The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

But I Don’t Really Want This, Chapter 28

Nicole admired the receptionist as she called up Nicole’s appointment on the computer. Young and beautiful, but there was more. She had definitely had work done. Nicole assumed, possibly wrongly, that she didn’t need the make-up, that the woman’s skin was flawless, but preferred it, thought that it was appropriate in the circumstances. She looked amazing.

The receptionist smiled up at her. ‘It will just be 15 minutes, would you like to go through to the waiting room?’

Nicole smiled back. How could she not at such a beautiful smiling face? ‘Of course, thank you!’ Then, summoning the courage, ‘I love your make-up, it’s so perfect!’

‘You just made my day!’ the receptionist thrilled.

Before she left to go to the waiting room, Nicole had gotten the name of a YouTube make-up tutorial channel that she hadn’t heard of before.

The waiting room was small, but well lit and pleasant. There was nobody else there. She picked a chair and allowed her mind to wander. What an interesting month it had been so far. Will had come up with a new game to play that month, a new theme. For one thing she now had more money, which was good, though not as much as she had originally expected, which was bad, but the learning process had been fun. Still, more money and she was allowing herself to enjoy it.

The first week she had gotten her hair done. Though Nicole had never concerned herself with learning the intricacies and fashions of make-up before last year, she had always been an expert at looking after her hair, at caring for it, maintaining it and styling it herself. So appointments to get it ‘done’ were rare, outside of big social events and the need to occasionally get it trimmed.

But with some extra money in her pocket she had decided to treat herself. Despite her skill, she knew that it was no substitute for a dedicated professional, and it would be nice to experience that confidence-boosting thrill of leaving the salon a bit more often. That had been three weeks ago, and she had gone back every week since. It was necessary. Her and Will’s sexual appetite’s didn’t allow her hair to stay in the post-salon condition for long. Well, actually, it wasn’t necessary. But since she had more money, and since Will was taking care of all the actual necessary stuff, going each week was a fine short-term thing. Plus, at the salon they had magazines that she didn’t have a subscription to, and there was usually someone there with whom she could gossip about the latest ‘news’.

She felt all warm as she remembered the second week she had gone. She had arrived home and he had immediately noticed. Looks amazing, he had smiled at her. I know, she responded, winking. Again? Yep. Another wink. Give me a blowjob, he had ordered, and she knelt in front of him, unzipped his fly and began. When he was ready he withdrew and indicating to her that she should use her hands to milk it out of him, allowed his cum to spray across her face and hair.

My hair! she had thought. After a few seconds he had recovered enough, and so had started using her hair to mop up the cum on her face. Then he had used a handful of her still unaffected locks to wipe his cock a few times. She had already been removing her skirt to get at herself. He had gone to the kitchen counter and taken a small mirror that was propped there, still out of place after the move. She was lying on her side on the kitchen tiles now so he bent over and gave it to her. She took it with her free hand to examine the damage. She had spent her own money, her hair had looked so good, she had felt so good. And he had ruined it for his own enjoyment. She felt so hot.

She had been vaguely aware of Will stepping over her and hearing the tapping of keys in the next room. That would be the transfer. She came. She spent a few minutes recovering. She started thinking again about what had just happened. She looked at herself again in the mirror. Ruined! It had looked so good! She had been so pleased with herself! She realised her fingers were returning to between her legs at the thought. Usually she waited longer, plus she was still extra sensitive. It had felt good being the outlet for his desires though. It had turned him on to take this away from her. To see her humiliated. She allowed her hand to return between her legs.

No! Nicole screamed internally at herself. Stop dreaming about masturbating. Not here in the waiting room.

Ultimately that humiliation hadn’t mattered. Within a few hours they had both lain exhausted in bed, every inch of them sticky with sweat or their juices. So what he had done to her hair when she had arrived home, hadn’t actually changed anything.

Money. Nice to have more money now. She remembered walking by a shop specializing in clothes for clubbing and noticing a particularly showy outfit in the window. Would be nice to wear that for Will she had realised. Maybe out, maybe just at home. The skirt was shorter than anything she ever worn before, outside of one dare with school friends when she was 16. Her parents had refused to allow her to leave the house dressed like that, and so she had lost.

Anyway, in that skirt, bending over in public would not be an option. And of course the material was light and loose, so gusts of wind could be an issue. The matching top would reveal plenty of cleavage. The straps were so thin, that any strapped bra would seem out of place underneath. Clear straps always looked so tacky she thought. Strapless it will have to be, she decided.

Anyway, at the back of her mind she knew that she wouldn’t choose to wear it outside herself. But she did want to wear it for Will at home. I want to cook and serve dinner for him dressed like this. She wanted him to enjoy looking at her as she sashayed around the new apartment wearing it. She wanted to enjoy that feeling of his attention on her. If we’re at home, then what’s the problem with braless?

Buying the outfit had been glorious. I am the main bitch she had thought smugly to herself, surveying the other customers and the staff, I’m hotter than all you hoes, as she handed over her own hard earned cash. You got to spend money to make money.

Whore month. $10 for a blowjob, $20 for vaginal sex, $30 for anal. And of course, a free feel-up whenever he wanted ‘to inspect the wares’. It had surprised her that he had chosen to set the prices so, um, ‘high’. Once previously he had offered her $5 for a blowjob and she had accepted. Afterwards he had called her (jokingly of course!) a cheap whore. The feelings awoken in her by the insult had been delicious.

But obviously she knew, that in the real world, a prostitute with her face, body, sexual appetites, social graces, personality and intelligence would be commanding exorbitant prices. 4 figures per night she had guessed, though she didn’t know for sure. So although the $10, $20, $30 payment scheme he had set up was not as hilariously low as he could have gotten away with, they were still humiliatingly below her ‘market-value’ as she thought of it.

In addition, part of the game was that she needed to make enough money to survive. For the duration of the month, her allowance was suspended. He hadn’t gone lower she had reasoned, in order to make sure that she could survive the week. However, this still didn’t make sense. At these prices, and with Will’s ‘needs’, her weekly income would be—based on a quick mental calculation—maybe triple her allowance.

But at the end of the first week she had learned the reason for the high prices. Once again she had been impressed by his imagination, his planning and his ability to know things that she wanted to try—things that she didn’t even know she wanted to try.

She had been making herself coffee in the kitchen. Will had appeared in the doorway. Bitch, where’s my money? Not asked gently. What? she had stammered, taken by surprise. Money? she repeated. What? Show me the fucking book, he had ordered. She had fetched the notebook from the bedroom. ‘Services Rendered’ was written on the cover.

She had it opened to the page and he pulled it out of her hands. Four hundred and th... she had started. Shut up, bitch. Mmmm, she was catching up to the role now and she had enjoyed that. But where was he taking this? He continued, you brought in $430 this week. He fished a calculator out of his pocket. Props, she realised, he had brought props. He punched a few keys. Where’s my $258, huh?? What? she had responded again. I’m not pimping you for free, don’t you tell me you’ve spent a single cent of my money. I, uh, I, what? she stammered.

Later she had done a quick mental calculation. 60%. He was claiming 60% as his. She had spent it. Not all of it, but the amount left in her account wasn’t enough she knew. Will took out his phone and used it to access Nicole’s account using her bank’s app. As far as the bank was concerned, Will’s phone number was hers. And she wasn’t allowed to use the Internet banking anyway. Will hadn’t relaxed those rules when the game had started. $147 dollars, he announced. Alright, let’s go get it. He grabbed her hand and walked her out of the kitchen.

In the hall he stopped and made a show of looking her up and down, appraising her. Nicole felt like a reaction was expected of her, so she brushed her hair out of her face with her hand and straightened her back. Shoulders back, chest out. She smoothed down her blouse. There wasn’t anything she could do with her jeans or slippers. You don’t actually go out trying to earn me money dressed like that, do you? In the otherwise empty waiting room Nicole allowed herself a giggle.

He had marched her to the bedroom and picked out some black pumps and a dress. A tight one. She had removed her jeans and blouse and had been preparing to step into the dress when he had held her forearm, stopping her. She looked at him and he shook his head. With his free hand he first tugged her bra strap and then snapped her underwear elastic. So those had come off too, not to be replaced.

Fortunately the dress didn’t reveal too much skin, though that didn’t mean that the overall outfit wasn’t an adventurous choice for this time of day. It was armless but fully covered her chest. She hoped her nipples would behave themselves. The material wasn’t thin, so she might be OK. Unless she didn’t reach some kind of peak of horniness. The dress’s skirt was short, but not short enough to risk exposure. Her ass would of course be prominent in the slightly elasticated material, and the three inch heels wouldn’t help.

In the waiting room she re-examined her appearance in her mind’s eye. Evening wear? Certainly. Early Saturday afternoon? No. Maybe a fancy brunch or a wedding? But they weren’t going to a fancy brunch or a wedding. At least this was Las Vegas and seeing people dressed for the nightlife at all times of day and in all parts of the city was not too out of the ordinary.

It felt good when Will pushed her boundaries. He knew, and he knew that she knew, how much she got out of it, how it added extra spice to the proceedings. With sushi a thing of the past in the new apartment, she had wondered what would replace it. She wanted something to replace it.

Put some make-up on he had ordered. You’re for sale, remember? Yeah I know, but not really, she had thought. He selected some items of jewellery from the top of the dresser. Put these on, he added. She took them. Cheap. Showy. Bought recently as a joke, as kitsch. That had been a fun evening.

They drove to a mall nearby. Her bank had an ATM there where she wouldn’t be charged for the withdrawal. Will marched through the shoppers, not waiting for her, his longer legs powering him forward. He had stopped once to wait for her. Keep up bitch, he had whispered in her ear. Don’t make me wait again. Nicole had scampered after him, holding her balance on the heels as they clacked loudly on the tiles. Her breasts bounced. She knew that she couldn’t be the only person aware of them. She didn’t dare look down, but could feel them. And she didn’t want to know if the dress’s material had lost the war with her nipples.

At the ATM she attempted to take out all $147, but $5 was the smallest allowed denomination, and back when he had put her on an allowance he had ordered her to remove the overdraft facility. So $145 was all she could manage. She apologised that she couldn’t take out the last $2. He didn’t respond to her apology, but did not appear happy with this excuse. Let’s get the rest, he announced, turning to leave. She ran behind him, keeping up this time. What rest? she had wondered.

He had driven her to a seedier part of town. He couldn’t possibly... she had found herself worrying. She became aware of how her own body was reacting to the thought. I couldn’t possibly? They stopped at a collection of battered looking shops. They stepped out and she trotted behind him into a pawn shop. There was one old man behind the counter, and another old man leaning on the front of it chatting to him. The proprietor and a friend she had assumed. Both 60ish she guessed. Past middle age, but not ‘old-old’.

Seeing the arrival of business, the second man made space for them at the counter. Will walked forward, but used one arm to block Nicole’s path, indicating that she should stay put in the middle of the shop. At the counter he had fished in his pocket and had taken out two necklaces and a pair of earrings. ‘No!’ Nicole had wanted to scream, but thought better of it. That’s my stuff!

She ignored the conversation between Will and the proprietor. She wanted to go back to the car and touch herself. She fidgeted, bouncing from one heel to the other, irritated. She realised the other old man was looking at her. Probably she looked like a child needing to use the bathroom. She looked down to avoid his gaze. Her nipples looked huge. She looked back up immediately, eyes wide. Not knowing how to handle the situation. The old man had a ‘I’ve seen it all before, but I’m still amused’ look. He looked away from her, a smile remaining on his lips. Clearly he was only looking away to spare her from more embarrassment, not because he felt embarrassed himself.

She looked around the shop to distract herself. The pawn shop was filled with junk. She found herself looking at her reflection in a mirror near the window. Too much make-up. The necklace and hoop earrings obviously cheap gold-coloured metal as opposed to gold. She couldn’t see it in the mirror, but the bracelets on both arms and the ring on one hand were the same. She raised the hand of one arm to move her hair behind her ear on one side. There they were. The two bracelets jangled against each other as they slid under gravity.

They left the shop and returned to the car. $165 he had haggled the man up to, he announced. They are worth more than that Nicole had objected, attempting to rub the heel of her hand against her crotch, though sitting in the car, wearing this skirt, she couldn’t really get anything out of it.

Of course they are, he had said, that’s how he makes money, desperate people with no money—like you—swap what they have for money, and he sells it on. He has to make a profit, idiot. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and squirmed in the seat and tried with the heel of her hand again (still nothing). With her other hand, without looking, she tried to grab his arm, but in the heat of the moment her movements were awkward and she missed. Her arm bounced off the back of his seat. Looking the second time, she managed it. She squeezed his bicep, letting him know.

You owe me $113, he said, ignoring her efforts. Round it up to $115, cos $5 is the smallest denomination he gave me. There’s $50 for you, he said, throwing the bill in her lap. She picked it up and wished that the dress didn’t completely cover her chest, so that she could make a show of putting it in her bra. She just held it instead. She remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Next time it won’t be your jewellery. She had groaned and looked at him. This was still role-playing. And it was hot as hell. Once again, he had attempted to plumb the depths of her depravity and still hadn’t reached the floor.

How much offers did you get between leaving the apartment and here? What? Offers? Uh, none. None? Are you even fucking trying? You were, I mean you walk too fast, I’m not paying attention to anything else, just trying to keep up. His eyes took on an extra chill as he leaned towards her. Are you actually blaming me?

Hours later they were cuddling in the dark. He was stroking her hair.

‘Too far?’

She looked up at him, smiling. ‘No, not yet, but I don’t want it to be the norm. Just occasionally.’

‘Yeah. Another question. It’s rare that I deny you the right to object to an order. But sometimes it happens. Are you still OK with that?’

She nodded, still smiling.

‘I love these games we play, and I know you do too.’ More nodding, smiling. ‘It’s our sex life, not our real life’, still stroking her hair.

‘But I love that our sex life is a much bigger part of our real life,’ she said looking up at him and laughing, then kissing him.

She broke it off and he smiled back. ‘I’ll buy you whatever jewellery you want,’ he said.

‘Yeah! How much?’

‘It’s not your job to worry about how much,’ he winked. ‘Try pick stuff based on what you like or need, not based on cost. I’ll either get it or I won’t.’

She giggled, and made sure he could see her hand reaching down between her legs.

The next day they had been at the mall—a different mall—and she had checked out all the jewellery stores. Ignoring cost was breaking a lifetime habit. But she tried. And she trusted him to say when it was enough. And her new jewellery was beautiful.

I’ll wear these tonight for dinner with Miller and Wendy, she had said, holding up the new earrings from the second store, as a test run. Oh yeah, he responded. Don’t mention I play golf sometimes. I don’t want to have to duck invitations from him. Let’s just get this over with. Hopefully they don’t ask again.

They had survived the dinner, but hadn’t done enough to shake them off. More invitations would be coming. Fortunately that would be several months in the future. With the signing of the post-Brexit US-UK trade deal done, both Wendy and Miller had been head-hunted by a new US company, formed by a consortium of US companies for the purpose of gaining a foothold in the British health care market. They would be away for months at least, only occasionally spending some time at home. So some relief there.

Anyway, back to her income. Even after his cut, that first week the amount she had taken in had been more than her usual allowance. $172 against $150. $222 against $150 if you counted the money she had earned in the pawn shop, she realised ruefully. But she could do better, she knew. £30 for anal. She had decided she would try to encourage him to choose that option. Make a game out of it. Try and earn as much as she could one week, and then try and beat that record.

She started wearing her plug more regularly. She knew how much he liked it when she walked by, it protruding from her naked ass or pushing past her panties. And she knew how much he liked it when she wore it publicly. Knew how much he loved it when she would allow herself to get lost in the sensations of rocking back and forth on it while sitting down. And she knew how hard he found it to resist playing with the vibrate function on his phone, slowly ratcheting the intensity, enjoying seeing how far she could hold on before she begged to feel him inside of her. And she knew how much he enjoyed her begging.

Obviously she wasn’t wearing it now. She looked at the clock. Why had she come so early? She had left early out of fear of being late. Now here she was. Still 10 minutes.

Back to the money. She smirked. $710 gross she had made last week, $426 ‘after tax’. She doubted she could top that amount before the end of the month. This week was the last week, and she would be doing well to keep him as focused on her ass after today.

She allowed herself am inner and celebratory ‘Yay!’ She decided to jiggle her breasts to herself just because she could. No one was around. She shook her torso, and felt them moving around, dragging the bra with them. She allowed herself another jiggle. This time looking down. She looked back up. Still no one. Being a girl was so much fun! And it would get even more fun.

Will’s birthday had been last week. They had both taken the day off and had spent the morning watching porn in bed. They had then taken the car to go get lunch. Nicole remembered the restaurant. It was the place that she had met Will after she had had her initial consultations for plastic surgery, so of course that had come up during the conversation and they had laughed about that night and about what had followed.

After paying, Will announced that he wanted to get himself ‘something fun for his birthday’. She giggled to herself in the waiting room. They had left the restaurant and instead of turning left in the direction of the parked car, they had turned right. Nicole found herself being brought down the street where the cosmetic surgeons had their surgeries. Really? she wondered to herself, squeezing his hand tighter as they approached the boob guy’s door. And then they didn’t walk by, they turned and pushed through that door.

Will gave the details of the appointment to the receptionist and she checked the computer. He then leaned towards Nicole and whispered in her ear, nothing has been decided. Good, she had thought, allowing herself to discount the worst case scenario that she would be cut open today without any kind of mental preparation or assent.

They sat down to wait and Will pulled an envelope and a thumb drive out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Here are the pictures he said. Nicole had a flashback of a picture she had posted on Tumblr just the previous week; a shot of a woman’s torso, wearing a spaghetti strap top and no bra. Large firm implants, were bursting out of the top. The caption; “Let him decide how big to go”. “Love this so fucking much!” she had commented. She chewed her lower lip. An affectation she had developed as a signal to him. To let him know that what was happening was having the right effect on her.

‘You know what?’ he had said, ‘don’t look at them yet. If the doctor shows you them, that’s fine. If he asks, tell him the one with the black bikini is your favourite. Tell him that what you are looking for is that shape and proportion.’

During the meeting she had voiced her concern that, although she loved the ‘look’, she was worried about any impediment to a normal life and career. The doctor had been reassuring, you could choose an even larger size if you wished and still have a normal life. I would never agree to give a woman implants which might impede a healthy and happy life. Nicole hadn’t known it, but Will had snorted inwardly to himself. He was aware of at least one adult entertainer who had used this doctor. You charlatan, he had thought. Still, Will did actually agree, that these implants wouldn’t be an impediment to her and had reassured her after the consultation.

After that appointment he had taken her to a consultation at the lips guy. Ask for a keyhole pout, Will had said, again passing her some images. This time he hadn’t placed an embargo on viewing the images, so she had looked at them then and there. She had no idea what a keyhole pout was. The pictures were amazing. She had grinned at him, and chewed her lip. Again, he told her, nothing has been decided. Ultimately it’s your decision.

The lips decision had been easy for her. Before they left the consultation, the appointment had been scheduled for the next week. Today. She hadn’t thought the images at all obscene. Big, yes. Attention grabbing, yes. But too big? No. Not clown lips, she had told herself, shushing the voice in her head telling her that a few years earlier she might have thought that they were. Shushing the voice telling her that those images only showed a single best case angle and pose, didn’t show all possible angles, poses. Now she loved this look, and had been obsessed with big lips since late last year. She had seen plenty of images of lips that she now thought were too big. These weren’t that.

Though Will had told her not to look at the boob pictures ‘yet’, she always had leeway in interpreting the ambiguous portions of his commands. After they had arrived home would probably have been an acceptable enough delay. But every time she had thought about looking at them, that phrase had popped into her head: “Let him decide how big to go”. And if she was alone she would raise a hand to one breast and gently play with it. If he was around then she would give him the envelope and then unzip his fly. She loved how his attention was divided between her and the pictures. Loved when he held a picture down by her head, so he could look at it and her at the same time.

The decision to schedule the second boob job had taken another few days. Work was her biggest concern. She could wear loose tops, but ultimately those would not be able to obscure the fact that she had larger implants. How large though? Will had told her they would not be too large and she believed him, but also knew that she didn’t know what his conception of too large was.

She needed to justify this to herself. In her line of work it wasn’t unusual to see women with very large implants. Trophy wives, mistresses, girlfriends, (even female clients or the clients female blood relatives) who had had considerable work done were not a rare sight. With the money they had, plastic surgery, even with the best plastic surgeons, was a trifle. And indeed, it wasn’t just clients. One of the board member’s wives fit into that category.

And it wasn’t just at work. This was Las Vegas. Plastic surgery, while not exactly ‘the norm’, was not at all unusual, and so many times she had seen women with ‘uhhh-those-are-really-big’ breasts working as waitresses or just going about their lives. The last time she had been on a bus, the middle-aged bus driver had been just such a woman.

Occasionally she had met successful women with very well paid jobs like her. She had once met a woman from Los Angeles who owned an art gallery, who had built it from scratch herself. Her breasts had been very large, and she was considered to have reached the pinnacle of her career, even of her profession. Another time she had met a successful local artist, a painter, but who had stated that when she sculpts, her body is her clay. Even now Nicole rolled her eyes at this statement, but it was evidence for the ‘pros’ column. Admittedly none of the women in this group worked in an office of had a boss, but she was going to ignore that caveat.

OK, so she had cancelled out one negative. What else? More stares was another bad thing. Being judged. Prejudice. At least she wanted that to be in the ‘cons’. A part of her still resisted complete acceptance of the fact, but she knew she loved it. Knew how good it made her feel to know people were looking. Wondered how much more confident she would feel with more people looking. Loved how much she loved it when Will showed her off to the world. She fantasized about walking down the strip with him, wearing just a low cut summer dress and heels. What would they look like, she wondered. She once again resisted looking at the pictures.

What else? Will wanted them. That was definitely a pro. More than having strangers or acquaintances check her out, she wanted him to be checking her out. His pleasure gave her pleasure, it ratcheted up her own enjoyment. The fact that he wanted something, anything, was a justification almost in itself. His enjoyment and satisfaction would rebound to her, making the experience more rewarding for her.

She knew that tying her self esteem to his opinions and desires like this was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself, it just felt too good. Screw it. She wanted that. She wanted to experiment more with associating his opinion with her own self-worth and esteem. To be what he wanted. To bend herself to his will. It was so hot. To mould herself to his specifications. To know that she was enough, that she had pleased him. And afterwards to lie pressed against him, arms around him, to be told how pretty she is, how good she is, to be rewarded with reassurance of her value to him as one hand stroked her hair and another fondled an enormous breast.

She remembered back to the discussion with the doctor, the boobs guy. Now, at the same time, what you are looking for here isn’t exactly a subtle effect. No, she had agreed laughing, guilty as charged! she announced cluelessly. He had went on to recommend a smooth, highly cohesive, high profile, round, silicone implant. And had shown her an example of such an implant and explained what each of those words had meant. ‘High profile’ was the part that had immediately stood out.

Mmm, high profile titties. My high profile titties. Examining the implant she could see that it was wider at the base. Once inserted, healed and settled, the doctor explained, the breasts would sit closer together than they do now. There would be a permanent cleavage effect. She pictured herself wearing the summer dress. Braless. Her new breasts defying gravity, maintaining the shape that her favourite bra currently achieved. And when walking with Will down the strip, they quiver and shake instead of jiggling.

The doctor went on to recommend 900cc, which was an extra 400 on what she already had. Nicole had embargoed herself from looking at the images the doctor had seen, but she had allowed herself to google image search ‘900cc implants’ to get an idea. Big. But of course, they won’t look like that on me, she reasoned. She knew that there was one difference between her and the other girls whose images she was viewing. She was much taller.

At 6 foot, she was at least 6 inches taller than most women she encountered. To her mind’s eye, her double Ds didn’t produce the same effect on her that they did for other women. She wanted that effect. She needed more to get what most women could achieve with less. The google image results looked large, but she knew that most of those women were much shorter than her. It was statistically improbable that they were all approaching her height. They wouldn’t look that big on her. She wanted more. She needed more. She had to compensate for her height.

This was the principal justification that she kept coming back to. Her current breasts—though she loved them—looked much more dramatic and impressive on shorter women. And it wasn’t a rare thing for shorter women to have breasts this size. She didn’t mind being tall, but this made her feel a bit cheated. I want that! This is OK. This is allowed. I don’t need to feel bad about this. I’m entitled to this. I deserve this. I AM OWED THIS!!! And I won’t feel guilty about it.

She had logged onto Tumblr and had reviewed the various images she had posted over the last year. Well, more so the images that she had posted in the last few months, since the strip club. Mmm, so round and sexy and perfect. I can’t wait to see myself fuck on camera. I can’t wait to see them bounce as I fuck.

She had gone to Will. He had been fiddling with the camera. I want to do it. I want to schedule the surgery.

‘What? Why?’ he had said, surprising her with his unenthusiastic reaction. He went back to fiddling with the camera.

‘I just want them,’ she had said, simply.

He had just shrugged, so she had continued. ‘I want them so bad, I think about it all the time. I think they would look so sexy and I would feel so sexy with them.’ No reaction. Why? What game is he playing? She decided to try go on the attack. ‘And besides, you want them too.’

‘If I want to look at bigger tits, I can go to a strip club.’ He was still focused on the camera as he said this. ‘If I want to play with bigger tits, well, I bet one of the strippers will listen to offers’.

‘No! But then I won’t feel sexy if you are going to visit other women. I want you to look at my bigger tits, I want you to play with my bigger tits. I want them to be bigger for you.’

‘I don’t know if this is a sensible idea.’ His attention was on her now. He had left the camera down. ‘You want to be one of those women, with huge tits?’

Evil how he toyed with her like this. Pretending to be the voice of reason, the voice that she had left tied up and gagged and struggling in a neglected corner of her own conscious. His argument was loosening those binds and she would have to fight to re-secure them. She would have to fight to win him around to her new thinking, to get his assent to be allowed to administer a temporary sedative to the struggling voice. And to leave it chained in its cell, the keys temporarily mislaid.

‘Yes, I do’.

He had left the counter now, and had circled behind her, holding her close. He lifted the hem of her top up and over her head. She knew he had probably left the camera on, set an appropriate angle. She hoped so. She loved to watch back the games that they played. Loved when they watched them together, dissecting the recording, play by play.

‘Why?’ He undid her bra, freed it from her arms and let it drop.

‘I want you to enjoy looking at them. I know you would. And I would too. Enjoy you looking at them, I mean.’

He undid the top button on her jeans, pulled the zipper down and then pulled the pants down past her thighs.

‘Go on.’

‘I want you to show me off. I want you to dress me and take me to nice places. I want people to see and to stare. I want them to know I’m yours. I want them to know I did it for you and I love it.’

His right hand pulled her panties down to her thighs, while his left started playing with her breasts. She moaned at his touch, and wanted to allow herself to get lost in the pleasure.

‘What do you think the men will think?’

‘I don’t know.’ More moans.

‘What do you want them to think?’

‘I want them to want me, but to know I belong to you.’

‘You want them to look at you?’

‘Yes, yes, please’

‘You want them to fantasize about fucking you?’

‘Mmm, yes.’

‘You want them to fantasize about fucking your tits?’

She groaned. This was new. She had seen it, but they hadn’t done it yet. She was curious. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what.’

‘Please, yes please.’

‘What do you think the women will think?’

‘Mmm, mmm, maybe some of them will want to fuck me too?’

Will laughed, and Nicole smiled. He hadn’t expected her to say that, she knew.

‘Not those women,’ he clarified, ‘you know what I mean.’

‘They will think I am your trophy. Some will be jealous.’

‘Do you like that thought?’ Will started exploring between her legs with his right hand.

‘Yes. Please, yes please. Ahhh...’ She found herself making eye contact with the camera. No, don’t do that. That’s not natural. She preferred watching herself back now later when she knew that she had just been performing for the moment, and not for posterity.

‘What else will they think?’

‘They will think I had my tits done for you.’

‘They’ll be right. What else? Do you think they will see you as a career girl?’


‘Do you think they will see you as a smart girl?’

‘Some might. They might see me as someone who managed to get a comfortable life.’ A bit of resistance. Now its your turn to fight, she thought.

‘But others won’t, will they?’

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘The ones who won’t, do you think they will take you seriously anymore.’

‘No. Maybe if we were talking, they might start to.’ Resist. Don’t make it easy. It was always better when he overpowered her.


‘If we were talking about history or art or poetry or language or theatre they might start taking me seriously.’ Make me go further. Take it from me. Destroy me.

‘And what if I didn’t let you talk about history or art or whatever. What if you could only talk about things you read in magazines?’

‘Ugh, ah,’ she gasped. ‘Um...’

‘Magazines that I choose. Do you think they would take you seriously then?’

‘No, they wouldn’t. It would confirm their prejudice. And the others, ugh...’

‘Which others?’

‘The ones who gave me the benefit of the doubt, ahhh, the ones who didn’t judge me by my appearance. They will know they were wrong.’

He smiled. ‘Very good. Very good girl’.

‘Mmmm, thank you.’

‘Do you like that thought? Is that what you want?’ He held up a glistening finger for her to inspect.

She was bucking backwards against him now responding to his words, his touch, she could feel his erection against her, through his clothes. Between groans, she managed to let a ‘yes please’ escape her lips. It was always better when she had offered resistance, when she had forced him to go further in order to overcome that resistance.

With his right hand he gently pulled on a handful of her hair, pulling her slowly head backwards. She could just about see his face. ‘Beg for it, Nicole.’

‘Please, ugh, please don’t stop. Please touch me. Please. I want it. Uh, I want to be your big-titted trophy. I want men to lust after me and for women to think I’m stupid.’

His hand returned. ‘Well, if that’s what you want’. His cock was out now. ‘How do you want it?’

‘Fuck my tits’.

‘No. Too small.’ A lie. And she loved it. ‘Vagina?’ he asked.

‘Anal, please’, she answered. ‘Ass is more money.’

‘OK whore, but then you don’t get to cum yet. You’ll have to wait a bit longer. Who knows, I might make you edge for an hour to keep that motor running. Are you sure?’

‘Uh-huh. Yes. It’s more money. I want the money.’

Fuck! Waiting room. She shifted in her chair. She considered running to the bathroom. She looked at the clock. A few minutes overdue. No time. It wouldn’t be long now. She settled. Tried to find a safer thought to occupy herself with.

You’re going to have more stares, Will had said to her later. Much later. After her turn. Lying on the bed. Maybe you should pre-empt that, get started on it, get used to it. How? New gym clothes, he suggested. Tight all over. Yoga shorts instead of yoga pants. Tops that cover your sports bra only. At least one that shows cleavage? Dress sexy for the gym. Sweat bands on your wrists and ankles too. I like those. He hadn’t actually ordered her.

He continued. Don’t be afraid of showing off. Also not an order. He couldn’t order her to feel something. People probably already look at you in the gym. Mmm-hmm, she had agreed. Well, this way they will look at you even more, and you can get used to that, get used to that feeling. She had let her hand sneak between her legs. Just rest there, enjoying the warmth.

‘Will you buy me new gym clothes?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ he said and she had smiled and kissed him. ‘Maybe we should pick them out together.’ At the thought of him dressing her up for the gym, her hand went from between her legs to between his. She grinning as she looked at him. She felt him getting harder. She shifted position, scooching down the bed. She rested her head on his belly, her back facing him. She took him in her mouth.

When he made her go beyond her boundaries, it turned her on. And he had just done that. He was going to dress her like a gym bunny. There were a few around. She was going to be one of them. A tall one. A tall gym bunny with big boobs and a big butt.

She knew she should stop now. Should focus on between her own legs before it was too late. She knew what was about to happen, what she was about to do. She knew that she wanted more, that she wanted him to push those boundaries even further. How it would elevate her own horniness, and then her own orgasm. She had learned in the last year that when he was horny, when she pleasured him, she could make him go further. She knew that maybe tomorrow she would regret it, but she knew that right now there was nothing she wanted more than for him to go further, for him to make it hotter for her. Maybe she would still have time to object tomorrow.

She released his dick from her mouth with a wet plop. He groaned. Don’t do it! ‘What else?’ she asked.

‘What else what?’

‘What else...’ She took the head of his cock in her mouth again and withdrew slowly, allowing the sensitive skin to slide against her moist lips. ‘... should I do...’. She repeated the action.

‘Fuck,’ he called out. He was close. One of his hands was in her hair,. The other was on her hip. She knew the curve from her waist out to her butt would look huge to him in this position. She knew how much he enjoyed it.

‘... for attention?’ she finished. As she waited for an answer, she would occasionally caress his head with her lips. He would gasp or curse each time. She didn’t increase the speed. She was waiting for an answer. ‘In the gym I mean,’ she added in an attempt to give him something to focus his answer on.

‘OK, um,’ he started. The next caress of her lips lasted longer, letting him know that him saying something, anything, was an improvement to be rewarded.

‘What’s your gym like, where can you do floor exercises?’

‘There’s two areas,’ Big lick. ‘One small room dedicated for it and.’ Small kiss. ‘Another area beside the weight machines.’

‘Do you go to the room?’ he asked, he was stroking her hair now, she could feel his hard, strong fingers on her scalp. He was desparate for release.

She giggled. ‘Of course.’ Total envelopment. Slow release. ‘If there is space available. The majority of women do.’ Small kiss.

‘OK, from now on, uh, use the area near the weight machines.’ Total envelopment. Caressing with the tongue. ‘Shit. You can only use the room, uh, if the weight machine area is full.’

Oh fuck yeah, she thought. She released him slowly, but saw no reason to delay anymore. She had what she wanted. Time to take him home.

He fondled and squeezed a meaty butt cheek. He waited for her to release him again. When she did it he spanked her. She yelped. That was good. She hadn’t expected that, not when he was so close to his own orgasm.

‘You must spend a long time doing floor exercises while your working on this,’ patting her ass.

‘Mmm-hmmm!’ she agreed, her mouth full.

‘Fuck, uh, I don’t know what the layout of this floor area is like, but, ahhh, you can’t try and hide at the back, if that option is available.’

She moaned around his cock, mm-mming in agreement at this idea. Mmm, yes, But more? He was supposed to have cum by now, but he was still pushing the boundaries. It was so hot. She wanted him to cum right so she could focus on herself, but kind of wanted to see if he could go further still, amke her even hotter. She pictured big sweaty men, resting between sets on the machines. Drinking her in.

He came. She swallowed it, patiently waiting for it to finish. Then she cleaned him up, and afterwards lay beside him on her back. One hand between her legs, the other on her breast. She smiled at him, before closing her eyes to focus on herself. He stroked her hair and held her tight.

‘Another $10 for you,’ he said.

She giggled, but it was non-committal, letting him know that she had all she needed already, he could just relax now. In her minds eye she was practising donkey kicks and rotating fire hydrants as behind her 15 large men fist-bumped and high-fived each other.

What else is going on back there? She was close. One more thing. Ummm, behind the men, visible in the gaps. Women. All judging her. Hating her. They’re looking at me, not you bitches. My ass and my tits. And guess what? They’re both going to get bigger!

The nurse arrived into the room, saying her name, ‘Ms Brodeur, I’m so sorry about the delay, but we are ready for you now.’

She froze. Fuck. Shit. Compose. OK. She turned her head to look at the nurse. Wow, she was gorgeous! She loved how the women who worked for cosmetic surgeon’s presented themselves, walking advertisements for their employer’s services. They must get a discount! And the benefit of an allowance for beauty products. Probably tutorials too. They were images of futuristic smoothness and shininess in human form.

She couldn’t wait for the feeling of the first time that Will fucked her new lips. She couldn’t wait to look up and see how much he enjoyed the sight and the feeling. They should definitely film it. First blow job with new lips? This would be a special event.