The Yoga Teacher

And when she traced it down the cleft of my buttocks and let it rest against my anus, I realised what she intended to do with it.

I squirmed, and moaned loudly into the ball gag, desperate to keep a little bit of my dignity, but she began to massage my anus with the strap-on, and stroke my pussy while she was doing so, and the tight ropes and the sleep mask made me sink into myself.

I felt cold gel being smeared over my arsehole, and I knew what was going to happen. A finger poked some of it inside me and I gave a muffled whimper. Then more. And still more, with her finger gently moving around inside me, to loosen me up.

And then she withdrew her finger, and I felt the head of the dildo sliding around my slippery arse, with her other hand stroking my bare hips.

Then, after some minutes of gentle pushing which slowly became more and more firm, I felt my anal muscle being parted and that thing was going inside me, and I gave a muffled scream into the ball gag, but it was no good.

And, moaning and squirming, I submitted to being sodomised by this hidden stranger. As she pushed up into my arse I let go of the last of my pride, and I whimpered as I allowed her in and swivelled my hips to match her strokes. I let it happen. I could feel my core being unlocked and eased.

I came, feeling my pussy grow moist, shifting my hips back and forth and shuddering.

Then there was a long moment when I just lay there, with her mounted on my naked hips, her strap-on deep inside me, and then she slid out and got off the table.

I had no questions, no resistance, no protests. I was used up. I lay there, thoroughly fucked and quite exhausted.

I heard them get dressed in silence and leave.

After a long moment I slowly began to ease my own ropes. It took me about twenty minutes to be free enough that I could take off the sleep mask and emerge, blinking, a sweaty butterfly coming out of the cocoon of my virginity.

My body was streaked with ropemarks. My arse was red from spanking. I'd have to cover up for a couple of days.

I walked naked to the showers and washed off, then hurried back, wet and shivering, to the storage room, to towel off and get dressed.

I went home.

***

At home, lying in bed in my pyjamas--because I felt like I needed to get back to the Astrid I'd been before this all started, who would be cuddled up in bed at half ten--I could only wonder at what the hell was going on.

Twice, now, I'd submitted to some stranger while I was naked, blindfold and immobilised. The second time, to two of them. And both times I had had the orgasms of my life. And I was none the wiser as to who they were, or how they were getting in and out, and how they knew me.

They had to have access to the yoga studio, but beyond that, I was blank.

I couldn't think of how this could end well. Somebody had to go too far.

Then I thought: go too far? You let a stranger put a strap-on up your bum this evening. You've already gone too far.

Well, I had wanted less yin and more yang, and I had got it. So much for the male principle in nature: I'd been used the way one man uses another one.

And, god, it had been hot. My first sexual experiences with other people had been me letting them use me, taking me without asking first. I had had chances to stop them, and I hadn't taken them. Because I had wanted it.

I fell asleep and had dreams that made me blush when I woke up.

***

After that, there was nothing for two weeks.

And then, one Thursday evening, another note left in my changing bag.

'Storage Room. Tomorrow night, nine. Blindfold. No ropes. Do not undress.'

I wasn't sure about this. Surely whoever was doing this to me could tell that the ropes and the vulnerability were crucial for me.

But maybe it wasn't going to be that kind of thing. Maybe I was finally going to meet whoever was doing this to me.

I decided that I had to face up to it, or I would never know.

***

The following night, at nine, I went to the storage room and, still dressed in my yoga clothes, I took out my sleep mask and put it on.

I stood in the room and breathed: in, out, in, out. Yoga is all about breath. I felt that whatever was going to happen, it could hardly get more extreme than what had already happened. I had allowed myself to be fucked and sodomised; surely these people couldn't got further than that without committing a crime, and I had the feeling that if they wanted to commit a crime on me, they would hardly have made it so easy for me to confront them and escape.

In the silence and darkness of the room, the mask keeping my eyes closed, I felt strong and ready and brave.

After a long time, I heard the footsteps. Then the door opened.

'You've come,' I said.

Nothing.

'Am I going to find out who you are, this time?'

No reply.

'What are you going to do to me?'

I felt hands taking my upper arms and gently nudging me. I let them walk me towards the door and out.

They marched me, blindfolded, out into the corridor and then down it. I felt by where we were going that we must be going to the main studio.

I started to feel nervous. But there was, as yet, nothing tangible to be scared of: I was unrestrained and still fully dressed.

I heard the doors opening, and then we went in.

I don't know how I knew it, but I could tell from the sound of the silent room that there were more people in here.

Like, several people.

'What is this,' I said as they walked me to the middle of the room. 'Who are you.'

Silence.

'Do you all know what's been going on?'

Silence. I felt myself blushing.

'What are you going to do?'

I felt, rather than heard, them, coming towards me. They were surrounding me. I was ringed on all sides. I could hear their breathing.

'I'm not a toy,' I said, dry-mouthed. 'I could stop you all if I wanted to. I can just take this mask off.'

Nothing happened.

'If you want me to give you permission,' I said, 'I won't.'

Then I felt their hands on me: stroking me, caressing my bare arms, my sides, my boobs inside my tank top and sports bra, my arse inside my yoga pants, my thighs. I shuddered.

'This is wrong,' I gasped. 'This is so wrong.'

My arms were taken and raised over my head, and they lifted my tank top off me, pulling it up and away.

'Please,' I whimpered, and I didn't even know what I was asking them to do. Or not do. I felt multiple pairs of hands take the waist of my yoga pants and slide them down my hips. My bare feet were raised so they could be taken off.

'Oh god,' I muttered.

Then they grabbed me and lifted me off my feet, and laid me on the floor on my back.

'Oh no,' I moaned. They were less gentle, now I wasn't on my feet. My sports bra was pulled up, exposing my boobs, and then dragged off my torso, up my arms, which were being held over my head at the wrists.

Then I felt my panties being pulled down and I writhed, trying to evade it, but they were holding me down and stripping me and the panties slid down over my hips and thighs and down my calves.

Then I was naked, and then when I was at last fully exposed they held me down on the floor and I felt a body getting astride me, and then a woman's thighs either side of my head, and her briefs-covered crotch descending onto my face.

And a moment later, her torso descended onto mine--she was wearing lingerie, facing down my body--and her tongue came into contact with my pussy.

I was blinded, restrained and her crotch was covering my face. Her tongue probed me and I felt myself sinking once more into my private space, where I only existed as flesh and desire.

I squirmed helplessly and moaned, muffled by the woman's crotch pressing into my mouth. She was very agile with her tongue and I was now getting so used to being used like this that I didn't need to be made to submit to it--even though I still felt the humiliation of being stripped naked and having this done to me. But that humiliation was also part of the pleasure.

Soon, I was coming and moaning and I felt the woman who was on top of me getting off, and I was rolled onto my belly.

Then I felt them starting to tie me.

I was pulled to my feet and held up, and I felt the ropes binding my arms behind my back and pulling them to my sides, and with each rope I was more and more in my secret place. My legs were tight together at the ankles, calves, knees and thighs.

Then I was held upright, so I was bound but on my feet, and someone knelt in front of me and put their tongue to my pussy. From the slight prickliness of the face I could tell it was a guy.

He licked me and tongued me and I have to admit that he had a really good tongue, and he really knew what to do with it. Once again I was helpless but was being made to come.

Then I really started to realise it: oh god, they did all know me. They knew that my ultimate pleasure was to be blind, tied up and naked, and that was what they were doing to me.

This was all being done to me, for me; I was the object and the subject. They knew what I wanted. It wasn't so much about what they wanted: they just knew what I wanted, and they wanted to deliver it.

When I understood this, it made me feel trembly and grateful, and I didn't protest as they bent me forward, and someone began to fuck me, vaginally. I just took it as more pleasure that they meant for me.

Hands reached beneath me and stroked my bare nipples. I moaned as they held me up. My body strained against the ropes and I felt them holding me up, supporting me, urging me to have another climax.

I dimly realised that none of the people who were doing this to me seemed to be naked; they were all wearing some sort of underwear. This only made me feel all the more that I was the centre of all this, the naked and vulnerable one who was to be served and teased and made to feel pleasure, not someone who was expected to give it back.

A hand was stroking the tender flesh around my clit as the cock went back and forth inside me and I was standing, bent forward, my mouth hanging open, blind and moaning as I was guided to yet another orgasm.

I could hardly stand it, I was so lost in what was being done to me. Someone poured water into my mouth and I swallowed gratefully and managed to gasp 'I want to be free.'

The guy who was fucking me paused, and they all stopped doing what they were doing. I couldn't help but marvel at how controlled they all were.

'I don't need to be tied,' I panted. 'It's okay. I want...'

I hung there, their arms still bearing me up, the cock still inside me.

'I want you to do whatever you want with me,' I said, and I meant it.

The guy behind me pulled out, and I felt my ropes being loosened, and then they straightened me up so I was standing upright.

I could feel how strong the guy was behind me, but as my arms became free I felt my right hand being placed on a cock, and my left hand being placed inside a woman's panties, and then there was a guy in front of me, and...

... he took my hips and he parted my now freed legs, and eased himself into me, and he was kissing my neck and my breasts. I gave in to it. The rhythm of him fucking me made me feel calm and centred. I began to pull on the penis and stroke the vulva that my hands were placed upon.

But then the guy behind me was reaching down and taking his cock, and pressing it between my buttocks.

I moaned 'Oh god!' because I knew what was coming. And, sure enough, he pushed it at my anus, and I grimaced as it stung a little, and then...

... he, too, was inside me, in my other hole, filling me up. I was standing and being fucked in front and behind, simultaneously.

Being buggered wasn't like having a cock in me the normal way. The normal way felt like it was designed for that purpose, it was smooth and everything slid into place.

Having a man inside my bum felt depraved and naughty and bold. I knew that there were women watching them do this to me and I wondered if any of them would let this be done to them--or was it all focused on Astrid, the jolly, outdoorsy yoga teacher? Who was now stripped nude, except for a black sleeping mask, and the centre of a gang-bang, being fucked standing up in both of her holes, all my fine talk about yoga forgotten, as my body shook and glistened with sweat and other secretions, the guy fucking me from in front kissing me, his tongue deep in my mouth,.

I heard high-pitched, muffled whimpering and realised it was coming from me. I was going to come again. I felt my body jiggling as the two men pumped into me and then they both came, and my knees buckled.

I was eased to the floor and then they sort of descended on me, and my whole body became the site of their hands and lips and fingers and cocks. I was at the centre of a mass of sweaty bodies. Some of them seemed to have got naked now and were making out with each other. I was still being penetrated and squeezed and kissed and stroked.

I felt them lifting my body up and bending it, and holding me in different ways, stretching my limbs in different directions and moving my head around, lifting my blindfolded face. It was like we were engaged in some weird dance that only I didn't know the moves for, and they were showing me them by putting my body through it, all the way penetrating my mouth and my pussy and my arse with fingers and tongues and dildos and, sometimes, a cock.

And then, as I was held up and bent forward at the waist, my muscles straining, gasping as someone rear-ended me, I realised what these moves were.

They were putting me in yoga positions.

The plank, the downward dog, the lizard, the pigeon--all the poses I taught my students.

The realisation wasn't really a surprise. Who else could they be? Who else would have wanted do this to me?

My last memory is of being on my belly on the floor with my arms splayed out and my face buried between the spread legs of a woman, nuzzling and licking her juices and moaning loudly, while someone--I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, and I didn't care which--was slowly, tenderly, deeply sodomising me.

***

I woke up to find myself tied once more, naked once more, still blindfold, on the familiar table in the storage room.

I was aching and exhausted. I slowly eased out of my bonds and took off the sleep mask. I had been blindfolded for hours.

I looked around. On the floor were my trainers and socks. On the table was my purse, my watch and my keys.

My clothes were nowhere to be seen.

It was three a.m., the dead of a summer night.

With increasing panic, I searched for my clothes. Any clothes.

I could find nothing. All the lockers were shut, and I hadn't a key. All spare yoga clothes had been stowed somewhere.

I had a choice: I could wait until someone came to open up and then do a lot of explaining, or else I could go home like this.

I went out to the main studio. It was empty and spotlessly clean. You would never know that an orgy had taken place in there a couple of hours earlier.

At least I had my bike. If I cycled fast enough, maybe I could get home without anyone noticing.

When I went to the front door, though, there was a note.

'Astrid, thanks for a great night. Your bike is safe at home. X all of us'

With horror, I realised that I had to sneak home, stark naked except for my trainers.

Resignedly, I put them on, then I locked up the studio and crept out into the street and locked the door.

I was too tired to run, so, clutching my purse and keys in one hand, and my ropes and sleep mask in the other (there was no way I could contrive them into covering clothing for myself) I set off, dodging from shop doorway to shop doorway. I dread to think how many CCTV cameras showed naked Astrid scurrying past.

I regularly had to duck inside people's front gardens to hide from night buses. At one point I heard a car coming up very fast and could find no place to hide, and as it approached me, the horn blasted several times--the car equivalent of a wolf whistle. I was sure that they would stop and get a good look, but to my huge relief they drove on.

By the time I got to my flat, the eastern sky was pale and I breathed a sigh of relief as I let myself in the main door.

I started to go up the stairs, and then I heard a flat door slam, and footsteps coming down.

There was nothing for it. I live on the top floor. There was going to be an encounter.

I swallowed, put a brave face on it, covered my boobs with one arm and my crotch with my other hand, and ascended the stairs.

On the second flight, I met one of my neighbours, a woman in her fifties who I didn't see very often. She paused and blinked at the sight of her younger neighbour, naked but for trainers and a wristwatch, coming up the stairs at four in the morning.

'Just getting a bit of exercise,' I said with as much casualness as I could muster. I was flushed crimson all over with embarrassment. I went past her and I swear she turned to get a look at my bare arse.

I let myself into the flat, kicked off my trainers and groped my way into bed, where I fell asleep again.

On waking up, I found ten text messages on my phone.

Nine of them were photos of me, from the previous night: naked, blindfolded and being pawed and fucked and penetrated by various unidentifiable people.

The last was text:

'Hello Astrid. Thanks again.

All you have to do is tell everyone what happened, and the photos (and all the clips) will never be seen by anyone else.

Here's the login. [There was literotica's URL, an account name and a password.]

We must do this again some time.'

Xxx

Us'

I went to the site and logged in, and found this account. I read the stories of whoever it belonged to. I can't say they're much to my taste, but... we all have our different things that turn us on.

Now you know about mine.

I'm not asexual.

And to the people who made me write this and post it:

Thank you for realising what I needed, and giving it to me.

You'll find me in the studio tonight at nine-thirty. I'll be naked and blindfolded and waiting.

Your turn to bring the ropes.

P.S. There are still places left on Vicky's vinyasa class on Wednesday at 3. Don't miss this chance to sign up!

Love,

Astrid