A Maggot in My Mind Ch. 01

Chapter 1:

Our minds are such fickle masters of our actions. What is it that makes us so suddenly fall in love so that we can no longer bear to exist without someone? How does our mind become so mesmerised that its judgment is totally abandoned? And yet how fickle it is, that we can just as easily fall out of love again and no longer care whether we see that same person? That suddenly our life seems so much better without them. How can such an irreversible change happen so suddenly and so absolutely? Yet if our mind is indeed fickle, then it is also very vulnerable. Are we the victim of random chance that dictates how our minds will respond? Or is there some purpose in the way it twists our behaviour first one way then another? Either way every one of us must guard carefully this power house of our daily actions, for if we are too open then we may let someone inside and like a maggot they will eat away at the very heart of our being, twisting and turning us in much the same way a maggot twists and tries to escape the inevitable once impaled upon the fisherman's hook. From the outside everything may seem untrammelled, but inside just as the rotten apple, we are transforming - slowly bit by bit, piece builds upon little piece turning us into some new design. But whose?

They were happy times, those happy years with Tom. Perhaps not the exciting adventurer that would constantly have you with your heart in your mouth, but caring and dependable, always supportive, always the rock. Yes we were happy and life was good, whatever else life had in store for us, we were together and together we would face it. Yet somehow in this life we always pay for the small fragments of happiness we manage to pick up along our road. Someone always looks jealously upon your happiness and from somewhere deep within they find a need to destroy it. There must always be a price to pay and someone out there willing to exact that price from us. And it seems that the more happy we find ourselves, the greater must be that price we must pay. Well Tom and I were indeed very, very happy and as for the price...

I suppose it started, or at least that is the earliest I can trace it back to, when the company Tom worked for went through a major repositioning in the market and there were new people brought in. One of these was Ricky who was hired in to head Tom's division. Tom was very worried about this brash new kid coming in and what changes he would bring. At the same time, however, perhaps this was Tom's chance for promotion. If he could impress and show that he could bring forward the changes Ricky needed then, he argued, he would be rewarded.

So it was that Ricky was invited over to our house for dinner one night and the opportunity for Tom to impress him. Problem was, however, that Tom was not at home when Ricky arrived on the doorstep and so started to unfold a tale unimaginable to me at the time. Oh if only Tom had not been late that day, but then again there were many things that I didn't understand then...

Sara and Tom had been married for only a couple of short years. They were very much in love and with their combined income there was every chance of a happy future together. With the arrival of Ricky on the scene, however, Tom was passing through a period of great uncertainty and he did not want to risk a chance for Ricky to form the wrong impression of him so as soon as the young whiz kid was installed Tom lost no time in inviting him round to talk about his ideas for the reshaping of the company. Tom was young and ambitious and with his wife Sara by his side he felt confident. Yet on the day, while everything was being got ready for Ricky's visit, the phone had rung. It was Sam from work. He had lost his job in the recent reshuffle and Tom agreed to go over and chat with him. After all, he had said to Sara, if it were the other way round he would need some support from his colleagues to cope with the lay off.

So Sara flitted about the house trying to get all prepared. Fortunately she had Marie, their maid, to help her. She seemed to be very efficient and Sara was almost unaware that she was there, but could see how everything was under control. The food was cooking, and it smelt good, and the house was being tidied and readied for their guest. They worked together and there was a chemistry between them that helped them quickly to establish an understanding. Marie was a Latin girl of similar age and build to Sara and had only recently joined them, being sent by the agency.

Ricky arrived and Tom was still not back from his visit to Sam. Sara felt some irritation towards him leaving her alone to tackle Ricky at their first meeting. She was a little apprehensive as she showed him into the house. Ricky was clearly a bright man; he looked too young to be Tom's boss so must have risen fast and had no trouble feeling at ease as he entered their home. Clearly he had plenty of self-confidence. Sara showed him into the sitting room as Marie called out she was off home and then fixed him a drink. She sat opposite him and they started to chat. Of course she had to apologise for her husband's absence and privately cursed his name as she did so.

As they chatted Sara found it difficult to keep up with the conversation. She found herself strangely distracted, although she was not entirely sure on what. Ricky seemed to be asking quite personal questions about her and Tom which made her feel a little uncomfortable. Yet during their conversation she was repeatedly wrong-footed by her mind wandering off at a tangent and leaving her struggling to keep a focus on what he said. Perhaps she would have been a little more circumspect about her answers if she didn't have to work so hard to concentrate.

Sara was not comfortable being alone with Ricky and hoped her husband would show up soon. She started to wonder what to do about dinner if he delayed much longer. Why was it so difficult to hear what he was saying? Was he whispering or was she just distracted?

"My God, I hope he doesn't realise. He will either think he is boring me or that I am a complete Bimbo", she thought. "I must try harder for Tom's sake."

Suddenly her thoughts cleared as she heard Tom's key in the lock. She felt the relief wash over her at the sound but at the same time felt confused as one waking from deep sleep. She wasn't quite sure where she was and as with a vivid dream as she awoke she could suddenly picture what had been running through her mind as it faded slowly beyond recall. She had been sitting opposite Ricky and running through her mind she had seen a picture of herself lying back in the curve of her armchair. She pictured her body, seen sideways on, the chair sweeping it round and raising upwards the lower half of her frame, up towards Ricky. In this picture painted in her mind, she could see her most private parts being pushed up by the chair like an offering to Ricky and she became aware that in reality her legs were planted apart as far as the tightness of her dress allowed. The mind picture had been so vivid, a woman wantonly displaying herself towards this man, ready and open for him like some offering.

She had pictured his cock sliding into her wet hole; she could see the veins on his member bulge as they slid back and forth against her lips pulled tightly around it. She was leaning back supplicating as he drove himself into her. She could feel the submission deep within her as she saw the head of his cock push right up to her cervix. She could feel the knock-knock of it at her womb as he hammered into her and how she longed to open that door and feel his seed rush inside her. Sara's conscious was repelled by the vision it saw. How could she think such thoughts of a man she had just met and barely knew? She was Tom's wife and her womb should only open for his seed. What had she been thinking of? Yet as she replayed these scenes she became aware that she was very wet. For a confused moment she wondered whether these things had really happened, that Ricky had actually made love to her in her own armchair, in their own house while her husband was out. She became aware that these thoughts were driving a feeling of tightness in her chest and she could feel her nipples harden in response to the idea. Horrified she shook her head to escape the phantasm.

As she did so she became a little more aware of her surroundings. She wasn't actually leaning back, but was sitting well forward, leaning towards Ricky. Her legs had been splayed and leaning forward made her feel more wanton. Ricky was on the couch somewhat sprawled, lying even, as he talked with her. His hands were in his pockets and clearly as she had leant forward her face had been pointed towards his groin. As her eyes focused she realised that he was clearly aroused, his monster was very obviously straining within the confines of his trousers, as it tried to reach up towards her mouth which she became aware, had been open. She became aware that her throat was dry and so she must have held her mouth open for some time. As she awoke from her trance she closed her mouth and looked up into Ricky's eyes as Tom entered the room. She found to her horror recognition on his behalf of her proffered state and feared what he must have been thinking. How could she have acted in this way?

"Hi darling, sorry I'm late." Tom's words broke into her thoughts. Then turning to Ricky, "I hope Sara has been keeping you amused. Time just seemed to pass so quick. Sorry darling, I got back as soon as I could." Tom held out his hand and Ricky stood up and shook it.

"No problem, Sara has been great company." And he turned towards her as he said this and winked ever so slightly. Sara felt her cheeks colour and excused herself to the kitchen to see about the dinner.

The meal went well and Tom spent time talking work with Ricky while Sara tried to keep out the way as much as possible. She felt numb from her experience and her mind was still reeling trying to piece together how she could have got into such a state. Fortunately she had checked and there was no evidence that they had done anything. She cursed herself for even suspecting. She could be so stupid at times. But even so she was deeply disturbed by the experience and could not hide the fact that she was not herself for the rest of the evening.

"That seemed to go well." Tom was leaning on the doorway of the study after Ricky had left. "He seemed pleased with what I presented to him and has asked me to develop some of the ideas further. He will come round one evening next week to discuss them. So it all seems to have gone well."

"Are you OK Sara? You didn't seem quite yourself tonight."

She turned towards her husband and felt her heart plummet. "It wasn't easy to meet him for the first time all alone you know." She challenged him.

"I am so sorry about that darling. Sam was very upset and I couldn't just leave him and come to promote myself. I promise I will be here next week when he calls."

Tom held Sara in his arms and she felt some reassurance. At least here she would be safe – safe from her own thoughts.

"Ricky did say, however, that there would be more overtime for me over the coming months. As Ricky put it, we are all going to have to make some sacrifices, but there would be rewards for those who contributed most."

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"Do you believe in hypnosis?" Sara was sitting in the cafeteria with her friend Carol. They had been friends since school, and often met up during the office lunch break to chat. Sara could rely on Carol for comfort and discretion. Unlike Sara, Carol had a sensible head on her shoulders and would soon bring her flights of fancy back to the ground.

"No, not really. Why do you ask?"

"This meeting with Tom's new boss. It was so strange. Tom was not around when he turned up – I am still so mad with him about that, so naturally I was left to keep him amused while we waited for Tom to get back. I just seemed to lose track of what was happening as we talked and when Tom came and I snapped out of it I found there were these strange thoughts that had been running through my head."

"What kind of things?"

"Well unsavoury, I'd say; about Ricky, his boss, and me. Not the kind of thing for a healthy mind."

"Wow Sara, and did anything happen?' Carol seemed to be getting a little too interested in this.

"No, no." Sara protested. "Just my mind running away into a fantasy, but quite disturbing."

"And you think he hypnotised you?"

"Do you think it was possible? It was so unlike me." Sara looked up at Carol and her friend could see the concern in her face.

"I don't think so, especially someone you don't know. If a person can be hypnotised I am sure it requires a higher level of trust than that. Tell me, did he make you do something – take your clothes off and parade round the room?" How typical of Carol to make a joke out of it, and with that joke dispels the worries that were circulating in Sara's head.

"No I guess you're right." And Sara smiled as she felt relief that her friend had so easily evaporated her nightmare.

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"Marie... Marie!" Sara marches round the house looking for the maid. She has to be off to work before long and needs to give her a list of things to do. As she wanders around the house she cannot find her and finds herself in the bedroom. There on the bed is a large pot of cream. She wanders over to it, curious about what it is and how it got there. Lifting it up in her hand she reads the label on it: "Magic Hair Removal Cream" it says. She looks puzzled at it having no idea where it came from or who should want hair removal cream. Then she catches in the corner of her eye a pair of panties laid out on the bed next to the pot. These also she does not recognise, and decides she had better go find Marie to see if she knows anything about them. She picks the panties up and looks at them in her hand.

They are lacy in style, but the lace is interwoven with a kind of rubber thread. It is dense so the feel of the material is rubbery. It looks rather enticing and she finds herself rubbing the material between her fingers. Her mind starts to wander as she imagines what the feel of the material would be like next to the delicate skin of her pussy. She is hardly conscious of the slight feeling of arousal that is creeping over her and she starts, absent-mindedly to open the pot of cream. Dipping her fingers into the tub of cream she lifts them out and looks at the large white scoop in her fingers. She watches it curiously for a moment and then turns to the panties and starts to smear the cream around the inside of the panty. Soon she is digging into the tub for more cream and smearing that over the elasticated material, turning the black of the fabric into a smooth layer of white.

She makes sure the crotch is also well covered with the cream and then puts the pot down on the bed. She holds the crotch of the panties carefully in one hand, looking at it and balancing it to make sure the weight of the cream is in her palm. Without removing her eyes from them she pushes her other hand up underneath the skirt of her suit. She feels for the elastic of the panties she is wearing and slips her thumb inside them. She pulls on them and then shifts her hand to the other side and pulls again. Little by little, and it is not easy with only one hand and making sure not to drop the cream filled panties in her other, but slowly she eases them over her hips and eventually they drop to the floor. She steps out of them and brings the rubber down between her legs. She looks at the cream smeared over the crotch resting in her open hand between her legs and then very carefully eases first one leg then the other into them. Her hands now pull the panty up the long climb of her legs, and she concentrates so as not to wipe away any of the cream before it reaches her crotch. She lifts her skirt and holds it up around her waist as she eases the cream around her cunt. As she slides the elastic of her panties over her hips, her cunt lips plunge into the cream and with a firm hand she presses the material into her mons.

She stands for a moment looking down over her breasts. Her breath is coming in short shallow gulps as her mind plays out for her the image of her lips and mound becoming smooth, watching powerlessly as her hair falls away from her skin. She is overwhelmed by the thought of this act signifying a former life pulling away from her future and feeling like a chrysalis that is about to step forward into a totally new and different life ahead. She bends down to pick up her discarded panties still lying at her feet, and feels the cream squeezed into her crack by the movement. She presses her lips together to feel the cream slip and slide between her tightly pressed thighs. As she takes her panties to throw in for the wash she starts to feel a tingling between her legs.

Her whole mound is starting to itch from the action of the cream as her hair starts to die. She falls onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling, contemplating the inevitable changes she has wrought upon herself, unable to determine her actions. Her hand creeps down her skirt and finds the hem, pulls it upwards and grabs hold of her rubber-encased crotch. Her fingers splay between her thighs forcing them apart as she pushes the panties deeper and deeper between her lips. Her middle finger starts a dance over the material encasing her opening and her palm starts to rub back and forth to relieve this persistent itch that consumes her. She rubs harder and harder in an effort to feel relief and as she does so feels the sexual tension build within her. She can't seem to stop her hand roaming over her mound, through her crack and pressing the material and cream ever so lightly inside.

In an effort of will she drags herself off the bed and tries to find distraction in the mundane matters of running the house. She was looking for Marie. She had to give her instructions before setting off to work. Where was the girl? As she wandered calling her, she was almost oblivious to her hand that appeared to be glued to the area between her legs. She pressed a finger against her mound through the material of her skirt and the panties underneath. She splayed her palm open over her skirt and started to buck her hips feeling her mound slide back and forth under the weight of her palm. She knew this action was smearing the cream over her pubic hair and that this would increase the itchiness that was distracting her. Yet she was powerless to prevent herself from making sure that she was coated in the cream and ensuring all her pubic hair would fall out.

The intolerable itch would not be assuaged any other way, and her logic could make no impact upon her actions. She rubbed and rubbed until she managed to force herself back to her search for Marie. She went down into the sitting room and found her bent over the table dusting. She stared at her rear for a moment and suddenly pictured her naked and smooth too, like she would soon be naked and smooth. She felt the word smooth echo round in her head and she felt herself becoming aroused at the idea of Marie's naked ass pushed up into the air in front of her. She pictured herself moving over and kneeling behind her and burying her face in Marie's behind. The image shocked her, but at the same time she felt a quiver of excitement run through her body. She gasped out loud at the onslaught of the erotic images circulating through her mind. Marie heard the noise and stood and turned towards her.

"Are you all right Miss?"

Sara's eyes were half closed and in an almost dream like state she started to move her hand down under her skirt – right in front of the maid. As the thought ran into her mind she felt a quickening of her heartbeat. She looked towards the girl and saw an insecure smile break on her face. Why was she not as shocked by what she saw as Sara felt by acting in this way? The itch in her groin was now so bad she could not control herself. She had her hand up her skirt and was rubbing the heel of her palm over her mound, pressing as hard as she could and starting to feel sore from the friction. Marie looked at the twin pillars of Sara's white thighs revealed by the pulling aside of her skirt, and the join of her thighs buried in her hand that cupped the area between them and rubbed it in such an agitated fashion. She walked towards her, the smile undiminished, a look of complicity in her eyes: