Pure Filth Part One
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Pure Filth! Part Four free porn video
Liz glanced in the mirror in the ladies’ room before leaving the office. She wanted to look absolutely perfect for lunch with Alana. She knew that her dark blue skirt-suit was very businesslike, but she added a turquoise scarf to soften her look for this special social occasion.
In the three years since Brandon, her main attorney, had married this beautiful, stylish blonde, Liz really enjoyed her chances to talk with Alana at the occasional cocktail parties and holiday receptions hosted by the firm. And, of course, when Alana came to the office to meet Brandon when they were going out on the town at the end of the working day.
But Liz was surprised, bowled over even, when Alana called her to invite her to lunch. What could it be about? There had to be a purpose. Alana had chosen a very special little French bistro, three blocks from the law office. She was waiting, radiant, in a blue pants suit with a crisp classic white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show off a ring of pearls—an anniversary present from Brandon.
“It’s sweet of you to come,” said Alana as she embraced Liz, kissing her on the cheek and then admiring Liz’s long gold-chain earrings, each with a tiny ball of jade at the end. They each ordered a glass of Viognier and chatted while they looked over the menu. Liz felt relaxed with Alana, but was aware of the deep pool of warm and yet complicated feelings about Brandon’s wife. Liz’s persistent crush on Brandon gave her little flashes of jealousy, but in some puzzling way, the fact that Brandon had managed to court and marry a woman with cover-girl looks and a Princeton degree wove Alana into Liz’s crush itself. It was as if she were in love with the couple Brandon-Alana.
“I’m so happy to be here with you,” Alana said, getting around to the reason for the lunch. “Brandon talks about you every day, he’s so fond of you, you’re so much a part of our life together, that I have the strange feeling, the illusion, really, that I see you all the time!”
Liz blushed a little. “We do work closely together. He’s my boss, a mentor, a friend, and....” she paused, unsure of what to say next, “...almost a brother. But don’t tell him I said that!”
Alana laughed. She was thinking to herself that if Liz was like a sister to Brandon, there was a whiff of incest in the air. But she said, more diplomatically, “We share him, in a way. You have his days, I have his nights...”
“And his weekends,” added Liz.
“And his weekends,” echoed Alana.
The waiter arrived and took their orders. Liz asked for the salade Auvergnate and Alana, more adventurously, got the boudin aux pommes.
“Since we are both fond of Brandon, I wanted to talk with you about him. Have you noticed anything...well, unusual about his mood in the past month and a half?”
Liz quickly responded, “Yes! Absolutely! To tell you the truth, I’ve been a little worried about him. It’s hard to describe. He’s been, not depressed, exactly, no, but rather distracted and excited at the same time. And then, when I’m around him, I feel....”
She stopped, reaching for a way to say this to Brandon’s wife, “I feel almost as if he’s been giving off a weird, kind of...kind of erotic, vibe. But,” she hurried to add, putting her hand on Alana’s arm, “not that he’s been in any way inappropriate or even flirtatious.”
Alana nodded, her expression serious and concerned. “That’s exactly it. Brandon...Brandon and I have been going through somewhat of a roller-coaster with regard to our relationship...”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re in any danger of...well, that your marriage is in any danger!” said Liz, struggling to not to sound hopeful or opportunistic.
“No, no. Our relationship is more sound than ever, I think. More honest. It’s just that I’ve been coming to know Brandon more deeply, and I’ve realized that he has some deep desires that remain unfulfilled, desires that could get in the way of our relationship if I don’t address them properly.”
“Desires?” asked Liz. “Don’t we all have desires, fantasies, that we can’t fulfil? Isn’t that just life?”
“Probably. But sometimes that can fester. Sometimes we need to bring them out into the open. For better or for worse.”
They were quiet for a little while. In the background they heard a table of French people chattering away about touring the U.S.
Liz was puzzled. The only thing that she seemed able to contribute to the conversation was the acknowledgment that Brandon had been in this strange frame of mind recently. What else could she do to help Alana with what was troubling her?
“So, Alana, how can I help? You know, if there’s anything, anything at all that can make Brandon’s life better, I’ll do it. Honestly. Anything. Just tell me.”
Again a pause, while the waiter deftly placed their salads and offered them a grinding of fresh pepper.
“Liz, you are the only person in the whole world I would ever talk with about this. And I want you to be completely frank if I make you uncomfortable. So interrupt me at any time.” After munching thoughtfully on some boudin, Alana continued, “You know, Brandon has a crush on you. A very serious crush. But I’m not jealous! How could any man work with you and not have a crush?”
Liz’s heart started pounding and yet her hands turned cold.
“A crush? Really? He said that?”
“Yes, he’s said that, not only in words but even in his tone of voice when he talks about you. And in the way he chooses his ties. You like him in red ties, right? He dresses to please you.”
Liz was thrilled, and confused at the same time. What was this leading to? Could Alana actually be so calm about this? Was she going to try to get Liz to change jobs? Her beloved job?
“Honest, Alana, I’ve done nothing to try to attract Brandon, really! We work together really well...”
Alana took Liz’s hand. “It’s good that he has a crush on you. And now I want to help him—and help you—take things further. Make things better for him, for you, and for me.”
“How?”
“Let’s just...” She focused on something in the distance as she tried to find the proper metaphor, “Let’s just find a way to release some of the tension, the pent-up steam of desire. Let’s find a safety-valve that will let us all continue to enjoy life without letting Brandon’s obsession reach explosive proportions!”
Alana realized that she was exaggerating just a bit. Brandon had a lot of obsessions and his crush on Liz was only one of many, but, she thought, one thing at a time.
“So how do we do this, Alana? As I said, I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Let me ask you a very personal question, Liz. I think that you’re divorced, right? But...and this is getting into stuff that’s none of my business...I don’t know if you’ve found someone new.”
“Oh, it’s not that private. I would have told Brandon if I’d found someone. But no such luck. Just some...well, not even dates. Just a few hook-ups.”
They ate in silence again a while. Then Alana came out with it.
“Liz, I’ll just drop the bomb. I just hope it doesn’t destroy our lunch and our friendship. Here it is. Brandon is obsessed—obsessed—by the idea of having a threesome with you.”
Liz’s fork fell on the floor with a loud clang. The waiter rushed over with another.
When the waiter was out of earshot, Liz said, “That’s awesome! That’s absolutely awesome!” Then she had second thoughts. Alana hadn’t said that it was good that Brandon had this obsession. Just that he had it.
Liz tried to cover her tracks and disguise her eagerness. “I mean, I think it’s awesome that the two of you can talk frankly about things like this. What a healthy relationship!”
“Yes, we talk about it. A lot,” again Alana was exaggerating. Mostly she was just extrapolating from Brandon’s collection of porn. He obviously liked threesomes, girl-girl-boy. Liz was just the most obvious choice. “But I think the time has come to get beyond talk. I think that we should help Brandon get out of his fantasy world and back into reality. I think that we should try a threesome. Once, anyway. I think that would relieve the tension we’ve both detected in the man we both value so much.”
“Wow, this is an amazing lunch!” exclaimed Liz, giggling. “I mean, it’s like getting Brandon for dessert!”
“And not just Brandon. I’m part of the package. That’s the way men are, and Brandon’s pretty typical. He wants to see a lot of girl-girl interaction. So I’m really happy that you’re so pretty, so delicious! It would be a lot harder with someone else.” Alana realized, as she said it, that this wasn’t entirely true. There were a lot of women she could imagine making it with, but Liz was a good one to start with, and she wanted Liz to feel good about all this.
Dumbfounded by this revelation, which cast her conscientious and serious co-worker in an entirely new light, Liz admitted to Alana that she was having trouble taking all this in.
“Brandon is like that? I mean, it’s pretty normal, almost every guy I’ve ever dated has wanted a threesome with another girl, but for it to get to the point of actually doing it and obsessing over it, wow!”
Letting Liz have time to wrap her mind around the idea, Alana ordered them two more glasses of wine.
After a while, Liz said, “Of course, I’ve always thought that once in my life, with the right people, I would want to try something like that. But bumping up against the reality is just...just wild!” She giggled with embarrassment, and with a mix of other jumbled feelings.
“And, just so you’ll have the whole picture, Brandon likes it a bit kinky. So there would be some domination (by me), some leather things, a dungeon-like setting. I guess you get the picture!”
“Does it hurt?” asked Liz. “I mean, do you guys use whips and torture stuff?”
“Oh, nothing that would ever hurt you. Even with Brandon it’s mostly his male pride that gets hurt. It’s most psychological. Mostly. But with you, I’d dominate you, that’s my role, but I’d be gentle. You’ll see. It will be fun.”
By now it was clear to both of them that Liz was on board. No longer were they talking about if but about how. As they sipped their wine, Alana got to practical matters.
“Look, Liz, we need to strike while the iron is hot. The more time you think about this, the more complicated it will seem. We need to start, right now.”
“Right now?”
“Can you call in and get off work this afternoon?”
“Yes, I can,” replied Liz, “But Brandon’s going to be at the courthouse.”
“We don’t need him for the first step. Just you and me.”
Liz looked baffled.
“We need to get comfortable together, so that when we’re with Brandon it won’t be stiff and phony.”
Liz reddened. “Are you talking about a lesbian thing? About girl-girl?”
“Well,” said Alana, “not necessarily this afternoon. With Brandon, yes, we’ll have to be a little touchy-feely with each other. But for now you just have to be comfortable being naked and sexy with me nearby.”
“So how do we do that?” said Liz.
Alana explained that she had an idea of how they could accomplish two things at one time. First, Liz had to be comfortable with Alana and with her own sexuality. Second, it would be good to give Brandon a little preview of how sexy Liz could be.
“You know, he sees you every day looking so professional, so covered up. Let’s whet his appetite. Let’s make some pin-up photos of you. I’d love to play photographer, and I have a professional-quality Canon.”
Less than an hour later, they arrived, in Alana’s car, at a seedy motel out near the interstate. Alana explained that she chose the place for the atmosphere, the squalid, raunchy, nasty air of sin and decadence. Out front a neon sign advertised “complementary (sic) adult movies in all rms!” After registering in the office, Alana popped open the trunk and took out a large leather bag with her camera and they headed to room 27. Liz’s heart was pounding and she had butterflies in her stomach.
The room was clean, at least, smelling faintly of disinfectant soap. The walls were a pale acid green, the lamp had a broken shade, there were old plastic ashtrays, and, incongruously, a new flat-screen TV that was already on, tuned to the menu of a 24-hour porn service with a selection of three channels: lesbian, gay, and gang-bang. They both laughed.
“You choose,” said Alana. “It’s part of the shoot. You know, the filthy, degenerate, totally unromantic feel. The photoset that we’re making for our Brandon is going to be post-modern porn. I guess the only thing we’re missing is a model with a lot of tattoos.”
Liz said, “I’ve only got one. On my right breast. It’s a small gecko.”
“That’s good! I’m surprised, but glad. You don’t seem the type.”
“It’s from college. My only wild thing. A boyfriend wanted to give me a tattoo for my nineteenth birthday. Anyway, for the TV, you choose.”
Alana decided to go for the gay porn. “If we don’t like it, we can change later. Here. I’ll show you my camera and the props.”
From her bag she took an impressive SLR digital camera, a couple of dildos, a large plug-in vibrator, and a bunch of leather cuffs and a leather collar.
“Why don’t you undress and put on the cuffs. You can leave on your panties for now. I’ll help you with the collar.”
Liz took off her shoes, her suit, her blouse, her bra, and her pantyhose. She fastened two cuffs on her ankles and then the others on her wrists. Alana put on the collar and fastened it behind Liz’s neck.
“The leather smells good,” said Liz.
“It’s new, really. We got it about a month ago for our special basement room where Brandon and I do our kinky stuff. I call it therapy. Why don’t you put on your heels again and I’ll do a few shots of you just walking around the room. And let your hair fall around your shoulders.”
Looking at Liz in this setting, Alana had an idea. The look could be even better. In a place like this, this run-down motel where people came to fuck, Liz looked out of place. Too much out of place. They needed to tweak her style a bit. Alana rummaged in the bag and found some makeup, some freebees from some sale. There was some green eye shadow that almost exactly matched the acid green of the walls. And there were false eyelashes the color of Liz’s brown hair. And then there was a lipstick that was exactly wrong, brilliant red, really red, that just did not fit with the eye shadow. It was so wrong, that it was right! It would make Liz look like a slut who couldn’t get her shit together enough to make things match. It was perfect for the aesthetic Alana was going for. And, on top of that, Alana realized that her slight, very slight, jealousy of her husband’s co-worker, would be well served by making Liz look like a cheap slut, down at the heels, and ready to pose for porn.
On the screen were three very large, muscular, white guys, not bad looking—college students, perhaps—in the buff, fooling around in what looked like a dorm room.
“They don’t look gay,” said Liz, unable to take her eyes of the screen. “I’d be happy to jump into bed with any one of them.”
“Well, gay for pay or not, you can’t fake hard-ons like those,” said Alana as she got out the make-up. “Hold still. I’m going to doll you up a bit.”
When she had done, she said, “Now, Liz baby, lie down on the bed, watch the TV, and touch yourself through your panties at first. Just rub the cotton in the right place, so you feel good.”
Liz hesitated. “I’ve never done this in front of someone. And you have a camera, too!”
“Don’t forget that we’re doing this for Brandon. I can guarantee you that he’ll like what he sees.”
Liz poked tentatively at her crotch, but then, as she got absorbed in the action on the screen, she lost her self-consciousness and began fingering herself in earnest. Alana gave no more instructions for a while and just let Liz get lost in her pleasure. A large damp spot was soon visible on the white fabric. One of the men was a really muscular blond with a face like Leonardo di Caprio. Liz watched spellbound as he licked little beads of white from the tip of a very thick, rigid penis. Besides a little involuntary sound from Liz, a soft singing or whimpering, the only sounds were the groans and the “Fuck, that feels good!” from the TV, and some clicks from the camera.
Alana was pleased not to have to tell Liz to pull the cotton crotch aside. Her fingers seemed to have a life of their own, and soon the darker brown-pink of her inner lips were on display for the camera. Alana was using only natural light so she wouldn’t disturb the masturbator. Besides, without a flash the photos would come out with a darker, grittier quality, suitable to the shabby setting. Liz’s face and chest were now coated with fine beads of sweat.
Suddenly she stiffened, her whole body rigid for a moment before bucking wildly. The beige bedcover instantly had a dark puddle right below her pussy.
She seemed to wake out of a trance and looked at Alana, all embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to come...so soon, anyway...”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. So hot. So different with your clothes off and your hair down.”
“Now we’re going to try a little role-play. It’s like what I do with Brandon. Have you ever tried restraint? In bed I mean.”
“No, never.”
“Here put on these two cuffs.”
Liz took the cuffs from Alana. She liked the smell of the leather. It was like new, and good quality, with shiny metal studs on the outside, a buckle, and a metal ring. She put the first cuff on her left hand and fastened it. Then she tried the right, but had trouble with the buckle. Alana got it to work. Liz liked Alana’s gentleness, the sweet smell of her body. Strangely, she liked that Alana was dressed and that she herself was naked and exposed to her...to her what? To her new friend. Alana, meanwhile, put the collar around Liz’s neck and buckled it behind. Then she asked Liz to raise her arms above her head, toward the struts of the headboard, then she clipped each end of a chain to one of the cuffs, wrapping the chain around one of the struts.
“You are so beautiful like that, lying back with your beautiful shiny hair spread out on the pillow, your legs spread, and that big wet spot on your panties. How does it feel?”
“Umh, great,” said Liz languorously, relaxing into the bed. “I wish I could spend all my afternoons like this, having orgasms and then stretching out, and with such a nice friend.”
She turned her head slightly to look at the TV screen. The blond cutie now had gobs of cum all over his face. Judging from the look of things, some of it was from the brown-haired guy and some of it was the blond’s own. He must have sprayed himself in the face, and must have come really, really hard. Liz was a little sorry she had missed the moment.
“Here’s another new sensation,” said Alana, as she pulled a ball gag from her bag.
Liz looked a little alarmed.
“Don’t worry. It’s perfectly clean and it won’t hurt one bit.”
The gag in place, she waited, watching her helpless playmate.
“I love that you’re my fuck-toy now. This morning you were at your desk in your firm, being all crisp and professional. Then at noon, you were my luncheon companion, just a smart, independent, pretty woman laughing with a friend. Then you became a pinup model, masturbating yourself on camera. And now, now you are just a toy, pretty little doll with an innocent face and wet panties.”
Alana found the situation so much fun that she couldn’t help clapping.
Liz squirmed in her restraints. She suddenly felt unsure of herself and very naked and exposed. Trying to say something, she only produced muffled grunts: agh wann taykake... From the TV came echoing grunts of male voices.
After about twenty shots from different angles and distances, Alana decided that the panties were in the way. Her solution: grabbing the fabric of the crotch with her right hand and pulling hard. With a ripping sound the wet cotton yielded, exposing Liz’s swollen lips and stiff love button.
There was something touching about the look of the white ripped panties, providing a color contrast with reddened flesh.
Since Liz couldn’t use her fingers to caress herself, Alana rummaged in her bag and pulled out a large Hitachi vibrator with a long cord. She plugged it in, and switched it on, holding the large round head against Liz’s crotch.
The effect was like magic! The strong vibrations rippled from this central point out through Liz’s thighs and down her calves to her feet, which now were bouncing and twitching. At the same time the waves moved up through her belly and torso to her arms, which tugged vigorously against the cuffs and the chain. Liz’s face turned dark red and crumpled itself into a grimace.
She was out of control.
No, she was in Alana’s control. Totally.
Liz knew that she was going to have another orgasm and it was going to be massive. She felt her ass-cheeks contracting and releasing, she felt her pussy ready to gush, she felt her nipples...she felt her nipples as tingling electric points. She imagined that she was shooting rays of sexual energy. She felt she was going into convulsions. She saw light, she went arghawwwaaawww...She felt how wet the sheets were under her.
The next thing she remembered, the gag was gone but her mouth was filled, now with Alana’s tongue.
Alana stopped kissing her long enough to say, “Now you are my fuck-toy. Totally. Right?”
Liz nodded.
“Now say it. Say it in words.”
Liz didn’t feel that her mouth was going to work, but it did, and the strange words came out of her. Once they started, they didn’t seem to stop.
“Yes, I’m your fuck-toy, I’m your fuck-toy, I’m your fuck-toy, I’m your FUCK-TOY! Make me your Fuck Toy!...”
Alana knew that Liz wanted more. Hell, she, Alana wanted more. But Liz needed to be hungry for a while. A fast before a feast, they say.
“Sweet little Liz,” Alana said soothingly, whispering, “you are my fuck-toy now. I’m going to uncuff you. And then I’m going to show you the pictures...”
Liz lay there stunned, as Alana unfastened her.
The PICTURES!
She had lost all awareness of that! Suddenly her heart was racing, her hands were cold. She really was Alana’s slave! At her mercy, totally. If those photos got out...My God!
Alana had Liz wash up in the rather broken-down bathroom. Liz couldn’t believe the way she looked in the mirror, her hair wet and matted onto her face, her makeup smeared, her lips swollen, her nipples still erect, her whole body wet. She pulled off the remnant of her panties and threw it away. She washed herself with a damp washcloth, then dried herself. She went into the bedroom and got a comb and did her best with her hair, hoping no one would see her.
She wiped off the makeup, but didn’t try to redo it. Her hands were not steady enough. Then, back in the bedroom, she put her clothes back on. It felt very strange to be without panties under her suit skirt. Especially when her still-aroused lips rubbed against the fine wool.
Alana had put the files on an i-pad for display. Liz couldn’t believe how utterly pornographic the photos were. An aroused slut masturbating and coming in a cheap motel room. Then the slut in bondage, her panties torn, being given an orgasm with a huge vibrator, writing and wetting the bed in her excitement!
“My God! My God! Alana, what have you made me do?”
“I’ve just helped you be honest, helped you reveal a side of you that you keep hidden. Brandon will be charmed!”
Brandon! The horror of it now hit Liz full force. She felt sick to her stomach. She fought to keep the nausea down.
“NO! YOU WON’T! Please Alana! Please!”
Liz was now on her knees on the warn carpet, her arms around Alana’s knees, in the gesture of supplicants since the most ancient times.
“It’s not me in those photos! It’s someone else! Don’t show them to Brandon!”
She was sobbing now, her shoulders shaking.
A pause, while Alana let Liz cry herself into some temporary calm. Then she said, “As you say, Liz, it’s not you. Think about it. If I show these to Brandon, and tell him I got them on the internet, he’ll never think that it’s you. Look at them again.”
She helped Liz stand up. They sat together on the bed and scrolled through the pictures. Liz realized that Alana was right. No one, absolutely no one, would know that it was Liz.
She was hidden in full sight. Her nakedness was the perfect disguise. Her sluttiness protected her. Alana had so completely sluttified her that Brandon could stare at these photos for hours and never know that it was the woman he worked with five days a week.
Liz was so relieved that she wrapped her arms around Alana and kissed her deeply.
Driving the shaken Liz back into town, Alana felt a tingle of triumph. She now controlled Liz totally, and through Liz she would be able to dominate Brandon even more completely than before. The possibilities were endless!
In the three years since Brandon, her main attorney, had married this beautiful, stylish blonde, Liz really enjoyed her chances to talk with Alana at the occasional cocktail parties and holiday receptions hosted by the firm. And, of course, when Alana came to the office to meet Brandon when they were going out on the town at the end of the working day.
But Liz was surprised, bowled over even, when Alana called her to invite her to lunch. What could it be about? There had to be a purpose. Alana had chosen a very special little French bistro, three blocks from the law office. She was waiting, radiant, in a blue pants suit with a crisp classic white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show off a ring of pearls—an anniversary present from Brandon.
“It’s sweet of you to come,” said Alana as she embraced Liz, kissing her on the cheek and then admiring Liz’s long gold-chain earrings, each with a tiny ball of jade at the end. They each ordered a glass of Viognier and chatted while they looked over the menu. Liz felt relaxed with Alana, but was aware of the deep pool of warm and yet complicated feelings about Brandon’s wife. Liz’s persistent crush on Brandon gave her little flashes of jealousy, but in some puzzling way, the fact that Brandon had managed to court and marry a woman with cover-girl looks and a Princeton degree wove Alana into Liz’s crush itself. It was as if she were in love with the couple Brandon-Alana.
“I’m so happy to be here with you,” Alana said, getting around to the reason for the lunch. “Brandon talks about you every day, he’s so fond of you, you’re so much a part of our life together, that I have the strange feeling, the illusion, really, that I see you all the time!”
Liz blushed a little. “We do work closely together. He’s my boss, a mentor, a friend, and....” she paused, unsure of what to say next, “...almost a brother. But don’t tell him I said that!”
Alana laughed. She was thinking to herself that if Liz was like a sister to Brandon, there was a whiff of incest in the air. But she said, more diplomatically, “We share him, in a way. You have his days, I have his nights...”
“And his weekends,” added Liz.
“And his weekends,” echoed Alana.
The waiter arrived and took their orders. Liz asked for the salade Auvergnate and Alana, more adventurously, got the boudin aux pommes.
“Since we are both fond of Brandon, I wanted to talk with you about him. Have you noticed anything...well, unusual about his mood in the past month and a half?”
Liz quickly responded, “Yes! Absolutely! To tell you the truth, I’ve been a little worried about him. It’s hard to describe. He’s been, not depressed, exactly, no, but rather distracted and excited at the same time. And then, when I’m around him, I feel....”
She stopped, reaching for a way to say this to Brandon’s wife, “I feel almost as if he’s been giving off a weird, kind of...kind of erotic, vibe. But,” she hurried to add, putting her hand on Alana’s arm, “not that he’s been in any way inappropriate or even flirtatious.”
Alana nodded, her expression serious and concerned. “That’s exactly it. Brandon...Brandon and I have been going through somewhat of a roller-coaster with regard to our relationship...”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re in any danger of...well, that your marriage is in any danger!” said Liz, struggling to not to sound hopeful or opportunistic.
“No, no. Our relationship is more sound than ever, I think. More honest. It’s just that I’ve been coming to know Brandon more deeply, and I’ve realized that he has some deep desires that remain unfulfilled, desires that could get in the way of our relationship if I don’t address them properly.”
“Desires?” asked Liz. “Don’t we all have desires, fantasies, that we can’t fulfil? Isn’t that just life?”
“Probably. But sometimes that can fester. Sometimes we need to bring them out into the open. For better or for worse.”
They were quiet for a little while. In the background they heard a table of French people chattering away about touring the U.S.
Liz was puzzled. The only thing that she seemed able to contribute to the conversation was the acknowledgment that Brandon had been in this strange frame of mind recently. What else could she do to help Alana with what was troubling her?
“So, Alana, how can I help? You know, if there’s anything, anything at all that can make Brandon’s life better, I’ll do it. Honestly. Anything. Just tell me.”
Again a pause, while the waiter deftly placed their salads and offered them a grinding of fresh pepper.
“Liz, you are the only person in the whole world I would ever talk with about this. And I want you to be completely frank if I make you uncomfortable. So interrupt me at any time.” After munching thoughtfully on some boudin, Alana continued, “You know, Brandon has a crush on you. A very serious crush. But I’m not jealous! How could any man work with you and not have a crush?”
Liz’s heart started pounding and yet her hands turned cold.
“A crush? Really? He said that?”
“Yes, he’s said that, not only in words but even in his tone of voice when he talks about you. And in the way he chooses his ties. You like him in red ties, right? He dresses to please you.”
Liz was thrilled, and confused at the same time. What was this leading to? Could Alana actually be so calm about this? Was she going to try to get Liz to change jobs? Her beloved job?
“Honest, Alana, I’ve done nothing to try to attract Brandon, really! We work together really well...”
Alana took Liz’s hand. “It’s good that he has a crush on you. And now I want to help him—and help you—take things further. Make things better for him, for you, and for me.”
“How?”
“Let’s just...” She focused on something in the distance as she tried to find the proper metaphor, “Let’s just find a way to release some of the tension, the pent-up steam of desire. Let’s find a safety-valve that will let us all continue to enjoy life without letting Brandon’s obsession reach explosive proportions!”
Alana realized that she was exaggerating just a bit. Brandon had a lot of obsessions and his crush on Liz was only one of many, but, she thought, one thing at a time.
“So how do we do this, Alana? As I said, I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Let me ask you a very personal question, Liz. I think that you’re divorced, right? But...and this is getting into stuff that’s none of my business...I don’t know if you’ve found someone new.”
“Oh, it’s not that private. I would have told Brandon if I’d found someone. But no such luck. Just some...well, not even dates. Just a few hook-ups.”
They ate in silence again a while. Then Alana came out with it.
“Liz, I’ll just drop the bomb. I just hope it doesn’t destroy our lunch and our friendship. Here it is. Brandon is obsessed—obsessed—by the idea of having a threesome with you.”
Liz’s fork fell on the floor with a loud clang. The waiter rushed over with another.
When the waiter was out of earshot, Liz said, “That’s awesome! That’s absolutely awesome!” Then she had second thoughts. Alana hadn’t said that it was good that Brandon had this obsession. Just that he had it.
Liz tried to cover her tracks and disguise her eagerness. “I mean, I think it’s awesome that the two of you can talk frankly about things like this. What a healthy relationship!”
“Yes, we talk about it. A lot,” again Alana was exaggerating. Mostly she was just extrapolating from Brandon’s collection of porn. He obviously liked threesomes, girl-girl-boy. Liz was just the most obvious choice. “But I think the time has come to get beyond talk. I think that we should help Brandon get out of his fantasy world and back into reality. I think that we should try a threesome. Once, anyway. I think that would relieve the tension we’ve both detected in the man we both value so much.”
“Wow, this is an amazing lunch!” exclaimed Liz, giggling. “I mean, it’s like getting Brandon for dessert!”
“And not just Brandon. I’m part of the package. That’s the way men are, and Brandon’s pretty typical. He wants to see a lot of girl-girl interaction. So I’m really happy that you’re so pretty, so delicious! It would be a lot harder with someone else.” Alana realized, as she said it, that this wasn’t entirely true. There were a lot of women she could imagine making it with, but Liz was a good one to start with, and she wanted Liz to feel good about all this.
Dumbfounded by this revelation, which cast her conscientious and serious co-worker in an entirely new light, Liz admitted to Alana that she was having trouble taking all this in.
“Brandon is like that? I mean, it’s pretty normal, almost every guy I’ve ever dated has wanted a threesome with another girl, but for it to get to the point of actually doing it and obsessing over it, wow!”
Letting Liz have time to wrap her mind around the idea, Alana ordered them two more glasses of wine.
After a while, Liz said, “Of course, I’ve always thought that once in my life, with the right people, I would want to try something like that. But bumping up against the reality is just...just wild!” She giggled with embarrassment, and with a mix of other jumbled feelings.
“And, just so you’ll have the whole picture, Brandon likes it a bit kinky. So there would be some domination (by me), some leather things, a dungeon-like setting. I guess you get the picture!”
“Does it hurt?” asked Liz. “I mean, do you guys use whips and torture stuff?”
“Oh, nothing that would ever hurt you. Even with Brandon it’s mostly his male pride that gets hurt. It’s most psychological. Mostly. But with you, I’d dominate you, that’s my role, but I’d be gentle. You’ll see. It will be fun.”
By now it was clear to both of them that Liz was on board. No longer were they talking about if but about how. As they sipped their wine, Alana got to practical matters.
“Look, Liz, we need to strike while the iron is hot. The more time you think about this, the more complicated it will seem. We need to start, right now.”
“Right now?”
“Can you call in and get off work this afternoon?”
“Yes, I can,” replied Liz, “But Brandon’s going to be at the courthouse.”
“We don’t need him for the first step. Just you and me.”
Liz looked baffled.
“We need to get comfortable together, so that when we’re with Brandon it won’t be stiff and phony.”
Liz reddened. “Are you talking about a lesbian thing? About girl-girl?”
“Well,” said Alana, “not necessarily this afternoon. With Brandon, yes, we’ll have to be a little touchy-feely with each other. But for now you just have to be comfortable being naked and sexy with me nearby.”
“So how do we do that?” said Liz.
Alana explained that she had an idea of how they could accomplish two things at one time. First, Liz had to be comfortable with Alana and with her own sexuality. Second, it would be good to give Brandon a little preview of how sexy Liz could be.
“You know, he sees you every day looking so professional, so covered up. Let’s whet his appetite. Let’s make some pin-up photos of you. I’d love to play photographer, and I have a professional-quality Canon.”
Less than an hour later, they arrived, in Alana’s car, at a seedy motel out near the interstate. Alana explained that she chose the place for the atmosphere, the squalid, raunchy, nasty air of sin and decadence. Out front a neon sign advertised “complementary (sic) adult movies in all rms!” After registering in the office, Alana popped open the trunk and took out a large leather bag with her camera and they headed to room 27. Liz’s heart was pounding and she had butterflies in her stomach.
The room was clean, at least, smelling faintly of disinfectant soap. The walls were a pale acid green, the lamp had a broken shade, there were old plastic ashtrays, and, incongruously, a new flat-screen TV that was already on, tuned to the menu of a 24-hour porn service with a selection of three channels: lesbian, gay, and gang-bang. They both laughed.
“You choose,” said Alana. “It’s part of the shoot. You know, the filthy, degenerate, totally unromantic feel. The photoset that we’re making for our Brandon is going to be post-modern porn. I guess the only thing we’re missing is a model with a lot of tattoos.”
Liz said, “I’ve only got one. On my right breast. It’s a small gecko.”
“That’s good! I’m surprised, but glad. You don’t seem the type.”
“It’s from college. My only wild thing. A boyfriend wanted to give me a tattoo for my nineteenth birthday. Anyway, for the TV, you choose.”
Alana decided to go for the gay porn. “If we don’t like it, we can change later. Here. I’ll show you my camera and the props.”
From her bag she took an impressive SLR digital camera, a couple of dildos, a large plug-in vibrator, and a bunch of leather cuffs and a leather collar.
“Why don’t you undress and put on the cuffs. You can leave on your panties for now. I’ll help you with the collar.”
Liz took off her shoes, her suit, her blouse, her bra, and her pantyhose. She fastened two cuffs on her ankles and then the others on her wrists. Alana put on the collar and fastened it behind Liz’s neck.
“The leather smells good,” said Liz.
“It’s new, really. We got it about a month ago for our special basement room where Brandon and I do our kinky stuff. I call it therapy. Why don’t you put on your heels again and I’ll do a few shots of you just walking around the room. And let your hair fall around your shoulders.”
Looking at Liz in this setting, Alana had an idea. The look could be even better. In a place like this, this run-down motel where people came to fuck, Liz looked out of place. Too much out of place. They needed to tweak her style a bit. Alana rummaged in the bag and found some makeup, some freebees from some sale. There was some green eye shadow that almost exactly matched the acid green of the walls. And there were false eyelashes the color of Liz’s brown hair. And then there was a lipstick that was exactly wrong, brilliant red, really red, that just did not fit with the eye shadow. It was so wrong, that it was right! It would make Liz look like a slut who couldn’t get her shit together enough to make things match. It was perfect for the aesthetic Alana was going for. And, on top of that, Alana realized that her slight, very slight, jealousy of her husband’s co-worker, would be well served by making Liz look like a cheap slut, down at the heels, and ready to pose for porn.
On the screen were three very large, muscular, white guys, not bad looking—college students, perhaps—in the buff, fooling around in what looked like a dorm room.
“They don’t look gay,” said Liz, unable to take her eyes of the screen. “I’d be happy to jump into bed with any one of them.”
“Well, gay for pay or not, you can’t fake hard-ons like those,” said Alana as she got out the make-up. “Hold still. I’m going to doll you up a bit.”
When she had done, she said, “Now, Liz baby, lie down on the bed, watch the TV, and touch yourself through your panties at first. Just rub the cotton in the right place, so you feel good.”
Liz hesitated. “I’ve never done this in front of someone. And you have a camera, too!”
“Don’t forget that we’re doing this for Brandon. I can guarantee you that he’ll like what he sees.”
Liz poked tentatively at her crotch, but then, as she got absorbed in the action on the screen, she lost her self-consciousness and began fingering herself in earnest. Alana gave no more instructions for a while and just let Liz get lost in her pleasure. A large damp spot was soon visible on the white fabric. One of the men was a really muscular blond with a face like Leonardo di Caprio. Liz watched spellbound as he licked little beads of white from the tip of a very thick, rigid penis. Besides a little involuntary sound from Liz, a soft singing or whimpering, the only sounds were the groans and the “Fuck, that feels good!” from the TV, and some clicks from the camera.
Alana was pleased not to have to tell Liz to pull the cotton crotch aside. Her fingers seemed to have a life of their own, and soon the darker brown-pink of her inner lips were on display for the camera. Alana was using only natural light so she wouldn’t disturb the masturbator. Besides, without a flash the photos would come out with a darker, grittier quality, suitable to the shabby setting. Liz’s face and chest were now coated with fine beads of sweat.
Suddenly she stiffened, her whole body rigid for a moment before bucking wildly. The beige bedcover instantly had a dark puddle right below her pussy.
She seemed to wake out of a trance and looked at Alana, all embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to come...so soon, anyway...”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. So hot. So different with your clothes off and your hair down.”
“Now we’re going to try a little role-play. It’s like what I do with Brandon. Have you ever tried restraint? In bed I mean.”
“No, never.”
“Here put on these two cuffs.”
Liz took the cuffs from Alana. She liked the smell of the leather. It was like new, and good quality, with shiny metal studs on the outside, a buckle, and a metal ring. She put the first cuff on her left hand and fastened it. Then she tried the right, but had trouble with the buckle. Alana got it to work. Liz liked Alana’s gentleness, the sweet smell of her body. Strangely, she liked that Alana was dressed and that she herself was naked and exposed to her...to her what? To her new friend. Alana, meanwhile, put the collar around Liz’s neck and buckled it behind. Then she asked Liz to raise her arms above her head, toward the struts of the headboard, then she clipped each end of a chain to one of the cuffs, wrapping the chain around one of the struts.
“You are so beautiful like that, lying back with your beautiful shiny hair spread out on the pillow, your legs spread, and that big wet spot on your panties. How does it feel?”
“Umh, great,” said Liz languorously, relaxing into the bed. “I wish I could spend all my afternoons like this, having orgasms and then stretching out, and with such a nice friend.”
She turned her head slightly to look at the TV screen. The blond cutie now had gobs of cum all over his face. Judging from the look of things, some of it was from the brown-haired guy and some of it was the blond’s own. He must have sprayed himself in the face, and must have come really, really hard. Liz was a little sorry she had missed the moment.
“Here’s another new sensation,” said Alana, as she pulled a ball gag from her bag.
Liz looked a little alarmed.
“Don’t worry. It’s perfectly clean and it won’t hurt one bit.”
The gag in place, she waited, watching her helpless playmate.
“I love that you’re my fuck-toy now. This morning you were at your desk in your firm, being all crisp and professional. Then at noon, you were my luncheon companion, just a smart, independent, pretty woman laughing with a friend. Then you became a pinup model, masturbating yourself on camera. And now, now you are just a toy, pretty little doll with an innocent face and wet panties.”
Alana found the situation so much fun that she couldn’t help clapping.
Liz squirmed in her restraints. She suddenly felt unsure of herself and very naked and exposed. Trying to say something, she only produced muffled grunts: agh wann taykake... From the TV came echoing grunts of male voices.
After about twenty shots from different angles and distances, Alana decided that the panties were in the way. Her solution: grabbing the fabric of the crotch with her right hand and pulling hard. With a ripping sound the wet cotton yielded, exposing Liz’s swollen lips and stiff love button.
There was something touching about the look of the white ripped panties, providing a color contrast with reddened flesh.
Since Liz couldn’t use her fingers to caress herself, Alana rummaged in her bag and pulled out a large Hitachi vibrator with a long cord. She plugged it in, and switched it on, holding the large round head against Liz’s crotch.
The effect was like magic! The strong vibrations rippled from this central point out through Liz’s thighs and down her calves to her feet, which now were bouncing and twitching. At the same time the waves moved up through her belly and torso to her arms, which tugged vigorously against the cuffs and the chain. Liz’s face turned dark red and crumpled itself into a grimace.
She was out of control.
No, she was in Alana’s control. Totally.
Liz knew that she was going to have another orgasm and it was going to be massive. She felt her ass-cheeks contracting and releasing, she felt her pussy ready to gush, she felt her nipples...she felt her nipples as tingling electric points. She imagined that she was shooting rays of sexual energy. She felt she was going into convulsions. She saw light, she went arghawwwaaawww...She felt how wet the sheets were under her.
The next thing she remembered, the gag was gone but her mouth was filled, now with Alana’s tongue.
Alana stopped kissing her long enough to say, “Now you are my fuck-toy. Totally. Right?”
Liz nodded.
“Now say it. Say it in words.”
Liz didn’t feel that her mouth was going to work, but it did, and the strange words came out of her. Once they started, they didn’t seem to stop.
“Yes, I’m your fuck-toy, I’m your fuck-toy, I’m your fuck-toy, I’m your FUCK-TOY! Make me your Fuck Toy!...”
Alana knew that Liz wanted more. Hell, she, Alana wanted more. But Liz needed to be hungry for a while. A fast before a feast, they say.
“Sweet little Liz,” Alana said soothingly, whispering, “you are my fuck-toy now. I’m going to uncuff you. And then I’m going to show you the pictures...”
Liz lay there stunned, as Alana unfastened her.
The PICTURES!
She had lost all awareness of that! Suddenly her heart was racing, her hands were cold. She really was Alana’s slave! At her mercy, totally. If those photos got out...My God!
Alana had Liz wash up in the rather broken-down bathroom. Liz couldn’t believe the way she looked in the mirror, her hair wet and matted onto her face, her makeup smeared, her lips swollen, her nipples still erect, her whole body wet. She pulled off the remnant of her panties and threw it away. She washed herself with a damp washcloth, then dried herself. She went into the bedroom and got a comb and did her best with her hair, hoping no one would see her.
She wiped off the makeup, but didn’t try to redo it. Her hands were not steady enough. Then, back in the bedroom, she put her clothes back on. It felt very strange to be without panties under her suit skirt. Especially when her still-aroused lips rubbed against the fine wool.
Alana had put the files on an i-pad for display. Liz couldn’t believe how utterly pornographic the photos were. An aroused slut masturbating and coming in a cheap motel room. Then the slut in bondage, her panties torn, being given an orgasm with a huge vibrator, writing and wetting the bed in her excitement!
“My God! My God! Alana, what have you made me do?”
“I’ve just helped you be honest, helped you reveal a side of you that you keep hidden. Brandon will be charmed!”
Brandon! The horror of it now hit Liz full force. She felt sick to her stomach. She fought to keep the nausea down.
“NO! YOU WON’T! Please Alana! Please!”
Liz was now on her knees on the warn carpet, her arms around Alana’s knees, in the gesture of supplicants since the most ancient times.
“It’s not me in those photos! It’s someone else! Don’t show them to Brandon!”
She was sobbing now, her shoulders shaking.
A pause, while Alana let Liz cry herself into some temporary calm. Then she said, “As you say, Liz, it’s not you. Think about it. If I show these to Brandon, and tell him I got them on the internet, he’ll never think that it’s you. Look at them again.”
She helped Liz stand up. They sat together on the bed and scrolled through the pictures. Liz realized that Alana was right. No one, absolutely no one, would know that it was Liz.
She was hidden in full sight. Her nakedness was the perfect disguise. Her sluttiness protected her. Alana had so completely sluttified her that Brandon could stare at these photos for hours and never know that it was the woman he worked with five days a week.
Liz was so relieved that she wrapped her arms around Alana and kissed her deeply.
Driving the shaken Liz back into town, Alana felt a tingle of triumph. She now controlled Liz totally, and through Liz she would be able to dominate Brandon even more completely than before. The possibilities were endless!
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