On Display to Thousands · Part 7 (7/10)
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s starting to assemble behind me as I hear someone utter ‘nice body’.
No way. Can’t be. But it is her. She continues her self-stimulation for at least a minute when into the view comes a man. Oh, shit! It’s Dr. D. He is dressed in jeans and has a partial leather chest harness on. He comes up to the edge of the bed. My wife scoots up to him, passionately rubs her hand across his chest, massaging his pecs. She moves in and begins licking his nipples.
As she does her hands move down to his crotch, and she rubs the bulge. She then with skill, unzips his pants, reaches in and maneuvers his cock out. Without hesitation, she bends further down and begins to suck him. She uses one hand to stroke his now bulging shaft as she concentrates on tonguing and sucking the head. Then it’s onto swallowing all that protrudes his pants, bobbing up and down his shaft.
She pauses after a good three to four minutes, using her break to reach up and unbuckle his belt, dropping his pants down. He kicks off his sandals and steps out of his pants. Other than his harness he is bare like her.
She goes back to giving him a blow job, as good as any she has given me. She is amazing at that task. I find myself straining at my restraints.
NO, NO, NO, this can’t be her. It’s her face. It’s her. NO WAY. They have done this to me before. Back when Dr. D buried me as a test in his backyard, he and the boys had a video created where a recorded pretend hanging of me that ended positively was transformed to a scene where I was hung from a rope by the neck, swung by it as I strangled till I finally died with my corpse then abused. (See “Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude’) That must be it, this is another AI modified recording. It must be. But damn, it seems so real, it looks just like her, it’s not just her head stuck on some random female body, everything about it looks like her.
The action between them continues. He pulls himself from her mouth and pushes her backwards. He gets onto the bed, spreads her legs, climbs in between them and presses his dick head against her cunt lips. With a swift and hard thrust he pierces her, driving her back into her pillows. He then commences a punishing rape of her pussy. But it’s not a rape, she is welcoming this, enjoying the ruthlessness of his thrusts, going so far as to wrap her legs around him so she can ride him better.
I probably would have shot my load in her by now. It’s a pussy, he’s gay, that helps his longevity before climax, I guess. He flips her over effortlessly, setting her up into a doggy position, and then it’s on to fucking her that way. He has a firm grip on her hips. She lurches forward with each thrust and then is pulled back with each retraction. Full, long strokes. I’m impressed. I’m also still convinced this is not really my wife.
Real or not, I shamelessly must admit, this is starting to get me hot. Disgracefully I must confess that I may have had a fantasy or two, of me being forced to watch my wife get fucked by other men, maybe not, I can’t recall right now, but hell, this is titillating and I am physically getting aroused. My still caged dick screaming to escape as I continue to struggle against my bench restraints.
He does her this way for a while. She seems to be enjoying herself based on her body reactions. There is another hole though and he’s not going to let it be neglected. With hardly a pause, he spits onto her butt hole, then plows into her rectum, without his firm hip grip, she’d have collapsed into her pillows. You can tell she is hurting, but she accepts what her big man is giving her.
Chapter 22: Next Up He works her butt hole, enjoying its firm grip on his dick when into the screen frame appears another stud. I recognize him as another one of the masters of the Common Bonds Club. He is in fact one of the people who came on this trip. Is this real, being streamed from the bedroom in front of me? NO, NO. No way. This is not real; this can’t be my wife. I know how she feels about me. This is again just a hoax to get my goat. Be it a very well-produced one.
The new master strips down and climbs up on the bed and positions himself so his cock is at her mouth. Without delay, but with a smile, her mouth opens wide. She needs her arms to stay in the doggy position, so her new playmate acts, sliding his member past her open lips which she closes around the shaft so that the thrusting action coming from her butt fucking can provide the motion needed to pleasure him.
Dr. D picks up his pace; he looks like he wants to cum. And cum he does, loading her butt. He withdrawals and exits the screen. In a matter of seconds, he is now approaching me coming out from the bedroom door just beside the TV screen and says, “OK Sissy, clean my cum and your bitch’s shit off my dick.” With me still locked to the bench and my mouth held open by the Gobstopper it is solely up to him if I’m going to taste what he just described. He was spot on; he is certainly coated. Is this really his cum and her waste? No way, they are playing with me. It’s a well-designed and produced game, but still just a game. It must be.
He doesn’t stay long, uttering something on the order of he doesn’t want to block my view. Now flying solo, the second master doing her, flips her over, bends her legs over her head opening up her snatch for me to clearly see, for everybody to see that is watching, a growing crowd, and prepares to mount her.
He is smaller than Dr. D but bigger than me. He strokes it to make it hard as her cunt isn’t a natural arousal stimulus for him. His hand does its job, and his rigidness will remain as her pussy is perfectly designed to cause a climax to any cock. And her masterful skills in using it will still stimulate even the dead. Wait a minute, this isn’t my wife, who knows how good this imposter’s vagina technique is. Then again, by his expression, it must be pretty good. It just isn’t my wife.
Convinced and confident of that, I allow myself to be aroused by the action, again controlled by the cage. And that it does look like my wife adds weird taboo excitement to these feelings. Yeah, maybe I did have a ‘forced to watch’ fantasy of her being fucked in my extensive list of fantasies. Just not one that I would ever want to become real. Never.
My attention of the screen is then interrupted as I feel the distinct feel of lube been applied to my rear hole. It is followed by a two-finger penetration, then three, followed by a thumb pulling and stretching me. A pause, then the feel of a dick head at the hole. It is slowly pushed in. I know the technique; this is Sir Michael’s huge cock. If nothing else, they are sticking to the script. If this is not a story, my best friend is fucking me as my wife is being fuck by others and there is nothing, nothing I can do about it. My confidence is rattled again, no, this must be fake, keep the faith.
“Better get use to this, looks like for now on, I’ll be your fuck partner. She’s having the time of her life in there. Just look at her face. I should have done this for her years ago. Doesn’t matter if you're enjoying this, with what I got on you, you’ll be servicing me if you like it or not,” he says while he pumps in and out of me, brutalizing my already sore hole with his oversized cock. Nothing I can do but let him screw me, so I returned my attention to the screen hoping to find some concrete evidence that this is not my wife, it is an illusion.
While my ass is being raped, I see her current suitor is leaving her backside alone, working only her box to bring him to orgasm, filling whoever this is with his cum. He collapses on her, before giving her a few more final thrusts, withdrawing and leaving her on the bed by herself.
The door again opens and out comes Master Two while I watch my wife putting her fingers into her cunt, then licking them clean. Now in front of me and without saying anything, his wet cock is in my mouth. He uses his own hand to drag it against the edges of my lips, cleaning himself. I am just his towel wipe and waste can. He must have cummed a lot or has an absorbent dick, as I now have a noticeable coating on my lips and tongue. This is so real.
As I clean him, he talks to Sir Michael, saying, “I really haven’t done many girls in my life, but this slut was good, damn good. I’d waste another load or two on her. Hope I get another chance. Thanks for getting her out here. I feel bad for our friend, but I guess will see a lot more of him now.”
Without ever slowing his ass fucking down, he replies. “We’ll have to see, he is so wrapped tight around that business of his, he might not see the light. He’s got enough cash, even if she gets half, he could move full time into the life if he wanted to. You listening Bitch?”
I hope he’s being a great actor; he sounded real. I shift my attention back on the screen if nothing more than to distract myself from these two. She wasn’t by herself long. In comes her third lover. It is another of the masters from the Club that came to San Francisco for the weekend. He too is naked other than a leather chest harness. He orders her off the bed and to her knees. He wants quality sucking and she delivers. This woman can deepthroat, but so can my wife. I still haven’t gotten undeniable proof that this is her or not. I just know that it’s not. But God, it is her face.
And the body. I know her body. This is so close. I try to convince myself that the boobs are wrong, that the vagina is different, her height is not right. But no matter what I do to persuade myself otherwise, this is an identical, perfect match. It must be her. Please don’t let it be her, if it is, my Camelot life is over.
Sir Michael planned all along to take my butt for his ultimate pleasure and he does, climaxing hard, filling me with his sperm. I don’t even get a ‘thanks buddy’, just a ‘clean me good’ as he shoves his now limp dick into my mouth, followed by ‘you got others who want you’ and he left. It wasn’t long before I had another suiter. This one felt the need to constantly comment on the screen, my wife, my failures and that all I was good for was what he was doing to me. And I have no idea who he was, a guest I assume as he wore a rubber.
Those pricks, this is exactly the kind of tortuous mind games that they like to put me through. Anyone can eventually learn to accept the physical pain of the whip, the monotony and fatigue of being bound for hours upon hours, but mental play, this is so hard, it destroys your core. Beware BDSM has many facets. They make me enjoy and suffer them all.
And while part of my brain is stressed, another part is closing in on euphoria. What I am forced to watch, unable to escape, is unbelievably exciting because it is so taboo and morally wrenching. So sexually exhilarating and wrong. I should be furious, not stimulated.
Am I really a cuckold deep inside my psyche? No, that is ridiculous. This is not who either of us are in our real world. I believe that with all my being. She would never want this, and without a doubt I don’t want anyone to ever touch her. I’m infuriated that all those around me are googling her and making insensitive comments. The normal me would be punching them all out. While the boys turn most of my BDSM fantasies into reality for a weekend, they also like to play with me, that’s all this is.
The action, though, is still going strong on screen. She is still being deep-throated. Their position is to the side so you can see it all. Seems too that all he wants is the blow job. And unlike porn films where the guy has to constantly stroke his dick with his hand to shoot his load, she brings him to climax with her lips, tongue, hand stroking and ball massaging.
He pushes in deep as he finally ejaculates, and she takes it all. You see him weaken in his stance, enjoying the moment, pulling her head tight to him and keeping her there for a bit before he releases and pulls free. She then turns to me, opening her mouth to proudly show me her loaded tongue before making a final swallow. My wife never lets me cum in her mouth, let alone swallow, finds it repulsive and nauseating. She has never done it for me, not once. Has it always been just me or is this truly someone else on screen?
And around the corner he comes to me. He strokes his dick while his head rests just inside my mouth as he coaxes his last few drops of semen from his placid and tired cock. I offer no resistance; there isn’t anything I could do but twist my neck away and that would have severe consequences.
Then there is a third behind me. He, like the last one, wears a condom. He will eventually take my butt and cum in me filling his rubber, but first he goes to town on my butt cheeks with a leather paddle. He’s no lightweight nor shy as he plummets my cheeks with blows, the crowd counting out the whacks, ultimately ten on each side. And as he smacks and fucks my ass, he laments about what a cuckhold I am, worthless other than as a cocksucker and fuck hole for real men.
There will be two more visitors that she will take on, they being the other Doms here from the Club. And she takes them on together, a three-way. They too are sporting leather harnesses, each different yet similar in style. They get right to it. She is back on the floor on her knees, one to each side. She sucks on one then spins to suck the other and back again. It doesn’t go on for long. They are there to fuck her two lower holes. Together.
One of the masters lies down on the bed and gets her to mount him. He penetrates her pussy and then pulls her down onto her chest making her ass available. It is them taken by the other. They do their best to fuck her two holes this way, but it is not effective. Looks awkward. Fact is it’s not something they get to do in their world. They both pull out and reposition her so that she is on her stomach, with her face down on the dick sucking the one and the other laying on top of her doing her ass.
Now it must be one on one pussy time, as the ass fucker spins her over and puts her legs above her head. His friend steps off for a moment. She is then screwed in earnest till he fills her with his spunk. After a short rest from his thrusts, he yields to his friend and comes looking for me. His dick like the others tastes like cum, pussy mucus, lube, and maybe some filth. I licked him clean, more as a diversion for me than anything else.
The final fucking of my ‘wife’ is just like the last. I get to watch it as a forth suiter takes me from behind. I almost don’t even notice at this point. As my wife’s playmate leaves after making his deposit, she pets her tired, stretched and well used cunt as she stares out towards me with a subtle smirk, followed by a look of disgust directed I guess at me. The crowd is cheering and applauding and chastising me with more demeaning cuckhold and sissy banter, as another takes my ass on, this one rimming it.
No time to ponder that, there is a cum covered cock from her last suitor now in my mouth. It’s his words uttered as I suck him clean that is now center stage in my mind, making this seem back within the realm of possibility again, “You better hope she took her birth control Sissy. If not, with all the cum we just put in her cunt, you could be raising ten gay babies. You’ll have to raise them, you don’t know who any of us are. Neither does your slutty whore. Better pick up a pregnancy test on your way home, if you still have one to go back to.”
The mind is at it again. No, no, stop these ridiculous thoughts. That was not my wife, period. I prayed this was simply a fantasy concept acted out by the boys. Something I never would want for real. But, wow, as a fantasy it sure was arousing, stimulating, erotic. Unthinkable acts sometimes are. Please God, make it only a horrible fantasy, a mind blowing hot, horrible fantasy…
Chapter 23: Off to Bed The screen goes blank. Nothing more is said to me. No explanation offered. My gag is mercifully removed, being in way too long. I am given another twenty or so unexpected hard hits to my rump by a leather paddle. I can feel the heat, and I know they are rose colored red.
After the unexpected paddling, I’m unstrapped and stood up, wrists handcuffed behind my back. More gently than I expected, the urethral sound is extracted, cage unlocked and my cock given its freedom. I am then taken by Master D’s sub to the toilet and told to pee. There is someone else standing in the vault, ready to receive me, forever to remain anonymous.
Having unavailable hands, he holds my dick as I try to go standing. So hard to do as shy bladder syndrome kicks in. In time I go, it burns from irritation caused by the sound. He shakes me off and then he brings me to the bondage bed. There my handcuffs are removed, and I am told to lie down. My feet are secured by leather cuffs to the foot board, my wrists to the side rails. A blindfold is placed over my eyes and earmuffs playing music over my ears.
Master D is now bedside. Raising the earmuffs off one ear he says, “The blindfold and headphones are to help you get some sleep. There will likely be other activities here in my playroom overnight. You have a very, very busy day tomorrow. It’s the whole reason I rented you, so I want you to rest. Do not waste time fretting that your last adventure was the end of your life and marriage back home. It wasn’t.”
“So far, you’ve been a hell of a bargain at one dollar. Hope that holds true for the rest of the weekend,” is his final comment. And off he goes.
I say to myself, thank you Lord for answering my prayers. I’m sure his statement to not fret is his confirmation that what just happened was contrived. How it was produced and her seeming so real is beyond me.
Although I’m exhausted, I don’t fall asleep right away. So many events of the day to ponder, to commit to long term memory so I can complete my journal entries in the morning. That last game with my wife still spinning in my head. And in the morning, what is it he is going to do with me. All weekend long there has been a buzz about tomorrow. I’m not sure when, but I eventually drift off.
I am disturbed a couple of times during the night. The cage below my bed is opened and someone’s sub is placed in there for the night. Whoever this is, he doesn’t bother my sleep. Someone else was brought in, bound to one of the pieces of furniture, whipped, fucked and then taken back out again. It woke me, but there were no screams, the sub was well trained from what I could hear through the earmuffs.
From my own self-bondage play at night when my wife is away, I have trained myself to be able to sleep when bound as I am. I can sleep even when more severely self-restricted. I get some sound sleep once I have cleared my nagging thoughts.
Chapter 24: Sunday Morning Preparations For the most part, amazingly, I slept restfully and dream free. I’m released from my bed bondage. Sent on my way in relative freedom to complete my journal, shower and cleanse, brush teeth, shave, etc. I am told to put the loose leather full hood back on after I’m done with my shower/shave and teeth to preserve my required anonymity.
I did share the dungeon overnight with others. It seems like someone spent the night in the pillory or they were put in before they got me up. The sling also seemed to be used as a bed, its occupant still bound to it. And the metal bed next to me is still being used, its dweller has his butt electrified and that is still causing him to dance every five or so minutes. I’m sure he didn’t get much sleep.
In the bathroom, the first thing I did was check the urinal. It was unmanned. My stomach is still a little uneasy. I had been given plenty of water afterwards, along with crackers, yogurt and Tums. All which helped battle the unnatural urine in my digestive system. I am looking forward to breakfast.
I am to eat in the playroom. Master D’s sub brings the meal to me as I work on the computer, writing in my diary. It is again a blueberry/spinach smoothy. This time it is served with a short stack with maple syrup and a banana. He tells me the selection is to help process what I consumed yesterday. He also sets down a bottle of water saying it is for my meds and further flushing of my kidneys. Knowing he provided the same services as I did and this is his dungeon, I have no doubt that he knows what he was talking about. I feel odd interacting with him knowing my urine has been run through him. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.
Activities and people are increasing in the room. Some are making use of the furniture and toys, others the bathroom. People are changing clothes, mostly into leatherware. All those milling about and chatting seem to be men. The M/f couples are gone as far as I can tell. There is an air of excitement to it all. For the most part, I am left alone at my table, although a few make a point of coming by to tell me how much they enjoyed my show last night. Some sarcastically say that if they were straight, they’d be happy to do my wife in front of me. One added that since he was not, he would be happy to do me and could he have my number.
I finished up my work. I still don’t know what my next use will be. Master D strolls over and says, “Let’s get you dressed. No one is using the back bedroom; we can go in there.” I was expecting just the two of us to go, but his sub and Dr. D accompany us. His sub brings my new apparel with him and a pair of boots.
It doesn’t take long. I end up in an outfit I don’t understand. I figure it is inappropriate for a BDSM sub to ask the purpose, so I don’t. They started by putting me in pink stockings with elastic band thighs to hold them up.
Shocking, next they put me in a stunning pink ballet tutu with a pancake style skirt that I’m told has 9 layers of stiff tulle. It extends from my waist outward a good eighteen inches. The bodice (the body part of the outfit) goes from my waist to my lower chest, below my pecs leaving my nipples and breasts uncovered. There is no crotch, my privates are exposed beneath the pancake. I’m told it was custom sewed for me. Not sure how they know my exact measurements, but this fits perfectly.
Then they put socks over my stockings that cover just my feet and ankles. This is followed by heavy leather black boots. They lace them up and tell me to walk around the room to try them. They are also a reasonable fit. You can’t see the socks, just my pink stockings.
A pink leather bondage belt is put around my waist above the skirt. Matching pink cuffs are put on my wrists and they are attached to the belt, arranged so my hands will be free of my skirt. I test my new restraints and find my hand movement is extremely limited.
It takes all three to do the next step. Two of them press and collapse the pancake skirt up against and around my body as the third puts black tear away basketball pants over my legs and waist, snapping them closed. There is a matching top that encloses, holds and hides the skirt against me and covers my secured arms. I am told we will leave shortly. Slow on the uptake, its only then that it registers in my mind that my dressers are wearing similar tear-away pants and matching jackets and we are all headed away from the house.
In the meantime, my hood is put back on, and I’m walked back into the main dungeon to watch the last bound participant get his final striping on the St. Andrews cross. The crowd has significantly thinned. I’m told people are heading out to the fair. The fair?
I’m taken into the bathroom, walked to the functional urinal. Master D’s sub holds my dick, and I’m told to pee one last time before we head out. With difficulty and still raw, I force myself to go. He shakes my dick
