Pathway To Perversion – Tiggy Mills

Sex story. PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED AS ‘THE GURU’ – NOW REVISED AND EXPANDED.

A story of interracial sexual domination and corruption. Or is it?

The Guru of the ‘Black Prince’s Foundation’ teaches a new unorthodox life path based around sexual and spiritual development. Or is it a path of indoctrination, sexual service and exploitation?

Carol had a perfect life or so she thought, happily married, successful and totally content…everything just so…But something was praying on her mind. Something she couldn’t put her finger on was causing her to doubt her life and everything in it.

When her recently divorced friend comes around, glowing with health, energy and happiness Carol is intrigued; even envious. For the first time she is told of the man known only as ‘the Guru’, and the path of illumination and enlightenment he offers to those prepared to follow.

Carol is eager to meet, and from her first moments with the Guru she is utterly convinced and committed to the Path of indoctrination, enlightenment and following his unorthodox teachings of sexual and spiritual discovery.
Carol eagerly embraces the lifestyle of a cult follower, fully adopting the life of a handmaiden and serving any man that wants her…as long as he is a member of the Prince’s Foundation!

This is a dark and highly erotic story of self-discovery. Just how easy is it to brainwash and exploit a woman? In this case all it took was the Guru and some sexual revelation. A story so charged with the erotic and the fantastic that it just may convert you too!

Over 18 only. Explicit content. Word count: 37,300

EXTRACT:

The wine tasted sweet and warm, perfect. I settled in my warm cosy armchair and looked at my husband, we were so lucky.

From our humble beginnings at the local comprehensive we had worked hard, passed our A levels and then worked our way up with the building society to gain established employment. Richard was training for management and I was now firmly entrenched behind the front desk at the busy centre in town dispatching my advice on mortgages pensions and insurance. People seemed to like me; I was told I was pretty, I was young and enthusiastic and liked my job.

Richard and I had been going out together since we were teenagers and we married when he was twenty and I was only nineteen. As I looked around our small but beautiful house on the new estate I marvelled at how far we had come in only three years of married life together. It was a testament to our hard work and love for each other. The building society helped with the mortgage and we ploughed every penny we had into the carpets curtains and kitchen until everything as just right for us.

Richard was ensconced in ‘Emmerdale’, he loved his soaps -bless him- and I was pleased that he enjoyed my Thursday night meal just as much as always. Thursday was our steak night, with lashings of chips and as I saw his buttons tugging at his white shirt I decided that maybe the apple pie needed to be stopped for a while. We didn’t have a salad night and as I thought about changing our meal routine I shuddered, change Tuesday’s lasagne to salad? Unthinkable!  I didn’t want to change it, Richard certainly wouldn’t, it would upset everything, things were just right as they were.

I felt sleepy it was lovely cuddling up in our own little bed, we always went at 10p.m exactly, work was important, our passport to the future and it was vital to be fresh for the mornings. Richard had his rich burgundy pair of pyjamas laid out on the bed next to my long feminine green gown, they were side by side, just like us and I hugged myself in my happiness.

Richard wasn’t handsome, he was small, a little chubby, with wavy brown hair and grey eyes, but he was kind and sweet, I called him, my little ‘Munchkin.’

“I’m going to get changed,” I said.

He nodded at me hardly taking his eyes from the plot of ‘Eastenders.’

I washed and cleaned my teeth thoroughly, oral hygiene was a prerequisite with us and once I was satisfied they were sparkling and white I pulled my gown over my head and sat at my make-up desk to brush my hair. It was my best feature, long, thick, lustrous and blonde, it wasn’t just ordinary blonde but bright sparkling blonde and it had always made men notice me. I suppose I wasn’t bad looking; I had a small pert nose, blue eyes, some freckles and an endearing smile and men had chased me for as long as I could remember.

I looked at my chest bulging from beneath my night-gown, God, I hated it that it was so big; I’d always had big breasts even from early schooldays, why did men like these things so much?

I was proud that I had been a virgin on my wedding day, it had not been easy fighting off the lecherous boys at the school but Richard had always been so patient respectful and I remember that we were both nervous on first night of our honeymoon in Majorca.

Initially our sex life was difficult, Richard seemed to feel a terrible pressure on performing but eventually we consummated our relationship and lying in his arms after he had made love to me was memorable. Being sensible people we borrowed some books from the library when we returned and slowly we became more expert in our sex life, it was all about experience and practice anyway, wasn’t it?

I sometimes kept the books a little longer than I should have done; I was fascinated by the vast variety of sex as the authors described it, oral, anal?  What were they talking about? The very thought of someone doing what was described was disgusting but I had to admit it somehow fascinated me as well. Could women really enjoy sex like this? It seemed impossible to me, as was all this talk of an orgasm; it was a myth, surely?

How could any woman degrade herself to take a man’s thing in her mouth and suck it? It was so demeaning, impossible, but sometimes just reading about it made me feel strangely, tantalisingly, uncomfortable…

 

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