A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 04

"Well I have an important project meeting this afternoon. I don't think I can get away."

Marie walked purposely over towards her, still smiling. She stood very close to Sara, invading her space. Sara could feel the presence of her body so close to her own, she could feel the swell of her breasts, aware of the sensitivity of her own, and she smelled the faint scent of Marie's perfume. She was not aroused but intimidated.

"But you could make some excuse to get home a little early to help me can't you? I'm sure you can find a way. After all we are good friends, friends who share secrets. And we are more than just friends aren't we?"

She put her hand to the side of Sara's face and leant into her. Marie's lips brushed over Sara's, she kissed and nibbled at them as Sara found her mouth opening involuntarily in response. Marie started to invade her mouth and the warmth of her body so close to Sara's reinforced the message that she was being crushed, that she must comply. Marie kissed her for some long minutes and Sara felt her heart beat quicken. She felt herself being swallowed up, consumed by this friend, subservient to her. As she pulled away, Sara looked away. She could not look directly into the maid's eyes, she had suddenly been forcibly stripped of all authority.

"I'll see what I can do then."

"That's it. We'll look out for each other."

Sara was about to make a move for the door when Marie stopped her.

"Here, I've smudged your make-up. Let me put it right. She quickly pulled out a small pack of powder and started to dust Sara's face. She took out a lipstick and with great attention to detail focused herself entirely once more upon Sara's lips. "So irresistible" she breathed. She pulled back and admired her handiwork. Sara moved over to the hall mirror to check. She saw her face paler than she usually made it, like porcelain. Yet her lips redder than the colour she usually wore, standing proud and inviting - too inviting. She pulled out a tissue instinctively, but Marie stayed her hand.

"You look fine, now run along."

Sara turned to her, full of doubt and indecision, before picking up her bag and scurrying out of the door. Once she was gone Marie laughed out loud and started to sing to herself as she went in to make herself comfortable. The slut could sort out the house when she got home.

* * * * *

Sara sat at the desk in her office and stared at the key in her hand. She turned it over and over as if hypnotised by it, unable to draw her attention away from it. She had rushed out and got the copy made, but now she sat there at her desk with the envelope before her. It was already addressed to Ricky and she was now at the point, the very moment she had kept herself from thinking about. Now she could duck it no longer. If she were to put this key into the envelope and seal it, then she would have given Ricky everything. She stared at the key and thought how phallic it looked. She ran her finger slowly down the rough undulations of the freshly cut side and imagined it as his penis. Every bump sending a shiver through her as it slid inside her, forcing her lips to part and re-close over them one after the other. She thought that this key was the key that would unlock her cunt, her own opening was the keyhole and it was tightly closed behind a locked door. That was their castle, their home. The front door there to be slammed shut, to push back the outside world. It allowed her and Tom to be alone. But if she sent this key, then she would have undone everything. She would be at Ricky's mercy. He would have the key to unlock the door, to unlock her cunt and as he had said she knew he would come and make use of it whenever he would want. There would be no more hiding, no more escape. Her inner sanctum would have been violated. She could not do this.

As she placed the key down on her desk she started to remember last night. She had had a little victory over Ricky instigating that next invite, seizing the initiative. But it had also meant that she was offering herself to him at the same time. Her very victory had also been her defeat. Why had she offered herself to him so willingly? Why did it excite her so much that Tom didn't know, yet was so close by when she descended into lust? Ricky was right, she was a whore and had even prostituted herself out on the street. Yet she could not deny that she had felt so excited by his attention. The fact that he dared to take her in the very next room to her husband, that he could not give her up when she had rebelled to Tom. He had forced his way back into her life and had made her so desperate to fuck him that it took all her self-control not to beg to be fucked over the dinner table in front of Tom. She remembered how much cleaning up of herself she had had to do and wondering how Tom could not notice the strong odour of sex as she cleaned the seat cover in the dining room. Yet she had been excited as she cleaned it. She had leaned over and licked up some of Ricky's cum which had seeped from her. It had tasted a mixture of sweet and salty, but as with all forbidden fruits, it had tasted better than anything she could have legitimately asked for. Sara realised that she needed this sex, she needed this clandestine wanton out-of-control fucking, and the more out of control it was the more it excited her.

Her hand started to shake is she picked up the key again. It glinted in the desk light, as if winking acknowledgement to her that it too understood what it was she was about to do. She had never felt so excited as she dropped the key into the envelope and although she struggled to seal the envelope with her hands shaking so much, she felt electrified by the thrill. She rushed to the post room before she could stop to think, and then had to rush to the loo. She would not be able to concentrate on anything until she had found some relief.

* * * * *

"The thing is, when I opened the door and saw him standing there I didn't feel angry with him. I just stared at him asking myself why shouldn't I be angry. I had expressly forbidden him to be invited round, and he had invited himself! Yet I could only feel pleased and excited like some stupid teenager. I was angry with myself rather than with him. I just can't seem to resist him. I love the liberties he takes with me. I love the excitement of screwing around right behind Tom's back. I feel as guilty as sin, but it such an aphrodisiac that I am immediately excited and ready for him. I let him get away with way too much, and the more he demands from me the more excited I become! What is happening to me?"

Carol stared across at her friend and she reached out to pat her hand.

"Its just an infatuation. It doesn't mean anything. You don't have to leave Tom. He doesn't need to know anything. It will pass, you'll see. You will get up one day and know that it is over and you won't want to see Ricky ever again, then you can make it up to Tom. Meanwhile, just let it flow. It really seems to have livened you up Sara. You are quite radiant today."

Sara stared at her friend and felt some relief. The idea that she was not permanently damaged, that she may not have to pay for her sins was a huge weight from her shoulders. She didn't know why she had become so infatuated with Ricky, but each time she played through the events of last night she could only feel the thrill that ran through her. She shivered with pure delight. She was totally happy for one brief moment. She didn't need to understand it, she just knew that right now this was what she needed.

"You know, I've been wondering about that time you were out on the street that night. I was really worried about you and thought the worst. You haven't done anything like that again have you?"

Sobering up from her private euphoria, Sara shook her head and looked down at the table. She had pushed this memory right out of her mind, and Carol's reminder was unwelcome.

"I was just wondering whether that was a guilt reaction. Perhaps you felt so worthless after that first time with Ricky that you thought you were not worthy of anything more than to be out on the street. I think you were punishing yourself."

Sara just stared at the table taking in what she was saying, but feeling really uncomfortable about the way the discussion was going.

"Don't you see." Carol took her arm and leant forward. "If you can just accept that this is some wild fling, some really intense affair that will burn bright and then fade, then you don't have to feel so guilty any more. You just have to accept this thing that has overtaken you temporarily. Who knows why you started to feel this way for Ricky, but hey this is the 21st century. Everyone today seems to have affairs. It's nothing to feel so bad about. As long as Tom never knows then you'll be able to pick up the pieces once the whirlwind has passed. You don't need to punish yourself that way, and that will stop giving me such scares!"

Sara embraced her friend for her comforting words. As they hugged she seemed to feel a little bit stronger. Yet she knew that she had not yet told Carol anything about Marie and her brother. She wondered whether she should but somehow she couldn't admit to too much. Not all in one go. She needed Carol's support, and she didn't want to push that support too far. As she pulled away she said:

"I don't know why, but I keep thinking there is something about hypnosis when I try and think back to how I started to get into this mess. I just don't know why that thought should hang in my mind, just out of reach, but somehow I have this vague uneasy feeling deep down inside of me."

* * * * *

Sara had worked hard around the house since she had got back from work. Once again she was dressed in the maid's uniform as Marie wore Sara's clothes. She had to make a stand about that. She was angry with Marie who was clearly exploiting her. Yet she also knew about the videotape she had made of her with Juan and the other secrets that she kept. Sara was angry with herself for stupidly allowing the opportunity of her discovery. Yet she could think of no way out of her predicament. Sara heard Marie call her from upstairs and she dropped what she was doing and went to see what she wanted.

Marie sat her on the end of the bed and leant over her. She started to kiss her, the soft lips pressing lightly against her skin as Sara turned her face towards them. She felt a warm tingle run through her and her anger started to melt into guilt. Maybe Marie was not exploiting her, but did love her. Marie caressed her hair as she continued to kiss and inflame her mistress. Her hands started to unbutton the front of Sara's uniform. Sara felt her hands a bit useless and with her eyes held shut in acceptance, she reached out to remove Marie's clothing, but Marie pushed her hand away. It hung limply on Marie's arm as Sara moved her head back slightly so that Marie's kisses could reach down to her neck. As the buttons popped open Sara felt herself becoming more acceptant of Marie's advances. She felt excited and exhilarated by the attention. Sitting there on the bed like some rag doll that only just had enough strength to keep herself upright. Marie was pushing the uniform over her shoulders now and pressed forward to bury her face in the crook of Sara's neck. The uniform folded around her elbows and was trapped, but before Sara could try and free her hand to slide it the rest of the way off, Marie's hand had moved to her breast. Sara stopped again, frozen in mid-motion, trapped by the captivation of Marie's advance. Soon the straps of her bra slid uselessly down the top of her arms and her breasts were exposed to Marie's lips. Sara's breath was becoming more ragged. She felt herself the object of someone's desire, and she was unable or unwilling to move, just accept. As Marie sucked on her nipples they became erect, little daggers of lust trapped in the open. She felt them cool and contract into hard points as Marie's lips moved away. Now Marie was invading her mouth, her tongue pushed its way inside, meeting no resistance. Sara welcomed the intruder, the hot moist invader that pushed her own tongue around inside her own mouth. The sensations were by now so over-powering for Sara that she had almost no conscious realisation of her skirt being yanked upwards around her waist. Marie was leaning right over Sara who was lying back at a steep angle, just managing to prop herself up and not fall away from the welcome intruder in her mouth by pushing out an elbow onto the bed behind her. Marie's hand reached down to her crotch, rubbing and inflaming her passion further. She felt the nudge over her clitoris, back and forth, back and forth again. She felt the press of Marie's breasts as they rose and fell with each heartbeat. Marie pulled away and smiled down at Sara. With her hand she took hold of her chin and turned her face away towards the mirror on the wall opposite.

"Just look at you," she said. Sara stared a while before she could focus her eyes again. It was as if she had lost the power of sight, as if her efforts had been so absorbed by her desire that she was having difficulty to remember how to see again. As the vision slowly focused she saw a very elegant woman, dressed in fine clothes, standing over a harlot. A cheap servant who was falling out of her uniform that lay bunched up behind her, framing her breasts that stood wantonly on display, the nipples very red and very erect. She saw the whores legs spread apart, the skirt pulled up, the clear and visible panties pulled tight over her very obvious mound thrust outwards by her posture; the lace in the material emphasising the allure and drawing attention to her groin. Her silky thighs now exposed among the folds of material stretched tight between them, yet forced up out of any role to hide her inner self. The soft flesh disappearing into the white fabric of her panties, and the large gusset pulled tight between them, a damp patch very visible in the middle. She felt cheap, a whore, who had laid bare her inner self, her wanton desires in the drawing room of some fashionable lady, exposed to her society friends. She was no longer worthy of such a society. She wanted to run downstairs. She wanted to hide.

"You see. This is how you and I really are. You can see for yourself how I am mistress around here, and you are the sex-craving whore of a servant that I have taken pity on. That is why you come home and clean when I tell you with no excuses. What you say at work is up to you, but I expect you here. If not, then I will expose this little slut you see in the mirror to her husband and her colleagues at work. If you don't make me feel you are worthy to be my servant, if you insist that you should be treated only as a common whore then that is what you will become. I will tell Juan to come and take care of you. Just remember that. Remember how much you owe me."

Sara stared at the vision before her, accepting however reluctantly the truth behind the words Marie spoke. She felt lost, spiralling out of control. How far she had come from being that elegant lady dressed in the fashionable skirt that now towered over her. She was unworthy, and she felt the revulsion of what she had become, she felt too the anxiety of disappointing Marie.