A Second Dar Tale

Doctor Trent.

Mr William Lovett walked into my surgery. He sat there and told me he wanted to know all about one of my patients. Naturally I told him I couldn't divulge anything. Then he reeled off a few things he knew about me, not everything, not the really bad and secret things, but enough to get me a little worried. So I agreed to answer a few questions over coffee, in some godforsaken men's club. So here I am, being shown through dark corridors of the all the old shades of brown you can imagine. It smells of dust, old age, and men.

William Lovett sits in a brown leather chair that looks as old as the building, which was built in the 1920's. He nods at me, and then tells Billings that we are not to be disturbed. Billings, a man in his 60's, but looking much older in his black suit with a black tie and white shirt, bows his already hunched body a little further. As Billings passes me on his bandy legs, I get the faint waft of piss.

"Coffee, Doctor Trent?"

I shake my head, "What do you want to know?"

He nods, realising that I don't want to be here. He waits for Billings to close the door.

"Would you describe Mrs Sylvia Baker as a sexual woman?"

"You haven't told me why you want to know."

For the next 20 minutes he gives me what I can only describe as an account of a living nightmare for Sylvia. Being a doctor I'm not shocked by the things that people do. Geoffrey Baker is someone I know well, very well. The things he has done to poor Sylvia are revolting to many, but to me they are delightfully refreshing. I'm not letting on to Mr Lovett that I know Geoffrey Baker, despite him knowing things about me.

Finally after all he divulges, I give him a little of what he wants to know.

"Sylvia is a very, very sexual person Mr Lovett, but she is also a very confused person. Let me explain what I mean. Sylvia enjoys sex, she is very good at sex, she does, as the world so crudely puts it, enjoy a good fuck."

"Is she the kind of woman who would enjoy, shall we say, rough sex?"

"I suspect for Sylvia, an enforced fuck, a fuck over which she has no control whatsoever, is even better than a good fuck. She would feel guilty about allowing such bad things to happen to her; her guilt would be even stronger if she experiences an orgasm. This is what I know goes on in Sylvia's mind. Sylvia is very complex; I've been her GP since she was 19."

He sits there nodding. I'm not telling him I have conducted experiments with her. I've had control of her sex life since she was 19, through various methods, hypnosis and drugs. I've developed her unique fetish, her humiliation kink. I've read all her computer diaries although she is unaware. She emails them to me, and she doesn't even know she is doing it.

Geoffrey Baker is another patient of mine; again I use him for my experiments, and less savour things. He sits on my couch and tells me all his deepest darkest desires, which I encourage. He told me he had seen a woman called Sylvia, and he wanted her more than anything. Of course I told him to pursue his new fantasy woman. A few weeks later there he was in her computer diary, not by name, but from what Geoff had told me, I knew it was him.

Back to the silly pompous fool who is sat in front of me, he is really annoying to me, as most men are, but he hasn't said what his intentions are, which is something most men let slip, whether they know it or not.

He wants to see her notes, no chance, for the moment. Even then he won't get my special notes.

"Maybe this will help," he says, and slides a thin book shaped object, in a brown covering, over the table.

I sit and stare at it refusing to touch it. I look up at him. He tells me it is something I should watch, and stresses I should be on my own.

He smiles, "I'm sure you'll find some things to your taste. I would really like to see her notes Doctor Trent, there would be a little compensation, and a proposal, coming your way."

The tape of Sylvia being raped by those men in a sex shop has my creative juices flowing. It was quite a vulgar watch and a little haphazard for my tastes, men just don't do anything for me, but I'm not saying they aren't useful for experimental purposes. Of course Sylvia has written about this in her computer diary, and again sent it to me without knowing, so I've read it, and now I have the whole thing on DVD.

Another meeting with Mr Lovett and all has been arranged. I'm now going to have Mr Baker at my disposal for shall we say, medical research. Mr Lovett is a very influential man, and I could use him for my own needs sometime in the future.

So it's off to see Sylvia, as Mr Lovett suggested.

Sylvia.

"Hello S..."

"Oh Doctor Trent, I'm a little busy."

She has noticed the obvious change in me, well who wouldn't, my Dolly Parton's are practically begging to be leered at.

"What have you done to your breasts?"

She looks cross, she does now and then, but she has helped me so much in the past. I let her in, and she breezes past me taking another glance at my breasts.

"I'm going to have the implants removed, I have an appointment next week," I tell her, she just sniffs.

I sit and tell her about Geoffrey Baker. There is no emotion on her face, there never is, it's just the same expression on her face every time. I could be telling her someone in the family had died, or I had won the lottery, and her expression would be the same.

Doctor Rose Trent.

"Sylvia, aren't the Tulips looking wonderful this time of year?"

I watch, and there, she blinks, slowly and deliberately. She's all mine now.

"Sylvia, do you like your tits?"

She looks down at them and I can see her confused expression on her face.

"Your husband wanted them enhanced, didn't he?"

"Yes Doctor."

"They are disgusting, huge, and vulgar. They look so heavy, and I'm sure they get in the way when you eat. You look like a freak, Sylvia. Tell me, do you get leered at?"

"Yes...all the time. Some people love them, others, I can tell are thinking what has she done to herself."

"I want you to cancel your appointment, to have the implants removed."

"But...I don't understand. You don't like them...do you?"

"No I hate them, but I want you to keep them, and remember I don't like them at all. I'll arrange for them to be put back to normal one day. Until then, it will play on your mind that I don't like them. Now you know what to do when I'm unhappy with you, don't you Sylvia?"

"Yes Rose."

I lift my long flowery dress up my thighs, as she gets to her knees. I watch her head move between my stocking tops and her tongue swipes up my 57 year old pussy. I gasp, it always makes me gasp. I long for the day when she'll do this without me having to hypnotise her. She laps and kisses me, as I feel heaven descending in my mind. My ultimate dream is to have Sylvia as my live in lover. Dora is my latest, but she is older than me, and quite frankly a fucking pain in the ass. She doesn't lift a finger to clean round the house, or to touch me up. She'll be gone soon, I just haven't figured out when yet, but she be disposed of like Valerie and Stephanie.

They found Valerie's body in the lake, put there by Geoffrey Baker, under my hypnosis. Three fucking weeks after she was dumped there she rose to the top, like a hot air balloon. She and Stephanie won't be able to tell anyone of my little secrets. Dora will have to go the same way as Stephanie.

I curse, annoyed with myself for thinking of Dora and the others, while I'm being attended to by sexy Sylvia, and her wonderful tongue. Countless times she has done this, and it always feels so good. It isn't just this I enjoy. I've read her account of the time on the bus with zip stuck high on her skirt. It wasn't stuck at all, but I told her it would be. Controlling her mind has been a great accomplishment for me. I told her the best way to get a man to marry her was through his cock, and I sent her out with that attitude. Reading of her hopeless mistakes, her grovelling, and the things she will do to get a cock, in the hope that marriage will come her way, has been quite a distraction in my sometimes mundane life, but essential to my study and practice of mind control.

I've come three times on her face already, and she knows not to stop until I let her up.

I come for a fourth time, and hold her head there, rubbing my pussy all over her pretty face.

I catch the smell of my sex on her face, as I allow her to stand up. One day she'll have my scent on her for a lot longer, but for now I tell her to go and wash her face, and clean her teeth. When she come down I have to end this session, although in truth I've felt like keeping her his way many times, but it isn't the real Sylvia, it isn't how I want her to be.

"Sylvia, back to normal."

Her eyes slowly blink.

Sylvia.

Doctor Trent leaves, looking a little flushed. Maybe I've shocked her with my story, for the first time she has reacted, and that's not like her. I can't believe I spent nearly two hours talking to Doctor Trent. I don't remember everything, but it is like when I visit her surgery, the time seems to get lost. The constant disdainful way she looked at my breasts, hurts me. I was going to have the implants removed...but not just yet.

Lisa.

I'm stood on the balcony looking down on 176 prisoners and 42 wardens. Eyes are looking up at their new Prison Governor, standing 12 feet above them. I can almost feel what some of them are thinking.

My grey skirt suit, a couple of inches off my knee, coffee coloured pantyhose, and black high heels, have been chosen for the exact reason that I shouldn't be wearing them. I want them all twitching and thinking about me when they lay in their beds at night.

I did have a few looks from the wardens earlier in the day. One, a young fresh faced guy told me, I would be inviting looks and leers. I simply cocked an eyebrow, and asked him if he enjoyed his work. His face turned into a little puzzled frown, until I mentioned I was not only in charge of the prisoners and the prison, but the wardens as well. I told him I had high standards, and said if he didn't measure up he would be out. He started to mumble again that I was dressed a little too provocatively. I told him to leave my office and come back when his balls had dropped.

I take a deep breath, aware that so many eyes are watching my tits rise. Good I have their attention. For the next 15 minutes I tell them how it is going to be, and that they are here to be punished. I was expecting a few murmurs of discontent, but not someone calling me a fucking bitch under his breath.

"Mr Smith, if you would be so kind?" I nod at the far wall in the direction of something.

"Yes Ma'am."

All eyes focus on Mr Smith as he descends the staircase to my left. He walks through the mass of prisoners, over to the wall and pulls a table against it. He jumps up on the table, and wrenches the flat screen off the wall mountings, and sends it crashing to the floor, in a shower of sparks and smashing glass. He jumps down, his big size 12 boot land on the shattered glass, crushing it to a white powder.

A few swear words can be heard, and some awkward shuffling from the wardens alongside of me, but it is mainly gasps of disbelief echoing round the room. I can see a few of the prisoners look to one man, and one of them sneers and shoves him. Another one of them calls him a fucking idiot. He is quaking slightly, and finally he speaks up.

"You, you can't do that...we, we have rights."

I smile at him, "What is your number?"

He looks around him confused, "My name is," he starts and then stops himself, "6678413...Ma'am."

I lean slightly to my left, and instruct one of the wardens, "Go and take all his bedding away."

"But Ma'am, we can't do that," he says looking a little shocked.

My glare is enough for him to have a quick rethink. He nods at two other officers, and they go up the metal steps, along the corridor, and enter a cell. Bedding flies out of the room, landing on the floor below. Mr Smith smiles and starts ripping the sheets and blankets to shreds.

Mr Smith comes back to my side, "I think you have made an impression Ma'am."

Sylvia.

I smile at Mr William Lovett as his lips flick across my pussy. His white beard tickles my thighs. He finds my clit and I shut my eyes and moan. My panting increases and I lay back.

"Fuck me now...please," I groan softly.

He stops licking me, and pulls the chains by my side. I watch as the chains move through the rings, which are bolted firmly to the wall over the head board. It takes up the slack on my wrists, and slowly my arms are pulled up and over my head.

"He did it, like this to you?"

I gulp and nod remembering how my husband, Geoffrey Baker, would pull them until my arms felt like they would come out of my shoulders. Geoff would smile down on me, and then force his cock deep in my pussy. He was savage, brutal, and fucked me without any care for me, but telling me at the same time how much he loved me, and how happy we were going to be.

I'm waiting now for William Lovett to fuck me. He gets off the bed and looks down on me.

"Sylvia, don't look so disappointed, I told you I'd only fuck you after your divorce."

"Why?!" I ask a little too aggressively, "I told you I don't mind. You get me all worked up then you just get off. I told you I'd marry you as soon as I'm divorced."

"I know Sylvia. I know what I offered you and I know it is the money you want, but intercourse will only happen on our wedding night."

"That is so fucked up! Do you know how odd that is? Please...William. I need a fucking cock in me!"

I know I sound desperate, because I am! Since I agreed to be his wife at dinner not long ago, I thought he would jump at the chance. I thought with all his weird ideas, having me fucked this way and that by every Tom, Dick, and Harry, he would want to try the goods himself first.

"Please," I say with a softer voice, "I bet there would be loads of men willing to jump me right now. You don't have to go through this Victorian idea about no sex before marriage. I'm bloody frustrated, I need a cock, I..."

I've stopped protesting. I'm staring at a cock which has just walked into the room. Well not just a cock, a man is attached, but I swear the cock is huge. I'm wondering how something that is a good 12 inches and so thick, can actually stand up to attention without the guy holding it. I look past the cock to the owner. Long matted greasy brown hair and a long tangled ginger beard have me shaking my head. He spits in the corner of the room and wipes what didn't hit the floor but dribbled into his beard, on the back of his grubby hand.

His eyes peer through little slits, his cheeks are red and his nose is huge. He smiles down at me, not friendly, or with a fondness, but a smile made up of lust. Yellow teeth emerge from his cracked pink lips. As he nears the bed his cock, still up right, lurches from side to side with every step.

"Will, William no."

"Sylvia, you want a cock and Travis here has one that I'm sure would satisfy you."

"He, he's a, a tramp!" I snap, and then turn my attention to the horrible figure known as Travis, hoping I haven't offended him.

"Yes Sylvia, he is...he has friends too. Look on the bright side. This is what you're getting paid so handsomely for. It won't always be a tramp Sylvia, you'll have men who will make your pussy wet just by looking at, but Travis here has enough drugs in his system to keep that erection for a week.

I feel the bed lurch to one side, as the cock drags the tramp even closer. My pussy, much to my shame, has taken over my head!

Lisa.

It has been two hours since my first meeting with the prisoners. I have had a few of the wardens come to me and tell me what I did was over the top. Not as many as I expected. I sat listening to their concerns without a word. When they had finished I slipped a transfer request to their side of the desk, not one of them picked it up.

I've known Mr Smith for a number of years. We worked our way up in the prison service together, although I went further and quicker than he did. I knew he was at this prison, and I arranged to meet him as soon as I got the governor's position, and after five years of not seeing each other, it was amazing how we clicked again so easily. I told him I was going to make this work, to be the youngest female prison governor and to make a lasting impression.

I very nearly didn't get this job. In the past I was over looked a few times and regarded as too young, and too much of a loose cannon. I did get lucky on my interview, one of the men on the board said he had enough of the soft type of Governor at this prison, and wanted someone who could demand respect, and wasn't afraid to do something about the countless lapses that had occurred over the last few years.

It helped that I had dinner with him and another of the board after my interview. I spent an hour eating in the hotel restaurant and an hour on my back with one, and then the other in a hotel bed. Sex with them was the means to an end, and even now I shudder at the thought of it. I'm not really into sex, but if it helps me overcome a few barriers, then why not.

I put my jacket on the back of my chair, and undo a button on my blouse. An hour after lights out my high heels can be heard on the third landing. Keys jangle and a cell door opens. Mr Smith spends a few minutes securing prisoner Daniel to the bed.

"That will be all, Mr Smith," I say as I pull up a chair next to the prisoner.

Frightened eyes look up at me, beads of sweat have already formed on his brow, and the shaking body under the blankets, twists, in a pathetic attempt to get free. At least he has the sense to be quiet.

"Can I call you, Vincent?" I ask with a smile.

He tries to smile back, but he can't, he is too suspicious. His lazy eye watches me, and he licks his lips. His receding hair and thin short body adds years to him. I know he is only 43, but he looks more like 63.

"Vincent," I say and then pause, "poor Vincent."

He jerks away as I brush a few stray greasy hairs off his face, "What...what do you, want?"

"I want you to be quiet, and listen, Vincent," I lay my hand on his chest, he shudders and his chest starts to rise and fall.

"I don't want no, no trouble."

I pull the sheet down of his chest and my fingers tangle in his chest hair. Slowly I start to pull and his breathing becomes more rapid.

Slowly I say, "I thought I told you to be quiet. Perhaps I should call Mr Smith in. But I so wanted this to be private, between you, and me."

He nods, desperately. I relax my hand and pull it away, and then I smile at him, as I wipe my hand on the blanket.

Over the next 20 minutes he answers my questions, and tells me about fat Mike, the prisoner who runs various rackets, from drugs to betting. He pleads in between, a few times, about not letting on it came from him.

"Very good Vincent, now what was it we agreed before you told me what I wanted to know?" I smile and nod encouraging him to say.

He gulps, licks his lips, clearing the sweat that has been constantly dripping from his top lip.

"You would, move me to another cell, and give me a few privileges."

"I promise you I will, next week you'll be looked after. Vincent, it will only cost you a few more secrets, and then your life in here will become a little easier."

"What do you mean more secrets? I've told you enough already, I'll get fucking lynched."

"Calm yourself Vincent," I say with a little chuckle, "you know, I've sat here with my hand just above your knee while you've told me things. Maybe, if you are a good little boy, the next time we have one of our little, chats, you'd like me to put my hand under the blanket."

He gulps and twists, as my hand moves slowly up over the blanket to his thigh. His face is red, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. His hard on looks quite impressive for a weasel of a man. I lean forward showing him more cleavage, and more of my red bra pushing my tits together.