Alphia Corporation Ch. 18

The ladies' exit left a void in the room. The erotic female energy had filled the space and now that it was gone, everything felt momentarily gray. The stadium was emptying and he felt the energy leaving the building as the erotic tension built within him. Everything was confusing.

He felt a moment of anxiety, for his wife heading off to the lion's den without him to protect her... and then a rush for himself.

Sam looked over at Steve.

"You don't really know what you have to do, Sam," Steve said gently. And a little sadly, Sam thought.

"Fuck, dude," Sam said. "What are we getting into here?"

"You need to get yourself prepared, mentally and emotionally, Sam. There are going to be a lot of men tonight, too many for the ladies to deal with on their own," Steve said.

Sam stared.

"Sam, you need to get into proper headspace," Steve said. It was heady to be leading a new cuck, but it was also a challenge because he needed to get into his own subspace, too.

"It is going to be a rough evening for us both, and we need to stick together and support each other," Steve continued.

"Oh God," Sam groaned.

"Yeah, right," Steve said. "You need to accept that your role -- my role, our role -- is to be of service. If you are like me, some of it is going to be incredibly arousing and you are going to want to cum, but I have to tell you, that will be a bad, bad idea. Try to not cum. It's really important."

A few minutes later, Sam was learning the various ways that truly high end hotels protected the anonymity of the VIP guests. He was following Steve Smith down the hall, through a nondescript door where they were met and waived through a double door on the other side of the small hall by two security guards that actually looked like they knew what they were doing.

"Thank you," Steve said to one of the guards. They looked expectant, and amused. The man nodded at Steve and gave him a knowing grin. Sam saw Steve's neck flush slightly.

The younger man, darker complexion but large and imposing chuckled. "Gonna go see what your little white girls are up to?" He chuckled.

And it was Sam's turn to blush, but Steve ignored the two guards and led Sam through the double door into a much more well appointed small area to an elevator.

"That's pretty cool," Sam said to Steve, trying to bring the surreal moment back to normalcy. It was important for him to pretend, just a little longer, that this was going to be a normal evening.

Steve lifted an eyebrow as he punched the only button on the panel.

"Just... Penthouse, eh?" Sam joked.

Steve shook his head. "Sam, you need to get into proper headspace here. We don't have a lot of time to get ready now."

Sam felt himself pale. He noticed that Steve's hands were shaking slightly.

"You have to get into the headspace of ultimate service, immediate response, no hesitation and no questions or complaints," Steve said, not looking at his colleague. "There are going to be more of them than even our wives will be able to handle, and the other guys are going to use us."

He felt himself say out loud the question that had been burning in his head. It was scary to ask it, but better to get it out in the open than not know.

"H -- how many will there be?" Sam croaked.

Steve did not answer the question straight off but continued talking, his own anxieties rising almost as quickly as Sam's were. "The hardest part tonight is not servicing the men and being used," Steve said. Sam was shocked that Steve managed to talk with stammering or faltering. "The hardest part is going to be used in front of you."

"Oh God," Sam breathed, horror, fascination and arousal battling within him. "... and Carrie... and Emily."

Steve looked at Sam, guiltily enjoying his colleague's anguish. "We are all going to be gangbanged, hard," Steve said, his guilty illicit joy rising as he watched Sam's face drain of color. "and if you are not able to immediately and completely submit, these guys will put you in your place."

"... oh my God," Sam croaked. "How many...".

He was not able to finish his question before his more experienced cuck answered. "All, Sam. All. Doesn't matter how many. These are very aggressive, dominant men and they will ALL take everything they want."

He glanced over at Sam. "Carrie asked the same question of my wife, and Emily told her what I am telling you: It doesn't matter how many. It is not up to us."

"Shit, man. That's fucking terrifying," Sam said, his voice rising.

"Yes," Steve agreed. "It is. And our wives are already up in the suite getting manhandled and fucked. If the ladies can take it, so can we. Especially because Emily absolutely adores seeing me submit. Says it is the most intense sexual moments of her life, including everything going on in The Arrangement... so we do this a fair amount."

"Really? Whoa." Sam said.

"Yes, and it is never, ever easy," Steve replied, looking up as the doors slid open.

The elevator opened into a room, rather than a hallway. There was no bed or sleeping area, for which Sam was surprised and relieved. He realized he did not know what he had been expecting when the elevator doors opened, but getting thrown into the lion's den would have been difficult.

Steve led the two cucks into the large room. Once in the room, Sam could see large windows to the right looking out the entire wall over the city. To the front was a small but elegant and well-appointed bar. To the left were two doors, one open leading to a large bathroom. Behind the bar, to the right, was a small hallway.

Steve immediately headed to the bar and, without asking Sam, poured two glasses of whiskey. Sam took his gratefully and enjoyed a swallow.

Sam looked around, enjoying the moment's respite. The expensive whiskey a pleasure in his mouth, the heavy crystal comfortable in his hand.

He saw that Steve was enjoying the moment as well, but he looked at his watch and then meaningfully at Sam.

"Yeah, I got you," Sam replied. "Just let me enjoy this for a moment."

Steve nodded, a look of no small relief in his eyes and Sam let himself wander about the room. He went over to the hallway behind the bar and stopped short.

"Oh, fuck me...," he said.

Steve came over to him and paused a moment to take in the sight.

There was a door about 10 feet recessed and on the door was a hand-written sign: "Sluts and cucks, strip."

On the floor in front of the door were two pairs of heels and two little black dresses, pooled on the ground.

Sam looked at the sign and at the female clothing strewn about the floor where it had been hastily left. He glanced at Steve, his whiskey forgotten and his face stricken.

Steve was also pale. He looked at Sam with commiseration and support.

There was a moment where pain and exhaustion and excitement flowed through Sam. He felt stunned and unable to move.

Steve looked at him gently. "We'd best get ready."