Mind controlled Janice reluctantly meets her family for sex.
The suspicion had been growing in Janice for months.
Her brother Don and his wife Susan lived next door to Mick Parker in Farsley, and one Saturday in the street Mick had bumped into her and Stephen, all smiles, and mentioned casually, that Don and Susan hosted parties in their back garden. Sex parties. Sometimes just family, he'd said, watching her face. Sometimes large groups. He'd offered to email them what he'd seen, and he had: dates, times, names. Janice had read it four times and told nobody, because who could she tell? A cold word had started forming in her mind. Controlled. As if they were controlled, against their will, all of them.
The phone rang on a Tuesday morning while Stephen was at work. Mick Parker's voice, breathless with excitement.
"They're all there, Janice. Arrived twenty minutes ago. Your Don and Sue, Samantha, Christopher, Lee, Christine, Robert, Laura and Nina and, listen, Wayne Jenkins is with them. I can see him from my window. They're getting ready for one of their parties. Right now."
Wayne, her lover, was in her brother's garden with the rest of them.
She was off the phone and dressing in under a minute skirt, T-shirt, no time for more, no time to think. It didn't occur to her until she was halfway down Mick's drive that she'd never told Mick about Wayne.
Mick let her in, hardly spoke, pointed her upstairs. His back bedroom looked straight down into Don and Susan's garden. The blinds were pulled shut against the morning, all but a finger-wide gap, and Janice bent to it, hands on her knees, one eye at the slit.
They were there. All of them. Don and Sue on the patio naked. Christopher, their son, tall and awkward. Samantha and her husband Lee. Her sister Christine and Robert, and Laura and Nina, sitting on the grass in summer dresses. And Wayne — Wayne, his shirt already open, Samantha's hands at his collar. Janice's stomach dropped through the floor.
They were undressing each other. Not hurrying. Samantha pulled Wayne's shirt off his shoulders and pushed his trousers down over his hips while he unlatched her bra, and Janice watched watched Wayne's hands cupped Samantha's breasts, and watched Samantha sink to the lawn and take him into her mouth while the family moved around them,and nobody was surprised, and nobody was hiding.
Janice felt movement behind her. Warmth at her back. Mick's hips touched her buttocks, a light pressure, and she straightened to turn and reprimand him how dare he, what did he think
She couldn't speak.
Her mouth wouldn't open. Her body didn't turn. She stood bent at the window, palms on her knees, eye at the gap in the blinds, and nothing she did moved anything. She tried again speak, turn, step away and her body answered to someone else entirely.
The panic came up her throat like floodwater. The organisation. It hit her all at once, the whole shape of it: they had taken her family, they had taken Mick, they had taken millions, and now they had taken her. They used her family for sex she could see it happening below the window and they would use her the same way. It did not occur to her, could not occur to her, that they already had used her several times, on days she no longer remembered. To Janice this was all new, and it was happening now, in her neighbour's spare bedroom, with Wayne in her brother's garden.
She tried to scream. Nothing came out. She tried to move. Her body held its pose, bent, presented, and behind her she heard cloth shifting, heard Mick breathing.
Mick rubbed his hips against her buttocks, a slow grind through his trousers, and Janice felt the shock of it and worse, felt her body answer. Heat gathered between her legs. Her nipples hardened against the inside of her bra. Her body was responding to Mick Parker, her mind did not want it but her body did just like the silent instructions Ginger had planted in her mind said.
His fingers found the button of her skirt. The zip pulled down. The skirt dropped to the carpet around her ankles and she stood bent over, bare from the waist down but for her knickers, staring through the gap at her family while her neighbour stripped her. She poured everything she had into the fight move, Janice, MOVE and her muscles obeyed Gingee. Humiliation burned up her neck. Anger followed it, white and useless. Mick knelt behind her, pulled her knickers down and off, took her ankles in his hands, and drew her legs wide apart, and the cool air of the room moved on her exposed pussy and she felt herself growing wet, glistening, ready, her body preparing itself for him with an efficiency that made her want to die.
She heard him undress. Cloth hitting the floor, the rasp of his zip. Her body trembled fear, she told herself, only fear but the trembling ran down into her hips and became something else, an ache, a need, her cunt swelling and slick and empty, and she hated it, hated her own flesh for wanting what was coming while her mind stood at the window of herself screaming.
His hands settled on her hips. She felt the blunt heat of his erection press between her legs, sliding along her slit, and she tried one last time to wrench herself upright and away, and her body stayed exactly where it was, bent, open, waiting.
He pushed in.
The head of his cock parted her and sank home in one long, unhurried movement and he was inside her. Her wetness taking him easily, her cunt gripping him as though it had been asked to. Janice made no sound she wasn't permitted sound but inside her head the scream went on and on even as her body bore down on him, tilting its hips to take him deeper. Behind her Mick groaned, low and satisfied, a man who believed he'd waited months for this and been handed it by fortune. He fucked her steadily, his thighs slapping the backs of hers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, and every stroke dragged a fresh betrayal out of her her clit throbbing, her channel clenching around him, her breath coming short and fast through her nose in a rhythm that matched his.
Through the gap in the blinds, Wayne laid Samantha back on the lawn and entered her, and Janice watched him fuck her niece while her brother's neighbour fucked her.
No. No, I will not come. Not for him. Not bent over like this in a stranger's bedroom while my family...
Her orgasm broke over her like a wave. It tore through her cunt and up her spine, her knees buckling against his grip, her inner muscles milking his cock in long helpless pulses, and Mick felt it and groaned louder and drove into her harder, and she hung there in the ruins of her own will, wet and shuddering, while he spent himself inside her with a series of deep grinding thrusts, his cum flooding her, hot and thick, running warm down the inside of her thigh as he slowed and stopped and caught his breath.
He patted her flank. Like a horse. Like something bought and broken in.
Janice felt her body straighten. Her skirt stayed on the floor. Her knickers stayed on the floor she was naked from the waist down, Mick's cum running from her, and her body turned from the window and walked towards the door, out of it, down Mick's stairs, to his front door, which opened and into the broad daylight of a Tuesday morning in Farsley.
She battled it the whole way. Every step was a war she lost. Her legs carried her down Mick's drive, past his front gate, the pavement, bare-arsed, bare-cunted, her skirt gone, her knickers left behind in a neighbour's spare room, and she fought her own body with everything her mind could summon, and her mind lost every exchange, because her mind was not the one holding the reins. The garden party was thirty feet away. She walked on to Don and Sue's drive. She could feel the air on her exposed buttocks, on her swollen, freshly-fucked pussy, could feel Mick's cum cooling on her thigh, and her body walked her into the garden where her entire family was naked on the grass.
Against her will her hands went to the hem of her T-shirt. She felt them gather the fabric, cross her arms, and pull it up and over her head, dropping it on the flagstones. Her back arched. Her fingers found the clasp of her bra, unhooked it, slid the straps down her arms, and her breasts swung free in the sunlight in front of her family, Wayne, who looked up at her with mild recognition and no surprise at all.
Inside, Janice died a little more. Outside, her body stood in the garden, naked, cum on her thigh, and waited to be told what came next.
Christine saw her sister walk in and something in her in the place where her own will used to live registered it as the most natural thing in the world. Of course Janice had come. Of course she'd undressed. They were sisters; they loved each other; the day had a shape and Janice belonged in it.
She got up off the rug and went to her, and took her hand, and led her to the shade Janice's body followed because it was told to, and Christine believed, absolutely, that her sister had chosen this had seen the party, wanted in, wanted her.
"You came," I said, smiling at Janice, and her mouth was warm and certain. I kissed her deep and unhurried, my tongue finding hers, my hands holding Janice's face, and Janice responded wrapping her arms around me pressing her body against mine, the two of us naked her breath quickening. Wayne my lover and Janice's lover was watching.
My hands travelled down. Over Janice's shoulders, the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and lower, into her wet mess between her legs her own arousal and Mick's cum, both and I laughed softly against her mouth, delighted, and said, "You're soaked. You've been at it already. And you are living this" I said. I stroked my sister stroked her clit with two practiced fingers, circling, pressing, and her body rocked to my touch. Janice's fingers moved between my legs arousing me.
I eased Janice down onto the rug in the shade. Lay beside her. Took one of Janice's nipples into my mouth and sucked it slowly, rolling my tongue around it, while her hand worked lower, fingers sliding into my pussy I found her entrance, easing in two curling fingers. Janice lay on her brother's lawn with her sister's mouth on her breast and her sister's fingers inside her, and her body rose to meet every stroke, hips lifting, thighs falling open wider, her breath breaking into moans she could not with hold and her mind watched from its cell and hated and hated.
I moved down Janice's body, kissing a line over her ribs, her belly, the soft inside of her thigh, and then my mouth closed over Janice's cunt and I began to eat her my tongue flat and slow at first, then pointed and insistent on her clit, two fingers fucking her in counterpoint, and Janice's orgasm came up fast and brutal, her hands flying to my hair holding me there, her hips grinding against my face as she came, crying out loud.
Then I climbed over her, knees either side of her head, and lowered my cunt onto Janice's mouth, and her tongue came up, licking me tasting me, finding my clit and working it while I rode her mouth with slow rolls of my hips, sighing, murmuring, "God, Janice, yes, you're so good at this," until I shuddered, climaxed and pressed down hard and came against her lips.
We lay tangled in the shade afterward, and I kissed her cheek and said, "We should do this more often," and meant it, and Janice lay with her sister's taste on her tongue and her own climax still humming through her cunt, and hated it. I whispered to Janice, "you, me and Wayne in bed together tomorrow."
Don watched it all from his chair with the easy pleasure of a man at a family barbecue.
When Janice rose from the grass and walked toward me, naked I opened my arms and she came tome, and knelt on the patio at my feet, between my knees.
I was already hard. My cock rising thick and flushed from the thatch of greying hair, and Janice's hand reached out and closed around the base of it, and her mouth opened over the head, and she took me into her mouth.
I tipped my head back and sighed. It was, I thought dimly, the best of all the things m sister's mouthI ran my hand affectionately over her hair as she sucked on my cock. She took me deep, her lips sealing around me, her tongue sliding along the underside of my shaft, her cheeks hollowing on every draw back,"That's it, Janice, that's lovely, just like that," and I moaned the pleasure was unbearable because I was enjoying it, honestly enjoying it, me her own brother luxuriating in her mouth her head bobbed in a rhythm.
I hardened further on her tongue, my cock swelling futher, my hand tightening in her hair and then I groaned, long and low and shot a large load of cum into her mouth..
Janice felt the first jet hit the back of her throat and swallowed on command, gulp after gulp, her brother's cum filling her mouth and Don stroked her hair through all of it, murmuring thanks, telling her she was wonderful, and she swallowed every last drop of him and cleaned him gently with her tongue because that too was ordered, and when he softened and slipped from her lips she knelt back on her heels with his taste coating her mouth and her face burning and her body calm and content, and inside she felt nothing but shame.
She had sucked her brother. She had loved her sister with her mouth. Her body had enjoyed all of it she had felt it enjoying it, felt the orgasms tear through her without asking and she hated what her body enjoyed, and the hating changed nothing, and the afternoon went on.
When 3pm came, the command came: home.
Her body rose, and walked out of Don and Susan's gate and up the street toward her own house. Twenty minutes, barefoot, naked, Mick's dried cum on her thigh and her brother's taste still in her mouth, her breasts and buttocks and pussy on open display to every window on the route. She braced for it the shouts, the stares, the police, the shame of it multiplied by a whole suburb and it didn't come.
A woman watering her roses glanced up, nodded, went back to her roses. Two pensioners outside a shop watched her pass and carried on talking about parking. A car slowed politely to let her cross, Town Street the driver's eyes sliding over her nakedness without catching on it, the way eyes slide over a lamp post. Nobody commented. Nobody stared longer than a breath. The whole street behaved as though a naked woman walking home on a Tuesday afternoon was the most ordinary thing in the world, and Janice understood, with a chill that outlasted even her panic, that most of them were controlled too that her nudity was ignored because ignoring it had been arranged and that the world she was walking through was not the world she had thought she'd lived in.
She let herself in her own front door. Her body dressed knickers from the drawer, jeans, a jumper, everything chosen and put on with calm mechanical competence and then the command came down like a curtain, and everything since the phone call that morning folded up and was taken away from her memory.
Janice stood in her kitchen with a cup of tea, feeling oddly refreshed, mildly puzzled.
Her skirt was missing. And the white bra she'd put on that morning where was that? She searched the bedroom, the bathroom, the laundry basket, growing fretful. Her knickers, the decent white pair. Gone too. She checked the window locks and found them fine, checked the doors, rang Stephen at work to ask if he'd borrowed anything, and stood at the kitchen window chewing her lip.
Burglars, she decided at last. Odd ones taking a skirt and underwear and leaving the television but burglars. People would take anything these days. She wrote it in her head to tell Stephen tonight, and to check the insurance, and she drank her tea and looked out at the garden the days events forgotten. She was unaware that tomorrow she would share her bed with Christine and Wayne