After the Conference Ch. 03

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Madeleine is forced to face her demons.
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Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/27/2014
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ElRoylk
ElRoylk
329 Followers

Day Two: Evening

"But," he continued, his fingers sliding up her leg to lightly stroke her sex. "Wouldn't you like to spend the rest of the afternoon out?" He stopped, his fingers resting over her hooded clit.

"Mmmm, hmmm," she hummed, her eyes closed. "I...what is happening?" She said it sleepily, like she'd had too much to drink. But it had only been a glass of wine. And they hadn't ridden that far or hard; not hard enough to make her feel this exhausted. "You're doing something to me." She heard the slurring in her words and the panic bubbled up.

He shook his head, keeping his fingers on her. "I've never met anyone like you, Madeleine. Less than 24 hours ago you agreed to go out to dinner, and now." He stopped. "Now, you're sitting spread eagled in my kitchen, your pussy wet and swollen. Not an hour ago, you had my cock deep in your throat, begging me to fuck you with my hand." He pressed the point, literally, forcing a moan from her. "And last night. Last night was incredible. I just hope you'll let me do it again." Pausing. "Will you?"

She moaned as his fingers pushed her lips apart, sliding into her again. Even as she pushed against him, the inner voice, the one that had always protected her, woke up and quietly worked itself up to her conscious. "Roland," she whispered. "Please stop. Please."

Miraculously, he did, backing his fingers out, raising his hand to his lips, breathing in her aroma. She shivered watching him, her need almost blocking out the little voice, but not quite. Her legs were beginning to cramp and she suddenly saw how exposed she had been. Just being the slut you are. NO! The inner turmoil began again, and with it, she pulled her feet down to the floor and turned her head to find the door.

"Tilson's? We have plenty of time before the game begins." He was up, offering his hand to hers to help her out of the chair.

The change in subject was abrupt, catching her off-guard. She couldn't speak, looking at her feet, shrugging slightly. Why do I feel so sluggish? Why I am standing here naked in his kitchen? It's not because I'm a slut! The majority rule was quiet for the moment, a small blessing.

"Let's get dressed and visit the city a little, have a bite to eat and come back. You'll perk up with a little fresh air and food."

They had returned to her pile of clothes at the entrance to the bedroom, and he helped her carry it back inside, setting it on the bed. "I'll get dressed and meet you back here." He looked concerned. "You're going to be alright. You're okay."

As soon as he turned to leave, she immediately felt as if a veil had been lifted. Watching his tight ass walk through the door lit a spark inside her, but she couldn't let it spread – she had to get dressed, had to get out of the house and find her way back to the hotel. If he was going to drive her, all the better.

She met him at the front hall, gym bag in hand, a brush run through her hair. Looking in a mirror, she grimaced at the face looking back at her – no makeup, her hair barely presentable. At least you remembered your underwear this time. It was true, thankfully, as she double-checked. He was doing something to her, she was convinced – a drug - something. She'd never acted this way before.

"Super!" He walked into the hall, dressed in summer slacks and a golf t-shirt, his smile radiant and disarming. "You look so great, I can't believe you chose to spend the day with me!" He gave her a gentle hug and kissed her forehead, then her nose, and then, she tilted her head up to meet his lips.

Slut. NO! But she didn't pull away, letting him push his tongue into her mouth, feeling her arousal stirring again. She could see the drive to the bookstore, her sex leaking again. She couldn't!

"We need to go, right?" She said, pulling away. "Let's go see this bookstore of yours."

In the car, she remembered something he'd said. "What game? You said we'd be back in plenty of time before the game." She turned to him, wondering why she was even asking. She would be in her room, away from this madness.

"I have a small group of friends who meet a few times a month. We play cards until late at night. What time is your flight tomorrow?"

"Oh. I...3PM, I think." Shit. Shit!

"So you can stay up a little later than usual?"

She didn't answer, hoping she'd find a way to escape him.

Tilson's was an amazing store, she had to admit. Several stories tall, with multiple buildings spread across three city blocks, there was no way she'd see it all. They arrived at 3:30, he suggested they get to dinner around 6:30, which would let them return by 8. His guests would be there by 8:30 or 9.

"Three hours," he said, his arm around her waist. "It's barely enough time to get your bearings. What interests you?"

He showed her the map, suggesting he would be in the map room, looking at the latest travel guides. It was a perfect opportunity to find the nearest exit and make her way out of there.

"Graphic novels, I think," she said, pulling a random label off the floor plan.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

When she looked up, she was standing in front of a bookshelf filled with graphic novels: super heroes, villains, erotica, manga. Turning to each side, there were shelves and shelves of more of the same. She wasn't sure where she was in the store, and she couldn't remember how she had gotten there, or how long she'd been standing there. Her gym bag was nowhere to be found, and the panic shot up along with her heartbeat. Struggling not to hyperventilate, she went in search of an exit, knowing she had to get out of there, before he found her. At least you still have your clothes on! Stop it!

Tears from her frustration were beginning to spill onto her cheeks. Where was the door?

"Madeleine!"

She turned in terror at his voice.

"Hold up!" He was across the room, her gym bag in his hand. "Hey! Are you okay?"

She couldn't take hearing that question one more time. No, she wasn't okay! It was like a bad dream, her body moving in slow motion, her feet slogging through mud.

He was next to her, touching her elbow, his face filled with concern. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"My...my hotel..." She could barely get the words out; her throat was constricted with fear.

"Okay," he said gently, handing her the bag. "It's a lot earlier than we...okay...just let me check out ...did you get any books?" He saw she hadn't and he changed the subject. "Your hotel is only a couple of blocks away."

As soon as she was outside, she breathed deeply, the panic subsiding. She could hear him talking, but couldn't concentrate on the words, happy to be out of the store and on her way back to the safety of her own room. As they made their way down the sidewalk, her heart rate slowed and she began to feel embarrassed by her behavior.

"I'm sorry," she said, not looking at him. "I don't know what came over me...I just...panicked..."

He nodded, keeping his hand on her arm.

Her mood shifted again, the embarrassment replaced now by a soft warm glow. She couldn't reconcile how she could have felt so strongly just a few minutes before and was now actually re-thinking her plans for the evening.

"Maybe there was something in the store?" He asked helpfully.

She shrugged, relieved she was feeling better.

They had arrived at her room, and she looked around, wondering what she had wanted so desperately. She shook her head, remembering his question. "No...I...blacked out." She looked up at him, concerned he would think less of her. "Not, like, fainted, just lost track of how I got to the graphic novels..." It made her uncomfortable to even pursue it, shaking her head.

"Well, you're here now. I know you probably want to just call it a day. I have to say, it's been a bit puzzling to me. I can only imagine how you're feeling."

She felt a rush of gratitude at his understanding. Gratitude and a growing sense of...something else. That wickedness she had felt the day before had somehow wriggled its way through the emotions swirling behind her eyes.

"I...no..." She froze again as she reconsidered what she was about to do. "I just need to get my boarding pass printed..." It sounded so lame when she said it. "I'm not sure I've got the right clothes for your thing tonight," she added quickly.

He shook his head and shrugged. "It's pretty casual – what you've got on is fine."

She moved to her laptop to get her travel arrangements settled, focusing her attention on the screen.

"without any clothes at all, before the evening is over..."

She stopped and looked at him, wide eyed. "What?"

"What." He looked at her. "You ready?"

"What did you just say?" She could feel the buzz starting deep inside her. "Just now. What did you say?!" She heard a tone of desperation in her voice, but nothing in his face suggested he was hiding anything.

"I was just saying the clothes you've got would be fine, that it was a casual evening." He shrugged a little, concern flitting across his face. "Listen, maybe it will be too late for you..."

"NO!" She stopped, alarmed at her tone, and started to laugh. "I'm sorry, that sounded horrible! I've just been so edgy since that asshole accosted me at the convenience store. I guess I never really got over it. I'm almost done. Let me grab a couple of things and I'll be ready to go."

She decided to add a few bathroom items to the gym bag...no telling where she'd be sleeping tonight...the thought sent a warm flood through her insides, and she met him at the door. "Ready!" She felt calmer now.

"Your boarding pass?"

She laughed again. "Right here," patting her purse, implying her smartphone. "I'll need to check out of here by 11AM..." and stopped, realizing she was expecting to sleep over. "...unless..." She closed the door, heading to the elevator, flustered.

"No problem. It'll likely be a late night, like I said, and of course you're welcome to sleep over." He left the possibilities unspoken, but she clenched, imagining what they could be.

He had picked another fantastic place to eat – although they were so early he suggested they start at a hip bar a few doors down. By the time they sat down for dinner she was definitely feeling the alcohol; it calmed her, quieting the harsher critics in her head.

She ordered light, in spite of the alcohol, sensing she didn't want dinner to stick with her all night. Sitting in that hot tub sounded delicious; too full of a stomach and she wouldn't enjoy herself.

She had lost track of the conversation, the food was so delicious, and the image of relaxing in the tub distracting her. She could see the courtyard, candlelit and just laying back, letting the heat soak into her. A competing image entered her imagination, forcing her to reconsider: his friends! His friends would be there. She couldn't just hang out naked in the tub while his friends were there! She put down her fork and reached for the wine.

He was staring at her, quizzically. "That looked perfectly enticing. What were you thinking about just then?"

She almost choked on the wine, holding it back until she could swallow. "I...uh...oh fuck it all. I was thinking how wonderful it would be to hang out in the hot tub..."

"Sounds perfect..."

"...until I remembered you had friends coming over..."

"...we could leave now – have dessert later..."

"...and I'm not really comfortable stripping naked with strangers..."

"...but you were comfortable with me...and..."

She stopped to listen to what he was saying, but couldn't make it out. She thought he had said she would strip naked whenever he asked her to, and that she would be on her knees servicing him and them at the drop of a hat...and other images flooded her imagination, but she couldn't believe he was actually saying any of it. She strained to listen and finally heard him.

"So, I'll just pay the bill – we're only about 10 minutes away and they're not coming for at least an hour."

She found herself shaking her head again, trying to clear the cobwebs, but was left with the final image – on her knees, taking him into her mouth, begging to be taken in every hole. What made it all worse was how turned on she was getting at the thought. Just let your true nature out, you fucking whore. Why do you fight it? She couldn't fight the voice, and she was quickly losing the strength to fight the impulses.

It was quiet all the way back to the house: her inner voices were silent, he didn't seem to be talking, and she had nothing to say. She knew she was heading into something dreadful, something so awful she couldn't put words to it. But more awful than her imagination about what might be coming, was how wet she was. With each image, each fear, she felt more moisture leaking from her. She just stared out the window, resigned to whatever he had in store for her.

"I seem to be asking this a lot lately, but I have a feeling you...I..." He turned into the driveway. "Was it something I said?"

She laughed. It started as a simple explosive guffaw and deteriorated into hysterical giggling. He had turned off the car and waited for her to finish, his face puzzled. She could barely catch her breath. Even she couldn't explain why she found it so funny, but every time she played it back in her head she started in again.

"C'mon," he said with a little impatience. "I think you might need another drink."

* - * - * - *

She looked up as the first guests arrived, smiling nervously. She was always a little shy meeting new people. As they came into the hall she could taste the lime from whatever he'd made her. Sipping it in the hot tub was a luxury she rarely had back home.

"Oh, Roland! You've outdone yourself!"

She looked at a well-built man walking into the living room where she was sitting, and tried to hold out her hand to shake his. Something was different, she realized. She couldn't lift her hand off her knee.

"She's absolutely gorgeous, Pierce!" A woman had entered the room, putting her bag on the couch.

She couldn't move anything except her eyes. With the movement of air from the guests, she realized she was stripped bare, exposed. Just like you wanted it. Finally, to be the whore you've always wanted. She tried to moan, but realized she was already speaking.

"I'm a cunteatingcocksucking whore. I'm a cunteatingcocksucking whore."

"Fantastic. Can she hear us?"

Roland appeared, smiling, his hand drifting down her cheek to graze across her nipples. He nodded.

"You asshole. You're such an asshole!" Said with a smile.

"And a show-off."

He knelt down so his face was level with hers and she realized she wasn't sitting at all, but kneeling on the stone floor, her hands on her knees, her knees spread open. She could hear herself through the pounding of blood in her ears. How weird that my knees aren't hurting. That thought triggered another about why she should be concerned about that given everything else going on. That all stopped when Roland spoke.

"She's a bit tricky, actually." He turned to his guests as if about to launch into a lecture, his hand continuing to play with her nipples. "She's got a basalt layer I couldn't completely break through. Here, listen."

"Fuck my ass. Fuck my cunt. Fuck my mouth." Her eyes widened as she heard her voice begging.

"I had specifically suggested the cunteatinng/cocksucking thing. But she's gone ahead and changed it. It's been happening like that for two days." He gently moved her hands behind her head, lifting her breasts.

"Two days? You've had her here for two days? That's cruel, Roland, even for you!" A woman. Madeleine could see her taking a sip of a drink. She wanted desperately to have a drink. She wanted desperately to push her face into that woman's cunt.

"No, of course not. We've been out. In fact, she didn't even come over here until this morning...."

"It's the house, of course..." the woman was saying to someone else.

"Now, Lilly. That's not being fair. You know I could easily get you on your knees at your place or mine."

"Fuck you, Roland." But again, she was smiling. "No reason to rub it in."

"But that's exactly what you want, Lilly, if memory serves." She could see Roland smiling in return.

The conversation was confusing, humiliating her further. How did she get into this position? The last she remembered was sitting in the hot tub, relaxing with a spectacular drink, thinking how wonderful it would be to fuck him again before the guests arrived. And then...nothing. Until now.

"I'm a cunteating cocksucking whore!" Her face was beet red from embarrassment but every time she said it she felt moisture pushing from her swollen pussy. She wanted to see if it was staining his floor but she couldn't look down. Her eyes locked onto two legs behind him.

"In case anyone is even remotely interested, I used a double-bind feedback suggestion. Somehow, and no, Lilly, the house didn't help me with this one, I got the sense she really wants to be a prostitute – a slut as she calls herself – but it's a struggle with some other basic need." He turned back to pinch her nipples lightly, causing her to moan and beg louder.

"I knew she would fight it – that was obvious: every time she was out of earshot she'd start to drift away. When she felt fear or anxiety about me, I associated it with a suggestion of intense arousal."

She could only see legs, grouped around her, but imagined they were nodding, sipping their cocktails and studying her like a specimen.

"I think she wants you, Georgia." Roland stepped aside, pulling a chair in front of her. "Her hands are glued, but her mouth is perfectly ready."

She could feel another flood of moisture moving down her channel, her face hot and blushing. But she wanted nothing more in the world than to drink from that woman's cunt.

Georgia sat down, set down her drink, lifted her skirt and pulled her panties aside. "We'll see if she's any good, eh?"

As she spread her legs, Roland gently pushed against the back of Madeleine's hands until her lips were against the woman's splayed pussy. She couldn't stop saying the words, even as she pressed her lips and tongue into her, the vibration traveling across her clit.

"Mmmm...that's nice, Pierce. That's really nice. Now, what were you saying about that property up the street?"

The group continued their conversation while she sucked and nibbled on Georgia's cunt. There was nothing more in the world she wanted to do at that moment than to make her cum in her mouth. Deep down, a very small voice mentioned she'd never had much of a taste for cunny, a fact she noted objectively. Other than that, the voices were quiet, only the conversation and sound of her slurping filled her mind.

"That's enough for now, slut. Someone else may want a turn." Georgia rearranged her clothes and stood, shrugging in a way that suggested she needed a little more experience. "Perhaps she's better at cock."

Someone pulled her back upright. She could feel the air cooling the moisture on her face.

"May I?"

She watched as a pair of trousers appeared in front of her, two hands unzipping and pulling them down, to reveal a large cock, quickly stiffening.

This was more familiar territory, and she heard herself go quiet, opening her mouth and throat. She wanted desperately to use her hands, to stroke his balls and stiffen him further, but other than frustration at her loss of her hands, she didn't think twice about kneeling to take a stranger's cock into her mouth. You want it. You need it. You've practiced your whole life for this. Why should you even question it? Open wide, slut, you're getting everything you've ever wanted tonight.

In moments he had moved her head around his erection, forcing it against the back of her throat. She so wished she could get into a better position, but was grateful to have any cock in her at all. The sounds of the conversation were drowned out by her gagging.

ElRoylk
ElRoylk
329 Followers
12