The Theft of Our Lives 17 Pt. 02

I reached for my slacks, not realizing his plan was twofold - yes, making me miss the coupling of Emma and Anja, but also something much naughtier and embarrassing.

"Leave the pants, Ray. Cucks don't need pants. Be proud of your little wee in its cage and go as you are," Josh admonished, grinning widely at my predicament and pleased by his brilliantly wicked ploy.

"B-but, I could get caught! They'd arrest me for indecent exposure," I argued uncomfortably, imagining myself wandering the halls of the multi-story hotel donning only stockings, heels, and an incapacitating steel chastity cage.

"That's true, you could. Makes it an adventure, don't you think?" Bart challenged gleefully, picking up on the scheme.

Still, the gloating older man kept his eyes on Anja's perky tits as Emma slipped her girlfriend's diaphanous top up and over her head, tousling the 38-year-old mother's straight black hair with the effort, saucily adding to her already abundant sex appeal.

"Ice machines are on the odd numbered floors, by the way," Josh stated with a chuckle.

I froze, a rush of horror filling me knowing we were on the fourth floor, meaning not just a simple jaunt down the hall practically naked on perilously high heels wearing a cock cage, but to another floor as well. That doubled the distance, exponentially ramping up the risk of detection by some unsuspecting hotel guest.

"Seriously?" I asked in defeat, needing to hear the answer despite knowing he was indeed dead serious.

"Yeah, seriously," the older scout replied matter-of-factly.

My bound prick swelled its prison now as Anja took the next step in the steamy striptease, unsnapping Emma's short skirt to puddle at her bare feet.

My captivating wife now stood in only her busty bra and a burgundy thong so miniscule it just barely covered the curve of her bald mound with nothing but strings rising over her flared hips and disappearing invitingly into the crack of her glorious ass.

It was clear Emma came prepared to play ball, so to speak, dressed as a tawdry vamp exposed in a short skirt with a thong beneath so tiny she'd never attempt wearing it in her previously conservative life.

The shameful costume was intended only to satisfy Kellen's self-serving demand she do whatever it took to secure a crappy, poorly-paid contract playing ball for some scrub rookie team in a distant Podunk town with little chance of making it to the big time, but that's what he wanted, so that's what she'd sacrifice her dignity to procure.

"Hey, hold on a second, Cuck," Josh ordered, retrieving a shoelace from a discarded sneaker and pulling a lightweight plastic doughnut used for weighting a bat during baseball batting practice off the desk.

Looping the shoelace through the hole in the doughnut, the tall man then drew each end through the rings in my nipples, tying them together allowing the round plastic weight to hang to my midsection, placing an uncomfortable strain on my tender flesh.

"Owwwh, th-that's heavy," I complained, doing my best to hold still so the doughnut didn't swing too much, accentuating the pull on my distended nipples.

"Don't be a baby. It's only 8 oz. If you'd prefer, I've got a 16-ounce one in my bag we can tie around your nut sack?" the wiry younger scout scoffed menacingly.

"No! No, this is okay," I conceded, thinking how painful a 16-ounce weight stretching my balls would be, not to mention how humiliating.

"Then, you better get going, Cuck," Josh advised. "I've got another shoelace just waiting to be used."

"Right. Yeah, out the door. I'm going," I stammered, wanting no part of straggling down the hotel corridor with a one-pound weight tied to my scrotum.

Opening the door, I peeked warily into the well-lit hallway, looking both ways, orienting myself and seeing if the coast was clear. I dearly wanted to make this mad dash as short as possible, so I needed to scope out a route beforehand.

Unfortunately, I quickly realized the room was centrally located on the floor, so either direction was about the same and as long a journey as possible. Stumbling into the hall, I started down the empty stretch to the stairwell at the end on wobbly legs in 5-inch heels for the trip to the next floor.

'Nobody uses the stairs in a hotel unless there's a fire,' I reasoned, assuming I was safe in the stairwell.

'Thump!' I hit the ground hard three steps in, painfully learning that moving fast on heels wasn't an option.

"Yowwwh," I groaned, the doughnut hitting the floor and tugging something awful at my nipples as if the rings were going to tear out.

Fortunately, skin is more elastic than to allow that to happen easily, but it didn't stop them from hurting like a sonofabitch.

As I rose, I noticed disconcertingly that I now had a run in my stocking. In a warped way, it made me feel tawdry, as if I were a cheap hotel hooker. It was an odd observation for a guy.

I mean seriously, I'm standing in the hallway of a fully occupied hotel, practically naked wearing stockings, nipple rings bearing a plastic weight, an emasculating chastity cage, and I'm concerned about a run in my stocking!

"Good god, Ray, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked rhetorically, shaking my head in disgust while moving slowly down the carpeted hallway with deliberate steps to avoid another tumble.

I was so nervous I didn't even sense my easily attained hard-on rearing its ugly head, now so often present whenever I experienced even the slightest humiliation or embarrassment.

Two doors down the hall I heard boisterous laughing from within a room, apparently coming from near the entrance, sounding as if whoever was inside was getting ready to leave.

I quickly found myself shuffling in an unsteady gait down the corridor, the doughnut swaying painfully side-to-side, looking for a place to hide saving me from discovery.

"Thank god," I huffed, ducking into a linen closet to the left just as the door opened and a pair of cackling middle-aged women exited, fortunately scurrying in the opposite direction and disappearing into the elevator allowing me to continue my journey unmolested, as it were.

It was a long hall, but with careful effort I soon found myself at the stairwell door, slipping in and deciding to go to the floor below. I astutely realized stepping downward in the tall heels was more problematic than going upstairs, and that if I could navigate the trip down safely, it would make for a faster return coming back up.

'Cows are clumsy running downhill, but nimble going up,' I remembered from my youth playing 'cow tipping' games on the ranches near my childhood home.

Precariously, I walked downstairs, cautiously opening the door to the third floor and looking both ways, eyeing the alcove where the vending and ice machines were located midway down the hallway. It was thankfully empty, but for the first time I noticed the red dot of the security camera in the ceiling tracking my every move.

"Fuck," I said aloud, hoping no one was watching the monitor.

Accepting that there was nothing I could do about it, I moved forward to the machines, simply wanting to get this perilous foray over and back to the comparative safety of the room where the lewd action I dearly wanted to see was taking place.

'Clunk, clunk, clunk,' the ice made a terrible clank dropping into the bucket and seemed to fall immeasurably slow, with the machine pausing periodically to replenish and then starting again.

"Alright, done," I cheered quietly when the bucket was full, turning to stare directly into the stunned eyes of a young couple holding their own empty ice bucket.

"Holy fuck! What the hell, dude?" the lanky man gasped, his jaw dropping and eyes popping wide with astonishment.

"BAHAAHAAHAH!!!" his lady companion burst out laughing uncontrollably.

The couple were probably in their late-20's or early 30's, average looking and dressed as upwardly mobile professionals. Slight of frame and marginally attractive, the woman's knees buckled, pointing her finger only inches from my captive prick instantly swelling again with my surprise and shame at getting caught in the compromising situation.

I'm sure I was quite the sight, ludicrously decked out in sheer hose and ladies' high heels with my modest penis bound compactly above my tight scrotum. I was paralyzed, and so mortified it didn't even register to me that an odd plastic doughnut was draped from my ringed nipples adding to my bizarre appearance.

Preposterously, I looked the embodiment of an S&M fem fetishist with an affinity for chastity and cuckoldry.

"I, uh, I, um, needed ice," I blabbered stupidly, unable to think of even the least plausible reason for standing in a hotel hallway essentially naked and indecently exposed.

"Fuck, dude, that weight looks heavy," the guy remarked with a mocking sneer, lifting the doughnut at the center and stretching it outward until the shoelace was taut, sorely stretching my nipples with it. "Painful too."

"Aaagh," I grumbled, crying again when he unceremoniously released the weight to fall against my stomach sending another spark of agony to my tormented flesh.

"Hey Rico, get a close-up of his tiny dick in a cage," the woman exclaimed, staggering me when she encircled the cage with her fingers to give my prison a quick inspection.

"Right, Louisa," her smirking companion whipped out his camera, videoing the unplanned exchange for posting on social media.

Gleefully, Louisa, as I now knew her name, held her index finger along the side of the cage as a point of reference, emphasizing to the online world my stunted length while at the same time gaining a much too-readily achieved twitch of arousal as an inappropriate response to her ridicule.

"Why would anyone cage that little guy?" she asked her friend curiously, audaciously palming my balls in her soft hand and giving them a gentle tug. "It's pretty non-threatening."

I had feared the startled couple might scream and call the hotel management, but I quickly realized with her brash groping of my nuts they were more amused than disturbed. I suppose that was fortunate, but it didn't make me feel any better.

"Look, the girly-man is trying to get hard," Louisa chortled loudly, wide-eyed witnessing my temperamental prick swell against the unrelenting bars.

As she did, Rico obediently drilled the camera lens in for a close-up of my captured dick rousing in demented reaction to my very public disgrace. Then, pulling back, he mercilessly showed the blush on my clearly recognizable face, both thrilled and ashamed by my exposure.

"I'd, uh, better go," I said, immediately tripping again, flashing my bare ass for the unerring camera.

Calamitously, the stumble revealed the undignified presence of the prostate wand deeply planted up my rectum for their entertainment, and unfortunately, the amusement of thousands or more online viewers witnessing my total ignominy.

"Fuck, he's got his asshole plugged too. What a fucking freak job," the guy chided maliciously, disparaging my condition as I rose to hobble down the hall, dearly hoping to escape and get back to the room.

Fortunately, despite my embarrassment and the ache in my strained nipples, I held onto the bucket, saving me the need to refill the contents and delaying my return. Breathless and five shades of red, I managed to make it back to the fourth floor without further incident, only to find myself locked out.

"Shit, I don't have a key," I cursed, realizing the duplicitous scouts sent me out knowing that lapse and fearing they might make further sport of my compromising circumstance by taking their sweet time answering my pleas for entry.

'Pound, pound,' I threw my fist against the door.

"Guys, I've got the ice. Let me in," I asked with the hope they were truly more interested in supplementing their cocktails with the frozen cubes than in my further humiliation.

'Mmmuph, mohhh,' muffled female voices sounded through the door as I scanned the hall seeing if anyone was coming my way.

"Guys? Please? I'm back," I called urgently, feeling more vulnerable with each passing second.

"Go baby go! Eat her cunt," Bart's voice exhorted what could only be the action between Emma and Anja performing the lesbian show the men wanted to see, and not so secretly, that I wanted to see too.

"Hey, I have the ice. C'mon, let me...," I started to plead, stopping abruptly when I noticed a stern older man in an officious hotel uniform at the end of the hallway.

Slowly, he sauntered perilously towards me but was fortunately distracted by whatever he was doing on a digital pad.

'Shit, I could get arrested,' I initially thought about my near nudity and ridiculous lingerie, legitimately fearing I might even be charged with some type of demented sex crime.

"Oh, Ray, where you been, dude? You could get in trouble walking around in public decked out like a half-naked femboy," Josh's jovial baritone broke the tension after opening the door in just his boxers.

"Get your ass in here," he chided, letting me pass into the room and thankfully out of harm's way, immediately confronted with the vision I suspected from the muffled groans but now confirmed as real.

On the patio chaise lounge, Anja and my wife were totally naked, on their sides with legs parted and heads resting on each other's ivory-toned thighs, burying their slickly shimmering faces in the crotch of their lady partner aggressively eating pussy and writhing passionately to the throes of mutual approaching orgasms.

The safety partition on the balcony was at least partially obscuring the action from the ground, but anyone at our floor level or above had a clear shot of the shameless activity taking place between the two nude and rather preoccupied women going down on each other as Bart sat on the nearest bed taking in the sordid view.

'Mumpph, slupp, mmmh,' the dual sighs of satisfied arousal echoed.

Emma attacked her Finnish girlfriend's sloppy pink cunt with a zealousness usually reserved for her sister or our long-legged daughter, drawing a series of harshly snorting breaths from Anja's flaring nostrils. In turn, the Nordic divorcee's own tongue frantically darted and danced between my wife's trembling thighs atop her eroticized clitoris.

"Fucking aye, you go girls!" Josh cheered enthusiastically sitting in a chair to one side of the bed.

The muscular, dark-skinned former ballplayer was stripped to only his boxer briefs with a tumbler of straight Scotch in one hand, enjoying the exotic lesbian coupling by two suburban housewives determined to secure for their son's the opportunity of a career in baseball.

Josh's other hand tugged avidly at a frighteningly large lump of hardened flesh embossing the snug cotton of his shorts, apparently prepping for whatever came next once the entertaining Sapphic exhibition was finished.

For whatever reason, I was terribly arouse knowing Emma was a commodity for trade, my arousal heightened by the recognition her presence and willingness to accommodate these men was the direct result of an order by Kellen to satisfy the men in whatever way necessary.

I set the ice bucket on a table near Bart, meekly assuming my place as a harmless spectator anticipating the humiliation of witnessing a powerful bull fucking my wife to multiple orgasms in a way I could never manage and with a giant cock I could only dream of ever matching, unconcerned that my acquiescence only diminished me further in the men's eyes.

Casting my eyes briefly to the offices next door, I noticed a few lights on in the dimming evening dusk, and even a couple of shadowy silhouettes filling the windows, with the onlookers' body language suggesting they were very likely enjoying the impromptu Sapphic performance and were not a threat to call the police.

The guests in the nearby rooms of the hotel were another question as the din of the ladies' sexual ardor rose, but one only hoped the occupants assumed it was simply overzealous neighbors creating a prurient racket in the adjoining room, as is so common in hotels worldwide.

"O-ohhh Anja, that's, ahhh, nice. Oh god, ahh, work my clit, honey!" Emma cried the endearing plea, breaking her lip-lock on Anja's sopping cunt in expressing her appreciation for her partner's skilled technique.

A second later, a flood of orgasm roiled Emma's convulsing body, instinctively clamping her powerful thighs around Anja's head nearly suffocating the smaller woman with her slippery twat as she bore down on my wife's greedy button.

"Ahhh, ah yesss, Anja, eat me, sweetie. Make me fucking cum," she squealed loudly, susceptible to the wanton Finn's brilliant tongue-work and temporarily unconcerned who heard in the hotel courtyard or the room next door.

"Atta girl! Cum for your girlfriend, sugar tits," Bart exhorted puerilely, joyous at the exuberance Emma displayed, shuddering violently while cumming, before rolling off the chaise lounge onto her back and languishing on the balcony exhausted by the strength of her release.

In doing so, my bodacious wife unintentionally gave the men the show every man or woman surreptitiously wanted to see the moment they met Emma, as spectacularly, her mammoth breasts wobbled freely atop her flushed chest, swaying as quaking mountains of flesh with her turgid nipples inch-long points reaching for the ceiling.

"Oh god, Anja, you eat pussy, hunh, like you've been doing it, huh, your whole life," she panted her praise for the woman she'd only recently introduced to lesbian sex but had mastered the art in less than six months.

"Inspired by the, whew, sweetest pussy I ever, uh, tasted," Anja hailed between deep gasps, falling onto her own back sending her lesser but still wonderfully upright tits jiggling as she caught her breath.

Although falling short of her own orgasm, the raven-haired beauty's face was shiny with Emma's copious girl juice as the spritely minx radiated with satisfaction, proudly glowing at her ability to generate powerful climaxes between the widespread legs of her admired friend and mentor in debauchery.

"Holy shit, these gals mean business," Bart howled earnestly. "It's getting dark, though, so we better move this act indoors. Don't need the hotel manager paying us a visit."

"Or joining in," Josh guffawed, suspecting that was an equal possibility by the well-known degenerate operating the otherwise modest accommodation.

"I got first dibs on the tall bitch with the big tits," the older scout added brashly, his gloating expression signaling he was overjoyed at the prospect of claiming my wife before my eyes as a disparagingly slap in the face.

"Fuckin' fine with me, buddy," his partner heartily agreed, spilling his drink in his enthusiasm and forgetting the ice I so perilously retrieved only moments earlier.

The eager men instantly became a whirlwind of action, with the husky veteran baseball man wasting no time in dropping his drawers revealing a stubby but impressively fat prick.

Brusquely, Bart stood and pulled Emma by her shoulders as a bag of delectable bones back into the room and onto the side of the bed, setting her head over the edge unsupported leaving her moist ruby lips quivering within inches of his protruding staff.

"I throat men your size without a gag," she boasted confidently, echoing the promise on her collar while beaming her sparkling green eyes hungrily upward with a devilish smile coated by a sheen of Anja's shimmering cunt juice.

Implicitly, Emma understood Bart's intention, unscrupulously playing his game to the fullest on Kellen's behalf, and perhaps a little for me too, ready to tackle the thick plug of man meat bobbing before her upside-down face.

"Then throat this, slut, and earn your son a contract," Bart challenged harshly, offended by her reference to his size, and

Controlled by lust, with the unexpected gift of my wayward wife's plump lips wrapped around his sturdy shaft simply too good to be true, the bulky man assertively grasped Emma head and pressed the swollen tip to her ready lips.