The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wednesday Evening, Part 1

Will finished eating. He went to the bathroom and changed into loose pyjama pants and a henley. Then he settled on the couch with his laptop. Nicole would be another hour, maybe less. He fished his phone out of his pocket, and went to their Whatsapp chat. He smiled at the photo she had sent an hour earlier. Can’t wait for the details.

He let his phone fall beside him on the couch and focused on his laptop. He opened her Tumblr blog. Time to do a bit of catching up. He started scrolled down. It was a couple of weeks since he had read it. Eventually he found the last post he remembered reading. He re-read it, just as a reminder, before beginning the journey up. It was a post about her new lips.

LOVE MY LIPS!!! LOVE LOOKING AT THEM! LOVE POSING WITH THEM! LOVE TAKING SELFIES AND SENDING THEM TO MY OWNER! LOVE THEM!!!

She certainly did. Once the swelling had gone she couldn’t keep away from mirror. Or from her phone camera.

Love how they curve! Love the teeny gap! It’s so cute!! I feel so sexy when my owner is looking down at me as I suck his cock. :D ;) See the first picture? That’s their resting state!

There were pictures and even a video included in the post. All only showing the space between her chin and the tip of her nose. Just enough that she wouldn’t be identifiable. Very probably. For a human anyway. He assumed that facial recognition software probably outperformed human capabilities, but screw it. Organisations using such technology were using it on thousands of people at once. Not trying to specifically discover the real life identity of this single Tumblr blogger.

He admired the various images, how she had posed her lips. After she had spent the first 10 minutes on the floor in front of the full length mirror attached to the bedroom wall, he had suggested that she should develop some different poses that she should use in future, for photographs, or even just for interacting with some people. ‘Figure out what looks hottest or what looks best for each occasion’, he had ordered. ‘You don’t have to use them, but you can if you want.’ It only occurred to him later that maybe that was what she had already been doing down there. Anyway, that weekend she must have spent at least three hours in front of the mirror. And when not doing that, every time she had passed a mirror in the apartment, she had allowed herself a pause to admire herself.

There were a half dozen images in the post. These were the more salacious poses. She had gotten the inspiration for them by looking at her blog history. Looking at the images of women that she had previously posted and trying to match the poses that she liked. Pursed. Mouth and jaw open. Mouth open, but jaw closed. Biting lip, unsure. Biting lip, smiling. But there had been many more poses, not documented here, ‘real-world-poses’ she had called them.

The video was about 15 seconds long. Selfie mode. The camera slowly rotating back and forth around her lips, showing off all angles. Initially her mouth is resting, her teeth just visible through a gap, the centre of the underside of her upper lip, not flat against the lower, but shaped expertly by the doctor into a shallow chevron. And now she becomes giddy and is fighting a losing battle, her lips stretching and the gap is a seed that grows into a beautiful smile. And now she recovers her resolve and makes an effort to dispel the smile by forcing her lips closed. There, success, closed, and now she relaxes again, and they return to their resting state, and the gap pops open. She laughs, her other hand appearing into the shot to cover her mouth.

They had decided—well Will had suggested—to update her social media profile pictures. Usually the images she chose were of birds or flowers or a group of people. Never just her, or just them. Let’s emphasize you, Will had said. Whatsap pbecame a photo of her looking coy on the couch with those huge green eyes of hers. Deep red lipstick. A half smile, her top teeth resting on her lower lip.

He opened Facebook. They had gone to a fancy bar. He had been cleaned up; slacks, crisp shirt, tidy hair, even a tie, which he usually only endured for work. She was wearing a dress. Tight, but not slutty. No cleavage, but her figure clear. Red. The same as her lipstick. They had brought a selfie stick with them and had spent half an hour playing with it.

One picture had turned out very Melania-esque. They both thought it was hilarious. He had only joked that she should consider using it, but they both knew that they couldn’t have gotten away with it. The parallels were far too obvious. The camera pointing slightly down at them as he held it out to his right. He was smiling at the camera, his head turned to the side—away from her—and angled to meet it. His left arm around her shoulder. She was standing facing the camera, but she wasn’t looking at it. And she wasn’t smiling. She was looking up at him. Adoringly. In awe. Bright red lips parted.

He had eaten her out while Nicole had vocalised how she imagined her friends and family and work colleagues would react to such an image as her Facebook profile picture, as the picture that she had personally selected to represent herself to the world. Advertising herself as willingly subservient to him, when she had always projected confident independence. Maybe no one would say it to her, but they’d be thinking it. A fun thought. Being judged.

Instead they had used an image from the same set of pictures. Both they and the phone in the same position, this time both of them looking at it. Nothing sexual about Nicole’s pose. Caught in mid-laugh, having fun. Her ruby-painted lips huge. Two thick bands stretched by her smile across her face. They hadn’t been that big before, right? That’s what people might think. I mean, I know she had them done once, but I don’t remember them being that big.

At that point she hadn’t actually told her friends and family back home about her new lips yet, but her second breast augmentation would be late next week. It was major surgery. She couldn’t keep it a secret. She had been planning on phoning her mother this week, and then she would also mention her lips.

Her sister had called on Sunday. She had initially claimed that she had phoned to check in, but had made sure to mention how good she thought Nicole looked in her new Whatsapp and Facebook photos. You lips look amazing, she said. Nicole thought so, but wasn’t 100% sure if her sister meant it, all of a sudden paranoid that the truth was suspected and that she just was angling for more information.

Get it over with, she decided. ‘I went back to the doctor I saw last year to get a little more,’ she admitted, ‘I’m thrilled, so happy with the results.’ There. She can’t criticize me right now, now that I’ve said that. If there is to be explicit criticism, it’ll come later. ‘Oh wow, the pictures look amazing’ her sister responded. ‘But I would have just killed for your real lips!’ You don’t need this, masquerading as praise and envy. ‘Um, also there’s something else you should know,’ Nicole said, ‘don’t tell maman, because I’m going to phone her soon and tell her. Uh, I’m having surgery next week...’

Her sister hadn’t known how to respond. She had said supportive things naturally, but that was expected. Probably if they talked in a few days she would politely raise some small concerns, after she had had the time to formulate them.

Then, on Tuesday, her mother had phoned. Her sister hadn’t told her about the surgery as promised, but she had told her about the new lips. She wasn’t happy. Not angry, just disappointed, you didn’t need it!

‘Well maman, I have some other news...’ Last Christmas her mother had been impressed by her new breasts. Had even mentioned how impressed she was of Nicole’s bravery, and was that just a tiny bit of jealousy? Three of the four women in the family, Nicole, her mother and her other sister had naturally small breasts, though the sister who had phoned had been blessed with a C cup. Had her mother left it unspoken? Regret that she hadn’t done the same at some point? Maybe Nicole was trying to read between the lines a little too much. I hope she’s as supportive this time, but I won’t blame her if she isn’t.

Her mother hadn’t been upset. Not overtly. As with her sister, Nicole suspected that the news was just too much of a surprise and so her mother wasn’t ready to express her opinions. And she had said that she would call again before the surgery. Nicole wasn’t the kind of person who tried to avoid her family. She loved them and loved their company. She missed them her in the United States. But this next call would be a serious guilt trip. She would have to stand her ground, explain that this was what she wanted for herself.

She felt wretched after the call. She curled up with Will on the couch. She buried her head in his chest and he stroked her hair. After a minute, her head rose to kiss him. Then to make out with him. She ground her crotch against his hips and gasped as she broke for air. Please fuck me, she whispered in his ear.

It had been really good sex. It was always good, but this session had stood out. They cuddled again afterwards. I didn’t think you were in the mood, he said. My mother’s disappointed in her slut daughter, she answered, not looking at him, a frown on her face. Will felt his cock twinge. Weird, but hot that that turns her on. You like it though, he said. A statement, not a question, experimenting with what kind of reaction it would have on her. She should be disappointed in you. Nicole closed her eyes and let out a groan. Not an entirely positive groan, but there was a need expressed by it. When she opened them, they had changed. She leaned in to kiss him while she wrapped her hand around his cock.

‘Probably we’ll be talking again before the surgery,’ she whispered in his ear, pumping him with her hand. ‘She said she would phone again.’

‘Let me know in advance,’ he said. ‘so I can be ready.’

Hopefully after the surgery it will be too late for them to act disappointed Nicole told herself. We won’t meet until Christmas, so maybe we can bury the feelings until then, and maybe beyond too.

Will closed Facebook and went to LinkedIn. Just her shoulders and head. Front on, almost like a passport picture. A small smile. Professional. Lips a subtler colour, but still painted. A whole bunch of people at work have, uh, are seeing the picture and are telling me they like it, Nicole had reported back to Will. Have they asked you about your new lips? he questioned her. No, no one. Not even my assistant!

I think once your boobs have healed we need to update this LinkedIn picture again, he had told her. She laughed. How? Don’t worry, still professional. But your breasts aren’t visible in this picture. I think the new photo should be from the waist up. Tight white blouse that fully matches the outline of your body and breasts, maybe custom made if that’s required. Buttoned up, no cleavage. Plenty of make-up. I know we’ve agreed you will wear loose blouses and tops at work after the surgery, and that’s fine, and I know that you don’t wear too much make-up at work and that’s the way it should be too, but I think one such picture of you should be available to your colleagues.

OK, she agreed, liking the idea. But I think my entire family will explode if I immediately show off my breasts on Facebook or Whatsapp. Yeah I agree, he went on, we don’t have to be obvious about it, maybe just a hint that there is something extra there, but no more than that. The focus can stay on your new lips.

Will went back to Tumblr. The same post about her lips continued.

They’re so big that I can see them in my field of vision. I mean, before the procedure, I can just about see them, if I am thinking about it, but now they’re much more obvious!

And its funny, but a few mornings, not every morning, but a few, there is drool on my chin and pillow, like if I’m lying on my side and the side of my face is pressed against the pillow, they must just pop open when I’m asleep. So on the third time it happens, I tell my owner and he thinks it’s the cutest thing. He says he “already noticed” one morning when we’re fucking missionary that he can see dry drool on my chin and a wet patch on the pillow.

Interesting how she had quoted him to evade the rule past tense rule. The only occasion so far that he had noticed her use that technique. He supposed it was fine. If she starts using it too often he would have to consider reigning it in.

Before he says that, I’m maybe a bit worried about this and I’m hoping it is just a temporary thing, but he says that it makes his cock hard thinking about it. He says he loves how I’m changing myself to make my mouth a perfect fuck hole for him. So now I’m hoping this doesn’t go away. Now I like it. Now if I notice this in the morning it makes me happy that he is happy with me. :)

Will scrolled up to the next posts. Some pictures of women that she had re-blogged from other accounts that she follows. Will took a moment to enjoy some of them. Some were of extremely beautiful women wearing very feminine and clearly very expensive clothes. They looked good. Really good. Not bimbos, necessarily, more like trophy wives. Very sexy. Dressing to impress. Maybe tight clothes, or a short skirt, or split thigh, or a peak of cleavage. But not all of them at the same time. Clothes aimed at pleasing a man without crossing the border into full blown slutiness. Socially acceptable trophies.

A few images were of women who’d had work done. A woman with large breasts which almost overflowed her shoulder-less cocktail dress. Another woman on a bed wearing just a thong. Her arms covering her bolt-ons. She stared at the camera, a vacant look, her enhanced lips parted. The original poster had commented ‘she aint working at the academy of sciences’. Nicole had added her own comment. ‘Hee hee, definitely not’.

A few images didn’t do anything for Will. It wasn’t that the women in them weren’t beautiful, or sexy, its just that—in comparison to the trophies and the enhanced bimbos—he simply wasn’t feeling it. But it was her blog so she was entitled to post her pictures, he couldn’t object.

He kept scrolling. The next post was about the new rule he had introduced. She could no longer use the backspace button when typing. As usual an exception for work related stuff, and also an exception when writing in her native tongue, just to shield her family and old friends from it.

From now on I can’t use the backspace button if I typed incorrect text. I am a good type r and speller, but I aslo type gase*** fast!!! so sometimes I make mistakes. Maybe I will have to slow down a bit. That last sentence I type slower hafter the mistakes in the senetnec before it. Still loads of mistakes!!!

:D LOL

I have a problem now because my work keybnoared has american format but my home laptop keynoard has AZERTY format. This means that I am not 100% in the mindset of using one particula rkeynoard layout. As well as a few letters having different positions, a lot of the punctuation is in different places.

Its also weird because I cant change ym mind about how I want to write a apragraph. Normally when I want to write something I just start writing, and if I realise that I could explain myself better, i stop, and rewirte it. No backspace (OR THE DELETE BUTTON MY OWNER HAS JST CONFIRMED!!!) means that I’m stuck with my first attempty. It means that its not just spelling mistakes that could make my text loko look bad. Everything could be a mess!

I say this to my owner that I should start planning what i write before I wirte t it, but he says that I should just plough on ahead as before, that i should enjoy realising that i sound like a ditz. It is funny

Also as you know i can’t use the past tense, but that is only for when I am with my owner and this blog. But this new rule includes all non work related english writing s so its like Im taking it out into the real wordworld. :wide-eyed-emoji:

It also means that a few times I have asked my owner to write important emails for me whc which is kind of cool that I can ask of him to take car of care of this important sutff for me, but i need him to do it becaseu I would just make a load of mistakes and that is no good. it feels so nice to have him t do the work. usually important emails are BORING it s nice that he does it for me.

Also, about the past tense rule. I find myself following the rule today at work. Only for a short time, and I noticed notice quickly and start talking normally. But I felt slutty when I realised ;) Having a rule for talking at home and a rule for talking at work is like having two different kezboard layouts! Sometimes I think I am using one when I use the other. :p

Will smiled. This experiment had been going well so far. He was enjoying the regular mistakes in her Whatsapp messages. In particular how some of her longer messages would sometimes degenerate into a half legible mess of poorly expressed thoughts and opinions. On the last such occasion he had simply ignored even the parts of the message that were coherent, simply responding, ‘don’t you worry about it babe, whatever it is, I’ll take care of it’. She had responded with a single giant heart emoji. Then another message consisting only of the happy flushed face emoji.

And although he hadn’t planned it, it was also interesting that by asking him to write important mails, she was giving him control of other areas of her life. He had handled letters to her health insurance so far, informing them of the impending surgery, and answering their requests for more information. Next time he performed this service for her, he decided, he wouldn’t show her what he had composed before sending it. See if she objects.

Next was a thoughtful post on her opinions of whore month. Though the impression of thoughtfulness was ruined somewhat by the new backspace rule, Will could see what she was getting at and agreed with her.

Whore month is over a while now and I have thoughts about it. It is a lot of fun to be a whore for him and to be asking for so little money after every encounter. Its fun to pretend to be so cheap and it makes me feel hot.

But I am glad it is over because I prefer this, pretending to being his kept woman. There a are a lot of resaons why I prefer this. I will try to explain som e of them (if writing without past tense and without ***** I mean if not being able to use past tense or the backspace does not make my head explode!!!)

What is good about being a whore.

1. Is fun to try and earn more money each week. I find myself acting more slutty around him in order to try to break last weeks record. Being a whore makes me conciously try harder to be a huge dirty slut to try to ge t his attention and that is a lot of fun. Also because he pays more for my ass, I offer my ass more even if I would prefer vagina because I am a workin girl with bills to pay ;)

2. Once a week he becomes my pimp demanding his cut. He adopts the pimppersona. The pimp is an extreme character. Unyielding. Overpowering. Threatening. Not actually violent which is good, but prone to extreme displeasure and whn my actions provoke that, I am punished. In truyh only one time I provoke the pimp by not having all the money. It is very scary, but that one time I cum very had afterwards. very hard afterwards. Maybe if whore month is continued I might deliberately fail to have all money again at some point for the thrill of the extremity of it. But only because I feel like my owner would not cross my limits (whatever they are!). Oh ALSO! It is super hot that the pimp takes msot of my income. most. Im left with less than half

3. It is a lot of fun and very sexy that after my lips are done in the last week of whore month he pays me more for a blow job. These are PREMUIM LIPS :kiss:

Now what I prefer about pretending to be financially dependent on him.

1. In the last couples years I’m discovering my submissive side. The whore isn’t a submissive because it is woho she is. The whore only appears to be a submissive because it is arpart of the job description. In actuality the whore is practive (proavctive), taking action, making decisions even if these actions and decisions give the illusino of letting fogo (go) of control. In my professional life I work very hard and I am very proavtice and successful. I amn’t so interested in exploring being that kind of person. I already know qhat what its like. I’m enjoying being kepy because it is different to my real, publix life. It is fun to explore the structure that he places on my personal life.

2. Money. As the whore, for the first time in a while I am in charge of my own money again (apart from rent and bills which he takes care of still). It is fun that as the whore I could earn more money than my allowance as a keptwoman, but i don’y need it. The kepty woman is looked after. He usually gives me money if I need more, or buys me what I need if I cannot afford it. But what is also great is that sometimes he tells me no. Or sometimes he buys something else, sonething he deccides whatis more appropriate. He puts limitis on me and I love that and want to explor that.

3. His pleasure. His pleasure is important to me. For the whore, only the money is important. She gives the illusion of being intersted in his pleasure, and maybe she is, but it is not her number one priority. Money is number one. I want to give him pleasure, his plesure makes me feel sogood. The whore dresses a certain way, or does something a certain way or says some things for money, but I, ME!, I do it because it fills me with delight to know that I please ihim. Evn when he denies me my pleasure for the sake of his own, it is worth it, it makes me feel good knowing that he is enjhoying it. I want to explore this more.

4 being so dependent on him means I must see the world from his point of view, and that I must do as he says. He is working to keep ,e happy, me happy. (even though I actually earn more than he does right now!) This means that part of my feels that I need to be more accepting of his decisions. What he says goes. He works hard for us so I want to please hm. Thw wgore [the whore] wants to please him for money, but the kept woman wants to please him because in her moral view of the world it is the right thing to do. This is something I want to explore more, but I want to go even durther. I want to play with accepting his version of reality. It would be interesting to experience believing something false because he has told me it is true. I mean truly ‘believing’, ‘knowing’ it is true and not just going along with it. I wonder what it would be like to repeat some fact I know to be true to other people who know it is galse. What would happen if they correct me. Would I refuse to believce them? Would I be confused?

Gaslighting? Will wondered. Is that what’s she’s talking about? She wants to be gas-lighted? He couldn’t help himself, the idea was hot. He’d have to think about it.

Next was a post where Nicole was talking about wearing heels and her height. She had started wearing heels in her free time a good bit more. Usually 2 inches. But sometimes 3 and even 4 inches which made her the same height as Will. Height wasn’t a thing for Will. He didn’t care if she was shorter or taller. But he did enjoy how heels made her stand and move differently.

My height and my good looks always intimitade other people; women and men. Before I never like wearing heels because I donn’t want to scare people even more and i dont need the extra height. But now that I am working on making myself flook better, and I amenjoying wearing them more. Makeup, working out, tight clothes, surgery. Heels are part of the package. Last year I start wearing them more in bars, restaurants, clubs. recently I start wearing them more just generally, cinema, shopping, lunch, errands though usually just 1 or 2 inches for those tasks.

What is interesitng is that before, back then, people see me and are intinidated, but now so many people ar terrified of me. A part of me hates that because i dont want to scare people, but mostly I love it because I know it mean ths that I look amazing. really hot and that is inteimidating for a lot of mena s as well as women. though sometimes i will give someone an encouraing encor encouraging smile, just a quick one, to let them know ut its ok.

One thing I like about tallre heels is how daintily I have to walk when I wear them. My footsteps are more careful, it feels like Im more feminine, which I definitely want to be, which i definitely want to feel. Recently if i go to a club or dinner I’m wearing more likely 3 and inch 4 inch heels, which means I am 6 foot 3 or 4. I am good at walking in them now, but I am slower than I am in shorter or flat heels. So everyone in the room has time to look at me. And I know my ass swings really nice with each step! one time my owner amkes makes a video and shows it to me. i look great.

So with these high heels, most womans, I mean i start again, here, my chin is at or above the top of most womens heads when i wear very high heels. They’re so scared of me! And then if they see me with my owner and he is taking charge and I am wearing my makeup and my hair is done and my clothes are right, tight and I am acting deferant to him, oh sometimes they hate me. they think i am his bimbo, which i am. I know its wrong but I love it

I cant want, I mean I cant wait for my new breasts and for them to be healed. I’m just fantaizing right now about wearing a tigh t top and my big breasts are so obvious and tehy atre, the women whi who talk to me are doing their best to make eye contact, to look up, to keep their eyes locked up and they have to look past my huge breasts. :D And I’m ewearing heels, tall ones, so that makes me push my chest out and they want to look but they cant. they dont break eye contact once because they are afreaid they will be caught lookig. they are afraid theyre eyes will naturally take a peak.

And I’m wearing wet look lipstick. A bright colour and whenever they are talking I am keeping my lips pursed as if in thought, concentraitng on what she is ating, saying. But really I’m keeping them pursed because I know they look so big and amazing and I want tho, to show them off.

And then my owner comes along and takes over my part of the conversaioton. He stands by my side and I put my arm through his and alow my breasts to press against his arm. And maybe my top is low cut and I catch her as I see her eyes move down quickly to look at my cleavage moving, shifting as it presses againts him. And she looks back up and she knows and I know and I smeile and look backup adoring ly at him and her face goes red. embarasment for her but not for me. well, a bit for me, but i hide it good. Its evil and I hate it but I really fucking love it. its hot and i cant help myself.

Be right back ;)

The implication she had given was that she had stopped writing to masturbate. The next post confirmed it. She was reporting on the fantasy that she had had. It had started as described in the previous post, but she had developed it and then it had taken off and grown wings. Will audibly groaned to himself as he read it and stroked himself through his pants. Save it for when she’s home he decided. Ask her to describe it in more detail, from memory.

The next few posts were more images of girls. As with the previous set of the images, he could divide them into three categories. Only one was in the third category, the category of photos that weren’t actually bad, just not something that he would have posted himself. He scrolled onwards before pausing and returning to that one image.

A beautiful woman. At the beach. Orange bikini. Fit, slim, great hair. Nice breasts. Nice shape. Maybe just a bit smaller than Nicole’s current size. She was posing for the camera. A great picture, nothing wrong with it. Nicole’s way hotter than her, Will told himself. And the other pictures she posts are way sexier. This picture is boring in comparison.

The image had been a reblog, meaning that someone else had posted it, Nicole had seen it and liked it and decided that she wanted it to appear in her blog. There had been no comments under the image, either from Nicole or anyone else, comments that might have elevated the image, that might have told a story, made it hotter.

He wondered what it was in particular that Nicole liked about the image, what had made her decide to put it in her blog, rather than merely to mark the post as a ‘like’. He hated himself for thinking that. There were any number of great reasons to want to blog it. The girls abs were impressive. Her hair was great. The bikini was cute. Maybe Nicole liked how she posed? The pose was fine. A smirk. The head tilted. One eyebrow raised slightly. I know why you’re looking at me. I know you like it. What else. She was wearing jewellery at the beach. Maybe Nicole liked that? Maybe she liked the earrings or the bracelet or something else?

OK. He had an idea. He logged out and then logged back in, this time using Nicole’s account. He found the ‘offending’ image and deleted it. An experiment in gas lighting. That’s what she wants. Maybe she will never search for that image in her blog so maybe she will never notice. But maybe she does like to revisit old images, and maybe she will wonder if she really forgot to reblog that image. And then maybe she will search for it in her ‘likes’ and not find it. Maybe she will question herself.

She wanted him to gaslight her. But he couldn’t just tell a big lie and expect her to believe it. She was far too smart for that. And she certainly had an impressive memory to boot. Better than his, he thought, and he didn’t think his own was too shabby. He would have to do some groundwork. Start small. Micro. Give her cause to doubt the power of her memory, to doubt herself. Only trivial things. Things that had no real repercussions. At first. And then maybe, over time, he could move onto bigger changes in her reality, and maybe she would find herself more willing to believe the doctored evidence in front of her, rather than the objections from her memory of how things should be. After all, I’ve such a bad memory. I’m so scatterbrained. Change dates and times. Emails. Phone calls. Eventually.

He scrolled down and found another image. One more. There. Gone. Hmm, maybe that was a mistake. If she notices that images go missing regularly, she will get suspicious and suspect the truth. And then, the next time I delete an image, she will be ready and will discover the truth.

Each different kind of micro-change should be a rare event. Once a month max. So I need lots of different kinds of change. What else can I do? Move things? Things she had put down. Not her glasses. They lived on her bedside table. She was always careful about putting them back. Her bag? That lived in the hall. Her phone? She left her phone in different places as she used it. He could put it down somewhere else, somewhere else she had actually been. Again, rarely. Too often would be suspicious. But she used her phone so regularly, maybe he could get away with once every two weeks?

Sometimes she hung up her coat, but sometimes she left it on the back of a chair in the kitchen. Maybe occasionally take it from the hook and put it on the chair. Once a month.

What else? Her book. It lived on the bedside table, under her glasses. But the bookmark? One or two pages back? Confuse her as she realises that she is rereading. Or worse, one or two pages forward. Make her wonder if she has missed something. Once a month only, and of course, not if she has already read her 100 pages for the week.

She kept tictacs in her bag. Maybe try emptying it? Not completely. Leave some. Hmm. Someone is stealing my tictacs. What about instead filling it? If it looks almost empty, fill it up half way. Would she notice? What would she think? Who would fill them up? And why? Very suspicious. And one obvious culprit. Maybe too big a change actually. Maybe wait a few months before trying that, and then only do it once. Do that twice in two months and she would definitely know. So once a year? He wondered if he was capable of that kind of planning.

What about taking something out of her bag? Something that lives there usually, but that he had seen her have around the house? Like what? Not tampons. She needs those. Something with no real consequences. Something more trivial. A pen? Tissues? The buzzer for the apartment’s car park entrance? She’d have to come back up to get it. She’d hate it. Couldn’t do that too often. Two, three times per year, maximum.

What else? Like Will, Nicole set reminders for herself in her phone. Deleting them would be bad, because maybe she would forget to do something important, but maybe he could reactivate a reminder that she had previously marked as done. Then when she looks at her list of open reminders, wait, I was sure I closed that. No need to fear that she would think the task was not done. Obviously she would remember doing it. But she would wonder why she hadn’t closed the task in her phone. Didn’t I? Everybody enjoys crossing stuff of their list.

OK, give all that a go. But I need to be thinking of more changes that I can do.

What happens if she accuses me of making some change? I’m not as good an actor as her. Could I pull of the denial? Maybe I should act angry. Maybe then I can punish her for the implication. She’d probably love that. But that kind of reaction would be so obvious. And then maybe she would only pretend to believe my denial as part of that game. Maybe she would know the truth.

What wouldn’t she expect? Act hurt? Give her the cold shoulder, make her feel guilty? She’d be devastated if I could pull it off. But maybe she’d see through it. Too dramatic. Maybe no reaction apart from ignoring her accusation. Play it by ear I guess if she ever asks. This is why the changes need to be small and each type of change must be rare and trivial. Make her doubt herself without provoking her to investigate.

She wants this. She wrote that.

The next post was fun. A recap of their long weekend in Los Angeles.

What a great weekend. So we’re flying to LA and I think we are oging to spend the weekend by the pool with some shopping and some night life, and we do do a bit of that, we do all that, but....!!!

The hotel we are statying in has a convention center, a small convention center attached, and on the thursday, Friday and Saturiday there is a porn convention! We arrive on the Thurdaymorning and I mean Thrusday afternoon and when we come down from our room my owner takes me to the convention and it is such an eye opener.

We just walk around thhe booths for half an hour and I say th to my owner that I feel overdressed (jeans a and a tight cut t-shirt, I mean tight, low cut, t-shirt) but they have booths selling clothes there! He tells me I can pick out what I want. This is a big moment. First time in a public(ish) place that I might dress like a whore, bu t I feel good and confident because so much women there will still have less clothes! And the hotel is sttached to the convertion center so i dont need to go outside.

I pick out a shrt skirt and a nice skippy skimpy top that shows my belly and my boobs. We go back to our roon room to put them on and my boyf my owner rel reveals that he bouthg a pair of shoes. Not just any shoes, but stripper heels! Big beautiful ugly stripper heels and I cant wait to walk around in them downstairs! Though I only wear them that one first afternoon as my feet cant take more than a few hours.

That’s not all he got. He got some temporary tattoos for me to put on. A heart for the side of my neck, which is fairly tame compared to what some of the women have, but thats ok, because fro my ankle he got a an erect penis and balls :crying laughing emoji:

In the pcitues you can see it is a small tattoo, so you would only notice it if you were near and looking right at it, I think. definitely people saw when we are laounging at the pool.

In the pictues you can also see the other tattoos for my labia, but no one else in the convention sees those obbviously. Just you ;) They are super bimob, i mean super bimbo-y. Wish I still had have them. Would be cool to have those at work, hidden from view. So I know what I am, those two words are stamped on me, but no one else does.

Will found himself thinking about real tattoos. The temporary kind were fun, but the real kind just too permanent. He didn’t want something he might get tired of. He certainly didn’t want something too embarrassing, that closed doors for her, for them.

We spend so much time there over the holiday and I learn and see so much. Its cool being in a city where no one knows me and people believe I work in porn. A lot of fun. Some porn producers were trying to are trying to give me their card and I say to talk to my agent and then my owner walks over and they talk about what I can and cant do right there in front of me. And my owner si talking about how good I give a blowjob on camara and actually it is true because ge he does film me with his phone sometimes, and the producer looks at me approvingly and I say ‘I practise like a lot’. HaHaHA!

There are companys seelling cute bras and clothes for women with large breasts. I tell them that I am having larger implants soon so I get all of their business cards. Most cute bras are for women with smaller breasts, so when we get home I look at all of their websites to see what options I will have. (Though my boobs will certainly be nowhere near as big ass the largest they provide for. :wide-eyed emoji: in fact mine will be quite petite and cute in comparison)

I also see some actresses that I recognise from porn and I say to Arghh! I say to my owner that I like this one actress we see and he tells me to go over and introduce myself and tell her I am a big fan and I do and she is so spuer nice and cool and friendly. I see that she is tehere promoting the first of aa new series of films and I tell her that I will defintely be watching them all, and she was so noice that I will, no lie. :)

OOPS! I use past tense just now, but no backspace, not my fault :p also i forgot to call my owner my owner but he tells me it is ok in that case to erase the word. only in that case.

And thats only the samallest porition of all that we see and do there.

Oh I forget, fo***. We see one w** stall selling toys and I am talking to oe eone****sld;fngladnflg one woman who works there about butt plugs and she says she is wearing one right now!!!And I get so jealous!!! But I have none because don’t want to pack it for the plane. So I buy one there and then from her and go up to my room and put it in. (thats when i take off the stripper shoes, i need a break) Afterwards I fist bump the woman as I am walking by and she smiles and laughs.I’m getting quite the collection now.

Then my owner tells me that he might order me to take it back in my carry on luggage, so the security people will see it but he doesn’t which is a relief. But it is a lot of fun to think about and makes me laugh and feel hot :p

Just now I read everything back again. I sound so dum b. but its fun ;) Sound especially stupid because not using past tense words is easier if you right one long sentence. Evertime you start a sentence in this tense it sounds like the start of anew a new storty. So I fnd find it easier to just start one sentence and let everything just flow from that but it sounds not smart at all. :grimacing: :crying-laughing:

No it doesn’t sound smart, Will thought. But she is really sexy writing like this. Even though she’s one of the smartest people I know. And that just makes it even hotter. She does enjoy it so though. We both do. So it’s OK. It’s just pretend.

Also i thought i was a good typist because i type looking at the screen and this means i see my mistaks and can quickly fic fix them, but i hadn’t realised there was s ARGHHH past tense :D Also before now i think i am a good typist vecause i type looking at the screen, and this means i see my mistakes and can fix them quikcly, but i do not realise before now just how much mistakes there are!!!!!!!!!

I’m using punctuation and capitals less that i should bexause o I am afread that the shift key and the weird punctuation kezs will introduce even more mistakes. I will try harder. The more I practise the better i ger. get.

Other things we do Is I by nipple tape which means I can go braleess and not worry about my bupp, niplles poking through. I not used use it yet. Waiting for my new boobies.

I also find nice fake nails. I talk with my owner and he sats says he is’nt a huge fan of how they look, but he does think it is cool how it make s it harder for me to use my fingers, how it is hard to pick som ethings up or sometimes even to just hold something. Before I dont like it when women have long nails, but now I am getting into them.

Definitely want to wear them some times if he enjots it and if I’m going to wear them I will wear ones I think look nice. Nice pretty desings. designs.And then people have to do simple things for me which makes me feel useless but which I enjoy because for some reason I’ma weird bitch now. :women-shrugging-emoji: Soanyway I get some attachable pairs of nails. I can’t get permanent cos I cant wear them at work and In not I’m not sure I want that at all.

My owner should send me to do the food shoping wearing them. Id be so useless. Only problem is I think he’d like to see how useless, meaning he would just end up doing it everything for me and so no one would, I mean so I wouldn’t have to ask anyone for help which wouldn’ty be as embarasing..

One last great stall that I saw I see there was is about butt workouts. I already work A LOT on my ass and have reat great results, but I am just an amatuer. Maybe some exercises don’t add anything, maybe some exerciese aren’t as good as other s that I alreadty ddo. So I and my woner wo Arggh! backpsace. So I hand my owner had a long talk with a persnal trainer there swho specializes in working with females in athe adult entertainment idnustry. I explain to him my workout and he gives me some pointers about how a lot of it is wasted effort. Next my owner asks me to turn around and asks the trainer if there are extra exercises would make my butt firmer, and now he puts one hand on each cheeks and presses gently showing that I’m already very firm but could I be firmer? Then he invue invites the trainer to do the same and I say it’s ok and then another man is feeling my butt and other people are watching. But the trainer is not acting flustered, he works with porn starts and is a professional so I guess this is normal for him.

Anyway the trainer doesnt give me all theknowledge I need to improve my workout because obviously ge he needs to sell his services. He justs gives a taste, but I have his card and I visit his website and I will see if anyone in my city offers the same service, or maybe I will visit himm in LA or maybe I will se e if he ever visits my city.

Will’s hand was in his pants by now. He was chuckling to himself at the memories, still fresh, but made more interesting by another person’s description and perspective.

And it is cool because so much people attending the conference are (or is a is it a trade show? I guess? I dont know) staying at our hotel so we see lots of people working in porn at the pool or at breakfast or at the bar. Its real fun to pretend to be a part of that world. On the last night a group satying in our hotel say they are going to a club down the road, but our plane is erly the next morning and we cant go. :( But My owner promiesses me we can go next year too!

And just then Nicole arrived home from the gym.

Wednesday Evening, Part 2

‘Hey!’ Will called from the sitting room, so she stuck her head around the door. His hand was still in his pants. He winked.

She laughed. ‘Hey!’, she smiled.

‘Loved your outfit,’ he said. Nicole had sent him a selfie before she had started her workout.

‘Let me put my stuff away’, she said and blew him a kiss, using the motion that she had been practising using the iPad. Usually she practised poses in the mirror, but for this one she had needed to close her eyes at the point of the kiss. So to ensure she was doing a good job, she had needed to film herself. The iPad’s gallery was spammed full of her videos now.

Will smiled in approval so she pulled another pose. One that expressed joy that she had done such a good job with the previous pose. Her hands held her shoulders, her arms crossing her chest. She squeezed herself tightly, closed her eyes and smiled happily. Before she turned in the direction of the bedroom she noted his once again approving reaction. ‘Everything you do is the cutest’, he called to her down the hall, still stroking.

She returned a few minutes later with the dinner he had left for her in the oven. She had already wolfed down half of it. She needed to eat after the session at the gym. He had no problem waiting another few minutes, but he allowed himself the occasional stroke though his pyjamas. She slapped his leg to make him stop, trying not to laugh with her mouth full.

‘How was it? The gym I mean’

‘Still weird, but better, easier this time.’ It was her second time wearing her more revealing gym clothes. The first time, two days previous, she had never gotten comfortable, no matter what she was trying to focus on, she was imagining everyone staring at her. Even though she had completed the entire workout, her mind hadn’t been on it. She wasn’t sure she had done a good job. She had begged Will for an orgasm the second she had arrived home. Will had been expecting her to arrive home in the same state tonight. But he wasn’t disappointed. It was good if she was able to get used to it. If she could live with it.

‘Easier, yeah?’

‘Yeah, I think I am making a friend actually,’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘That helped. That was a distraction.’

‘Really? That’s great. You were saying you wanted more friends. What does your friend think of your attire?’

‘Well, that’s the thing. This is a girl that I never thought I could ever have a conversation with.’

‘Why? Which girl?’

‘Probably everyone at the gym recognises her. She’s a regular. And she has an amazing body and she always dresses there like I do now.’

‘An actual gym slut?’

‘I don’t know if she’s a slut.’

‘Are you a slut?’

‘Yes,’ she responded matter-of-factly. ‘I’m your slut,’ she added in a voice that also communicated that she was a good girl.

‘Well if she dresses like you do, then she’s a slut too.’

Nicole laughed at his joke of 100 logical fallacies and gave him a big kiss, deliberately sloppy. He laughed, and licked his lips. Nicole continued her story. ‘When you see her there, you can always see men looking at her. Always. I’m a small bit jealous of her, because she must know she is getting these stares, but she seems to be able to still focus on herself and her form and everything. That would be nice.’

‘How’d you get talking?’

‘So I arrive and first I’m on the treadmill as always. And the Kardashians are on the treadmill’s TV. Before I used to listen to my music but now, because it is always the Kardashians on at that time of day, I watch that instead. Although it isn’t actually my favourite show, but it is, like, one of the ones that people talk about and...’

‘Boring! Finish the story.’

She laughed, ‘No it’s part of the story! I promise.’

‘Alright, go on.’

‘So repeats of the Kardashians is on and although it’s not my favourite, I know people love it, so I want to watch it and catch up and know about it so I can talk to other people about it. Anyway I’m just watching it with my head phones in. And I see her enter the cardio area, obviously she has just arrived and is about to start her workout. And there are a couple of treadmills free, including one beside me, and she chooses the one next to mine. And then she chooses the channel that I am watching. And I just think it is funny that we’re both dressed in tight yoga shorts that just cover our butts and sports bras and we’re both watching the same trash on TV.’

‘OK.’ He invited her to cuddle up as he lay down across the couch. She crawled over him to get into her position, her head on his shoulder, one of his arms playing with her hair.

‘And anyway, I started earlier than her, so I finish before her and then go to the floor area,’ she looked at him accusingly, ‘the floor area YOU told me to go to.’ A look of mock accusation. No more than mock though.

He gave her boob a squeeze and she yelped, trying to escape his embrace, but not trying too hard. ‘No!’ she said accusingly, while simultaneously making clear that she didn’t mean it. He laughed, and she did too.

‘Anyway I really feel everyone looking at me, like the previous time, because I’m on my hands and knees, stretching and I know I look good and all the guys are just over there. And I’m facing them because I don’t want my butt to be so obvious like last time, but that means that people can see down on my top instead.’

‘Mmmhmmm,’ he slapped her thigh with the hand that had been playing with her hair. They kissed again. She smiled at him and gave his crotch a gentle revenge squeeze. It pleased her to see how he flinched at first, but then closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

‘And so next she finishes her run and comes to the floor area, and she actually puts her mat down right beside mine, even though there is lots of free space. And then, when I finish my set, she introduces herself. Her name is...’

‘No. Don’t care,’ he cut in. ‘Call her gym slut when it’s just me. I’ll remember that.’ Orders. He smirked in a you-can’t-stop-me way and then started to pull her sweat shirt over and off her body. She lifted herself to make it easier for him. She was topless beneath. After another kiss, she snuggled back against him and enjoyed the warmth of his hand on her breast.

‘And then?’

‘So she says that she’s seen me around and she’s seen how much floor work I do and she’s actually really impressed with the results and would be interested in learning about my routine.’

‘It is impressive,’ Will assured her, moving his hand down from cupping her breast to play with her butt.’

She looked at him and smiled. ‘Merci!’ She used her left hand to yank his pyjama bottoms down just enough. She loved watching it bounce free. She bent forward, pushing her hair behind her ear with her left hand so it wouldn’t get in the away. She bobbed slowly up and down on it for a minute. Making sure that the entire surface of the head had been caressed by lips or tongue. Will allowed himself a small moan and she cheered on the inside.

She came back up. ‘Anyway so we do our workout together and I show her how I do things, and she shows me how she does things and I show her some things she doesn’t know and she shows me some things I don’t know. And I also tell her that I’m planning to visit a consultant like the guy in L.A. who can help me do an even better job and she’s really interested in knowing more.’

‘Yeah. Cool.’ With a nod of his head he indicated his unattended cock.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again, before going back down. And oh, he was stroking her hair, mmmm!

‘OK, So then what?’

‘Then we go do some weights together and we start talking about the Kardashians, but I steer the conversation to shows that I prefer and she LOVES talking about all this stuff. And we end up talking about make-up for the gym, because I’m thinking that if I’m going to wear these clothes, then I should wear a small bit like she does, because it seems more appropriate. So I ask her for tips because I’m not sure if excessive sweat will be a problem with make-up.’

‘OK,’ he said, but she appeared to expect more. ‘Good girl,’ he added. That pleased her. She grinned and bent over again. This time he played with her breast. She came back up, looking at him, her lips parted. ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘freeze. Your lips look amazing in that position.’ She tried to hold the position that she thought he had meant. He took his phone from underneath the cushions and took a picture of her. ‘That is perfect,’ he said, smiling. ‘Look,’ he said as he turned the phone to show her.

‘That’s a good one,’ she said excitedly. ‘Like this?’ she tried again.

‘Exactly, wait, relax a minute.’ He pressed a few buttons on his phone. ‘OK, again, make that pose, hold it for a few seconds and then release. OK, good, again, but this next time, maybe your eyes shouldn’t be so wide? I mean, they aren’t wide open, but just a bit more closed. Very nice. I’ll send you that video.’

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up greedily and opened the Whatsapp notification. They were so sexy! She just wanted to scream with joy! She watched it a second and third time, the only sound in the room, his instructions repeated aloud in the video. She realised that her breasts and his erection were also in the video, there was so much dirty stuff in her phone now! She remembered that she was ignoring him. She dropped the phone and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him. ‘I’ll practise that one’, she promised.

‘Nice, OK, I want to cum now, lie down here, flat on your back,’ he commanded as he got up from the couch. She did so, her head facing straight up at the ceiling. He took a cushion and propped it against the arm rest. He then easily pulled her body back by the shoulders (he was so strong!) so that her head was propped against the cushion, about a 45 degree angle, but the rest of her body was flat. It wasn’t a comfortable position. She didn’t think she would be able to hold it for too long.

He didn’t think so either. Less than 10 minutes, he assured himself. ‘You look great,’ he encouraged her. That’s good enough for me, she thought.

He took off his clothes. ‘Arms flat by your side’, he commanded and then straddled her across her chest. He didn’t allow all of his weight to rest on her, instead supporting himself through his legs, but both of her arms were trapped between his legs and her body. His erection bobbed in front of her face, up and down, just mere inches from her lips. He was still holding his phone, she noticed. ‘Suck it,’ he commanded. He moved forward slightly to make it easier, but she still needed to move her head further forward in this uncomfortable position in order to envelope him and to produce the motion with her mouth that she knew he liked. ‘That’s really good.’ He allowed himself some time to get used to the sensations. ‘Your plump lips look real good stretched around me.’ Use me, she thought. I live for this. Anything you want. He started caressing her breast with the thumb of his free hand, then playing with her nipple. Mmm, she thought, I wish they were bigger already so you could enjoy this more.

He moved back just enough to indicate that he wanted to withdraw. ‘So then what happened?’ he asked, his erection was still hovering just in front of her mouth. If she stuck out her tongue she would be able to reach it. ‘Finish the story.’

She grinned at him. He was still stroking her nipple. It was nice. She could feel her neck getting tired, but she had a bit more to give, she knew that. ‘Well so, we finish our workout together and then we...’

‘Wait, wait, stop. Talk to the camera.’

‘Oh, OK,’ she smiled widely for the phone. She would have waved if she could have freed her arm. ‘So we finish up and we go shower and change, still talking about this and that. And then afterwards she tells me the days and times that she works out—and actually she goes three times a week and I only go twice!—and she says that if I want to work out with her again, that would be cool. And then I say...ugh!’

Will had used whatever muscles were available to him in his lower abdomen—and Nicole wasn’t even sure that it was muscles, maybe just blood flow control?—to jerkily lift his penis up and then let it fall heavily on her face. It had hit her cheek. He did it again. It hit her nose. ‘Please, continue,’ he said.

She laughed at the camera, and continued. ‘So I say maybe we could even get a drink together some time, and she agrees and we bluh!’

That last one hit her mouth. He chuckled. It was such a deep sound, she thought, so nice. She giggled, and looked up at him past the phone, pleased with herself that he was enjoying this. She reached forward and gave his cock a kiss, a quick peck. ‘Good girl,’ he said.

‘So, we agree to meet next Monday in the gym and then go to a bar afterwards. Although that’s actually the last time I will be in the gym before you know what. I think. Maybe next Wednesday too.’

‘That’s really great,’ he said. ‘Genuinely, I know you’re looking for friends, and she seems to be interested in some of the things that you’re interested in. I hope you have a good time with her.’

She smiled. ‘Me...’ His penis hit her nose again and she giggled. ‘Me too!’

‘OK, but I have a rule for when you’re with this gym slut. You can’t use the past tense with her, like you can’t with me.’

‘Oh my God!’ Worried. Could she pull it off?

‘I think you’re ready. Just her. And actually, also, anyone she introduces you to.’

She gasped. Will felt her arm attempting to move and shift underneath him, but she was trapped. He looked around behind behind him. Her hand was swivelling at the wrist, trying to reach her crotch, but she couldn’t get it around her hip. He brought the camera around for a few seconds, and she dutifully continued the struggle.

‘Soon,’ he assured her. ‘You can finish me off now.’

She got back to work, moving her head back and forth uncomfortably. He shifted his weight and lifted her right arm up so that it passed between their bodies, so that she could touch herself. Though it was still awkward for her as she didn’t have enough room to lift her arm or bend her elbow as much as she would have preferred. ‘Don’t cum yet.’ When he was ready he withdrew. ‘Close your eyes. Tell me how much you love your new lips. Tell me how much you love sucking me off with them. Tell me how sexy you feel when you cover them in lipstick and they’re so big and colourful. Tell me how much you enjoy the stares.’

As she talked he directed his cum on her face. He aimed high as he didn’t want to interrupt what she was saying. Eyebrows. Eyes. Nose.

After he had finished he ordered her to clean him off. Then she licked off what she could reach around her mouth with her tongue. Not much. Most of it out of reach. She decided not to worry about the rest for now. She had no article of clothing within reach that she would choose to use to wipe it off.

He lifted himself off her and stood up. He took away the cushion under her head, then pulled her by the legs so that her head was no longer forced to rest on the arm of the couch. She stretched and rotated her neck in all directions to get rid of the stiffness.

Once she appeared to have recovered, he grabbed her legs again, pulling her and rotating her. He knelt down, placing her knees over his shoulder and letting her feet rest on the coffee table behind him. He kissed and licked around her mound, but avoiding the pink for now.

‘I was reading your Tumblr’, he said. ‘Tell me about that fantasy you wrote about, the one in the airport.’

‘Mmmm, that was a good one, you liked, you like it?’

‘Oh yeah’. More kisses.

‘Do you read the post before it, the one about wearing heels?’

‘Yeah, that was good too.’

‘So I was imagining, I’m imagining one person looking at my big boobs’, and here Will started on the pink. ‘And I’m so obviously your trophy wife and this person looks down on me for that, metaphorically speaking. And then I’m imagining more people and then I’m wondering where it could be. So many people who I don’t know and hopefully will never see again. And then I think of an airport, going on holiday, and it’s perfect so I work with that.’

She enjoyed his caresses for a few seconds before continuing. ‘Obviously because I’m a trophy wife, I expect my husband to provide a certain level of lifestyle, right?’

‘Of course,’ he couldn’t see her grin, but he could hear it.

‘So obviously we’re flying first class and have access to the first class lounge and all that stuff.’

He suppressed his laugh, but snorted through his nose. ‘Oh of course, obviously,’ he conceded.

‘Mmmm, exactly. So although we spend a lot of time away from the unwashed, we do still have to check in our luggage, and pass through security so everyone will see me. Us.’

‘Tell me about what you are wearing.’

‘Black leather pumps. A four inch heel. A gold buckle. Some designer brand. Expensive looking.’

‘Obviously,’ he concurred.

‘Blue jeans. Tight. High waisted, so they show off the curve from my hips to my waist.’

‘And that ass.’

‘Mmmm. Exactly, and my ass.’

‘What else?’

‘Black leather belt. A big buckle. Gold too. Possibly some different designer brand, because that’s who this woman is.’

‘Get to the tits.’

A giggle. ‘They’re coming next. A white wrap top. Maybe a crop top, but my jeans are so high waisted that it deosn’t show off my midriff. No, in fact, it’s not a crop top. Just a wrap top. Tight and tucked into my jeans. Long tight sleeves. Then a wide-at-the-shoulder and deep V neck.’

‘Mmmm-hmmm. Bra?’

‘Push-up. The most dramatic I have. But I don’t have the boobs or the bra yet, so I’m just fantasizing about what that will look like.’

‘Me too. High, round, firm. Pressed together.’

‘Mmmm, yeah! Exactly! Oooh!’

Will spent a minute performing some more stimulating licks, but then slowed it down again. He wanted to hear the rest.

‘Good?’

‘Mmm, yeah. Will I go on?’

‘Mm-hmmmm.’ Mouth busy.

‘Mmmm, ok. Uh, anyway, I need jewellery. I guess an expensive looking watch. Again some luxury brand. Loud. Not a brand that specializes in watches. Just a brand that specializes in luxury things. A brand that has no business making watches. Louis Vuitton or Gucci or whoever, instead of Rolex or Cartier.’

‘This girls got class.’

She giggled. ‘Oh definitely. Anyway, maybe a ring with a diamond and some earrings. Big earrings. And now I need cosmetics. Big nails. Not outrageously big like some of the ones we got for a joke, I mean get for a joke. But still big enough that I can’t do everything, that you have to help me.’

‘Happy too, my dear.’

‘And the nails look expensive, like I didn’t do them myself. They were done at the salon. Each of them has a different, intricate pattern. Some have those raised shiny silvery bumps incorporated in the pattern, you know the kind?’

‘Mm-hmm. Maybe one of the nails says something like “Live, Laugh, Love”?’

She burst out laughing. When she had stopped, she went on, ‘um, so my hair is down. It’s freshly done. Expensive looking, like a bride would have done for their wedding, but I have that done just for a casual weekend away like this.’

‘I’ve created a monster,’ he laughed.

She laughed too. ‘So a thick layer of make-up. Expensive make-up so it looks really flawless, but there’s still a lot of it. No one must suspect how good and clear and clean my actual skin is.’

‘Absolutely no one.’

‘Big eyelashes. Not home done. The salon. The same trip as when my hair was done. And the edges of my eyebrows were cleaned up too. No stray hairs. Clean edges. And my teeth are really white, like American white, no, wait, even more than that, American-television-host-wannabe white, you know?’

‘Jesus Christ’ he exclaimed. ‘This girl needs an intervention’. Nicole laughed. She did get her teeth whitened once every year or two. She enjoyed tea and coffee so she considered it a corrective measure, but she limited herself to what she considered a ‘natural’ whiteness. The dentist did have several whiter options available that she wasn’t interested in.

‘Last thing is lipstick. I want a luscious looking pink. Not Barbie pink, a lighter shade than that. But it should shine. I want people to know that I’m always sucking your cock. I want them to know I’m good at it too, but I don’t know what more I can do apart from pout a bit.’

‘You want some ideas?’

‘You have some? Tell me!’

‘No, relax, not yet. Your lips are still new. Maybe later we can take things a bit further, if that’s what you want.’

‘Tell me!’

‘No, and you don’t get to ask again.’

‘Aww!!!’ That was that.

‘You taste good,’ he said.

‘Merci,’ she said, meaning it with every fibre of her being.

‘So,’ he prompted her. ‘We arrive at the airport. What do we do first?’ He began working up the finish.

She began discussing the looks that she drew as they walked through the sliding doors. Parents with children. Teenagers. Old people. A batchelorette party. Luggage check in. They found the queue.

Nicole was getting excited describing the people in front of her in the queue. And then the people who joined behind them. Will decided she was ready. There was a long way to go in this fantasy. Navigating this queue. Then security. Body scanning. Possible hand luggage search? Airport shopping, all those luxury brands. Maybe he could send her to the Vicoria’s Secret. Get her to ask to be measured. Get her to reprise that former role. It would take a few days to finish this fantasy.

Saturday Morning

That Saturday morning, a few days later, she woke feeling refreshed. She had slept very long. She felt good. Really good. Not horny. Unusually. But then she remembered that that had already been taken care of. The earlier love-making was like a dream, but she could feel now that it had been real. So if she didn’t feel horny, what did she feel? Comfortable. Safe. Happy. In love. Everything felt perfect. No, there was one black cloud on the horiz... No! Don’t think about that yet, enjoy this feeling now, deal with that later.

She looked to her side. Will was gone. In the kitchen drinking coffee probably. She put on her glasses, some loose shorts and one of his hoodies. She pulled it up in her hands to her nose and breathed in. It smells so good. He smells so good.

She went to the bathroom and cleaned her face, removing traces of make-up, sleep. No dribble today. But there was yesterday, so its absence means nothing. She dried her face. Her skin looked good. Clear. As always. She decided against her contacts, leaving her glasses on. Easy. She brushed her teeth. She smelt her breath. Good. Then she brushed some knots out of her hair. Not all of them, just the main culprits. She examined her appearance again. Good. She posed for herself. She enjoyed how the combination of his baggy hoody and her hair framed her face, and how the glasses and her enhanced lips dominated. They took up so much space. Small glasses were out. And small lips too, she winked at herself.

She considered putting on some lipstick. Subtle. Not obvious. Just to enhance the colour. She looked to her left at the additional shelf they had installed the previous month. A year ago, the single existing shelf might have been enough for her cosmetics, plus some space for him. She consoled herself with the thought that maybe it wouldn’t have been. A new shelf might have been necessary anyway, no, definitely. There, pale pink. Just to ever so promote them. Mmm, yupppp, she popped the ‘p’. Gorgeous!

She examined the chevron shape of the underside of her upper lip. Traced it with her finger. Mouth open. Mouth closed, but the gap still there. Mouth open. She examined the height of her lips. Then how the highest part of them, the centre of her cupid’s bow, was pushed even higher by the chevron! She tried to look at herself side on, but couldn’t manage it. But there was an ornamental mirror on the lower shelf to her left. She angled it and found the right place to stand where she could view her profile in the main bathroom mirror. She admired how her lips seemed to stand out more, how whatever the doctor had put in there hadn’t just added height, but had pushed them slightly forward, making them so round and full. She could do this all day.

Hmmm, what else? Well, now that her lips were a bit pinker, it would be cool to do her cheeks too. Just a tiny bit. I haven’t even showered yet, so no point going overboard. I’m just playing. Brush here, brush there. Nice! She smiled at herself in the mirror.

She went into the kitchen. He was drinking coffee and reading from his laptop. The coffee smelt good. ‘Hey, you,’ he said. She didn’t answer. Pretending to hide her face from him as she scurried towards him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her hair and forehead against him. Everything feels so good. She was happy. I love you! Let’s not change anything, ever!

She looked up, smiling, to kiss him, but he held his head back so she couldn’t reach. He held her chin between his thumb and index finger, looking at her. He’s looking at me! But she still felt shy. She escaped his thumb and finger, and—giggling—hid her face against his body again. He laughed and stroked her hair. ‘You’re the cutest.’ She sighed loudly and happily. She hugged him tighter. Life can’t get better than this. She looked up again and this time he kissed her and afterwards she let him look at her, his hand still stroking her hair. He studied her hair and her green eyes behind the glasses and her nose and cheeks. And then he spent the longest time looking at her lips. She did her best to suppress her smile so as not to change whatever aspect he was trying to enjoy.

Then all of a sudden she felt the pressure of his hand on the top of her head, pushing her down. Oh, she realises and dutifully gets down on her knees and pulls down his pyjama trousers slightly. She went to work on him and then she realised that all those wonderful feelings were gone. Before she had felt pure perfection. And now? That simple application of pressure to the top of her head had changed everything. She still felt great. Amazing, but it was a completely different feeling. The two moods bore no resemblance to each other.

Before she was happy and content and safe and in love with a wonderful man and now she felt horny and exciting and cheap and like his property. Was it better? She didn’t know. They were impossible to compare. But right now, she knew that she preferred this.

What would her opinion have been if she had asked herself that question just a few minutes ago? She didn’t know. It was impossible to know now. She’d need to be ready for next time, the next time she felt like that, she’d remember to ask herself. Tomorrow maybe? Maybe, but what if she slept badly, or if they go drinking tonight, or if Will denied her sexual release in the morning? She couldn’t bank on having that feeling on any particular day. During the week? A work morning? Ha, never! She loved her job, but getting up to go do it didn’t make her feel like safe and happy and comfortable. And then her surgery was on Friday. So she’d feel like shit for at least another week after that. So after that? She’d need to be ready, to remember that she wanted to study those feelings.

What she felt now though, she could examine that. It was still love, but it was a different kind of love. Earlier, she felt that she could do anything for him, so that they could stay like this forever. But now she knew that she would do ‘anything’ for him. Whatever he wanted. She knew she would love it.

‘That’s very nice work cunt face’, he said.

She put a hand into her shorts, her eyes looking up at him, letting him know she liked it. Objectify me!

‘Yeah, warm yourself up, but don’t cum.’

As he came she aimed his cock at her mouth and caught most of it. She laughed as she looked up at him, laughed at how good she was. There was a blob of cum on the tip of her nose. She crossed her eyes for a moment trying to look at it, then laughed some more and looked back up at him.

‘Can I cum now? Pleeeasse?’ The first thing she had said that morning.

‘No, not yet. Besides your mother is calling you on Skype this morning, right?’ Her expression changed. That was what she was trying not to think about. He bent down to lift her onto her feet. He hugged her. He could tell she was still touching herself. ‘I know this is going to be an awkward call for you, but you know that it can’t be avoided. Your having surgery next week, and she only just heard about it. It has to happen.’ An unhappy negative sound was all that she made in response, agreeing that he was right.

Her hand was still in her shorts. ‘You can cum after the call. You remember how hot you got last time, cock pads?’ Again the unhappy negative sound. One of Will’s hands joined hers in her shorts, just to see. She was very wet. ‘Save it for later. You need to have a shower, I want you clean for after your call.’

Her head was down, but she smiled. That was a positive reaction, finally. It would be so much easier if I didn’t want this surgery, but I do, I really do! she thought silently. I can’t not do it! I need it because he will love it. ‘I wish it was already over,’ she said, head still down.

‘Go have your shower, get yourself ready. Then have a coffee and if you want you can tell your mom you’re ready early, so maybe it can be finished earlier.’

‘Yeah.’ She broke the hug and started for the door.

‘Oh, did you update your Skype profile picture? Do that first when you sit down with the laptop. I like the glasses and the pink, but maybe your lips could be just a tiny bit pinker? Whatever the next shade up you have is.’

‘OK,’ she had stopped at the door to listen to his instructions.

‘Also, wear your butt plug, the vibrating one.’

‘What!!!???’

‘Don’t worry, it will only be on a low setting, but I want all those holes ready for me when you’re finished.’ Her jaw dropped. Holes! she thought. I’m just your holes! ‘Also, maybe you should sit here,’ he indicated the high stool at the kitchen counter. ‘You can put your laptop on the counter there, and sit here. I think that position will be perfect for a bit of rocking on your plug, if you want to I mean, of course. You don’t have to rock.’

‘Uggghhh!’ she called out in frustration. Her hand was still in her shorts. I definitely don’t want to do that but I know I fucking will. Let me cum! Stop making me feel hotter! But she said nothing.

He was thinking, could he get away with one more? Well, definitely he could, he had the power. Should he? He couldn’t resist, he made a mental note not to push it again until well after the surgery, after she was healed. ‘Tell me, did your maman raise her daughters to be big boobed bimbos?’

‘Uhhhh, NO!’ That was loud. Her other hand was supporting herself on the door frame now.

‘If you could be anything in the world right now, what would it be?’

‘A big boobed bimbo,’ she answered quietly, looking at him, defeated, pleading, squirming.

‘OK, go get ready, stop touching yourself, you’ll make it worse.’