Turned Inside Out Ch. 02

I couldn't suppress my cry. "Oh, God, no, no, no! Please let me go. I have to save my wife."

Jack kept his promise and immediately ripped my tee-shirt to shreds and used it to gag me. Tears ran down my face as I watched Marcel jam a second thick finger into my innocent wife's wet pussy and began thrusting them into her hard. My wife closed her eyes and ground her lips against his. Her long legs were spread wide, and her feet were bouncing on her toes. Her whole body was shaking from Marcel's forceful finger fucking. I could almost smell the sweet scent of her wet, flowering pussy, and my cock throbbed with intense arousal.

Jack laughed as he switched cameras for a moment. "Now that's the way it's done. Marcel and your wife are putting on a great show for the crowd."

I was treated to a view over my wife's shoulder. There was a leering throng watching Marcel's assault on my loving wife, and many of them had their cellphones out recording the spectacle. People throughout the club were watching the show on big-screen TVs.

I saw Susan's smirking face. She and her latest dance partner were standing at the front of the mob. Her partner grinned when my wife's former roommate began rubbing his crotch.

Jack switched back to the first camera in time to catch my wife arching her back and shaking as she orgasmed hard on Marcel's fingers. My body responded by coating the inside of my basketball shorts with a large load of semen. My head was on fire, but all I managed was a pitiful groan.

I don't know what the bastard would have done to my wife next if Susan and her well-dressed partner hadn't slid into the other side of the booth. Marcel sat back and removed his hands from Abby. I watched as he calmly licked my wife's juices from his fingers. Meanwhile, she remained leaning against his chest with her eyes closed. She was breathing through her mouth, and now and then, her body would shudder in a powerful aftershock.

Susan smiled at Marcel and chuckled. "I'll have what she had."

Abby opened her eyes and blushed when she heard her friend's voice next to her. She sat up straight and raised her hips to pull her slip dress down from where it had gathered around her waist. My wife looked dazed. She didn't appear to notice that Marcel had brushed one of the straps of her slip off her shoulder. One cup of her red pushup bra was exposed, along with the top half of a plump breast and a hint of her dark pink areola.

Susan said, "Well, if Abby isn't going to introduce me to her gorgeous friend, I'll have to do it." Susan held out a hand to Marcel, and he took hers with the hand he had been licking.

She said, "Hello, I'm Susan. Abby and I are old friends."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Marcel. I'm the owner of the Wet Pussycat. I hope you are enjoying yourself. If there is anything I can do to make your time here more pleasant, please let me know."

Susan stared at Marcel like the ruggedly handsome man was a triple scoop dark chocolate ice cream cone. She held onto his hand and devoured him with her eyes.

"Well, I'm having a wonderful time with Trevante. After trying three different dance partners, I finally found one who is good-looking and knows how to dance."

Marcel smiled and held out his hand to the impeccably dressed black man who had sat down with Susan.

"Trevante, what's your hustle? I know your husband is at home nursing a broken foot while you're at my club dancing with horny white chicks."

Trevante held up his hands and recoiled from the offered handshake as if it were covered with the plague.

"My hustle? What about you? Lord knows what game you're playing, and please be careful with that nasty hand. We've all seen where it's been."

Despite their rough banter, the two men appeared to be old acquaintances.

Susan sighed. "Husband? I should have known you were too well dressed to be straight."

Marcel laughed. "Of course, Trevante is well dressed. He's the fashion editor for the San Francisco Chronicle. Go ahead, Susan. Ask him what he thinks about your friend's outfit."

Trevante didn't wait to be asked.

"Wearing a sheer dress that shows your underwear is bad enough. It's so last decade. Wearing red lingerie under an old tight peach-colored slip, the bitch found in the back of her closet will never be in style. She'd look better naked."

Susan looked like she'd been slapped. She'd been the one that helped my wife dress. Her only excuse was the large amounts of weed and wine they had both consumed and the poor choices she had found in my wife's closet.

Everyone at the table looked at Abby's embarrassing outfit, and my sweet wife hung her head in shame. I felt sorry for her. I knew she would never have gone along with Susan's selection of clothing if her friend hadn't gotten her drunk and stoned first. Abby must have consumed several of her favorite mango margaritas at Casa Isabel before Susan talked her into going clubbing.

Marcel said, "Well, what are you ladies going to do about it?"

Abby stared at him blankly. I wondered if Marcel's drug had left my wife incapable of intelligent thought or even simple speech.

Susan said, "What are you talking about?"

Marcel snorted. "Her outfit, what are you going to do about your friend's grotesque combination of bright red lingerie under a translucent peach chemise?"

Susan stared at him for a moment. I wondered how much the bitch had had to drink. Even I knew where Marcel was going with his question.

"I can take her to the restroom and fix it."

Marcel said, "I know all about women and their little bathroom visits. We'll never see you for hours. Just do it here. In my club, you can do whatever I say you can. So, remove her bra or get the fuck out. The choice is yours."

Susan grinned as she brushed the other strap of Abby's slip from her shoulder and peeled the tight sweaty slip down to her waist. My wife had attracted attention with her earlier performance, and she nervously looked around at a sea of leering men. Her friend reached behind Abby's back and unhooked her bright red bra. The drugs hadn't wholly erased my wife's modesty. When Susan stripped off her bra, my poor wife attempted to cover her generous breasts with her hands. She only removed them when her old roommate tugged her wet slip back over her unfettered breasts.

Jack had zoomed the camera in tight. The sweat-soaked chemise clung to the perfect round curves of my wife's plump breasts. My wife's dark pink areoles were evident under the scant covering of the translucent slip. Her nipples were hard and poking into the thin satin. When Marcel pulled her torso back against his side, her breasts jiggled to the delight of the growing audience.

Marcel said, "Well, Trevante, what do you think?"

"Better, much better, but I can still see the bitch's bright red panties."

Marcel laughed. "Susan, give me a hand."

The muscular black man slipped his arm around my wife's back and quickly lifted her ass enough to begin pulling her panties off with Susan's help. Abby hadn't wholly succumbed to the effects of the drugs. Somewhere in her drug-addled brain, she retained her Christian sense of modesty. She reached down and grabbed the waistband of her panties, but her attackers responded by pulling harder. Abby let out a pitiful wail and spread her legs to keep the tiny piece of red silk from slipping further down her trembling thighs.

Marcel cursed and jerked the waistband outward. I heard a snap as he ripped the flimsy garment to shreds and tossed the remains of my wife's red panties on the table.

He glared at Trevante. "Well, that takes care of that. What do you think now? Is her outfit acceptable?"

"Barely. Little Orphan Annie is still wearing an old peach chemise that's seen better day, but maybe she's pretty enough to carry it off."

"Well, Trevante, I'll deal with her slip later. For now, I think we should relax and enjoy ourselves. I propose we switch partners. Abby is a great dancer, and I'm sure she'll feel safer dancing with you while I entertain Susan."

Marcel leaned over and whispered in his gay friend's ear, but the directional mike picked up every word. "This bitch is getting higher by the moment. She should be rolling hard by the time I get back, and I want to find her begging for release.

After you dance for a few songs, pass her off to the most badass dude in the room. Let them do whatever they want on the dance floor except fuck her. I want to be the first black cock she experiences. After a couple of numbers, get her a new partner. Encourage the men to enjoy her charms. It'll be a great advertisement for our brand new whore. After I fuck her, I'll sell her ass to anyone who wants a piece of this prime pussy. If you do your job right, we'll have plenty of eager customers, and I'll give you a little cut of the action."

All I could do was moan into my gag and jerk on my manacles. Jack responded by removing the gag long enough to pour a heavy slug of whiskey down my throat. Before I could beg him to help my wife, he shoved the gag back into my mouth.

The DJ returned and put on Pharrell Williams, and Daft Punk singing 'Get Lucky.' Couples headed for the dance floor.

The muscular, coal-black man didn't wait for a reply from Trevante. Marcel rose to his feet, and half dragged my wife from the booth. He handed her off to his grinning friend. I dreaded thinking about what was going to happen to her.

Susan also got up from the booth, and Marcel slipped an arm around her waist. Instead of leading her to the dance floor, he guided her out of the crowded room. Jack expertly switched one of the monitors and followed the couple down a wide hallway while he kept my drugged wife and Trevante displayed on another screen. My wife looked happy with her handsome gay partner as they danced to one lively song after another.

Marcel led Susan to the end of the hallway. He stopped next to a pair of stuffed chairs on either side of a small table. I watched the big black pimp press her against the wall and kiss her passionately. After a moment, he broke the kiss and said something. Jack switched on the sound just after Susan shook her head and replied.

"... not for all the tea in China. No way I'll abandon my friend."

"How about I sweeten the offer. I'll throw in an ounce of primo cocaine with the five hundred dollars."

Susan grinned. "Well, if I leave now, I can make the early flight to New York. Ok, it's a deal if you give me a quickie and promise not to harm her. Her husband's a boring nerd. She deserves a good fucking from a big black cock once in her dull suburban life."

Marcel laughed, "I promise I'll take care of her and make sure she leaves with a smile on her face."

Susan put the money and a bag of white powder in her purse. When she stood up, Marcel untied the straps on Susan's dress. "I don't do quickies. I always fuck a woman until she blacks out."

Susan grabbed the top of her dress. "Isn't there a room we can use?"

"Fuck that. Your pretty friend got me worked up. I can't wait for a room to become available."

Marcel brushed her hands away, and the skimpy gown slid to the floor, leaving my wife's friend standing in the public hallway wearing only a frilly black thong. He roughly spun her around and bent her over the nearest stuffed chair. Susan squealed as the muscular man ripped off her skimpy panties. She began screaming when he started spanking her with body-shaking blows. He slapped her quivering ass until it was bright red. He paused to drop his trousers. The only sound in the hallway was her pitiful sobs and the murmurs from the gathering crowd.

"That's for selling out your best friend. Now, I'll give what you asked for."

I couldn't believe the size of the big black cock the former porn star rammed into her pussy with one hard thrust. The spanking must have gotten Susan wet, or Marcel would have ripped her apart. Even so, she let out a scream that sounded more like lust than the screams of pain she had made while he remorselessly spanked her.

Marcel didn't wait for her to warm up. He began rapidly thrusting into her pussy with long hard lunges. His crotch slammed against her ass, causing a wave of shuddering flesh to fly up her torso. Her fat, hanging breasts shook hard with each stab of his cock. Her fingers dug into the soft chair, and her undulating wail filled the long hallway. After a moment, she began driving her hips back to meet his lunges. It wasn't long before her body shook with her first intense orgasm.

Her screams drew a bigger crowd. I heard shouts of encouragement. As Marcel's hard fuck went on and on, people began to bet on how long the club owner would last. I started watching the clock. Every three or four minutes, Susan had another orgasm. Marcel never paused and continued to fuck her through one body-wracking orgasm after another. After about sixteen minutes, his steady thrusts became irregular. He ground his hips against her ass and let out a roar. They stayed connected while he sprayed his seed deep in her womb. Jack zoomed it to show the big black stud's white semen oozing out around his cock. I noticed globs dripping from their joined sex onto her club dress lying on the floor beneath them. More cum flowed out when his flaccid cock slid out of her distended pussy.

Marcel leaned on her bent-over form to pick up her little black dress. I thought he was being polite for a moment, but he used the gossamer fabric to wipe his cock before tossing it back on the floor. Susan struggled to rise, but the big black man held her down while he zipped up his fly.

"Does anyone want sloppy seconds? I think she's got several more fucks left in her."

A couple of men stepped forward, and Susan struggled against the hands of other men holding her.

"Oh, God, no. Please, I'm done. You fucked me raw."

Marcel slapped her butt before a little brown man plunged his short fat cock into my wife's best friend's ass. I grinned when I heard the bitch shriek.

Marcel looked at the eager men crowded around and said, "When you're finished with her, throw her out. Make sure she takes her thirty pieces of silver. I never want to see the slut in my club again."

I enjoyed watching the hateful bitch getting gang banged almost as much as Susan loved every moment of the rough sex. I remembered all the times she had bad-mouthed me to Abby. Thankfully, her criticism that I was too dull and conservative only made Abby love me more. Now, the sight of Susan on all fours being reamed in the ass while sucking some ugly guy's cock had me excited. I was disgusted with my arousal as I watched her heavy tits and fat ass shake as another big black stud replaced her previous partner and drove his monstrous cock into her cum-filled ass. I groaned as my balls painfully tightened, and I shot another load of cum intended for my wife into my sticky shorts.

I kept checking the monitor focused on the crowded dance floor, but I had lost sight of my wife and her gay dance partner. Watching Marcel lead a long line of eager men in a brutal gang bang of Susan made me aware of the danger my wife was in. I tugged futilely at my restraints, but all I could do was watch the monitors and pray for a miracle. Perhaps, a Good Samaritan would come to my wife's aid.

The thought that I might soon see my wife turned out as a prostitute and impregnated by the burly black nightclub owner or one of his friends terrified me. My hot, sweaty body shook from a massive overload of adrenaline and testosterone. My intense arousal filled me with self-loathing.