Blackmail - A Cuckold Fantasy

Your tertiary role is to make sure that the both of you are committed to this process, as you will be our guests twice a year, until we decide otherwise.

If you object, the outcome is harsh. We may elect to expose you, your wife, and your lifestyle to the public if you are not compliant. You were also shown one of the many perhaps harsh, negative outcomes, which applies to husbands who are not cooperative - we find that most wives, given their existing predilections easily and eagerly adapt to our process, but from time to time there are resistant husbands. We have a way to overcome that resistance, permanently if necessary. Last night's demonstration is one of those methods.

Do you have any questions?"

I was more or less speechless, and after a long pause, uttered, "Um, no, it all seems very clear."

With that, she turned and said, "You will be allowed to see your wife shortly, to begin preparing her. One of our attendants will assist you. Remember to wear your ID bracelet at all times. Good day."

I sat for a while, stunned, reeling from the flood of disclosure by my "host."

I lost track of time, returning to normal awareness at the chime of the door bell.

I said, "Please come in," having decided that the door lock was controlled by our hosts and attendants.

The door clicked and opened, and a female attendant entered the room.

She said, "It is time. Please make sure you have your ID bracelet on, and follow me."

A few feet down the corridor, I saw one of the golf carts, with KK already seated in the back. She was wearing only a thin, translucent nylon kimono, otherwise nude, the ubiquitous black platform pumps, and the issued choker, belly chain, and anklet.

I got into the cart beside my wife, and the attendant took the driver's seat. As the cart traveled down the corridor, we passed through an exit in the building, under a covered drive of some sort, with tall hedges on both sides, which largely blocked the view of our surroundings.

The air was much warmer outside, but it was clearly a bright and sunny day. The cart made a right turn, then a left, and we entered another opening in a building, traveled down a relatively short corridor, and then down another - the signage over the entry read, "Salon & Clinic."

The cart stopped at a door labeled "Suite 4," our attendant rose from the seat, and used a card-key to open the door.

She instructed us to enter, parting with, "Good day Madam, Sir."

As the door clicked closed behind us, KK and I found ourselves inside a large space, partitioned with low half, and three-quarter height walls.

Each of the partitioned areas in the larger space appeared to be functional areas, one a hair salon, another a nail salon.

A couple of areas I didn't recognize, they had a sort of distressing aspect, in one case a large industrial looking table that sort of reminded me of something I'd seen in morgue scenes on TV and in movies. One space was an area clearly set up as a medical examination room, complete with gynecology chair. There was an area that was apparently a large, open shower and bath, with a toilet, and bidet - all exposed, with no real privacy afforded.

A door in the far corner opened, and two female attendants entered the space.

One went into a small kitchenette area, and retrieved a rolling cart from a large cooler.

She rolled the cart overt to a small dinette table, and said, "Please come, let's start with some refreshments."

The cart had a variety of fruits, some familiar, some exotic, two carafes of juice, a pitcher of green tea, and a bottle of sparkling water.

I asked, "Would you like to try some juice? I think I will have some water..."

KK didn't say anything, other than giving me an affirmative nod.

I poured her a glass of juice from one of the carafes.

She took an initial sip, said, "This is delicious!" and then finished the glass off in a few swallows.

KK said, "May I try the other flavor dear?"

I took a fresh glass, and poured it for her.

As we sat, enjoying the fresh fruit and juices, the attendants were busy in the suite, moving towels about, preparing for their tasks.

The preparation started with a manicure and pedicure for KK.

The attendants lavished attention on her, mostly silent, other than the necessary queries and conversations about the services they performed on my wife.

They stopped at the stage where I think nail polish would normally be applied, and then said, "Madam, please follow us for examination."

They led her to the area equipped as a medical exam room, and one of the attendants removed the kimono KK was wearing, the other helped to remove her pumps, then seated her in the gynecology exam chair, placing her feet in the stirrups.

My naked wife was spread-eagle in the chair, as the attendants began examining her, one palpating her breasts, examining her nipples, the other busy, probing her vagina with gloved fingers.

One of the attendants picked up a plastic speculum from a cart, and lubricated it, then handed it to her partner.

The attendant parted KK's labia, and I watched her insert the speculum into my wife, then squeeze the handles until they latched.

The other attendant rolled a cart next to one stirrup, and handed a endoscopy probe to her partner.

She inserted it into the opening of the spectrum, and examined the interior of my wife's vagina, and her cervix.

The other attendant handed her a long swab, which was then used to probe her - I could see on the monitor the swab wiping against her cervix, which made KK squirm a bit in the stirrups.

The attendant withdrew the swab, handed it to her partner, and she inserted it into a sample tube, while the other attendant withdrew the speculum from my wife's vagina.

The final element of the examination was a digital rectal exam - KK wasn't completely relaxed, and it took a little coaxing - the attendant used one of her gloved hands to stimulate KK's pussy and clit for a few minutes, and when she was distracted sufficiently, slid her other gloved fingers into KK's rectum.

My cock had involuntarily responded to all this, creating a rock-hard, and somewhat embarrassing erection in the silk boxers, which added to my suffering - the friction from the silk against my hard cock was almost too much, and I was fighting off the urge to cum.

The attendants wiped KK clean, then helped her up out of the exam chair.

As they led her from the exam area, one of them spoke to me, saying "You will help next Sir."

They led us over to the creepy, sort of eerie thing that reminded me of a morgue.

There was a large "bench" or table, that had raised edges, shiny and cold-looking stainless steel.

The top had a pronounced slope, and there were several openings in the surface, some smaller, some larger, and one near the end of the table that appeared to be drains.

There were hose arms near one end, and similar pairs of hose arms near the middle of the table.

One of the attendants rolled a small step stool to the foot of the bench, and they assisted KK onto the table.

I said, "Is it cold baby? It looks cold..." KK said, "No dear - its actually a little warm."

I reached out and touched the surface, and found it slightly warm to the touch, surprising given its appearance.

One of the attendants said, "You will clean her. Inside."

She had rolled a small cart over, upon which lay a variety of nozzle attachments.

The attendant picked up an enema nozzle, and said, "Works this way."

She attached the nozzle to one of the hoses, and depressed a lever on the valve at the end of the hose, squiring a jet of water into the large drain near KK's feet.

She said, "Squeeze more for pressure, squeeze less for gentle. Please proceed Sir. Clean thoroughly."

I looked at KK and said, "Are you ready for this?"

Before KK could respond, the attendant said, "Please Sir, Madam, no talking."

Then she turned and walked off.

I looked at my wife, searching for her consent to proceed, and she finally nodded after a few seconds.

I picked up another nozzle from the cart, a douche nozzle, and attached it to the hose assembly that was next to me.

I gave it a squirt to see how hard the flow was, and how controllable, and once I had the feel of it, I parted my wife's legs.

There were a pair of small "U-shaped" pillows on the cart's lower shelf. I took the small one, and lifted KK's head to use it to support her neck. I took the larger pillow, and worked it under the small of her back, to elevate her pelvis upward.

Once she was comfortable, I used the douche nozzle, showering her labia with it as a starting point, then inserting it gently into her, allowing the flow of water into her vagina to gradually increase.

I regularly douche her, and provide enemas for her as part of our usual pre-encounter ritual, so this process was already familiar to me, as well as erotically intense - my cock was hard as steel, and I was subconsciously stimulating KK's clit with the fingers of one hand.

One of the attendants interrupted, and said, "Not allowed Sir. Please."

I stopped fingering my wife's clit, and tried to focus on just the process of administering the douche. I did manage ultimately to give her an orgasm by using the douche nozzle at full flow and pressure on her clit, with the finger of one hand over her lips trying to silence the sounds of her orgasm.

After that part of the "cleaning" was over, I switched to the enema nozzle on the other hose.

I administered the first round enema, with my hand on KK's belly, to feel her take the water, as her bowel filled.

As my wife squirmed, feeling filled, I withdrew the nozzle, and used one hand to squeeze her ass-cheeks together, a suggestion to hold the enema.

As KK felt the increasing, intense pressure to release, I removed my hand from her ass-cheeks, and gently pressed on her tummy, as she relaxed her sphincter and allowed the enema to release.

I repeated this process five times, until the fluids were completely clear, and my wife's bowel was entirely voided.

I used a hand-sprayer attachment to rinse her, and the table, then I used some liquid soap from the cart to wash her pubic area and buttocks gently, followed by a final rinse.

At that point one of the attendants was there with a small tray, which contained a couple of razors, a variety of small containers of shaving lubricant, and some post-shave cream.

The attendant said, "Sir please make her very smooth. If needed I help."

I thought about it for a nano-second, and said, "Yes, I would like some assistance."

My thoughts were somewhat selfish, in that I normally shave KK, but it always includes giving her several orgasms during the process - I wouldn't be able to help myself, and I also thought it would be hugely sexy to have this young woman's fingers on my wife's vagina, and have her assistance in shaving KK.

The two of us spent the next half hour, thoroughly shaving KK's pussy and pubic region, until there was not a sign of a stray hair, stubble, or any imperfection.

The finished result was smooth skin, bare pussy lips, and a pretty pink pussy, and velvet "brown eye."

My cock was beginning to leave a noticeable wet stain, as pre-cum was beginning to drip from it, from the intensity of the experience.

Seeing KK try to get finger-fucked by the female attendant was so hot, and she appeared to be deliberately teasing my wife, almost deliberate torment, using her fingertips to spread my wife's labia, pinching her clitoral hood, and keep her skin lubricated as I manipulated the razor.

KK had to be quieted, her squirming about making the process difficult.

Once the shaving was completed, I washed and rinsed her a final time.

My wife was now manicured, pedicured, examined, cleaned out completely, shaved, and ready for the next preparation steps.

The other attendant came over, and said, "Next you will bathe her in the shower area."

The attendant removed KK's choker, belly chain, and knelt down and removed her anklet, saying, "I will replace these after you've bathed her."

She led us to the open shower and bath, said, "Towels are there. Soaps and shampoo there. Please wash her hair also. Fresh clothes for you there."

She pointed to the spreading wet spot on my boxers, and I turned red.

"Please just wash her. No sex."

With that final instruction, she walked away. I turned on the shower, and then stripped out of my T-shirt and boxers.

I took KK under the shower heads, large water-fall units, and wet her down. I used the opportunity to lather her up with shower gel, washing and massaging her from her neck to her ankles.

Then I washed her hair, and gave her a scalp massage. I had to fight off the urge to push her onto the floor of the shower and fuck her.

My cock never stopped being hard, and as it brushed against her wet skin, I kept thinking I was going to blow my load.

I used an exfoliating rub on her body, a final lathering pass, and then throughly rinsed her, and myself to complete the shower.

I noticed the attendants were both very busy in the salon area, and deciding they were out of ear-shot, whispered, "Are you doing OK baby?"

KK sort of half grimaced, half sneered at me, and whispered back, "You fucking bastard! Are you doing OK? Are you having a nice time? You can't even control yourself, you drooling, dripping pervert! What the hell? They are going to "auction me off" to the highest bidders, and you're asking me if I'm fucking OK? Did you fucking set this up you fucking pervert? Are you trying to get even with me or something fucked up like that?"

Pretty much out of nowhere, the more stern of the two attendants appeared, and said, "Please Madam, Sir, no talking!"

KK looked furious, trying to stare the attendant down, which had no impact, and then she turned her glare to me, snarling her lips, and mouthed "Later..."

The attendant then led us to the salon area, asked me to have a seat, and pointed to several stacks of magazines.

The less stern attendant left, and was replaced by a different woman, apparently the hair stylist.

She proceeded to consult my wife about her hair, asking about color, and other trivia, which I mostly tuned out, shuffling through some of the magazines.

An hour later, the stylist had finished KK's hair, having trimmed, touched up, and refreshing her cut, leaving KK's hair just above her shoulders, with bangs, sort of a "Betty Page" thing, which actually looked quite pleasing and sexy on my wife.

They asked us to have some refreshments, after setting out a fresh tray, and then to join them in the manicure salon area when we were ready.

KK was really fond of the dark pink juice, whatever it was, and ended up consuming the whole carafe.

The light refreshments of fruit, cheese and savory meats seemed to satisfy her, and after about twenty minutes, we went to the salon area.

The stylist and the other attendant helped KK with a selection of nail colors, and of course she picked the brightest red there was, and the two women applied the polish to her nails.

After that was done, they led KK to a make-up area, mirrored and brightly lit.

Before seating her, the two women examined my wife from head to toe, and finding everything to their satisfaction, asked her to have a seat on a tall stool.

The two attendants worked on KK, applying foundation, color and perfecting her make-up.

They used a puff to apply some sort of powder to her breasts and neck, which left a very light, but discernible sparkle as the light changed, and they added some color, sort of like lipstick, to her nipples and areola, in a dark shade, but in the same range as the polish on her nails - it was a very exotic effect I've never seen before.

With her hair and make-up done, the stylist asked KK to stand, while the other attendant helped her back into her black platform pumps, and replaced the choker, belly chain, and her anklet.

My wife looked stunning - perfect, desirable, and incredibly sexy.

I could not control my erection, which had pushed past the waist band of my boxers, and almost like an angry python, throbbed with the desire to take my wife then and there.

The stylist said, "One last step, then it will be time."

They led us to the far corner of the room, the only partitioned area that had full, floor-to-ceiling walls. Inside, the room was equipped like a small portraiture studio.

I was asked to sit on a folding chair in one corner, while the two attendants posed, then photographed my wife in a variety of postures.

Sitting, standing, one foot placed on a bench, seated on a plush stool, her legs spread wide apart, exposing her smoothly shaved pussy, on a large bench, displayed on her hands and knees, and from behind, her cheeks and thighs spread apart. Many, many photographs, from every angle and view. The photo session took about 45-minutes!

After the attendants completed their work, one brought out a fresh tray of snacks, and more juice, and said, "There will be about 15-minutes for you to enjoy your snack, and then your hosts will join you here. And remember, please - no talking."

The stylist left, and the "stern" attendant went about the business of tidying up. KK had more of the pink juice, which seemed to satisfy her, along with a little more food, small finger sandwiches and fruit. I joined her, having coffee first, then sparkling water.

The interior door to the suite opened, and our "hosts," one of whom I'd met earlier, a second, presumably the one who'd provided guidance to KK, joined us.

The one unfamiliar to me said, "Everything appears to be in order. The auction will start in 15-minutes."

She pointed at me, and spoke, while the other "host" handed me a sort of flat wooden box, which felt heavy, "You will bind her wrists, and lead her to the auction block when your ID number appears on the rear stage screen. Help her into position, clip the lead down to the front of the block, as you saw in last night's demonstration, then exit the stage. Remain back stage until your ID appears on the screen again, then go and remove the lead from the auction block, and take your wife back stage. You will receive additional instructions then."

Turning to my wife, our "host" said, "You will allow our clients to inspect you as they see fit. Stand straight on the auction block, smile if you wish, but do not speak. If the auction is successful, our clients will work out how they plan to use you, and we will facilitate their needs - you will participate, and facilitate their needs. Do you understand?"

KK shot back a glare at the woman, and said, "Yes. I understand."

Our "host" said, "Please enjoy, and finish your refreshments. When the attendant instructs you to do so, please place A-1-105A in her shackles, and lead her to the cart, where'll she'll be taken for auction."

With that, both "hosts" turned and made their exit through the interior door.

KK had time to finish off the remaining juice in the carafe, and said, "I need a pee..."

The attendant pointed to the open bath and shower area, and KK glared at her for a moment, then went to the bidet to relieve herself.

I took the shackles and chain lead from the wooden box, looking at the mechanism to see how they worked, and by the time KK had finished relieving herself, it was time to go.

The attendant looked us both over, scanned my ID bracelet, then scanned KK's choker, belly chain, and anklet with her little "wand," and said, "Place the shackles and lead on Madam, if you please Sir."

I cuffed my wife's wrists, as she grimaced and glared, clearly resenting the act of submission.

The attendant said, "Please exit the salon Madam, and Sir, and take a seat in the cart."

The salon's exterior door clicked open, and we made our way to the cart, with me leading KK by the chain shackled to her wrists. I could hear her heels click on the tile floor as she followed.