From borisl@room3b.demon.co.ukTue Nov 7 16:13:44 1995 Date: Sun, 05 Mar 95 21:25:01 GMT From: Boris Ludmenkov To: dhuberma@copper.ucs.indiana.edu Subject: POOLSIDE [Attached File: C:\AMIPRO\DOCS\FUNANDGA\MINDCONT\TOLOUVRE\POOLSIDE.TXT Size: 26029] mc-poolside.txt I did not write this story. This story was obtained from the internet or a BBS. Most of the multi-part stories were consolidated at the time, and some minor adjustments made, mostly of a cosmetic nature. Enjoy ! Poolside The day was warm and clear, and the sun was pleasant as I sat in a white plastic lawn chair by the pool. I was still in my tennis whites after a vigorous round on the courts - the resort had all the usual facilities - and I was basking happily, letting my muscles unwind. Next to me, Colleen let out a contented sigh; she too was basking, after her daily swim. I reached out my hand to hers, and she took it without opening her eyes; we intertwined our fingers in wordless affection. For the zillionth time I thanked my lucky stars - not that I *believe* in lucky stars, you understand - that I had married such a wonderful woman. Her navy blue swimsuit showed off her body to advantage, slim and trim and, to my eyes, flawless. The only "problems" with her body were those she hallucinated in the morning, standing naked before the bathroom mirror. I think that other men, even if not viewing her through the eyes of love, would have agreed that she was attractive, from her fiery red hair - her most striking feature - down to her shapely feet. I tore my eyes away from her, forcing myself to stop waxing rhapsodic, and settled in for a nap. I must have succeeded in dozing off; some time later, a shadow fell across me and the sudden change in light level brought me awake with a jolt. Squinting up against the late afternoon sun, I saw two people, a man and a woman, standing in front of the chairs Colleen and I occupied. They were both rail-thin, with pale white skin, and there was something indefinably odd about their eyes. The woman, looking at Colleen, said, "She's quite beautiful, isn't she?" "Indeed," her companion agreed. Colleen looked over at me, frowning. I gave her a quizzical shrug. "Can we help you?" I asked. The woman went on as though I didn't exist. "Would you like to see her naked?" The man nodded. "I believe I would, yes." "Take off everything you're wearing, would you, dear?" the woman said to Colleen. I waited for my wife to laugh, or tell the two of them to fuck off, or *something*. Instead, she stood up, doffed her sun hat, and pulled down the shoulder straps of her tank suit. "Hey! Hey! What the *fuck* . . ." I exploded. The man seemed to notice me for the first time. "Just sit there quietly and watch, all right?" Pause. "All right," I said. A great deal seemed to go on inside my head during that moment's pause before I came out with "All right." My mind felt all fuzzy, and a strange tingling sensation swept through my body. A pounding headache leapt into existence, then just as suddenly vanished. This all seemed to take a very long time, though it must have not much more than a second; as the long subjective time crawled by, I had a curious sense of some great struggle going on below the surface of my mind, in which I was distantly involved. It stopped. My mind cleared; I blinked hard, twice. I had suddenly realised, as though it were something I had always known but had temporarily forgotten, that it was vitally important that I do whatever this man said. So naturally I said, "All right," and sat there quietly and watched as Colleen stripped naked and stood there in front of these two strangers. The two of them looked her up and down, taking their time. The man's eyes lingered on her small, pert breasts - too small, she would often say, and I would hasten to their defence, saying that they were just exactly the right size and shape. The man clearly agreed. She was a woman in good physical condition, with that glow of health that comes from regular exercise. Her stomach was flat, her legs lean and muscular. Between her legs . . . The woman pointed at the tuft of pubic hair, apparently noting its reddish tinge. "She's a real redhead, I see. I thought that colour might be a dye job." "Turn around," the man instructed. I seethed, watching and listening to them treat my wife like an interesting specimen under a microscope. Seething was useless, of course, since I couldn't get up, or say anything to them. I wanted to yell, to get up and slug the man . . . and yet at the same time I *didn't* want to do that, really, because that would mean not sitting quietly as I'd been told. I knew, on some deep level, that not doing what I was told would be a terrible thing. Not doing what I was told was such a horrible notion that I couldn't seriously contemplate it; my mind just seemed to recoil. The woman turned her attention to me. "Stand up," she said. The compulsion to obey seemed to apply to her as well: I scrambled to my feet. The man seemed to have grown bored. "Come on, leave him. Let's keep moving," he said. "Well . . . all right," she said reluctantly. "But let's not just leave these two just standing around." She turned to Colleen. "You," she said, "are posing for a nude photo spread in a men's magazine. The photographer is right over there, see him?" My wife nodded. "The magazine is called *Hot Slits*, and they like really sleazy shots of their models. Only cheap sluts pose for it. But, then, you *are* a cheap slut, aren't you?" "Yes," Colleen agreed dully. "Oh, come now, say it with pride!" "I'm a cheap slut!" my wife said loudly. "And I don't care who knows it!" "Time to get to work, dear," the woman grinned. "The photographer is all ready. This is a real turn-on for you, isn't it? You'll get more and more aroused as you pose." Colleen walked to the edge of the pool and lay down on her back, spreading her legs apart, out to either side. One hand reached down to her pussy, another cupped a breast, and she smiled sunnily into an invisible camera. She flipped over and got onto all fours, turning her head behind her to mock-snarl at the photographer, her bright red hair spilling down around her face and shoulders. I watched my wife degrading herself in this extraordinary way, a hot rage building up inside me, but I remained powerless to act. I noticed that other people around the pool were watching Colleen's performance; I heard murmurs, mostly of shock, though I could have sworn that I heard someone start to applaud, which served to fan the flames of my anger. My eyes were jerked away from the spectacle when the woman spoke to me. "And you," she said. "You're going to be competing in the Mr. Nude Bodybuilding contest. See the pool? That's the panel where the judges are sitting, all women. See them?" I saw them. Where the pool had been a moment ago there was now a long, polished desk, behind which sat seven women of widely varying age, each holding a clipboard. "Strip down, now," the woman said. "Go into your act - keep doing bodybuilder poses for them until we get back to you. It'll turn you on, more and more each time you do a pose." The two of them moved away while I hastened to follow my instructions. The judges watched impassively as I shucked my shoes and socks, then the shirt, and finally my shorts and underwear. I brought my arms up and flexed my biceps in the classic pose. Pulling my arms down in front, I tensed up for all I was worth. My God, this *was* getting me turned on! By the time I swung into my third posture, my erection was at half mast, and a few poses later it was rock-hard. The judges remained expressionless as I tried to find new and inventive ways to show myself off, preening in front of them. Through all this, my thoughts were strangely fragmented and contradictory. I knew that the judges were there, because she'd said they were, and yet I could also recall that the space had just recently been occupied by a pool. I was in a contest for nude bodybuilders, of that I was quite sure - again because she'd told me so - yet I knew that I *wasn't* any kind of bodybuilder, and that I would never enter such a pageant. Although I could call up individual facts to dispute what I saw, I couldn't seem to marshal enough of them at once to break free of the illusion. Over everything hung the undeniable compulsion that I must obey, that I must keep posing as I'd been told, or else something awful would happen . . . *What* would happen, exactly? I tried to ask myself. The query twisted and turned, and slipped away from me; I turned my attention back to my task. God, it felt so *good*! I couldn't remember ever being so aroused. From time to time I was able to move my attention off the judges long enough to take in a little bit of what was going on around me. Colleen continued to pose for the phantom photographer; she was now virtually panting with lust. A man and a woman went by on all fours, naked and growling like dogs. I watched as he approached her from behind and sniffed at her the way dogs will. She whirled to face him and snarled, then scampered off with him in happy pursuit. A young man was doing laps around the judge's area - or was it the pool? - with his shorts and underwear pulled down around his ankles. He walked with a hobbling gait from the interference of the clothes at his ankles, which he made no effort to remove; as he went, one hand rubbed vigorously up and down along his large erection. "I love Joan, I love Joan, I love Joan . . ." he murmured, over and over again. The woman's name? A woman in a similar state, shorts around ankles, went by in the opposite direction, one finger working furiously between her legs as she chanted "I love Thomas, I love Thomas, I love Thomas . . ." At least now I had names to fit to my captors. And I did have to admit that I *was* captured; that somehow these two had ensnared me, bound me in a net from which I could find no escape. A brief, fleeting thought flashed into my head. I let it sit there for a while, carefully avoiding it, trying not to make any sudden mental moves that might send it skittering away. Eventually, I sidled up beside the strange new idea, sneaking up on it a little bit each time my mind cleared for a moment, then pounced. It was simply this: Nobody had told me *not* to, say, jump on these two people and knock them unconscious. That'd be a little bit difficult right at the moment, having to keep doing these poses as I did, but later on an opportunity might present itself, and I resolved to take advantage of it if possible. My cock felt like it was going to burst! All this time I'd been experiencing a tremendous level of excitement, but no orgasm would come to release the tension. Each new pose sent cascades of pleasure through my body. As the pleasure grew more and more intense, it became more and more difficult to concentrate on anything beyond getting into the right position for another pose, so I could feel that jolt of ecstasy again. But even pleasure can become unbearable; I *needed* a release, I *needed* an orgasm. I'd have given anything to be permitted to come. I slipped into a haze of desire, fantasising about the judges, about ripping their clothes off and plunging myself deep, deep into . . . "You," the man's voice said. "Knock it off. Return to normal." The judges vanished, replaced by the clear waters of the pool. I straightened from the crouch I'd assumed to show off my calves, and looked at the man. I took a step towards him, clenching a fist. "You are my faithful and obedient servant," he said softly. "You will do whatever I say, without question or hesitation, and you would never, ever do anything to harm me. Right?" I stopped in my tracks. "Yes." Damn! My plan - and, limited in scope though it was, it was the only one I'd had - just faded away like morning fog. "Call me Master Thomas." "Yes, Master Thomas." He pointed across the pool to the woman, who was speaking to a small group. "She is Mistress Joan, and you will obey her as you do me." "Yes, Master Thomas." I noticed that Colleen was standing behind him, still naked, her chest heaving slightly; she must have become rather athletic in her contortions. I was slightly disgusted to find that this made me feel inordinately proud of her: she had clearly obeyed the Mistress' orders very well. Thomas looked down at my hard-on and raised an eyebrow; the constant signals of arousal had ceased, now, but I was still tremendously turned on. "You look all hot and bothered. Would you like to fuck someone?" "Whatever would please you, Master Thomas." He smiled at this, and I felt an embarrassing flash of pleasure at this response. I found it a little puzzling, since he had not explicitly spelled out what my reactions ought to be; clearly my mind considered that part of being a "faithful and obedient servant" was taking pride in joy in the service of one's master. Thomas snapped his fingers and summoned a tall blonde woman wearing a tight-fitting red one-piece bathing suit. She was built along opulent, curvaceous lines, like a movie star of bygone days. Her breasts were enormous globes which thrust against the clinging fabric of her suit. For me, it's easy to go too far with tits, and past a certain size they just look ridiculous as far as I'm concerned; I hadn't been lying to Colleen when I said that I preferred her small ones. "This is Kathy," Thomas said. "Now, here's what I'd like you to do . . ." He drew me aside, and spoke briefly to me and the woman in red. He then had a word with Colleen. I looked at Kathy. Master Thomas had been right, she *was* the most attractive woman I'd ever seen. Folding her in an embrace, I kissed her passionately on the lips, while my hands roved down her back and grabbed her ass. When we broke the kiss, I turned and looked at Colleen, who was standing staring at me in amazement and anger; she'd clearly been somewhat restored to her senses. "Surprised, bitch?" I asked harshly. "Don't be. Kathy and I are going to be together from now on. What ever made you think I could stand to be around a flat-chested, skinny cunt like you? *These* are what I like on a woman," I said, giving one of Kathy's breasts a playful squeeze. She smiled and nuzzled my earlobe. Colleen made a wordless noise of rage, and clenched her fists. She didn't move or speak, however. "Whatsamatter, cat got your tongue?" I taunted. "Don't waste all your anger yet - there's plenty of stuff to come." While Colleen watched, I pulled Kathy's bathing suit down with excruciating slowness. As I moved down her body, I kissed and licked her revealed skin. I teased her nipples, I nibbled my way down her stomach to her pussy, then slid the suit all the way down to her ankles. She stepped out of it, and lay down on the tiled deck. "Oh my God," I said. "Those big tits really get me horny. Too bad you could never do that," I shot at my wife. I grinned at Kathy, and she smiled vacantly back. "Maybe you actually know how to fuck, honey, unlike some people I could name. I haven't had a good lay since I got married." That noise of sheer anger came again from Colleen. I knelt between Kathy's legs on the deck and went to work on her cunt with my tongue; she writhed in exaggerated ecstasy. Or perhaps it wasn't exaggerated - I wasn't sure what instructions the Master had given her. For my part, the thought of fucking another woman right there in front of my wife was making me unbelievably horny. Saying nasty things to Colleen turned me on as well, bringing rushes of pleasure as a reward. Speaking of which . . . "Mmm-mmm," I said as I drew away from Kathy's pussy. "Wish you tasted this good, dearest." Pulling myself up on my arms as though about to do a pushup, I walked my way up Kathy's body, stopping with my arms on either side of her shoulders. I lowered myself down and kissed her, while at the same time easing my cock into her wet cunt. It slid in easily, and we both cried aloud with pleasure. As I wife stood there and watched helplessly, Kathy and I fucked wildly, her legs clamped around me, urging me in deeper and deeper. We switched top and bottom a few times, rolling on the deck, and our gyrations became more and more frenzied. I was back on top when I could stand it no more, and I orgasmed. "Ohhhh, God! Kathy! Kathy, I love you!" I yelled, as instructed. Then, as we'd been told, we froze in that position to await further directions, my softening penis still inside Kathy. Colleen was also frozen in place. It was not forbidden to look around, as far as I knew, so I took the opportunity to take in what else was going on around the pool. Mistress Joan was visible on the other side, lying on her back with her legs spread. A man was holding himself above her, placing no weight on her body, while he thrust his cock into her with tremendous speed. A line of four men and two women waited behind him, and after about a minute he leaped to his feet and hastened to the back of the line, chest heaving from the exertion, while the next person scrambled to take his place. I noted vaguely that all the men were wearing condoms. Master Thomas also had several attendants. A petite brunette squatted above where he was reclining on a deck chair; she was raising and lowering herself with her leg muscles, impaling herself with excruciating slowness on his erection, sliding up and down. I could see the effort she was putting into it as her whole body tensed up, trying to make herself tight for him. Several other women, wearing bikinis, struck mannequin-like poses around him, and two nude blondes knelt by his side; he ran his fingers idly through their long manes of hair. Closer at hand, the couple who thought they were dogs were copulating happily; he had, of course, mounted her from behind, and they were both making little whines of delight. The two masturbators continued their circling of the pool, still repeating their declarations of love. There was a group of four people in the deep end; they had apparently been told to try fucking at the bottom of the pool. They kept coming up for air, ducking back under and getting re-entangled, then having to come up again a short time later. From their gasping breaths as they broke the surface, it was clear that they were becoming exhausted. Time dragged by; I had no idea how long I'd been lying there. Eventually I saw Mistress Joan heading in our direction, strolling idly along the deck, pausing now and again to give someone a command. She passed a group of couples who were standing in the shallow end having sex, and repartnered them, the men with the men and the women with the women. She left them there, expanding their sexual horizons I'm sure, and came towards us. "Get up," she said to me. I hurried to my feet. She looked at Colleen, and recognised her. "Ah, it's the cheap slut, I see. Having fun, dear?" "Yes, Mistress." "Oh, good. Now, here's what I'd like you to do . . ." She drew my wife aside, speaking in a low voice into her ear. As she gave her instructions, one of her hands toyed with Colleen's breasts. Mistress Joan returned to me as Colleen hustled off somewhere. She whispered in my ear for a bit, playing a little bit with my cock as she did so. I listened carefully, then said, "Yes, Mistress." I watched the woman walk off, and wished that I could move from where I stood. My "happy servant" complex had been lifted, as far as I could tell, but I'd been told not to move, and I still found it impossible to disobey orders. There was also something else I was supposed to do, later, but I couldn't quite recall what it was. Colleen came back in a few minutes, leading a muscular young man wearing a white shirt and khaki shorts. An obvious erection was straining at the front of the shorts, and I did a slow burn as he ogled Colleen's nude form. He walked up and stood beside me. "I'd like to fuck your wife," he said to me in a low voice, not taking his eyes from her. She was standing a few steps away, undulating her hips and licking her lips while making little beckoning gestures at him. There must be a thousand responses to such a crass statement, ranging from the simple "Fuck off" to the more involved "I've got a better idea: why don't I rip your leg off and beat you to death with it?" I didn't use any of them. Instead, I found myself saying, "How much?" "Umm, twenty bucks?" "Forty." "Thirty. She's not worth more than that." She's worth *infinitely* more than that! I cried in the silence of my own thoughts. "Done," I said aloud. He handed me a twenty and a ten from his wallet, then approached Colleen eagerly. I stood there, the bills clutched in my right hand, and watched. My wife undressed the young blond slowly, sensuously sliding the clothing over his skin. When she had delicately pulled off his underwear, she knelt at his feet and took his cock into her mouth, going to work on it eagerly. I shut my eyes as he started to moan - then opened them again almost immediately: I had been told to watch carefully, a directive which kicked in if I tried to avert my eyes in any way. Standing there, I watched as my lovely young wife had passionate sex with this man, then with a series of others. From each I collected some money; a small stack of bills accumulated in my hand. She seemed to be enjoying herself tremendously, coming to a screaming orgasm each time, shouting the name of the man she was with, over and over again. After she'd taken her fifth guy, she got back on her feet and stood there, looking at me. I recalled now the "something else" that I was supposed to do. Approaching a nearby man, I was amazed to find myself saying, "Would you fuck my wife? Please?" He ignored me; he was sitting down, plucking out his pubic hairs one by one, moaning as though this brought him great pleasure. I went up to someone else: "Would you please fuck my wife? I can pay you," I said, waving the fistful of bills. He, too, ignored me. Everyone paid me no attention whatsoever, until I came to the man called Thomas; I no longer thought of him as "Master." I asked him the question, and he smiled broadly. "How much?" he asked. I quickly counted the money in my hand. "I can give you a hundred and eighty dollars right now. Just *please* fuck her," I begged, mentally cursing my traitorous mouth. Thomas took the money solemnly and walked to where Colleen waited. He whispered in her ear briefly and she went berserk, flinging herself at him in a frenzy, kissing him all over his body, then working his penis inside her. She did all the work while he just lay there passively, looking up with those strange eyes at her, and at me. When, in short order, he had reached orgasm, he stood up and conferred briefly with Joan, who had returned to watch him and Colleen. "Time to go?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm about done, here. Some good fun, wouldn't you say?" "Yes. YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE, EVERYONE." Without seeming to raise his voice, he suddenly projected his words all over the pool area. Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened intently as the two of them began to speak . . . I blinked. I found myself standing, naked, by the side of the pool. Colleen was with me, also naked. I could remember all that had happened to us, except for the contents of that final speech. Only one phrase lingered in my memory: "We want you to remember this day," they'd said. "Remember your own weakness, and remember how we controlled you, how we made you helpless. Live with the memory of what we made you do, and know that our kind can do this to your kind whenever we choose." My wife and I turned to each other, and we fell into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," we said, almost in unison. We pulled our clothes back on, as many people were doing around the pool, and left to return to our room. We passed others who had been there, but most people were walking with their gazes fixed firmly on their feet, avoiding eye contact. I think Kathy passed close by us, but I didn't look up. We checked out of the resort, two days early, and drove for the hour it took to get back home. That night I woke up crying, and Colleen cradled my head and stroked my hair, murmuring, "It's all right, George, it's all right. It's all over now. They're gone, we'll never see them again." The next day I thought that we ought to call someone, to tell the authorities what had happened; we found that were unable to tell anyone else about it. We could talk about it to each other, but our vocal chords just froze up when we tried the police. It was several nights before we made love again, hesitantly at first, then with greater and greater enthusiasm. It was one of those, rare, golden times when we both reached a climax at the same time, crying aloud in pleasure. "Ohhh, ohhh . . . Joan!" I yelled. "Ohh, Thomas!" Colleen cried. We froze, looking at one another in horror at what we'd just said. The words had just come out involuntarily, the result of some implanted suggestion. What else might be lurking in our minds, waiting to be triggered? Perhaps it wasn't all over, after all . . . [End Attached File]