A Day in the Life

I remembered it all.

The first day, I cried. ForhoursI cried. He loved me, I knew he did; even now, I could see the guilt on his face when he came to me to try and kiss my tears away, and the love in his eyes. Knowing what he'd done with me, to me, these long years... it was so wrong, so warped.

But still, impossibly, I loved him, too. It hurt me that he was hurting, even though I knew he deserved it for treating me the way he had. For years.

The next couple of days were horrible. I didn't know how to react to him. Calling him anything other than "Master" felt funny on my lips, but it wasn't how I felt right now. He was just a guy I loved and was hurt by and sort of angry with.

But the anger faded. To be replaced by loneliness; he still had to go to work every day, and I still stayed home to maintain the house and to run errands. I tried to watch television to keep my mind off the rest of my life, but all I ended up with was eight pounds of ice cream-induced extra body fat and a couple of new Books of the Month from Oprah. And those didn't help.

My libido wasn't on overdrive like it was before, but I still wanted to make love now and again, even sometimes when he wasn't around. I could tell he felt uncomfortable making a move on me with the current questionable status of our relationship, though, so I went on, unsatisfied. On the fifth day, in desperation, I put on a pair of the stockings and a garter-belt, but I felt cheap and tawdry while I put them on, and the vision of myself in the mirror gave me no thrill. It felt like I was wearing a costume. A sex uniform. I took them off and cast them into the furthest corner of the closet, and burst into tears lying across the bed.

He got home that night and was cordial (oh, who am I kidding? he was as nice and sweet as a man could be), and I fed him a hearty meal and told him about my day. He responded in kind, and we rekindled some part of what we had lost. I took his hand, and led him to our bedroom, and kissed him deeply. He was tender, and loving, and right, and I came passionately, holding him tight. But when he was ready for more, my mood was gone. I self-analyzed, I questioned his motivations, I spent seconds-to-minutes in my head trying to determine if I'd done everything right. When he asked for oral stimulation I tried to provide it, I really did, but he knew I wasn't really into it, and I gagged on him when he pressed too far into my throat. He patted me on the cheek and told me it was alright, that I could just go to sleep, that he would be up a bit later to watch some television.

But I knew the truth: he was going to stay up and masturbate himself because I had failed him.

Dammit, I didn'twantto disappoint him! This was killing me. I wanted to be his lover, nothing held back, and giving him all I could give. Giving him all I should give. Being what he wanted me to be.

On the seventh day, I came to him as he watched a ball game on TV. "Yes, sweetheart?" he inquired as I sat down next to him and looked pointedly in his direction. He turned off the TV set.

"I can't live like this anymore."

He looked very sad, almost heartbroken. "I... what are you saying?"

"This... this... thing we have together. It's not working, not like this."

He sighed. "What do you want to do, darling? What do you want?"

"I don't know! I want you to love me again."

"I've never stopped, darling. Everything for you has been out of love."

"I know, I just... I'm not who I was last week!"

He looked thoughtful. "No, you're certainly not."

"And the sex... I can never want it that much. Not anymore."

"No, I'd say probably not. You were never that sexual. Before."

"WhatwasI like, 'before'?"

"You were a lot like this, actually. I'd come home to find you moping, desperate for human contact, and sad. It was... it was heart-rending. Because I didn't know what to offer you, to make it better."

"What changed?"

"You went to Dr. Beston, and she... well, I don't want to get into the technical details, but she changed you."

"Changed me how?"

"Using hypnosis."

"No, I figured that part out. What I want to know is, what changes did she make?"

"Oh. She removed inhibitions, mostly; you have a lot of complexes about your body, and how it relates to your self-image, and to your desires. You always liked girls, for instance, but hadn't acted on those feelings since you were a young teen, because you thought it was wrong. You felt like you needed to put on a front for everyone, to show how independent you were, but that didn't let you admit how much you desperately wanted someone to take care of you. To make you feel safe."

"And she told you all of this?"

"No, you did."

"I did?"

"You were in trance at the time. It was a joint session, and I was the observer, and Elaine told you to tell me what you wanted, what youreallywanted. And that was it."

"To be taken care of? To feel safe? To be your little whore?"

He chuckled despite himself, then. "No, I'll admit I wanted that last part for myself." He got more serious. "You did want to feel much freer during sex, and for me to take charge in the bedroom. Elaine... extrapolated a lot from that. I think because she wanted you for herself, a bit, and she figured that was as good a way as any to get you. She's not exactly, you know, ethical."

"Were you sleeping with her?"

He darkened. "No. She is attractive, of course, and I considered it, briefly and carelessly as all men would, but I didn't want her. I wanted you."

"You wanted a me that didn't exist."

"I wanted the you that you wouldn't let out."

She was silent then. "So that's it then. This is me."

"This is you." He took a sip of his water. "So the question is, what do you want to do about it? We can find another psychologist, and start thera—"

"No." I was in tears right now, and knew what he was going to say. "No, that's not what I want. Years of therapy until I'm good enough for you. Uh-uh. No way."

"Then what?" he replied, exasperated. "Because I can't be with you like this. And if you won't change..."

"Who said I won't change?"

"But you said..."

"I said no therapy."

"And...?"

"You could change me back."

He was silent, perhaps stunned. This was not the direction he had thought the conversation was going. Not the way I'd thought it was going to go, either, truth be told, but I must have known deep down what this was going to come down to.

"What?"

"I don't want to wait years and years to feel right, I want to feel right again. Now. And you can help me do it. You can, can't you? If not, that bitch Elaine can, I'm sure of it."

"No, I can do it," he replied, concerned. "I just don't know if it's a good idea. You seem like you feel betrayed by what we did—what I did to you last time. And I don't want you to feel that way, ever."

"You can't be hypnotized into doing something you don't really want to do, deep down," I said. "Master," I added, with a smirk.

My smile lit his own, and I saw it spread to his eyes. "No, I suppose not. At its heart, that's what has kept me going all of these years. Otherwise the guilt would have killed me, I think."

I was silent for a moment, and I took his hand. "So how do we go about this? This change back, I mean."

"It's pretty simple, really; just a catch phrase you've been implanted with. But I want to be sure you want this." He arched his eyebrow.

Now he was just being frustrating. "Didn't I just tell you I wanted it?"

"I want to hear what it is that you want."

"Come on!" I was half amused and half angry. Was he going to make me beg?

"That's right," he said, reading my mind. "You're going to beg for it."

"Okay. Please. I want you to change me back."

"Into what?"

"Into the girl I was a week ago."

"And who was that?"

"Your slut."

"You weren't just my slut. You were more than that."

"I was... your cock-hungry fuckwhore."

"Mmmm... that's right, you were. So ask."

"Please, make me—"

"Please, 'Master'."

I giggled, but returned to seriousness in an instant. "Please, Master, make me your cock-hungry fuckwhore again."

"I'm not sure you really want it."

"My cunt is dripping right now, let's not waste this, okay?"

"Say it like you mean it."

"Please," I said, dropping to my knees, with agony in my voice, "Please, Master, make me into your cock-hungry fuckwhore. I've missed it so." I pulled down his boxers, and freed his erect cock, and my hand stroked it up and down. I took it in my hand and looked up into his eyes, pleadingly.

He consented.

"Nicolette Ann, I own your pussy."

And suddenly, a new day dawned, and the truth of his words played over my body like sunlight. "Again."

"What? No, it should have worked the first time. Maybe I should call—"

"No,Master," I emphasized. "It worked, oh, it worked wonderfully, gorgeously. But I want to hear you say it again, anyway."

He brightened, and motioned my legs onto the couch with him. "Oh." A laugh. "Nicolette Ann, I own your pussy."

"Nikki, only, Nikki for you, Master. Say it once more, please, so I can be sure it's true?"

"Heh. It is true, slut." He parted my thighs and eased himself up between them. He gently removed my panties, with a near-reverence for what he revealed. "I can tell already."

"Please tell your slut again. Pllllease..."

"Nikki, Iownyour fuckingpussy.I own you and I will own you until your dying day."

I was as sopping wet as any good little cockhungry fuckwhore could be. His mouth kissed the new me hello, then, the real me, the only good me, and I came thunderously just seconds after he began to lick me there. The wetness of my slut-cunt flowed onto his chin, but he did not relent after I stopped bucking. This, I could tell from the ravenous way he ate me out, would be one of those nights he would taste me for hours, disregarding my pleading for his cock, until he was satisfied he'd swallowed enough of me. I placed one leg on the floor, and slid the other up over the backrest of the couch, to give him better access.

To the pussy he owned once more. To themehe owned once more.

And would, now, forever and forever.

I screamed at the thought, and nearly drowned him in my excitement.

But that was long ago, and this is now. My pussy feels good, as it often does after my sessions with Elaine. Sometimes I wish she'd use me while I was under, and not merely for her payment afterwards. She's a very hot woman, and I'd not mind being under her control for a while—the hypnotism would hardly be necessary.

I smile at Bethany as I walk out, and she leans her head in while I'm writing the check. I notice she's inhaling, and know she must smell Dr. Beston's come on my face. I had stopped in the restroom to fix my makeup, but I'd been too turned on by having her juices on me to wash myself thoroughly. (For some reason I'dthoughtI was missing my panties, too, but a quick check after I did my face had indicated that my white silkies were still there, if a bit more drenched for wear. I'd taken them off, then, and I will hang them in the car to dry in the afternoon sun.)

Bethany hands me my receipt, and with it a phone number. "Call me this weekend," she says in a low voice. "I think you and I could go out, and have areallygood time."

I'm already damp, but my nipples harden quickly at the thought. Master would hardly object to her; she's just his type, really—sweet and demure exterior, but with a hidden slut submerged beneath, I think. "Maybe," I say, with a twinkle in my eye. "Or maybe we'll just stay in."

And I leave her with that as I head out the door.

I'm pulling into Penny's driveway. The lawn needs mowing, and there's no "man of the house" here, anymore. Carl had barely kept it trimmed, anyway, even when he was here.

I get out of the car, and trot my way up to the front porch to ring the doorbell. I sway my ass in a way made easy by my three-inch heels, and notice that the older gentleman sitting on his step two doors down is watching me. I give him a show as I bend over to check whether my seams are straight, and it's in this position that Penny sees me as she opens the door.

"Ahem," she grins. "Showing off again, Nix?"

I make no real effort to speed up, but I do rise soon to meet her gaze, smiling. "Penny, dear, I don't know what you're talking about. Honestly!"

"All right, enough of that, now. Come in before you give poor Mr. Jenkins another heart attack!"

"I gave him one before?"

"No, I'm sure that was just coincidence. Now come in!"

I step over the threshold and into her living room. Penny lives in a smaller house than I do, but her touch has turned it as comfy as possible. The chairs are lived-in, but re-upholstered to look spiffy, except where Carl's cigarette-stained hands have violated the crisp colors. I do not miss him for many reasons, but his smoking is high up on the list. The smell lingers, even after the months of his absence and the industrial-strength air fresheners.

She leads me into the kitchen, where I sit down at her breakfast table, crossing my legs. She gets me a cup of herbal tea (cinnamon! mmmmm!) and then sits across from me. We chat about the weather, and she tries to avoid talking about the divorce, but it edges its way into the conversation like an unwelcome visitor.

"... and I hate that lawyers are taking so much of the nest egg we built for so long. I wanted to just split things amicably between us—even give him a bit more, since he has brought in most of the money—but he insisted on "fair and equitable" involving lawyers. So it turns out, I'll actually getmorethan I was asking for, but the excess will go to paying legal fees anyway, so it's a wash. God, why couldn't he have been more mature about it?"

"Yeah, guys are a bit out of it when it comes to that stuff. Why be so vindictive, you know?"

"Well..." Now Penny looked down. "He was very jealous of... well, of you and me."

"Oh." Penny was one of the first girls Master had told me to masturbate about and, later, to be with. She was perhaps the girl I was closest to, of all those I had been with sexually. I think if I were wired differently, I could be in love with her. She's that special. "But he knew the whole time..."

"Yes, he did, but I think he thought of it as something that I did to turn him on. I was straight before we met, you know, and he thought it was something that I only did when he wasn't here to satisfy my hunger." I don't miss her glance downward at my calves and thighs. I was wet in the car on the way over, but now my pussy is giving out a pleasant and pervasive throb. "But I think he started to think that it was more than that, for me."

I lean in, sparkles in my eyes. "And was it?"

"Oh... yess..." She is looking at me with a lot of interest right now. Did her thighs just squeeze together within her pants? "I think what finally got him, what finally made him leave, was..."

"Yes?" I am ready to pounce on her, and I know she won't resist me.

"... was the time I called out your name when he ate my pussy out."

"Unhhhh..." I moan as I lock my lips to hers, and take her face in my hands. Her hands are busy on my tits, through my dress, the nipples prodding her fingertips through the new bra, as I taste her tongue and feel her firm but gentle lips caressing mine. I shift forward, enough to rock me out of my chair, but she catches me in her lap, straddling her thigh, my cuntal bulge rubbing her leg, dampening her pants. She gasps for breath, and looks at me in adoration, and it gives me a tingle to know how much she wants me. I slide my red nails across her belly, and down into the humidity of her pants. She's not wearing panties. Another thing we have in common.

I've got my finger in her snatch, and I'm pumping it in and out while I stroke her button with my thumb, not gently now, but firm and rhythmic. She's backed away now, no longer kissing me, just riding my hand. I look at her face, what I'm doing to her, and she parts her shirt for me. No bra, either. Good. Easy access to the nipples I need to suck. I wrap my mouth around one while I continue fingering her, and it sends her over the edge to feel the suction. She rides my finger as she groans, "Nikki, oh, Nikki, yes!"

As she slows, I dramatically withdraw my hand, and ensure she's watching as I slowly and deliberately lick it clean. Her eyes are glowing, and the dampness at her crotch tells me she is not done yet. Which is good, because I'm not donewithher yet.

I drop to my knees on the kitchen floor, feeling the coolth of the tile through my hose. Penny is looking down at me and wiggling her ass out of the pants. Soon her cunt is bare to my gaze, and I'm falling into it like I have a million times before, as her taste and smell overwhelm me, and I fuck her with my lips and tongue, languorously, until she grabs the back of my hair with both hands and braces me so she can buck upward into my mouth. I swallow her fuck and moan into her wetness, smearing my lipstick on her inner lips, desperately, impossibly trying to getinsideher with my whole face. I have Master for my owner, but sometimes I want to feel like an owner, and for the duration of this moment, of my mouth on her, I ownherpussy. She thinks so too, and proves it by giving me more of her orgasms on my tongue.

When her thigh-sweat/slitjuice has utterly ruined my rouge, and she has pushed me back a bit because she's too sensitive this close after coming the third time, I grin at her and give her a wink. "Well, you didn't call out my name this time. Are you sure I'm doing this right?"

She's panting and can barely answer, but she makes a valiant effort. "Just a sec. I'll show you how to do it."

And as I lie back with my thighs spread, I can tell by the look on her face, as she looms over me like a predator, that I am in for the cuntsucking of my life. She's licking her way up my stocking seam, now, and knowsI'llbe calling outhername before the afternoon is done...

Penny kisses me hard and deeply on the doorstep, but as much as my flavor on her lips is reminding me how much fun it would be to stay, I do need to get going. The mall is always a madhouse, and it's already 3pm. The house is mostly clean, but I'd like to get a little more preparation time before Master brings Stu home at six...

Regretfully, Penny lets me leave her arms with an admonition to come again soon. I laugh at the double entendre and tell her that I will, assuredly, this evening when Master gets home. She looks jealous. And a glance over at Mr. Jenkins as I strut over to the car implies he is jealous ofbothof us. I make sure to flash him with legs askew as I enter the driver-side door, and give him a smile and a wink as I pass him on my way out of the neighborhood. Nice old guy. I hope his wife takes good care of him.

As expected, the mall parking lot is swarming with people, many of them teenagers just getting off school. I note a couple of older girls who I'd like to bed, and hope tenaciously that they're over eighteen. I may be deliriously fuckhungry most (all) of the time, but I am not a sicko!

I get several wolf-whistles from guys as I walk from the back end of the parking lot to the Sears entrance, and I make sure I put extra wiggle in my ass to let them know I appreciate the compliment.

I fight through the inconvenient layout of Sears (should've used another entrance), and out into the mall proper. Or improper, as I find when I travel up the escalator and hear a hissed, "Oh my God, dude!" I look down to find out what's going on, and it turns out two teenage guys, drinking sodas in uncomfortable lounge chairs, are staring up my skirt as I rise to the second floor. I turn away, pretending not to notice, but it's hard not to grin at the reaction. I'm not saying I part my legs a bit more as the stairs move upward. I'm certainly not saying Ido. But it's possible Imay, to give myself an extra tingle in my clit.Mmmmm...I might need to stop in the ladies' room before I hit the store.