My next door neighbour Jack has a young wife called Doris who is part oriental, small and petite, barely 5′ tall, with a very pretty face that has that sexy mixed race look, and a slender but curvy little body. Jack has developed a desire for seeing her used by a range of people of his choice, and when I first got to know this, I thought that, like a lot of men, he just wanted to watch Doris getting screwed. And very nice it is, to see her naked, with her legs spread, and her lovely little body pierced by a big thick cock or dildo, sometimes so big you would think that such a tight little cunt couldn’t possibly take it.

But Jack likes more than just this. The first times that I knew about, he just got her so helplessly drunk she didn’t remember much afterwards. Now his method is more sophisticated. One of his friends is an old guy called Joe, who used to be a professional magician. He is very happy to help Jack in his deviant plans for Doris. The first time they tried it, it seems Joe laughingly produced a pendant, and was genuinely quite surprised how easily Doris fell under its spell. Now Joe manages it by word alone, and I’m sure he and Jack enjoy themselves with Doris, on occasions that I know nothing about.

Jack knows that I write and asked me to write up the story of some of these little get-togethers. So this time, he invited me to pop in as he had invited Joe to come round, and he obviously had something planned for Doris. Surprisingly, Doris was wearing jeans and a shirt when I arrived. They looked good on her, but I had really expected something perhaps a little more sexy. I was introduced to her as if I was a stranger, and I knew she had already been “talked to” by Joe, as normally she knew very well who I was. Jack then told her to go and get changed. “I’ve laid some things out for you, Doris,” he said. “Put them on then come back in here.”

Doris left the room and Jack rubbed his hands, all smiles, but he refused to say what his intentions were. “Wait till she comes back,” was all he would say. Joe told me he had put Doris in a state where she would be obedient and do what she was told, but perhaps a bit reluctantly. This was because she felt deep down that she shouldn’t be doing it. “She’s so well used to being prim and proper and suppressing her natural desires,” he said with a smile. “Now you will see her a bit more… let’s call it liberated.”

So we waited, and eventually Doris made her entrance. She came into the room nervously, looking embarrassed, without saying anything, her arms by her side, and her eyes averted. She was wearing a pale yellow sleeveless top, buttoned down the front like a shirt, leaving her slender arms bare. It was thin and tight fitting, and it was obvious she was not wearing a bra. It seemed to be moulded over her pert little tits and her nipples were easily visible through the flimsy material. Her black hair tumbling over her shoulders went well with the yellow colour of the shirt top. Her skirt was of soft black leather, and so short that it didn’t cover half her thighs. It did not quite manage to conceal the tops of her black stockings, and above the stocking tops, when she moved, there was a glimmer of bare pale creamy thigh flesh, divided by a hint of suspender straps. Her heels were long spikes of at least four inches.

Dressed like that, Doris looked as if she had been transformed into a street walking slut. Joe and I were speechless. Jack of course was delighted. He darted round her, pretending to adjust the shirt collar, smoothing her skirt, wearing a permanent smile on his face.

“Right,” he said. “What do you think, Doris, do you like your outfit? You look really sexy in it! Ready for the club?”

Doris put her hands on her hips and looked down at herself. With a horrified look on her pretty face, she stammered, “I can’t go anywhere like this! My skirt… my skirt is far too short… everybody would see… you know what I mean…”

“No, I don’t know,” Jack replied sharply. “Tell us.”

Doris gulped and took a deep breath. “People… people would see my legs… and my stockings… people will think…”

“What will they think, Doris?” Jack said.

Doris bowed her head. “I feel… I feel I’m so… exposed,” she managed to say with a tone of anguish. “I couldn’t go anywhere dressed like this.”

“Well, we’re going, Doris,” Jack said harshly. “I’ve ordered the taxi, it will be here in a minute. It’s a warm night, you won’t need a coat.”

The taxi arrived and we all climbed aboard. With Doris in the back of his cab, I hoped the taxi driver wouldn’t spend too much time trying to see up her skirt in the rear view mirror or he might unexpectedly meet a lamp post or another car.