You'll have to excuse Lyssy - she's had a rough day at the "lie-berry." Being a "lie-berrian" is really tough for her these days, while being a liar is still amazingly easy. She even lied to me about being oblivious - she's hardcore.
Girlfriend? No. Not too long ago, she was my fiancée - her name was "Alyssa" back then - but now she's a lot of things to me, none of which is "girlfriend." Sometimes I make her sleep on the floor.
Back when she was Alyssa, I loved her with everything I had in me. I loved how she came from poverty and ignorance and put herself through school, I respected her near-obsession with reading, and I adored her precise grammar and diction. She'd correct me and I'd eat it up with a spoon. I figured that I'd need to brush up on all that for the good of the kids we'd be having.
Maybe I'll get her spayed.
I remember the day she got the job at the Hazelgrove Library. You would have thought she'd hit the lottery. She was going to make it her personal mission to imbue the children with a love of reading. I was happy for her, too, even though it meant that we'd only see each other on the weekends because of the long drive. I supported her!
One night she called me, sobbing and inconsolable, due to a rumor that the library was closing. I tried calming her, telling her that people never allowed their libraries or schools to close without a fight - civic pride and all that.
"Jeff," she said, her voice thick with tears, "I can't lose my job, I just can't. Why, I imagine I'd do anything to save it! Anything at all!"
My heart ached for her, but it never occurred to me that she was telling me the literal truth - that she would do anything to keep her job. I knew she liked the library and Hazelgrove, but it was not the only place that needed a librarian - not even in this age of virtual reality and virtual illiteracy.
It hit me three days later, about five seconds after walking into her house that she really would do anything for her job. It must have been something about seeing that fat fucker of a mayor fucking her. (How's that for alliteration?) I'd gotten off work early and showed up to surprise her, but she'd surprised me by making her cunt a commodity instead.
That pig was sticking his fat cock in my fiancée and asking her if she liked it as she was bent over the kitchen table (with its daisy print tablecloth) and she's moaning "Yes!" over and over again. Only I could see her reflection in the toaster, and her eyes were dead. This was clearly a business transaction.
I suppose that should have made me feel better - that she was only banging that corpulent pile of garbage to keep her job - but it didn't. It made me think I was a sucker for making love to a woman who'd sell it if the price were right. All the time I'd thought that making love to her was like worshipping at a sacred shrine, it was more like kneeling before an ATM machine ... while an impatient line formed behind me.
The pig looked like he was either going to come or have a stroke (not that he had anything to worry about since his receptacle was trained in CPR) but it turned out to obviously be the former as he grunted his finish. I knew that, having already decided not to confront them, I should leave, then; yet, I wasn't quite ready.
What I'd witnessed was nobody's version of courtly love, yet Mayor McFatty decided to be formal.
"Miss Beauchamp," he phlegmed, "I do believe that we might have money in the budget for the library after all. If you do your part - bake sales, book sales, and meeting me occasionally to discuss the matter - I believe that your job might end up on more secure footing than I'd initially estimated."
I could hear that Alyssa was on the verge of tears again, but whether it was because of what she'd just done or for what she was clearly expected to do again, I had no idea. I didn't really know her; I never had.
"But ... you told me just the once ... just the one ... meeting!"
He chuckled. "That was before I knew what a delightful time we'd be having. You did enjoy yourself, right?" he asked, his voice threatening.
"Yes, yes of course!"
I knew it was time to "get while the getting's good," as my old man used to say. I don't recall the specifics of the ride home - I was too busy plotting my revenge. The second I saw her for who she really was, my love ended. My heart was so empty in those first few moments that the hatred was welcome.
As soon as I entered my apartment, I walked to the phone and dialed. I made sure to keep my voice warm and caring. She asked me where I was, sounding worried and perhaps guilty. It didn't matter.
I told her I'd had to work late and that this was my first chance to call her. I aimed to sound disappointed as I told her I'd missed her all week, and that I would head out to see her first thing in the morning so we'd still have all weekend.
That seemed to satisfy her. I apologized, then, telling her I knew that - with all the worry about her job - she needed me there. She stammered that she might have overreacted a little. Then she asked me something so funny that I almost pissed myself.
"Jeff, baby, when you come out this weekend, do you suppose you could hypnotize me again?"
"You know it!"
"I know you're afraid of taking it too far, but I trust you, so don't hold back!"
"You got it - no holding back." Now, before you go thinking she is a poor judge of character: up until a few hours before, she could have trusted me with her life. I would rather have died than harmed a hair on her special little head. "I love how much this turns you on - I'd never thought I would meet a girl who didn't think it was strange."
"I don't just do it to humor you — it arouses me."
"You mean it makes your pussy wet, sweetie."
A giggle was her only response.
"You don't have to say it - I already know. What are you wearing, Alyssa?"
"A robe," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with a false sense of knowing what was on my mind. She had no idea.
"Yes, I just finished taking a shower." Very good to know, thought I. Her voice became even lower, more intimate - my "beloved" was clearly feeling flirty. "In fact, I'm still standing here in the bathroom. I'd taken the phone with me in case you called."
"How sweet! I don't deserve you."
There was a pause and she giggled again, but this time it sounded forced. The evidence of her guilt did nothing to soothe my loathing. "Hmmm, so here I am near-naked, beads of water still glistening on my skin. What can we do for entertainment until we can be together again?"
"I wonder. Why don't you settle down on the bed and we'll find something to discuss." I could hear the slight creak of the hardwood floor and then the repeated squeak of the mattress springs as she playfully bounced up and down to let me show she'd arrived at her destination. "I'm there, big boy!"
"Alyssa, if you really want 'no holding back', we'll have to deal with the compromise drawer."
"I know," she said in a resigned little-girl voice.
"Don't sound so grim ... that's tomorrow."
We had phone sex, then. While she thought of loving images of tender lovemaking, my mind was on revenge, degradation, and humiliation.
The next day I headed out early, as promised. I only made one stop: to see an acquaintance who was a computer whiz, and who also specialized in surveillance equipment. For such a supposedly "smart" woman, it amazed me that Alyssa had never considered blackmailing Porkchop.
On the drive to see my darling, I did my own form of self-hypnosis in order behave like nothing had changed — when in fact everything had changed. It was surprisingly easy - but then again, I knew how much was riding on my being completely convincing.
Our weekend went well; she made love to me while I fucked her. I found that, as physically attractive as she still was, unless my mind turned to revenge I could no longer get hard for her. I was surprised to discover that, if anything, my stamina rose as I contemplated my plans. She even commented on how amorous I was being, not knowing that "amour" had very little to do with it.
She went to church Sunday morning and, amazingly, was not hit by a lightning bolt. I encouraged her to stay for the coffee and cake which they served afterward. While she was gone, I quickly put the surveillance equipment to good use. When she got home, she found herself the proud owner of a webcam so we could keep in touch - what she didn't know was that it was rigged to allow me to view her from my computer any time I chose.
That afternoon, I finally put her under - she'd been chomping at the bit since I'd gotten there. She really does love the feeling of surrender, and because of her complete trust and focus she was a perfect subject. After a year of exploring hypnosis, I knew the ins and outs of her mind.
She'd been right that I'd always held back, never wanting to take advantage of her. I'd never had the need to do anything outrageous; the mere fact that she had complete faith in me was always arousing enough. Just seeing this beautiful woman in a state of total trust and relaxation was pretty hot.
How could I have known that my history of never talking advantage of her was all I needed to take complete control later on? It seemed like some god or goddess who thrived on betrayal had brought us together - I began to look at my thoughts as sanctioned and sanctified. Why else would I have been entrusted with the ability to destroy everything she cherished most?
.... There is more of this story ...