The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The following story depicts explicit sexual behavior and is written for adults. If you are not over 18 years of age, do not read further.

This work is copyrighted © 2003 by Ce. All other rights reserved.

“Hidden Hinges-Swinging Both Ways”

By Ce

Chapter Twenty

Peg and Jane had put a lot of thought into how they wanted their web site to look and the message that they wanted to convey. Sue had been of a great help adding the artistic talents to the effort. Hugh had contributed the legal assistance that they had needed in order to create the legal entity of the Sisterhood. The result was a masterpiece.

The criteria that they had established for the site were that the site be sophisticated, but not cold. It had to be welcoming to women and convey the feeling of safety and of being anonymous. It had to be very feminine and a little sexy. The site had to have URL’s that would likely attracted women who were looking for their message. One number would be included 654, it would become code for bi-sexual women. The number 6 is a continuous flowing curve, feminine. The number 4 is angular, masculine, and in the middle, the number 5 which is both angular and curved and open both ways.

Their target audience was to be women who were bi-sexual, whether they had been aware of their orientation for a long time, just discovering it, or suspecting it and not knowing just what to do about it and wanted to find helpful, supportive information about it.

Their goal was to establish an information network as well as the creation of a Sisterhood across the country where members could meet and interact.

Their objectives were:

To provide a means and guidelines and framework by which chapters of this sisterhood could be created.

To provide a defining identity for the Sisterhood that the members could identify with, the general public would see as philanthropic and could safely function in both the public persona of aiding battered women and the liberation and education of suppressed women world wide; and the secret persona of expression and support of bi-sexuality.

To provide sexuality information for the modern informed woman in today’s society.

To provide a framework for interconnectedness between women.

The secret part of the organization would be possible through regular mail and telephone after it was established by email that there was an interest in the real purpose of the sisterhood.

The organization would be called the Organization for Feminine Freedom O.F.F It was time for suppressor to get of the backs of women and time for women to get off their backs and become proactive.

There was a list of things on the site that a woman was to be supportive and accepting of in order for them to be accepted as a member of the organization. The only reference to homosexuality or bi- sexuality on the site was an obscure reference to that requirement. It would be enough to separate those who were not receptive to the requirement but not enough to overtly stress the requirement as defining the organization, even though it was.

There was also included on the site a section referred to as “FLLR” “Feminine Love, Lust and Revelry”. When added to the number 654 and what it stood for, “FLLR654” made a very important statement for those in the know.

Peg and Jane had written an oath of secrecy and a set of bylaws for the organization. They knew that once the organization was off the ground, the growth and definition of it would be dynamic and would take on a profile of its own making.

There was a trill and a level of anxiety as they published their site to the server that they had selected. A sense of excitement as they did a search and saw their site listed for the first time. Exhilaration as the site sprang onto the screen and each link was tested and functioned successfully. They closed the site and in a few minutes they found them so excited that they had to revisit it. They both looked at each other and laughed with joy and excitement as they noticed that the counter on the bottom of the page had already registered four visitors to the site. There were a couple of people out there already that had found their site.

It was a few days before they received inquirers from a woman requesting more information via the contact link on the site. They replied and requested that the woman contact them by phone. With in an hour they were in gauged in a discussion. The woman had introduced her self a Sheila and in a short time they felt like old friends. After Peg and Jane had gone over the public goals and objectives of the organization and their hopes and requirements for its growth, they took a deep breath and opened topic of bi-sexuality as being the principal defining character and purpose of the organization.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment; enough to make Peg and Jane’s heart skip a beat.

“I was hoping, the voice said, that I might find within the organization, the possibility of connecting with women who shared my needs and interests. To find that that is the principal purpose of it has made me cry. I have felt so alone in this.” The voice said cracking with emotion as they were spoken.

They talked for another hour before making arrangements for Shelia to fly the thousand miles to visit for a week end and discuss how their first chapter could be brought into being. There were inquiries steadily coming in and Peg and Jane were quick to create a standard response. Some of the inquiries were easily identified as just curiosity, but many were from women seriously looking for some way to understand and deal with the emotions and the needs that they found unable to express.

There was an immediate chemistry that became apparent between Peg, Jane and Shelia. Peg and Jane went over all of the things that they hoped the Sisterhood would be and they listened to Shelia’s thoughts. Then the question of being a secret society arose. What were her thoughts with regard to keeping the underlying purpose and character of the organization a shared secret between sisters only?

“I suspect that there is only one way,” Shelia said. Require the sisters to share something of their lives that they wish to keep secret. Their sharing this part of their lives would also demonstrate sincerity and trust that would be necessary.

“We agree, Peg and Jane said in unison. We just weren’t quite sure how it would work out. We were thinking of video taping the sister’s story of how she discovered her bi-sexuality and perhaps how she came to first express it. There has to be a first move and I guess the sisterhood has to make the first move in the stating of the purpose of the sisterhood. I suppose that there really isn’t any way to stop someone from being told and their backing out at the last minute. There would be no way of preventing them from telling either. We do feel fairly confident that before an invitation to join is extended, we should be able to tell fairly well if the person is whom we would want as a sister.

“We also, Peg added, have found self hypnosis very helpful in our efforts to sort out our feelings and reconcile who we are consciously and sub-consciously. Jane and I think that hypnosis should be a part of the initiation. Would you be willing to by hypnotized and learn self-hypnosis. We would tape it so that you would know exactly what went on. We would also give you the suggestion that divulging our secrets would be impossible and a betrayal that you would not be able to forgive yourself for.

“I agree, and I am willing to tell you my story, bazaar as it is, and have you tape it.” A slight blush reddened Shelia’s face as she made the offer.

Peg and Jane were ready and in a few minutes, all three of them were seated comfortably on the sofa facing the video camera.

“Well, as I said, its kind of bazaar.” Shelia began.

“We are intrigued,” Jane said, “please go on.”

“Well, I never really thought of my self as bi-sexual. I had always gone out with boys, I like men. Being married, having children, having a home, these were always foremost in my thinking. I look back and I can see little signs that I noticed women, more than others I guess, but at the time it didn’t seem unusual.

Biff, my husband would sometimes bring home an adult video to spice up our lovemaking. At first I was a little embarrassed and a little surprised at my self that I would become aroused at watching them. Usually the way it would work is that we would watch them in bed. Biff and I would play around with each other, getting each other hot while we watched. One day Biff asked me if I ever noticed how aroused I got when there was a scene involving two women. I denied it, but I thought back on it and he was right. Every time two women were making love, it would nearly always push be right over the edge. I guess that that was when I became more conscious of my appreciation of feminine beauty and sexiness.

My husband is an executive in an electronics firm and his job takes him over seas often. It is not unusual for him to be gone a couple of weeks at a time. Partly because of his position, we belong to a prestigious country club.

I had a career as a journalist, an investigative reporter. I gave that up when I married Biff, but I still keep my hand in doing critiques of vacation spots. I had gotten the bee under my bonnet that I would like to do a series on private clubs.

One of the women that belonged to the club was named Margie. She marched to her own drummer and everyone just accepted her slightly eccentric behavior as just being Margie. She liked to shock people with her comments, usually very sexual, and she seemed to be much more graphic with the women around her than when she was in mixed company. Despite it all, she was a whole lot of fun to be with. There were two other friends that she was close with. They were a bit more reserved and I didn’t feel as comfortable around them as I did Margie. Margie and I had a lot of fun and we joked a lot when we were together. She was always teasing me that I should let my hair down a bit.

Margie and her two friends belonged to a private club a couple of hours from where we live. They referred to the club as the “Manor”. I would hear them talk about going there often and I would try to talk Margie into taking me there. I had the idea that I would do a story on it. Margie always turned me down and I was a little surprised that her two friends would join in on my side and encourage Margie to invite me as her guest. They always had a little grin on their faces when they said it, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.

Finally, one day a couple of summers ago, I over heard them talking again, and again, I made my pitch. I was a little surprised that Margie finally agreed. She told me that they were having their centennial celebration. The club had been in operation for 100 years and that everyone was going to dress in the Victorian garb of the era. If I wanted to join them as her guest, I would be welcome, but that I would have to dress as prescribed. Money is not a problem for Margie and I was delightfully surprised to find an absolutely beautiful weekend wardrobe delivered a couple of days after we talked. All very expensive lacy white Victorian cloths, right down to the lingerie. In the box was a card, it said “The Manor in which we behave.” It sounded a bit stuffy, boy was I wrong!

Margie had given me instructions on how to get to the Manor with the explanation that she would be a little late, but that she would make arrangements with the club so that they would be expecting me when I arrived.

The weekend was to be absolutely beautiful. Biff was going to be away for a week, and I was looking forward to my adventure. I put the top down and dressed in my Victorian finery and my hair done up in a knot on top of my head, I was off to the country. The last couple of miles were down deserted country roads lined with stonewalls and magnificent old trees forming a canopy over the road. I came to the gates of the “Manor” exactly as Margie had directed, and I was directed to the main building by the gatekeeper after he had checked for my name. It was close to a mile after that before I came upon a charming Victorian mansion placed in the middle of manicured grounds and old statues. I made my way to the front door and rang the bell. Immediately the butler opened the door and greeted me by name. He walked me to the small office a few feet away and I was welcomed by a woman I took to be the manager. She explained to me that Margie was going to be arriving in a few hours and that they were delighted that I was going to be their guest for the weekends festivities.

I was shown to my room and I settled in. My room had a balcony that overlooked the gardens and lawns in the back of the building, which were gorgeous. I couldn’t even comprehend how much money it must have taken to maintain such a facility. Handsome men and beautiful women all dressed in turn of the century costume were walking in the gardens and playing choragi on the lawns.

I joined them shortly, making myself comfortable in a lawn chair to survey the scene. As I said, the grounds were beautiful and I was struck at the statuary, the statues seemed a little naughty to me, a little whimsical and the women were all completely nude and posed it what I would suspect “Roman morality” poses. I was immediately offered lemonade, it turned out to be very strong lemonade, but it tasted wonderful. As I mingled with the guest I would ask a few questions about the “Manor” which immediately alerted them to the fact that it was my first time there. There were warm smiles of welcome but they did not say very much about the place, only agreeing with me with regard to the beauty, serenity and peacefulness of the place and how it must be why they came. Certainly a wonderful escape. I was a little frustrated that I could find out more about the “Manor” but I was sure that I would find out more as the weekend progressed.

Margie still hadn’t shown by 6 o’clock. The day had been very warm and the lemonade had made me a little light headed. I decided that I would go to my room and freshen up before dinner. When I arrived in my room I found that a bottle of wine and a tray with fruit and cheese had been delivered to my room, apparently right after I had left to go to the gardens. I was a little hungry so I ate a little and foolishly had a couple of glasses of wine before showering.

I undressed and giggled at my unsteadiness as I entered the large bathroom. There was a deep white tub on stubby legs and I imagined how wonderful it would be to take a bubble bath in it. I spotted the glass door of a shower a few feet away and I got into it and turned on the water. There were shower heads directed everywhere on my body and I was a little surprised to feel the force of a spray directed to the very center atop my thighs, both front and back. I found my self-giggling again as it awakened my awareness that Biff had already been gone several days and I missed him, in many ways.

I showered and began to dry off when I heard voices. Still a little wet, my journalistic curiosity got the best of me and I wrapped the towel around me to investigate. I was surprised when I realized that the voices were coming from the closet in the bathroom. I looked in and the back of the closet was a secret door to a passageway of some sort that had been left open just a crack. Had it been shut, I would have ever guest that it was there. Nothing could have been more seductive to my curiosity. I thought of all of the Nancy Drew stories that I had read as a girl. I pushed the door open and made my way down it. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps my curiosity as I heard the woman’s soft voice, but it never occurred to me to get dressed before I investigated. I made my way down the narrow passageway a few feet toward a light at the end of it. The light was coming from a glass panel that was about 6 feet tall and 3 feet wide. I peaked around the corner of it and withdrew immediately as I saw a man and a women standing on the other side of it, not more that a foot or so back from it. I didn’t hear them comment on my looking and figured that they couldn’t have helped seeing me. I peaked around the edge of it again and concluded that it was a one-way mirror.

I became brazen enough to position myself directly in front of the panel and rested up against the wall in back of me. The passageway couldn’t have been more than a couple of feet wide. Given the ¼″ of glass between us, I couldn’t have been more than a couple of feet from the couple who obviously were oblivious to my presents.

The blond woman was one of the most strikingly beautiful women I had ever seen. She was dressed a white skirt that reached the floor and a white lacy blouse that was buttoned high around her neck. The beauty of her figure was obvious, despite the cut of her cloths.

The man had tied her hands behind her back with satin ribbon and the woman was protesting his advances as she played the role of a proper woman of the era. Their little sex play was captivating and I was mesmerized as I watched him slowly unbutton her blouse and expose the lacy camisole to the mirror. Her skirt was next to fall and expose beautiful long legs clad in white stockings suspended with garters. A short expanse of tanned thigh was visible before disappearing beneath her bloomers. Bit by bit she was exposed before me until she was wearing only her stockings. I was intoxicated by her. Her breasts where high and proud, not large but perfectly shaped. Her skin was as smooth and flawless as a baby and her mound was full and rounded and I realized how it must feel as my hands were doing the same thing to myself as the man was to her. My towel had long since dropped to the floor and I was highly aroused by all that I was watching and the fact that I was so close to them. I had never realized that I had voyeuristic tendencies and I was a little embarrassed by the fact, but the danger and excitement had me right by me short hair and it wasn’t about to let me go.

I realized that my actions were mimicking hers. Her knees were wide apart and she bent them, making the space between her thighs wider, allowing him to reach further, before she straightened them, rubbing her bottom against what I imagined was a very hard member. Some times they would take my breath away as they seemed to be staring right at me, at my breasts, into my eyes. I realized that I was about the same height as the woman and that they were looking at their own image, but the fact of being startled made me even more excited.

I was lost in the passion of the moment when I got the biggest shock of all. The glass panel opened! I looked back in the direction from which I came and I had never noticed that the passage had been blocked. There was no escape. The blond giggled and snatched my towel from the floor and the man pulled me into the room. The panel hadn’t been a mirror at all, it was just plain glass, and they had been watching me all along. That revelation was enough to make me feel faint with embarrassment, but they soon disclosed fact that the room was filled with most of the people that I had seen in the gardens and the fact made my knees buckle. Standing right in the middle in front of them all, stood Margie.

“Welcome to the Manor” Margie said with a grin broader even than what was worn by the rest of them.

They had me, I couldn’t deny what I had been doing, or doing to myself. I had no cloths, no means of escape and I was as hot as a firecracker, but panic stricken.

I was speechless as I looked at the people looking at me. Everyone else, except the blond, was dressed. I made only token resistance as they tied my hands behind me, I was only slightly aware that it was happening.

Margie informed me; “that the Manor was created by very wealthy men at the turn of the century to sexually train the inhibited women they were interested in and for their amusement. It remains that still. You should have a lot to write about, she teased. Unfortunately I suspect that you will be the only one reading your story for I think that you might find your experiences embarrassing.”

She told me that before the weekend was over I would be a much more interesting woman for the experience and that I would undoubtedly fine the men and women there very satisfying.

I begged her not to make me cheat on my husband; I told her that I would willingly do anything else if she spared me that. We struck a deal. I would be spared having sex with the men there if I was willing to do everything I was told for the remainder of the weekend. Sunday afternoon I would be allowed to leave and no mention of the weekend would ever be made there after, unless I made the decision to do other wise. Fat chance of that I thought.

Resigned to my fate and aware that I was the one who had largely put myself in the situation, I agreed. It was a decision that proved to be a turning point in my life that I could never have imagined.

Margie placed a collar around my neck and led me by a lead out of the room and down a hall to hers. She had nodded to the blond to follow, which she did with a bowed head and a little grin.

Margie directed me to her bed and untied my hands. The blond lay down beside me. Margie took off her blouse and skirt and she was wearing a white merry widow corset with garters that held up her white stockings and little white bikini panties beneath them that tied at her hips. The blond and I were directed to get our selves excited while Margie watched. It was hardly necessary. I was not prepared for the next step however; as Margie insisted that we excite each other. Margie reminded me of our agreement and offered to call in a couple of men. I closed my eyes and followed the blonds’ lead as I felt her fingers grazing my clit.

Step by step, Margie taught me how to make love to a woman. My mind heard her instructions in a haze as she told me where and how to use my tongue and fingers. I had never had just sex. I mean, every time I made love before I had been emotionally involved with my partner. This time it was just sex. I found the blond very attractive, to be sure, certainly more so than I would have thought possible, but I had no emotional attachment to her. I made the blond come and she made me and we held each other in the warmth of it. I cried, not from the embarrassment, not the humiliation, but of the beauty that I had experienced. I knew by the look on Margie’s face that she understood.

The blond kissed me on my mouth, not a passionate kiss, but a deeply emotional one. Then I watched her leave the room. She made no effort to cover herself as she stepped out into the hallway filled with people walking by.

Margie undressed and got into bed with me. We slept together, naked. I had never even slept with my husband naked. I had thought that she was going to make sexual demands on me, but she didn’t. She snuggled up behind me and held me. She touched me everywhere; I think to confirm to me that she was allowed. We fell asleep like that and I don’t think that I have ever had a more peaceful, serene slumber.

We woke later than I was used to. I was a little confused as to where I was when I first woke, but everything came flooding back when I saw Margie watching me with a smile and not a slight grin on her face.

She took me into the shower and she washed me, all over. I was surprised at how my body reacted. It usually took me a couple of days to recharge after Biff and I had made love, but I felt myself becoming aroused by Margie’s soapy fingers.

She insisted that I wash her. I found myself curious, and captivated as I explored her body. I had to admit to myself that I had wondered what another woman’s body would feel like to touch. The weight and shape of her breasts, the length of an aroused clit resting beneath the length of my finger, all flooded my mind with erotic sensations. Margie let me explore her, and I did, rationalizing away my inhibitions by telling myself I had no choice. In truth, I was drunk with the excitement of it.

After our shower Margie gave me what I was to wear for the day. A halter-top that was quite abbreviated and a very short wrap around skirt which should have been a pair of shorts with a skirt front, but wasn’t and a pair of sneakers. The absence of panties and the length of the skirt were obvious indicators of what might be ahead. I had looked out the window and had witnessed the early morning frolicking on the lawns. A very active game of tag was underway and modesty was no part of it. Each time a woman was “tagged” she lost an article of cloths. At least I wasn’t going to be alone in my exhibition.

I noted that Margie was dressing in standard modern sports ware and I assumed that the Victorian dress up had been for Friday only. I was a little disappointed, I found that I really liked the look, it made me feel very feminine.

We ate breakfast and I enjoyed the meal with an appetite more ravenous than I had ever remembered. Margie told me of how I had been flirting with her for some time now. I denied it at first, not realizing it my self, but as she talked, I realized that that had been exactly what I had been doing. ‘How is it possible that I could be so drawn to women and not be aware of it?’ I asked myself. I could no longer deny that it was true.

Margie told me that we were going on a picnic and a bike ride in the country. By eleven o’clock we had a blanket and wicker basked strapped to our bicycles and we were off. The day and the country were breath taking. We pasted pastures and fields, birds singing and horses raising their heads to watch us pass.

About a half hour into our ride I would occasionally feel a little buzz between my legs. I thought at first that it must have been being panty less and the vibration of the road. It was getting me hot though, but I didn’t say anything. Margie was watching me closely and I didn’t have to.

As we rode further, at times I would be completely distracted, as the vibration would become more pronounced. Margie was having a little fun with me, which I finally realized after she began teasing me and telling me that I seemed a little distracted.

Like many things at the Manor, as I was to find out, all was not as they appeared. Our bicycles were Standard English bicycles, but with a devious little addition. They had added a vibrator to the seat, which was remotely controlled, and Margie had the control. The little generator on the wheel was generating power to more than the light. Once I had found her out, Margie would give me a little short every once I a while just to keep me “Interested”. It worked! When I couldn’t take it any longer I would lean forward and raise my butt off the seat. I think that she enjoyed the view she got as much as how she was getting be excited.

We finally arrived at the spot that she had in mind. It was beautiful, old majestic trees and a babbling brook at the edge of a meadow. It was perfect. We laid out the blanked and had our lunch and a bottle of wine. While we were eating a young couple, I would say in their early twenties, also discovered our little paradise. The laid out their blanket about a 100 feet away, nodding to us with a friendly smile. I found myself a little disappointed because I had thought that perhaps Margie and I would have some privacy. My realizing my disappointment was a shock to me. I wanted to make love to Margie! Desperately!

My disappointment wasn’t to be long lasting, despite the presents of the couple. Margie cleared the blanket and set the basket aside and told me to stand. She stood in back of me, facing me toward the couple. My halter-top was the first to be removed. We were just far enough away so that we could make out the expressions on the couples faces. The boy was the first to notice and he brought my nakedness to the girl’s attention. They both watched in disbelief as Margie removed my skirt.

I had never been naked in the open before, certainly never being watched and certainly not being fondled by another woman in public, if you could call the country public. What I couldn’t figure out was why it felt so deliciously naughty and natural.

Margie made me lie on the blanket and excite myself while she undressed and the couple watched. I looked over and the girl’s eyes were glued on us and she didn’t seem to realize that the boy’s hand was under her skirt.

I looked up and Margie was naked and she shank to her knees and I felt her lips on my Southern smile. I lost track of the couple for a while after that. Like a couple of nymphs, Margie and I made love out in the open for all the world to see. I have never felt so free.

We collapsed into each other’s arms and just giggled. Then we got up and dressed. We looked over to the couple and the girl was on her back, her skirt up to her waist and her panties off. Her hands were tugging at her exposed nipples as she looked over at us, lost in her lust. The boy’s face was buried between her thighs. He looked up at us and we were close enough to see a grin that seemed to be saying “Thanks.”

The afternoon had been soft and tender; the night was going to be a new experience. Margie brought me down to the main solon that night where all the other guests were gathered. Margie whispered in my ear that I was going to learn obedience, if it were only going to last for a day. The sound of that made me very nervous but the lecherous looks on the guys as they waited to see what was to unfold made be remember out agreement and all it would take would be a nod and a half dozen men would be between my thighs an lips.

All of the guests gathered around me and Margie instructed me to remove all of my cloths. I did, feeling the blush in my cheeks begin to burn. When I was naked, she told me to lie on a table in the center of the room, it was more like an alter. I was instructed to assume a position they called a Grecian bow. I first knelt and then layback with my arms folded in the small of my back and my knees wide apart. There wasn’t a part of me of interest that wasn’t exposed.

Margie then told me that I was a submissive and that I was born to it, and that she was a dominant. As a sub, I wanted to be directed and guided. I wanted to say that it wasn’t true, but I couldn’t deny it, even to myself. Two young women came forward and Margie introduced them as two of my sister sub’s. I felt something warm between my thighs and Margie told me that I was going to be shaved. I protested and asked what I was possibly going to tell my husband. Margie told me to tell him that I had done it for him. In truth, I knew that Biff liked the look of a woman shaved and I knew that he would indeed appreciate it.

The people, what was being done, and fingers got me excited and I knew full well that everyone could see that I was.

Once they had finished shaving me, I felt the women lashing my clit with their tongues. In very short order I was squirming, trying to avoid an orgasm that only intensified it once it came. The cheers and applause made me even more embarrassed. Margie then told me that I was to show everyone what I had learned. I made love to both the women until they came. Right there in front of everyone.

I spent the night in bondage. The next morning Margie made an excuse for punishing me and took me over her knee. She teased me between spanks and the sting of her hand coupled with her caresses had me coming yet again.

We had lunch and went back to our room. Margie gave me my cloths and told me that she would never mention what had happened here, to anyone. But if I ever wanted, I could come to her. If I did, it would be as her sub.

On the way home, I thought of her words, of the weekend and what I had done. I tried to figure out if I thought that I had cheated on Biff. If Biff would think I had if he found out and if I should tell him. What was I to do with this new attraction, which seemed to also be a need for women in my sex life? They were questions that dominated my thoughts for more than a month. Finally, when Biff went on yet another trip, I made a decision. I had to find out if the burning need and empty void I was feeling was something real, or a temporary obsession. I knew that I didn’t have any feelings of love, at least not any kind of love I recognized. I did have a desire to be submissive to her, and to feel her. I certainly had a desire to make love to her. I couldn’t decide whether my thoughts, my mind was being influenced-controlled even, by Margie, or my own lust.

I picked up the phone and called Margie. I asked her if I could come over. A few minutes later I was at her door.

Margie opened the door and there was a smile on her face, hopeful, but not sure of what had brought me to her.

I walked in and, with resolve, turned to face her. I immediately stripped off all of my cloths with out either of us saying a word. Margie’s eyes just sparkled. She took my hand and I followed her, leaving my cloths behind. We went into a room with a strange looking table in the center of it. She told me to climb onto the table and assume the position that I had been taught. Margie then drew up a single strap over me and snapped it together just below my breasts. It in affect prevented my arms from moving to the side and escaping, and it prevented me from lifting myself up from the table. I was laid out like a Thanksgiving turkey.

What came next caught me completely off guard and totally filled me with panic. In my resolve and focus to give myself to Margie, the thought that Margie might not me alone never entered my mind. Once Margie had me strapped down, her two friends from the club came out of hiding.

Margie had been true to her word, she hadn’t told a sole, but I had certainly let the cat out of the bag. I had no assurances from these two women as I had with Margie and now I was at their mercy. I had no way of escaping their teasing, their touching and exploring as they appraised my body. Their fingers made note of the fact that I had just shaved and that despite my disparate situation, my body had betrayed the secret that I was aroused by what was happening.

I ended up having to secure their at least momentary silence by having sex with them with out any reciprocal relief for my self. That would come as I relieved my need in front of them.

I was the only one naked as they lifted their skirts and I was made to kneel between their legs one at a time. Once I had made each of them come, they made me lay in the middle of the room and masturbate until I came.

Over the coming months I was introduced to several women who were also subs and doms. I always lived in fear that someday I was going to be put in a situation where I was forced to cheat on Biff. There were times when I thought that I was doomed, but I managed to avoid it.

A few months ago Biff was transferred and I was finally out from under the threat of someone of them telling my secret.” Shelia said finally as she looked at the two beside her, really for the first time since she had begun her story. She hadn’t dared to.

“I started researching the “Manor” She began again. I have started a book called “The Manor In Which We Love”. The Manor started as a high-class house of ill repute at the turn of the century. It was visited by the very rich of the time. It burnt in the early twenties and an industrialist bought what was left and rebuilt it. It had all sorts of secret passages and secret rooms built into it. I am told that every conceivable fetish and fantasy was met and performed there over the years. Apparently there were extensive journals kept along with photographs and even some movie film. No one has been able to find them though. It would be fascinating to see that chapter of the roaring twenties. The person who rebuilt the building and started the society was killed in a boating accident along with his wife. The society obviously survived his loss and his spirit lives on.

Someday I’ll finish it, once I know how it turns out.” Shelia said, indicating that she still had concerns.

“So, you haven’t told your husband yet?” Jane asked. Her face flushed with the erotic images that had filled her mind as Shelia spoke.

“No, I can’t believe that I was able to keep it a secret for so long.” Shelia confessed.

“He never noticed any change, any decreased sex drive, energy being diverted to your girl friends?” Peg asked.

“Oh, quite the opposite! I couldn’t wait to get back to Biff, every time I had one of my little adventures. My need for sex was always magnified by my experiences.” Shelia said with a sparkle of enthusiasm.

“What is it that you are looking for now?” Peg asked.

“I am relieved that I don’t have to walk on pins and needles around the club, always in fear that someone would slip, get drunk and make a comment, or even blackmail me into doing something that I really didn’t want to do. On the other hand, I have been a ship with out a rudder these last few months. I want a relationship without all of the circus that went with the Manor and the men and women who belonged to the club. If I had my wish, I would find a woman with whom I could connect and we could- OH, I don’t know, maybe it’s just a pipe dream. When I read the information on your site and talked to you on the phone, I thought that it might be possible.

“We know exactly what you are saying, and Peg and I can assure you that it is possible, we are living it.” Jane said giving comfort and assurance.

“What you are saying you want is exactly what we, Jane and I, had in mind when we thought of this sisterhood. A way in which women like us can connect with others like us in strong, caring relationships and maybe, just maybe, have a little fun along the way.” Peg added.

“Finding ways that will help women deal with the realities of relationships and how to adjust to sexual orientations is a big part of what we hope for. Strip away social convention and restriction and there are very few of us who are totally homosexual. By far, the natural state, I have found, is that the fast majority of us are bi-sexual to some degree, some more to one direction than the other. While preference certainly comes into play, I don’t think that a word suggesting choice is totally appropriate. I think that orientation is a much more accurate word. Some say that bi-sexuality and homosexuality can be “cured” as if it were some sort of decease or condition. We believe that there is a degree of hard wiring of the brain which not only resists, but also denies any “reprogramming”.

I am not sure whether it is a result of social influence or not, but it seems easier for society to accept homosexuality and bi-sexuality in women more than men. Men quite often find both quite erotic in women and the same relationship between men as repulsive. The fact that nearly all of us have some capacity for bi-sexuality, both in men and women may make men feel that their masculinity is threatened-I think.

We feel strongly that what consenting adults do is up to them and that any act which conveys love and caring can only be morally right. We do find some behavior repulsive, offensive and morally wrong and are very outspoken against it, and work toward preventing it. The obvious things are of course bestiality and pedophilia. What our society is unfortunately more accepting of is hateful and hurtful behavior that physically and emotionally diminishes the soul. Our use of the word soul not necessarily having a religious connotation, but rather the very essence of our humanness. I have no definition of pornography beyond those things depicting such behavior.

These are just some of the things, which couples often fail to discuss between themselves. How her husband feels about issues is vitally important when a woman confronts her awareness of her bi-sexuality and the needs that arise in her and how she will address those needs.

We found that there is a need for a way in which to address these issues prior to “coming out” as it were. To meet that need I wrote a rather lengthy questionnaire. It is necessarily lengthy because with in its length, many specific issues could be raised without attention being drawn to them. This would allow a woman to say rather casually that she had come across this questionnaire and that she thought their both taking it would help their relationship. Certain issues are approached from many different angles in an attempt to over come the differences between what may be though of as acceptable for “others” and what would be acceptable for “self.” Jane told Shelia.

“Perhaps you could use this approach with your husband. It would be a starting point at any rate. Do you have a vision as to how you hope to reconcile your relationship with your husband and the one you hope to have with a woman or women? How do you see your husband participating in these relationships, or do you?” Peg inquired.

These were questions, which lingered just below Shelia’s conscious, not yet exposed to the light emotion or logic, but she always knew that they would have to be addressed. Silence is always disconcerting to those asking the questions and often concern that too much has been asked too soon. In most cases silence reflects a persons digestion of the question and the process by which a response is formulated.

“I think that it is time for Shelia to have a moment to ponder these things.” Peg offered as a suggestion and she asked Jane to help her get some refreshments.