Mind Control Pt. 04

My semen arced through the air, landing across Alison's hair, forehead and eyes, followed by a lesser spurt onto her cheek and nose. Before I could continue decorating her face, she took me in her mouth, first gulping down my ejaculations, then sucking whatever remained.

She looked at me, face dripping, and smiled, eyes asking a question.

I smiled at her, knees still shaking. "That was magnificent." I wanted to say more, but Fiona tapped her shoulder, and the two women proceeded to clean cum off one another's faces, first licking, then kissing one another, swapping mouthfuls, mixing the two loads, before swallowing the cum cocktail.

Now the group returned to an easy, relaxed discussion, splitting into groups, as each couple reformed. Some discussed sexual techniques and practices, sharing hints and tips - even providing small demonstrations, sharing the most intimate secrets of their lives.

We had drinks, toasted one another and relaxed together.

As time passed, new energy was acquired, and, helped by the stroking of the ladies, erections sprouted, leading in to another bout of sucking and fucking. More leisurely this time, easy, relaxed as we swapped partners, making sure that no-one missed out on anything.

None of us went to bed that night, preferring to stay together, dozing in the small hours of the morning, before leaving, happy and exhausted. The only regret was that we did not live closer to one another, and that such get togethers would have to be rare.

As Chrissie and I travelled home, we began in comfortable silence, before I decided to speak up.

"Where did you learn to dance like that? You were awesome."

She giggled. "Remember our student, Sophie? She's been dancing for years. While I was shut away in that room, practising, I had my ear buds in, listening to her on a video call. She choreographed the lot."

I laughed. It was not that I hadn't thought my wife was capable of putting together a performance - just that she had stopped dancing not long after we first met, and I had been surprised that she still had such skills. In truth, I was extremely impressed that she had asked for help.

Now that the silence was broken, Chrissie continued talking.

"So what did you think of the party?" She probed gently.

I was cautious with my answer, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but at the same time, be honest.

"I thought your performance was fantastic. You made me incredibly proud."

"Thanks," she replied, "what about the rest?"

I considered very carefully, unsure what she wanted to hear.

"It was fun. A lot of fun. They were good people. I think we were lucky with them - but there again, we spent time getting to know them first. How do you feel about it?"

When she replied, it was obvious that she had prepared her answer, as she responded instantly.

"I loved it. They were great people, but the sex was amazing. I love watching you, but having something different adds a new dimension. I want to do it again. Not straight away, but in a couple of months or so."

I nodded, relieved that she shared my thinking. I had loved it too. It adds something different. We were confident in our love for one another, and sex had now changed from being inextricably linked to our relationship, to being something which could enhance and develop our feelings. The only essential thing was that we did everything together. That would never change.

I laughed. "Me too. How, though? We can't just summon the same people - though it'd be nice some time. Where are we going to find a different group, get to know them and then move forward?"

She licked her lips. Here came her plan.

"We could skip the 'getting to know' bit, and skip straight to the sex. Anyone we don't like, doesn't get involved. If we avoid the whole 'party' set up, where everyone has to fuck everyone else, we get to choose."

I was driving, so focused on the road, but I knew she was eying me slyly, trying to gauge my reaction.

"We could try a swingers' club," she suggested.

I processed this idea. I really had no idea what such clubs were like, and was not sure whether they would be our scene. I really did not want to wander in to a group of disrespectful perverts, all groping my wife, who might be the only attractive woman there, and assuming that the fact she walked through the door meant they were entitled to fuck her. I explained my thoughts to her in rather more considered terms.

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, to my relief. "That's definitely not what I want. I did some research, and they all seem very respectable - dress codes, rules, single men not encouraged. When we get home, I'll show you. Then we can talk, and if you're still not sure, we don't have to do it.

"Don't worry. It's not going to be a problem between us. Anyway," she giggled, "you can always hypnotise into not wanting to go. You created the sex-monster - you can direct it where you want it to go."

I suddenly felt rather guilty. She was right, of course, but I believed that what I was doing was freeing her, and the others, from repression. What Chrissie was suggesting was that I was the one in control, and could pick and choose what to repress and what freedom to allow at my own convenience.

Once more, Chrissie seemed to tune in to my feelings.

"I wouldn't want the sort of club you're envisaging. Just look, and if we both agree that these are respectable places for genuine people, we'll go. If they look sleazy, forget it."

Feeling slightly better, I drove homeward, looking forward, with some apprehension, to researching our local swingers' clubs - and potentially enjoying a wonderful, uninhibited evening.

As we had no desire to leap into anything straight away, we did not leap into our research too quickly. We lived between three major cities, with four of the type of clubs we were searching for - all sufficiently far away to guarantee (virtually) not meeting people we knew. Even if we did, the fact that they were, should ensure that our new-found outlet did not become public knowledge.

We also received a tearful phone call from Cat. Her mother had been diagnosed with a rare illness (not one to name here for fear of causing upset or offence). It was quite advanced. The prognosis was poor, yet there were treatments available - just not in the UK. There were private clinics elsewhere in Asia and Europe which offered treatments which could not only prolong life, but might, potentially cure. The cost, however, was prohibitive.

The supreme irony was that the UK Government had been very vocal about the fact that the medications had been discovered here - but forgotten to mention that the companies which discovered them were based overseas - as were the specialists who could conduct surgery and other procedures. It was a familiar story.

I thought about the dilemma, and suggested a fundraising webpage or other way to raise money. The condition was far from unknown, and linking to the charity dedicated to supporting sufferers and their families could prove viable.

Cat burst into further floods of tears. Of course she had considered this, but the sums of money involved were huge - and needed to be raised in a matter of weeks. Sad though it seemed, Cat's mum had little hope of survival.

We talked some more, and invited Cat to come round the following day for coffee, so we could have a chat about things, and see if, between us, we could come up with any ideas.

The next morning, she arrived, without make-up, face streaked with tears, and definitely not herself. With her was her entourage - the other four girls with whom Chrissie and I had had vigorous sex, and who had all posed naked and more for my camera. On this occasion, however, it was as if none of this had happened - this was a counsel of war - a war against a fatal illness.

My first question was, I suppose, fairly obvious - however, the answer was quite a surprise.

"So, what made you decide to talk to us? Why not go through the charity or online funding pages?"

Cat looked around the group who nodded and encouraged to tell me what was on her mind.

"Well ... I'm willing to do anything ... I mean anything to raise money to save my mum. And they're saying they want to join me. We came here because ... well ... you can hypnotise us, so 'anything' means 'anything,' not just staying within limits of normal fund-raising."

My first reaction was instinctive.

"Hang on. You're not prostitutes. I turned you on to aspects of yourselves that you suppressed - I never wanted you to think it's ok to sell yourselves."

They instantly burst into a storm of indignant denials, before allowing Cat to speak.

"No. You've got it wrong. We won't do anything like that, but we considered things we wouldn't normally do - like webcam, selling knickers, that sort of thing. People pay a lot of money for that stuff. Then Sophie mentioned she'd taught Chrissie to strip, so we wondered about making money doing that for paying audiences. Selling photos and videos is another way - hiring ourselves out as nude au pairs for the day - that sort of thing. Nothing illegal."

"We also agreed," chipped in Emily, "that we'd enjoy it. One thing you did was bring out that whole exhibitionist, open side of our personalities, and we all find it a real turn on. To get turned on and make money - how cool would that be?"

It turned out that there were several ways Cat wanted our help - producing photographs to sell, generally organising and promoting events, arranging things so that they were as safe as possible and acting as a treasurer for the money they made, and ensuring it was paid over to the charities and Cat's mum's treatment as agreed. They also wanted me to hypnotise them frequently to ensure they were as open as possible to the activities and opportunities.

I was acutely aware of the risks. Men would pay for attractive young women, and would push further and further - if they were wealthy enough - for sexual favours. Cat and her friends were open to this idea - it would bring in plenty of money - but they needed limits. I agreed that this could be built in to the hypnosis - and form part of the 'rules' of the various fund-raisers.

Together, we set about developing our ideas - acutely aware that we were working against the clock. After a couple of hours, we had a lengthy list - then Cat turned to me with one last thought.

"Would you get involved? I know you're going to do photos to sell, promotion, hypnosis and everything - but one last thing?"

I raised a slightly cynical eyebrow. She ploughed ahead:

"Could we use your house as a base for the next few weeks? Come here in the morning, after the kids are at school, leave before they get home and work on things as we need to?

"Maybe we could offer your photography services more widely? Ask for a donation for a one-hour shoot? Hypnosis optional - though we'd not put that on fliers - just tell people.

"We'd pay for stuff like paper, printer inks and bring our own food."

I was about to try and limit this runaway train when Chrissie jumped in:

"Of course. We can fund the stationery and snacks. Just don't overburden Mark with photography, and set up an account in your own names - three at least - so we just do the numbers and don't have access to money. Also, make it very, very clear what the money's for - mum and charity. That way people are going to pay more and be happier to take part."

We all agreed to go away, research where to advertise and where to sell, and spend tomorrow on photos, webcam broadcasts and promotions.

It seemed a busy few weeks were coming up.

Chrissie and I spent the evening researching places to sell panties, photographs and more - as well as where to advertise strip shows to patrons who were not just out and out perves. In bed later, we fucked - quite creatively, I felt, as we were so tired - using toys, several different positions, all three of Chrissie's holes, and one of mine - before settling back and relaxing.

"I guess this makes sure we don't rush into a sex club," yawned Chrissie.

"Yeah," I agreed, "plenty of time to choose somewhere that appeals. Some of the seemed to what customers to add a sense of 'class,' by dressing smart, but actually looked pretty tacky. Others didn't seem to care who went in. Personally, I'd like one that's a bit more casual, but looks classy in itself. We've got time to look anyway."

A thought struck me. "Perhaps we can link our search to this fund raiser. Where better than swingers' clubs for the girls to raise money? Discretion, open-mindedness and they all preach consent. If they're open to the idea of raising money, we could advertise stuff there, and perhaps sort out the strip shows the girls want. What d'you think?"

"Mmm," groaned Chrissie, "sounds good. Let's get on to it tomorrow."

In part 5 - how will fare when we enter the world of swinging? Will we find our perfect club, or perhaps look into other aspects of hedonism? How will the fund-raising work out? A couple of weeks of sexual fun and shenanigans, or an unpleasant insight into a seedy underworld of sexual objectification? Whatever - it'll be fun finding out.