CHAPTER ONE - An Opium Feed

 

Oh... if there was one word that could describe Helen, at this point in Julia's program, it was 'willing'. The mother of two gorgeous daughters was willing in ways that defy description. It would be so true to say that Helen had entered a world that she didn't know existed a short time ago. And the thing is that she had entered it almost subliminally. It was like she had crossed a threshold without really knowing it. Yes, that was it. She had crossed the threshold from her normal mundane life, that is mundane compared to the life she had now, and into a dark, foreboding, and yet hyper sexually charged world that it was difficult, no, impossible to comprehend. That was it yes. Impossible to comprehend. And it was because of this impossibility that she was sucked into it. Not just sucked into it, but devoured by it. She hadn't even noticed, early on, that it was Julia manipulating her. Getting her to just the state of mind she wanted the mother of two to be in. It was like a transition that was barely perceptible. One day she was just existing in that mundane world of her's, dealing with those weird dreams, those weird times of hers, the next day she was out of it. No husband any longer. Those DVD's playing and replaying in her mind over and over. Thank God Julia had been there to 'help' her through it. Yes that had been it. Julia had helped her through it. All the way and at some point during that imperceptible transition she had become so grateful, so eternally grateful to Julia for her help, and understanding and for being that shoulder to cry on that, it was almost mission accomplished before the minutiae of detail would even begin to be worked on. Julia had barely, if at all, begun to play with Helen's sexuality, before the mother of two was being lured in. And then lured in that little bit more.

If only it was as simple as that. If only it had been just a case that Helen was being lured into some kind of sexual honey trap. That would have been bearable. It would have been plausible even that she could have dipped her toe into that warm moist sexual solution and then back out of it again. But that was never going to be the case. It was never going to be the case at all. Julia, when she selected her 'projects' never selected the ones who would be anything other than vulnerable. Vulnerability was an essential pre-requisite. In the case of Helen, that vulnerability was recognised early on and it was taken by Julia, by the scruff of its neck and then twisted. Twisted to such an extent that the part open door to her mind quickly became a wide open door. In fact, a wide open double door that would be kept wedged open so that Julia could work her particular brand of magic. Magic, yes that was another word. Magic. Helen had fallen into Julia's lap. Complete with her brood of two developing, delicious, juicy daughters. There was no dipping the toe in and taking it out again. Helen, dipped her clitoris in. First of all just the tip, and then the rest of. All the way. But there was no taking it out again. Oh no. No taking it out again. It was a one-way dip of the clitoris into the abyss of addictive euphoria.

And so we come to Helen's willingness yet again. It was there in spades. At least to anyone on the outside looking in, it would be a hyper-willingness to be taken to the depths of depravity. But how could anyone on the outside guess, let alone KNOW about the need, the hunger the pure, undiluted addiction that had taken hold of Helen. How could anyone know, or guess, or even imagine that such an addiction existed. That it didn't simply exist, but was instigated and inflicted on her. That such an addiction COULD be inflicted by another person. How could anyone know that. Even, in the unlikely event that Helen (or for that matter, Lydia or Rose) were seen again in the outside world, the normal world, how could anyone KNOW about these things. Addiction in the real world was an affliction yes of course it was an affliction. Addiction in the real world was often called a 'terrible thing'. But the normal world was that. The normal world was just that. Normal. The people in that world couldn't possibly know, or guess, or even imagine the amount of times that the terrible thing that Helen was subjected to, was magnified. Folded over and then rolled out again thus doubling up on the intensity every single time it was rolled out. Someone from the normal world may spend just slightly longer looking Helen over. Or indeed looking Lydia over, or Rose, and decide there were flaws there. Anything could give that away. Maybe the slight distance in the eyes. Maybe the apparent aloofness. Or stand offishness. Maybe the stance... enhanced by a pair of high heels that were far to high to be worn day in day out in the normal world. It could be all of those things that made a person from the normal world take a second look. Maybe even a third look. Helen, and either of her daughters were striking females in any light. In that unlikely event of them venturing into the outside world again for however long, or short a time, would reveal more than striking femininity. It was hyper femininity further emphasised. Yes by those high heels. Maybe some latex, or leather, or both there somewhere. That onlooker from the outside world would simply gawp, jaws gape at the sight. At that point, a sexual interest would take over. That onlooker from the outside world taking more than that second look. But actually "getting" the dripping sexuality that formed any of the three. Helen, Lydia and Rose. It would only be at this point, or slightly further down the line that that person from the normal world would maybe tilt his, or her head and look deeper and sense something deeper and more profound going on there. Maybe even some pity for the woman. Or all three of them.

A family with secrets. Deeply seated, hidden sexual secrets.

Maybe, just maybe, all three, mother and two daughters had been taken out into the real world, together for a short time. Perhaps all dressed identically. Identically on purpose. Possibly a ploy by Julia, or any of her team, to draw attention to the latest in her stables. Yes, imagine that... Helen, Lydia and Rose taken out of the decadent, addictive surroundings for just a short time, possibly on leashes, invisible or otherwise, and allowed to remember the old world. Remember where they were once allowed to roam. But could not any longer. This would surely but surely have a profound effect on all three ladies. Maybe such a venture into the normal world would create something unsettling in their stances. Ensuring that each stood shifting their weight from one stiletto to the other, awkwardly. Yes, and that awkwardness providing a snapshot of pure sexuality but not a deliberate one. At least not a deliberate one by any of the three. Almost like innocent sexuality dripping from them. What better way to introduce mother and two daughters back to the normal world from which they originally came? Like a tease.. a tortuous tease. Seeing the outside normal world again but not really being able to step into it. The addictions present in each so strong, so magnified, so magnetic that they would never be able to take that one step back into the normal world ever again. And this is what that onlooker would see. Three women in deeply, deeply troubled states. Or that is how it would appear. They would not see that the three were in fact deeply and profoundly happy to be where they are. That they didn't want, nor would they ever want to take that step back into the real mundane world ever again. Oh they would see that little glint in the eyes. The recognition there. What they wouldn't see or understand would be the confusion, the mental turmoil being created inside the women's heads. They didn't need to think of anything for themselves in Julia's world. They just had to lay back and chill and be taken. But to be just allowed into the old normal world for that short time brought back memories no matter how distant and greyed out. Brought back the slightest memories and let them linger there for a while. That is what the outsider would see. What they would witness. Julia's girls trying to come to terms with what they were being allowed to see. What they were being allowed to witness for whatever length of time. What the outsider would see, what they would witness were fetish visions. Deliberate fetish visions. Visions deliberately created. Not just the fetish visionary but also deeply sexual and deeply taboo. The mother and daughter link stark and glaring. As stark and glaring in fact as the sexual link between all three. In the eyes. Deeper than the eyes. Possibly the soul or even beyond that. The intense sexual connection between all three. More stark that the rest, more taboo that the rest, the sexual attraction of a mother to her two daughters. To an outsider, from which ever angle of life they came, the instigator of such a three way triangle would be Mother. It would have to be Mother. It could not be any other way. A mother should know better. A mother should draw the line and not cross that line. So it would be all Mother's fault. All Helen's fault. The whole thing was her fault. The obscene indecency of it all. Mother and daughter in some kind of bizarre fetish union. A mother leading her offspring astray in the most perverse of ways. And one could only draw that conclusion with the vision that made up the group. Mother and daughters clad in latex, nylons and heels. Made up like fetish dolls. One doll older than the other two. That one doll most obviously the mother of the other two since the similarity between was so stark and so obvious. All three intimately close in their stance. Mother's hands roaming the shrink wrapped asses of her two daughters as they stood together. Each, independently shifting their weight from stiletto to stiletto. Each daughter gratefully leaning in to mother. Mother looking like some kind of Dominatrix. A matriarchal figure, albeit a striking one, controlling her daughters who were very much on the edge. And yet very much on the edge herself.

The family with dark, dark secrets. The lesbian family.

What a vision that would be. In that normal world. If anyone could create that, Julia could. She could create that illusion, that indeed mother was in charge. Mother was the deeply perverse one. That it was all mother's fault. Oh yes Julia could create that illusion and so much more. It was another string that Julia could play with and manipulate. Julia 'could' even reintroduce Helen to the outside world, just long enough to bring her down absolutely, and completely, without compromise. Julia had contacts. She had ways and means, and she had the streak of undiluted cruelty required to bring a mother down so completely that all Helen would want to do, all she could do was crawl back into Julia's world and immerse in the perversities on offer to her. Actually, not the perversities that were on offer, rather the perversities and extremities that she was addicted to. There was such a multitude of options on offer to Julia. Poor Helen. Actually, poor Helen, Lydia and Rose.

 

***

 

Yes, that sexual attraction to her own daughters. Something else that hasn't been addressed, or explored in great enough detail. That taboo. That thing unspoken of. Helen wasn't sure if she were actually experiencing these things physically any more. Or if they formed part of the continuous feed to her eyes and mind. Or if she were just losing her mind. Whatever... in her diminished state of mind she was feeling every nuance. Each and every nuance as it happened. As though it were in real time.

Although, this couldn't be happening? Surely it couldn't be happening? Oh dear god! Yes, yes it was happening and Helen in all of her hunger, her need and her addiction could do nothing about it. In the DVDs of Stephen, the Latex Schoolgirl was just that. She was kind of a figment of the imagination. Not actually a figment, but it just seemed like she were a distant 'thing' not really part of her new real world, except to the extent that she had played a part in fucking up her old life. She had been the one... who she had seen taking part in, even leading those debauched, absolute filthy sexual activities with her husband. A seemingly young girl, bordering on the illegally aged, at least in appearance, leading her husband like a lamb to the slaughter. She remembers thinking, at the time that it wasn't really Stephen's fault, he was male after all and when it was offered on a plate in that way, and packaged up like that, there weren't that many men who would turn it down. Stephen was no different. Of course he couldn't be forgiven or excused for that. It still spelled the end. It spelled the end in a catastrophic, irreversible way. That had been intended. Of course it had been Julia who had intended for that to happen. For that very dramatic end to a beautiful marriage. The end as spelled out at the curtain close of Hollywood blockbusters. Although in far more dramatic fashion.

But... but, in those DVDs, that Latex schoolgirl was just a vision. She was just a vision that Helen watched with her jaw gaping open. Oh yes she was crystal clear in clarity. A sexually experienced minx that appeared older than she was. And yet at the same time appeared younger, much younger than she looked. Maybe it was the face, even though heavily made up, still radiated an innocence. Albeit it an innocence lost. That little sparkle in the eyes. The sparkle that came from the eyes under the deep mascara heavy curl of her eyelashes. Yes that was it. That was it for sure. But also, the stances she adopted. She was reasonably, or unreasonably expert in the way she handled her high heels. The way she could walk in them, the way they enforced that slut-strut. And yet even that slut-strut was somehow, inexplicably 'young'. That was just so odd to Helen. The logic part of her brain, or what was left of it, thinking, trying to work this Latex Schoolgirl out. Trying to fathom exactly what or who she was. Failing on every count. Each and every time just coming to the simple conclusion that her marriage had been ended because of her husband's infatuation, or his hunger for a girl young enough to be his own daughter. And that was it. She WAS young enough to be his daughter. Latex Schoolgirl was as young as, if not younger than his own daughter Rose. Such knowledge such visions, such pure decadent filth played its part in the process.

And yet in those DVDs, that Latex Schoolgirl had no smell, no aroma, no 'substance' for want of a better word. She was simply a part, in a way, of her old life. Or at least the bridge from her old life to her new one. Yes that was it that was what she was. A bridge to her old life. Except that wasn't the case. If only that had been the case. Latex Schoolgirl had appeared again, and then again. She had appeared with her youngest daughter Rose. She had more than appeared with Rose. It had seemed like she was 'at one' with her daughter. It had seemed that they were together. It had seemed that they had more than 'known' each other. It had seemed as though they had extensive and very intimate knowledge of each other's bodies. At least, even just from that brief film of images that had been fed to Helen, of both girls, 'the' Latex Schoolgirl and her identically attired daughter in that alley way, smoking and taking delivery of Sarah. From those brief, yet hyper-detailed images, Latex Schoolgirl was taking a bigger and bigger part in Helen's new life. It was like a horror film really playing out in the uber-reality that had become Helen's life. It was like a creeping, sex tinged invasion of this young girl on Helen's life. First her husband, now her youngest daughter. A creeping unadulterated hell for Helen. Oh the sexual addiction was always the strongest most dominant thing now in Helen's life. But under that addiction, under that hunger and need there was always a wash of guilt and shame for the intense sexual attraction she was feeling for not only Rose, but also for Lydia. That sexual attraction was like a part of the creeping hell. She knew it was wrong, or it was at least immoral and yet she was powerless to stop its progress. Its march on inside her head. On and on and on. The time was bound to come, when she looked forward to the images and the sounds of Rose and Lydia. But also, she hated herself, even inside she hated herself not for the wanting and needing of the images and sounds of her daughters, but also for the Latex Schoolgirl. In god's name, for god's sake, if there was a god, Helen was becoming addicted to the very one who had been the beginning of this whole process and who had brought her old world crashing down around her.

And yet still, in those DVDs, and in those images of her with Rose... Latex Schoolgirl was just that. An image with attached sounds. Apart from that lucid, crystal clear clarity there was no substance to her. Nothing physical that made her 'real' even though deep down Helen knew she was very real. That is, until now, that Latex Schoolgirl hadn't been real. Helen had been able to 'dismiss' her to an extent. Kind of, her subconscious still trying to deny all this was happening to her. After all, those DVDs and those images of Rose with 'her' were just that. They weren't even real.... were they? And it was like Helen's way of coping with her creeping sexual addiction. The only part inside her mind that could adopt a denial. The deepest logic still there, and yet not logic at all. Deeper down she knew that there was no point in denial or even shame or guilt any longer. She was in that spiral in that vortex and she wasn't going to be able to get out of it. Or deny its existence for much longer.

Latex Schoolgirl was in fact, a girl named Isla. Helen knew this because Allanna had been speaking to the young girl, even as she was attaching the leash to Helen's neck. A totally bizarre, way out thing that was occurring. Helen was tall, but so was Isla. And yet Helen had to bend forward, willingly, just lower herself a little so Isla, dressed and made up in her trademark schoolgirl attire could reach up and secure the tight, broad leather collar around her neck. Oh dear god! This young girl simply casually, very casually, and expertly securing the collar around Helen's neck. This young girl who had ruined Helen's marriage and who now was no longer a figment of the imagination, simply treating it as a normal activity.

The collaring, and then the leashing of an older woman.

Not just any older woman, but Helen. Yes Helen being collar and leashed by this young girl. Helen standing, even assisting in a docile way as this girl, with just the tiniest of smiles across heavily lipsticked lips, reaching up and wrapping that leather collar around, then buckling it at the back of Helen's neck and under her hair. Not just an image any longer. Helen feeling the girl's breath over her face as she secured the collar. Feeling, almost tasting the breath. Just that alone, that feel of the hot breath and then the taste as it swirled into Helen's mouth was enough to bring that reality home. That was enough to merge all those visions that had been fed to Helen, sometimes in times of great despair, into reality. This was the time when the surreal world, Julia's world, the world that had been kind of not real, was merged with reality. This was Helen's new reality. Not a 'weird time' any more. This was now the substance of her life as she would know it from now on. It was that wisp of breath across her face. The wisp of hot, Latex Schoolgirl breath across her face, the crystal clear almost tactile sound of latex rustling so close to her, of long, latex sheathed legs as her stilettos corrected and adjusted her stance as she secured the collar to Helen's neck. That was the single defining moment. That was 'it'. Helen letting out a tiny, almost imperceptible whimper as the buckle was secured at he back of her neck. Isla smiling, right into her face she was so close.

"Good Girl Helen. I do like good girls."

Oh for god's sakes! This was a girl more than half of Helen's age, speaking to Helen like she was some kind of pet or something. Another step down into that vortex. Another throb at the base of Helen's clitoris as she was kind of 'downgraded' by this girl. And then that leash.. a long thin leash. Like a leash that would be attached to the collar of a 'poodle' bitch rather than an aggressive, dominant breed. And that leash just clipped on and then left to dangle between Helen's breasts. Like it was being left teasingly there. Just there. Isla's fingers trailing slowly down the length of the leash, the deep red nails, long and filed perfectly just contacting with Helen's naked flesh. The tingle of that contact, the absolute reality of that touch. Helen gasping at that touch as she stood, collared and leashed, naked save for a pair of ultra-sheer, self supporting stockings and stiletto court shoes with six inch heels. Isla's words washing into Helen and with those words the slightest, almost dripping sob from between Helen's lips. Isla hissing,

"Good Girl, Good Girl."

Again the words washing into her. Staying there. Washing around he psyche and staying just there. Just resting on her psyche. This was the girl in the DVDs with Stephen. Helen's mind wasn't so 'gone' that she didn't know this. Now this girl was controlling her. Had she controlled Stephen in this way? Was it, after all, not Stephen's fault? Was it that maybe she should after all, take him back? Was this girl, Isla just simply an evil entity? Mostly illogical questions that ran through her mind. A mind a great turmoil. She knew deep down that there was no way her and Stephen would ever, EVER get back together. Nor would she ever be 'allowed' to get back together with him. It was just simply the illogical thoughts. Her mind's way of trying to cope that at this precise time she was being controlled by the latex fetish vision that was Isla.

"Now let's go walkies Helen honey."

Isla talking again. Talking in such a mature, matter-of-fact way. Talking much like an elder would speak to a younger. Except this was a total reversal of that situation. Complete unadulterated reversal. And the worrying thing for Helen, was that it felt that it was 'right' for her to be in this reversed situation to this girl. This Latex Schoolgirl in this way. For god's sakes, Isla was even in her full school uniform. She was probably in the exact same school uniform that she had been in those DVD's, and now here she was, in the flesh as it were. Had Helen been thinking at all logically, it would have been at this point that she would have put all the one and ones together to come up with the fact, the knowledge that this whole thing had been set up. She had been set up. She had been manipulated and cajoled into this position. That's what 'would' have been the case had she been able to think logically. Had she been able to put all those one and ones together. Had she not been in the advanced stages of addiction. Had she not been on that sliding scale of need and hunger that was being fed by even the simplest, and slightest sexual connections. It was a simple fact that Helen's need, greed and addictions, when all blended together to a point where the edges were non-existent, that, were the single most important factor, thing and focus in her life.

But then it also remained a simple pure fact that even something as strong and undiluted as that addiction, didn't wash out the guilt and the shame that Helen felt at her sexual attraction to this girl. In fact, it was in her mind, stark, loud and clear that she should be totally ashamed of herself for feeling that throb, between her legs, at the base of her full bloated clitoris, as she felt Isla's fingers trail down the length of the leash that was hanging between her own heavy, mature breasts. Oh yes there was that little voice in her head loud and clear. She should be ashamed of herself. She should not feel those throbs without feeling the waves of guilt and shame too. This enhanced feeling of shame and guilt was not a by-product of Julia's program. It was not a coincidence that had to be addressed, or 'got over', like a hurdle in some way. Far from that. This was something built-in deliberately. Totally expected and totally required. This was a deeper and more profound manipulation of Helen's mind by Julia and her team. I was these deeper mind games that ensured the irreversible was achieved. It was these deeper mind games and manipulation that ensured that Helen, and her two daughters would become dependent not only on the perverse sexuality that they were being exposed to, but on Julia herself. It was all of this that ensured Julia attained and held on to that power.

Julia watched this feed closely. Invisibly she compressed her thighs to feed her own need. Her lips peeling apart as she lets out an audible gasp. A definite shot of pure pleasure to her clitoris and yet not enough to make her cum. She could do that could Julia. Control her own orgasms as and when. She could deny herself and she could over feed herself in equal measure. The sign, the mark of a pure unadulterated sadomasochist. There was never 'just' sadism in a sadist. There always was also some masochist. Indeed most if not all sadomasochists travelled both journeys before settling on one. It was true to say that the best most advanced and accomplished sadist's had at some time been masochists. Like they had been through a period of 'training' or initiation. Like they had known how best to make a masochist suffer because at some point or other, they had been there themselves. They had been there and done that. They 'knew'. They just knew what was happening inside the mind and the body of the masochist. Or the slave. Then there was the fact that no sadist was as accomplished as a female sadist on a female masochist. There just was that breadth and depth of knowledge that women have about each other that makes their brand of cruelty the deepest. Knowing which buttons to press and keeping them pressed. Just knowing these things. And not being swayed by the tears. Or the pleading. Or the begging of the slave. There was no deeper or more profound cruelty that one woman could inflict on another. Male dominants, or male sadists simply could not, cannot reach those depths, either with female slaves, or male slaves. There is something, just something inside the genetic makeup of the female that makes the impossible possible. Julia clenching her thighs again, just at the sight of Helen in her turmoil. And then again as she enjoys the knowledge that she is affecting the mind of this mother as much as her body.

"Ahhhh Mother, I see you have met Isla. My lover."

Just as Isla was tugging gently on the leash, just gently encouraging and coaxing Helen to take a few faltering steps, Rose stepped out of the shadows and into full view. Herself garbed and clad in that unnatural schoolgirl uniform. It was like Helen had part walked, part strutted but mostly stumbled into a brick wall that stopped her dead. And then that little gurgling whimper from the back of her throat. The full realisation. The full shame. The full guilt. All washing over Helen at the same time. And yet, also and in spite of that, the sexual need and greed in hyper-amplified state also. It wasn't like the greed and the shame cancelled that sexual greed and need out. Far from that they enhanced it. In fact, one enhanced and fed the other. Both became like bristling, chilling tsunamis down the core of her spine. Making her fully realise her shame and guilt and yet at the same time, making her realise her hopeless, already deep seated addiction.

"It's ok Mother. I understand. I more than understand what you are. What you need and crave for.'

Oh, despite Helen's advanced and depraved state of mind she knew what she was hearing. She still had those questions, those logical questions searing through her mind. How could her youngest daughter have turned out like this? How could she have turned on her mother in this way? Why was Rose not now studying for her A levels in order to get that place in University? Yes, unbelievably, all of these so logical questions still flooding Helen's mind. Not questions that were answered by that same logic though. Not questions that 'could' be answered in any logical fashion by Helen. Although, she didn't know that. In her mind, in her own twisted logic the answers she came up with were the ONLY answers that made sense. In fact it was the same single answer in every single case. It was all her fault. It was her fault that Rose had turned into a latex clad lesbian schoolgirl and a lover to the girl who had taken Stephen from her. It was all her fault. It was all her fault that Rose was not finishing schooling in the normal manner and then going to university. That was all 'her' fault. And this whole thing, this whole program was designed with just that in mind. Totally. It was designed to be a torture to her mind. An intense and never ending torture. Julia's program always designed and implemented in a way that would ensure she got the best out of her girls. The very best.

Rose's words bringing home these facts even clearer and louder to Helen. It was true even in the real, normal world that children had the ability to make their parents step back and look at themselves. In this world, Julia's world, this was even more the case. Rose's words making Helen almost 'gulp' a sob. But that gulp being cut short by the little tug on the leash. Isla encouraging her to keep walking. Keep following her and the leash despite the ever smiling ever sweet Rose watching the collared and lashed Helen from the side. And that was it also. Despite the dripping sexuality of the shrink wrapped, latex schoolgirl vision that was Rose, despite the heavily made up face, the dripping red lips, the thickly mascaraed lashes, the rouged cheeks... the sweetness was still there. It still shone through. And that was the most chilling thing. That was the single most heart stopping thing for Julia. Her little girl was still there. But she wasn't her little girl any longer. Helen's heels clicked the floor kind of irregularly as she was led into the opium den. Oh, for fucks sakes. The same opium den that Stephen had been led into in that DVD. It was all her fault. It was just all her fault. There could be no other conclusion to come to. It was all her fault. Simply. Plainly. All her fault.