Pride and Humiliation

His words got to me. Watching porn together with Donald, or sharing fantasies, I often found the flicks or stories to be to clinical, a set of routines. Not that I preferred the slow, soft and romantic chick-porn-flicks, they more often than not bored me before reaching the real sex, but I wanted the settings and action to be part of some stronger emotion. Like some BDSM movies we had downloaded, where the anticipation invoked by the undressing, tying up, slow stroking of the whip, blindfolding or gagging, were as much of a turn-on as the whipping itself... But what would Donald want of me?

"Can I discuss this with my husband? After all, he has sold his mountain bike to pay for this gift..."

"No, Listen, we provide services here that are probably the most intimate thing you can buy for money. My biggest worry is always that someone are coerced into something they do just for their partners. That's why we do this interview today, and that's why you will make your own decision here today. But for what it's worth, I really don't think your husband will be disappointed by your tale when you see him again."

I was not sure if the last piece of information was frightening or reassuring. But I knew my mind was already made up, if I have a possibility to order the chef's special, I always do. I would take my chances of possibly having to confess that I didn't get to be "completely stuffed" - Donalds' cute way of phrasing his highest wish for me. Thinking of it a moment, I realized I would be disappointed myself if I returned from this place without having tried to accommodate three beautiful erect cocks simultaneously.

"OK. I'll go for the chef's choice," I said, "but could you please bend the rules just a little - promise me that you will not leave without having fucked me three-ways, at least tried..."

Lawrence smiled. "I think that can be arranged. Now you go back to your massages and perhaps enjoy the sun a bit more. At 6 PM we will have everything ready for you for your arousal examination - see you then!"

***

On my way out, I passed his framed diploma from Harvard - psychiatry with his PhD in sexology. I was in good hands.

Second session

I was looking out the window, seeing the sun setting over the Californian desert. I felt wonderful, but the butterflies in my tummy were having a ball. I had once again returned to the comfortable chair in Lawrence's office, again only wearing my white cotton bathrobe. The shower after the examination had left me damp, and my skin was highly sensitive after the warm water. The feeling brought me back to the examination, and I felt the blood rush to my head - hoping the blushing went unnoticed by Lawrence.

It didn't. He was looking straight at me, and said:

"Now Annie, it's ok to blush a little. After all, you have spent one hour watching very explicit porn. There may be two reasons for your blushing. First, the video itself may have embarrassed you, I think it is a quite graphic journey through the jungle of human sexuality. However, I got the impression that it didn't show anything you haven't seen one way or another before, so if would put my bet on the second explanation; that you are a bit ashamed sitting here, knowing that I know what turned you on..."

I smiled back at him. "Well, I don't know what you think you know, but yes - there were things it that movie that I hadn't expected to have that effect. I think I'm mostly embarrassed thinking of your cleaning woman. Or cleaning man. I believe I made a mess."

Lawrence turned his computer screen in an angle where we both could see.

"You mean this part," he said, cuing the movie to nearly the end.

It was me, lying naked in a comfortable upholstered chair; the barcalounger version of a gynecological chair. My legs are spread, each resting on - and strapped - to stirrups. I still have the electronic sensors taped to my head and my chest, with cords connected to the monitor device at the side of the chair. Standing between my legs is a woman in a short white coat, a bit more modest than the sex-shop nurse uniform I had in my secret closet back home, but not much more. She's concentrating on the job at task, fingering my pussy systematically while holding a huge vibrating tool directly on my clitoris.

"She's skilled, don't you think?" Lawrence asked, watching my body turn and twist in my restraints under her administration of pure ecstasy.

"Yes..." I admitted dreamingly, remembering the feeling of losing control and letting go. I steeled myself for what I knew would be happening onscreen next.

Lawrence turned the volume up to so be both could hear my pleading in the video: "Please, please, please - let me come. Fuck me! Fuck me!" And we both could see how my wishes was granted. The woman intensified her finger fucking of my pussy, and telling me in her deep sexy voice, "It's okay, you can come now. Just let go..."

And I had done as I was told. I watched myself scream in pleasure as the word's most visible and audible orgasm hit my body. The woman reacted with even more forceful stimulation, the whole time keeping the vibrator straight on my sweet spot. My body shook, my head was thrown from side to side, as waves of pleasure ravaged every nerve. And there it was: From my pussy came a new sound, a splashing as her fingers was plunging into the sudden and huge amounts of fluids in my pussy, cascading from her fingers onto the floor. Between my gasping for breath, you could hear a happy whisker from my mouth: "Yes, yes... I want... I want..."

"No need for fancy equipment to register that arousal," Lawrence said smilingly. "We believe that after one full hour of porn and stimulation, our patrons deserve a relief. Do you know what you were thinking during that final phase? What was it you were asking for after that wonderful squirting experience?"

"I have no idea where my mind was while she was stimulating me. The last I remember was just after the end of the video. When she started to use her fingers on me, I had this realisation of what's going to happen tomorrow. Nothing concrete, just the anticipation of letting others take care of me in ways beyond my control. I think I may have asked myself whether I really wanted this or not, and I may have given the answer there at the end... And I still do, Lawrence, I want to go through with tomorrow, whatever your findings are."

"I'm glad to hear that, Annie. And please don't worry about the mess on the floor, we pride ourselves of our hygienic standard, and we always clean the surfaces thoroughly before and after our activities. Now, I will give you a quick run-through of my analysis, but do you have any questions before we start?"

"Well, I was told before the examination that you would be recording me on video to help with the analysis. But I noticed that all the scenes in the video seemed to be shot in the same two rooms, and I believe I recognized your wonderful helper in some of the scenes. Will you be filming tomorrow as well?"

"Yes," said Lawrence bluntly, "we record every activity inside this area of Desert Delight. Sometimes it's actually part of the patron's experience, for those who have that specific wish or a strong exhibitionistic trigger. But most importantly, it's for the safety of both parties - if any misdoing should occur, you can ask to see the recording as proof. Most members are of course aware of the consequences of breach of confidentiality on their side, but the agreement also states that Desert Delight will be held responsible for any leaked footage, with 100.000 dollars in compensation to the member."

I nodded. "And the girls in the scenes, were they actors?"

"No, they were patrons, just like you. Knowing that the video would be used in this way, was an important part of the setting for their experience."

I swallowed, anxious.

"Will you be using the footage of me this way?"

"Let's not jump into conclusions, Annie." Lawrence looked at me. "You would look wonderful and sexy, I'm sure. But to easy your mind; no, I have opted for not having a cameraman on the set, it will just be the security cameras in the room recording.

"However," Lawrence continued, "to reveal a little from our findings, it was a possible option. But the basics first. Here at Desert Delight we focus on a quite simple model of sexual triggers. We have narrowed the whole specter of possible arousing phenomenons down to just two. There are of course many more, but knowing that our patrons have sought our services, makes it easier. We don't do romantic dinner ending in a rose-petal covered bed and sweet promises of an everlasting relationship, although that scenery is a strong aphrodisiac for some people. Our patrons - you - have come here in search of something else. In my terminology, what you are looking for, consciously or subconsciously, can be categorized in one out of two groups: pain or humiliation."

I couldn't hide my reaction. "Are you serious?"

"I am," Lawrence said calmly. "Let me explain further, and before you jump to some sexist conclusions, let me stress that there are two ends of both pain and humiliation - you can be subject to it, or you can be administering it. My findings suggest that sexual tension is nature's way of dealing with life. If you normally are in a position where you are expected to be dominant or responsible, a submissive role in sex is a time-out, a relief from the world's expectations. If you on the other hand lack control in your work-life, or always give up control of the remote-control in your house, a dominant role in sex seems to be a way of regaining balance. And how do we achieve domination or submission in sex?"

"By inflicting or receiving pain or humiliation", I said, always the clever pupil.

"Good girl!" Lawrence replied jokingly. "So throughout the examination video, there are scenes showing either a dominant or submissive woman, and our readings of your arousal will place you on either side of the whip. I do however believe you already know the answer to that question, don't you Annie?"

I knew. I knew both the handle and the triangular leather end of our riding crop back home, and however fun and satisfactory it could be to deal out those red marks on Donald's ass cheeks, it didn't compare with the feeling of pulling down my panties, going down on my knees, and raise my ass for Donald. I nodded.

"Actually, we got quite a good reading of this in the very beginning," Donald continued, and cued the video back to the start. I watched myself enter the room, introduce myself to the woman called Donna in her nurse outfit. I'm asked to take off my robe, and lay down in the chair, placing my legs in the stirrups. After strapping down my legs and arms, Donna fastens the sensor pads to my forehead and temples. Then she tells me she will insert the vaginal sensor, showing me a dildo-ish instrument - not intimidatingly big, perhaps five inches long.

"Now look at the side of the screen," interrupts Lawrence, pausing the video and pointing out to graphs to the right of the video. "The upper one shows the reading from your brain impulses relating to arousal. Our software filters out other sensory impulses, such as fear or anger. The higher reading, the stronger vibe, the hornier Annie - quite simple. To have a double-check and to be sure that the filtering of other impulses are functioning, this lover one -", Lawrence points on the screen, "shows the reading of the vaginal sensor. Dip it in a bucket of water, and it will read a humidity of 100 %, when inserted into you, anything above 50 will indicate that your pussy is getting wet. Let's see what happens when Donna insert the sensor..." He pushed "play".

On the video, Donna worked the unlubricated - for good reasons - dildo into my pussy. The graph showed a stable reading of around 50 % at first, but as Donna shoved it all the way in and gave me a couple of good long strokes with the black rubber sensor, the graph almost hit the roof.

"Do you remember this, Annie?"

"Of course... I love the feeling of being penetrated a little forcefully, I know I always get wet quickly afterwards. Does it make me a bad person?" I asked in mock innocence.

"We'll probably punish you tomorrow anyway" replied Lawrence, without mockery.

The video went on, and now with a split view that allowed us to watch the video of the examination in sync with the video I was watching from my chair. I remembered the opening sequence of the video, showing a rough large industrial room. In the center of the room is a quite large raised platform, with several dozens chairs in a horse-shoe around the platform. The chairs are mostly occupied by men, semi-formally dressed in suits, some of them accompanied by women in evening dresses. A woman dressed in a schoolgirl uniform - the patron - is led to the stage by Donna and another man, and asked to strip. She does a decent strip tease, but she is obviously not a professional stripper. Keeping an eye on the sexvibe-graph next to the video of me watching, I see that her entrance on the stage made the graph hit the roof, calming down a little while she does her slow dance while undressing, but booming again when she is finally ordered down on her knees, and opens her mouth for the first cock. The vaginal sensor shows the same thing; one minute into the examination, and I'm already horny as hell.

"Can you confirm the readings?" Lawrence asks me.

I feel a sting of embarrassment as I clear my throat.

"Yes... You told me to put myself into the role of the woman, and I pictured myself as her being led to the stage, understanding that I had to remove my clothes. The dancing didn't do much for me, but when she was commanded down on her knees... Well, you see the result."

Lawrence pauses the playback. "You made it quite hard for Donna, you know." He smiles at my questioning face. "You were told to hold back you orgasms, because strong orgasms would make the readings more difficult. At the same time, she must make sure you remain focused and give you just enough stimulation with that big vibrating tool - the hitachi or magic wand - to keep the patron in a state of arousal. But with you... She could hardly touch your pussy without the readings reaching close-to-orgasm levels immediately. So that final relief was really deserved. Now let's focus on some interesting parts of the examination."

While cuing the movie, Lawrence continued: "I'm always looking for some patterns, to find the triggers that works on you. You already know that you are on the submissive side, but what part of the submission is it that makes your juices flow? I know now some things that we can rule out, like this." He pointed to the screen.

The video I was watching from my examination chair, showed a woman being fucked by two men. "See the sexvibe-indicator at a steady 80 %? Obviously you're doing fine with a good old double penetration, but see what happens now." He turned the volume up, letting me once again hear the dialog from the scene: "You like that, you bitch? Tell me you're my slut, my whore!" The woman turned her blurry eyes to the camera obviously held by one of the men, exclaiming "Yes, I'm your slut! I'm your slut! Please please fuck me!"

Lawrence placed his finger on the dropping graph monitoring my hornyness. "Verbal abuse seems to be a no-go," he said calmly.

I was relieved. "Not even Donald gets to badmouth me. Call me a prude."

"We'll call you Annie," said Lawrence. "However, there is a pattern here. Now look at this." He had cued the movie to another scene. This woman was being asked to position herself on a upholstered leather bench. She obediently did, and waited while her arms and legs were tied to the feet of the bench. Lawrence must have seen that I checked the monitoring of my brainwaves and my wetness, confirming my interpretation: "It really makes you horny, doesn't it? Watching her position herself for her whipping?" Both indicators were in the red zone, indicating close to orgasm, and staying there for the first slashes of the whip. I nodded, feeling aroused all over again. "But watch the levels now, as the punishment continues." The woman in question seemed to be happy as a pie being whipped and spanked, even receiving a couple of soft strokes on her cheeks. However looking to the readings of my hornyness, it was a significant drop. "You're still aroused, imagining yourself being taken care of this way, but not as much as a few seconds ago. To me, it seems like it's the anticipation that gives you the strongest thrill, perhaps more than the action itself."

I didn't reply, but knew for sure that any reading of my pussy wetness right now, anticipating tomorrow's actions, would be very conclusive in confirming Lawrence's analysis.

Lawrence continued: "Imagining yourself being led to the stage was more arousing than actually doing the strip tease. Offering your pussy and ass to be freely fucked is a turn-on, but not being called a slut. Preparing for the whipping - well, you saw for yourself. I could go on, showing you your reactions to the big-dick-scene..."

"I get it," I said, remembering that scene. A quite petite woman presented to an oversized dick, trying to accommodate as much as possible in her mouth. I knew the thought of it made me horny. Just a few days before, Donald and I had watched in awe when a nice woman from Seattle tried to do the same thing to her husband's sizeable and full-grown member. He was sitting on the edge of the pool, she happily dipping naked in the water. It really had been a wonderful week... But I also remembered the times Donald had tried to satisfy me with his favourite toy. I always was happy and horny for being able to take the big black thing all the way in my pussy, but I very quickly grew tired with him trying to fuck me with it.

"OK. Just let me show you one more finding," said Lawrence. "I think this will be more of a surprise for you."

"I'm not a lesbian?" I asked jokingly.

He smiled. "I wouldn't know, but I know you like to picture yourself going down on a woman... No, something very different. Look at this."

He had once again moved to another bookmark in his video. A woman was kneeling on the floor, looking up as a man opened the fly of his trousers and pulled out a semi-erect dick. He stroked it a couple of times, but keeping it just an inch from her lips. I saw both graphs pointing upwards. The woman opened her mouth and presented her tongue, but the man kept his distance instead of feeding it to her. As his first drops of pee trickled onto her tongue, my sexvibe graph suddenly dropped.

"You didn't expect that, did you?" asked Lawrence.

"I don't know," I said, "I think I somehow knew what was going to happen, but perhaps hoping as long as possible that he wouldn't actually pee on her."

"Why? I could show you how aroused you became of thinking of letting three men all ejaculate into your mouth - this shouldn't be so different?"

Feeling safe with Lawrence, I told him of my only experience with wet sex, in the shower with Donald one lazy Sunday morning, actually not sure if it qualified as sex - him relieving himself on my pussy and legs. "It just seems messy and smelly," I said finishing my story.

"It's all about preparation," Lawrence explained, "it doesn't have to be the odor of a men's restroom. As for the mess, between the semen and squirting that we aim to produce here, a little puddle of your nectar is no worry. Anyway, here comes what I wanted to show you."

The video had continued, and the woman was now drenched from the spray from his dick. He had aimed his stream from her mouth to all over her face, and now he was splashing over her round firm tits. There was no denying the woman's arousal as she massaged her tits, squirming from pleasure, and willingly opening her mouth again as the stream once again fell on her face. I felt the blushing in my face as I looked at the graphs - both showing beyond doubt that I easily followed the woman's arousal after the initial dramatic drop.