Acting Out Fantasies

Thank you guys for staying patient with my writing and thank you for all the positive votes. As always, I love the feedback I get from you — the things you like, the things you don’t — from the storyline to the writing style to what you’d like to see in upcoming chapters. If you are new to the series, you will be well served to go back and read it from the beginning. I think that each part has plenty of erotic content, but to understand the characters, the whole story should be read.

This is the first of two chapters talking about the birthday party. I have found that I enjoy writing about the thoughts and feelings of the characters, almost as much as the action, which means that there are lots of chapters to go till the story gets to Sunday night and Jim’s time in charge of Michelle, and there will be lots of jumping off points from the end. I hope that you’ll stay with it to the end. I know I will.

“We’ve got about 10 minutes before we need to head over, honey,” Pete said, noting the concern on Michelle’s face. He looked out the window of the car, and he understood her concern. They had driven around the block, just to get a look at where they were going. They had seen the house for Clarence’s birthday party, a party where Michelle had unconditionally volunteered to be the sex slave for people she had never met before, and who she knew were very “perverted,” in one of her master’s words.

It was a simple one-level, light-blue clapboard house with white trim that was situated in the middle of a lower middle-class area of town. It looked clean and decently kept, as did the houses around it. It was not on a side street but ran along a secondary street; big enough to have traffic lights on it, but not big enough to warrant four lanes. Still, both Pete and Michelle had noticed that it was pretty busy, considering that it was a Friday nearing the end of rush hour.

What set this house apart from the others was that it was situated toward the back of the lot, away from the street. The neighborhood was old enough that you’d expect older trees and underbrush to give the houses privacy, but not Clarence’s house. He had a 3-foot-high chain link fence that went around a large front yard. All they had as they had passed was a quick 3 or 4 second view, but they both had seen a good-sized wooden deck in the front, similar to what you’d see in most backyards. The gait of the fence was open, and on the mailbox was a big poster-board sign that read, “Happy B-day, Clarence!”Oh, Lord, you might as well say, ‘Everyone invited! Michelle had thought to herself, a thought also present in Pete’s brain.

As they passed the house, they had seen that most of the activity of the birthday party was happening on the front deck and surrounding yard. People were holding beers and other drinks as they milled around, and Pete could see smoke coming from a very large grill.

What had Pete concerned, and certainly Michelle, was that among the people gathered, it was almost entirely men. Michelle had only seen a few women. And most of the men looked slightly unkempt, like workers that had just gotten home from work and had simply changed into shorts and tanktops. Many looked like they were still covered in the sweat and grim of the day. That was all that they had been able to see as they passed the house, but it was enough to give them pause.

Pete had been watching the neighborhood as soon as they got within 5 minutes on their GPS. Once inside that window, he (and he guessed Michelle) had been watching the pedestrians, looking at the houses, and noting the businesses so that they could get a sense for what they were about to do. They had seen a Jamaican restaurant, a Haitian restaurant, and a couple of Hispanic grocery stores along with other fast-food franchises.

Walking along the sidewalks they had seen many African-Americans, some Hispanics, but only a few Caucasians. Most of the houses had appeared well-kept, even though they were dated. Lawns were cut; most houses did not look worn-down; there were folks out and about pulling weeds and such. This part had been a relief to them. It was not a slum or a ghetto, which Pete admitted to himself seemed rather racist as soon as the thought came to the surface. This was Mike’s event, and he was the only African-American of the four men Michelle had given herself to, and they had worried that by going to his neighborhood, they might get into a dangerous situation. However, they could tell that these were good people doing good with what life had given them.

Pete and Michelle were parked at the Popeye’s that was a block away, as instructed. Michelle took the time they had before getting out to reflect on where they were, and why they were there. This would be the first “event” that Jim had told her about nearly 24 hours ago. Mike would be in charge of her tonight. This was happening, Michelle reminded herself, because instead of starting with a small fantasy when Pete had threatened to divorce her over her frigidity, she had agreed that they would start acting out fantasies, and she had asked to go first. And in a moment, completely out of character, she had gone big with her fantasy. Really big. Like, beyond what she could have imagined big. It was a deeply held secret fantasy, one that she had hidden even from herself. She had “given” her body to four average, run-of-the-mill guys, for them to use for the weekend.

When she had spoken the words to the unsuspecting men and her husband — the words that had sealed her fate — she had imagined that it would be a weekend of being fucked, along with maybe one or two risky things that they asked her to do. That, in and of itself, would have been a quantum leap for Michelle. She had truly been frigid in her marriage. She knew it, and had not been able to find a way out of it. But she knew, and had hidden it from Pete, that she had a dark side, a sexual side, and when Pete had threatened to divorce her, she had not thought, she had gone for it.

She had expected that a couple of them would probably back out, and that the whole thing would taper off as they got tired of fucking her, and their dicks had trouble getting up. None of them were spring chickens. Boy had she been surprised.

Instead, the weekend had morphed in surprising ways into something much more intense, starting with the moment that Bob, one of her weekend masters, had ripped her dress off in the hotel lobby. The men had surprised her with how ready they were to dominate her; how well organized they were in their plans; and how well they had understood her, finding the sweet spot with how much to challenge, how much to portray concern, and how much to humiliate.

She had surprised them in turn — along with herself and her husband — by how much she was loving all that had happened. She thought back to all that she had done since last night. She had been naked nearly the entire time, including in a hotel lobby (twice), in a diner, an adult toy store, and a bikini shop, and practically everywhere in between.

She had been fucked by probably 15 guys, only one of which she knew before the weekend started (her husband).

She had sucked off many of those same guys, and others.

She had licked asses.

She had drunk the piss of two men, one of them her husband.

She had been spanked to orgasm.

She had squirted for the first time ever, and without being touched.

She had proudly admitted that she was a submissive to perfect strangers, allowing and asking them to give her tasks to do during this weekend.

And she had recorded a slave contract on video to these men, and told them to blackmail her if she didn’t comply by posting the video online.

And all of that had happened in less than 20 hours.

And no matter what it was she had done — nasty, humiliating, or embarrassing — she had done it willingly. She had not been so grossed out that she had tapped out. It hadn’t caused her personality to “snap.” It had not created a backlash of regret or anger toward her husband. Or, she noted, from her husband toward her — something that would have made her crumble.

Instead, it had exhilarated her. It was as if this fantasy and all that it had entailed, from the acts she had done, to the thoughts that accompanied them, to the orgasms she had experienced, was something that she had been waiting for her entire life. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, she only knew that it was producing pleasure and emotions and love for her husband and for sex in ways that she had never experienced before.

That afternoon, after picking out her swimsuit for tomorrow’s activities which Tommy would be in charge of, she and Pete had found another hotel to check into. They were both desperate to get some rest, having had little the night before; but before they did, they had gone to a pharmacy, and Pete had made Michelle go in and buy the enema Mike had instructed her to buy. Pete had given her an order that if someone, by chance, had asked her why she was buying an enema, that she was to tell them the truth: that she was going to have anal sex for the first time in her life tonight. Nothing had happened and no one had asked any questions, but Michelle had acknowledged that the idea of telling that to a stranger had turned her on.

When they arrived at the new hotel, Michelle had followed Mike’s instructions and given herself an enema. It was humiliating to know that what was happening as she expelled the contents of her bowel could be heard in the next room. Pete thought nothing of it, knowing that the reward was on the other side of her cleaning out. When she was done, they had both hopped in the shower and promptly taken good, refreshing naps. While they were sleeping, Pete’s phone had buzzed with a text from Mike.

This is Mike. Make sure Michelle is dressed in something like the picture Jim sent me of what she wore to the diner this morning. I want her to be dressed like a slut from the beginning tonight. Send me a picture once she’s put it on, and I’ll send the rest of the directions.

When they had woken up, Pete shared the message with her, and she had quickly pulled some clothes from the suitcase to work with. It didn’t take her long to find something that would work well.

She first chose a pink yoga shirt, popular at any community gym. It was purposefully thin and see through, with the expectation that the wearer would have a sports bra underneath. Michelle wouldn’t. It had no sleeves, and the armholes were so deep that you could practically see the entire side of her torso. In big black letters on the front were the words, “Play hard,” and under it were the words, “Work hard”. The back was held together by strips of the shirt material that spanned the gap from one side of the shirt to the other.

She had gotten her scissors out and gone to work on the shirt. She took off a length from the bottom, so that it gave her some underboob. The shortening meant that there weren’t armholes anymore, just hanging material on either side, from her armpits down. It also meant that “Work hard” was no longer on the shirt.I’m going to definitely Play Hard, she thought. Then in back, she had cut all the strings off, so that there was nothing holding the sides together in the back. Finally, she had cut out the front near the neck, and had changed it from a standard collar to a v-neck; a deep v-neck. Pete looked on in admiration of her work. She saw it, and with a smile asked, “Can you think of anything to make it sluttier?”

“You’ve pretty much done it all,” was all Pete could say. He was already slack jawed at how revealing the shirt was.

“I know what to do!” she said with a look of inspiration. Then she took the scissors and cut out flaps, two inches in diameter, just above her nipples. “This will give them easier access.” She winked at him.

“Sounds like someone is back in slut mode?” Pete asked.

“I was never out of it,” she responded. “It’s just hard to keep the sexual energy up when you are starting from where I was yesterday at this time. And I really needed that nap.”

“Well, look at you now!” Pete said. “Trying to outdo the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen in public before, which was only this morning.” She smiled. Pete then asked, “What are you going to do for bottoms?”

She dug in the suitcase and pulled out a light blue coverup skirt. It was lightweight, but not as much as the chiffon skirt from the diner. It was about 12 inches long, and didn’t have any material on one side, except for the shoestring that tied it together. Just like the yoga shirt, the designer had designed it with the assumption that the wearer would have something underneath; in this case, swim bottoms. Again, not Michelle.

Michelle got the scissors once more and got to work. She cut out a patch of material on the other side of the skirt so that there was a gap of the same size as what was missing on the other side. This meant that she essentially only had a front portion and a back portion to the skirt, each about 9 inches wide. You could see both of her hips, which meant that, coupled with the yoga shirt, anyone who saw her could essentially see from her ankles to her armpits and tell that there was nothing under her very, very skimpy outfit whatsoever. Then, just to add a final slutty touch, she shortened the two patches that remained so that they were only 9 inches long from top to bottom. The result was that the front came down and covered her pussy by a half inch, and the back covered only about 3/4 of her ass.

“Jesus!” was all Peter could say.

“I’m not sure Jesus would approve,” Michelle responded with a laugh.

Pete took a picture and sent it to Mike. It didn’t take long to get a response.

Perfect! She is one hot slut! Make sure that she wears that and some tennis shoes to the party. No other clothes. The house address is 520 Addison Street, but we want you to park at the Popeye’s a block away to the north. It is also on Addison. Let me know when you park because I want to bring her to the party on the leash. Here are the instructions:

1. She should have the ankle and wrist cuffs on her, along with the collar.

2. Make sure her ass is cleaned out!

3. She is not to be drunk or high. I want her to experience everything and remember everything.

4. Make sure she is ready to be dominated and humiliated.

5. See you there!

Pete read it to Michelle.

“Holy Shit!” she said. “I thought I was only wearing this at the party! But Mike wants to parade me around the neighborhood in just this outfit, while being pulled on a leash???”

“Looks like it,” answered Pete. He looked at her and could tell that there was a battle going on within. This was not the first time he’s seen that look in the last day.

He was right about the battle. In Michelle’s head, Old Michelle was screaming that this was absolutely inappropriate, even for the party, but to have to walk a block to the party like this!No way! You might get called names. You might be seen by someone who shouldn’t see you. This is all beneath you!

But New Michelle was hardly containing herself.Another chance to expose myself…just like last night and this morning! No control over who will see me, what they’ll say! You’ll be helpless to control how they react to what they see. She made up her mind right then, for like the fifth time already that weekend, that she was going to silence Old Michelle. She was a prude. She was no fun! She’d deal with her and her concerns after the weekend was over. This weekend was for throwing caution to the wind. And besides, they were in a different town. No one would know her here.

“You OK?” Pete asked.

“Yes,” said Michelle. “This is what I have to get used to. I love the humiliation and showing off, but I still have to get over my hang-ups. This will be good. I won’t be in control, and these are people that I don’t know. Mike promised me nothing illegal would happen. I have to trust that.”

“Ok, then,” said Pete, still amazed that this version of Michelle actually existed. “Let’s finish getting ready.”

In the next 20 minutes, Michelle gave herself another enema, rinsed off in the shower, and put on some light make-up, anticipating that it might get messed up through the evening. Then she put on her outfit. Pete, who had been waiting, had changed into a black t-shirt, nice jeans, and some comfortable shoes.

Michelle looked at Pete briefly, a thoughtful look on her face.

“This is it. I am going to be fucked tonight. Neither you or I will have any control over what happens for the next few hours.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Pete said. “Are you OK?”

“This is all so surreal. Have you ever had a fantasy of seeing me gangbanged before?”

“Lots of times.”

“How did it happen?”

“That’s for me to arrange in the future,” Pete said with a mysterious smile. He was still coming to grips with the reality that some of his own fantasies were now in play, and they seemed a little bit tame considering what Michelle’s fantasy had opened up.”

“Hmmm. Can’t wait.” Michelle made a move to grab her little hoodie that she always brought when she knew she would be cold, but she held back.

“This is what I was told to wear, so this is all I’m bringing,” she said.

“Are you excited?”

“Yes…and nervous,” was her reply. “I have a feeling I will not be returning with this,” she said, gesturing toward her “outfit.”

He took her hand, and they walked to the car. On the way, they did not see anyone, so there were no comments or looks to process, only their thoughts. For Michelle, part of what made this moment surreal was that it was different from last night. Last night had been organic as it had evolved. She had been gangbanged, but it had all flowed naturally, as naturally as a gangbang can flow. It had been cathartic to release herself that way and throw caution to the wind, caught up in the spur of the moment. And everything that had happened since had either been unavoidable fallout from last night, or had been an organic adventure with her husband.

This, however, was a planned event. She had a little bit of a feeling of a pig being led to the slaughter, only she was willingly giving the leash to the one who held the knife. She wasn’t sure what to think of herself, that she was still driving toward the location of the “slaughter.” She was going to be fucked by lots of people that she had not built any sort of connection with. This would be purely about the sex, and lots and lots of it, as far as she knew.

And then she thought about Pete. She had already told him that he was in charge. He was her dom. How would he work out the dynamic with these four guys who she had also told were in charge for the weekend? Pete had always been a good husband; he was good looking and athletic. He had a fire in his belly that was contagious. But she had chosen him to be her husband because he was mostly “milk toast;” vanilla; predictable. Those characteristics had been as important to her as his looks and personality.

But she wanted him to be more, she had realized since last night. She wanted him to be her dom; to have the edge that she had begun to see. D from the adult toy store had said he would be good at it, but she wasn’t sure. She knew Pete, and his tenderness. Was it possible that inside of him was lurking a different, darker side to his personality that she didn’t know about?

But then she reminded herself about his career. A team leader for a fairly successful engineering firm did not get that way by being a push-over. It required having some leadership qualities. It required having a vision and making it a reality. It required creativity. And it required being bossy sometimes. She then realized that she needed to trust that the journey to him becoming the dom she realized she needed was a process. Even as she had to get used to silencing the prude side of her, and giving permission to the submissive, slutty slide to flourish, Pete was going to get used to being in charge of her sexually. And if he did it with the same creativity and vision he brought to his career, and applied it to their life together, she was in for quite a fun ride.

Pete was thinking about those same things as they got in the car and headed toward the event. He had long fantasized about being her dom, but had never really considered it a possibility. And if he was honest, most of those dominant thoughts had come from his resentment toward her sexuality, and toward being boxed into the vanilla life they lived. But her opening words last night had changed everything. It was an understatement to say that this decision for the weekend from Michelle had been a shock; he knew he had been reeling from it all. But he felt like he was getting his footing. While Michelle had been cutting out her outfit, he had decided that he would continue to make it known that he was in charge, but that he also wanted to observe how these men worked with her.

He knew that he could use their actions as a way of generating ideas for how he would lead Michelle. He knew that he could put an end to it whenever he wanted. He could have done that at any point last night. Nobody really wanted any trouble; this was all fantasies being realized. He knew that there was a huge difference between what he had seen watching D/s porn and what took place in real life, and saw this as a learning opportunity, even if it was episodic. What happened in between the episodes would determine how well this worked in the long run.

But the ace in his back pocket was that he knew Michelle in and out. Even though this slutty version of herself had been a surprise, he knew that her likes and dislikes, her vulnerabilities, her hang-ups, her concerns had not changed for the most part. All of those could be used in their relationship dynamic. And the fact that above all else, he loved her, made him confident that they would find a good balance moving forward.

As they had pulled into the parking spot, Pete had taken his right hand, and with little fanfare, had reached for her crotch, and run his finger through her slit. She was soaking wet already.

“You are so fucking wet,” he said. “Is there like a spring in your body?”

“Yes,” she said. “I have the best of all worlds. I have a husband to both push me and protect me. I have a mind that has finally given myself permission let go sexually. I have anonymity, and I’m still humming from the denied orgasms earlier. I’m on fire, sexually. Just nervous about being openly degraded like this…But even the nerves and the degradation are a turn on. I just don’t want to offend people.”

“You’ll have to get used to that, sweetie,” Pete said. “You can’t be a submissive 24/7 and not offend some people. They won’t like what you wear. They won’t like what you do. Some people will be jealous of your open sexuality, and it will manifest itself in insults. But that won’t be the case with everyone; not even most people. I think the key is to be confident, almost like what you’re doing is what you are born to do. When you own it, people can think what they want, but they’ll think twice about saying it, because they’ll know you are confident in who you are, and what they say will make little difference.”

“If you say so…” was her response.

“I do say so. I want you to try it out on this walk. As you walk, hold your tits out, no matter what happens. Let your “slut” sign dangle, and make it jingle. Be yourself. It will take a while for it to feel natural, but it will happen.”

“OK,” was her response. They had sat for a minute or two, quietly collecting themselves, when Pete had made the comment about 10 minutes until showtime.

Pete sent a text to Mike, letting him know they were there. He took advantage of the time waiting by placing two fingers in her pussy and slowly, maddeningly finger-fucking Michelle. She started moaning almost immediately. He made her start tweaking her easily accessed nipples. Twice, within the 5 minutes that they had to wait, he had sensed her about to go to the point of no return, but he had pulled back and stopped. Each time, this was met by a deep moan and the drawn-out word, “No….”

Michelle was becoming urgent in her movements, trying to get Pete’s fingers deeper inside, but while he was waiting for her to subside, he would keep his index and middle finger poised at her entrance, touching, but not rubbing. Not penetrating.

“Pete, please,” she moaned. “I’ll do anything, I just need to cum.”

“You’ll already do anything so that doesn’t hold sway with me. Why do you need to cum?”

“Because I’m a submissive slut,” she said, a pout in her tone.

“Submissive sluts wait to cum until they are allowed.”

“Please, Sir, I need to cum so I can think clearly about what I’m going to do tonight.”

“No, I don’t want you thinking clearly. I want you obeying. I want you caught up in the moment. I want you to be slutty for all these men, just like you were last night.”

“Please…” she managed, one more time, before she gave up, and just rocked her hips back and forth, hoping Pete would change his mind.

It was then that they heard the knock on Michelle’s window. There wasn’t one person standing there. There were two. Mike was there, but so also was a woman. Michelle, stunned, stopped moving immediately. She saw Mike motioning her to get out of the car. While she was pulling on the handle to open up the door, she quickly noted the woman’s appearance.

Michelle could tell that she was tall. She was a fairly light-skinned African-American woman, and she was very attractive. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail that sat high on her head. She had eye-lashes a mile long, high cheekbones, and a cute, upturned nose. Her green eyes looked kind, but the expression on her face was hard to read. There was a healthy glow on her skin. She was dressed in a thin, but not transparent, long-sleeve dark-denim shirt that was not buttoned, but tied at the bottom. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing thin, healthy forearms. Underneath she had on a black tube top. She matched her top with contrasting light- denim shorts that were short, but not slutty short, like I would wear if I were not a slut thought Michelle. Michelle noted that her hands were on her hips.

Michelle opened the door and got out. For a brief moment, Michelle pondered the difference in their attire. This woman was dressed well. She looked every bit like how the old Michelle would have dressed for a birthday party, even if the high-class clothing emblems were not on display — as Old Michelle would have made sure was the case. And Michelle realized that she was dressed worse than a hooker. She not only had the cut-up outfit from before, she also had on the slave collar with the slut sign dangling, as well as the wrist and ankle cuffs that were prominent.

It is a strange thing when women look at each other, unconsciously sizing each other up, thinking in their heads how they compare to one another. It is a status thing, and Michelle knew that while the Old Michelle would have won or at least held her own, new Michelle was several rungs below this woman. She lowered her eyes, almost immediately. She started blushing, but felt the heat of her blush rise and spread as the woman said out loud, “Well, you were right, Mike, she’s dressed like a slut.”

Then turning toward Michelle, lifting up Michelle’s chin, and looking her in the eyes, she asked, “Are you a slut?” She knew that she had won.

Michelle opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, and remembering Pete’s words about owning her new identity and not hiding it, said, “Yes, I’m a slut.”

“Listen,” said the woman. “I’ve seen the pictures that have been taken. And Mike has told me about what you have done, and I’ve got to say that I just don’t buy it. You might be dressed like a slut, but you don’t look the part. I can tell just by looking at you that you are an upper-class suburban mom. It’s written all over you. Are you really a slut or are you pretending?” asked the woman. “Because if you are pretending, you need to stop right now. This shit is about to get real.”

Michelle stuck to her guns. “I’m a slut. I…I’m new to it, but I’m a slut.”

“Prove it to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain. I just walked with Mike from that party. There are probably 20 guys gathered in the front yard of a known pervert’s house. They’ve been working all week long, listening to bosses that look a lot like your husband over here.”

Michelle looked and saw that Pete had exited the car, the woman gesturing to him.

She continued. “They’re on edge, like they are every Friday. But this Friday, they are especially on edge. Do you know why?” Michelle just looked at her. “Some of them, like Mike, have a girlfriend or a wife that they can go home to and let out all their energy by fucking us senseless, but some of them don’t have one. And they’ve been told there’s a slut coming tonight for Clarence’s birthday. And what’s more, they’re drinking. Clarence made sure there was a cooler full of beer ready for them. And Mike here is not always the sharpest tool in the shed.” She pointed at him, and he lowered his eyes.

“He told them that they were going to get a white slut today to fuck.” Michelle’s eyes got big at this. “What I mean by all that is, what you are about to go do, it takes a slut to do that. You can’t be a pretender. You’ve got to be the real deal. So let me ask you again. Are you a slut? And if you are, you’ve got to prove it to me before I let you walk into that den of animals. I don’t want no trouble with the police, or with a lawsuit for my husband.”

Michelle looked at Mike. “Mike, why did you do that? Why did you tell them?”

He looked at Michelle. “Michelle, every word that I’ve spoken to you is true. There are no underage kids that are going to be there. And one of the guys that I made sure to invite myself is a police officer. You’re going to pay for it with your ass,” he said, almost with nonchalance, “but he’s going to tip us off if anyone calls the police. He’s also going to make sure nothing happens to you.”

The woman looked at Mike, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because Michelle told us, told her husband, that she wants it to be risky. That’s what she’s said all along. She wants to be controlled, and to have no say in what happens to her. Isn’t that right Michelle?”

Michelle lowered her head and nodded.

“So you are a slut,” said the woman, almost with a look of respect.

“I am.”

“Ok, then,” said the woman. “My name is Candace, and I belong with Mike.”

“Hello, Candace,” both Pete and Michelle said.

“The other girls asked me to go with Mike to make sure that this was all legit,” said Candace. Then seeing that Michelle was temporarily confused about this, she added on, “the girls that go with the other guys. Bob’s girlfriend, Jim’s wife, and Tommy’s girlfriend. Their names are not important to you, because you will just be saying ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘Yes, ma’am” to our group. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Michelle, as her loins coming to life once again thinking about being the lowest of the low. “How will I know who the rest of you are?”

“Well,” said Candace. “You know the guys. And we will be the only other women who are there. Everyone else will be a man.” Candace let that sink in for a second, and Michelle gulped.

“What are the rules for our time with her?” Candace asked, looking at Mike.

Instead of answering, he pulled out his phone. “See if this answers your questions.” He turned the phone so that all four could see and hear the screen. He found the video he was looking for, and pressed play. On the screen was Michelle, naked in the lobby of the hotel, and she was saying her vows from last night into the cameras that were there. It was well videoed, showing all of her body, and showing that she was saying her words of her own accord, with no coercion.

“My name is Michelle (pause)… Michelle Jones, and I work for Williams accounting in Fullerville. I am naked before you because I am willingly committing to be a slave for these gentlemen here in front of me. My husband is the only other man who has fucked me in my life. But I have just asked these four men, Jim, Bob, Tommy, and Mike along with my husband, Pete, to be my masters for the rest of this weekend, until Monday morning. By masters, I mean that I am giving them my body for their pleasure, with limits that I will make them aware of with a safe word that only my husband knows.

They have permission to dress me or not, to humiliate me, and to give me to other men as they see fit. They have permission to take me anywhere that they want, as long as my husband is with me. My only rule is that my masters are not allowed to break any bones in my body or give me bruises on my face.

I am willingly doing this of my own accord, without any coercion. It is my hope that each of these men will, in their own way, act out their fantasies, no matter how extreme, on me and for me, and that I will have had orgasms, more often, and with more power, than ever in my life. It is also my hope that I will have more cum in my mouth and on my body than a woman has any right to believe will happen to them. I relieve these men who are witnessing this confession of all responsibility and consequence for the things that they command me to do.

I hereby give each of these men permission to use this video against me should I fail to honor one of their requests, so long as it does not violate my stated rule. I relinquish all rights to all of my body, including all orifices and my nipples until Monday morning at 7am.

Candace, like the men the night before, was slack jawed at hearing this confession. Both Mike and Pete were smiling at hearing them again. For Michelle, hearing herself speak those words caused her to put a hand down to her pussy.

“Well shit, girl,” Candace said. “You just gave yourself away!” She then asked, “Do you stand by those words?”

Michelle was moaning at the work of her hands and at hearing herself make so desperate a commitment. Pete pulled her hand from her pussy and instructed her to put her hands behind her head. She complied, but she didn’t want to. Pete reminded her that she had been asked a question.

“Yes,” said Michelle, speaking with desperation. “I stand by them. My body belongs to them until Monday.” Before she knew what was happening, Pete had hooked her wrist cuffs to her neck collar, meaning that she could no longer reach her pussy. She was actively moaning louder now, her brain in sexual overload.

Pete looked at Mike. “Listen, I’m not sure how to say this without sounding racist, but I need to ask it anyway. If I’m going to be her long-term dom, it’s my job to keep her challenged but safe. I can’t have her raped by a bunch of hoodlums.”

Mike just stared at Pete, so Pete put his foot further into his mouth. “What I mean is that, like Candace said, this feels very edgy. Very out in the public. Very revealing, and not just to a controlled crowd, but to anyone who happens to walk by. There’s not going to be any gangs, or anybody trying to claim her, or any violence is there?”

Mike then spoke up. “Pete, I promised both of you earlier today, and just now, that she will not be harmed. That there is no legal danger for her. If someone calls the cops, we can move her inside. She will be the only one naked and exposed, so we’ll cover it up before anything legally damaging happens.”

Pete’s demeanor softened, but not Mike’s. “That being said,” he went on, “she has obviously enjoyed being submissive, and being humiliated. She’s already done some crazy stuff. She wants us to push her limits, or she wouldn’t’ keep repeating that you’re the only one who knows her safe word. She wants us to push that limit.” Mike let it sink in that he knew she wanted real edge to this adventure, something that caused both Pete and Michelle to gulp.

“So I can tell you that she’s going to be tested tonight. She’s going to feel it tomorrow, but she’ll also have a great time.” He looked at both Michelle and Pete. “Now can we go?”

Pete looked at Mike for a long minute, sizing it up, then said, “We can go.”

Mike then leaned in and whispered to Pete where no one could hear, “I know you’re in charge, and we will listen to you, but I want to promise you she will be safe. Look for the guys wearing light blue. They’re cop friends of mine, and they are unofficial security. It will be OK. I just know she wants it to feel risky.”

Pete relaxed at that and shook Mike’s hand. And with that, he handed the leash over to Mike and said, “It’s a power trip to pull a woman around by a leash. I got to do it twice today.”

Mike smiled and took the leash from Pete. He then hooked it around the front ring of Michelle’s collar, and standing right in front of her and looking in her eyes, said, “Michelle, tonight you are going to be fucked in 3 holes by cocks way bigger than last night. You are going to be called degrading names and made to do demeaning things. Do you understand?”

Hearing those words, along with the click of the leash being attached made the moment real to Michelle. A pig going to her own slaughter. “Yes,” she said.

“I’ll say the same thing to you that I said last night. We don’t get anything out of this unless you are into it. You have to be willing and wanting for this to work. Are you turned on?”

“O God, yes!” said Michelle. “I can’t wait to be a fucktoy to all those guys,” she said, the desperation still in her voice.

“Good,” said Mike. “While we walk, and even at the party, some people might make comments, some of them pretty insulting. If they do, I want you to say in your own words, something like, “You are right, I am a slut, and I deserve to be called that name. I want you to lean in to your submission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Michelle said, still an edge in her voice.

Pete could see that even though she was compliant, a part of her mind was still resisting, still just doing this because she had made a commitment and didn’t want to back down. So, he decided to try something.

“Michelle, I want you to go to subspace. Do you know what that is?”

“No sir.”

“You were there last night when you were between Tommy’s legs, when nothing else mattered except your submission and turning Tommy and the rest of us on. Do you remember what that felt like?” She got a look of recognition and nodded, so Pete continued.

“I want you to clear your mind of any resistance to this moment. I want you to get lost in the feeling of being submissive, of being told what to do and complying. I want you to let go of any concerns about tonight. I’ll take care of anything challenging that comes up. You have no responsibility for what happens tonight, other than the power that comes from men watching you do the nasty things you do. Do you understand?”

“I’ll try,” Michelle said.

“That’s not the way a submissive talks to her master,” said Pete, giving her a good hard smack on the ass. Michelle jumped and squealed, then said “Yes, sir, I’ll do it.”

Pete said, “Nothing else matters except you getting off these guys in whatever way that they want to.”

Those words sunk in, and Michelle nodded her head. “Yes, sir.” Then she added with real desperation, “Will I be able to cum tonight?”

Mike spoke up. “Like I said, I want you to enjoy tonight, so you can come as often as you like once we get to the party. My only rule is that you have to announce that you are about to cum every time. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Michelle said, seeming to relax at that good news. “Thank you, Sir.”

Pete nodded to Mike, and they started walking, a strange foursome, indeed. Mike was in front, pulling Michelle onto the sidewalk, and then starting toward Clarence’s house. Michelle, who was now reveling in the moment, made sure to stay a little behind Mike, so that anyone watching could see the leash and know that she was being led. Behind her, both Pete and Candace followed, staring at her beautiful ass, which was only slightly covered by the “skirt” Michelle was wearing.

Pete could hear Candace as she stared at her ass, the way Michelle was walking — with her tits jutting out as he had requested — and how compliant she was; she was just muttering under her breath over and over again, “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm…She’s in for it tonight.”

For Michelle’s part, she could feel every little breeze. Even though the skirt was heavier material than this morning, it was not as long, so her pussy got a direct shot of wind with every breeze. And she could tell that her tits were ready because each breeze caused her shirt to graze her nipples, sending electricity down to her pussy.

As they exited the parking lot, Mike walked her to the corner of the two streets where the restaurant stood. He then told Michelle to touch the crosswalk button.

“But my hands are cuffed,” she reminded Mike.

“So bend over,” was his response.

So, she did, and remembering Pete’s words about how to act, she kept her legs straight and spread them apart before bending over, giving anyone who wanted a view. She didn’t realize that as she did, she was not only giving Pete, Candace, and Mike a view, there were some teenagers who had just come out of Popeye’s, and having seen Michelle, they had run to catch up to see if what their eyes saw was actually correct.

They got quite the view and started whistling as soon as Michelle bent over. They kept walking and whistling, one of them having the courage to say, “Whose slut is that?” under his breath. They then headed around the corner and headed away from them. “See you later, Mike,” they said as they got out of range.

Michelle, having touched the button, stood up, saw the kids walking away, and said to Mike, “See, that’s what I’m worried about. Are those kids 18?”

Mike spoke up. “Yes, Michelle, they are. They just graduated from high school. They live down the street from me.” But even if they weren’t, you’re not engaging them sexually. You’re just bending over. You need to relax relish the moment. You’re living out the stuff you said you wanted last night.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded. She wasn’t sure that last night, she imagined that she would be seen by just-graduated teenagers, or that she would be wearing a collar and leash.

They crossed the street and were headed toward the house when they met another group of kids. These were older teenagers as well, but they were girls.

“Good Lord! Look at that slut,” one of them exclaimed, loud enough to be heard, even though they were still 50 feet away. They kept walking toward Michelle, but you could tell that they were taken aback by what they were seeing.

Michelle, who had finally given in and gone all-in said, just as loud. “Yes, I’m a submissive slut and I deserve to be called a slut, even though I’m old enough to be your mother.” That last part followed Mike’s instructions, only she had taken it a step further.

“You’re an old white slut in a black neighborhood,” said the same girl. The others giggled. “You going to have sex with black men?” she added on. “You must be desperate.”

The two groups were still approaching each other.

“I’m a desperate white slut. I want them to fuck me till I can’t take anymore.” Michelle blushed deeply at hearing herself speak those words. She blushed, but it felt like another dam was breaking; the dam where she made fun of herself and degraded herself and it turned her on. She didn’t think there were many dams left to break.

The groups passed. Michelle heard another of the girls say, “Damn, you can see her ass crack, too.”

“Yep,” said another one. “And for a white girl, it’s nice and meaty.”

Hearing these youngsters talk about her body like that was juicing her up, and she could feel a trickle of pussy juice start its way down her left leg. She realized then that while she was still looking forward to the sex she would be getting (her pussy almost seemed hungry for it), she was looking forward just as much to being objectified, being made to hear and do and say things that women like her didn’t do or say.

At one and the same time this was a revelation to her about her character and it was also a bitter pill for her swallow. This was because all her life long, she had been conditioned to avoid doing or saying anything that would be embarrassing or draw attention to her. To realize that she actually wanted to be made to do and say the kinds of things that sluts do was almost more than she could take. But she felt that she had to explore it.

“Sir?” she said.

“Yes?” both Pete and Mike said at the same time.

Michelle didn’t distinguish between the two, because she wanted them both to hear. “Can we stop for a second while I ask you a favor?”

“For just a minute,” Mike said. “We have people waiting for us at the party.”

“It’s just that, I realized when those girls passed me that I’m not only looking forward to the sex I’m going to have tonight…” her voice trailed off.

“Is there something else?” asked Pete.

“Yes. I also realized that I love being made to do and say nasty things. I love being insulted like a slut and objectified. I want you to think about how you can make tonight more degrading for me.”

Both Pete and Mike looked at each other, and they looked at Candace, who had been absorbing everything she had observed, from the video confession to the boys who insulted her, to especially the interaction with the girls who spoke. She knew right then that Michelle was different from any woman she had ever met before. But still, she wanted to hear it. “You need to explain yourself further.”

This, in and of itself was degrading to Michelle, and she felt more pussy juice flowing down her leg. She looked down and pointed at the trail of juice on her leg, something that most women would be mortified for others to notice, yet here she was, humiliating herself.

“Do you see this trail of juice coming from my pussy?” Just saying the words was making her start breathing heavy. “I didn’t have that trail before I got out of the car. I was wet, Pete felt it, but not like this.”

“So?” asked Candace. “You’re a slut. This is what happens to sluts.”

“I think I’m more than a slut,” Michelle said. “I don’t know if there’s a word for what I am. But I do know that when I got out of the car in these clothes, and when you made Mike play the video of my slave covenant, hearing me say those words out loud made my pussy start to drool. And then when those boys whistled at me, and the thought that they might even be close to underage and feeling that confident to whistle at a slut like me, it turned me on to be objectified by kids who should be calling me ma’am. And just now, hearing what those girls were saying about me and how I was dressed, what I was going to do, and commenting on my body, and having to admit those things to them? I feel like there is a river flowing down my leg right now.”

“So, you want more of that?” asked Candace.

Michelle looked down at the ground. “I shouldn’t. I should be running away from here. But yes, I do.”

“I think I get it,” said Pete.

“Good, because I don’t,” said Mike.

“I’ll show you,” said Pete, feeling confident about understanding her need, and knowing what to do about it. ” know you want to walk her into the party and show her off. When you’re done, hand me the leash and I’ll show you, then I’ll give the leash back to you.”

Mike nodded and continued walking toward Clarence’s house. Two houses later, the group started hearing the noises from the party. It was a mixture of music and laughter that let them know they weren’t far. They looked down the street and saw someone peeking out from the sidewalk at Clarence’s house. It was a man with very dark complexion, who had a sheen of sweat coming down his face. He saw Mike and a look of recognition came on his face, followed by a smile filled with white teeth. Then the man’s eyes caught sight of the metal leash, attached to Michelle, glimmering in the gradually setting sun, and his face lit up.

He yelled out to the party, “Mike’s coming, and he’s got her with him!” he shouted, louder than necessary. He stayed where he was and was soon joined by 7 or 8 other men, who all looked just about the same as the lookout.

Michelle was greeted by a chorus of comments, each embarrassing, and each turning her on:

“Holy Shit! Look at that slut!” “She’s dressed like a hooker!” “She’s a slave! Hands cuffed, wearing a leash in public!” “She’s hot, though.” “She doesn’t have any self-respect. She’s not resisting!” “She got bling on her neck! What does that say? ‘Slut?'”

But as she had discovered about herself, the humiliating ones really got her: “She looks kind of flat. I was hoping for big titties.” “She’s skanky, she going to fuck a bunch of guys she don’t know.” “Baby don’t got back!” “White girl gonna fuck us all.” “She’s going to be a loose slut when we get done with her.”

Finally, they arrived at the front of the house, but were still on the sidewalk. Cars were passing, honking at the commotion, or honking at how Michelle was dressed, she didn’t know. Pete looked around and saw that not only were the party-goers watching what was going on from inside the fence, but also that there were people from other houses who heard the loud voices and raised their heads to see what was going on. He was nervous, this all being new, not knowing how to react, or how others would react. He had no other choice but to trust that Mike had this situation under control.

Michelle was beyond red in the face. She was deep purple. But still, embarrassing as the comments were, it was as if Mike had sent them a telepathic message to say what they did. Her body and her mind were on fire thinking about what was going to happen, admitting to who she was becoming. She could even feel of the steady trickle of pussy juice running down her leg grow warmer.

Everyone made a loose circle around them. It provided Michelle with some sense of protection from the curious eyes in the neighborhood, but not much. She looked around at the men, taking it all in. The youngest of the group looked barely 18, if that. Trust Mike, there’s nothing illegal here, she said to herself. The oldest looked like he was in his 70’s. Some of them looked pretty unkempt, hair not trimmed, clothes stained and so forth. A couple of the guys that were about her age, looked more cleaned up.

For just about anyone else, it would be an intimidating sight to see men like this surrounding you, like a pride of lions coming in for the kill. That would have been especially true, knowing that there were probably 10-15 more like this on the house property, waiting their turn. Michelle was intimidated too, yet she willed herself not to flinch, but to stand steady. She was so worked up from what she had been doing over the last day, and from being denied her orgasm, she was breathing heavily. She wondered if Clarence was in this group of men.

Some of the guys had their phones out, all pointed at Michelle. Pete was worried about the whole situation, but Mike seemed calm, even smiling. Probably because he gets to give Michelle to Clarence, he thought. He saw that Candace looked calm too, but she also had a sense of disbelief at what she was witnessing. Finally, he saw that Michelle was squirming she was so turned on. From his angle, he could see the sun reflect off the moisture rolling down her leg. So, he forced himself to relax.

He saw Mike approach one man in particular. As Mike had described, Clarence was older. He looked like he was in his early to mid 70’s. He was pudgier than most of the guys there, but not horribly so. He was about 6 feet tall. His skin and his body had some sag to it. Yet even though you could see his age in his body, he still looked strong, as if he had worked with his hands for a living. He had a head that was mostly bald, shaved where there wasn’t any hair. His nose sat flatly on his face but took up a good bit of real estate. He had a squared jawbone, accented by a light beard that was salt and pepper. And eyes that were dark in color. Instead of white around his eyes, his were a pale yellow. In his mouth was a cigarette.

Pete knew that Michelle had no tolerance for smokers. She hated the smell, hated the idea, hated how unhealthy it was. She had even been known to approach smokers at a restaurant, when they were sitting outside, and ask them to stop smoking. It didn’t ever go well, but that didn’t stop her. Thankfully, just as Michelle got close to him, he took the cigarette and dropped it on the ground. She still wouldn’t like the odor, but maybe this wouldn’t be a “hard no.”

He looked her over, and as he did, a smile broke out on his face, revealing white teeth. He wasn’t deplorable, but Michelle had a distinct feeling of dread in her body as he looked at her. And the odor from the cigarette… He walked up to her, and slowly penetrated her personal space until his face was only about a foot away from hers. She coughed. Then, while never breaking eye contact, he took one of his massive hands, and spreading it wide first, smacked her ass, and squeezed.

It was quite a blow, causing Michelle to flinch and let out a squeal. Yet here she was, over-exposed, on a sidewalk of a minority neighborhood in a decent sized town, dressed like a whore, arms shackled to her collar and defenseless in every way. And it was exactly what she wanted. After the initial sting faded, she let out a guttural moan, not daring to break eye contact with him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him swing his other arm wide, and then felt the sting once again as her other cheek bore the brunt of his spank. No squeal came from Michelle this time, just the moan, followed by a whispered, “thank you, Sir!”

“You are a bitch, ain’t you? You a slut!” Clarence said.

It wasn’t spoken as a question, but as a statement. Yet Michelle answered anyway, still quiet. “Yes…I’m…I’m a slut.”

“Clarence,” Mike said, “this is the bitch that I told you about last night. Her name is Michelle Jones. She lives in Fullerville.”

At these words, Clarence averted his eyes briefly to Mike, acknowledging his words. But they quickly returned to Michelle.

“What kind of a slut are you?” He asked her, staring even harder into her eyes.

Michelle was less than 24 hours into being a “slut.” She had no idea how to answer that question.

“I…I do things,” was all she could muster.

“Oh really?” Clarence said, playing with her now. “What kind of things do you do?”

“Um…things that other women won’t do.”

“Hmmm. We’ll have to see about that.”

They continued staring at each other for a long moment, everyone else transfixed on this interaction, wondering what was going on behind their eyes.

Finally, Clarence spoke again. “Did you know it was my birthday?” He asked her.

“Yes.”

“I’m turning 76 years old today. I haven’t had the pleasure of a woman that I haven’t paid for in years. Are you going to do those things with me?”

Mike interjected. “Your luck has changed, Clarence. Michelle here is my gift to you for the night.”

“Oh, she is? What does that mean, she’s my gift for the night?”

“Well, I’ll hold the leash, but she’ll do what you want her to do.”

“Hmmm,” said Clarence again. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Then after a second, Clarence back his head up a little bit and said, “Michelle, we’re glad to have you here tonight. What have you been told about me?”

She paused, shaking her head, but Clarence saw in her eyes that she had been told about him.

“Tell me the truth. What have you been told about me?”

“Well, that you’re perverted. That everyone knows you’re a pervert.”

“I figured that’s what they said.” Clarence, instead of shaking his head at this unfortunate reputation, was smiling. “Everything that you have heard is true.” Then after a pause, he asked her, “But what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You knew that I was a pervert, and yet you still decided to come to my party. Are you a pervert, too?”

Michelle lowered her eyes. “I don’t know. I think so. I only know that I’m a slave.”

“A slave? Well, isn’t that something. I was gifted a slave for my birthday! Thank you, Mike.”

“The pleasure is mine,” said Mike.

Then to Michelle, Clarence said, “Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll put you through your paces?”

The whole entourage walked through the gate. Pete noticed that standing by the gate and taking it all in was a heavy-set man in a light blue shirt. Our first security guard. Pete admitted to himself that he was still on edge, not sure how to trust this very unfamiliar situation, but seeing one of Mike’s promised off-duty cops helped him build confidence that things were going to be OK.

Once inside the yard, Mike asked Pete to unhook her hands. She was noticeably relieved that her hands were free, and the first thing she did was take her hand and gather some of the juice that had run down her leg. She then licked off her hand.

Everyone was just looking at her in disbelief, but even those looks spurred her on. She smiled and said, “Can’t wait to lick some cum off my hand.”

Mike then took some time and walked Michelle around to introduce her to the party guests. Pete looked around and estimated that there were more than 25 people there. Pete watched from a distance, keeping an eye on her occasionally. As Michelle and Mike began their clockwise journey around the yard, Pete was approached by a group from the right.

It was Jim, Bob, and Tommy, who each had a woman attached to them. Pete noticed that all of the men were dressed like the night before. They had on nice clothes, but nothing that made you think there were on the cutting edge of style. The women were dressed for a typical birthday party.

First, Jim introduced his girlfriend, Carla. He said that they had been dating for about a year. Carla was taller than Michelle, and a bit larger. Not fat, but certainly not thin or fit. She was dressed in baggy blue cargo shorts, and a gauzy white button-up blouse, appropriate for a late summer evening. She looked like she was in her early 50’s, about the same age as Jim. She had long dark hair that had some gray starting to form. She was well-endowed. Pete noticed that she had a somewhat bitter face. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the occasion — being at a “pervert’s” house for a birthday party — or because it was the normal appearance of her face. She did attempt a smile when she shook hands with Pete.

Next, he was introduced to Tommy’s friend Karen. Karen was short and overweight. She had chubby cheeks that skewed what would probably have been a cute face if she weighed less. Her blond hair was cut into a short bob that swung with her head every time she turned it, which was often. She looked like she had had more than her share of being made fun of. As a result, she seemed to always be turning her head to see where the next insult was coming from. Karen had on a white dress decorated with a large flower print that came down to her knees. Like Tommy, she did not look like she kept herself hygienic all the time. Her facial expression, like Carla was bitter, but unlike Carla, you could tell that her bitter face was due to the situation of the night. She and Tommy were dating casually, Pete found out. She nodded at Pete, but made no attempt to shake his hands. I hope that she is not on the boat with Tommy tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Finally, Pete was introduced to Nancy, Bob’s girlfriend. Nance was tall and skinny, and looked rather demure, like she might be a submissive to Bob. Pete found out that they had been dating for a little over 6 months. Nancy’s shoulders hunched over giving her the look of a less-than-confident personality. Yet of the three new women, Nancy was easily the prettiest. She had features that were hallmarks of a beautiful woman. She had long, natural sandy blond hair that looked in place. She had nice blue eyes that smiled well, just like her mouth. Yet, knowing what he knew about Bob, Pete wondered if Nancy knew what Bob was capable of.

Having been introduced, Pete took a quick glance in Michelle’s direction. Mike had apparently given the men permission to touch, because he saw a different guy in blue pulling her in close, and using both hands, he was squeezing her ass. He also saw that she had started her signature rocking, not far from an orgasm.

“So, Pete, I hear that the last 24 hours have been interesting for you?” This was from Carla, Jim’s girl.

“They have indeed,” was all Pete could say, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Have we understood correctly that she just gave herself to our men for the weekend?” That was Karen, who emphasized the word “our” with some disdain in her voice.

“You heard it correctly, and I’m sorry. It was just as much a shock to me as it was to Jim, Mike, and the others. I had no idea that this was in her.”

He briefly went through the story, opening up to these people way more than he normally did with strangers. He knew that these women deserved an explanation and deserved to know that his wife had instigated the whole thing, but he also knew that if deep down, they weren’t OK with it, they would have pulled their man away. He still felt guilty.

“Hopefully it will be a compliment to you that Michelle chose these men because she felt like they could be trusted with what she was giving to them. That they would appreciate it, and not abuse her in a way that she didn’t want to be abused.” That last part certainly sounded weird to say, being that he was her husband, and she did want to be abused.

“To be honest with you, Pete, I don’t know what I make of it,” said Carla. “I want to be mad at her for propositioning my man. I mean, how dare she? But I want to say thank you, because if what I hear is true, she’ll do is things that I would never do, and at least Jim will get to see it done. Part of me feels sorry for her because she looks like she’s in way over her head. And part of me is mad at you, that you would let your wife be as wanton as she is.”

Pete raised his eyebrows at this. “I get how you would feel that way. I worked on her for the entirety of our marriage. She was so cold when it came to sex, I couldn’t get her out of her shell. And then a few weeks ago, I threatened her with divorce, and that was the key that unlocked everything. What she said to me this morning is that it feels like a series of dams bursting. Like this sexual being that she kept hidden for so long finally decided that it had had enough, and it is hell-bent on destroying all the taboos her family built when she was being raised. So honestly, all I’m trying to do is hang on for dear life.”

“Well, when we get a hold of her, another dam is going to burst,” said Karen. “I get her tonight, and then again tomorrow.” Pete cringed inside at that. “When I get done with her, and what I have planned for her, she’ll know if she really is what she says she is.” Pete was getting ready to respond when they all heard Michelle moaning.

They looked over and saw Michelle standing, barely, with her feet spread very wide, knees bent, hips bent. She was facing the rest of the party. On either side of her was a man grabbing at a nipple and pulling it away from her body while he twisted. In front of her, another man was underneath her, licking at her clit while he fingered her pussy. Behind her, Mike had the handle of the leash and was spanking her ass: not hard, but not light either.

Pete looked at her face and saw a mixture of agony and pleasure. He guessed the agony was more from her nipples than her ass, because he wasn’t spanking her very hard. That could not be said of the men torturing her nipples. They were pulling, squeezing, and twisting, all at the same time. After a few seconds of that, they were leaning in and biting her nipples, and then returning to pulling them out.

Michelle was leaning forward, bucking her hips, and yelling, “yeah, yeah, yeah” in rhythm with the blows coming from Mike. She announced to him, really to everyone there, “Oh God, I’m about to come!”

Immediately, Mike stopped, and pulled the men away from her body. There was no more stimulation. “No!!” Yelled Michelle. “I need to come so bad! Please let me cum!” She was bucking her hips violently and moving her body like a toddler pitching a fit. She was just about to touch herself to get off when Mike told her to stop.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

Michelle was practically crying. “Please! You said I could cum when I wanted to.”

“And you can,” said Mike. “But Pete wanted you to do something first. Then you can cum.”

Pete remembered what it was he wanted to do, so he went and grabbed Michelle’s leash and led her up on the deck which he wanted to use as a stage.

“Everyone, gather around so you can see,” Pete said, motioning to the yard area between the deck and the street. “Please leave a little bit of space right here in front, so that everyone can see.”

He waited for everyone to quiet down as they moved around. He looked at Michelle, and she was nearly beside herself. Pussy juice was dangling from her lips. Her eyes were closed, her face twisted in the agony of being pulled from the ledge of another orgasm again. Then he looked around, and mentally made an account of who all was there. There were the four men and their significant others. That made eight. There was he, Michelle, and Clarence. That made 11. And there were 11 other random men. That made 22. Add in 4 guys he could see in the light blue shirts, and that made 26, all of whom (including herself) Michelle would have to please before the night was over.

Of those 25, only 5 or 6 looked like they were “in shape,” the kind of guy that Michelle had crushed on in the past. The rest of them had some “flaw,” whether it was their weight, their proportions, their faces not being very attractive or their attire — many of them having stains or tears on their clothes — that Michelle (Old Michelle, he reminded himself) would not have had anything to do with.

They spanned the age range, too. A few of them were old enough, they looked like they could have been Clarence’s long-time friends; maybe one was his brother. The oldest of them looked like he was a couple of years older than Clarence, but he looked like one of the better ones in terms of appearance and being clean.

But as he had seen earlier, there were a few of the guys that looked young, real young. Some of them looked so young, they were still shy. One in particular was way overweight. Just the heat of the day was making him sweat. Pete could tell that he had literally no confidence whatsoever. His face was still carrying baby fat, and Pete was really concerned about how young he looked.

And then in between, there were guys that ranged in age. Only 5 or 6 looked to be Michelle’s age. Pete wondered in his head of some of these were father-son relationships, and he wasn’t sure what to think about that.

What Pete knew was that Old Michelle, even if she were turned on, and into the idea of a gangbang, would have said, “No way!” to this ragged crew. Their blackness, their sweatiness, their lower-class appearance would have all been a turn off. But New Michelle was looking out at them, and her hips were still rocking. Pete got everyone’s attention.

“Hello guys. My name is Pete. I am Michelle’s husband and her dom.” He could see from the first sentence that everyone was thinking that he was a cuckold. He was about to show them that he was no weakling. “This is all brand new to us, so we are learning how to fill those roles, but just before we got here. Michelle told Mike and I something about herself. I think she should tell you guys herself what it is. Don’t you?”

Everyone clapped tentatively, not really knowing how to respond. To be truthful, they all just wanted to fuck. But Pete wanted them to know that he was up to the task of being her dom, and just what kind of fucking was allowed. That was important to him, for some reason.

“Tell them, slut, what you found out about yourself.”

Michelle had not wanted to confess this to these men. She wanted it to be a secret between her and her masters. So, she hesitated. That hesitation was punished by a sharp, stinging blow to her ass. Pete, with a stern tone, repeated himself. “Tell them, slut, what you found out about yourself.”

She didn’t need to be asked again. “I…I…I like to be humiliated,” she said, shame in her face, her head hanging low.

“Say it louder,” Pete said.

“I like to be humiliated.” Her voice much louder.

“Tell them what you mean, slut.”

She was still having problems with admitting this to herself, much less anyone else, but she didn’t want another spank. “I like to be called names,” this time was a little bit louder.

“Like what?” Pete asked. He had started spanking her again, but it was much softer. Enough to be a spank, but not enough to hurt. And he had begun to pick up the speed of the blows. For Michelle, it felt just like this morning. She was thinking about that when he struck her hard again.

“Like what?” Pete repeated.

There was urgency in her voice now. “Like slut, whore, bitch. Things like that.”

“Is that the only kind of humiliation that you like?” Pete asked, resuming the steady rhythm of soft but firm spanks.

“No,” she said, starting to buck her hips once again.

“Go on.” Spank. Spank. Spank.

“I like it when people insult me,” she said, quickly getting in the mood for this game that Pete was playing with her.

“Like what?” he asked again.

She was having trouble thinking at this point, the pain and the pleasure clouding her thoughts. Still, she didn’t want any more blows. “Like when people tell me I have no tits.” Her hips started bucking more, and she let out a moan. “Like when people tell me I’m a skank for dressing like I do.” Another moan. “Like when people insult me for putting myself on display.” Her moaning was getting louder with each comment, and her hips where really moving. And the pussy juice was dangling lower and lower near the deck.

“Are there any other kinds of humiliation that you like?” Pete asked, his rhythm not changing one bit.

“Oooh, that stings!” she said. “Don’t stop. Ahhh! I like it when people make me do things that other women like me don’t do.” She could feel another orgasm forming.

“Like what?” Pete asked. Spank. Spank. Spank.

“Like letting strangers touch me and grope me…aah! Like making me suck strange dick and letting them fuck me….” She moaned at hearing her say those words. “Like being the only one naked.”

“The only one naked? I think that’s a great idea,” Pete said, and with that he pulled the bowtie on the shoelace that was holding up her skirt. It dropped quickly to the ground. And then, surprising himself, he took her yoga shirt, just like Bob had done last night, and tore it in half from the collar to the cut hem. And then tearing it completely along both shoulders, he let it slide from her completely. She was now naked, and the only item of clothing she had left was the skirt, and it was grabbed by one of the men. While his ripping of the shirt had shocked her, the thought of having to make it back to Popeye’s without a shirt, and possibly a skirt, had her hyperventilating with excitement.

Now with all her ass available to him, Pete resumed his spanking, but in parts not spanked before. “I don’t think we’ve given them a full picture of how much humiliation you like, Michelle,” Pete said.

“No…” Michelle moaned, both from the cumulative spanking she was receiving, and from what she suspected Pete was going to ask her to admit. On one hand, she didn’t want these men to know about what she was capable of, and on the other, she did. She was embarrassed, mortified at those acts, but just thinking about the humiliation she had received from doing them caused her orgasm to take one step closer to the edge.

“Sir,” she said, “I’m going to cum soon.”

“Wait until I tell you to cum. Do you understand?”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“Do you like that I’m making you say these things?” Pete asked.

“Yes,” she said, nearing the point of no return. The orgasm she had been waiting for all afternoon was close, but she had been close before and not allowed.

“Well, let me slow down then, and let you tell them the things that you have done since last night that you never would have done before. And I know it all, so each thing that is left out, you’ll get a hard spank.”

“Yes, sir,” she said loving and hating this moment at the same time. She wanted to focus on the feeling, the pleasure of the moment. But she wanted to admit the slutty things she had done and needed to focus to do that.

“Sir, since last night, I have put ben-wa balls up my pussy. I was naked in a hotel lobby full of men I never knew. I offered my body up to four men to be their slaves until Monday morning…”

With each new admission, Pete would give her a spank.

“…I let a hotel worker stick his entire fist up my pussy. I licked a dirty ass, twice. I stuck my finger up his ass and tasted it…”

This was so humiliating, but she looked out and saw that the men were starting to rub their dicks through their shorts, and she realized the power of being a slut. She started to speak louder, reveling in her humiliation and its power.

“…I licked the asses of 12 men I had never met before, and I didn’t care if they were clean or not. I let them all fuck my pussy, one after the other. I sucked them off, too. I let a girl who was barely 18 spank my tits until I orgasmed. I got naked in a diner, a toy store, and a bikini shop.” She gulped at thinking about what admission was coming next. “I drank the piss of two men, one after the other.”

The men were really rubbing their dicks now. More than one had pulled his dick out of his shorts. Michelle liked what she saw. She continued on. “I allowed strangers to make a list of things for me to complete before the weekend was up. I let a group of men watch me orgasm on a store counter. I allowed myself to be collared and cuffed. And I walked to this party wearing the sluttiest outfit ever, sir. That’s what I have done this last day that I wouldn’t have done before this weekend, sir.”

The stream of pussy juice hanging from her vaginal lips was copious. Her hips were bucking. Her breaths were short, staccato breaths. And she was moaning like a slut. She couldn’t hold out much longer. The orgasm was inevitable. She was just about to give herself permission to cum, punishment be damned, when WHACK! A blow came to her pussy. It stung like a motherfucker, and she howled.

“You forgot something,” Pete said. And then he went back to his rhythmic spanks. It wasn’t long before Michelle was right back at the edge.

“What??” Michelle asked.

“You forgot to tell them that if you failed to complete any order that was given you, that they had permission to post the videos of you that they had on the internet.”

“Oh, yes,” said Michelle, moaning at the thought of her husband and master participating in her ruination. Then louder than anything else she said, “I told my masters that if I failed to complete any of their orders, they were to use the video they had of me against me.”

“Do you want these men to video your gangbang tonight?” Pete asked.

“Yes!!” said Michelle.

“Do you want them to use their video against you if you don’t do what they say?” Pete asked.

“Yes,” said Michelle. “I’m going to cum, sir.”

“Do you want them to order you around?” Pete asked.

“Yesss…” She was now past the point of no return. Pete was still spanking her in a steady rhythm, even as he asked the questions.

“Do you want them to make you do nasty things?” Pete asked, quickly picking up the pace.

“Do you want them to insult you and degrade you?” Spank, spank, spank…

“Yes, O God, Yes!”

“Do you deserve to be insulted and degraded?”

She didn’t answer, but nodded. She was trying her best to hold on.

“Answer me and you can cum!”

“Yes!”

“Why?” he demanded.

And then, in one mighty surge of yelling, moaning, and squirting, Michelle answered. “I deserve, ohhh! to be degraded and humiliated, ahhh! because I was a bitch and a prude before, ahhhh, but now I am a slut!!” As she said it, Pete took his hand and spanked her clit. And with that she let go.

“Oh God! Oh God! I’m cumming! O God! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She was loud. Like really loud. All the men were just staring at her, dicks in hand, openly pulling them. Pete looked up, and some neighbors had come over at the sounds of Michelle’s words. Pete didn’t look too closely. He was already worried about youngsters seeing this. He was just trusting Mike.

After a minute or two, Michelle stood up straight. Her pussy was still spasming. She then opened her eyes and took it all in. She realized yet again the power that she had when she let herself go sexually. 20 or more men, all transfixed as they looked at her, all turned on. Not just because she was sexual, but also because she was willing to do things and talk about things that other women didn’t talk about.

Her face twisted up as she realized what she had admitted to: licking asses, tasting asses! Public nudity! Willing blackmail! Drinking piss! A love for being humiliated! Being spanked to orgasm! God, what is wrong with me? I just admitted all of that to strangers who are going to use it all against me! But no sooner did she have that thought, than she realized that she was going to be made to do a lot of that, right now, and it excited her.

As she had all weekend, she decided the best way to handle it was to own it. They had promised her she could cum all she wanted, so while her pussy was still spasming, she started slowly running the two fingers of her right hand back and forth the length of her slit, relishing the squishing noises. “Are you guys all going to degrade me?” She asked, eyes open, wanted to take it all in.

“You just told us you love it, so yeah!” That came from one of the crowd.

“Are you going to spank me and call me names?” She asked, she was already rocking her hips again.

“You bet,” came from a different voice.

“Are you going to fuck me and call me a loose slut?” She started pushing her fingers in, grazing her clit, and reaching in to touch her still agitated g-spot. A guttural grunt came from her mouth as she realized she was going to go over the edge again, less than five minutes after the last one. And amazingly, this one felt like it was only going to build on the last one.

“All night long!” she heard from the gallery.

“Are you going to make me show off my body to strangers?”

“Uh-huh. You know it.”

She cringed as she said it, but there was very little filter left in her: “Are you guys going to make me lick your asses?” With that she started spanking her pussy, just like Pete had done, only she was clearly striking it harder.

“Oh my God, you are a nasty whore,” one of them said. She heard another say, “Jesus Christ!” And another one say, “What a slut!”

She was still spanking her pussy, but even faster now, and with purpose. Each blow was striking her clit. It was so sensitive that the pain and pleasure mixed into one, each building upon the other. She was on that runaway train once again. “Oh my God! I’m cumming again! Holy fucking shit!” She was squirting and convulsing at the same time. Almost under her breath, she said, trying to get the same volume as her previous questions, but unable to with the onslaught of a powerful orgasm: “I want you all to fuck my ass…”

She started to wobble, but Pete caught her. Once in his arms, she let go and just sort of blacked out, a feeling of bliss and humiliation and mortification at what she had just said to complete strangers all melding into a feeling to great to describe. She felt herself sinking gradually until she was on the deck, still tremoring every few seconds.

She never fully blacked out; she just had her eyes shut, reveling in the bliss of the moment. She was vaguely aware of someone walking on the deck, getting closer and closer to her.