The First Time He Watched Me

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He watches wife's first sexual encounter with male.
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I am standing naked before a large bed with my lover at my back. In front of me is another man. This man is also naked, laying on the bed, waiting for me to join him in forbidden passion. I know exactly what I am about to do. I want to do it. My mouth is watering at the thought of sucking him. A stream of clear, slippery liquid is beginning to trickle down my leg in anticipation of riding his cock. I will lock eyes with my lover while this other man enters me, while I ride his stiff manhood in long hard strokes. I will look my lover in the eyes while I come and come and come. I will let my lover see every unbridled intimacy, hear every moan of pleasure. I will fuck while he watches me. I close my eyes and consider the events leading to this moment.

We met J at R and D's sex party. It's a twice-monthly event, a "swingers event" that occurs in their "party house" out in R, NC.

R and D hold invitation-only parties there about twice a month. When we go, H provides me what he jokingly calls my "disintegrating costume." I get very turned on walking around naked in front of other people, particularly when all or most of them are clothed. So we show up to these events with me in a theme costume, Toga, Mardi Gras, Halloween... The only difference is that my costume gradually comes off. I lose a top or a bottom, then a bottom or a top, then lingerie if any... Eventually I'm walking around in heels and perfume and I like it. I like it a lot.

R's back yard has a pool, hot tub, and a nice overlooking deck. The perimeter fence is a twelve foot privacy that rises to upwards of 24 feet in sections because of complaints by the neighbors. R and his neighbors remain in a constant state of warfare. During parties, R posts watch-centuries at the end of his street to warn him of approaching Sheriffs. Inside the party house, R built a bar, dance floor, dj booth, game room, an array of "private and semi private rooms". There's a little room downstairs in back with a sign over the door that says "Dungeon." R and D are not really BDSM types. But they get that many of their guests are. The "dungeon" is an attempt to accommodate those of us with an affinity for the whip.

I don't think R got much advice on how to build the dungeon. The room wound up looking more like a caricature. It has Castle Grayskull wall paper, a strap hammock on a loud wench, and an examination table with foot stirrups which - for me at least - is the opposite of enticing. In the corner furthest from the door, he got it right. R included two X-shaped wall-racks with wrist and ankle restraints attached at the end of the Xs. Between them hangs an assortment of whips and paddles.

Every time we go to R's, I find my way to the dungeon. But I wait until late in the evening. I patiently bide my time until the crowd thins and I am down to just panties or nothing at all. One drunken evening H removed the last of my garments and sent me for a nude walk downstairs to retrieve beer from the cooler. I detoured by the little room to peek inside and lost track of time because I decided to stroke a woman's pussy while her husband paddled her. When H came looking for me, he found me naked in the dungeon and paddled me on the spot in front of the couple with whom I'd been playing. I enjoyed that whipping. So I like BDSM. Or at least I like the D and the M.

Long before the parties at R's, H worked with me to break negative self-images. He used bondage and discipline. I know it sounds sick, or at least highly convenient for him, but it worked. Bound and coaxed with a black leather riding crop, I admitted lots of negative feelings about myself, things that I may have otherwise held inside. The whip-motivated catharsis actually healed me in many respects.

I became multi-orgasmic under the tutelage of the whip. While I was still stuck in my marriage, H had me rise early on Saturday morning and follow a set of instructions that led me to a three story townhouse in a nearby town. The first instruction was that I strip in the car and remain totally naked for the trip. I complied. Along the route, I drew curious looks from adjacent drivers. A van jockeyed for a downward look through my driver's side window before I sped off. Kindly, as I finally pulled into the driveway of the three story single, the garage door opened. I parked inside and the door came back down before I had to get out of the car. I did not have to brave the public walk from driveway to porch to ring the bell. Still, I did have to walk naked up a flight of stairs to who knew what. Turned out it was a lovely breakfast set out on a private back deck. He had me remain nude during the heavy meal of eggs and liver mush (yes, I like liver mush!) and I remained so unclothed for the rest of the day.

After breakfast, a long full day of bondage and discipline ensued, with hours of being whipped and toyed with, teased and denied... also interrogated! Lots of questions where I had to admit very negative feelings about myself as a result of a sick and abusive husband. Lots of conditioning wherein H forced me to affirm positive things about my naked body. Throughout the day H assured that I received hot rewards when I obeyed, painful rebukes when I could not.

H utilized EMDR techniques to redirect the negative emotions attached to certain memories from my nightmare marriage. You can Google the technique. It accomplishes disconnecting negative emotions from corresponding memories by bringing them up while simultaneously applying alternating stimulus. A practicing EMDR clinician uses a machine with alternating bright lights to the patient's left and right. Another technique applies tapping the patient's knees, left, right, left, right, while evoking the troublesome memory. In my case, H intensified the whole process by putting me through it aroused and in the nude. He used stinging swats to the cheeks of my bare ass with a little ruler-sized paddle. We came to refer to it as "the switch" and to this day it is a treasured toy, first included when we pack for a weekend to ourselves.

As the long Saturday went on, I experienced break-throughs about my self-image and nullification of the effect of many bad memories. All the while of course, I grew more and more aroused by my nudity and H's nearly continuous hand-play on my undressed body. Whenever he led me to another room in the house, he pulled me along by a nipple. When he sent me to the refrigerator for anything, my departure and return were punctuated by a sharp pop to my ass. All the day long he refused, even though I begged him to let me climax. Finally in the third-story master bedroom with a gentle breeze lifting the curtains and the setting sun lighting the walls with an amber glow, H nipple-led me to climb on the bed on all fours and face the gorgeous view out the open window. He slid up underneath me and put his mouth on me.

Skillfully licking and sucking while alternately switching the cheeks of my ass with the little paddle, the two sensations fought one another at first. But I surrendered. Pain turned to pleasure. The slow stinging burn on my backside amplified the pleasure between my legs to unknown intensity. It built and built. I pumped myself in time to his tongue, pressed myself into his sweet wet mouth, I exploded in the longest, deepest orgasm of my life. Waves of immeasurable pleasure finally subsided and I started to collapse in his arms to rest. But a sharp pop on my sore tail signaled me it was not over. His mouth resumed its steamy task and the rhythmic swatting of my glowing cheeks began anew. I came again. Minutes later, again. Then time stood still as orgasms swept over me in continual waves, sending me to the height of passion over and over. I lost count of the times the waves crested, but we later agreed there was no way it was less than 35. When I finally collapsed in his arms, I could only press my face into his chest and shutter in deep cleansing sobs.

I remember visiting the chiropractor a few days later and smiling when he remarked, "I have never seen you this relaxed! This treatment is really working for you!"

For several months after that day, I could refuse H nothing. Nothing at all. And had he simply ordered me to attend R's party, to strip there, to do whatever with whomever, I would have sweetly obeyed. But he did not. The fact is, I had heard rumors of a wild party outside of town. I searched diligently until I got a contact number. I told H I wanted to go and he arranged it. On our third or fourth party there, I wandered down to the Dungeon and met J.

While previously, the Dungeon had been a sincere, but somewhat hokey attempt to provide something to us BDSMers, this night J was "in charge." D asked him to run it and suddenly, it became one of the more popular rooms in the house. I wanted to brave a look at what I sensed was a new level of energy in the little corner. The first thing I noticed was that J had placed a sign on the door forbidding gawkers. It said, "No admittance to the Dungeon unless you are a participating couple or single female." Good news in my short experience with swingers. All the other times I had checked out the dungeon – something I did at every party actually - it was a sausage fest of droolers, a peanut gallery of dudes commenting loudly and inappropriately. No thanks! That's why I always waited until late to go there.

J was having none of gawking crowd. This night the dungeon was dark and quiet. The only sound was the distinct crack of a whip on bare skin and a woman's voice exclaiming "Oh!" with each blow. I stood just outside the doorway, listened intently to her moans and felt myself getting wet.

H walked up behind me and asked me if I wanted to go in. I took his hand and pulled him through the door. J, polite but firm, approached us and asked if we were participating. I nodded. J looked at H and said, "She'll need to strip to at least her under clothes. We're doing male doms and female subs. Please remain silent while you are observing." I was unbuttoning way before J finished reciting the rules. I deftly removed my pants and shirt, folded them and placed them on the now-disassmebled examination table. It had been pushed into the corner and now held 4 other folded stacks of women's clothes. Down to my black Fredericks bra and panty set and matching heels, I reached back to unhook my bra hook when H stopped me.

The reader should not infer I was so attracted to J that I just started dropping clothes. J is not handsome or charming. At first glance, he looks like a guy who should be on a poster in a seedy gay bar. Totally bald and sporting a mustache and earring, one could easily picture J wearing black leather chaps and matching cap on the cover of a VHS cassette. One could, that is, until he opened his mouth. Polite and articulate with a deep mellifluous voice, J was instantly poised and intelligent. His words and manner were at once confident and soothing. The atmosphere of the room was drenched in his purposeful intensity.

H pulled me in front of him with my back to his chest and we watched two young girls being whipped. They both appeared to be in their 20s, brunettes, slender to average build. Each was securely cuffed at wrist and ankle to the X shaped wall racks. The moaning girl was already naked and a guy I had seen her with earlier in the evening was carefully and deliberately whipping her back and ass while she squirmed and cried out with each blow.

The second girl was chained up with J and two other men attending her. They were using a pair of bandage sheers to cut off her panties, the last garment on her beautiful body. Her boyfriend moved in front of her. He kissed her lovingly and I watched his hands freely roam her now exposed body, pinching her nipples, stroking her between her legs. She wiggled her hips and let out muffled moans of pleasure as he played.

Meanwhile, J and a younger guy named B, whom I immediately assumed was his apprentice, discussed techniques for bringing to bear a brown, wooden-handled cat o nine tails. J directed B to swing diagonally downward in smooth arcs and to strike her with the ends of leather cords so as to avoid them whipping around and striking the boyfriend. I watched red welts appear on her ass and back as he began his work. I relished her straight-leg gyrations, the way she shifted her tail back and forth in response to the whipping and fondling. Her boyfriend continued his play and soon her moans joined a chorus with the other girl. J faintly smiled as the room began to fulfill its purpose. My insides turned to honey-butter. An air of white-hot intensity electrified the small darkened dungeon.

It took mere minutes before I admitted to myself that I was not merely watching the whipping of two girls, I was waiting for my turn. The other two women looking on were down to lingerie like me, standing with their men. The sound of the girls being whipped, the sight of their natural responses, took its profound effect on me. I felt my body respond in every way, my nipples hardening, my breath getting shallow. The whips fell again and again on the ever-reddening fair skinned beauties. The punished girls' whimpers and gyrations increased. Without looking down or feeling them, I knew my panties were soaked. I ached for my turn and secretly wished J would mete out my whipping with his own hand.

Finally, through glistening eyes, I saw the two females hang from their chains in a long silent pause. While the boyfriends and J's young apprentice removed their shackles, I heard one beg her beau to be taken to a private room. The other bent over and kissed the outside of her guy's pants over his bulging cock. J turned toward the six of us standing there and scanned each female up and down. For the moment I was thankful for the bra and panties covering my involuntary responses. Nevertheless, J saw into me. He spoke to H. "It looks like she's ready."

I felt H unhook the back of my bra and I rolled my shoulders forward and let it fall from my breasts. J's eyes went instantly to my rock hard nipples, confirming his suspicions. I was utterly aroused. Minutes later my wrists were shackled and H slid my panties off. J bent down to click cuffs onto my ankles, his face tantalizingly close to my soaking femininity. He lingered there and shortened the leg restraints, forcing my legs further apart than the previous girl. I teetered in my black heels until I caught my balance.

H stood in front of my naked, spread-eagle form and caressed me boldly while J and B stood behind me discussing how to proceed with my whipping. I felt their hands on my back and ass, rubbing my skin. "She really is a stunning specimen" J said to B. "Her skin is soft, I think we'll start with the rope-whip and see how that goes. I will do this one myself." I burned in anticipation.

I raised my lips to H's mouth, kissed him longingly, then pressed my mouth to his ear "I'm so wet! I'm soooo wet!" I whispered breathlessly. H's hand went between my legs and confirmed my confession. His warm fingers worked my swollen clit in tiny, delightful circles while he pinched and caressed my nipples, applying just the right measure of pressure. My ass and back tingled in anticipation as I listened to the first swoosh of the whip cutting air, J taking a few practice swings. The first blow found my ass squarely and sharply. Then a second and a third and a fourth. Then the whip settled into a rhythm, whip, whip, whip, whip, whip, and H intensified his playful work. I fought to maintain some level of dignity. A flood of feelings and emotions raced through my mind. I could not move. I stood frozen and silent as my heart pounded in my throat and my nude body received the full attention of the room. J stopped whipping me for a moment and asked H, "Is she alright? How is she doing?"

H looked at me, searching my eyes for what I was feeling. A storm of needs and desires raged within me. I could not communicate by look or word. After several long moments, I stepped back from the wall and moved my legs further apart, slowly raising my ass up and outward, submissively accommodating my punishers.

"You can't train that!" J exclaimed, "That is just something a slave has or does not have! You are a lucky man sir." J said to H.

"I know I am!" H responded, smiling at me, giving my hard nipples a prolonged squeeze that send waves of desire through me. .

Let's try one of the lighter leathers" J said, and I tingled as I watched him sort through various whips. He moved behind me again and I heard the swoosh of the leather cords cutting through air as he took a few practice swings with different ones. My thighs trembled. "I'm going to start off lightly and work up to see where her threshold is" H said. I felt J's hand stroking my warm tail. Then the leather greeted my naked skin with a sharp sting. I jumped at the new level of pain. My ass burned anew. J paused again to check my reaction and again, I pressed my ass up and out, straightening my legs and moving my high heels a few inches further apart.

H's hands were back at work and B found one of my breasts and began kneading a nipple while H worked the other one and skillfully circled my soaking wet clit. Softly at first, I started to moan. As my inhibitions melted, my cries of pleasure competed with the loud crack of the leather strands. I involuntarily wiggled my ass back and forth as I had seen the other girl do. "Oh, oh, oh, yes!" I cried out, locking eyes with H. "Oh that's so good! That's so good! Keep doing it. Harder. Whip me harder! J brought the leather down in powerful strokes and H flicked my clit with his fingers. It no longer mattered to me who heard or how loud I was. I lost all control. "Ooo! Oooooo! Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" I cried, coming in H's hand under the tutelage of J's skillful whipping.

********** Weeks passed before I saw J at another of R and D's parties. He was not "working", but just hanging around in the Game Room downstairs. "Just dropped in to see what there is to see!" he said when I asked if he would be in the Dungeon.

Hours later, dancing in lingerie and heels, I considered improving his view. I slipped off the black lacy bra, tossed it aside, and set off for the Game Room telling H, "Just need a refill!" H looked playfully skeptical at my sudden departure, but nodded his head. I strode, topless for the first time that evening, out of his sight. I descended the carpeted stairway and walked directly to where I knew J would be.

His head shot straight up when I entered. The facial expression on the girl he was talking to said she surrendered "center of attention" status to me. J grinned wryly and eyed me up and down. Billiards and darts players paused to look up. I added a smile to my sparse attire.

J and I exchanged greetings and began to chat away, him fully clothed in black leather pants and a clean white open collar shirt, me in heels, black panties, and an air of shy awareness. Bare breasted, all eyes on me, I became more stirred by the minute. My nipples hardened as J's eyes occasionally cut down to them, the lips of my nether region warmed. I knew H would come down if I stayed too long. I made the conscious decision to stay too long.

As my arousal increased, my focus on small-talk decreased. My mind filled with searing images of my lover stroking my dripping femininity while J wielded the rhythmic kisses of perfectly stinging pain. I shifted from heel to heel, moving to conceal the dampening of my panties.

My mind drifted to the little Dungeon. I envisioned sliding my hands into restraints and submissively pursing my ass for the whip. I fought not to blurt out a request that J put his leather cords back to their sweet work. I imagined him rescuing me from social convention, gripping my arm and hauling me along in awkward, stumbling steps. I pictured him forcing me - blow by sweet-stinging blow - to confess my slave desire to be used for pleasure.

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