The Orgy

I am not a rich man, at least not by the standards of the really rich. But I am doing quite well and I am economically secure. I have a job with a very good salary, and live alone in a small house. I do not have any worries about my economy, if I want to eat out on an ordinary Wednesday, or if I want to go traveling for vacation, I can do it without worrying about the budget. If I wanted to drive a Tesla, I could buy one, but then I would have to cut down on the traveling. My point being that I am economically secure, and it is easy to be honest when you have no real need to do otherwise. I do not claim any moral superiority, if I had truly needed the money I would probably have taken it!

I had been at a business meeting downtown, it had gone well but had taken longer than expected, and I decided to call it a day and go directly home. I had parked the car on a street nearby, somebody had placed a flyer under the left wiper. When I removed it I happened to look down, and saw a wallet half-way under the left front wheel. I picked it up and threw it on the passenger seat, undoubtedly the pick-pocket had emptied it of value, but probably the owner would appreciate getting his cards back.

Once I got home I looked in the wallet, hoping to find a driver's license or a credit card with a name on. Instead, I saw a thick pad of money, mostly hundred-dollar bills. I had found the local drug lord's wallet!

I knew that I should put down the wallet, and call the cops. But my curiosity won over my common sense as I saw a black credit card. I pulled it out, and read the name: John C. Slate. Not the local drug lord, then. The not quite local billionaire; owner and CEO of Slate Industries. I also found a few of his business cards, with a direct phone number on it. I called the number right away.

A female voice answered, "Mr. Slate's office. How can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, my name is Christian Pohler. I just found Mr. Slate's wallet, and would like to return it."

"Oh thank you very much, that will save some trouble. Could I ask you to mail it to us?"

"Well," I said, hesitating. "I am not completely comfortable sending this by mail. There is quite a lot of money in the wallet, forty or fifty grand by the look of it."

"Really?" She sounded genuinely surprised, "I would have thought it had been emptied. Could you please hold for a moment?"

Her voice was replaced by some boring music for half a minute or so, then a male voice picked up.

"Good afternoon, Mr Pohler. John Slate speaking. I hear you found my wallet, and with money in it, even. And you want to return it to me, great. In my business, you sometimes forget that honest people still exist! I will send a man to pick it up."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he continued, "When I was a kid, my mother told me that if you found a wallet on the street, you should give it to the police, they would then pay you ten percent as finders fee. I am afraid that is not how it works in reality, but I still think that is how it should work! I'll make sure you get your reward."

Then he seemed to hesitate again. "Forgive my bluntness, but are you married, Mr. Pohler?"

"No, I am single," I answer, wondering why he asks.

"Then ... well ... Well, thank you very much, please give your address to my PA, then I will send somebody for the wallet." I was then transferred back to the woman, who took down my address.

Two hours later, as I was considering whether I should bother cooking dinner, or just order take-away, my doorbell rang. It was a middle-aged man in a business suit.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Pohler. I am Johnson from Slate Industries. Mr. Slate sent me for the wallet."

I invited him in and gave him the wallet. He took it and counted the money, 41 thousand dollars.

"Mr. Slate instructed me to give you this," he said, handing me a bit over four thousand. "And he also told me to invite you to a party. It is on May 17, that is a Saturday. Will you be able to come?"

I accepted, and then he continued. "Do I understand it correctly that you are single? No wife or girlfriend?"

I nodded, wondering where this will lead.

"Good. As you may know, Mr. Slate is a man with strong opinions about how things should be done. He would like to invite you to a somewhat formal party on May 17. However, it is a matter of principle for Mr. Slate that the guests do not come alone. Don't worry, we will arrange for a suitable lady to accompany you."

He must have seen my alarmed expression, for he smiled as he continued, "Don't worry! We are not setting you up with a date. You are not expected to pretend that she is your partner or your girlfriend or anything like that. She will merely be an elegant lady accompanying you, that is all there is to it."

I did not want to offend a man who had just been very generous, so with some unease I accepted.

"It is formal party, black tie. Do you have a tux? Good, then I will send you a plane ticket for the 17th. You will fly in the morning, then I or one of my colleagues will take you to your hotel room, where you can change. You'll then fly back on the 18th. Is that okay with you?"

I confirmed it, slightly overwhelmed by what was happening.

...

I received the ticket by email next morning. I still felt slightly uncomfortable, but decided to play along and just enjoy the party, and on the morning of the 17th I went to the airport. After a short flight, I was picked up by Mr. Johnson who drove me to a hotel where a room was ready for me. I was asked to be ready in the lobby at five PM, where Mr. Johnson would pick me and my companion up.

At ten minutes to five, I was back in the lobby, wearing a tuxedo and feeling ready to walk into a James Bond movie. Johnson was already there. We talked about nothing in particular while waiting for my companion. Suddenly, he looked at the lifts and smiled. I looked, too, and almost dropped my jaw. It was Jolene Varnamo! I was going to a party with Jolene frigging Varnamo! She is mainly known for her roles in a few recent Hollywood movies, not leading roles but good supporting roles, where she is clearly not afraid of showing some skin. And then I of course knew her from Playboy last month, where she was on the front page and quite a number of pages inside!

By the time she reached us, I had regained my composure and greeted her without looking like a complete fool. She was wearing a long, blue evening dress, showing a significant amount of cleavage, and with long slits on both sides showing her beautiful legs as she walked. We left the hotel in a large limousine, with Johnson as the driver. Jolene had a warm personality, and she smiled a lot as we chatted on the back seat, until she asked me if Johnson had briefed me on the party.

"Not really, no," I replied.

"Not nice. Really not nice. Well, I'll better do it, or you will have no clue what is going on. You see, it is not just a party, it is part of the power-play among the topmost leaders in Slate Industries. I really don't know why Slate invited you, he may have some ulterior motive, or maybe he just likes to meet an honest man. We'll see, perhaps.

"In any case, the guests will be the absolute top of Slate Industries, and their trophy wives. This is where Slate shows them that they are part of his inner circle, but also where he shows them that he is the boss, and that they have to be willing to humiliate themselves and in particular their wives for his entertainment. Expect to see a lot of nudity and lewd behavior.

"And at the end, Slate will select one of the wives, and keep her for the night!"

"Seriously?" I blurted out. "And what about you? Do you risk that you have to spend the night with him? And what does his wife say to this?"

"Don't worry, he will not pick me. What would he gain by humiliating you? As for his wife, she seems to enjoy the game and she usually keeps one of the guys for her own nightly entertainment."

"You seem well informed. Have you been to many of these parties?"

"Yes," she answers. Then she laughs, "but this is the first time as a guest."

I never got to ask what she meant by that, since we arrived at a large mansion. A large red carpet was on the stairs leading to the front door, and two muscular men in tuxedos stood on the stair, the tuxes unable to hide that they were security. They looked at us as we left the limo, then they stepped aside and greeted us by name. We entered the large building, where the red carpet continued up a large marble stair and turned to the right. In front of a large wooden door a naked woman was standing, with a wooden staff in her right hand. As we approached, she opened the door and stepped inside. When we entered, she slammed the staff into the floor with a loud bang, and announced our arrival.

"Mr. Christian Pohler and Ms. Jolene Varnamo!"

There were a dozen people in the room, middle-aged men in tuxedos, and their young beautiful wives in revealing dresses. Jolene and I walked around and greeted all the couples, then a naked young woman approached us with a tray full of champagne glasses. We both took a glass, and Jolene reached out to pat the woman on her tits.

"You can touch them, you know," she said to me.

"Indeed you can, wherever you like," the young woman replied, but I was too stunned to do anything.

Moments later, another naked waitress came with some canapés. This time I reached out, and gently touched her breast, feeling her nipple in my hand. She smiled as I did it, and I completely forget to take a canapé. Then the door opened again, and the naked girl with the staff came back.

"Mr. Abdul Alhazred and Mrs. Fatima Alhazred," she announced.

I recognized Mr. Alhazred immediately, he often appeared on TV as the spokesman for Slate Industries. I knew he was Egyptian, having come to the US rather late in his life, and his wife was clearly from the same part of the world. She was wearing a traditional muslim dress, her hair completely covered by a scarf, and long sleeves covering her arms so only the hands were free. The long dress reached all the way to the floor, almost completely hiding any feminine forms.

They began greeting all the guests, and as they reached us she took my hand and her face lit up in a beautiful smile as she presented herself. Her husband also gave a first impression as a friendly man.

When the naked waitress approached them, Fatima did something that seemed completely out of character for a person dressed in such a conservative manner. With one hand, she took a glass of champagne, and with the other she first groped both of the woman's breasts, before reaching down rubbing her shaved pussy. The waitress seemed completely unsurprised by this behavior.

Moments later, the girl with the staff had moved to a door in the opposite side of the hall. She slammed her staff into the floor again, and opened the door.

"Mr. John Slate and Mrs. Belinda Slate!"

John Slate was wearing a tuxedo not unlike what the rest of us men were wearing, but Belinda's dress was the most revealing of them all, indecent even. It was blue, slightly darker that Jolene's. In the right side, it covered her shoulder and a long sleeve covered her arm. But in the left side her shoulder and arm were naked, and her left breast was completely exposed. On her left hip, the dress was kept together by a short golden chain, the fabric on her front and back almost but not quite met at the hip, making it obvious that she was not wearing any underwear.

Mr. Slate welcomed us with Belinda at his side. The dinner would be in the room next door, and the seating would be announced in a moment. The gentlemen should find their appointed table companion, and escort her to the table. I looked around, wondering who would be my table companion. My eyes fell on Fatima in her very conservative dress, and I felt sure that as the outsider I would get her instead of one of the ladies in revealing dresses. My speculations were interrupted by the naked girl with the staff.

"Mr. George Umbridge and Mrs. Sara de la Fleur," she announced. They quickly found each other, and he offered her his right arm, before they formally walked into the next room.

"Mr. Peter Ford and Mrs. Fatima Alhazred."

I happened to look at Peter Ford when this was announced. He genuinely looked as if he had just won the lottery, and quickly offered Fatima his arm.

"Mr. Christian Pohler and Mrs. Belinda Slate."

Wow! I am seated with the sexy hostess. I walked to her, and offered her my right arm. But she did not take it, instead she moved to my left side and placed her arm on my shoulder. I reached behind her, and placed my hand on her left hip, as she apparently expected. But to my surprise she took my hand and moved it up, so I ended up holding her exposed breast. Fondling the hostess' tit, we walked into the next room. With some trepidation I glanced at Mr. Slate, wondering how he took this, but if he had noticed he did not show it.

As we approached the table we were shown to our seats, and Belinda got back to my right side before we sat down.

She leaned towards me and whispered, "I left it out for a reason, be free to touch it when you like."

I now saw Jolene enter with a man whose name I had forgotten. Soon, everybody were in place, and John Slate rose to welcome us to the table. Moments later the waiters approached, one for every two of us. They were all young women, and they were all naked, and as the one serving Belinda and me placed the appetizers on the table I groped her pretty ass.

Just as everybody were about to taste the food, we heard the sound of a fork gently striking a glass. It was Sebastian de la Fleur who wanted to give a speech. He spoke about Mr. Slate and his leadership in very flattering words, bordering on the servile. The speech was boring and quite frankly embarrassing, but fortunately I could place my hand on Belinda's naked breast, and pass the time by fondling her nipple. She reacted by placing her hand on my thigh, and slowly moved it towards my crotch, until she was clearly feeling my erect penis through the fabric of my pants.

Then the speech ended, and we began eating. It was delicious.

As soon as most of us had finished the appetizer, we again heard a fork strike a glass. This time it was Fatima. She rose, and waved one of the waitresses over, then she removed her shoes and gave them to the waitress. Fatima then stepped up on her chair, and continued onto the table, until she stood near the middle of the dining table. She then silently removed her scarf, revealing her long, curly black hair. She threw it to the waitress. She then removed her long dress, and then her leggings, until she stood on the table wearing only a black lace bra and black panties. She turned around slowly, giving us all a good view of her beautiful body, then she returned to her seat. We all applauded.

As the naked waitress approached us to take the plates, Belinda told her to stand between our chairs, facing her. She placed both hands on the girl's breasts and began rubbing them. I placed my hands on her ass, and rubbed it. Then, as I moved my hands up over her back, Belinda moved hers down and began rubbing her between the legs. Then Belinda asked her to turn around. She smiled as she faced me, and I began playing with her tits. Then I rubbed her shaven pussy, and finally I pushed two fingers inside her. She spread her legs slightly, letting me in, and I felt the wetness inside her. Then I pulled my fingers out, and let her carry on with her job.

Soon the main dish was on the tables, and no-one interrupted us with speeches until we had all finished eating and the plates had been removed. Then Fatima stroke her glass again, and once again stepped up on the table. She reached back, and unclasped her bra, removed it slowly and tossed it to a waitress. Then she pulled down her panties, until she stood as naked as she was born on the middle of the table. She slowly turned before returning to her seat. The two men sitting on either side of her turned towards her, and began running their hands over her naked body. She seemed to enjoy the attention.

I got inspired and placed my hand on Belinda's thigh. Since the entire left side of her dress was open, I could easily slide my hand up the inside of her thigh, until I felt the hair on her pussy. I rubbed her clit before I gathered my courage and pushed two fingers inside her. Belinda moaned. I tried to make her come, but before I succeeded the waitresses came with the desert.

Belinda whispered in my ear, "You can finish what you started later tonight." Then she leaned over and kissed me deeply on the mouth.

After dessert, it was John Slate who rose to speak. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Dinner is over, soon we shall dance. But tonight will not be an ordinary dance. First, we have an excellent live band flown in from Japan, where they are one of the hottest names on the pop scene. In a moment you will hear the Nippon Girls Septet, and you will see them play as they have never played before. Just please respect that you may under no circumstances touch the band members.

"Secondly, we will need two of you ladies to volunteer for a very special role at the dance."

Fatima's arm shot up.

"Yes, Fatima, do you have a question?"

"The volunteers, will they have to be naked?"

"I was getting to that. But yes, they will."

"Then I volunteer!"

Slate looked at her, clearly amused, "Are you sure you do not what to know what you are volunteering for?"

"No need. If it is done naked, I am clearly qualified."

Everybody laughed.

"Fine, as you wish. I will need one more volunteer, but let me first explain what..." Slate was interrupted by a tall red-haired woman, Catherine Belmont.

"I volunteer," she announced, and stood up from her seat.

"Fine," Slate said. "Get out of that dress, and get up here, then."

Catherine removed her clothes and walked up to the other end of the table, and stood behind Slate. Fatima joined her.

"So," he continued, "we shall all dance. But Fatima and Catherine have a special role, they are the catalysts so to speak. If they invite you to dance, you cannot decline. If you are to dance with a naked person, and you are still clothed, you must remove all clothes on your upper body. If you have already done that, you must remove the rest. And if you dance with somebody with a bare upper body, and you are still fully clothed, strip above the waist. Are the rules clear?"

We all nodded.

"Good. Have fun, then. And note all the beautiful girls that have been serving us all evening. As soon as you have lost your clothes they are available for your pleasure. There will be mattresses on the floor in this room, and more private rooms will be available should any prefer that. Have fun. And do not touch the band!"

The doors to the adjoining hall were opened and the music started playing. Admittedly, I had never heard of the Nippon Girls Septet, but they played well. There were clearly somewhat embarrassed at being naked on stage, but soon their stage fright left them and they showed why they were famous back in Japan.

I was about to ask Belinda for a dance, but her husband showed up and asked for her hand. Instead I found Jolene, and we danced together. After the first dance, I found myself standing next to Catherine. She offered me her hand, so I had to remove my jacked and my shirt, before following her onto the dance floor. We danced close, and she repeated rubbed her nipples against my chest. I quickly got bolder, and began playing with her tits and grabbing her ass as we dance, she clearly encouraged it. Too soon the dance was over.

I saw Belinda standing by the dance floor and walked over to her.

"Would you honor me with a dance?"

She looked at me with a wicked smile. "Then I have to strip above the waist. But with this dress, that is not possible, it will fall off. Do you really want to embarrass me by making me strip completely naked."