Chapter 4

To say the trust between Maisie and I had taken a battering after her shenanigans with her dominatrix friend would be an understatement. I loathed the deception but she reminded me that I had clearly gained some satisfaction from the experience and reasoned that she had found my excuses about using my zapper flimsy: she said she needed to show me how dangerous it could be.

But Maisie knew that I would seek some sort of retribution and had hidden my zapper somewhere in my house. I spent ages looking but she had hidden it well and I never found it. Instead, we put it behind us and I showed her how to help in my garage operation making simple electronic devices; she took to the work very quickly, mastering a soldering iron in minutes and starting to churn out customer orders within a couple of days to a high standard.

I showed her how to use oscilloscopes to check the output of my little cottage factory and she kept a watchful eye on me; she knew I would want to make another zapper and had made sure that I was not left alone with my tools for very long.

The opportunity to make another, came about a week after the dominatrix trick: my frustration had reached insane levels, and while Maisie was a good lodger, we had not progressed to being lovers: it was a weird friendship and nothing else. She taunted me, and teased me, but I wanted my zapper back and she would not relent. Basically, she got careless, and left me alone for fifteen minutes as one of her friends had a "massive crisis" with her on-off boyfriend and reception on her old mobile phone was not good enough inside my garage; she stepped outside.

Inside five minutes I had soldered the components I needed onto a small piece of stripboard, along with a battery connector and an on/off switch before stashing it carefully in the waste paper basket. Maisie eyed me suspiciously on her return, apologising for her brief departure and said nothing as I placed the rubbish bag in the "black bin" in my garden, for retrieval later. Which I did.

I had a few ideas, but her traumatised friend had requested some support that weekend; she ran a Sunday league football team and a number of the players had been incapacitated with a bug that left them requiring additional footballers. Maisie volunteered and my new zapper went with us both, unbeknown to my young lodger.

The parish council-run facilities, a couple of miles from my house, certainly required some maintenance, and the muddy pitch had more dirt than grass. The football pitch was bordered by a small set of changing rooms and a mobile tea and coffee stall, also selling pasties that looked like they had been there for some weeks. I skipped both and stood to watch as the two teams warmed up and then kicked off.

I had no idea Maisie was so bad at football; her attempts to pass the ball were calamitous, her solitary shot on goal endangered passing birds more than the net, and her tackles were so mistimed even Paul Scholes would have winced. But everyone seemed to be enjoying watching the 22 young ladies run around the muddy pitch in the most passionate of spirits, especially as their shorts were short and most of the ladies were fit, attractive and fairly well endowed.

Maisie smiled at me as she ran past me at half-time and as full-time blew I steadied my zapper in my pocket, pointing at the group of ladies shaking hands and congratulating themselves. I wasn't aiming for any particular member, just the group.

My invention was powerful and I had to show that; show how good it could be. Show her how it sated every thirst and urge the women had. Maisie had to understand.

The nearest girl to me clenched her fists and her body shook; her friend panted and grabbed hold of her, leaning towards the muddy footballer. All over the pitch, hands grasped crotches and eyes sparkled; friendly congratulations turned to anxious stumbling and glances. Instantly, there was a sexual tension in the air.

Maisie knew. She looked at me with a fire in her heart and slapped me across the face. "I'll fuckin' swing for you," she cried as the spectators turned in shock at the violent outburst to watch us argue. Instead, the horny minx grabbed my hand and pulled me by the wrist, dragging me inside the changing room and pushing me up against the tile-lined cool wall. "You made another one," she panted and with lust driving her thoughts and consuming her eyes, she kissed me, pushing her lips against mine and running her hands over my body.

Her muddy football kit was sodden and soft to the touch as I frantically slid my hand into the waistband of her white shorts. She groaned into my shoulder as I touched her clit and opened my eyes to see a dozen of horny football players engaged in the throws of passion. A lesbian threesome inches from us were the noisiest, while the good spirit shown on the pitch was continuing off of it, as two of the opposition were being ate out by players from Maisie's team.

Another guy, clearly dragged into the changing room, looked at me, shocked, as two team-mates took turns in licking his cock and fingering each other; it was like a dream for him and he could scarcely believe it was happening. Maisie groaned, and shivered; her muscles tightening and twitching as I flicked her sensitive button with my finger. She groaned lustfully into the damp changing room, savouring every touch on her pearl. "You love this, don't you?"

"Yeah," she muttered as she panted and squealed; her body consumed by the rampant lust she so hated me for causing. "Oh God," she muttered and sniffed.

"Every girl in here is thanking me right now," I whispered. "They are getting some of the best sex of their life. Look." I spun her body around, keeping my fingers in her waistband and held her back to my chest, making her watch as her team-mates pleasured each other, and a random spectator.