The Spotter's Club Ch. 01-02

We went back to the changing closet, and she closed the door behind me, latched it. She led me through the black curtains, and through what seems another door, and I had the distinctive feeling that I was in a bigger room. She unhooked my collar, I could feel her hair and her face just in front of my blindfold. She walked around me to untie my wrist.

"You can relax now." She said, "You have at least 10 minutes."

I "relaxed", bringing my hands to the front and rubbing my wrists.

"I didn't do it too tight, did I?" She said with a genuine concern.

"Oh, no. You ... you were perfect." I actually didn't know why I was rubbing my wrist. It was something to do.

"By the way, for your first time, you did well." She said. I hear a slight smile in her voice, in my darkness.

"I was nervous." I said something honest at last.

"I know." She said, "I still am, when I go to the auction."

She paused. Then came a knock on the door. She went, and came back with papers in her hand.

"These are the bidder's requests." She said.

I nodded. I have read about that part. The winning bidder, or bidders, can make a list of requests, and I have the option to say yes or no to each of them, and I can choose to leave if I want to.

"I am going to read these to you. You can interrupt any time, you can refuse or say yes, and if you need further clarification, I will ask for a written communication from the bidder." She said these fluently, as if she was going through flight safety instructions on an airplane.

"Can I sit?" I asked.

"Oh, sure." She came over, holding my elbow and back, lowered me down. I could feel her hand, and the fabric of her sleeves stretched tightly over her arm. I was sitting on the edge of a firm bed and fresh and crisp sheets.

She sat down next to door. I could feel her weight, indirectly, by feeling how the sheets stretch.

"This is a group." She began, "There are three men."

She paused, and waited. I had nothing to say. My mind was racing, but I was eager to hear the rest.

"Here are what they have checked off," she said, and proceeded to read off a checked list.

"Blow jobs for all three."

"Swallow."

"Ejaculation on face or body."

"Ropes."

"Hands tied."

"Anal. One at a time. Changing positions."

"Submissive style."

"Pre-lube."

I finally interrupted, "What is that?"

"Oh, I am sorry ... it's pre-lubrication. I am used to the abbreviation." She apologized. "Sometimes bidders would prefer not to do the lubrication themselves, so I would prepare you ahead of time."

"Okay." I nodded.

She flipped through her paper. "I think that's all. What do you think?"

"I am okay." I said.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She signed off something on the paper. "Let's get ready then."

She stood up, and went outside the room to get something. She came back, and I heard the rubber gloves snap on.

"Do you want to be on your back, and front?" She said.

I wasn't sure.

"... for the pre-lube, I mean, pre-lubrication." She clarified.

"Oh. Right." I said ... and still unsure, I laid down on the bed, and with some hesitation, spread my knees apart. I don't know what she can see. I sensed, though cannot be sure, that the light was dim in this room.

I felt her putting one knee on the bed and felt her weight. She rubbed her gloved hands and I can hear the sound the rubber. Then, she spread an oily gel from the base of my balls, still in straps, all the way to my anal entry.

She got more gel, and this time, with one or two fingers, she stretched out my anus. I voluntarily lifted my hips to help her.

"Oh, thanks." She said, as she inserted her fingers into my anus. She lubricated the inside by turning her fingers. Pulling out, she repeated it a few times.

"Do you think you need more?" She asked.

"No, I am okay." I said.

"Okay."

She looked through the papers again. "They want your hands strapped behind your back to start. And they want you to start on your knees."

I sat up, and then stood up. I could feel where her fingers had been ... or the absence of them. She strapped my hands behind my back. Leading me by my arms, she helped me to kneel down, one leg at a time.

"All set." Her voice lowered. "Do you need anything?"

"No. Thank you." I said.

"I ... ", she cleared her throat, "I am going to leave now. I am right next door. And I am going to see everything. I'll make sure they don't do anything that is not on the list. And when they are done, I'll come back to clean you up."

I nodded, too nervous to speak.

She lowered herself in front of me, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'll be here. The whole time. Okay?"

I nodded again.

She stood up, and I heard her footsteps moving away, and a door closed and opened. I am alone.

---

This was the "user" part of the experience. This was the main event. As you probably had gathered for now, individuals who were users were inspected by bidders, and bought. The money actually went directly to the club. The spotters and the users were unpaid entirely. This sidesteps some legal issues, I suspect. The "user" was actually a bit of a misnomer. From the description, it was more like "the used". Once the main session began, the only thing between the user and the bidder(s) is the spotter, who could stop the action any time if she determined that something was not right. That's all.

I was not alone for very long.

I heard the door open, and multiple people entered, and I heard the door latched behind them.

The bidders walked around the room, and I heard their coats come off. They walked around me ... I felt being looked at, but not yet touched.

Now, perhaps a note of explanation would help. I was not gay. I had never been gay. I was once kissed hard by a man, who invited me to bed. I politely declined. In my fantasies, I thought of gay experiences sometimes. In reality, I had seldom been physically drawn to a man, gay or otherwise. But the thought of being used, by men, had always been intriguing to me. I knew that, as a user, I did not get to pick who the bidder was. But in my fantasies building up to this moment, I had somehow always envisioned the first experience to be with men. And so it was.

I heard belts unbuckling. I heard people sitting down.

A male voice in front of me commanded, "Come over here. On your knees."

I walked on my knees towards the voice.

"Stop."

I stopped.

"Suck me." The voice commanded.

I felt a hand on the back of my head, lowering me. Instinctively, I opened my mouth, and soon a fleshy, not yet bone hard, penis was in my mouth. I tried to wrap my lips around it. It felt big. I did not have time to think that this was my first experience of sucking on an actual penis.

I sucked on the head of the penis, and feel it swell. As I sucked, the inside of my mouth seems to expand, and able to take in a little more. I could feel the veined shaft under the swollen head, and I licked the downside of his penis with my tongue. I tried to take more in, as I feel the pressure from the hand on the back of my head. My mouth felt full, but I could still breathe. My saliva was flowing.

My head bopped to a steady rhythm. I couldn't quit tell when his hand was driving it, or following it ... and soon, even if I had wanted to change pace, I couldn't. He held my head low enough that, even when I bob up, the entire head of his penis was still in my mouth.

I felt another hand, from a different person, on my shoulder. A third hand started to run down my back. I feel some pre-cum oozing from the slit opening of the penis, diluted and salty, I tried to swallow and mix it with my saliva.

"Swallow it. I am coming." My bidder said.

I prepared myself.

He tensed up. His penis hardened even more than before. His hand was moving fast, and with each downward push, I felt his penis at the back of my throat (in reality, it probably was not that deep, but it felt that way). I was on the edge of gagging, but not yet.

He grunted, and he leaned forward. Pressing my head down onto his penis, he started to shift and pump in his chair. It was more like a rocking than a mouth-fucking that I had seen in videos. With more grunt, and a louder one, he ejaculated. It was warm, thick, and the first few streams went almost straight into my throat, and before I could think of to swallow, my mouth started to fill up. He held my head tight, and I held my own breath. I feel his semen filing up my mouth, and seeping out from the corner. Gradually, the coming stopped, though his penis was just as hard. I can feel him collapsing into the chair, his hand off my head. I slowly pulled my head up, and with my mouth full of cum, I swallowed. It went down, and not easily.

"You guys' turn." My first bidder generously passed me on.

"Get up." I hear a voice coming from behind me. I stood up, one knee at a time. I felt the sticky cum around my face and my mouth. A firm and strong hand grabbed on my arm and led me towards where the bed is. With a push, I felt face down into the bed, my penis hanging off the edge of the bed, and my feet still on the ground.

I felt his hand on my butt, and his finger probed to find my anus. He swirled around a little, and was satisfied with the lubrication.

With a hand holding my lower back down, he used his foot to spread my legs wider. Then I felt a wandering hardened penis finding its way around my butt. He rubbed it against my strapped balls and ran the head along the crack of my butt. Then, he focused in on my anus, and aligned himself.

He pushed.

It felt very big. I felt my anus tightening instead of relaxing, and he pushed harder. He found the opening, and pushed again. I let out a whimper, but tried to keep myself as quietly as possible.

"Tight ass." He said, chuckling to his friends.

"Stretch it for me!" Retorted another, the third person.

He realigned, and pushed again ... and this time, his head parted my tight opening and went inside. It was painful. I felt my skin down there was tearing. I buried my face into the sheets, and tried not to be heard.

He pushed steadily, hard, but not brutal, until I felt stretched even farther apart and deeper. I cannot tell how far he was in, but it felt how far as my body could allow it. He stopped, taking a breath, and started to pull out. And about half-way out, he pushed in again.

The fucking began.

He fucked away. Steadily, no rush, but not slow either. I tried to turn my head to the side to breathe. My hands still strapped behind my back. My legs were barely standing, but wedged against the bed. He put both of his hands on my hips, and fucked my ass with a steady rhythm. It was full. It was painful. I couldn't feel my penis, except for when his hips grinded my hips, pushing my penis against the bed.

I heard a grunt behind my back. I felt him lifting me up by my strapped arms. I am now standing, sort of. I was barely on my feet, and the only thing that's supporting me was the swollen penis impaled inside me. As my weight inevitably shifted onto that, the penis penetrated even deeper into me. I started to breathe loudly with my mouth open, trying to avoid crying out.

Almost half lifting me on top of his body, he fucked me standing up. My thighs, now tighter together, put even greater pressure onto his penis, and he sped up to almost a ramming speed, with thrust accompanied by a deep grunt.

"Ahhhh ..." His grip on my arms tightened like a vice, his body shuddered, and he pushed in as deep as he could. I felt his penis throbbing. I cannot feel his cum. The pain had numbed much of other sensations inside me. He thrashed and thrusted for a while, to finish the job.

"Man!" He pulled out with a final declaration, and pushed me back onto the bed. I laid face down on the bed, breathing heavily to recover myself. My anus felt stretched and raw, and hollow -- from his pull-out. I could feel cum dripping down one side of my thigh, sticky, warm.

"Okay! All yours." My second bidder passed me forward.

"Um ..." I could hear the last one walking around, "What do I want? What do I want?" He asked himself.

I lay completely still, awaiting my verdict.

Then I feel him fumbling with my strapped hands. He untied me.

"On your knees."

I pushed myself off the bed, with arms sore from being bent all this time. I knelt down at the end of the bed. I could feel him standing over me.

"Use your hands." He said. "Suck me."

I reached up, and finding both his thighs at the same time. They were thick, hairy, and firm. I clasped my hands toward the middle, and found the base of his balls. They were hairy and large. Moving along, I traced the shaft, and found myself holding a thick, hard penis. Inching my knees forward, the penis was at my head level. I opened my mouth to run my tongues around his head, as I have seen in videos, but have never done. Meanwhile, I put one hand under his ball sack, with my middle finger near the space between his balls and his anus, full of bushy pubic hair. My other hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, and with a soft grip, I started to stroke his skin up and down.

"Suck it!" He dictated.

I wrapped my whole mouth around the head of his penis. Raising my body upon by releasing one knee, I started to bop my mouth up and down his penis. I licked, slapping as much saliva on his penis as I could manage.

"Your finger. Work it in."

I think I know what he meant. I reached up further, and stuck on finger into his anus.

"More."

I tried two ... and pushed up. He tightened his muscles around my finger, as I started to stoke inside and out. I used my free thumb to rub against the underside of his genital as my fingers thrusted.

"Not bad." He said ... though he seems to have difficulty saying the words clearly. I can feel his muscles tighten everywhere.

This went on for a few minutes. I did begin to wonder if he was going to come. His penis was hard. Pre-cum seeps out.

"Okay. Stop." He says.

I stopped, and pulled my mouth off his penis, and my fingers out of his anus. My other hand still clasping his shaft.

"I am going to sit down and you are going to ride me. Reverse cowgirl."

He started to back up, and I followed him holding on to his penis. He sat down, and I turned myself around and reached for his penis again. Found it.

He put his hands on my butt, as I lowered myself onto him. With held breath, I pushed down on him as his swollen head entered me. He was at least as big as the last one, but thick all the way. As I lowered myself, he didn't push. I went down about half way, and couldn't push any further because of the splitting pain. I rose a few inches without taking him out, and pushed down again. With a few tries, he went in as far as it seemed to be able to go.

"Wow. Still tight." He said to his friend.

"Nice," was the reply.

Once he was in, he started to move my hips up and down. I held to his knees to support myself, and started to ride him. It still hurts, but not as bad as when I was face down on the bed. Somehow, having control of the pace helped a great deal.

It did not take too long, perhaps a few minutes ... he started to grunt, his hands are tighter on my hips, and I started to hold his penis by the tip on the rise, and thrust down as much as I can within the limits of my pain tolerance.

That apparently worked very well for him. He exploded on one of my downward pushes, and grabbed my hips hard and slammed me down onto himself as he came. Because I could cry out in pain, he lifted my hips up and slammed me down again. It was hard fucking. I could not hold back my own whimper.

"Ahhh ... Ahhh! ... Ahhh!" I lost my awareness of my surrounding. All I can feel was his penis in me, deeper and deeper each time, tearing me, throbbing, and squirting with each throb.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He shouted loudly, and seemed to come much longer than the other two. Or maybe he kept going after he was done. When he finally put me down and I sat back down on his thighs, still impaled, and holding onto his knees, shaking from my arms to my legs. His penis softened. I started to stand up, and he slipped out with another grunt.

I was barely standing, and shaking.

"Clean me off." He said, not so much as a command, but as a matter-of-fact request.

I turned around, kneeled down, and felt for his penis. It was still thick, though limp. I put it in my mouth, and, ignoring the different smells and taste that seem to come together on my tongue, I licked and cleaned him with my mouth.

"Okay." He finally said. "You are done."

I climbed up, stepped back. Not knowing what to do next, I stepped back awkwardly, and reached for the bed to sit down.

The men, all three of us, seemed to have forgotten me entirely. I heard them pulling up pants, and chatting amongst themselves (but not about this). And within minutes, they left the room, and I heard the door close behind them.

I climbed myself onto the bed, and curled up in a fetal position, and feeling the overwhelming throbbing and tearing pain in my ass, and feeling the stickiness on my face, between my legs, and the mixed smell of my three bidders.

That was when, for the first time since the session began, I remembered Katie and remember that fact that she had been watching in the next time, this entire time.

  Chapter 3. Recovery

The least described was the so-called "recovery" procedures following the session. The instruction I received seem to imply that it is something to be worked out between the spotter and the user, and there were very little explicit guidelines set, not even on the length of time. A user could sleep and rest in the bed till early morning, before he or she decides to re-enter the world above.

I laid there, wondering what this all meant. The door opened.

"Hi." It was Katie.

"Hi." I replied, not moving. I didn't think there was any position I'd like to be seen right now, so no adjustments or moving could improve it.

I heard the sound of water splashing inside a container. I felt her climbing onto the bed, and then the feel of a warm soft wash cloth. She first wiped my face, the back of my neck, and wiping that stickiness that felt stuck on my face.

Then, rinsing the wash cloth, she wiped my thighs, my balls, and my swollen anus. The warmth made the pain more acute there, but I wouldn't trade that warmth.

While I was alone a minute ago, I felt the rush of shame, pain, guilt, embarrassment, humiliation, regret throughout my body, and anticipated that I would feel much worse in the presence of Katie, who had witnessed the entire session. But instead, her presence seemed to have gently lifted all of that off me, as she gently wiped me down. Her presence, her motion, was neither done with a detached professional air, nor in any way sexual. She simply was. Maybe I wanted to feel that way ... but there was an easy acceptance that came from her. It was not that sort of condescending acceptance like "oh, you poor miserable sinner, I forgive you", but a camaraderie, more like, "you don't have to say anything, you don't have to justify anything ... you are here. I am too."

I felt the urge to see her, to touch her ... not to have her, just to know her.

I laid still, and turned my body and moved my legs to give her space. She did a second wipe down. I am still aching and parts of my body were still throbbing with pain. But I felt clean.

"I'll be right back." She climbed off the bed, and I heard her putting away the bucket in the next room. Then she came back, sat on the bed. I felt her lean down, perhaps on her elbow. In the darkness, I could still feel her looking at me. I grew slightly self-conscious.

"How would you like to recover?" She asked. "What can I do?"

I never thought of that question. Even when I pre-read the instructions, this was a part that never occurred to me to think through. My thoughts and obsessions had been with the session itself, and "recovery" almost meant "the end". But now I see why there was a recovery period. Of course, the body needed it. But something much deeper, much more insecure and unsure, needed it too.