cunt.  He lowered his head, this time 
using his tongue.

It felt so different.  He wasn't trying at all to turn her on, 
but concentrated on lapping her juices to his content.  And the 
cherry juices... of, course.  He emerged from between her legs with 
a huge smile on his face.  "Man, two years.  That was good."  A 
short conversation indicated that no one had been able to talk 
their wives into doing that, and Hayley settled herself in for 
turns.  The bottle of cherries gradually became empty.  She 
smelled the cherry juice as much as the smell of her sex.  Mac 
was last and seemed to take breaks from his snack to actually 
give her a little pleasure, more than a little.  In return, she 
responded by moving her hips, guiding his tongue, his face, to 
maximize her pleasure. 

Her bucking was misunderstood.  The fourth man, Keith, said "Look 
at her, she wants to get fucked!  Richard, how did you find this 
slut?  And she's married?"  Hayley knew Steven wasn't the only 
married man whose sex life had settled down.  And the word, 
"slut."  She didn't want to think about a proper definition, but 
yes, she felt it.  She was a slut, for the weekend, at least.  
And he was right.  She did want to be fucked.  She even enjoyed 
the idea of besting his wife, a woman she would never meet, in 
giving him a thrill.

Following the last instruction the Doctor had given her role for 
the evening, for just this moment, when sex was inevitable, 
Hayley said, "Please, Doctor, would you let them fuck me now?"

The words reminded her that she was HIS captive, and it reminded 
the men that she was HIS sex slave.  Her fantasy again.  She 
wanted to be filled with cock.  What was he waiting for?

The doctor responded by removing his pants.  He was the last to 
do so.  The others had been stroking themselves, although she 
hadn't been able to watch.  She didn't remember actually seeing 
the doctor's cock, other than watching the video in his office.  
It had seemed large then, and it had felt large within her, but 
as she saw him approach, she marveled at its size.  Maybe two 
inches longer than Steven, and just as thick.  He slid the head 
in, her lips spreading to accommodate him.  He felt wonderful.  
He backed up slightly, then thrust forward, filling her.  The 
words "ooohhh, yessss" escaped from her lips before she could 
even think of controlling herself.  The doctor thrust in again, 
staring into her eyes, knowing he had her.  And he would be 
right.  The bastard.

A marvelously dark cock slapped onto her cheek.  She turned her 
head, and took it in.  The pre-cum was quickly devoured, and she 
quickly adapted to the novelty of a new cock, a new shape, a new 
texture, a new taste.  Her hand grabbed at his balls, so large, 
hanging from his shaft.  His cock was about the same size as her 
husband, and just as she was realizing a little disappointment 
from the stereotype of a black man's cock, the Doctor's pace 
picked up in her cunt, and she could feel his hot jism shooting 
within her.  She returned her attentions to the sucking the cock 
at her mouth when Mac began to fuck her, building up speed.  She 
wanted to have him cum with another man's cock in her mouth.  Two 
at once...  She grasped the black shaft with her hand, stroking it 
while she sucked and licked the head of his cock.  The shaft felt 
smaller than Steven's did, but the head was so big.  Just as Mac 
blasted within her, she could feel the cock in her hand pulse, 
then cum shot in her mouth and on her face.  It didn't seem to 
end.  She reached to her face to unclog her nose, and felt his 
cum just...everywhere.  

He stepped back, a dominating presence, a masterful expression.  
"Man, that white bitch can suck!"  He returned to stroking his 
cock, preparing to give her more.  Mac stepped up with his limp 
cock, which she sucked, tasting the mixture of juices.  She 
didn't particularly like it, but she liked the idea of what it 
was.  She felt Keith slip within her, not much of a presence to 
whatever cock he had, but it felt good for her cunt to be filled.  
Mac recovered surprisingly quickly, as she felt the hardness of 
his shaft with her hand, the velvety mushroom head between her 
lips.  She heard Keith say, "Hayley, you are one...hot...slut!"  She 
felt him shoot, but less so as he pulled out to spray her 
hairless pubic area.  Perhaps at the sight of this man cumming on 
her, Mac orgasmed again, pulling out of her mouth and cumming on 
her face.  Her eyes were covered with cum.  She was afraid to 
open them, and began to move the globs of jism from her face with 
her fingers.

The Doctor surprised her by placing a couch pillow under her 
head, giving her a view just as the black man penetrated her.  
The doctor's head was somewhat in the way as he too watched, 
while fondling and licking a breast.  The black man's cock was 
pitch black, so much darker than the rest of his skin, and the 
sight of it going in and out of her white, cum covered cunt would 
be a memory to relive.  She felt kind of stretched, and his cock 
didn't feel as good as it might another time, but she felt his 
huge balls slapping against her ass.  

She reached down with a hand to work her clit.  Catcalls again.  
Her body tensed.  She heard voices, "what a hot bitch...who's 
married to that?...who cares?  She fucks better than that pro in 
Nassau...better looking, too...I'd like to have that piece of ass 
every night"  It all went somehow to her head.  She closed her 
eyes, concentrating on the moment. The cock within her, the balls 
slapping against her, the doctor's manipulation of her nipple, 
the pleasure she was giving her clit.  The satisfaction of 
satisfying 4 men, who appreciated her for nothing other than the 
sex she was giving.  The fact that she was conquered, and the 
thrill of enjoying it.  Her body shook as the orgasms washed over 
her, wave after wave.  She had never, ever, experienced such an 
orgasm.

She opened her eyes as the black man withdrew from her cunt.  He 
came just as her orgasm was subsiding.  His cum shot a long 
steady stream, over her stomach, onto the Doctor's face, who was 
still licking her tit.  The bastard deserved it, and he obviously 
wasn't pleased.  Fuck him.

There seemed to be a break in the action - the men putting on 
their pants, at least, and talking about what they had just done.  
She laid there, resting a while, before the Doctor said, "The 
rule is you're not allowed to clean yourself off until we're all 
done.  Now go get us some beers.  She passed a mirror on the way 
to the kitchen.  "Slut" was the word that came to mind.  "Whore" 
might have fit, but this wasn't for money.

She thought that might be it for the night.  Hoped it would be.  
Hoped it wouldn't be.  Her cunt would be sore if they fucked her 
much more, but she hoped they would.  Her nipple was sore where 
the good doctor had sucked at it and pinched it with his teeth.   
She knew that the next day would be more of the same, and 
possibly much of Sunday.  She tried to imagine the life ahead of 
her, married by night, slut by day.  She didn't trust the doctor 
to use her wisely, either.  If these men liked having their 
picture taken with a hooker in Nassau, she couldn't help but 
suspect the good Doctor would give them digital pictures of her.  
She felt sad for herself, as she thought of the unknown number of 
men that the Doctor would share her with.  Over what?  Weeks?  
Months?  Years?  Until he tired of her and ruined her?  She had 
no way out.  None.  Murder?  She couldn't see herself doing it.  
Plus there was too much evidence against her.  The captured 
damsel in her novel got out of captivity by falling in love with 
her captor, and making fall in love with her.  She didn't see 
that happening here.  She was captured.  And useful for fucking.  
She hadn't imagined this particular end.  The story always ended 
happily.  She felt a tear form in her eye as she realized that 
she had been happy, just moments before, being useful for 
fucking.

The beer seemed to flow, particularly for the Doctor.  They 
watched football while she laid across their laps, pawing at her, 
sucking at her.  They used her cunt for "flavoring" each long 
neck bottle they opened.  They all but drank beer from her cunt.  
She lost count of the blowjobs she gave.  They seemed to run out 
of cum, but they enjoyed having her to look at while she sucked 
them anyway.  She tired of it, but the variety in sizes, tastes, 
responses to her touch, somehow continued to keep her...wet.

Near the end of the football game, the Doctor had put on the 
radio and told her to dance.  It might have been better if she 
could have done a strip tease, but all she had was her heeled 
shoes.  She had danced well, and, she thought, provocatively.  
She had never seen a stripper, but she couldn't imagine anyone 
could provide a more explicit show.  Some of it had been at the 
Doctor's direction, such as removing cum from her cunt and 
licking it off her finger.  She did it.  Some was at her own 
initiative.  After bending over and giving them a few of her ass, 
someone had said, "There's still cum dripping out of there."  She 
fixed that by scooping it out with her hands and spreading it on 
her tits.  Then she licked it off her tits, cum, with a flavor of 
Molson.  There was no shyness, if there ever had been. 

The game ended, and the Doctor's guests had to head home soon.  
Their wives expected them.  He led her to his couch, and had her 
bend over.  Each of the men fucked her a last time.  By the 
third, it began to hurt.  By the fourth, it did.  The Doctor 
whispered an instruction, and she escorted them to the door, 
inviting them back Saturday at any time, if they could make it.  
They all would.  Of course.  There might be other friends who 
would come, too.  She was scared of the physical toll on her body 
that would bring, but the praise they had given her would make it 
worthwhile.  She was known as a great fuck, and would be known by 
others.  They each took a farewell grope, except for Mac, who 
gave her a kiss on the cheek.  Her first kiss of the night.  

She was now alone with the Doctor, which scared her.  They hadn't 
been mean or cruel to her, but she knew he would be.  While the 
men were watching football, and she was sucking Mr. Anonymous' 
cock, the men had asked the Doctor how he had found Hayley.  He 
didn't really answer, but just said it was a power he had over 
women.  He concluded with the thought that he might even send her 
home on Sunday full of cum, just after her husband returned from 
his weekend trip.  Hayley had almost slipped into guilt, but 
someone had found her G-spot, and she had found it easier to suck 
and enjoy.  

But now the guilt was sinking in.  With the men gone, so had the 
main attraction of this reality.  Only the bastard remained.  The 
Doctor changed the channel to the news, and she sucked his cock 
while he finished his beer.  He wasn't soft.  He wasn't hard.  
His cock was worn out.  But still, she licked and sucked, 
thinking, hoping, that some sort of opportunity might present 
itself.

The news ended, and the Doctor led her to the bedroom, where he 
used handcuffs to secure one wrist to one of the front corner 
feet on his bed.  He showered, then returned and crawled into 
bed.  The lack of civility in not even allowing her to shower 
infuriated her.  And why had he handcuffed her?  He knew she 
would stay for the weekend.  He had her.  She was his slut.

But there had to be a reason...  and the only reason that she could 
think of was not that she would leave, but that she would find 
something!  He had given her a pillow and a blanket, at least, 
but with her hand cuffed it was too awkward to lie comfortably.  
She looked at the cuffs.   There was no way of breaking them, or 
getting her hands out.  She had no idea where the key was.  She 
assessed the situation.

It finally came to her.  The Doctor was indeed drunk.  Had any 
picked any of the rails of the footboard, she would trapped.  
Maybe he thought that the other rails would be too high for her 
to be comfortable enough to sleep.  What a kind bastard.

She heard the doctor snore.  She decided that if this idea 
worked, she would need to see a Chiropractor.  That almost made 
her laugh.  She snaked her body under the bed, and managed to 
move the pillow between her back and the bed frame.  Using her 
elbows and back, she tried to lift the bed frame, and, 
specifically, the foot of the bed, off the floor.  The bed was 
king size and terribly heavy, but it didn't take too long before 
she found the right position that she thought would make it work.  
The Doctor was still snoring, and she hoped this last effort 
wouldn't wake him.  She raised her back, and the bed lifted.  The 
handcuff slipped off the bottom of the post.  

Now, to use the opportunity.  If it failed, she was probably 
ruined for life.  But there was hope.  She hoped he was a heavy 
sleeper, because she felt her best odds were to start in his 
bedroom.  He had left the bathroom light on, which gave enough 
light for her to see, but barely.  There was also a small 
nightlight on a wall receptacle.  Maybe the bastard had 
nightmares in the dark...  She found the handcuff key first, on top 
of the bedside table.  That helped.  She found a pistol in a 
drawer.  She knew a little about revolvers and saw that it was 
loaded.  She figured out where the safety device was.  It was on.  
She turned it off.  She didn't plan to use it, but it might just 
be helpful...

She was searching for this famed hypnotic video, figuring he 
would be a fool not to keep one at home.  Had he used it on his 
wife?  She didn't pursue the train of thought.  She didn't find 
it in his bedroom.  She went to the entertainment room, as it had 
a VCR.  Maybe he kept it handy for dates, the bastard.  She 
opened the cabinet door, and there it was.  At least, she hoped 
that was it.   The title seemed familiar.  Watching it would get 
her into a mess, so she just trusted that it was the right one.  
If it wasn't, maybe the gun would be an adequate persuasion tool.  
And she did have the handcuffs...  She saw that another video was 
in the VCR.  It had her name on it.  She turned the TV on, muted 
it, and played the video.  It was the video the doctor had taken 
of her being fucked in his office.  Since he was such a camera 
freak, she looked around the entertainment room to make sure her 
new life as a slut hadn't been recorded.  She didn't see anything 
that looked like a camera.

She disappointed to find that her blouse and bra seemed to have 
disappeared.  Maybe someone took it as a souvenir.  She found her 
skirt on the kitchen floor.  The panties were gone.  Something 
was better than nothing.

She returned to his bedroom, turned the VCR on, and inserted the 
tape.  She quickly hit "stop" before it would automatically play.  
Then she turned the TV on.  This hypnotic thing apparently worked 
visually, since the audiotape didn't seem to have an effect.  She 
turned the volume down.  The TV cast a blue glow over the room 
and his sleeping form.  She thought briefly about how she was 
going to manage this.  Then, it was time for sleepy boy to wake 
up.

She went to the bathroom, poured a cup of water, returned, and 
dumped it on his face.  He became somewhat alert, and then 
alarmed as she turned the bedside lamp on.  He found himself 
staring at the barrel of his own .357 magnum, being held by the 
otherwise enticing topless form of what had been his willing sex 
kitten hours earlier.  He started to raise himself and say 
something, but she drew back the hammer.  He retreated to his 
pillow.

"You, bastard, are going to watch a video.  If I have to shoot 
you, I'll be embarrassed when the police find pictures and videos 
of me naked.  But there's enough evidence that the police will 
believe my story about the pervert qwack doctor, especially since 
I'll be telling them the truth.  So it's your choice.  Die, or 
watch the screen."  He nodded toward the screen.  She stepped 
back so that she was aside the TV, where she could make sure he 
kept his eyes glued to the screen.  The TV was less than 10' from 
the bed, and there was no way she could miss if she had to shoot.  
With six shots, anyway.  She started the VCR, and he watched.

Hayley did what her idiot, but loving, husband should have done.  
She found out everything.  After a few commands, they started 
taking care of things.  All the hypnotic videos in the house were 
found.  All the photos of his patients in the house were found.  
He logged onto the internet and destroyed the website he had 
created.   The counter had read 1,880.  Damn.  He must have 
registered it, but there was nothing to be done about the files 
people may have copied.  They went to the computer where the 
files were stored.  She reformatted the entire drive.  There were 
no other copies except at the office.  

So, they would have to drive to the office.  She had to wear one 
of his shirts, and found her shoes.  Sleepy boy would have to 
stay in his pajamas.  At the office another hard drive was re-
formatted, photos were handed over, and videos were gathered.  
She piled it all into a suitcase she had brought from his house.  
There were no other copies of anything related to his hypnotic 
controls that she didn't possess.  IF he was telling the truth.  
He seemed to be giving her all she had asked for.  But Steven had 
been satisfied too.
 
They returned to his house, where all was quiet, as it should be 
at 4:00 a.m.  She gave him a final suggestion, that she had very 
much enjoyed plotting during the return drive,  tucked him into 
bed, and counted him to sleep, "one, two, three."

Her drive home was one of self-congratulations and, she admitted, 
fulfillment.  It had been fun.  Not her choice, but it had been 
fun.  The men had had their fun, too, but it had been about as 
gentlemanly as a gang-bang could get, she supposed.  Her reverie 
was interrupted when she was pulled over by a police car.  
Speeding.  12 miles over.

The officer looked her over, probing her face and body with his 
flashlight, then the interior of the van.  She was glad he didn't 
look too far down her legs.  She hadn't cleaned those up, and she 
was a sticky mess.  She realized that the man's shirt she was 
wearing and the suitcase would tell him all he needed to know - 
that she had slept with a man and was returning home.  It was 
unlikely he would suspect her of anything else, driving in a 
family van as she was.  The man, whose face she could never make 
out, let her off with a warning.

Saturday, she made a fire in the backyard.  Her romance novel was 
first.  She had lived that and beyond.  The photos the Doctor 
took were interesting.  She was comforted that her sister was not 
among them.  Some of the people she knew; most she didn't.  She 
burned them all.  The videos she also threw in.  The noxious 
fumes of burning plastic drove her away from the fire, but she 
had to return to dump in one other tape.  

The video of the Doctor fucking her really turned her on.  She 
had watched it several times that afternoon, cumming each time 
she watched it.  If the video had included all four men, she 
would have kept it, somewhere.  But the video was too dangerous 
to keep around the house.  Steven must never know.

During the evening, she deprogrammed herself.  She had to, before 
Steven's return on Sunday.  Her emotions competed with her logic, 
which competed with her cunt.  She imagined the men showing up at 
the Doctors house, ready to fuck her.  Her motions told her to 
feel guilty for having enjoyed it.  Her cunt told her to go back, 
live a little more, and conclude the night with a commemorative 
video.  Her logic said, simply, "No."  Too much potential for 
disease, pregnancy, physical harm.  It was safe now.  The men 
would have asked for Hayley, and the Doctor wouldn't remember who 
she was.  IF the video had worked.  She would know by a few days.  
Her cunt hadn't given up the fight easily, though.  She had never 
before masturbated so much in a single day.

Sunday was good.  Sex with her husband would be her focus for the 
day.  She worked on her tan, wearing a small white bikini.  She 
had never worn it except when modeling it for Steven, who had 
bought it.  It became transparent when wet.  She thought of a 
special party for Steven's return, and settled on a rather simple 
greeting.  He had enjoyed the garage scene so much, she decided 
to welcome him there.  Nude.  Covered with baby oil, everywhere 
except her tits and her cunt.  She imagined a bucket of confetti 
emptying on her as he drove in...  Her cunt said maybe he would 
bring friends.  Stop it!  

She heard a noise to her side, and through the edge of her dark 
sunglasses, became aware that her neighbor was watching her.  She 
didn't move her head, but she was quite hot, and perspiring.  And 
she could only imagine that her bikini was now see-thru.  Minor 
amounts of appreciation were good, she thought.  Steven could, 
and would, appreciate her more.  How different she was...




Steven returned from his fishing trip to find all well at home.   
The garage surprise made him fearful the Doctor was still a 
problem, but Hayley truly lived the moment.  A messy moment.  
Talking, hugging, appreciating him, encouraging him.  Somehow, he 
knew it was all "her."  No mind games.   Hayley seemed in good 
spirits, and she grilled a steak to celebrate his return.  He 
enjoyed the trip away, but had been worried whether his dealings 
with the Dr. Gilliam were truly over.  He thought he had handled 
it pretty well.  And while the photos of Dr. Gilliam's wife were 
great, it was the pictures of his wife's tits that he had looked 
at while he jerked off in the cabin.

Two days later, his worries went away.  He showed the newspaper 
article to Hayley, who had the most unusual grin on her face.  
Humored?  Sickened?  Not surprised, at the least.  Maybe her 
instincts had told her something wasn't right with the man.  She 
was very insightful about people.  In any case, the doctor had 
been arrested for multiple counts of public indecency.  Maybe 
taking his videos away had caused the doctor to go nuts.  Going 
to retirement homes and exposing himself to old ladies.  Imagine 
that.

All seemed right with the world.  He poured himself a Coke and 
headed for the den, where Hayley was waiting to show him some 
movie she had gotten over the weekend.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Story codes:  MF, M+F, voy, exh, mild bond, mc


E-mail to:  OneIdleHand@hotmail.com

Please?

See Part 2 and my other stories at www.asstr.org/~IdleHand
 
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                  (c) Copyright 2000
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