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  • At the Sound of the Bell Pt. 01

At the Sound of the Bell Pt. 01

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A three-part tale of mind-control, deception and revenge told by the three women most affected by events. All participants in sexual activity are over 18 years old.

Part One: Sophie's new part time job turns out to entail a little more than bar work.

Prologue: Sophie

For quite a while I thought I knew who was controlling me. I didn't know quite how they did it though.

Then I found out how it was done.

Now when I look at the bracelet, it seems so obvious. Back then it was just a plain looking silvery metallic band that allowed me to access various rooms in the hotel I worked at. I only had to hold it near a small metal panel and the door would open leaving my hands free for delivering room-service or getting stock for the bar from the storeroom.

Or those other little duties such as jerking and sucking on a stranger's cock until he came in my mouth. Or masturbating in front of a camera whilst two other women watched on and another recorded me doing it.

Then came the revelation that there was someone else and something much darker and sinister behind it all and nothing was as it seemed. That I was in deep trouble; firstly in a world of pain and then the harsh revelation that my life was in danger.

It would be impossible to take the bracelet off now, even if I wanted to.

Luckily for me I don't want to.

I approach the door and hold out my hand. There is a soft click as the chip in the bracelet connects with the mechanism and the door opens gently.

The session takes almost an hour. By the end, my hair and make-up look exquisite.

In another hour, I will have been fucked relentlessly in every hole until I can barely walk by half a dozen men. I will be a complete mess and the make-up and hair-stylist's work will be a thing of the past. Another girl will be licking and sucking the cum from me as we kiss and the cameras record it all as the director gives us orders.

The director smiles at me and the cameras roll.

The director's name is Amanda Hunter and she is the woman I originally thought controlled me through the bracelet.

I smile back at her. I kiss the bracelet that binds us together in a strange Sisterhood and she nods her approval.

Keisha takes me by the hand, her beautiful oriental face gleaming in the candlelight. We lie on the big round bed and begin to make love to each other, hands caressing soft skin and the leather of our body harnesses. One by one we are joined by six men with huge erections.

It is not long before our exquisite hair-do's are plastered all around our sticky faces and soon after Keisha and I are screaming in ecstasy.

We shower together and the world returns to normal.

The bracelet has done its work again, although these days I hardly need any extra compulsion. But there is just that little frisson of excitement when I feel it taking control of me -- just what am I required to do today? Why do I need that extra little push when you consider all the things I have already done?

As ever, I cannot wait until it is compelling me once more.

Keisha and I retire to the hotel bar for a drink and to check our bank accounts. We are both three thousand dollars richer than two hours before. We drink champagne then go up to her fiftieth-floor luxury apartment with spectacular views over Singapore. Amanda and my fiancée Katie join us. We sip more vintage champagne then fuck ourselves to sleep.

My name is Sophie Lawrence. I am just an ordinary country village girl from rural England.

At least I am when the bracelet is not controlling me.

Chapter 1: Sophie

Everyone in the village was surprised when the old Highwayman Hotel a mile out into the countryside was renovated at what seemed like exorbitant cost. It had been derelict as long as anyone could remember and took a long time to 'do up'. I was seventeen when they began the work and when I started there as a barmaid and general gopher a few months after it re-opened, I was well past nineteen.

To say it was opulent was an understatement. Everything was in chrome, wood, Italian marble. The restaurant got a Michelin star in an eye-blink and even the more prosaic bistro was attracting customers from miles around. The grounds were incredible, including its own little vegetable and herb gardens and there were croquet lawns and tennis courts for the summer months.

The wine-list started at expensive and soon went off into the stratosphere. The tasting menus were into the hundreds of pounds, but it still sold out every lunch and evening session. Those in the village that thought it would be just another white elephant were spluttering into their pints of bitter as flotillas of upmarket cars cruised through the local countryside. Even the village pub went a bit posh to cater for the overspill and it was there that I cut my teeth before getting the job at 'The Huntress @ Long Morton' as it was now known.

That 'at' sign was very important to them for some reason. Write it in words and you were in deep trouble.

No-one in the village expected that it would profit from the new enterprise, but soon the staff had formed a close bond with the community and it was a happy co-existence. If the bistro was full, they'd recommend the Golden Fleece on the village green. They used local farmers and producers where possible; championed the local micro-brewery, boutique gin distillery and cheese-makers.

I was attending a local arts college in a town a few miles away and when my friend Becky got a waitressing job there I was quite jealous as the local pub was ok, but the Huntress paid above the minimum wage and Becky's tips were sometimes quite ludicrous.

I applied to an advertisement and to my complete delight and surprise, got the job. I worked in the bar a few nights a week and during the college holidays and did a few day shifts as well. It was all pretty easy stuff -- mainly sorting out drinks for the waiters to take to the tables and the odd bit of table- or bar-service. The quality of the uniform was way above anything I had ever worn and I loved the metallic bracelet they gave us instead of an access card. It was almost silvery-white and we joked that it was platinum and worth a fortune. In fact I loved it so much that I kept it on all the time among my copious collection of leather, copper and other assorted bangles and bracelets.

Little did I know three things back then.

It was platinum, it was worth a fortune and I would never be able to take it off again even if I was so inclined.

I can still remember the day it began like it was yesterday. As usual with big, life-changing events it tends to start as normal then slowly gathers speed until you are on the runaway Cannonball Express and Casey Jones is nowhere to be found.

It was a crisp, cold and sunny Monday in October. I was doing the lunchtime shift and it had been reasonably busy but nothing too dramatic as Mondays tended to be quiet. I was due off at three and kept taking furtive glances at my watch as the time came closer. I was just about to sign off and get changed when the duty manager Katie called me over.

It was her usual husky Australian drawl. "Sorry Sophie but we've had an order for room-service for the Penthouse. I've just sent Alan down into the cellar to change some barrels. Would you mind taking it up for me?"

The Penthouse. I'd seen photos in the advertising brochure and it looked amazing. There were picture window views from the fifth floor over the rolling countryside and it had its own private terrace. I tried to imagine what kind of job I'd ever have that would allow me to stay there for even one night.

Again, little did I know...

As expected, it was a bottle of champagne -- a very expensive bottle of course and I almost had palpitations at the thought of dropping the ice bucket as I loaded it onto a trolley. The glasses alone would be worth more than I'd get paid for my shift.

Or so I thought.

Katie tapped a few buttons on the bracelet programmer. "Stick your mitt on the pad!" I did as requested and the terminal gave a little bleep. "There you go -- temporary access to the Penthouse. Lucky you!"

I carefully wheeled the trolley to the lifts and held out my mass of bangles. The hotel one did its magic and summoned the leftmost of the three lifts -- the only one with Penthouse access.

I stepped in holding my wrist to the pad next to "P" and went off into a different world. Even the foyer was a cut above anything else the hotel had to offer. Feeling rather nervous, I pressed an intercom buzzer on a panel next to the beautifully ornate glass and chrome door. I became even more nervous as nothing seemed to happen for a very long time. Heart beating a little too fast for my liking, I pressed it again.

This time something happened. It was a low female voice. It sounded breathless and exasperated. "Oh for fuck's sake. Always the fucking wrong time... yes -- what is it?"

I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. "Sorry to disturb you ma'am, but I have a bottle of Dom Perignon for the Penthouse Suite."

There was a long sigh. "Oh well, I've been interrupted for worse things. Come on in."

There was a solid 'click' and the door opened a few inches. I pushed it open and rolled the trolley into a huge living space. My mouth flew open as I now saw the view I had only previously seen in the advertising brochure for myself. I didn't have long to appreciate it as an exasperated voice sounded from the bedroom. "Oh fucking hell, girl -- in here before the bloody ice melts and he loses interest!"

The bedroom was nearly the same size as the living area and the bed was huge. I stopped dead in my tracks as the owner of the voice now came into view. She was in bed with the covers up to her neck. Next to her was a rather large young man, similarly covered.

The woman looked back at me with a sly smile. She seemed to be taking a long time in assessing me, that little smile on her lips as she looked me up and down.

I felt myself reddening under her relentless gaze and swallowed hard, beginning to apologise. But I was cut off before I could utter a syllable. "Only teasing, dear girl. Even a damned good fuck is worth breaking off for the Dom, don't you think?"

Well, I'd had a little break for some wine recently with Ryan from college, but it was about five quid from the supermarket and we were so turned on we just necked it from the bottle. I would have to save for a month to afford 'The Dom.'

As the woman had spoken she fingered an exotic looking torque around her neck. It seemed to be the same colour as the hotel bracelet I wore. As she fingered it, I began to relax. I felt my heart-rate returning to normal. I took it to be the sound of her voice -- it was low, soothing and mellifluous with a definite upper-class edge to it.

The woman smiled at me again. "Now, we can't have you standing there all day gawping, can we? Jack here..." Looking down at him quizzically she enquired, "It is Jack, isn't it?"

He made a little noise in his throat and I thought of the import of what she had just said. She was in bed in an outrageously expensive hotel suite and she wasn't sure of the guy's name! What the hell was going on here?

She went on. "Well, the lovely Jack here is trying to attend to my needs, dear girl. I actually have my hands rather full under here -- literally I mean, so if you'd be so kind to pour our first glass then kindly fuck right off so I can get him back in my face and get him fit for task again!"

I am not usually a shy girl, but normally I would have been completely horrified by the situation. Strangely, I felt a nice calm come over me. I smiled back. "Certainly ma'am." It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be serving champagne to a couple who barely knew each other, in the middle of a sex session in this expensive room.

Somehow I managed to get the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying pop -- Katie's training had obviously been up to standard. I poured the glasses with steadier hands than I could have ever imagined and set them down on the trolley. "Will that be all, ma'am?"

The woman looked back as though I had just crawled out from under a stone. "What fucking use are they to us over there, silly girl. Here, bring them over!"

Again I just casually picked the glasses up and walked over to the bed. The woman held a hand out and took one which she handed to Jack. She took the other and held it up to his. "Slainte!" She drained her glass, tossed it onto the bed and sighed. At the hotel's prices, about fifty quid's worth of champagne gone in a split second.

I stood waiting, not knowing what to do. The woman looked at Jack and back to me, jerking a thumb in my direction. "She's still here!" She shook her head in amazement and waved me away. "Short memory, eh? The fuck-off bit?" She waved her hand again.

I nodded my understanding. "Sorry ma'am, enjoy the rest of your day."

As I turned towards the door, I heard a satisfied groan behind me. I closed my eyes as I made for the living area willing myself to be out of this embarrassing situation. I could have cheerfully throttled Katie. I was halfway across the room and almost home-free when the voice carried from the bedroom once more. I froze on the spot.

"Girl... what did the room-service manager say you were called? Sophia was it? Sophie, that's it. Come back a minute Sophie darling will you?"

I desperately wanted to keep going, but this may be my first big tip. I turned back into the bedroom. "Ma'am?"

The woman was now lying across Jack, still covered to her neck by the sheet. She had a wide grin on her face. She moved her head out of the way and I gasped as I saw a huge tent in the sheet covering him. The woman closed her mouth over the top of it. When she opened her mouth, the sheet was soaking, defining his outline quite clearly.

"So, young Sophie, ever seen one that big?"

I swallowed hard. It was enormous. In movies, yes. In real life -- no fucking way. I blinked a few times. "No ma'am."

"It feels so good. Want to see it properly?"

My mind was telling me to walk away -- get back in the lift, get changed and go home. Instead I blurted out, "Yes, please -- that would be really nice." I stepped forward as the woman pulled the sheet away. I gasped again as it was revealed -- she had both hands around it, one circling the base, the other near the head and her fingers and thumbs were nowhere near touching around his girth.

Grinning she took the huge head in her mouth and sucked noisily. "Ten and a half inches and I can get it all in. Think you could?"

Feeling my throat constrict at the thought, I shook my head. "No ma'am. Not even close."

"You're a very pretty girl Sophie. How old?"

"Thank you ma'am. Nineteen."

"Worked here long?"

"A month or so - mainly evenings but I do a few lunchtimes as well."

The woman grinned. "This is my kind of lunchtime, dear girl!" She sucked at it once more before she sat upright, letting the huge erection fall back. It nearly reached his belly button. She began stroking it with an idle hand, making Jack moan softly.

"Sorry my dear, I am being most impolite grilling you like this. By the way, it's not 'ma'am'. Please call me Amanda."

"Certainly Amanda!" I seemed to be complying with everything she said, which was at odds with my usually rebellious nature.

She turned to Jack. "Pretty girl eh? Nice and tall, lovely curly dark hair. Titties look pert and bouncy." She seemed to be almost musing to herself. "Be a darling and pour us another glass each, will you? There should be a spare glass over there -- get one for yourself while you're on."

I wanted to say that I wasn't allowed to drink on duty. I wanted to run for the elevator, sprint home and play with something long and hard and think of that dream cock. Instead, I meekly poured them another glass each and found a spare water glass on a dresser. I poured myself a glass as Amanda ran her hand down Jack's erection once more. She took a sip of champagne and closed her mouth over the end allowing it to dribble down his shaft. He groaned and put his hand in her hair. A tiny voice in the back of my head was telling me I'd never watched anyone have sex before. A prickle down below also told me that I was getting more than a little turned on by all of this.

I sipped my own champagne, barely even registering it was my first ever taste of an expensive vintage. A bottle of supermarket Cava was a rare treat never mind that stuff. I stood mutely by the bed and watched Amanda work on Jack for a moment. Finally, the woman looked up at me. "Does this turn you on, Sophie?"

My voice sounded hoarse. "Yes Amanda, it does." Why did I fucking well agree with her all the time?

"Would you like to try?"

I was barely aware I was saying the words. "Yes please."

All I could think as I spoke the words was, 'What? I'm telling her I want to suck this monster cock -- what's going on?'

Amanda pointed at the dresser. "Pass my purse please, Sophie."

In a dream, I walked over, picked up the purse and handed it to Amanda. She gave her glass to Jack to hold as she opened it and took out a thick wad of twenty pound notes.

"Right, I know this place pays more than the statutory minimum, but I bet a student like you could do with a little supplement, hmm?"

How did she know I was a student? All I could manage was, "Sounds good." I sipped more fine champagne, a conflict of emotions washing over me as I gazed at the strange scene playing out.

"Ok, here's the deal, sweet girl. There are two hundred pounds here in twenties. I am going to ask you to perform ten small but very pleasurable tasks. For every task you complete, I will put a twenty pound note on your pile. For every one you refuse or do not complete to my satisfaction, I will put a twenty on my pile. When we have finished you take your pile and finally get to fuck off as we agreed. Sound reasonable?"

I nodded. "Very. Most generous of you." Nervously, I sipped again.

"Good girl. So firstly, I'd like you to lick the head of his cock -- tongue only, no lips or hands. Not the shaft. Do it for my count of ten. Like this..." She demonstrated what I was meant to do and held her hand out to take the glass from me.

I felt like a robot as I crawled onto the bed. Amanda's eyes were sparkling as she held the erection up to me and I did as the woman had asked as she counted me down, feeling the soft velvet head under the tip of my tongue as Jack squirmed beneath me. I was longing to take it in my hand, but I followed her simple instructions to the letter.

"Good girl!" Amanda placed a twenty pound note on the dresser. "Stroke it now -- one hand, gently. Just the shaft this time."

I sighed as I took it in my hand. My fingers couldn't close around it. I could feel myself getting damp down below as Amanda counted me down again.

"Now both of those actions together. Good girl, very good. Now suck the head -- lips only." Amanda was on a roll, as was I. My pile was now eighty pounds and I could feel my juices bubbling.

After a few more permutations, I was up to one hundred and forty. Jack was moaning softly and I was soaking wet. I was praying that the woman would instruct me to straddle him, but then she changed the ante a little.

"Put your hand in your panties and wriggle your forefinger inside you."

I let out a long sigh as I did so, feeling my slick wet pussy lips part easily as I slid my index finger inside. As I brought it out, Amanda took hold of it and sucked on it. "Mmm, young and fresh. So lovely!"

Now she slid her own hand beneath the sheets and after a moment of sighing and wriggling, held her forefinger out to me. I hesitated for a moment and saw her free hand go to her neck. Her slick, wet finger end came ever closer to my mouth and instead of recoiling, I slowly opened my lips and let her slip it inside. She wiggled it gently as I sucked, a smile of sheer pleasure on her face. She held it there for a long moment, then withdrew it before placing a little kiss on the tip.

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