Triad
By Gato Medio

Second Chapter: Day One

"G'day, mates, I've brought your brekkie."

The Australian salutation woke me from my sweet dreams. I
opened my eyes and saw Helen standing next to our bed,
smiling, wearing a French maid's apron and nothing else.

She deposited the breakfast trays on our night tables and
asked, "What pleasures can I offer you today?"

"Same as yesterday, please," Cathy said sleepily, rubbing
her eyes.

"I think you'd get bored, doing the same things over and
over again."

"But yesterday was soooo nice," Cathy replied like a
spoilt child, her eyes sparkling.

I felt like a spoilsport when I reminded them that we had
promised Helen we'd take her to the conference, and that
there wasn't a lot of time left before the first session.

"I've changed my mind. I've come to the conclusion that
it's more important - and more fun - to spend the day
with you people," Helen announced.

"I feel that you've still got some way to go before you
admit freely to your desires - and then do something
about fulfilling them." She sounded like she was
prescribing a course of sex therapy.

"This is how we'll do it," she elaborated while Cathy and
I were digging into our breakfast. "You take turns in
saying what passes through your mind, what turns you on.
Or, if you find it too embarrassing, I'll say it for you.
Then we enact your fantasy. This way you find out that
there isn't anything terrible about the things you
desire. It will help you free yourselves from the
conventions imposed by society and allow you to follow
your own impulses instead."

She seemed to be suggesting a new kind of adult party
entertainment, a kind of truth game. All we had to do was
to tell the truth about our feelings, disclose our
innermost desires, and they would be fulfilled.

"Anything?" Cathy asked.

There was this edge in her voice again, an aggressiveness
which I hadn't noticed in all the years we had been
living together.

"Anything you desire," Helen replied, smiling.

"I want Stan to fuck your ass while I shove that whip
handle into your cunt."

I cringed. I was ready to apologize to Helen for my
wife's inexplicably bad behavior. But Helen reacted as if
Cathy had asked for a little more cream in her coffee.

"Certainly, Ma'am," she nodded with a smile.

I didn't want to be left out. I had my own list of things
I wanted to do.

"I want to taste those raspberry lips of yours," I said.
"I want to cover your entire body from top to toe with
kisses."

"You can do that while I whip you all over - the two of
you," Cathy intruded on my scenario.

I was aghast. Was this envy? Jealousy? I had shown quite
openly how much I was attracted to our mysterious guest,
how hot I was for her body. There was no way I could hide
feelings of such intensity. Was Cathy mad at me? Did she
intend to take out her anger on both of us? But she
hadn't made any secret of how much she appreciated
Helen's skills. She had abandoned herself completely to
her lust. And I didn't have any misgivings because of
that.

I decided to remain quiet. If Helen was willing to endure
whatever we asked of her, then I should be able to take a
little whipping from my wife.

Helen picked up our breakfast trays. There were only a
few crumbs left from the feast she had served us. "I'll
be back shortly," she said as she pushed through the
door. "You have fifteen minutes to get ready."

                         -----

Our bedroom seemed to be the most suitable place for what
we were going to do. Helen returned, carrying the whip
and an assortment of other items. Amongst them were a
couple of vibrators and several lengths of rope.

'Yes, that's a good idea,' I thought to myself. 'Tie her
up so she's completely defenseless. Kiss her, caress her,
make her hot, make her strain against her ties. Get her
to the point where she begs me to fuck her.' I was
looking forward to finally getting a taste of those lips,
to getting my hands and mouth on this lithe body.

But first it would be Cathy's turn to see her fantasy
come true.

"Do you want me with or without my uniform?" Helen asked.

The 'uniform' she referred to was the French maid's apron
she was still wearing. It hardly disguised her
magnificent figure and left her backside completely
exposed. I felt inclined to let her wear the apron while
I'd stick my cock between the perfect globes of her
bottom cheeks, but Cathy wanted her victim to be
completely naked.

Helen lubricated my cock - she had already prepared her
rear - and placed herself on top of me, with her back
towards me, so that I could enter her. What a terrific
sensation it was to penetrate this tight orifice! Helen
wiggled her ass and pushed against my cock to allow me to
thrust deeper. Soon she was riding my hard rod in a slow,
steady rhythm.

Cathy didn't stand idly by. She had got hold of the whip
and rubbed the handle up and down Helen's slit. "Grab her
nipples, squeeze them, pinch them, make her scream," she
ordered as she pushed the whip handle into Helen's pussy.
I followed Cathy's instructions and pinched Helen's
nipples, although probably not as hard as Cathy wanted me
to.

There was a sense of urgency in Cathy's actions. She
seemed to be in a hurry to realize as many of her
fantasies as possible before Helen decided to change the
rules.

It was a scenario combining a spectacular tableau with
frantic action. My cock was buried deep in Helen's ass.
My arms were wrapped around her body like the tentacles
of an octopus, my fingers holding on to her nipples. And
Cathy was hovering above the two of us, pushing the hard
leather-covered stick into Helen's pussy. Helen slid up
and down my cock with every move of Cathy's determined
hand. The three of us were breathing heavily from the
effort.

I knew I couldn't resist this much stimulation for very
long. I bucked against Helen's rear, gave her nipples one
final twist and filled her rectum with my cum.

                         -----

I jumped as the whip bit into my backside.

I had used the pieces of rope Helen had so unselfishly
provided to tie her to the four corners of our double
bed. How could I ignore her offer to be our sex object? I
had laid her out on the bed, spread-eagled, with very
little freedom of movement, her magnificent body
available to my every wish. It was enough to make me
believe in miracles.

I had finally enjoyed my first taste of those fascinating
lips. They tasted exquisite, even better than I had
anticipated. I just wanted to lie there and kiss those
lips for the rest of time.

But I hadn't reckoned with Cathy and her newfound love
for the whip. She woke me from my dreamy contemplation
when she brought the whip down on my behind.
Instinctively, I spread myself across Helen who was even
more vulnerable then I was, to shield her from Cathy's
fury. The whip did not just hit my 'seat of castigation';
the blows rained down on my back, my shoulders, the back
of my thighs.

I felt the sting of the lashes, no question about that.
But how could I let this deter me from enjoying the feast
which lay before my eyes and mouth? I kissed Helen's neck
and shoulders as Cathy punished my back relentlessly. I
moved down to her beautiful breasts and sucked her
nipples into my mouth. They hardened noticeably under my
touch, inviting a tongue-lashing which I promptly
delivered. I was pleased to see Helen react to my
treatment.

The next stop would be her pussy. But sliding down
between Helen's legs would expose her upper body to
Cathy's whip. I moved around, covering Helen with my
body. As my cock dangled over her face, she opened her
mouth, sucked my member inside and held on to it as if
her life depended on it. God, could this woman suck cock!
I paid her back as good as I got. I attacked her pussy
with all the vigor I could muster.

The barrage of blows on my back couldn't make me desist.
I spread Helen's pussy lips and licked the moist, pink
flesh inside. I pushed my tongue as deep as possible into
her hole. I squeezed and sucked her clit with my lips.

Mixed in with the pleasures my mouth enjoyed was the
certainty of sweet revenge. Sooner or later I was going
to give my beloved wife a taste of her own medicine. I
was going to let her experience what it feels like to be
whipped all over. I wasn't going to limit myself to her
back, though. I was looking forward to seeing her ample
breasts, her firm belly and her tender thighs covered
with the marks of the whip.

I had never before felt like this about Cathy. It wasn't
anger because of what she was doing to me, nor the desire
to hurt her. The thought of whipping Cathy was
accompanied by tender, loving feelings. I wanted to whip
her for her own benefit.

Helen's mouth did its devilish work on my cock. It's
amazing what she managed to do to me, considering that
her hands were tied and she was barely able to move her
head. Her lips, her tongue, her throat, even her teeth,
all joined in an effort to push me over the edge. When I
was about to come, I pulled my cock out of her mouth,
lifted my bottom and sprayed Helen's face with my cum. I
squeezed the last drop out of my dick and wiped it clean
on her cheeks.

As soon as I was finished, I jumped off Helen like a
tiger and grabbed Cathy who had been walking around the
bed, thrashing me from every possible angle. I pushed her
on top of Helen and ordered, "Clean her, lick my cum off
her face."

There was an expression of surprise on Cathy's face, but
she never hesitated. She bent over Helen's face and
started to lick my jizz off her. As I watched her perform
this task with great dedication, I reflected on how our
lives had changed in less than twenty-four hours.

Was this the same Cathy who had declared categorically
that she wasn't interested in sex with another woman? The
one who hardly ever let me come in her mouth and got
furious when I did it without warning her that I was
about to come? Now she was licking my cum off another
woman's face as if it were her favorite desert.

And I? Hadn't I, less than twelve hours ago, stuck my
tongue into Helen's pussy, still soiled by my own semen?
Had we turned into perverts? Or had we simply freed
ourselves from narrow-minded conventions?

Helen had definitely put a spell on us. But she wasn't
doing anything! She was lying on our bed, tied to the
bedposts, unable to defend herself against our attacks!
Did she merely serve as a catalyst, bringing desires
which already existed deep inside our subconscious out
into the open? Had her ability to read our minds turned
her into the sounding-board for our innermost feelings?

                         -----

As soon as I had finished untying Helen, she took the
pieces of rope out of my hands and pushed Cathy onto the
bed. Within a couple of minutes Cathy found herself tied
up in the same position Helen had been in until now.

"You want the two of us to lick you, don't you?"

This wasn't really a question, merely a statement of
fact. Cathy nodded, but there wasn't any need for her to
confirm what Helen had stated. By now I understood that
Helen was simply voicing the desire Cathy's brain waves
had transmitted to her.

Cathy's slit is surrounded by dense curls of blonde hair.
Before I met Helen, I was convinced that Cathy had the
most beautiful pussy in the universe. Now I know that
there are two candidates for the number one slot, two
very different but equally exciting pussies.

Helen and I faced each other across Cathy's golden curls.
I saw Helen's tongue dart into Cathy's slit and heard
Cathy moan in response. I imitated Helen's move and was
rewarded with the same reaction. That's how we continued:
playing Cathy like a very sensitive, finely tuned
instrument. I watched Helen pleasure Cathy and then tried
to do exactly the same thing. Helen wasn't just bringing
Cathy close to the gates of seventh heaven, she was also
teaching me a lesson on how to lick a pussy. She was
writing the handbook on how to drive your wife crazy with
your tongue - your wife, or any other woman, for that
matter.

Cathy was extremely pleased about the progress I made in
my lessons - at least that's how I interpreted her moans.
She was getting a double dose of every thrill: once when
my teacher Helen showed me the ropes, and again when I
tried to hone my skills. But Cathy wasn't happy with our
playful approach. She thought that a subject as important
as her orgasm deserved to be treated much more seriously.
She didn't want to hang around near the gates of
paradise, she wanted to go straight inside, and voiced
her dissatisfaction in no uncertain terms.

But what's the point of tying someone up and than doing
what they tell you to do? Cathy was obviously confused
about who was in control. As we had her safely tied up,
we played the game according to our rules, not hers. And
they included bringing our victim close, oh so close to
her climax and then backing off before she went too far.
Cathy strained against her ties. She lifted her bottom
off the bed to push her pussy into our faces, but there
was nothing she could do to bring about the yearned-for
orgasm.

When Cathy finally changed her stance from ordering to
begging us to make her come, our tongues met inside
Cathy's slit for one final assault. I thought Cathy would
lift off the bed when her orgasm ripped through her body.
Afterwards she thanked us with tears in her eyes for
having been so mean to her.

                         -----

We had been playing our games for a few hours when Cathy
pointed out that she and I had only been looking after
our own satisfaction. We had used our guest and tutor as
a sex object but we hadn't done much to satisfy her
desires. She wanted Helen to tell us what turned her on,
reveal her secret fantasies so that we could make them
come true for her.

"I have yet to see you break into a sweat, I have yet to
see you let go. What do we need to do to make you lose
your quiet composure? What has to happen to make you
shout your satisfaction into the four winds?" Cathy
wanted to know.

"You mean you want me to experience what is often called
a 'screaming orgasm'?"

"Exactly." Cathy nodded emphatically.

"I grew up in a culture in which men aren't obsessed with
making their women 'shout their satisfaction into the
four winds', as you put it. Their sexual prowess isn't
measured by the volume of the shouts their women emit. My
own orgasms are a very quiet, subdued affair. I don't
make a big song and dance about them. They are almost
imperceptible to anybody but myself."

"But doesn't your pleasure ever get to the point where
you want to abandon yourself to lust, where you feel like
screaming?"

"For me to really abandon myself, lose control like you
want me to, would take a lot of rough stimulation. It
takes a really skilled torture-master to make me climax
that way."

"Torture-master?" Cathy and I echoed.

"Yes, I need physical pain to attain maximum pleasure.
Pain is part of our life. Why shouldn't it be part of
sex?"

"Physical pain? You mean, like being whipped?" Cathy
wanted to know.

"Yes, that's part of it. But only a small part. There are
many other forms. Being tied up in certain ways, being
suspended upside down, hot wax, clit and nipple torture."

"Clit and nipple torture?" I gasped. It seemed the
thought horrified me more than Cathy, who was eager to
let Helen experience what she seemed to be asking for.

"What stops us from doing it here and now? You can teach
me how to do it. I'm a quick learner."

Once more, I suspected that there was a sadistic streak
in Cathy's personality. How else could I explain Cathy's
eagerness to let Helen experience an orgasm by torturing
her.

"We can't do it here and now. There need to be chains and
ropes and hooks fitted to the walls and ceiling. It takes
all kinds of gadgets. I'm sure you wouldn't want to turn
your beautiful bedroom into a torture-chamber."

"Torture-chamber!" Cathy shrieked. "How exciting! We're
going to have our own private torture-chamber. There are
so many rooms in this house we don't use. Let's take a
look at them to see which one will be our torture-
chamber."

Cathy was off without bothering to put on any clothes.
Helen and I followed her in the same state of undress. We
gave Helen a grand tour of the house, including the
garage. Helen had a good look at all the rooms we showed
her but didn't say anything until we came to a small
storage room, crammed with empty boxes, broken furniture
and electrical equipment which had ceased functioning a
long time ago. I realized that most of the items which
were assembled in this room were there because of me
saying, "Don't throw it out yet, I'll see if I can fix
it."

Although the room wasn't very large in size, it could
accommodate quite a lot of stuff because of its high
ceiling. It seems that an architect at one point planned
the installation of an elevator to the upper floor, but
the previous owners never went ahead with that plan. The
shaft would have been where the storage room is now,
which explained the unusually high ceiling.

"That's the one." Helen said. "It's the only one without
natural light. It's large enough for all the equipment we
need and small enough to create a sensation of
claustrophobia. Do you think you could clear it out?"

"Well," Cathy said with an ironical side glance at me,
"Mister 'I'll fix it' may have to get rid of all the
things he hasn't got around to fixing over the last ten
years."

I agreed to clear out my stuff from the room. Cathy said
she'd help me. We called the garbage people and asked
them to make a special collection. While Cathy and I
donned some suitable clothes, Helen had a look at the
yellow pages, made a few phone calls and then left to go
'torture shopping', as she put it.

I carried the assorted junk from the storage room to the
sidewalk, ready for collection. Cathy helped me to carry
some of the heavier pieces. Afterwards we gave the whole
room a thorough cleaning.

As we sat there, task accomplished, each of us a beer can
in one hand, feeling like seasoned furniture movers, I
asked Cathy, "All these things you have been doing since
we met Helen, did you always want to do them but were
afraid to tell me about them?"

"Hmm", Cathy started. The question had taken her by
surprise. She needed to think about it herself before she
could give me an answer. "If I did want to do them, then
I wasn't aware of it. It isn't quite like Helen says: I'm
fantasizing about something and she just reads my mind.
But when she mentions those things, like that I wanted to
whip her, for example, then it feels as if the wish had
always been with me."

"How about you, darling?" Cathy asked me, "Did you enjoy
it when I whipped you today?"

"'Enjoy' isn't exactly the word I'd use. Hell, no. But it
was such a fantastic feeling to kiss and lick Helen, it
far outweighed the pain. She really is an extraordinary
woman. I'd be willing to do anything to please her."

"I feel exactly the same about her," Cathy agreed. "You
know, if she were to tell me to go street-walking to earn
a little money for her, I'd do it without hesitation."

That was pretty heavy stuff, coming from Cathy. Her style
of dressing had always been leaning towards the
conservative, because, as she said, 'it gave her the
creeps' when men looked at her as if they were trying to
undress her with their eyes. And now she was volunteering
to take up a part-time job as a hooker for Helen, should
she ever ask.

"Yeah," I said. "I can understand that. You know, I've
never had any desire to let another man stick his cock
into my rear. But if Helen were to tell me to let a guy
fuck my ass, I'd do it."

Cathy hugged me. One hand moved down my back and slipped
into my shorts. I could feel her thrust one finger into
my ass.

"You know something?" she said. "I believe you. And I
love you for it." She pushed her finger deeper into my
rear as she gave me a big kiss. I could feel myself get
hard.

I was horrified. It shocked me how easily I had admitted
that I was prepared to let some guy - any guy - fuck my
ass. That was bad enough. But what was even more
devastating was how matter-of-factly Cathy had reacted to
my confession. I had heard stories of wives who had left
their husbands because they suspected they had slept with
a man. One woman had her husband evicted from their home,
filed for divorce and refused to let him come near their
children. And Cathy? All she had said was, "I believe
you. And I love you for it." What was happening to us?

                         -----

Helen returned with three workmen in tow. They looked
unusually smart in their grey and dark blue overalls with
some Chinese characters and the name 'Wei Kei' printed on
the front and back. They were quite obviously of Chinese
stock, spoke very little English but seemed to know
exactly what they were doing. I wondered how Helen had
found these people. I wasn't aware of any significant
Chinese community in Boston.

Following Helen's instructions - in Mandarin, I suppose -
they measured the walls of the now empty storage room and
drilled a number of holes, both into the walls and the
ceiling, which they then used to attach hooks, catches
and other fittings. They worked silently and efficiently,
only talking when absolutely necessary. The three gave
the impression of a well-tuned team in which each member
knew exactly what was expected of him.

How different they were from the sloppy, head-scratching
beer-bellies I was used to! Those people who make even
the simplest job sound like a major problem and who
display the cracks in their fat asses every time they
bend down.

These workmen behaved more like actors in a well-
rehearsed play, supporting each other, handing tools and
fittings to the one who needed them without him saying a
word. They didn't use any ladder to drill the holes into
the ceiling. One man simply got onto the shoulders of
another one and the third man handed him everything he
needed. It reminded me of one of those circus acts in
which the performers build human pyramids in constantly
changing shapes.

Helen noticed the curiosity with which I was watching the
spectacle. Of course, reading minds was her specialty.
"They're from a shop which sells equipment for home
gyms," she explained. "The equipment arrives tomorrow."

"Home gyms?" I asked, my voice probably carrying all the
abhorrence I feel for those establishments where men and
women subject themselves to strenuous exercises in
pursuit of health and good looks.

"Yes," Helen confirmed. "I bought the equipment there,
but they don't know we're building a torture-chamber."

"That makes sense," I agreed, "most of those exercise
machines look like they've escaped from some torture-
chamber anyway."

After they had finished their job, the workmen removed
all traces of dirt and debris which had resulted from
their drilling and left everything meticulously clean.

As could be expected after such a day full of wild sex
and hard work, we had barely enough energy left to walk
to the pizza parlor around the corner for a simple meal.
Then we were ready for bed. I thought it would be
inconsiderate and a complete lack of hospitality to let
Helen sleep on her own in the guest bedroom. So, much
earlier than usual, three tired bodies slumped onto our
double bed for a well-deserved rest.

                    To be continued