Pride and Humiliation Pt. 02

This is the second installment in the saga of Annie's experiences at a spa with special possibilities to explore one's sexuality. As the story is set as a part of a beautiful relationship with her beloved husband Donald, I intended the story for the Loving wives section. I was prepared for criticism, especially from readers who find it hard to accept a woman's willful submission to pain and humiliation. And yes, the anger was plentiful and vocal in the commentary, but to my big surprise on the part of the husband. Seemingly it's very hard for quite a few readers to phantom that a man can both accept and take pleasure of his wife's submission to other people. Let me assure you, Donald does not feel cockolded, nor does he question his wife's commitment and love for him, trusting her to have experiences that doesn't fit into the wife/husband-nucleus. Therefore I test my waters in the Fetish section this time, especially having in mind the next couple of chapters still to come.

--***--

The Decision

I had to make the decision that evening. Two weeks earlier, immediately after my first visit to Desert Delights, I believed I knew the answer. Still in a haze from the experiences the same day, I just wanted to accept the offer to return to this wonderful oasis of pleasure as soon as I got Donald's agreement. After all, I was married to him, and I would accept his refusal if he was to say no. As I expected, he just used about half a second before he said "of course you'll go". So now I had his permission, but a kind of doubt had entered my mind.

The written offer from Desert Delights left nothing and everything to imagination. On the one hand, the terms was clear: I could spend an oval weekend at this luxurious spa together with a companion of my choosing, all-inclusive and totally free of charge. In exchange I would participate in a "member's only show" on Saturday night - so far, everything clear. On the other hand, the offer plainly stated that I would have to follow any instruction given in the show, within the limits of the general terms and conditions of the membership. I knew those limits from my last visit, knowing they stretched my limits of what I thought I was willing or capable of doing. Lawrence, the man in charge of the preparations for my first visit to the spa, had gone to lengths in explaining to me what the speciality of the extra services at Desert Springs: finding your sexual triggers in receiving or administering pain and humiliation. At my first visit, it was my own needs that was identified and catered for, this time it would obviously be the demands of the audience that defined my experiences. I could make some qualified guesses from Donald's (and mine) fantasies, from porn flics we had watched together and from clubs we had visited, but this time it would be for real, with me in a leading role.

Immediately after my first session, in Lawrence's office, I had come to accept that I had been given the most exciting and arousing experience in my life by giving up control, by being whipped and humiliated in front of strangers. Lawrence even made me feel a kind of pride, by emphasizing that I was ultimately in control by choosing to submit for a defined period of time, and that my need for submission in sex came from the responsibilities of my work life and marriage. It made sense to me, I knew I very seldom could relax and leave decisions to others - by accepting the treatment, I had a feeling of relief and liberation.

And there was no denying of my body's response. Being completely dominated had turned me on beyond anything I had known. Still now, two weeks later, I would feel the arousal when mentally re-experiencing the four-hour long fuck. Thinking of the moment when I had to open my mouth and accept that I was to be gagged with my own pee-soiled panties... - it made my pussy dripping wet every time. And the whipping, the toying of my asshole, the three-way-fuck I received, it all gave me the pleasure I was looking for. However, was I really ready to give my body up for the fantasies of others, to once more willingly accept anything and everything that Lawrence and Donna at the spa would ask of me?

--***--

Me. A happily married woman just turned forty. A successful editor at a fairly well-known publishing house. Mother of two children on the brim of leaving the nest. Perhaps not the most popular woman in our neighbourhood - I had always refused to let other people define what I could or should do, sometimes in clear violation of the middle-class consensus on our street. Mine, and Donald's, liberal views on issues from foreign policies to marihuana sometimes made the small talk difficult. If they only knew what I was contemplating at this moment... Perhaps it was the thought of the more narrow-minded, cheerless and boring couple down the road, the ones complaining about everything from loud music or topless women on the beach, that made me make up my mind. If my loved Donald was OK with watching me getting a good fuck, and I could feel the fantastic sizzling sensation by the thought of turning into a sex slave for a few hours - who were to tell me this was wrong?

"This is your last chance," I told Donald, "if you don't want this to happen, speak up now."

"What?! And miss a once-in-a-lifetime blowjob?"

Donald looked genuinely baffled. A part of the offer was for Donald, a dedicated female member with a penchant towards oral sex would be seated next to him during the show, with a strict mission of keeping him a happy man while watching his wife submit on stage.

So this was definitely my call. I wrote the shortest of emails back to Desert Delights in response to the offer: "Yes. Take me."

The Preparation

The two weeks had passed in a blur of expectations, and now I found myself in Lawrence's office at Desert Delights. I was not alone this time; I knew Lawrence and Donna, his assistant, from my first visit here. Sitting in the large sofa besides me, were two other girls, all dressed like me - naked except for a white cotton bathrobe.

"Good to see you all again," Lawrence greeted us. "For three of you," - he looked at the other girls in the sofa, "this should be familiar. For Annie's sake, I'll just walk you through the basics. You are here of your own free will, you are not receiving any money for this. Basically, you can walk out of here whenever you want. However, before tonight's show starts, you will be asked to sign a disclaimer that states that you will stay on stage for the required time, following any instruction given by Donna or me. The same limits as always applies - nothing illegal, nothing that leaves permanent marks. If you fail to comply with the rules, the only consequence is that you will not be invited to other performances and lose your membership here. If you choose to use your safeword, we will take a break and readjust the action. This said, let me also tell you that you are chosen to participate tonight because tonight's event fit your sexual preferences."

I thought about how Lawrence had analyzed my body's reactions when exposed to the different shades of sexuality - and my surprise at a couple of findings. However surprised I may have been initially, the prescribed four-hour fuck I got as a 40-year's gift from Donald, was dripping wet proof of the desires that Lawrence unearthed in his examination. I tried to keep my mind of the whipping, mouthfucking and other humiliations I had received, and concentrate on Lawrence's orientation.

"So, to break to the main point, I will take you through what we have planned for tonight. The headline for the evening is Slave night. There will be three parts of the show; slave selection, slave training, and slave service. I don't think I need to explain to you the two latter parts, but there will be only two slaves staying on stage for the training and service - and one will be Donna. Which means that the three of you," he nodded towards our sofa, "will have to compete to become the last slave. That will be the slave selection part. A jury will decide who of you will make the most promising sex slave. Donna will be one of the slave prospects along with you, and she will win. It's rigged, but I doubt any of you - or anyone - could beat her performance anyway..." He smiled at Donna, who took this as the compliment it was meant to be.

"But what happens if we are not selected?" one of the girls asked - obviously most afraid of not becoming the slave of the night.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Lawrence answered. "You will be backup on the off chance that the selected girl backs out, otherwise you are free to enjoy the show as part of the audience. And speaking of which, it will be around 30 members present tonight. Some couples, a few single men, some female members who will service the single men. About ten men and women among the audience will be wearing red bracelets. They are premium members, and have been tested the same way as you, and will be participating at will during the slave service part. Two male actors have been hired to do the training of the slaves. For the selection part you will each be fucked by one hired help."

The reality of tonight's events began to sink in. This could prove to be stretching my limits - did I really want this? Letting the world know that I willingly would compete for submission? Giving up control of my body to be used for the pleasure of strangers? I could only make guesses of what was expected from me, based on my experiences last time here, based on a few hours watching bdsm-porn with Donald. Still, these guesses made my body ache for sexual adventure, made me want to touch my clitoris, in parallel with the blushing in my cheeks. And I also felt strangely safe, felt the same atmosphere as last time - the world here was a kind world. The whipping and humiliation I had experienced was intended to please me, the pleasure was mine, and I wanted to once again let go, to submit - to be part of this safe world where my fantasies wasn't bad or wrong, but experiences waiting to happen.

I looked at the other girls, none of whom seemed to be put off by the prospect of entering servitude for the night.

"So, what will we have to do to be selected?" one of the re other girls asked. I recognized her from one of the wonderful days we had spent at the spa already. Her name was Sally, and she worked as a controller in an unnamed accounting firm - when she was not offering her body to be used at will at Desert Delights.

Lawrence smiled wickedly. "Just be your usual, submissive selves. Make the judges believe you will be the most adaptive, willing slave tonight. Your men will do the same routine on each of you - starting with a blow job, continuing to your pussies, and finally testing your anal abilities. Besides that, you are free to ad-lib."

The matter-of-factly explanations of Lawrence's made my pussy suddenly twist in pure horny expectation. Nature had given me a strong competitive edge, and my doubts whether I could enjoy the treatment that was in for tonight's winner were quickly overshadowed by an intense wish to test my limits - to see just how far I could go in my quest for lust and submission.

"The main thing tonight," Lawrence continued, "is that no one - not you or anyone in the audience - have any doubts about what's going on during the final stages. You are not doing this for money, nor are you being forced to do this - we are giving a submissive girl a wonderful slave experience to satisfy her own needs and desires. If you don't want to be center of attention tonight, all you have to do is to make a half-assed performance during the selection."

We looked at each others in the sofa. My guess was that the other girls were thinking the same thoughts as me - what could I do to convince the judges that I was the more submissive one, the best sex slave material present?

"The show will start in two hours, at 8 pm. In the meanwhile, Donna will help to prepare your bodies - you all have been through this routine before." And with a wicked smile, Lawrence added: "And make sure you empty your bottles of water and help yourselves with some sparkling wine. Let's not disappoint our most valued members..."

My mind drifted back to my last session, and the preparation administered by Donna - the thorough cleaning of my pussy and ass, the dildo to relax my sphincter, her teasing and pleasuring of my clitoris. And how could I ever forget the utter pleasure of relieving my full bladder in plain view of the others in the room... I felt a sudden embarrassment, a rush of blood to my cheeks by the prospect of the humiliation to which I were to succumb - however I realized this was just turning me on, the thought of my body being put on display, to be used at will by others, to be dominated. I was horny, anticipating the submission of slavehood for a night.

I wanted to win, badly.

The Selection

The room was dimly lit, aside from the strong stage lights. I saw Donald sitting on front row, secretly giving me a thumbs-up. Beside him a woman in the shortest of black cocktail dresses was seated, slowly stroking Donald's right thigh. A sting of jealousy hit me, but then my eyes fell on the man in front of me; a naked well-built man in his thirties, his dick already twisting with anticipation. I knew both Donald and me were in for something special tonight, and I wanted him to be happy. If I didn't win the selection, I could help that woman please Donald - it would be a good consolation prize. I knew Donald enjoyed his view, looking at four potential sex slaves on stage. We were dressed identically in black lace suspenders, black stockings, and heels I knew made my back arch to accent my naked butt. Just the way Donald enjoyed having me dress at the occasional sex club visits of our past.

Lawrence had taken the role as tonight's MC, introducing the concept of the night. Center stage was a glass case with two pairs of cuffs for ankles and wrist, and two black leather collars - the prize for the two selected slaves. "So, which two of these beautiful submissive woman will be the bearer of the cuffs and collar? Let's take a closer look at the candidates!"

One by one we were paraded across the stage, stopping next to Lawrence only to be asked to slowly turn around, bend over and open our ass cheeks to the audible admiration from the audience.

"These girls have one thing in common," Lawrence continued, "they all have a deep wish to submit for us tonight, but who wants it most? To decide, we have chosen a jury who will observe how they perform in this selection round." Two men and a woman waved from a table at the side of the stage, receiving applause from the audience. "And let us not forget the brave men who will test our submissives' abilities. Give the men some credit!" A new round of applause greeted the five naked men in front of us. "And now - let us see how far our submissives can take it!"

I knew I could take it far, but I also knew that the other lovely girls were more experienced than me. Since I was told about the slave contest, I had worked my mind to find out where my advantage could be. It occurred to me that this was not only a contest of who could take a big cock down the throat or up her ass, but who was most willing to accept humiliation and servitude. To achieve humiliation there needed to be reluctance, to enter servitude there had to be prior protests. Of course I knew that getting fucked this evening would be both painful and humiliating - I remembered how the tears had streamed down my cheeks during my last visit. Thinking of that still made me horny, more than shameful or hurt, so I figured I could boost my chances with acting more reluctant, more humiliated, than I really felt.

Lawrence's voice brought me back to my immediate tasks.

"Let's take a closer look at the candidates!"

One by one the other girls were paraded across the stage, stopping next to Lawrence only to be asked to slowly turn around, bend over and open their ass cheeks to the audible admiration from the audience. My heart pounded extra hard seeing a cameraman enter the stage as the first girl was presented, realizing I had not questioned whether this would be filmed or not. Still I knew that discretion was sacred here, and as Lawrence had explained to be last time, all the action was recorded by security cameras anyway to secure the patrons' good behavior.

I started my act when it was my turn, stepping forward with a slight hesitation. When Lawrence asked me to spread my legs while bending over for the view of the audience, I deliberately waited two seconds too long, and received a spank over my buttocks. I then immediately complied, doing my best to stretch open my asshole. Feeling a cool breeze gently stroking the crack of my ass, I realized I actually was going through with this - this was it, I was put on display, both embarrassed and proud by the sound of satisfied patrons of both sexes. I saw the cameraman enter into view behind me - obviously zooming in on my spread ass-cheeks. Standing up straight again, I saw the big screen at the back of the stage, and felt suddenly naked as I imagined the live stream from the camera showing in detail my most private parts. I was feeling ashamed, mostly for the familiar tingling in my pussy at the thought of having a replay of the action afterwards.

Now I was back at my designated spot, hearing Lawrence give the starting order to us and the men: "Now, ladies, down on your knees, and you guys have a go at getting your dicks down their throats."

I lowered myself down on my knees, resting my ass on my heels. I let my man use his feet to push my knees wide open, to let everyone see my naked pussy. However, when he stepped close with his semi-erect dick just inches from my lips, I kept my mouth shut. He pushed closer, stroking his cock along my lips. Still I kept my lips together, looking down. "Open!" he said, but I slowly shook my head. Once more he tried to push past my lips, but I could feel he was a little hesitating, a little confused. He bent close to my ear and whispered: "Have you forgotten your safeword?"

"No!" I said out loud.

"OK," he said in a calm and strong voice, "let me give this reluctant slut a cock-sucking lesson. Keep your arms behind your back!"

I obliged. Now he took a firm hold of my chin with one hand. slowly forcing my jaws to loosen up. With his other hand, he pushed two fingers between my lips, and started stroking along my tongue, further and further deep in my mouth. He lifted my chin to get a better angle for entering my throat, and pressed my tongue down in the deep of my mouth, triggering my gag reflex. I gagged heavily, but he just released the pressure for a few seconds, before pushing deeper down. My spit had started to run, welling up inside my mouth, making it easier for him to push further in, while my spit dribbled over my lips.

I gagged again, only to feel his fingers fill my throat. I looked up, locking my eyes at his, letting him see the tears welling up in my eyes and run down my cheek. His fingers were blocking my breath, but he kept slowly fucking my throat with my fingers, before letting them slip out - glistening wet from my spit.

This time I kept my mouth open, feeling wonderfully dominated by this man. His dick was now rock hard from finger-fucking my mouth. From the look of it, I knew I could take him all the way, but still I wanted to put up a little resistance. It wasn't easy, because I longed for a cock in my mouth now. His fingers had been uncomfortable, but they had made both my pussy and mouth water up in anticipation of an erect cock replacing the bony fingers - and now, with his beautiful cock inches from my face, I just wanted to feel my mouth filled up and dominated.

I managed to held back. I let him enter me, but made it hard for him to push deeper inside, making him frustrated. Finally, he took hold of the back of my head with both hands, and forcefully pushed his dick into my waiting throat. The world around me disappeared, the whole existence was his cock and my mouth. Feeling his slippery cock force itself into my throat was the only thing real, and I left it all to my body, knowing fully well my physical reactions from numerous blowjobs on Donald and a few others. I would gag, and gag some more, but I knew my body's reflexes well enough to accept the gagging not fearing anything worse, and just lived the moment of complete surrender to his cock.