The Theft of Our Lives

Disclaimer: This is a multi-chapter story that reads more as a series of vignettes connected by an underlying thread for continuity. It’s my attempt at the well-traveled premise of a boss exploiting a family. While not present in every chapter, the story contains various sex acts between adults, including but not limited to adultery, incest, cuckolding, interracial, lesbian, and non-consensual sex in the form of blackmail and coercion. The story and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18-years-old or older. All rights reserved.

THE YACHT TRIP

We showed up right on time Saturday morning bringing nothing but the clothes on our backs, just as instructed. Uncertain exactly what to expect, Emma and I wore comfortable and practical clothing — jeans, long-sleeved rugby shirts and sneakers.

We knew the slip number but finding Hank’s boat wasn’t difficult since he described it as ‘the biggest damn yacht in the harbor.’ Although he’s subject to more than his share of braggadocio, in this case, he wasn’t wrong. The boat was at least 120 feet and fully loaded with every luxury — staterooms, lounge, and even a small pool and spa.

It’s nice to be rich!

“Good morning, and welcome aboard,” Hank yelled ebulliently from the bow as we walked up the gangway assisted by an athletic young man in his mid-20’s.

“I’m Alex, a member of the crew. I’ll be assisting the captain on this trip,” the handsome man greeted politely.

“Nice of you join us and right on time. You know I like punctuality, Ray,” Hank complimented, making his way to where we stood.

Accompanying the company president was Ike Jones-Dixon, his trusted companion, lieutenant, and running mate. Both men were dressed casually in cruise loungewear, comfortable for the voyage ahead.

“I was afraid we might be early. We’re not the only guests, are we?” I replied, noting that none of the other invitees had arrived, presuming there were others.

“Heaven’s no, the other guests are on the way, but I wanted the Tyler’s here early to explain my expectations for the trip,” Hank scoffed cheerfully, grabbing my placid wife and me by the arm and escorting us onto the boat.

My stomach fell as I feared the worst and I’m sure Emma had similar qualms, although to this point nothing untoward had been suggested and neither of us imagined Hank making our indentured status known publicly.

“I don’t need to explain to you how important Ted Jenkins is to our business, do I Ray?” he asked rhetorically, his voice growing serious and business-like as Ike stared in silent observation.

I simply nodded my acknowledgement, although my acquiescence wasn’t required.

“This is the next phase of the negotiations and I fully expect to close the deal. To do so, I need cooperation from the both of you,” Hank advised. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I’ll be if by the end of this cruise Ted isn’t a completely satisfied customer, knowing his every need and desire was met today and will be going forward.”

As he said the words loaded with expectation and insinuation, he looked my wife directly in her attentive green eyes conveying silently what he had only hinted at in his words.

“I want this to be a pleasant excursion. I want everyone to have a good time, and I want them denied nothing,” Hank explained, suddenly brightening and perhaps convinced his meaning was clear, but holding his gaze on Emma’s heedful face as he spoke.

“I do mean nothing, especially Ted,” he emphasized strongly.

Emma nodded almost subconsciously, and I understood exactly the extent of cooperation Hank demanded, nonetheless, he closed the conversation with a stern warning in no uncertain terms.

“You’re responsible, Ray,” my cold-hearted boss growled soberly. “I’d better hear no complaints, no denials of any request, and no reason to upset the good times I expect on this cruise for Ted or anyone else. If I do, the Tyler family is going to be in a world of hurt.”

Emma and I looked each other in the eye, obliquely confirming of our understanding and nodding our concurrence.

“Now, let’s sit on the deck lounge, have a few Screwdriver’s and wait for the other guests to arrive,” Hank suggested, affable and glowing as host as if the previous conversation had never occurred.

“Bailey, dear, be a good girl. Bring us a pitcher of Screwdrivers and show our other guests here as they arrive,” he called to a beautiful, fresh-faced blonde young lady in her early-20’s dressed in a cute and quite sexy sailor outfit standing nearby that neither I nor Emma had noticed until just now.

That was Hank — all sweetness and light while in control and in his element.

We’d just received our drinks from the attentive lass when the next guests arrived. Not surprisingly, considering the state of the negotiations, it was Nicole Westridge and her husband, Burt.

After Emma’s shameless exhibition in the office yesterday in Nicole’s presence, I assumed she knew what to expect from the cruise and that she and her husband were willing participants in Hank Allenby’s inner circle.

I was only half-right.

A wiry, uncertain man but handsome in his late-forties, I’d met Burt Westridge on a few occasions at company events, plus his devoted wife Nicole kept a photo of the couple in a loving embrace prominently displayed on her office desk.

“Nicole, Burt, glad you made it on time,” Hank greeted the nervous man, pointing him to the lounge sofa where I already sat with Emma. “Nicole, are you prepped for the next phase of the presentation?”

Nicole nodded with an odd apprehension for a woman I knew to be strong and confident in her business acumen — one who never backed down from anyone, even the boss.

“Right, I knew you would be,” Hank approved, adding a cryptic follow-up that only made sense to me later. “I know you’ll put your all into closing this deal, much like you’ve put out in past negotiations.”

I caught Burt’s eyebrow raise from the corner of my eye as Nicole agreed with a weak smile, but neither made more of it than that and Emma didn’t appear to register the incriminating comment at all.

“Hi Burt, nice to see you again,” I greeted Nicole’s husband, breaking the tension as best I could while noticing he and his wife were similarly attired as Emma and me while also without a single item of luggage — a fact suggesting what I later learned to be true.

Pouring drinks for the Westridge’s and a second round for the rest of us, I picked-up on a subtle wink from Bailey to Hank and he placed a playful pat on her admittedly delightful rump as she passed.

The drinks were pretty strong, no doubt on purpose, and I assumed that was the reason for the acknowledgement between the much older man and the young woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one.

I about fell down when the next guests arrived — my co-worker Dave Reynolds and his wife, Maggie, a curly-topped vivacious spitfire of a woman not much over five feet tall and loaded with energy.

As I was soon to learn, they weren’t truly guests either.

“Dave, so nice to see you, and so happy you brought your lovely wife too. It wouldn’t have been right had she missed this cruise,” Hank said with a sincerely welcoming voice.

There was something threatening about his tone I couldn’t quite place, but it sounded eerily similar to the way Hank spoke to Emma and me, leaving suspicions that Maggie missing the trip wasn’t an option.

Roughly the same age as me, Dave is in my section and we work together frequently, socializing occasionally with our children even attending the same schools.

Maggie is a registered nurse and a dynamo. Tiny in stature, she is huge in personality, filling any room she walks into with her glowing smile and spark. She’s quite pretty with naturally blonde locks cut in a short active style and a trim body defying weight gain regardless of what she ate, much to my wife’s chagrin.

Honestly, it’s difficult to believe she’d given birth to three children, although two were twins. The oldest is a son named Sean, 20, and then 18-year-old twin girls, Suzanne, or Suzy, and Jacqueline, although everyone called her the non-traditional nickname, Jaxy.

The Reynolds’ kids are friends of Kerri and Kellen, with Suzy and Jaxy about to graduate in Kellen’s class and still living at home, while Sean attends the nearby university, living in the dorms but visiting home frequently.

Regardless of the reason, there they were, dressed for the event and welcomed on board by Hank.

Dave shot a look indicating he was as surprised to see me as I was him. Neither of us looked happy about the revelation, and I couldn’t help worrying they may be in a comparable situation to my own family.

At just before 9:00 a.m., Ted Jenkins showed up donned in cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt — all smiles and filled with energy. I wasn’t sure he knew what to anticipate on this voyage, but from his demeanor and generally happy frame-of-mind, I’m guessing Hank gave him at least a high-level overview of what ‘the next phase of the negotiations’ entailed.

“Alright, we’re all here, let’s launch,” Hank called to the other crew member — a tall early-30’s hulk of a man serving as captain of the vessel, and we learned preferred that moniker throughout the trip.

Once we were out to sea, our exuberant company president turned to Ted, introducing the next presentation designed to convince the hardened businessman of the benefits of bringing substantially all his company’s logistics service needs to Allenby and close the deal to their mutual satisfaction.

“Okay, Ted, I promised to demonstrate the differentiators between us and our competition,” Hank stated in earnest, using his well-refined pitch voice to sell the client.

“We’ve already discussed the multitude of products and features Allenby provides, but in the end, it’s all about service,” he expanded, so polished he could do a TV informercial. “I think you’ll find this grand excursion is one no other company can or will match.”

I looked briefly at Burt to my side, and he looked like he knew what came next, clutching his hand into the arm of the sofa and gritting his teeth. I wondered what he knew, still in denial that anything untoward could occur in such a setting with mixed company of businessmen and women, along with their husbands and wives.

“Let’s start by getting to know each other. We’ll be spending the day and overnight in close quarters, and I have no doubt we’ll be getting quite familiar with one another,” my boss declared in salutary style, playing the perfect host and raising his glass to another of his many suggestive remarks.

Considering everything, we passed the next two hours remarkably uneventfully doing just that, introducing ourselves, quaffing several stiff drinks and generally enjoying the morning as tipsy laughs, chuckles, and increasingly adult-oriented conversation ensued.

Honestly, it felt like almost any other cocktail party I’ve ever attended.

By noon, we were all fairly loose and freely gabbing away. I’d almost forgotten the salacious purpose I feared was the true reason for the cruise. The sun was up, and we were well on our way plying the coast just in sight of the mainland. Everything was warming up when Hank interceded as host by taking control of the affair.

“I think it’s time we show you all to your rooms,” he announced. “I hope you find the accommodations more than satisfactory, and as I mentioned, everything you need has been provided, even your wardrobe.”

We all started to rise on wobbly legs as Hank continued.

“Settle in, change into your swimwear, and we can all meet by the pool for a lovely dip,” he informed jovially. “I don’t want to see you in those dowdy clothes you’re wearing for the rest of the trip.”

Alex guided us to our staterooms located below decks in cozy proximity to each other — not surprising considering the limited space on a yacht, even of this size. The rooms were compact but luxurious with high-end finishes and every convenience you’d want. The bed was a queen and plenty big enough for a couple.

‘Emma and I can simply snuggle up,’ I reasoned naively.

Perusing the room, Emma opened the small closet and then several of the dresser drawers.

“Uh, Ray, I don’t understand. Hank, said everything was provided, including our wardrobe,” she questioned suspiciously. “There’s nothing for you, and all I’m seeing for me are a few items in this drawer.”

“What? That can’t be? Probably just a mistake,” I replied dismissively.

“Are you sure, Ray, because I’m getting the idea Hank knows exactly what he’s doing,” Emma countered, examining more closely the ‘wardrobe’ intended for her use during the cruise.

Sure enough, as my increasingly discomfited wife pulled out each article of clothing, a sick feeling grew within me, and a look of extreme trepidation overtook her worried face.

“Oh my god, Ray, he can’t be serious?” she gasped incredulously at the sparse collection of lingerie and pool wear — sheer, skimpy, highly revealing, and designed to attract the eye but not cover much.

Satin, lace, and silk — black stockings and garters with a matching black corset providing a shelf for her large breasts but stopping obscenely at the waist. No bras and no panties. The lone set of outerwear was a tight black pleated skirt so brief it probably couldn’t cover her ass completely, with a daring slit up the left side all the way up to the hip.

That was it.

The ensemble was so scandalous she’d be arrested for indecent exposure were she to wear it in public, and I can only imagine what would happen if she danced in the scanty skirt.

Everything was exactly her size, despite their otherwise diminutive covering, and no doubt the selective work of Mrs. Ogawa. It was quite clear each article was specifically picked for her only, confirming Hank was very serious.

“Holy shit, Ray, look at this fucking bathing suit?” Emma exclaimed in shock using a rare expletive.

The pair of almost nonexistent white strips of cloth she held aloft had so little fabric it was difficult to imagine how in the world she’d ever get it over her generous curves or cover her most intimate parts.

It wouldn’t, of course, and that was certainly Hank’s intent.

“I can’t wear this, um, thing! I’ll hang out everywhere,” my stupefied wife yelped in distress. “I can’t be seen in front of these people dressed this way. There isn’t even a wrap to drape over me.”

“Calm down, Emma, it’s awful, I know, but what choice do we have really?” I interjected, trying to cool her off before she did something rash.

“We, Ray? I’m the one wearing this, this, uh, slutty bikini,” she retorted harshly, on the verge of crying with tears welling in her eyes.

“I-I know, but just wear it this once,” I replied, chastened and sympathetic, but understanding Hank wouldn’t hesitate to ruin our lives and tear apart our family if we blew the deal with Jenkins.

Emma looked at me with a disdain leaving me cold with her wrath as her mind worked desperately for a solution to the immediate problem and finding none.

“He’s expecting us at the pool for a swim. He’s expecting to see you wearing a bathing suit — that bathing suit,” I added as rationally as possible.

A full minute passed, and then another. Emma’s brow furrowed, and her lips tremored visibly before she finally said the words signaling one more step in her descent to disgrace and degradation.

“Alright, I’ll wear it — once, but then I’m returning to my regular clothes for the rest of the trip,” she conceded with a hushed murmur.

I knew in my heart that was unlikely. Hank had made clear his insistence on his choice of attire, but I decided to leave it alone for now and cross that bridge when we got to it.

“Find your bathing suit,” my unpleased wife directed. “I’ll pop into the bathroom and figure out how the hell I’m supposed to put this thing on.”

I looked around for a minute, recognizing Emma was right and there was absolutely nothing for me. I also understood Hank didn’t want me coming back in the clothes I was wearing. My problem was I couldn’t find anything else. There was simply nothing for a man to wear.

Then, I saw a metallic object sitting on top of the dresser with a card. I looked like a small cage or something. I wasn’t really sure, so I picked up the card next to it with my name and read its contents.

‘Ray, here’s your attire for the entire trip. It’s called a cock cage. Wear it and nothing else. Bailey can help you attach it, if needed.’

I looked at the device thinking this can’t be for real. I’d never seen such a thing. It came with instructions, but they were somewhat confusing. I knew I needed to be naked, and honestly, that didn’t bother me so much as the thought of wearing this ridiculous device.

“Shit, if Hank wants to see my package, that’s his problem,” I figured in resignation.

So, I stripped off my clothes and tried to follow the directions, but still couldn’t quite figure it out. I couldn’t call Bailey to help. That wouldn’t go over well with Emma — a pretty young lady putting a cock cage on her husband, so I waited for my wife to reappear in the hope she could assist.

Fifteen minutes passed waiting for Emma to struggle affixing everything, with more than one distressed ‘my goodness’ and frustrated ‘oh no’ escaping the bathroom. I’m sure she was troubled, because there simply wasn’t enough cloth for it to take that long otherwise.

“Ray, don’t say a damn word and don’t even think of staring,” her disturbed voice echoed bashfully from the interior of the small vestibule when the door finally opened.

With those words Emma slipped into the stateroom, her arms and hands strategically covering herself despite my being her husband and tears in her eyes. Her face was red and blotchy, as much from the effort than her obvious shame.

‘Oh fuck,’ I thought, doing everything I could not letting my jaw hit the floor when her hands finally dropped to stand before me.

Slumping with her embarrassment, my wife’s entire voluptuous frame lowered from its magnificent stature, yet her unbelievable curves were nonetheless superb and marvelously on display in the tiny bikini.

The bottom was no more than a thong of simple strings on the hips and up her ass crack with a triangular panel pressed firmly against her vagina. Indecently, the waist scooped in a vee to just above her bald mound. It was now obvious why Hank required Mrs. Ogawa to shave Emma’s pussy the previous day.

The top was no better — a halter style number with panels over her breasts so narrow they only just covered her wide dusky rose areolae while providing the barest modicum of support for her giant melons. Generous portions of Emma’s lily-white boobs poured from either side of the slim fabric, and her flaccid nipples pressed neatly into the lightweight cloth.

“I-I don’t know, Ray? I don’t know if I can go out there, um, this way,” my shaken wife stuttered.

“It’ll be okay, dear, you look great. Beautiful, really. You’ll be the center of…,” I falsely assured, my voice trailing off with the realization I was only feeding her anxiety and insecurity with my stupidity.

Fortunately, she was so flustered she didn’t catch my mistake, quizzically changing the direction of the conversation by focusing on my travails.

“Why are you naked?” she asked, suddenly aware of my predicament.

“Well, Hank didn’t leave me any clothes and he made it clear I can’t go out in what I was wearing,” I answered frankly, “so I can only assume he wants me naked.”

“Oh, I see,” my wife replied stoically, perhaps thinking her situation wasn’t so bad after all.

“What’s that?” she then asked curiously.

“The card says it’s a ‘cock cage,’ whatever that is,” I offered. “It has instructions, but I can’t figure them out.”

“Here, let me take a look at it,” Emma suggested, always helpful when things needed fixing.

As she always did, she read the directions carefully, emitting an inadvertent giggle with her eyes widening periodically in wonderment at the device, then kneeled and affixed it to my limp cock and balls, fully encapsulating my soft prick with an anchoring metal clasp around the base of my scrotum leaving my testicles free.

The contraption was snug but not painful and I knew instantly by the way it enclosed my cock there was no way to get an erection.

“The instructions say to give this key to Bailey,” Emma said plainly with maybe a hint of a smirk, perhaps happy the shoe of humiliation was on the other foot for a change. “You’re supposed to wear it and nothing else the whole time we’re on the boat.”

“Seriously?” I questioned, not understanding the full implications of that order.

“It’s supposed to keep you tamed and under control,” she answered dubiously, no longer smirking.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I responded honestly as we proceeded to the pool, knowing we couldn’t delay forever.

“No, it doesn’t,” Emma simply agreed with a shake of her ponytailed head.

**********************************

Trailing as I followed her to the pool, I couldn’t keep my eyes from slipping down to the pale half-moons of Emma’s spectacular ass rolling seductively and uncovered in the virtually absent suit.

If she had known she’d have certainly read me the riot act, but the pair of delightful globes bounced so invitingly walking tentatively through the halls and across the deck, they were impossible to ignore, with just the solitary string separating the fleshy white flanks.

“Ohhh, dear lord,” she exclaimed as we arrived at the pool, trying once again to cover herself.

As I suspected considering our tardiness, everyone was already there — Ted, Ike, and Hank sitting in the spa surrounding Nicole and Maggie, each modestly submersed as much as possible beneath the bubbles as the trio of predators circled hungrily around their prey.

Burt and Dave sat restlessly in nearby lounge chairs watching the quintet warily, and clearly intimidated to do anything more than look. Not surprisingly, at least in hindsight, both men were as naked as myself and wearing a cock cage similar to my own.

Awkward isn’t a strong enough word to describe the scene, and it was now clear my wife and I were not alone in our plight of ensnarement in Hank’s web of debauchery.

Nicole Westridge, the highest-ranking female executive at Allenby Consolidation, and Maggie Reynolds, the appealing wife of my co-worker, were also regrettably under the merciless sexual exploitation of our cunning but depraved company president.

I have no idea what either woman did to earn such an ‘honor,’ but in Nicole’s case I suspect it was some egregious financial error or misconduct for Hank to gain control of the strong-willed, intelligent Ivy League graduate.

As for Maggie, I expect at some point I’ll learn from Dave the nature of his transgression landing her in the spa as appetizing bait for the sharks.

With her body under the water it was difficult to gauge the appearance of Nicole’s female form but seeing her dressed professionally around the office I suspected she possessed a trim, fit body with generous breasts, maybe a healthy C-cup or larger.

I suppose the accomplished CFO’s true appeal to my megalomaniacal boss was simply the triumph of capturing a respected, intellectual woman so high in the company hierarchy and breaking her to his service.

‘Nicole Westridge trapped in Hank’s lair is surprising to say the least, but also intriguing,’ I admitted to myself about the talented MBA graduate and corporate go-getter, selfishly disregarding her plight and momentarily that of my beloved wife as well.

I always had something of a crush on Nicole, despite that at 46 she’s a good four years older than me. She is pretty in her way, but also devoted, gracious, and genuine in a manner unusual for a successful businessperson in their forties.

You never imagined a thought as lurid as adulterous sex ever crossed her mind.

Maggie was equally submerged, with her spritely body covered by bubbles. Blonde and cute, her hair was not yet wet, so the ringlets created a halo around her face, but her crystal blue eyes reflected the same tension I saw in Emma and Nicole, indicating she didn’t want to be here anymore than the other captive women.

“Emma, look at you. I knew you’d look stunning in that suit,” Hank greeted my abashed wife, purposefully drawing all eyes to her presence in the barely-there bikini and sending her shrinking with humiliation.

“Isn’t she a looker, guys?” he admired, openly running his eyes the length of her lewdly exposed body and intentionally pausing directly on her nearly uncovered tits.

“Hell yeah, the whole package, Hank, just as promised,” Ted agreed heartily, revealing that the vision presented of my mostly nude wife was discussed previously with my degenerate boss.

Ike merely leered, no longer needing to undress her with his eyes as in the past, savoring the ripe curves and generous amount of bare flesh he clearly expected to sample one day soon.

Dave’s jaw practically dropped. I’m certain he never expected to see my reserved wife in such a scandalous outfit, and I couldn’t help but wonder from his expression if he fantasized about Emma the way so many other men do.

Burt also couldn’t stop himself from staring at my humbled wife’s sumptuous body, as her womanly hips, mature rounded tummy, and undeniably spectacular breasts drew the attention of everyone, leaving little recognition for Nicole or Maggie, at least for the moment.

For her part, Mrs. Westridge had a resigned look of bemused satisfaction in sharing her unspeakable plight with other lost souls, impassively gazing at Emma before turning her attention to Burt’s open-mouthed stare with a jealous glare.

“Join us, Emma,” Hank extended an invitation, his tone making clear it wasn’t a request.

“Ray, I’m sure you can find a lounge chair over by your compatriots in shame,” he followed, nodding for me to take my place in the audience for the untoward shenanigans about to ensue.

My nearly naked wife stood uncomfortably in her exposure before the longing eyes of the men as I left her side, joining Burt and Dave as ordered. In one swoop my scheming employer laid out our role as cuckolded husbands, while setting up his scenario to win over Ted Jenkins and his much-desired business.

“Bailey, bring out another bottle of wine,” Hank called towards the cabin — a room we had not yet seen but as we learned contained a full bar and other amenities.

The cute young blonde strolled out the door a moment later with a tray in her hand holding several bottles and glasses ready for the pour. Emma’s eyes widened with surprise and mine popped at the appearance of our girlish hostess as she approached.

Sauntering in the smooth careful steps of an experienced waitress, the peppy lass with a tomboyish pixie hair style, blue eyes, and irresistible smile was wearing only scant red, white, and blue bikini bottoms. Short at maybe 5’2″, her height was aided by a pair of white, mid-calf high heels but she probably weighed no more than 100 lbs., if that.

With her arm raised her delightfully apple-sized tits bounced freely, jiggling appealingly at each step. So dense and firm with youth, the lovely pair maintained an impressively compact shape with the tempting mounds topped by light cherry pink nipples no larger than a quarter.

“Yes, sir, right here, sir,” she replied accommodatingly, apparently unconcerned about her nudity in the presence of these strangers.

It was funny to me, but the young lady had a familiar look, and I was certain I’d met her before somewhere. Hank kept his private life out of the office, but it was clear she served him personally as often as professionally. Left to wonder, I quickly vanquished the thought when she offered me a glass.

“Thank you, dear,” the ship’s owner approved of our attentive hostess’ service. “Leave the bottles, sweetheart, but stand-by in case you’re needed.”

Emma shuddered visibly in her nervousness, with the unfortunate shimmy sending her gelatinous melons bobbling obscenely to the delight of our host, his guests in the spa, and even Burt and Dave, who couldn’t hide their inappropriate grins.

“Hop in the pool, Emma, then come join us in the spa,” Hank suggested in his congenial way. “It’s a wonderful transition from cool water to warm, and the bubbles are nice too in just the right spot.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea,” my mortified wife agreed, thinking the water might gratefully hide her near nudity, at least for a spell.

Tentatively, Emma entered the pool one foot at a time. She’s an excellent athlete and a strong swimmer, so it wasn’t fear of the water that caused her hesitation, but rather that her skimpy bikini fit so precariously any sudden leap might cause it to fall apart and embarrass her beyond belief.

The men watched closely, focused on her plump ass in her thong until it was swallowed by the water, followed by the rest of her slowly disappearing body, submerging until finally dipping her head completely for the briefest respite from her ongoing humiliation.

I couldn’t see it in detail from my vantage point, but while my wife swam, beneath the bubbles of the burbling spa jets, officious and respectable Nicole Westridge’s hand slipped into Hank’s lap fondling his hardening cock in a manner she apparently had learned appeased the demented man in the few months since her downfall.

Then, in a move I’d never imagined, Maggie did the same, attending to Ike by manipulating his monster black cock with a petite hand barely able to encompass the brute shaft, grasping the grinning 60-something executive’s meaty column and teasing it to life.

As the guest of honor and man at the center of the voyage’s attention, Ted was left curiously alone for the moment, but I assumed there was a reason for that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Throughout their degrading efforts, Nicole and Maggie looked their defeated husbands in the eyes, the subtle motions of their shoulders above the water signaling to the belittled men the naughty act each was undertaking.

It was obvious to me it was an act Burt had witnessed more than once and in fact, I later learned Hank had first called on the Westridge’s in their home months ago in springing his trap.

As to Emma, a paddle up and down the length of the pool followed by a few more dips beneath the obscuring surface and time was up.

“Join us in the spa,” Hank beckoned Emma, anxious for my reticent wife to balance out the circle of horny men and compromised women.

“Okay, Hank, I’m coming,” she conceded, not wanting to get out and suspecting what might ensue in the spa tub with the lusting men, but unable to find a reason to refuse without undermining our decidedly perilous future.

“Oh no,” I groaned audibly as Emma lifted herself from the water to the fixated stares of everyone, unaware of the lewd spectacle she presented even beyond the scanty nature of her bathing suit.

“Hey guys, have a look,” our host smiled and nudged his buddy Ike, while also directing our valued client’s attention to the outrageous vision.

Soaking wet, the little bit of light fabric forming Emma’s disgraceful bathing suit became basically transparent and almost nonexistent. It was so sheer it hid absolutely nothing, with the suit’s only apparent benefit in holding my unsuspecting wife’s prodigious jugs high and in place.

Dripping and without a towel to cover herself, exactly as Hank intended, Emma’s white bikini virtually disappeared, and she may as well have been stark naked.

The dark circles of Emma’s rose areolae showed prominently, effectively unobscured by the see-through material. Worse, the cool water caused her nipples to crinkle tightly, forcing the preening buds into steely inch-long points poking through the halter straps.

The thong bottoms also left nothing to the imagination. With no pussy hair as cover, my drenched wife’s bald mound and plump labia imprinted the thin cloth panel lewdly, and the narrow seam of her slit formed an immodest cameltoe easily visible to the naked eye.

No one said a word of warning. Instead we all watched — the men out of ridicule and desire, Nicole and Maggie from intimidation and perhaps a little jealously, and me simply because I was too stunned and afraid to embarrass Emma by bringing it to light.

“Ha-ha, wow, she’s practically naked. I can see her pussy lips and everything!” Bailey giggled immaturely at the humorous sight, unable to contain her glee at the profane exhibition Emma presented.

Suddenly everyone burst into laughter, even Burt and Nicole, along with Dave and Maggie, although I managed to stifle myself in a valiant but useless attempt at preserving my wife’s dignity.

“Ohhh! Oh my god! Damn you, Hank! How could you do this to me?” Emma screamed upon looking at what the young girl found so funny and exploding at my hysterical boss for his practical joke.

Hank just laughed, high-fiving both Ike and Ted while forgiving my mortified wife’s outburst as an essential element of the prank at her expense.

“What? You look great, and hotter than hell, I might add,” he chortled without remorse. “You’ve got a killer body, Emma, no harm in sharing it with the rest of us.”

“But I, ohhh, I might as well be naked,” she whined, futilely trying to cover herself and failing miserably, with the effect of her vain attempt sending her big tits and ripe ass jiggling erotically, stirring up the men even more.

“Now, there’s an idea, or you can get in the spa next to Ted,” Hank suggested as an undesirable alternative.

The spa is a square, with Hank and Nicole sitting on the side to my left, Ike and Maggie on the right, and Ted settled alone in the middle, providing optimal viewing angles for Hank’s captive audience — the three husbands of our commandeered wives.

Thinking more about her exposure than the threat of sitting next to the older businessman, making no effort to hide his ogling of her buxom form, Emma made a quick dash with flesh flying everywhere to the warm spa hoping the active jets shrouded her appealing body.

That was only half-possible as the bubbles disrupted the otherwise clear water but didn’t completely shield the view of the nefarious activities beneath, with the ladies’ shoulder movements making it obvious Nicole and Maggie continued toying with their assigned men’s now-rigid cocks throughout my wife’s humiliation.

“There you go, darlin’,” Ted welcomed Emma with an affected Southern drawl, immediately placing an unwelcome arm around her shoulder drawing her near to his bare torso.

Bailey handed my traumatized wife a glass of wine, which she gulped greedily in a weak effort at escaping her shame.

“Get comfortable, I think you’ll find your tensions slip away in the spa,” the cagey businessman wooed soothingly.

From my vantage point it was obvious Emma was quite nervous and terribly uncomfortable with his arm on her shoulder in such a familiar fashion, pulling her practically naked body against his own. She tremored visibly despite the warm water, and her teeth gritting revealed the tension coursing her frame.

Within a moment I saw a dark paw move to Emma’s submerged knee, causing her to squirm instinctively and immediately brush the offending hand away.

‘Ted’s not wasting any time,’ I realized, understanding Hank’s set-up of my helpless wife leaving her prey to the important client’s wandering hands.

Sure to form, Ted soon returned his palm once more to her leg, but this time higher up her left thigh.

“Hmmph,” Emma shooed him away again with an audible huff, wiggling in offense at the improper encroachment to her person and clamping her knees together hoping to dissuade further attempts.

Ted merely continued to nonchalantly joke and laugh with Hank and Ike as if nothing untoward was occurring under the water, but as he did he renewed his assault on the citadel of Emma’s virtue, this time clamping his powerful hand firmly even higher up her exposed leg.

I couldn’t see very well below the bubbles, but for the first time my cock twitched at the thought of my modest wife in such a compromised state. I also understood for the first time the evil constraints of the cock cage as it cruelly denied the expansion of my captured member.

Now, Emma shifted openly, unable to remove the aggressively grasping hand and woefully turning her concerned eyes to mine, silently imploring me for assistance she knew wasn’t coming.

I stared regretfully into her sad emerald eyes signaling I wanted to be her hero and come to her rescue but couldn’t without destroying everything in our lives and our family’s world.

In that moment of somber connection between husband and wife, I saw the resolve leave Emma’s lovely face.

Slowly closing her disconsolate green eyes in resignation, her shoulders slumped, and through the jetted water I witnessed my heartbroken wife capitulated, relaxing her body and slowly parting her legs at the knees.

I winced at the vision of my wife of twenty years and the mother of our children surrender to her pursuer right before my eyes but couldn’t suppress another twitch in my cock at the unimaginably erotic seduction of my bride.

“Good girl,” I barely heard Ted whisper in her ear as he moved in with unrestrained enthusiasm, slipping his probing fingers higher along the surface of her inner thigh and then farther still.

“Ahhh,” Emma sighed, and her mouth fell open at the trespass, her eyes blinking rapidly as his wandering fingers hit their forbidden mark.

Slipping further into the water until just her head rested against the edge of the spa, she tellingly lowered her embarrassed gaze from her audience in dropping her vestiges of propriety and fidelity.

I knew at that moment this older man — a degenerate and veritable stranger, but also a highly valued customer, had his hand resting neatly on my beautiful wife’s pussy.

Whether above the thin fabric of her scant thong bottoms or under didn’t really matter, as her guard was now defeated and the precious gateway to her sacred fortress lay defenseless and vulnerable. Emma’s deeply-ingrained virtue and decency was overcome by Ted’s relentless pursuit and the circumstances, not to mention my weakness and impotency.

The depraved man now held the uncontested sovereignty over her spectacular body he’d coveted since the presentation of her tempting cleavage in Hank’s office the previous afternoon. Unfortunately or otherwise, Ted had the advantage of time — the entire afternoon, in fact, and appeared in no hurry.

Indeed, gamesman that he is, the cunning businessman fearlessly planned on making a sport of using my distressed wife’s susceptibility to his assault as an unscrupulous demonstration of his superiority to her emasculated husband.

Soon and despite the bubbles, I detected his hand wriggling in place between Emma’s spread thighs, taunting and teasing her pussy openly while appreciatively shooting a quick wink and a nod in my direction, accompanied by a smarmy grin.

The question of whether he was feeling her up over or under her bikini bottom was quickly rendered moot when deftly dropped his hand to her side, pulled the string and unleashed the cloth at her hip. A similar swift tug on the other side and the brief fabric was yanked upward drawing the single string in her ass crack away with it.

Denuding my dearest before my eyes, with little resistance Ted lifted the scant garment into the air like a trophy for me to see before tossing it in wet heap on the deck in an open signal to the others of his successful venture.

That was the last we’d see of my benumbed wife in the gossamer thong on this voyage.

Emma was humiliated — now bottomless with legs spread limply aside and her probity in tatters surrendering to Ted’s returning hand, unrestricted in probing her assailable cunt with impunity.

“Hmmm, uhh,” she murmured responsively when his hand slipped again into the water swiftly locating the smooth mound, then sliding deliberately along the slippery crease between her parted thighs.

It was obvious to me and anyone watching that Ted was happily running his fingers up and down Emma’s unguarded slit at his leisure, feeling her up and generally doing as he pleased while I sat idly nearby.

The only attentive audience, however, was Burt, Dave, and myself — the dishonored husbands, present strictly for the purpose of watching their wives disgraced and used sexually for the pleasure of my boss and his powerful associates, as everyone else was otherwise occupied.

We were all naked — an odd sensation as I’d known Dave a long time but not without our clothes on, and I didn’t know Burt well enough at all to sit next to him in the buff.

The more demeaning identifier of our status as cuckolded husbands was the identical stainless steel cock cages locked around our genitals — unremovable and completely incapacitating our ability to spring an erection no matter how shamefully stimulated we grew at the disreputable exhibition involving our beloved wives.

I soon learned just how painful my own reaction could be under lock and key watching the action develop not only with Emma, but with Nicole and Maggie too, as the twitch in my groin was just the beginning of a long afternoon of unsatisfied arousal and truncated hard-ons.

By this point, Nicole Westridge gravitated to Hank — whether by prearrangement or not I’m uncertain, stroking his lengthy stanchion beneath the water but not yet suffering the fate of Emma in losing her bikini bottoms.

From what little I saw, I assumed the mid-40’s Allenby CFO’s black bathing suit was more substantial than my wife’s barely-there contraption, but it was still far sexier than anything I ever imagined her wearing.

At work, Nicole dons buttoned-up professional attire as expected of a high-level executive, but now I saw the attractive copper-topped redhead features a nice set of grapefruit-sized tits she must keep strapped down in a tight bra because I didn’t think she was that stacked.

Not aware what to expect, I caught a quick glance at Burt’s intent blue eyes, finding a surprising excitement filling his gaze while noting his breathing had elevated to deep inhales at the vision of Nicole obviously handling our employer’s rigid cock.

With a perverse curiosity, I stole a look at his cage to find his modest prick swelling at the confines but unable to do more. I realized the late-40’s husband and father was totally turned on seeing his responsible, talented, no-nonsense wife of over 25 years working Hank’s prick so animatedly and clearly ready for more.

Maggie Reynolds was another story entirely, and her response to the developing mischief left me wondering what the fuck Dave did to enslave himself and his sweet wife.

It was clear she was unhappy sitting next to the hulking figure of Ike Jones-Dixon, openly plying his huge lumbering member under the thin cover of the spa bubbles, but the look in her sparkling blue eyes spoke not of anger at Ike or at Hank, but rather at Dave.

I’ve known the Reynolds for some years now and the only way to describe Maggie is cute — a spritely, ebullient spitfire of a woman. Blonde and perky, she packed a lot of vitality in her barely 5’1″, 105 lb. body, featuring what I’d guess are pleasantly baseball-sized B-cup tits.

Just turned forty-one and the mother of three kids, she’s a non-stop whirlwind of energy and initiative, somehow finding time to pursue her profession as a registered nurse while participating fully in her kids’ school activities and as a member of the local hospital assistance league.

At the moment, her diminutive alabaster form contrasted in every way with the huge, dark-skinned African-American executive to her right, as Ike’s 6’5″, 260 lbs. frame dwarfed her petite body making her look even smaller, if that was possible.

Maggie’s hand rose and fell in the water, and it was simple to understand she was earnestly stroking the gargantuan cock of the 60-something SVP, doing her best getting him erect while shooting daggers into my co-worker’s horrified eyes as a form of wicked payback for Dave entrapping her in his misdeeds.

I’d seen Maggie on a few occasions at barbeques in modest one-piece bathing suits, but this outfit was considerably more daring and most certainly unbecoming a married woman in mixed company, revealing a side of the admirable nurse I’d never seen before — quite literally, and that I suspect she was uncomfortable displaying.

As with Burt, I snuck a peek at Dave’s caged member, and it was clear he wasn’t aroused in the least.

I’d say unlike Burt, he wasn’t very enthused about his desperate situation, or that his cherished spouse wasn’t offering him an ounce of sympathy, as Maggie eagerly took the opportunity of rubbing into her husband’s face that she was about to fuck the gruff black man in his presence, and likely perform other unsavory adulterous acts too.

I had no idea Maggie was so spiteful and vindictive, but I couldn’t really fault the misused wife and mother, apparently betrayed by her husband’s stupidity, just as my Emma was by mine.

With that thought, I returned my attention to Emma’s situation, and although I couldn’t see well in the rippling water, I understood the meaning of the steady movement of Ted’s hand in association with my responsive wife’s uncontrollable reaction.

“Nu-ohh, nuh,” she sighed openly as the businessman’s fingers explored deeper between the fleshy unprotected petals of her splayed twat, peeling apart the swelling lips with her sinking further into his trap of rising lust.

Ted assertively took the initiative as Emma succumbed to his relentless digits stimulating different areas of her sensitive pussy — pinching her plump labia, sliding up the split gash, and even aggressively probing the apex of the cleft searching for her elusive clitoris.

“Unnnhhhhh,” she moaned receptively from deep in her diaphragm when he found her hidden sex button, poking and prodding it to life.

While he did so, with an easy twist of his unoccupied hand Ted undid the single bow at the back of Emma’s neck letting her slight halter top come free, exposing completely the mammoth melons he’d longed for since meeting her yesterday.

“Oh, shit, these puppies are unbelievable,” he exclaimed to no one in particular in his excited state.

Circumspect and bashful about her appearance, Emma is highly sensitive about the tremendous size of her impressive breasts. It’s hard not to believe that somewhere in her demoralized mind the demeaning comment didn’t sting, at least a little, as once again she was reduced in the eyes of a desirous man to merely an inviting set of giant knockers.

I know on the one hand Emma is proud of her fit, trim, and shapely body, but without exception, the huge globes are such attention grabbers she’s also embarrassed and self-conscious about men, and often women too, openly staring at the conspicuous mountains of tit-flesh.

People rarely look her in the eye for more than a moment, before invariably drifting downward without even realizing it in continuing the conversation with her prodigious chest.

Ted was no different in his attraction to my wife’s splendid tits but was also in the fortunate position of needing to make no attempt at hiding his ogling. Emma’s mammoth melons were simply too difficult to ignore, and much too big and firm to not jiggle and juggle in your hands.

“Please, ahh, you shouldn’t, um, my husband,” she sighed a comically feeble protest, otherwise doing nothing to stop him as her moral compass failed.

Slipping his hand from her shoulder to encompass her jello-y right boob, grappling and squeezing the abundant flesh to test its density and responsiveness, Emma fell into a morass of lust and growing arousal.

I sat inactively as a neutered observer, growing increasingly turned on witnessing my passive wife’s defilement and conquest, unfortunately causing the pain in my trapped penis to grow in concert with the stimulation.

Witnessing the gradual induction of Nicole and Maggie into the rising debauchery didn’t help, with both half-dressed in a manner I’d only imagined in the past as their own spineless husbands watched unable or unwilling to intervene.

Now, only feet away from where I sat in my libidinous reverie, Emma’s unresisting legs splayed widely accepting the older man’s manipulation of her hairless cunt, while sinking deeper into a pool of desire and no longer caring who saw her debasement.

Juvenilely, Ted bounced and toyed with my hapless wife’s enormous melon like a happy college kid, enjoying immensely its spongy buoyancy before dropping to suckle her stiff left nipple into his mouth.

“Ahhh,” Emma squealed when his teeth gripped the sensitive flesh of the steely bud, tugging mercilessly on the distended nipple while fingering her rising clit driving her helplessly up a mountain of erotic desire.

Knowing precisely what he was doing, Ted inexorably built her need, plotting for the moment when the urge for his sizable cock was undeniable.

With her eyes closed and head resting on the edge of the spa, my faltering wife drifted into the intensifying fog of a sexual dream state. Although I couldn’t see it clearly, I was certain I detected her hips rolling in slow circles in acknowledgement of the swirling fingers taunting her agitated clit.

Emma is highly responsive to foreplay, and as I was learning to my great dishonor, apparently it was irrespective of the source, instead of out of devotion to me. In the short time since our downfall, I noticed my modest wife growing more sexual and vulnerable as a natural result of constant stimulus.

Ted’s toying fingers relentlessly built her sexual ardor, with her erratic breaths growing pronounced and signaling his success, with her head lolling side-to-side on the spa ledge.

“Ohhhhhhh, mmmmmh,” she moaned subconsciously as her fervor grew, and I sensed I’d soon be watching my devoted wife orgasm mightily at the hands of a stranger she’d only met a day earlier.

Ted sensed it too, looking at me once more with a knowing smile then ramping up the pace, stroking her palpitating clitoris while returning his mouth to suckle her thick, pointed buds, alternating between one jostling tit and then the other her tremoring increased with her need to cum.

“Hunnh, uhhh, yesss,” Emma submitted, now openly encouraging his antagonizing rubbing, perhaps in a display of surrender, but just as likely in defiance towards me, as it was my weakness and folly leading her here in the first place.

“Go on, Mrs. Tyler, cum for me. Cum for a man you just met while your husband watches his big-titted wife surrender to her need,” Ted urged loud enough for me to hear, purposefully using her surname to remind her of her infidelity and insulting me with the words after withdrawing from her stimulated nipples.

The bastard read Emma perfectly, unlocking the combination of her lust, humiliation, and anger in striking the right chord sending her spinning into a tremoring orgasm.

“Awwhhh, ohhh gawd, ohh my gawwwd!” she sobbed her climax as her body quaked with ecstasy.

“That’s it, babe, cum hard, my married slut. Let your husband watch you cum for another man — a better man,” the tormenting executive crowed, disparaging my wife with the offensive exhortation but seemingly to no ill-effect, as she was simply beyond caring.

Emma’s lush red lips formed a circle issuing a low-throated groan with her shoulders shaking as her entire torso contorted from the power of her orgasm while Ted lodged his thumb against her electrified sex nub driving her to ever greater heights.

“Annhhh! Ohhh, yesss. Ohhhhh fuck, yesssssss,” she purred softly in submission, practically melting into the arm of the satisfied executive as the shockwaves gradually eased and the bursts of erotic energy slowly dissipated.

Ted looked at me again, noting the unsuccessful erection in my cock cage and the pained look on my face, understanding I was getting off watching this superior male use my faithful wife for his pleasure.

At the same time, I suffered the anguish and physical agony of a bursting hard-on crushed against the unforgiving steel device. I couldn’t help myself. I was developing an unexpected affinity for watching other men use Emma however they saw fit, all while shamefully gratified by my angst and unrealized need as they did.

Desperately, I wanted to rip the cage away and jerk myself to my own orgasm, with my inferiority to the business titan second only to my improper desire in witnessing my subjugated wife’s moral descent into the perverse role of married slut and sex toy.

With the action between Ted and Emma momentarily paused leaving her jello-like in recovery, I gave a quick glance in Hank and Ike’s direction, shocked by what I saw, although I shouldn’t be.

**********************************

Focused on their own goals and desires, the two most powerful men at Allenby Consolidation were too busy reducing the company CFO and my co-worker’s wife into corporate fuck dolls to spend much time watching my besieged wife’s moral demise at the hands of the big fish client they were intent on luring as a major customer.

“Oh yeah, Nikki, work the head like that,” Hank applauded joyfully. “Burt, your lovely wife is so much better at sucking my knob than even a few weeks ago.”

With his engorged cock constrained in its cage and veins of excitement popping on his forehead, Burt Westridge fixated on his 45-year-old wife slathering her tongue across the broad surface of our expectant boss’ mushroom crown in a proficient, business-like manner emblematic of her professionalism and attention to detail as a skilled number cruncher and now, cocksucker extraordinaire.

The enthralled husband wasn’t so restrained as me, eagerly slobbering and wriggling his pelvis with half-humping motions watching Nicole. She didn’t look willing, certainly not as ecstatic as Burt at her servitude to Hank Allenby, but she was apparently more resigned to what must be a regular routine of sexually entertaining our mutual boss.

I now understood why Nikki, a name I’d never heard her called without a corrective ‘Nicole’ issued by the proud company executive, stayed submerged under the bubbles earlier while stroking the cock of her happy master.

Nicole’s bathing suit, if you can call it that, wasn’t a bikini at all but a monokini — a single piece of fabric wrapped tightly around her body covering almost nothing.

With thin black straps running from each shoulder just wide enough to cover her light pink nipples, they dropped precipitously merging at the crotch in a single patch over her bald pussy, then disappeared into the dark valley of her ass crack to ultimately reappear up her back separating into the straps over her shoulders once more.

Honestly, it may have consisted of even less fabric than Emma’s nearly nonexistent bikini.

Hank sat on the edge of the spa, apparently not bothering with a bathing suit at all, as I would discover was the case with all three of the horny business execs.

Nicole was between his parted legs, head hovering over our mid-fifties employer’s upright cock drawing the tip into her mouth, swirling around and then popping off the top and running the flat of her moist tongue leisurely down its impressive length before returning to repeat the stimulating act again.

‘Slup, smck, mumph,’ the sound of wet lips on hard cock were heard over the bubbles, with her red curls shifting from low to high and her head traveling judiciously along the rigid span.

Nicole’s gaudy diamond solitaire wedding ring flashed in the bright sunlight on her left hand, grasping Hank’s big, low-hanging testicles in their hairy, wrinkled sack while her right hand rested on his outstretched thigh.

The position made it easy for Burt to see his attentive wife’s slim fingers tracing and plying the contented man’s heavy cum-laden balls, her sacred ring on full display while her dancing fingers applied a gentle massage encouraging the full orbs to relinquish their creamy load into her waiting mouth when Hank was good and ready.

‘I’d never have believed it,’ I thought, marveling at the proud woman stripped to the tiniest bathing suit for our boss, using her mouth for anything other than reporting the latest financial numbers.

Certainly, I had fantasies of Nicole Westridge on her knees giving head, but it was always from my point of view, and always my cock in her mouth. Seeing it third person, with compromised CFO’s pinkish lips stretched obscenely consuming at least half of Hank’s thick pole, was something I never envisioned but found highly erotic.

Burt must have thought so too, as his eyes remained fixated on the sight, even with my own naked wife’s plentiful breasts offering a titillating alternative tableau of seduction while reposing on Ted Jenkins’s arm.

With a nasty ‘payback’ glance at her humiliated husband, Maggie removed her dainty red bikini top in a smooth movement, challenging Dave with hands on hips, ensuring he and every other man present received a good long look at her delightfully pert B-cup titties perched upturned and pointed on her chest with a pleasant slope befitting her age.

It all added up to a dazzling scene of unexpected debauchery I never thought possible, and I must say it was a vision I enjoyed tremendously and I’m sure the other men did as well.

Maggie is pretty — adorable really, with a diminutive but tight little body and a sassy disposition I secretly admired but wouldn’t dream of approaching in an untoward manner. Her nipples are tiny and tightly crinkled with her obvious stimulation, especially compared to Emma’s round, poker chip areolae, and a much lighter shade of pink.

As Dave is my co-worker, I never really fantasized about seeing Maggie naked, but now, standing only feet away wearing just scant red French-cut bikini bottoms doing little to cover her muscular ass, I truly understood the appeal of the effervescent woman.

To my buddy’s dismay, the sight of Ike’s huge black cock set semi-hard before Maggie’s wide blue eyes drew her rubbery buds into little knots of arousal, with the large black man reclining on the edge of the spa ready to be serviced by the mousy wife of another compromised Allenby employee.

The gleam in her crystalline eyes told me Maggie had never seen anything quite like it.

Haughtily turning her back briefly to her contrite husband, the cutesy spark plug shot a denouncing look over her shoulder with a ‘watch this’ glare, dropping to her knees between the thick tree-trunk thighs of the leering black man and hovering over his lap.

Smallish of body with lily-white skin and curly sunshine blonde hair, the married beauty contrasted mightily with the colossal ebony bulk of Mr. J-D.

“Pick it up, doll, give hubby a good look at what wifey’s taking on,” Ike directed with a toothy grin, gloating in recognition of the astonishment she exhibited contemplating his massive cock.

Delicately scooping her petite hand beneath the stalwart column of pulsing meat, Maggie lifted the dark spear warily, incredulous at its sheer size even partly flaccid and no doubt wondering how she’d manage such a beast in her mouth — or ultimately within her slight body.

“Wow, it’s heavy,” the fair-haired nymph marveled vocally, not caring, or perhaps even emphasizing the enormity of the task to her observant husband looking on.

Dave’s gaze of uneasiness spoke volumes, covering his face and even more pronounced than her own.

“Jeez, Dave, look at the size of his cock, and it’s not even totally hard yet,” Maggie gawped tauntingly, weighing the vast tube in her flat palm before wrapping her slim fingers, or at least what reached, around the insurmountable girth.

“Pretty nice, huh, Mrs. Reynolds?” Ike boasted, employing her wedded surname as a weapon against her husband while sending a tinge of excitement through Maggie at the implications of the subversive act against the sanctity of her marriage vows.

“Wait ’til he sees it at full strength, if you can get me there,” the leering black man dared, poking at the obvious confrontation between husband and wife, seeking to spur Maggie to ever greater efforts in ridiculing my co-worker and gaining his arousal.

“Just watch me, Mr. J-D,” she answered brashly, taking up the gauntlet and turning to her scourged husband.

“You’ll never match up, Dave. He’s got you beat by a mile, or several inches at least, honey,” the vengeful matron jibed in a dig at her considerably smaller husband, his meek prick ensconced in a steel cage witnessing his wife praise another man’s superior black cock.

“I’ve got two big balls just loaded with yummy goodness, and the whole package is just waiting for you, if you can handle it,” the smiling executive added, encouraging her to sample the hefty testicles with a nod.

Taking his lead, Maggie lowered her left hand, cupping the leathery pouch containing the immense cum-loaded nuts of her current master, compelled to add her other hand in accommodating the entire bundle of brimming manhood.

Dave cringed spying the simple gold wedding band he’d placed on her finger in the church so many years ago pressed to Ike’s dark skin as Maggie bobbled the huge spheres like billiard balls, testing their weight.

“Whew,” she huffed a disbelieving exhale of either disquiet or desire, it was difficult to tell.

Honestly, Maggie’s act of resentment was truly impressive, but it was just an act. At least, I think so.

The bantam beauty had to be really pissed off at Dave for whatever he did placing her in the position of handling the giant cock of a large black man, because I doubt of her own volition she really wanted to break her vows, humiliate her husband, or most likely, suck Ike’s intimidating staff.

It had to be the only reason she’d put my otherwise admiring co-worker through this performance. I’d known both she and Dave for a while and believe she’s sincere in her faithfulness and affection for him.

Prior to this sudden revelation of their indenture to Hank I’m certain she never strayed. Maggie just isn’t the type, but here she is now, possibly a little scared yet gazing longingly at the big black pole ready to satisfy Ike’s every need and get whatever pound of flesh from her husband’s dignity she could extract.

To Maggie’s side, skillfully giving head to our mutual employer, Nicole Westridge labored obediently, oblivious to the presence of Ike’s frightening staff and her fellow dominated wife’s fascination with the expanding ebony lance.

It was another of many remarkable events in the last fortnight I never thought I’d see in my life.

With no longer a reason to delay, Dave’s curious wife switched from holding the loose shaft to stroking it more firmly up and down the substantial length, continuing to cradle the heavy scrotum while plying her small hand caringly along the dark skin.

“Ohhh,” she emitted a gasp of wonder when the veined span twitched in her gripping palm with the signs of awakening fully in response to the pleasant effectiveness of her initially modest efforts.

“That’s it, my little pixie, nice and easy like that. You’ll be amazed how quickly a sweet white housewife can bring me to life,” Ike sighed with condescending encouragement.

Dave’s tormented expression went pale with grief seeing his beloved mate’s tiny alabaster hand wielding the stirring meat, barely able to contain Ike’s thick shaft swelling with her ministrations, until finally Maggie was forced to release his hairy ball sack to grip his growing totem with both hands in order to maintain control.

Almost reverently, perhaps in a trance she didn’t expect, the petite wife glided her warm palms along the hardening cock from the wide base to the flaring dark purple knob with an amazed stare, sensing the power of the mighty tool even as it still hadn’t attained full mast.

“Dear lord, it’s sooo big,” she exclaimed wondrously when the rigid pole was stiff enough to stand upright on its own, declaring her awed impression without regard for her husband one way or another.

“Don’t just look at it, doll, show Big Ike some love with a nice wet kiss,” her dark overlord urged strongly but without coercion.

With Dave’s horrified eyes upon her nearly nude form, the cute blonde minx did as she was told, bending the few inches to plant her thin pink lips on the supple skin of his expansive cockhead while flashing her piercing blue eyes at her tamed husband in another intentional affront.

“Oh, no, sweetie,” Dave groaned his sorrow watching the corruption of his darling wife, understanding completely he put her there and overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of the sight of his beloved ready to satisfy Ike’s tensing cock with her silken mouth.

Turning her attention fully to the hulking senior executive, Maggie’s light ringlets framed her lovable face angelically, with her slight pink tongue slipping between pursed lips tentatively contacting the menacing tip before daringly encircling the surface and washing the fat knob completely.

Maggie retreated momentarily with a sigh of despair mixed with triumph, knowing the anguish her remorseful husband felt at the slight and flushed with a determination to make Dave pay dearly for his unforgivable transgression by giving the thickset African-American man the best blowjob she could manage.

Jutting stalwartly upward at least 9″ or even more, the formidable stanchion now stood fully erect and ready for action as the 41-year-old wife and mother struggled taking the broad head between her lips to the rim, making clear she was barely up to the daunting task.

“Ahhh, what a wonderful vision, Mrs. Reynolds, and such a pretty face nursing my cock,” Ike cooed contentedly feeling the playful tongue from the dazzling married woman’s mouth swirling his crown.

Diminutive in every respect, Maggie’s mouth stretched mightily accommodating the wide girth with difficulty, but she managed, swirling her tongue once more around the surface before bravely dipping lower to impressively encompass the first three inches of his meaty stalk.

“Oh yeah, doll, you look lovely with a black man’s cock in your mouth,” Ike praised disturbingly, purposely playing up the imagery for everyone, especially her aghast husband. “I can see you were wasting your time on Dave’s puny dick locked in its little cage.”

It didn’t take a genius to see Maggie wasn’t about to get much more of the big man’s giant tool in her mouth but to her credit she tried, dropping another half inch before realizing it simply wasn’t going to happen.

“Uggh, uck,” she gagged and spit sending a dribble of saliva down the tense column before wisely backing off.

Even then, she didn’t surrender completely, initiating a gentle bobbing motion atop his swollen knob with a regular cadence, her bright eyes proudly set on Ike’s appreciative gaze and tuning Dave out focusing exclusively on pleasing her new black master.

Intent on giving a sumptuous blowjob in satisfaction of Ike’s exceedingly high standards, Maggie next turned to working his burly shaft, running her moist tongue along its length, then returning to the bulbous cockhead whenever she reached the top.

‘I’ll get you off one way or another, you sonofabitch,’ she told herself, enveloping the pulsing plum-sized head once again before the long trip down the underside of his palpitating cock.

“You’ve got quite a wife here, Dave, seems she loves black cock,” Ike cruelly complimented my friend sitting queasily off to the side watching his beloved wife sucking off the senior executive.

“Yes, indeed, she’ll be a BBC slut by the end of the cruise,” he suggested nastily, adding an intolerable idea sending a shiver up Dave’s spine and a twinge to my caged member as well. “Maybe even get her a Queen of Spades tat for her ankle when we get back to port.”

Dave gulped at that image and even Maggie paused momentarily, nervously considering the extreme proposal.

Next to the interracial couple, Nicole took in a surprisingly large amount of Hank’s fat pole before gagging lightly and withdrawing to just the tip.

“Smmmpphhh,” she issued a muted slurp but didn’t relinquish the sturdy rod.

Even with Emma nearby, I sat in awe seeing a picture of Nicole Westridge I never thought possible and couldn’t truly believe — the brilliant middle-aged financial whiz draped in the lap of our boss with his stiff cock lodged in her throat sucking him respectfully as she would her true master.

I don’t know what Nicole did to merit the Westridge’s demise at the hands, and cock, of Hank Allenby, but it must have been serious enough to gain her reluctant supplication in a way far beyond spreadsheets.

Certainly, it was enough to co-opt Burt’s conscience, extricating his own deeply buried deviant desire to witness his lovely wife’s descent and deprecation. If the man harbored any antipathy towards the company president’s sexual exploitation of his appealing wife of 25 years, it didn’t show.

Oddly, I wondered how long it would take before I got off witnessing Emma’s debasement at the hands of my ruthless boss, just as the CFO’s husband did, or watched my devoted wife used by any stranger to whom Hank gifted her curvaceous body for that matter.

Remembering how hard I was watching her blow Hank the other day in his office and how stimulated I was moments ago as Ted sucked on her glorious tits and rubbed her responsive pussy to a powerful orgasm, it appeared that my cuckolded reaction was inevitable sooner rather than later.

“Huh, whew,” Burt huffed as he fiddled with his suppressed tool trapped helplessly in its steel cage, tugging at his free scrotum and desperately wanting release in satisfying his own lust witnessing Nicole suck off our well-hung boss.

From the excitement in his eyes and the way his body shuddered ecstatically at the vision of Nicole’s awe-inspiring fellatio, I was certain Burt was irretrievably aroused seeing her fit body nearly naked while voraciously devouring the CEO’s exceptional manhood.

“Mummph, mohhh, munnk,” the compromised lady exec groaned with Hank’s rigid staff stuffed in her mouth, inadvertently proffering her white muscular ass flanks directly to her sitting audience with the butt floss of her monokini wedged tightly in the seam of her crack.

I’d discreetly admired Nicole’s delightful derriere on more than one occasion in slacks or pencil skirts in the professional setting of our office, and I have to say, her ass looks good, although nothing close to Emma’s prodigious bottom, or even Maggie’s cutely dimpled cheeks.

Nonetheless, at this angle, it’s as lovely as I imagined — narrow and hollowed from her distance running while offering comfortable padding for a seriously good fucking. I thought nastily about how good my cock might feel buried in it, but that’s a pipedream unlikely to happen.

Whatever distractions I focused upon didn’t prevent Ted from moving forward with despoiling Emma. Unsated after bringing her to an extenuated climax, the sharp businessman leaned naked against the spa edge, ready to take advantage of my recuperating wife’s groggy state of mind.

“Take it, Mrs. Tyler, wrap those luscious red lips around my fat cock and suck it down,” he prompted impatiently.

Accustomed as a successful businessman to taking what he wanted, Ted didn’t wait for a response, roughly imposing his will by firmly grasping her ponytail and pressing the spongy purple knob of his stout pole against Emma’s quivering lips, forcing the ruby petals apart and decisively propelling the wide crown followed by several inches of dense meat into her unprepared mouth.

“Mooohhf,” she mumbled around the thick stalk, surprised but accepting of the corporate client’s invading spear, although admittedly without much choice.

I watched anxiously as my dominated wife’s florid lips stretched widely, encircling the broad rim of his bulging knob before sealing snugly around his swollen rod straining to contain the generous column of rigid meat.

Now, Ted picked up on my observant stare, as happy to demean myself and Emma as is his host, Hank Allenby.

“Never thought you’d see your pretty wife sucking another man’s cock, huh, Ray?” he declared insultingly, apparently unknowing I had witnessed Emma partake in that very act by swallowing Hank’s impressive tool only a few days ago, or maybe just not caring as it fed his arousal.

“Muhhckk, gugh,” Emma choked a little but adjusted accordingly, quickly realizing giving this bastard a blowjob was for the moment her only purpose in life.

I watched with another unexpected flutter in my incapacitated prick as her cheeks collapsed instinctively in accommodating the meaty lance with Ted gripping a clump of her chestnut ponytail guiding her motion, and gratefully stopping before it plowed forcefully into her throat.

To my surprise, Emma didn’t overtly resist, allowing this depraved man our new master sought so highly as a client to use her mouth as a suctioning cunthole, developing a deliberate but inordinately respectful fucking of her face.

“Mumph, mummm,” Emma murmured with each gentle thrust, widening in letting the invading pole enter, and then vacuuming the retreating shaft drawing her plump lips erotically along his glistening veined skin as it exited.

“See, Ray, your big-titted wife is just built for sex, and of course, for sucking cock. This truly is her calling. You should be grateful,” Hank chortled from across the spa with a demeaning smile.

So, now every couple was fully engaged, with the three deprived husbands as an unwilling audience, at least with the undue exception of Burt Westridge, clearly exhilarated watching Nicole zealously go down on Hank.

Initially contented by Maggie’s energetic but ultimately ineffective attempts at nursing his huge cock with only her playful lips and tongue, Ike eventually grew dissatisfied with her progress. As cute as she looked attempting to manage the monster black stalk, the diminutive wife’s mouth was simply not up to the task for a proper blowjob.

So, quite literally, the authoritative executive took the struggling lady into his own hands.

“Ahhh, hey!” Maggie yelped as the giant of a man grasped her by the scruff of the neck, peeling her puckered lips away from his steely lance.

“How ’bout we see if your other lips have more success?” he suggested mirthfully, grabbing the tiny bottoms of her red bikini and abruptly ripping them from her slim waist.

I wasn’t surprised to see Maggie’s dainty pussy devoid of what I presumed was normally a triangle of blonde fur covering her cherished vagina, especially since Hank insisted Emma shave completely bald. I’d never admit to Emma, but I couldn’t help admiring Maggie’s pretty little twat, finding it dainty and very appealing.

Treating Maggie as a porcelain China doll, the powerful older man assertively lifted her tiny body at the hips, splayed her meager thighs, and held her moist cunt directly above his frightening ebony cock.

“Ohhh, my,” she exclaimed in a high-pitched squeal of surprise but also girlish admiration for his strength and agility in manhandling her into a position of vulnerability and use at his whim.

Dave Reynolds’ expropriated wife was totally exposed and defenseless now, her flared petals blossoming with her arousal at the dominating move in readiness to accept the invading column with little resistance.

“Watch this, Dave,” Ike growled in the manner of a vanquishing hero taking the spoils from his defeated adversary, lowering Maggie deliberately until the tip of his fat crown pierced the relenting gash in making its grand entry.

“Uhh, please, go slow,” the nervous white wife implored, anxious and daunted having her sanctified channel impaled on her conqueror’s mighty lance and hoping he’d apply the courtesy of gentleness in taking his prize.

“You’ll be fine, my little married fuck doll,” the commanding black man assured. “I’ll just get you started, and you can take it from there.”

With that, Ike dropped Maggie’s hips inch by inch, skewering her elastic cock sheath with a girth and sturdiness unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

“Ohh, ohhhhhhhh gawwwwwd,” the taken wife moaned an ungodly tone from somewhere deep in her diaphragm in a manner I don’t think anyone believed she was capable of achieving with her mousey voice.

Maggie’s popping blue eyes fluttered rapidly, and her jaw dropped as the delectable creature was lowered onto each exacting inch of Ike’s monster cock accompanied by short panting breaths.

“Unh, unnnh,” she whimpered, an agonized expression of wonderment and doubt as her pussy stretched mightily while her delicate labia split wide consuming the thick cudgel a remarkable seven long inches before stopping.

“I, uh, can’t, uh, take more,” Maggie huffed as Ike set her knees at either side of his wide hips on the mattress surface, reclining fully on his back ready for the respectable wife and mother to take the lead in a wild ride on the upright staff.

“Take your time, little slut. Your wet snatch is nice and tight, but you’ll adjust and when you do, you’re going to love my big cock,” the black exec advised with well-intended deprecation.

Maggie hovered a moment as the walls of her vagina reflexively squeezed against the meaty staff probing her interior, closing her eyes to get her bearings and slow her breathing.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, ohh, you’re so fucking big,” she apologized for her hesitation, then flexed her thighs gently lifting her spritely body upward along the tensing shaft until sensing the wide crown at her entrance and sinking determinedly downward once more.

“Ohhhhhhh, Dave, his cock is so fucking big,” Maggie sighed after a long exhale, turning her head over her shoulder again witnessing the dismay on her husband’s face while planting herself on the rigid column of gnarled fuck meat until the spongy head bumped her cervix and she could go no further.

“Show hubby what you can do, slut,” Ike urged encouragingly, adding a cruel exhortation meant to strike directly at the heart of my co-worker. “Ride Big Ike like a pogo stick and show Dave you’re a great fuck as well as a sweet wife and mother to his kids.”

Gripping the beefy man’s broad shoulders set Maggie’s torso parallel to his hairy chest, with her pert B-cup titties turning to fleshy cones available for him to squeeze and nibble. Shifting her hips to withdraw, the beguiled wife no longer delayed in returning Ike’s massive cock to the warm recess of her heated cunt, initiating an easy rhythmic fucking just as he suggested.

“Awwwhhhhh,” she gasped with his huge staff’s reentry.

Dave grimaced unhappily as his wife vocalized her satisfaction in regular but increasingly urgent terms riding Ike’s big black cock with a growing desire. Maggie’s straining pussy oozed slippery fluids aiding her gliding motion up and down leaving the dark shaft shiny with her abundant juices.

Bent as she was, I had a premium view of the thick 9″ cudgel sliding in and out of Maggie’s soaking wet box, stressing her rubbery cunt lips to the max accepting the solid meat time and again in a fascinating contrast of black and white.

Judging by the humiliated look on his face, I’d say Dave did too, and I don’t think he appreciated it much at all.

Now, my caged cock really fought to break free, desperately needing to swell into a raging hard-on, yet unable to exceed the confines of the high-tensile steel. It really hurt too, and for a moment I envied my distraught co-worker because apparently watching his petite wife earnestly ride the biggest, darkest cock she’d ever seen did nothing to arouse his limp member.

“Unhh, ohhh, awggh,” Hank, Ike and Ted grunted as a chorus, now fully involved with our corrupted wives.

The imperious men sweated, clenched, and groaned in unison to the pleasurable attentions of Nicole, Maggie and Emma, providing the three inadequate husbands a front row seat witnessing the sordid adulterous action up-close and personal.

Eagerly, in a manner suggesting her enthusiasm was surprisingly genuine, Nicole took Hank’s throbbing cock deeply into her mouth, striving diligently seeking to gain our contented boss’ cum pouring into her throat.

At the same time, Ted consistently but without overwhelming vigor slipped his insistent shaft in and out of Emma’s oval mouth. In fact, he was quite gentle, gripping her ponytail and taking her unresisting orifice like a sumptuously warm, wet pussy, ready to feed his virile seed into my esteemed wife’s waiting mouth for the journey to her stomach.

“Slup, mmum, hmmph,” Emma slurped and hummed in her sexually dazed state with each introduction of the burrowing pole, not really doing more than applying a light suction as Ted repeatedly withdrew and returned, letting him fuck her face in a way I’d never even tried.

Whatever her earlier distress at wearing the scandalously skimpy bikini, Emma had given in to the reality she was naked, and that Hank intended her to be used as a sex toy during this ocean-going excursion. I’m not even certain she remained aware of my presence, or if her surrender was merely recognition that our new master wanted to humiliate us.

“Mummph, mohhh, mupph,” Nicole’s muffled gurgles and moans grew in volume, as the act of sucking off the company president with her cuckolded husband as audience apparently turned her on as much as it did Burt.

The frustrated man continued fruitlessly massaging his loose scrotum as precum seeped from the captured tip of his cock, desperately trying anything to jerk off to the despoiling of his accomplished wife, with a fixated rapture on his unwavering countenance at the proud CFO’s subjugation to her dominating employer.

“Slurp, shmep, smuk,” the copper-headed wife worked over Hank’s spastic cock, downing the meaty shaft and then rising again swirling her slippery tongue around the head on the uptake.

I marveled at her tight body bouncing before the older man — the way her thighs tensed, her slender ass cheeks undulated invitingly, and her generous tits trapped by the straps of her monokini jostled enticingly while vigorously swallowing Hank’s shaft whole.

“Unhh, that’s it, Nikki, you don’t think I pay you all that money just to work spreadsheets, do you?” the older businessman teased. “Giving head is far and away your greatest talent.”

I knew from his rapid breathing Hank was nearing his crescendo, and the action became intoxicating as Nicole’s cheeks hollowed and her cadence increased accordingly, but the suddenly heavy breathing from Ted and a panicked squeal from my wife invariably brought my attention back to Emma.

“Meeph, gck,” she squeaked tensely as the wavering older businessman lost himself to his building ardor, driving her deeper until inadvertently pressing the rubbery tip of his urgent cock against the entrance to her throat, threatening momentarily to breach the opening before fortunately retreating at the last second.

“Ohhh, yeah doll, just like that. Suck cock like a good slut wife,” Ted sighed his contentment with my beautiful wife’s luscious mouth, concerned more about his own enjoyment than her genuine worries of choking on the unceasing stalk.

The insult pierced my ears and must have affected Emma, but it didn’t show as his large hands now gripped her ears, with her strong body holding steady and unmoving while the dominant man screwed her stretched lips with more control than might be expected considering his heightened state.

“Yes, my big-titted bitch, so nice. Ray, your slutty wife has such a, ohhh, sweet mouth,” the exuberant client stammered, just getting out the ridiculing taunt, indicating Ted was ready to pump Emma full of his rich cum.

Even then, she merely looked upward into his greedy eyes accepting his steadily sawing cock, recognizing the signals and bracing herself for what she knew came next.

“Awwhhh, fuck, ohh fuck!” Ted excitedly called with relief, confirming my suspicion of his imminent climax and releasing a warm pulse of viscous jism into Emma’s waiting mouth.

“Mohhh, mumm, muk,” my prepared wife accepted the first rope with calm resignation, letting the foul semen fill the soft cavity, thinking she’d spit it out once finished.

“Gckk, gugg, gggug,” Emma suddenly gagged in panic as Ted reactively plowed the blunt end of his spurting cockhead to her throat threatening to enter, leaving her unable to do anything but receive the nasty spunk down her gullet.

“Take it, Mrs. Tyler, huh, drain my balls, babe,” Ted cooed, cruelly controlling my immobilized wife, and mocking her wedded status while pouring a second, third, and fourth jet of heated cream directly down her overwhelmed esophagus.

Without any other option, Emma did they only thing she could, choking down Ted’s copious seed one dollop at a time with his jerking cock spewing the salty man juice into her throat.

“Snuh, snuf,” Emma snorted and gasped for dear life, consuming his syrupy cum with some difficulty and entering survival mode.

“Shit, that’s sweet,” Ted crowed when the last weak dribble exited the spitting knob, running slowly to her stomach and joining a pool of the nasty white stuff already deposited.

I turned to find Hank also at his peak and sensed it was a position Nicole had been in more than once, putting the finishing touches on a supremely effective blowjob.

“Mooph, slup, smuck,” the broken woman’s smacking suction intensified around Hank’s resilient shaft, doing her best to suck him off to his satisfaction, perhaps fearing his wrath if she failed, or maybe with genuine enthusiasm, it was difficult to be sure.

“Uuuggh, that’s great, Nikki,” Hank sighed with subdued gratification, with his slackening body suggesting he was finally cumming in the distinguished CFO’s mouth.

“Mummm, mumh,” Nicole’s muffled gulps confirmed that fact, sounding almost contented, continuing her bobbing motion as her palm tugged gingerly on his emptying balls, milking them for all the specious semen they contained.

Devoted to her cause, whatever its impetus, Mrs. Westridge took every drop like a champ, affixing her thin lips around the rim of his swollen crown without letting any of the flavorful white fluid spill.

“Ahhh,” Burt sighed in his stimulated state, very nearly cumming despite his cage while submissively watching his beloved wife humiliate him by blowing her boss — the Westridge’s master in common with us all.

Only Ike was left, lying in repose as Dave’s slight, featherweight wife Maggie did everything in her power to provoke the imposing black man to launch into his own climax, humping up and down vigorously on his huge upright stanchion to that end.

Turned on, with her emotions a jumble of arousal and resentment, Maggie dearly wanted her conscience-stricken husband to witness the powerful executive pump her scorching hot pussy full of his masculine seed in desecration of her marital chastity.

“Huh, huh, ohhh, come on, Ike, give it to me! Oh fuck, fuck me, baby, give me your big black cock!” the curly-topped pixie urged energetically, riding his massive ebony fuck stick cowgirl-style with all her might.

Dave remained limp in his cage, his eyes wet with grief over his guilt in driving his adorable wife to the point of impiety, fueling her rage at him to where she’d purposefully rub his nose in her infidelity.

Reprehensively, I was thrilled and intoxicated with need seeing sweet Maggie Reynolds in a way I’d never contemplated, filled with sexual fervor and careless about the emotional injury she inflicted on her husband. Adding to the appeal, her tasseled head tossed about wildly, with her small hands anchored to Ike’s puffed chest and her delightfully pert B-cup titties bounding deliriously to her wild gyrations in a picture of mad lust.

“That’s it, slut, fuck yourself crazy, unnh, on Big Ike’s fat cock,” the incited businessman barked, spurring her desire to extract the cum from his balls with her tight, sweltering fuck hole.

“Unnh, unh, ohhhhhhh my gawwwwwd!” Maggie howled with maniacal abandon as she orgasmed convulsively, her elfin body contorting, abruptly throwing her head backward forming a shuddering arc with her slim torso and slamming her spasming cunt violently onto Ike’s upraised meat stake in exaltation.

I doubt Dave’s ever seen his wife so frenzied with passion and his expression went blank with loss, fearing she’d never be the same with him and their marriage was irreparably altered, if not destroyed.

“Arrrggh, fuck, here it comes” Ike grunted bellicosely, driving his hips upward with his mighty buttocks forcing the last inch of his buried pole to a place within Maggie no man had ever reached.

“Ohhh god, that’s sooooo fucking good,” the jubilant wife panted her ecstasy, accepting a torrid deluge of his robust spunk into her sullied twat as her husband watched.

Dave grimaced visibly, shifting in his chair at Maggie’s obvious elation and satisfaction, her dignity and devotion to him shattered by the awe-inspiring power of Mr. J-D’s cunt-splitting cock.

Snuggling into Ike’s burly chest in an unsolicited display of affection hurting my buddy terribly, Maggie granted Dave an unhindered view of the triumphant black man’s giant cock planted deep in her distorted pink gash, pulsing steadily in pouring his life-giving essence into the forbidden chamber.

An unsightly seepage of translucent jism formed at the junction of Ike and Maggie’s union, the tightness of her labial seam around his slick shaft unable to contain the sheer volume of impure semen pumped into the chasm, forcing it out the sides with nowhere left to go.

“Tattoo, huh?” she asked five minutes later with an inquisitive lilt to her tone about the BBC queen marker, purposefully meaning to irk her reeling husband.

“Well, that was one helluva show!” Hank cheered as the interracial couple’s sweat-soaked bodies melded while recovering from their arduous copulation.

“Never doubt the power of Ike’s cock to turn a dedicated wife into a cheating slut,” our mutual boss berated my forlorn co-worker, ensuring in Dave’s mind his life partner and the mother of his children would never look at him the same, even if they remained married.

Everyone stayed in place, finishing drinks, regaining their strength, or simply pondering the deleterious change in their lives after the sordid, lascivious display by the adulterous couples in the spa.

“Let’s take a break, go back to our rooms, and get some rest before dinner,” our host graciously suggested in what was clearly another order.

“You ladies may appreciate a shower, especially you, Maggie. That was a heck of a workout, and I’ve no doubt my buddy gave you a pussy full of cum to clean out, or maybe Dave enjoys a cream pie,” Hank added snidely, deriding her husband with a disturbing alternative suggestion.

Returning slowly to a normal sense of modesty and decorum after her ecstatic frenzy, Maggie blushed visibly with embarrassment at the suggestion.

Avoiding Dave’s eyes, she simply rolled off Ike, burying her face in a towel hiding her shame while pragmatically clamping her short legs together and waddling towards the chastened couple’s stateroom.

An inadvertent sway of her cute little ass while holding the black man’s virile semen in her overflowing snatch was the telltale sign to her husband and everyone watching that Maggie wasn’t through tormenting Dave for his misdeeds, and she had plenty of other ideas for rubbing his nose in his folly.

**********************************

I don’t know about the other ladies, but Emma was mercifully left alone with me, walking to our room naked and in silence to clean up and take a nap. Her posture indicated she was clearly traumatized about the joke Hank played with the transparent bikini, but more so about blowing a virtual stranger and knowing his foul cum resided in her stomach.

I imagine the memory of the event and the taste in her mouth will never leave her mind.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Ray,” Emma grieved her doubt about our service to Hank, plopping onto the bed of our stateroom, “and don’t think I’m enjoying sex with a total stranger just because he made me, well, you know, orgasm, because I’m not.”

“I know, sweetheart, I don’t think that at all. I know you don’t want to do these things, but we don’t have a choice,” I answered, doing my best to be supportive without starting an argument, but also reinforcing the consequences of refusal.

“I know, I know. Hell, Ray, screwing Hank is bad enough, but I just gave head to a guy I don’t even know just because your fucking boss set it up, and he made you watch me do it wearing that ridiculous contraption,” she raged with understated disgust.

Emma appeared weak and vulnerable — so contrary to her usual persona as a strong, confident woman.

I looked at my distressed wife and shook my head in sympathy. There really wasn’t anything I could say, though, so I headed to the bathroom leaving her alone, but hearing her sniffles of dejection as I closed the door.

Fifteen minutes later, I returned to find her in a fitful sleep. Crawling into the bed by her side, naked and still trapped in my merciless cock cage, I slept too until 4:00 p.m. when a rap sounded on the door.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” Alex advised, slipping a card under the door with instructions.

Emma and I woke, and she read through the card nervously, worried about what further indignity she faced this evening but accepting her status as sexual plaything on this voyage, along with two other similarly indentured married women.

“Hope you’re nice and refreshed. Long night ahead,” she noted the words from our host with disquiet, shaking her head suspecting exactly what that meant before silently reading the remainder with an occasional gasp or sigh.

“We need to meet everyone in the main dining cabin at 5:00 p.m.,” Emma informed me, continuing with the rest of the directions. “Hank wants me to wear that indecent skirt and corset with the stockings and spiked heels. That’s it. No bra and no panties, just the garter and stockings.”

I raised my eyebrows understanding my wife found the idea embarrassing, as the outfit was so scandalous she’d never even consider wearing it the privacy of our own bedroom just for me, yet alone with a group of my co-workers and an important client.

“Jeez, Ray, my breasts are going to be totally exposed,” she bemoaned with resignation, rather than fury.

“What about me?” I asked almost as a formality, guessing the answer.

“It just says ‘come as you are,'” she smirked, darting her eyes at my nude form wearing only my disgraceful cage.

“He also advises that I ‘tastefully’ apply the make-up they set in the bathroom, so I’d better get started,” Emma added, grabbing the few items of clothing she was permitted, shuffling her naked ass into the bathroom and closing the door.

I putzed about with not much to keep me company — no books or TV, although there was a CD player with a surprising selection of contemporary jazz. In the background I heard the shower running, then a blow dryer, and finally silence as I assumed Emma was applying her make-up.

“Oh dear lord,” her discouraged voice whined from the other side of the door with only ten minutes left before we needed to be at dinner.

A moment later the door opened, and my embarrassed wife stepped out on wobbly feet, the heels much higher than her casual pumps and trying to gain her balance enough to walk with even a hint of her usual grace.

I didn’t think it was possible, but I was more flabbergasted with her appearance than earlier in the day with the skimpy bikini, even though she wore considerably more fabric now than then. Truthfully, she looked stunning. I mean sexy as hell, although I know she felt completely out of her element and terribly uncomfortable.

“Well?” she simply asked, and I saw her pretty green eyes turn watery with shame even though I suspect she realized with an inadmissible pride she looked hot.

I love Emma for the sweet caring person she is and has always been — an excellent mother, attentive wife, and respected, active participant in our community. Tonight, however, she looked the role of a high-class call girl visiting a well-heeled client in his hotel room.

“Huh, you look great, honey,” I exhaled involuntarily, responding honestly if maybe a little over-enthusiastically for her mindset at that moment, and try as I might, my cock stirred in its cage so obviously she had to notice, making her frown despite the clear compliment.

At 5’10” and statuesque with curves in all the right places, and despite her truly eye-catching set of tits, Emma’s long, sinewy, and quite shapely legs may be her best physical feature, and the super-short, pleated black skirt left little argument about that fact.

The hem reached to just the bottom of her round, meaty ass, and maybe not even that far, as the curve of her alabaster butt cheeks meeting the back of her upper thighs was discernibly visible even when not walking or bending. Up front, the skirt fortunately didn’t reveal any of her bald pussy, but with the slit up the side a good stiff breeze or even sitting with legs uncrossed resulted in a full-on advertisement of her most intimate of feminine charms.

As I’ve always admired, Emma’s sturdy legs extended gloriously all the way to the floor draped in the sheer black stockings reaching only to mid-thigh attached to the garters, exposing a substantial amount of her ivory skin between the wide dark bands at the top of the fabric and the hem of the brief pleated skirt.

The aforementioned, black five-inch ‘come fuck me’ heels left her unsteady, adding to her uncertainty while also abetting her already impressive height.

Emma’s not a flashy dresser by temperament and that applies to her make-up too. She’s naturally gorgeous so only ever wears it as an accent in understated fashion — light lipstick, a hint of mascara, and generally no eyeshadow or foundation.

I’m assuming her options tonight were specified by Hank, because while still eschewing the foundation, her black mascara was heavy and topped by a shimmering cinnamon-toned eyeshadow highlighting her sparkling emerald eyes.

Most shocking, however, was the fire engine red gloss lipstick, plumping her already full lips into a taunting pout screaming ‘blowjob artist’ and sending another pulse to by constrained cock.

Of course, the corset was beyond the pale and completely unacceptable in the polite societal circles we inhabited, although it did give me second thoughts about whether her legs or her breasts were her most enticing asset. Emma’s large, fleshy mounds rested in all their splendor on the supportive shelf, propped upward and totally uncovered.

While currently flat and flaccid with her discomfort, my tense wife’s deep rose areolae and eraser tip nipples were on prominent display. Perturbingly, Hank’s required ensemble granted not even a pretense of hiding her impressive tits or her state of arousal from the peering eyes of our dinner companions.

As distressing to Emma, the corset’s mid-drift cut created a significant gap between the skirt’s low-riding waist set indecently just above the swell of her bald pussy mound. The look emphasized the soft padding of her bare lower belly below her navel — an area of extreme sensitivity for my self-conscious wife, as it is for many mature women.

The pink in her face and terror in her eyes told me Emma was embarrassed and ashamed. Knowing even the slightest movement sent her ample boobs jiggling outrageously, she astutely guessed Hank expected such an exhibition as a source of lewd entertainment for the evening.

It didn’t matter that everyone, including Ted and my co-workers, had seen her that afternoon in a scandalously tiny bikini and then fully nude. This outfit was slutty, and my modest wife was simply not a woman who tolerated ‘slutty’ very well.

When we joined the group at five o’clock sharp, I noted the tension ease from Emma’s face, apparently reassured by Nicole and Maggie’s attire being every bit as daring and provocative, which frankly wasn’t a surprise under the circumstances.

Lovely with her face made-up with chartreuse eye shadow and burnt umber lipstick, Nicole Westridge looked very impressive decked out in a black pantsuit not providing as much coverage as one might think.

The bottom half was effectively short shorts displaying as much ass cheek as Emma’s skirt and drawn so tight over Nicole’s snatch that her puffy labia were clear to even a casual observer. Bracing her womanly hips was a thin black belt with a copper buckle, presumptively to match her hair color.

I noticed delicate wisps of curly crimson hairs peeking from the sides of her crotch, just the slightest bit, but it was still surprising since I’ve learned Hank prefers a bare muff and the CFO’s snatch apparently featured only a trim.

The top of the garment developed into a dramatic V-shape starting at just the upper curve of her pubic mound and widening to the shoulders as narrow straps at the top of her deltoid muscles, leaving her upstanding C-cup tits completely revealed with her coral-tinted nipples projecting on full alert. The broad expanse of her lily-white skin was marked by a sparse but appealing smattering of light freckles, including attractively over the tops of her breasts.

For the first time, I noticed how toned and fit her elegant arms appeared, and that’s not to mention the wiry strength of her runner’s legs with feet clad in black high heels emphasizing the carved power of her calves.

I’m guessing dancing or any other movement might affect the precarious design just as with Emma’s outfit, and Nicole was thankfully graced with fairly broad shoulders keeping the ensemble from collapsing altogether.

Spritely and bearing a surprisingly devilish grin, Maggie Reynolds bore a decidedly different look than her fellow wives in peril, outfitted as a comely youngster more in keeping with Bailey’s age group than her own.

Curly blonde and kewpie doll adorable, Dave’s wife was truly in the pink, and I do mean literally. Glossy pink lipstick, pink eyeshadow, pink ribbons in her hair and a pink tube top no wider than Nicole’s belt with a matching pink mini-skirt no longer than either of her lady companions’ barely bottom covering attire.

Maggie’s B-cup titties poked excitedly through the gossamer top with billowing expanses of pale boob flowing both below and above while the skirt didn’t drop much below the lips of her shaved pussy. Even her shoes were pink, but in her case flat-soled sneakers giving her a cutesy appeal.

“Have a seat ladies,” Alex invited our wives, sweeping his arm grandly to a large table set for six.

Emma gawped momentarily spying the young, good-looking man donned in only a white waiter’s apron tied at the waist, a black bow tie, and nothing else. His pectorals stood firm and well-defined, his glutes were sublime, and overall he was every woman’s dream hunk.

I’ve no doubt my increasingly jaded wife flushed inside admiring his fit, muscular form while wondering exactly what the apron hid. A quick check of Nicole and Maggie suggested they wondered the same thing.

Hank, Ike and Ted were already seated, nicely dressed in open collars but no coats and wearing loose cargo shorts above deck shoes. It was immediately apparent they were going commando by the outline of their impressive packages along the pantleg.

There was no space at the table for Burt, Dave, or me, with all the seats occupied in alternating order between the men and our wives.

“Over here if you will, gentlemen,” Bailey’s peppy girlish peep bid the trio of us husbands, stripped to our cock cages and directed to a smaller, lower-set table a few feet away.

The pretty 20-something lass was dressed similarly to her associate Alex, except Bailey only wore a frilly white maid’s apron with black bow tie and that was it.

The young lady really is cute — youthful, blonde and bubbly with an absolute hardbody. She stood with her marvelously dense titties jostling invitingly with every movement and a toned waist above an ass to kill for featuring tiny tight buns above athletic legs.

I felt a twinge in my cage and knew it was going to be a long night merely watching the naked coed prance about and do who knew what else in providing services.

While nicely appointed with white linen and silverware, our set-up had a distinctly ‘kid’s table’ feel you got at family Thanksgiving dinners. It was most definitely an inferior position to the main table and was intended to be so, as if sitting naked in only metal cock cages wasn’t diminishing enough.

Set by each glass of crystal-clear sparkling water was a little blue pill.

We all knew what it was, and it appeared to be a cruel joke by our host, unless by some bizarre chance he planned to spring us from our traps for the evening to play along in the game, but that didn’t seem likely, and my suspicions soon proved correct.

“Gentlemen, take the blue pill to enhance the tonight’s experience, then we’ll eat, and have some dancing and entertainment,” Hank announced, with his euphemism for fucking our wives after dinner almost amusing were it not so humbling and real.

I noticed the men at the main table each had a blue pill of their own, although for them consumption was strictly voluntary, if they so desired.

Burt, Dave, and I looked each other warily in the eye, knowing what to expect but not permitted to object or refuse. Burt popped his pill and we quickly followed suit, fearing the erection inducing properties it was intended to produce while sensing Hank had no designs to release us from our cages.

The bastard simply wanted to ensure we suffered more watching our host and his favored guests use and dishonor our cherished wives, generating raging hard-ons with no outlet straining against the unyielding steel bars, resulting in tremendous pain incapable of relief.

Whatever else I may think about Hank, he is a gracious host, and if I’m to be honest, the dinner was fantastic. Five-star restaurant quality steak and lobster accompanied by the finest wines.

Alex and Bailey catered to every need, providing excellent, attentive service, hovering nearby without intruding as their beautiful young bodies repeatedly caught the wandering eyes of us older folks.

When Bailey bent to pour more wine at the big table, her cute little pink pussy peeked from between her toned thighs causing my cock to flinch in its cage. One time early on, her delightful butt inadvertently brushed my arm in passing, triggering the unhappy expansion that, aided by the blue pill, was designed to vex me and my fellow husbands the rest of the night.

Even with a stunted erection filling the limiting device, for a brief time conversation flowed, no doubt influenced by the wine. It almost felt like a normal dinner party, except I was naked, and my wife was so disgracefully attired she truly did look the part of an escort hired for the evening.

Truthfully, all the wives did.

As dinner started, I noticed Emma and Nicole discreetly shifting and adjusting, uselessly attempting to act casual despite unavoidably realizing their unbound tits were on full display and a major distraction to the men. Maggie didn’t have that problem with her smaller boobs in a tube top, but she did keep her legs firmly together, as did her dinner companions modestly fearing the indecent show provided were her legs to part.

The talk grew more boisterous and raucous with each empty glass of wine and the ladies soon forgot themselves and their virtue, with Emma and Nicole’s loose melons swaying freely and their legs loosening with each drunken giggle or guffaw.

Sitting at the lower table, I had a direct line of sight to my wife’s bare pussy, and I know Burt and Dave did too. Without panties, the short skirt revealed every detail of Emma’s ruffled labia and forbidden pink hole and she was inebriated enough to either not know or not care.

Maggie and Nicole weren’t any better.

Nicole’s fat cunt lips split to either side of the insufficient crotch of her black pantsuit and for the first time I noticed a pair of snaps at the crotch for ease of access at the appropriate time. Maggie’s dainty, cherry pink cunt was clearly visible in intimate detail, with the color of her pretty little quim matching every article of clothing she wore at Hank’s behest.

Dave, Burt, and I squirmed in our chairs, trying to participate in the lively banter but suffering the combined effects of the dastardly blue pill, our wife’s lascivious behavior, and Bailey’s intoxicating nudity as our captured cocks pressed the barriers of our cage but could go no further.

“That’s true, Ted, but giving an excellent blowjob isn’t the only mark of a talented fuck pet,” Hank replied to a comment by his honored guest, turning the discussion bawdy in what I’m certain wasn’t an accident.

We were all finishing dessert and nursing Napoleon brandy, so it appeared the time was nearing for the ‘dancing and entertainment’ as he’d described it earlier, with the brazen language the perfect segue to more illicit proceedings.

“Let’s dance,” my boss suggested almost on cue in changing the subject and grabbing Maggie by the hand nearly dragging her from her chair.

Alex started a big band music tape and hit the lights creating a makeshift dance floor next to the table.

Ike’s meaty black palm was almost immediately in Emma’s face, and she hesitantly accepted with an intoxicated grimace of uneasiness, rising almost to meet his height while extending her long, lean legs to their best advantage.

“This should be interesting,” I said to my companions, knowing my wife’s inherent discomfort with black men.

Emma’s not truly a racist, but she’s confessed in weak moments to a reflexive nervousness whenever in a black person’s presence, especially men. She’s not proud of it and works hard to overcome her prejudice, but I know it’s always there just beneath the surface.

I studied Emma closely sauntering to the dance floor on unsteady feet, looking for signs of reluctance to dancing with the imposing African-American man and maneuvering in the high heels while battling her inebriation.

To my surprise I didn’t see any overt indications, and invariably my eyes drifted to her ivory ass cheeks peeking beneath the brief pleated skirt as the pair joined Hank and Maggie on the floor already cutting a rug to the tune of an up-tempo standard.

Dave’s short wife and our stunted employer made a good match, at least in size, and there was no missing the rise of her skirt as he twirled her around with her hand held above her head. Maggie’s tight little butt and adorable snatch were on full display as she spun.

Cautiously, I took a quick glance as my co-worker sorrowfully closed his eyes at her exposure.

Of course, Maggie wasn’t alone, and Ted and Nicole quickly paired with the garrulous Southern gentlemen chirping who knew what in her ear before flinging her about the dance floor sending her unbound jugs flying between the exaggerated V-cut of her pantsuit with her movements.

Polished and sophisticated, Ike embraced my compliant wife, his powerful arm around her back initiating a well-executed two-step causing Emma’s own skirt to whip around ensuring everyone a good look at her flexing bottom and neatly denuded vagina.

Gripping his giant hand to follow his lead, each step, hop, or skip of his ambling moves forced her unencumbered tits to rise or dip extremely with their tremendous weight, emphasizing their natural density and gelatinous construction to eyepopping effect.

Gamely, Emma kept pace with the accomplished dancer until disaster struck.

‘Womp!’ my stumbling wife tripped over Ike’s foot as he performed an intricate step, unceremoniously sending her crashing to the deck in a disjointed heap of sprawling limbs and jiggling breasts.

“Oh, oh my,” she yelped, saving herself from worse only because of her natural athletic ability but not yet noticing a more humbling result of the miscue.

“Nice form, Mrs. Tyler. Ready to move to the next step, I see,” Hank teased, his face alight with pleasure.

Everyone on the dance floor had a good chuckle at the wisecrack and it was only then Emma realized that her long legs were indecently splayed, completely exposing her spread vagina to the degree everyone saw the interior of her dark pussy hole in the very unladylike pose.

“Ohhh, oh no,” Emma groaned in abject humiliation, awkwardly attempting to regain her balance and for a moment only making the situation worse as the effort proffered her nude cunt obscenely upward as if seeking a stiff partner before regaining her feet, if not her composure.

Ike smiled broadly at his first close-up view of my modest wife’s precious bald snatch, graciously offering her a hand and even leading her back to her seat at the table, albeit with his large ebony hand bracing her milky white ass cheek, while openly admiring her bare tits with a leering gaze.

“No more dancing,” my circumspect wife insisted, clutching her hand to the sides of her skirt trying to repair the damage and failing miserably with the diminutive garment even as her giant tits bobbled free and easy.

“I’d like a drink please,” she asked, three shades of red and casting her eyes briefly at me but finding no help in her time of need.

The other couples danced to the end of the song, with Maggie and Nicole suffering the groping hands of their partners on ass and tits as Emma hatched her cocktail. Within a minute of their return, the conversation picked-up exactly where it left off.

“An accomplished sex doll must also be proficient at eating pussy. Am I right, ladies?” our grinning host improperly proposed, glancing at each of our wives with a telling raise of his eyebrow.

Emma nearly spit out her drink at the suggestion, but Nicole and Maggie only chortled through pursed lips at the amusing question.

I know my conservative wife has never engaged in anything remotely lesbian in her past, even though her own younger sister, Betsy, is in a same-sex marriage. She isn’t offended by homosexuality, but it doesn’t appeal to her, and she considers herself unequivocally heterosexual.

I also know from personal experience Emma enjoys receiving oral sex, as I’ve labored between her widespread thighs more times than I can count. I’m fairly accomplished at cunnilingus judging from the results, but I’m confident she’s never contemplated for even a moment performing the same act on another woman.

Now, Hank was guiding the discourse in a novel and unexpected direction, and I saw in her body language it made her uncomfortable, no doubt fearing what our host and master had in mind.

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Bailey drew up behind Nicole and unbidden, boldly slipped her hand to the surprised CFO’s soft left C-cup breast, palming the jello-y globe and lowering her lips to whisper in the redhead’s ear.

“Uhh, o-okay,” the mature wife murmured after a quick glance at our boss confirming whatever it was the enchanting blonde quietly related.

“In point of fact, Nikki has developed into quite a capable rug muncher in the last few months, especially considering she never had an interest in eating pussy prior to her, um, ‘lapse,’ I’ll call it,” Hank disclosed.

As he did, his compromised CFO meekly accepted her young suitor’s hand, rising to follow Bailey to a padded bench conveniently forming a pseudo-stage. I was a touch envious, suspecting Nicole was getting the chance to participate in an act for which I’d gladly volunteer if it weren’t for my marriage and the wrath of my wife.

To my side, Burt grew increasingly agitated, shifting in his chair and hatching a generous swallow of brandy, with his other hand lowering to his imprisoned cock trying desperately to stimulate it further in preparation for a show he’d likely witnessed before and found terribly erotic.

Bailey’s apron was off in a heartbeat exposing her near perfect body and the aggressive lass wasted no time shimmying Nicole’s easily removed pantsuit off her shoulders and over her hips, leaving the attractive executive stark naked before our waiting eyes.

Earlier in the day, when I saw the mid-forties wife and mother naked for the first time, Nicole was obscured by the bubbling jets of the spa and her monokini. Now, I got an up-close look at my nude fellow employee, and I must say I was impressed.

Mrs. Westridge’s skin is flawless, lightly freckled in places befitting her overall coloring. Her body is slim and angular in keeping with her exercise routine, as her slight carriage is set on narrow hips but powerful legs.

I now realized her good-sized tits had a bit of sag denoting her age, but the effect formed a pleasant slope projecting her delicate rose nipples outward in an appealing offer ready for gnawing and teething.

Clearly understanding her task, the confident businesswoman instinctively assumed the lead from her younger companion, drawing Bailey in snugly for a highly invasive kiss mashing the two women’s breasts together and virtually thrusting her tongue deep into the receptive girl’s mouth.

“You are lovely, young lady,” Nicole gushed breathlessly, pulling away momentarily and gazing adoringly into Bailey’s blue eyes, before summarily pushing her by the shoulders to the mattress tremoring with expectation.

“I’ll bet you taste as fresh as you look,” the usually staid finance professional remarked with the sexy snarl of a lioness ready to devour her prey.

I never even imagined seeing composed Nicole Westridge so sexually dominant and licentious. I was stunned and arduously strained my cage wondering if it was merely an act for Hank’s benefit, or if some genuine spark of raw carnality had ignited in the normally sober older woman.

Burt was beyond himself, rapturous in his appreciation of the forbidden tableau and his wife’s assertive subdual of Hank’s alluring assistant, and even Dave had difficulty catching his breath, reaching for his constrained cock seeking to alleviate the stress it exerted against the confining metal under the influence of the blue pill.

I’m not certain what Emma was thinking at that moment, as I was too focused on the Sapphic May-August sexual tryst occurring on the bench to pay much attention, but I’m guessing she was both enthralled and scared witless.

Never witnessing such a shameless exhibition of lesbianism in her life, even online, and possibly recognizing there was a high probability she’d be on stage herself someday seducing an unwilling damsel or another corrupted minx, I knew my wife was pondering her unseemly future, but was momentarily thankful it was Nicole rather than herself.

“If you believe I’m an accomplished sex doll now, Hank, just watch, and I’ll show you I eat pussy better than any man here,” Nicole challenged dismissively, thrilling her audience of rapt onlookers, including her husband.

Demonstrating a strength I found compelling, Nicole gamely wrestled an unresisting Bailey by the ankles, bending her limber legs backward and apart to either side of her chest, where the wondrous girl’s perky, upright tits bobbled with youthful firmness.

In such a position, Bailey’s neatly trimmed cunt was vulnerable to whatever her older lover desired, with a delightful tuft of blonde pussy curls topping her mound but cleared from the vulva surrounding her pink channel.

Forceful and commanding, just as you’d expect from a high-ranking executive determined to get her way, I was struck by Nicole’s studied patience, staring at the delightfully presented snatch as if strategizing the best route to attack Bailey’s delectable pussy in the same manner she’d pick apart a competitor’s financial weakness.

Curling her thin lips into a subtle smile and a look of satisfaction with her plan, Nicole dipped to Bailey’s left knee and trailed the moist tip of her tongue gingerly along the supple tanned skin of the quivering lass, taking her time relishing each inch on the slow journey to the heart of her impromptu lover’s womanhood.

“Shit, maybe it’s not an act,” I pondered aloud, not even realizing I’d verbalized the words.

“Oh, my wife can turn it on and off like a switch and takes every challenge seriously. Believe me, it’s no act. She’s gonna go down on that lucky girl with every trick she’s learned,” Burt interjected, his voice wavering with excitement in responding to my comment.

“Awwhhh,” a girlish sigh stole my attention, watching with everyone else as refined Nicole Westridge brushed her tongue up the parting crease of her blonde love treat’s nicely prepared pink cunt.

Lapping hungrily at the mild dew found in the well, the wildfire in Nikki’s olive-green eyes suggested she was anxious to generate a flood of the feminine nectar, self-assuredly exploring the delectable furrow with another swipe.

“Ooooohhh,” Bailey cooed, clearly accustomed to a woman’s tongue and happily succumbing to the energetic licking of the gifted older woman currently nursing on her receptive pussy.

Burt was right about Nicole, that was certain.

Whatever her outward appearance as a middle-aged professional accountant, proper wife, and loving mother, she dove into cunnilingus with full force, effectively dabbing and darting her tongue along her cute lover’s pretty pink slit with a zealousness for the not unpleasant task more than making up for her relative lack of experience.

“Ahhhhhhh, yes,” the contented girl whinnied, beholding the copper-topped head between her spread thighs blissfully as Nicole’s curled tongue made its initial foray into her steamy inner core, splitting Bailey’s soaking cunt hole and delving far into the heated breach.

“Like that, baby? Like a powerful, straight bitch eating your pretty cunt?” Nicole asked with a wicked grin I’d never seen before, surprising everyone by taunting her prey with nasty invocations, and laying it on especially thick.

“Holy fuck,” Ted gasped at the CFO’s ardor, finding it difficult to believe this was the same level-headed bean counter he’d parlayed with over contract terms the last few days in the office.

“Yes, oh yes, I, whew, like it. Please, don’t stop, it’s so good,” Bailey panted, eagerly offering her pulsating twat to her oral benefactor and gripping her own pink nipples harshly, spurring her arousal.

“Nikki is remarkable, but you can’t let a challenge like that go unaccepted, Ted,” Hank goaded our hyper-competitive client, prodding him to demonstrate his own prowess at pussy eating and put Nicole in her place.

“Damn right, I can’t. I’ll show your haughty accountant that a man knows how to use his tongue,” the distinguished executive crowed, grabbing Emma by the arm, raising her acquiescent form, and pressing her butt against the table.

“Huh? What?” Emma yipped at the sudden move, unknowing what he had planned.

“Clear a space, young man, it’s time for dessert,” he dictated to Alex as the attentive waiter immediately stepped in, clearing the remaining plates before Ted pushed Emma backward by the shoulders signaling her to lay on the tabletop.

“Ohhh, ummm?” she questioned, obediently assuming the position even as the surprisingly insistent businessman deftly lifted the front of her short skirt presenting her neatly shaved cunt at the table’s edge as a delectable post-meal delicacy.

“Spread those beautiful stems, dear, it’s time for an after-dinner repast of delicious pink snapper,” Ted quipped with remarkable grace, feeling magnanimous and no doubt inspired eyeing my baffled wife’s appealing snatch.

A moment later, Ted Jenkins’ head was planted between Emma’s muscular thighs nibbling on the swelling petals of her labia and swiping the flat of his tongue to marvelous effect up and down the warm chasm of her flowing cunt, demonstrating he was every bit as skilled as Nicole at eating pussy.

I’m sure Emma was terribly embarrassed by the display, enduring the very personal act of a strange man openly feasting on her cherished vagina on the dining room table before a room full of people.

“Ahhh, huh, ohhhhh,” the depth of her sighs and increasing moans soon made clear Ted’s braggadocio of his cunt-licking expertise was legitimate, as she invariably surrendered to the splendid sensations of his tongue probing her sweltering box.

Emma may have been embarrassed but that apparently was soon forgotten, and I was absolutely turned on.

I didn’t understand it, because I love my wife with all my heart and soul, and we’ve always been faithful to each other, at least until this devastating setback caused by my misdeed, but seeing her succumb to the sexual prowess of a powerful, authoritative man taking her as he pleased was simply exhilarating.

Truthfully, I now understood how Burt felt and I couldn’t get enough.

Still, I was really in pain with my swollen cock given nowhere to go in its cage and the blue pill granting no respite for my stimulation watching this gray-haired man, a valued client at least twenty years older than Emma, devour her exquisite pussy just feet from where I sat gawking.

Unresistant and quickly falling under the spell of his tormenting tongue tip, Emma gladly draped her knees over her paramour’s broad shoulders, dangling her high-heeled feet limply with her upturned thighs trembling as the talented client skillfully worked over her heated cunt with abandon.

“Ohhhhh, ohhh,” she peeped whenever he struck home on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

To her audience’s delight, Emma’s huge tits jiggled provocatively across her chest, sloping unrestrained as he attacked her steamy interior or shot occasional jabs at her awakening clitoris peeking from under its fleshy hood sending her jerking with ecstatic impulses.

“Yesss, oh yesss, I’m cumming!” Bailey’s shuddering orgasm echoed from the bench with Nicole successfully wringing the loud climax from her angelic 20-something partner.

Inflamed and alive with sexual energy, within seconds Nicole flipped into a classic sixty-nine position as the enraptured women eagerly buried their faces into their lover’s welcoming twat, focused on generating more spine-tingling eruptions by slurping greedily from the wellspring of ambrosial nectar pouring from their gaping slits.

“We may run out of pussy temporarily, Ike, you mind sitting this one out?” Hank solicited his longtime buddy, leering at cute blonde Maggie Reynolds as the brawny black man reclined in his chair enjoying his brandy. “They’ll be plenty more later.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Hank, I see an opening I’ve had my eye on since Ray and his lovely wife were brought to heel,” Ike replied easily, unafraid of politely countering our mutual boss and hinting at his plans within earshot of Emma, although I doubt she heard over her continuous panting and gasping as Ted assiduously ate her out.

I heard him however, assuming at some point Ike’s turn with my full-bodied wife would arrive and uncertain how well she’d handle it. I know my reserved wife well, and in addition to Mr. J-D having the biggest cock I’ve ever seen, as a black man he most certainly caused her trepidation.

It’s not entirely her fault, as Emma was raised in a rural area and never exposed to urban culture as a young girl. She’s ill-informed but as I said, she’s not an overt racist and vehemently denies any such tendencies whatsoever. In practice, she’s always respectful of people regardless of race or color and goes out of her way to treat everyone equally.

Deep in her subconscious, however, rests an unfounded fear and distrust, and I know Emma’s easily intimidated by black men’s masculinity and power, especially after years of ‘girl talk’ stories describing their physical attributes and sexual prowess.

The stereotypes and everything else my wife heard was secondhand gossip, of course, but by now it was so ingrained in her perceptions she simply couldn’t overcome her instinctual apprehension when engaging with black men in even the most innocent, non-threatening social contexts.

I suspect the idea of fucking a black man, or possibly taking his darkly veined cock into her mouth, might launch those irrational feelings into hyperdrive. At the same time, I’ve often wondered if psychologically her discomfort was secretly founded on an attraction and desire to learn the truth for herself.

Either way, and shameful as it sounds, my captured penis pulsed in its cage merely thinking about Emma orally servicing Ike’s rigid tool or grunting wantonly under his perspiring ebony body as he hammered her straining cunt mercilessly with his huge shaft.

“Suit yourself, Ike. Now, Maggie, get your cute ass over here,” Hank answered his friend, then turned his attention to the Dave’s giggling spouse, the lone remaining woman with an unoccupied twat.

Hank didn’t waste time with formalities as the blue pill brought him to full strength. The industrious company president dropped his cargo shorts unleashing his raging hard-on, then returned to his seat with an expectant gaze at the 41-year-old elfin blonde wife.

Maggie’s sparkling blue eyes lit aflame at the apparently familiar request and the opportunity to extract additional retribution against her blameworthy husband, caged and present watching his treasured wife screw his boss just as she was boned by Ike earlier in the spa.

“Have a seat, honey,” the older magnate insisted, patting his lap with his 8-inch cock upright and on alert ready to squeeze into the suspenseful pixie’s tight snatch to the consternation of her emasculated husband.

I was quickly learning it is exactly the scenario fueling Hank Allenby’s quest for dominance and power — taking a man’s beloved bride before his very eyes while he suffers the insult and indignity of watching the gloating bastard inexorably drive her to jaw-dropping orgasms whether she wanted to or not.

There’s no way of my knowing, but Hank had already drilled Maggie’s luscious pussy several times since my co-worker’s downfall sometime earlier, but always in his office or the privacy of his bungalow. This was the first time doing so with Dave as an unwilling spectator.

My chastened associate gulped, angry and hurt while probably wanting to tear his eyes away but simply unable to do so. I’m discovering there’s something strangely compelling about witnessing your upstanding wife’s moral and sexual debasement by another man, even if it truly causes you grief.

That was Dave’s plight and in his soul he knew this was punishment for his sins. He knew it in the same way I knew it watching Emma slowly turned from respectable, faithful housewife into Hank’s married sex pet and company fuck toy.

“Oooooh, Hank, if only I’d known you had such a big cock at all those company parties, I could’ve fucked so many times without Dave knowing,” Maggie cruelly groaned her acceptance of his rigid lance, with the remorseful allusion at not discovering sooner the older man’s substantial endowment a purposeful dig at her husband.

Looking Dave dead in the eyes while lowering herself inch by inch onto the throbbing pole, the spiteful wife ruefully rubbed her submission into her anguished husband’s face, assuming a reverse cowgirl position granting a full view of our employer’s elongated shaft slipping into her stretched cock sleeve to the base.

“Ummm, my pussy’s so full. You’re so much bigger than Dave,” she gushed vindictively, squirming erotically touching every fold of her perceptive interior and rolling her eyes, salaciously suggesting her complete satisfaction with the pleasantly engorging tool.

“You are naughty, aren’t you, kewpie doll?” Hank encouraged favorably, gleeful with Dave’s diminishment at the hands of his own vivacious but spiteful wife, gripping her petite hips, lifting her up and down on his stalwart column, then urging her to take the initiative of seriously fucking herself to her cuckolded husband’s anguish.

“Do it, little slut wife. Fuck a powerful man’s cock while Dave watches,” my boss snarled derisively at her sullen husband, trapped in his cage and reduced to the role of weak bystander to his marriage’s disparagement.

“Oh yes, I’m a bad wife and need a great big cock as punishment,” the roleplaying blonde spitfire pouted, bounding with growing vigor along Hank’s rooted staff sending her dense titties gyrating as the slick sounds of her sloppy wet pussy squished around his tensing pole with each downward thrust.

Dave was really torn up, and I’m not sure if his turmoil was directed towards our manipulative boss, his vengeful wife, or his own internal recriminations.

All I know is his caged member swelled just as did Burt’s and mine, and although he didn’t appear sexually stimulated in the least seeing his pretty life partner riding another man so enthusiastically, whether real or an act, the little blue pill did a number on him physically and I’m sure the pain was difficult to bear.

There was nothing for me to do about it, so I turned my attention back to the dinner table where Ted was lapping hungrily at Emma’s appetizing cunt with similar fervor. I didn’t hear my wife’s signature breathy squeals indicating her climax, but even if she didn’t cum yet, her taut, drawn-up nipples clearly exhibited her arousal.

Although it’s a tremendously personal act causing my diffident wife to shudder at its pure intimacy, I know Emma enjoys receiving cunnilingus from me. Surprisingly, and her unfamiliarity with this prospective client dining so conspicuously on her savory snatch aside, her halting breaths apprised me that Ted Jenkins certainly knew his way around a wet pussy.

“Watch that, Ted, pussy juice is a high calorie snack,” Ike joked with a baritone chortle. “Maybe you should get a little exercise to work off that meal while I replenish Mrs. Tyler’s protein levels.”

The line was so atrociously cornball I chuckled to myself, even though the clear implication was Ike planning to double-team Emma with our VIP guest — a libertine act I know my conservative wife has never experienced. In a remarkable feat of strength, the muscular black executive deftly hooked his hands under Emma’s arms to easily lift her as a limp rag doll, much as he had the much smaller Maggie Reynolds earlier in the day.

“Hey?” she issued her only objection, not otherwise struggling as Ike manhandled her tall frame without much effort.

Quite frankly, Emma’s a big girl — not fat, but statuesque, well-muscled, and large-boned, so for Ike to handle her voluptuous form so easily, especially as virtually dead weight considering her jello-like disposition after the persuasive tonguing by Ted, was truly impressive.

“This’ll work,” he declared, unceremoniously plopping his non-resistant cargo across a nearby bench identical to that currently occupied by the Sapphic duo of the energetic Bailey and mature Mrs. Westridge.

The width of the padded bench barely accommodated Emma’s long torso, leaving her hips draped over one side and her head loosely hanging over the other side.

“Oh, um, what do you, uh, want?” Emma asked despite the obviousness of her situation.

Ike and Ted stayed silent, apparently deeming a question from the pliant matron not worthy of a response and instead setting to work readying to take my tipsy, befuddled wife at both ends.

“C’mon, doll, upsy-daisy,” Ike instructed, grasping her by the midsection and propping her on hands and knees on the bench top in an awkward position forcing her knees to move forward closing the distance to her hands and leaving her precariously balanced.

That wasn’t a problem for long as Ted swiftly raised her brief skirt baring her bottom and grasping her broad hips prepared to mount her from behind.

With his sturdy cock projecting dangerously from his pelvis, the eager older businessman lined up the tip as Ike moved before Emma’s bowed head with his lounge shorts discarded and his own frightening black meat at half-mast and pulsing visibly while rising to its impressive full measure.

Emma was still clothed, although her outfit wasn’t much from the start, but with her skirt resting on her lower back and her huge jugs hanging low from her prostrate torso with the corset at her middle, her considerable female assets were free and available for her suitor’s enjoyment as they wished.

“Ahhhhh,” she let out a shrill gasp when Ted drove his hips forward, simultaneously pulling her back splitting the flowering labia and slicing his veined shaft into the depths of her hospitable cunt in a single smooth stroke with Emma’s pussy spread wide accepting the sudden invasion of his burrowing lance.

“Ooooohhh,” her ripe cherry lips forming a well-placed, nicely-timed circle in unknowing invitation to Ike as she cooed, with her head reflexively rising as her expressive green eyes slipped closed.

It was a coordinated approach I don’t think the lecherous men designed but couldn’t have been more effective, leaving me marveling with inappropriate admiration even though the end result was my dazed wife getting plugged at both ends by the duo’s rampaging cocks.

“Mophhhhh,” Emma’s surprised gasp was abruptly muffled by the introduction of the biggest cock she’d never imagined into her oval maw, sliding onto her tongue and straining the elastic rim of her lips.

Now my stunned wife’s panicked eyes shot open, and for the briefest moment I saw her throw a glance in my direction, but it was short-lived, as almost immediately she returned to the up-close vision of Ike’s dark belly inches away as his growing column of imposing fuck meat expanded in her mouth.

Emma’s recognition of my caged plight likely reminded her of my impotence as savior, realizing instead what was expected of her as indentured sex toy, especially when Ted retreated and then plowed deeply again into her waiting cunt, pushing her face forward absorbing another inch of Ike’s growing staff still attaining its immense stature.

“Suck it, Emma, I’m not doing the work for you. You need to earn it, doll,” the towering black man appealed, letting her know he had no intention of merely fucking her mouth as Ted had earlier.

‘Squish, squish,’ the sloppy sound of my pliant wife’s drenched pussy redounded in the evening air with the regular cadence of Ted sluicing his effective cock forward with each thrust.

The dominant older businessman’s pelvis pressed Emma’s delightfully plump ass cheeks with each stroke, forcing a breathy exhale and gentle move forward onto Ike’s waiting staff. Inconveniently, the unbalanced nature of her position on the narrow bench left Emma’s hands unavailable to assist, resulting in this blowjob as a ‘mouth-only’ effort.

“Bu-uut, unggh, you’re so big. Unnghh,” my besieged wife questioned doubtingly, relinquishing the wagging staff momentarily while looking up into Mr. J-D’s intense brown eyes hoping for respite, then issuing a gentle grunt in answer to a particularly deep thrust from Ted’s long cock.

“They all say that Mrs. Tyler. Now, suck it and show your wimp-ass husband what his devoted wife slut does with a real man’s cock,” Ike replied with nonchalant pride, before turning to cast his snickering gaze at me.

I merely shrugged in defeat with the audacity of the statement, knowing Emma never desired another man but understanding she’d fall prey to his magnetism and the compelling power of his cock as her arousal deepened and already losing connection with her moral compass with the increasingly commanding probes of Ted’s insistent shaft into her unresisting cunt.

With uncertainty, but no longer complaint, my pacified wife tentatively returned her plump lips to Ike’s giant cock, striking an exploratory lick across the purplish knob, and then enveloping it impressively to the flared rim.

I’ve never even fantasized about Emma in such an extremely pornographic pose, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my cock grew another size in its steel cage seeing her on hands and knees with an older white man’s shaft drilling her pussy while her ruby lips strained around the ebony cockhead of a 60-something executive in my company.

“Smoph, smuup, mumph,” her suckling noises reached my ear, with Emma remarkably consuming the next three inches of Ike’s impossibly thick fuck column before reaching her limit, her cheeks puffing and then hollowing as she began actively blowing him.

As so many men have certainly fantasized before him, the grinning black man took the opportunity to grasp her huge hanging melon at the base. Pinching, groping, and tugging the thick, rubbery nipple, she undoubtedly sensed the older businessman treating them as udders, squeezing the fleshy udder as if milking a cow.

It was a symbolic gesture I know offended Emma to her very core, with my self-conscious wife so sensitive about the immense size of her big breasts and the demeaning treatment essentially reducing her to merely a warm body built for entertaining men’s cocks and nothing more.

To her credit, Emma compliantly sucked Ike’s pulsing stanchion throughout, daubing the bulging head reverentially before capably engulfing as much of the meaty staff as she could manage while Ike joyously juggled and compressed her spongy tit at his leisure.

I was captivated to the point that I didn’t even notice the severe pain in my raging prick by the erotic beauty of my sainted wife servicing two men at once. It was exquisite in its torment and fed the conflicting emotions of deep hurt and acute titillation I was experiencing.

The recoiling tremors of Emma’s fleshy bottom was only exceeded in deviancy by the stunning contrast between her white cheeks and Ike’s mighty black cock poking halfway between her distended lips slowly bobbing on its sturdy length doing her damnedest to suck the monster shaft in the manner Ike desired.

“Oh dear god, please don’t, baby,” Dave suddenly broke my fixation with a pleading groan causing me to revert to the table again where his wife and our boss were actively fucking with increasing ferocity and ardor.

Maggie’s spartan tube top was gone as Hank openly played with her compact titties and tugged her taut pink nipples painfully. The lively minx vigorously riding his upright staff with wild abandon, her thighs straining, and tendons stretched absorbing the full measure of his 8″ cock over and over into her inviolable fuck sheath.

“Oh god! Oh fuck yes! Fuck me like a whore, Hank. Dave made his wife a whore. Oh yeah, fuck my married cunt like the whore I am,” the mop-topped wife squealed brutally, her cute blonde curls flinging madly and setting her blue eyes aflame staring with demented lust at her demoralized husband.

“Whew, huh, huh,” Hank wheezed harshly despite his younger fuck pet doing most of the work.

The rapidly peaking older man couldn’t speak a word in his arousal, but his glaring eyes also focused on my co-worker as he fucked his heavenly wife to an approaching orgasm, speaking volumes about the nasty epitaphs roaming Hank’s mind as retribution for Dave’s unknown crime against the company.

“Yeah, Dave, I’m gonna cum! Watch me cum on your boss’ unbelievable cock!” Maggie berated her husband, sweat pouring off her brow and her petite body glistening with perspiration.

Dave’s head dropped in misery, just as movement by the bench where the lesbian tryst between the crackerjack CFO and the buoyant young blonde babe caught my eye, so I rotated to Nicole and Bailey finding Alex to one side, his apron removed and his worthy cock rigid and projecting formidably outward.

‘What is it with these guys?’ I wondered in awe, noting every single male in Hank’s inner circle seemed to have substantial endowments.

I sensed both participants in the Sapphic duo had already given their lady lover at least a couple of breathtaking climaxes and were searching for more exotic stimulation with tongues blazing — flicking, stroking, and dancing over engorged clits so sensitive the mere touch elicited erotic peeps and moans of ecstasy.

Without asking or concern, the hunky youth bellied up to Nicole’s waving ass, with her regal face buried in Bailey’s tasty snatch and unaware of his presence.

Commandingly, Alex grabbed the executive’s narrow hips, planting his lance entirely into her steamy fuck hole setting his low-hanging ball sack resting on the bridge of the younger coed’s nose nestled directly below the slippery furrow.

“Ohhh, jeeez, that’s it! Ahhh, that’s what I need,” Nicole raised her lips from her task, turning her head over her shoulder identifying her champion and releasing an appreciative sigh at his glorious entrance to her greedy pussy.

A cock was the missing element for the normally straight wife and mother in her otherwise thrilling oral bout with Bailey, relishing the delicious feast between the pretty girl’s widespread thighs but dearly needing the introduction of a youthful cock in her vacant fuck hole.

“Uhh, fuck me, young man. Fuck me hard. Oh, hammer me with your young cock,” the exuberant woman yowled, with a smile covering her face at the marvelous appearance of the muscular lad almost half her age satisfying her yearning for some serious penetration.

“Get your face back down here, my milfy slut,” Bailey exhorted brashly at the mature wife’s missing tongue. “You need to eat my pussy to another orgasm while my big brother fucks you to paradise.”

I was stunned, and even in her sexual haze I think Nicole was floored as well.

“Brother?” I thought, noting a resemblance earlier but not really connecting the two as siblings.

What happened next though, really blew my mind.

With Alex’s stiff prick now routinely pummeling her older paramour’s receptive cunt, Bailey slipped her dainty tongue from between moist lips and amazingly licked the stretched skin of her brother’s scrotum as his testicles wobbled above her mouth.

“Ahhh sis, that’s nice,” Alex responded gratefully to the welcome tonguing, and you got the idea it wasn’t the first time he’d experienced the forbidden sensation.

Nicole lifted her head with a quizzical look, perhaps not believing her ears but quickly drawn back to the youthful twat of the blonde yacht girl by Bailey’s controlling hand at the back of her neck.

Then, the shocking brother-sister combo took things a step exponentially further when Alex slipped his slick, throbbing shaft from Nicole’s boiling snatch and held it in place for Bailey to gobble up in her mouth.

“Mmmmmh,” the demented pixie sighed, suctioning with eyes alight while indecently swallowing nearly half of Alex’s cock, slurping the copious fluids leaving his steely shaft shiny clean with spit before guiding it back into the CFO’s snug fuck sleeve, much to the copulating pair’s elation.

From there, Alex alternated between his willing sister’s sumptuous mouth and Nicole’s ravenous pussy, gently pumping his big prick between Bailey’s eagerly waiting lips for her to lavish and suckle before returning to pound the older woman’s fiery channel as the three drove themselves inexorably to a synchronous mutual orgasm.

I’m sure Dave noticed the bizarre ménage à trois, as my co-worker’s jaw dropped and for a moment his attention was redirected from the degrading sight of Maggie vigorously boning Hank over to the surprising trio.

Burt was beside himself, his modest prick so swollen he was nearly bursting through his metal cage with pre-cum dripping from the tip while rubbing the small amount of tender skin exposed between the unforgiving bars. The poor man desperately needed to cum witnessing the obscene threesome, and especially enthralled watching his wife of 25 years engaged with an incestuous brother-sister duo half her age.

“Ohhh, ohhhhh, there it is! Oh, you’re, uh, making me, ohhh Dave, I’m cumming!” Maggie’s howl broke my attention once more when she finally erupted, slamming her girlish hips onto Hank’s cock, driving his inflamed knob to the brink of her cervix while extolling in vivid detail the power of her orgasm.

“So strong, sooo fucking strong! It’s, ohhh, unbelievable!” she cried, grinding her hips onto Hank’s buried meat and begging him to fill her with spunk. “Cum in me, Hank. Ohhh, pump me full of cum so, um, Dave can watch you, ahh, take his wife.”

There wasn’t any lingering doubt Maggie Reynolds was pissed about turning slut to save her husband and family.

“Ahhh, fuck you, Dave! Take this, Maggie!” Hank issued a triumphant bellow, shooting a thick stream of warm spunk deep into the clamoring wife’s receptive cunt in fulfillment of her wish.

Judging from his wounded expression, Dave saw our rapturous employer’s buried staff pulsing, steadily pumping his venomous seed into Maggie, shuddering on Hank’s lap with his scrawny hands clamped onto her dense tits as she rolled through tremor upon tremor of follow-up mini-climaxes.

Dave cried genuine tears spying a glob of our boss’ white jism oozing from the seam of their union, smearing the inside of her thighs in a telling display of her surrender to their master’s sovereign prerogative over her comely body and their marriage, if not their souls.

Emma and Ted weren’t far behind, with the gray-haired businessman employing an easy, repetitive stroke I knew from experience was effective on my wife, especially since the bastard used a larger tool evoking the response he desired.

“Mumm, mmmh,” Emma’s moans escaped the tight seal of her plush lips encircling Ike’s tensing black cock.

I know my wife well, and despite her social graces and outward appearances of propriety, once aroused she’s a highly sexual woman and a tigress in bed. The depraved eroticism of her voluptuous body satisfying two men at once, irrespective of her trashing of our marital vows and regardless of the source, unavoidably spurred her own need for glorious release.

Ike stood above her rhapsodic countenance exultantly observing his first successful foray into literally bringing my loving wife to her knees in worship of his superior cock, surprised and impressed by Emma’s respectful effort at making him relinquish his potent seed into her mouth.

Apparently, my fast-learning spouse picked-up a few valuable techniques in her training sessions with Mrs. Ogawa, because I watched with a stunted prick and a fascinated gaze her rhythmically suctioning his swollen shaft to just past halfway in seeking his pleasure.

Occasionally, she’d release Ike’s crown completely, issuing a tremoring sigh as Ted drove her higher and higher with his incessant fucking, her interior pussy muscles contracting reflexively when he withdrew and working desperately keeping his thick shaft inside.

“Unnnnnhhh,” Emma let out a throaty groan on his return to the sweltering depths of her steamy cunt, with the slippery walls collapsing around the marvelous staff in welcome.

Even then, she didn’t miss a beat, embracing her lush lips at the base of the black executives giant cock, licking and teething up the expansive span of his buried urethral tube, neatly pressing the mighty staff against his taut belly before swallowing whole the bulbous cockhead again in her journey of exploration of the black man’s tremendous cock.

“Whoooh, very good, Emma. Big Ike is, uhhh, very happy,” Ike praised genuinely, and I think a I caught a flicker of untoward recognition for his adulation in Emma’s dreamy green eyes.

Ike focused on my wife’s cocksucking skills, but that didn’t stop him from jabbing at me, with his breathing deepening while nearing the inevitable conclusion to Emma’s first interracial blowjob.

“Huh, yeah, suck me off, slut. Show Ray how, umm, pretty you are swallowing, ohhh, a black man’s cum,” the cold-blooded SVP cajoled, demeaning me with the sordid imagery of what I was about to witness.

“Moh, muohh, mummm,” Emma moaned around the meaty pole, and I knew instantly she was cumming in response to the relentless thrusts by Ted and now fueled by the sordidness of the disparaging words from her dark master.

“Oh gawwd, yesss,” Ted gasped, pulling up to Emma’s ripe butt cheeks and spilling a river of heated jism into her waiting cum chamber, digging his fingernails into the fleshy globes with eyes closed and body trembling through his climax.

“Muummphh, muhh,” my wife mumbled, sensing the rush of illicit semen splattering the perceptive folds of her sanctified inner fuck sleeve.

Straining to break through her orgasmic bliss, Emma reluctantly retreated to the fat tip of Ike’s throbbing meat ready to accept the flood of hot jism from his huge balls into her stomach, just as she did Ted’s foreign deposit into her pussy.

“Ahhhhh, here you go, married slut. Drink it down,” Ike groaned transcendently with his orgasm, gazing at Emma consuming the first mighty blast of cum.

Ike’s leering brown eyes then turned to me, sending a scornful message of supreme triumph at the release of his virile seed into my treasured wife’s vacuuming mouth.

“Mohhhhh,” Emma sighed through her own orgasm on Ted’s buried cock, gulping repeatedly doing her best in accommodating the massive flow of spunk pouring in spurt after spurt from Ike’s erupting crown.

It was clearly too much, and soon I was treated to the disturbing image of two creamy rivulets of his odious jism trailing down either side of her chin, even as her throat continually worked at swallowing whatever jism she could manage.

My own trapped penis dripped copiously at the unworldly vision of my esteemed wife skewered front and back accepting the unholy semen of two men over twenty years her senior that she barely knew.

I needed to cum so badly, I tugged at my cage and pulled harshly on my testicles emulating Burt, but to no avail, unwittingly fulfilling Hank’s awful design for my fate as a cuckold.

‘Smack, smack, smack,’ Alex spanked Nicole’s narrow rump over on the bench, harshly pouring his own youthful cream into Burt’s wife as she too orgasmed loudly, but with muffled effect into Bailey’s drenched pussy as the evening drew closed, at least for now.

Soon afterward, Ted exited Emma’s soiled twat leaving a sloppy reservoir of viscous white cum flowing from her ravished gash, while her pretty, glossy red lips remained smeared with an ample coating of Ike’s translucent jism. Languid and spent, she collapsed on the bench looking every bit the subservient cum slut Hank was training her to be.

“Time for a nightcap, and then to our staterooms,” our host gleefully announced after several minutes of recovery.

Only Nicole and Bailey remained occupied when we started towards our room, with the young blonde cutie’s tongue probing the deepest reaches of the recumbent redhead’s cum-filled snatch extracting the last remnants of her brother’s forbidden spunk to happily power down to her stomach.

**********************************

Frazzled and unsteady, Emma rose to take my hand but was immediately intercepted by Ike, commandeering her to escort towards his room.

Still scantily dressed in her sexy evening attire with her skirt once again barely covering her bottom and her useless corset supporting the pronounced mounds of her big tits, Emma was disheveled and ragged, worse for the wear in every way imaginable after her double-teaming.

“Emma?” I questioned ridiculously, already demonstrating my impotence as her hero and immediately shutting down when Ike squinted in my direction sending a perfectly clear signal to back off.

My dominated wife cast a wary glance in my direction before reticently following his lead, and I knew the night’s festivities were far from concluded, at least for our lecherous host, his special guests, and our dishonored wives.

“Join me, dear?” Ted asked gratuitously, snapping up a dazed Maggie Reynolds by the arm knowing her answer in advance after her performance with Hank in their post-dinner romp.

My co-worker’s impish wife was topless in just her pink skirt and no panties as the distinguished gentleman placed his arm around her slight form, then dropped his hand to efficaciously rest on her petite derriere.

Maggie flashed a nasty look of dismissal at Dave, sending her own signal and the poor guy slumped in his chair staring forlornly as the improper couple strolled away.

Given the size of the ship, the staterooms were spacious but still close together, with occupants arranged in a well-planned order of couple-guest-couple and so on. Inauspiciously, Ike’s room was to one side of our own and Ted’s to the other, with the Reynold’s on the other side of him, meaning Dave had a long night ahead listening to our valued client screw his resentful wife.

As owner of the ship, Hank had the only separate lodging, with Bailey and Alex apparently sharing a crew cabin doing who knew what in the way of taboo sex acts now that their illicit relationship was revealed.

Upon returning alone to my room confined to my restrictive cage, I soon learned that as nicely as the staterooms were appointed, the walls left something to be desired in the way of privacy, as I quickly heard muffled voices and scuffling feet on either side of me.

I couldn’t really determine exact words or what was said but the sounds were clear and from what I could tell Ike encouraged Emma to take a cleansing shower, hopefully alone, as I heard water running for the next five minutes.

That was the image I drifted off into when turning off the lights and sinking into bed, hoping to fall asleep fast enough to avoid the true nature of what was to occur next door in a repeat performance of the awful night listening to Hank and my beloved raucously fuck at the bungalow.

“Uh, uhh, ohhh yes, that’s good. Fuck me good and hard,” I heard a high-pitched call a few minutes later, but it was from the other side of the room, where Ted was most likely sinking his cock into Maggie, beginning the arduous night for Dave hearing every tortuous sound they made from his room on the other side.

“Ohhh, dear god!” a guttural female moan filtered through the wall on Ike’s side shortly thereafter, and I knew I wasn’t to be spared as the gloating black man undoubtedly entered my wife.

“Huh, go, uh, go slow, ohhhhh,” Emma’s recognizable tone of caution and concern was unmistakable.

“UNNGGGH,” Ike’s bellowing grunt followed, clearly ignoring the beseeching request.

“Haahhh, ahh, ohhh, so deep,” my expressive wife exhaled, and I knew he was inside her sacred channel to the root, using almost the exact words when Hank fucked her that night for the first time.

My mind’s eye painted a perverse picture of Emma’s long stems wrapped around his stout waist — her muscular white thighs pressed against his dark skin with his full nine inches sunk fully within her distended cunt. I winced at my shattered ego, thinking my damaged wife would never think the same about my manhood going forward.

Even suffering through that indignity, I lay awake in my bed with the hardest cock I’d ever experienced constricted in its remorseless cage as over the next twenty minutes the black SVP, the second highest ranking officer at Allenby Consolidation, ferociously fucked Emma in a way I’m sure she’s never known.

“Ahh, gawwwd, c-cum-ummmg again,” she wailed more than once under the compelling spell of his driving cock, with the wall to my back thumping loudly in sync to every mighty thrust the tireless man imparted.

“Arrrrrggghh!” Ike finally growled like a pirate stealing a captain’s booty, and it was clear he was pumping his load into her unchaste pussy in much the same way he’d done with her mouth earlier.