Addicted (17 page)

"This is going
to sound ridiculous, I know, but... you see, she went to my house
and told my wife that I owed her money. She said she was a
prostitute."

"A prostitute?
Why would she do that? Are you sure you've got the right
person?"

"Yes, from my
wife's description of the woman, it was definitely the same
one."

"How did she
know where you lived?"

"During the
brief conversation we had, I mentioned it. I really don't
understand it. I don't suppose you have her address?"

"No, I
don't."

"Oh. Well, I'm
sorry to have bothered you."

"Your wife
must be very suspicious."

"She's more
than suspicious, I'm afraid!"

"The woman's
gone back home to London so she won't bother your wife again."

"No, I suppose
not."

"I shouldn't
tell you this but, I'm being blackmailed," I said, watching him
closely for his reaction. "This will sound crazy but, I think that
woman is in league with the blackmailer. I had a painting and some
other things stolen, and now I'm being asked for money for their
return. I've no idea why she should go to your house, but I'm sure
she's involved because she... well, I'd better not say too much.
The police are involved, so..."

"The police?"
he gasped in his obvious fear.

"Yes, robbery,
blackmail... you can't allow people to get away with these
things."

He frowned,
averting his guilty eyes. "Well, I have some explaining to do to my
wife. Thanks for your help."

Closing the
front door, I burst out laughing. There was nothing like confusion
to panic the enemy. This was all a game, I reflected. Blackmail,
Suzie, the photographs... it was all a game. Games are to be played
and won, and I'd win this one if it was the last thing I did! I
vowed, returning to my studio.

Evaluating the
situation, I decided to buy another outfit for Suzie. A wig of
shocking ginger hair, dark glasses... the new Suzie. I'd almost
dealt with Alan Walker and I was sure that the postman would return
the photographs. I was beginning to see daylight at the end of the
tunnel. David hadn't pestered me, neither had Lydia the lesbian.
Gary? There wasn't a great deal he could do to cause me problems,
he had nothing on me.

But I
shouldn't become too confident, I mused, resuming work on my
painting. Geoff might recognise me, David might cause trouble, and
the locals were beginning to talk. Lay low for a while, I decided,
ignoring the phone. I'd slip into town and buy Suzie's new outfit,
and then lay low for a while before emerging into the world as the
new Suzie.

I'd spent two
days working on my painting, lying low, hiding from the community,
the world. The only contact I'd had with anyone was my agent,
Sheena. I told her about my new style of work and she asked me
whether the painting was erotic or pornographic. I'd said that it
was filth. She gasped with surprised, but she was keen to see my
creation. There was a good market, she reckoned - a good market for
filth.

Alan hadn't
brought the photographs round, the filthy photographs, but I wasn't
worried. When he needed me, he'd come running, offering me the
evidence of my drunken debauchery in exchange for my cunt, my
knob-gobbling mouth. He'd become another supplier, a purveyor of
sperm.

Not
surprisingly, the postman had left the photographs and my painting
wrapped in brown paper by the front door. Another problem solved,
but I'd retaliate for the anxiety he'd put me through. I'd visit
his wife again, cause him problems, start rumours, spread malicious
lies. Priorities again, I needed spunk. Time to haul Suzie out of
hiding.

Suzie's new
outfit not only disguised Helen admirably, but the old Suzie.
Shocking ginger wig, dark glasses, purple lipstick, fishnet
stockings, yellow miniskirt, blouse, stilettos... the new Suzie! My
God, she looked like a tart! Standing before the full-length
mirror, I scrutinized the new look. Yellow, of all colours! Ginger
hair and yellow clothes? Yes, that was Suzie, no dress sense.

My craving for
sperm heightening dramatically, the time had come to go to the
common and find a man, a man with spunk-laden balls. I didn't want
to have to go out, but my addiction summoned, my work would have to
wait. Without sperm, I couldn't work - I couldn't survive.

Adjusting
Suzie's wig, I realized for the first time what a frightening hold
my addiction to sperm had on me. With lack of food, hunger pains
come. With lack of sperm, a strange thirst engulfs me, panic grips
me. Trembling hands, shallow breathing, missing heart beats -
panic. My addiction ruled my life.

I left the
house, making sure that the coast was clear as I reached the end of
the drive. Thankfully, there was no one around, no one lurking,
prying. Walking down the lane, I became aware of a sense of
freedom. Although beholden to sperm, I realized that, without Tony,
I was free to do as I wished. No restrictions, no explanations,
justifications.

Marriage? It
wasn't for me, was it? My stilettos clicked familiarly in my
whorish strutting, giving credence to Suzie the prostitute. Give up
my life, my home? I was still in two minds, still torn. Was it
possible to remain married as Mrs Helen Hunter, and keep Suzie
alive? Alive and kicking, alive and fucking.

Wandering
across the common to Suzie's favourite spot, I decided to try and
keep my dual identity for as long as possible. The best of both
worlds. Settling on the grass, I tugged my skirt up and gazed at my
freshly-shaven cunt lips. Framed by my black suspender belt, my sex
crack seemed to smile at me. A knowing smile. We had an allegiance,
my cunt and I. I brought her what she wanted, and she brought me
what I wanted, desperately needed. She was hungry for a thrusting
penis, I was thirsty for an orgasming knob, spunking in my mouth -
mouth-fucking me. My craving was becoming terrifying.

Scanning the
common, I sighed. No one, not even an old man enjoying the summer
sun. It was as if the world had known that I was there, and had
hidden from me, left me to my desperate craving - my panic. After
two hours, the only visitors to the common had been a couple of
women pushing prams. I couldn't hang about any longer, my cunt was
hot, juicing, my clitoris throbbing. Should I use my candle?

Desperate,
trembling uncontrollably, I rose to my feet and wandered home. My
terrible state wouldn't allow me a candle-fuck, or a chair
knob-fuck. Until I'd had my fix, I could do nothing. But sperm
wasn't as easily acquired as I'd initially thought. Suzie had let
me down.

Changing into
Helen, I paced the lounge floor, wondering how to get hold of the
drug I craved. I rang David, but there was no reply. I should have
taken him on as our gardener, I reflected. I could have knelt
before him on the grass and drunk from his orgasming knob,
swallowed his jetting come. Hindsight? Useless! Where was Lydia and
her sperm-brimming cunt? Lydia the lesbian.

I couldn't
endure the uncontrollable trembling for a moment longer; tolerate
the blind panic for another second. Why hadn't Doctor Harvey called
me? He was supposed to be looking into my addiction. He was
probably looking into a cannabis plant. Would cannabis help me?

After three hours of fighting my craving, climbing the walls,
I thought about Gary. I'd sworn never to go and see him again, but
could I fight the calling any more, the powerful craving? Recalling
his harsh words, I cringed.
When you next
need me, and I know the time will come when you will, you'll be
sorry for having treated me like this
. I
didn't want to succumb to Gary and his perverted ways, but who else
was there? My work was suffering, I was suffering!

I fought the
mental battle for another hour or so, and lost - I had to visit
Gary. He'd said that he had a few days off; perhaps he'd gone back
to work? I wondered anxiously. Gone back to work with his cock, his
balls - his sperm. Taking a deep breath, trying to compose myself
as best I could, I left the house and wandered down the lane.

Tentatively
knocking on his front door, I instinctively knew that this was my
biggest mistake yet. I desperately wanted him to be there, and yet
prayed that he wasn't. If he was in, he'd willingly give me his
sperm, but what would he ask in return? Arse-fuck. I didn't want
that. I'd lowered myself to a common tart, which was bad enough - I
wasn't going to endure anal sex again.

"Helen!" he
beamed triumphantly as he opened the door. He knew what I wanted,
he knew he'd won. Winner takes all. "Please, come in."

"Gary..." I
began as I stepped into the hall, my heart fluttering. Step into my
parlour said the pervert to the whore, step into my lair.

"I know why
you're here," he said softly. He paused, eyeing my cleavage and
grinning, no doubt picturing my erect nipples. "I've prepared for
your visit."

My heart
fluttered. "Prepared? What do you mean?"

"Come with me
and I'll show you."

I followed him
through the hall into a small room at the back of the house. A lamb
to the slaughter. Frozen to the spot, I gazed in horror at the
wooden table, the leather straps and chains attached to steel rings
at each corner. There were bars at the window, a prison cell. In
the corner stood a leather whip and several bamboo canes. There
were strange metal gadgets neatly set out on a side-table,
instruments for... I didn't know or want to know what they were
for.

"What do you
think?" he asked proudly, reaching out and unbuttoning my
blouse.

"Gary!" I
cried. I'd had a change of mind and grabbed his hand to stop him,
to protect my firm breasts, my elongated nipples. "Gary, I'm
not..."

"You don't
want my sperm?"

"Yes, I do,
but I'm not going to allow you to whip me or..."

"Take your
clothes off, Helen."

"No, I'm
leaving!" I returned, moving towards the door. I had to find the
strength to deny my craving and walk out. "I've made a mistake; I
should never have come here."

He beat me to
it, slipping into the hall and locking the door behind him. So that
was his game, leave me to climb the walls of my cell in my
desperate craving until I begged him for sperm, until I'd do
anything and everything in return for the drug. Gary was cruel, a
bastard. Pulling on the window bars, I knew there was no escape.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as fear brushed against
me.

"When you're
ready, call me." Gary's voice came from an intercom fixed to the
wall by the door. "Helen, can you hear me?"

"Yes, yes I
hear you," I replied softly in my defeat. "You can't imprison me
like this, Gary."

"I have
imprisoned you like this."

"Someone knows
I'm here, a friend. I told her that..."

"Yes, of
course. Take all your clothes off, Helen."

"No, I..."

"Strip off and
stand facing the wall. There are two pairs of handcuffs fixed to a
metal ring high up on the wall, reach up and cuff your wrists when
you're naked."

"No, I'm not
going to..."

The intercom
clicked as he switched it off. I sensed a storm brewing, a storm of
sexual abuse - anal abuse. Fight as I did, my craving only
worsened. After an hour in my cell, I began to feel claustrophobic,
my panic rising to frightening levels. "Gary!" I screamed
hysterically, hitting the intercom with my clenched fist. "Gary,
please!" Silence, torturous silence.

Slipping out
of my clothes, I knew I'd lost the battle - Gary and my craving had
ground me down, beaten me. I stood before the wall looking up at
the handcuffs, knowing that once my wrists were clamped, I'd be
completely defenceless against my perverted neighbour, his every
disgusting whim.

"Go on,
Helen," he ordered through the intercom. "You desperately need
sperm, so don't prolong your agony unnecessarily."

"Where are
you?" I asked, looking at the window, the door.

"In the
lounge, watching you on the TV monitor. Look up to the ceiling, the
corner of the room. Can you see the video camera?"

"Yes, I
can."

"The sooner
you cuff your wrists, the sooner you'll have my sperm."

Reaching up,
my naked body trembling in my desperate craving, my fear, I clicked
the handcuffs around my slender wrists. I'd done it, I was now
defenceless, vulnerable to my depraved jailer. What degrading
sexual acts would he force me to endure? What horrendous things
would he do to my naked body before allowing me my fix? I dreaded
to think.

I'd
surrendered my femininity in my never-ending quest for sperm. Had I
surrendered myself to the Devil? My vision blurring, my heart
palpitating wildly, I needed sperm now! In return for sperm, I'd
have given my very soul to Lucifer.

"Good, good!"
Gary chuckled triumphantly as he entered the room and knelt behind
me. "Stand with your feet wide apart so I can cuff your ankles." I
complied, my thighs wide, my cunt crack gaping as he secured my
ankles to rings set in the skirting board. "So, what shall we do
first?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"Do whatever
you want and then give me sperm," I replied as he crudely yanked my
buttocks apart and pressed the tip of his finger against my tightly
closed anus.

"Oh, I'll do
whatever I want, all right!" His voice was cold, merciless. "I'm
going to start by fucking your arsehole, Helen. I'm going to shove
my cock right up your tight arsehole and spunk up you. But first,
I'll fix this dog collar round your neck."

"Why do you
want to..."

"Later, you're
going to become my pet dog," he laughed, fixing the studded leather
collar round my neck, the long cold chain running down my spine,
chilling me. "My pet sex slave."