In Part 4 we continued our exploration of the world of sex, meeting another couple for sexy fun, and attending a sex party where Chrissie was the ultimate ice-breaker. We have decided to visit a swingers' club to move further into 'the lifestyle'. We continued to meet our student friends, and plunged ourselves into supporting one of them with fund-raising - all the time pushing my ability to hypnotise and use post-hypnotic suggestion to dispel inhibitions and encourage those around me to overcome taboos.
It turned out that selling items of intimate clothing was not difficult. There were plenty of websites where people could advertise their used underwear for sale, and with five attractive students, there should be plenty of demand. This, then, would be phase one of our strategy to raise money for Cat's mum's life-saving treatment.
Selling photos was trickier, mainly because there are so many free photos available. We hit on an idea which might work, but would probably not be too profitable. We decided to set up public groups on several social media messaging services, share a few 'tame' pictures of the girls, then charge for 'special requests'. There was the risk, of course, that some requests might be too extreme, so we would need to control that to some extent, but by offering photos of the girls individually, as pairs or as a group should encourage some to part with their hard-earned cash.
For the third, potentially most profitable element of fund-raising, we decided to visit three swingers' clubs within easy travelling distance. Our idea was simple. We would select the club which seemed most acceptable and approach them with a view to holding a fund-raising evening. The girls, helped by Sophie's dance training, would perform as strippers, then auction themselves as 'home helps' for a day.
Our language had been carefully chosen - 'slave' auctions were regular fund raisers, but for some involved in S and M and the whole sub/dom lifestyle, 'slave' might contain meanings which the girls would find unacceptable. However, they were happy to offer various household services - dressed as French maids - for those willing to pay. Once there services were engaged, however, 'extras' could be requested, for a suitable donation.
We had been concerned that this could amount to prostitution - however, the young women, all former students of mine, felt that charitable donations were different - and anyway, there would be very firm rules about consent, so if they preferred not to carry out a certain act, that would be their right.
With this in mind, the discussion spilled over into security. We agreed that Chrissie and I would ensure that all of them remained safe, and to that end, we decided to buy a couple of cheap spy cameras, so we could watch what was going on, and interrupt if necessary.
We continued to discuss various 'rules' for some time, before deciding that all that mattered was, in fact, what each of these women were willing to do, and as that might vary, consent would, in fact, be the only rule.
From there, everything was quite straightforward. Our fundraisers got to work setting up accounts on websites to sell panties, while Chrissie and I looked in to swingers' clubs and identified three to visit, which might be suitable (and amenable to) our fundraising idea. Chrissie's excitement was almost tangible as we chose the clubs. We avoided our nearest town, mainly for the sake of the girls, and chose two in largeish towns about ten miles away, and a third in a city some twenty miles distant.
About an hour later, we had finished these missions, and came together to discuss my job for the rest of the day. It was not a tough assignment. After lunch, during which Cat and her friends planned to go shopping, I would be taking photographs for the panty-selling site. All I had to do was take pictures, as my models wore the panties and ground them into their wet pussies.
As I was now hypnotising Chrissie on a daily basis to dispel her inhibitions, my other five acolytes requested that I do the same for them. The main reason was that it would make their fund-raising task easier. I was very happy to do so, but also insisted that I limit their increased libido to fund raising - I was becoming very aware that my impact was, perhaps, far greater than it really should be.
I spent three hours, taking pictures of our friends masturbating, or playing together, the emphasis being on how wet they made themselves or each other, and how this was transferred to their panties. Then I would load the pictures on to their various laptops for them to post on their personal selling pages.
Each had worn several different pairs of knickers, in various styles (all bought while we ate lunch) and it was no surprise that, before I had even finished taking photographs, sales were being made.
Chrissie quickly took control, dashing to the post office to buy jiffy bags and stamps, and as the moist, aromatic thongs, Brazilian thongs, tangas, high legs, shorts etc were stuffed into bags, they were sealed, along with a personal note and a photograph from the former wearer. It was quite a start, and cheered everyone up.
After a while, I noticed that Chrissie had disappeared. I asked each of the young ladies where she had disappeared to, but the only response was a smirk and a tut.
It was not until I was pointing my camera between Emily's legs as she rubbed the silk of her French knickers deep into her pussy, labia protruding each side, that I learned what was going on.
"For god's sake," panted the highly stimulated young woman, "she's getting changed. You're going to a club in a few hours."
My wife, of course, would need to look perfect for such an outing - still, her preparations seemed a bit early, until I realised that she had several fashion consultants in the house, and would probably want to share whatever sexy look she was trying out with them. Personally, I would be wearing respectable trousers and open-necked shirt.
We continued our photography until all the panties had been worn, soaked, packaged and labelled, and as I packed away, Chrissie appeared.
Her dress must have been modelled on the one worn by Marilyn Monroe in 'The Seven Year Itch'. She, of course, had a darker skin tone and dark hair, but the dress plunged at the front, revealing skin from neck to navel. The lower section was less voluminous, but equally floaty. As she twirled, it lifted. Unlike Monroe, My wife wore a thong, suspenders and stockings, which were very visible as the dress lifted.
She looked incredible. Her hair was styled, her make-up perfect (both thanks to our guests), and she wore strappy stilettos to complete the look. I should have realised that she was taking advantage of the skills available - Deep had styled her hair, while Mel did her make-up. I could not have been more proud.
Our plan was quite simple. We would check out the clubs - if they were clearly unsuitable, we would move on. If they seemed promising, we would chat with the owners and see what could be arranged.
The first club, in a medium-sized town, was not great. Most of the people walked in with the assumption that anyone there would happily have sex with them. A polite 'no thanks' seemed to cause offence, and one person even asked why we bothered going if we were not going to fuck. It seemed that most guests were regulars, and there were several cliques who felt that they were very much in charge. Neither of us felt comfortable, and we left within half an hour.
The second club was better. People were respectful, and approached us for polite conversation, not being offended if we said no, and wishing us a 'fun evening' as they moved on. Our only concern was the facilities - there was no stage or area for our friends to perform. It also seemed rather pretentious - people over-dressing in suits and ties to create an illusion of over-respectability. I am all for dress standards, but this seemed uncomfortably excessive.
