tagNonConsent/ReluctanceA Perfectly Normal Thing To Do

A Perfectly Normal Thing To Do

byBrutalhawk©

They left me all alone here. Alex, my husband, and that horrible Anne, that new found love of his. Together they brought me here, using sweet words and promises. Then they kissed me and departed without explaining. I asked nothing. They wouldn't have spilled the beans anyway. Alex always like to surprise me with his cruel games. And by now I'm far from immune for their attraction.

So they're gone. Just like that. I wonder what's the idea this time. I'm sure it'll be quite an experience. It's the first time things are done outside our own house. They have such original ideas...

It's not so long ago that Alex introduced her to me. He just brought her home with him. She right away frightened me with her young beauty and her piercing black eyes. It was a terrible moment of confusion and horror when Alex told me he loved her. Maybe we should separate, he had said, caressing Anne's hair, just like that, in front of me. But I'm a survivor and my first reflex was not to give in, not to give up hope. I just can't imagine life without the shielding power of his big strong hands. So what else could I do than lower my head.

And thus she came to live with us. To share my man, my bed, my marriage. To agree was the only thing I could possibly do. I didn't want to lose him, to end my marriage. Still don't want. I'm nothing without him. My life depends on him. And now, even with that sexual sidekick of his, I still have him. I guess that's my way of showing true love.

Although the presence of that other woman remains something like an open wound and I still haven't gotten to like her, I must be honest. I should admit that in fact her presence brought a new sense of urgency to my erotic life. I had never imagined that I could learn to enjoy sex with them together. Actually it was more natural, more easy, than I had thought possible. It must have matched up with something very deep inside me. I won't deny it. And then, once my own free will wasn't any more interfering, things began to slip. To slip fast. My mind accelerated and took a strange turn: I became completely submissive to them. And to the sexual games they like to play. I still don't like Anne. Never will. But to have the two of them amuse themselves with me has become a most addictive masochistic habit. It has made me a wilful participants in their games. Often I even help them think of new creative ways to please them. For example, just recently I came up with the idea of signing a slave contract with them. One that gives them absolute powers over me, without any restriction. It's was a highly exciting idea, this contract. Of course it's just a piece of paper. But still, it's fun. It describes me as their sex-slave, not allowed to break free from anything they might want to do with me. They jumped on it. Liked the idea as much as I did. Or maybe more. They even went so far as to have me write and sign that contract and then had it notarized, that is, they made it legally binding. Great fun. I love it.

They like most to humiliate me, especially Anne, but Alex too. And it always arouses me no end. So nowadays I must clean the house naked, cook for them in the nude, sit on the floor leashed to their chair, and of course at night I must open my thighs for them before they make love to each other. Like an appetizer before a good meal. I often volunteer for that. Alex is a staunch lover.

So I shouldn't complain of being left alone here for another of their devious games.

But I'm not really alone in this strange place. There are several women in this windowless room. They are younger and stronger that I am. Dressed like nurses in white medical looking working coats. They are busy, as nurses should be.

I am not. I patiently wait.

After some handshaking and polite words of departure to my husband and his Anne, the women quickly and without explanation, put me down on what looks like a large massage table... flat on my back. Obviously they are participants in this game. So I let them.

They hold me immobilized. By my wrists, by my ankles. I don't know what to expect, so I decide to go with the flow and play-act a little. Thus I attempt to struggle a bit. But I find myself quite helpless. They are strong, these nurses. And they are quite serious, it seems. I jerk my arms and legs to free them from their grips. But they keep me forcefully pressed down onto the table's surface, which seems to be made of some sort of soft material. It does not hurt really, but it's not comfortable either.

I look up at them. Curiously these women seem not to really care about my reluctance. It's as if they don't even notice it. But they are not unkind and some even smile at me, although in a kind of business like manner. They remain firm and decisive. Like nurses indeed. Professionals.

"Don't resist, dear," one of them says, "we're going to strip off your clothes."

I hesitate. "Where is my husband?" I ask. I'm a little taken aback now. Without him around I'm not used to be undressed. So this time I ask myself if I should not genuinely resist. But the women are quite effective. They must be in the health services or something, handling me like a reluctant patient. Two of them take off my shoes. Then with a sudden well trained sweep they pull down my skirt. I can't help but resist now, and I holler: "Where is my husband...? Don't do this...!" But of course Alex isn't here and I am no match for these women. They just proceed with decision and calm, and begin to unbutton my blouse...

I'm not play-acting anymore. I focuses on freeing myself. I fight, try to kick my legs, call at them to stop. This is not a game I like, it's not nice. Not really arousing. Where am I? What are they doing? But my protestations don't help. Nothing helps. Too many hands keep me down.

Soon I am left in my undies. Just my bra and my small slip. The kinky red ones that Alex told me to put on this morning. Those which always please him, he had said. And Anne lying next to him in our bed, had kissed him and laughed merrily in agreement.

Neither of them is here now. It worries me. And the locking hands of those nurses make me mad. I yell "NOOO! PLEASE....." But in stead of being listened to, I am stunned to be slapped straight across my face. It shuts me up effectively. I feel tears form in my eyes, but somehow I still continue to wrestle. However, it's no use. The struggle is too much. Out of breath I give up. I should give in to this crazy game. As always.

They quickly lift me, unhook my bra, then push me back down on the table. Once more I try to wrestle free, but I have too little strength. Suddenly my boobs are groped and my bra is pulled away. Both my large breasts are now bare. The cool air kisses their uncovered skin. And with horror I realize that my big nipples begin to stiffen... for all of them to view. I am utterly helpless. Their hands are like metal vice grips.

Someone grabs the elastic band of my panties. They pull...! I begin to shriek. Never before have I allowed my intimacy to be bared for strangers.

Again I am crudely slapped in my face. But it fails to stop my yelling. My hips twist, noisily hitting the table's cover. I must resist! Use whatever strength I can still muster. This is my last option. My sex at least should be kept to myself.

But my knees are pulled apart and thus I am made open to them, defenceless, helpless....

I give in.

All my strength has left me. They still hold me, but there is no need anymore to keep me still. I am just panting. No use to oppose them.

Completely naked I lie on their table, humiliated, spread eagled... One of the women looks at me with caring eyes. "Why do you want your husband?" she asks. I'm astonished. The question seems to be asked with real honesty. "You know why he brought you in, don't you?," she says, "just calm down. We'll take care of everything."

"He hasn't told me anything," I manage to whimper, "and I don't understand." She just frowns. "Well, whatever," she says, "I guess that makes it easier for us." When she turns around a suddenly coldness hits one of my arm pits. I am being soaped...! They are shaving me...! First one arm, then the other. I let them. I have given up. It's their game now.

Soon they spread my legs, pull them further apart. By now it's what I expect. My most private area is lathered, then carefully shaved. I don't dare to move for fear of being cut. When they are finished I feel bald like a baby and I'm overwhelmed by a sense of absolute vulnerability. I close my eyes in shame. I cannot face them. But then, startled, I become aware that it is not actually unpleasant. I am mortified in my shame.

I am hairless in the secret nooks of my body now. They do not find it necessary to shave my arms or legs. There's no need. It's one of the things I take care of myself every day.

In a half hearted attempt I once again try to break free. But they won't let go of me. I am lost.

Is this why Alex and Anne have brought me here? To be made without any hair on my most sensitive body areas? I am sure Anne would like me like this. She often says she hates my body hair. But Alex likes it. He never let me shave those places. So maybe this treatment here is Alex's way to give her a present. Well, it's done now anyway. When he comes to get me, I'll just dress and we will go home. I'm ready to be shown to his Anne like this. There's even some wetness between my legs...

But the nurses don't relax their grips. It seems it's not over yet.

A long slender woman, older than the others, suddenly appears from nowhere. I haven't seen her before. She must have just entered this barren, white walled room. She has affluent wavy hair, as dark as her eyes. Large dark eyes. From the way the other women look at her it could be that she is in charge here. I am watched in silence. All I can do is breath. She smiles, seems to be pleased.

I wonder what will happen now.

"Looks like a good job," she says to her nurses, and then she extends a well manicured hand and touches me. It feels like I'm judged, my whole exposed body is being inspected. The woman's fingers rub my breasts, test the firmness of my large stiffened nipples, press down into my belly, run along the insides of my thighs, as if asserting their tenderness, and then suddenly insert themselves between the lips of my femininity.

I gasp... The hands still holding my wrists and ankles clamp with fresh force.

I can do nothing. And, while those fingers keep themselves busy inside me, all I can do is look into those large dark eyes above me. They are mesmerizing. I could love this woman... My God, this is getting serious.

When her hand leaves me I'm aroused and very moist. My shame colours the world red. I am too embarrassed to struggle now, and to my own surprise a soft whimper escapes my mouth.

But I am not given time. I'm quickly rolled over and immediately the woman's hands mould my cheeks, then pull them apart. A finger probes my anus. I wish the ground would open and swallow me... My face feels hot and wet. Tears are coming...

Then it's over. They roll me back again. I'm more embarrassed than ever. Mustering all my courage I attempt to look again at the woman who is inspecting me. There is pleading in my eyes. But she looks at me only fleetingly, raising an eyebrow, and smiles at the nurse standing next to her. "She's fine," she says, "you can take her." I force myself to look away, feeling how my face burns in shame. She must have noticed I am so wet...

A moment later she is gone and strange enough I feel a little abandoned. I am alone again with those white dressed nurses and let them sit me up. Again they seem to show some sympathy. But then my hands are suddenly forced behind me. They tie my wrists with rope at my rear. I'm still aroused, and familiar masochistic feelings erupt. Really helpless now I wait for what is going to happen. Horny as I am, I hope Alex will soon reappear. And indeed the nurses help me move off the table.

Relieved I stand on my legs, happy to be upright again, albeit without the use of my hands. I wonder when I'm going to be given back to Alex. I'm still not really sure how much he would approve of me shaved like this. But again I realize how much Anne would enjoy it. He will please her with me being bald like this... A strong longing for him surges through me. I don't really need Anne, but Alex can be so sweet, so protective... I want him to hug me, to kiss me, to caress my fragile nudity.

But there is no time for thought. Two nurses take me by my bound arms and walk me into a dimly illuminated hallway and then they open a door.

It is a very small place. And to my chagrin Alex isn't there. The only items to be seen are three walls and a heavy dark red curtain hanging before the remaining wall. My nurse-guards tell me to go and stand in the middle of this tiny space, and face the curtain. I hesitate but then step with my bare feet on the wooden floor. There is no other choice.

They unbind my wrists and tell me to lift my arms. Like a blank automatic doll I obey. A rope is lowered from somewhere up. They bind my wrists to it. Somewhere a pulley squeaks, and my arms are stretched high above me. I don't resist. Just hold my breath. They leave.

I stare at the curtain. What kind of place is this?

Now I'm really alone.

Or am I?

Vaguely I register some unfamiliar sounds. They are not easy to recognize. Something like a shuffling of paper, or maybe some shoes on a stone floor. And what is that? A whispering voice. Alex, waiting behind that curtain? Waiting for me to be revealed. Flames of arousal lick my loins. A little drop of moisture slowly descends down my left inner thigh. Being exposed like this to my husband in this strange place suddenly feels like a huge kick.

I try to think of what he will say upon seeing me captive, naked and bald like this. Or his Anne for that matter. Maybe she's with him. I suddenly realize that maybe they want to take photo's of me in this humiliating position. Maybe this is a studio. Questions, questions....

There are more muffled noises now behind the curtains. I am suddenly frightened. What's going on? I pick up sounds like furniture being moved. And more voices. Too much noise for a studio. Is Alex throwing a party or something? And I, like I'm standing here, am I going to be... "Jesus Christ! What's going on?!"

In a flash I realize it's a stage I'm standing on. And stretched like this I can't hide my intimacy. I try to draw my knees up to shield my bald shame. But as I test the rope, it cuts into my wrists and a terrible pain knifes through my arm pits and shoulders. So hanging in my bonds is no option. Thus there is no way in which I can cover my body, hide my breasts, or even shield my so very visible love entrance....

The sounds are becoming alarming. There definitely are many people around there. More and more voices. People are talking behind that curtain. It frightens me badly.

And then suddenly the curtain rises. Panic swamps me and I freeze in fearful fright.

The blood drains from my face as I discern a whole audience of people sitting behind small tables in half a circle around my platform. I'm in a club or something. On a small stage. There are men and women. Some are chatting with each other, some are sipping wine picking nuts or olives. I smell coffee. It's a whole crowd. At least fifty or sixty people. Maybe more.

As the curtains disappears in the darkness above me, hushes from the audience are heard.

They watch and I can feel their eyes.

Naked like this on public display, unable to hide my breasts and cleft from all those prying eyes, this is the most humiliating game Alex has ever played with me.

Where is he? I force myself to look around. But all I can see is suits and elegant evening dresses, some of them adorned with glittering quite expensively looking jewellery.

Anxiety creeps up as I keep scanning for Alex, or maybe Anne. But my vision becomes blurred. I realize there are tears in my eyes. I can't find them this way. Behind this fog of tears there are only faces of strangers.

Could it be that they are simply not here? No! Hope keeps my mind running: Alex will enter any moment. Of course he will. This is his party, isn't it, his idea. He is their host.

But it does not happen. An unbearable fear develops that my husband may not show up at all. Horror crawls up my mind as this multitude of eyes remain fixed on me, fixed on my nudity, my helplessly exhibited body. I must take deep breaths to keep panic at bay. I fear I'll have to sing this out without my man being present.

But the realization of abandonment is too strong. It sweeps me into full panic. Beads of sweat flow down my temples. Nevertheless, deep down I still refuse to give up hope. Where is Alex Goddamit? Where is that bloody husband of mine? This game is way too much for me.

Desperately I again search for any sign of him or, for better or worse, of that vile girlfriend of his. I move my head to shake the tears from my eyes and again scrutinize each chair, each man, each woman in this audience. But no Alex, no Anne. They are nowhere. Just people watching me in my defenceless nudity. Only now do I notice that many of them hold white pieces of paper in their hands. The evening's program? A program for the party? Maybe I'm not the only attraction. What more is planned? Another pang of panic cramps my stomach as I realize this must be a kind of club. What are they going to do with me? Are they planning to hurt me, whip me? Enjoy my pain, my screams? Is that what this is about? I have been whipped before. But only recently and only by Anne. I hated it. The pain was terrible. But I bore it because it seemed to amuse Alex. I'm definitely not looking forward to another lashing. And certainly not here in public. But what can I do? I'll have no choice. I will be hurt terribly... I will scream...

But nothing of the sort happens. Not yet at least. I just wait, stretched on my rope, exposed, vulnerable...

It takes quite long, this waiting. I see people exchanging words with their neighbours. Some read the program. Some point towards me. Some just stare. I wonder if I should cry for help. But I realize it's a silly idea. These people obviously came here to be amused. Helping surely is not in their books. So I keep to myself and pray in silence for this game to be over as soon as possible, for me being back at home, leashed to Alex's chair, comforted by his caressing hand on my no doubt by then bruised back.

But again I can't get that damned hope out of my mind. Maybe he watches me from somewhere in the darkness behind the audience. But why would he? Is this to amuse Anne? I cannot think of any other explanation.

"My God, what has become of me," I think. "My two lovers, my Alex and that horrid Anne, they have thought this up to humiliate me more than I ever thought possible. And I ask myself why that does not arouse me. It's like from somewhere very deep down inside, a silent voice is warning me

I don't find this sexy any more. I'm too worried, too frightened.

For a moment the fear makes me blissfully unaware of the audience. Their talking has become a buzz in my ears. Between the whiffs of mental fog I can still see them, glancing at each other, showing each other something on those sheets of paper, pointing things out, talk, mumble, and above all, return their gaze to me, to the display of my disgrace.

I don't know what to do... what to think. And all this time that nagging question: Why are Alex and Anne not here, knowing what's going to happen. Then suddenly the answer hits me. They must be lying in each other's arms, delirious with excitement about my public humiliation here. It brings tears to my eyes and, even more than before, I ache for this terrible game to end and join them in their cruel love... The thought causes my arousal to return. It heats my crotch.

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byBrutalhawk© 0 comments/ 27993 views/ 5 favorites

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