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.