by Isaac Byrne
As the sun set and Eric drove them back home, Cindy was beside herself with desperation. She wasn’t even horny any more – well, she was, but it was so much more intense that it should be a whole other word. Ever since that mind-blowing orgasm this morning, getting another one had increasingly become all she could think about, but nothing else would do. She’d had small, regular orgasms, but it was like giving a starving woman a goldfish cracker. It was nice, but she needed something more substantial. And she knew only Eric and his wonderful, glorious cock could give it to her.
She barely realized when they got home; he had to open her car door for her and lead her in by the hand. He took her in and gently set her down in his lap. There weren’t any complaints when she shed the skimpy bikini, long since tired of having to wear clothes, and curled up naked against his chest, nuzzling her cheek against him despondently.
Eric finally seemed to take notice. “Now don’t get excited – I’m just asking out of curiosity, OK. But… do you still want to have sex?”
Her heart started racing. He might as well have said “now don’t get worked up, but you just won the lottery” or “good news, the president died and he left you America in his will.” Her pussy clenched and unclenched just at the thought of his cock. “Yes. Yes, I super duper want to have sex.” She nodded, being careful not to move much. He seemed to be enjoying the cuddling.
“How bad do you want it?”
She tried to find the words, but she’d never wanted anything so badly before. Besides, most of the things my old self wanted were stupid. Getting a college degree never made me cum even once! “Like, it’s the thing I want more than anything in the world. This morning… that was the best I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”
Eric smiled. “Yeah, I figured. So suppose I wanted to make you earn it. What would you give me for it?”
“For fucking me?” She thought, and couldn’t think of anything else that had ever made her as happy. “I dunno. You want my car? My apartment? It’s not, like, mine, but you could use it for whatever. All my stuff? I could give you my bank thingy and you could have all my money, if you want. It’s not much, but I could make more. Or–”
He held up a hand to silence her. “All right, so everything you have basically. Right, but what if I wanted more? What would you do for it?”
“Oh gosh, anything! Like, I saw how you liked watching me today, so like, I could do stuff like that. Let people touch me, or I could suck their cocks or fuck them or whatever you want me to do. I could definitely be a stripper, for sure – remember I told you that creepy guy who gave me his business card once and made an offer?”
He smiled. “I remember.”
“Yeah! And like, I’d do that, or star in porn if you wanted, or both, and I could give you all the money and everything if that’d make you wanna fuck me.” She started kissing his neck, thinking about what she would be willing to do for him. Then instead she thought about what she wouldn’t do for him if he’d just fuck her. And there was nothing. And she told him.
Then, suddenly, Cindy was herself again.
The realization took a moment; she was still incredibly horny, though then she realized she was no longer psychotically obsessed with her friend’s dick. She was still naked and on his lap, and quickly removed herself.
“Feel free to get dressed. Plenty of clothes here that should fit you; when I sent you to go shopping yesterday, I’d thought you’d just pick up a few things… should’ve been more specific.”
She found a pair of short shorts and a tank top that weren’t too bad and put them on. “You don’t have to avert your eyes, you know. Not like you haven’t been seeing me basically naked all day.” She seated herself on the couch, facing him, and folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “So what the hell gives? Why turn me into a nymphomaniac slut obsessed with your cock, parade me around like the queen slut of the world, then not have sex with me?” she demanded.
“Well, you didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, making things easy is more your thing.”
“Pun. Nice,” he chuckled, but only barely. “Well, to your question… I’m still just showing you your options is all.”
“What? Why in the fuck would you ever think I would choose to be turned into some exhibitionist bimbo?!”
“So yesterday, you got to see what it’d be like not to have your own thoughts, just to instinctively make me happy.”
She sighed. “I know, I was there. Believe me, I remember.”
“Yeah. Well, today was about letting you still have thoughts and feelings, but having those feelings gravitate into a direction that would please me.” He raised a hand to forestall another accusation. “Now I know, I know, it’s a limited range. But it’s pretty honest , at least, isn’t it? If I’m going to make you a fuck toy, at least you were what pretty much anybody thinks about when they think ‘fuck toy.’
“Gee thanks, you’re the most honest slaver I’ve ever met.”
“Hey now. Think back to this morning. Is there really no benefit?”
She blushed, remembering her screeching, howling, thrashing orgasm, by a thousand miles the greatest pleasure she’d ever felt in her entire life, and didn’t answer. Eric continued. “Right. So yesterday, I made you into a sex toy who only thought about making me happy; today, similar thing, but you only thought about making yourself happy. I just happen to be the thing that makes you happiest. And in return, you get to act out every sexual fantasy you ever had, and have the best time in your life doing it.”
“Act out my… you’ve got to be kidding me. I was acting out your fantasies, Eric.”
He shook his head. “Cindy, we both know you like attention. Blame me if you want, but you’ve always liked flaunting it. You’ve just been too afraid of what people will say. Remember last Halloween, you did that slutty witch thing? Or how every time you go to a club, you go to one out of town so no one will recognize you and dress – I believe this is a quote – ‘as skanky as the law allows’?”
She frowned. “Well, OK, but…”
“We don’t need to argue it. Pretend you don’t like it if you want, but either way, if you pick this option, that’s what you’ll get.”
Her next question was in a small voice. “Do you have to make me so… vapid? Smart girls can be just as sexy too.”
He shrugged. “It helps me remember you’re not… you. If I thought of you as you , I wouldn’t…”
She sensed his weakness exposed and tried to exploit it before the moment passed. “Wouldn’t want to turn a woman you love into some worthless stupid disposable sex object?”
He stiffened a moment, looking down at his lap, remaining quiet long enough that Cindy began to wonder if she might have actually persuaded him. Then he looked up, and that steely determined look was back. “Well, I can’t have what I really wanted, so I opted for a consolation prize.”
Damn. Still, maybe… “Fine. But if you insist on making me a moron, can you at least let me be a little choosier? Maybe it wouldn’t seem so bad if I at least didn’t let anybody who wants to fuck me have a taste. At least if I’m going to be Little Cindy Sucksalot, let me have some standards.”
He considered, then nodded. “I can do that.”
The room was silent for a moment as she composed herself. She only had one more day before it would all be over. She remembered how the alternative personalities thought of her – yesterday as some pointless ne’er-do-well, and today as some unimaginably frigid prude. Just a collection of memories they could use to help them fuck Eric. They had her memories, but associated them with another person, a life that wasn’t theirs. And it wasn’t. After tomorrow, she’d have to make a choice, and then her life as she’d known it would be over. Of the choices she’d been presented with, she couldn’t imagine picking either. If it was just the two, would she rather be an obedient toy, or a whorish dimwit?
Eric let her work through her thoughts patiently, and then she finally spoke her thoughts.
“So… two last things.”
“Shoot.” He gestured for her to proceed.
“First: can you tell me what to expect tomorrow?” She was almost afraid to ask, afraid she’d be up all night dreading it. Would tomorrow be a dominatrix? A robot? A fetish super-heroine? But then she could as easily be up all night dreading what she didn’t know, too.
He thought a moment before responding. “Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but I promise you, tomorrow you’re going to be much more yourself.”
“More myself?” she probed, but he wouldn’t elaborate except to nod in confirmation. “Well, maybe that won’t be so bad.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” His tone was neutral. “You said there were two things.”
Cindy nodded. This one was harder.
“I want you to fuck her.”
Eric sat up like she’d slapped him. “You want what ?”
She stood and walked over to him, then squatted down at his feet. “You tortured that poor girl. You made her out-of-her-mind with lust for you, jump through hoops to please you, and then you just… ditched her.”
“So you’re saying you want me to… you…?”
For a guy who’s taking a woman as his sex slave, he sure has a hard time saying the word “sex.” “No. Not me. I couldn’t… not after the past couple days. Not that the sex hasn’t been amazing – something you sure made certain of today – but…You were my best friend, Eric. Your friendship meant the world to me. Then you…” She shook it off. No point throwing a tantrum. “But you should do it for her.”
“‘For her?’ She’s not real, Cindy. She’s a personality I molded for you, no more real than the part played by an actress.”
“Well she’s part of me now. I still remember her, her desperation, her simple, incredibly stupid desire for you, and she’s still in there. A part of me that remembers the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. And we deserve to get it.” He hesitated. “Do it, Eric. If you ever cared about me.”
Her vision cleared, and she found herself in one of her favorite places – kneeling in front of Eric. “Time to get fucked, hon.”
Cindy the slut beamed. From somewhere deep inside, Cindy the woman smiled a little too.
Intermission
Cindy woke up the next morning face-down on an inflatable mattress in Eric’s pool, bare-ass naked and freezing cold. She tried to remember how she’d wound up here, but her memories of the previous night were wrapped in cotton. Probably because they weren’t her memories, but rather Cindyslut’s. (She’d nicknamed the lust-crazed bimbo personality as such, and the prior day’s obedient and dutiful one Cindyslave.)
She remembered it in orgasms, which seemed to be in plentiful supply. Beginning with sucking Eric off, she’d cum when his mouth filled with his spunk. Bent over the kitchen table atop a pile of junk mail, smiling giddily at the picture on the front of an underwear catalogue, wishing she was as hot as that girl so she’d get fucked more often. Straddling Eric in the hottub, shrieking her head off for all the neighborhood to hear. (She’d seen the same man from two days ago watching them from his bedroom window, and just knowing she had an audience made her cum an extra time.) Getting spanked by a hot young police officer (Eric’d remembered her request to be more discerning in her slut-state) who’d responded to a neighbor’s noise complaint, then getting on her knees and giving him a titty fuck and promising not to scream so loud later. Falling asleep with a stupid smile plastered on her face as Eric fingered her from behind on the pool floatie.
Shivering violently, she maneuvered her craft towards the shallow end of the pool with her fingertips, then hopped out while getting nothing more than her ankles wet. Still, it made her shiver so badly that she could hardly move for a moment, standing in the open air of the backyard. She made her way into the house where Eric had hung a robe for her inside the door; he was asleep on the couch still, naked as well. As she slipped the robe on gratefully, she took a moment to admire his body. Strangely, it was the first time she’d seen him undressed while she was in her right mind. She’d seen him without his shirt on before, and she’d always known he kept himself in good shape. Her eyes lingered over-long on his now-flaccid penis, thinking how excited she’d been for it only last night. The feeling hadn’t gone away entirely. She didn’t think it was his doing; certainly being on the receiving end of pleasure that intense must have conditioned her brain to love the very sight of it. Or something.
It was still early; the cold had awakened her rather than just being rested. Still-chilled and sore beyond belief in nearly every muscle in her body, she wanted nothing more than to go to Eric’s vacant bed and sleep. Yet today was to be the last day in her trials, and she didn’t want to waste a moment of her freedom. She took a hot shower to warm up and slipped back into the robe, contemplating. She thought about what life might be like as Cindyslave or Cindyslut, what would change. Obviously the sex. No more working. Would she have friends? A job? A social life away from Eric’s crotch?
She spent a little time penning a list of requests to ask Eric for. To let her family know, and make them OK with it. Maybe let her visit them occasionally. To let her keep her interest in crocheting. Keep up with Downton Abbey . She even thought maybe he’d consider leaving town with her; she grudgingly admitted that some of the exhibitionism was fun, but the notion of her old friends and co-workers seeing her was still humiliating. Not that she’d mind soon; soon, no doubt, she’d be excited at the prospect of being ogled and groped and licked and maybe even fucked by every guy she saw. She thought about asking him not to let her get implants; she’d definitely been thinking last night while staring at that underwear catalog that she’d look hotter for Eric with huge tits.
She’d even begun wondering if it would be so bad. From the outside, of course, it was terrible – her life as she’d known it was over. Then again, her life as she’d known it hadn’t been that great. Working herself like crazy just to keep a crappy job that barely made ends meet, a fender bender away from bankruptcy. So little time and energy to go out that she’d hardly seen most of her friends in months, other than Eric, as he was always good to just sit around one of their places and veg. It was slavery, of a sort, and it was and never would have been her choice; but then, she’d also never have to work again, and had had more sex in the past two days than she’d had in the past year. And better sex than she’d had in her entire life.
But it was her freedom. Normally just a word she heard bandied about by jingoistic politicians, but now it was painfully real for her.
Before she knew it, it was after eight o’clock. Two days ago, that was when she’d launched on her mission to bring Eric pleasure; yesterday, when her sex drive had begun spiking off the charts while her brain cells started going dark. She tried to assess herself, but she couldn’t find anything different. She didn’t feel an urge to put on a slutty outfit, or crawl to Eric and wake him with a good morning blowjob. Since her only clothes her were in the bags of whore-wear downstairs, she found a sweat suit of Eric’s, one ludicrously too big for her, and put it on. She looked preposterousness, and not a man or woman alive could possibly find her sexy in it. It didn’t bother her at all, but as it was still far too big, so she went back to the robe.
Eric came in a good long time later while she was still lost in her pondering. “Morning, Cindy,” he said as he went about finding some clothes. He seemed as comfortable being naked in front of her as she was sure she’d be for him, now.
“It’s quarter past twelve – not morning any more, sleepyhead. Thought I’d have to go down and remind you to enslave me before long,” she chided. Her tone was snotty, but she still smiled a little.
“You put in overtime last night – I gave you the morning off,” he quipped with equal self-consciousness.
She quietly waited for him to finish getting dressed so he’d have to look her in the eyes. “Will this be it? After this, do I make the choice?”
He shook his head, and spoke in a mumble. “No. That’l
l come tomorrow – you’ll have the night to think about it.”
“All right. And will it be OK if we talk a little first? I have some things I want to run by you.” She put a hand in the robe’ pocket, touched the paper she’d been writing on.
“Why not now? Now’s fine.” He sat down on the bed. “No, I’d… I’d rather wait, if that’s all right. We can both make all our decisions at once.”
Eric nodded slowly. “Fair enough. We’ll talk tomorrow, beforehand, about whatever you want.”
Only then did she join him on the bed. It felt oddly natural. “So what’s today going to be?”
He smiled then. “To your question, a question. Is there anything you want it to be? Some fantasy you’d like to live out, fear you want get past, kink you’d like to try?”
“What, you’re saying I get to pick who I want to be today?” she asked suspiciously.
“Sure.”
“So say I want to be a dominatrix and spend all day smacking you around with a riding crop and torturing you with nipple clamps?”
“Really, you think this is the time to start getting bratty, right while we’re deciding your fate.” His tone was jocular, but hers was anything but as she thundered back at him.
“What, you expect me to just happily go along with this? Force me into a few orgasms and I’ll just ask you to take away my freedom? You were my best friend, God damnit! I trusted you, completely! And this is how you treat that trust! Well I won’t fucking play ball. You want me to be your wind-up fuck toy, then turn the fucking winder and get on with it. I won’t do it for you!”
Cindy tensed, waiting for him to retaliate.
Day Three
Cindy tensed, waiting for him to retaliate.
Instead, he just rolled over to face her and gently stroked her hair, smiling gently. “I’m sorry for asking that of you, Cindy. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Forgive you? Go fuck yourself, Cindy thought. “Of course I can, Eric darling. I could never stay mad at you,” she purred in a syrupy sweet voice. She decided to slap his smug face instead. Her hand reached out – slowly, and rested dotingly on his cheek.
