Just Joan

by Archibael

Work was hell, but at the very least I knew I was going to have a good time tonight. Sinne was in town, and with a couple of fibs about going out with the guys I’d be out the door without my wife any the wiser.

Preparing my excuse—it was going to be a “co-worker’s last day” this time—I opened the front door and saw any adulterer’s nightmare: my wife was sitting there in the front room. With Sinne. Talking very intensely about something.

All thought of what I was going to do that night—the lies I’d tell, the hot, exhilarating sex Sinne and I would have once again… hell, even my own name—all vanished in the single thought of how I’d afford a decent lawyer on my salary while my wife bled the accounts dry and got her rich family to spring for hers. Damndamndamn!

And then Sinne turned to me, and that bitch actually smiled at me. Like the cat that just ate the canary. Or something. I was even more speechless. I didn’t yet know how I was going to kill her, but I was certain then that it was going to happen.

I groped for words, but I needn’t have bothered. Sinne had the floor.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Baal. I’m Gloria Sinne, and I’ve just been having the most pleasant conversation with your wife.”

She extended her hand to me as if we’d never met before. I stared at her a moment. The moment drew on. I didn’t take her hand, I just looked at it as if it would bite me. Sinne’s smile froze on the verge of cracking. I glanced at my wife, who was looking at me quizzically, but not angrily, and realized this was one of Sinne’s little games. Not funny, this time, dammit. Not fucking funny.

I took a deep breath, mumbled a greeting, and then excused myself rudely. I heard my wife apologizing to Sinne, telling her that I’d been very stressed at work lately and that she shouldn’t be insulted or anything. But that it was certainly nice talking to her, after all, and they’d have to do it again sometime. I sat in my easy chair in the living room fuming but trying to maintain a semblance of peace. My knuckles whitened on the arm of the chair. The last thing Sinne said as she walked out the door was:

“I hope to see you soon.”

Some of the upholstery tore. I knew one person who would be seeing her soon. Very soon.

* * *

The instant we entered her hotel I slapped her as hard as I could, leaving an ugly red mark on her face. Unrepentant, she grinned through the tears; I’d hit her hard. “Mmmm… starting early tonight, are we?” she hummed, and tick-tocked her hips.

I slammed her up against the bathroom door with my forearm against her chest and hissed into her face, “Just what the fuck was that, huh?!?”

“What do you think it was?” She wasn’t as defiant now. Sometimes she liked it rough, but I knew she didn’t really like it this rough. And perhaps she saw something in my eyes which told her that this wasn’t foreplay of any kind.

“I think it was you trying to fuck with my mind.”

Something about this struck her as funny. “That’s pretty close,” she gasped between the beginnings of laughter.

I almost hit her again, I swear to god, and I don’t know if I would have stopped. But I don’t enjoy hitting women, really—it’s not my thing, and I’ve known my share of girlfriends who had been battered by other guys. It’s traumatic to even hear about, and I always hated the psychos who did that crap. So my fury was becoming less violent, if not dimming in any other way. I lowered her from the wall, and deliberately unclenched my fists. I turned away. And breathed.

“What you did today was not funny. Not. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“Yes? So you almost kill me with a heart-attack, and then finally agree with me that it wasn’t an amusing trick? Well, I suppose I feel much better now.”

“It’s now becoming funny, though, because you’re behaving like a bratty little schoolboy.”

“Fuck you. You had no right. I’m going to buy a plane ticket in the morning and go hang out with Clive. Maybe we’ll play racquetball together, and then I’ll tell him about the hot little piece of ass I’m screwing. And then give him explicit details about her. Scars, moles…”

“Enough.”

“… the little noises she makes…”

“I said, ‘enough’!” She was getting angry, now. She knew damn well she had as much to lose in this as I had.

“Oh, now it’s not funny, huh? Now you’re mad? Serves you right, you bitch.”

She glared at me. I glared back. Finally she dropped her eyes. “You’re right. I should have warned you. I should—”

“Warned me? Like that would have made it better?”

“Stop. Just stop and let me talk, will you? There is a method to my madness, okay? I should have let you in on it, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“It worked.”

“Not what I had in mind, actually. I was planning on being out of there by the time you came home, but things took a little longer than I’d expected.”

I sat down on the bed, and pulled out a bottle of crummy vodka from the mini-bar. Popov, I think. “What are you getting at?” I said between swallows.

“I wasn’t fucking with your mind. I was fucking with hers.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Remember some of the games we played last year? With the whole Master/Slave worship thing?”

“Yeah, of course.” It had been incredibly hot, but where was this going?

“Remember that you hypnotized me, and made me do whatever you wanted?”

“Yes. That was fun.” Damn right it was fun. Watching her strip outside on the hotel balcony where passers-by could see, then taking her on the bed…

“Well, I couldn’t forget it.” She licked her lips, and I could tell she was locked in the same memory as me. She broke her reverie. “So. Anyways. I was looking into things, and reading some stuff, and… well…” She turned suddenly and grinned at me, looking very much the same as when I saw her in my front room earlier that night. “I hypnotized your wife.”

“You what?”

“Hypnotized her. You know, entranced, sleepy, eyes closed but mind open…”

“Yeah, blah blah blah. Those are my words, and they were a game. You weren’t under hypnosis that night any more than I was The God of Orgasms.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t.” She moved closer to the bed. “But she was.”

I looked at her blankly, waiting for the punchline. Her face was straight, though a mild smile curled her lips. It made me want to nibble them, but I was still highly pissed. Instead I waited for her to continue.

She shrugged, and then grabbed the vodka and dropped a swig herself before scowling at it and throwing it on the floor to leak out where it probably belonged. “She dropped into trance fairly easily. She is a good subject. Very suggestible, according to the tests. Very.” She let out a breath.

“How… what…?”

She turned toward me now, the hint of lust in her eyes. “I came in claiming to sell insurance.”

“You do sell insurance.”

“Which made it a better lie, don’t you think?” Now she giggled a bit. I generally loved it when she did that.

“What next?”

“Well, she invited me in to sit down. It seems that she is worried about your life insurance being too little.”

“If anything ever happened to me she’d be fine. My policies are sizable, and her parents are loaded. Stick to the topic at hand.” I was closer to her on the bed now.

“I’m sure. Well, apparently she was concerned enough to give me a listen. A long, drawn-out listen.” Sinne’s voice changed in some indefinable way. “Insurance can be complicated to explain, you know, and it gets a bit boring and somewhat monotonous, and it’s easier to just sit back and listen, no need to talk about it; save your questions for later… just sit back and relax and listen to my voice, and you’ll understand it all.” She was stroking my shoulders, now, through my shirt. I could smell her perfume. “Just sit back,” she crooned, “and relax…”

I don’t think so. “Nice try, Sinne. That could never work.”

I don’t think I saw a trace of disappointment in the depths of her eyes. But it was dark. “No, not on you, maybe, but it sure worked on her. She stared into space while I was droning on, and eventually I stopped droning and she kept staring.” A spark lit her eyes. “Just kept on staring. Not even at me, just off at the wall somewhere.

“So I kept talking, asked her questions I didn’t think she’d answer. Plausible insurance questions, just to be safe, but gradually not so safe…” Now her breath was definitely quickening. “She was under, Arch. She answered everything I asked, she did…” She glanced at me. “… not refuse to answer a single one.”

“Impossible.” Ridiculous. (Then why was I as hard as a rock from this conversation?)

“Entirely possible. I know, because it happened.” At this point, I could hear the arousal in her voice. My anger now entirely replaced by intrigue and interest, I accepted her legs straddling my lap, and she unbuttoned her blouse. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see. But it worked, and she was entirely open to suggestion.”

“Such as?” I worked the cups of her bra down beneath her breasts and applied my tongue to one nipple.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” She ooohed as I took the entire nipple into my mouth and started sucking. “Ummm… just ask her about insurance premiums.” Sinne yanked her skirt up, revealing her customary lack of panties, as well as her glossy black stockings. I didn’t have to finger her to know she was already wet, I could smell her fragrance from here. She unzipped my fly and started to lower herself onto me.

“Wait,” I stopped her. “I want to eat you out, first.”

“I know you do, but there’ll be time for that later. All of this talk has made me crazy. I need you inside me, now!”

Who was I to argue with that?

* * *

I got home about three, after showering in Sinne’s hotel room and then wandering around outside one of the smokiest bars in the metropolitan area. I opened the door to the bedroom and slipped my contact lenses off in the darkness, then made my way into bed.

“Whatime’sit?” came the mumble from the other side of the bed.

“Almost three.” I closed my eyes.

“D’jou guys have fun?”

“What? Oh, yeah, just went to the bar.”

“Can tell.” She sniffed at my smoke-filled hair. “You’re stinky.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Mmmmm. Well, I hope you feel better, anyway.” She was half-awake, now, and headed for the bathroom to relieve herself.

“Hon, do you worry about our insurance premiums?”

She appeared to pause in mid-stride, then continued after a second. After the toilet flushed and some washing ensued, she came back out of the bathroom. She didn’t head back to the bed, but wandered into the closet, completely ignoring my question. I couldn’t figure out what was up, but I was way too tired to worry about it right now. I drifted off.

When I woke up some uncounted time span later, my left hand was cupped around a breast and my right was being directed up and down a nylon-covered thigh by her hand. “Honey,” she mumbled. “Are you awake?”

I was now. “Ummm… yeah…”

“Good.” She removed her hand, but definitely expected me to continue as I had been directed. Which I was pleased to do; the silky hosiery was quite enticing.

This was incredibly insane. She rarely wore lingerie—certainly never changed into it at three in the morning. “All dressed up, hmm? What’s the occasion?”

“Horny. And I know you like this outfit.”

Of course I did. I’d bought those vintage stockings for her two years ago and begged her to wear them, but aside from one occasion in a hotel room in Las Vegas they may as well have not even existed.

“So, are you gonna help me out, here, lover, or am I going to have to do it myself?” She covered her other breast with her own hand, and I could feel her moving her other hand towards her cunt.

I was stunned. And mostly spent; but despite my earlier activities the novelty of my wife acting like this (as opposed to Sinne, who always did) had gotten me intensely aroused again. After a few fumbling motions, I rose to wakefulness and began to stroke her bosom and her ass, at first lightly and soothingly, but then more insistently.

She turned to face me, then, her mouth raised to mine, and her eyes filled with passion. Come here, she mouthed.

I grabbed her around the waist, and slipped my hand under the back elastic of her panties to cup her buttocks. She nestled closer, and began slowly rubbing her crotch on the front of my boxers. I nibbled my way from the side of her neck down to the place between her breasts, and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. “Please,” she whispered in my ear, “I need you to eat my pussy.”

I was shocked. Generally averse to dirty talk in bed, it was typically difficult to get her to even ask for what she wanted. This was obviously… well, atypical. Not that I would let that stop me.

I love eating out. More so even than coitus, if you’ll believe that. Fucking is too distracting, I think, though I certainly love it and won’t pass it up. No, sucking pussy is more my style—the things you can make her feel with your tongue, her smells, tastes… the feeling of her hips bucking under your chin when she hits orgasm. I’ve made it my business in life to make sure that I am an expert at cunnilingus, simply because I love it so much that I always want it to be the top on the list of her requests. I’ve broken up with girls who just didn’t enjoy it (god knows how!), and lack of it in our lovemaking was in all honesty one primary reason I sought out Sinne after all those years.

Anyway, I found myself in heavenly bliss, my tongue in her pussy and my nose on her clit, breathing in her aroma and licking my way up and down her labia. As her nylons caressed my ears, I built her up, using my fingers gently on her nipples far above my head, until I knew she was almost there. I drew her clitoris into my mouth and suckled it firmly. She whimpered and then tried to drive her entire cunt into my mouth as she came hard, and I plunged my tongue deep inside her before slowly letting her subside. As always, it was over too quick; I would have dove on her for hours more, if I could have, but she was too sensitive after the licking to tolerate any more.

Of course, now what she needed was a good fucking, and she was definitely lubricated enough to accommodate me. She groaned “Mmmmmm… yesss…” as I entered her, and tensed her internal muscles around me as I started slowly thrusting. The fact that I’d already had three orgasms today gave me lots of staying power, although I admit I lost it utterly when she licked her juices off my face. What the hell did Sinne suggest to her with the “insurance premiums” thing? I plowed into her with a vengeance, then—which she always enjoyed—and kept going after my own orgasm to make sure her clit was pumped to climax as well.

After, we both laid there in silence, holding hands, and I didn’t wake again until morning.

* * *

I pushed through several hours of drudgery the next morning at work before I had time to call Sinne’s cell phone.

It rang six times, but I persisted. I really needed to talk to her since last night.

Finally she answered the phone clicked, and a very distracted Sinne answered with, “Yeah?”

“What the heck did you tell her to do?” I blurted out. “That was incredible!”

An abrupt chuckle lay on the other side of the line, and she replied, “I’m busy and can’t really get into it right now, Arch. I’ll give you more details when you come home tonight.”

“Come home? You mean that you’re going to be there again?” Suddenly I was suspicious. “Where are you, now?”

Another laugh. “See you when you come home, sweetie.” Click.

Then I knew where she was, if not entirely what she was doing. But after last night, I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Five o’clock couldn’t come quickly enough.

* * *

And in the end, it didn’t have to. My boss always leaves early, so when he scampered at half-past three, I did likewise. I think I was still within the margins of safety on my ride home, but it’s like a blur to me. There may have been injuries.

I walked in the front door, wondering what I’d find, but the front room was empty this time. As were most of the other rooms I could see from my vantage.

I headed to the bedroom.

Knowing Sinne and how her brain worked, I confess that I expected to find something very much like this, but there’s still no way you can be prepared for what I saw. There was my wife, in the same outfit she’d worn to bed last night, nude seamed stockings and all. The garters framed her ass nicely, with the panties pushed aside so her fingers could better access her cunt as she ground it slowly down in little circles onto the mattress. But of course that was a sideshow next to the main attraction: her head lolled slowly side to side as she applied her mouth between Sinne’s thighs.

Sinne was seated on the bed, backed-up against the headboard, her naked ass on my wife’s pillow, her stockinged legs parted lewdly to admit the tonguing she was so obviously enjoying. Her head was rocked back, eyes shut, and she was slowly stroking a stream of my wife’s long black hair across her nipples. I knew from the look on her face that she was near to coming, and I also knew from the sweat on her face that it wouldn’t be the first time that she had today. She wasn’t so far gone, though, that she didn’t hear me at the bedroom door, and she looked at me with a fiendish and intensely erotic look in her eyes.

Sinne didn’t let my presence distract her, though. In fact, it seemed to encourage her. She pointed the toes of one of her legs forward, and then slowly, languidly moved the other foot from a spread position to rest upon her pleasurer’s back. Up and down she stroked this foot, in time to the rhythm of the tongue-lashing, and then she slid that leg around the back of my wife’s neck as she was brought to a thunderous climax, trapping mouth on pussy, assuming there was ever any desire to get free. From the enthusiasm of my wife’s ass-motions, and of her dancing fingers, I don’t think there was any such thought.

“Hi, honey… I’m home?” I said weakly.

Sinne was trying to laugh, but she was too out of breath to manage it. She relaxed and lay back, and helped herself to a nice warm bath of tongue. She favored, I knew, gentle licking around the labia as she recovered.

“Hi, sweetheart,” my wife replied, muffled. She did not in any other way pause what she was doing to Sinne.

“Um… what’s going on with you, dear?” There wasn’t much to say, really. The vista was quite explanatory.

“I’m… eating… Gloria’s pussy…” she got out, between strokes. Or perhaps she’d said “glorious pussy”. Same thing, in my book.

“I see…” No, really, I do! I looked to Sinne for a real explanation; evidently my little hypnotiste had been at it again.

“Joan, darling,” Sinne said in dulcet tones. “Sleep time now.” And my wife’s head fell gently into her lap.

“’Joan’? Who the hell is Joan?”

“She is. At least sometimes, now. Arch, can you get me a glass of water? All of this hard work has made me very thirsty.”

I returned in seconds with a bottle of Arrowhead. “Okay, care to ‘splain what that meant, now that you can wet your whistle? Certainly no other parts of you need wetting.”

“Mmmm…” she sighed at the memory, stroking “Joan’s” hair gently. Certainly not. It’s amazing what one can do with an afternoon and a lot of imagination.”

She didn’t bother to cover up. I’d seen her naked hundreds of times, and my wife “Joan” was apparently a bit familiar herself, even if she had been awake. “Where do you want to start?”

“How about with ‘Joan’?”

“Starting in the middle, mostly. Okay then. ‘Joan’ is a... a construct, I think you’d call it. She’s a place in dear Mrs. Baal’s mind where she can feel free to listen to the new, special instructions she’s been receiving without dreary old morality intruding on the party.”

“You’ve given her an extra personality?” The mind boggled. “Isn’t that a little warped?”

“Not entirely. It’s pretty important, for what I’ve been trying to do. Or get her to do. For her mental health, too.”

“You’re making her schizo to preserve her mental health?”

“Sorta kinda. Look, all that guff about hypnosis not ever making you do what you don’t really want to do? It’s true, to a certain extent. But if you are a good suggestible subject, like she is, you’ll do anything you’re not totally opposed to. Which is fine, but can cause you a lot of confusion as you try to figure out why your inhibitions are gone, and why you’re doing things only deep dark parts of you would ever consider doing. I present you with Exhibit A.” She gestured at her still-damp inner thighs and the lovely face resting on them.

“Okay, you’ve got me there. There’s no way she would have done this before your little ‘sessions’.”

“Don’t be so sure.” I looked at her quizzically and she smiled mysteriously and shook her head. “We can talk about that later. Look, anyway, when I met with her again today I put her under with a code phrase and questioned her about her activities since last we’d spoken.”

“Voyeur.”

“You’ve no idea. But you will, in a minute. Anyway, she was disturbed that she had acted that way with you last night—she didn’t think it was like her at all and… well, the rest wasn’t either. Now with a willing subject, they know they’re receiving treatment, and they expect changes in their behavior, but she’s not exactly willing, is she?”

“Looked willing enough a minute ago.”

“You know what I mean. She was shocked and confused about what she’d been doing, and it would probably have really screwed her up if we continued much. Well, I don’t think simply stopping would have been any fun, do you?”

“No!”

“But you can ease the problem by making up a new person—”

“’Joan’.”

“You’re quick. ‘Joan’. While your wife was in a deep, deep suggestible state today, I told her about a friend of mine I called ‘Joan’. Joan is a lot like your wife—same figure, same coloring, same basic manner—she even has a fantastic husband named Arch. But Joan is a lot more open-minded than she is.”

“Oh, really?” I was intrigued.

“Oh, yes indeed. So I gave a large lecture on what Joan was like, all the time taking your lady deeper, and deeper…” She grinned at me. “When she was deeper, I told her that she could pretend to be Joan whenever she wanted to, and that she would always want to whenever she heard me say ‘Just Joan’. So, problem solved. Joan is the one doing all the somewhat dirty stuff, and wifey is just playing a little game of pretend. No harm in that, right? And Joan is entirely of my making, so I can mold her as I wish.” I could tell she was getting excited again, as she was glancing down at the head in her lap.

“What is ‘Joan’ made of?” It damned well wasn’t sugar and spice.

“Heh. Joan is a little bit of you, and a little bit of me. The fun parts, I assure you.”

“Such as?”

She shook her head. “We’ll go over details later. Anyway, I put several suggestions in her head last night…”

“Yeah, I know. Damn fine work!”

“Hush. The ‘insurance premium’ part was trivial—she’s already in love with you, so getting her to do sexual things for you was nothing. No, I gave her suggestions about how she felt about her body, about what she found attractive, and how that made her feel. You think you reaped the rewards last night, but… well, let me show you what I saw when I got here, this morning, shall we?”

I nodded.

“Joan, dear.”

Eyes still closed, Joan replied sleepily, “Yes?”

“Do you remember what you were doing this morning? Before you were Joan?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Can you show me what you did after breakfast?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Can you tell me what you were thinking, too?”

“Okay.”

“Joan, you will begin to show me when you wake up. You’re waking up in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Wake up.”

She walked into the kitchen, put on her robe, washed a coffee cup (which had already been washed, of course), and then came back into the bedroom. “Hmmm. Have to do the laundry. Have to get a clean load of underwear going. Underwear…” She sat down on the bed. “Oh, darn it, I’ll have to hand-wash the garter-belt and stockings I wore for Arch last night. What made me wear them, anyway? That’s not really like me. I just couldn’t help it, though. I got sooo horny and had to show him how much I wanted him.” She picked them up, and examined them a bit. “Not too dirty, though. Just smell lightly of sex. Mmmm…” She lifted the delicates to her nose briefly and inhaled. “I did look good in these, I’m sure.” She glanced from side to side momentarily, almost guiltily. “I wonder what I’d look like in them right now? No one’s home. I could dress up.”

She clipped the garter-belt around her waist, then straightened it before bunching up the first stocking. It went on her foot, and she drew it slowly up her leg before fastening it with the front and side garters. “Mmmm. Feels so silky smooth. Wonder why I never noticed that before? Where’s the other? Ah. Bring it up the other leg… there. Front and side garters—oops, have to do the side one again. Make sure the seams are straight up the back of the leg, to draw the gaze up to my ass… Now what made me think that?” She looked flustered. But that passed as she crossed and uncrossed her legs with a swishing nylon sound. “That feels very nice. Have to do the back garters now. Over to the mirror, I think, to make sure I do it right.”

She walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom, and looked over her shoulder, hiking up her robe to see the back garters and the nylon seams. “Now there’s a pretty sight,” she sighed. “Just hook that one… so… and the other… oops, straighten the seam… there. Now that looks hot. Really hot. It’s making me horny again, like last night.” She grabbed the seat for her dressing table and sat down on it, still looking in the mirror. “I still have a good body, after all of these years, thank God. Nice firm tits, and killer legs. Maybe I need to wear shorter skirts, to show them off!” She hiked up her robe again, showing large expanses of thigh, as if to illustrate what one of these skirts would look like. “Very nice. Very sexy. Very… oooh… Feels so good to run my hands up the nylons. And they look so good on me. So sensuous. So—”

I looked at Sinne, who was engrossed as I was, though apparently she’d already seen this. “What suggestions did you give her?”

“Pleasure with her own body, mostly.” Sinne smiled. “A little exhibitionism, and a little voyeurism. A dangerous combination when you add a mirror, wouldn’t you say?”

Now engrossed with the mirror, her hands were traveling up and down her thighs. “Tingly…” she added, and snapped the garter strap on one of the legs. “Ha!” She made a delighted face at her image in the mirror as she slipped her hand under the welt of the stocking and saw her hand through the sheer material. Her other hand snaked upward even before she said, “Need to rub my nipples, now. Yesss…” She shook out her long hair and spread it on her chest. “Mmmm. Pretty hair. Feels nice and silky on my nipples. Want to touch them through the hair. Ahhh… Peekaboo! Oh, cup them… yes. Wish I had someone here to suck them, but I guess licking my fingers will have to do. Mmmm. Look so sexy with my fingers in my mouth. Now move those fingers to my tits, and suck the other hand. Mmmm. Very sexy mouth, very warm wet tits. But getting wet in other places, now. Mmmm… need three hands, but will have to make do with two…”

This was utterly arousing to just watch, but the running commentary was driving me crazy. Sinne was next to me, her hand on my leg, and I’m quite sure she knew my cock was solid. Her other hand was on her own stocking, and moving upward.

By now, of course, only one hand was left to service the nipples. The other flashed across the hose tops in an instant, lightly brushing them with the long fingernails, and burying itself in between. “Ummmm. Sorry silky things, but I have more important things to do with my ha—ahhh… hands. Pussy needs… uhhh… needs rubbing, fingers in… nipples rubbing… fingers out… palm on clit… ohhhhh.” She thrust her cunt into her hand with movements made more seductive by the fact that she was watching them and improving them as she went.

Now she was losing coherence of speech, but she wasn’t stopping her hands from working her. “Pinch nipples… yesss… pump slit… ahhh… need to taste…” Her pussy drenched hand rose to her mouth, and she sucked the fingers in one-by-one, savoring the flavor. Her other hand abandoned the nipples to finish what had been started in her cunt.

This was easily the most erotic thing I had ever seen my wife do—for some reason, it even beat watching her eat our Sinne—though not by much. Sinne’s hand was in her own cunt, now, too, and she said, “Oh, yeah, I may have added a dash of lesbianism, too…”

One hand pumping her mouth (she was still saying things, but they were impossible to understand, even if some of them happened to be actually words) and the other with three fingers assaulting her clit and dipping inside, my wife looked into her own eyes in the mirror and shrieked an orgasm the likes of which I’d never seen—not even from Sinne. Sinne was impressed, too—she had her own clit pinched between her knuckles and was coming just from watching.

She lay back in the chair, gasping, recovering. “What the hell was that?” she said, looking worriedly in the mirror. “I don’t know why I did that. What’s wrong with me today? And last night, for that matter?” She looked at her hands, and realized where they’d been—both places, and looked mildly disgusted with herself. “I can’t believe I just put my hands in my mouth after frigging-off… after masturbating, I mean. Does this make me some kind of dyke?” She walked into the bathroom, and started removing her stockings—but quickly and businesslike, now, not as languorously as she’d put them on. “Have to wash these later, but first, I need a shower.” She actually washed her hands before getting into the shower.

Before she could turn on the water, Sinne called out in a commanding voice, “Joan, stop.” Joan froze in mid-motion. “Please, come back to the bed and go back to sleep. Joan sighed and did as instructed.

“So you see, Arch? Giving her those suggestions worked, and would have continued to work. But it would have caused her no end of trauma. We don’t want a basket case on our hands, we just want to have a little fun. So Joan is the answer.” She looked at me frankly. “So, what do you think?”

My answer was the head of my cock prying open her labia and thrusting inside. I answered for a long while.

* * *

So now I have a sort of “extra” wife, Joan. Sinne and I got to know her all weekend, in many different ways. She really is a combination of both of us: from Sinne she gets the near-constant horniness, along with the urge to show off her body, and an appreciation for the wearing of fine lingerie. Sinne programmed her with my love for gazing in earnest at fine hosiery, and together with the lingerie fetish, this makes my life quite a bit of eye candy. Joan never leaves the house without wearing something sexy beneath her skirt, and has a preference for sheer, full-fashioned nylons, with seams and the loophole welt and the works. She actually even wears them to sleep every night.

She also gets from me the obsession with eating pussy—specifically, but not limited to, Sinne’s. She talks about it all the time, in bed and out, and I know that she’s got a stash of lesbian porn in her closet she thinks I don’t know about. Hearing her describe, in detail, what she has done with Sinne and wants to do with others makes me no end of horny, and nearly usually ends with her licking her own juices off my face after I’ve spent at least an hour between her stocking-clad thighs. Fortunately for both of us, Sinne visits often, so we both get to indulge, but Sinne’s going overseas next month and won’t be back for awhile, so Joan’s been on the prowl for some time now trying to find an acceptable substitute.

She’s not always Joan; in fact, often I revert her to normal, since I found that Joan spends so much time with mirrors and fingers and nylons that none of the household chores get done. Sinne and I haven’t decided yet whether to keep the two personalities separated, or to start gradually merging them together. I don’t mind having “a lady in the sitting room, and a whore in the bedroom” (and, hell, all the other rooms as well), but the Joan personality, as is, requires constant reinforcement and maintenance.

Normally this is accomplished by Sinne when she’s in town, through long, slow deepening and suggestion processes. I’ve watched them, and it’s pretty hot. Sinne likes these sessions too, even though there’s no real sex going on, and she always needs a good tonguing and fucking once they’re done. Sometimes Joan does the tonguing while I fuck her, and sometimes I suck Sinne off while Joan masturbates or fucks me. Sinne has eaten out Joan a number of times, and enjoys it a lot, but the hypnosis gives her a power rush and she’s therefore usually in Domme mode when we’re together with Joan. Last time I came home from work to find Joan in a maid outfit, “tending” Sinne, and calling her “Mistress”, and the glow in Sinne’s eyes was almost scary.

When Sinne’s not in town, Joan’s maintenance is done at night. Sinne has taught Joan self-hypnosis, and while I’m busy sleeping Joan emerges and deepens and starts to give herself suggestions. I’ve woken up a number of times to hear Joan chanting to herself “must obey my Mistress”, and “go deeper for Goddess”. She fingers her pussy at the end to solidify the programming with positive feedback, and I generally get a taste myself after watching her do this—it’s very hot to observe.

I have the trigger phrase for Joan, and to change her back to my old wife, but Sinne has kept all the other phrases restricted to her alone. I objected to this, but then Sinne got coy and asked if I wanted her to just deprogram Joan completely, or should I just let her have her way? So of course I relented. It’s annoying though.

And lately, when I wake up at night to hear Joan chanting “obey… obey… obey…” and “slave to Her pussy”, I get the oddest feeling that—just for a second or two—I may have been mouthing the words myself.

…a little bit of you, and a little bit of me…

So I wonder, as I’m watching Joan frig herself to ecstasy at night, as she mimes bringing Sinne to climax with her face, how much of Sinne is in there.

And whether the smile on her face at the end, as she drifts off to sleep, might perhaps be a little bit sinister.