Yet Another Really Stupid Bet

The room was large, not as big as an auditorium but more like a really large living room or family room. It was part of the basement of a nice two story brick house in the suburbs. Not a really ritzy neighborhood, but nice. The kind of bedroom community that exists all over the country near major cities. People got up and drove into the city to work then drove to their nice homes in the 'burbs to relax with the wife and kids. I'd entered from a dressing room (that was what I thought of it as) to one side. I was the only person in the room, although I knew that would soon change.

The dressing room door was to one side, near the front of the room. The nondescript bare wall on that side ran in a straight line for about thirty feet. The room was not quite as deep, maybe twenty feet. Two rows of chairs were arranged toward what I imagined to be the back of the room. I counted them: Two rows of ten, twenty metal folding chairs in all. On the wall facing the dressing room door were two large strange looking clocks, or what looked kind of like clocks. Instead of hours and minutes they were numbered 0 through 10. Two large black hands on each both pointed straight up, to zero. A red light bulb was perched a foot above each clock. Basketball game timers -- that's what they looked like.

My eyes roamed down. In the middle of the wall opposite the other door -- the "front" of the room -- was a round dais, about six feet in diameter. It was made of some kind of smooth wood, varnished and waxed and was raised about a foot above the bare linoleum floor.

On the dais, three feet from the wall was the device. My eyes were drawn to it like a magnet; I couldn't look away for two, three full minutes.

I began to shiver, although it wasn't cold.

This was why I was here, after all; this was to be the instrument of my humiliation. Harmless enough looking, like a small half barrel, about eighteen inches in diameter. Covered with some kind of smooth grey velour looking material. It looked innocent enough.

Except for the large penis attachment protruding in the air near the center of the curved top. I shivered more violently.

Finally I forced myself to stop shivering and walk toward the device. Stepping onto the dais I noticed a heavy wire leading to a small box with two knobs lying on the far side. The box was dangling just off the edge of the dais.

I glanced down at the printed instructions I held clutched in my hand. "Use the liquid in the bottle next to the machine to thoroughly lubricate the penile attachment and yourself," I read. "When sufficiently lubricated slowly lower yourself onto it, inserting the attachment fully in your vagina."

Could have been the instructions on a box of cake mix! Except what would be mixed thoroughly would be me. I blushed furiously, embarrassed beyond belief although I was still the only person in the room. I remembered how I'd gotten in this fix...

It all began five years ago when I married Bill. I say, "I married Bill", not "Bill and I married" because truthfully that's what it was. Bill and I had dated for six months previously. He seemed nice enough, the sex was acceptable if not outstanding. I wanted to be married; I was twenty three years old and most of my friends were married by now. Bill was a nice enough guy, four years older than me, nice looking, good job. So I pressured Bill into marriage. I told him I wanted and expected us to marry and if he didn't feel the same way maybe we should end things and move on. Poor guy; he just wanted to keep me happy! He gave in and proposed and we were married three months later.

Then I wanted a house so I talked him into that also. It was a little bigger than we needed and the payment was pretty high but I loved it all the same. I furnished it using our credit cards, which maxed them of course. Next I really wanted a new car as my Hundai was four years old and ran ok but just didn't fit the neighborhood. I wrangled a new Audi, on a lease. Four hundred bucks a month; that just about bankrupted us but I figured Bill would keep getting raises at his job and eventually we'd be ok.

So we gradually sunk deeper into debt. Bill did well, kept driving his old beater Chevy truck and working hard, extra hours that paid off as he got a couple of promotions. I kept my admin job, same old-same old, but the money was steady and truthfully we needed it.

I noticed Bill was getting quieter and quieter; we almost never talked any more. Sex got to be routine and not too frequent which was ok; it wasn't that important to me anyway. Besides, the flannel gowns I wore to bed weren't exactly sexy! Bill would occasionally try to get me interested; most times I wasn't and made certain he knew that. Occasionally I gave in and let him hump me for a few minutes, and then we'd go to sleep.

I gradually took over the finances. I had Bill brown bagging and I did too, usually, except for a couple of lunches with the girls each week.

Looking back, I know Bill was really miserable during those five years. While I didn't exactly love the guy -- I thought I did sometimes -- he was nice, gentle, and considerate. He probably deserved better than what I gave him. I sometimes felt bad about the way I treated him but I couldn't seem to change and he didn't seem to want to force the issue.

Then six months ago Bill got laid off and everything changed.

Although he continued to search for work the economy was down and jobs were scarce. We didn't have any savings; we lived on his 401-K for a couple of months then credit cards. Borrowed from his family and mine.

Some of the bills began to slide. Month by month we sunk deeper in the hole. I couldn't help being angry about this and in spite of myself I blamed Bill. Why couldn't he find another job? Why couldn't he support me in the manner I deserved? I became contemptuous of him, began to treat him like a failure, less of a man.

One day at work I was confiding in Laura, a pretty blonde who worked in another department. After listening to me ramble on about money, money, money for a half hour she asked, "Why don't you contact the Aries Society? I hear they help needy families sometimes."

A charity? Yuuuck! Laura wrote the Aries Society web site address down; I stuffed it in my purse and forgot about it.

The next day I got both good and bad news. The good news was Bill had finally found a job. He wouldn't make as much as his old job but it was solid and we might make it if we scrimped a bit.

The bad news was the eviction notice I received by registered mail that same afternoon.

Bill and I had a long, long talk that evening. "It's like this, Staci," he explained. "We can make it on what I'll make plus your salary; the problem is, we're behind on the mortgage. Ten thousand dollars behind to be exact, and if we don't come up with the money by next week the mortgage company will foreclose and we'll be evicted. Probably take a couple of months but we're out all the same and with a foreclosure on our credit we won't be able to buy another house for seven years. We won't even be able to rent an apartment."

"I don't know where we can get ten thousand dollars," he continued. "Our credit cards are maxed, our families tapped out. No way, no how."

I cried and held him and we talked sweetly, like we hadn't talked in years and made love gently and that was nice too. We fell asleep holding each other.

The next day was Tuesday. Bill got up early and left for his new job across town. I drank coffee and watched tv, trying to think of something -- anything -- to save our home.

I suddenly remembered Laura and the Aries Society. I dug in my purse and sure enough there was the paper with the web address. I logged on the laptop and entered the address in my browser.

"Aries Society", proclaimed a banner across the web page, "Society for males". Well, THIS wasn't what I'd expected! There was a login box and a "join as a member" button.

Oh, crap, I thought, a porno site! Dang Laura!

Just for grins I pressed "Join as a Member". The next page came up, a strange one I thought -- instead of asking for my credit card it had a space for drivers license number and another for state and another for email address, nothing else. Intrigued, I typed in my license number and state and my email, then pressed "ok". A message popped up, "Expect an email soon".

So I closed the dang thing and went back to getting ready for work. I left the laptop on; a half hour later I was about to shut it down and go on to work when I noticed the email flag.

The email was from the Aries Society, "Membership Accepted". It listed a User name and password, each of which I could change.

Curious, I decided I could be a few minutes late. I plopped down on the couch, opened the browser, went to the Aries site, and entered the information they'd sent me.

The next screen popped up: "Sex determined to be female. If this is correct, press "Accept". Well, of COURSE I'm a girl! I pressed the "Accept" button. Another screen to change User name and password which I did. I was then directed to something called "The Female Section".

The into page for The Female Section contained a long explanation of The Aries Society. I read a bit; it was mildly interesting -- stuff about males being the dominant sex, females needing to recognize that, blah-blah. I skimmed through it: Basically it said if I wanted to be what they referred to as an "informed female" I should submit to my husband or "superior male" as that was the only way in which I'd ever achieve "true happiness".

Yeah, right.

Anyway, there were several links arranged as tabs on the top of the page. I noticed one called "Sybian Contest -- Earn $20,000".

This was more like it! I had no idea what a "Sybian" was or why it would have a contest but twenty grand sounded good. I opened the Sybian Contest page.

I didn't skim this -- in fact I read it three times! I learned exactly what a Sybian was -- there was even a link to the Sybian web site. Sort of a super vibrator you sat on, complete with variable speed controls for the vibrator and "penile attachment" as they referred to the huge plastic phallus in the center.

You sat on it, adjusted the intensity, and it made you cum.

So the contest worked like this: The girl sat on the Sybian, fully clothed (in a dress of course -- no panties). Her husband worked the controls. They each were set for a minimum vibration of five on a 1 to 10 scale. There was an on/off switch, so the whole thing could be turned off.

The girl had to accumulate five minutes on the Sybian without cumming. If she got too close her husband could turn the machine off, give her a break.

But there was a catch! If the girl made it the whole five minutes without stopping they (hubby and wife) got twenty thousand dollars: But whenever he turned the machine off another timer started, and for every fifteen seconds of "Off" time one thousand dollars would be deducted.

So some quick math: Off for five minutes, no money. Off two and a half total, ten thousand dollars if she made it to five minutes of On time without climaxing.

And, Aries members would be allowed to observe. The Society claimed typically attendance was about fifteen members.

So I read it again and again. Twenty thousand dollars and I wouldn't be naked in front of the men. They'd know I had a dildo up my twat of course but wouldn't be able to see it.

I'd managed to stay fit and attractive. I'm small, barely five feet tall and only weigh one ten but I have nice boobs, 34 C cups which look bigger on my small body. Nice complexion, short brown hair, nice teeth. I knew I was attractive.

I went to work, mulled it over. Finally by lunch time I could stand it no longer -- I called the number listed on the Sybian Contest page.

A man answered, "Aries Society, may I help you?" I hesitantly explained who I was and that I was interested in the Sybian Contest. He told me Bill and I would have to do an "interview" which he could arrange for the following day. Gulping, I agreed; set up an appointment for six the following evening.

I broke it to Bill that night. He was resistant at first, but when I showed him the Sybian contest page and explained that I wouldn't be naked and he'd be controlling the machine he finally reluctantly agreed to accompany me to the interview.

The next day we drove to the address the man had given me, the two story brick house. A middle aged gentleman opened the door; he introduced himself as Frank, caretaker for the Aries Society. He invited us in. We sat on a comfortable couch; Frank brought coffee which Bill and I nervously sipped. Frank was nice enough but had a strange manner. He'd always address his questions and comments to Bill, not me. Not that he ignored me -- I caught him looking me over a couple of times. Not exactly leering but close!

So Frank explained again how the contest worked. Accumulate five minutes of "On" time get paid twenty thousand dollars less one thousand dollars for every fifteen seconds of Off time. He took us down to the basement, showed us the "viewing room" as he called it, with the timers on the wall, raised dais, and the Sybian machine on the dais.

"We use a new penile attachment each time," he informed Bill, "So there is no chance your wife will catch anything."

He showed us the dressing room. For once he addressed me directly. "You should wear your normal clothing. When you arrive you will be left alone for fifteen minutes. During that time you will undress, removing all your clothing except your bra. Pick out a dress of the appropriate size and slip it on."

He waved toward a rack of tan cotton dresses. I pulled one off the rack: It was a simple cotton shift, no zipper, elastic waist. I could slip it over my head easily.

"After putting the dress on you will come into the viewing room," he continued. "Lubricate the Sybian and yourself then insert it. Wait for your husband and the Aries members to enter the room, then the contest will begin." Sounded simple enough. We went back upstairs; there were contracts, a couple of pages about guarantees and liability and such. I skimmed it; Bill and I signed as did Frank. He ran a copy on a nearby Xerox and handed the copy to Bill.

"Ok, then," Frank said, "We'll see you this Friday evening at nine."

Bill and I talked about it all the way home. I told him it'd be an easy twenty K; I could hold out for WAY longer than five minutes and wouldn't need ANY "Off" time at all. Reassured, we went home and straight to bed. So Friday came faster than I thought and I once again found myself at the two story brick house. Frank answered the door again. He indicated Bill was to wait and ushered me downstairs to the changing room.

"I've left printed instructions in case you forgot anything we discussed last time," Frank said. "You have fifteen minutes beginning...Now."

He left, pulling the door closed behind him. I quickly pulled my shirt, jeans, and panties off and slipped one of the smaller cotton dresses over my head, then taking a deep breath entered the other room, the "viewing room".

So here I was, standing over the machine. I noticed a small plastic bottle next to it. Picking it up I read the label, "Water Based Personal Lubricant". I popped the cap and squirted some of the stuff onto my open palm. Gripping the soft plastic penis I rubbed the slimy lube all over it.

I squirted another handful then lifted the dress and rubbed it all over and a bit inside my pussy. I was surprised to find I was a bit loose already, a little wet. Anticipating what would soon happen my body was already preparing itself.

Putting a foot on either side of the Sybian I slowly lowered myself, holding the dress with one hand while guiding the dildo with the other. I managed to impale myself; the lube allowed the artificial cock to easily slide up inside me. It was long, almost ten inches and an inch and a half in diameter. MUCH larger than Bill of any other male I'd had sex with (only four in my life). Surprisingly, although I felt thoroughly filled it was not painful.

I only had to wait a couple of minutes, and then the door at the back of the room opened. Bill came in first followed by Frank, then several other men of varying ages from about twenty five to sixty. The filed in silently and seated themselves in the metal chairs. Frank sat in front, near the center.

Bill walked up to the dais, stood by the side near the control box.

Frank stood. "Greetings, Aries members," he proclaimed. "Welcome to the third Sybian challenge. This young lady" he waved his hand in my direction "has agreed to provide this evening's entertainment."

Frank went on to explain the contest again. I knew the men couldn't see me; the dress was modest, but I felt a hot flash of embarrassment as Frank explained about "climaxing" and "Off time". I looked down at the dais, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

Finally Frank was done. Looking back at Bill and I he said, "Do you each understand the contest and agree to abide by the rules?" Bill nodded; I managed to croak, "Y-yes."

"Ok, fine!" Frank exclaimed. "Let the contest begin! Jim, please put five minutes on the "On" clock."

I saw the hands move, the big hand on 5. "Ready...set...begin!"

When Frank said, "Begin" I felt intense vibrations from the base of the machine. The vibration was over a wide area but focused directly on my clit! I'd never felt anything like it in my life. A girl would understand; for you guys it was like it tickled but in a really, really good way.

I tried to raise myself, to escape the vibrations, but for some reason I couldn't and besides I really, REALLY didn't want to -- it just felt too dang good!

And the plastic dildo began to sort of rotate in circles inside me. This isn't a natural movement by any means; it didn't go in and out like a man would, just round and round in circles. It hit my G-spot every circle, sending waves of pleasure inside me.

I felt my hips automatically open and roll, humping the machine automatically. I felt my juices flowing. I half closed my eyes, head lolling back. My body was on fire; my hands roamed up and down, over my breasts and down my stomach, then back up to my neck and head. I raised my hair with both hands, tangling it and tossing it. From a distance I heard moaning, realized I was the one making the sounds.

I was about to climax and not just any climax -- a roaring, ripping, screaming, shattering climax more intense than anything I'd ever felt in my life. I began to moan louder, close now...

Suddenly the vibrations stopped; the dildo ceased its rotation. Bill, seeing I was about to cum, had shut the machine off! In the rational part of my brain I knew this was necessary, we were about to lose everything as I was about to cum like a bitch in heat, but my mind wasn't exactly rational just now!

"No -- Nooooo!" I pleaded. I humped the smooth plastic frantically, trying to get enough friction to drive myself over the edge, but it was no use -- I was coming down from the edge of ultimate sexual pleasure, not fast but cooling off a bit anyway. Panting, hair wet with sweat from my exertions, I imagined I'd taken about four minutes before Bill had shut it off. Good, I thought, a short break and I'll finish this up and we won't have lost too much money.

I turned my head, looked at the two timers. I couldn't believe my eyes -- the first timer had recorded THIRTY SECONDS of "On" time! Only thirty seconds, and I was about to blow my ovaries! Groaning, I couldn't believe it! The second timer, the "Off" time, was now passing thirty seconds! Dang, two thousand dollars gone just like that! I nodded to Bill; he flipped a switch on the control box and the machine started again.

Almost immediately I felt like cumming! I grit my teeth and tried to concentrate, but it as no use -- I wanted to cum, wanted the shattering relief only the machine could bring. I began humping and moaning again, unable to control my body.