Embracing Surrender

Marcel lifted his glass and nodded in assent. "Something," he observed, "that might be much appreciated at a general gathering, at the clubhouse, I should think," and the two men fell to discussing how they might make an event of it with the unnamed larger group. While they spoke, they randomly touched or stroked their attendant females, each waiting silently for her next direction. By the end of the evening, the men had decided to host the very next gathering of their libertine peers--put on a party, if you will, at 'The Club'.

'The Club' was a very old-fashioned gentlemen's club--although, given the current century, there were a few female members. It was housed in an outbuilding of an expansive grand old estate, formerly the ballroom, and now a show-lounge come dining room, complete with privacy chambers on the mezzanine. It was very private--secure and exclusive. Over the next few weeks, Maurice and Marcel's plans for the big event came together. They chose several betting games for the evening's entertainment: minimum $10 to a maximum $100 wagers.

It wasn't until the evening of that gathering that P saw Elsie again. Both were pressed into service--helping the clubhouse staff with last minute details, assisting the wait-staff, and bussing. Then, after assisting with the dining-room take-down, they were led to a raised, carpeted dais in the centre of the main parlour, where they were bound--fitted with phallic ball-gags, and fastened together with straps and buckles, both from part of the leather harnesses they wore--which provided quite a versatile arrangement for different poses and formats--and specialty equipment retrieved from various hidden collections, pulled from nearby compartments. Pauline and Elsie, were, then, efficiently strapped head to tail in a classic '69' position, mouth mounted dildoes firmly inserted in each counterpart's pussy.

As Maurice and Marcel were the de facto hosts, they acted as Masters of Ceremonies--or, perhaps, Ringmasters would be more correct. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Marcel began, securing everyone's attention, "--I use the terms loosely--" here he paused to wait for the swell of mirth to subside, "let us present, for your entertainment and enjoyment, this collection of lascivious contests and voluptuous displays that comprise the first annual--or so we hope--Erotic Circus!"

As Maurice and Marcel's possessions, P and Elsie would be the welcoming act. Left for a spell, while P tried to control her anticipation, she detected Elsie's agitation begin to manifest itself in trembling and fidgeting, belying their ostensible start from a completely unaroused point. Their wait, however, was mercifully short, as Maurice announced the first of the evening's events, which was betting on which of them could make the other cum first.

Maurice and Marcel removed the ball-gag dildoes simultaneously facilitating the actual start. It was, indeed, the long-awaited rematch, only this time being definitely more fair, that is, beginning from a much more even state of arousal. They were rolled top to bottom at intervals, just to keep it even. The gentlemen spectators were asked to resist the urge to grope and stroke.

Once the gags had been removed the girls, Pauline, at least, began to actively poke and stroke and lick the pussy before her with a genuine eagerness. Elsie, on the other hand, began rather tentatively, although once she started to feel the effects of P's attention, she became much more active. Their rising states of arousal fed off one another, and before too long they were twitching and jolting and vibrating as one. Scrambling to hold back, Pauline redoubled her efforts, and finally, flicking Elsie's engorged clitoris back and forth rapidly with her tongue, she drew her erotic rival to the edge--then, like a bullfighter's coup de gras, with a swirl of her tongue she pushed Elsie over the edge, into the clutches of an intense climax. Having won, Pauline then willed her vanquished foe to pull her over into a satisfying orgasm of her own. In the afterglow of their event, neither of them paid any heed at all to the winnings and losses of the gentlemen bettors around them. They just allowed themselves to be led off-stage--for the time being.

With the ensuing set-change following P and Elsie's welcoming act--the dais was quickly removed--the actual competitions would be held on an expansive Persian rug, there in the middle of the main parlour. The masters, and mistresses, sat in easy chairs scattered around the spacious room, surrounding the performance area. The betting procedure had been explained, and the games began in earnest. With chits and chips in hand, the members were invited to bet on each event, their wagers and winnings being gathered and dispersed by circulating staff.

The contestants--the female submissives--were paired with different 'sister-subs' for each new contest in which they were involved. The first event was announced: fellatio; for which two male volunteers from the audience were sought. The rules were simple: give a great blowjob--mouth only; no hands! The first to swallow--head back, mouth open, tongue out--was the winner. Happening, as it did, at the very beginning of the evening, the volunteer fellatees were rather horny, hence the competition didn't last long, the winner beating her rival by several minutes.

Staying with the theme, the second event was cunnilingus--first to bring off an unbiased partner--a 'sister-sub' who had yet to participate in an event. Once again, the contestants were virtually too successful. While the receiving girls had not had any physical stimulation, they were already really quite aroused just from the atmosphere in the building, which crackled with erotic energy. Consequently, they were both already quivering and whimpering by the time the active tongues made contact with their swelling and dripping slits. They lasted no more than one or two lingual swipes before exploding into orgasm more or less simultaneously. Certainly, the competition was too close to call.

After conferring briefly, Marcel announced to the assembly of spectators, "Ahem. Hello, out there. As you probably noticed, unforeseen pre-existing arousal of the subjects--the oral recipients, as it were, has, shall we say, interfered with the quality of the previous event, so, we're making just a slight change in the format, and we'll try it again."

Taking over the pitch, Maurice continued. "We, Marcel and I, have decided to try see if we can't get a couple unbiased spectators to be target recipients. Any of you dear, female members out there in the audience willing to volunteer to be expertly licked, in support of our continued fun and games?" Reclaiming the mic, Marcel, as Master of Ceremonies, identified and welcomed onto the stage a couple of volunteers from the thin rolls of female audience members.

Meanwhile, off in the gloaming of one of the alcoves, Pauline was selected, for her second event, as one of the subs doing the eating; along with a voluptuous, raven-haired beauty whose flawless skin was the colour of mocha. P and her 'sister-sub' were held in the wings, as it were, while the volunteers settled onto low, padded benches, on the stage. Then, P and the other contestant--whose name or moniker Pauline never did find out--were led in through the hushed anticipation and quietly positioned, crouched between the thighs of their respective recipients.

Snatching a glance through the lashes of her lowered eyes, P determined that her subject was a rather snooty-looking, sixty-something, wrinkled silver-hair. Regardless, at the sound of the starting tone, Pauline dove right in. Lapping lightly and continuously the length of the dampening and blooming furrow, P soon had her subject's thighs trembling and quaking, as she rocked her pelvis, and gently bounced her hips, all the while whimpering softly. Pauline was relentless, dragging an inescapable arousal out of the silver carpeted pussy. Her subject was soon squealing, her whole body shaking, being pushed ever-faster towards orgasm by Pauline's persistent lingual caresses. And P felt the build-up of erotic tension spill into her own sense of arousal. It occurred to Pauline--not for the first time--that good head was almost as good giving as getting.

In the meantime, as the cunnilingus continued, the other recipient sharing the stage--a very attractive, extroverted fifty-something woman--was letting her aroused presence be known. Kicking her legs in the air, screaming, her body jolting, her arms waving, beating a tattoo with her heels on her licker's back, she made a real spectacle of herself--loud and vociferous; however, as their inevitable crises hit, Pauline was rewarded with a gentle flow of nectar between quivering thighs, a true climax, less violent and more soothing than the histrionic show-piece next to them. In a sort of tortoise and hare finish, Pauline handily beat her rival. The younger of the volunteers was, as it turned out, rather over-confident; still, it was close--and a splendid time was had by all.

With short breaks between contests, the evening proceeded with a full and varied program; which included: Soixante-Neuf, again, with 'sister-subs'. This time, starting from a previously achieved state of arousal, the object being who would be the last to reach orgasm; Mutual Masturbation--side-by-side, fingers and lips, between rested, fresh 'sister-subs' with the goal of climaxing simultaneously or, at least, not being the first to reach orgasm; then, later, not being last to get there; Pussy Tug, a tug o'war, with a double-ended dildo; and Anal-cheek-to-cheek-- first to push on to the centre-line of the connecting double-ender.

"Oh, you mean Shovin' Shit," someone remarked at the end of the description.

"Don't be so crude!" someone else jovially admonished.

Occasionally, when the hub-bub of the parlour momentarily quieted, the whack and wail of discipline being meted upon some poor sub who had lost her master some cash by losing some contest, could be heard filtering down from the privacy rooms on the mezzanine. Even so, on that particular night, corporal punishment was the exception, rather than the rule.

While the competitions took place throughout the evening, with a changing parade of contestants, the girls were all given resting time between contests. Sometimes they returned to the knee of their master, and sometimes they just knelt out of the way in an unused alcove where they could observe the trials and tribulations of their 'sisters'. Pauline watched the proceedings when she could, and listened, marveling at the complexity and fullness of that esoteric world--amazed, too, that she was actually a part of it.

Ever-observant, she was awed by the vast spectrum of participants: big, small, plump, skinny, tall, short, stacked, flat, black, brown, white, blonde, dark, plain, and gorgeous; noting that, although all of them had to be submissives of one sort or another, they presented with a wide variety of attitudes: some meek and frightened; some arrogant and confident; some resistant; some embracing; some restrained; some eager; some apparently unhappy; and others, like herself, joyful.

Some of the ladies, while resting, were required to take turns submitting to being bound securely in a sort of head-to-tail sixty-nine fashion, to serve as a benign, living 'coffee table'. Demonstration events, held in one of several alcoves off the main parlour, included contests such as: female fellatio with double-ended dildoes, the object being to touch noses, or, as a possible bonus, seal lips. One pair actually made the dildo disappear with a hugely impressive double-deep-throat! The whole event, though, was not very conducive, to attaining climaxes.

Another of the demonstration contests, one which, incidentally, became Pauline's third activity of the evening, was "The Best Faked Orgasm contest"--played among a half dozen 'sisters'. The spectators were polled using informal ballots, and the winner--not P--was announced later in the evening. Not all the demos were competitions or contests; some were just challenges, such as, "Make each other cum using only your toes," or simply, "Can you have a silent orgasm?"

P's fourth assignment of the evening was: "Make your partner cum touching only her nipples--and using only your fingers and lips." Her receiving-sister was ordered to kneel--butt on her heels--and keep her hands clasped behind her, so as not to assist in any way. Pauline beamed at the challenge, and, when told to start, threw herself fully into the task. Muttering encouragements--to herself as much as to her target, she started by pulling and twisting the proffered nipples, studying them closely. Tentatively extending her tongue, she cautiously licked the very tip of each, swinging her head side-to-side, pausing every few licks to savour the taste. Her poking touches gradually gave way to swirling caresses, punctuated by full boob squeezes, which led to sucking the stiffening nips further and further into her mouth. Soon, P was collapsing her cheeks to create a suction strong enough to draw in not just the whole areola but the entire business-end of the boob as well. While holding the tit-flesh in, Pauline, batted the nipple back and forth with her tongue, before circling once more and releasing it, to repeat with the other side. P could feel her partner's tits flush, as her nipples puffed and stiffened even further. When her subject's chest began to heave, Pauline knew she'd done it. Keeping up her relentless sucking and licking, she dragged an orgasm up from her sister-sub's core to explode in her chest. Shaken by quaking shivers and spasmodic jolts, Pauline had to hold her quivering partner up by her breasts, which she continued to caress until the aftershocks had subsided. Pauline was not sure if the light applause was for her or her partner, "But," she smiled, rather pleased with herself, "it doesn't really matter."

"Okay," Pauline thought, a little later, during a quiet moment, as the games began to wind down, "I know, these games are demeaning. And," she readily admitted, "I know that they--in fact, the evening's entire premise--could, indeed, would be seen, by any right-thinking person, as betraying my gender--my sex. Nonetheless," and here she knew she was rationalizing, "I can't help but be delighted in the fullness, the completeness of my submission!" She took a deep breath, surveying the depravity still in motion all around her. "And, furthermore, even if somewhat paradoxically, I find the competition aspect of it all, thrilling."

After the final contest, the rest of the women were led--many, including P, with leashes snapped onto collars--back to their masters' chairs, where they were, once again, expected to kneel and wait at the chair's arm, next to their master's thigh. Pauline felt so blissfully warm and contented that she rested her head comfortably on Maurice's thigh, and tentatively reached over to stroke his flaccid penis through his pants. He smiled down on her, but said nothing. She grinned to herself as he began to respond, stiffening and lengthening and hardening. Inevitably, Maurice reached down to release his growing boner, allowing her to stroke it, jacking its length within her grip. Guiding her subtly by the leash, Maurice spread his knees and tugged, forcing her to settle once again onto the soft carpet, but now between his legs. With only the slightest non-verbal prompting, she leant in and engulfed his rampant prick with her lips, sliding down over it, until it was fully lodged in the back of her throat. Pauline's sucking was sensual and unhurried. She could tell from the noise around her--the quiet murmurings of the men and the slurps and smacks of their slaves--that she was not alone in the application of fellatio. Luxuriating, herself, in the action, Pauline continued until Maurice whispered from above, "Here it comes, P. Try to keep my pants clean." She accepted his ejaculation like it was a special gift, swallowing it completely, without spilling a drop, and keeping him in her mouth until he had finished leaking, and was as clean as a whistle.

When he pulled back from her oral ministrations, he ushered her back to her place at his thigh. The conversation of the masters, which trickled back into her awareness, went on as if nothing had happened. The gist of what was a sort of round-table discussion was that the evening had been a roaring success. Both Marcel and Maurice, with Elsie and P kneeling at their respective sides, received countless congratulations. In fact, many members, not wishing to end the festivities just yet, began brainstorming games and contests for future meets--with increasingly outrageous suggestions, laughingly proposed, as the attendees became more and more lubricated.

Some of the possible events bandied-about were: Who can take the most cock? Of course, it was pointed out, 'most' was very subjective. It could be the deepest penetration--"Pussy-Sounding," as someone suggested. It was generally agreed that that would require a long, rigid dildo with graduations--preferably in inches. Or the fattest dildo--there were some pretty stout little fire-plugs about. Or, even, the deepest throat--Sword-Swallowing--using the same graduated rigid dildo as Pussy-Sounding. Someone suggested an anal tug o' war with a double-ender, which someone else christened a Sphincter-Pull, although it was sagely pointed out it would be, "Almost guaranteed to cause serious hemorrhoids." Another idea was the most orgasms over the course of the evening. "But, who would, or could, keep track of them?" became the obvious question. "No, I don't think that would work." Likewise, who could hold off the longest when on the brink?

As they continued making their outrageous suggestions for future contests at future meets, P thought to herself, with a private smile, "Some of that sounds like fun!" The brainstorming continued, but the later it went on, the less practical were the suggestions, until, following the last list of proposals: most personally requested lashes with strap; longest nipples; nipple-ring-weight-lifting; longest orgasm; highest rectal temperature; heaviest tits; and biggest tit displacement; it became obvious to everyone that they had run out of serious ideas.

As the party atmosphere gradually dissipated, the revelers began to gather up their concubines and take their leave, until, eventually, the small group of founding members--and their tired female possessions--was all that remained. It was really no surprise to Pauline that Maurice was quite clearly positioned very high up in the executive rolls of the organization. Still, someone else chaired what was obviously a meeting of the charter council.

As the remaining gents began discussing esoteric matters of no interest to Pauline, she tuned out, letting the conversation above her fade into the background. In those quiet moments of reflection--kneeling in the thick carpet, beside her master, hands behind her back, her head bowed, eyes averted--she marveled at her situation; she could scarcely believe this was her, Pauline--"P"--actually embracing the act of surrender. She was, it seemed, completely re-defining her own self-image; a self-image that was evolving--evolving or mutating. Gradually, though, her attention was gathered, once more. Coming out of her reverie, she tuned back in, only to realize the voices overhead were talking about her.

"Well, Maurice," a big voice boomed, "it seems you've bragged a lot about your current project--Pauline is it? P?"

"That's right, Kenneth." Maurice reached over and patted Pauline's head, as he replied, "and with good reason."

The glowing arousal that already simmered deep within P's fundament surged, spreading across her body and radiating like an aura. The Kenneth person went on, "And I must say, I, at least, have been very impressed with her and her performance this evening." P was shocked; but, really, only shocked by her own calm acceptance of the context of the discussion.