Message-ID: <20390eli$9903080552@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year99/20390.txt> From: prime timeuk <primetime_uk@yahoo.com> Subject: The Playthings (Chapters 1-2) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <19990307172914.14520.rocketmail@web707.mail.yahoo.com> Here is the start of my first story. Hope you like it. Any comments, please mail me. The Playthings Chapter 1 - The Face from the Past A normal Saturday morning. Or so it seemed. I am a creature of habit, and my habit on Saturday mornings was to amble around the local shopping centre, seeing if there was anything of interest in the many and varied shops. I usually concluded the morning with a visit to the open-plan café which was situated I one of the squares in the centre. Usually, there was no difficulty in obtaining a seat, but today, being close to Christmas I guess, there were no free tables. I scanned the tables looking for a free seat. I spotted a four-seater table occupied by just one woman. I walked over to it. "Is there a seat free? Do you mind if I sit here please? There's nowhere else to sit." "Feel free", the woman said, but with a mild grimace, obviously feeling I was a nuisance. She moved some of her bags and packages to make room for me. I sat down opposite to her, put my cup on the table, and started to read my paper. Once or twice I glanced at the woman. Something stirred my memory about her, but I couldn't quit place her. She was quite an attractive woman, brunette, hair down to shoulders. Slightly made up, late thirties, but no noticeable wrinkles. Smart, but how can I put it? "unimaginative" clothing. She caught me looking at her, and glanced away quickly, as if embarrassed. I returned to my paper, but not taking much in. It bothered me that she had made some impression on me. Finally, it clicked in my brain. "Sorry to mention this, but are you Mary? Mary Roberts?" She started, because she was looking somewhere else. Her cup, which she had to her lips, came clattering down on the table. Luckily for here, it was empty. "What… my name is Mary…but…its Mary Johnson…it used to be Roberts…", she said in some confusion and in a questioning tone. "Don't you know me? Its John Kyle. Remember?", I said, with a smile. "John Kyle?…Oh yes, now I remember". The confusion vanished and her expression changed from puzzlement to a smile. "Gosh, John… John Kyle". She repeated, slightly absent-mindedly. "Its been about 20 years, hasn't it?" "At least", I said warmly, "and you haven't changed a bit", only half-lying. She was indeed 20 years older than when I had last seen her, but she was still as beautiful and fresh as when I had first seen her at 18, at least to me. She blushed, a very becoming blush to use an old-fashioned expression. If anything, she had gained in beauty since I had last seen her. I wonder if her body was still the same…? Let me explain a little of our history. Mary and I had known each other since we were children. Coming from a small town, it was only natural that our constant togetherness as children should blossom into a romantic relationship. At 16, (after what seemed many false starts) we were lovers in both senses of the word. As first loves go, it lasted a long time, until we separated when I went off to university at 19. The separation killed off our relationship, but we parted amicably. The last time I heard from Mary was on my 20th birthday, when I literally got a "Dear John" letter. It took a long time to get over that but…c'est la vie. "You must have married for your name to have changed", I said. "Obviously", she said in her sarcastic, teasing way that I remembered and liked. "Sorry, silly question", I said. "You've done quite a lot of shopping, I see" "Yes, my eldest daughter is getting married next month, and I'm buying my outfit to wear". She had so many packages that I thought that she had enough to wear to ten weddings, but isn't that just like a woman? I was wise enough to keep that thought to myself. It transpired that she had three children, Joanne (the one getting married) 20, Phil and Martin (twins, aged 18). I told her I had a daughter, Josie aged 16. I also told her that I was divorced about a year ago and lived on my own. "You're not divorced?" I asked. "No…but I've thought about it a lot", she laughed. When she smiled, it took the 20 years off and I was taken back to my first true love. I gazed into her eyes. "You're still lovely, especially when you laugh", I said. She blushed again. "Thanks, you're not so bad yourself." I prided myself on keeping in shape, although I had gained a few pounds over the years. My hair, though slightly thinner, was still there, although spots of grey were starting to appear. "Thanks", I said and blew here a mock kiss. She giggled. While we had been speaking, I had been getting more and more aroused. Why, you ask? As well as remembering our little lovefests, I remembered the little experiment we had going just before we split up…. Chapter 2 -The Experiment To explain: 20 years ago, I had just started my degree course in Psychology. I was fascinated by a lecture we had just had about "Altered States of Conciousness", especially suggestible states and hypnotism. I and some of my friends at college had tried to experiment on themselves to produce such states, but it hadn't really worked. When I made one of my periodic visits back home to Mary, I had mentioned this to her. "Why don't you try it out on me?" she asked in the quiet period after one of our strenuous love making sessions. To be honest, that wasn't the first thing that I had on my mind, but to humour her, I agreed to try. I told to lie flat in bed, with the lights turned off. I went downstairs and brought up a candle. I lit it, and put it on the table beside the bed. The light from the candle filled the room, The flickering was not noticeable. I told her to look into the flame and not take her eyes from it. "Relax", I kept saying in a gentle, monotone way. At first, she was a bit giggly, but then I could feel her body's muscles gradually get less tense, and her breathing was becoming slower and more regular. Her eyes, which has been blinking quite rapidly to begin with, were now wholly focussed on the flame. Her hands, which had been resting on her lap, fell to the sides of her body. "Mary", I said quietly, "you can't see anything but the flame. You can't hear anything except the sound of my voice. And you can't feel any sensation, but the feeling of floating on air. You feel so relaxed." She gave a long sigh at that and the neck and jaw muscles visibly relaxed. Her face did not move and her eyes were anchored on the flame. "Mary", I said again, in the same monotone, "I want you to be so relaxed. I want you to close your eyes and get deeper relaxed. When I count to 5, you will close your eyes, but still be attentive to my voice. With each number you will be more and more relaxed." "1…2….3….more and more relaxed…4…..5…shut your eyes". And with that, she did. I was quite surprised at that, since this procedure had never worked before. To test whether or not she was joking, I did the one thing that was guaranteed to make her reveal if she was pretending. "I have here a large needle, and what I going to do is this….I am going to prick you with the needle in some part of your body. I will not tell you where or when I am going to do this, but when I do you will feel no pain, do you understand?" "Mmmm", she mumbled, and stirred slightly. Panicking, I told her to relax more and more. Her breathing steadied and went back to its slumbering rhthym. Hesitating, I plunged the needle into the sole of her left foot. I pulled it out and a drop of blood came oozing out. Seeing that she was the most squeamish woman alive, especially about blood, the fact that she did not stir, or even make a sound, convinced me that she was not faking. Now I faced a problem: I had not expected Mary to be affected by my fumbling attempts at hypnosis. What was I to do now that she was under the influence? I decided to test the powers of suggestion by making Mary do something which would absolutely prove that she was not faking, but would not be harmful to her. "Mary, can you hear me?" "Mmmm". "Mary, this is what you will do when you wake up tomorrow morning….When you make our breakfast, you will make two slices of toast. On my slice of toast, you will spread mine with butter and strawberry jam, and for your own… you will spread a half inch thick layer of mushy dog food. You will then eat it convinced that you are eating toast and strawberry jam. in fact, you will wolf it down quickly. Do you understand?" "Mmmm". "When you awake just now, you will forget any concious knowledge of the task I have just set you, and will act normally." "Mmmm". "One more thing, Mary. This time tomorrow, you will will have the great urge to repeat this experiment. When I count from 5 to 1, at 1 you will be fully awake, but you will not be aware that the experiment has succeeded." "5….4….3…coming round….2…..1" "It's not working", said Mary, stirring. "Sorry, love. I tried so hard to relax, if that's not a contradiction in terms. Never mind, perhaps I can take your mind off it." And with that she blew the candle out and tried to take my mind off it. She succeeded. She got up early the next morning. I followed, waiting with bated breath to see if last night was going to have any effect. "What do you want for breakfast, love?" said Mary. "I'm going to have toast". "Me too, please," I said, excitedly. "Could you put some strawberry jam on it please?" "Mmmm, I'll have some too," said Mary. She put the slices of bread in the toaster and got the butter and jam from the fridge. While I was watching her do this, I was getting excited, and my cock began to bulge through my underpants. She noticed this: "I thought I'd taken everything from you last night," she said mockingly. "Apparently not. Shall I keep the jam out for later?", referring to a particular fetish I had. "Anything you say", I said with a lump in my throat. The conversation was stopped by the bread popping out of the toaster. I saw her put the bread on the plate, and butter both slices. She then put some strawberry jam on a slice and gave it to me. Then she brought the other slice of toast over and sat down at the table. To say that I was disappointed was an understatement. She had a huge grin on her face. Had it all been a joke played on me? She raised the slice of toast to her mouth. "Did you think I was going to put jam on my toast? I'm putting on enough weight as it is." And she patted her perfectly flat stomach through her dressing gown. I groaned inwardly, feeling like a complete idiot. My experiment had been a complete failure. "On second thoughts, though, I do feel a little peckish", and she got up and took the toast over to the jam again. She opened the jar and peered in, "There doesn't appear to be any in here. I was sure there was some a minute ago," she said puzzled. I was puzzled too. The jar was half full. "I know where's there some," she said, and before I knew it, she had taken an open tin of dog food and was gently scooping some out and spreading it over her toast. Then she rejoined me at the breakfast table. "Mmmm… this is lovely. This is the best strawberry jam I've tried in ages," she said between large mouthfuls. In no time, it was all gone. I sat there astonished. "D..did you enjoy that?" I stammered. "Mmm yes.. I might have another slice." But before she could do that, I grabbed her. "I want to fuck you right here, on the kitchen table." I said roughly. I was totally aroused by the fact that I had made her do a totally disgusting thing without her being aware of it. I didn't give her time to object, not that she wanted to. And there was no strawberry jam involved. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>