We All Do It

We All Do It We All Do It

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Who's posting my picture?

Summary

Who's posting my picture?

Chapter5 (v.1) - Amanda

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 01, 2020

Reads: 49

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 01, 2020

A A A

A A A

I'd got home. I'd walked naked for half an hour through the streets of London. If I could do that I could do anything. But first I had to see Rupert. The events of the day had taken their toll. I'd been in two fights, I'd been fucked, I'd been spanked and I'd been paraded nude in front of gawping onlookers and fucked again. I needed that relaxation session like I needed nothing else.

 

I got dressed and went straight Rupert's consulting rooms. I didn't have an appointment, but his receptionist said I could see him after his current client.

 

Ten minutes later she came out of Rupert's room, his current client. Blonde, busty, she looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place her. She looked at me and gave a double take. Perhaps she recognized me as well. A faint scowl passed over her face which she quickly mastered and replaced with a forced smile. She held out her hand.

 

"Margot Wright," she said, "I believe you work for my husband's company."

 

Oh My God. Mrs Philip. His wife. She who was supposed to be the recluse. And I'd been fucking her husband that morning.

 

"Phoebe Morrison," I grasped her hand, fighting back the rising panic.

 

"Nice to meet you," she forced out between gritted teeth. My God she knew. I could tell it as a certainty. She knew. But she just withdrew her hand and stalked out.

 

Rupert followed her into the waiting area.

 

"Phoebe!" He said in his honey coated voice, "How lovely to see you."

 

And the rising panic started to subside almost immediately. It was that which must have triggered the memory. I had never met Philip's wife. How did she know me? And how did I recognise her. And suddenly it came to me. In startling clarity. As if a veil had been drawn back and the surrounding fog had cleared.

 

I was lying on Rupert's couch. He handed me the glass of herbal relaxant. But this time instead of gratefully imbibing, while his back was turned I poured the liquid into the pot containing the rubber plant next to the bed. I was going to need a clear head if I was going to get to the bottom of things.

 

Rupert sat beside me and I listened to his melifluous tones as I feigned my usual descent into sleep.

 

"Listen Phoebe. Listen to my voice and only my voice. Empty your mind of all other things as I take you down. Down into a place where you are so warm, so comfortable, and you hear my voice, my voice which you will obey. My voice which come to you as if in a dream. A dream in which you will obey my voice, as you have so many times before. A dream which you will forget on waking. A dream which will seem like a distant memory just beyond the horizon of your recall. Do you understand me Phoebe. Will you obey my voice. Will you dream with me."

 

The dreams. Those dreams which as he said had been blocked from my memory, came flooding back to me. Without the soporific effect of the potion my memory was unlocked. I remembered. There in some sort of studio, naked, posing for photographs, and later with notice and later with...

 

Yes it had been her. I had been right. She had been the woman pleasuring me on the pornographic video. Amanda Wright. Philip's wife. What hornet's nest had I strayed into. Was Philip involved. He had recommended me to Rupert. Was that all part of some plan to strip me and humiliate me?

 

I had to know. I had to play along.

 

"Will you dream with me?" Rupert asked again.

 

"Yes," I replied, "I will dream with you."

 

"That is right Phoebe. You will obey my voice. My voice which is telling you to remove all your clothes. You will obey my voice won't you. My voice that tells you that you must be naked."

 

I had to go along with it. I had to know.

 

I stood up and started to remove my clothes. Leaving each garment strewn upon the floor as I did so until I stood there quite naked.

 

It was at that moment that Amanda came back into the room.

 

"Let me see the little slut," she hissed.

 

It was as I had guessed, a set up between them.

 

"Slut, whore..." She hissed again, "she's been fucking my husband again. I know it," she said, "Make her tell us what she's been doing to day."

 

"Listen to my voice," said Philip, "Listen and obey. Tell us. Have you had sex with Philip today Phoebe."

 

"Yes," I replied, "He came to my house and we had sex."

 

"And did you enjoy it Phoebe."

 

"Yes, very much."

 

"And what are you?" Asked Rupert.

 

I knew the answer to this. I could remember every minute of those 'dreams' now.

 

"I'm a whore and a slut."

 

"Say it for the camera Phoebe," and only then did I notice that Amanda was filming everything.

 

"My name is Phoebe Morrison," I said to the camera, "And I'm a whore and a slut. I fuck other women's husbands."

 

"Now Phoebe, listen to my voice and obey, what else have you done today.".

 

And I told them. All about my visit to the massage parlour, about my accusing Linda, the fight, the spanking, everything. It was perhaps a mistake, but I was desperate to play along. To find out if Philip was somehow involved. To know everything.

 

"How nice for you," sneered Amanda, "I think we have our little scene for today, don't we Rupert. Tell her to come through to the room."

 

"Listen to my voice and obey Phoebe. Come through to the room."

 

I followed them through a door into a room. It was another office, but fitted out like a little photography studio. And I remembered everything now. There was the corner where I posed like the Playboy model, there was the desk where I'd dropped my knickers and there was the bed where I'd been pleasured.

 

"Listen to my voice," said Rupert, "and obey. Bend over the bed Phoebe."

 

I did as I was told. Was I going to get ...ed this time? I would have to put up with it. I had to know. I bent over the bed.

 

"Put your arms out Phoebe."

 

I put out my arms and before I knew it Rupert had manacled my wrists together. The manacles passed through a hook in the wall so I was immobilized bent over the bed. It was only then that I realised. Their little videos mimicked what I had been doing during the day. Posing naked, being fucked by Philip, being masturbated in the massage parlour.

 

Today I was going to be spanked.

 

"Here use this," said Rupert to Amanda, handing her a table tennis bat."

 

"It's a pity she won't feel it," said Amanda.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Because she's in a trance. She won't feel it."

 

"Oh but she will," said Rupert, "She's not in a trance. She's just play acting. Aren't you Phoebe?"

 

"I'm in a trance," I tried intoning. But it was no good. He knew.

 

"I'm afraid the games up," said Rupert, "but the little tart deserves a good spanking anyway. Dimple side I think Amanda."

 

By which he meant the table tennis bat, not my bottom. My bottom has dimples on both sides. I was about to get my second spanking of the day and held fast over the bed I was powerless to stop it.

 

"You bastards," I shouted, kicking my legs and screaming, "you fucking bastards."

 

Thwack. The bat landed on my left bum cheek with a loud slapping noise.

 

"Ow. Fucking bastards!"

 

Thwack. Right bum cheek. This was far worse than the bare hand spanking from Linda.

 

"Fucking bastards!"

 

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

 

My poor bum was glowing red hot and tears poured down my face.

 

"Beg for mercy," hissed Amanda, "Go on slut. Beg."

 

"Fucking bastards," I wouldn't give them the pleasure.

 

Thwack.

 

"Beg, this goes on till you beg."

 

Thwack.

 

- Oh no it doesn't I thought. They might have me now but not for long. I was working the hook out of the wall. Three spanks on each bum cheek so far. Another couple on each and I reckoned I'd be free.

 

Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.

 

I gritted my teeth as my bum felt on fire and gave one last pull. I was free. I pushed Amanda, kneed Rupert in the balls and dashed out the room, through Rupert's consulting room and out into the reception area. Two ladies were sitting there, his next clients, reading Vogue. Their jaws dropped at the sudden appearance of a manacled naked girl.

 

I looked at them and smiled, "One of Rupert's special sessions this morning," I said, patting my glowing red behind, "Enjoy!"

 

And I walked out the door. It was a two mile walk back to my flat in Highbury, not that I cared. Even a manacled naked girl walking along the street with a pink bum won't stir the average Londoner into any sort of action beyond a long stare and the occasional mobile phone pic.

 

I knocked on Gerrard's door.

 

"Sorry again," I said, winking.

 

The affair with Philip was clearly over and boy, was I in need of a fuck


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